Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nia did not know what time it was when she received the summons, only that the hour was late. Most of her nights were late now, thanks to what felt like endless royal duties, and while she was not yet queen, that day was soon to come—and with it, even more work. Deciding that she was finished working for the day, Nia rose from her desk, pausing by the window to look out onto the sleeping city of Fonsa Myma, its expanse spreading out below the palace. No matter how many times she looked at it, she never quite got used to the crushing weight that accompanied the sight.

The clearing of a throat followed by the familiar address of, “My lady,” drew Nia from her thoughts, and she turned to see her oldest and most faithful companion standing in the doorframe of her chambers.

“I’m about to turn in, Dromarch. What is it?” she asked, not making much effort to hide her grumpy tone.

“Dagen is here. He says that the queen has summoned you to her chambers.”

“This late? She knows I need to be up in a few hours, doesn’t she?” Nia didn’t know exactly what time it was, but she knew she wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight. Again.

The regal white tiger had a serious look on his feline face. “Apparently it’s quite urgent.”

Nia had half a mind to tell Dromarch that whatever the queen wanted could wait until morning, but she had a sinking feeling in her core that by then it would be too late.

“Alright, don’t get your kecks twisted,” Nia said, tying her robes and taking a quick look in the mirror to make sure that she didn’t look as burnt out as she felt. Her silver hair and feline ears weren’t terribly matted, and her eyebags more or less blended in with the shadows in the dim light. Screw it. Good enough.

Nia walked into the main chamber of the palace suite she shared with Dromarch where Dagen, one of the queen’s oldest and most faithful attendants, stood waiting. He regarded her with a solemn nod; more evidence to what Nia suspected was going to happen tonight.

“Shall I accompany you, my lady?” Dromarch asked.

Judging by the fact that Dromarch was wearing his nightcap, it seemed that he too was about to turn in when the queen sent for her.

“I’ll be fine, Dromarch. You just get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning,” Nia half-commented around a yawn. She was pretty sure she knew how the coming conversation was going to go, and that the queen wouldn’t want anyone else around for it. With a grateful nod, Dromarch turned to retire to his own chambers while Nia followed Dagen.

The trip through the halls of the palace was a silent one. Nia could have asked Dagen about his wife or son, but she knew that no amount of small talk was going to remove the dark cloud hanging over them both. Soon they arrived at the door to the queen’s chambers, and after dismissing Dagen, Nia was let in by the two members of the Queensguard.

The queen’s chambers looked as grand as they always did, with shelves of books lining the circular walls converging on a hearth bigger than Nia herself. A table by the hearth displayed a scale model of the World Tree, around which circled miniature versions of all of the Titans of Alrest. A clockwork mechanism within the table simulated in real-time the Titans’ annual journey around the now nonexistent Cloud Sea. It was always interesting to see what Alrest would look like if it still existed in its original form, except that the mechanism responsible for moving the Urayan Titan along its orbit had broken some months ago, making the replica Titan seem adrift. 

All of this couldn’t be further from Nia’s mind as she ascended the stairs to the queen’s bedchamber. The bed at the chamber’s centre was just as big and grand as the rest of the royal chambers. The only part of the room that seemed small was the bed’s occupant.

Queen Raqura Selosia lay still amidst the satin blankets hooked up to medical machines cycling ether through her body. Her once portly form was shrunken, her skin and scales pale and wrinkled from the disease slowly eating away at her. The sight was uncomfortably familiar to Nia, and as she stepped closer, she had to dispel the mental image of a much younger Gormotti girl in the queen’s place. Such memories would not serve Nia here.

Lately, the queen had more bad days than good: Often Nia would come to visit and the queen wouldn’t recognize her, addressing Nia as Raddis—the name of her dead son. On her worst days she was confused and angry and would simply curse her out. Nia wasn’t sure which one was worse.

But for now, she stood by the queen’s bedside, waiting to see which version of Raqura she would get tonight. Would it be tormentor or tormented? Would the queen be haunted by fading memories of the past, or taken by the inanities the disease caused as it buffeted her mind?

“Was beginning to think you weren’t going to show tonight,” the queen said weakly. “Once you’re asleep, nothing short of a second Aegis War’s enough to wake you.”

Relieved that the queen was herself, at least tonight, Nia couldn’t help but smile a little. Even when Raqura was healthy, it was rare to get a glimpse of the humorous woman behind the regal mask she wore.

“So what, did you summon me here to take the mick out of my sleeping habits?” Nia said, trying to keep the tone of the conversation light for as long as she could.

“I have a feeling you know why I summoned you here tonight,” Raqura said before being cut off by a rasping, wheezing cough. Nia knew, but still waited for her to say it. “I think the next time I close my eyes… will be the last.”

“Nonsense—sounds like quitter talk to me.” Nia then added with a grin, “I bet in this state you could’ve taken on Malos single-handedly!” She was satisfied when her joke elicited a genuine laugh from the queen, but her satisfaction was short-lived when the queen’s laugh gave way to another wheezing cough.

“Your humour does you credit, Nia,” Raqura said when her coughing fit subsided. “But I can tell when you’re using it to avoid an unpleasant discussion.”

Nia’s grin vanished. “I don’t think I’m ready for this, Your Majesty.”

“I was nearly twice your age when I first ascended the throne. I didn’t think I was ready either.”

Nia fidgeted with the tassels of her robes. “I just… wish there was more time.”

“So does everyone in the face of an uncertain future. I think it’s human nature to want time to stop in such moments.” Raqura’s face then hardened, and for a moment Nia thought she could see her strength returning. “But when the future comes calling, it’s our duty to answer, no matter how frightening or uncertain.”

The two of them were silent for some time, each of them considering that nebulous little thing called the future. Nia wouldn’t know until many years yet just how true the dying queen’s words would ring, but even now she could feel their weight.

“Are you frightened?” Nia finally asked.

“I’d be lying if I said no,” Raqura said slowly, thoughtfully. “But more than that I feel…lucid. More than I have in a long time. It has me thinking about all I’m leaving behind. All the things unsaid… all the relationships unmended… but more than anything, all the truths unspoken….”

Raqura didn’t say anything for a time, and Nia didn’t pester her to continue. She merely waited with all of the regal patience the woman lying there had drilled into her. And before her, the man she had called father.

“For a very long time I’ve been grappling with whether to tell you the full truth about everything. For most of that time I thought it would be best if the truth simply died with me.” Raqura weakly looked at Nia, who was shocked to see the usually stern, cold woman had tears in her eyes. “But these past years spent with you, preparing you for your role… it made me remember what it’s like to be a mother.…”

As strong as the queen was, no fortress was impregnable: a couple of those tears managed to slip through. But Raqura held fast, and she kept her voice steady as she said, “You have well and truly enriched my life, Nia. That’s why I’ve decided I owe you the truth.” She must have noticed the lack of curiosity on Nia’s face, because Raqura then said, “Or… perhaps you already know?”

The question prompted Nia to think back to three years ago, when the bombshell was first dropped on her that she would be Queen Raqura’s successor.

One year on from her journey to the World Tree with Rex and the others, Nia had gotten used to the new form their world had taken. Mostly. She still had to mentally recalibrate when she’d wake up on mornings aboard a Titan airship to a sea of green land rather than the Cloud Sea stretching endlessly in all directions.

Even after a year, the people of Alrest still hadn’t settled on a name for the new supercontinent they now all shared. Some liked Elysium, while those less inclined to mythology (true though it may have been) preferred New Alrest. Many more just kept using Alrest as if nothing had changed. Whatever name the world would settle on, everyone agreed on one thing: the new frontier was as dangerous as it was bountiful. Monsters of every kind—some familiar, others never seen before in Old Alrest—populated the new world. The silver lining was that the Garfont Mercenaries had no shortage of well-paying jobs to keep the new settlements safe.

The latest of such jobs was what brought Nia aboard the first of what would hopefully be a fleet of Titan airships owned by the Garfont Mercenaries. Purchasing the ship had been Rex’s idea just before his sabbatical, tired of relying on charters and ships owned by their clients to get the mercenaries of their company around.

The airship was built the standard Urayan way, its hull held aloft by two smaller Titans with minimal modifications. The hull was an older model, which as a result meant it was bulkier than the standard hull used by the Urayan Navy. This suited the Garfont Mercenaries just fine, who made good use of the extra space to hold more men and equipment. Having finally finished all repairs and updates to modernise the hull and decks (they even installed a crystal communicator), the Vandham’s Legacy was now finally taking her maiden voyage.

Uraya’s Queen Raqura, who had recently become the Garfont Mercenaries’ most frequent client, had given them a new job: investigate a Urayan frontier colony in the new world whose settlers apparently had all been wiped out. The settlement was small, the queen’s attendant Dagen had explained when Nia and her senior officers had been briefed, and so new it didn’t even have a proper name yet. It was designated simply as “Colony Gamma”.

According to the briefing, there was an Igna colony discovered near Gamma not too long before the Urayan motherland lost contact with them. Additionally, there were reports of skirmishes between the nearby Urayan military garrison and unidentified enemy combatants. Maybe Ardainian soldiers, maybe bandits using Ardainian equipment, the intelligence couldn’t confirm one way or the other. Unfortunately, there was precedent for both possibilities. Even in this new world, some things never changed.

Still, something about the situation simply wasn’t right. With how dangerous the new frontier was, entire settlements being wiped off the map wasn’t entirely unheard of. But it was uncommon, and Nia once again found herself wishing that Rex and the others were with her. The mercenary Drivers currently in her company had proven themselves reliable, but it wasn’t the same as having her friends by her side like the good old days.

The good old days, Nia thought as she ascended the stairs to the Legacy’s upper decks. It’s barely been a year since our journey ended, and I’m thinking of it like an old maid in her twilight years.

“Colony Gamma has been sighted. Captain says we’ll be touching down in ten minutes,” her second in command for this mission informed her when she arrived on deck with Dromarch at her side.

“Thank you, Zuo,” Nia said.

Normally handling the administrative duties of the Garfont Mercenaries, Zuo and his associate Yew were both stepping up and taking field work to help make up for how thin spread they were. At least, until they could complete the process of vetting and hiring more mercenaries. Nia certainly appreciated the help, and idly wondered how Yew was doing with the job in New Indol.

“Gather everyone on deck,” Nia ordered, and with a nod and a salute Zuo complied.

As she waited for Zuo to muster the troops, Nia could feel her feline Blade’s concerned eyes on her.

“Copper coin for your thoughts?” Dromarch asked her.

In truth, Nia had much weighing on her mind beyond the job at hand but knew now was not the time. “We can talk later, Dromarch.”

In no time at all, Zuo had gathered the rest of the mercenary Drivers and their Blades to the upper deck, and they all stood at attention, awaiting Nia’s word. Nia anxiously cleared her throat; public speaking was something she neither enjoyed nor excelled at, but her position as acting commander of the Garfont Mercenaries required it more often than she would have liked.

So, drawing in a deep breath, Nia did what she had been starting to do more frequently and called upon her father’s old lessons. She wasn’t exactly the noble lady her father had been training her to be all those years ago, but loathe as she was to admit it, those lessons in proper diction were paying off. Properly projecting her voice, deliberately choosing her words, being mindful not to mumble or spit as she talked, it all came together to make her sound commanding and confident. Moreso than she felt, at least.

“Alright you lot, we’re touching down in seven minutes. You’ve all been briefed on the situation and—I presume—have read the reports. A squad from the nearby Urayan garrison will meet us at the landing point. From there they will escort us to Colony Gamma, where Laplas and Maanus’ squads will secure a perimeter while Zuo’s squad and mine will work with the Urayan military to scour the colony for evidence of what happened.

“What we do from there will depend on what we find, but our likely next course of action will be to scout out the nearby Igna colony and, if it becomes necessary, clear it out. Your squad leaders should already have assigned your individual roles. If unclear on what those are, take it up with them.”

The speech didn’t go terribly, Nia thought, but she still needed a way to cap it off that didn’t sound so…stiff. “We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with here, so stay alert and don’t forget about the person standing next to you.”

Still too stiff. “You’re all badasses, so if anyone or anything tries to mess around….” Nia hesitated. Realizing that her speech was rapidly unravelling and needed to wrap up before she lost the plot entirely, Nia raised a fist to the air and exclaimed without thinking, “Show ‘em a thing or three!”

To her subordinates’ credit, they were all consummate professionals. They responded to Nia’s… unorthodox pre-action speech with proper salutes. But when she dismissed them to prepare to disembark, she heard a couple of snickers among their ranks. Nia felt the deck under her feet shift as the airship began to make its descent.

“I daresay that may have been one of your most coherent speeches yet, my lady,” Dromarch said with the hint of a playful tone in his otherwise serious voice. 

“Oh, shut it, you.”

“Take it as the compliment it was intended. Any improvement is….” Dromarch trailed off.

Nia turned to ask him what was wrong and saw the feline’s ears standing up straight and alert. Nia’s Gormotti ears did the same as she suddenly heard it too. One distant crack followed swiftly by more.

“Gunfire…” she muttered. Someone was in a firefight near their destination.

They were still a few minutes from touching down, and depending on how far from that the apparent firefight was raging, it was likely that anyone on board who wasn’t Gormotti hadn’t heard any fire yet. Nia wasted no time, hopping onto Dromarch’s back and riding the white tiger down to the hold where the other mercenaries were preparing to disembark.

“Look alive, you lot!” Nia shouted. “Sounds like we’ll be dropping into a fight.”

Terrible speech or no, the Garfont Mercenaries knew to trust Nia’s ears and readied themselves. Before they all knew it, the airship jolted as it touched down and Nia raced out of the hold astride Dromarch as soon as it was open, the other mercs not far behind her. The gunfire was much louder now, and Nia followed it along the rocky cliffside their airship had landed on.

It wasn’t long before she came upon a squad of about a dozen soldiers dressed in the large, bulky armour of Uraya’s military. All of them were taking cover behind a rock formation about sixty Peds away from the cliffs and were using their staff-like ether rifles to fire into the treeline a fair distance away. What was more, the treeline was firing back.

As Nia got closer, she spotted what looked like the commanding officer: he had his helmet off and was barking orders to his troops. Much more immediately concerning was that he was kneeling over the prone form of another Urayan soldier, and seemed to be doing his best to hold the man’s guts in.

Nia wasted no time and leapt off of Dromarch’s back, tapping into the power of her Core Crystal and instantly transforming from the yellow jumpsuit of her Driver form to the white red and gold trimmed leotard and robes of her Blade form. Quickly approaching and kneeling beside the Urayan CO, Nia confirmed that the soldier bleeding out on the ground was still alive before applying her healing Arts to him.

“Nia. Garfont Mercenaries,” she said before the CO even had time to ask. “I take it you’re the ones who were supposed to meet us, then?”

“‘Bout bloody time you dags showed up! Commander Wrash, Urayan 14th Garrison.”

Through the glow of ether emanating from her hands, Nia could see the wounded soldier’s injuries—two gunshots, by the looks of it—begin to close. Nia flinched, her ears flattening against her head as a bullet whizzed by over it.

“What the bloody hell is going on? Who’s shooting at us?”

“Ardainians,” Wrash spat. “Scouts spotted a decade of troops marching in our direction on our way to rendezvous with ya. Managed to get the drop on ‘em, but turns out there was another decade, and we had to pull back here. Been pinned down since.”

As if to punctuate his point, another bullet whizzed by, punching a hole in a nearby boulder.

“Now that you mercs are here, though, we can start our counterattack.” Wrash turned to the men under his command. “Men, this is where we turn the tide! The mercs will advance on ‘em from here, using their Blades’ shields to draw their fire while we move to flank ‘em. Then together, we overwhelm and route these Ardainians like the dogs they are!”

The Urayan soldiers all shouted what Nia assumed was their regiment’s motto, “COURAGE!” and Cmdr. Wrash stood (but not before checking that he was still safely covered by the rock formation), turning to Nia and the Garfont Mercenaries.

“Well, you have your orders. Time to earn your paycheck, eh?”

Nia looked up from her kneeling position by the wounded soldier. “Wait, you just want to wipe them out? Without even trying to figure out what they were doing out here in the first place?”

“No need to figure out anything. Only reason Ardainian forces would be out here is they got wind of what happened to Gamma and saw it as an opportunity to claim the territory for themselves.”

“Either that or they’re the ones who got to Gamma in the first place,” said another of the soldiers. Wrash made no indication that he disagreed.

Seeing that the injured soldier’s wounds were closed, Nia motioned for Zuo to continue stabilising him as she stood to meet Wrash’s gaze. “You can’t be certain of that.”

Wrash scowled and his eyes briefly flicked down to the tainted Core Crystal on her chest. Whether he understood or cared what it meant, however, didn’t seem to change his demeanour.

“They’re Ardainian. It’s what they do,” he said. "If it means that much to you, we can try to take a few of them prisoner and interrogate them after. But they’re just going to tell you what I already did.”

What little patience Nia had left for the stubborn fool in front of her was evaporating quickly. “Listen here, you…” somehow, she stopped herself from calling the man a bloody idiot to his face. “I’m trying to avoid further bloodshed here!”

“Tell that to the ratbags shooting at us!”

“Because you shot at them first!”

“We don’t have time to discuss this any further,” Wrash said before his face softened somewhat. The look he seemed to be trying for was sympathy, but to Nia it came across simply as patronising. “Look, I get it. You must be used to taking easy jobs on the Titans. Jobs where you don’t have to get your hands dirty. But out here on the frontier, things work a little differently. Out here, it’s kill or be killed. You’d better get that through your skull now, because I’m ordering you and your mercs to fall in. We’re advancing on my mark!”

“Sir, don’t you know who this is?” The voice was so small and weak Nia almost didn’t know where it came from at first. Then she looked down at the wounded soldier, whose eyes were now focused on his commanding officer. “She travelled with the Aegis. She’s one of the ones who saved the world a year ago!”

Nia wondered whether she and the others had met this soldier somewhere before on their travels. Wrash, meanwhile, looked from his wounded subordinate to Nia. His face was the very picture of “sceptical.”

“Be that as it may, she still has her orders,” he said.

Words aren’t going to get through to this idiot, Nia thought as she considered her other options.

“All due respect, Commander,” Zuo said from his spot by the wounded soldier. “The Garfont Mercenaries only take orders from our client, which at the moment is the office of Queen Raqura. Not you.”

Nia sighed. She was definitely buying Zuo a drink when this was all over.

“Right, and our queen hired you with orders to assist me and my men,” Wrash said with a glare.

“With the investigation of Colony Gamma, yes,” Nia said, taking the ball Zuo tossed her and running with it. “Not with the massacre of a squad of Ardainians who in all likelihood have nothing to do with it.”

Wrash clenched his teeth. “This is insubordination!”

“Well, you’re right about that,” Nia said, making sure to show off her feline fangs as she grinned at him. “How do you suppose Queen Raqura will take it when she hears you’re obstructing the mercenaries she personally hired from conducting their investigation?”

“To say nothing of potentially starting another war with Mor Ardain,” Zuo added.

“Really you should be thanking me. I’m cleaning up the mess you made and am probably saving your career.”

Wrash sputtered, started to say something, stopped, tried again, and finally gave a defeated sigh. “Fine, if you want to get yourself killed trying to make peace with those animals over there, be my bloody guest. Just make sure the mercs under your command are ready to fall in after the Ardainians gun you down.”

Unfortunately, commander Wrash had a point; one that made itself apparent as another volley of rifle fire from the Ardainians tore into the rock formation, making Wrash and his soldiers instinctively crouch. Still, it was nothing Nia couldn’t handle.

“Dromarch,” she said, turning towards the field beyond their rocky cover, and the treeline beyond that.

“At once, my lady,” Dromarch said, following her.

Nia then addressed Zuo. “Stay back, but be ready to jump in if this all goes tits up.”

Zuo nodded and signalled to the rest of their mercenaries to hold position while Nia calmly and elegantly stepped out from the rock formation into the open field with Dromarch at her side. As expected, the Ardainian soldiers immediately opened fire on the new target, but with a roar from Dromarch, a shield of hexagonal panels of ether energy formed before her, deflecting every shot.

Unharmed, Nia continued her confident stride forward, Dromarch’s shield taking every bullet from the Ardainian steam rifles. When Dromarch’s shield eventually broke, Nia raised her hand and drew power from her Core Crystal to replace it with her own. She continued forward until she reached the edge of the treeline the Ardainians were shooting from. For the first time since she arrived, the plain fell silent as the Ardainians ceased their attack, apparently finally noticing Nia was unarmed and hadn’t moved to attack them.

Her Blade weapon still not summoned, Nia stood in place and waited, and when it seemed that the Ardainians weren’t going to loose another volley of fire from their steam rifles, she cleared her throat and called out, “Um… I’m here to negotiate a ceasefire! Could the officer in charge please step out and, uh…” Nia gestured vaguely around her. “Negotiate?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Nia spotted the slight look of amusement on Dromarch’s feline face.

“Shut it, you,” she said under her breath.

“I did not say anything.”

Nia flicked a glare in his direction. The plain remained silent for a few more moments, and Nia’s Gormotti ears could pick up faint muttering from beyond the treeline. Finally, a man dressed in the brown armour of an Ardainian soldier and wearing the tall ornate helmet of an officer stepped out from the treeline with a steam rifle slung over his shoulder and made his way towards Nia, stopping several Peds away from her.

“You’re a Blade, correct?” the Ardainian officer asked. “Is your Driver injured?”

Nia cocked her head. “Is… what?”

“Why are you negotiating with me instead of your Driver? Or are you one of the Driverless?”

“I don’t…” Nia wasn’t sure how to answer that question without opening a whole other can of worms. The Ardainian officer didn’t seem to have noticed her tainted Core Crystal, though, which was good. “I am the acting commander of the Garfont Mercenaries. We’ve been contracted by the Urayan queen to investigate a… matter of importance to the Kingdom of Uraya and wish to continue doing so without further bloodshed.”

“Well, Acting Commander, would you care to explain why your forces opened fire on mine?” the Ardainian officer asked testily.

“The commanding officer of the local Urayan military garrison opened fire on you. My own forces only just arrived and managed to talk him into standing down.”

The officer “hmphed” and said, “Well, isn’t that convenient?”

Clearing his throat, Dromarch spoke up. “In the Urayans’ defence, you are entering their territory with an armed unit. You must realise how that looks from their end.”

The captain regarded Dromarch briefly, seeming unsure who to address before fixing his helmeted gaze back on Nia. “I’m conducting an investigation into an internal imperial matter. And for your information, this region is contested: neither Ardainian nor Urayan territory.”

Nia was genuinely unsure about that last part. The borders of this new world were still being drawn and were constantly changing as new treaties and agreements between the nations were being written. Who controlled which territory was honestly something Nia couldn’t be bothered to keep up with. Now though, she wished she had. So instead, she chose to focus on the first part of what the officer said.

“Who is it that ordered your investigation?” she asked.

The officer folded his arms. “Not sure it’ll mean anything to you, but my orders come from the Special Inquisitor herself.”

Nia’s ears perked up. “Mòrag?”

“So, you’ve heard of her, then?”

Nia smiled. “Heard of her? We’re good friends. What does she have you investigating? Maybe we can help each other out.”

The officer just laughed and said, “I’ve heard some desperate ploys in my day, but this takes the cake. Sorry lass, but if I went around giving sensitive information to everyone who claims to be friends with some high-ranking official, the whole empire would have our military secrets!”

Nia could feel the last vestiges of her patience slipping away, and clung desperately to them as she exclaimed, “It’s true! Contact Mòrag, tell her Nia wants to help with her investigation!”

But the officer just turned and started walking back towards his men, who were tentatively emerging from the treeline. “Just tell your Urayan friends to stay out of our way, and they might live to fight another day.”

Nia tried to think of a response—some way to keep the negotiations going—but couldn’t. The Ardainians seemed inclined to cease hostilities at least, but it still felt like a loss. Cooperation with Mor Ardain might have been beneficial to both of their investigations.

“Wait… Nia ?” one of the Ardainian soldiers suddenly said. His face was unreadable behind his helmet, but his posture indicated he was studying her carefully. “Nia, it is you! I almost didn’t recognize you with that weird outfit. Remember me?”

Considering he looked just like every other Ardainian soldier wearing identical armour, Nia shook her head and looked at Dromarch, who shrugged. Still, there was something familiar about his voice, more specifically his accent. He spoke like someone from Gormott rather than from Mor Ardain.

The soldier then took off his helmet, and Nia saw a vaguely familiar young Gormotti man with short brown hair and matching feline ears. “It’s me, Jac. Remember? You and your friends helped me out in Alba Cavanich around when I first enlisted.”

Finally it clicked, and Nia remembered running a simple errand for the young man which quickly turned into a huge investigation in its own right. “Jac, I remember you! How’re your little siblings? They staying out of trouble?”

“They’re great! Got some leave to go visit them before I got deployed to the frontier….”

“Corporal, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” the officer barked, before looking from Jac to Nia to Jac again. “Are you actually acquainted with this… individual?”

As if suddenly remembering where he was, Jac turned and stood at attention before his commanding officer. “Yes sir, Captain Cailean, sir. I can personally vouch for Nia, sir. She and Special Inquisitor Mòrag worked together on the investigation into the murder of Senator Arascain one year ago, sir.”

The officer, Capt. Cailean, rubbed his chin (or at least, the part of his helmet covering his chin). “Yes, I remember hearing about that. It involved the Brionac terrorist group, didn’t it? What a messy affair.”

The captain spent another moment contemplating before he finally removed his own helmet, revealing an older Ardainian man with a well-groomed moustache. He gave Nia a grin as he said, “I have no reason to doubt any man under my command. If the corporal here vouches for you, I believe him. And if you helped the Special Inquisitor get to the bottom of the Brionac incident, then maybe you can help us find out what destroyed our colony.”

Nia let out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. Finally, things were starting to go her way. Suddenly, the last part of what Cailean said hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Wait, what now?”

Several minutes after the tenuous ceasefire had been reorganised into an unofficial combined operation (itself an equally lengthy process), Nia found herself following Cailean back to where the Ardainians had made camp, Dromarch at her side. She had given Zuo command of the mercenary contingent and trusted him to carry out the operation as planned. She estimated that they will have just arrived at Colony Gamma and would be starting their search. In the interest of cooperation and transparency, Cailean had sent Jac along with Zuo and the Urayans to represent the interests of Mor Ardain, while Nia and Dromarch accompanied the Ardainians.

It was lucky that no one on either side of the brief skirmish had been killed, and those who were wounded were not suffering from terribly serious injuries (thanks in part to Nia’s exceptional healing powers). Thus, with Nia and the Garfont Mercenaries there to mediate, the two sides agreed that working together was in their best interests.

Each side had briefed each other on their respective investigations, and as Nia had feared, the Ardainians’ situation sounded remarkably similar to their own. An Ardainian colony—one that had been around long enough to have a proper name, Blackrock—had dropped out of contact with the rest of the empire two days before the same happened to Colony Gamma. And just like Gamma, early reconnaissance seemed to indicate that all of the settlers had been killed to the last. The thought of so much death made Nia’s stomach churn.

“Blackrock was a mining town, named for the abundance of obsidian in the surrounding area. They set up shop right next to a large underground deposit of ether crystals,” Cailean had explained. “Naturally, my men have searched the whole mine as well as the surrounding area for any sign of especially dangerous monsters, but so far have found pretty standard stuff: Antols, Caterpiles and the like.”

In other words, nothing dangerous enough to wipe out an entire town. She had a hunch that it would be the same with Colony Gamma, but she wouldn’t know for sure until she rendezvoused with Zuo and the other mercenaries later.

However, the Ardainians’ investigation hadn’t been entirely fruitless. By luck or fate, Cailean’s investigation of the area surrounding Blackrock turned up something Nia honestly did not expect any of them to find so far out on the frontier: a witness. It was primarily for this reason that Nia decided to accompany the Ardainians to their base camp.

No sooner had Nia and Dromarch arrived at the Ardainian camp than had Nia identified the likely witness. Among the armoured Ardainian soldiers, the small green Nopon stood out like a sore thumb. The fuzzy round creature was huddled just outside of what appeared to be Cailean’s tent, nursing a steaming cup of presumably tea in the wing-like appendages Nopon used in place of their stubby little arms. A Nopon-sized pack rested next to him, with numerous odds and ends hanging off of it. The Nopon was staring straight ahead, his beady eyes not seeming to register Cailean’s approach until the officer cleared his throat.

“Laddie, got someone here who wants to talk to you,” Cailean said. “This here’s Nia, she’s in charge of a mercenary crew who are investigating a similar incident to what happened in Blackrock.”

The Nopon regarded her with his beady eyes. “Hello, Miss Nia. I Samsam: merchant in Pyrithium Trade Guild.” The Nopon pulled his guild identification out of his pack and held it for Nia to see.

“Nice to meet you, Samsam,” Nia said politely. It was hard to tell age with Nopon, but this one looked very young.

“Laddie, how about you tell Nia here what you told me the other day.”

Samsam nodded (which for a Nopon, looked more like a little bow) and focused on Nia as he began reciting a story Nia suspected he’d already told numerous times. “Right. Samsam does trade with colonies in this region for guild. Sometimes with guildmates, most times alone. Pyrithium Trade Guild not have many airships so usually travel on foot.”

Nia raised an eyebrow. “You travel the frontier on foot? Alone?”

“It not so bad when you know what routes to take and what routes to avoid. Sometimes Samsam see monsters, but Samsam sneaky and fast like wind! That only reason Samsam not killed like prospectors in Empire colony.”

“Do you know what killed them, Samsam?”

“Samsam not know. Sun just setting when Samsam arrive at Blackrock for trade. Usually member of town militia waiting to greet Samsam, but this time no one there. Samsam get bad feeling but enter colony anyway. That when Samsam see monster.”

“So it was a monster that did it?” Nia asked. “What kind of monster was it?”

A haunted look fell across Samsam’s face. “Samsam not know, Samsam never see before! Different from any monster Samsam see in all of Alrest.”

“Different? In what way?”

“Monster look like… like it wasn’t there. Samsam not know how else to describe. It look like it was made of smoke or fog.”

Nia had faced many species of monster in her travels, but she had never seen or heard of one like that. Of course, the new world was full of many strange things, including monsters never before seen in Old Alrest. Nia had even heard multiple accounts of Drivers who had encountered gigantic, winged lizards that breathed fire. If something like that existed in this new world, a beast made of fog didn’t seem terribly far-fetched, Nia supposed.

“Tell her about the rift,” Cailean prompted the Nopon.

“Oh yes! After run away from fog monster, Samsam notice the late hour, yet sun still hang high in sky. That when Samsam realize it not sun at all, but great big hole in sky, orange like setting sun.”

“An orange rift?” Nia mused.

The rift itself wasn’t so strange. The world in its current form was still newly born. As such, the firmaments between it and what remained of Old Alrest were still unstable, making such rifts a relatively common occurrence. Scientists and meteorologists had even learned to track and predict them like any other weather phenomenon. It was how salvagers were able to continue to make a living without the Cloud Sea, planning expeditions to the Land of Morytha using predictions of when and where the next rift would open up. And yet, Nia had never heard of an orange rift opening up before. The image painted by the little Nopon was certainly ominous.

“I see, so after you saw the rift in the sky, what happened?” Nia asked.

“Nothing. Samsam find safe place to make camp and bed down for the night. Next morning, rift was gone.”

“And there you have it,” Cailean said. “Naturally, my men have been keeping their eyes peeled for any fog monsters or strange rifts, but so far have found jack shite.”

“I will admit, it does all sound a little far-fetched,” Nia stated. And yet, something about the Nopon’s story rang true. She was no stranger to strange happenings, after all.

“Aye, I know it sounds a little doo-lally but I’ve no reason to doubt the lad. And considering we haven’t got any other leads….”

“Right, say no more.” Nia wondered how all of this was going to look in her report to Her Majesty. She decided that was a problem for Future Nia and turned to address Cailean. “I’ll inform my mercenaries of this orange rift and fog creature. In the meantime….”

“And man in white hat.”

Both Nia and Cailean slowly turned their heads towards Samsam, the little Nopon shifting uncomfortably under their combined gaze.

“And what ?” Cailean said, his voice low like a simmering pot ready to boil over.

Samsam cleared his throat, and Nia could swear his fur was starting to stand on end. “Samsam recently remembered, about an hour before reaching Ardainian colony, Samsam crossed paths with traveller on road: man wearing coat and wide white hat. Samsam offered to make trade but man in white hat just keep walking. Said he had appointment to keep.”

Nia had a feeling she knew where the little Nopon was going with this. “And let me guess: he was coming from the direction of Blackrock?”

Samsam nodded. “Is only colony in one-hundred Titanpeds of where paths crossed.”

“Why the bloody hell are you only telling me this now? We could have been looking for this guy the past few days!” Cailean exclaimed. The simmering pot was now at a boil.

“Samsam only just remember an hour ago! Samsam meet travellers on road frequently, so thought nothing of it at the time. Forgot all about man in white hat by the time Samsam reached Blackrock.”

Cailean let out a long breath, and just like that the proverbial pot was back down to a simmer. “Well, I suppose this counts as good news. Would’ve liked to have known about it sooner, but this man in the white hat might be the last person to have seen the people of Blackrock alive. He’ll be a valuable witness, assuming we can find him.”

Nia, however, had another much more unsettling thought. “Samsam, which direction would you say this man was headed?”

“Was headed west. Closest settlement in that direction would be Uraya’s Colony Gamma.”

Nia figured as much. “And how long does it take to get from where you saw him to Colony Gamma by foot?”

Samsam rubbed his chin with a wing. “If pace is good, could reach Colony Gamma from Blackrock by foot in two days.”

And there it was. Colony Gamma had lost contact with the Kingdom of Uraya exactly two days after the town of Blackrock lost contact with Mor Ardain.

Nia and Cailean exchanged a knowing look. “Are you thinking…?” Cailean started, allowing the thought to complete itself.

With a nod, Nia answered, “I’m thinking this man in the white hat is a little more than just a witness.”

It was little more than halfway through the second full day of the investigation that Nia unexpectedly found herself back aboard the Vandham's Legacy travelling to Fonsa Myma. She and the mercenaries under her command had just finished their search of the apparently abandoned Igna colony in the nearby mountains when she was informed of a message they had received on the onboard crystal communicator from the office of Queen Raqura. The message instructed Nia to return to the Urayan capital immediately.

Nia was honestly miffed. Her investigation into the destruction of Colony Gamma was nowhere near complete, and surely the queen knew it. Nevertheless, Nia did as she was bid and left Zuo in charge of the investigation while she and Dromarch took the Vandham's Legacy back to Uraya.

She spent the rest of the day in her quarters, drafting up a report on her investigation to give to the queen when she arrived in Fonsa Myma. Nia found paperwork tedious even when everything was going smoothly, but the incomplete nature of the investigation made the process downright frustrating.

Enough so that when evening came around and her stomach started to rumble, she decided that the rest of the report could wait until tomorrow. Zuo had already begun investigating the closest neighbouring colonies for any information about Samsam’s mysterious man in the white hat, as well as any sightings of what they were now calling the Fogbeast. Who knows? Maybe by this time tomorrow Zuo would contact her with a new development that would conveniently answer everything. Unfortunately, Nia had a feeling she wouldn’t be that lucky.

Nia forced all of that from her mind as the mess decks called to her. With just the ship’s crew and none of the Garfont Mercenaries on board, the mess decks were much emptier than it had been on the journey here. Still, Nia found the atmosphere too stuffy for her liking and found a nice empty spot on the upper deck to eat and look out at the night sky. It was an overcast night, and the Titan airship was flying just above the clouds, a canopy of stars above and a sea of clouds below. It reminded Nia of Old Alrest, and she found herself imagining she was travelling it again alongside the friends she had grown to rely on.

“You’re looking wistful,” Dromarch said, the white tiger sitting on his haunches next to her. “Let me guess: thinking about the old days?”

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Nia said, taking a long breath. “We spent so much time fighting for a better world. Yet now that we’ve found it, part of me kinda misses the old one.”

“That is the way life is sometimes, isn’t it?” Dromarch mused. “You never realise when the good days are until they’re gone.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not wearing rose-tinted glasses or anything. There’s a lot of the old world I’m glad to leave behind. I don’t miss fighting for our lives every single day.” Nia touched the tainted Core Crystal on her chest. “I don’t miss hiding who I really am from the people I care about most. More than anything I just miss them.”

“Yes, it has been some time since all of us were together,” Dromarch said.

“I even miss Shellhead.”

“Now you are wearing rose-tinted glasses.”

Nia allowed herself a chuckle, but it wasn’t enough to keep the constant growing melancholy at bay. For how close she and the others had grown over their journey, the only thing really binding them together was their shared goal of reaching Elysium. Now that they had done it, the threads of fate binding them together were unravelling.

“Don’t worry, we’ll see them again soon enough,” Dromarch said. 

“I know. It’s just sad to think that we’re already drifting apart,” Nia said.

“True, but it’s simply a part of life,” Dromarch said. "Mòrag and Brighid have their duties in Mor Ardain, and Zeke and Pandoria couldn’t run from their duties in Tantal forever. Even Tora and Poppi have their own goals to achieve. And Rex…”

“Rex has Pyra and Mythra,” Nia said, doing her best to keep the hurt from showing in her voice.

“Exactly.”

That was when the thought entered Nia’s mind, so what do I have? In Rex’s recent absence, Nia had taken command of the Garfont Mercenaries but to what end? What was she doing all of it for?

When she was travelling with Rex and the others, getting Pyra and Mythra to Elysium—and the hope that they would find a better world there, even for someone like her—was the dream that had pushed her forward. But now that she was thinking about it, it wasn’t even really her own dream. She had simply borrowed it from Rex.

“What am I even doing?” Nia muttered.

“My lady?”

“Rex, Tora, Mòrag, all of them… they seem like they have it all figured out. Their purpose in life. And when we were all together, I thought I had finally found mine. But now? Everything feels exactly like it was before I met them. When it was just you and me against the world.”

“Now my lady, you know that things are very different now….”

“In what way?” Nia was vaguely aware that a dam within her had ruptured, and a torrent of words were spilling out that she couldn’t stop, but it barely registered. Perhaps this was needed. “I know, we have the Garfont Mercenaries now, and we’re not constantly looking over our shoulder waiting for the Praetorium to find us, but I feel like I’m still just getting by day to day. Everyone else is moving forward but it’s like I’m... adrift.”

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Nia said, “Sorry, Dromarch. Guess I sound pretty ungrateful. All things considered, we do have it pretty good now.”

“I think I understand, my lady,” Dromarch said, the big cat shifting closer to her. It was all the invitation Nia needed, and she leaned into his soft fur. “Just give it time. You’ll find your own purpose.”

The second day of their voyage back to the capital had a favourable wind throughout, allowing the Vandham's Legacy to make port in Fonsa Myma’s harbour at midday on the third, rather than at the end of day as the captain had initially predicted. Nia wasted no time after stepping off the Titan airship. With Dromarch sticking to her like glue, she made her way up the marble and stone streets of Fonsa Myma to the Holy Gate of Fontana and up the Great Stairway to the main plaza of Sevind Palace.

There, she showed the guards the Royal Signet the queen had given her bearing the sigil of House Selosia and explained that she was expected. She and Dromarch were then led into the palace, up winding stairs and through well-furnished corridors until they arrived at the doors to Queen Raqura’s study. As Nia again pulled out her signet to show the two Queensguard soldiers standing vigil at the door, the sound of muffled voices crept through from the other side.

“After what happened the other day, you can no longer afford to hesitate! ” An older woman’s voice exclaimed; not the queen’s, but someone Nia did not recognize.

“I am not dead yet, Lady Paronet," Queen Raqura’s voice replied, calm but full of regal authority. “Please have the courtesy to keep your ambition in check until my body is a little colder!”

“Your Majesty, such harsh words are unwarranted! I am only thinking of what’s best for the kingdom. ”

It was at that moment that the senior member (Nia assumed) of the Queensguard knocked on the door. “Your Majesty, the commander of the Garfont Mercenaries is here for you.”

“Send her in,” the queen ordered, and the Queensguard officer opened the door and stood aside for Nia to enter.

Queen Raqura Selosia was seated at her large saffronia wood desk, entombed in books and paper. The table displaying the replica World Tree and the miniature Titans orbiting it was just off to the side, and standing just in front of it was another woman dressed in the fine clothes and jewellery of nobility. She looked over at Nia, the bones of her skull seeming to push through her wrinkled face dotted with scales typical of a full-blooded Urayan. Her expression, however, betrayed none of the frailty of age, and her anger—either from the conversation or its interruption—was palpable.

“If you wish to continue this discussion, Lady Paronet, we can do so in formal session with the other Houses,” Queen Raqura stated, motioning with a hand for Nia to step closer. “For now, I have other matters to see to.”

The other woman took a step toward the door as Nia approached, then turned to get in one final word. “I know it is a bitter pill to swallow, Your Majesty, but it is an undeniable fact: Your line will end with you. I beg you, please ensure the same will not be true of Uraya.”

With a final, hasty bow, the noblewoman marched past Nia, not sparing her or Dromarch another glance before disappearing through the study’s door. When she was gone, Queen Raqura let out a long-suffering sigh.

“My apologies for that, Nia. I did not expect you to arrive so early.”

Glancing back towards the door the noblewoman had retreated through, Nia found herself too curious not to ask, “What was that about?”

“Just the head of House Paronet overstepping as always,” Raqura said. Nia expected the queen to simply leave it at that; she was one to keep things close to the chest, after all. But after a moment’s hesitation, Raqura elaborated, “I’m sure you’re aware that the Kingdom of Uraya is in the midst of a succession crisis. My only son died many years ago, and more recently so did my Royal Consort. My younger brother is the only living family I have left, and he relinquished his claim to the throne long ago. Though, considering half the kingdom are probably his bastards, that may have been the wisest decision he’d ever made.”

Nia nodded. “Right, say no more.”

“Lady Paronet seems to think that her House has the best claim to the throne, owing to the fact my late husband was her son,” Raqura continued.

“And I take it that’s where you disagree with her?”

“Officially, the Royal Consort’s family has no place in the line of succession….”

“But, in the absence of other heirs, she figures she can leverage that relationship.” Nia had seen it all the time in her old life in the world of Gormotti nobility. “I bet she puts on quite the performance as your ‘loyal and trusted friend.’”

To Nia’s surprise, Raqura let out a single chuckle. “You always were a bloody sharp one. But enough talk of politics. Do you have your report on the destroyed colony?”

Nia placed her written report on the queen’s desk and briefly summarised the events surrounding her investigation of Colony Gamma. Queen Raqura thumbed through the written report as she listened, her eyes scanning the pages even after Nia finished her debriefing.

“What about the missing Blades? Any idea why they’re not with the bodies of the other colonists?” Raqura asked.

This was information Zuo had sent Nia during the second day of her voyage back. He had only discovered the existence of Blades in Colony Gamma at all thanks to employment records his men found in the colony administrator’s office. What was more, he had contacted Capt. Cailean after making the discovery and had found out there were unaccounted for Blades in Blackrock as well. Another unsettling parallel between the two incidents.

“Well like I said, the investigation is still ongoing, but my guess is that their disappearance has something to do with the figure apparently spotted near the site of both Uraya’s colony and Mor Ardain’s,” Nia explained. Zuo’s investigation had also turned up one or two more eyewitness accounts of this “man in the white hat” but they still hadn’t caught up with him yet. Zuo’s most recent message said that their man appeared to be headed toward the Urayan town of Goshen, and that he and a couple of his men were going there next.

“Is it possible that these Blades returned to their Core Crystals?” Raqura asked.

“I don’t see how,” Nia said.

“Indeed,” Dromarch spoke up, “It’s been little more than a year since the World Tree was destroyed and not a single Blade has returned to their core since.”

Nia didn’t need to think hard to know why the thus far silent Dromarch chose to speak up on this particular point. The topic of how the Blade lifecycle had changed was one they never really sat down and discussed, busy as they were. It always seemed to loom just in their peripheral, though.

“Well, I suppose this question and more will be answered once we’ve tracked down our mystery man in the white hat,” Raqura said, filing away Nia’s report and standing from her desk. “Fine work as usual, Nia. I must say, I’m very impressed with the way you handled the unexpected skirmish with the Ardainian force.”

With a noncommittal shrug, Nia said, “Eh, just doing my job.”

“No actually, you went above and beyond the call of duty. Most mercenaries would have simply gone along with commander Wrash’s orders and I’d have an international incident on my hands.” 

Raqura began walking around the desk, and for the first time Nia noticed she was leaning on a cane. One that the queen didn’t have the last time they met. “You managed to not only stop the engagement without casualties on either side, but even managed to organise a combined investigation in its wake. That kind of initiative is the mark of a true leader.”

“I…” Nia was about to explain that a lot of it was luck. That her second-in-command had really gone to bat for her with Cmdr. Wrash, and that by pure coincidence she had an acquaintance within the ranks of the Ardainian decade.

She then glanced over at Dromarch, who gave her a kind but firm glare. One that seemed to say, Just take the compliment!

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Nia said.

For what may have been the first time, Nia saw the makings of a smile on Queen Raqura’s hard, stony face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with the heads of the six noble houses, and I expect they will all test the limits of my patience.”

Remembering their earlier talk about the succession crisis, Nia decided now was as good a time as any to ask, “One question before you go, Your Majesty,” Nia said. “Is there something amiss here?”

“Amiss?”

“Yeah, like, why call me back to the capital before I’ve had a chance to finish the investigation you sent me on?” Nia asked. “I don’t think you would do that unless something here was amiss.”

Raqura’s stone face somehow seemed even stonier as she said, “There is more we must speak of. Meet me at the Raqura Aquagardens at eight o’clock tonight.” She then spared a quick glance to Dromarch. “Come alone. I’ll explain everything then.”

Nia would only find out years later that “everything” did not really mean “everything.”

Only mildly annoyed, Duchess Priscilla Paronet sol Esteriole strode the halls of Sevind Palace in the direction of the main council chambers, where Queen Raqura was scheduled to meet with her and the other heads of Uraya’s noble houses in the next few minutes. It was likely that every one of them was ready to present the queen with a list of reasons why their House should be the one to succeed the throne, each of them tenuous at best. Out of all of them, House Paronet was closest to having an actual place in the line of succession, and Priscilla had hoped to remind the queen of that before the formal session of council would begin. Alas, the stubborn woman refused to hear of it.

No matter, Priscilla thought, the throne will be mine one way or another.

At the end of the corridor leading to the council chambers, Priscilla’s Blade Sven awaited her. He had an appearance common to so many of his kind; dark grey skin and blue lines of ether running along his doll-like body. What differentiated him from others of his kind was the eloquence with which he carried himself. He waited for Priscilla with his hands clasped behind his back, standing ever so slightly straighter than most Blades, and as she approached, he bowed with infinitesimally more grace.

“My Lady Paronet,” he greeted her, even his Blade accent a touch more refined.

Although Priscilla had the aptitude to resonate with Core Crystals, she considered the kind of work typical of Drivers beneath her. Only her eldest son had—against her wishes—actually engaged in real mercenary work, and look where it got him (Architect rest his soul). Despite that, her Blades had their uses. If nothing else, it was good to have help she didn’t need to pay too highly.

“Sven,” Priscilla greeted in turn. “Any word from the mercenary guilds we contacted the other day?”

Sven gave a single nod, “The Bedlam Mercenaries and the Volff’s Fang Mercenaries have both signed four-year contracts.”

“Wonderful,” Priscilla said. Together with the other mercenaries she was keeping on retainer, this was turning out to be a very expensive investment. It would be worth it in the end though, and besides, what else were taxpayer Gs for?

Priscilla was already considering how best to use the ample muscle she had acquired. She figured the best strategy would be to have them stand by within the duchies of her rival Houses, whereupon Queen Raqura’s (likely soon) passing, they would attack key farming villages: burning crops and destroying supply lines, effectively crippling the rest of the nobility before they could launch mercenary attacks of their own. The leaders of each of the guilds on her payroll were already working out the logistics of such an operation.

Some part of her was vaguely aware that the people of Uraya would suffer as a result, but it was so far down her priorities it barely registered. Her own coffers were suffering a fair amount to secure her place on the throne, the Urayan people could surely handle being hungry for a winter or two if it meant a more prosperous future for the Kingdom further down. Then, once Priscilla was queen, she could really get to work.

“One additional item regarding the newly contracted mercenaries,” Sven started. He must have seen a hint of displeasure on Priscilla’s face, because he hastily clarified, “A good development, My Lady Paronet. The Volff’s Fang mercenaries have a couple of new recruits who recently joined after their contract ended with another merc group. The Dragon’s Breath Mercenaries, I believe. They had been contracted by the office of Queen Raqura early in the year, and are now offering us information on that job in exchange for a bonus.”

“They must be new to the business. Or just greedy and short-sighted,” Priscilla mused. Even she knew that giving out sensitive information about previous employers was a good way to get blacklisted from the merc community. “All the better for us, though. I presume you took them up on their offer?”

Sven nodded. “Queen Raqura had hired their old guild for a job in Gormott. They were tasked with gathering as much information as they could find pertaining to House Echell, a noble house in Gormott which had apparently gone bankrupt and been dissolved a number of years ago.”

Priscilla knew exactly what this meant, and a single cackle erupted from her old throat. “So, our queen is still trying to find the Lost Heir of Hannes.”

Priscilla herself had hired people to find leads on the Heir of Hannes right after Queen Raqura’s son and only heir had died. She was reasonably certain all of the other nobles had done the same, yet none of them could find a trace of the Lost Heir’s existence. Priscilla couldn’t keep herself from chuckling some more. Your desperation is showing, Raqura.

“Should I look into this matter further, My Lady Paronet?”

“Do not waste your time, Sven. If Hannes Envia really did sire a secret heir in Gormott, that line was likely broken long ago.” Priscilla then looked up at the sound of footsteps down the hall from whence she came. Members of the Queensguard were marching towards the council chambers with Queen Raqura shuffling along on her cane just behind them. “Right now, we have bigger fish to fry.”

It had been quite some time since Nia had last visited the Raqura Aquagardens, she thought as she descended the portion of the Great Stairway that extended out beyond Fonsa Myma’s streets. The last time she was here, it had been with Rex and the others. The saffronia trees around the lake far below the Great Stairway had been in full bloom, their petals filling the distant scenery with a pink-orange glow. The saffronias this year weren’t quite finished blooming yet, their glow just a tad dimmer.

There was now also wooden scaffolding bridging the chunks of the stone stairway that had long since collapsed the first time Nia and her friends had come this way. She vividly remembered sliding down the aqueduct that ran alongside the Great Stairway, building up momentum for the death-defying leap over the broken gap before using their Blades to climb the rest of the way. Even with that sense of adventure now gone because of it, Nia was glad for the scaffolding. She didn’t have the mental energy for those kinds of acrobatics right now.

Apparently Nia wasn’t the only one feeling nostalgic this evening. She arrived within the Raqura Aquagardens to find its namesake standing at its centre, bathed in soft moonlight diffused through the gardens’ glass ceiling and the Urayan Titan’s translucent hide far above. The queen looked lost in thought as she stared at the arrangements of plant life on the garden’s far side.

“I used to come here a lot as a kid,” Raqura said as Nia approached, her eyes never leaving the flowers, bushes and trees with their softly glowing petals. “Used to spend hours here with my canvas and brushes.”

In the admittedly short time Nia had known Queen Raqura, she had never seen her speak so openly about herself to anyone. “You used to paint? Get out!”

“Yep. I wasn’t half bad at it either.” Raqura’s stone face then gave way to a frown. “If I picked up a paint brush now though, I don’t think I’d know what to do with it.”

“Been that long, has it?”

Raqura nodded. “I wonder whether all of those ambitious nobles would still covet the crown I wear if they knew the truth of it.”

“The truth?”

Finally, Raqura turned to look at Nia, her eyes heavy and tired. “That the crown is ravenous. It eats your passions, your hobbies, your relationships, everything that makes you you. It eats your time in this world. It leaves you with only the things a ruler needs: a strong will and a sharp mind. It hardens you, but… leaves you incomplete.”

Nia opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words to respond. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. She’d heard that idiom before, but it was only now—seeing Queen Raqura look more tired than she’d ever seen someone—that Nia started to grasp the full scope of its meaning.

“You wanted to know why I summoned you back. Whether something was ‘amiss’ as you put it,” Raqura continued. “The truth is, two days after I sent you to investigate Colony Gamma, I had a significant health scare. I collapsed in the middle of a meeting with my top admirals and had to be rushed to the palace infirmary.”

“Eesh, you alright?” Nia asked, but then she looked again at the cane that the queen now leaned on and a cold feeling sunk into her chest.

“For now, but I don’t know for how long.” Raqura paced, leaning on her cane as she sought out some other part of the garden to focus her attention. “The doctors say I have at least a year. After that, things get murky.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Nia could think to say until she remembered her… unique powers. “You know, I have some pretty powerful healing abilities. Maybe I can help?”

“Can you create ether out of thin air?” Raqura asked sardonically.

Nia’s healing powers were exceptional enough for her to go toe to toe with the Endbringer himself. But even she couldn’t create something from nothing. Nia shook her head.

“Your sentiment is appreciated, Nia, really. But if there is a cure for DED, I don’t think we’ll find it in time.”

Nia’s eyes widened. “You have Degenerative Ether Disease?” 

Ether was the base upon which all life is built: as essential to living things as a heart or lungs. It was rare, but there were people whose bodies did not produce enough ether for those things and more to continue working. Nia remembered reading about it when she had been doing her own research into deadly diseases, hoping to find a way to save the girl who had been like a sister to her. There was also old man Cole, though his ether degeneration was thanks to his Flesh Eater background and not the result of any sickness.

Unaware of Nia’s thoughts, Raqura continued, “Truth is, I’ve been suffering from this condition all my life. It was never easy, but thanks to the best medical care in Uraya, I always managed. Now though, my condition has worsened. I suppose I was always living on borrowed time.”

Nia thought back to the half-overheard conversation when she showed up at the queen’s study. “I guess this explains why that Paronet woman was so eager to get the succession sorted quickly.”

“Yes. My staff did what they could to downplay my health incident, but Paronet and the others still found out. Bloody Rhoguls, the lot of ‘em,” Raqura spat. “I suppose there was a time when the noble families of Uraya truly lived up to the title. Perhaps when the six Houses were still nine. Now though, all they care about is gaining power at any cost. Even now, they plot and scheme behind my back.”

Raqura sighed, “It doesn’t matter which of them ultimately succeeds the throne after I’m gone. Without a true heir, Uraya’s on the path to a second War of Succession. Something I do not believe the kingdom in its current state can survive.”

For a moment, the Aquagardens were quiet and still.

“Well… that’s an awfully grim picture you’ve painted, Your Majesty,” Nia eventually said. “But I still don’t understand what this all has to do with why I’m here.”

But the silence of the Aquagardens persisted, until at last Raqura asked, “Do you believe in fate, Nia?”

What the bloody hell kind of question is that? Nia wanted to ask, but instead eloquently replied, “Uh… like what?”

“Fate. Do you believe our destinies are all written?”

Nia rubbed her neck, “Gee, I dunno. I guess?”

“Never gave it much thought, did you?” Raqura asked with the hint of a smile, and Nia shook her head. “Some people are adamantly opposed to the idea of fate. Goes against the notion of free will, I guess. The more zealous types like the Indoline—or what’s left of them—firmly believe that everything happens because the Architect wills it.”

“Well, I have actually met the Architect,” Nia said with a slight grin of her own. “If there is such a thing as fate, I don’t think He has much to do with it.”

Raqura nodded. “Myself, I quite like the idea that the old Spessian scholars came up with: That if we are all connected by the flow of ether, then we are similarly bound to that flow. Thus, everything that happens is predetermined.”

Nia shrugged. “I dunno. I think I like the idea of free will better, myself.”

“I don’t disagree, but that theory is why I’m standing here now,” Raqura said. “I must have been eleven or twelve when I first read about Spessia’s theory of fate. It seemed fatalistic at first, but then it dawned on me: if our fates are dictated by the flow of ether, then my greatest weakness is also my greatest strength. After all, how could I be part of the eternal flow of ether if my body can’t even produce enough of it to live?”

“Wow, that’s a pretty optimistic way to see a terminal illness,” Nia mused.

“Say what you like, but I’m now standing here at fifty-two years old when the doctors all said I wouldn’t live past twelve. It’s how I managed to bear a son even though my condition should have made that impossible. Yes, he still died before he could succeed me, and I’m not likely to live to old age, but I still managed to defy the fate given to me.

“I make my own fate. And now that Uraya’s fate hangs by a thread, I’m going to take it with my own hands.”

Part of Nia wanted to ask her to just get to the bloody point already, but she couldn’t. The queen’s drive and passion in this moment was mesmerising. This was a side of her Nia never knew existed. Perhaps it was the natural result of knowing that her time was almost up.

“I don’t know if you remember this, Nia, but the first time we properly spoke was right here in the Aquagardens.”

“No, I remember.”

“And do you remember the job I gave you and your friends then?”

“You hired us because someone stole the Jeweled Signet of Uraya.” Nia thought carefully to call back the details of that mission. It had been back when she was still on the journey to find Elysium with Rex and the others. “Someone had claimed to find some lost heir in Gormott or something and needed the signet to prove the claim’s legitimacy, right?”

“That’s right. Someone actually claimed to have found the Lost Heir of Hannes, the last scion of House Envia, the true royal family of Uraya. You are aware, of course, that House Selosia are not the kingdom’s true rulers? At best we’re stewards and at worst, usurpers.” Raqura’s grip on her cane tightened. “I realise it’s hypocritical of me to lament the corrupt state of the nobility when it’s likely that my ancestors were the ones who started us down that path. That is, if you believe the death of House Envia was their work and not merely the work of fate.”

Nia didn’t exactly know the whole bloody history of Uraya, so she chose to focus on what she did know. “The culprits who stole the Jeweled Signet hadn’t actually found the lost heir though.”

“That’s right, it was all just a ploy by Mor Ardain to take advantage of the succession crisis and put a puppet on Uraya’s throne.”

“A ploy by an individual from Mor Ardain acting without the emperor’s knowledge or consent,” Nia reminded her.

“So the official story goes,” Raqura said in a wary tone. It would seem that despite the progress that had been made between the two rival nations since the Temperantia incident, Raqura was still slow to trust the Ardainian Empire. “Regardless, I already knew they couldn’t have found the real heir of House Envia because I had already spent years looking into it myself.”

“Really? You were planning to find the lost heir to solve your succession crisis?” Nia asked.

“Not just me. For years the other noble families of Uraya had been searching for the heir, for the very same reason as the culprit in your investigation. However, when you and your friends gave me your findings, a notion hit me that I couldn’t shake. Naturally, I had already done a thorough background check on you and your friends before hiring you for that job. I knew about your history with the terrorist group Torna, and much more significantly, I knew about your life as the daughter of Lord Fremen Echell of Gormott. A noble house which now no longer exists.”

Nia’s heartbeat quickened as somewhere in the back of her mind, an idea began to form about where the queen was going with all this. Raqura went to a small table off to the side of the garden’s centrepiece, where an old book bound in leather from Ardun’s hide had been set.

“After you and the others completed the job, I hired more mercenaries to gather every last document they could recover from the fallen House Echell. It took a lot of legwork; when your old House’s assets were liquidated, the contents of your archives were scattered to the winds. Eventually though, I had enough for my scribes to start combing through.” Raqura took the book in her hand and presented it to Nia. “This is what they eventually found.”

Nia took the book and looked through its pages, her mind already reeling with what she knew she would find. Sure enough, she saw an old family tree with names dating back to House Echell’s founding. Names she remembered learning about from her studies with Father what felt like a lifetime ago. Finally, she got far enough down the list to see a name.

Ranni Echell, daughter of Rayla Echell and Hannes (Full name unknown).

“You must be taking the absolute piss…” Nia muttered, in too much disbelief to care that she was talking to a queen.

“The date matches up with when Hannes Envia travelled to Gormott. The fact he was seeing a woman there was an open secret, but all records pertaining to the woman’s identity had been lost. Until now, it would seem.” 

“ARE YOU BLOODY KIDDING? This has to be a mistake!”

“It’s genuine. Many months of work went into making sure of it.”

Nia still couldn’t believe it. “Your Majesty… are you really asking me what I think you’re asking?”

“Nia… as the true heir to the throne of Uraya, I am asking you to be my successor.”

Nia held the book back toward Raqura, extending her arm as far as it would go as if its pages were poison. “No. Find someone else!”

“Nia, there is no one else and we’re running out of time,” Raqura said, taking a patient breath. “I understand this is a lot to take in, but you need to pull yourself together.”

“Like hell I do, I’m not a queen! I wouldn’t know the first thing about being one!”

“I’ll teach you. There’s much to go over, and I don’t know how much time I have to go over it.”

Nia’s head was spinning. The Aquagardens were as tranquil and peaceful as they’ve ever been, but now the silence was filled by the noise in her head.

“I…I can’t. I’m sorry,” was all Nia could say as she dropped the book to the ground and beat a hasty retreat back up the Great Stairway. She was vaguely aware that Queen Raqura was calling after her but her voice was drowned out by Nia’s spiralling thoughts.

The Urayan frontier town Goshen was one of the first founded by the kingdom’s settlers in the new world. As a result, it was one of the most well developed. Built by the southern coast of the New Alrest supercontinent within a short day’s flight to Uraya’s Titan, Goshen featured an active port filled with Titan ships coming and going. It was for this reason that Goshen was Uraya’s largest centre of trade in New Alrest.

North of Goshen’s harbour were streets lined with stone buildings built with the smooth surfaces and curving spires that were typical of Urayan architecture, along with many more skeletons of structures that were still being built. The main street sported many shops and businesses, from bakers to butchers to traders of useful and frivolous goods alike.

Many side streets branched off from the main commercial road, twisting and turning into each other as the growing number of settlers built new homes and businesses wherever they pleased. They no longer needed to be concerned about dwindling space on dying Titans, so even these winding side streets were roomy. Among the ample residences was the occasional Inn or pub. Cmdr. Alastair Vherestrom currently found himself sitting at a table in one such establishment called the Tipsy Gogol, situated in what the locals referred to as Goshen’s “dodgy end.”

A large man whose age and drinking had undeniably made him larger, Vherestrom was dressed in various pieces of old mismatched Ardainian armour that barely fit him now. Despite his cobbled together appearance and persistent drinking, his brown eyes were as sharp as the bayonet on his customised steam rifle, carefully scanning the pub’s other patrons from his corner table even as he took a sip from his fifth cup of cheap beer. 

The only other living souls within the Tipsy Gogol were a group of four young dock workers (three guys and a woman who seemed just as much a guy as any of them) at a table closer to the bar. They seemed to be hooting and hollering every other minute, and a much older man at the table in the opposite corner somehow slept through all of it. There was a bartender cleaning glasses at his post behind the bar counter, the only sober one in the room. None of these other people gave the large man in old Ardainian armour more than a glance; one look at the scar under his left eye and the resting scowl on his face was enough to dissuade any would-be social Skeeters.

Vherestrom sighed, took another sip of his shitty, too bitter beer and checked the time. Half past nine. The man he was supposed to meet here was an hour late now. If the arsehole didn’t show up by the time Vherestrom finished his current beer, he was going back to the Inn. Screw him. But as Vherestrom took another sip, he saw the pub door open over the top of his cup.

The man in the white hat walked into the pub with a swagger like he owned the place. His grey duster blew behind him with the draft from the open door, and the brim of his wide white hat was dipped low, covering his eyes. But Vherestrom could already see the friendly smile beneath the pencil-thin moustache. The drunk dock workers looked up at him as he entered, and he greeted them like they were old friends, laughing and slapping their backs as the young men (and one woman) looked mildly confused as they went along with it. As far as Vherestrom knew, this man had never even been to Goshen before. He was just like that with everyone. The daft arse.

After chatting up the bartender and buying a drink for himself, the man in the white hat turned his friendly smile towards Vherestrom and gave an overly dramatic gasp, as if he had only just noticed him now.

“Well, howdy there, partner!” the man in the white hat exclaimed with the twang of a heavy Blade accent as he approached Vherestrom at his table. “Fancy meetin’ you here!”

“Cut the crap, Sosem,” Vherestrom said, his harsh Ardainian accent tempered by a soft raspy voice, hoarse from a lifetime of yelling at young Army recruits. “You’re late.”

Sosem’s sunny demeanour was not deterred by Vherestrom’s sour reception, evidenced by the way he pulled out a chair at the table so he could sit on it backwards, resting his arms on the back rest. Like with the strangers at the other table, Sosem smiled at Vherestrom like he was his best friend in the world. Vherestrom hated it.

“Hey, you know how it is travelling the frontier on foot. Delays happen,” Sosem said lazily.

“Are you sure it wasn’t because you stopped in Blackrock before doing the job in Colony Gamma?”

For the first time, Vherestrom spotted a crack in Sosem’s easygoing smile as he replied, “You heard about Blackrock?”

“More than that. My contact in the Ardainian Army tells me an eyewitness spotted you near the scene of both incidents, and now the Ardainians and the Urayans are looking for you.”

Irritatingly, Sosem just shrugged and waved off Vherestrom’s concerns with a gloved hand. “Relax, we’ll be long gone by the time them lead-footed tinhorns track me here. I already got us tickets on a ship to our next target. It leaves in twenty minutes by the way, so….” Sosem then took a hefty swig of his own beer, motioning for Vherestrom to do the same.

“You know that isn’t the only issue,” Vherestrom said. "Blackrock is an Ardainian colony, and the client hired us to hit Urayan settlements. If you’ve been playing privateer for both the Ardainians and the Urayans, no amount of G is worth what’ll happen if the client finds out. I do not need that coming back to me and my men.”

But Vherestrom’s warning was met only with a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Hey, we’re still good. Once we finish this next job, you and your men will have enough money to lay low for a while, and I’ll….” Sosem’s smile seemed to grow a little as he said, “Well, I’ve got other things to keep me busy.”

“Yeah? Like taking on more conflicting contracts?”

“Nah, man. I’m helping out an old acquaintance of mine on a special project. Maybe one day I’ll tell you about it.”

With a sigh, Vherestrom just sat back in his chair, growing wearier of the man next to him by the moment. “Whatever. Just do your job and don’t, y’know, go off script like you always do.”

“Now don’t you fret none, I’ll stick to your script like stink on a Skwaror!”

“Why do I not believe you?”

It was around that time that Vherestrom noticed the door open again, and a small group of three men entered the Tipsy Gogol with purpose in their steps. Vherestrom spotted a Blade with them (making it four), and right away he knew they weren’t just here for drinks.

“We might have a problem,” Vherestrom said, and Sosem shifted to sit properly in his chair, looking back at the mixed group of armed Urayans and Ardainians as they made their way over to the bar and flagged down the bartender.

After a moment, Sosem shrugged and proceeded to lean back in his chair, putting his booted feet up on the table and paying the new arrivals no mind. Even as the bartender said something Vherestrom couldn’t hear and pointed in their direction. Slowly and carefully, Vherestrom picked up his steam rifle and held it under the table, keeping it out of sight but pointed in the direction of the group of what were clearly mercenaries. Sosem, on the other hand, just kept sipping his drink, seeming for all the world that he didn’t have a care in it.

“Excuse me,” the man at the head of the group said, the Blade standing beside him. He had the long ears and rocky scales on his face typical of Urayans and pushed a pair of round glasses up his nose as his gaze focused entirely on Vherestrom’s laid-back associate. “Were you in or around Colony Gamma some five days back?”

Sosem, on the other hand, was slow to look up at the group of mercs now standing over him and Vherestrom. “Who, me?”

“Yes,” the Urayan merc said. “You and your friend mind coming with us? We have a few questions we want to ask you.” He phrased it like a question, even a suggestion, but Vherestrom knew it was anything but.

“And who’s asking the questions?” he rasped.

“Name’s Zuo. I’m with the Garfont Mercenaries. We’ve been contracted to investigate the destruction of a Urayan colony.” The merc—Zuo, apparently—gestured to Sosem. “Your buddy here was spotted in the vicinity of said colony and we’d just like to know what he was doing there.” 

Sosem’s face was the very picture of innocence. “Well shoot, fellas. We don’t know nothin’ about that, but if y’all want to chat then grab a drink, pull up a chair, take a load off!”

The mercenary was not buying it. “Come with us, now. This is the last time I’m going to ask nicely.”

Sosem looked at Vherestrom. “May I?”

Vherestrom looked around at the rest of the bar. The group drinking at the other table were too inebriated and wrapped up in their conversation to pay what was going on at this table any mind. The old man who had been asleep was gone, probably got up and left sometime while Vherestrom was talking to Sosem. The bartender was wiping down the old man’s table, but occasionally glanced in their direction.

What a mess, Vherestrom thought before he said to Sosem, “Do what you like.”

Sosem acknowledged with his usual friendly smile. Except, for maybe the first time since Vherestrom started working with him, he got a good look at Sosem’s eyes. That was when Vherestrom realised that for all the warmth that rested in Sosem’s smile, his soft blue eyes were utterly devoid of it. It wasn’t just that they were joyless, they also lacked the fear Vherestrom had seen in so many of the recruits he had trained, nor was there any of the anger Vherestrom had seen so often in his own reflection. Those blue eyes didn’t seem to hold any life in them at all.

Vherestrom took a final swig from his beer, emptying the cup as Sosem turned his similarly empty eyes toward Zuo and the other mercenaries, two of which had stepped forward, likely intending to hoist the both of them from their seats. They never had the chance, as before Vherestrom could blink, four gunshots suddenly rang out in such quick succession they could have been mistaken for one.

A smoking gunknife with revolving chambers was now in Sosem’s hand, held at the hip. The Blade standing beside Zuo actually managed to get an ether shield up around his apparent Driver in the fraction of a second before Sosem opened fire. The other two men, however, weren’t so lucky and crumpled to the floor. 

Vherestrom saw the Urayan merc’s eyes go wide as he drew his Blade weapon—a greataxe—from the safety of his shield. Vherestrom brought his own steam rifle up above the table, but Sosem just calmly raised his free hand in a placating gesture, smiling his warm but not warm smile that seemed to say to Vherestrom, Watch this!

“You’ll pay for that you bastar—” Zuo’s threat was abruptly cut off by a cough of blood from his mouth, and Vherestrom raised an eyebrow. He had been impressed at the speed with which the merc’s Blade had gotten his shield up, but it would seem that Sosem’s quickdraw had still been faster.

A red stain grew on Zuo’s top like some terrible flower in bloom and the mercenary had just enough time to regard it before he collapsed to the floor, followed swiftly by his Blade. Vherestrom hadn’t even noticed the bullet-sized hole in the centre of the Blade’s Core Crystal until all of the blue ether lines running along its body went dark. The Tipsy Gogol was dead silent.

Polishing off his drink, Sosem hopped to his feet, twirling his revolving gunknife around one finger before it vanished from his hand. He stepped over the bodies with a spring in his step before turning to Vherestrom. “You comin’? Our ship leaves any minute now!”

Vherestrom looked over at the group of bar patrons at the other table, whose boisterous drinking had given way to staring in silent disbelief and terror. Sosem noticeably clocked this.

“Oh, don’t worry about them, they won’t say nothin’. They’re my pals!” Sosem then turned his earnestly friendly smile in their direction in a way that was almost machine-like. “Ain’t that right, fellas?”

The now stone cold sober young drinkers all nodded emphatically. Giving them a tip of his white hat, Sosem stepped out of the pub, and with a grunt Vherestrom stood and followed.

Chapter Text

Nia started to feel a little better when she had put the Raqura Aquagardens behind her and was back in the hustle and bustle of Fonsa Myma. She spent some time wandering around the Entertainment District, allowing the noise of the city’s nightlife to drown out her thoughts. She thought it might be the perfect time to get a drink somewhere, which she hadn’t done since she didn’t know how long. The idea made her think of the setup for a bad joke.

The true heir to Uraya’s throne walks into a pub…. She wasn’t sure what the punchline could be, she only knew that she no longer wanted that drink.

Moving on from the Entertainment District, Nia tried idly browsing some of the shops in the Commercial District, considering buying a new book to help pass the time on the trip back to the frontier the next day. However, she ended up walking away without buying anything and decided to call it a night after that. When she finally arrived back in her room at Folmarie Inn, Dromarch was waiting for her.

“Is everything alright, my lady?” he asked. “You’re looking a tad pale.”

“Just feeling a bit sick,” Nia said. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“I told you that the steamed bluegill we had for dinner tasted a little off,” Dromarch said. "I hope you were at least composed for your meeting with Queen Raqura.”

“I was.” This time, very much a lie.

“And what exactly did the queen want? Does she have another job for us?”

“Yes, but I turned it down. I figured it was best we focused our efforts on the Colony Gamma thing.”

The white tiger furrowed his brow. “If the queen pulled us away from that job for another, I imagine it must be far more urgent.”

“Dromarch, it’s already decided,” Nia said, sitting on the edge of her bed and taking off her boots. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m bloody knackered and would like to turn in. I want to depart back for the frontier first thing tomorrow morning.”

Dromarch hesitated. The two of them have been together too long now for him not to know something was wrong. “Understood.” He also knew it was futile trying to pry it out of her. “Goodnight then, my lady.”

With that, Dromarch left to retire to his own room, leaving Nia alone with her thoughts once again. The Inn’s bed was the most comfortable she’d had in a while (better even than the cots in the Legacy’s officer’s quarters), yet sleep did not come easily.

Eventually she managed to drift off in the first hours of the morning, waking from a half-remembered dream where she was being devoured by the Urayan Titan. In the waking world, Dromarch’s slightly muffled voice called out to her from beyond the door to her room. Nia’s ears flicked in annoyance. She had said they were leaving early, but couldn’t he have given her another ten minutes?

“My lady, are you awake yet?” Dromarch said again. “A courier came by.”

Groaning, Nia emerged from the bed, threw on her jumpsuit and shuffled to the door, opening it to find Dromarch waiting patiently on his haunches. At his feet was a bound scroll of parchment.

“Apparently the courier’s office received a transmission via CC late last night. The enclosed document is supposedly a transcript,” Dromarch said as Nia bent down to pick it up. “It’s from one of Uraya’s frontier towns. Perhaps Zuo has an update on the Colony Gamma investigation.”

Nia wasted no time in tearing it open and unfurling it. The document was indeed a report detailing the events of the investigation as of two nights ago. Nia’s heart nearly skipped a beat when her eyes happened upon the letters KIA about halfway down the page. She kept her composure as she read the whole thing from the top.

“Well?” Dromarch asked when she was nearly done.

“Slight change of plans. We’re not going back to Colony Gamma,” she answered. “We’re going to Goshen. Looks like Zuo found our man in the white hat.”

Fortunately, the trip from Fonsa Myma to Goshen was short—less than a day. The sun was just beginning to set when the Vandham’s Legacy reached the town’s harbour. Considering it had only been a year since the Titans had all arrived in this new world, Nia was impressed with just how big the town had grown since it was first settled. She remembered passing through once when there were only tents and the beginnings of a few buildings. Now, it seemed as if it would only be a few more years before Goshen grew into a city big enough to rival Fonsa Myma or Alba Cavanich. 

Nia didn’t know what to expect when she descended the gangplank from the Vandham’s Legacy, but she certainly hadn’t been expecting the warm, familiar young voice that called out her name.

“Nia? Dromarch?” 

Nia turned, suddenly feeling the fluttery sensation in her stomach that often accompanied the sight of the boy with short brown hair and kind golden eyes that for just a moment she grew lost in.

“Rex? ”

Her dear friend and travelling companion rushed to her and Nia met him halfway, quickly finding herself wrapped up in a tight embrace. Right away Nia noticed he had gotten taller than the last time she’d seen him. She also noticed that he wasn’t wearing his usual salvager’s gear, opting for a simple blue jacket instead. And was it just her, or was he a tad more muscular now as well?

Nia snapped out of the brief spell she was under when Rex let go and said, “Wow, wasn’t expecting to see you guys here. How long’s it been? A month?”

“Nearly two,” Nia answered. One month, three weeks and a day. Not that Nia was counting.

“A pleasure to see you again, master Rex,” Dromarch said, and Rex gave him a nod and a “Likewise.”

Unsurprisingly, Rex wasn’t alone. A pair of remarkably gorgeous young women were with him, a blonde and a redhead garbed respectively in their usual white and red attire. Even though it had been nearly a year, Nia still wasn’t used to seeing both of them together like this. Not separately, anyway.

“Pyra! Mythra!” Nia exclaimed, waving with her whole arm.

“Hey Nia,” Pyra said with a sweet smile, elegantly brushing a strand of red hair out of her matching eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Mythra asked. Even with her usual standoffish tone, Nia could tell the blonde was pleased to see her.

“Tracking down some lowlife goon.” Nia said. “Trying to, anyway. How about you guys?”

“Same, actually.” Rex produced a photograph from his back pocket and showed it to Nia.

The photograph depicted a man posing in the ceremonial uniform of an officer in Mor Ardain’s Army. He had large, meaty features and looked like he had never once smiled in his life.

“Alastair Vherestrom,” Rex explained. “He was an Ardainian Army Officer before he was dishonourably discharged several years back for firing on civilians in Gormott. Nowadays he’s in charge of a group of bandits who’ve been wreaking havoc on frontier colonies.”

Nia gave a sly grin. “I thought the whole point of taking an extended sabbatical was to not work.”

Rex gave Nia a wink and said, “Mythra was getting restless without any heads to bash in!”

“Hey! What kind of psycho do you take me for?” Mythra exclaimed, as usual taking their joking to heart as she jabbed Rex with a finger. “You’re the one who can’t keep his nose out of other people’s problems.”

“Mythra, I seem to recall you getting very fired up about taking this guy down,” Pyra pointed out.

Mythra sputtered a bit. “Well… yeah, he is hurting lots of innocent people.”

“Yeah. It’s sad,” Pyra said. “Even here in Elysium, some things never change.”

“That’s certainly true,” Nia said.

Rex added for context, “Mòrag believes Vherestrom’s group has been hired by Senator Roderich, or someone from his faction, to destabilise Uraya’s colonisation efforts. Lately they’ve only been hitting Urayan colonies.”

“Ugh, it’s so stupid!” Mythra groaned. “The people of Alrest have more land now than they could ever hope to use in a hundred lifetimes, but they’re still killing each other over every little piece of it!”

“Greed is a bottomless pit…” Dromarch mused.

“It’s only a few bad apples,” Rex said, and Nia smiled. Ever the optimist.

“So, you’ve talked to Mòrag, eh?” Nia asked. “How’s she getting on?”

“Busy as an Apis.”

Nia could only imagine. Mor Ardain’s Titan was on its last legs, and the last time Nia had spoken to Mòrag, the Imperial Senate still couldn’t agree on where to move the capital. Emperor Niall wanted to start building the new capital at the site of one of Mor Ardain’s colonies in the new world while the Senate opposition was still dead set on using Gormott as was the original plan. Then there was the growing civil unrest in Gormott (Nia had heard about protesting outside Torigoth Relay Base). Between all that, Mòrag’s own ongoing investigation into Senate corruption, and the myriad of miscellaneous problems faced by Mor Ardain’s new colonies, Nia wondered whether Mòrag even had time to sleep anymore.

“Well, I can certainly understand you wanting to lend a hand,” Nia said. “Dromarch and I are also looking for someone who may be involved in recent attacks on colonies. Maybe we can help each other out.”

With a smile, Rex said, “Couldn’t hurt. It’ll be like old times!”

Nia then proceeded to give a brief summary of her Colony Gamma investigation, capping it off with a description of their prime person of interest. “Apparently, Zuo had a run-in with our man in a pub here.”

“Wait, Zuo’s here?” Rex asked. “Is he alright?”

Nia bit her lip. “That’s what I’m here to find out.”

Rex nodded, his normally boyish expression turning serious as he said, “Then let’s not waste any more time.”

As the five of them left Goshen’s harbour, they came across a Urayan man wearing the badge of one of Goshen’s deputies. He approached the moment he saw Nia.

“G’day, miss. Reckon you’re the Sheila I was told to wait for,” he said, taking her hand in his and shaking it with gusto.

The man proceeded to introduce himself, giving Nia a name that she forgot almost instantly as it was washed away by the deluge of words that immediately followed. He spoke extremely rapidly with what may have been one of the thickest Urayan accents Nia had ever heard, and so heavily laden with slang it was hard for her to follow what he was saying. She just nodded along and followed him when he motioned for her to do so. Nia and the others accompanied their chatty guide up the main street of Goshen, Nia nodding and occasionally interjecting with a half-hearted “yeah.”

“Actually, met the bloke while ‘avin’ a smoko—not that I’m averse to a bit of hard yakka, mind, I’m no bludger, but night was slow. Anyway, bloke seemed a right larrikin. Figured I’d get a frothy with ‘im after me shift, but then he went and did in those mercs. Bloody shame, that. Bloody shame.”

Nia suddenly realised that the deputy was talking about their man in the white hat, and for a moment considered questioning him before she realised she may not get any intelligible answers. Besides, they were likely soon to get answers from a much more reliable source.

“Anyway, here we are. Doc’s office.” Their guide gestured to the building they had stopped in front of. “I’ll be out here, shout if you need something.”

Goshen’s doctor’s office was one of the plainer buildings on the main street, but when Nia and the others stepped inside, they could see that this was no rinky-dink operation. The office was clean and had the sterile chemical smell of other medical offices Nia had been in. She approached the front desk and told the Gormotti woman behind it her business there. Evidently the receptionist had been told to expect her, because she pointed her toward the back of the next room without a fuss. 

Nia and her companions walked past rows of beds divided by green curtains. Most of them were empty but a few held occupants, some asleep, some lying awake in clear discomfort. Zuo was one of the latter. The Urayan man lay with bloody bandages covering his bare chest. A clear bag of blood hung above him, feeding him a steady drip through a tube. As Nia and the others got closer, Zuo looked up and gave them a weak smile.

“There you are. And boss too? Aren’t you supposed to be on sabbatical?”

Rex grinned. “Rule Eight of the Salvager’s Code: Don’t just stand by when trouble’s found your top guy!”

“I still think you’re just making those up,” Zuo said, letting out a chuckle and then wincing.

“Are you in a lot of pain, Zuo?” Pyra asked, looking at him with unguarded concern.

“Only when I laugh.”

“Well, it is good to see that you are alive,” Dromarch said. “When we received your message, my lady was beside herself with worry.”

Nia looked at Dromarch, mortified as Zuo’s weak smile seemed to grow stronger. “Was she? Aww, I’m touched!” he said.

“Well… I mean, not as such…” Nia said, not even sounding convincing to herself. “That is a nasty nick, though. Need me to use my Arts?”

Nia took a step forward, ready to assume her Blade form, but Zuo just waved her off with a reassuring smile.

“Don’t strain yourself. Doc says I’ll be back on my feet in no time,” he said, his smile drifting away. “I got damn lucky… luckier than my mates, anyway. The shot missed my heart by mere Cetris.”

With a grunt of discomfort, Zuo sat up in his bed. “I got a good look at the slug they pulled outta me before the deputies took it into evidence. Looked like only the front half. Heard that the back half was found at the crime scene.”

Nia tried to figure out what that meant. Had someone managed to chop a bullet in half? Zuo went on to answer her unspoken question.

“Good ol’ Jonson managed to get an ether shield up the exact moment the enemy opened fire and it sliced the slug clean in two. That must have redirected the trajectory of the half that got through the shield. If not for that, I probably wouldn’t be here.”

Nia frowned, exchanging a look with Rex. Zuo’s Blade had always been quick, but evidently even he hadn’t managed to get his shield up fast enough. Nia was glad Zuo was alive, to be sure, but she didn’t like what that implied about their adversary’s skills.

“He got Jonson directly in the Core Crystal and Ellesmere and Dengar with a straight shot to the heart each. It was sheer dumb luck that he missed mine,” Zuo continued. “Whoever this bloke is, he’s a crack shot with that gunblade and bloody fast to boot. Whole thing was over in less than a second!”

The man in the white hat. Just who was this guy?

“Is there anything else you can tell us about him, Zuo?” Nia asked.

“Just that he wasn’t alone. There was a big older bloke at the table with him. Ardainian by the looks of him, and probably ex-military. Had a nasty lookin’ scar under his left eye.”

Rex gasped and said, “Hang on…” as he rummaged through his jacket pockets until he found the photo he had shown Nia at the harbour. “He didn’t happen to look like this, did he?”

Zuo held up a finger while he reached for his glasses on the side table. Once they were on, he took the photo from Rex and squinted as he studied it. “Age hasn’t been kind to him, but that’s definitely the guy.”

So the man Nia was hunting was working with the guy Rex was looking for. A coincidence? Or something more?

Do you believe in fate, Nia? The true heir to Uraya’s throne walks into a pub…. Shaking her head clear of the intrusive train of thought, Nia forced her focus on the present. 

“Any idea where they are now?” Mythra asked as Nia collected herself.

“Sorry, no. The two of ‘em left together. Sounded like they were getting on a ship at the harbour.”

Nia cursed under her breath. She didn’t exactly expect them to remain in town, but she was hoping they had left on foot. From Goshen, there weren’t many places one could reach by foot, nor could they have gotten very far in just a couple of days. By Titan airship though, they could be halfway across the continent in any direction by now.

“What about the man in the white hat? Did you hear a name?” Nia asked.

Zuo shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, Zuo. You just rest here,” Rex said. He then turned to the group. “Any ideas what to do next?”

Nia spoke up. “We could head back to the port and speak with the harbourmaster. If we can get the destination of each ship that departed close to the time of the incident, we can at least narrow down our search.”

“Good thinking, Nia,” Mythra said with a grin.

“It’s been known to happen.”

Lying back in the hospital bed with a pained grunt, Zuo said, “Don’t worry about me, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” He then looked at Rex. “Though, since you’re here, boss, I wonder if you can do a quick favour for me.”

“Sure, what do you need?”

The look on Zuo’s face told Nia that what he was about to ask was not something pleasant. “I’m hopin’ you can stop by the morgue before you go. You need to let them know what needs to be done about our comrades.”

“Oh….” Rex’s expression fell.

“Normally, I wouldn’t mind doing it myself, but….” Zuo gestured to himself in all his bedridden glory.

“It’s no problem, Zuo.”

“Alright, but we should be quick about it,” Nia said.

Rex and the others nodded, understanding the need for haste. Vherestrom and his friend in the white hat had a good head start on them. They needed to catch up quickly, before another colony suffered the same fate as Gamma.

Finally done for the evening, Caroline bid a good night to the graveyard shift, a pleasant enough man named Francis from somewhere called Leftheria, before stepping out from the Sheriff’s office into the chilly night air. It had been about ten months since she left the town of Blakka in Gormott with her Driver to explore the new world, and Caroline had to admit, she was growing to like her new home out on the frontier.

Colony Iota, as the temporary name would suggest, was a very newly built settlement in Uraya’s northwestern frontier territory and as a result wasn’t very big. Just a main street which was really little more than a dirt road and a few businesses. The abundance of Armus and Arduns made it prime real estate, though, and there were already a couple of ranches on the colony outskirts with entire herds of the animals on their land. In just a few more years, Colony Iota (oh, but they had to do something about the name!) would be well on its way to becoming the steak capital of Uraya’s colonies. 

If only you were alive to see it, Llewellyn, Caroline thought, feeling the sadness hit her as it did whenever she thought about her old Driver.

Llewellyn had been a Gormotti man, boisterous and full of spunk when he’d been in his prime, and his compassionate heart had been what made her love him, even if to him she would only ever be his Blade. As time passed, though, she was content simply to share in his happiness as his closest friend and had been happy to become a part of the family he had started.

But as the years went on, she had to watch him grow older and older, all while she remained exactly the same. It wasn’t long before the arthritis in his hands and back made it painful for him to even move, and when he did it was with a walker. Caroline found herself assuming the role of caretaker, feeding him his meals, making sure he took the half-dozen medicines he had been prescribed since his heart attack, and even assisting him in the bathroom. The things we do for love.

Then there were all of his old injuries from the battles they had fought together. Bits of shrapnel from an Ardainian grenade that had been inside his right shoulder since Mor Ardain first annexed Gormott fifty years ago. Or his punctured lung from the barb of an Urchon that had somehow found its way onto a dock in the middle of Torigoth’s harbour. Each of them had been a minor inconvenience when he was young, but in his twilight years they had all but crippled him. As his wife passed away and his children all left the nest to start families of their own, it seemed more and more that the years were physically weighing Llewellyn down. The boisterous bruiser with a heart of gold had become a mere shell.

But then the world had changed. About one year ago, the Titans they all lived on shook and trembled as they fell from the sky into an endless ocean of blue before running aground on a vast landmass—one that wasn’t a Titan! With all that shaking, Caroline had thought the world was ending. But then it stopped, and she saw that the Cloud Sea outside the window of their home of forty years was gone, replaced by an expanse of green land as far as the eye could see.

The sight of it alone had completely rejuvenated Llewellyn, and Caroline could remember shrieking with glee and concern in equal measure as her eighty-four-year-old Driver had stood from his easy chair and walked out to their front porch without his walker. As the two of them stood out there, taking in the beauty of this mysterious new world together, Caroline realised she hadn’t been so happy in quite a long time.

It had been little more than two months later—after Alrest had barely enough time to come to grips with their new world—that Llewellyn had told her and his family that he intended to see it. They had all protested, of course, Caroline most of all.

You’re too frail to travel, you won’t make the journey, she had told him, but his mind was made up, and Caroline had eventually relented. How could she not, when he was more alive—more himself —than she had seen him in years?

Unfortunately, she had turned out to be right. The two of them had been sitting on the deck of their chartered Titan airship, watching the sun set over the new world when Llewellyn had fallen asleep in her arms. Caroline had no idea that it had been for the last time. She had still believed he was only sleeping as she carried him to bed in his quarters for the night. Even when he didn’t wake up the next morning at six like he always did, Caroline had still believed he was asleep. She hadn’t returned to her Core Crystal, after all, thus she had no reason to believe otherwise until the onboard doctor had pronounced his time of death.

The days that followed had been a whirlwind of grief and confusion for Caroline. Every minute that passed during those days she had expected to see the white motes begin to rise from her body as it disappeared. Expected to feel the memories of her hard, imperfect but wonderful life with Llewellyn slip away from her as she was called back to her core. Surely it would inevitably happen, and was only delayed by some atmospheric ether interference or something. But when weeks passed without her going back to being a Core Crystal, Caroline realised that it would not happen. Perhaps not ever.

That had been when she decided that it was time to take those terrifying first steps into the future. Llewellyn had been smiling when he looked out at the new world for the final time. He died without any regrets, so Caroline resolved to have no regrets either. She was going to see this new world and go on living for him. For however long that may be as a Driverless Blade.

For a time, she had travelled the new world, seeing the strange new sights it offered. A forest with trees as tall as the old towers of White Chair. A canyon that stretched on as long as a fully grown Titan. Most breathtaking of all were the islands that floated in the sky, ether glowing brightly at their base, making them look like colourful stars in the night sky when viewed from below. But after many months of travelling, meeting and parting with many new friends along the way, Caroline could feel herself slowing down. So she decided she was ready to find a home to settle down in a little more permanently. That was when she had found Colony Iota.

The people of Iota had welcomed her into their fledgling community with open arms. The Sheriff, a former Indoline monk named Koremm, had all too happily made her a deputy after she had helped cull a nearby Aspar population that was eating the ranchers’ Armus. There was even another Blade among the town deputies who was recently Driverless and struggling as she once was, and Caroline was determined to help him through it.

As she walked down Iota’s main street back towards her simple little cottage by the edge of town, Caroline felt another twinge of pain in her lower back and grunted as she stopped to gently rub it. Perhaps it was finally time for her to see Blakeson, the colony doctor. She wondered what he would say when she, a Blade, would come in asking for a checkup. Of course, it wasn’t like she didn’t already suspect what these symptoms were. Her sore stiff back and hands mirrored Llewellyn’s to a tee in his final years.

A Blade with arthritis—what strange times these are, she thought. Ever since Llewellyn died, it was almost as if all the decades she spent as his Blade, unaging, were catching up with her all at once. Though, come to think of it, hadn’t she noticed the beginnings of these symptoms even before that? Yes, the first time she’d begun to notice the stiffness in her right hand had been just after the world’s reformation.

The pain in her back subsiding to a manageable dull throb, Caroline continued her shuffle down the road, pushing all thoughts of growing old like a human from her mind as she thought about what she would do with her life next. Once again, she thought about that book Llewellyn had always talked about writing, but never quite started. A writer from Tantal had recently moved into the colony. Maybe Caroline could talk to her sometime?

Her thoughts of the future were interrupted by a man stepping out from one of the three side streets in Colony Iota, his head turning every which way until he spotted her. Iota was a small enough colony for Caroline to know everyone by name, and the man was a stranger. Her Blade instincts told her to summon her Blade weapon but the stranger gave her a friendly wave and called out. Calm down Caroline, we’re not at war any longer.

“Excuse me, Miss?” he said, briskly walking over. He seemed nonthreatening enough, his smile as warm and friendly as it was, so Caroline relaxed somewhat.

“Can I help you?” Caroline asked politely but warily.

The stranger removed the white hat from his head and held it to his chest, keeping a respectful distance as he said, “Beggin’ yer pardon, Miss, but seein’ the shiny badge on your lapel there leads me to the conclusion that you are deputised. Am I correct in my assessment?”

Caroline nodded, and the stranger with the white hat continued, “Is yer Driver around?”

“No, my Driver died almost a year ago.”

“Oh, mighty sorry. Please excuse my presumptuousness, I didn’t realise you were Driverless.” The stranger then gave her another warm smile. “But, that makes two of us, and in my book that practically makes us kin!” The stranger extended the hand not holding his white hat. “Name’s Sosem.”

Caroline took his hand and returned his friendly smile. “Caroline. Welcome to Colony Iota, future steak capital of Uraya’s colonies!”

The stranger—Sosem’s smile seemed to get a bit bigger as he continued shaking her hand with gusto. “That a fact? Well, it’s a gall-darn shame I’m only passin’ through.”

“Well, I hope I’ve given you a good reason to come back,” Caroline said before catching herself. “I’m sorry, did you need help?”

Sosem gave himself a light smack in the forehead. “Oh shoot, I’m sorry I guess I got a li’l distracted. I’ll chalk it up to yer pretty eyes and striking figure.”

Suddenly feeling her temperature rise, Caroline couldn’t help but wonder whether she was blushing. She was what many referred to as a Common Blade: there were many like her all over Alrest and like all of them, her appearance was grey and doll-like; not exactly becoming. It was rare that she received that kind of compliment from anyone, let alone a handsome Blade who could pass for human. Caroline found herself actually hoping he did come back to Iota soon. 

“Anyway, there’s a real surly feller gettin’ mighty belligerent at the saloon down yonder.” Sosem pointed down the side street he appeared from.

The local watering hole Big Tuck’s Inn was in that direction, and Caroline had a pretty good idea already of what was going down. “It’s probably just Cleegan, a ranch hand around these parts who likes to spend his nights drinking. He’s harmless, though.” Then with a laugh, Caroline added, “Unless you start talking politics with him.”

“I see, but it might behove you to know that the surly feller in question does not appear to be local. He is, however, threatening some actual locals with bodily harm upon their person, and seems mad enough to follow through.” Sosem put his white hat back on his head. “I’m no doctor, but I’d personally prescribe him a glass of water and time to dry out in the local drunk tank.”

He smiled like he’d just told a joke, but Caroline thought he might’ve had the right idea. She sighed. This wouldn’t be the first out of towner to make trouble like this. In fact, early this week a whole gang of rough looking types had rolled in, and Sheriff Koremm had all of his deputies (even the ones who were off duty, such as Caroline) on standby in case they started trouble. Thankfully, aside from getting a little rowdy at Big Tuck’s Inn, they spent the night and left without incident. Why did this always happen right when she finished her shift? 

“Alright, I’ll go take a look,” Caroline said as she turned and started walking towards Big Tuck’s Inn.

Sosem followed her. “Thank you kindly, Miss Caroline. I realise you must be just clocking out. Hope you can get whoever’s on the graveyard shift to do the report.”

“It’s no trouble at all. We’re short staffed so I’ve been picking up the slack already anyway.”

Mick—the other Driverless Blade among their deputies—hadn’t shown up to work today. He had been very out of it ever since his Driver died, so Caroline wasn’t surprised, but then another of their deputies, a Driver named Catelynn and her Blade, had also up and vanished. The two of them had been talking about leaving the colony for a while now, but Caroline was surprised that they’d just go without saying anything.

Soon, she and her new friend arrived in front Big Tuck’s Inn only to find the establishment curiously quiet. From the way Sosem had been talking, Caroline expected a brawl to already be underway. Sosem seemed as puzzled as she was, and his eyes went from the bar’s entrance to the alleyway just next to it.

“Hold on a ‘sec,” he said, wandering over to the alley and taking a peek into it. After a few moments, he turned and waved her over. “Yup, there he is, and lookin’ like five Titanpeds of bad road to boot, which would be congruent with the state he was in earlier!”

Caroline stepped beside Sosem and looked down the alleyway he indicated. She could hear the sound of the drunkard quietly humming what sounded like Mor Ardain’s national anthem before she saw him, or rather, his feet sticking out from behind a stack of crates. Caroline looked over at Sosem, who extended an arm down the alleyway, his friendly smile not wavering.

“Ladies first, Miss deputy.”

Stepping into the alley, Caroline felt herself grow tense. There wasn’t any apparent danger, but something just didn’t feel right. She moved past the stacked crates and saw the apparent drunk stranger slumped against the wall of the general store beside the bar. He wore various mismatched pieces of Ardainian armour and had a scar under his left eye. If he was as belligerent as Sosem said he had been earlier, all of the fight was gone from him now. The man looked ready to pass out right there in the alleyway, and Caroline might have thought he had already if he didn’t occasionally start humming again.

“Alright buddy, let’s get you to your feet.”

The intoxicated man gave a token protest and a wave of his arm, muttering something mostly unintelligible (but from what little Caroline could hear, it wasn’t very nice). In no time at all she managed to get the man’s arm over her shoulder with some help from Sosem, and together the two of them lifted the large man to his feet. All the while, Caroline was tenser than she’d ever been since moving here.

She wasn’t sure why, but it suddenly occurred to her at that moment just how strange it was that the only two other Blades in the colony had both disappeared within the same day. It made her think of the way she and Llewellyn hunted groups of monsters back in their heyday. If they had to take down a pack of Feris, for example, it was often a good strategy to separate them from their pack, picking them off one by one so they didn’t have the chance to attack as a group.

And then there was what Sosem had said. Lookin’ like five Titanpeds of bad road, and that was an accurate description of the man now slumped over her shoulder. Except he had been behind a stack of crates, hadn’t he? How did Sosem then know how bad he looked?

Before Caroline could think any further, she felt a sudden pinch in her shoulder, almost like she’d been bitten by a large insect. She looked over at the burly drunk to see that he was now standing on his own, his brown eyes open and looking at her with clarity and focus. What was more, he was holding… something that was embedded firmly in her shoulder. The man held it like one would hold a knife, but the blade was thinner while the body was bulkier and more ungainly. What was more, the centre glowed with blue light, strobing softly like a heartbeat. It looked just like… something familiar.

Her mind was suddenly too cloudy to think, and it took her far too long to figure out that what the device’s centre reminded her of was a Core Crystal. She tried to fight back, to summon her Blade weapon, but her body felt numb. Her heart began to race as she realised she was helpless, and curiously, the not-Core Crystal on the device strobed faster, in perfect sync with her escalating heartbeat.

“What… what is…” she tried to say.

“Now, don’t you fret none, Miss Caroline.” Sosem was now standing in front of her, still smiling his warm friendly smile. Except… were his eyes always so cold and lifeless? “This ain’t gonna hurt a bit.”

Like going to sleep. Caroline thought of the deck of the Titan ship. Of her Driver falling asleep in her arms. Of… of… his name was on the tip of her tongue. Why couldn’t she remember?

“Please understand, this is not an act of senseless violence,” the friendly stranger in the white hat continued (he had told her his name, hadn’t he?). “Yes, the people in this town will die. Just know it’s for a far greater cause than you can imagine.”

Caroline could see motes of white light rising from her now, and she tried desperately to cling to the images playing through her mind of the boisterous but kind Gormotti man (or was he Urayan?) who was her Driver. Memories of fighting battles. Memories of peaceful, tender moments. Memories of family. One by one they evaporated in Caroline’s mind until all she knew was the smiling man in the white hat.

“See? It ain’t so bad.”

He was right. The sensation was familiar. Like going to sleep. Like a nearly forgotten dream, the now nameless Blade felt like she had experienced this before.

“I’ll see you when you wake up. Then we’ll create our own Elysium.”

The Blade closed her eyes. I must be returning to my core. Did my Driver die? I can’t remember….

And then she was gone, a dark empty Core Crystal falling to the ground where the Blade once stood.

Sosem picked up the empty Core Crystal, regarding it with equally empty eyes before passing it over to his partner. Vherestrom took it in his free hand, passing Sosem the device with the faintly glowing blue core, which Sosem quickly tucked into his coat next to the other two.

Vherestrom carefully placed the dark Core Crystal into a pouch with two others. They would be of no use to anyone, not even someone with the aptitude to resonate. There was no longer a Blade in these ones, after all, but whoever Vherestrom planned to sell them to would be none the wiser. Especially with fresh Core Crystals now such a rare commodity. 

“Have to say, that was some mighty fine drunk acting you did there, partner,” Sosem said with a smile. “Mayhaps the theatre is yer true calling!”

Vherestrom took out his tin flask and took a large swig. “I believe it’s what they call ‘method acting.’”

Sosem’s smile grew wider. “Well, guess there really is a sense of humour in there after all!”

“What was all that shite about making your own Elysium?” Vherestrom asked.

Sosem made a show of shrugging noncommittally. “I was just sayin’ stuff to make her struggle less.”

Letting out a noncommittal grunt, Vherestrom put away his flask and stepped out of the alleyway, his eyes scanning up and down the empty street. “Well, she was the last of this colony’s Blades. Now we start the real work.”

“Darn tootin’. You go back to base camp and get yer boys; I’ve got one li’l stop I gotta make before we get started.”

“What stop?”

“The weather station one Titanped out of course! Gotta check nothin’s changed.”

Vherestrom sighed. Sosem insisted on keeping updated on all weather reports every time they did one of these jobs. Just another one of his annoying quirks, he supposed.

“You afraid we’re going to get rained on or something?” he asked.

“Something like that, yes.”

Vherestrom shrugged. “Just don’t take too long. And don’t….”

“Don’t go off script, I know. See you back here in a couple hours,” Sosem said with a wave of a gloved hand as he turned his back to Colony Iota and Vherestrom. “In the meantime, try not to have too much fun without me!”

After stopping by Goshen’s morgue, Nia and the others spoke to the harbourmaster, where it didn’t take long to get an idea of where their quarry was likely headed. According to the harbourmaster, only three Titan airships had departed during the timeframe of the incident at the Tipsy Gogol. Of those three, only one had its destination in Urayan territory. If Mòrag was right and these bandits were being paid to hit Urayan colonies, that was the ship they needed to follow. What was more, apparently the ship had hit bad weather and had run into engine trouble, delaying it by a full day and giving Nia and her friends a chance to actually catch up. So, feeling hopeful, they departed aboard the Vandham’s Legacy towards Port Uramu in Uraya’s northwest territory with all haste.

Once aboard the Legacy , Nia, Dromarch, Rex, Pyra and Mythra wasted no time in grabbing a late dinner from the mess deck. The ship’s cook had made fried octomayo, which had grown more popular throughout Alrest now that the Kingdom of Tantal had opened its borders and began making trade deals with the other nations. Admittedly, Nia hadn’t liked it the first time she tried it but was acquiring a taste for it now. The table was quiet at first as everyone simply focused on their meals, but after some time Mythra spoke up.

“So, Nia,” she said around a mouthful of Squood tentacle, the word so becoming sho . “What’ve you been up to these last couple of months?” Theesh lash couple o’ monfs.

Pyra held the bridge of her nose. “Mythra, please… swallow first.”

Looking at them, Nia couldn’t keep the grin from her face if she tried. She really missed this. “Honestly, just working. Business has been good for the Garfont Mercenaries.”

“Nice. We still getting contracts from Queen Raqura?”

Nia refused to let her mind wander away from this moment. “Yes.”

“That’s cool. How’s she holding up?” Rex asked.

Nia thought of Raqura leaning on the cane she only had recently. Thought of how tired she looked as she handed Nia the book from her dead House. The true heir to Uraya’s throne walks into a pub and orders fried octomayo.

“She’s fine,” Nia said tersely. “How about you guys? Please tell me you haven’t been working through your entire sabbatical.”

“Been doing a lot of travelling actually,” Rex said. “We wanted to see what the new world has to offer.”

“All while helping just about everyone we meet along the way, because Rex literally can’t stop himself,” Mythra said, sounding annoyed. Only someone who knew her like Nia and the others did could hear the genuine warmth underneath the irritation.

“All that travel must get expensive, surely?” Nia asked.

“Actually, for most of the journey we’d been riding Azurda,” Pyra said.

“Gramps doesn’t charge rent, or travel expenses,” Rex said with the dorky laugh that Nia would never admit to missing as much as she did.

“Oh yeah? And where is the old codger anyway?” Nia asked. One reason she had been so surprised to see Rex in Goshen was that he had apparently arrived on a regular charter ship. Nia liked to think she wouldn’t have missed the only talking Titan in Alrest if he’d been in Goshen’s harbour.

“When we stopped by Fonsett, Gramps said he wanted to stay there a while,” Rex said, some of his jovial tone diminishing. “Seemed to be slowing down at the tail end of our little world tour.”

From what Nia knew, Azurda was old, even for a Titan. She tried not to dwell too much on it as the conversation went on.

“We saw a lot,” Pyra said, also seeming keen to veer clear of the subject. “Passed through Zorn, helped some refugees from Indol build a new home, spent some time with Zeke and Pandoria….”

Nia’s ears perked up. “Oh yeah? And how’s Shellhead doing?”

Mythra leaned forward. “Honestly, he’s like a whole new person. He’s actually taking his royal duties seriously and everything!”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Nia said with a laugh.

“No, really. He was even wearing a shirt and everything!”

“No kidding?” If it was true, Nia couldn’t help but wonder what could have caused such a sudden shift in that man’s attitude. Was he just trying to make amends with his father, or was there something else at play?

“It wasn’t just Zeke and Pandoria we saw. We also ran into Tora and Poppi in a colony near the Gormott Titan,” Rex continued. “Tora and his dad are working out of a proper lab these days. They’re respectable researchers now.”

“Okay, now I know you’re pulling my leg,” Nia said, remembering how the pudgy Nopon’s former workspace and place of residence in Torigoth had been a cluttered mess in what was clearly an abandoned warehouse underneath the city’s harbour. To say nothing of his… fixation on frilly outfits.

“No, really. Apparently, they actually have a proper investor funding their research now. Some well to do Driver from Zorn, I think he said.”

“What, is he making Artificial Blades for their military or something?” Nia asked.

“His research is focused on Core Crystals now,” Pyra said. “I guess he wants to figure out why Blades haven’t been returning to their cores since the reformation of the world.”

“Makes sense,” Nia said, returning her attention to her octomayo.

“Oh, and speaking of that, Rex and us have already figured out what we’re going to do next,” Mythra said, looking over at Rex.

“Oh yeah,” Rex said, swallowing his food before he continued. “We met a bunch of Driverless Blades in our travels, and even managed to help some of them get their lives on track. Found them decent jobs and whatnot. That’s when we had the idea….”

“What do you mean ‘we?’ This was all you,” Pyra said with a sweet smile that made Nia inexplicably homesick.

“You’re so humble it’s actually disgusting,” Mythra said in a way that didn’t indicate any actual disgust.

“Right, I guess I had the idea of starting a branch of the Garfont Mercenaries that specifically works with Driverless Blades,” Rex said, and Nia could see the eagerness in his eyes. “I think it would be a great way to get them back on their feet, and if it turns out any of them don’t want to do mercenary work, we could help them find work elsewhere. Like a… booking agency for Blades, or something. We’re still working out the details.”

“That sounds nice. It actually kind of reminds me of what Vandham was doing for the war orphans in Garfont Village,” Nia said. It was an admittedly half-realized idea that Rex clearly lacked the means or the knowledge to implement. And yet, she had no doubt he’d manage to do it anyway. “It’s just like you. And I think he’d be proud too.”

One by one, each of them emptied their plates. Rex and Nia both went to grab seconds, while the other three were happy just to enjoy each other’s company. Eventually though, both Pyra and Mythra yawned and stretched with remarkable sync—a reminder to Nia that they were both technically one being.

“Well, it’s been a long day. Think I’m gonna crash,” Mythra said. Pyra nodded in agreement.

“Alright, think I’ll stay up a little longer,” Rex said.

“I shall be retiring as well,” Dromarch said. "Will you be staying up, my lady?”

“Not for much longer I don’t think.”

With a nod, Dromarch made for his quarters. After kissing Rex goodnight, Pyra and Mythra each did the same and Nia suddenly found herself alone with Rex. The sudden silence between them was tangible as it was oppressive, like swimming in the Cloud Sea. Nia wondered if he was thinking about the same thing she was.

The… confession she had given him in the heat of battle in the Elpys Spirit Crucible was often all she could think about when they were alone together. She didn’t regret telling him how she felt: she figured if she was going to unburden herself at that moment, she might as well go all the way with it. In for a copper coin, in for a gold. Still, she wondered whether Rex thought about that moment as often as she did.

To find her answer, Nia only needed to think of the way Pyra and Mythra had kissed him goodnight—chastely, but full of tenderness.

No, Nia thought, the lump in her throat nigh imperceptible but still very much present. He probably doesn’t think much about that moment at all.

She then became vaguely aware that Rex had just said something to her. “I’m sorry, what was that?” she asked.

“I said, is there anything new with you lately?”

With some hesitation, Nia said, “Like I said before, we’ve been getting a lot of good jobs….”

“That’s great, but I didn’t ask if there’s anything new with the Garfont Mercenaries. I asked if there’s anything new with you , Nia.”

Nia folded her arms, the defensive gesture completely unconscious. The true heir to Uraya’s throne walks into a pub to order fried octomayo, but the pub is empty. “You know, just getting by.”

Rex frowned. “Don’t have any plans for the future? I mean, we’re finally here, in Elysium. You can do anything you want!”

And what do I want? Nia thought, already knowing the answer. To have purpose again. She only realised how she felt the moment she said, “This new world’s amazing, but it’s not Elysium for me. I guess I’m still looking for it.”

She stood and turned toward the door to the mess deck. “Think I might turn in, after all. Big day and all that. Good night, Rex.”

She didn’t look back at him; didn’t want to see the look of concern or pity she knew was on Rex’s face as he said “good night” back. Tomorrow they might finally catch up with their elusive adversary. She needed to be focused. Anything else was secondary.

The Vandham’s Legacy landed in Uramu Harbour late the following morning. Nia and the others wasted no time finding and speaking to the town’s Sheriff, who had confirmed that the man in the white hat and his partner had indeed passed through one night ago. In high spirits now that they were on the right track, Nia led the way out of Uramu in the direction the deputies had indicated.

Following the trail west, the group had been told that the closest two colonies out that way were Eta and Iota, known for their Armu and Ponio ranches. Studying the map, Nia concluded that if they really hauled ass, they could reach Colony Iota by the time the sun set. If their quarry wasn’t there, they could reach Eta the following day.

The trail was long and uneven, with neither of their destination colonies established enough yet to have well-used roads. The group of them had to clamber alongside a mountain and cross multiple rivers that had no bridge, and once the trees started to give way to open plains, there was nothing keeping the hot sun from beating down on them. All the while they kept alert as they passed the local fauna.

Herds of lean Garaffa were content to graze in the surrounding fields without bothering the party of travellers, but the hulking Buloofo and large rodent-like Hoxes in this region were fiercely territorial. Then there were the carnivores; long, slithering Aspar and reptilian Ropl with their hard, rock-like scales remained near the rivers, waiting to make a meal out of any careless creature looking for fresh water. The party had also been warned to look out for an especially large Aspar in the area that locals had taken to calling “Gibbering Harold.” In spite of all the danger, Nia and her friends remained relatively safe as they continued toward the colonies.

Even with their growing exhaustion, the group kept their pace, keeping their breaks short as they pressed on. During one such break, a deep rumble in the sky turned the group’s gaze upward. A patch of sky warped and distorted with flashes of light from within; the telltale sign of a rift. Were Nia and the others able to look closer, they would have seen the tops of the familiar ruined structures that scraped the sky in the world beyond, wobbling at the rift’s centre as if reflected on the surface of water. A Titan airship then emerged from the rift, hanging in the sky far above them.

“Looks like another salvager expedition returning from the Land of Morytha,” Rex said, squinting and raising a hand to keep the sun out of his eyes as he looked up at the ship.

Nia was looking too. A series of large cargo nets were suspended beneath the ship’s hull, carrying all manner of artefacts from the advanced lost civilization. Nia could only imagine the ship’s holds were similarly filled. The ship was too far away and high up in the sky to get a good look at any of what it was carrying, though Nia was pretty sure she saw the massive silhouette of a Gerolf Sovereign—one of the machines that had guarded the World Tree.

“Does it make you miss the salvaging trade, Rex?” Nia asked.

“A little. It certainly isn’t the same now that the Cloud Sea is gone, though.”

“True enough. Salvager teams can now land a ship directly in Morytha and explore it themselves,” Dromarch mused.

“That’s right. Though, I kinda prefer deep-Cloud Sea diving,” Rex said. “It was kind of tranquil. Walking around Morytha is… well, you guys remember how it was.”

Nia nodded, thinking of the eerie, desolate ruins of the lost civilization. Even when its paved streets weren’t crawling with Sovereigns or the shambling abominations that were the Guldos, the vibe was downright haunting, like exploring a massive graveyard. After all, that’s exactly what Morytha was. Nia had no desire to ever return there, and she believed the others felt the same way. There was a good reason all salvager expeditions to Morytha were required to have a military or mercenary escort. 

“Still though, there is something to be said for getting salvage straight from the source instead of whatever scraps happened to be pulled up by the currents to an explorable depth,” Rex added.

“You’re right about that,” Mythra said. “Salvagers have probably been hauling more valuable stuff in higher amounts over the past year alone than they had for the entire trade’s prior existence.”

She was right, Nia knew. Salvagers were making more money now than they had ever made in Alrest’s history. It was no wonder so many people were jumping into the trade.

Pyra nodded. “Yeah. With all of that technology from Father’s world being discovered by the people of Alrest, I can’t help but wonder what sort of advancements we’ll make in even just a few years’ time.”

Nia shared Pyra’s curiosity on that front. It certainly was an exciting time in history for Alrest. The airship above them adjusted its course, presumably for Uramu, and began to press on. Nia decided it was time to do the same and asked the others if they were ready to keep moving. So, the group stood and continued their trek.

They crossed another river as the sun was setting, and seeing the simple wood foundations of a bridge under construction had Nia hoping they were getting close to one of the colonies. Sure enough, they came across a field of Armu all bearing numbered identification tags clipped to their ears, indicating the presence of a ranch nearby. But another hour and a half passed after the sun had set, and the group eventually made the call to find a spot to make camp, lest they end up getting lost stumbling through the dark. Nia was annoyed; despite her best efforts, she just couldn’t move forward fast enough.

Pyra managed to get a fire going (easy work when she could do it with the flick of her fingers) while the rest of them set up their bedrolls. They all had simple rations they had taken from aboard the Vandham’s Legacy, but had decided to hunt one of the grazing Garaffa along the way and were able to cook a decent meal using its meat. As they ate in comfortable silence, Nia found her thoughts turning to something she’d had on her mind since leaving Goshen.

When she, Rex and the others had stopped by Goshen’s morgue, they had been given a chance to see the bodies while they ruminated on what to do with them. The tradition of mercenaries being buried where they fell was apparently founded back when mercenaries fought in wars between nations, and the sites of great battles had become massive graveyards.

In this case though, they couldn’t very well bury the bodies of Ellesmere and Dengar under the pub they had been gunned down in. Fortunately, there was a proper graveyard on the outskirts of town nearby that would do, at least for Dengar, the Urayan. It turns out that the Ardainian, Ellesmere, had actually specified in his will that his body be returned to his family for a proper burial in Mor Ardain. Of course, with Mor Ardain’s Titan on the verge of collapsing under its own weight, Nia wondered whether even that much would be possible.

In addition to the bodies of the two human mercenaries, there was also the body of Jonson to consider. Being Zuo’s Blade, Jonson had never written a will. Never specified where his body should be buried if or when he fell. Like every other Blade, Jonson had always believed he would simply return to being a Core Crystal when his Driver perished, ready to be reawakened as a blank slate by the next human to resonate with him.

Seeing Jonson’s lifeless body in the morgue with the others made Nia think of Fan La Norne. Looking upon the so-called Goddess of the Praetorium lying dead in her open coffin had been the only other time Nia could remember seeing a Blade who had died and retained their physical form without reverting to a Core Crystal. Of course, she’d later found out it had been because half of Fan’s core had been stolen. The Core Crystal on Jonson’s chest was dark and lifeless, but whole.

It was the memory of that sight that prompted Nia to speak up as she and the others all sat around the fire eating their Garaffa sirloin. “Hey, why do you guys think it is that Blades stopped returning to their cores?”

It took a while for any of them to come up with an answer, but Rex eventually said, “I dunno. I always figured it had something to do with the Conduit disappearing.”

“I’m actually not so sure that’s it,” Mythra said. As two halves of the Aegis, her and Pyra were the ones Nia was the most interested in hearing from on this topic. “Think about what the Architect told us. The whole reason for the existence of the Blade lifecycle was for him to gather data on our world. To track each step of its evolution. He then used that data to create this new world for us—one where we don’t need to live on the backs of Titans. My guess is when that was finished, there simply wasn’t a need for Blades to continue gathering data.”

“Wait, are you saying that it was the Architect’s plan all along to end the Blade lifecycle?” Rex asked.

“That’s what makes the most sense to me,” Pyra said, evidently agreeing with her blonde counterpart as her gaze then turned to Nia. “Do you remember what you asked us while we were making our way up the World Tree?”

Nia scratched her head, trying to recall that conversation. “Something about whether you and the other Blades wanted to live more.”

“Exactly, and now they can. Giving Blades a chance to live their own lives without being tied to a Driver… maybe that was the Architect’s final gift to us.”

“Hmm…” Dromarch groaned.

“Something on your mind, Dromarch?” Nia asked him.

“I wonder if everyone feels the same way,” He mused. “I myself have always been happy just being at my lady’s side. If I’m being honest, I do not know what I would do with myself if you were gone.”

“Maybe take up a hobby. Like knitting,” Rex suggested, before sheepishly rubbing the back of his head as it occurred to him, “Though, I guess that would be kind of hard without opposable thumbs.”

Nia gave him her patented “shut up” stare.

“Dromarch has a point. A Driver and Blade are one in body and soul,” Mythra recited, looking at Rex. “What is one left with when half of their soul is gone? That’s the whole reason why we want to help all of those Blades who lost their Driver and can’t find a way forward.”

“Indeed, parting is always sad, but it’s just a part of life,” Pyra agreed. Nia wondered whether she was thinking about Addam. “Everyone must take the bad with the good. It’s the price we pay for walking our own path.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” Dromarch relented. “If a new path should one day appear before me, what else can I do but walk it?”

Nia shifted in place. The true heir to Uraya’s throne walks into a pub to order fried octomayo, but the pub is empty. And yet, she hears a voice tell her, “You damn well know the path you ought to walk, so what are you doing here?” 

It was at that moment that Nia thought she should tell them about what Queen Raqura had revealed to her. But could she? Should she? Secrecy was of the utmost importance in this matter, it would seem. The queen hadn’t even wanted Dromarch present for when she told Nia the truth of her lineage. Was it right for Nia to tell her friends what she knew? Or was it wrong of her not to?

Either way, she wouldn’t have time to do it now. A tiny noise on the fringes of her hearing suddenly caused her feline ears to stand up straight.

“Something wrong, Nia?” Rex asked, but Nia only shushed him as she strained to listen.

The night was silent, the crackling of the fire and the croaking of nearby Brogs the only noise that filled it. But just when Nia started to think she was only imagining things, she heard the all-too familiar sound again: a faint, distant crack, as well as other chaotic noises.

“Sounds like a fight,” Nia said, then gasped as she realised, “One of the colonies must be close. Dromarch!”

Wordlessly, Dromarch leapt to his feet and drawing the twin rings that were his Blade weapon, Nia hopped on his back, the two racing into the darkness of the night towards the sound.

“Wait, Nia!” Pyra called out, beginning to gather the things from their campsite.

“Leave it, Pyra!” Rex exclaimed, already on his feet and racing to catch up with Nia and Dromarch’s retreating form.

As Nia raced towards the sound of battle, an involuntary giggle emerged from her throat. Now of all times, she thought of a punchline to her joke.

Chapter Text

Sheriff Koremm was asleep in his home when the bandit attack began. He was awoken by the sound of crashing followed by screaming and shouting. A soft orange glow was peeking through his curtains, leading the Indoline sheriff to believe dawn was breaking. How wrong he turned out to be: a shot from what he recognized as a steam rifle rang out and Koremm leapt out of bed.

His years of training as a warrior monk of the Indoline Praetorium spurred him to action, though it had been a year since he hung up the armoured robes from those days. Even before the Praetor had gone insane and nearly destroyed every Titan in Alrest, Koremm was already having a crisis of faith. He’d been assigned to patrol Goetuis Port in Indol many times during his early days as a warrior monk of the Praetorium. There, he’d seen the swaths of broken and disillusioned Gormotti refugees in their ramshackle camp, having just fled Mor Ardain’s war of annexation. 

Even as Indol had sheltered them and given them food and water, the Gormotti refugees had made their stance on Indol’s policies clear with their “No more Blades, no more war” protests. Their criticism had been easy enough to dismiss at first: they were rightfully angry and needed someone to blame. Then one day, exhausted from back to back double shifts and fed up with the demonstrations that made them necessary, Koremm had spoken these thoughts to a particularly impassioned Gormotti girl waving a sign in his face.

“Blame the empire that invaded you, not the Praetorium that feeds and shelters you,” Koremm had told her, to which she had responded, tears in her eyes, “And who gave the empire the Blades that killed my family?”

Tempers had risen after that, and in a moment of unguarded passion Koremm had spoken some harsh, vindictive words to the angry, grieving girl. To this day he wished he could take them back. Word of his conduct must have reached his superiors, because a few days later he had been reassigned to guard the lower depths of the Indoline Sanctum’s lesser archives. 

Day after day was spent alone with nought but dusty tomes and scrolls dating back to the Praetorium’s founding detailing benign data about its day to day business. Thus, Koremm had little means to pass the time but expand his knowledge. Reading a report detailing the vast amounts of money the Praetorium was making from their shipments of Core Crystals to Mor Ardain made him realise that perhaps there was truth to the refugee girl’s words.

It was a few years later that Koremm had finally been taken out of the proverbial doghouse and gotten a new assignment. There had been an incident in Temperantia that had almost resulted in another war between Uraya and Mor Ardain; what had ultimately turned out to be a false-flag attack perpetuated by the terrorist group Torna. Koremm and a number of his fellow holy warriors of Indol had been deployed to keep the peace between the two nations’ garrisons there. That was where Koremm had been when he heard of the Praetor’s folly and Indol’s destruction, and where he had come to terms with the fact that the Praetorium was not what he thought it was.

So as the people of Alrest set out to settle the new world one year ago, Koremm vowed that he would use the skills the Praetorium had taught him to protect who he could. Would it be enough to right all of the Praetorium’s wrongs? Of course not. Did it make him feel better about his own small part in it? A little. So, it was to that end that he had kept the warrior monk’s ether staff that he carried throughout his service. He brandished it now as he raced out of his home and into Colony Iota’s street dressed in only the pants he had worn to bed.

He was not prepared for the sight of half a dozen bandits going door to door, taking whatever valuables they could find from the homes and businesses, burning as they went. The orange light peeking through his window was not the rising sun, but flames illuminating the still dark night. The screaming, he realised, was coming from Big Tuck’s wife, a Urayan woman named Beatrice. The owner of the Inn himself was crumpled to the ground just outside his now burning establishment, a horrified Beatrice kneeling over the usually hulking Gormotti man as he bled out.

A much leaner Gormotti wearing the cloth mask of a bandit and holding a smoking Ardainian steam rifle was standing just nearby. Knowing how protective Tuck was of his family and business, Koremm didn’t need to think hard to guess what had happened. Another bandit—this one Urayan—stepped out of the Inn through the flames carrying a crate of Tuck’s more expensive spirits, followed by a pantherine beast-type Blade. All the while Beatrice screamed and wailed.

Koremm heard the masked Gormotti bandit say, “Shut her up, will ya?” to his associate as he turned and went further down the street where the rest of the bandits continued their ugly work. The Urayan didn’t answer but drew a pair of twin rings powered by the beast Blade at his side. Koremm wasted no more time.

He rushed forward holding his monk staff at his side as the bandit raised the twin ring in his right hand over the head of Beatrice. The poor woman was too terrified and distraught to move. Fortunately, Koremm managed to get close enough, and when the bandit brought his twin ring down, Koremm thrust his staff forward. With speed and precision thanks to his years of warrior monk training, Koremm managed to thrust his staff right through the centre of the bandit’s twin ring, catching it in place before it could cleave the top of Beatrice’s head. Shocked, the bandit turned to look at Koremm with wide, dim eyes. Koremm took advantage of his surprise and pressed his attack, twisting his body and twirling his staff, flipping the bandit over his shoulder and sending him on his back as he wrested the twin ring from his hands in a single motion.

Koremm hadn’t forgotten about the bandit’s Blade, whipping the bandit’s twin ring off the end of his staff toward the beast Blade and nailing it square in the muzzle as it charged. He then followed up with another swing of his staff, knocking his would-be assailant off its feet. With an agitated groan, the Urayan bandit began to climb to his feet, but Koremm swiftly put a stop to that, bringing his staff down hard.

Now that he had a moment to breathe, Koremm twirled his staff and brought it straight down into the ground next to where Tuck lay, activating Holy Circle, his main healing Art. Green ether energy began to fill the wounded man; it wasn’t an especially powerful healing Art but it would keep him stable until they could get him proper medical attention.

“Sheriff!”

Hearing the familiar voice, Koremm turned to see one of his deputies—the Leftherian man named Francis—running toward him from the direction of the Sheriff’s office.

“There you are, Deputy,” Koremm said when Francis reached him. “What’s the situation?”

“Don’t know, sir. Looks like bandits. I’m pretty sure a few of them were in town the other day.”

“Yes, scouting us out no doubt.” Koremm remembered ordering all of his deputies to be out in force when the group had first arrived at Big Tuck’s Inn. After they’d left without incident, he had assumed they had been just passing through. Now, he regretted not being more cautious. “Where’s Caroline and the others?”

“Don’t know,” Francis looked around. “I think it’s just us, sir.”

Koremm cursed, realising exactly what had happened. Francis and Ennes (who Koremm couldn’t currently see) were only volunteers; useful for keeping the peace but not very experienced fighters. The Driver Catelynn, her Blade Nicolas, and the two Driverless Blades Caroline and Mick were Colony Iota’s main fighters. Save for Caroline (who was now nowhere to be found), all of them had been apparently missing as of the day before. Koremm had planned on looking into it if he didn’t hear from them the following day, but he had a strong feeling now that they were all dead and buried somewhere out in the wilderness. 

Koremm glanced down at Tuck and Beatrice, the former of whom didn’t seem to be in quite so much pain now, and the latter of whom seemed to have regained her senses.

“Francis, take these two to Colony Eta,” Koremm ordered.

“What?”

“If you leave now and don’t stop, you should reach it by morning. Inform their sheriff of what happened here.”

“But what about you?” It was Beatrice who asked.

“I’ll do what I can to slow them down. Maybe get a few more of our people out.”

Francis looked at him in disbelief. “But sir, there’s too many of them! You won’t last!”

Koremm heard a growl and saw that the beast Blade of the Urayan bandit was getting back to its feet. Koremm swiftly brought his staff down on its head but saw that the other bandits were starting to take notice of them.

“There’s no time to argue. You have your orders, deputy. Go!”

Without another word, Francis did as he was told, helping Beatrice get Tuck to his feet and taking on most of the big man’s weight as the two of them began shuffling away as quickly as they could.

“Well, what have we got here then, lads?”

A group of bandits led by a big meaty man in old Ardainian armour with a scar under his left eye and a bayoneted steam rifle over his shoulder approached. To his left was a rather short man, also Ardainian, wielding a pair of knuckle claws powered by a hulking monster of a Blade standing just behind him. To his right was what appeared to be a Zornian judging by the small horns at the top of her forehead. She wielded a shield hammer in muscular arms, powered by a common-looking male Blade beside her.

Koremm placed himself between the bandits and his retreating charges, holding his staff defensively. With five to one, his odds weren’t looking good, but at least a few of Colony Iota’s people would live on.

“A monk of the Praetorium, eh?” the big scarred Ardainian said with a soft, raspy voice and a cruel smile. Koremm guessed he was the leader. “You gonna recite a prayer for us before we kill you?”

Koremm flourished his staff as he assumed an offensive stance. “I suggest you say your own prayers.”

The bandit leader laughed. “Big talk for a holy man.” He then nodded at the bandits under his command. “Go on, send him to his maker.”

The two bandit Drivers grinned and began their slow advance on Koremm, who held fast. In spite of his retort to the bandit leader’s taunt, Koremm made a silent prayer to the Divine Architect. Not for his own life, but for the lives of all of the other colonists. He prayed that he would have the strength to fend off these bandits long enough for the people of Colony Iota to escape with their lives. What happened to him afterwards did not matter.

But just before the two bandits could strike, a beastly roar sounded out. Shit, Koremm thought, realising that the beast Blade of the bandit he had beaten must have gotten back on its feet and was now about to attack him from behind. Instead, Koremm watched as a thrown twin ring sailed past him and struck the Zornian bandit before she could deploy her shield hammer. He then watched as another beast-type blade—not with the metallic-looking skin of the bandits’ Common Blade but with a coat of pure white fur—leapt into the fray. Riding on its back was a small Gormotti girl with silver hair wearing a yellow jumpsuit. Koremm couldn’t help but think of the refugee girl he had argued with all those years ago, even if the girl before him now looked nothing like her.

The girl nimbly leapt from the white tiger’s back, catching the thrown twin ring on its ricochet off the Zornian bandit and landing in a roll at the bandit’s feet, hitting her opponent with a flurry of fast swipes with both of her twin rings and bringing the bandit down. The Zornian bandit’s Blade immediately rushed forward, taking the shield hammer from his downed Driver and swinging it in one motion. The silver-haired Gormotti girl danced aside, simultaneously avoiding the Blade’s attack and clearing the way for her own Blade to launch some kind of ether-based attack of its own with another mighty roar. The bandit’s Blade was knocked back, forcing it on the defensive as the girl followed up with more swings of her twin rings.

She then turned to Koremm, asking with a heavy Gormotti accent, “You injured, pal?”

Stunned, Koremm almost couldn’t find the words to answer. “Don’t think so.”

The girl then raised her twin rings to block the sudden flurry of attacks from the short Ardainian bandit Driver’s knuckle claws. “Then give us a hand, yeah?”

Koremm grinned and brought his monk staff to bear, silently thanking the Divine Architect for answering his prayer.

Looking around, Nia did her best to assess the situation as she defended herself from the knuckle claw bandit’s strikes. From where she was, Nia could see seven bandits in all. Three Drivers and three Blades, one of each the warrior monk had already put out of commission. Then there was the leader. Nia recognized Vherestrom from Rex’s picture. Older? Yes. Fatter? Definitely. But it was unmistakably him wearing the amalgamation of old Ardainian armour, the flames of the burning buildings dancing in his eyes as he calmly watched from a safe distance. There was no sign yet of the man in the white hat.

 The Indoline was doing his part, rushing past her to engage the Blade wielding the shield hammer while Nia focused on Knuckle Claw Guy. Nia didn’t exactly have a hard time recognizing the only man fighting the bandits as one of Indol’s warrior monks even without the uniform. As if his long ears and blue skin didn’t mark him as Indoline already, Nia had spent enough time in her life running from the Praetorium to pick out its agents anywhere. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on past scars, though. She had a battle to win.

With Dromarch powering her twin rings’ Arts, Nia exchanged blows and parries with the bandit Driver’s knuckle claws, his Arts powered by his own Blade. She was so focused on him; she didn’t notice another bandit—a lean Gormotti man with a cloth mask—appear from a side street and take aim with a steam rifle. At least, not until it was too late.

The gunshot rang out and Nia braced herself for the bullet’s impact… but it never came. The perfect red figure of Pyra now stood between Nia and her assailant, projecting an ether shield. The light of ether glowing from her hands and tiara reflected on her red attire and gave her the look of a living flame, giving the bandits pause as they looked upon her. Pyra gave Nia a slight smile and a nod.

It was a moment later that Rex and Mythra arrived, the former taking a moment to catch his breath.

“Hoo! You really left us in the dust there, Nia,” he said.

Mythra just looked straight ahead at Vherestrom. “Hey Rex, I think that’s our guy.”

For his part, Vherestrom just looked tired and annoyed, and said with a raspy sigh, “Who in the bloody hell are you people?”

Rex stood up straight and puffed out his chest. “We’re here because Special Inquisitor Mòrag wants to have a little chat with you. So, how about you and your friends here start playing a little nicer?” Rex then added with a grin. “Trust me, Mòrag’s scary when she’s angry!”

Nia fell into formation beside him. “Or you can just tell us who hired you now and save us all the headache.”

Vherestrom just pinched the bridge of his nose and let out another sigh. “I don’t know why I even asked, considering I don’t care. You’re all about to die anyway. Sosem!”

A series of gunshots suddenly rang out, so fast and close together it was hard to tell how many there actually were. Nia and the others were all ready, fortunately. Remembering Zuo’s warning about how fast and deadly their opponent was, all of the Blades present raised their shields the instant they sensed danger, making sure Rex and the local Indoline warrior monk were covered.

They all held fast, keeping their ether shields up as a new figure emerged from beyond the flames of one of the burning buildings. A man in a duster and a wide-brimmed white hat strode forward, idly twirling a gunblade around his finger. The man in the white hat gave an impressed sounding whistle.

“Well, if that ain’t a heck of a quick draw on the ol’ defensive measures!” he exclaimed with a friendly smile that seemed almost giddy as he regarded Pyra and Mythra. “’Course, I reckon I can’t be too surprised, what with them emerald Core Crystals, huh?”

Vherestrom rolled his eyes. “The hell are you on about now?”

Sosem, who was now in the process of sliding ether bullets from the bandolier under his duster into the revolving chamber of his gunblade, looked over at Vherestrom (who Nia assumed was his Driver) with honest to goodness shock on his weirdly friendly face. “Are you at sea here, partner?” He pointed his gunblade lazily in the direction of Pyra and Mythra. “Them two right there are the Aegis, amigo!”

“Really? No shit…” Vherestrom mused.

“Yessim.” Having reloaded his weapon, Sosem then turned towards the twin Aegises in question, removing his hat and giving a respectful dip of his head. “Howdy, name’s Sosem. Before we do anything, please know that I am a big admirer of your work.”

“Uh… thanks?” Mythra said.

Returning his hat to his head, he summoned a second gunblade in his other hand. “With that in mind, please know this ain’t nothin’ personal.” Sosem raised both gunblades, one at each Aegis. “Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do!”

Rex sighed. “Alright. Guess we’re doing this then.” Then to Nia’s surprise, he pulled out both Pyra and Mythra’s Blade weapons at once, holding one greatsword crackling with energy in each hand.

With that, all hell broke loose. Those protecting the colony and those marauding it rushed to engage each other. The bandits had the numerical advantage, but the protectors had the skill of those who had fought dozens of battles and saved the world. One by one, the bandits began to fall.

As Nia knocked out the bandit armed with knuckle claws, she ventured a glance in Rex’s direction, both to make sure he was alright and to sneak a peek at how he was faring fighting with both Aegis Swords at once. The answer was… middling.

Surely, he was a force to be reckoned with, but even with the slight gain to his muscle mass over the past year, it was clear that swinging both swords at once was difficult for him. He did manage to execute the Art he liked to call Double-Spinning Edge with some success, twirling his whole body with the momentum of the two heavy Aegis swords. Against a lesser opponent it might have overwhelmed and overpowered them, but Sosem was nimble, dodging just out of reach of Rex’s strikes until one of his swings threw him off balance. As soon as he had his opening, Sosem fired a shot from each of his gunblades: one at Pyra, one at Mythra. This forced them to use their ether shields to protect themselves while he delivered a kick strong enough to knock Rex on his arse.

Mythra jumped in front of him and intercepted Sosem’s follow-up killshot with her ether shield. With an agitated groan, she then grabbed her own Aegis Sword back from Rex and lunged towards Sosem, who managed to break her ether shield with two more well placed gunshots. By that point though, Mythra was upon him, swinging her sword with much greater speed and finesse than Rex had displayed trying to wield both at once.

And yet, Sosem continually proved himself an elusive target, dodging and using the bladed ends of his gunblades to redirect Mythra’s strikes with practised ease. All the while, the friendly smile on his face was wide and earnest. He looked like a child at play, one who was having the time of his life. With a frustrated grunt, Mythra brought her sword directly down on Sosem’s white-hatted head with her full might, but he simply crossed his gunblades and caught it.

“Y’know, Miss Aegis, I’m startin’ to think you ain’t all yer cracked up to be,” he said as the two locked blades. “Make no mistake, you make a mighty fine shield, which I reckon is appropriate, but a shield by itself ain’t enough to win a fight.” His friendly smile grew a whole lot wider and considerably less friendly. “C’mon now, don’t yer shootin’ iron work?”

Mythra growled, “You talk too much!” before kicking him in the stomach and sending him stumbling back with a little “urk!” She then raised her hand to the sky as she’d done in countless battles before. Usually this precluded a devastating strike from the heavens. However, caught up as she was in the heat of the battle and goaded by Sosem’s taunting, Mythra had, for the briefest of moments, forgotten that what she was trying to do was no longer possible.

Unfortunately for her, the briefest of moments was all Sosem needed to fire off another pair of deadly shots. Her ether shield already expended for the moment, Mythra could only lift her sword to cover her Core Crystal, which would have saved her life if it had been Sosem’s target. He aimed for her stomach instead, crumpling her to the ground with a pained gasp.

For a human, it would be a near fatal wound. For a Blade, and an Aegis at that, it was more like getting the wind knocked out of her. It was still, however, enough to make her vulnerable to a true killing shot, something that Sosem was very much aware of as he raised his gunknife, putting her emerald Core Crystal right down its sights.

“Yep, like I thought: yer firin’ blanks, amigo!” he said. “I guess in this new world, bein’ an Aegis ain’t what it used to be.”

Just then, Sosem’s head swivelled to his right. Rex and Pyra had managed to sneak around behind him while he was focussed on Mythra. Wielding Pyra’s flaming Aegis Sword, Rex charged him from behind, letting out a yell as he leapt, holding the sword high over his head. Still holding the gunblade in his right hand towards the prostrate Mythra, Sosem twisted his left arm around behind his back, getting an angle on Rex quicker than the blink of an eye. He pulled the trigger, still smiling with the same childlike glee as his shot hit home and Rex fell to the ground.

Just behind him, Pyra cried out his name, summoning an ether shield in front of her with one hand and a huge ball of fire over her head with the other. She didn’t have time to loose it before suddenly taking a gunshot to the back. Vherestrom strode up behind her as she fell to the ground beside Rex, racking the bolt handle of his steam rifle.

“If you’re finished playing around, let’s wrap it up,” Vherestrom rasped as he regarded Sosem. “We’ve wasted enough time with them already.”

Having nearly finished dealing with the other bandits, Nia took another glance over at Rex, Pyra and Mythra and saw just how bad things were looking.

“Dammit. Dromarch!” Nia called out before tossing him the twin rings. She then tapped into her Core Crystal and assumed her Blade form, summoning her Catalyst Scimitar as she sprinted straight towards Sosem while Dromarch and the Indoline monk resumed dealing with the last remaining bandits. Seeing the rough state her three friends were in, Nia knew she had to start healing fast, but first she had to buy some space from their adversaries.

Overhead, Nia heard what sounded like the clap of nearby thunder. Had she not been so focused on the battle, she would have found it strange that there was not a single cloud in the night sky.

“Whoa now, l’il filly!” Sosem exclaimed as Nia charged him, allowing her ether shield to eat the next shots from his gunblades. Once she was close enough, Nia unleashed a powerful swing of her scimitar, slow and easily telegraphed. Naturally, Sosem saw the attack coming a Titanped away and leapt back out of the swing’s reach. What he failed to realise, however, was that the attack was a feint. Nia followed through with the swing, in doing so unleashing her true attack: a powerful blast of water-based ether. Sosem wasn’t ready for it and the attack hit him dead on, knocking him to the ground in a painful-looking heap.

Vherestrom raised his steam rifle, but by luck or by fate the gun jammed, clicking uselessly in his hands. Grunting in frustration, Vherestrom tried to fix the jam for one, maybe two seconds before he realised Nia would be on him well before he had the chance. He thrusted forward with the gun’s bayonet instead, but Nia parried and with a pirouette and with another swing of her scimitar, sliced through his armour and part of his arm. Crying out in pain, Vherestrom stumbled back, his steam rifle dropping to the ground.

Another crack of thunder sounded overhead, and still Nia failed to notice the clear starry sky. She instead turned back towards Sosem, who was already back on his feet, clutching his shoulder. She glanced over at where Rex lay bleeding on the ground. The wound looked pretty bad from where she was. She needed to get close enough to start applying her healing Arts.

“Well shoot, that smarts!” Sosem exclaimed, smiling. He looked her up and down, his eyes finally locking on the tainted Core Crystal on her chest. “Well, ain’t that an interesting development? I reckon you’ve got a mighty good story to go with that special Core Crystal there, L’il Filly Flesh Eater!”

So, he knows what I am. Nia pointed her scimitar toward Sosem as she circled him, hoping he wouldn’t notice that her wide orbit was taking her closer to Rex. “Perhaps. Let me guess, you have something similar under that shirt and bandolier?”

With a friendly chuckle, Sosem undid the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled it down. To Nia’s mild surprise, the rectangular Core Crystal on his chest was a clean blue. “Sorry to disappoint, filly, but ain’t no human flesh muddyin’ these waters!”

Curious. Perplexed, Nia asked, “So, how is it that a normal Blade like yourself is strong enough to go toe to toe with the Aegis?”

Sosem smiled and shrugged. “What can I say? New world, new me.” He then gestured to the wounded Pyra and Mythra. “New them, too. Though from what I observed, not so much to their benefit, huh?” Sosem tsked. “Guess it’s true what they say: never meet yer heroes!”

Now close enough to start healing Rex, Nia began applying her Arts with her offhand. “Oh just shut the bloody hell up! You don’t know them!” she seethed as more thunder rumbled overhead, a little louder now. For the first time, Nia was vaguely aware that the sky was a little too clear for a thunderstorm, but she hadn’t quite clocked why it was a problem yet.

“True enough, though if I’m bein’ honest, after seein’ ‘em in action, I’m somewhat less inclined to get to know them as I was a minute ago.” Sosem gave maybe the first sincere smile Nia had seen on his face thus far. “You on the other hand, I’d now very much like to know. I reckon you can come with us, right Vherestrom?”

Nia whirled around just in time to catch the knife in the large Ardainian bandit leader’s uninjured hand before it pierced her flesh. Except, on closer inspection, it didn’t really look like a knife at all. The Blade was too thin, and it was connected to an odd-looking cylindrical device with what almost looked like a Core Crystal at its centre.

Sosem suddenly fired off what Nia figured had to be the last three rounds in his gunblades’ revolving chambers. She managed to get her ether shield up but was only fast enough to deflect the last two bullets. Sosem’s first shot, and the only one he clearly intended to land, struck true, hitting her directly in the shoulder.

The pain shot from her shoulder all the way up her arm to her fingers. The wound itself would heal quickly, thanks to her accelerated healing, but it robbed her of just enough of her arm’s strength for it to give way, and Vherestrom’s knife that wasn’t a knife succeeded in penetrating the skin just to the side of her chest. It wasn’t exactly a deep or grievous wound, but Nia could suddenly feel her mind begin to cloud over and felt panic take over as she realised that something was extremely wrong.

The feeling was interrupted by a roar as Dromarch charged forth, twin rings in his mouth, which he used to beat back Vherestrom. He quickly shuffled back, the non-knife removed from Nia’s skin as quickly as it had entered. Just like that, the clouds that were beginning to fog her mind dissipated. Whatever they were doing to her, it would seem that Dromarch stopped it.

“Thanks,” she said, turning to face Sosem as Dromarch faced down Vherestrom.

Just as it seemed the fight would begin again, another crash of thunder, this time considerably louder than before, sounded overhead. Then another. Then another. Nia looked up, finally realising how truly strange it was that the sky was devoid of clouds.

The reason for that being, in place of clouds, there was what looked like a giant hole in the sky, as if some great celestial beast had come along and clawed open the firmaments themselves. What resulted was a rift: not unlike the one Nia and her friends had seen the salvager ship emerge from during their trek here. What set this rift apart from the more common variety was its orange glow, giving it the appearance of a great evil eye staring down upon the world with malice.

“Well shoot, it’s early,” Sosem muttered as he started making his way over to Vherestrom. “I think it might be time fer you and me to mosey on outta here!”

“The job still isn’t finished,” Vherestrom said.

“Maybe not, but we sure as heck will be if we don’t skedaddle, lickity-split!”

“Very well,” Vherestrom sighed, reaching for something on his belt with his uninjured arm.

Nia stepped forward, assuming a ready stance with her scimitar. “You must be taking the piss if you think we’re just going to let you go!”

Sosem’s lifeless smile was back. “I admire how determined you are to see this through, L’il Filly Flesh Eater, but y’all are about to have a much bigger problem on yer hands in just a minute!”

“The hell are you talking about?” Nia asked as another flash of energy sounded from the huge orange rift in the sky. “Do you know what that thing is?”

Sosem just tsked. “Now that would be tellin’, L’il Filly Flesh Eater, and good ‘ol Sosem doesn’t do spoilers!”

Before Nia could get another word in, Vherestrom tossed an object at their feet that Nia belatedly realised was a grenade. Rather than being a shrapnel or incendiary based device, though, the grenade exploded in a burst of smoke that made Nia’s eyes tear up and a loud BANG that did a number on her sensitive feline ears. By the time the smoke cleared and the ringing in her ears subsided to a tolerable level, Sosem and Vherestrom were gone.

Coughing out the residual smoke, Nia looked around at her compatriots. Rex sat up, similarly coughing out a lung—which based on the wound, was exactly where Sosem had got him. Said wound was closed, though, looking more like a weeks old scar than the fresh injury it was. Nia’s healing Arts had done their work.

“Ugh, I’m gonna feel that in the morning,” Rex groaned.

“The morning? I’m feeling it now!” Mythra said as she pulled herself to her feet, clutching her stomach. Her natural Blade healing was already doing its job, but Nia raised her scimitar and cast a wider range healing Art anyway.

“Let’s just be thankful we’re all in one piece,” Pyra said, standing with some effort.

Together, the five of them all cast their gaze upwards at the ominous orange rift. “I don’t like the look of that …” Rex muttered.

Nia liked it even less. It looked just like how the Nopon merchant had described the rift over the Ardainian mining colony Blackrock. Just then, another sound rose over the din of the thunder-like cracks of energy that emanated from the rift. A cacophony of distant wails rose on the wind like the tormented souls of the damned. As haunting as the sound was, Nia realised its source was very much corporeal, and looked off toward the distant hills beyond the colony’s centre.

“The Armus…” the Indoline monk said. In the heat of the battle, Nia had forgotten her reservations about him. And now here she stood in her true form, tainted Core Crystal and all, in plain sight of a zealot from the religious order who viewed her as an abomination worthy only of death. 

However, there were much bigger problems at hand. The ground beneath their feet faintly rumbled in time with the distant cries of the cattle. They were stampeding. Something had seriously spooked them, and Nia had a sinking feeling they were about to find out what.

“Are you the one in charge here?” Nia asked the monk.

The Indoline nodded. “Sheriff Koremm, at your service.”

“You need to gather your people and get them out of here. We’ll stall whatever’s out there long enough for you to escape. Head for Colony Eta!”

With a solemn nod, Koremm left to attend his task. He didn’t glance at her Core Crystal, and Nia hoped he hadn’t noticed it. The colonists who hadn’t already headed for the hills were slowly and tentatively peeking out of their homes now that the fighting in the middle of town had stopped.

Nia turned her attention to her friends. “Well, let’s get moving!”

Dromarch moved to her side, Pyra and Mythra nodded, but Rex just stared at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing! It’s just… I’m not used to seeing you take charge like this.”

Nia thought she saw the hint of a blush on his face before deciding that she was simply imagining things. There was a more pressing matter to focus on, which made itself known with a very loud—and close —roar. A huge beastly figure emerged in the distance beyond the colony’s boundaries, rapidly growing closer. Adjusting her grip on her scimitar, Nia rushed forward to intercept it, followed closely by Rex and the others.

When they got close enough to get a good look at the beast, Nia saw that just as she suspected, it resembled the Nopon Samsam’s description of the creature he had seen in the ruined Blackrock. An inky black mist-like substance permeated its form, distorting it like something stuck shifting between planes of being. The name Fogbeast definitely fit.

What surprised Nia, though, was that she was certain she could see a flesh and blood monster at the centre of the Fog. It had the telltale tough armoured hide and large sharp horns of an Ardun. Then Nia spotted the numbered tag stapled to its ear, and with growing alarm realised the true nature of the so-called Fogbeast.

“It’s one of the Arduns from the ranch!” Nia informed the others.

“You think so?” Rex asked before, with a bellow that sounded almost agonised to Nia, the Ardun Fogbeast charged forward.

Rex dodged to the side, nicking the Fogbeast with a swipe of Pyra’s sword as it passed. This did nothing to alleviate the beast’s apparent fury, as it then turned its attention on Rex.

“Whatever it is, we need to take it down!” Pyra exclaimed, stepping beside Rex as she began supplying power to his Arts.

“No argument here!” Mythra said, bringing her own Aegis Sword to bear.

With Nia and her Catalyst Scimitar, and Dromarch and his twin rings, the five of them surrounded the Fogbeast and got to work.

A good several Titanpeds away from Colony Iota, the bandit group had made their camp inside a cave atop a cliff with a good view of the distant colony. It was equipped with all of the essentials a marauding band needed: bedrolls, non-perishable foodstuffs, a firepit with a cooking pot, a few cases of aux cores for their Blades, and much more immediately relevant to Vherestrom, first-aid supplies. The large man went straight towards where the cases were piled, grabbing one and using another as a stool as he sat down and began removing his chest plate and vambraces. It was a difficult task with only one good arm, but Vherestrom managed.

With his armour off, Vherestrom could get a good look at the damage. The wound on his forearm from that Blade bitch’s scimitar was deep, and Vherestrom figured at least a few of his tendons had been severed. He swore; his arm would probably be in a sling until he could get some proper medical treatment. First using some of the liquor in his flask to disinfect the wound, he then took a large swig of the same to dull the pain before he reached for the sutures, wondering how his life brought him to this point.

He didn’t have to wonder, of course. It all went back to that damn shitshow that was the Ardainian province of Gormott. Vherestrom had fought and bled for his empire as a young man barely grown during the war with Uraya that had started as a result of Mor Ardain’s earliest expansion into Gormott fifty years ago. He had taken his first life in the hell that was the Battle of Wrecc Marshland: A Urayan boy just as young and terrified as he had been. 

Then after decades of upholding the peace in the Empire’s own little corner of Gormott, he had been one of the commanding officers charged with Mor Ardain’s complete takeover of the province ten years ago. He was there for the sacking of Torigoth, and remembered celebrating with his fellow soldiers when the long siege of White Chair finally ended with the holy fortress city’s complete destruction. All of his problems should have ended that day, but the people of Gormott remained fickle and stubborn.

Vherestrom knew the necessity of finding another Titan for Mor Ardain’s people to relocate to—the writing was on the wall for their own Titan’s demise, even then—but Vherestrom liked to think that the Gormotti people were getting a good deal out of it too. Mor Ardain had brought them safety, stability, trade, and advances in medicine and technology they would likely have never reached in half a dozen lifetimes. But still the pockets of resistance had persisted for years after the Gormotti War had ended. 

In the war’s aftermath, in recognition of his distinguished service, Vherestrom had received medals and rose to the rank of commander of the Empire’s forces in the entire region surrounding Torigoth, now the Gormott Province’s de-facto capital. Life had been good for Vherestrom then.

But it was only a few years later that the Ardainian consul, a man named Maegor, had made the—in Vherestrom’s opinion—perfectly reasonable decision of signing into law the Progress Act: a decree that prohibited the practice of some of Gormott’s more outdated cultural traditions. One such tradition was an annual pilgrimage to White Chair for an inane coming of age ceremony, which the Gormotti people continued to practise even after their holy city’s destruction. The whole affair was always a huge hassle, to say nothing of the strain on Imperial resources to monitor it. Surely the Gormotti people would understand that the Progress Act was to the benefit of all.

Yet, when the sun rose on the day of their pilgrimage, hundreds of Gormotti families got up and began their march towards White Chair in active defiance of the Progress Act. Consul Maegor had anticipated this, of course, and had ordered Vherestrom to blockade the road into Kizan Valley, where White Chair was nested, with all of the soldiers under his command. Rather than taking the hint and turning back like any reasonable person would, the Gormotti had become enraged, shouting and cursing at his soldiers in their mother tongue.

Vherestrom could recognize the growing revolt for what it was. When one Gormotti boy in the crowd had thrown a large stone at one of his soldiers, Vherestrom knew for sure that the only way to get these people under control was through force. So, Vherestrom had given the order which ended up costing him his career.

All things considered, the ensuing bloodbath could have been worse; only a few Gormotti had actually died from their wounds, and Mor Ardain’s own forces had suffered no casualties. Even so, two days later the newly crowned Emperor Niall, a mere boy with a boy’s sense of honour, had personally intervened. After forcing Consul Maegor to rescind the Progress Act, the emperor had him relocated to another protectorate on a Titan that was already half sunken into the Cloud Sea. His replacement was a daft dandy by the name of Dughall, who Vherestrom later heard was caught doing illegal business involving smuggled Core Crystals with a Nopon crime syndicate out of Argentum. Definitive proof of the Empire’s fall from grace since the days of his youth.

Ardainian military presence in Torigoth had been considerably reduced since then, but Vherestrom himself suffered a far more humiliating punishment. He had been very publicly arrested and brought back to Mor Ardain, where he stood before a military tribunal; a bunch of self-important twats who likely had never even set foot in Gormott. Vherestrom had explained the circumstances of the riot that necessitated his decision, but the tribunal’s minds were made up before he even set foot in their court. It was all a big performance to appease the angry Gormotti, and Vherestrom was the star of the show. Before he could blink, his nearly forty-year record of distinguished military service was down the pisser.

Sure, at sixty-five years old, Vherestrom had been old enough to retire, but it wasn’t what he wanted. After two failed, childless marriages, his military career was all he had, and disgraced as he was, he hadn’t even been given his military pension. Soldiering was all he had ever known, so was it any wonder he saw no choice but to turn to the life of an outlaw?

Now here he sat, suturing the wound in his arm in a cave in the deepest depths of nowhere, all but forgotten by Alrest at large. The other men and women under his command were beaten and scattered, and Vherestrom wasn’t sure any of them were coming back. The closest thing he even had to a friend now was Sosem, a man he could hardly stand.

While Vherestrom had been attending to his wound, Sosem had grabbed their crystal communicator and brought it outside to call the client. “Clearer reception outside,” he had said, but Vherestrom had used it to speak to the client clearly enough inside the cave the other day. Sosem may have been the only thing Vherestrom had resembling a friend now, but his opinion of the man had changed since their most recent engagement.

Vherestrom couldn’t stop thinking about the moment the huge, sinister looking rift had appeared in the sky. The sight of it was unlike anything Vherestrom had ever seen before, and although it didn’t show on his face (most emotions never did apart from anger), the sight of it had terrified him. Not Sosem though, who had regarded the strange celestial phenomenon with almost irritation. It’s early, he had said.

The sutures in his arm unfinished, Vherestrom rose and started to creep towards the mouth of the cave, now very curious about Sosem’s conversation with their client.

“…Yessim, it appeared sooner than we predicted.” Sosem’s voice carried to the mouth of the cave as Vherestrom drew nearer. “As you can see, it’s a mite bigger than the other ones, too. What d’you think, reckon this one’s here to stay?”

Standing at the cave’s threshold, Vherestrom looked out at Sosem, who had set the CC up on a nearby boulder and was standing next to it at the edge of the cliff, looking out at the orange rift blotching the otherwise beautiful night sky. The mirror-like surface of the communicator was facing away from the cave, likely positioned by Sosem to show the rift to the person on the other end. This unfortunately meant that Vherestrom couldn’t see who Sosem was talking to. Was it their client?

“Sounds about right. This mean we need to accelerate our timetable?” Sosem asked, but Vherestrom couldn’t hear his conversation partner’s reply. Whatever it was, Sosem nodded. “Right, steady as she goes, then.”

Vherestrom continued creeping forward as Sosem continued, “We have another problem, but you ain’t gonna like it.”

Now close enough for the whole conversation to sound more clear, Vherestrom was surprised to hear what may have been a woman’s voice, though it was hard to tell considering it was deep and distorted by what sounded like a voice scrambler. “Ill news does not bother me, Sosem. Only ignorance.”

It was curious, considering the liaison between them and their client was always the same male Ardainian, who Vherestrom suspected was speaking for someone on the Senate. Being a buffer, said go-between had never bothered with scrambling their voice.

“Well, that bein’ the case, you should know I might have to cut my li’l tour of the frontier short fer awhile. We had some uninvited guests show up tonight. Apparently, someone wised up to what my partner and I have been up to and what’s more, they sent the Aegises themselves after us.”

“The Aegises, huh? Interesting.” There was a pause as the person on the other end took a moment to think. “This development is not ideal, but for now it’s acceptable. The data you’ve gathered should be enough to get us started, at least.”

“Alrighty then, I just have a couple more loose ends to tie up here and then I’ll mosey on back yer way. Be seein’ ya!”

With that, Sosem disconnected the call and spent a moment simply staring at the distant orange rift. Vherestrom wasn’t sure whether he should address this now or slip back into the cave to finish tending to his wound. Sosem made the choice for him.

“Y’know, some folk consider eavesdroppin’ a mighty big faux-pas, partner.” Sosem didn’t even turn to look at him, his gaze fixated on that enigmatic anomaly in the sky.

“I have to say, Sosem, it occurred to me just now that I may have misjudged you,” Vherestrom rasped. “Seems to me that you’re one hell of a shrewd bastard.”

Sosem’s gaze remained fixed on the sky. “That so? How do ya figure, partner?”

Vherestrom gestured to the rift. He had a feeling Sosem knew what he was indicating, even with his back turned. “You know exactly what that is, don’t you? You’ve been tracking it. Not just here, but in all the other colonies we hit. It’s the reason you’ve been stopping by every weather station we pass. The people operating those stations don’t know about these new rifts, do they? Can’t tell them apart from a normal one based solely on the data from their reports. But you can. You’ve planned every one of our attacks around them.”

“That sure does paint a pretty deceitful picture of me, partner. Tell me, just what do you suppose I’m up to?”

“The same shite you always do: Juggling multiple jobs for a bigger payday. If I was a gambling man, I’d wager these strange rifts are the real reason you’re out here. Working with me is just a way for you to pick up some extra cash.”

“Maybe.” Sosem idly kicked a small stone over the cliffside. “There a point yer gettin’ to, partner?”

“More like a proposal. The men under my command are either dead or in custody now. Either way, they’re not coming back and without them, we can’t continue hitting colonies for our client.”

Sosem chuckled. “I think I get it. Yer hopin’ to grab a piece of the pie, is that it?”

Vherestrom shrugged, “What can I say? We work well together. Almost like a real Driver and Blade, eh?”

Having never possessed the aptitude to resonate with a Core Crystal, Vherestrom never thought much about what that kind of relationship might be like. But over the months he’d spent working with Sosem, as irritating as the man sometimes was, he realised there was something to it. If nothing else, it was good to have someone watching his back.

Sosem’s response, however, wasn’t what Vherestrom was hoping for. “Sorry, amigo, but I already had a Driver once, and ya know what? Once was enough.” A gunshot suddenly rang out. “Guess I’m more what you’d call a ‘Lone Volff.’”

Even as he saw the smoking barrel of Sosem’s gunknife aimed towards him, it was still one or two seconds before Vherestrom realised he’d been shot. Clutching his chest, Vherestrom fell to his knees. The sound of the gunshot had set off a distant pack of Volffs, which he could hear howling into the night.

“Whoops, looks like that one landed a li’l south of the ol’ ticker. Mighty sorry about that, partner. Sloppy work on my part.”

Vherestrom had seen enough of Sosem’s skill with his gunblade to know that the only way he could have missed his heart at this range was if it was on purpose. He opened his mouth to say as such, but all he could do was gasp as he coughed up a bit of bile that tasted like copper. He looked up at Sosem, who had finally turned to face him. In the pale moonlight, Vherestrom got another good look at Sosem’s friendly smile.

Except now his smile had more of a predatory, almost lupine quality to it (like a Volff). Vherestrom realised that the difference was in Sosem’s eyes. They no longer seemed lifeless and empty, but full of what Vherestrom recognized as pure, undistilled hatred. Vherestrom knew the look well. It wasn’t for him specifically, but for the entire world and all of the idiotic people in it. Vherestrom looked at Sosem and saw his own reflection.

“Now Vherestrom, your assessment of my goals through our working relationship is only half correct,” Sosem said, his Volff-like smile somehow still friendly even as his eyes burned with hate. “Yes, I was tracking the Fog Rifts but they’re not the main reason I’m out here; they’re only a symptom, not the ailment.”

Vherestrom crawled on hands and knees towards Sosem, thinking maybe with a decent enough shove he could send the smug bastard over the side of the cliff as he went on, “And I wasn’t out here to help you and yer posse raid those colonies fer that Ardainian Senator neither, though I won’t deny that the pay from the job will prove useful. When yer tryin’ to achieve somethin’ that ain’t never been done before, every little bit helps, after all!”

Vherestrom reached up, using every last ounce of his strength to grab Sosem by the bandolier, but the smiling Blade swatted him away effortlessly before he crouched down to Vherestrom’s eye level. “You want to know the real reason I’m out here, toleratin’ the company of the most ill-humoured son of a gun this side of Alrest?”

Sosem reached into his coat and pulled out what he called an Arkblade: The softly glowing cylindrical device the two of them had used to remove the Blades from the equation of every colony they had attacked together. He sat on the ground next to Vherestrom by the cliffside as if he was relaxing with a friend, holding the Arkblade up towards the sky.

“This here data is the most important piece of it all. The foundation of what my partner and I are workin’ to make! Oh, and friend let me tell you, it’s gonna be beautiful.”

Vherestrom found the strength to ask the question he’d asked Sosem so many times before. “The hell are you talking about?”

Sosem kept right on smiling. “Tell me, do you like Elysium as the name of this new world?”

“What?”

“I for one do not. The new world’s a marvel, to be sure, but it still falls short of Elysium to me. So, I reckon if Elysium’s what I want, I gotta build it with my own two hands. Shame you won’t be around to see it, though.”

With that, Sosem stood and started making his way back, and Vherestrom realised he was leaving him here to die. Vherestrom spat and managed to shout, “Don’t you dare walk away from me, you bastard! I deserve a better death!”

The sound of Sosem’s receding footsteps stopped. Vherestrom didn’t look back at him, even as he heard his footsteps grow closer again. Vherestrom just looked towards the horizon, choosing to focus on the many stars in the night sky rather than the alien rift marring a good chunk of it. He could hear the Volffs howling in the distance again. Whether they were ordinary Volffs or altered by the rift, it was hard to say. Either way, they sounded agitated. And was it just him, or did they sound a little closer now?

“Now, I’d honestly rather not waste another bullet on you, but you raise a good point: after all the help you’ve given me up to this point, I reckon you’ve earned a proper exit,” Sosem said. “Them critters sound mighty hungry, don’t they? Give ‘em my regards, won’t ya, partner?”

Vherestrom then felt Sosem’s boot kick him hard from behind and before he knew it, he was tumbling over the side of the cliff. It wasn’t a terribly long drop before the terrain levelled out below, but by the time Vherestrom finally came to a stop at the incline’s bottom, he knew he wasn’t getting back up. As he lay there, his back broken and bleeding out from the gunshot and torn sutures both, Vherestrom wondered again how he got to this point.

He then started to wonder, perhaps for the first time, how his life could have been different. He could have retired with a nice pension if he hadn’t ordered those women and children slain in Gormott. After the annexation of Gormott, perhaps he could have settled down and had a kid or two instead of remaining there on a career path that would only end in bloodshed and disgrace. Or perhaps he could have died in his first battle of the war as a young man, before he ever had the chance to take his first life. Better that than dying a lonely and bitter old killer at the bottom of a cliff. At least then he could have kept his honour.

The Volffs howled again. It wasn’t just him: they were indeed much closer now.

Exhausted and demoralised, Nia and her companions trudged along the road to Colony Eta, the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon. To say that the battle hadn’t been terribly successful would be an understatement.

The Fogbeast had been a hardy opponent to be sure, far wilder and more aggressive than even the fiercest of regular Arduns. More than once its frenzied charge had nearly gored Nia and her friends, but it still bled like any normal monster. Just when they seemed to have it on the ropes, the Fogbeast Ardun had let out a wailing cry and unleashed a powerful surge of energy. Nia and the others felt it in their bones, but seemed otherwise unaffected and had proceeded to finish off the Fogbeast Ardun with little trouble. That had been when the effect of the surge had made itself apparent.

All of the other monsters in the area had been driven into a murderous frenzy and suddenly Nia and her companions found themselves beset from all sides by insect-like Skeeters from nearby nests, and then some of the ranch’s Armus that had separated from the herd. Then Hoxes and Buloofo added themselves to the mix. Even the docile Garaffa which had been content to quietly graze as the party passed them earlier were attacking, fully utilising the electricity from their conductive organs. By the time the reptilian Ropls and slithering Aspar showed up (along with the huge one the locals called Gibbering Harold), all covered in the black fog-like substance too, Nia and the others realised they wouldn’t hold out for much longer.

So, they had turned and fled, putting Colony Iota behind them as it was overrun by monsters under the unblinking eye of the Fog Rift above. From there, they plotted a course to Colony Eta, not knowing whether it was safe to stop and rest before they were within its confines. They could do nothing but hope that the people of Colony Iota all made it out safely.

Their trek was a silent one. Nia knew that they weren’t simply upset that they’d been overwhelmed by a few monsters. On their journey to the World Tree one year ago, they had faced all manner of difficult challenges and powerful opponents and barring a few instances, managed to usually come out on top. How then, had they nearly been bested by a group of lowlife thugs after all they had been through? It was unthinkable.

Around the time they passed through a narrow crevasse and came out the other end to see Colony Eta in the distance, Mythra muttered under her breath, “Idiot….”

“Hey, what did I do?” Rex asked to which Mythra responded, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Nia blew out a puff of air from her nose, the closest thing to a genuine laugh since the battle. But then Mythra said, “I meant me.”

At Rex’s confused stare, Mythra elaborated, “I really messed up in the fight with those assholes.”

“I think you fought well, like always,” Rex said, clearly trying to bring a little optimism to the depressing atmosphere. “We all did.”

“Hate to burst your bubble, Rex, but we got the snot kicked out of us,” Nia said, as always meeting Rex’s optimism with her own pessimistic brand of realism.

“I tried to use Siren,” Mythra said. “Just got caught up in the heat of the battle and forgot that the Conduit and the Artifices are all gone.”

“Hey, I was stupid too,” Rex said, touching the twin Aegis swords on his back. “I only just started learning how to fight with both of your swords at once. I should have waited until I’d gotten better at it before trying it out in a real battle.”

“It’s been a whole year since I used my Artifice, and I still forgot!” Mythra curled her hand into a fist and pressed it into her forehead. “Idiot ….”

Nia didn’t exactly know what it was like to have a giant mech floating in the stars beyond the sky above, ready to rain fire on her enemies with a mere thought. Nor could she imagine having to get used to being without such a weapon. Nevertheless, she could understand why Mythra was so annoyed with herself.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. You relied on Siren pretty heavily during our journey a year ago,” Nia said, trying to sound reassuring. “You know what they say about old habits.”

They die hard, Nia thought, thinking about the way Rex had lay unconscious and bleeding out after taking Sosem’s bullet to the chest. Thought of Mythra crumpled to the ground as that bastard in the white hat had readied to put a bullet right through her Core Crystal. Thought of the device that looked like a knife but wasn’t a knife, puncturing her skin and clouding her mind with whatever it was pumping into her. Or whatever it was pulling out.

“All things considered, we got pretty lucky,” she said. “As bad as that rift is, if it hadn’t appeared when it did….”

Sosem and Vherestrom had scarpered pretty quickly when the strange rift had appeared. Nia would be very interested in learning what they knew about it.

“Yeah. If anything, this was a good wake-up call,” Pyra said. “With the relative state of peace the world has been in this past year, maybe we were getting too complacent. Especially now that most of our powers are gone.”

Nia didn’t disagree but didn’t comment further as they were drawing near to Colony Eta now. Sheriff Koremm was heading out to meet them, accompanied by what appeared to be one of Colony Eta’s deputies. Seeing the Indoline man made Nia acutely aware that she was still in her Blade form, and on instinct she altered her appearance and shifted back to her Driver disguise, her Flesh Eater Core Crystal hidden beneath her yellow jumpsuit.

“Thank the Architect you are alright,” Koremm said as he approached. “What news about our colony?”

Nia didn’t know how to tell him that none of his people would be returning home any time soon, overrun as it was. Evidently, neither did Rex or the others. Their silence, though, was answer enough for Koremm.

“I see. If nothing else, it’s good that you managed to buy enough time for me to get all of Iota’s people to safety. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.” Koremm turned to Colony Eta and bid Nia and the others to follow him.

As they entered Colony Eta proper, Nia looked around at the main street: a collection of simple wood structures much like Colony Iota but arranged in a circle around a central statue. The colony’s founder, maybe? 

“I informed the colony’s sheriff of the situation in Iota. He sent word to Fort Crocius, a Urayan fort just a few hours’ journey west of here,” Koremm explained. “Soon military forces will arrive and from there, we will plan what to do next. We have taken a few of the bandits into our custody already. We’ll see what we can learn from them when the military arrives.”

“You’ve done great work, Sheriff Koremm. Thank you for your aid,” Pyra said, before suddenly turning flustered as Koremm bowed low.

“It is my honour and privilege to serve alongside the Architect’s holy warrior, Madam Aegis,” he said.

“Madam?” Mythra exclaimed with a hint of indignation.

Deciding to spare Pyra and Mythra the discomfort of being revered as religious icons, Nia spoke up, “Is there a place we can go to rest up? We’ve been going pretty much nonstop the past twenty-four hours.”

Koremm stood and pointed out a building. “The Inn there should have available rooms. Rest up. You all have earned it. I’ll be helping out at the Sheriff’s office if you need anything.”

Rex and the others thanked him and wasted no time making their way to the Inn. Before he left, Koremm’s gaze lingered on Nia, his eyes briefly flicking to her chest. Her Core Crystal wasn’t visible under her clothes, but she’d spent enough time in her Blade form during the battle against the bandits for Koremm to have seen it. Come to think of it, Sosem had also quite vocally identified her true nature as a Flesh Eater. Perhaps it was foolish of Nia to believe Koremm remained ignorant.

So, she matched his unreadable stare with one of her own. “Got something to say?”

Between the lines, Nia’s question was simple: how devout was Koremm and was her role in helping to save the people of his colony enough to let him turn a blind eye?

“I am sure you are well aware of the Praetorium’s stance when it comes to your kind,” he said after a moment of consideration. “But the Praetorium is now a mere shadow of its former self, and you can consider yourself fortunate that I am no longer affiliated with them.”

That seemed to confirm Nia’s hope that there would be no trouble, at least from him. Still, she did not like the distaste with which he regarded her as he glanced again at her chest. “Though, I would advise you to keep that covered for the duration of your stay here. I may not be the devout follower of the Praetorium I once was, but many of my colony’s people are of the pious sort and still cling to its old notions.”

“Duly noted,” Nia said. Nothing new for her.

Koremm turned, giving her a parting, “Architect be with you,” before he departed her presence.

That settled, she turned and walked briskly towards the Inn. The prospect of collapsing in a bed was more appealing to Nia than anything in the world right now.

Nia wasn’t sure what time it was when she awoke. Judging by the position of the sun out her room’s window, it looked to have been late afternoon. With a stretch and a yawn, Nia rose from her bed and stepped out of her room. The door to Dromarch’s room was closed, which Nia took to mean he was still resting. So, she decided to head down to the Inn’s common area.

She found Rex sitting at a table downstairs, with a cup of tea and a bowl of soup in front of him. There weren’t many other people there, but Nia spotted several men in Uraya’s bulky military armour moving to and fro. Evidently the Inn was now being used as a makeshift military base.

“Sleep well?” Rex asked.

Nia mumbled and nodded, wondering if they had coffee here.

“Where are the girls?” Nia asked, meaning Pyra and Mythra.

“Still asleep, I guess,” Rex said.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“A little, but I wanted to keep up to date on the situation.” Rex slurped up some of his soup. “The Urayan military arrived pretty shortly after we turned in. They wasted no time securing Colony Eta and extracting information from the captured bandits. They managed to get the location of their hideout in the region and sent people to scout it out.”

Nia noted that Rex didn’t seem at all happy about any of this, so she waited for the other shoe to drop.

“The place was already deserted when the scouts found it.”

Nia sighed. “So that’s it then? Sosem and Vherestrom just got away clean?”

Rex shook his head. “Only Sosem.”

Allowing herself to feel a little hopeful, Nia asked, “Wait, so they found Vherestrom?”

Rex took a big gulp of tea. “Just the parts of him the monsters didn’t like.”

“Oh….”

The two were silent for a while as Rex had his soup and Nia ordered a coffee, two creams and two sugars.

“How many of Iota’s people made it out?” Nia asked when she had her coffee.

“Just about everyone is accounted for, according to Koremm. The only ones missing is a Driver named Catelynn and the colony’s Blades.”

Just like with Gamma and Blackrock, Nia thought. Another mystery to add to the pile.

“The military’s currently assessing whether it’s feasible to take back Colony Iota, but it’s not looking likely,” Rex continued. “That weird rift is still in the sky there.”

Definitely a bad sign, Nia figured. “So, what now?”

“For now, it doesn’t look like there’s much more we can do here,” Rex said. “Pyra, Mythra and I are probably going back to Mor Ardain to report to Mòrag. Vherestrom’s the one we were here for in the first place, and now that he’s dead….”

“Right. Guess Mòrag won’t be getting the name of his client.” Knowing she had to do something about this oppressive mood, Nia said, “Look Rex, I know it feels like we took a loss today, but we did a lot of good here, yeah? We saved the people of Colony Iota, and even though Sosem got away, Vherestrom and his bandits won’t be attacking any more colonies.”

Rex smiled. “You know, your pep talks aren’t half bad when you’re not smacking me around.”

Nia actually laughed, a real laugh, and gave Rex a playful whap on the shoulder. “Hey, you had it coming and you know it!”

The two of them chuckled some more, and Nia wasn’t sure whether the warmth she felt inside was from the coffee or the look in Rex’s eyes.

“So, what about you?” Rex asked. “You heading back to Uraya to report to Queen Raqura?”

Just like that, the warm feelings were gone. “I suppose.”

“You suppose?”

Resting her elbows on the table (in defiance of the proper etiquette her “father” had taught her so many years ago), Nia buried her head in her hands and took a trembling breath. Once again, she considered just telling him about the choice before her.

“I don’t know what I’m meant to do,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “You and all the others seem to have found your paths forward. And then there’s me, just kind of… stuck.”

“Nia….” Rex reached over and took her hand. “Maybe it’s about time you told me what’s actually been bothering you all this time.”

Looking up from the table at Rex’s kind face, Nia almost did tell him everything. “Something happened recently. A new path opened up before me, but I don’t know whether I can walk it.”

Rex scratched his head. “Alright, that’s a little vague.”

Just tell him. But Nia found that she couldn’t. “Let me ask you something, Rex. Are you still going to make that new branch of the Garfont Mercenaries to help Driverless Blades?”

“Of course!”

“And how do you know whether you can even do it? How do you know you won’t mess it up?”

Rex just shrugged. “Dunno. To be honest, I’ll probably mess it up loads. But I’ll have the right people around to keep me steady, that way when I do mess up, I can learn from it and keep moving forward.”

Nia considered this, realising slowly that maybe the real thing giving her pause was the queen’s wisdom to her right before she revealed to Nia her fate. The crown is ravenous. It eats your passions, your hobbies, your relationships, everything that makes you you…. It hardens you, but… leaves you incomplete.

“What if… in walking this path that’s in front of me, I end up losing myself to it?”

“Well, I don’t see how that could happen. Whichever path you walk, you’ll always be you!”

Nia sighed. “I wish it were as easy as you make it sound.”

“Well of course it’s not easy, nothing worth doing ever is!” Rex said. “You just need to answer this: Is this new path of yours one you want to walk?”

Nia thought about it, filtering out all of the other unhelpful questions. She stopped asking herself whether she could do it, she simply focused on the question; did she want to be a queen? It was a big responsibility and a heavy burden to be sure, but it was also her best chance to make a real difference in this world. To find her purpose.

She thought of all of the people displaced from Colony Iota, and what she could do for them if she had the power. Thought of how helpless she had felt the previous night, fighting one losing battle after another. She thought of her own knee jerk reaction to hide her Core Crystal from the colony’s Indoline sheriff—violating her own promise to herself to no longer hide who she was. Because even though she had long since accepted herself, it didn’t mean the rest of the world would accept her in turn. Because this world wasn’t Elysium, not to her. And if that was the case, maybe she could be the one to build Elysium with her own two hands.

“Yes,” Nia finally said. “I want to do it.”

Rex smiled his bright, sunny smile. “There you go then! Just hold on to that feeling and let it carry you forward.”

Nia suddenly realised that Rex’s words in that moment mirrored his words to her one year ago. The most important words he had ever spoken, at least to her. It was exactly what she needed.

“You’re right,” she said, smiling and for the first time in a while feeling lighter than air. “You’re absolutely right. Thank you, Rex. I know what I must do now.”

Some time later, Nia and Dromarch made their way to the Urayan fort alongside Rex, Pyra and Mythra, from which a ship dropped them off at Uramu’s harbour. From there, Rex chartered a ship to take him and the twin Aegises to Mor Ardain. Even before they boarded their charter, Nia already felt the loneliness start to creep in. She hated goodbyes.

“I hope you’ll let me know how this ‘new path’ of yours turns out,” Rex said, lingering on the harbour’s dock even as Pyra and Mythra stepped aboard the charter ship.

“Just keep an eye on the news coming out of Fonsa Myma,” Nia said with a sly grin. 

“C’mon, Nia. Can’t you at least give me a hint?”

Nia decided that after all the help he gave her, she owed him at least that. “Hey, you wanna hear a joke?”

Rex just smiled, clearly confused. “Okay?”

“The true heir to Uraya’s throne walks into a pub, but the pub is empty. In spite of this, she hears a voice tell her, ‘You damn well know the path you ought to walk, so what are you doing here?’ She replies, ‘I guess I’m just afraid.’ The voice then says, ‘You don’t have to be afraid. Stay true to yourself, even if it means fighting tooth and claw.’” 

Rex listened attentively, like a student in class. He didn’t seem to recognize his own words from one year ago, but he didn’t have to. Nia continued, “Just then, the bartender comes in. The heir tells him, ‘Nice place you got here. The voices are very kind and encouraging.’ Then the bartender says—”

But a grinning Rex interrupted her. “The bartender says, ‘You have to pay if you want a drink, but the nuts are complimentary.’” He laughed, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry, guess I already heard that one.”

Nia laughed along with him, but not for very long. “You get it, though. Right?”

Rex stopped laughing. “I get it.”

The two of them stood in silence for several short moments. Nothing more needed to be said. At least, until Rex bid her farewell and good luck, boarding his ship. 

Nia lingered a bit to watch the ship depart before making her way to the Vandham’s Legacy and telling the captain to set a course for Fonsa Myma. On the flight there, Nia thought a lot about that fateful conversation with Queen Raqura in the Aquagardens. Now that she knew her path, Nia could finally think clearly about the things Raqura told her, and a certain piece of it struck Nia as a little bit odd. She would have to ask the queen about it when she arrived. She didn’t know then how significant her question would turn out to be.

The moment Nia was back in Uraya’s capital, she entered Sevind Palace and sought out Queen Raqura in the palace’s main audience chamber. The queen appeared to be wrapping up her duties for the day, and those who were left when Nia arrived were filing out.

“I’m sorry, but Her Majesty is finished seeing petitioners for the day,” A guard said, as he attempted to direct Nia back out the audience chamber door. “If you had an appointment, it will be moved to early tomorrow morning.”

“You can stand down, Regulus,” Queen Raqura’s voice rang out from across the chamber. “Give me a moment with this one.”

The guard backed away with a dip of his helmeted head, and Queen Raqura approached, shuffling along on her cane. “You’re looking well, Nia. Better than when we last spoke, anyway.”

“I’m feeling better, actually,” Nia said, pulling out the document she had been working on during her flight from Uramu. “This is an update to my report on the Colony Gamma investigation. Fair warning, there’s a lot in there.”

Queen Raqura took the papers from Nia and began to skim through them.

“To summarise, we have a big problem on the horizon that will probably need the crown’s full attention,” Nia said.

“I’ve already been made aware of what people are calling the Fog Rift over Colony Iota,” the queen stated. “Rest assured; I have my people looking into it.”

“Sosem—the man in the white hat—may also cause problems down the line.”

Raqura licked a finger and used it to turn a page. “We’ll deal with him if it becomes necessary. Right now, capturing one lone bandit isn’t a high priority.”

When Nia figured she’d given the queen enough time to read through the rest of the document, she said, “I’m sorry about my hasty retreat the night we last spoke.”

“Please, no apology needed. I know I put a lot on you,” Raqura said. "I should not have expected you to give me an answer right then and there, but I was feeling the pressure. I apologise for that.”

Nia didn’t quite know how to respond. It was the first time she’d received an apology from royalty, but little did she know it wouldn’t be the last time. “I’ve spent a lot of the past week thinking about it.”

“You have an answer for me, then?”

With a nod, Nia said, “I’ve spent too much of my life running from who I am. I’m not running anymore.”

“So that’s a yes, then?” Raqura asked. “I need to hear you say it.”

“That’s a yes,” Nia said. “And I want you to understand something. I will listen to your wisdom and follow your teachings but when I’m queen I’ll do things my way. I will not compromise who I am.” Nia steeled her resolve. “I will not let the crown consume me.”

Raqura looked at her with what looked like near pity. “The crown always gets its pound of flesh, Nia. But who knows? If you are strong and wise enough, you may yet be able to mitigate just how much of yourself it can take.”

Nia was resolute; she would make this world truly live up to the name Elysium, and she would do it without losing herself in the process. She could do it. She had to do it.

“I’ll make the official announcement when I hold public court in a few days. In the meantime, we have preparations to make. Your naturalisation as an Urayan citizen, for one. I’ve taken measures to speed up the process a bit. My attendants will provide you with all the material you need.” Raqura then summoned one of said attendants. “Prepare a room for her and her Blade at once.”

The attendant bowed and left to carry out his task. All the while, Nia’s heartbeat quickened in her chest. This is really happening. She had gone from drifting along aimlessly to feeling like everything was moving way too fast. She tried to think of Rex. You don’t have to be afraid.

“I hope you’re ready,” Raqura said. “Formally announcing you as my successor will put a stop to the brewing civil war between the nobility, but that also means they will redirect their focus from each other to you. Just like with me, they will try to undermine you at every turn. You cannot show them any sign of weakness.”

“I went up against the Endbringer,” Nia said. “A few upstart nobles should be nothing.”

“Don’t underestimate them, especially Lady Paronet. She’s the sharpest of the lot and not above playing dirty.” Raqura then motioned for another of her attendants to approach. “Dagen here will show you where you’ll be staying.”

“Before that, Your Majesty, I just have one thing to ask you,” Nia said. Raqura didn’t speak, silently inviting Nia’s question. “In the Aquagardens, you told me that you suspected I was the Lost Heir of Hannes after my friends and I completed that first job for you.”

“That’s right.”

“But why? What was it that made you think it could be me?”

For several moments Queen Raqura was silent. Behind her eyes, Nia could see the wheels turning. It seemed at that moment that she was weighing an important decision, but Nia wouldn’t realise until years later just what that decision was.

“Can’t say, it was just some instinct I can’t explain,” Raqura finally said, before adding, “I guess it’s what you would call fate.”

“I see….”

With a bow, Nia thanked Raqura and followed her attendant to her new place of residence in the palace. All the while, something about the queen’s answer nagged at the back of her mind.

Now, approximately three years later, as Nia stood by Queen Raqura’s deathbed, listening to what may very well be her final words, Nia knew exactly why Raqura’s answer then had bothered her so.

“You have well and truly enriched my life, Nia. That’s why I’ve decided I owe you the truth.” The sickly Raqura said within her bedsheets as Nia came out of her thoughts. “Or… perhaps you already know?”

Taking a breath, Nia decided it was time to be honest with her in turn. “Three years ago, when I accepted the responsibility of being your successor, I asked you how you guessed that I was Uraya’s true heir. You told me it was probably fate.”

Nia paused, not sure if she should reveal such doubts to the dying queen, before realising it may be her only chance to know for sure. “But the thing is, you don’t believe in fate, do you? You told me yourself that first night in the Aquagardens: you make your own fate.”

Nia wasn’t able to keep the accusatory tone from her voice as she finished, “And that’s exactly what you did, wasn’t it?”

Raqura closed her eyes and nodded. “I’m sorry,” was all she could say.

Nia wasn’t sure how long she had suspected this truth, but actually hearing it all but confirmed from the queen’s own lips was like all the weight of the crown she would soon wear had come crashing down on her at once. Nia felt like she would be crushed into atoms.

“You don’t have to worry. The scribes who forged those documents did their work perfectly. When they were finished, I set them up well enough not to say a word and scattered them to the winds,” Raqura said. “It’s impossible to prove that you aren’t really the Heir of Hannes.”

Nia wanted to scream. To ream out the woman before her with all of the impotent rage she was owed. Instead, she took a deep breath and forced those emotions back. It would do no good getting angry at a sick old woman on her deathbed.

“You don’t have to tell me why you did it. I know you couldn’t let your kingdom fall into the hands of the nobility,” Nia said, doing her level best to keep her voice from shaking. “All I want to know is, why me?”

“There were a number of reasons why you were the perfect candidate,” Raqura answered. “Your Gormotti heritage made the lie more convincing, for one. 

“But I also believed then as I do now that you are the perfect person to lead Uraya into the new world. You were one of the heroes who brought it about, after all. That journey allowed you to make allies of some of the most powerful people in Alrest, and your deeds therewith have proven—both to the people of Alrest and to me—that your heart is pure.” Weak and in pain—both from her sickness and the turmoil plain on Nia’s face—Raqura managed a smile. “I can think of no one more suited to the role of ruler than you, Nia.”

Nia’s response was immediate. “I can.”

Raqura figured out who she meant easily enough. “The Driver of the Aegis?”

Nia nodded without hesitation. “All of those things you attributed to me were really all Rex. Him and Pyra and Mythra.”

“But they would not have gotten far without you, would they?”

Nia didn’t know how to respond, except to say that she was right.

“Do you still think I should have made the boy my successor instead?” the dying queen asked.

“Maybe.” If anyone could lead the Kingdom of Uraya—no, all of Alrest—into a brighter future, it would be Rex.

“Don’t tell me you’ve once again forgotten my first lesson.”

Nia looked down at her hands as they fidgeted. “The crown is ravenous.”

“That’s right,” Raqura tried to lift her head, her sunken eyes boring through Nia like they did back when she still had her strength. “It would have eaten that boy’s kind heart, and the world still needs it. But you… you have the compassion a ruler needs, along with the will to make the hard choices a ruler must make. And make them you will, if you hope to unite our world in time….”

In time for what, Raqura never specified, her mind already going back to the dark place it lived in these days. Years later, Nia would wonder whether Raqura was aware on some small level of the great doom that was coming for them all. After all, Nia herself was aware of it now, even if she had yet to truly understand its scope.

Raqura’s voice was growing weaker, each breath a greater struggle than the last. “You’re ready…. As long as you remember this… the crown is ravenous… but it doesn’t eat you all at once. It takes little bites… one for every decision you make… so small that if you aren’t careful… you won’t even notice how much of you is gone until it’s too late…. Be mindful of that, Raddis… and you will be… a wiser and better ruler than….”

Queen Raqura closed her eyes, and Nia waited patiently for her to catch her breath and continue. Except Queen Raqura did not catch her breath. With one final gasp, it escaped, and the queen lay still.

For a while, Nia just stood there, not sure of what to do. She knew she should call out to the Queensguard outside. Inform Raqura’s attendants that the queen was dead. But all she could do was stand there, once again staring down the lifeless body of a friend and mentor.

Unconsciously, Nia took Raqura’s hand in hers, and that was when she noticed something clutched inside it. A sheet of paper crumpled up into a ball. Without a second thought, Nia took the paper and unfurled it. She found herself looking at a treaty resolving a border dispute between Uraya and Mor Ardain, signed one week ago. Nia had seen and signed dozens of such treaties throughout this week alone. She didn’t understand why Queen Raqura was clutching such a document until she turned it over.

The document’s backside was a garden of flowers painted with care.

Chapter Text

The mausoleum of House Selosia rested on the lower back of the Urayan Titan just beyond the Olethro Ruins. It was there, before the mausoleum’s entrance, that the state funeral of Queen Raqura Selosia was held. Dressed in a simple but no less elegant black gown, Nia stood beside the ornate coffin that held the queen’s remains. Dromarch stood beside her, reciting the standard non-secular eulogy of Alrest. Impersonal and contrite, he spoke of life, death, and the eternal flow of ether, of which even a queen was subject to.

Soon (too soon, it seemed), Dromarch’s speech came to an end, and it was Nia’s turn to say a few words. Steeling herself, Nia looked out at the gathered crowd. Seeing the sheer number of mourners, one would be hard-pressed to believe that the queen was so alone in her final years.

The heads of the other five noble houses were gathered with their families and cadet branches, interested only in the appearance of grieving. Nia spotted Lady Priscilla Paronet dressed in traditional mourner’s blacks, her wrinkled old face drawn down in a facsimile of sorrow. The newly-commissioned jewelled necklaces and earrings that adorned her gave her true feelings away. Nia suspected that Priscilla had them made just for this occasion. A little splurge the same way one might open a bottle of champagne after a productive week (Nia would not be surprised to hear that Priscilla had done that as well).

Nia also spotted Raqura’s younger brother, Roland, who Nia was surprised to see actually looked somewhat respectable. It was the first time Nia had seen him without a pretty piece of arm-candy at his side, and Nia suspected he was one of the few among the nobility whose mourning was genuine. From what Nia had learned of their relationship over the years, there was plenty of love lost in Raqura and Roland’s complicated relationship. Yet it was clear to her now that much love yet remained.

Finally, Nia’s eyes fell on the only truly sympathetic faces in the crowd. Rex stood just off to the side along with Pyra and Mythra, the three of them giving her silent encouragement. It was just what Nia needed to begin. So, steeling herself with a breath, Nia stood tall and summoned forth what she liked to call her Royal Self: a persona she put on like another outfit.

“As many of you are aware, I only knew Her Majesty for a scant few years,” Nia started. The eulogy was carefully rehearsed, and by this point Nia had years of practice with her Royal Self; speaking in full, proper sentences and leaving out the crass slang and shorthand she normally spoke with. “In those years, however, I have known Queen Raqura to be a just ruler. One whose dedication to serving her nation was without compare. I could not ask for a wiser mentor, nor a more trusted friend.”

There was certainly truth to the words, but they still rang hollow: a mere script that Nia had committed to memory. The truth of Nia and Raqura’s relationship was much more complicated, especially given the revelation that came just before she passed. It would not do to dwell on her true thoughts now, though. Nia just needed to get through the rest of this eulogy and proceeded to do so. She spoke of Raqura’s virtue as a ruler, her strength in the face of unimaginable loss and hardship, shared a half made-up humorous anecdote (which the gathered nobles politely and rigidly chuckled with), and closed out with a promise to honour her memory as she looked to the future as Uraya’s next ruler.

After a couple more eulogies from those who knew her (a soulless speech from Priscilla Paronet and a genuinely heartfelt one from Roland Selosia laced with regret), the pallbearers came forth to lift Raqura’s casket. Then they slowly marched into the depths of the mausoleum, where Raqura would be entombed alongside her family. Her mother Queen Relinda on one side and her son, Raddis, on the other.

Only Raqura’s husband would not rest alongside her, buried instead where he fell at the Olethro Ruins, as was Urayan mercenary tradition. It had been a long time since Nia thought about him, but now that she was here, burying another friend and mentor, the old guilt she felt then resurfaced.

Nia watched as Raqura’s casket disappeared into the depths of the mausoleum, her face unreadable. Dagen and the ministers had suggested to her before the ceremony that it would be beneficial to her public image if she were to shed a few tears as the funeral reached its conclusion. Try as she might, though, the tears did not come.

If she was being honest with herself, Nia was not sure how she felt now that Raqura was gone. Certainly, the queen’s passing was sad, but there was a modicum of relief as well—the suffering Raqura endured in her final days was over. But even that feeling was not at the forefront. Mostly, Nia was frustrated. Frustrated that Raqura had died and left Nia as an accessory to the biggest lie in Uraya’s history.

The true heir of Uraya walks into a pub and learns she isn’t the true heir at all…. She decided not to try and figure out the punchline for that one.

“Hey, Nia,” Rex’s voice brought Nia out of her thoughts. The state funeral was over, and the guests were now mingling as they slowly started to migrate back to Sevind Palace.

Now nineteen, Rex stood a good head taller than Nia, and he had a bit of stubble under his chin. His kind golden eyes remained exactly the same, and they regarded Nia with sympathy as he touched her arm. “How are you holding up?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Nia said.

“If I had a coin for every time I heard that….”

Pyra and Mythra approached, and the former said, “You know you can talk to us if you need to, right?”

“I know. But really, I’m alright,” Nia said. She spotted Dromarch out of the corner of her eye. As always, he knew better, and indicated such with a look. “Right now, I just need to focus on preparing for my coronation.”

As if summoned by Nia’s words, Dagen approached. The man had been running himself ragged on her behalf lately.

“Lady Nia, a quick word regarding your upcoming coronation?” he asked.

Nia donned her Royal Self. “Speak, Dagen.”

“Preparations for the ceremony are on schedule. In a few days we should be ready to begin rehearsals.”

“Good,” she said. It was fortunate that much of the preparation had already been underway months ago when the queen’s health took its first big nosedive.

Dagen then turned to Pyra and Mythra. “Aegis, it is good that you are here. This next matter concerns you too.”

Pyra and Mythra looked just as surprised as Nia felt. “Us?” Pyra asked.

“What do they have to do with the coronation?” Rex asked warily.

“If you were hoping for fireworks, I should remind you I no longer have my Artifices,” Mythra pointed out.

Dagen shook his head. “No, but the transitional period between regimes is always tricky to navigate. Doubly so for Lady Nia, who was not born in Uraya.”

He had a point. Nia’s accomplishments (both before and after she was named heir) had made her popular with the people of Uraya once they had grown accustomed to her. Even still, there were those who would prefer that Uraya was ruled by an Urayan. Nia glanced at the nobles conversing nearby.

“Given your history with the Aegis, Lady Nia, I think it would be a good idea for them to be the ones to perform the crowning ceremony. None could question your legitimacy with their endorsement.”

Pyra and Mythra exchanged a look. Neither of them looked particularly thrilled by the idea. “I suppose it isn’t much different from when we knighted Addam as our Driver when we first awoke,” Pyra said.

“Ugh, I hate stuffy ceremonies like that,” Mythra said. She then looked over at Nia. She must have seen something on her face, because all of a sudden, her usual harsh tone turned softer. “But if it helps Nia, we’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” Nia said.

“Wonderful, we’ll discuss the details later. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Dagen said with a bow before departing their company.

Again, Nia wondered whether she could even do this, and silently cursed Raqura for leaving her with the burden of this lie to live with. It wouldn’t be the first time she had asked her to betray herself. Nia thought back to three years prior; to the day that Raqura had formally announced Nia as her successor.

The main audience chamber of Sevind Palace was packed when Queen Raqura entered, flanked by her Queensguard as well as Nia and Dromarch. Nia looked around, taking silent inventory of those gathered. Thanks to hours of vigorous study, Nia recognized the heads of each of the noble houses by sight. Lady Priscilla Paronet sol Esteriole was the easiest to spot, Nia having crossed paths with her once already. Beside her was a middle-aged man with long white hair and a slimy grin. This was likely Priscilla’s middle son, Corbett, who Nia knew was in charge of Uraya’s military R&D.

Across the chamber from the two members of House Paronet was a man who Nia identified as Lord Cornelius Duttan sol Ibbudale. He was the head of House Duttan, which had changed its name from Duttrosil some decades ago. His brown, bald head and round face made Nia think of a baked potato. 

He will be easy to remember, she thought.

Whispering to him were a pair of identical twins, a man and a woman with short cyan hair. These could only be the twin heads of House Montagu, Alex and Shannon Montagu sol Iadiphere. Despite her rigorous study, Nia still wasn’t sure which was which.

Across the chamber from the twins, an elderly man stood beside Priscilla and Corbett Paronet, looking so frail Nia thought a slight draft would topple him. Nia figured he had to be William Gaselart sol Ogotria, head of House Gaselart. He was accompanied by two of his daughters (young enough to be granddaughters), though which two Nia could not say (he had sired many ). Both of them seemed alert, flanking him almost protectively like guards posted by a valuable vase atop a wobbling table.

Finally, just past the Gaselarts was a large, round older woman with a larger, rounder bosom. By process of elimination, Nia figured this was Charlotte Uthwatte sol Ceqirim, head of House Uthwatte. Standing next to her was who Nia guessed to be her husband, Clive Uthwatte and their only daughter, Holly Uthwatte. The latter had an almost rodent-like timidity to her as her mother continually fidgeted with her clothes.

Others were present in the main audience chamber as well. Some appeared to be heads of various mercenary guilds, while others had more the appearance of businesspeople. Ringing the chamber was a gallery consisting of what appeared to be simple members of the public and the press, here to bear witness to the day’s proceedings. As Queen Raqura entered, the sound of idle chatter which had filled the chamber was replaced with silence, broken only by the clack clack of Raqura’s cane on the hard stone floor.

It was little more than a minute before Raqura reached her throne, seated herself and began the day’s business. Raqura started by getting the mundane stuff out of the way first. Two of the mercenary guild leaders—commanding the Bedlam Mercenaries and the Volff’s Fang Mercenaries—had each made requests for approval to build new keeps within the duchies of House Gaselart and Uthwatte. A Nopon from Argentum wanted to open a branch of his shop Fishy Fishy in Fonsa Myma and was accusing the local Ikthus Fishmongers chain of corporate sabotage.

All the while, Nia stood silently with Dromarch at the queen’s side, watching. Raqura had told her to observe how she handled the petitioners of her court, but Nia was also studying the nobility. Many of them regarded her with curious looks—most knew who she was, she suspected, but they couldn’t have known what she was doing standing at Raqura’s side now.

Finally, having handled a few of the petitioners before her (Nia later learned she had been wrapping up matters rescheduled from the previous day), Raqura cleared her throat and began the main event.

“Before we continue with the day’s regular proceedings, I have a formal announcement to make,” Raqura said, and Nia’s heart beat faster. “First of all, allow me to reiterate that in spite of my recent health concerns, I intend to continue serving as your queen for many years to come. However, the time has arrived for me to announce my successor.”

Looking out onto the gathered audience, Nia spotted the hint of a grin across Priscilla Paronet’s face. The other nobles, who seemed only to be half-listening before this point, now almost leaned forward, hunger clear in their eyes. Nia thought of a flock of Rhoguls circling a carcass.

Raqura then gestured to her. “Standing beside me is Nia, acting commander of the Garfont Mercenaries. I’m sure many of you are aware of her heroic exploits as a companion of the Aegis and her Driver, and her role in saving the world from the Aegis Malos one year ago.”

None of the gathered nobles seemed to catch on to what their queen was getting to, obvious though it should seem. It would appear that all of them had yet to even conceive of the idea that the throne would go to none of them.

“However,” Raqura continued, “I would imagine very few of you are aware that she is the last remaining daughter of House Echell, one of the noble families of Gormott.” Raqura paused, allowing this to sink in. Nia saw the slight smirk slowly sink away from Lady Paronet’s wrinkled face—it would seem that she, at least, had caught on to where this was going. “A recent discovery has been made regarding the lineage of Nia’s old house. I can officially confirm that House Echell can trace its roots back to Uraya’s very own House Envia, by means of Hannes Envia, the true king of Uraya.”

A low murmur began to rise amongst the crowd of nobles and common folk like the low rumble of distant thunder before a storm.

“Thus, I formally proclaim Nia of House Echell, the Lost Heir of King Hannes Envia, as my successor.”

What followed was an uproar of voices, all clamouring in confusion and—in the case of the nobility—disapproval.

“What a load of rubbish!” both of the Montagu twins shouted simultaneously, before the woman (Alex or Shannon?) said, “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but are we to believe you just happened across the Lost Heir of Hannes the moment you needed a successor?”

Funnily enough, Nia had thought this was pretty convenient herself, but she wouldn’t know until a few years later how on the mark Montagu was. Raqura was prepared for this, of course, and held up the same book she had shown Nia that fateful night in the Aquagardens. “The evidence is all here, carefully researched and verified by a team of skilled scholars. I am making it available for perusal in the palace archive for anyone who wishes to verify the claim for themselves.”

Another wave of rabble washed over the room, the voice of Cornelius Duttan cutting above it all. “This mere vagabond cannot sit upon the throne of Uraya! Heir of Hannes or not, she is Gormotti. Uraya can only be ruled by a member of its own nobility!”

A chorus of, “Here, here!” among the nobles followed Lord Duttan’s statement, but Raqura was prepared for this too.

“Nia was not born in Uraya, true enough, but she does own Urayan land: the area of Garfont.”

This was actually true, and it was in part thanks to a dearly departed friend of hers; the man Nia had known only as Vandham, the original commander of the Garfont Mercenaries. Although he had left command of his mercenary company to Rex, in his haste to update his will on such short notice, Vandham had forgotten to include the actual land Garfont Village rested on. This naturally meant that the land itself was returned to the Kingdom of Uraya upon his passing. Queen Raqura had held onto the deed for a whole year before quietly bequeathing it to Nia mere weeks ago. Nia herself had only found out about it the morning after she accepted her position as heir. 

“This of course means that Nia is officially Urayan nobility, which not only makes her eligible to succeed the throne but has also allowed her to bypass many of the formalities of being naturalised as a Urayan citizen earlier this week,” Raqura neatly concluded.

Lord Duttan sputtered, his potato-like face turning redder by the minute. “Eligible or not, I for one refuse to accept a foreigner as my queen, and I know many of Uraya’s people feel the same!”

“You don’t need to be happy about it, Cornelius, but you have no right to deny the throne to the true heir of King Hannes Envia.”

“True heir of Hannes Envia?” Lord Duttan spat, pointing a stubby finger at Nia. “Let us call her what she is, Your Majesty: the descendant of a bastard! No illegitimate scion of a long dead house should ascend the throne!”

“Ugh, are you taking the bloody mick?” Nia said, not about to take that lying down. “You and the rest of your ilk spent a lot of time and money trying to find this so-called bastard’s descendant as soon as crown prince Raddis died.” Nia fixed the room with a hard glare. “You bloody Rhoguls couldn’t even wait ‘til his body was cold, could you? But now that Queen Raqura has found me first, suddenly I’m just a ‘bastard’s descendant.’ Pretty convenient logic, eh?”

Nia was pleased with her retort but noted Raqura’s frown out of the corner of her eye.

Meanwhile, Lord Duttan sputtered, “Why, you insolent…!”

“However you look at it, the blood of Hannes Envia flows in Nia’s veins,” Raqura said, regaining control of the chamber. “The fact remains, she holds the strongest claim to the throne, and it is my decree that she should succeed it.” Raqura gave Duttan a cold hard glare. “To question her claim is to question me. ”

“Of course. Apologies, Your Majesty.” Chastened, Lord Duttan dipped his head and took a step back. Lady Paronet stepped forward, her growing frown gone and the slight smirk back on her elderly face.

“Well, I for one, am glad that our queen has finally seen fit to choose a worthy heir. The Kingdom of Uraya remains strong.” Lady Paronet turned to face Nia and dipped her head low. “Allow me to be the first to pledge the undying loyalty of my house to the future Queen Nia.”

As bad as Lord Duttan’s bluster was, the insincerity of Lady Paronet’s words seemed almost worse.

“Thanks,” Nia simply said.

Lady Paronet raised her head. “Now, if it pleases Your Majesty, I would very much like to host a banquet at my family’s estate at the week’s end in honour of the new crown princess.” She turned to the other Lords and Ladies present. “The invitation extends to all present, of course.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Lady Paronet. We can discuss details in my study later today,” the queen said. “For now, I’d like to continue with the day’s business. The next issue I would like to address concerns the increased taxation of food in the eastern duchies….”

The session of court done for the day, Priscilla Paronet retreated to her office within the palace, wincing with every painful step. The sciatica in her lower back had been relatively tame these past few days, and this morning had seemed to be no different. But by the end of that session of public court, her back was all but screaming. It was almost as if the pain had been heralded by that Nia girl; the Gormotti bitch who had stolen her crown away from her. A literal pain in my back.

“Sven!” she called out as she sat in her chair, trying to find a position to rest her back that didn’t hurt.

Her Blade appeared before her without delay. “My Lady P—

“Fetch one of my healing Blades. Any of them.” Priscilla was in too much pain to let him finish. “Quickly!”

“At once,” Sven said, making himself scarce.

In no time at all (but still far too long by Priscilla’s count) Sven returned with Sandra, a female Blade with ears like a Gormotti that only now Priscilla could hardly look at. Sandra immediately got to work with her healing Arts. It wouldn’t get rid of the pain completely (though there had been a time when it did), but after a while it was enough for Priscilla to think clearly again.

So, Queen Raqura had really done it. She’d found the elusive Lost Heir of Hannes. Possibly. Priscilla had her doubts, but there was the fact that whatever documents proved it were being made available to anyone who wanted to check. Naturally, Priscilla would do her due diligence and have one of her own scholars look at them, but she already knew it would be a dead end. For Raqura to have the confidence to display her findings so openly, it was either completely legitimate or such a convincing forgery that it would be impossible to tell otherwise.

So, Priscilla instead considered what to do about the new crown princess herself. She already knew a little bit about this Nia; Priscilla was careful to keep informed on all of the queen’s allies. She knew that the girl was a former member of the terrorist group Torna, which Priscilla might have been able to use against her if she hadn’t played such an instrumental role in their ultimate defeat. Indeed, Nia’s small but no less heroic role in saving the world would make her very popular with Uraya’s people, regardless of what Cornelius Duttan said.

Duttan was a moronic windbag, but his posturing in court today had reaped one benefit for Priscilla: he had shown the new heir to be naught but a child, at least in temperament. If all it took to provoke her were a few childish insults, imagine what Priscilla could do with something that really hit her close to home! She would need more information though. It was a good thing there was plenty of time to gather it before her banquet.

“Sven, that mercenary we hired for the frontier job,” Priscilla started. “Is he back in the city?”

“He is, My Lady Paronet.”

“Get in touch with him. Tell him we have a new job. Usual rate.”

At the same time that Priscilla Paronet was scheming in her office, Nia followed Queen Raqura back to her study.

“All things considered, that could have gone a lot worse,” the queen said once the two of them were alone. She took a sip from a steaming mug of coffee left for her on her desk by a servant and turned toward Nia with an unhappy look. “We’re going to have to work on how you handle the nobility, though. I thought I warned you not to underestimate them.”

Nia wasn’t sure what the problem was. “I thought I did a good job putting that pompous arse in his place.”

“The whole chamber saw how easily Lord Duttan got under your skin. You shouldn’t have risen to the bait,” Raqura said with a rueful shake of her head. “I told you before, you can’t show them any sign of weakness.”

Fair point , Nia thought and sighed. “Alright. Live and learn, I guess.”

“You’ll have to learn faster if you hope to get through whatever farce Lady Paronet has planned at this banquet she’s hosting.”

“You think it’s a trap?” Nia asked.

“Most definitely.”

Growing more nervous, Nia asked, “What, is she gonna try to off me during the feast or something?”

“That would be exceedingly foolish on Lady Paronet’s part, and she is no fool.” Raqura took a sip from her coffee. “Besides, outright assassination isn’t her style. No, whatever she’s planning that night will be something more subtle, designed to undermine your appearance and standing before the other nobles. It’s how she operates.”

“I see.” Nia would have almost preferred an assassination attempt to such mind games.

“The fact is your response to Lord Dutton’s prodding has emboldened Lady Paronet. The others too, no doubt. We’ll have to work on cultivating a stronger image for you.” It was then that Raqura said something that caught Nia completely off guard. “Perhaps it would help if you started using your real name.”

“What do you mean, my real name?”

“I mean the name you used before the fall of your house.” 

Now Nia was just confused. “What are you on about?”

Raqura’s face took on a look of sympathy that served only to confuse Nia further. “I can understand why you changed it. Your father lost your home, your titles, your wealth and eventually his own life in his efforts to cure you of that disease. It makes sense that you’d want to leave all that behind, but going by your given name, Mio Echell, rather than this ‘Nia’ moniker you adopted could go a long way.”

“Nia is my real name. Mio was my sister’s name."

Now it was Raqura's turn to be confused. "Sister?"

"Well, I thought of her like a sister.” Nia's eyes widened as all at once, everything clicked into place. “Hang on, do you think I’m Lord Echell’s actual biological daughter?”

“Are you telling me you’re not? ” Raqura’s face changed faster than Nia could blink, her sympathy replaced by almost furious confusion. “Explain yourself.”

Rather than using words, Nia decided that it would be better to show rather than tell. So, in a flash of bright ether, Nia assumed her true form. It was lucky that Raqura hadn’t taken another sip of her coffee at that moment, as she likely would have spat it out in shock. The carpet of her study ended up stained regardless as the mug of coffee slipped from the queen’s hands.

She looked at the tall vulpine ears on Nia’s head, a far cry from the smaller feline ears of her Gormotti disguise. The queen’s eyes travelled down her body, past the white leotard with its red and gold trim to the softly glowing blue ether markings on Nia’s hips. Finally, Raqura’s eyes rested on the Core Crystal on Nia’s chest, its blue colour tainted with splotches of blood-like red.

“YOU’RE A BLADE ?!” Raqura exclaimed in shock and disbelief that Nia had never seen from her before or since.

“YOU DIDN’T KNOW?!” was Nia’s response. “I thought you did the bloody research! When you told me about your ‘thorough background check’ I figured that detail was included!”

“Evidently not….” Raqura shuffled over to the chair behind her desk in a daze, muttering as she sat down, “How… how did I miss this?”

Nia took a tentative step closer. “Your Majesty?”

But it was some time before Raqura responded. “So let me see if I understand this fully. Lord Echell was not your father, but your Driver.” Nia nodded, and Raqura continued, “Then, where’s his actual daughter? Where’s Mio Echell?”

Nia touched her tainted Core Crystal. “All that’s left of her now is in here.”

Raqura looked again at Nia’s chest, studying the Core Crystal more closely. “Wait, that means you’re a….”

Nia nodded, finishing the queen’s sentence for her. “A Flesh Eater, yes.”

Queen Raqura leaned back in her chair, her eyes a Titanped away. It must have been nearly a minute before they found Nia again. “How many people know?”

Nia scratched her head just under her ears. “Um... all of my friends, for one. Beyond that, it’s hard to say. It isn’t something I openly advertise, but I don’t try to hide it anymore, either.”

“You hid it well enough from me.”

She has me there, Nia thought. “Generally, it’s easier to do business with people who don’t know what I am.”

“Then you should have no problem continuing to operate that way,” Raqura said sternly. She stood. “You should change back. It’s not long before our meeting with the military leaders.”

What she said made sense, but there was something about the way she said it that Nia didn’t like. She retained her Blade form. “You do realise that this is the real me, right?” It had taken a long time for Nia to finally come to terms with that fact. What’s the point in living if I have to hide?

“Well, you’re going to have to make your other form the real you,” Raqura said. “In fact, it would be best if you simply… stopped using this one altogether.”

 “I can’t do that.”

“You must. Getting the other nobles to accept you as their next ruler is going to be an uphill battle as it is. If they see you with that Core Crystal on your chest, it will be all the harder.”

Nia’s hands clenched into fists. “When I agreed to be your successor, I told you that I will not compromise who I am.”

“And I say again, you must! ” Raqura took a breath, calming herself before she could raise her voice any further. “This is what I meant when I said that the crown will consume you. Being a queen sometimes means that you have to let it. That’s the sacrifice we rulers have to make.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s had to hide all your life!” Nia growled, feeling her frustration and anger boil over but at the moment not particularly caring. “So please, just bloody stop with all of your sanctimonious Ardun-crap about sacrifice, when the truth is you don’t know shite about it!”

“I do understand sacrifice, Nia. A lot more than you can know!” Just like that, the carefully concealed fury was back on Raqura’s face. Fury hiding deep scars. “Did you know I wasn’t even in Uraya when my son died?”

The slowly building anger in Nia’s chest all at once started to evaporate. “What?”

“The Gormotti War was reaching its conclusion when his health took a turn for the worse. I was needed in Temperantia to sign the peace treaty with Mor Ardain. I knew that if I went, there was a chance that I wouldn’t see him again, but I went anyway.”

The veil of fury slowly dissipated until all that Nia could see on the queen’s face was pain. Nia could hear tiny cracks in her voice, like chinks in armour, as she continued, “That day I ended a long, bloody war, and the price I paid was knowing my boy died without his mother there to comfort him. Any wise ruler will tell you that the crown is sacrifice!”

Nia was silent for a moment, unsure of how to answer. For that brief vulnerable moment, Nia had seen the face of the real Raqura Selosia show through the regal mask of royalty she wore. The face of a woman nearly stripped bare by all of the pieces of herself she had given away for the sake of her kingdom. Nia saw that face and wondered whether she was looking into her own future. Wondered whether it was as inevitable as the flow of ether.

Raqura took a breath, and just like that the fire in her voice was reduced to an ember. “I believe you can be a wise ruler, Nia, and I ask you now to prove it to me.”

Nia gave the queen her answer, transforming back into her human Gormotti disguise. Raqura didn’t give any indication of her approval. She simply turned and bid Nia to follow her to their next appointment.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of meetings that were a blur to Nia. The meeting with the military was the only one that stuck out to her because it was the only one that she really participated in. Queen Raqura and her top Admirals and Generals were discussing how to proceed with the Fog Rift situation in the region surrounding Colony Iota.

Admiral Smythe, the man in charge of the fleet of airships on site reported that the rift’s sphere of influence had expanded beyond even the area surrounding the neighbouring Colony Eta. Wallace, the general in charge of the ground forces for the operation, reported that they were doing what they could to keep the threat contained but were already seeing Fogbeast incursions at Uramu Port.

He had then asked Nia whether she had any insight into the situation, having been there when the Fog Rift first appeared. Unfortunately, Nia couldn’t tell him much. She did, however, warn him to be cautious of normal monsters as well, as Fogbeasts seemed to draw them and make them frenzied. This appeared to be something the military personnel were already aware of (and of course they would be), but then Nia thought of something else.

“Sosem—one of the bandits that attacked Colony Iota before the rift appeared—seemed to know what the rift was. If we could track him down….”

“Unfortunately, said fugitive’s current whereabouts are unknown,” general Wallace replied. “Besides, even if we could find him, something tells me he wouldn’t be cooperative.”

Nia conceded the point and the meeting went on. It eventually ended with the decision to send more researchers to the forward base the Navy had established at Fort Crocius just beyond the Fog Rift’s radius.

Several hours and meetings later, Nia met up with Dromarch and together the two of them headed back towards her chambers where they would take dinner.  Dromarch himself had volunteered to be one of Nia’s primary retainers, and had spent much of the day getting to know the palace and its staff.

When they returned to her chambers within the palace, Nia let out a sigh. For all the newfound stress of the royal life, at least she was living luxuriously. Nia went to her large soft bed and flopped face first into the linens.

“Long day?” Dromarch asked.

Nia’s response held more bedsheets than words, and she let out a muffled, “Mmhrm.”

Then Dromarch did what Nia had been dreading and asked, “Is everything alright between you and Queen Raqura? I thought I heard raised voices outside her study this morning.”

Nia’s first instinct was to tell Dromarch it was nothing. A small part of her (one that simply wished to rest and not think about it) considered telling him to keep his nose out of her business. But Nia suddenly wondered whether Raqura had someone in her own chambers asking her about her day. Somehow she doubted it. She then wondered if she would still have a loyal friend like Dromarch years from now when she was queen. She certainly wouldn’t if she kept pushing him away.

So, Nia rolled over and lay on her back, her feet dangling over the bedside. “Raqura and I had kind of a fight today.”

“You really do have a way with people,” Dromarch mused as he sat on his haunches beside her bed. “Might I inquire as to the cause of the argument?”

“It turns out she didn’t know I was a Blade, let alone a Flesh Eater. She wants me to keep it a secret.”

“And you understandably took umbrage at that.”

Nia nodded. “The shitty thing is, she has a point. You saw how the nobility were when I was proclaimed the queen’s successor. If they hate me now, imagine how they’ll be if they learn I’m a Flesh Eater.”

Dromarch gave her a sympathetic nod. “But on the other hand, you still wish to keep the promise you made one year ago to remain true to yourself. Therein lies the dilemma.”

With a sigh, Nia sat up. “Maybe I shouldn’t be queen.” Nia looked at Dromarch with a sad smile. “Think there’s still time to renounce my claim?”

“Giving up after only a day? I thought you were made of sterner stuff,” Dromarch said. “My lady, you knew this path would require hard choices the moment you chose to walk it, did you not?”

He was right, of course. It didn’t make Nia hate it any less. “What should I do, then?”

“Either choice comes with a price. No one else can make it for you,” Dromarch said. “The question you should ask instead is, which price are you more willing to pay?”

Sven moved through the hustle and bustle of the Fonsa Myma nightlife, just another Common Blade in the crowd. The task he was on required anonymity, and people rarely spared a Common Blade like him a second glance. On the rare occasion when a royal guard would stop him to ask questions about his business, he would of course say he was running an errand for his mistress in the Commercial District, which was technically the truth. Lady Paronet had ordered a specialty item from Maluria Antiques which Sven was on his way to pick up. Sven didn’t like lying, but saw nothing wrong with omitting the truth when necessary.

Passing through the Entertainment District, where people were lining up to see whatever show was playing at Mymoma Playhouse (he saw a poster for a troupe called the Roundround Players), Sven descended the stone stairs towards the Commercial District. Before reaching the shopping plaza proper, he hung a left and entered Torika Alley, descending more stairs into the shadows away from prying eyes. There he found his mercenary contact tucked away around a corner.

“Punctual as always, errand boy.” The man was leaning against the wall, arms folded. Sven almost didn’t recognize him without his usual white hat.

“My employer expects nothing less,” Sven told him. He never used her name during these meetings.

The man gave Sven a perplexing frown. He seemed almost to be pitying him. “Don’t you mean your Driver?”

The distinction seemed moot to Sven. “I suppose. What does it matter?”

The man shrugged. “In my experience, well-to-do types like your ‘employer’ who can resonate with Blades only do so for cheap labour. I’d call that a master, not an employer.” The mercenary smiled. “But hey, I don’t know your situation. Maybe I’m wrong?”

Still smiling that friendly smile, the mercenary waited for Sven’s response. He wanted nothing more than to tell the mercenary that yes, he was wrong, but found that he couldn’t. Sven didn’t like lying, after all.

So he cleared his throat and produced a small satchel filled with gold coins. “Your payment for the Blackrock job.”

The mercenary tsked. “Always strictly business with you, huh?”

Nevertheless, the mercenary took the money eagerly enough.

“My… employer,” Sven almost said ‘master,’ “has another job, if you’re interested.”

The mercenary appeared to mull it over. “Sorry partner, I was plannin’ to lay low for awhile. Things are a little hot ‘round these parts right now. I’m only in town to take care of some business before I ride off into the sunset.”

“The job is simple and short. Doable without exposing yourself. My employer needs you to dig up what dirt you can on Raqura’s new heir by the week’s end.”

“Oh? Queen Apis finally found herself a successor?” the mercenary asked with a hint of curiosity.

Sven pulled out the dossier on the new crown princess and handed it to him. He saw the man’s eyes look down at the photo on the dossier and all at once his eyebrows shot up to the top of his forehead.

“L’il Filly Flesh Eater?” he exclaimed with seeming recognition, his interest clearly piqued as he grinned wide. “Well, ain’t that a fun coincidence?”

Sven studied him, confused. “Do you know her?”

But the mercenary wasn’t even looking at him. He had eyes only for the photo in his hands. Sven wasn’t even sure he remembered he was there until he started talking.

“Tell you what, errand boy: I’m in a good mood and can use the extra cash. I’ll look into this for you. In fact, I’ll even give you the juiciest tidbit for free….”

It belatedly occurred to Sven exactly what the mercenary had just called her.

The days following the announcement of Nia as Raqura’s successor passed slowly and Nia hardly saw Raqura at all. The queen was busy, her attendants told Nia when she asked about her, and Nia had no doubt that was true. But part of her couldn’t help but wonder whether she was avoiding her. Was she having second thoughts about naming Nia as heir to the throne now that she knew the truth of what she was? Nia wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case. Nevertheless, Nia soldiered on through the week until the day of Lady Paronet’s banquet arrived.

She had no meetings with the nobility or military that day. Instead, her schedule was filled with lessons of etiquette and how to speak like a Proper Lady (where Nia first started forming her “Royal Self”). Learning the proper terms of address and etiquette for each and every little thing. Her tutors seemed surprised at how quickly Nia picked them up. She was no stranger to these kinds of lessons, of course, having received them from her own father (who wasn’t truly her father) in her old life in House Echell. She wondered whether her performance in court the other day was the reason today was focused on these lessons. Or was it all in preparation for tonight’s dinner at the Paronet estate? Likely it was both.

The day ended with a series of dress fittings. As heir to the throne, Nia knew that she couldn’t run around in her yellow jumpsuit forever, and she supposed she needed to look nice for the formal dinner with the nobility. Still, something about the dress she ended up in didn’t sit right with her. Perhaps it was the colour: the bluish teal of the lost House Envia certainly didn’t suit her. Or maybe it was the way that whatever material comprised the hemming around the back gently but persistently itched. Most of all, Nia suspected that it was the simple fact that the dress was designed to completely cover her chest, and therefore her Core Crystal.

Finally, evening came, and Nia saw Raqura for the first time that day as the two of them boarded the queen’s own personal airship for the two-hour voyage to the duchy of Esteriole. It was a silent trip. After their last talk, what more was there to say? Dromarch had offered to accompany Nia to this dinner (as he always did) but Nia had declined. She had been informed earlier in the day that Lady Paronet did not accommodate beast-type Blades, and they both agreed it might be best if he remained at Sevind Palace. Besides, he was her primary attendant now, and had work of his own to do. However, now in the oppressive silence with the queen, Nia wished he had come along anyway. It was only as they arrived at the Paronet estate that Raqura seemed about to say something, but whatever it was never made it past her throat.

Paronet Manor was large and impressive, and appeared to Nia as ancient as Priscilla Paronet herself. Well maintained gardens of saffronias filled the courtyard. At the entrance, Nia and Raqura were greeted by a Common Blade who led them into the manor and through its halls. The Paronet estate was home to quite the collection of valuable looking artefacts. Nia couldn’t tell what any of them were, but it was clear they held deep historical significance to Uraya and to House Paronet.

The walls were lined with painted portraits of who Nia assumed were House Paronet’s distinguished ancestors. One such painting depicted a young woman in a large, elaborate green dress that was definitely long out of fashion now. She wore her white hair up in a bun the same way Priscilla Paronet wore hers, and Nia wondered whether she was looking at a younger Priscilla or one of her ancestors. The severe expression on the woman’s face certainly matched the old woman Nia knew.

Then, Nia almost stumbled when she spotted the painting just beside it. The subject of this portrait was a man, young in his early to mid-twenties. He sported a sharp jawline and sharper dress robes that seemed almost ill-fitting on his large, muscular frame. He looked like a classy gentleman, and Nia might not have recognized him if not for the X shaped scar in the centre of his face. Nia didn’t have time to linger on the familiar figure, though, as she and Raqura were led on into the main dining hall.

“PRESENTING HER ROYAL MAJESTY, QUEEN RAQURA SELOSIA SOL SEEBU AND THE CROWN PRINCESS, DUCHESS NIA ECHELL SOL GARFONT,” their Blade escort proclaimed upon their entry.

The many tables of the vast dining hall were arranged in a reverse U shape, and standing in its centre conversing with Lord Duttan was Priscilla Paronet herself. Nia resisted the urge to reach around and scratch her back where the dress made it itch.

“Thank you, Sven,” Lady Paronet said as she took her leave of Duttan and approached Raqura and Nia before performing a well-practised curtsy. Nia spotted a barely concealed wince on her wrinkled face as she did so. “It is a pleasure to once again provide you my hospitality, Your Majesty.” She then regarded Nia with a smile befitting a Piranhax. “You as well, crown princess. As the guest of honour, I hope you will enjoy what I have planned for the evening.”

Well, if that doesn’t sound ominous, Nia thought. Still, she gave Lady Paronet her best smile and said, “I look forward to it.”

With a snap of her fingers, Lady Paronet called over a serving girl, which Nia was surprised to see wasn’t a Urayan but a Gormotti. Paronet ordered the girl to lead Raqura and Nia to their place at the centre of the main table and to serve them their drinks. As they moved to their place, Nia took a glance over her shoulder at Lady Paronet, who seeming now to think she was no longer being paid attention to, leaned forward and rubbed her lower back. The old woman appeared to be in a fair amount of discomfort. That makes two of us, Nia thought as she tried to ignore the itching of her dress on her own back.

As Nia sat down and began sipping from the glass of wine that had been served to her, she looked around the room. All of Uraya’s lords and ladies appeared to be present and dressed to the nines, but what drew Nia’s attention more was the serving staff. There were a few Blades like the one who had escorted her in, but most of the servers appeared to be Gormotti. That struck Nia as unusual, and perhaps even deliberate on Lady Paronet’s part.

“I don’t remember there being quite so many Gormotti working here last time….”

Nia’s feline ears picked up a conversation way down the table. It was Lady Charlotte Uthwatte having a rather one-sided conversation with her husband Clive. He, for his part, seemed focused on refilling his wine glass as much as he could without it overflowing onto the table as his wife went on.

“Their serving skills are downright amateurish. And to think people say Gormotti have a good work ethic….”

Nia tuned out the rest of that conversation immediately. This was definitely the first of Lady Paronet’s games, and most definitely not the last.

None too soon after everyone was seated did the mostly Gormotti servants bring out the first course of the meal: a salad made with crispy mixed vegetables. Calling upon her lessons both from her tutors throughout the week and from her “father” many years ago, Nia selected the correct salad fork among the line of its pronged brethren and began taking dainty bites. She resolutely ignored her stomach’s insistence to simply gobble it all up at once. A few minutes into the first course, Lady Paronet stood and gathered the room’s attention with the tink-tink-tink of her fork on her wine glass.

“Esteemed lords and ladies of Uraya, in honour of our special guest, the new crown princess, I thought I might arrange for some entertainment to go along with dinner. Though they normally perform at Mymoma Playhouse, this comedy troupe has agreed to perform here for us tonight. Allow me to present the ‘Roundround Players.’”

Nia, Raqura, and all of the nobles gathered watched from their seats as a group of four colourfully dressed Nopon bounced into the chamber and began to perform the first of what was likely to be many high energy comedy sketches. Right away, Nia detected a pattern to their performances: all of them seemed to be some manner of historical and political satire portrayed through the… unique lens of Nopon comedy.

The first sketch seemed to be a—in Nia’s opinion—rather tasteless lampooning of the Gormotti War. Two of the Nopon portrayed Ardainian soldiers having a conversation about why they were here: one saying the obvious historical reasons for Mor Ardain’s annexation and the other discussing why they were here in the grand scheme of the universe. All the while the other two Nopon wearing fake Gormotti ears rushed at them, yelling for them to ‘keep off the grass’ before dying dramatically to the Ardainian Nopon’s prop weaponry.

The sketches went on in a similar fashion, with the next one about an Indoline priest having inappropriate and risqué relations with his Blades. Nia would have thought such racy material would have offended the prim and proper nobility, but they seemed to be enjoying the performance. Lord Duttan let out a big belly laugh with every pratfall and the Montagu twins Volff-whistled with every lewd joke. Only Queen Raqura seemed unamused, even as Lady Paronet chuckled sensibly beside her.

Everyone was served more courses of the meal as the show went on. Around the third course, Nia noticed that each subsequent sketch was hitting closer to home. One of the two female Nopon donned a blonde wig and together with her male co-star assumed the role of Addam and the Aegis. Portraying the legendary heroes as bumbling idiots, they proceeded to make light of the destruction of the country of Torna during the Aegis War. The Nopon in the blonde wig made a show of tripping spectacularly and knocking over the two Nopon playing the Tornan Titan with a cutesy “Whoopsie-doodle!” to uproarious laughter from the nobles. Nia was glad Mythra wasn’t here, or someone was getting burned, Artifice or no Artifice.

The sketch that followed was the most perplexing of all. The troupe once again donned their fake Gormotti ears and one of the female performers lay down on the floor beneath a small blanket, exaggerating a sickly cough.

“Fatherpon! Methinks this illness will be the death of me!” the performer enunciated, faking another cough.

One of the male Nopon waddled forward, followed by the other female performer. Like the others, she too wore the fake Gormotti ears, but she also wore a bright blue prop gem on her chest designed to look like a Core Crystal.

“Now now, do not fear, littlepon,” the male Nopon performer said, “Your fatherpon spent the last of our house’s monies on the finest healing Blades in the land!”

The Nopon with the fake Gormotti ears and Core Crystal waved.

“Oh.” The Nopon playing the sick daughter coughed once more. “Well, we may be flat broke now, but at least I will get better!”

“Indeed,” the Nopon playing the father said before the Nopon playing the Blade suddenly leapt towards the daughter, making exaggerated chewing noises as she acted out devouring her.

“Fatherpon! The Blade is eating me!” cried the daughter character.

“All part of the healing process, littlepon!” the father replied, the Nopon performer hamming it up with a large oblivious grin.

The Nopon actress playing the daughter let out an over-the-top death rattle and rolled out of the scene. The performer playing the Blade turned back around to face the audience, having swapped out her prop blue Core Crystal for another with splotches of red paint dabbed on.

“Feeling better now, littlepon?” the father asked.

“Yes, fatherpon,” the Blade answered.

The scene ended, and the feasting nobles all chuckled politely, but they were clearly more confused than amused by that last scene. Nia, on the other hand, felt a cold chill down her spine. The other nobles were confused by the final sketch because it wasn’t for them. It was for her.

She looked around the room, quickly realising just how different from the other skits this last scene was. It lacked the crass humour and political satire typical of the scenes that preceded it. It was also much shorter than the other sketches, almost like it was a last-minute addition. More and more, Nia realised that the troupe members themselves were likely not the last scene’s author. Her eyes landed on Lady Paronet, who gave Nia a smile and raised her glass. Was she responsible for it? But how could that be?

While these thoughts roiled in Nia’s head, the final course of the night was served. Nia barely tasted the rainbow parfait served for dessert but ate it properly nonetheless (using the correct dessert spoon). As the meal came to an end, Lady Paronet once again gathered the room’s attention.

“The time has now come for the hostess to give out gifts, as is tradition,” she announced, turning her plastic smile to Nia. “And I would like to start with the guest of honour, our new crown princess.”

Lady Paronet motioned for one of her Gormotti serving girls to bring something over to Nia, who could only imagine what insult or veiled threat she was to endure next. She was surprised to find herself presented with an unawakened Core Crystal. It was dark, leading Nia to think for a moment that the Blade within had only recently returned to their core. Except that wasn’t possible anymore, which puzzled Nia until she turned the crystal over. A large crack ran along the Core Crystal’s face like a festering wound, and Nia realised that what she held was useful as little more than a paperweight. Lady Paronet was making some kind of statement with the gift, but for the life of her Nia couldn’t figure out what it was.

“I thank you for your generous gift, Lady Paronet.” Nevertheless, Nia brought her Royal Self to bear and smiled eloquently, hoping it didn’t look too strained.

At that, Lady Paronet let out a grandmotherly chuckle. “I can see you’re a little confused, dear crown princess. That gift is one of symbolic value rather than practical.”

Nia looked again at the dead Core Crystal in her hands, for a moment forgetting her Royal Self. “Alright, I don’t get it. What’s it meant to symbolise, exactly?”

Lady Paronet gave her a piteous smile, the way a teacher might smile at her slowest student. “Allow me to explain: That Core Crystal was recovered approximately one year ago from the Olethro Ruins. It belonged to a member of the terrorist group Torna, with whom I believe you are familiar. Think of it as a memento of your victory over them.”

So, that’s her little game, Nia thought, the fire rising in her chest as she remembered the battle against her former comrades in the ruins one year ago. The object she now held in her hands was, in essence, the corpse of either Obrona or Sever. After everything that had happened between Nia and her former friends in Torna, she did not have much fondness left for them. Even so, being presented with their remains as some kind of twisted trophy made Nia tremble with anger.

Nia opened her mouth to tell Lady Paronet exactly what she thought of her “gift,” but then she felt a squeeze on her shoulder. Nia looked over at Queen Raqura, who gave Nia a look that was calm but as firm as her grip. Even without words, Nia knew what she was telling her. Don’t rise to the bait. Show them no signs of weakness.

So, forcing herself to smile through the fury that demanded she tear into the grinning old noblewoman right then and there, Nia said with her Royal Self, “A thoughtful gift to be sure, Lady Paronet, though I still fail to see its symbolic significance.”

Lady Paronet continued smiling, though Nia noted it seemed somewhat lessened. Didn’t get the reaction you wanted, you old hag? Nia thought.

“Oh, did you not know? On that day one year ago, our two houses bled together in battle,” Lady Paronet said. “That day, my eldest son gave his life fighting alongside you and the Aegis. I do not blame you if you were not aware of our relation. His name was Aquila Paronet sol Esteriole, but when you knew him he went by the name Vandham. That Core Crystal, taken from the fallen enemy you and he both fought against, serves as a symbol of the friendship of our two houses.”

“I see. Thank you for such a thoughtful gift, Lady Paronet,” Nia said and leaned back in her chair.

“Please, call me Priscilla.” As the old noblewoman continued distributing gifts to the other guests, Nia let out a weary breath.

The trap was so obvious with hindsight. Priscilla had clearly hoped that Nia would react to the slight that was her gift with anger, as would anyone who had been presented with the remains of a former friend. Priscilla would then have gone on to explain the supposed “intended” meaning of the gift as she had just done, perhaps leaning even more into the angle of her son’s death, whose real name Nia hadn’t even known until now. All of it would have served to paint Nia as an emotional and disrespectful child, further sowing doubt of her fitness to rule in the minds of all present.

“Diabolical…” she muttered under her breath as she studied the broken Core Crystal in her lap. Only Raqura, seated right next to her, seemed to hear. The queen gave Nia a barely perceptible nod as she accepted her own gift from Priscilla: A bottle of wine aged fifty-three years: Exactly the age Raqura was predicted to live to with her condition.

The meal finally came to an end, and the guests all migrated to the adjacent ballroom, where music was played, and more wine and champagne was served. Mentally, Nia was already exhausted from the evening’s mind games, but she continued to endure idle chat with the other nobles. Raqura had told her the day before that these parties sometimes persisted into the morning hours, but nobody was expected to stay that long. Raqura herself usually retired after the first hour.

So, keeping the fake smile plastered on her face, Nia listened as the nobles all stood around, prattling on about matters Nia could barely follow. Only once had any of them actually addressed her, and it had been when Lord Duttan made a half-hearted apology through gritted teeth for his conduct the other day. Judging by his wife’s polite but firm stare from over his shoulder, the apology was under duress.

Throughout the night, Nia kept stealing curious glances at Priscilla. Just like at the beginning of the evening, the old noblewoman was continually hunched over, rubbing her back with a pained wince whenever she thought no one was looking. Nia was waiting to see when Priscilla would spring her next “surprise,” but the more Nia glanced, the more she started to realise the old woman had no surprises left for the night.

Nia had dodged the trap that was her gift deftly enough, but her thoughts kept going back to the Nopon performance. There was no doubt that their final scene was about her. Had there been a trap laid there too? One that had yet to go off? Nia thought it was likely.

She tried to think of what message Priscilla intended to send with that final scene tacked on at the end of the Nopon show. Was she simply telling Nia that she knew her secret? But how could she, when even Queen Raqura hadn’t known? Nia started walking over to Priscilla to see if she couldn’t suss something out of her with a conversation.

“Lady Paronet—sorry, Priscilla,” Nia said as she approached, her dress once again making her itch. It occurred to Nia then that perhaps this was the trap: to draw her into a conversation where she might inadvertently reveal too much.

“Ah, Nia. May I call you Nia?” Priscilla said with one of her warm, grandmotherly smiles.

Trap or no, it was too late to back out now. Nia focused all her effort into embracing her Royal Self. She needed to tread lightly. “You may,” she said.

“I hope you’ve been enjoying yourself tonight,” Priscilla said. “It’s not every day one gets to entertain a newly appointed crown princess. Especially one so… exotic.”

That could refer to my Gormotti heritage, or to being a Flesh Eater, Nia thought. “Well, this is all quite exotic for me as well. I’m not yet used to Urayan high society, though tonight hasn’t been terribly different from such functions in Gormott.” Nia studied Priscilla’s face carefully as she continued, “Usually in Gormott, upper class dinners are not accompanied by such unique live performances.”

With a deceptively easy going smile, Priscilla said, “Well, I hope you found it entertaining.”

“I did. I was surprised to see esteemed nobility such as yourself had a taste for what some might consider ‘low-brow comedy.’”

Nia definitely meant it as an insult and was admittedly rather proud of herself for delivering it, much like Priscilla, in a way that sounded almost polite. I think I’m getting the hang of this.

Her words, however, washed over Priscilla’s serene smile like waves on rock. “The Roundround Players are renowned satirists, and I for one can appreciate a bit of harsh truth in comedy.” Priscilla gave her the same knowing look she had during the final performance. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose…” Nia said, keeping her face carefully neutral.

“Indeed.” Priscilla then leaned forward in a faux-conspiratorial whisper. “However, I also know that some find their comedy rather distasteful. It’s for that reason I asked them to make some changes to their act here and there.”

Well, that confirms it at least, Nia thought. There was a reason Priscilla was openly admitting it, though. Careful now, Nia. She cleared her throat as she thought of a way to maneuver the conversation where she wanted.

“Did you have a favourite act?”

“Hmm. I quite enjoyed the first one. Mixing existential philosophy with their usual satire. Credit where it’s due, Nopon can be clever when they want to be,” Priscilla said before taking a sip of her champagne. “What about yourself?”

It worked like a charm, and now all Nia had to do was answer with the scene about her. “The one with the Indoline priest,” Nia said instead.

She realised just in time that the final sketch was the one that had the weakest reception from the audience of nobles. Naming that one as her favourite would have prompted Priscilla to ask what specifically about such a poorly received sketch stuck out to her, to which Nia would have no good answer. Not one that wouldn't expose her, anyway. Another trap avoided.

“Yes, that one was good too. They must have written it within the last year. If Indol still existed today, the Roundround Players might have gotten a visit from their warrior monks,” Priscilla laughed and took another sip of her drink. Nia followed suit as she strategized how to proceed with the conversation.

“I didn’t care for the last scene,” Priscilla said, evidently taking the initiative to manoeuvre the conversation where they both wanted it to go.

Weren’t you the one who had them add it? Nia thought. Nevertheless, Priscilla had given her the perfect opportunity to gain the upper hand. “Truthfully, neither did I. I couldn’t figure out what it was supposed to mean,” she said, again resisting the urge to scratch where her dress itched. “What do you suppose they were trying to say with it?”

Priscilla took a moment to think. To an outsider, she would appear to genuinely be considering Nia’s question. Nia knew she was really considering how best to convey the message she had intended in the first place when she added the sketch about Nia’s family.

“Perhaps it was more of a cautionary tale rather than a satire.”

Now we’re getting somewhere. “A cautionary tale, eh? Cautioning what, exactly?”

Priscilla made a show of shrugging. “A story of a Blade taking the place of a lord’s daughter seems to say, ‘be careful of who you trust.’”

“So what, you mean to say the daughter shouldn’t have trusted her father to cure her?” Nia asked, knowing she was becoming less and less careful and not caring. “Or should the father not have trusted the Blade who became his daughter?”

“I believe it is the audience themselves who are not meant to trust the Blade,” Priscilla said, locking eyes with Nia. Staring right at her—right through her. “She is a Volff in Armu’s clothing. And once people see a Volff in Armu’s clothing for what she truly is, they cannot but mistrust her.”

It was the clearest message Priscilla had given her all night. I know what you are. What will the other nobles do if they know too?

“Well, this has been an enlightening conversation,” Nia said, already turning away from the elder noble. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Priscilla.”

Priscilla grinned. “By your leave, Lady Nia.”

She was again acutely aware of her ill-fitting, itchy bluish teal dress. Her uncomfortable, itchy dress that covered her Core Crystal. Was this to be her life now? Was she to live in fear of the people in this room finding out who and what she really is? Nia didn’t know if she could do that.

You must, Queen Raqura’s voice echoed in her ears.

What’s the point in living if I have to hide? Her own words from a year ago echoed back.

And I say again, you must.

Her dress itched terribly now. She had to get rid of it, but she knew she couldn’t. Couldn’t she?

I’m no longer afraid. This is who I am, Rex. She could imagine Rex’s reply if he could see her now. If that’s really true, then show me.

Nia stopped. She glanced back at Priscilla, who once again seemed to be struggling with her back. Which price are you more willing to pay? Nia knew. She turned and went back to her.

“Why Priscilla, is everything alright?” she asked. “You seem to be in pain.”

Somewhat surprised to see Nia back so soon, Priscilla plastered on a smile, sucking in air through her teeth. “Think nothing of it, dear. The old sciatica has been getting bad lately.”

“I could help ease the pain, if you like.”

Priscilla waved off her suggestion. “Don’t trouble yourself, dear. I have my own healing Blades for that.”

“But none as powerful as me.”

Then, in the middle of the ballroom in plain view of Priscilla, Raqura, and every noble, servant and musician present, Nia shunted the itching dress for the more comfortable and familiar attire of her Blade form. It was a relief, even if it showed off more of her thighs than what might be considered appropriate at a high-class function.

Laying a hand on Priscilla’s lower back, Nia got to work with her healing Arts while the gathered gentry stared in confusion and disbelief. As she did, Priscilla looked back at her, her confusion equal to those that didn’t know Nia’s secret.

“Wha…? I don’t understand,” she said. “Why are you…?”

“I suppose I feel I owe it to you, Lady Paronet. Along with an apology.” Nia glanced at Raqura to make sure she could hear her too. This message was for her as well, and for more than one reason.

“An apology?” Priscilla asked, and Nia answered.

“It is like you said, Priscilla: our two houses have bled together. And I was there when Vandham—when Aquila Paronet died. I could have healed him, just like I’m healing you now, and if I had he might very well still be with us. But I didn’t do it.” Nia took a breath, managing to keep her emotions in check as she opened up about one of her biggest regrets. “He was a mentor and a friend, but I stood by and did nothing, because I was afraid.” She glanced around the room. “Afraid of what others might think if they saw what I really was. Afraid of the price I might pay for making that choice.”

Her healing finished; Nia stepped around to face Priscilla. She couldn’t tell whether the astonished look on her face was due to the pain of her sciatica being gone, the words Nia said, or the very fact that she was standing before everyone, her tainted Core Crystal plain for all to see. Perhaps it was a combination of all of those things. Nia didn’t care. She locked eyes with Priscilla, and now she was the one staring through her.

“But as you can see, I’m no longer afraid.” Nia kept her eyes on Priscilla’s, allowing her words to sink in a moment before asking, “How’s your back?”

Priscilla looked around, as if just snapping out of a daze, before tentatively stretching. “Good as new.”

“Don’t strain it, now. This is only a temporary measure; even with my powers, I can’t stop time’s flow,” Nia said with a smile. “You’re no spring Tirkin, after all.”

Priscilla opened her mouth, perhaps to thank her, but it seemed that she could not find the words.

Lord Duttan, on the other hand, could. “What the bloody hell is going on?! Is the crown princess a Blade?! ”

His round, potato-like face was red—not from anger (not yet), but from the drink in his hand. Nia hadn’t been counting, but she knew the man had quite a few already. His bleary eyes found Queen Raqura. “Your Majesty… did you know about this?”

“I did.” Raqura regarded him as though he were an Antol. “I’m calling it a night, Cornelius. I suggest you get some water and do the same. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

Duttan shook his head, his jowls flopping. “Y-y-you cannot mean to put a Blade on the throne?!”

So much for his apology, Nia thought. Not that it was sincere in the first place.

“Why not?” Raqura asked.

“It’s never been done!”

“She’s still Urayan nobility, and a naturalised citizen to boot,” Raqura said. “Really, it’s no different if she was Gormotti.”

“Except she’s a Blade Eater!” Lady Uthwatte exclaimed, before realising that wasn’t quite right. She was clearly tipsy but not quite reaching Duttan’s levels of belligerence. “No, wait. Hang on. It’s, uh….”

“Flesh Eater?” her husband Clive suggested.

“Yes, thank you dear.”

“She’s a bloody cannibal ?” Duttan screeched.

Nia sighed, not wanting to explain what being a Flesh Eater actually meant, but realising she might have to. Well Nia, you made your bed….

Fortunately, however, to Nia’s shock, Raqura beat her to it. “Nia is no cannibal. The name ‘Flesh Eater’ is a bit of a misnomer—probably concocted by Indol as a means of fear mongering. Flesh Eaters don’t literally eat human flesh, they merely absorb human DNA into their core on the molecular level, which causes a mutation that sometimes results in unique abilities.” She then looked at Nia. “Is that right?”

Nia nodded, speechless. The other day, when Raqura had first learned her true nature, the queen seemed to barely know a thing about Flesh Eaters. Now here she was, talking like she was a bloody expert. Nia was astonished. Had she done her own research after that conversation?

“The fact is, the only reason Flesh Eaters are considered taboo is because Indol decreed it. And it just so happens there is no Indol now,” Raqura finished.

“Yes, that’s all well and good, but there’s just one problem, Your Majesty…” the male Montagu twin started.

“How can she be the Lost Heir of Hannes if she’s a Blade?” his sister finished.

“That’s right! Blades carry no bloodlines,” Uthwatte said.

Nia was ready to answer this question herself, but again Raqura beat her to it. “If bloodlines are all you care about, then I say to you again that nothing has changed.”

“Your Majesty?”

“Which human’s DNA do you suppose is in her core right now?” she asked, giving the room time to consider this information. “She may not have been born into House Echell, but as a Flesh Eater, she carries the blood of Hannes Envia just the same.”

“But…” Lord Duttan started.

“All of this aside, I can think of no one more suited to the throne than Nia. So, I suggest you all get used to the idea. You might find it isn’t so bad.” Raqura then turned to the ballroom entrance, motioning for Nia to follow. “Now if you don’t mind, the day has been taxing and I would like to retire for the evening. I wish all of you a good night.”

Nia looked over at Priscilla, the old woman still appeared stunned at how much her carefully laid evening plan had unravelled.

“Thank you for the meal and hospitality, Lady Paronet,” Nia said with a bow. Then seeing an opportunity for a bit of cheeky fun, Nia flashed a predatory grin to the room full of nobles. “Everything was delicious! ”

“You know, I actually enjoyed tonight a bit,” Nia said when she and Raqura were back aboard the queen’s private airship and flying back to Fonsa Myma. Not wanting to resign herself to another silent flight, Nia kept talking. “Hey, thanks for having my back in there.”

Raqura stared straight ahead. “Was it true? What you told Priscilla about Aquila?”

“It was.”

Raqura nodded and continued her forward stare. She clearly wasn’t happy, and Nia wasn’t surprised. The night had certainly taken a turn at the end there, and not in a way the queen liked. They still had a two-hour flight ahead of them. Might as well use it to clear the air a little.

“Listen, I’m sorry I went against what you asked of me, but Priscilla already knew and was threatening me with it. I thought getting it out in the open was the best way to….”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Nia,” Raqura said. “You did exactly what a queen is supposed to do. You made a choice. Whether it was the right one is up to you.”

Nia tilted her head. “Wait, so you’re not mad?”

Raqura considered this for a moment. “I’m a little mad. That stunt you pulled is going to make things much more difficult for us. By this time tomorrow the entire kingdom will know that a Flesh Eater Blade is next in line for the throne. Even if we spin it like we did in there, it’s going to take some doing before you can regain the trust of the people.”

“Right….” Nia hadn’t considered that angle. 

Raqura’s stone face then softened. “Hey, but I told you to prove to me that you can be a wise ruler, and that’s exactly what you did tonight. I picked up on the mind games that Priscilla was playing with you, and you handled them expertly.” Then Raqura gave one of her rare smiles. “You might just have a knack for this.”

Nia smiled and looked down at her shoes. “Thanks, Your Majesty.”

“Also… I’m sorry too,” Raqura said. “When I found out you were a Blade, I didn’t exactly handle it well.”

“Yeah, I suppose I took things a bit far too.”

Then Raqura said something that surprised Nia. “If your father could see you now, I’m sure he’d be proud.”

Nia smiled, allowing silence to fill the luxurious airship cabin for a time. Raqura, however, seemed less inclined to let the silence persist.

“Well, as long as we have a two-hour flight ahead of us…” Raqura said, pulling out the bottle of wine she had been gifted at the feast. “What do you say we indulge a little in Priscilla’s attempt to insult me?”

Nia grinned and went to get a couple of glasses.

Chapter Text

The morning after Priscilla Paronet’s eventful banquet at her estate, both Nia and Raqura intended to formally reveal her true form as a Flesh Eater Blade in that morning’s session of public court. They both agreed it would be best to get ahead of the PR nightmare that was headed their way. Unfortunately, they underestimated just how efficiently news could spread. Nia’s heart sank a little when she saw her own face on the front page of the Uraya Herald. She then groaned loud enough to draw Dromarch’s concern when she saw the headline.

Cannibal Queen?

An upper-class banquet at House Paronet’s ancestral home in Esteriole took an unexpected turn when Nia Echell, newly announced successor of Queen Raqura Selosia, revealed her true colours to the gathering of nobles. Eyewitness reports from the event claim that the heir apparent unveiled her identity as a Blade, but not just any Blade: an allegedly cannibalistic Flesh Eater!

Ever since her investiture as next in line to the throne, Nia Echell has been the subject of much controversy in Uraya’s political scene. As a Gormotti and former member of the Torna terrorist group, many have expressed concern over whether Echell is fit to rule Uraya. Indeed, her relation to Uraya’s first ruling house via Hannes Envia is still the topic of debate among historians, with many positing that the bloodline of Envia has become too diluted over the generations to hold any merit. The knowledge that she is an alleged Flesh Eater Blade is only the latest scandal surrounding Nia Echell, and opinion is growing amongst the upper echelon of Uraya’s society that Queen Raqura’s chosen successor may need to be vetoed in favour of a less controversial candidate.

It is unclear at this time whether the queen was even aware of her chosen heir’s true nature. Time will only tell whether Queen Raqura will stick to her guns or, as many seem to believe is best, will rescind the status of heir from Nia Echell….

Nia had slammed the paper down on the table, refusing to read any more. The article was little more than character assassination. One of the other noble houses must have held some influence over the press. She would need to think of something to turn her public image around.

That had been when Nia glanced again at the Herald and had what she considered to be a stroke of genius. Printed just below the defamatory front-page article was a photograph of the rift that had appeared over Colony Iota alongside the headline, The End Times? Mysterious Rift Continues Expansion . The Fog Rift that Nia and her friends had encountered on the frontier had kept its place in the headlines for weeks after it appeared. Next to Nia herself, it was the most talked about story throughout the Kingdom of Uraya, perhaps even the world at present. It was exactly what she needed. So, she brought her idea to Queen Raqura before that morning’s session of council.

“If I want to win over the people of Uraya, I need to do something that’ll give me good publicity, yeah? It’s the only way we’re gonna counter this.” Nia held up the Cannibal Queen? newspaper article.

“It’s going to need to be something pretty significant,” Raqura mused. “We can only play the ‘saved the world’ card so many times.”

“What if I save the world again?”

Raqura raised an eyebrow, and Nia showed her the second article on the newspaper’s front page.

“The military’s been studying the Fog Rift for weeks. Do you really think you can succeed where they haven’t?”

“I’ve actually just thought of something that maybe your people haven’t.” Nia told Raqura her idea, and the queen frowned.

“If you’re referring to that Sosem bloke, you don’t even know for sure that he even knows anything.”

“Maybe, but hear me out,” Nia started.

She had gone off half-cocked during the meeting with the military leaders earlier in the week, and her idea to find the Blade in the white hat had been rightfully shot down. But now she had time to really think about all of the clues that she had at her disposal, and the more she thought about it the more her theory started to make sense.

“Remember Colony Gamma and Mor Ardain’s Blackrock? An eyewitness spotted Sosem near both colonies and what was more, they also spotted another Fog Rift and even a monster that fits the description of a Fogbeast. But here’s the interesting part: there isn’t currently a Fog Rift over either of those colonies.”

Raqura gave a thoughtful “hmm,” but said nothing further, allowing Nia to continue.

“So, I got to thinking, what’s different about the Fog Rift over Iota? Why is that one not going away? And then I realised, what if the difference is that we showed up?”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Raqura said.

“Right, this may sound a bit mad but bear with me. Sosem was at each of the other colonies when the Fog Rifts near them vanished. What if he had something to do with getting rid of them? If you think about it like that, it would mean that my friends and I chased him off before he could do the same for the Fog Rift over Iota.”

With a sceptical look, Raqura said, “What, you think the man who was pillaging and burning colonies with a group of bandits is also protecting the world from these Fog Rifts?”

“I’ll admit, I don’t have all the answers yet, but the fact is this Sosem goon has been sighted everywhere there’s been a Fog Rift. That can’t just be a coincidence: he definitely knows something about them.”

Raqura rubbed her chin, thinking for several seconds before finally saying, “Alright, I’m willing to give your intuition a try. In fact, clearing the Fog Rift over New South Ogotria could yield many benefits for us.”

“New South Ogotria?” Nia asked, realising quickly that it must have been the name of the region of Colonies Eta and Iota. The name seemed familiar, and all at once Nia realised why. “Don’t tell me that region is…?”

“Controlled by House Gaselart,” Raqura explained. “The magistrates of each frontier region are all technically their own new class of Urayan nobility—they didn’t exist before the Reformation. But in order to secure the military protection needed to survive on the frontier, each of the magistrates swears fealty to one of the original noble houses of Uraya.”

A sly smile crept up Nia’s face as she started to understand what Raqura was getting at. “So, if I understand right, solving this Fog Rift problem will not only help my image with Uraya’s people, but earn me the favour of House Gaselart as well.”

“That’s right, and considering they have many of Uraya’s media outlets in their pocket, using this crisis to get in with the Gaselarts is our best move.” Raqura then frowned. “Unfortunately, we’re not the first ones to have this idea.”

From the deck of the Urayan Navy airship the Sunset Beryl , Nia beheld the orange speck in the distant sky just above where the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. From this distance it appeared as little more than a mis-coloured star still persisting in the sky even as day began to break. Hard to imagine it was a celestial anomaly wreaking havoc on the lands below.

After the previous morning’s conversation in which Nia and Raqura had decided on a plan of action, they had proceeded to hold court where Nia’s true nature as a Flesh Eater was made plain for all to see. It went about as well as they could have reasonably hoped. For better or worse, the cat was out of the bag, so to speak. Nia had ended the session of public court by pledging to deal with the Fog Rift situation personally. She could only hope it would win her enough favour to get through her little PR nightmare. After the morning’s session of court was adjourned, arrangements were made for Nia’s trip to the frontier… as well as the place Nia would be going after.

Nia spent the two day voyage reading up on the inner workings of Uraya’s military, and the role of the nobility therein. Apparently, the concept of a centralised military was still fairly new to Uraya and as such, the forces commanded by the generals and admirals Nia had met with the previous week were relatively small. The bulk of Uraya’s forces still belonged to the six noble houses; each force heavily supplemented by mercenary guilds. It was for this reason Nia had contacted Yew to send the Vadham’s Legacy with a contingent of the Garfont Mercenaries’ own numbers.

Now, a day and a half later, as the enigmatic rift in the sky grew ever closer, House Gaselart’s forward operating base in the area appeared over the horizon. Fort Crocius looked very different from what Nia had seen when she and her friends had travelled there after their disastrous attempt to save Colony Iota. Its walls were expanded to incorporate multiple areas where many tents were now set up. One such area seemed to house extra military personnel, and Nia could see banners with the sigils of both House Gaselart and House Paronet. The tents on the far side of Fort Crocius from where the Fog Rift was appeared to be where the refugees from Colonies Eta and Iota were staying.

The Sunset Beryl set down in the designated landing area within the fortress walls. A greeting party of four Urayan soldiers and two officers awaited Nia as she and Dromarch disembarked, accompanied by retainers and two members of the Queensguard.

“Crown Princess Nia, welcome to Fort Crocius,” the seniormost officer said with a hasty bow. She was a Urayan woman who seemed a bit young to be a senior officer, at least to Nia. “I’m Vice Admiral Whytworth, Lord Paronet’s leading officer on-site.”

“Nice to meet you,” Nia said. Right from the get-go she could tell this woman was all business. That suited Nia fine: she wasn’t in the mood for small talk anyway.

“I understand that Adm. Smyth has already briefed you on the situation here.”

Nia nodded. “Yes, I have a pretty good understanding of the circumstances surrounding the Fog Rift.”

In short, it was bad. The Fog Rift’s sphere of influence was continually growing. More and more monsters were turning into Fogbeasts in a wider radius. There were even reports of Fogbeasts in Ardainian territory now as well. The joint force of House Paronet and Gaselart mercenaries had tried controlled sweeps of the region, putting down swathes of Fogbeasts and ordinary monsters alike with airship support. There were simply too many for it to have a lasting effect.

“If it pleases Your Grace, My Lord is ready to receive you in his office,” Whytworth stated.

“Lead the way,” Nia said, and together with her retinue she proceeded to follow Whytworth and hers.

Fort Crocius consisted mostly of simple wooden structures—a far cry from the elaborate stonework typical of Urayan architecture—though the outer walls were reinforced with stone built into the terrain. The fort’s central structure consisted of stone as well as metal that appeared to have been scavenged from a Titan airship. Nia was led inside and up a flight of stairs to a set of double doors, which Whytworth opened unceremoniously.

“My Lord, Crown Princess Echell is here,” she said with a bow.

From within the chamber, Nia heard a man’s smooth, gravelly voice reply, “Thank you, Vice Admiral. You can send her in and return to your duties.”

Whytworth nodded and stood aside for Nia to enter. Nia exchanged a glance with Dromarch, who understood her intentions immediately and took a step back, sitting on his haunches alongside the other members of her retinue. Nia stepped into the office alone and Whytworth closed the doors behind her.

At the far end of the chamber was a simple wooden desk, but the man in the room was leaning over a round table with what appeared to be a map of the region populated by small clay figures. He wore ornate armour of the same green colour as House Paronet, his long white hair spilling over the shoulder plate. He looked up from the table and smiled as she entered.

“Crown Princess Nia Echell, such an honour to at last formally make your acquaintance,” he said with a bow. “Corbett Paronet, at your service.”

Nia donned her Royal Self. “The pleasure is mine.”

She had seen him only once before, talking to his mother Priscilla as well as William Gaselart in Sevind Palace’s main audience chamber the day that Nia had first been announced as heir to the throne. She hadn’t paid him much mind then, but now that she knew of their relation, Nia couldn’t help but see the resemblance he shared with the man she’d known as Vandham. His dark skin, sharp features and muscular frame were a dead ringer for her dead friend, even if Corbett possessed more of a lean muscle whereas his brother had been all bulk.

Corbett rose from his bow, adopting a much more relaxed posture. “I must admit, I regret that I was bogged down here the night my mother hosted her banquet in your honour,” he said. “Tell me, how did you find it?”

Nia tried to think of a way to answer that didn’t sound like a lie. “Lady Priscilla is quite the… thoughtful host.”

Corbett nodded but didn’t respond. Nia realised quickly he was prompting her to continue. “She, uh… has quite the flare for showmanship,” she elaborated. Corbett nodded again, awaiting more. “And she’s very, er… passionate about creating a… personally catered experience.”

With a grin, Corbett said, “She’s a sneaky old bitch, ain’t she?”

Nia nearly choked on her own spit. She wasn’t sure how she felt about a man speaking about his mother that way, even if she did agree with him. “I-I suppose….”

Corbett laughed. “No need for politeness, I’ve seen her play her mind games on all manner of poor sods first hand. If you don’t mind my asking, what did she hit you with?”

Seeing no harm in it, Nia answered plainly. “Among other things, she hired a troupe of Nopon comedians to perform a scene about my life.”

“Yep, that sounds like something she would do,” Corbett said with a roll of his eyes. “Heard you showed her up at the end, though.”

“I suppose I did.”

“Aw, wish I could have been there to see the look on her face!”

Nia couldn’t help but grin a little. “She’d have been picking her gob off the floor if her back was in a state to bend over!”

Nia was worried that she’d been a little too honest for a moment until Corbett let out a big belly laugh. “Too right, mate! Oh, to be a fly on the wall that night….” Taking a moment to calm his mirth, Corbett said almost sadly, “Suppose we ought to get to business, then.”

“Yeah,” Nia said, clearing her throat as she tried to find the Royal Self again. “I take it you’ve been informed why I’m here?”

“You think you have a solution to House Gaselart’s little Fog Rift problem and wish to take over the operation, eh?” Nia nodded, and Corbett continued, “Right, the problem with that is, House Paronet already pledged to handle the problem ourselves in exchange for certain resources of House Gaselart. Some of which, as I understand, have already been spent.”

In other words, access to their media connections to hastily publish a certain attack article, Nia thought, internally chastising herself for letting her guard down around Corbett. His appearance and attitude had reminded her so much of Vandham that for a moment she had forgotten she was dealing with a political rival. Evidently, though, there wasn’t much love between Corbett and his mother. Perhaps Nia could leverage that in this negotiation.

“In that case, imagine the look on Lady Priscilla’s face if her deal fell through?”

Corbett chuckled, a far more patronising laugh than the mirthful one he had displayed earlier. “Slow your roll there, crown princess. I may not get on with dear old mum, but I ain’t petty enough to go against the interests of my house just to spite her.”

“Right, apologies…” Nia muttered lamely.

“If, however, you can offer us a better deal than the Gaselarts….” Corbett allowed the thought to finish itself.

Now we’re talking. “What kind of deal would interest you, then?”

Corbett made a show of giving the question some thought. The grin creeping onto his face indicated he knew exactly what he wanted before Nia set foot into the room.

“I have a son, you see. Good lad. He recently came of marriageable age.”

Nia didn’t like where this was going one bit. Corbett looked at her and continued, “I understand that you’re unmarried yourself.”

She definitely didn’t like where this was going. “Yes, finding a partner isn’t exactly a priority for me at the moment.”

“But you intend to marry at some point, yes?” Corbett persisted. “After all, you wouldn’t want Uraya to go through two succession crises in a row!”

Nia honestly hadn’t even thought that far ahead. Her attention was so focused on the now she hadn’t given any thought to the future of her coming reign and beyond.

“I suppose….”

“And you knew my brother, Aquila. Fought alongside him, eh?” Corbett asked. Nia didn’t so much as nod, but the man saw the answer on her face plainly enough. “Seeing as you’ll have to marry someone in the nobility eventually, you could do worse than the nephew of a friend.”

Nia found herself wanting to exit the conversation as quickly as possible. “It’s just that… now is a busy time….”

Corbett raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not asking for a betrothal right here and now. But an introduction once things with this Fog Rift settle down….”

More and more Nia wasn’t seeing a way out of it. She needed this deal for her and Raqura’s plan to work. And a mere introduction—no other commitments attached—wasn’t so bad, right?

“The union of our two houses would be a powerful one,” Corbett continued as Nia mulled it over. “And from what I can tell, you are in desperate need of allies.”

“I would like some time to think about it,” Nia said firmly.

“Of course, take as much time as you need,” Corbett said, going to the window where the Fog Rift loomed in the distance. “Not like that thing’s going anywhere soon.”

The implication of his statement was clear, and Nia thanked Corbett for his time and left the office feeling boxed in. She hoped her next conversation would prove to be a good distraction.

Nia didn’t say a word to Dromarch about her talk with Corbett Paronet when she exited his office, and Dromarch didn’t pry. They simply followed Whytworth to their next item of business: the research team. Whytworth led them through the fort, saying barely a word.

Nia realised that she was perhaps unwelcome. She didn’t know many military types, but if there was one thing she was sure they hated, it was tourists. Did Whytworth know about her role in saving the world? For that matter, was she aware of the current political situation in Fonsa Myma and Nia’s own part of it? Whytworth struck her as the kind of person with nothing short of single-minded focus on the job at hand. It meant that Nia was an interloper, one getting in the way of more important work in Whytworth’s eyes. 

They shortly arrived in front of what was apparently the research team’s building. It looked rather shabby from the outside, drab and windowless, and Nia realised it must have been converted from a storehouse judging by the crates of supplies stacked under a tarp just off to the side. It would seem that as far as Whyworth was concerned, the research team were interlopers too.

Inside the makeshift research building was not what Nia expected. The drab exterior betrayed a bright busy interior, filled with the kind of organised chaos Nia had seen in Tora’s workshop in Torigoth. Chalkboards covered in equations lined the walls. Tables and desks were covered in pages of notes and drawings. Machines filled the space, some of which Nia recognized, like the weather monitoring equipment in the far corner, but most of them totally foreign to her.

Urayans in white coats were working in every corner of the room, but the person that Whytworth flagged down was different from all of them. This was apparent the moment she turned around and Nia saw the diamond-shaped Core Crystal on her chest and matching blue ether lines on her exposed shoulders. Her shoulder-length hair was a cobalt blue streaked with white—bright colours to offset her dark gothic dress. But what stood out to Nia the most were the short red horns protruding forward from her head

“Allow me to introduce the head of research, Morgan,” Whytworth said.

The Blade Morgan looked at Nia, her orange eyes magnified by the lenses of her horn-rimmed glasses, making them seem to almost bulge out of her face.

“Oh, you’re the new crown princess, right?” she said, her soft voice almost crackling with energy. “Yes, I was told you were coming, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Rather than bow, Morgan enthusiastically shook Nia’s hand, her smile almost manic.

“Erm, likewise…” Nia said. Right away she could tell Morgan was going to be exhausting to be around. At least she was friendlier than Whytworth, and clearly not fake like Corbett.

“Right, I need to get back to work. Morgan, I trust you’ll get the crown princess up to speed on your research,” the Vice Admiral in question said, already turning towards the door.

“Yes, Vice Admiral!”

Whytworth left, all too happy to leave the interlopers to their interloping. Morgan returned her attention to Nia, regarding her with open excitement in her orange eyes.

“Gosh, I have so much to show you I don’t even know where to begin!”

“Well, perhaps you can start…” Nia began, but Morgan clearly didn’t hear her.

“I’ve specialised in the field of extra dimensional studies for years and this thing, this Fog Rift, it changes everything we thought we understood about other worlds! For starters, we tried sending an automated expeditionary airship through the rift—something which was made very difficult due to the high number of aerial Fogbeasts around it—but the ship was torn apart by the dimensional fields before it could even enter! I have concluded from this that whatever dimension lies on the other side is completely inhospitable to any physical matter from our own dimension! In fact, I hypothesise that the dimension itself may be a living organism, and it is reaching out through the rift in the form of the ‘fog’ that has been creating the Fogbeasts. I wanted to capture one of the Fogbeasts for study, but Whytworth said it was too dangerous….”

As Morgan continued, Nia had half a mind to remind her to take a breath lest she drown in her own excitement. Nia shared a look with Dromarch, who seemed mildly amused at her bewilderment.

“…tried sending in sound frequencies at varying resonance, we tried looking into it through the light spectrum, the temperature spectrum….”

“Right, I’m sure that’s all very interesting, but maybe you can just skip to the end?” Nia finally said.

The look on Morgan’s face was one of utter disbelief, seeming to say, how could you not want to hear about this?

“What my lady means to say is that time is of the essence,” Dromarch said, quick on damage control as always.

“Right. Well, with all of this study, there is only one thing we know for sure, and that is how little we know!” Morgan smiled, giggling girlishly. “Isn’t it amazing?”

Not exactly as illuminating as I’d hoped, Nia thought. “Sure. Though, I was hoping for something a bit more….”

“You were hoping for a solution,” Morgan stated, flitting over to another table and frantically digging through the papers haphazardly strewn there until she found the one she wanted.

Morgan held the paper to Nia. It looked like a schematic for something , though Nia had no idea what. Whatever it was, it was circular, which struck Nia as a bit odd for reasons she couldn’t explain.

“I theorise that we may be able to contain the Fog Rift with a large spherical device built using technology scavenged from the Land of Morytha. I’ve actually worked a lot with Morytha tech before I was sent here and discovered that a lot of it is naturally resistant to extradimensional anomalies,” Morgan explained. “Although, I must admit I’m hesitant to draft an official proposal for the idea.”

“Why’s that?” Nia asked, though she could think of a reason. “If you’re worried about cost, that’s one of the reasons I’m here. Resolving this Fog Rift situation has been made a top priority for the crown. Whatever money, men or materials are needed to that end, I am ready to provide. How long do you suppose this would take to complete?”

Morgan’s wince did not inspire confidence. “A generous estimate would be six or seven years.”

And there it is. “Right, and there’s no telling how much the Fog Rift will expand in such time,” Nia said, not mentioning the fact that she was also here for publicity. Coming up with a solution several years down the road wasn’t exactly the win she was hoping for. Fortunately, she still had her main line of investigation to pursue.

“Tell me, are most of the refugees from Colonies Eta and Iota still here?” Nia asked.

“Some of them moved on to other colonies, but as far as I know most of them stayed. Probably expecting to move back into their old homes any day now,” Morgan said with a rueful shake of her head. “I’m sure Whytworth or Lord Paronet could tell you more. Why do you ask?”

“I’m looking for someone who might know more about this Fog Rift, but they’ve proved to be pretty hard to track down,” Nia explained. “However, last time I was here I met someone who might be able to help me with that.”

It wasn’t long after Nia’s conversation with the eccentric Blade researcher that she found herself amongst the tents of the refugee camp just beyond the fortress walls. She had spoken with Vice Adm. Whytworth after leaving the research building to confirm that the individual she was seeking was still amongst them, as well as to inform her of her overall plan (without going into too much detail).

Looking around at the refugees from the two colonies, Nia couldn’t help but remember the Gormotti refugees she’d seen in Indol. She saw men and women with fear and desperation writ plain on their faces. Children who were too young to know better played innocently amongst the tents, chasing each other or kicking around a ball. Nia hadn’t spotted her quarry yet, but she knew he was here.

It didn’t take much searching for Nia to spot the blue skinned Indoline man talking to one of the Urayan soldiers. Nia gave him a wave before lightly jogging towards him. The former monk’s face was unreadable as he looked toward her, concluding whatever business he was discussing with the soldier as Nia approached.

“It’s an unexpected pleasure to see you again, Nia,” said Sheriff Koremm. “Or should I address you as ‘Crown Princess’ now?”

“Just ‘Nia’ is fine. Are you busy?” Nia asked.

Koremm gave her a polite but weary smile. “Very. I’ve been acting as something of an envoy for the refugees here. Making sure the soldiers are meeting all of their needs. But I’m not so busy that I can’t spare a moment for one of the saviours of Colony Iota’s people. How can I help?”

Nia noted the way his eyes anxiously flicked down to her Core Crystal and chose to ignore it. “I need something that only a monk of the Praetorium can help me with,” she said. “I need to find the Praetorium’s Blade archives.”

Koremm furrowed his brow. “Surely you’re aware that all of the Praetorium’s archives were lost with Indol.”

“Yes, but the remains of Indol’s Titan were recently discovered in the Land of Morytha,” Nia explained. “A rift to Morytha is forecasted to open north of here in several days’ time. But I need someone familiar with the Praetorium to help me search its archives. Even if you yourself aren’t familiar with them, surely you know someone who is?”

“Forgive me, I was under the impression that you were here to help us with our Fog Rift problem,” Koremm said. “I may have been a monk of the Praetorium but that was a long time ago. My first priority now is helping the people of my colony, and I fail to see what this has to do with that.”

Nia exchanged a look with Dromarch, who said, “You might as well just tell him what you’re planning.”

“I suppose,” Nia said, returning her focus to Koremm. She explained to him her plan to track down the rogue Blade Sosem to see what he knew about these Fog Rifts.

“I see. It is indeed very likely a Blade like Sosem and his Driver would have been registered with Indol,” Koremm said.

“That’s right. With any luck Indol’s archives can lead us to his Driver.”

“Assuming his Driver is still alive,” Dromarch pointed out.

“Either way, it’ll give us a trail to follow.”

For a while Koremm didn’t answer. “You say this Sosem guy was among those who attacked Colony Iota?”

Nia nodded, and saw his gaze wander past her towards the other refugees. “Then I suppose I’d like to know too. Why my people were really attacked.” He returned his attention to Nia. “And if that knowledge will help get them home faster, then perhaps the Architect sent you to me for a reason.”

“So you’ll help us?”

“Lucky for you, I spent some time working in the Praetorium’s archives. If you can get me there, I should be able to find what you’re looking for.”

The day went on, with Nia present for many meetings with top brass regarding the day-to-day operations against the encroaching Fogbeasts. Lord Corbett Paronet was at most of these meetings, but not once did he press Nia on her answer to his proposal. The ball was in her court, and he knew as well as she did the more she dawdled, the harder it would be for her to deal with this crisis. The less likely it would be that she would actually find her solution quickly enough to make the kind of difference that would earn her the favour she needed. Then at around midday, Dromarch had approached her with news from the communications officer in her retinue.

“My lady, we just received word that the Vandham’s Legacy has encountered inclement weather, and will be delayed a few days,” he reported.

“Bloody figures…” Nia muttered. Couldn’t anything just go her way for once?

The day went on, and eventually evening came. Corbett had offered his personal quarters for Nia to use during her stay. Nia had politely declined. Fort Crocius was not big enough to have a proper mess hall, so Nia and Dromarch found a campfire to sit by near the officers’ quarters. The rest of her retinue found their own space to rest save for her two Queensguard, who stood vigil over where they sat. In truth, Nia found it annoying being constantly babysat, but at least it kept the other officers of House Paronet’s forces from bothering her.

“I meant to ask, how did your negotiation with Lord Corbett go?” Dromarch asked.

“Fine,” Nia said tersely. “We’re currently considering each other’s proposal.”

Dromarch seemed about to press for more detail, but he was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a certain interloper. Nia was surprised to see Morgan stopped before her Queensguard as they blocked her from taking another step further. Nia waved them off, seeing the perfect opportunity to avoid Dromarch’s nagging.

“Mind if I join you?” Morgan asked, almost timidly. She was holding a plate of onigiri. “Normally I just eat in my lab, but the other members of my team keep telling me I need more fresh air.”

“Not at all,” Nia said.

“Thanks.” Morgan sat down. “Tried sitting with some of the soldiers once, but I don’t think I was entirely welcome. They kept giving me weird stares.”

The Blade researcher then pulled out a pair of scissors and to Nia’s surprise and confusion, started eating her onigiri with them. Nia couldn’t help but snicker.

“You sure that isn’t why?” she asked.

“Hmm?” Morgan intoned around a mouthful of onigiri. Nia just pointed to her unconventional eating utensils. “Oh. I dunno, I just find it more efficient this way. Is that weird?”

“Extremely.”

“Oh.” Morgan seemed to consider this for a moment before continuing to eat onigiri with her scissors, looking considerably more self-conscious than before.

Dromarch gave Nia the look he so often did when she’d made some sort of faux pas. Nia wasn’t having it.

“What?” she asked. Dromarch’s look persisted. You know what , he seemed to say, and he was right.

“Look, it may be weird but it’s not a bad thing,” Nia said, trying her best for a reassuring smile. “Life’s rich tapestry and all that.”

Nia then opted for a tactical topic change. “It’s also kind of weird to see a Blade in charge of a military research project.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty rare for any of us Blades to have a position of authority, huh?” Morgan said with an earnest smile. “Guess we’re not all that different in that regard, are we, Crown Princess?”

With an awkward chuckle, Nia replied, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I have to say, it’s about time. We Blades have been second-class citizens for far too long if you ask me. I know a lot of people aren’t too keen on a Blade inheriting the throne of Uraya, but you have my support!”

“Thanks,” Nia said, appreciating the sentiment even if she wasn’t sure what to make of the rest of it. This was a completely different Morgan from the one she’d first met in the pop-up laboratory. Nia thought she could sense a hint of sadness just under the surface of her words. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew why.

“Was your Driver a researcher as well?” she asked.

Morgan nodded. “He was probably the foremost expert in the field of extra dimensional science in Zorn, such as it is.” 

Nia noted the past-tense “was.” She decided not to pry, keeping the topic light by saying, “So you’re from Zorn, then?” Morgan nodded. I guess that would explain the horns , Nia thought before adding, “I’ve never been.”

“Yeah, it’s not exactly a popular travel destination. I suspect it has something to do with all the fire and smoke from the mountain on our Titan’s back.”

Nia nodded. She’d heard stories of towns on the Zornian Titan being wiped off the map by explosions of fire, or being buried in ash. 

“In reality, it’s not as bad as people think. Zorn has a thriving scientific community that my Driver was a part of.” Morgan continued, “In fact, it’s the reason Lord Corbett first hired me. I’ve only been living in Uraya these past few months. Unfortunately, extra dimensional study is considered little more than a pseudo-science by the scientific community at large.”

“I suppose our Fog Rift problem might change that opinion, though,” Dromarch said.

“Maybe, but I’m not holding my breath. In my experience, humans aren’t very good at having their worldview challenged.”

Nia thought of the Cannibal Queen? headline. “Can’t argue with you there.”

“That’s why I want to keep learning as much as I can in my Driver’s field of study. No one else will, after all,” Morgan said with the hint of a quiver in her voice. “To that end… I was hoping I might join you.”

“Join me? What do you mean?”

“Whytworth informed the research team that you’re planning on going to the Land of Morytha. That you think you might find something there that will help us with the Fog Rift.”

Nia believed she understood what Morgan was asking. “You want to come with us to Morytha?”

Morgan nodded.

“My lady and I have ventured there before. I must warn you it is a dangerous place,” Dromarch cautioned.

At this Morgan gave a confident grin. “I may prefer more intellectual pursuits, but I’m not helpless.”

“Forgive me, I did not mean to imply otherwise.”

“It’s okay, I get it.” Morgan then looked at Nia, silently awaiting her answer.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to have an expert on extra dimensional science with us,” Nia said. “What about your work here?”

Morgan waved off Nia’s concern. “My team is more than capable of covering things in my absence. Besides, we’re kind of at a dead end here anyway.”

Nia saw no reason to decline. “Alright. We’re leaving first thing tomorrow, so you’d better get your things ready.”

At this, Dromarch nearly did a double take. “My lady, are we not waiting for the Vandham’s Legacy to arrive with reinforcements? Furthermore, your deal with Lord Corbett….”

“Every moment we waste is a moment that Fog Rift gets bigger and more dangerous,” Nia said. “I know we were hoping for the support of House Paronet and proper reinforcements, but it’ll be better if a small group of us just handle it ourselves.”

Dromarch’s expression indicated he did not approve. “My lady….”

“The Sunset Beryl should finish refuelling tonight. There’s another rift to Morytha that’s supposed to open tomorrow at the same spot as the one appearing next week. We can go there and get what we need without waiting for Corbett to agree to our terms.”

Dromarch regarded her with barely concealed suspicion, but Nia paid it no mind.

Morgan then said, “I agree with Nia. Why wait? No time like the present!”

“Thanks, Morgan.” Nia then felt compelled to ask, “There a reason why you’re so keen on tagging along?”

Morgan shrugged noncommittally. “Just simple curiosity.”

She didn’t elaborate further, and Nia decided it was reason enough. It made sense that Morgan too would be curious to find out exactly what was in Morytha that could reveal more about the Fog Rift. And if she had never been to the Land of Morytha as Nia suspected, it made sense she’d be curious to see that too. That the real source of Morgan’s curiosity was Nia herself hadn’t even crossed her mind yet.

The next day, the Sunset Beryl finished refuelling and restocking, and at first light Nia and her companions were off. Nia had elected to leave the rest of her retinue at Fort Crocius—they would only slow her down. She and the others spent the day of travel resting as they prepared for the late night (by their internal clocks) expedition to Morytha. This suited Nia just fine, who had slept uneasily the night before. If she was being honest with herself, Nia was nervous. She didn’t relish the idea of going back to the Land of Morytha, even if from what she heard, it was a very different place now.

Nia still remembered when she’d first come round after she and her companions had first fallen into the ancient city during their journey one year ago. She remembered waking up in that haunted place all alone, with not even Dromarch at her side. Remembered walking along those strange, alien streets made of paved stone covered in white and yellow painted lines. Remembered the empty, desecrated buildings that scraped at the Cloud Sea above, almost seeming to watch her with their dark empty windows like darker, emptier eyes. Remembered the first time she’d seen a Guldo, and the way the moaning, shambling abomination had elicited a shriek of pure terror from her that to this day she would deny making.

In spite of these memories roiling at the forefront of her mind, Nia had actually managed to doze off in her quarters for much of the later half of the voyage. She only learned they were nearly at the rift when Dromarch had roused and informed her.

On the upper deck of the Sunset Beryl, Nia could see that the last orange light of the sun was vanishing over the horizon, and a canopy of stars was spread out overhead. About sixty Titanpeds beyond the airship’s bow was the rift, almost invisible against the night sky in stark contrast to the festering wound that was the Fog Rift back at Colony Iota.

The Sunset Beryl wasn’t alone. Another Titan airship approached the rift from the east a little off the Beryl’s starboard bow. These had to have been the salvagers Raqura had told Nia would be meeting her in Morytha. It was on board that ship that their guide through the Land of Morytha would be waiting.

The Beryl’s captain ordered the ship to slow and allow the salvager ship to pass the threshold of the rift first. As they did, Nia glanced at her companions. Koremm had his eyes closed and seemed to be muttering a prayer, perhaps for their safe passage through the rift. Nia wasn’t a religious woman herself, but she nonetheless hoped he was saving some of his prayers for when they actually started travelling through Morytha proper.

Beside him was Morgan, the Blade’s bespectacled eyes transfixed on the rift as the salvager ship passed through it. Nia half-expected her to take out a notebook to start furiously scribbling in, but Morgan only leaned on the railing of the deck as the salvager ship finished passing through the rift. Finally, Dromarch stood next to her, a tad closer than usual. It was as if he wanted to make sure he was well within reach in case Nia needed to put a hand on him for comfort. She did so as the captain ordered the Sunset Beryl forward.

Before Nia knew it, the Sunset Beryl was through the rift and the ruined ancient city of Morytha was stretched out before her. Nia’s eyes needed a moment to adjust to the sudden onslaught of sunlight now shining over the sea of metal and concrete structures scraping the blue sky. It felt weird to see this place under the light of day.

The new continent they all lived on still had the same stars in the night sky that had looked down on Old Alrest, which indicated Morytha still existed in the same world that they did. But the fact that the sun rose in the sky above Morytha as it set over New Alrest indicated that the two were very far apart, separated by countless Titanpeds of ocean. Nia believed, as did most of Alrest, that eventually the rifts to Morytha would stop appearing after their remade world had properly settled into itself. When that happened, salvagers would need to cross that vast ocean if they hoped to continue to pillage Morytha. Right now, though, Nia was glad for the rifts (at least for the ones that didn’t create monsters wreathed in fog).

The salvager ship was setting down in a huge empty plot of dirt that looked to have once been a port, now bone dry. The Sunset Beryl’s captain ordered their own ship be set down next to them. When the Beryl stopped moving, Nia immediately disembarked and found a small yellow Nopon from the salvager ship waiting for her. He had a little orange moustache and wore an outfit not typical of other salvager Nopon Nia had met in her travels: a beige vest and pith helmet.

“Hello, I’m Nia and these are my companions.” Nia introduced each of them before asking, “Are you to be our guide then?”

The Nopon nodded. “Yes. Seekseek at friends’ service. Am lead Ponspector of survey branch of Larus Trade Guild’s salvager corps.”

“A Ponspector, eh?” Nia asked. She had never heard such a title before. Was it newly created for the exploration of Morytha? For their new continent? Both?

“Seekseek must admit confusion: was under impression Crown Princess and friends would not arrive for several days more.”

“Plans change,” Nia simply said.

“Very well.” The little Nopon shrugged his wings, hastily turned and began his waddle towards Morytha proper. “Should come quickly. Indoline Titan just beyond city’s centre. Long way to go, must not waste daylight,” he said. “Safer to travel before sun hides face again. Dead things have no love for sunlight.”

He must mean the Guldos, Nia thought. They weren’t technically undead, but it was easy to see how Seekseek might think otherwise. Nia herself had certainly thought of the countless old stories of the dead rising from their graves when she’d first laid eyes on one.

“Once we enter city proper, must be quiet,” Seekseek continued. “Dead things may hide from sun, but sometimes come out if they hear loud noise.”

Nia exchanged a look with Dromarch before following, Koremm and Morgan close behind them. When Queen Raqura had first insisted that Nia employ a guide to get her through Morytha, she had almost dismissed the idea. Nia had been among the first in centuries to venture to this cursed place and live to tell about it. Surely, she was more than capable of navigating Morytha herself. Now that she was here, though, she was glad to have a guide familiar with it.

Much like Alrest itself, the Land of Morytha had changed a lot over the past year. Most notable was the absence of the World Tree’s roots stretching high above even the tallest buildings. A year ago, they had served as a massive guidepost for Nia and her friends as they navigated the labyrinthine streets of the dead city. Now the World Tree—and the massive metal tower that was its true form—was destroyed. Now, Nia relied on Seekseek’s expertise as he followed coloured markers placed throughout Morytha’s streets, presumably by him and the other Ponspectors on his team during previous expeditions.

Then there was the presence of sunlight—when Nia and her friends had first fallen into Morytha, it was deep beneath the Cloud Sea, keeping the dead city in perpetual rain and darkness. Following Seekseek now was the first time Nia even learned that the Guldos had a sensitivity to light, which made sense—this place hadn’t seen sunlight for countless millennia, after all. Nia had once heard an expression, “everything looks different by the light of day,” and that was certainly true for the Land of Morytha.

While the silence of the dead city was still eerie, the overall vibe was far less oppressive than the last time Nia was here. Before, the endless ruined buildings seemed almost alive—huge unknowable entities staring down at her, the interloper passing between them. Nia could almost imagine them coming to life and swallowing her whole. Now, with the light of the sun, Nia could see they were just old, dilapidated buildings of a long extinct civilization. In fact, Nia could now see plant life begin to creep up the side of the buildings now that Morytha had sun again. After who knew how many thousands of years, nature was beginning to reclaim the dead city.

As they continued following Seekseek along the paved street, they passed many curious sights Nia hadn’t noticed on her previous trip through Morytha. The street was littered with the husks of some kind of vehicles with metal frames and four wheels (though, most were missing a few). There were signs posted all along the paved street with characters Nia couldn’t read. She could see what appeared to be storefronts along the sides of the street, their glass windows long since shattered. Had time and the elements done that? Or had there been mass riots and looting in the final days before the calamity that destroyed this place?

Nia shot a curious glance towards her new travelling companions, interested in how they were handling the sights of Morytha. Koremm was difficult to read—most Indoline were to Nia—but the way he clutched his monk’s pendant as he looked around indicated his unease. Unsurprisingly, Morgan looked like a kid in a candy shop, and seemed to be actively wrestling with the urge to wander off and look at the myriad of strange things they had passed. She did, however, occasionally pull out a small notebook to jot something down as she walked.

Hours passed. The group occasionally heard distant groans, and Nia couldn’t tell if they were hidden Guldos or the city itself shifting under its own weight. Seekseek had led them up a walkway that brought them on top of an elevated street somewhere between fourteen and sixteen metri high. It was along this stretch of concrete that Nia stopped for the first time since they arrived, noticing Morgan had fallen behind. The Blade researcher had stopped to look up at a big metal green sign and seemed to be copying its inscrutable script into her notebook.

It occurred to Nia to ask, “Can you read what it says?” She did so quietly, lest she wake the proverbial dead.

Morgan looked up from her notes. “Kind of. I’ve been studying the written language of Morytha as a hobby for many years now.”

Nia looked again at the metal green sign looming over the elevated road of concrete they were traversing. “What does it say?”

Morgan answered, “‘Toll, Interstate 90, 2 Miles Keep Left.’”

“What the bloody hell does that mean?” Nia asked with a tilt of her head.

“Dunno,” Morgan said with a shrug. “Seems to be directions.”

“Hey! What part of ‘quiet’ do friends not understand?” Seekseek whisper-yelled a ways in front of them.

Nia and Morgan both put a pin in their discussion and continued their silent procession. Some time later, Seekseek led the party off of the elevated road (passing a fork left, perhaps to the mysterious ‘Interstate 90’) and brought them into a ruined building with a collapsed roof. Whatever this building had been, they were on its top floor, and they had a good view of the paved street below.

“Friends must wait here a few minutes,” Seekseek whispered.

Nia was about to ask why when suddenly she spotted movement in the street below. Three roughly human-sized shapes marched down the street. Nia recognized the two-legged metal boxes with laser cannons right away. Phoebus Sovereigns: one of the many machine guardians of the World Tree and Morytha. Whatever aversion to sunlight afflicted the Guldos was evidently not shared by the myriad of Sovereign models that still patrolled the dead city. Nia watched as the machines stopped and scanned the surrounding streets.

“How long do we wait?” she asked quietly.

“Not long. A few minutes,” Seekseek answered.

“And you’re sure?”

Seekseek gave her a hard glare. It seemed the little yellow Nopon did not appreciate having his expertise questioned. “Patrol patterns of Sovereigns carefully studied by Survey Branch Ponspectors. Seekseek positive beyond all doubt.”

Nia again looked out at the three ancient machines and frowned. During her journey with Rex and the others, they had fought plenty of such Sovereigns and dispatched them easily enough. If time was really as tight as their guide had said, it would be faster to just go down there and deal with them. Nia then remembered how badly her encounter with Sosem and Vherestrom had gone, even with Rex, Pyra and Mythra at her side. She sat down against the wall, thinking it was as good a time as any for a break. The others followed suit.

Seeing that Koremm still looked nervous, Nia thought now was as good a time as any to check in with him. “Doing alright?”

He looked up from his pendant at her and nodded. “Strange place. I wouldn’t have expected the fabled birthplace of the Divine Architect to feel so… unholy.”

For a moment, Nia considered telling him what she’d learned when she and her friends had met the Architect himself. That he had been nothing more than an ordinary man whose hubris had destroyed his world. No, Nia decided she would not rob Koremm of his faith. So not knowing how to answer, she turned to Morgan, who was quietly sketching one of the Sovereign machines below.

“It’s kind of sad if you think about it,” Morgan said. “The civilization that built them was destroyed untold eons ago, yet here they are, still following their final directive. I wonder if they’re aware of how pointless it is.”

“They’re just machines, aren’t they?” Nia asked. “I doubt they’re thinking about it all that hard.”

Morgan let out a chuckle that sounded more bitter than mirthful. “Funny, I’ve heard the same thing said about us Blades in Zorn.”

“Lots of people in Alrest still think that way.” For the first time in maybe a year, Nia found herself thinking of the Ardainian Consul Dughal, and the way he’d treated his Blade. “Still, things are getting better. Who knows how different things will be by the time I’m queen?”

Morgan smiled at that. “Yeah.” She then put away her sketchbook. “I’m curious, what kinda queen do you see yourself being?”

Nia noticed Dromarch was silently looking at her now. Even Koremm had looked up from his pendant.

“Honestly, I haven’t given it much thought.”

As Nia continued to ponder the question, Dromarch said, “There’s no need to figure it all out now. There’s still plenty of time.”

Years later, Nia would find herself lamenting just how little time there was. Now, however, her thoughts of the possible future inexplicably led her to the image of a pair of kind golden eyes.

“I have this… friend, you see. From the moment we first met, he’s always been there to lift me up when I’m down. He’s saved me more times than I can count, and not just when we’ve been in a scrap. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if it weren’t for him.” Scratching her head and looking away, her face suddenly and curiously heating up, Nia concluded, “I guess the kind of queen I’d be is one who follows his example.”

Morgan gave her a knowing smile. “I think I’m pickin’ up what you’re puttin’ down. I had a… ‘friend’ like that too once.”

Nia did her level best to ignore the implications of Morgan’s suggestive tone and asked, “I take it you’re referring to your Driver?”

Morgan’s smile took on a note of sadness as she nodded. “There’s a lot of moronic, shitty humans in this world, but not him. He was both brilliant and kind. The most amazing person I knew.”

“I would’ve liked to have met him,” Nia said.

“Yeah, he would have found you fascinating.”

After a few more minutes of quiet chatter, their Nopon guide checked his pocket watch and said, “Machines moving on. Time to go.”

The Ponspector hadn’t even looked out at the machines in question, but sure enough, one glance at the street below confirmed that the trio of Sovereign sentries were continuing their patrol down the street. So, Nia and her companions stood up and continued their trek through the ruins of Morytha.

It was little more than an hour later when the sky-scraping structures began to part and Nia could see Indol’s Titan in the distance. What was left of it anyway. The charred, broken remains of the once majestic creature were a far cry from what it had been in life. The white marble towers of the holy city of Indol itself looked just as worse for wear. Nia’s party was silent as they beheld the ruins within ruins.

Nia glanced at Koremm. Although he claimed to have never seen eye-to-eye with the Praetorium or its leadership, Indol had still been his home. Nia thought about offering him words of comfort but knew they would ring hollow. Koremm was very aware of her own feelings where Indol was concerned. Nia thought of the hundreds of Gormotti refugees who’d still been in the city when Indol fell, Praetor Amalthus’ army of human shields.

As the group drew closer to Indol’s remains, Ponspector Seekseek spoke up. “Once we arrive at Indol, Seekseek can guide friends no further. Streets of Indol reduced to rubble, Survey Branch have yet to map out safe routes.”

“That’s alright, we should be able to find our own way,” Nia said, before adding, “Thank you for taking us this far.”

“Actually, Lady Nia, there is a way we could avoid the streets altogether,” Koremm said. Nia gave him her undivided attention and he continued, “If we make our way around to the Titan’s lateral abdomen region, we should find the launch bays for the Praetorium’s Star-class Titan weapons. With any luck, more than a few should still be open from the battle at the World Tree. The Archive we’re looking for will be on the same level.”

Nia nodded. “Lead the way.”

Koremm did, and it wasn’t long before they found one such entry point. It was a bit of an awkward climb to reach the open entryway, but once they were inside things smoothed out considerably. It would seem that for all the damage sustained to the Titan’s surface, the innermost facilities were still more or less intact. There were no lights—the ether powering them must have gone out shortly after the Indoline Titan’s death—but Nia and her companions had come prepared with portable ether lamps to guide them through the dark corridors of Indol’s lower levels.

In no time at all they arrived in the archive, and while it had been spared the destruction of the city proper, it was far from untouched. Most of the books were not on their shelves but strewn about the floor as if a great whirlwind had torn through the place. Perhaps it was optimistic to think that the archive would be completely spared the effects of Indol’s destruction.

“Hmm…” Koremm mused, regarding the mess with a frown.

“This gonna be a problem?” Nia asked.

“You’re lucky I know exactly what we’re looking for and what section it’ll be in,” Koremm said. “Still, it might take me some time.”

“I can help,” Morgan spoke up. “My Driver was… very disorganised, so I’m used to finding needles in haystacks.”

Koremm nodded and together he and Morgan set out to start their search in the depths of the archive. Not knowing what else to do, Nia waited around by the entrance, idly looking through some of the tomes on the floor by ether lamplight. Most of it was pretty dry: financial records, supply manifests, that sort of thing. Though Nia did come across a master record of each Praetor and the significant policies they’d enacted during their reign.

She clicked her tongue at the high praise given to Praetor Amalthus for his many innovations, which included revolutionary advancements in the Judicium Blade Eater technology and the creation of the Core Crystal cleansing procedure. Evidently there hadn’t been time to add “the near destruction of Alrest itself” to his legacy before this place had been destroyed.

Amalthus’ predecessors hadn’t seemed much better, from what little information could be gleaned from the texts before her. Though, Praetor Mallicos had passed an at the time unprecedented holy decree to allow Blades to hold ranks and status within the Praetorium. Shame that his successor, Rhadallis, had almost immediately walked that back. It made Nia think.

“None of these guys ever had to worry about having an heir, did they?” she asked.

Dromarch looked up from the tome he had been gazing at. “The Praetor has always been elected by the College of Magisters, yes.”

“But without an heir of their own choosing, whatever legacy they created as Praetor isn’t guaranteed to last.” Then again, that was true of all things. The ruins they now stood in—and the older ruins just outside—were a testament to that.

Dromarch tilted his head. “My lady, is there a point you mean to illustrate with this?”

“No point, Dromarch. Just thinking aloud.”

Dromarch frowned. “Maybe it’s about time you be honest about what we’re really doing here.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

With a patient sigh, Dromarch said, “If I recall, the plan was for you to deal with the Fog Rift in an official capacity as the crown princess.”

Nia looked at him, brow furrowed. “Yeah, that’s what I’m doing, innit?”

“What you’re doing is setting out to fix the problem on your own. You’re still thinking like a mercenary, not a queen.”

Nia looked away. “Doing things this way is just… easier. It’s what I know.”

“My lady, has it not occurred to you that perhaps Her Highness did not merely send you here to solve a single problem?” When Nia gave no answer, Dromarch continued, “This Fog Rift crisis has been the perfect opportunity for you to display your leadership abilities. If I may be frank, my lady, it confounds me that you will not rise to the challenge.”

Nia wasn’t sure how to answer that.

Apparently sensing this, Dromarch then said, “What were Lord Corbett’s terms for you to take over his operation?”

Nia frowned as she realised she did know the answer after all. “Nothing worth considering.”

Dromarch returned the look. “My lady, if I may…” he started, but Nia wasn’t having it.

“Actually Dromarch, you may not! ” she said. “Please, just for once can you give it a bloody rest with the paternal shite? I didn’t ask for it and I don’t need it. You aren’t my Da!”

Nia didn’t realise how harsh the words would sound until they passed her lips. Although Dromarch kept his face neutral, the wilt of his ears said it all. “Understood. Apologies, my lady.”

Nia closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh. “Dromarch….”

But a dainty clearing of the throat gathered both of their attention to Morgan standing in the doorframe leading deeper into the archive.

“Sorry, is this a bad time?” she asked.

“Not at all,” Nia said, thankful for the diversion. “You two find something, then?”

Morgan nodded and beckoned for them to follow. Nia did so, avoiding eye contact with Dromarch all the while. Morgan herself was quiet, uncharacteristically so. It was enough to prompt Nia to ask if things were alright with her.

“You didn’t mention who we were looking for,” was all Morgan said.

They found Koremm standing over an open tome on a table deeper within the labyrinthine bookshelves.

“Think I found our man,” he said, not looking up from the book in front of him. “Sosem, gunblade wielder. Says here his Core Crystal has been passed down within the Praetorium for several centuries now.”

Nia saw Morgan’s hands clench into fists at the mention of Sosem’s name. “What does it say about his current Driver?” she asked, saving her curiosity for later.

“A low-level priest named Amram,” Koremm said, finally looking up from the pages of the tome. “The name sounded familiar, so I looked him up as well. Turns out, a few years ago he was the subject of an internal investigation within the Praetorium. He was suspected of smuggling valuable Core Crystals out of Indol to sell to traffickers on the black market. That was when I remembered where I heard the name.”

Nia listened with rapt attention as Koremm continued, “As the investigation brought us closer to Amram, he fled Indol and apparently linked up with his underworld contacts in Spessia. The whole affair was bad enough for Indol’s reputation that Praetor Amalthus himself brought a force of warrior monks to Spessia to handle it.”

“Were you a part of that force?” Dromarch asked, and Koremm nodded.

“At the time, I believed that the Praetor had personally intervened out of benevolence. Now, I realise it’s more likely he merely wanted to sweep the whole affair under the rug. Perhaps Amram was really just a fall guy, and the whole conspiracy went all the way to the Praetor himself. I suppose we’ll never know now.”

“So, did you find this guy or didn’t you?” Nia asked, not particularly interested in the political machinations of a now dead nation.

Koremm shook his head. “We slaughtered the bandits who’d supposedly been with Amram to the last, but there was no sign of the man himself. It’s likely he and his Blade had both already moved on by the time we reached Spessia. I’m not sure what became of the investigation after that, as I was reassigned.”

Nia sighed and muttered a curse. She couldn’t believe they came all this way for a dead end!

“Is there anything else about that mission that sticks out to you? Anything strange or unusual?” Dromarch asked.

“Come to think of it, there was another man that we found, not one of Amram’s bandits,” Koremm said. “He looked like a Driver—had a Blade with him and everything. Evidently, they had run afoul of the very same bandits we had been hunting. The man was practically on death’s door and the Blade wasn’t looking very good either. Praetor Amalthus had them brought back with us to Indol, where apparently, he managed to save the life of the man and his Blade. It was only later I’d learned that the man was Ozychlyrus Brounev Tantal, Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Tantal.”

Nia gasped loudly, "Shellhead?!”

Koremm looked confused, “I’m not aware of that particular title, but I take it you’re familiar with the crown prince?”

“Oh right! The prince of Tantal was one of your travelling companions a year ago, right?” Morgan exclaimed. Evidently, she was more familiar with the stories of Nia’s adventure than Koremm.

“What the hell was that spanner doing in Spessia anyway?” Nia asked, before she thought of an answer. “Wait, do you suppose he was looking for Amram as well?”

“I believe I’d heard something to that effect, yes.”

Nia and Dromarch exchanged a look, their earlier strife momentarily forgotten. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Nia asked.

Dromarch nodded. “I suppose we are overdue for a visit with your favourite ‘Bringer of Chaos.’”

Chapter Text

The village of Pom was small, regarded by many across Gormott as a backwater. Ffion, however, preferred the word “quaint.” Tucked away on the Gormotti Titan’s lower left flank, Pom’s only real claim to fame (if one could call it that) was the production of passionfruit, moonbeam bananas and other uncommon fruit. In other words, items that were a nice luxury but otherwise not vital to Gormott’s economic prosperity. This obscurity was what allowed Pom to get through the war relatively untouched.

Ffion’s brothers had all left the village of their upbringing to pursue lives all across Gormott, but Ffion was perfectly content where she was. The truth was, she was a timid girl of nearly sixteen who found much of the world frightening. This fear was vindicated when her father had returned from the war with only one leg and a haunted look in his eyes. He never spoke to her or her brothers about the things he saw, save to show them the souvenir he kept from a fallen Ardainian soldier: something he called a “sidearm.” With that, Ffion’s imagination was able to fill in the blanks of some of what he’d experienced, resulting in many sleepless nights.

So, Ffion was happy to remain in her village, working a fruit stand in town belonging to one of the nearby orchards. The money she was making went to support her father, whose injuries prevented him from going back to the lumber work he did before the war. She never could have predicted that a taste of that war’s terror would find her here in Pom.

The day had started strangely with the arrival of the Driver: a girl who looked not much older than Ffion accompanied by a Blade in the form of a great white tiger. She had purchased an apple from her stand and then continued on her way, off to whatever destination awaited her so deep in the middle of nowhere. Then at around noon, the group of men arrived.

There were five of them in all, and all of them Gormotti. They arrived riding an Armu-drawn cart, but what drew Ffion’s attention right away were the banners bearing the face of Melnath, the Gormotti Titan. The sigil of Gormott before it was a mere province of Mor Ardain. When they were still a sovereign nation. The men all wore bits of armour here and there, no two of them matching. They carried swords and pikes, one of them even held one of the rifles used by the soldiers of Mor Ardain.

The village square went quiet, and everyone watched as four of the young men (a few could have been her age, Ffion realised) hopped out of the cart and spread out in a loose formation around it. The one who remained, an auburn-haired Gormotti with an uneven beard just starting to grow in, stood atop the cart, banner in one hand.

“Fear not, people of Pom: we come as protectors!” he called out with a self-satisfied grin. “They say that the war is over, and the Empire of Mor Ardain now reigns supreme over our land. But we say different! We, the Fangs of Melnath, are still fighting the good fight! So please, lend us your aid! If you supply us with food, medicine, and whatever coin you can spare, the Fangs of Melnath vow that no Imperial soldiers will dare harass you! This I swear on the lifeblood of our Titan!”

Ffion was confused. She’d only ever seen Ardainian soldiers once in the months since the war’s end. A pair of them had gotten lost and separated from the rest of their comrades and ended up in Pom by mistake. After getting directions and resting for a spell, they had left without incident. Evidently, the rest of the villagers shared Ffion’s confusion, as all of them stared at the band of strangers warily.

The smug grin on the man atop the cart faltered as he beheld Pom’s chilly reception. “Don’t be stingy, now! Wars are not won on empty stomachs, after all!”

The four men with him produced empty burlap bags and held them open in invitation. When none of the villagers in the square moved to accept it, the smile of the man atop the cart disappeared with the flick of an ear.

“You don’t want to be patriots?” he said. “Fine.”

His face became a grimace, and with a gesture, he gave a silent order to the four under him. Ffion’s heart quickened in her chest as it became apparent that they would not leave before getting what they wanted.

“Unfortunately, our need for resources is dire, so please understand when I say, we will be taking what we need. So, take comfort in knowing you are supporting the liberation of our country!”

Across the village square, one of the armed men went over to the vegetable stand operated by the Rheinallt brothers, both of whom were reedy and thin. Hardly a match for the muscular man shoving their carrots and cabbages into a bag. Beside them, another of the men was grabbing meat off the hooks in front of Siôn’s butchery. A large man with little patience, Siôn shoved the rebel back, and the rebel drew his sword.

Ffion didn’t see how the rest of that confrontation played out, because suddenly her vision was blocked by another of the interlopers as he started shoving fruit from her stand into his own sack. Ffion was frozen in place, too terrified to move. She would have let the man in front of her get away with every last fruit if not for the thought that suddenly entered her mind.

The owner of the fruit stand, and the orchard the fruit came from was a woman named Heledd; a stern old Gormotti known around Pom for her frugal sensibilities. Heledd herself rarely made an appearance at the stand, but she made it clear to Ffion that she would not be shorted. Early into the job, two of the village children had swiped a few of the hot oranges from the stand while Ffion hadn’t been looking. When she returned to Heledd with the day’s earnings and unsold fruit, Heledd counted each and accused Ffion of trying to swindle her. Ffion had told her about the young thieves and after some convincing, Heledd believed her. But she had taken the difference for the stolen fruit out of Ffion’s pay.

“Moron tax,” she had said. “Perhaps this will teach you to get your head out of the clouds.”

Ffion never took an eye off the stand after that. Now, Ffion looked at the armed rebel and his bag full of multiple days’ salaries worth of fruit. Thought of what she would tell her father, a war hero, still recovering from his wounds at home. That thought alone was enough to override the familiar fear that lived in Ffion and replace it with raw anger. Without thinking, Ffion lunged forward and grabbed onto the brigand’s bag. The man looked up at her, confusion plain on his face.

“Let go,” he said calmly.

Ffion didn’t hear him. She only heard Heledd’s indignant voice. Moron tax. Her grip on the bag remained firm.

“Let go!” the man said again, a bit louder this time. Ffion held firm. “Let go!”

The man drew his sword. “LET GO!”

Ffion suddenly realised how stupid she was being. Having found her terror again, she now wanted to let go but her stubborn hands refused to obey. Staring at the raised sword, it hit her with sudden clarity that she was about to die over a bag of fruit. Moron tax.

An arm suddenly grabbed her aggressor’s sword-hand by the wrist, and the surprised rebel was shoved back, letting go of the bag. Ffion looked up at the towering form of Gareth, her father, leaning on the cane that served as his new left leg.

“The hell?! Give that back!” the brigand rushed toward Ffion; sword raised high. Gareth went low, delivering a swift and effective punch to the stomach. Gasping for breath, the other man stumbled backwards, tripping and landing on his rear.

Ffion grinned at the sight, but her satisfaction was short-lived as the commotion grabbed the attention of the other four interlopers.

“Oy! Is that any way to treat a man fighting for your freedom?” The apparent ringleader said, hopping down from the cart and discarding his banner in favour of a rifle.

Gareth held fast, meeting the challenge in the young man’s gaze with a firm glare. “Leave the things you took and get the hell out of our village,” he said.

“Come now, don’t you want us to win this war?” the leader said with an easy smile.

“You know nothing of war, boyo,” Gareth replied. “If you did, you wouldn’t be so eager to start it again.”

At this, the rebel’s smile vanished. “We didn’t start shite! Mor Ardain started this war forty years ago when they invaded our land!”

“The war is over. Accept it and leave us in peace.”

At this, the leader only laughed. “Or what? You gonna make us, old man?”

Another of the men approached holding a pike. “Yeah, you and whose leg, eh?” he jeered as he used his pike to swipe the cane out from under Gareth, sending him toppling to the dirt.

“ Da! ” Ffion shrieked, running to his side. Gareth waved her back.

“You’re no freedom fighters,” he said, looking up at them with a defiant glare. “You’re just a band of thugs with delusions of grandeur.”

“Think what you want, old man. We’ll see what you say when we win back our country!”

Again, Ffion moved to help her father to his feet. That was when the ringleader finally took notice of her. She felt his eyes look her up and down.

“Pretty lass you got there,” the rebel leader said with a lecherous grin. “You suppose you could protect her if Ardainian soldiers showed up for a taste of the… local fruit?”

The look of fury on her father’s face then was one Ffion had never before seen. The rebel leader laughed. “Perhaps she’d be better off with us at our camp, eh?” He looked again at Ffion, extending a hand. “What d’ya say, lass? Me ‘n the boys play real nice, I promise!”

That was when her father reached into his belt and drew his “souvenir.” Startled, the rebel leader and his compatriots staggered back. Her father pulled the trigger and Ffion’s ears went flat against her head as the Ardainian single-shot pistol rang out. But her father was imbalanced, half on the ground as he was, and missed his mark by a wide margin.

“You craven old bastard!” the rebel leader cried; his eyes wide with fury. “You’re a traitor to Gormott! Now, DIE A TRAITOR’S DEATH!”

The man raised his rifle, and that brief, horrible moment slowed down as Ffion realised she was about to lose her father, all because she wouldn’t let go of a bag of fruit. Moron tax indeed. The rifle sang and Ffion screamed, but through the tears forming in her eyes, she realised that her father wasn’t hurt.

The rebel leader was laid out on the ground, his rifle a few metri away. Standing over him was the yellow-clad Driver girl she’d seen earlier that day, her tiger Blade at her side. In her hands she wielded two ring-like weapons glowing blue with the power of ether. The other Fangs of Melnath stood around her, looking unsure for only a second before the man with the pike attacked.

The Driver girl used her strange ring weapons to fight him off expertly and gracefully. As she fought the man with the pike, two of the men rushed her Blade with swords.

Having never seen a Blade before, let alone one that looked like a white tiger, Ffion was surprised to hear it call out, “Lady Nia!” in an older man’s voice that in some ways reminded her much of her father. Hearing this, the Driver girl tossed one of her ring weapons towards the Blade but overshot. The weapon landed a ways past her Blade, who received a glancing but no less painful-looking blow before getting to it.

Ffion heard the Driver girl curse before the man with the pike swept her legs out from under her, sending her falling to her back. The girl managed to roll out of the way of the follow up stab and get to her feet.

As the fight went on, the rebel leader got to his feet and ran for the cart they all arrived in. Getting behind the reins, he wasted no time turning it around.

“C’mon!” he shouted to his men. “She’s a mercenary Driver, which means Imperial forces aren’t far behind!”

That was all it took for the other rebels to turn tail and run after their leader, whose cart was already getting smaller down the path. Just like that, the village of Pom had grown quiet again.

“You okay, Ffio?”

Ffion turned toward her father’s voice. He was standing on his one leg, one arm on the fruit stand to keep him steady. Seeing him there, bruised but alive, sent a wave of relief washing through the terror that lingered in Ffion. She rushed to him, throwing her arms around him as the tears came. He placed the arm not propping him up around her and for the first time since those men showed up, Ffion felt safe again.

“Hey.” A girl’s voice pulled Ffion out of that moment, and she wiped the tears from her eyes to see the yellow-clad Driver girl standing there holding her father’s cane.

“Cheers,” her father said, taking it from the girl’s outstretched hand. The girl gave him a polite smile but said nothing, simply turning to leave in the direction the rebels fled.

Knowing her father was too stubborn to give proper gratitude, Ffion spoke up. “Thank you so much. You saved my Da’s life. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

The girl looked back at them, and for a moment Ffion thought she saw a hint of sadness on her face before the polite smile returned. “Don’t mention it,” she said before turning once more and disappearing for the rest of their lives.

A couple of days later, as Nia and Dromarch returned to Torigoth she still couldn’t get the image of that girl and her father out of her head. Everything had turned out alright for those two, so why did Nia feel sad whenever her thoughts went to them? It didn’t matter. Now that she was in Torigoth, it was time for Nia to put on her business face.

She and Dromarch walked through the market, across the connecting bridge, under the great root that made up Garagorm's Arch, finally reaching Torigoth Relay Base along the path just beyond. The Ardainian soldiers let them in without too much trouble. The lieutenant was expecting her, after all.

Soon, Nia found herself inside lieutenant Lachlan's office, where the man himself sat behind a desk, his sunken green eyes patiently awaiting her report. Nia delivered it with the utmost professionalism, allowing herself a self-satisfied smirk as she explained her defence of the village of Pom. She then revealed that after following the retreating rebels, she’d ascertained the location of the main camp of the Fangs of Melnath in the lower Swaig region on the left thigh of the Titan.

To her mild concern, Lachlan gave a disapproving frown as he went to a safe in the wall and filled a small coinpurse with gold. “Here. Take it and leave,” he said, unceremoniously dropping Nia's payment on the desk in front of her.

The coinpurse looked a little light to Nia, so she quickly opened it to count. Sure enough, “There’s only about five hundred in here. The agreed-upon payment was a grand.”

“Aye, it was,” Lachlan said. “For the very simple job of scouting the location of the rebel camp with explicit instructions not to engage.”

Nia frowned. “They were terrorising helpless villagers! If I hadn’t stepped in when I did, that old man and his daughter….”

“Be that as it may, the fact remains your actions tipped them off to our intentions. Thanks to you, they know we’re coming. They’ll be ready for us, assuming they haven't simply moved camp already.”

Nia looked down at her feet. “So, what, I was just supposed to let them have their way?”

“I have a meeting with the commander in just a few minutes—in which I’ll now have to explain to him why our counter-rebellion operation may already be compromised. Take the five hundred or don’t. Either way, our business is concluded. I doubt very much you can expect any more contracts from us after this.”

Nia swiped the coinpurse off the table, muttering a few choice words under her breath and not particularly caring if Lachlan heard them. Before she knew it, she was outside the front gate to Torigoth Relay Base with Dromarch.

“This won’t be enough to cover this week’s expenses,” Nia said, looking distastefully at the paltry coinpurse in her hands. She didn't mention that she may have burned a bridge with the Ardainian Armed Forces. Not that she enjoyed working for them anyway.

“If you want to stock up at the market, I can go check the notice board,” Dromarch said. “With any luck, there could still be some unclaimed jobs left from this week’s postings.”

“Alright, as long as they aren’t too high-level.” Nia was not happy with their performance together on this latest job. They really needed to work on their coordination if they wanted to take on higher paying work. If their opponents had been anything more dangerous than those lowlife goons….

“Understood,” Dromarch said. “Meet you back home?”

“Yeah.”

The pair reached downtown Torigoth and parted ways. Nia surfed the various food vendors in the market, buying up all of the cheapest food items she could. When her pouches were full, Nia headed across Windmill Plaza and descended the steps into Galad Residential Zone. The primary location of low-income housing in Torigoth, the homes in Galad were small, dirty and run down tenements. Built haphazardly along wooden platforms above the Cloud Sea, every building here was a hazard to those who lived in them. But the rent was affordable, at least, as long as one could get decent work.

Near the district’s bottom, Nia reached their residence and let herself in. “Da, I’m home!”

Her father knelt over the brazier, cooking what smelled like tomato soup in the pot. It was a welcome sight: Nia was used to coming home to find him passed out or holed up in the latrine, sick to his stomach.

“Nia,” he greeted curtly. His voice was hoarse and quiet. He sounded like he’d perhaps just finished evacuating his stomach after all. “Sorry if I don’t get up. I’m not feeling too well today.”

Her father was also not feeling well the day she and Dromarch left to do the job for lieutenant Lachlan. He didn’t feel well most days, as a matter of fact, and Nia only needed to look at the pile of empty bottles in the corner of the room to know why. Suppose I should clean that mess, Nia thought as she went over to the cupboards to put away the food she bought.

“You got groceries?” her father asked.

“Just the cheap stuff,” Nia said.

“Any money left over?”

“No,” Nia lied. There was nearly two-hundred coins in one of her pouches, but she wouldn’t let her father have it. She knew what he would spend it on. “We didn’t make as much from this job as we thought we would, so we’re gonna have to make this food last.”

“Need help putting it away?”

“I got it, you just stay put,” she said, thinking of the mission she’d just returned from. “If you want to help out, maybe come along next time, yeah?”

Her father gave the same answer every time she made the suggestion, “We’ll see how I’m feeling.”

Nia almost left it at that as she did every other time, but today something just felt different. “You know, we could be making a lot more money if we started taking riskier jobs. Problem is, Dromarch and I just haven’t been able to fight at our full potential.”

Hiding her true abilities certainly didn’t help where that was concerned, but that wasn’t the point she was trying to make. “Having you with us would make all the difference. You are still our Driver, you know.”

“Father,” he corrected. “Please, Nia. I never ask for much, but I do want you to call me Father.”

“Right. I’m sorry,” she said. “Father.”

In short order the groceries were put away, and Nia grabbed a bag and stepped around her father to get to the pile of bottles in the corner. If there was one thing she could definitively say about Fremen Echell, it was that his taste of imbibements was broad. Wines from Uraya, odifas from Indol, even liquors from Mor Ardain were all present and accounted for in this little corner. The only alcohol her father refused to drink was Arianwen Vineyards, formerly Echell Vineyards. He had purchased a bottle only once, perhaps feeling nostalgic for happier times. Nia had seen him take one sip before spitting it out.

“Useless sods can’t even ferment it right,” he’d said before setting the bottle aside.

Now, Nia picked up and bagged all of her father’s empties, her thoughts again going back to the girl and her father from the village of Pom.

“Need help with that?” she heard her father ask.

“I got it,” she said.

But this time, her father would not be content to have his attempt at usefulness be brushed aside. “Hang on, I’ll help.”

Nia heard a grunt of exertion as her father stood up, and she turned just in time to see him wobble in place before stumbling back and falling into the cupboards, dislodging all the food Nia had just put away. She immediately dropped the bag of empties and went to him, cursing under her breath. That was another point she had to give him: his sober face was incredibly convincing.

“Shit… sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t apologise,” Nia said as she put one of his arms over her shoulder and lifted him to his feet. “Does my bloody head in.”

“Sorry…” he said again anyway.

Wordlessly, Nia dragged Fremen to their only bed and gently laid him down in it. “Thanks, Nia love,” he slurred. “I’ll do better for you, okay?”

Nia’s jaw clenched. He had made that promise to her so many times, she barely even noticed it anymore. But today, she was hearing it after what happened in Pom. After seeing the look on that scared girl’s face when she embraced her father. Seeing the fear drain out of her when he put his arm around her. Before Nia knew it, angry words were pouring out of her.

“Oh just bloody stop! ”

Fremen looked up at her as she shook with anger at the sight of him. Tears welled up in her eyes but she refused to let them fall until she’d said her piece.

“If you want me to call you ‘Father,’ then be a father! You can’t just keep running into a bottle forever!” Nia put a hand to her chest where her newly tainted Core was, the first cracks in her voice sounding out. “I miss her too, you know. I carry her with me everywhere I go and I can’t…” Nia’s vision blurred with tears, and she hastily wiped them. “I can’t keep bloody doing it alone! Please, Da….”

With deep breath after deep breath, Nia fought to keep her gaze steady. She needed to show him how angry with him she was. But in spite of her efforts, those treacherous tears fell. However, they weren’t alone. Tears also stained her father’s cheeks for the first time since Mio died.

“You’re right,” he said. “You’re absolutely right, it’s just so hard….”

“I know, but I'm right here! I just… wish you were more willing to unburden yourself with me.”

The day and a half flight from the Morytha rift was a restless one. Nia wasn’t sure why, but her idle thoughts kept going back to a period of her life she really wanted to forget. She blamed the time difference between Morytha and New Alrest screwing up her internal clock. Thankfully, there would be time to rest properly when the Sunset Beryl stopped in Goshen to refuel and restock; something that was very necessary for the long four-day flight to the Kingdom of Tantal. It was there, in Goshen’s harbour, that Nia and her companions disembarked.

Dromarch kept apace a fair distance behind her. The two of them had not shared more than two words between each other since the ruins of Indol. Was he merely giving her the space she desired? Or had her last meaningful words to him cut more deeply than she’d intended? Before Nia could linger too long on the thought, Koremm approached her, a solemn look on the blue-skinned Indoline’s face.

“Well, Crown Princess, I suppose this is where I’ll be taking my leave,” he said. “Now that my task with you is complete, I should be getting back to my people.”

Fort Crocius was a short flight from Goshen, Nia remembered, and by her own orders, they wouldn’t be stopping again on their way to Tantal. Still, part of her was a tad disappointed to see the monk go. If nothing else, he was good in a fight.

“I understand, though truth be told I’m a little surprised,” she said. “When I first told you my plan, you seemed pretty gung-ho about being there when we found Sosem.”

“I’ll admit, ever since the night he and those bandits attacked, I’ve been angry. When you offered me a chance to pay that anger back to the one who robbed my people of their homes, I took it. Perhaps all too eagerly.”

Nia could understand that. “What changed?”

“I had a talk with Morgan on the flight from Morytha,” Koremm answered. “It would seem that she understands my feelings all too well.”

Nia remembered when they had found Sosem’s Blade registration back in Indol’s Lesser Archive. The way Morgan had seemed quieter. Darker. You didn’t mention who we were looking for. As soon as they disembarked, the Blade researcher in question had gone ahead to find them a place to stay for the night. Perhaps it was time she and Nia had their own little talk.

“Ultimately, she convinced me that my people would be better served with me at their side instead of gallivanting after a bandit Blade.” Then with a dry laugh, Koremm added, “I suppose I can’t run away from my responsibilities forever now, can I?”

The comment seemed rather pointed to Nia. Then again, it was probably just her imagination. So, she did her level best to ignore it (along with the mild guilt it brought) and gave Koremm a smile.

“Well, I can’t thank you enough for all your help,” she said.

“It was an honour to be of service, Crown Princess,” Koremm said with a bow. “I look forward to seeing the kind of queen you will become.”

With that, Koremm turned and made his way across the harbour, where he’d likely find a ship to charter to Fort Crocius. Nia, meanwhile, turned toward Goshen proper.

The first time she’d come here, she’d noticed an inn called the Prancing Ponio. She had suggested to Morgan before she left that they should room there. The only alternative Nia knew about in Goshen was the Tipsy Gogol, and she wasn’t exactly eager to stay there. When Morgan asked why, Nia cited its shabby quality as the main reason, leaving out the fact that two of her mercs had been murdered in cold blood there by the man they were now seeking.

After inquiring about their rooms with the front desk, Dromarch said, “If it’s alright with you, my lady, I think I’ll retire early tonight.” It was the most he’d said to her all day.

“Okay, see you tomorrow then, Dromarch,” she said, but he was already headed up the stairs toward his room.

With a sigh, Nia trudged up the stairs after him. Rather than entering her own room, Nia continued to the end of the hall, where the front desk clerk had told her Morgan’s room was located. Nia could hear the Blade’s muffled voice as she approached. It sounded like she was having a conversation with someone. Nia opened the door to enter, nearly causing Morgan to jump out of her seat at the desk in the corner of the room. She had a crystal communicator set up on the desk and appeared to be in the middle of a call. She acknowledged Nia briefly before returning her attention to the device.

“I have to go. I’ll update you again after we’ve reached Tantal.” With that, Morgan disconnected the call and collapsed the portable communicator.

“Is this a bad time? I can come back later,” Nia said somewhat awkwardly, once again feeling like an interloper.

“Not at all. You just startled me, is all.” Morgan stood and gave Nia a friendly smile. “We were just wrapping up anyway.”

“Checking in with your team back at Fort Crocius?” Nia asked.

Morgan nodded. “Yep. Some equipment I’d ordered from Zorn just arrived. Other than that, not much in the way of developments on their end.” Nia figured as much. “Anyway, was there something you needed, Crown Princess?”

“I was thinking of going to find somewhere to eat dinner, actually. Care to join me?”

“I could eat.” Morgan stood. “Let’s grab Dromarch and get going!”

Nia tried not to frown. “Dromarch won’t be joining us, actually.”

“Oh.” Morgan looked like she had questions, but wisely chose not to pry as she followed Nia out of the Prancing Ponio.

It wasn’t long before they found a decent seafood restaurant and before either of them knew it, they were eating Cloud Sea Crab Sticks on a patio with a nice view of the harbour.

“I was hoping we might have a chat, actually,” Nia said, doing her level best to muster an air of authority in her voice. “Fact is, I don’t think you’ve been entirely honest with me.”

Morgan’s smile grew noticeably more nervous. “Oh?”

“The Blade we’re trying to capture. Sosem. You’ve met him before, haven’t you?” The way Morgan’s eyes suddenly failed to meet hers confirmed it. “If I had to guess, it wasn’t exactly a friendly encounter, was it?”

“Wow. Pretty perceptive, Crown Princess,” Morgan said with a sigh.

“You don’t have to go into it if you don’t want to…” Nia started, but Morgan stopped her.

“No, it’s okay. Guess this would’ve come up eventually,” she said. “About a month after the Reformation, me and Arthur—that’s my Driver—set out into New Alrest to do research into the extra dimensional phenomena that had started to emerge. A few weeks into our travels we came across Sosem. He appeared to be a friend at first, even travelling with us for a time. Then he led us to his Driver and the bandits that followed him….”

Morgan took a deep, trembling breath. “Sosem didn’t kill Arthur with his own hands but make no mistake: he’s the reason my Driver’s dead….”

“I’m sorry, that’s awful.”

Morgan could only nod in agreement. “For the record, the only reason I didn’t tell you before was because I didn’t think it was pertinent to our objective. After all, I only learned who we were looking for when Koremm told me in Indol’s archives.”

Nia winced and scratched behind her ears. “Right, guess it slipped my mind to give you that detail.”

“It’s okay, it’s not like you planned on bringing me along in the first place.”

She was right, but Nia still felt bad: like she’d failed yet again as a leader. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I have to ask: when we do finally catch up with Sosem, can I count on you to keep your head?”

“Don’t worry, I decided a long time ago that revenge won’t bring Arthur back.” Morgan’s orange eyes then lit up behind her horn-rimmed glasses. “Can’t promise I won’t break his legs though!”

The four days to Tantal passed all too slowly as far as Nia was concerned, and the sight of Tantal’s monolithic shelled Titan on the horizon late on the fourth day was a welcome one. It wasn’t long after that the Sunset Beryl made berth at Genbu Port. From the Beryl’s bow, Nia looked out at the ancient stone architecture of the harbour, already struck by how much the Kingdom of Tantal had changed since she last visited one year ago.

For starters, the once barren Genbu Port was now positively teeming with activity. Titan ships of all different makes were docked, with crews of workers loading and unloading goods of every kind. Evidently, business was booming now that Tantal’s isolationist policy was rescinded and new trade deals between the other nations had been formed. Then there was the temperature. Nia vividly remembered the biting cold hitting her the moment she and her companions had first stepped off their ship one year ago. Now, the weather was… well, not exactly warm (it was still early Spring, after all), but certainly comfortable. A far cry from the year-round cold Tantal had once suffered.

As Nia and her modest retinue of Dromarch and Morgan disembarked, she spotted a group of approaching figures dressed in the familiar white and grey armour of the Tantalese Knights. Nia had sent word via communicator that she would be coming, but she wasn’t expecting a welcome party so soon. A man wearing the dark robes and ornate headdress of a high-ranking attendant stepped forward. Nia thought she might have recognized him from her previous visit but wasn’t sure.

“Crown Princess Nia, such an honour to host you once again,” the attendant said with a bow. She might not have remembered him, but evidently, he remembered her. “If you and your retinue are ready, please come this way. We have prepared a palanquin to take you to Theosoir.”

Nia wasn’t sure what a palanquin was, but she nonetheless indicated she was ready and followed the retainer and his knights to the far side of Genbu Port. There, four more strong-looking men stood by what appeared to be a large ornate box with pole-like handles on the front and back. Nia wasn’t sure what to make of it until one of the men opened the side of it, revealing an admittedly comfortable-looking interior of silk cushions.

She stood and stared apprehensively at the box just long enough for it to be awkward. Even when she was a nobleman’s Blade in Gormott, this kind of transportation was unheard of. Though she wasn’t sure whether that was because House Echell had been struggling financially, or because this particular mode of transportation would have been antiquated even then. Regardless, Nia wasted no further time and climbed into the box, satisfying some feline instinct buried deep inside her. The interior was indeed comfortable, if a little small, which meant that Dromarch and Morgan would have to walk alongside it. Nia couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about that.

So, feeling terribly awkward about the whole thing, Nia sat still as she felt the palanquin lifted and she was carried out of Port Genbu into the now ironically named Litharia Snowfield. Certainly, the name had been fitting when Nia and her party had first travelled here a year ago. Now, the snow and ice had given way to mud and rock, with bits of green coming through even this early into Spring. Indeed, looking out one of the small ports in her palanquin that served as windows, Nia could see a well-used road under their feet that before would have been buried in snow.

Over the course of the few hours of their trek across the Tantal countryside, Nia’s litter passed by a number of other travellers making their way along the road, many riding Ories-drawn carts filled with goods. On the Titan’s lower level far below the cliffs they travelled along, Nia could see what once were fields of dead useless crops now blooming under the careful ministrations of their farmers. She could hardly recognize Tantal from the frozen, starving kingdom it had been when last she visited.

When her litter finally arrived at the capital city of Theosoir, Nia was hardly surprised to see that all the shops that had once been boarded up and abandoned were now serving customers a dozen at a time. She never thought she’d see the old city looking so lively.

In short order Nia’s litter arrived before the gates to Theoscardia Palace, where she disembarked from her palanquin, joints cracking in protest of the long journey. She, Dromarch and Morgan were then led into the palace proper. As they entered the Royal Audience Hall, Nia warily glanced at the ether nullifiers embedded in the pillars and the arc throwers on the ceiling. Indeed, for as much as the Kingdom of Tantal had changed over the past year, the audience chamber was more or less exactly as Nia remembered it. Though, she thought she spotted more altars displaying artefacts from Morytha behind the throne. Even a king has hobbies, she supposed.

Nia then spotted the man himself, King Eulogimenos Tantal, seated on his throne at the far end of the chamber. With his regal robes and bronze regalia, his grim face framed by a golden brown beard, he was speaking quietly to another of his attendants whom he dismissed when he saw Nia enter. The attendant who had escorted Nia here bowed and spoke up.

“Your Majesty, may I present Crown Princess Nia of House Echell, Scion of Hannes Envia, Companion of the Aegis, Saviour of Alrest and Heir Apparent to the throne of Uraya.”

Nia kept her eyebrows from rising. She hadn’t realised just how many titles she had collected.

“Thank you, Fortis,” Eulogimenos intoned, his gaze firmly fixed on Nia who, remembering her royal etiquette, dropped to one knee and dipped her head (but not too low, Raqura had always reminded her. She was no longer a mere mercenary, after all). Dromarch and Morgan followed suit.

“It is a great honour to host you in our great halls once more, Crown Princess,” the king said after motioning for her to stand. “I hope you had a comfortable journey here. I’ve had rooms prepared for you and your retinue. Please inform me if they are not to your satisfaction.”

Where was this welcome a year ago? Nia thought. Then again, she hadn’t been a crown princess a year ago. To say nothing of the… complicated nature of the relationship Tantal had with Pyra and Mythra.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Your hospitality is warm as ever.” Nia kept her words polite but was unable to keep the bitter edge from them. Considering the king’s “hospitality” the last time she and her friends were here, she figured her feelings were only reasonable. Sure, Eulogimenos had his reasons for doing what he did, and ultimately had done right by them in the end, but Nia couldn’t help the way she felt.

“I know you’re here to see my son, but I regret to inform you that he is preoccupied at present,” Eulogimenos said as he rose from his throne and walked to meet Nia in the centre of the chamber. “I, however, have a momentary gap in my schedule. Thus, I thought it prudent to get a start on the renegotiation of the trade agreement between our two countries.”

Nia tried not to sputter in shock. She was only vaguely aware that the trade agreement between Uraya and Tantal would be up for renegotiation in about two months’ time. Queen Raqura had planned on allowing Nia to take the lead when it happened but had not had time to go over what the current agreement even entailed. Nia was suddenly feeling boxed in, but unlike with the palanquin, there were no silk cushions for comfort.

“I-I think it would be better to wait until the proper time…” Nia started, but Eulogimenos interjected.

“I see no reason why we can’t get ahead of this, at least a little.”

Behind her, Dromarch and Morgan exchanged an uncertain look, but could do nothing to interfere as the king of Tantal began.

“As you well know, my kingdom is just coming out of a centuries long recession, and the gromrice harvest has not yielded crops in the amounts we’d hoped for. Tantal simply cannot continue exporting in the amounts we have done this past year. Thus, I propose a thirty percent reduction in the amounts of staple foods exported to Uraya with the difference to be made up within four years’ time.”

Nia did her best to follow along. She’d glanced at the trade agreements with all of the other nations at least once in the last month, but she couldn’t remember the details of any of them. What was Uraya even exporting to Tantal? She couldn’t very well ask King Eulogimenos, she’d look like a fool!

She then heard the tsk of a familiar voice. “Not trying to finesse a better trade deal by ambushing the crown princess, are you, Dad? You cheeky old man!”

Nia was unable to hide the grin on her face as she turned to see the familiar mug of Zeke Von Genbu as he emerged from a side corridor. The silver-haired prince of Tantal was wearing dark dress robes complete with a cravat; a look much more fitting of his station than the coat and bare chest he sported during their journey together (although, he persisted in wearing that dumb eyepatch). He was, as always, accompanied by Pandoria, the spectacled, green-haired Blade still dressed in the same purple striped waistcoat she always wore. The pair were also accompanied by a small contingent of men and women not dressed like Tantalese.

Eulogimenos hid his frown behind a hand as he stroked his golden-brown beard. “Ah, Zeke. Your aid talks with Leftheria went quicker than anticipated.”

The men and women with Zeke—delegates from Leftheria, Nia assumed—gave hasty but respectful bows before taking their leave while Zeke turned his patented devil-may-care grin on his father.

“I decided to move the meeting up a bit, something the delegation from Leftheria were happy to accommodate. Good thing I did too, seeing as the crown princess here arrived well earlier than you told me she would.”

Seeing the suspicious squinting of Zeke’s eyes, Nia suddenly realised that perhaps Eulogimenos had planned this little “impromptu” trade negotiation from the start. That he had deliberately arranged for Zeke to be busy when she arrived so that he could take advantage of her inexperience to get a better deal for Tantal. Nia knew there was a good reason she still didn’t like him.

“But now that she’s here and I have a momentary gap in my schedule, I thought it’d be a good chance for us to get caught up,” Zeke said, turning his cycloptic gaze on Nia. “What do you say, Crown Princess? Shall we adjourn?”

“What a wonderful idea, Crown Prince,” Nia said with all the saccharine sweetness of a Brog. She turned to King Eulogimenos and said, “So sorry, Your Majesty. It looks like we’ll have to table this for now. I should have time to circle back in about two months.”

“Of course. By your leave then, Crown Princess,” the king said as he watched her go.

Nia followed Zeke and Pandoria out of the audience chamber, Dromarch and Morgan trailing behind her. She waited until they were around a corner before speaking up.

“Cheers for the save, Shellhead,” Nia said as they walked. Once again taking notice of his comparatively eloquent attire, Nia added with a grin, “I see you finally decided to put on a shirt. Whose birthday is it?”

Zeke returned her grin immediately. “Maybe I finally got sick of your objectifying gaze, Furry Ears!”

“Pfft, only in your dreams, pal.”

“More like nightmares.”

Nia snort-laughed. For all the ways Tantal had changed, Zeke was still exactly the same. Nia looked over at his Blade partner.

“And how are you doing, Pandoria?” she asked. “Still hanging around with this spanner?”

“You know it!”

“Oh, hang on.” Zeke reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar tiny green turtle, holding it so close to Nia’s face that she had to go cross-eyed to see it. “Look how big Turters got!”

“They grow up so fast…” Pandoria cooed.

The turtle honestly looked exactly the same as far as Nia was concerned. “Yes. Adorable,” she deadpanned.

A few paces behind them, Morgan and Dromarch looked on. The former’s face looked utterly scandalised, while the latter looked somewhere between amused and bemused.

“He’s not at all how I would have imagined the crown prince of Tantal,” Morgan whispered.

“You get used to him,” Dromarch whispered back.

Soon the group reached the palace residences, where Nia and her companions began to get settled. The rooms were sparsely decorated with a few potted plants in the corners and a bowl of fruit on the centre table, but at least the beds looked comfortable. Either way, it was a big improvement over the featureless ether dampening room she and her friends had been imprisoned in during their first visit.

Taking a few walnut grapes from the bowl of fruit, Nia stepped outside onto the balcony where she could look down at the bustling marketplace of Theosoir below. Zeke was quick to join her.

“So, heir to Uraya, eh?” he said. “I have to admit, when I first heard the news, I just about bloody died.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Nia said with a grin. “Wish I could’ve seen the look on your mug then!”

“Purple!” Pandoria exclaimed, suddenly appearing next to them.

“What?”

“The look on my prince’s face,” Pandoria explained. “It was purple. Y’know, on account of the food he was choking on!”

Nia raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so when you say you nearly died….”

Pandoria nodded. “If I hadn’t administered first aid, he would’ve been a goner!”

“Since when did punching a man in the stomach constitute first aid?” Zeke asked.

“It worked, didn’t it? You’re welcome!”

Nia laughed around the grape in her mouth, hoping she wouldn’t choke herself. “I missed you guys.”

“Perversely, I missed you too, Furry Ears,” Zeke said, reaching over to ruffle her hair.

Nia tsked and swatted his hand away. “And how about you, Shellhead? Rex tells me you’ve actually been proper responsible with your princely duties.”

Zeke gave a noncommittal shrug. “I suppose I have.”

“What changed?”

Nia noticed the briefest of glances between Zeke and Pandoria before he answered, “Just figured it was about time, is all.” He then adopted a more serious expression. “Anyway, I don’t imagine you came all this way just to catch up.”

Nia noted how eagerly he seemed to change the subject but chose not to pursue it. After all, Zeke was right: this was no social visit. “I take it you’ve heard about the strange rift over Uraya’s territory on the frontier?” she asked. Both Zeke and Pandoria nodded. “I’m tracking down a fugitive who may have vital information about it. A Blade named Sosem and, potentially, his Driver: a former Indoline priest named Amram. The way I understand it, the two of you had a run in with them way before we met.”

Zeke and Pandoria exchanged a look. “Amram… wasn’t he one of the guys who…?” Pandoria asked.

“Yeah,” Zeke replied.

“Then I guess Sosem was that Blade with the real heavy ack-sent," Pandoria said, exaggerating Sosem’s drawl.

Zeke nodded before returning his attention to Nia. “I’m sorry to say, I don’t know how much help we’re going to be. Unfortunately, their trail went cold after they nearly killed me.”

Nia was afraid this might be the case, but there was only one way to know for sure. “Just tell us everything you can. From the beginning.”

“Well, I suppose we first found out about their Blade trafficking operation while travelling through Torigoth. Saw all the Core Crystals lined up in a shady black market warehouse,” Zeke’s mouth curled as if he’d just tasted something foul. “Each one was paired with a photo of the Blade inside: all passing for human, and nearly all of them female. Combined with the exorbitant prices being charged for them, I had a hunch the intended clientele wasn’t using them just for fighting, if you catch my meaning.”

Nia did catch his meaning. She’d found out all about how the Blade trafficking industry worked during her time in Torna. For reasons that to this day eluded her, Jin had been collecting Core Crystals, and such traffickers were useful to that end. It had been one of the few times she had been thankful for becoming a Flesh Eater. If she could no longer return to her Core, there was no chance she’d end up as a “companion Blade” to some wealthy criminal or corrupt politician.

“We tracked the supplier to Rashuan, a Titan barely large enough for a couple of small hamlets,” Zeke continued. “By the time we got there, Amram’s hideout had already moved elsewhere.”

“Probably because the Titan was just about dead,” Pandoria added. “The prince and I had to really book it before the whole thing sank into the Cloud Sea!”

“Right, and was it after that you ran into them in Spessia?” Nia asked.

“Not right away,” Zeke explained. “We lost their trail for a while after that, but then one day we started hearing rumours of more black-market Core Crystals popping up on a number of Titans, including Spessia. We planned for it to be the first of a few stops to scope out their operation.”

“Unfortunately, Amram and his Blade with the white hat got the jump on us shortly after we arrived,” Pandoria said.

“Caught on to what you were up to, eh?” Nia asked.

 “I don’t think so,” Zeke said. “In fact, I don’t think they even knew who we were. It’s likely they saw Pandy as another potential Core Crystal to sell and mistook us for an easy mark.”

That was something Nia had no trouble believing. After all, she and the others had all thought Zeke and Pandoria were a joke when they first met. “Don’t tell me you were doing your whole ‘Bringer of Chaos,’ ‘Eye of Shining Justice’ bollocks with all the posing?”

“That’s none of your damn business, and I’ll thank you to stay out of our personal affairs!” Zeke exclaimed, striking a pose that involved pointing dramatically at her in perfect synchronisation with Pandoria. Question answered, then.

“Alright, so they ambushed you,” Nia said, trying to stay on track. “Then what? You fought them off?”

“Well… not exactly,” Pandoria said.

Zeke elaborated, “That Sosem bloke hit me with a cheap shot before we even saw them. For most of the fight they had us on the backfoot.”

“We only escaped because the prince tried to hit ‘em with ol’ reliable and missed.”

“Ol’ reliable?” Nia asked.

“Ultimate Lightning Fury Slash.”

“Ah.”

“Accidentally hit a natural dam instead and ended up getting washed away by the river,” Zeke explained.

If Nia didn’t know Zeke as well as she did, she wouldn’t have believed one man could be so consistently unlucky. Then again, that very same misfortune may very well have saved his life in this particular instance.

“Pandy managed to pull me out of the river and tried to get us back to civilisation, but my wounds were bad. We didn’t make it far before collapsing.”

“Right, and that was when Amalthus found you, yeah?” Nia asked.

Zeke nodded. “From there, you already know the rest,” he said, unconsciously touching his chest where half of Pandoria’s Core Crystal was embedded.

“And did Amalthus tell you anything about what happened to Amram and Sosem?”

“No, he acted like he didn’t even know about them. Seems like he wanted the whole thing kept under wraps,” Zeke explained. “But I did manage to get a cheeky look at the Praetorium’s official reports of the counter-trafficking operation. In short, Amram and Sosem got away, likely because they were out dealing with me and Pandy when the Praetor’s forces raided their hideout. They had no leads on where Amram and Sosem had gone, but Indol was still satisfied with the outcome. I guess as long as the operation was dismantled and there was nothing to link the traffickers to the Praetorium, Amalthus didn’t care if one rogue priest and his Blade were in the wind.”

“I see….” Nia was unable to hide the disappointment from her voice. Had she really come all this way for nothing? What would she do now?

“I’m sorry we couldn’t be of any more help, Nia. Really, I am. It never sat right with me that those two never paid for all the lives their ‘business’ destroyed,” Zeke said, forcing a smile to cut through the maudlin atmosphere. “You should join us for dinner. I’ll make sure dear old dad behaves himself.”

Nia gave him a smile that she wasn’t feeling. “Sure. That would be nice.”

After making herself presentable for dinner, Nia stepped out of her chambers to find Dromarch waiting for her. You’re not my Da! Her own words from their last real conversation sprung forth in her mind. I should apologise to him, she thought.

“My lady, may we speak for a moment?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said, her guilt quickly giving way to annoyance as she realised Dromarch was about to nag her some more.

“I must inquire about your plan moving forward,” he said.

“I intend to share a meal with Zeke and the king of Tantal.”

“You know what I mean. Your theory about Sosem is sound, but it’s starting to look more and more like a wild Flamii chase.”

“What are you suggesting? Go on, spit it out.”

With saint-like patience, Dromarch said, “It might be time for us to cut our losses.”

Nia sighed. “And do what, Dromarch? Go crawling back to Corbett Paronet?”

“If his terms, whatever they may be, are not to our benefit, then you are under no obligation to accept them. However, you can’t keep running away forever.”

“I’m not running away, I’m just…” Nia trailed off, her words sounding hollow even to her.

“I told you two days ago that the Vandham’s Legacy arrived at Fort Crocius,” Dromarch stated. “For two days they’ve been standing by without orders.”

“I know….”

“The longer we dally here, the worse it makes you look in the eyes of the kingdom.”

“I know !”

Dromarch’s stern face softened as he said, “I know I am not your father, my lady, but I nonetheless care a great deal about you. I apologise if I’ve been overbearing of late, but I’m only trying to look out for you. It is my wish to see you succeed.”

“I appreciate it, but I can look after myself,” Nia said, starting down the hallway on her way to the palace’s dining hall.

“I implore you, my lady, let me help you.” Dromarch then asked, “What is it you’re really running away from?”

Nia paused. It wasn’t just Corbett’s offer itself that was bothering her, she suddenly realised. It was something else. Something bigger. And somehow, Dromarch had identified it before she had, even if—like her—he remained ignorant of the exact shape of it.

“I don’t want to be late for this dinner,” was all Nia said in response. “You coming or not?”

Dromarch sighed, “At once, my lady.”

Still didn’t get around to that apology, some criticising voice in Nia said. She tried to ignore it. Yep, just keep running away, Nia. It’s what you’re best at.

Dinner with Tantal’s royal family turned out to be a rather awkward affair as they all dined on Armu sirloin. Armus were not native to Tantal, and Nia half-wondered whether the food they were eating was all imported from Uraya. Was the king making some kind of statement with the choice of dining? Perhaps Nia had simply spent too much time around Uraya’s nobility, and now she couldn’t help but see political mind games wherever she looked.

To his credit, though, King Eulogimenos was polite where Nia was concerned and never once openly broached the topic of trade renegotiation. Instead, he took an interest in how things fared with her in Uraya. Nia spoke honestly about the political climate there and her own struggles adjusting to her role as heir, and Eulogimenos listened attentively.

“I must admit, I am thoroughly impressed by you, Crown Princess,” Eulogimenos said between bites. “For one who does not come from royal upbringing to take so well to the role of heir, especially for a country not of your birth, is something to be admired.”

Nia could have corrected him insofar that she had noble upbringing in Gormott, but ultimately decided to take the offered compliment. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Eulogimenos then gave an askew glance to his son. “We could all learn something from such willingness to answer duty’s call.”

At that, Zeke rolled his eye and took another bite of his sirloin, perhaps to avoid giving the obvious jab a response.

It wasn’t the first time Nia had noticed tension between Zeke and his father during this trip. As far as she knew, things have always been rocky between the father and son, but it seemed there was something more at play here. Nia couldn’t imagine what, but she could think of a way to find out. Besides, she wasn’t about to let a concealed dig at her friend go unanswered.

So, wielding her Royal Self as surely as her scimitar, Nia smiled politely at the king and said, “Likewise, Your Majesty, I am impressed with just how much everything in Tantal has changed since I last visited. Even the crown prince himself seems like a whole new man.” Nia allowed herself a nostalgic smile as she went on. “I still remember how he was when we first met: just a lowly vagabond following his whims. Seeing him, you wouldn’t have known he was a prince back then; I sure didn’t!”

“Cheers,” Zeke drolled.

“Now, he’s so responsible I hardly recognize him.” Nia gave Euloginemos a cutting look as she finished with, “Surely, you must be very proud.”

“Make no mistake, I am proud of how much my son has grown since travelling with you and the Aegis,” Euloginemos said.

That frown could have fooled me, Nia thought.

“However,” the king continued, “in many ways, he’s as stubborn as he’s ever been. He still holds on to certain… childish notions.”

“How do you mean?” Nia asked.

“Father, please… is now really the time to discuss this?” Zeke pleaded. Nia noted his face was starting to turn red.

Euloginemos would not be swayed, and Nia suddenly noted his wine cup had been emptied. How long ago had that happened?

“Did my son ever tell you the reason why he first ran away? The real reason?”

Nia looked at Zeke, who seemed ready to empty his own cup. “You said you weren’t happy about Tantal’s isolationist policy. That you wanted to see the rest of Alrest, right?” she said.

“Yes, well… I'm afraid that was only half of it,” Zeke said, taking a big swig from his cup. “The truth is… I was also betrothed.”

Nia lost her grip on her fork, and it loudly clattered onto her plate. She paid it no mind, staring across the table at the increasingly mortified Zeke. “You what?”

“I had made arrangements for Zeke to wed a daughter of one of Tantal’s noble houses when he came of age,” Euloginemos explained. “When Zeke learned of it, he argued the matter with me, and when I would not be swayed, he snuck out with Pandoria and left.”

“She’s my cousin, dad! I couldn’t marry her!”

“Twice removed,” Eulogimenos corrected. “You know as well as I there isn’t a noble in all of Tantal who doesn’t share an ancestor with the royal family. That’s one of the many consequences of five centuries of isolationism.”

“That doesn’t make me like it any better.”

“And now that you’re back and we are no longer isolating ourselves, you can have your pick of nobility from any of the other nations.” Eulogimenos then looked at Nia. “Or, for that matter, royalty.”

Is he implying what I think he’s implying? Nia exchanged a look with Zeke. Tried to imagine herself standing across from him at an altar. She audibly retched.

“Sorry,” she said as she tried to wash the taste of bile down with wine. “Food didn’t go down right.”

For his part, Zeke looked equal parts horrified and offended, but didn’t comment.

“The fact remains, you can’t keep running away from your duty forever. As my heir you must have heirs of your own, and soon. It won’t be long before you’re king.” Suddenly, it was not Euloginemos speaking, but Corbett Paronet. At least, in Nia’s mind. “You wouldn’t want Tantal to suffer a succession crisis like the one Uraya had before Crown Princess Nia here stepped up, would you?”

“Of course, father. I plan to marry someday….”

“Marry whom? A girl of noble blood? Or your little dalliance ?”

Zeke’s chair loudly scraped across the floor as the crown prince abruptly stood. For a moment, father and son stared each other down, each challenging the other to speak further. Pandoria, seated next to Zeke, was quiet, suddenly looking like she wished to be elsewhere.

“Excuse me, father. It would appear that I have lost my appetite.” With that, Zeke turned and headed for the dining hall’s door, looking to Pandoria to follow. Seeing this, she quickly stood to do so (but not before shovelling what food she could into her mouth).

Before Zeke could reach the door, Euloginemos closed his eyes and took a long breath through his nose. “I apologise, my son. I spoke out of turn,” he said. “Please, won’t you rejoin us?”

For a moment, Nia wasn’t sure whether Zeke would. Whatever the king’s words meant, they had filled him with a fury Nia had scarcely seen in him through all of their travels together. But just when it seemed Zeke would tell his father off and disappear through the door, he looked at Nia and his face softened. Without a word, the crown prince returned to his seat at the table by his father’s side.

The rest of the dinner passed in uncomfortable silence. When King Euloginemos announced his intention to retire for the evening, it was none too soon.

“I’m mighty sorry about all that, everyone,” Zeke said as he and Nia left the dining hall with their respective Blades trailing behind them. Nia felt bad about Dromarch and Morgan getting front row seats to whatever drama had just unfolded, but at least they weren’t at the center of it.

“It’s alright, you don’t need to apologise for that sod,” Nia said. She then could not help but ask, “What did he mean by ‘your dalliance,’ anyway?”

Once again, Zeke exchanged a curious look with Pandoria. After an almost imperceptible nod from the latter, Zeke said, “Right, I told you the real reason Pandy and I ran away from Tantal all those years ago. I suppose it’s only fitting that we tell you the real reason we finally returned.”

Pandoria took a breath. “A few months after all of us parted ways, I started getting really sick most mornings, which I thought was, like, super weird, since Blades aren’t supposed to be able to get sick. Then, a totally crazy thought occurred to me, so I decided to get one of those little tests. Y’know, for buns in the oven.” Pandoria sucked in air through her teeth. “The results were positive.”

“Wait, what? Really? How did this happen?” Nia exclaimed.

“Well, when a mommy and daddy love each other very much….”

“No, I don’t mean that, I mean….” Nia was still struggling to process what she was hearing, let alone formulate her thoughts well enough to explain them. “I thought Blades couldn’t have kids.”

“Yes, and Blades are also supposed to return to their Core when their Driver dies, but here we are,‘oh brave new world,’ ” Zeke said.

It made sense, Nia supposed. If the old life cycle of Blades really was no more, Blades would need a new way to perpetuate their existence. She’d even heard rumours months back of Blades out on the frontier who had managed to procreate, but she hadn’t really put much stock in them before now.

“Honestly, when Pandy first told me, I had no idea what to do. We must have spent days just talking through all of our options,” Zeke explained. “Eventually though, we decided that it would be best for the baby if we returned to Tantal.”

“Huh…” Nia said, still in disbelief. “And, uh… just curious, how long have you two been… well, you know….” Nia performed an admittedly crude hand gesture, forming a circle with her thumb and forefinger and inserting the forefinger of her other hand over and over.

“My lady…” Dromarch sighed.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Zeke said.

But Pandoria answered, “We made it official around the time he almost died and got half my Core.”

Admittedly, by the end of their journey Nia had suspected that the two of them were a little more to each other than just a Driver and Blade. Still….

“That was before any of us even met you,” Nia said. “Must have been hard keeping that secret the whole time were together.”

“Look, it’s not like we were trying to deceive you,” Pandoria explained.

“Mòrag at least was aware of our relationship,” Zeke added.

“Nothing gets by her, eh?” Nia said.

“Well, she would know, I suppose.”

Nia decided not to unpack that last point.

“Still though, it wasn’t exactly something we liked to advertise,” Pandoria said.

Nia only needed to recall tonight’s dinner to know why.

“You know how my father is,” Zeke said. “If it became public knowledge that the Crown Prince of Tantal was in bed with the Royal Family’s Blade, we’d never hear the end of it.”

Nia nodded. That certainly would explain a lot of tonight. “So, he knows, then.”

“We wouldn’t have been able to go through with it without him finding out,” Zeke said. “When we came back, I had a long ugly talk with Father about it. Really told him what’s what. Too bad it turned out to be all for naught anyway.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Nia asked.

“Oh yeah, turns out it was a false positive,” Pandoria said. “Whoops.”

“Say what?”

“I’m not really pregnant.”

Nia’s eye twitched. She felt like she was being tossed around by Rotbart. “WHY THE BLOODY HELL DIDN’T YOU SAY THAT SOONER???”

“Because.”

“BECAUSE WHAT?”

“’s funny.”

There was a long ottoman placed against the side of the corridor, and good thing too: Nia couldn’t remain on her feet after the whirlwind of emotional whiplash.

“Alright, well, tonight’s been fun and all, but I think I need to just curl up in bed with a book,” Morgan said, turning to extract herself from the situation as quickly as she could. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re excused.”

“Goodnight, Your Highnesses.”

Nia then turned her attention to Dromarch. “You as well?”

“I think that would be best, my lady. Goodnight,” he said before heading after Morgan.

With them gone, Zeke took a seat on the ottoman next to Nia. “Hell of a reunion, eh?” he said.

“Never a dull moment with you, Shellhead,” Nia replied.

Pandoria joined them on the ottoman, and then in an unguarded moment, leaned over and rested her head on Zeke’s shoulder. It looked like the two of them had a long day before Nia arrived. Knowing full well how hard it was being heir to a throne, she understood exactly how they felt. Pandoria’s eyes were closed behind her glasses as she breathed softly. Zeke just stared thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“You know, when the two of us learned we weren’t actually pregnant, I wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed,” he said. “Sure, it was bloody terrifying when we were in the thick of it, but… I honestly really liked the idea of being a dad.”

“Honestly, I can’t picture it,” Nia said with a grin. “If it does ever happen for you, be sure not to let them within a hundred peds of any cliffs or boulders.”

“Yes, ha ha.” After a brief moment of comfortable silence, Zeke asked, “So, how about you? See any tykes in your future?”

“To be honest, it’s not something I think about all that much,” Nia said. Though, if she was really being honest, it was more something she’d been actively trying not to think about, especially recently.

“My father is right about one thing: as heirs to a throne, getting married and having kids is something we’ll each have to do eventually.”

“I suppose it would be alright if it was with someone I loved,” Nia said, kind golden eyes appearing briefly in her mind.

“Yep, that’s the trick for us royal types though, eh?” Zeke said. “Marrying for love is one of the few luxuries we can’t always afford.”

It was a bleak thought, but one Nia realised had been with her ever since she agreed to be Raqura’s heir. Like an unwanted shadow.

“Well, it’s been a long day of travel,” Nia said as she stood. “Think I’ll turn in, too.”

As she said good night to Zeke and turned to leave, the prince spoke up. “Hey, is everything alright between you and Dromarch?”

“Sure, why?”

Zeke frowned. “It’s just, ever since arriving, the two of you have been jolly well, uh… what’s the opposite of ‘chummy?’”

Even with one eye behind a patch, it seemed he could still see right through her. “I suppose we did have a bit of a spat or two.”

Solemnly considering this, Zeke said, “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. I guess seeing the two of you like that just made me think of dad and me.”

“Really?”

Zeke nodded. “He can be bloody difficult to get on with on the best of days, but he isn’t a bad bloke. He’s just looking out for me, is all. It’s his wish to see me succeed.”

The echo was all too clear to Nia. So, after once again bidding Zeke goodnight (Pandoria was thoroughly passed out), Nia turned and made her way to the palace residences. She would not go right to bed, however. There was one more stop she had to make first.

Nia knocked on the door to Dromarch’s room, and she didn’t need to wait long before he answered. The white tiger was wearing his ridiculous-looking nightcap, and his fur was matted and tousled.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Nia asked.

“Not at all, my lady,” Dromarch answered, a touch of hoarseness in his voice one might hear from someone who had just been fast asleep. “I was merely dozing.”

Nia knew a polite lie when she heard one but didn’t press it. She wasn’t here to start another argument. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“By all means,” Dromarch said, nudging the door open further with a paw.

Nia stepped into the room, which while nice, was a tad smaller than the suite she herself had been given to stay in. Dromarch led her over to the hearth, where a few embers were still dimly glowing (but by the looks of them, not for much longer).

“Dromarch, I… I wanted to apologise,” Nia said after taking a seat in one of the velvet chairs by the hearth. “I’ve been a right arse to you these past few days, and you don’t deserve that. I know you’re only trying to help.”

“I’ll admit, these last few days with you have been hard.”

“I know, I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult.”

A hint of warmth entered Dromarch’s tired eyes. “I appreciate the apology, my lady, but it’s already forgiven. No, what’s made recent days so difficult for me has been seeing how clearly distressed you’ve been and not being able to do anything about it.”

“Well, you know me. Always liked keeping things close to the chest.”

“If I may say, my lady, I don’t think doing so is always in your best interest. If I’m being honest… I’ve always wished that you were more willing to unburden yourself with me.”

Nia was suddenly hit with memories of her father. Hadn’t she told him something similar once? “Gotta hand it to Shellhead, he never fails to just put it all out there.” And here I am…. 

“You wanted to know what Lord Corbett offered me, in exchange for taking over the Fog Rift operation?” she asked. Dromarch said nothing, only sitting with rapt attention as Nia explained, “He wants me to marry his son.”

“Ah.”

“Technically, his exact terms were ‘an introduction once things settle down,’ but make no mistake, a betrothal is what he’s after.”

Dromarch just nodded, and Nia sighed as she continued. “Thing is, I don’t even think that’s what’s really been bothering me.”

“Oh?”

Hesitating a moment to get her thoughts in order, Nia elaborated, “It took until tonight for me to finally realise, even if I don’t marry Lord Corbett’s son… I’ll have to marry someone —probably nobility—one of these days. When I do, love probably won’t factor into it.”

“I see.”

A lump formed in Nia’s throat as she said, “It seems silly, I suppose. Part of me knew political marriage would be in the cards ever since I agreed to be Raqura’s heir, but….”

“Lord Corbett’s proposal made it finally seem real.” Dromarch said, succinctly finishing the thought Nia was struggling to express.

Nodding, Nia wiped the tears from her eyes before they had a chance to properly form. Dromarch stood and moved closer to Nia, sitting on his haunches beside her chair. Sniffling, Nia ran a hand through his soft white fur, idly straightening out the places where it was matted.

Even though she’d made her apology, Nia still felt a twinge of guilt over one thing in particular she’d said to Dromarch back in Indol’s annals. So, after a minute or two of silence, she asked, “Hey Dromarch, did I ever tell you what Da was like?”

Dromarch considered the question for a moment. “Not in any detail. I do often wish I could remember my time with him.”

“Well, the truth is my relationship with him was… complicated. Don’t get me wrong, I loved him. And he loved me, even before he asked me to start calling him ‘Father.’ But… I think most of him died with my sister. Occasionally, I’d see glimpses of the man he’d been when Mio was alive, but he spent most of those days in a bottle... as if he was the only one who missed her.”

Nia hesitated so she could swallow. Her voice was trembling, breaking. But she had to finish. “He was so busy running away from his grief that he wasn’t always able to be there for me. Be there for us. But you… you’ve always been here when I needed you. Always.”

Dromarch turned to look at her, his blue eyes glossing over. “I said that you’re not my Da, and I stand by that,” Nia said. “You’re better.” Nia put her arms around him and pulled him close, burying her face in his fur. “I wouldn’t be here without you, and I never mean to take that for granted again.”

With the barest of tremors in his voice, Dromarch said, “My lady, I… I have no words… that means a lot.”

Nia wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. Only that when morning came, she was on the floor with Dromarch as her pillow.

After making her preparations to leave, Nia alongside Dromarch and Morgan sought out King Euloginemos in his audience chamber. He was not seated on his throne, but rather was standing before one of the altars just behind it, gazing in contemplation at whatever artefact recovered from Morytha had been placed there. Despite having been there multiple times now, Nia couldn’t discern what it was. There was writing on the side in the inscrutable text of the ancient civilization, though it was only later that Morgan had given her a translation: US MARINES. In other words, more gibberish.

“Morning, Your Highness. Interesting thing, that,” Nia said as she approached the king. “You really fancy this old stuff, eh?”

“I’ll admit, their mystery holds a certain allure,” Euloginemos said as he turned away from the artefact. “But above all, they serve as an important reminder: that for all of our fretting about leaving a lasting legacy, when enough time passes, all that’s left of us will be naught but a meaningless curiosity to those who follow.”

“That actually sounds rather comforting.”

“If nothing else, it should remind one to consider what’s really important.” Euloginemos regarded her with an unreadable expression. “I take it you are leaving us already, then?”

With a nod, Nia said, “I wanted to properly thank you for your hospitality. I’m sorry my visit was so short.”

“Don’t be. From the sound of things, you have much on your plate.”

Isn’t that the truth? Nia still wasn’t sure what she would do now that she was giving up the search for Sosem, but she didn’t quite feel so bothered by it now. She had Dromarch by her side. They’d figure something out.

“I’ll have my men prepare a palanquin to take you back to Genbu Port,” Euloginemos said as he waved over one of his black-robed attendants.

“Oh, that won’t be necessary!” Nia hastily said. “I’d prefer to walk; really take in the air of your beautiful country.”

The king gave her another unreadable expression, one perhaps laced with far more suspicion than the last one. “Very well.”

“Say, do you know where Zeke is?” Nia asked. “I was hoping he might see us off.”

Stroking his golden-brown beard, Euloginemos said, “I cannot say. He told me he had something he wanted to look into this morning and did not elaborate.”

It was at that well-timed moment that the abrupt sound of doors bursting open drew Nia’s attention back towards the front of the Royal Audience Hall. Zeke sprinted forth out of one of the side passages stopping only long enough to spot Nia standing with King Euloginemos before running over at lightning speed.

“Nia… glad I caught you… before you left…” Zeke gasped, doubling over briefly to catch his breath.

“Good morning to you too, Shellhead. What’s the rush? Your kecks burning up or what?”

Zeke didn’t answer right away, still struggling to catch his breath. At some point, Pandoria came running in through a completely different door, clearly having lost the prince at some point during his mad sprint through the palace.

“This morning, I awoke with an epiphany about that Driver and Blade you’re after,” Zeke said. “You remember I told you I managed to sneak a peek at the Praetorium’s reports about their investigation into Amram’s criminal activities, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“The information in those reports included the locations of all known hideouts of Amram’s operation. Off the top of my head, I don’t remember all of them, but I do remember the location of the one they used before Pandy and I narrowly missed them on Rashuan. It was on another rinky-dink Titan called Escharum.”

“Escharum? Never heard of it, where’s that?” Nia asked.

“Nowhere now, it sank into the Cloud Sea yonks ago. That’s where my epiphany comes in! Something about the locations of each of their hideouts didn’t add up. Escharum and Rashuan were small, isolated Titans. Exactly where you’d expect to find a criminal operation hiding out. But me and Pandy ran into them on Spessia, a proper massive Titan!”

“And a major centre of trade for a while,” Pandoria added. “At least, before it reached the end of its lifespan.”

“Exactly! We looked it up in the palace archive just now, and Pandy managed to put together a rough timeline of when exactly each of those Titans kicked the bucket and get this: all of them died within a few months of each other. First Escharum, then Rashuan, and finally Spessia.”

It suddenly occurred to Nia exactly what Zeke was getting at, but it seemed absolutely mad. “Wait, are you saying that Amram and Sosem have been deliberately hiding out on dying Titans?”

“It’s bloody brilliant if you think about it. Nobody looks too closely at what’s happening on a Titan that’s about to die. Most folk just want to get as far away from them as they can.”

Pandoria nodded. “They probably set up shop right up until the Titan’s final weeks, and then packed up and moved over to the next.”

“Which means that all you have to do to know where they went after they fled Spessia is figure out which Titan was most likely to die next.”

Nia knew the answer immediately. “Spessia’s Titan sank shortly before we set out to find Elysium, so the most likely to sink next would have been Mor Ardain! Zeke, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re a genius!”

Zeke grinned. “The Eye of Shining Justice prevails again!”

“Alright, don’t get a big head about it.”

“May I point out that it’s been a whole year since the Titans of Alrest made landfall,” Dromarch interjected. “It’s highly unlikely that Amram and Sosem remained in Mor Ardain for all that time. More likely they’ve established another hideout somewhere on the new continent.”

“True, but at least now we have another trail to follow."

Morgan then adjusted her glasses and said, “I hate to be Debbie Downer here, but pursuing an official investigation within Mor Ardain’s borders is going to be a lot more difficult than our little impromptu visit to Tantal.”

She was right, Nia knew. Tensions between Uraya and Mor Ardain were still high, even one year on from the last major international incident. 

“We’ll worry about that later. It’ll help that we’ve got friends in the Imperial Family. Plus, the emperor owes me one,” Nia said, sparing a glance at Dromarch. “First, I suppose we ought to get things sorted at Fort Crocius. I’ll contact Lord Corbett on our way there.” Nia swallowed. “Tell him I’m ready to accept his proposal and officially assume command of the operation.”

Nia had a bad feeling about what was to come. She couldn’t explain why, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that things with the Fog Rift were getting worse in her absence. If she only knew just how right she would be.

Chapter Text

As the ominous Fog Rift continued to preside over the frontier region of New South Ogotria, Zane found himself growing more and more agitated. He was a simple Blade with no love for combat. He much preferred it when he and his Driver, a former Ardainian infantryman named Cain, simply ran the general store in Colony Eta.

He’d greet every customer with a smile, before informing them of what they were selling at a discounted price that day (last time it had been alcohol and tobacco). Cain was the brains behind the day-to-day operation of the business, but Zane was very much the face. Even as a Common Blade, this meant he was well-liked amongst the colony and had made many friends.  Now, of course, Colony Eta and the whole surrounding region was overrun with unnatural monsters.

It hadn’t been long after they’d been evacuated to Fort Crocius with the rest of their colony that Cain had volunteered both of them into the ranks of Uraya’s armed forces there. They had accepted the help eagerly enough, ill-equipped as they were to deal with a crisis of this magnitude. At least, before mercenary forces under the command of Lord Corbett Paronet had arrived.

Initially, Zane was fine with helping the military and Paronet’s Bedlam Mercenaries in their attempts to secure the region. Culling the Fogbeasts again and again. But as the weeks dragged on without any meaningful progress, Zane found himself wanting to simply cut their losses and travel to another colony far away to start over. He heard that Colony Epsilon was doing well for itself.

But Cain wouldn’t hear it. “We cannae give up now, the other colony folk are depending on us to do our part!”

Again and again, Cain brushed aside Zane’s wishes, and Zane felt resentment growing inside him. Between the military and mercenaries, there were more than enough men and women fighting to take back the region. Cain and Zane were volunteers, they had no obligation to stay and help! What was more, Cain knew that Zane hated fighting. He’d been there the day Zane had come to realise that.

Zane had no love for combat, but that didn’t mean he had no aptitude for it. Quite the contrary, he was very proficient with his greataxe Blade weapon. No, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Zane didn’t hate fighting itself: he hated the person he became when the rush of battle overtook him.

Once, back when Cain was a Driver in the Ardainian Army, the two of them had been assigned as support for a few Decades of their troops tasked with routing a band of Gormotti rebels. These so-called “Fangs of Melnath” had been causing trouble for the villages around the Gormott Titan’s flanks and needed to be stopped. The battle had been rather one-sided, but Cain and Zane still fought as if the fight would be their last.

Zane himself had cut down a fair few rebels with his greataxe as he and Cain effortlessly passed it back and forth in true Driver and Blade fashion. They were in a particularly good flow that day, the bond of their Affinity high. So, Zane had thought nothing of it when he came across a Gormotti rebel who couldn’t be older than sixteen. Zane had only realised the boy had been surrendering as he brought his greataxe down on his head, splitting it like the grapefruit he had for breakfast that morning. That sight had brought him out of his battle trance quickly and since then he could never bring himself to fight to his fullest potential again.

So now here he was with his Driver fighting alongside Urayan soldiers and mercenaries. Felling monster after monster. Fogbeast after Fogbeast. Cleaving through flesh and bone (like a grapefruit). Resenting his Driver for putting him in this position over and over.

It wasn’t only that he hated fighting. For the past several nights Zane slept uneasily. His dreams were plagued with unsettling imagery. He saw the terrified boy trying to surrender, struck down by his axe over and over. This wasn’t uncommon since that day, but now he was seeing the faces of others in place of the boy. The face of Lord Corbett Paronet, whose cautious, meticulous strategy was dragging this operation out forever. The face of each Urayan soldier who regarded him as an outsider. The face of the mercenaries, who snored and laughed too loud, who drank and picked their noses. The face of his Driver, who made him cut the proverbial grapefruit again and again.

And yet, these images weren’t what scared him about the dreams. In fact, while he was in them, he felt good. It was satisfying. He felt like he did before the grapefruit—er, the boy. Before he hated fighting. No, there was something else in the dreams that truly frightened him. Something following him just beyond his ability to perceive. Beyond the mind’s ability to comprehend. Something dark, angry. Hungry. Getting closer to him with every dream face cleaved by his Blade weapon.

“Oy! Zane!”

Cain’s voice snapped Zane back to reality. He looked around. Where even was he? What had he been doing?

“Wondered where you went,” Cain said. “C’mon. Company’s returning to the fort. We, along with Gunther, are scouting ahead.”

Zane realised he was standing at the edge of a large copse of trees, staring into the fog that covered them. It was dark out. Was it evening or early morning? Come to think of it, what day was it? Zane couldn’t remember, and he found a deep well of anxiety growing in his Core.

Something’s wrong, he thought. His dreams seemed somehow closer to him now. Or was he still in a dream? He was losing it—too many weeks of sleepless nights and constant stress. Except that wasn’t all it was. Something is very wrong.

Zane wasn’t the only Blade who was out of sorts. Yes, he suddenly remembered Marta. She’d complained of trouble sleeping too. Of vivid nightmares. She’d lose track of time. Lose track of days. Others would catch her wandering towards this damnable black fog, as if sleepwalking. It wasn’t just her. There had been others, hadn’t there? Other Blades who had wandered into the fog and disappeared.

“Zane! Quit daydreaming and let’s go!”

Even as Zane recognized how wrong his own thoughts were, the sound of Cain’s voice suddenly sent another wave of irritation through him. Stupid Cain who never listens, who only cares about what he wants is always so eager to please….

Zane shook his head, trying to banish the image of Cain’s face on the Gormotti boy they’d killed all those years ago. This isn’t me thinking this. I love Cain. He’s like a grapefruit in the morning like a brother to me!

Zane suddenly became aware of movement in the trees, just on the periphery of his vision. Something that could only be seen on the periphery of his vision. It was the fog. When he wasn’t looking directly at it, the fog moved unnaturally. Twisting and writhing angrily like something alive. It was dark, and it was hungry, and Zane suddenly knew all at once that the thing in his dream was the fog. Then, as if sensing his realisation, the unnatural fog rushed to him. Around him. Into him. Zane felt like he was being smothered in it. Felt it fill his Core, replacing him with itself, piece by piece. Making him like the Fogbeasts. Zane screamed.

“Zane!? ” Cain shouted. He and the mercenary Gunther turned and ran back towards him.

But Zane was gone. The thing that was once Zane turned to Cain and snarled like a feral monster.

“What the hell ?” Cain whimpered as the thing that was Zane lunged forward.

“Like a grapefruit in the morning!” it bellowed, raising its greataxe.

Standing on the bridge of the Sunset Beryl as evening fell, Nia felt a sourceless anxiety unlike any she’d felt before. They had made great time from Tantal and were on track to arrive at Fort Crocius within the hour—a full day sooner than predicted. After that, Nia wasn’t sure what to expect.

“Everything all right, my lady?” Dromarch asked, looking at her with clear concern.

Was her unease that obvious? “Fine. Just a bad feeling, that’s all.”

“Worried about whatever new proposal Lord Corbett has in mind?”

There was some truth to that, Nia had to admit. The other day, she’d used the onboard crystal communicator to contact Lord Corbett to inform him that she was en route back, and that she was ready to accept his offered deal.

“Ah yes, our deal,” Lord Corbett mused. “Command of the operation in exchange for an introduction to my son, wasn’t it?”

“That sounds right,” Nia said.

She then saw the hint of a grin on Lord Corbett’s face through the glass surface of the communicator. “Sorry to say, but there’s been a new development. The original terms of our agreement are no longer on the table.”

“What? ”

“All due respect, Your Grace, you shouldn’t have stayed away for so long. We can discuss the details of our new arrangement when you return to Fort Crocius.” With that, Lord Corbett disconnected.

For the days that followed, Nia fretted over what new deal Lord Corbett had in mind. Would he outright make a political marriage an official term of their deal, rather than letting it be implied? Or was there more yet that he wanted? Would the benefits of this deal now be outweighed by the cost? Furthermore, what was the “new development” Lord Corbett had mentioned?

All of these questions and more plagued Nia’s mind right up until this moment. Now that they were close to the fort, Nia’s worries about Lord Corbett’s deal were all but pushed from her mind. The anxiety she felt now was broader, like some long-forgotten instinct deep inside her was trying to tell her that something was wrong.

Maybe it’s just the weather, Nia reasoned. Indeed, the view beyond the command bridge was nothing but clouds and darkness, rain drenching everything. Nia could hardly even make out the orange glow of the alien rift that normally dominated the sky here. That was certainly enough to set anyone on edge. Looking at Dromarch and even Morgan, Nia could tell they felt the same. But none of them said a word as the ship’s comms officer began transmitting to their destination via the short-range radio.

“Fort Crocius harbour control, this is UNS Sunset Beryl requesting permission to land, over.”

Everyone on the command bridge waited a moment for the response. Then another. Then another.

“I repeat my last: this is UNS Sunset Beryl to Crocius harbour control. Request confirmation of receipt of last message, over.”

Again, they waited for a response, and again they heard none. As the comms officer continued in his efforts to hail the fort, Nia saw the captain, an older Urayan man, approach one of the ensigns.

“What’s the distance to Crocius? Do we have visual yet?” the captain asked.

“Negative, sir. Can’t see a thing through this soup.”

“Lower altitude. Let me know the moment we have a visual on the fort.” The captain then turned to the radioman. “Any luck?”

“No, sir. It’s possible their comms are down due to the weather.”

“Try the emergency backup line, then!”

Nia looked out one of the starboard viewports as the airship descended below the clouds. Visibility still wasn’t great, but they could at least see the ground now. A sea of fog stretched over the land below, covering it like a blanket.

For several minutes, the Sunset Beryl flew at a reduced altitude, its crew scanning the horizon ahead for any sign of Fort Crocius. Idly glancing out the very same starboard viewport, Nia spotted a dark shape far in the distance rising out of the fog. At first, she dismissed it as a large rock formation or grouping of tall trees, but then noticed that its profile matched the airship hull that made up Fort Crocius’ central command structure.

“Isn’t that the fort there?” Nia asked, pointing it out.

The captain moved over to her and looked to where she was pointing, studying the distant dark shape for a moment. “That’s it, alright. Bloody hell, how’d we get so far off course? Ensign, bring her around. Full to starboard.”

Nia felt the airship shift under her feet as the Sunset Beryl adjusted its course. As the distant shape of Fort Crocius grew closer, so too did the feeling that something wasn’t right. Was it just her, or was the fort unusually dark?

“Shouldn’t we be able to see the landing strip lights from here? Even in this weather?” One of the ensigns asked another. It wasn’t just her then.

“Protocol during restricted visibility typically calls for additional lights plus phased audio responses,” a lieutenant added.  “The fact that we’re not getting that – something is very wrong.”

“Sunset Beryl to Crocius harbour control,” the comms officer tried again, an undercurrent of unease starting to register in his voice. “Request receipt of comms confirmation over signal lamp.”

The Sunset Beryl was flashing its own signal lamps now, but Fort Crocius remained dark and silent.

When they were close enough to begin circling the fort, the captain approached Nia. “I don’t like the look of this, Crown Princess. At this point we must assume the facility is compromised,” he said. “Standard procedure now is to circle from a safe distance, see what we can ascertain. Problem is, it’s going to be near impossible to tell what’s going on down there with such low visibility. We have the fuel for one, maybe two circuits before we start eating into the reserves. At that point, we’d need to set an immediate course for Port Uramu if we hope to reach safe harbour before we run dry. It’s your call.”

After giving it some thought, Nia asked, “Is there somewhere we can set down outside the fort?”

“There’s a large enough clearing about twenty Titanpeds to the west. There’s a path to the fort from there through the woods,” the captain answered, though his frown indicated he wasn’t a fan of this course. “All due respect, Your Grace, there are too many unknown factors and not enough combat-ready personnel on board for a ground reconnaissance operation. At least, not without great risk.”

“I can accept the risk,” Nia said. “Dromarch and I can go in ourselves to scope things out. It’ll be faster.”

“Me as well!” Morgan exclaimed, adjusting her glasses. “I need to make sure nothing’s happened to my research.”

“You may be able to accept the risk, Your Grace, but I cannot,” the captain said. “If anything were to happen to you, it’s on my head.”

Nia frowned. She could certainly understand the captain’s apprehension. Allowing an ill fate to befall Raqura’s heir certainly wouldn’t look good on his record, but she couldn’t simply retreat and wait around for more information. There were civilians in Fort Crocius. Children. If there was danger, then time was of the essence.

“Noted, Captain. Set her down,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Set her down, aye, Your Grace,” the captain acknowledged with a displeased frown.

Huffing, Nia ducked under a fallen tree, pushing more branches out of the way. The Sunset Beryl’s captain had perhaps oversold it by referring to this route to the fort as a path. The brush was thick, and between the rain, fog and darkness of night, visibility was bad, even equipped with ether lamps as they were. Dromarch quickly but carefully led the way, Nia holding onto his tail so as not to lose him in the fog. Bringing up the rear was Morgan, keeping a hand on Nia’s shoulder for the same reason. The rain and cold night air sent deep chills through Nia’s whole body; she didn’t like any of this one bit.

It wasn’t just the gnarled, twisted tree branches that seemed to be grasping for her from beyond the fog. The night was filled with unsettling and unnatural noises. Distant, inhuman cries that didn’t sound like the normal fauna of this region echoed through the fog. Nia thought of the very first Fogbeast that had appeared in Colony Iota. Was that what they were hearing?

“Have no fear, my lady. It’s just the local wildlife,” Dromarch said quietly, seeming—as always—to sense her disquiet.

“Sounds like something’s got them spooked,” Nia replied at barely a whisper.

Either way, the noises were far enough in the distance to not be an immediate problem… yet. With her keen ears, Nia would keep listening to make sure they weren’t getting closer.

As they drew nearer to Fort Crocius, Nia started hearing other noises: what sounded like twigs breaking somewhere on the forest floor nearby. Something was out there, and Nia was in no hurry to find out what. Probably just an animal or ordinary monster. A Fogbeast would be louder, more aggressive. At least, that’s what Nia chose to believe.

Then, only once, Nia thought she heard a voice from the fog beneath the sound of rain. It was so distant and faint, barely at the edge of Nia’s exceptional hearing. She stopped in place, the others following suit. She waited and listened, her feline ears upright and alert. But she heard nothing. No snapping of twigs, and no distant voice. Maybe she’d imagined it?

“Something wrong?” Morgan whispered.

“No,” Nia answered. “Let’s keep going.”

Soon they caught their first sight of Fort Crocius, its central structure rising out of the fog like a breaching Titan in the Cloud Sea. It wasn’t long after that they came upon the first of the fortress walls. There was no one on the battlements, and the gate was wide open. Not a good sign. Nia thought to call out but decided against it. There was no telling what might be around to hear her.

So, with a deep breath and a nervous swallow, Nia took point, entering the threshold of the fortress first. A cursory look around inside showed that the military tents flying the banners of House Paronet and the Bedlam Mercenaries were still standing, but Nia could see no movement within. Cautiously, she moved to the nearest one and parted the flaps of canvas to peer in. Nothing but empty bedrolls.

“Where the bloody hell is everyone?” she asked, trying to keep the tremor in her voice minimal.

“Perhaps we should check the command centre,” Dromarch suggested, keeping his voice low.

Nia wordlessly agreed, and they pressed on towards the centre of the dark, seemingly empty fortress. As they did, they passed a structure that Nia quickly recognized as the storage building that had been converted into the research team’s lab. Morgan spotted it too, and immediately made a beeline for it. Seeing no other recourse, Nia followed.

As with the tents, the makeshift lab was empty, save for the equipment and papers haphazardly strewn everywhere. It didn’t look turned over, Nia reasoned. The place had been messy even when she’d first visited.

“Looks like everything’s still here,” Morgan said, going through the pile of notes and diagrams on one of the tables. “That’s something, at least.”

Nia didn’t like it. “Your team must’ve left in a real hurry if they didn’t take any of their research stuff.” She couldn’t think of many reasons for that, and didn’t like the ones she could think of.

Opening her bag, Morgan started grabbing what she could and shoving it in. “You guys go on ahead to the command centre,” she said. “I need to recover what I can here.”

Nia wasn’t sure it was wise to split up, but time wasn’t a luxury they could afford. The Sunset Beryl was waiting with its engines running, in the event Nia and the others needed a quick extraction. She estimated they had less than an hour to search the fort and make their way back before there wouldn’t be enough fuel left to make it to safe port.

So, deciding not to linger, Nia and Dromarch continued to the command centre, entering the grounded Titan airship through the hull’s ajar main hatch. Nia’s heart sank when she saw a Urayan soldier slumped in the corner. She went to him, checking for any signs of life.

“Is he…?” Dromarch asked, and Nia’s answer was to sigh and shake her head.

What bothered Nia were his wounds. “This doesn’t look like the work of monsters,” she said. Indeed, the wounds appeared to have come from a bladed weapon of some kind.

Leaving the dead Urayan behind, the pair made their way up towards the command centre where Nia had first spoken to Corbett Paronet. Along the way, they passed by the bodies of more Urayan soldiers. When Nia had last spoken to Lord Corbett, it sounded like he’d had everything under control here, and that was only days ago. So, what happened?

Entering the command room, Nia was greeted by Vice Admiral Whytworth. She was splayed out on the floor, her dead eyes still wide with horror. Nia felt bile rise in her throat but forced it back down. The bodies of other officers and a few soldiers were similarly strewn about, but Nia did not see Corbett Paronet among them.

“There must be a clue somewhere here about what happened,” Dromarch said, already beginning to search the room.

Nia went over to the round map table at the room’s centre, which Lord Corbett had been hunched over the first time she was here. There were more clay figurines on the map now. The number of blue-grey soldier figures looked about the same as far as Nia could remember, but she was quite sure there weren’t nearly as many black Volff figures on this map last time.

Three of those figurines in particular drew Nia’s attention, positioned towards the northern edge of the map. That was Ardainian territory, Nia knew. In fact, one of them was very deliberately placed over the icon for an Ardainian colony labelled Colony Lima. If these black Volff figures represented known Fogbeast movements as Nia suspected, that would mean that Mor Ardain was now also losing territory to the Fog Rift.

All at once, Nia realised that perhaps this was what Lord Corbett had meant when he’d told her about his “new developments”. Was the counter-rift operation becoming a combined effort with Mor Ardain? If that was the case, command of the Urayan side of the operation was now much more politically valuable. Enough so to position Lord Corbett to demand a lot more in exchange for relinquishing it. At least, it would have been if not for… whatever had happened here.

Deciding that nothing more could be gleaned from the map table, Nia went over to Lord Corbett’s desk, where Dromarch stood on his hind legs, studying the documents left on its surface.

“Find anything here?” Nia asked him.

“Nothing of real note,” he answered, brow furrowed. “Paperwork to transfer command of the Bedlam Mercenaries from House Paronet to you. Filled out, but not signed or dated.”

“Figures.” He still had something he wanted out of her, it would seem.

“There’s also a report from the chief medical officer. I suggest you take a look.” Dromarch looked concerned. “I’m not sure what to make of it myself.”

Nia picked up the report.

MEDICAL LOG 16-08-4059

F. DUFRESNE (CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER)

Eight more Blades have been sent back to Crocius from the front line. The diagnoses are piling up faster than I can file them. Nightmares, paranoia, schizophrenia, memory loss and general disorientation. My team have yet to identify an underlying cause. Doesn’t seem to be anything in our field rations or in the environment. Seems to me like this is a case of mass psychosis, though I’ve never seen total psychological breaks in these amounts before, not even during the Gormotti War. Furthermore, the fact that only Blades seem to be affected is highly unusual.

More research needs to be done before we can work out a hypothesis, so in the meantime my team’s focus will simply be to treat the symptoms. To that end, I must formally request more personnel. A number of the affected Blades have since gone MIA, and the ones still in our care have grown unpredictable, some even violent. One of them injured a nurse in an attempt to leave and it took four men to restrain him. The fact is, medical is too understaffed to handle such a large influx of unstable patients.

I’ve thus made the decision to return those with the mildest symptoms back to active duty, provided we keep a close eye on them. This should be a given, but I advise they be assigned duties on base rather than be sent back to the front lines.

Nia skimmed the rest of the report. It left her with more questions than answers, and all of them made her anxious. A sweep of the rest of the command centre did not reveal much more. According to the latest reports from the front line Nia had managed to find, Urayan forces were neither gaining nor losing ground in their battles with the hordes of Fogbeasts. However, there was no indication that Fort Crocius itself had been under direct threat of attack. Whatever happened had taken them totally by surprise.

So, deciding there was nothing more she could find, Nia made to leave. But not before going back to Lord Corbett’s desk and grabbing the unsigned transfer of command documents for the Bedlam Mercenaries.

There was one more thing Nia wanted to see before returning to her ship, even though part of her was afraid of what she might find. With Dromarch right behind her, Nia led the way to the southern section of the fort. The section which had housed the civilian refugees when she was last here. What Nia hoped to find here was nothing.

The tents housing the soldiers had seemed empty when they arrived (there hadn’t been time to check all of them). This, Nia hoped, meant that most of them had been able to escape with their lives. So, Nia began her search of the refugee camp, praying to similarly find only empty tents.

As Nia’s search of the camp yielded just that, she found herself feeling hopeful. Perhaps the civilian refugees had made it out after all. She then spotted a reddish-brown leather ball lying forgotten against the open canvas of one of the tents. She vaguely remembered seeing a pair of children no older than ten kicking it back and forth when she came here looking for Koremm the other week.

Almost without thinking, Nia went to pick it up. It was wet to the touch. The rain from earlier had cleared up, but the ground was still muddy. So, thinking nothing of it, she tossed the ball aside. Then she glanced down at her hands. Her white gloves were stained with a vivid blood-red. Nia let out a horrified gasp as she knew with terrible clarity what that meant.

“Have you found something, my lady?” Dromarch asked.

Nia forced her eyes off her crimson-stained gloves. “I don’t think everyone made it out of here.”

Dromarch’s voice softened as he said, “Perhaps we should get Morgan and return to the ship. I don’t think there’s anything more we can accomplish here.”

Nia glanced at the tent near which she had found the blood-soaked ball. The flaps were open, moving lightly in the breeze. She hadn’t looked inside it yet, but all of a sudden, she no longer wanted to. She had a terrible sinking feeling she knew exactly what she would find waiting for her in it. So, with a silent nod, Nia agreed and began to follow Dromarch back towards the pop-up lab where Morgan was likely still gathering her research.

That is, until she caught movement in the corner of her eye. She turned to look just in time to catch a glimpse of a figure disappearing amongst the canvas. A survivor? Whoever it was, maybe they could finally give her some answers. So, without a second thought, Nia followed the figure into the gathered tents, trying to reacquire a visual. She didn’t bother making sure that Dromarch was still with her.

It didn’t take long before she got another glimpse of the figure before he disappeared behind another tent. It was a he, Nia was reasonably sure now. What was more, he was a Blade and was staggering around as though drunk. Or, perhaps injured.

“Hey!” Nia called out as she moved deeper into the maze of tents and fog after him. “Do you need help? I’m a healer!”

It was only when Nia finally caught up with him that she noted something about him was off. She could hear him muttering to himself, but something about his voice was wrong.

“ …only cares about what he wants is always so eager to please …. ”

It sounded distorted. Obfuscated, like it was coming through a radio with poor signal. Nia then noticed that the Blade himself was similarly obfuscated. A black, fog-like substance covered his whole body, swirling angrily. It was as the Blade turned to face her that Nia saw he looked just like the first Fogbeast she’d faced in Colony Iota.

The Blade peered at her through the black fog covering him with glowing orange eyes and Core matching the unnatural orange glow of the Fog Rift in the distant sky. Wielding a greataxe Blade weapon drenched in blood, the Blade lunged at her in an uneven gait. Nia barely had time to draw her Catalyst Scimitar to block the sudden attack. She hadn’t had time to assume a proper defensive stance. Although she intercepted the blow, the force of it knocked her off her feet.

“Like a grapefruit in the morning!” the fog-taken Blade bellowed as it raised its greataxe to finish her off.

Nia didn’t give it the chance, swinging her scimitar and letting loose with a water-based ether shockwave that knocked the hostile Blade off-balance. The attack bought her the breathing room to get back to her feet, but it didn’t do the damage she expected. Before she knew it, the Blade was on her again, attacking with one furious swing after another, snarling like a wild monster.

“Dromarch! ” she called out, but the white tiger was nowhere to be seen. Had he not been following her? Nia cursed as she parried another blow.

“Never listens, only cares about what he wants, is always so eager to please … ” The mad Blade snarled as it pressed its attack.

Nia dodged and deflected until she spotted an opening and struck, hitting her opponent with an Art that should have incapacitated him. The attack hit home, but the Blade was only momentarily stunned. Was the power from the Fog Rift making him more resilient? Whatever the case may be, Nia readied herself for another attack.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t ready for the attack from the side. It was as she deflected the next greataxe strike that Nia spotted another fog-covered figure in her peripheral and turned just in time to take a direct hit from an ether cannon. The attack wasn’t lethal—it had missed her Core by a wide margin—but it still hurt like a bitch. Nia dropped to one knee, and the feral blade with the greataxe raised it high.

But before it came down on her head, a series of white shapes suddenly appeared between them, stopping the swing of the greataxe. To Nia’s astonishment, her saviours appeared to be little pieces of white paper shaped like origami birds and glowing with ether energy. They formed a wall between her and the hostile Blade.

At the sound of a familiar tiger roar, Nia turned just in time to see Dromarch leap over her head, twin rings in mouth, with which he landed a blow on the greataxe-wielding Blade, forcing it back.

“Are you injured, my lady?” he asked with open concern.

“Nothing I can’t heal,” she answered.

“You really ought not to wander off like that.”

Nia ignored the obvious criticism and quickly sought out the other Blade with the ether cannon. This one was female, and was readying another attack from her cannon.

“Can’t see… lost in the fog…” the female Blade snarled. 

As Nia dashed forward, she knew she wouldn’t close the distance in time to stop another blast from the Blade’s ether cannon. However, the origami birds which had protected her broke their shield formation and all flew at the other Blade like a hail of bullets. Even though they looked like paper, the origami ripped through their target, sending her crumpling to the ground in an instant.

“Can you walk, Crown Princess?” At the sound of Morgan’s voice, Nia looked to see the Blade researcher standing over her. More of those origami birds floated around her, and she appeared to be controlling them with a device mounted on her wrist.

The female fog-tainted Blade was already getting back to her feet, in spite of the damage Morgan’s origami had done to her. “Colony Eta, future Ardun-steak capital of the frontier!”

“What the hell is going on?” Nia asked, her voice noticeably shaking. “It’s almost like they’re Fogbeasts!”  

“I was under the impression that only monsters were affected by the Fog Rift,” Dromarch mused.

“So was I!” Morgan exclaimed. “Nothing in my research indicated this was even possible!”

Blade Fogbeasts. Fogblades? “They’re a lot more resilient than regular Blades or Fogbeasts,” Nia said. She wasn’t sure they’d even done any meaningful damage to them yet.

“Looks like the power of the Fog Rift is putting their regular Blade regeneration into overdrive,” Morgan said as another so-called Fogblade emerged, growling more gibberish. "Any ideas, Crown Princess?”

Nia had one. “Bloody leg it! ”

Morgan used her flying origami to cover them as the trio turned and ran for the fort’s western gate.

“Twenty percent off all alcohol and tobacco, limited time only!”

More Fogblades emerged all around them, shambling forward as they tried to cut off the trio’s escape. Dodging, weaving and slashing, Nia and her companions fought their way closer to the gate. They were almost out when more shapes emerged from the darkness and fog beyond the fort. Volffs and Ropls wreathed in black fog blocked their escape ahead while behind them, the small army of Fogblades closed in.

“Great. Now what?” Morgan asked, panting for breath.

“Hate to say it, but we’re pretty sandwiched here!” Nia exclaimed as she thought desperately for a way out of their predicament. The only way out she could see was to cut a path through the Fogbeasts—they didn’t have the regenerative properties of the Fogblades and were the ones cutting off their escape. It would be dicey though. Nia wasn’t sure they all could make it, especially if the Fogblades caught up while they were busy with the Fogbeasts.

Before Nia could relay her plan, the fortress was suddenly awash in bright light. Nia looked up to see a Titan airship hovering just above the fortress, its signal lamps shining down on them. It wasn’t the Sunset Beryl ; this ship was decked out for war. A chorus of cannon fire sounded out as a large number of the Fogblades chasing after them were blown away. It was as Nia realised she was looking at the Vandham’s Legacy that she heard Yew’s voice booming over the ship’s external speakers.

“Climb aboard, will ya, Nia? ” he said as a rope ladder began to descend from the ship’s port hatch.

Allowing herself a relieved grin, Nia set her sights on the nearest Fogbeast as the Vadham’s Legacy adjusted its position to fire another volley.

Once she was safely aboard the Vandham’s Legacy —with Fort Crocius and the Fog creatures now controlling it shrinking in the distance—Nia felt like she could finally take a breath. There wasn’t time to rest, though. After extricating her and the others from Fort Crocius, Yew promised to give her a full briefing of recent events on the battle command deck, where Nia was headed now. There was no need to worry about the crew of the Sunset Beryl; Yew had apparently made contact with them shortly before saving her at Fort Crocius and had given them the location of the rendezvous point: Port Uramu.

Now, as Nia walked through the familiar corridors of the Vandham’s Legacy, she looked down at her hands. How long had they been trembling? The emergence of these “Fogblades” was certainly a disturbing development, like something out of a horror novel (and Nia wasn’t a fan of scary stories). Her thoughts kept going back to the seemingly random gobbledygook the Fogblades kept saying. Was it really random or did it all have something to do with who those Blades had been before they’d turned? Were they still conscious somewhere within the influence of the fog, at least on some level? It didn’t bear thinking about.

So, Nia spared a glance at Morgan, hoping to find something else to think about for the moment. The Blade researcher was currently fiddling with the device on her wrist as she walked.

“Never seen a Blade weapon like that,” Nia commented.

“The Mondo? They’re not actually a Blade weapon, but I like using them.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not exactly commonly used, even in Zorn. Arthur was the only human I knew who could use it,” Morgan explained, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“It’s that hard to use?”

“I’m sure anyone could use it, but to use it effectively you need to be both highly intelligent and a quick thinker.”

“Sounds like a hassle. I don’t think I’ll be changing weapons anytime soon.” Nia liked her Catalyst Scimitar.

“I guess, but using it makes me feel closer to him, y’know?” Morgan’s voice went quiet. “Makes it feel like he’s still here.”

Nia nodded. “How long were you with Arthur anyway? Sounds like it must’ve been a while.”

“Over twenty years. We weren’t like a typical Driver and Blade. Weren’t in the military or doing mercenary work or anything. Our time together was mostly study and research.”

“That sounds nice.” 

“It was.” After a melancholic pause, Morgan added, “He was like family.”

Nia found herself thinking of her time as Fremen Echell’s Blade. “It was the same with me and my old Driver, actually.”

Indeed it was, before Lord Echell had lost his fortune in pursuit of a cure for his daughter. Before the poverty that had ultimately claimed her life. Nia hadn’t done much fighting then either, her job had been primarily to tend to Mio, and before she knew it, she was as good as family to both of them. 

“Family…” Nia mused, almost unconsciously. “Would be nice to have again….”

“It would be nice, yeah. Shame it isn’t possible....”

Nia wasn’t sure what Morgan meant by that, but didn’t have time to ask. She and the others arrived on deck at battle command, where Yew and a few other Garfont officers were waiting. After a hasty salute (Nia appreciated that he still treated her as a commanding officer and not as a princess), Yew began his briefing.

“To start, you should know that we still don’t have the full picture. Lord Corbett kept me and the other Garfont Mercenaries in the dark as much as he could ever since we arrived at Fort Crocius. Guess he thought we were here to spy on him for you.”

Nia wished she could say she was surprised.

“What I did know was that his strategy of culling the Fogbeasts with controlled sweeps of the region was going nowhere fast. Food and supplies were as low as the morale. Fights breaking out between the men under his command were a regular occurrence. That’s probably why no one batted an eye at the large number of Blades sent back from the front line with symptoms of combat-related trauma.”

This lined up with what Nia had read at the fort quite nicely.

“The chief medical officer as well as the research team had requested more resources to study the affected Blades but Lord Corbett denied the requests. Then, no more than twenty-four hours ago, they… changed.”

“They became Fogblades,” Nia said.

“Fogblades, eh? Yeah, guess that name works. Anyway, when they attacked, there was so much confusion that no one really knows how exactly it all went down. All I know is, someone opened the west gate and let in a host of the bastards around the same time the Blades who’d been sent back from the front turned hostile. Some think it was an inside job. That maybe the Blades within the fort who’d turned had opened the gate to let in the rest. Myself, I think it’s more likely that whoever was on gate duty that night saw the approaching Fogblades and mistook them for friendlies. Way I heard it, human soldiers from the local garrison were on gate duty.”

“Regardless, they entered through the west gate, where Paronet’s forces were housed, yeah?” Nia asked. That was consistent with what she had seen on her approach to the fort. “What about the civilians? Their housing was in the fort’s southern wing. Surely there was time to organise their evacuation, yeah?”

Yew frowned, and his brow furrowed with rage. “Aye, that’s what I thought too. But Lord Corbett ordered a full retreat. Went to his airship on the fort’s north side and took off with a handful of his men while the rest of us held off the enemy.”

Nia’s eyes went wide with rage. “He just LEFT THE REFUGEES TO DIE? ”

Yew nodded gravely. “Aye. They may have been brothers, but Corbett’s no Vandham. From what I understand, bastard’s never actually seen real combat. Apparently, a number of the Fogblades breached his command centre. Makes sense that saving his own sorry arse was all he could think about at that point.”

Right now, Nia only cared about one thing. “So, the refugees, are they…?”

“Donnae worry, as soon as I saw his airship take off, I took it upon meself to save who I could. It was bloody chaos, but the Garfont Mercenaries and I loaded as many civilians onto the Vandham’s Legacy as it could carry and got them the hell out of there. However, a lot didn’t make it.”

“How many?”

“We still don’t know the full casualty numbers, but the estimates ain’t looking good.”

Nia’s mind went blank. All she could see were the faces of the people in the refugee camp. Nervous elderly folks. Frightened young men and women. Helpless children playing with a leather ball. It was wet to the touch.

“Lady Nia?”

Nia blinked the thoughts away and returned her attention to her mercenary lieutenant. “Thanks, Yew. Is there anything else?”

“That’s about the extent of what I know. Suppose you’ll have to ask Lord Corbett for more when we arrive in Uramu. We’re less than an hour out.”

With a nod of acknowledgement, Nia dismissed him and turned to leave. As she did, she glanced down at her hands. Her white gloves were still stained red.

Dromarch padded up next to her. “My lady, are you…?”

“I’m going to the loo.”

Once she was alone in the latrine, Nia went straight for the sink and started washing her hands. She left her gloves on. As she scrubbed, her thoughts kept going to those refugees. Was Koremm okay? Were those children? Whytworth’s dead eyes were still wide with horror.

Nia scrubbed and scrubbed, but the red stains on her unclean hands stubbornly remained. She wasn’t sure how much time she spent hunched over the sink, scrubbing like a woman possessed. It amounted to nothing. No matter how much of the blood she cleaned, the red colour lingered, permanently tainting the once pure white of her gloves.

When the Vandham’s Legacy made port at Uramu, Nia disembarked from her ship with furious steps, wasting no time. Her face a picture of grim determination, she made her way through the port town towards where Yew had told her was Lord Corbett’s new command centre.

Even at this late hour, the streets were filled with the terrified, broken faces of the remaining refugees, the occasional sob filling the air. It was enough to turn Nia’s stomach to knots, but she resolved not to lose her head as she entered the inn that Lord Corbett was now using as a headquarters. One way or another, there would be hell to pay. Nia would make sure of it.

Corbett was sharing hushed words with his officers around another map table. For the brief moment Nia glimpsed him before he caught sight of her, she thought his face looked far more sunken than the last time they’d spoken. His white hair seemed ever so slightly more matted, his brown skin just a shade paler. Then he gave her a well-practised smile and he was the same as ever.

“Well, well, the prodigal princess returns! So good of you to finally join us,” he said. “Ready to hear the new terms of my proposal?”

“I have some new terms of my own for you,” Nia said, reaching into a pouch and producing the unsigned transfer of command paperwork she’d found on his desk in Fort Crocius. “You’re going to sign this right now and I’ll help you save whatever face you have left after this disaster!”

“Help me save face?” Lord Corbett scoffed. “Let me assure you that, in spite of the unfortunate events of the other night, I’m still in total control of the situation.”

“That isn’t how it looks to me.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Corbett said with an arrogant grin. “The truth is, there have been new developments while you’ve been away, and while the loss of Fort Crocius has been a regrettable setback….”

“Setback? People are dead, you cold-hearted bastard!” Nia growled.

“Which, while unfortunate, does not change my plans moving forward.”

“Right, your ‘new developments’, which I assume refers to your proposed combined operation with Mor Ardain?”

Corbett seemed momentarily taken aback, much to Nia’s satisfaction. Truthfully, it was no more than an educated guess, but by the looks of it, she was right on the money. So, seizing upon her adversary’s momentary loss of momentum, Nia continued, “On the note of Mor Ardain, how do you suppose it looks to them that Uraya’s main forward base has fallen?”

“Well, I…” Corbett started, but Nia wasn’t about to let him regain control of the conversation.

“The fact is your incompetence has lost us a vital strategic position, humiliated us before the international community, and worst of all, cost the lives of countless innocent civilians!”

“And where were you, Your Grace? ” Corbett fired back. “I’ve been the one holding everything together here while you’ve been off on a sightseeing tour of Morytha and Tantal!”

The words stung more than Nia wanted to admit, but she would not let it show. “I’ve been searching for a more permanent solution to all this!”

“Oh really? And how, pray tell, did that go?”

Nia nearly stumbled through a half-baked explanation of how close she was to finding Sosem but stopped herself. This was just what Corbett wanted: to have her on the back foot.

“Don’t try to deflect from the fact that innocent people are dead because of your cowardice!” The words tasted bitter in her mouth, making Nia feel almost hypocritical. 

Knowing she needed to change her strategy, she decided it was time to pull out her trump card. “This is your last chance. Transfer command of the operation to me now. Otherwise, under Section 3, Article 12 of the UCMJ, I will have no choice but to forcibly relieve you for cause.” Nia was glad she’d brushed up on the Urayan Code of Military Justice on the rest of the flight here. “In that event, you’d have to make a full accounting of your actions before the Military Oversight Committee, who I doubt would see them favourably. How do you suppose that will reflect on House Paronet?” 

For a moment, Nia wasn’t sure what Lord Corbett would do. The way he glared daggers at her, she half expected him to strike at her right then and there. She had faced far worse than him, though, and showed no sign that she was at all intimidated. Corbett stepped towards her, his face cetris from hers, and firmly snatched the transfer of command document from her hands.

“Fine. Enjoy your command while you have it,” he said as he penned his name. “When you inevitably let more people die, you can be sure I will quite publicly express my regret at relinquishing command to an inexperienced, bleeding-heart child who has no idea what she’s doing!”

Lord Corbett stamped the document with his seal, making it official before he promptly stormed out of the makeshift command centre. Nia had gotten out of the arranged marriage—for now—but she felt no relief. Corbett was right about one thing: the situation was bad, and Nia’s success—or failure—to remedy it hung on a blade’s edge.

By the time the sun rose, Nia was starting to wish she’d gotten some sleep on the flight from Fort Crocius. Since being given official command of the counter-rift operation, Nia wasted no time getting up to speed. The situation was even worse than she’d originally thought. Casualties among the Bedlam Mercenaries were very high due to Corbett’s mismanagement, something he’d worked very hard to conceal in the official reports.

What was more, after falling back to Uramu, Corbett had seen fit to shove every last Blade still left who hadn’t been turned by the Fog Rift into the town jail. It was a hasty precaution, and one that would not ultimately solve anything, so Nia ordered them to be released, but closely monitored. From there, she’d given the officers under her command their orders.

“We’re evacuating Uramu in its entirety and pulling back to Goshen.”

She had expected protest from the gathered officers but was pleasantly surprised to see them all in agreement.

“I was worried you intended to hold Uramu against all odds, or—Architect forbid—try to retake Crocius,” said the commander of the Bedlam Mercenaries, a gritty older man named Dretus.

Nia had initially considered holding Uramu, but knowing what they were up against, decided a tactical withdrawal was the wiser choice. From what she’d heard, Fogbeasts were beginning to encroach on Uramu even before Fort Crocius fell. Without it, Nia didn’t like their odds against a full-scale attack, and it would appear that the Bedlam Mercenaries agreed.

“I’ll have my men prepare our ship and, first thing tomorrow, we’ll start gathering the civilians,” Dretus said.

“Why wait for morning? We should start the evacuation efforts as soon as possible,” Nia said. There was no telling when the fog entities would attack next.

“Even with two ships, we may not be able to carry both the refugees from Fort Crocius and all of the residents of Uramu,” Yew pointed out.

“Find a way. Jettison any non-essential equipment if you have to, but I’m not leaving anyone behind!”

What followed was hours discussing the logistics of such a large-scale evacuation effort, all while managing Uramu’s defenses in the interim. In addition to being in regular contact with Goshen, Nia had sent out scouting parties from the Garfont Mercenaries to ensure they would be warned well in advance of any Fogbeast or Fogblade incursion. This was made all the more difficult with the unusual weather patterns interfering with their communications.

To make matters more frustrating, commander Dretus had later reported that even after emptying both ships of non-essential equipment like she had ordered, their calculations had revealed that there would still be about one quarter of the population of Uramu left over when both ships reached their weight limit. Then there was the issue of those civilians who would refuse to leave their homes even in the face of such danger. Dretus wanted her permission to remove them by force should it come to that. After some deliberation, Nia granted it, hoping that it would be largely unnecessary. She was then informed that both the research and medical teams wanted to talk to her regarding the Fogblade situation. Nia put it off until everything with the evacuation was sorted.

By the time night gave way to early morning, Nia was feeling like a Garaffa carcass being pulled apart by a pack of Feris. She’d lost track of how many coffees she’d drunk. There was still much to do, but Nia took a moment to step out of the inn serving as her command centre to clear her head. Just a short break before getting back to it. She wasn’t the only one with the idea.

“Have to admit, I’m impressed with how you’re handling things, Your Grace,” commander Dretus said, taking the spot next to her. “When I first heard that the crown princess herself was gunning for command, my kneejerk reaction was that you were just another upstart noble looking to make a name for herself. Didn’t learn until recently that you’re some legendary hero wot travelled with the Aegis.”

Nia wasn’t so sure about the “legendary hero” part—even after all she’d been through a year ago, she’d never thought of herself as such—but she went along with it. “I just want to make sure nobody else dies.”

“Too right. Have to say, I’m glad to have you in command now.” Dretus took a sip of his own coffee. “I know that as a merc, I’m not supposed to speak badly about my client but screw it, he ain’t my client anymore. Corbett Paronet is a daft bastard and seeing you put him in his place was right satisfyin’.” Then looking a mite embarrassed, Dretus quickly added, “Uh, pardon the crass language, Your Grace.”

“Don’t worry, I find the candour refreshing.” Then allowing herself a smile, Nia said, “Besides, you’re right: putting him in his place was pretty satisfying.”

Dretus chuckled. “Sometimes I wonder if Queen Raqura had the right idea pushing for a more centralised military structure like they have in Mor Ardain. Current system’s good for us mercs, but more often than not the ones calling the shots are greedy politicians like Lord Corbett. Completely unqualified to lead an army, doing only what benefits them politically and not what makes sense tactically, let alone what’s best for the people they're supposed to be protectin'.”

He meant leaving the refugees behind at Fort Crocius, Nia realised, which seemed hypocritical to her for one reason. “Weren’t you on board the ship with him when he fled?”

“Aye. ‘Had to prioritise those in command,’ he told me,” Dretus said with a shrug. “I didn’t like it, but those were the orders.”

Nia didn’t care for “following orders” as an excuse not to do the right thing—especially as a former merc herself—but didn’t comment.

Dretus then looked at her and said, “Shame you weren’t in command then, eh? Imagine how differently that night woulda gone….”

Naturally, Dretus meant nothing by it, but his words struck a painful chord deep inside her. She looked down at her hands; at her white gloves that were now a shade more red.

“Anyway, guess we oughta get back to it, eh Your Grace?” Dretus said, turning to go back in.

Wordlessly, Nia followed. Suddenly, the promise of being pulled in all directions by work didn't seem so bad. Whatever it took to keep her thoughts from the horrible truth she’d just come to realise....

As the sun rose higher in the sky, Nia pressed on through her exhaustion, continuing her efforts in managing this crisis. More than once, Dromarch and even Yew had suggested she get some rest—much of the work that was left now was stuff she could delegate to them anyway. But she refused, busying herself as much as she could. Drowning her mind and senses with so much noise that she wouldn’t need to focus on anything else, especially her own thoughts.

Currently, she was meeting with both Morgan and chief medical officer Dufresne as they explained their findings regarding the Fogblades. Their hypothesis was one that Nia herself had already gathered from the document she’d looked at back at Fort Crocius: that Blades affected by the rift’s power had exhibited symptoms of psychosis before they turned. Currently none of the Blades within their forces exhibited any such symptoms, and Morgan explained her theory where that was concerned.

“So far, it looks like only the Blades who were with the main force were affected. They spent a great deal of time well within the known radius of the Fog Rift’s influence, as calculated by myself and my research team,” Morgan explained. “By my team’s current estimate, that radius has not expanded far enough to reach Uramu.”

Nia thought she sensed an unspoken yet in Morgan’s explanation. All the more reason to keep the evacuation moving along. She was curious about one thing, though. “Why did the Fog Rift only start affecting Blades now?”

“On that, we can only speculate,” Morgan said. “Maybe the process of turning a Blade into a Fogblade takes longer than turning monsters into Fogbeasts? There’s also the fact that there weren’t many Blades in the region at all before Lord Corbett’s forces started their sweeps. Honestly, there could be any number of factors.”

Nia figured as such. “Then I take it we don’t know a way to return the affected Blades to normal?”

At that, Dufresne answered, “Without enough data, working out a cure will be nearly impossible. Now, if we had a live specimen to study and run tests on….”

It was clear what he was asking, but Nia didn’t want to expend men and resources from the evacuation to use for the dangerous task of capturing a live Fogblade.

“It’s my belief that simply getting rid of the Fog Rift would be enough to return all Fogbeasts and Fogblades to normal,” Morgan added.

Once again, it looked like the best long-term course of action was to go to the source and continue in her efforts to track down the one person who might have any answers. As much as Nia knew she was needed here, she also didn’t want the trail she’d picked up in Tantal to go cold again.

It was at that moment that Dromarch entered the makeshift command centre. “My lady, the representatives from Mor Ardain have arrived.”

“Already? They made bloody good time,” Nia mused.

“Their ship is mooring as we speak.”

Muttering a curse, Nia turned to Morgan and Dufresne. “Looks like we’ll need to table this for now. Keep finding out what you can.”

The pair acknowledged and Nia wasted no time, hustling down to Uramu’s harbour. The Ardainian battleship was visible right away, massive as it was. Shortly after Nia had assumed command, she had been informed that Lord Corbett had already opened up a dialogue with Mor Ardain’s military and would be hosting their forces while they discussed the particulars of his proposed combined effort. Nia since had her comms officer update the Ardainians on the situation with Fort Crocius and given them the new rendezvous point here in Uramu. But she hadn’t expected them to arrive until the end of day.

Yew, Dretus and a number of other officers were already waiting on the dock facing the battleship as Nia and Dromarch arrived. Nia forced her mind to focus through the haze of exhaustion (she could really use another coffee) as she tried to find her Royal Self before whatever pompous Ardainian officer would emerge to greet her. Her planned projection of poise went out the window when she saw the familiar uniformed woman cross the gangway from the battleship’s hangar.

“Mòrag? ” Nia exclaimed. “The one Lord Corbett contacted was you?”

“Indeed. I must admit I’m surprised to see you here as well,” Mòrag intoned.

Nia’s old travelling companion looked handsome as ever in the ceremonial dark dress uniform of the Special Inquisitor—evidently Mòrag still preferred it to the regulation field armour of her station. At her side, as always, was her Blade Brighid who, as always, seemed to draw all eyes to her without trying. Nia couldn’t deny she cut a striking figure. Purple hair of literal flames over a matching evening gown tended to have that effect. Nia had certainly thought so when they’d first encountered each other one year ago.

“Now, as much as I would like to catch up, Nia, I need to speak to Lord Corbett with all haste,” Mòrag said.

“Right, about that… Lord Corbett is no longer in command of the operation here,” Nia explained.

Mòrag gave her an inquisitive look. “Oh? Then who must I speak to regarding this proposed combined action?”

Nia only grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. Mòrag seemed to understand right away. “You’re in command?”

With a nod, Nia turned and beckoned for her friend to follow. “Come along. Sounds like I have a lot to catch you up on.”

Chapter Text

Aboard the Ardainian battleship Eadraig’s Jewel, Nia was restless in spite of her exhaustion. After comprehensively briefing Mòrag and her senior officers on the situation with the Fog Rift and the manhunt for Sosem, Mòrag had fully pledged her forces to the cause. The Eadraig’s Jewel was able to evacuate the people of Uramu that Nia’s own ships could not. Once they had made it to Goshen and things were more or less in order, Nia left Yew and Dretus in command as she and her modest retinue boarded the Eadraig’s Jewel with Mòrag, who set a course for Mor Ardain’s capital, Alba Cavanich. There they would continue the hunt for Sosem.

The flight to Mor Ardain should have finally afforded Nia time to rest, but when she at long last collapsed into the bed she was given in the officers’ quarters on the crew deck, her sleep was fitful and she found herself jolting awake. Maybe it was all the coffee she’d drank to keep going to this point. Or maybe it was the swirl of unsettling thoughts filling her head whenever it was quiet. The ball was wet to the touch. Nia decided it was only the coffee. Thus, unable to sleep, she went to the officers’ lounge, thinking she might as well start drafting up a situation report to Queen Raqura, not minding that this was something she could delegate to one of her subordinates.

Nia wasn’t sure how many hours later it was that she found herself staring out a window at the first rays of the rising sun, her tired reflection haunting the horizon. It was soon joined by another; one with familiar blue flames rising from purple hair rolled into buns.

“You’re up early, Nia.”

Nia turned to give Brighid a smile she didn’t quite feel. “More like late.”

Unlike Nia, Brighid appeared well-rested and ready for the day, her purple dress and makeup flawless as always. Although it was difficult to see Brighid’s eyes when she always kept them squinted, Nia was reasonably sure the other woman was studying the bags under her own eyes.

“When was the last time you slept?” Brighid asked.

Nia honestly wasn’t sure. It might have been on the flight from Tantal, before everything that had gone down at Fort Crocius. That had been nearly three days ago.

“Dunno. Doesn’t matter,” Nia answered. “I can sleep when the Fog Rift’s sorted.”

Brighid nodded, though Nia thought she detected a hint of concern behind the stoic woman’s features. “I was just on my way to prepare Lady Mòrag’s morning coffee,” she said. “I’ll make an extra cup.”

Nia thanked her as they walked together to the mess deck. Kitchen staff were already prepping the crew’s morning meal. Brighid and Nia paid them no mind as they went to the coffee machine. As she started a fresh pot, Brighid allowed herself the hint of an amused grin.

“Something funny?” Nia asked curiously.

“Just remembering how we first met,” Brighid answered. “Who would have thought that the terrorist I arrested in Torigoth last year would turn out to be Uraya’s future queen?”

“Trust me, I have a hard time believing it myself sometimes.”

“Must be a difficult role to adjust to.”

“It is, but I’m managing.”

Brighid gave her another look through squinted eyes. “It was the same for Lady Mòrag, you know.”

“Oh yeah? How do you mean?”

Brighid explained, “From the moment she first enrolled in Eastpoint Officer’s Academy, Mòrag needed to work much harder than her peers. As a member of the Imperial Family, she needed to make it clear she wasn’t just there for publicity. Not to mention avoiding the appearance of preferential treatment from her instructors and commanding officers. And that isn’t even getting into the fact that she’s a woman, who normally aren’t permitted in combat roles within our military.

“All throughout her career, Mòrag worked incredibly hard to distinguish herself… often at the expense of her own well-being.” Brighid gave Nia a meaningful look. “Even to this day, it’s often up to me to remind her to eat… and to get enough sleep.” 

Nia sighed. “Right, I see what you’re getting at but really, I’m fine.”

Brighid replied with a sigh of her own. “Mòrag used to always tell me the same thing.”

“It isn’t the same thing for me, though!” Nia argued with an annoyed flick of her ear.

“Isn’t it? As a Gormotti national and former Torna member turned crown princess, you surely have even more to prove than Mòrag once did.”

“Well, yeah but… that isn’t why….”

“That isn’t why you’re pushing yourself with such reckless abandon?” Brighid intoned, her voice beginning to burn with such intensity Nia was almost brought back to their first meeting. “Then why are you running yourself this ragged?”

“Because… the Fog Rift crisis….”

“Is not going to be solved with sleep deprivation.”

“I know! But I can’t…” Nia stammered. “I can’t….”

Brighid stared right into her. “Can’t what?”

“I can’t….” Nia wasn’t sure whether it was the exhaustion or Brighid’s penetrating purple eyes that finally broke her. “I can’t let more people die because of me!”

A brief moment of silence passed between the two as comprehension slowly dawned on both of them. Brighid’s voice took on a softer tone as she said, “If you’re referring to the loss of Fort Crocius, you are not to blame for that. As I understand, Lord Corbett Paronet was in command and his decisions, not yours, are what resulted in the deaths of so many.”

“You don’t understand, it’s my fault he….”

“How can you bear the blame when you weren’t even there?”

“Exactly because I wasn’t there!” Nia cried. “I arrived at Fort Crocius two weeks before, intending to make a deal with Corbett for command of the operation and when I didn’t like his terms, I did what I always bloody do and ran! I was supposed to have been the one in charge when Fort Crocius was attacked. If I had… things would’ve been different.”

Nia’s voice quivered as she remembered holding the bloodstained leather ball. It was wet to the touch. “The people who died… their blood is on my hands as much as Corbett’s!”

With several deep, trembling breaths, Nia struggled to get herself under control. She looked down at her shaking hands, wondering whether Brighid with her oh so perceptive eyes could see the extra shade of red in her once white gloves. Whether she did or didn’t, Brighid placed one of her blue crystalline hands over Nia’s to still their trembling.

“I’m afraid the only advice I can offer you is to live and learn, and a good way to start would be to get some rest,” Brighid said. “We are not expected to make berth at Port Anangham until quite late in the day. I can ask Dromarch to rouse you once we’re close, if you like.”

Nia opened her mouth to protest but was interrupted by a yawn. “Yeah… rest…. Good idea,” she croaked. “Thanks for the talk, Brighid.”

Besides, the first order of business upon arriving in Alba Cavanich was meeting Emperor Niall at Hardhaigh Palace. Nia supposed it wouldn’t be good for Uraya’s crown princess to show up looking like the living dead.

“One more thing,” Brighid said as Nia departed. “When you have a chance, ask Mòrag about the Glasavar incident. You may find what she has to say enlightening.”

Hours later, Nia was standing on the bridge of the Eadraig’s Jewel alongside her companions, with Mor Ardain’s Titan visible through the bow viewport. The sight of it was as breathtaking as it was sad. The mountainous bipedal Titan was on its knees in the ocean water next to a large cliff formation. Its right arm was raised forward, the Titan having braced itself against the cliffs before entering its final slumber. The arm formed a land bridge between Mor Ardain and the continent of New Alrest. The very last thing the Titan had done in its long life was to create a means for its people to leave its body for the new world. Nia wondered how the Titan felt in its final moments.

“Even after the Ardainians took so much, it still died trying to help them,” Nia muttered.

Dromarch eyed her quizzically. “My lady?”

“Pay me no mind, Dromach. Just thinking aloud.”

To her right, another voice cleared her throat. “Crown princess?”

Nia looked over at her. “What’s up, Morgan?”

The white-haired Blade straightened out her black dress. “I just wanted to thank you for letting me keep tagging along.” She smiled. “I really want to see this through.”

“Of course, you’ve been a great help!”

“I also wanted to ask you something. You’ve really been pushing yourself hard to help the people in the colonies.” Morgan adjusted the horn-rimmed glasses on her horned face. “But you’re doing so as a Blade, and a Flesh Eater at that. Many of those people hate you purely for what you are.” 

She wasn’t wrong, Nia knew. She thought of the way Koremm looked at her when he’d first discovered what she was. Thought of what he’d said about the people of his colony and their own thoughts on the matter. Thought of the “Cannibal Queen?” newspaper headline that in part motivated the mission she was on now.

She and Morgan looked out the viewport at the Ardainian Titan, frozen in its final selfless act as Morgan said, “I guess my question is, why help them?”

Nia shrugged. “It’s my duty. I am going to be queen someday.”

“But you never had to be queen, right?” Morgan pointed out. “You could have turned it down. Could have just kept to yourself and left the humans to deal with all this.”

“I suppose…” Nia said. She’d never really thought of it that way. “I guess it just wouldn’t have felt right. I’ve gotta help everyone I can if I want to make this world Elysium. Even those that won’t accept me.”

Morgan nodded before staring straight ahead. “Okay then,” she said with a certain finality. It seemed that Nia had answered her question to her satisfaction. In several more minutes, the Eadraig’s Jewel arrived below the capital on the Ardainian Titan’s left shoulder and began to make berth at the port.

Port Anangham was a stark contrast to how it was when Nia last visited. What had once been a bustling port was now all but barren. Nia only saw one other moored ship and couldn’t tell whether it was arriving or leaving as there was no sign of crew or cargo. The only living soul waiting for them that Nia could see was the soldier who checked her and her retinue as they disembarked (a short and painless process with Mòrag present). All of it felt strange; a stark contrast to how Port Genbu in Tantal had changed when Nia visited earlier in the week. Stranger still was the frigid air and thin layer of snow covering everything. As far as she knew, Mor Ardain hadn’t seen snowfall once in the last century. She supposed it made sense: without an ether flow, the Titan’s lifeless body was cold. 

Nia managed to get a few hours of sleep on the rest of the flight as Brighid had suggested and had even taken the time to get prettied up for her meeting with the emperor. She only hoped her work wouldn’t be undone by the cold dry air. She could already feel it cracking her skin as she and the others started on the path across the short plain to the elevators up to Alba Cavanich proper.

As she walked ahead of Dromarch, Morgan and her guards, Nia glanced over at Mòrag and Brighid as the pair walked ahead of their own soldiers. Mòrag stared steadily ahead, her mind clearly elsewhere. Nia thought about what Brighid had told her in the early hours of the morning. Just what was the Glasavar incident? Did it have something to do with finding Sosem? Or was it something else? Whatever it was about, Nia knew that now wasn’t the time to discuss it; she could see the Cargo Transport Zone up ahead.

Upon stepping out of the elevator and into the streets of Alba Cavanich, Nia was surprised to find them as empty as the port. She and the others still passed a few people as they walked toward Hardhaigh Palace, but the regular hustle and bustle was gone. Many of the shops she remembered frequenting on previous visits were closed and empty. Where Tantal had taken on new life in the year since the Reformation, Mor Ardain was almost devoid of it. The only familiar constant left was the smell of smog and the looming metal towers of Hardhaigh Palace.

The palace interior was still filled with Ardainian soldiers and officials going about their business. When she and the others reached the upper levels, however, Nia noticed that many of the portraits and miscellaneous baubles that decorated the halls were being packed into crates by palace staff.

Upon their approach to the throne room, Nia and the others were stopped by a young, uniformed man flanked by two guards. The fact that his auburn hair flowed down to his shoulders—well outside of regulation military length—indicated to Nia that he was not a soldier. However, he carried himself as one, straightening his back and clasping his hands behind it as Mòrag addressed him.

“Colin, is His Majesty ready to receive Crown Princess Nia?” Mòrag asked.

His green eyes glancing briefly at Nia, the young man, Colin, nodded. “He’s still speaking with one of the senators, but the formal meeting has already been adjourned.”

“Sounds like he’ll appreciate the rescue, then.”

Colin nodded again, regarding Mòrag with some anxiety before turning to lead them into the chamber. Nia wasn’t surprised the kid seemed nervous in Mòrag’s presence—her reputation was as fearsome as she was, after all—but what did surprise her was the familiarity with which Mòrag addressed him. A first-name basis with the Flamebringer was nothing to scoff at.

Entering the throne room, Nia spotted Emperor Niall Ardanach standing at the near end of the long central table. Nia half-expected Senator Roderich to be the one holding up His Majesty, but instead she saw him talking to a middle-aged woman she didn’t recognise. The woman wasn’t alone. At her side, giving the boy emperor goo-goo eyes was a girl who looked to be around his age. Standing vigil nearby were several guards and the Blade Aegaeon. Although no longer in resonance with the emperor, it seemed that his place was still at his side.

“Apologies for interrupting, Majesty, but the crown princess of Uraya is here,” announced Colin, seeming perhaps a tad eager to end whatever discussion was being had.

“Thank you, Colin,” Niall said before turning his attention to his conversation partner. “Perhaps we should circle back to this another time, Senator Donnachaidh.”

The woman, Donnachaidh, smiled. “Of course, Your Majesty. There’s still plenty of time, after all.” Turning to leave, she beckoned the girl at her side with an arm. “Come along, Muriel.”

The girl, Muriel, turned to follow before evidently remembering proper etiquette and quickly turning back to bow to the emperor. “Lovely meeting you, Your Majesty!” she exclaimed, her voice fluttery.

“Likewise,” Niall said politely enough.

The girl was grinning ear to ear as Colin all too eagerly ushered the pair out of the throne room. Niall watched them go with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. Nia hadn’t picked up on how tense he had been until she noticed him relax when the two were gone. He then approached her with a much more genuine smile.

Nia wasn’t sure, but Niall seemed taller than when they last met. She supposed a growth spurt was inevitable at his age, but his short dark hair and blue eyes still held a boyish charm that belied the wisdom beyond his years.

“It is good to see you again, crown princess,” he said warmly. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Not at all,” Nia said, forgetting her Royal Self as she figured out what exactly she’d just interrupted. “Honestly, you have my sympathies. I only just got out of my own first marriage arrangement the other day.”

Niall sighed, his exasperation evident. “It’s still another year before I’m of age to wed and every senator is all but throwing their daughters at me.” Niall cleared his throat and reoriented himself. “Now, what brings you to our empire? Mòrag informed me the other day that you have business related to the rift over the frontier.”

Shoring up her Royal Self, Nia proceeded with her carefully rehearsed explanation. “I’m tracking down a person of interest to the Fog Rift situation and my search has led me to Mor Ardain. I humbly seek Your Majesty’s permission to continue my ongoing investigation within your borders until such time as I have the suspect in custody.”

Nia went on to explain the details of what she knew about Sosem and why she suspected he knew something about the Fog Rift.

“I see no reason to deny your request, crown princess,” Niall said when Nia was finished. “Especially now that our two nations are working together to resolve this dilemma. It is my hope that our continued cooperation will prove to foster better relations between Uraya and Mor Ardain in the years to come.” Niall grinned. “That aside, I still owe you for saving my life.”

Not knowing what else to say, Nia settled on, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Niall turned to Mòrag. “Special Inquisitor, I want you to work alongside the crown princess on this.”

Performing the Ardainian hand on chest salute, Mòrag responded with a bow of her head. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

It rankled Nia a bit to see the two siblings regard each other so impersonally, even when Nia had witnessed firsthand the love they shared. As she’d gotten to know Mòrag over the course of their adventure a year ago, Nia had become aware of the complicated dichotomy of their relationship and their status. However, now that Nia was royalty herself, seeing it so plainly felt different. The crown is ravenous. It eats your passions, your hobbies, your relationships. Everything that makes you you.

Niall was young, not even a grown man yet. Just how old had he been when he first put on his crown? How much of him had it already consumed even at his young age? How much more would it take from him in the years to come?

“Now, I won’t take up any more of your time,” Niall said, turning toward his desk. “I also have much to do now that we’re in the final stages of relocating the capital.”

That confirmed Nia’s suspicions that Mor Ardain’s senate had finally settled on a location for their new capital. This wasn’t surprising. Admittedly, she had spent the past month too wrapped up in Uraya’s affairs to keep abreast of such developments. Regardless, she thanked Niall and with a parting bow, exited the throne room along with her companions. Not wishing to waste any time, she turned to Mòrag.

“Any idea where we should start? Because I’m gonna be honest, I’ve come here purely on a hunch.”

“And do you not trust your hunch?” Mòrag asked.

“Well, the thing is, it’s not exactly mine.”

“Oh?”

“It’s Zeke’s,” Dromarch said.

Mòrag gave an understanding nod. “Well, despite his… eccentricities, Zeke’s hunches are often on the mark. And it just so happens I have a hunch of my own.” Mòrag turned to address Brighid. “I need you to go down to Records and pull all of the files from our investigation into Alistair Vherestrom.”

Nia had always hated studying. This was true of her lessons in etiquette when she was the Blade of Lord Echell in Gormott. It was true when she had to learn Urayan statecraft after Raqura appointed her as heir. However, it was only now that Nia came to truly appreciate just how much she hated it after spending the last few hours studying the life and career of Alistair Vherestrom; a name she would have been happy going the rest of her life without hearing again.

Part of it was the stuffy nature of the Special Inquisitor’s office. Nia figured she shouldn’t be surprised how much of Mòrag was reflected in her workspace. Although spacious, the office was utilitarian. A desk, a few chairs and a table for meeting guests, and a single shelf of books, which a cursory glance revealed to be little more than history and military non-fiction.

Worse than the bland office space, though, was the subject of study himself. From her brief encounter with him in Colony Iota, Nia could tell Alistair Vherestrom had been a thoroughly unpleasant man. What she read about him in Mòrag’s files did little to change that opinion, nor did it illuminate anything she didn’t already know. At the very least, she was able to confirm his connection to Sosem’s Driver Amram, who had been in charge of Core Crystal shipments from Indol to Mor Ardain with Vherestrom overseeing them.

“Considering that Sosem and Vherestrom were working together as bandits when you encountered them, it’s likely that they knew each other through Amram’s Core Crystal trafficking operation. Therefore, it’s possible that one of the warehouses owned by Vherestrom’s family company, Vanguard Shipping, could have been used as a hideout by Sosem and his Driver back then,” Mòrag had explained early into their study session.

The problem was, Vanguard Shipping had long since gone out of business by the time Mòrag had started her initial investigation into Vherestrom’s bandit activities a few months back. The company had been pushed out years ago by the various Nopon trade guilds after the trade embargos were lifted at the end of the Gormotti War. According to the documentation, Vanguard Shipping owned two warehouses in Mor Ardain. One sat abandoned along with the old industrial district outside of Alba Cavanich. Although it was now home to many squatters, creatures and criminals alike, Mòrag’s prior investigation had turned up no evidence of Vherestrom or his bandits there. Vanguard Shipping’s other warehouse had been in the port town of Chilsain on the Titan’s right shoulder. After Vanguard Shipping had gone bankrupt, their Chilsain warehouse had been seized by the Ardainian bank and auctioned off to the Voltis Trade Guild a few years back.

“Is it possible Vherestrom and Amram’s gang could have still been using the warehouse in Chilsain after Voltis acquired it?” Nia asked.

“Not since the Reformation of Alrest,” Mòrag said, her face grim. “It was totally destroyed along with the rest of Chilsain thanks to Malos and his Artifices.”

“Ah.”

Nia said nothing more, opting to continue poring over the documents in silence, parsing the tail end of Vherestrom’s military career with a fine-tooth comb. The only other information Nia was able to glean was that his death at the teeth and claws of monsters on the Urayan frontier had been well-earned. There had been children in the crowd of Gormotti civilians he’d ordered slaughtered at the end of his long career.

Deciding she needed another angle, Nia switched gears and went back to the very beginning of Vherestrom’s service record to see what insight she could glean. He apparently enlisted in the year 4008. His service record said he’d been sixteen—the minimum age required to enlist in Mor Ardain—which didn’t add up with the date on his birth certificate. Nia thought nothing of it; people lied about their age to enlist all the time and considering that year had been the start of another war between Mor Ardain and Uraya, it’s likely the recruitment office pretended not to notice the discrepancy.

Nia skipped ahead through Vherestrom’s service record a little, ignoring the details of his time in basic training and the uneventful first year of his service. She slowed down when she reached the first time Vherestrom had seen proper action: the Battle of Wrecc Marshland in Gormott’s lower region. Nia remembered enough of her father’s history lessons to know what a bloody battle that had been. Thus, it was a mild shock to learn that Vherestrom’s confirmed kills in that battle amounted to just one.

Reading ahead, Nia’s surprise doubled as she read that despite taking part in many more skirmishes since, Vherestrom had no more confirmed kills before finishing his four-year tour and leaving the military a year before the war had properly ended. His service record indicated he had only reenlisted nearly eight years later, enrolling at Eastpoint Officer’s Academy. Nia frowned. For some reason, the knowledge unnerved her.

She looked up from the documents at Mòrag. “Hey, do you have anything on what Vherestrom got up to between his first and second tours?”

Pausing only briefly to think, Mòrag reached across her desk and rifled through a few more folders before she found what she wanted. “According to his financial records from that timeframe, he was unemployed for a while, with most of his military pension spent on imbibements at the capital’s various watering holes. After his pension ran dry, he went to work for his father at Vanguard Shipping.”

“Hmm….”

Mòrag looked at her curiously. “Do you have an idea?”

“Not really.” However, Nia now knew why this knowledge unnerved her. “It’s just… this all paints a very different picture from the man that Rex and I faced in Colony Iota.”

“Really? How so?”

“Well, the Vherestrom I remember was a callous bastard who didn’t give a Hox’s arse about the colonists he was slaughtering. But according to all your files, in his earliest years as an enlisted man, he killed one enemy combatant, left the military for the better half of a decade and developed a drinking habit.” Nia had witnessed one such habit firsthand; a symptom of crippling guilt and depression if ever there was one. “This paints the image of a person with a conscience, not a murderous monster.”

“Your point being?”

Nia shrugged. “I dunno. Guess I just thought the monster I met would be more obviously reflected here.”

“In my experience, people are rarely born monsters,” Mòrag said. “They’re made that way over time, piece by piece, by circumstances and the choices they make therein.” She gestured to the service record open before Nia. “For Vherestrom, you can see it writ plain. As his military career progressed and more wars came and went, you can see how each of his decisions carried a price in blood.”

The frown on Mòrag’s face was etched deep. “It’s a sadly common trap those of us with authority often fall into, especially in times of crisis. When your every decision has a cost one way or the other, even the most well-intentioned choice can lead you to cross a line without even noticing.”

Nia swallowed. “Like ordering soldiers to fire on a crowd of old folks and children.”

“Indeed.”

“Or abandoning the people you were supposed to protect.” The ball was wet to the touch.

She looked around the office. Both Dromarch and Brighid were out. It was well past dinner time, and they both had volunteered to fetch some food. Morgan was across the room, reading more of Mòrag’s case files. The studious Blade seemed so lost in her work, she didn’t even register their conversation. Now seemed as good a time as any to ask Mòrag the question that had been on her mind all day.

“Hey Mòrag,” she said. “What’s the Glasavar incident?”

Mòrag slowly looked up from her work, her gaze bearing down on Nia. “Where did you hear about that?” She tried to sound casual, but there was a clear warning in her voice.

Suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope, Nia answered, “I… think I heard Brighid mention it….”

“Did she now?” Mòrag let out a long sigh before returning to her work. “Sometimes she presumes too much….”

“Mòrag?”

But Mòrag didn’t elaborate, returning her attention to the documents in front of her. “The incident in question is irrelevant to the investigation at hand. I suggest we focus on what’s in front of us,” Mòrag said in a tone that brooked no argument.

The shift in atmosphere made the dreary office even more oppressive, and Nia elected not to say anything more. She had confirmed one thing though: the Glasavar incident had nothing to do with her search for Sosem, at least according to Mòrag. Nia couldn’t help but wonder, then, why Brighid had brought it up at all; especially considering Mòrag’s reaction.

The two of them said nothing more to each other until Brighid and Dromarch returned with dinner: simple takeout from a restaurant in Ayvill Shopping District. Nia kept her head down as she ate the thoroughly shite mush that passed for food in Mor Ardain—something that Mòrag called haggis—hoping to look like she was focused. That was when her eyes fell on something she hadn’t noticed yet.

The piece of paper that drew her gaze was, on closer inspection, a decommission order for a facility called Haerford Airbase. What drew Nia’s attention to this document was that it was signed by Senator Roderich, and that Alistair Vherestrom’s name was nowhere to be found.

“Hey Mòrag,” Nia said, holding up the document in question. “How exactly is this relevant to the investigation at hand?”

“You forget, the whole reason I started investigating Vherestrom in the first place was because I suspected he was doing Senator Roderich’s dirty work and wanted to establish a paper trail,” Mòrag explained. “Shortly after the Gormotti War, Vherestrom had been given command of Haerford Airbase, one of Mor Ardain’s oldest military installations. Then, not three months later, Roderich convinced the senate to approve the facility’s decommissioning and Vherestrom was given command of the then newly built Torigoth Relay Base back in Gormott.”

With a tilt of her head, Nia asked, “Alright, and how exactly does this prove the two were in cahoots?”

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t,” Brighid chimed in while Mòrag chewed on a bite of her haggis. “But Mòrag and I both found it suspicious that the cost of the base’s upkeep increased tenfold after Vherestrom assumed command mere months before the senate’s annual military budget review.”

“In other words, Vherestrom was likely deliberately marking up the facility’s upkeep costs so that Roderich could convince the senate to decommission it,” Mòrag said before frowning. “There’s no way we could prove it, of course. They were too bloody careful to leave any evidence behind.”

“But why? What did they gain from decommissioning some old base?” Nia asked.

“Because the base was in his district, Senator Roderich netted a pretty significant tax bonus from its decommission, which Vherestrom likely got a piece of.”

Nia and her friends’ brief encounter with Roderich in Indol had already left a bad taste in her mouth. Now though, the taste was even worse than the haggis she was forcing down. An idea then struck Nia, as sudden and electric as a bolt of lightning.

“What happened to Haerford Airbase after it was decommissioned?” she asked.

“It’s still standing on our Titan’s back,” Mòrag answered. “Last I checked, the base has been tangled in red tape for years. As one of Mor Ardain’s first bases, it’s a historical site and can’t be torn down outright. But it’s also too far out of the way to be repurposed.”

A grin spread across Nia’s face as all at once, the pieces started falling into place. “What if Roderich and Vherestrom had it decommissioned for more than just a tax write-off?”

Mòrag looked intrigued. She leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it: the Gormotti War had just ended, and with it the trade embargos on Mor Ardain. This brought in the Nopon trade guilds which put Vherestrom’s family company, Vanguard Shipping, out of business. You with me so far?”

A brief glance around the room made Nia aware that she now had its attention. Mòrag, Brighid, Dromarch and even Morgan were looking at her with rapt attention.

“Go on,” Mòrag said.

“If we believe that Vherestrom was using his company warehouses for Amram and Sosem’s Core Crystal trafficking, when his company went under, they would need somewhere else to stash their illicit goods, yeah?”

Brighid seemed to catch on to what Nia was saying first, as she raised an eyebrow, but it was Mòrag who said, “Are you suggesting that Haerford Airbase was decommissioned specifically to provide Amram and Sosem with a new hideout?”

“Why not? You said it’s out of the way, and if it’s really as wrapped up in red tape as you say, it’s just been sitting there untouched for years,” Nia said. “I can’t think of a more perfect spot for a hideout!”

Finally showing the hint of a smile, Mòrag said, “I think you may be onto something there.”

“Indeed,” Dromarch said with clear pride in his voice. “Very astute, my lady.”

“This could also mean that Roderich was backing Amram’s trafficking operation,” Brighid mused. “It might be just what we need to finally get something on him that sticks.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Brighid,” Mòrag said. “It’s just as likely that all Roderich cared about was the short-term profit of decommissioning Haerford and that he remains ignorant of what Vherestrom really wanted out of it.”

“Either way, it sounds like we have a destination tomorrow!” Nia exclaimed, happy to finally be making progress. “Even if we don’t find Sosem or Amram at Haerford, there’ll surely be something there that can lead us to them.”

“It’s still little more than a hunch, though. It would be unwise to act without proper intelligence.” Mòrag stood. “I’ll get to work organizing recon of the area.”

Nia had always hated studying; however, waiting was a very close contender. The hours ticked away at an agonising rate the following morning as they all awaited word from Mòrag’s reconnaissance team. Nia spent most of that time in the quarters she’d been given in Hardhaigh Palace—there wasn’t much in the way of sightseeing in Alba Cavanich, especially now that so much of it was emptied. To her dismay, Jakolo’s Inn was closed down and with it the hot springs. So, Nia tried to distract herself from her impatience with busywork but found it unhelpful. In fact, calling Yew by crystal communicator for an update on the situation in Goshen only heightened her anxiety.

“The refugees are about as settled as they’re going to get. There have been no major incidents of unrest. At least, not yet, ” Yew reported. “ What’s concerning me is how much the Fog Rift’s expansion seems to be accelerating. Fogbeasts have overrun Uramu—good call pulling us out of there, by the way—and our forward scouting parties have already reported Fogbeast sightings in the territory surrounding Goshen.”

“Damn…” Nia muttered.

“That’s not all. Several of the Blades in those scouting parties are already experiencing symptoms of psychosis. Just like those experienced by the Blades in Lord Corbett’s main force earlier in the month, which I fear means…. ”

“Fogblades,” Nia finished for him.

“Aye. Commander Dagen and I are working to come up with contingencies for if and when they turn. Architect willing they won’t catch us with our pants down like they did at Fort Crocius.”

Yew proceeded to brief her on their contingencies. In short, Blades were being permanently pulled off of all reconnaissance operations and any Blade showing symptoms of potential Fog possession were being put under armed quarantine while being subjected to twenty-four-hour monitoring. Simple and hardly elegant, but it should work, at least as a temporary measure. All the more reason for Nia to find a solution to the whole Fog Rift problem fast.

“All in all, the research team tells me that at the current rate of expansion, the Fog Rift’s sphere of influence will encompass Goshen in approximately two weeks,” Yew explained. “Though, they also warned me that with how unpredictable it’s been lately, it could be even sooner. I’ll keep you informed if anything changes.”

“Thanks, Yew. Anything else?”

“Oh, almost forgot! Boss came by the other day. ”

At this, Nia’s ears perked up. “Rex did?”

“Yeah, he heard how bad things are getting with the Fog Rift and wanted to help out, but once he heard you were looking for a solution in Mor Ardain, he took off.”

Nia hoped Yew didn’t notice the way her breath momentarily caught in her throat. “He’s coming to meet me here?”

“That’d be my best guess.”

“What, didn’t he say?”

“Not exactly.” There was a pregnant pause before Yew added, “It was strange, he didn’t really seem like himself.”

“How do you mean?”

“Seemed like his mind was elsewhere. Didn’t have that same pep in his step as usual.”

That did sound odd, but Nia didn’t give it too much thought until Yew then said, “Not to mention he came alone.”

“Pyra and Mythra weren’t with him?” Ever since the end of their journey a year ago, Nia hardly ever saw the three of them apart.

“Nope. He told me they were fine when I asked, but not much more than that.”

“I see….” Not knowing what else to say, Nia thanked Yew for the report and told him to keep up the good work before disconnecting the transmission.

It was another hour later that a knock on the door heralded the appearance of a familiar face. A young brown-haired Gormotti man dressed in Ardainian soldier’s armour greeted Nia with an Ardainian salute.

“Princess Nia, Special Inquisitor Mòrag requests your presence in her office. She’s just received word from our recon team,” he said, holding his salute.

Nia smiled. “At ease, Jac. And we know each other well enough that you can just call me ‘Nia’ when we’re in private.”

The young man relaxed a little and his arms fell to his sides. “Right, sorry Nia. It’s just that the Special Inquisitor is really serious about ‘proper decorum’ and all that.”

As Jac started leading her through the halls of the palace, Nia spoke up, “So, you work under Mòrag now? When did that happen?” The last time they spoke had been on the frontier, when Jac’s Decade had been investigating the destruction of Blackrock mining colony.

“About a month ago,” Jac answered. “My old captain—Cailean, if you remember—apparently recommended me for promotion in his report to the Special Inquisitor, owing to my role in de-escalating the skirmish between our forces and Uraya’s.”

Nia remembered that. It had been right before Raqura had first asked her to be her successor. Nia’s life had seemed so comparatively simple then.

“I guess Lady Mòrag also remembered my part in sorting out the Brionac incident last year, because not only did she promote me to sergeant major, but she also reassigned me to her personal Decade.”

“That’s great!” Nia said, genuinely happy for him. He’d come a long way from a poor urchin in Torigoth trying to make money to feed his younger siblings.

“Sure, I mean, Special Inquisitor Mòrag is bloody terrifying as a CO, but at least the pay’s good. Morca, Zelen and Neel have never been eating better!”

A few minutes later, they arrived at Mòrag’s office and Jac was dismissed, leaving Nia’s side with a silent nod of encouragement. Wasting no time, Mòrag stood from her desk and approached Nia.

“Early long-range reconnaissance has detected no observable activity within Haerford Airbase, nor is it drawing any power from the local substation,” Mòrag reported. “My men are continuing to monitor Haerford, however, by all appearances no one is currently there.”

Nia wasn’t really surprised, though she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed. “Okay, so when do we move in?”

“Don’t be hasty, Nia,” Mòrag chided. Nia didn’t like her tone. It made her feel like a kid. “Although the base seems unoccupied outwardly, I’ve done some additional research that may prove illuminating.”

Mòrag produced more papers and showed them to Nia, who sighed, “Sorry, I think my eyes might roll back into my skull if I have to look at any more paperwork. Think you can just give me the gist of it?”

With a patient breath, Mòrag explained, “These are flight itineraries for a number of arriving salvager airships. As part of our reconnaissance, I spent much time looking into every non-military vessel with a flight path over Hanzac—the region where Haerford Airbase resides—over the last month. What I found was… curious.

“A large number of such airships arrived at their destinations within Mor Ardain later than scheduled, and even stranger, each one was a salvager ship from the Argentum Trade Guild returning from an expedition to Morytha.”

“Argentum?” Nia asked. “Do you think Bana is somehow involved as well?”

“More likely just remnants of his syndicate,” Brighid answered. “Bana’s corruption ran deep in Argentum. I doubt Chairman Niranira could have weeded out all of the bad eggs in just a year.”

“Okay so, you think these Argentum salvager ships have been making unscheduled stops at Haerford?” she asked. “But why?”

“Right now, it’s hard to say. The ships’ cargo manifests show that all of the recovered salvage was accounted for on delivery,” Mòrag explained. “Then again, it’s easy for salvager teams to omit anything they want to keep from their manifests. As I understand, it’s been such a common occurrence since Morytha became accessible that the guilds simply turn a blind eye.”

“Right, makes sense,” Nia said. “So, what do you suggest?”

“That we continue to stake out Haerford until we can learn more,” Mòrag said. “The next of Argentum’s salvage deliveries from Morytha is expected to arrive in Alba Cavanich in two weeks from today. If my theory is correct, it will stop at Haerford Air Base before that. If it does, that’s when we’ll make our move.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“In that case, if my recon team has detected no other signs of activity within Haerford during that time, then we can insert with a team and do a full sweep of the facility’s interior.”

“But by then it’ll have been two weeks! Maybe more!”

“These kinds of investigations take time,” Mòrag said, sitting back behind her desk.

“Yeah, but time is one luxury we can’t afford right now!” Nia exclaimed, remembering what Yew had told her. “That Fog Rift over the frontier is getting bigger by the day. People’s lives are at stake here!”

“All the more reason to proceed with caution,” Mòrag calmly countered. “If we act prematurely with minimal intelligence, we risk it all being for naught.”

“But…!” Nia started.

“If we move in now, we tip our hand to the enemy and if they aren’t at Haerford, they turtle up wherever they really are. Then, weeks of waiting becomes months or longer.”

“I get that, but….”

“Or the enemy has a trump card we didn’t expect.” Mòrag seemed to tense up, her jaw clenching almost imperceptibly more firmly. “In which case, the enemy likely gets away and we suffer avoidable casualties.”

“My people are predicting we’ll lose Goshen in less than two weeks. If that happens, more people die and the survivors won’t have anywhere left on the frontier to go!”

After giving it some thought, Mòrag said, “I suppose we could send a ground insertion team in a few days, but not before recon of the area is complete. We can’t afford to go off half-cocked with this.”

What Mòrag was saying made sense, but Nia didn’t want to listen. She kept thinking about Yew and the people back in Goshen. About the refugees who had already experienced so much loss. The ball was wet to the touch. Nia wasn’t running away now. She was here in Mor Ardain for them. To find a way to stop the Fog Rift once and for all so they could all move on with their lives. 

And yet, she was here and not there. Just like when Fort Crocius fell. Vice Admiral Whytworth was splayed out on the floor, her dead eyes wide with horror.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not waiting any longer,” Nia said, looking at Mòrag with resolute eyes. “I’m taking my team and going in tonight. You can back me up or don’t. Up to you.”

Mòrag met Nia’s look with a disapproving frown. “Very well. I said my piece, but this is your investigation, not mine. I’ll follow your lead, but just know I think it’s a bad idea.”

Nia matched Mòrag’s frown. “Duly noted.”

Before Nia knew it, it was nearly three in the morning and Operation: Stone Survey was commencing. She was somewhat disappointed to learn that operational naming schemes in Mor Ardain’s military weren’t picked based on what sounded cool (she would have suggested Operation: Lightning Strike otherwise), but rather was selected by a standardized planning SOP. So here she was, riding in a smaller military transport airship alongside Dromarch, Morgan, Mòrag, Brighid and a single Decade of Ardainian soldiers. With a name like “Stone Survey” it seemed more like they were on a geological expedition than a military operation.

Despite her vocal reservations about Nia’s plan to move into Haerford Airbase ASAP, Mòrag had nonetheless worked quickly and professionally to plan the operation throughout the rest of the day. Nia trusted her to handle the majority of the operational logistics. As afternoon had yielded to evening, a Decade of Mòrag’s hand-selected troops (which included Jac and his Blade Yachik) was assembled and briefed. The soldiers all had many questions during the brief. Mòrag had admitted plainly that they lacked the intel to know for sure what they could expect to find once they entered the operational zone, which did little to assuage the men’s concerns.

Now, as their ship entered Hanzac’s airspace and the crew doused the ship’s running lights to reduce their visibility, the assembled soldiers were quiet. Nia wondered whether they had any silent doubts about the operation—any private misgivings about the foreign crown princess whose haste necessitated moving forward into the dark unknown. She didn’t blame them if they did.

Their airship touched down at the designated LZ in a small gulch tucked away behind one of the giant rock formations that served as spines on the Ardainian Titan’s back. From there, they all disembarked, travelling the rest of the two-hundred odd Titanpeds across the Hanzac Plains to Haerford on foot under the cover of darkness.

When the airbase first came into view, Nia couldn’t help but agree with Mòrag’s assessment that it looked abandoned. The dark derelict structures reminded her—with no small measure of discomfort—of the way Fort Crocius had looked after the Fogblades had attacked it. Approaching Haerford’s easternmost fence, two of their men began cutting through its iron links until there was a gap big enough for the first soldiers to squeeze through. After a sweep of their immediate surroundings, one of the soldiers raised a hand and lifted his index and second fingers: the signal for “all clear.” The other soldiers filed in followed by Nia, Mòrag and the others.

The sixteen of them were all standing on the vast snowy tarmac of Haerford airbase. It looked big enough to house one of Mor Ardain’s largest Titan battleships, which it likely had at one point. Now though, there was not a single vessel that remained—not visibly, anyway.

From there, they split into two teams. Mòrag and Brighid took six soldiers and moved to the north end of the base, where they would begin sweeping the administrative building and work their way south through the medical building and mess hall. Nia, Dromarch and Morgan took the remaining four soldiers and Jac’s Blade and made their way to the base’s south end, where they would check the munitions storage and move up through the hangars, eventually meeting Mòrag’s team in the centre.

Jac led the way as he and his soldiers entered the munitions depot. Nia and her companions followed as they started their sweep of the building, shining ether lamps into every dark nook and cranny. The depot seemed empty, save for a few crates designed to hold especially large artillery shells—for battleship cannons most likely. The crates were all empty, though, and after confirming that nothing was there, Jac got on the horn with Mòrag.

“Bravo Leader to Alpha SI, completed sweep of Munitions. No sign of the enemy, moving to Hangar One, over.”

Nia heard Mòrag’s voice come through her own headset. “ Copy that, Bravo Leader. Nothing yet in Admin but we still have another floor to check. ”

Nia remained silent, allowing Mor Ardain’s soldiers to do their thing. She didn’t mind letting Jac take the lead on coordinating with Mòrag and her team. He was her subordinate, after all, and Nia didn’t technically have any place in Mor Ardain’s military chain of command. It certainly wasn’t that she wanted to avoid speaking to Mòrag now that things between them were more tense than usual.

Moving on to the first hangar, Nia was disappointed to find it just as empty as the munitions storage building. She found herself starting to wonder what she would do if Haerford Airbase turned out to be a false lead after all. She’d be back to square one, with the Fog Rift bearing down on her people in Goshen and no way to find Sosem.

Then Nia and her team moved into Hangar Two and Nia’s eyes went wide at what her team’s ether lamps illuminated.

“Alpha SI, Bravo Team might have found something, ” Jac reported over the radio. “Looks like a stockpile of… equipment of some sort. Maybe weapons? It’s not Ardainian, whatever it is. I’ve never seen anything like it!”

But Nia had. Stocked at the far side of the hangar was a massive collection of technology that could only be from the Land of Morytha. All of it was of many different shapes and sizes, and Nia did not know what most of it was for, save for one. The towering bipedal Gerolf-class Sovereign mech was, based on past experience, an autonomous machine built for war. Thankfully, the large mech remained still and silent at the group’s approach, the lights along its chassis dark. It looked inoperable, and Nia hoped it would stay that way.

“Many of this stuff seems to have arrived here recently,” Dromarch noted. Nia thought he was probably right. No way could any of the larger relics have been recovered from Morytha before the Reformation.

“ Any sign of hostiles? ” Mòrag asked over the radio.

“Not yet, Ma’am,” Jac replied.

“ Continue your sweep. Once the facility is secure, we’ll reconvene at your current position and go from there. ”

As Nia walked past the gathered Morytha tech deeper into the hangar, she found herself musing, “So this guy was raiding colonies, knows all about the Fog Rift and is collecting technology from Morytha?” She looked over at Dromarch. “Just what the hell is he planning?”

Dromarch didn’t have an answer of course and indicated so with a shrug. “I suppose the only way to find out is to ask the man himself.”

“Right.” They just had to find him first.

“Crown Princess! Up here!” Morgan’s voice called out, drawing Nia’s gaze up toward a second-floor office overlooking the hangar. Morgan was standing on a walkway by the door leading inside. “You might want to come look at this!”

Nia climbed the metal stairs leading up to the walkways two at a time. When she reached Morgan, the Blade researcher led her into the office.

“Watch your step. Lotta cables to trip on!” Morgan exclaimed, looking around the room.

Without light, it was as dark as the rest of the base, but Morgan quickly shone her ether lamp into one of the corners, where an inconspicuous device sat about the size of a small wagon.

“It’s an ether generator,” Morgan said as she moved towards it. “Now, I’m pretty sure I can….” She turned a handle and flicked a switch and just like that, a few mounted ether lamps bathed the room in orange light.

“Ta-da! Let there be light! ” Morgan exclaimed, striking a little victorious hands-on-hips pose before evidently noticing that neither Nia nor Dromarch were clapping for her. An embarrassed blush crept onto her face. “That was, uh… the Architect. I was quoting the Architect.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Nia drolled, looking around the newly illuminated room.

What she saw was a table and a whiteboard, both of which seemed to be covered in paper with all manner of inscrutable scribbling on it. The organised clutter made Nia think of Morgan’s workspace back at Fort Crocius, which made her realise very quickly what she was looking at.

“Someone was doing a fair bit of studying here,” she said.

Morgan seemed to agree. “I know a good research mess when I see one!”

The question was, what kind of research was it? It occurred to Nia that maybe it was research on the Fog Rifts, and that right there on that table would be the solution she needed. But when she moved closer to take a look, the first thing that caught her eye was what appeared to be a diagram of a Core Crystal.

“Looks like our guy was studying how Core Crystals work,” Nia said as she glanced through more pages.

As she did, she spotted another diagram of something she recognised. The blueprint pictured a bulky bladed device with a long thin tip sticking out of some kind of core. The word “Arkblade” was written at the top of the page.

“Hey, I’ve seen this before!” Nia exclaimed, showing it to Morgan. “Vherestrom stuck me with it when we fought in Colony Iota.”

Morgan took the offered blueprint, seeming unsure of what to make of it. “Apparently, it’s used for… downloading a Blade’s core data.”

Nia remembered the way her mind had clouded over when Vherestrom had stuck it in her. Was that what he’d been doing to her? Stealing the data from her core? He couldn’t have gotten much before Dromarch had interrupted, but the thought of it still made her shiver. 

“Nia, do you copy? ” Mòrag’s voice over the radio nearly made Nia jump. “I think I’ve found what you’re looking for. ”

Reaching up to her headset, Nia said, “Something about the Fog Rift? Uh, over.”

“Affirmative, looks like someone was set up in Medical studying the rifts. I have a map of the new continent in front of me with every known Fog Rift sighting marked, as well as a few we didn’t know about. ”

“Anything there that looks like a way to stop it?”

“Not yet, but there’s a lot to go through,” Mòrag said. “There is something strange in the research, though. ”

“What is it?”

“A date. ”

Before Nia could ask what was so strange about a date, another voice came through on the radio. “ Recon One to Alpha SI, come in Alpha SI.”

Mòrag’s voice responded almost immediately. “Go ahead, Recon One.”

“Heads up, we’ve got eyes on an airship headed your way. Based on the markings, I’d say it’s an Argentum guild ship.”

Nia turned away from the table as she transmitted, “Hang on, I thought it was supposed to be a whole two weeks before their next shipment arrives from Morytha.”

“That’s the thing: they’re coming from the wrong direction and really hauling arse. ETA three minutes.”

Three minutes later, Nia, Dromarch, Morgan, Jac, Yachik, and the other soldiers were posted up on the ground floor of the hangar, using the accumulation of storage crates and Morytha artefacts as cover. Three minutes wasn’t a lot of time as far as advance warning went. According to the recon team, the incoming ship was flying low and running dark just as they had been when they inserted. As a result, the recon team had nearly missed it entirely. It seemed that whoever was on board really didn’t want to risk being seen.

However, it seemed likely to Nia that their own presence on base remained undetected, and after briefly conferring with Mòrag over the radio, they agreed that the best strategy was to get the drop on whoever was arriving. Considering the rest of the base that they’d searched thus far was empty, it seemed likely that the new ship was here either for the salvaged tech and Core Crystal research in the hangar, or the rift research in the medical building. Thus, Nia’s party and Mòrag’s party would each lie in wait at their respective locations. Nia had Jac order his men to conceal themselves and douse their ether lamps. Morgan had then quickly sprinted back up the stairs when they realised they’d left the ether generator in the second-floor office running. 

So, Nia and her companions waited in the dark. She felt the rumble of the airship’s engines reverberate the ground under her feet as it made its descent and landed just outside the hangar’s main doors. It was quiet for some time as its crew disembarked and made whatever preparations they needed. Nia had to restrain herself from simply running out there and slinging her Arts around. She hated waiting.

Her restraint soon paid off, and the hangar doors began to slide open, letting in the bright white light of the airship’s signal lights. Nia and the others made sure to keep in the shadows. Naturally, the facility had no power, so the doors were being manually pushed open by a pair of large muscular silhouettes. When the doors were wide enough, two more figures entered, each pushing a large hand cart. Finally, a fifth figure appeared before the open hangar doors, a long coat and wide-brimmed hat silhouetted by the airship’s bright lights.

“Alright fellers, y’all have yer shopping list, so move yer keisters!” intoned a familiar drawl. “This junk needs to be in Zorn yesterday!”

Finally, the man Nia had spent so much time hunting was right there! “Mòrag, Sosem’s here! ” Nia whispered over her headset. “Looks like he’s grabbing the Morytha stuff.”

“Copy, on our way,” Mòrag responded.

Based on his “shopping list” comment, Sosem was not here for all of the salvaged Morytha tech. As far as Nia knew, Sosem’s cronies only had a few things to grab before they were gone. What if Mòrag didn’t make it over in time? She and her men had to cross most of the base to get here, after all.

So, her eyes trained on Sosem’s silhouette, Nia silently summoned her Catalyst Scimitar but Jac held up a fist, signaling his troops—as well as her—to wait. Sosem had yet to cross the threshold of the hangar doors, waiting by the loading ramp of his ship. If Nia and the others revealed themselves prematurely, he would have an easy escape. So, much to her consternation, she waited.

The men with Sosem—two Drivers and a Common Blade each, by the look of it—began to load up their hand carts while the man himself watched from the hangar doorway. When they each started wheeling their respective loads back towards the waiting airship, Nia started to worry that they were going to miss their chance to spring their trap. Then she noticed one of the hand carts, stacked too high with Morytha relics, began to wobble unsteadily. The man pushing the cart attempted to stop the tower’s collapse but overcorrected and the whole thing toppled to the floor with a loud clatter.

“Oh, for… what the Sam Hill are you tinhorns doin’?” Sosem took a step into the hangar, and Nia’s grip on her Blade weapon tightened.

“Sorry, sir,” the man behind the accident said as he started gathering the boxed items. Nia spotted an impressive set of sideburns on the man’s face.

“I don’ wanna hear yer sorries, you slack-jawed idjit. We’re on a timetable here!” Sosem walked the rest of the way into the hangar, heading towards his clumsy subordinate either to assist him or berate him further.

Nia looked over at Jac, communicating with her eyes that it was now or never. She then jumped out from her place of cover, scimitar in hand.

“ALRIGHT YOU LOT, NOBODY MOVE!” she shouted as loud as she could, clearly startling the sideburned man who had fumbled the hand cart.

After a brief moment of confusion, the others with her quickly followed suit. Nia hoped she hadn’t jumped the gun by too much. Dromarch and Morgan stepped up beside her, Jac and Yachik moving in from the side while the remaining four Ardainian soldiers moved to block the hangar doors and the airship just beyond Sosem and his men. Jac and his soldiers all aimed down the sights of their steam rifles while Yachik brandished his megalance and Morgan brought out her Mondo, the little paper figures swirling around her menacingly. Sosem and the four with him were surrounded.

“Show us your hands and get on your knees!” Jac commanded. “In the name of the Imperial Army of Mor Ardain, you’re under arrest.”

The Drivers with Sosem had drawn their Blade weapons as soon as Nia and her companions had revealed themselves, but seeing how they were surrounded and outnumbered, none of them looked particularly inclined to put up a fight. Sosem, however, saw Nia and a grin spread across his mustached face.

“Well, well, I’ll be a Gogol’s uncle! Long time no see, L’il Filly Flesh Eater.”

“Indeed. You’re a hard man to find, Sosem,” Nia retorted.

“Aww, don’ tell me you came all the way out here fer l’il ol’ me.” Sosem put a hand to his chest, his smile a simile of warm joy. “You ain’t sweet on me now, are ya?”

Nia ignored the obvious attempt to goad her. “Have some questions for you actually. Like what you know about the Fog Rifts, to start.”

Sosem’s smile grew wider. “Enough to know what they really mean fer us.” He then looked past Nia, who realised he’d finally noticed Morgan standing beside her. “Have to say, wasn’t expecting to see you here, Miss. Surely, you have the requisite knowledge to answer the filly’s questions yourself.”

“Shut your mouth, Aspar!” Morgan spat with enough venom to poison their adversary from across the hangar. It was that which reminded Nia of Morgan’s history with Sosem, and she gave her companion what she hoped was a placating look. The last thing she needed was for Morgan to do something rash that might derail the whole situation.

“That’s right, you can answer all our questions after we have you in custody,” Jac said, taking a step forward with his steam rifle raised. “I’ll ask you one more time: lower your weapons and surrender, or my men and I will use force!”

Sosem let out a theatrical sigh. “Very well, you got me!”

Still smiling his lackadaisical smile, Sosem raised both of his hands in surrender. At least, that’s what it looked like before Nia noticed the small remote in his left hand. Before she could utter a single syllable of warning, Sosem pressed a button with his thumb. The sudden sound of movement drew everyone’s attention to the huge collection of Morytha technology against the wall. Nia’s ears fell flat against her head as she saw the Gerolf Sovereign mech, now glowing with cyan energy, rise to its full height with a loud groan of metal on metal.

“Oh, bollocks,” Nia muttered before all hell broke loose.

With a blast of electric-based ether energy from its right arm cannon, the Gerolf Sovereign attacked the closest person to it, which at the moment so happened to be Yachik. Taking advantage of the ensuing chaos, Sosem’s men rushed to the soldiers blocking the hangar doors, engaging them in a frantic melee before they had a chance to fire their steam rifles. Sosem ignored the fighting entirely and booked it straight for the hangar doors, his bumbling sideburned subordinate abandoning the hand cart and following close.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Morgan exclaimed as her Mondo coalesced to form a pair of paper birds, which flew after Sosem with a wave of her hand.

Sosem clocked this as he ran, and in a move that stunned Nia, he grabbed Sideburns by the collar of his shirt and with one hand sent him stumbling into the Mondo’s path, taking the hit in Sosem’s place. Meanwhile, the Gerolf Sovereign took two lumbering steps forward, its arm cannon reconfiguring into a huge energy sword which it proceeded to swing at Sosem’s other Driver as he scrapped with a soldier. Evidently, everyone in the hangar was equally an enemy to the behemoth machine.

As the Gerolf moved to its next target—the soldier desperately firing his steam rifle at it—Nia realised that Jac and his men would not last long against that thing on their own. On the other hand, if she stayed to support them, Sosem would most certainly get away, where he’d go deep into hiding and Nia would have no solution to the Fog Rift.

She then heard Morgan let out an angry growl as she began to take off after Sosem. Worried about what might happen if she got too carried away, Nia grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Dromarch and I will catch him, you stay here and help out with this!” Nia ordered, glancing at the Gerolf as it fired another blast with its cannon, knocking out one of their soldiers.

For a moment, Morgan looked like she would protest, or even wrench free of Nia’s grip and continue chasing Sosem anyway. “Understood,” she said instead.

Turning to face the Gerolf and summoning more Mondo, Morgan sent her origami soldiers to form a protective barrier around the hapless Ardainian about to be finished off by the large mech’s cannon.

“Break his legs for me, okay?” she said with a wink.

Genuinely not sure whether she was joking, Nia hopped onto Dromarch’s back and switched from her Blade form to her Driver form, pulling out Dromarch’s twin rings. The two of them raced past two more soldiers as they subdued the remaining mercenary Drivers, Dromarch carrying her into the light of the airship’s ether lamps.

As he sprinted across the short stretch of tarmac to where his airship was waiting, Sosem’s easygoing smile betrayed none of the anger raging inside him. He had been informed that the soon to be queen of Uraya was hunting him, but he had genuinely not expected her to find him so quickly, let alone at his stash of salvaged Morytha technology. His initial thought was that his “partner” had set him up before dismissing the idea. Regardless of whether he escaped now, this was going to seriously set back their special project. That was unacceptable.

First order of business, though, was to get the heck out of dodge. Sosem bounded up the ramp leading into his ship’s loading bay and headed to the far wall. There was a console with a switch there which closed the bay doors. The ship wouldn’t take off with the doors open—an automated safety feature installed on these new trade guild vessels—but once the doors were closed, he was home free. However, Sosem was suddenly cut off from the console by a wall of blue flames that rose in front of him.

“What in tarnation…?”

The blue flames were so hot he could already feel sweat begin to drench his brow as he turned around to find out what was causing them. What he saw was immediate cause for concern. In the light of the signal lamps outside, more Ardainian soldiers were rushing into the hangar to deal with the rampaging automaton he’d just set off. However, that wasn’t what had him concerned. Two women were stepping aboard the ship through the open bay doors with the calm confidence of those who had won many battles. One wore the dark uniform coat of a high-ranking Ardainian military officer, while the other was a Blade in a luxurious purple dress and matching hair of blue flame. Sosem knew immediately who he was dealing with.

“Well, dog my cats, if it ain’t the Flamebringer herself!” Sosem exclaimed with a smile, already formulating a plan in his head to neutralize both of them. “Ain’t I popular!”

Dual-weilding swords, the Flamebringer—Mòrag Ladair, if he was correct—regarded him with stern eyes, speaking in a harsh Ardainian accent. “I will give you only one chance to surrender.”

With a swing of her swords, they segmented, turning into two whips. Wreathed in blue flame, the apparent whipswords coiled back seemingly of their own accord, like Aspar poised to strike. It was an impressive display of power, and any lesser criminal might immediately be cowed at the mere sight of it. But Sosem was no lesser criminal.

“What if I feel like goin’ another way?” he asked with a confident grin.

“That would be unwise,” said her Blade as the two of them walked further into the loading bay. “You’re severely outmatched.”

Sosem chuckled. He had them right where he wanted them. “Yessim, I reckon you’d be right… if I fought fair!”

In the blink of an eye, Sosem drew one of his gunblades. The Flamebringer’s Blade reacted immediately, predictably putting up a shield to protect her Driver faster than even Sosem’s quickdraw. Too bad for them, Lady Ladair wasn’t Sosem’s target. The Flamebringer’s Blade was renowned for the immense power of her fire. But the greater the elemental strength, the greater the weakness. He aimed the barrel of his weapon up toward the ceiling directly above them and placed a precise shot into the emergency sprinkler system.

The Blade let out a cry of pain and shock as her flames were very effectively doused—her power quite literally washing away. In another blink, Sosem readjusted his aim at the now vulnerable Lady Ladair. To her credit, she reacted quickly to her situation—much more quickly than Sosem had expected. Rather than try to close the distance between them before Sosem could hit her with a well-placed shot, Ladair retracted one of her whipswords and threw it at him. The throw went wide; Sosem only had to lean a little to the right to avoid it entirely while he lined up the barrel of his gunblade to the woman’s heart and pulled the trigger. Just like that, it was over. Mòrag Ladair fell to the ground and was still.

“Lady Mòrag…” her Blade groaned, trying to crawl out of the deluge of water raining down on her. With a flashy twirl of his gunblade, Sosem fired four more carefully spread shots into the sprinkler system, leaving nowhere dry for the fire Blade to retreat to.

Sosem looked down at the dead Special Inquisitor and her Blade. “Huh. I expected more…” he mused as he turned to flip the door switch and secure his escape.

That was when he figured out Ladair’s true plan: Her thrown sword hadn’t been aimed at him from the start. This was made apparent when Sosem saw it wedged firmly into the console that housed the door switch. Errant sparks flew from the machinery and a quick try of the switch confirmed that it did not perform its function. His gloved hand curled into a fist.

“Well played, Flamebringer,” he said calmly before slamming his fist into the console with unguarded rage.

The ship’s loading bay was open and Sosem was inside, bent over a control console of some kind. But what made Nia’s heart sink was the sight of Mòrag and Brighid crumpled to the floor. Brighid was weakened by ice cold water from the sprinkler system overhead, and Mòrag lay in a heap bleeding out. Dromarch picked up speed, carrying her over the bay doors’ threshold. When they were close enough, Nia leapt from his back and tossed one of the twin rings, aiming right for the back of Sosem’s head. But as if possessing a second set of eyes there, he whirled around, gunblade drawn and in a flash, intercepted Nia’s thrown twin ring with a bullet, knocking it to the floor a short distance away.

“Hoo-wee! Tenacious l’il filly, ain’t ya?”

Landing on her feet next to Mòrag’s body, Nia quickly cast Healing Halo while Dromarch checked on the waterlogged Brighid. Mòrag’s wound appeared to be directly in her heart, and for one terrible moment Nia was afraid her friend was already gone. But when Nia’s healing was complete, Mòrag stirred with a cough. Somehow, she was alive in spite of the wound’s placement. Nia decided not to question the miracle as she stood to face her adversary.

“Give it up, Sosem!” Nia said. “That Fog Rift back in Colony Iota has already killed a lot of people. You must tell me how to stop it before it kills even more!”

Sosem tilted his head. “How to stop it? What makes you think I know that?”

“You were in Blackrock and Colony Gamma when Fog Rifts appeared by them, and those rifts are gone now. The only Fog Rift that stuck is the one over Colony Iota—the one that appeared while you were busy with us.”

But Sosem’s expression was utterly devoid of comprehension, “Aw shucks, you didn’t think I was the one clearing out them other Fog Rifts the whole time, did you?”

Nia sputtered. He had to be lying. “You knew exactly what the Fog Rift was as soon as you saw it. You’ve been following them before anyone else even knew they existed. How can you not have any answers?”

“Dang, you really put all yer hopes of solvin’ this thing on me, didn’t ya?” Sosem laughed, but it was short lived. “Ah, that’d be funny if it weren’t so sad!”

Nia noticed that as they were talking, Sosem was pulling bullets out of his bandolier. It occurred to her that he wanted to keep her talking so that he could reload, but she allowed it. More than anything, she needed answers and she needed them now. If he wanted to keep her talking, she would do the same until he slipped up and said too much.

“If you weren’t in those colonies to stop the other Fog Rifts, then what were you doing?”

“Gatherin’ data, of course!”

“To what end?” There had to be more to this that Sosem wasn’t telling her. “What’s the purpose of gathering so much data on the Fog Rifts if not to find a way to stop them?”

Sosem tsked and said, “There ain’t no way to stop what’s comin’, l’il filly.”

“I don’t buy it. No way you’d do all this if you really thought that.”

“Oh, make no mistake, there is a solution, just not one you’ll like.”

“Try me.”

Sosem slid a bullet into the chamber of his gunblade as he answered, “An exodus of the worthy, of course!”

“What do you mean?”

Sosem inserted more bullets. “To be honest, I don’t think I’m qualified to properly explain it. All the science mumbo-jumbo is beyond me.”

It was Dromarch who suddenly figured out what that meant and said, “So all of the research on base here… that isn’t yours?”

For perhaps the first time, Sosem went quiet. It was clear from his diminished smile: he’d let slip something he wasn’t supposed to. Nia’s plan was working.

“Whose research are you helping with, then?” She asked, before an idea came to her. “Is it Amram’s?”

Sosem blinked, again taken off guard. Did that mean Nia was on the money? “So, you know about my Driver. You’ve done yer homework!”

“Where is he?” Nia asked. Nay, demanded. “Seems to me like he’s the one I should be talking to.”

At this, Sosem let out a laugh as genuinely gleeful as it was deranged. “’Fraid he ain’t doin’ much talkin’ these days, filly, if’n you catch my meanin’.”

Nia was pretty sure she did. “He’s dead, then?”

Still wearing a gleeful smile, Sosem slammed the last few bullets into the revolving chamber of his gunblade and slammed it shut. “Put him in the ground myself!”

“You killed your own Driver?” Dromarch asked, sounding appalled. 

“Of course! Once I realized we no longer needed them, it was the easiest choice I ever made!” He then directed his earnest smile at Nia. “You knew it even before I did, didn’t ya? Tell me, did ya kill yours too? Or did ya just let nature take its course?”

Suddenly, Nia had heard enough. Lone twin ring in hand, she charged at Sosem, intending to finally subdue him once and for all. Sosem was more than ready for her though and casually ducked out of the way of her swipe, firing off a couple shots. Dromarch was quick on the defensive, projecting a shield around her with a roar.

But Nia was closer to her other twin ring now, and with Dromarch’s shield still around her, she turned and reached for it. Another shot from Sosem’s gunblade rang out, but rather than wear away at her shield, he aimed for the twin ring on the floor, knocking it further out of her reach. Nia shot him a dirty look (which he returned with an amused smirk) before she went chasing after it, only for Sosem to knock it away again with another well-placed shot.

That was when Dromarch gave up on his shield and lunged for Sosem himself, feline fangs bared. Sosem got his arm up in time to protect his throat from being ripped out, but now he had a huge tiger clamping its jaws down on him, giving Nia plenty of time to swipe up her other twin ring unmolested.

“Dang varmint!” Sosem exclaimed, summoning his second gunblade to his free hand and immediately firing two shots into Dromarch’s stomach.

The white tiger went down but wouldn’t be out for long and by now Nia had both twin rings and closed the distance before Sosem could unload any rounds into her. Swinging her weapons with meticulous precision obfuscated by fleet fury, Nia forced Sosem on the back foot, pushing him toward the wall away from the stairs that led to the upper decks. She was unaware that due to a door control malfunction, the ship was grounded.

“Hate me all you like, filly, but deep down I think you know I’m right,” Sosem said as the two locked blades. “The two of you have fought better than this against stronger foes than me, haven’t you?”

“What of it?” Nia said, pressing harder to keep forcing her opponent back.

“Same with the Flamebringer and her Blade back there. You think I coulda bested them in Old Alrest, even fighting dirty? Even yer Aegis pals and their Driver went down pretty easy back in Iota, right? That had nothin’ to do with me. Truth be told, I ain’t nothin’ special.” Sosem pushed back, his empty eyes looking directly into hers. “Face it… all the old rules of the world are dead and buried. Drivers and Blades have no more use fer each other…. Ain’t none of us in resonance no more! ”

With a furious snarl, Nia broke from their locked blades and decked Sosem in the face with a furious swing. Sosem spun and staggered, propping himself on an open crate. Nia moved in for a follow-up strike, hoping she’d gained the upper hand. It didn’t even occur to Nia that Sosem had choreographed their fight to go exactly this way. Had allowed Nia to push him back this direction because he had an ace in the hole; one which he pulled out of the open crate and turned to aim at her.

Nia didn’t recognise the device until Sosem fired it. Before she knew it, she was completely immobilised by a glowing net holding her down like a weighted blanket, her ability to draw in ether effectively cut off.

“You’ve got to be bloody kidding me! ” she groaned, in disbelief that this happened to her again.

“Handy gizmo, these Ardainian ether nets, ain’t they?” Sosem drawled before firing another at Dromarch and giggling as he too was rolled up and laid low.

The two of them now reduced to little more than squirming torpedo wraps, Sosem sauntered over to where Nia lay helpless and crouched. “I know yer upset by what I just told ya, but Blades and Drivers no longer being entwined is a good thing. We’re finally free to reach our full potential on our own! ”

Nia tried to wiggle closer, thinking maybe she could sink her teeth into him. Sosem stood back up before she had the chance.

“Now, yer Special Inquisitor friend done grounded my ship, so I’ve got a long walk ahead of me. But you think about what I said now, y’hear?” Sosem then took one last look over at Brighid, still waterlogged and clinging to Mòrag’s body. He tipped his white hat and gave her a gentlemanly, “Ma’am.”

He turned to walk out of the ship and disappear into the Ardainian wasteland, but another figure stood blocking his way. Dressed in blue from head to toe and wielding a pair of red and white greatswords, Nia’s heart skipped a beat at the reassurance held in the pair of kind golden eyes before they focused on their enemy.

“Been a while, Sosem,” Rex said with a cocky grin. “Fancy a rematch?”

Sosem let out a weary sigh. “Sorry pup, ain’t got the time.”

“Make time.”

With that, Rex charged forward. Sosem raised his gunblades to open fire, but Rex crossed his two Aegis swords in front of him, blocking the shots. When he closed the distance with Sosem, he started swinging.

During the fight in Colony Iota, Rex’s Aegis sword dual wielding was slow and clumsy. Now though, Rex was surer of himself, his swings more controlled. It seemed that he’d been training harder during the time since their last encounter. Sosem managed to dodge or deflect many of Rex’s attacks, but a few managed to get through his defenses and land glancing blows. All the while, Nia could only watch, helpless within the ether net’s embrace.

As the two locked blades, Sosem managed to line up his gunblade with Rex’s head and pull the trigger, but all that came out was an empty click. Having expended all his ammunition, Sosem was thoroughly on the backfoot. Rex kept pressing the attack, refusing to give him a moment to reload.

“Can’t help but notice… yer doin’ alright without them Aegis twins…” Sosem panted. It sounded like he was beginning to tire. “I’m curious… where are they right now?”

“None of your business!” Rex exclaimed with another sword strike for emphasis.

“Well, it looks to me like… ya don’t need ‘em anyway!” Sosem landed a glancing blow with the bladed end of his weapon in Rex’s shoulder. “Proves my thesis correct!” Sosem ducked under the retaliatory swing and stuck him again. Rex pushed through it and kept fighting.

The two exchanged a few more blows like this before Rex seized upon a fatal opening left by Sosem, landing a devastating uppercut with Mythra’s greatsword which sent Sosem sprawling to the ground. With a toothy grin, Sosem looked up at Rex, a fresh bullet between his teeth. Nia hadn’t even seen him remove it from his bandolier. Then to her astonishment, he spat the bullet into the revolving chamber of his gunblade and drew a bead on Rex’s heart in less than a second. The gunblade went off… after a swarm of origami knocked it from Sosem’s hand.

Morgan appeared behind Rex with her Mondo. She was followed by Ardainian soldiers who poured into the loading bay, surrounding the prostrate Sosem and leveling their steam rifles. It would appear that the rampaging Gerolf Sovereign had been dealt with.

Panting, Rex stood over Sosem, pointing Pyra’s greatsword toward him. “Done yet?”

Removing his white hat, Sosem took barely a moment to survey his thoroughly unfavourable situation before giving him a friendly smile. “I know when to fold ‘em.”

The first rays of the morning sun were just beginning to shine over Haerford Airbase as things finally settled down. Sosem was safely in custody, the wounded were being gathered for airlift, and Nia and Dromarch were both freed from the ether nets. Once she’d been released, Nia immediately went to Rex.

“Cheers for the save,” she said. “You made it just in time.”

Rex glanced over towards the tarmac nearby, where Mòrag and the other wounded were laid up. “Feels like I should have got here sooner, to be honest.”

Nia tried to give him an encouraging grin. “Don’t worry, the real hero always steps up in the third act. At least, that’s how Cole’s plays normally go.”

That got a slight chuckle out of Rex. “Got a point there. Guess I’ll have to pinch that reasoning for next time.”

There was a pregnant pause as Nia regarded her dear friend, thinking back to what Yew had told her in their last conversation. Looking at him now, Rex didn’t seem quite as present as he usually was. Maybe it wouldn’t be obvious to someone who didn’t really know him, but Nia could tell easily that something was wrong.

“Hey Rex,” she said. “Where’s Pyra and Mythra?”

Rex smiled, but it didn’t quite hold the same boyish optimism Nia was used to. “They’re keeping themselves busy back in Leftheria.”

“Is… everything okay with them?”

“Yeah, why?” Rex’s eyes didn’t quite meet hers.

An awkward silence followed as Rex’s gaze drifted away. It was clear that everything was not quite okay, but Nia didn’t know how to say as such, or if it was even her place to.

“Well, think I’ll go check out some of the salvage stashed in that hangar,” Rex said, turning around to do exactly that.

“Alright, mind you don’t touch any of it though. It’s evidence.”

Rex acknowledged with a wave of his hand, and Nia looked around as she considered what to do now. The Titan airship they had inserted with had just touched down and a team of medics were loading the wounded onto stretchers and bringing them aboard. To Nia’s immense relief, Mòrag was sitting upright and waved off a pair of medics with a stretcher. Brighid was at her side. Nia went over to them.

“Please try to take it easy, Lady Mòrag,” Brighid said as she helped Mòrag to her feet. Perhaps Nia was imagining it, but Brighid seemed to be clinging to Mòrag rather tightly.

“Honestly Brighid, you fuss more than my mother, rest her soul,” Mòrag said. Her coat and hat were both removed, and a series of fresh bandages covered the left side of her chest. She then noticed Nia. “I hear that I once again have you to thank for your quick healing work.”

Nia couldn’t take her eyes off the wound in question. “Honestly, I’m amazed you’re even standing right now. It really looks like he got you right in the heart.”

“He would have, if my heart was on that side.”

Nia tilted her head. “Wot?”

“Lady Mòrag was born with dextrocardia, a rare congenital defect in which her heart developed on the right side of her chest instead of the left,” Brighid explained.

“Wow, I didn’t know that,” Nia said.

“Most people don’t, and I prefer to keep it that way,” Mòrag said.

“Really? What for?”

Still holding Brighid’s arm for support, Mòrag shared a brief but no less significant glance with her. “In my position, it’s for the best to keep the details of my heart a secret.”

“Makes sense. If Sosem knew what side it’s really on, you’d be a goner,” Nia said. She only figured out with hindsight that wasn’t entirely what Mòrag meant.

“Indeed, I was lucky. Luckier than most, anyway,” Mòrag said with a deep frown. “We lost some good men today, including my new master sergeant.”

Nia’s heart sank and her breath hitched in her throat. “Wait, is Jac…?”

“He’s alive, but his injuries are critical. It’s down to fate now whether he’ll live and even if he does, he’s not likely to walk again.”

Nia closed her eyes and took a deep breath that came out trembling. Nia thought of those three little kids she and the others had met back in Torigoth on their adventure. Morca, Zelen and Neel all depended on their big brother and the money he was sending them. More than that, they loved and idolized him. What would happen to them now?

“You were right,” she croaked.

“Nia?”

“If we’d just stayed back and monitored Haerford like you said in the first place, we would have seen Sosem’s ship arrive. We would’ve found out what he was up to and you, Jac, and everyone else wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

“Yes, and you were reasonably concerned about the deteriorating situation in the colonies and wanted to resolve this quickly for their sake,” Mòrag placated.

“And yet, we’re still no closer to figuring out how to stop the Fog Rift. Sosem didn’t seem to know anything and in all likelihood, he already killed the only person who did,” Nia sighed. “It was all for naught!”

“You made a call, and it turned out to be the wrong one. You live and learn.”

“Easy for you to say, Miss Perfect Soldier!” Nia was only vaguely aware that she was raising her voice. “I’ve done nothing but live and learn ever since I took the bloody crown, and every single choice I make still gets people hurt!”

Mòrag studied Nia briefly before turning to Brighid. “Would you give me a moment alone with her?”

Seeming to be on the same wavelength, Brighid nodded and stepped away. Mòrag turned and walked further out onto the empty part of tarmac, and Nia followed until they were a decent distance away from everyone else.

“I think I understand now why Brighid wanted you to know about the Glasavar incident,” Mòrag said, taking a breath before she began. “Glasavar Ether Refinery was an imperial facility in the Cairnranmore region on our Titan’s lower back. Shortly after Niall was crowned emperor, some rogue soldiers took control of the refinery, taking hostages and withholding all shipments of refined ether to the capital until their demands were met.”

“What were those?” Nia asked.

“They wanted him to walk back his new policies of diplomacy and military cutbacks, preferring to continue the previous regime’s aggressive expansionist policies,” Mòrag explained. “At the time, I had just been made Special Inquisitor and saw the crisis as an opportunity to prove myself. I assembled three Decades of men and planned a raid of the facility. I requisitioned heavy equipment, Titan weapons, the whole nine Peds. I wanted a show of force, and I wanted it done quickly.”

Mòrag closed her eyes and steadied herself with another measured breath. “If I had taken the time to do more thorough reconnaissance, I might not have walked into the trap they laid. When my men entered the facility, they found no sign of the enemy. This was because by the time we got there, they were already long gone… but not before leaving an explosive device in the middle of the un-refined ether crystals. I lost a dozen men that day, as well as all of the hostages, and the ones responsible got away and started the Brionac terrorist group.”

“Man…” was all Nia could say.

“For weeks after, I was distraught. I overcorrected, agonizing over every decision with even a hint of risk. It took a long heart-to-heart with Brighid for me to finally get back to my right mind, at which point I came to accept a harsh truth: I made a mistake and will likely make many more before my time is over. And that’s okay.”

“Even if more people get hurt?”

Mòrag nodded. “Mistakes are essential, so long as you learn from them without being held prisoner by them. You cannot let the fear of making the wrong choice stop you from choosing at all. That’s what it means to live and learn.”

Nia opened her mouth to respond but found that she had no words. Was it really so simple?

Before she could express her gratitude to Mòrag for the food for thought, she heard Rex’s voice call out, “Hey guys!”

Turning around, Nia saw him running in their direction from the hangar full of salvaged Morytha tech. “There’s something you really need to see!”

Nia rolled her eyes, “Rex, we don’t have time to look at whatever junk you found.”

But the look on Rex’s face wasn’t the same as the overenthusiastic salvager she’d known on their journey, eager to show off whatever sea trash he’d discovered. His eyes were grim and serious.

“No, you don’t understand. This is big! ”

Looking at Mòrag with a shrug, Nia followed Rex towards the hangar with her in tow. Rex led them through the doors and towards the end of the collection of ancient technology. He pointed at something partly tucked away behind what appeared to be a half-assembled vehicle of some kind.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked.

Nia wasn’t sure what he meant until she looked closer. The metal device was a little over a metri tall, its face roughly triangular. Each side had an indentation in a very familiar cross-like shape.

“I dunno,” Nia said. “But it sure as hell looks like the Trinity Processor.”

Chapter Text

Gathering her wits, Nia descended the lift to the subterranean levels of Hardhaigh Palace. She had many questions, and the only man who could answer them was also the last person she wanted to talk to. Upon their return to Mor Ardain’s capital, Mòrag had insisted on personally taking the lead on the interrogation of the prisoner. However, when Nia came to her office to ask how it was progressing two days later, Mòrag admitted she’d thus far come up short.

“For someone who loves the sound of his own voice so much, our man has remained remarkably reticent,” she had said.

“Even after offering him a plea deal way better than he honestly deserves,” Brighid had added.

“Indeed, neither the carrot nor the stick have been sufficient to get him talking.”

That was when Nia had suggested, “Why not let me talk to him?”

Mòrag had looked at her curiously. She hadn’t seemed outright opposed to the idea, but she clearly wasn’t sure about it. “What makes you think he’ll talk to you?”

Nia thought back to their confrontation on the airship at Haerford Airbase. “I can’t say why, but last time we spoke, he was rather open with me. He outright confessed to murdering his Driver, as well as a bunch of other stuff.”

At first, Nia had thought he was only stalling, and perhaps that was partly true. But looking back, she knew there was something else to it. “That and… he went out of his way not to kill me. With everyone else who crossed his path, he always aimed straight for the heart.”

“Indeed, I have the scar to prove it,” Mòrag said.

“It’s almost like he thinks we’re, I dunno… kindred spirits, or something.”

“A disquieting thought, to say the least,” Dromarch mused.

“And you believe you can leverage that to get something out of him?” Mòrag asked.

Nia shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

So, it was thus that Nia now stepped off the lift onto Sublevel Two of Hardhaigh Palace. The guards at the checkpoint there had already been informed by Mòrag of her coming and let her pass with minimal fuss. Once through, Nia was led by a gaoler past a row of cells with iron bars and steel doors. Most were empty, but a few had occupants, one of whom whistled at her as she passed. When she arrived in front of the cell she wanted, she dismissed the gaoler before clearing her throat to get the attention of the man on the other side of the bars.

Rising from his cot, Sosem smiled when he saw her. He looked almost naked without his duster and white hat, and around his neck was a collar with softly glowing yellow ether lines running its circumference. This ether dampening device was, according to Mòrag, a relatively new invention in Mor Ardain. Operating on the same principles as the ether nets which had been used so effectively against Nia (twice now), the collar made it so the wearer couldn’t tap into any ether in the air. Thus, any Blade wearing one would be quite unable to summon their weapon. Sosem, however, did not appear bothered by this fact.

“Well, boy howdy, L’il Filly Flesh Eater!” he exclaimed. Nia was already sick of that nickname.

“You certainly look relaxed for someone in your situation,” she noted.

Sosem shrugged. “Frettin’ over what’s above one’s bend ain’t never done a lick o’ good. Should tell that to yer Flamebringer friend so she’ll quit barkin’ at a knot with her questions.”

“If you find questioning so tedious, the best way to stop it would be to give us some answers.”

Sosem laughed. “I appreciate the sense of humour. My own partner never really had one.”

Was he referring to Amram? Or maybe Vherestrom?

“Now, I reckon you ain’t leavin’ me alone ‘til you’ve asked yer questions, so go on. Shoot!”

Nia honestly wasn’t sure what to ask him first. She decided to start with what was most prevalent in her mind. “What the hell were you doing with the Trinity Processor?”

Sosem furrowed his brow. “The what now?”

“The device in your collection of salvaged goods from Morytha. Has indentations in the shape of the Aegis Core Crystal.” When she saw that Sosem’s empty eyes betrayed no comprehension, she said, “You have no idea what your salvagers found, do you?”

“Care to enlighten me?”

Realising that she wasn’t going to get any answers without giving a few herself, Nia explained, “It’s where the Aegis originally came from—the machine the Architect used to create this world.”

“Huh. Well, if that ain’t something…” Sosem said, raising his brow. “To be honest, I ain’t too knowledgeable when it comes to them artifacts.”

“What’s the point of collecting ‘em then?”

There was some hesitation before Sosem answered, “Folks pay good money for it.”

He was right about that much, but was that really all that motivated him? Money? It didn’t ring true to Nia.

“And what about all that research we found? Were people paying good money for that too?”

With a shrug, Sosem said, “I told ya before, that science stuff’s more my partner’s specialty.”

“You mean your Driver? Amram?”

Sosem smiled. “Who else?”

Seeing she wasn’t getting anywhere, Nia decided it was time to pull out some of the aforementioned research. The specific page she’d brought with her was one Mòrag had found in Haerford’s medical building. According to her, it had been pinned to the map there marked with all of the known Fog Rift locations.

“Think you can shed some light on this, at least?” she asked as she held the paper toward him.

The page was filled with all manner of inscrutable calculations. Latitudes and longitudes, durations of time, and other factors Nia couldn’t make sense of were all placed into equations to which the answer was something she didn’t expect: a date.

23/12/4074

The date was circled multiple times with a red pen, the strokes frantic, almost terrified.

“That date’s a little over fifteen years from now,” Nia said as she looked up from the page, “What’s supposed to happen then?”

“Finally askin’ the right questions, filly,” Sosem said with a smile. “The fact is all this time you’ve been worried about the wrong problem. That Fog Rift in the sky over the frontier ain’t nothin’ but a portent of what’s comin’.”

An inexplicable wave of anxiety washed over Nia as she asked, “And… what’s coming?”

Sosem walked right up to the bars of his cell, cold empty eyes peering into Nia’s. “In a word: Annihilation.”

“Annihilation? Of what?”

“Everything and more.”

Silence filled the cell block for a moment, then two. “What, like… the end of the world?”

Sosem nodded. “Somethin’ to make that business with the Aegis a year ago look like a friendly hoedown by comparison!”

It sounded crazy. But to Nia, it was the most honest he seemed all conversation.

“If you really believe the world’s ending, then why have you just been running around Alrest up to shady stuff? Why not tell someone? Or find a way to stop whatever it is?”

“For the simple fact that, just maybe, annihilation is the best thing for this world!”

Nia scoffed. “What a load of bollocks.”

“Is it?” Raising an arm with which to lean on the bars separating them, Sosem looked down on Nia as if she was the one imprisoned. “You remember what I told you the other day: The resonance linking Drivers and Blades is ancient history! Our existence no longer depends on theirs, yet humans still treat us as their tools. As far as they’re concerned, ain’t nothin’s changed an’ you know why? Because deep down, change is what they’re afraid of most.” Sosem let out a single bitter laugh. “It’d be funny if it weren’t so sad.”

Nia didn’t like how long it took for her to reply, “I don’t believe that.”

Perhaps noting her uncertainty, Sosem’s friendly smile grew ecstatic. “You think this new world is gonna last with them playin’ the same games of war and politics as they always have? Eventually, this new world’s gonna go the same way as the old one. All that in mind, the coming annihilation’s a mercy. Better for ‘em to check out earlier than later.”

Was this his game? To simply wait for this supposed end of the world to solve the problem of humanity? Nia didn’t buy it. There was something he’d been trying to accomplish, she just had to find out what. Perhaps now was the time to pull the rug out from under him.

“So, what’s in Zorn?” she asked.

Sosem blinked. “Come again?”

“You were at Haerford Airbase the other day to transport some of that stockpile of salvaged ancient technology to Zorn, weren’t you? That’s what you told those two mercenaries who were with you.”

Sosem was suddenly silent, his ecstatic smile now no more than a mask.

“Does it have something to do with that Core Crystal research you had?” Nia pressed. “That ‘Arkblade’ looked like it was made with Morytha tech.”

“Sounds like you’ve already got it figured out, filly,” Sosem said through a toothy grin.

“I’ve figured out this much at least: I was right that finding you was the key to stopping the Fog Rifts. I was just wrong about why,” Nia said, allowing herself a grin of her own. “You haven’t been trying to stop them like I initially thought. You’ve been trying to keep anyone else from finding a way to stop them, which means you believe there is a way.”

Nia turned away from Sosem’s cell as she started back towards the elevator to the upper levels. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll find it in Zorn.”

Sosem watched her go, the easygoing smile still on his face. “It’s still botherin’ ya, isn’t it? What I said the other day about the end of Blade resonance.”

Nia hesitated, and it was all Sosem needed to press on. “I know you have yer bias against me an’ I don’ blame you. Our first meeting was not under ideal circumstances. But I hope you have the wisdom to look past that and see the truth that I offer.”

Nia had half a mind to ignore him and keep going. She didn’t think anything more he said would be useful to her search for answers. But in spite of her better judgement, Nia turned back toward the cell and met its occupant’s gaze one more time. “And what ‘truth’ is that?”

“The Driver-Blade resonance you still cling to is a sham. Always was, even before. Real connections have no shortcuts.”

“What the bloody hell would you know about real connections?” Nia lashed out far more quickly than she expected.

At this, Sosem’s smile changed. It was no longer a mask, but betrayed something else… something wistful, almost sad. “I said my piece. Run along now, l’il filly, and best of luck to you… you’ll really need it.”

“Well, if nothing else, I’ve confirmed that he’s absolutely mad,” Nia said when she was back with Rex, Mòrag and the others in the Special Inquisitor’s office. “He not only believes the world’s going to end in fifteen years, but that we should let it happen.”

“Do you think he could be right?” Morgan asked.

“About the world ending? Who knows? All I know is, if that Fog Rift grows big enough, its influence could cover everything in just a few years.”

“All the more reason to find a way to stop it soonest,” Dromarch said.

“Which means finding out what Sosem was up to in Zorn,” Nia said.

“I take that to mean he didn’t tell you anything about it?” Mòrag asked, seated at her desk.

Nia shook her head. “He got real quiet when I brought it up, though. That alone tells me there’s something there he doesn’t want us to find.”

“If I may, Your Grace, I may have another idea,” Morgan said, pushing her horn-rimmed glasses up her nose. “You told me that this ‘Trinity Processor’ thing we found in Sosem’s collection is what the Architect used to create this world, right?”

Nia and the others nodded. “I’m still not sure how it could have survived the destruction of Elysium, but there’s no mistaking what it is.”

Lots of debris had rained down on Morytha and New Alrest from the destroyed orbital station. Nia supposed that the Trinity Processor could have been among it, but the odds of it both surviving re-entry and being found by salvagers seemed astronomical. And now here it was, in their possession. Privately, she couldn’t shake Raqura’s words to her when she first revealed her secret lineage. Do you believe in fate, Nia? More and more, she was starting to.

“Well, from my research, I’ve extrapolated that the rifts that have been appearing since the world reformed are a by-product of that process.” Morgan briefly looked around the room, muttering, “How do I explain?” 

Spotting paper documents on Mòrag’s desk, Morgan grabbed several and neatly stacked them together. “Imagine that this is the multiverse.”

“Uh… alright.” Nia looked at the stacked paper in Morgan’s hands and the growing excitement on the Blade’s face. She could already feel the headache coming.

“Our universe is stacked together with countless others.” Morgan ran a finger along the edges of the stacked sheets, bending them and flicking them back into place. “Overlapping but never intersecting.” She then set the piled papers down on Mòrag’s desk. “From my understanding of your description of how this Trinity Processor works, it harnessed the power of what you called the Conduit which, based on your description, sounds like a theoretical cosmic phenomenon that my field refers to as a multi-spatial manifold.”

Morgan grabbed a pen from Mòrag’s desk and held it aloft. “Utilising the power of that manifold, the Trinity Processor,” she tapped the pen, indicating it as her stand-in for the ancient machine, “was able to rearrange our universe like this.” She then stabbed the pen directly through the centre of the stacked sheets and using the writing utensil as an anchor point, rotated the topmost paper until it was upside-down. “Of course, the problem with brute-forcing a cosmic shift at this scale makes itself apparent.” Morgan dislodged the pen from the stack of paper it had impaled, leaving behind a notable hole through the top page and the ones beneath it.

“I hadn’t filed those yet…” Mòrag muttered, glowering down at her ruined paperwork.

“Right, I think I get it. That hole in the paper is our Fog Rift, yeah?” Nia put a hand on her chin. “So, the question is, how do we fill that hole?”

Turning a slight shade more red, Rex gave her a double take. “Uh, Nia… you do know that means…?”

Nia didn’t have the patience for whatever he was babbling about. “Means what?”

“Never mind.”

Ignoring all of this, Morgan proceeded to answer Nia’s question, “Well, if I understand correctly how the Trinity Processor works, the residual data that comprises this broken space,” she gestured to the hole in the paper, “should still be right here.” Morgan touched the tip of the pen.

“You think the Trinity Processor could be used to repair the Fog Rift?” Nia asked.

Rex said, “That’s a great idea and all, but with the Conduit gone, I don’t think the Trinity Processor can work.”

“Bear in mind, we’re not trying to completely rewrite reality like the Architect did,” Morgan said. “We just need to shore it up a little. If we could just find a skilled engineer—someone really good with machines—with my help, they could probably find a way to make it work for that purpose.”

Rex’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. Nia could almost see the light flick on above it. “Are we still pursuing your investigation into Sosem’s operation in Zorn?” he asked Nia.

“Sure, why?”

With a grin, Rex said, “In that case, we can kill two Rhoguls with one stone!”

That afternoon, Mòrag was able to secure Nia and the others passage to Zorn. She and Brighid, however, still had matters they needed to attend to in Mor Ardain, among which was arranging for Sosem’s transfer to a newly constructed Ardainian correctional facility on the frontier.

Nia furrowed her brow at that. “I thought I’d be taking him back to Uraya to face trial. It was Urayan colonies he’d been hitting.”

With a frown, Mòrag said, “Unfortunately, he was arrested on Ardainian soil by Ardainian authorities, and Mor Ardain has no extradition policy with Uraya. The senate would never approve of releasing Sosem into your custody.”

“Damn….” Nia had hoped to keep the man close, in case she had more questions.

“Don’t worry, I plan on prosecuting him to the full extent of our laws. Architect knows he’s broken enough of them to be put away for a long time, even without adding his crimes against Uraya.”

“That’ll have to do, then.” Nia was still disappointed. Returning to Uraya with a dangerous fugitive in custody would have been a much-needed win for her public image.

It was thus that Nia, Dromarch, Rex and Morgan followed Mòrag and Brighid to Hardhaigh Dock, Level Two, where a Titan airship waited to take them to Zorn.

“Once our business here is finished, Brighid and I intend to return to Goshen to continue lending our assistance to the survivors,” Mòrag stated as the others prepared to disembark.

“Right, guess we’ll see you there then,” Nia said. “Hopefully with a way to end this Fog Rift once and for all.”

Neither Mòrag nor Brighid said anything more as they saw off Nia and the others. In short order, their ship left dock and Nia watched as Hardhaigh Palace shrunk and disappeared into Alba Cavanich, which in turn vanished into Mor Ardain’s Titan as it too shrank into the distance. With little else to do until they reached Zorn, Nia quickly called Yew on crystal communicator for an update on the situation in Goshen. It was little surprise that not much had changed from their last correspondence, but she’d take no news over bad news any day.

Once that was done, Nia went down to the hold to check on their very important cargo. When she was satisfied it was secure, Nia decided to go looking for Rex. He had quite uncharacteristically made himself scarce after they had disembarked. Whatever was currently going on with him made her uneasy.

The sun was starting to go down by the time Nia finally found him. He was posted up all alone on the observation platform looking out at the horizon. Seeing him up there immediately brought back memories of when they first met over a year ago.

“Ugh, it’s still way too bloody cold up here,” Nia said as she stood next to him.

“Oh, hey Nia,” Rex said, trying noticeably to inflect some pep in his voice. “Something up?”

Nia’s first instinct, as always, was to jump straight to the heart of the matter and ask him the same question. “Just killing time,” she said instead, her Royal Self taking over almost unconsciously. It would seem that Raqura’s lessons on social maneuvering were actually sticking.

“The Trinity Processor is secure in the hold, by the way,” she reported, continuing her conversational maneuvers. “Do you really think he will be able to figure it out once we reach Zorn?”

“He hasn’t let us down before.”

“I suppose.” Running out of patience, Nia decided to complete her maneuver. “Y’know, Pyra and Mythra probably know that thing better than anyone. Bet they’d be a big help.”

“Maybe, but…” Rex trailed off.

“But…?” Nia prodded.

With a sigh, Rex said, “They’ve asked me to give them some space.”

For all of her improvement on conversational maneuvering, Nia couldn’t hide the look of surprise and concern from her face if she wanted to. “Why? Did something happen?”

“You could say that.”

“What, did you guys have a fight or something?”

Wincing, Rex said, “I wouldn’t call it a ‘fight’ exactly. More like a… spirited disagreement.”

With a lidded, deadpan look, Nia said, “Yeah, they have a word for that. It’s called a fight.”

“Ah, right. Fair enough.”

“Though, come to think of it, this is the first proper fight you’ve ever had, isn’t it?”

“Barring the sleepwalking incident, yeah.”

There was a moment of awkward silence that Nia was all too eager to fill. “D’you… think it’ll work out?”

Rex didn’t look at her, his gaze focused on the horizon. “I dunno….”

Nia wasn’t sure what to think, let alone say. Throughout their adventure together, Rex and Pyra and Mythra had always been so close, their bond transcending even that of Driver and Blade. It was unthinkable that they’d ever end up apart… until now.

“I suppose a lot’s changed since our journey to the World Tree,” Nia said.

“Yeah,” Rex agreed. “Used to be we were always on the same wavelength. Guess that’s natural when you share a life force. Now though, that connection’s severed, and more often than not, we’ve just… been at cross purposes.” Rex finally looked at Nia with a sad smile. “I guess real connections have no shortcuts, eh?”

The unintentional echo sent a chill through Nia that was more than just the cold wind. “Driver and Blade resonance no longer exists in this world, right?” Nia let out a breath as she muttered, barely audible, “Without it, what even is that bond? Did it ever truly exist in the first place?”

“Nia?”

Catching herself far too late, Nia gave Rex an apologetic smile. “Just rambling, don’t mind me. Today’s been a weird day. Forget I said anything.”

Nia had sought out Rex hoping to provide some comfort, and instead only put her foot in her mouth. The bloody hell were you thinking, Nia? All that guff is the last thing Rex needs to hear now!

Hoping to rectify the situation, Nia cleared her throat. “Listen, Rex… you can….” She reached out with a comforting hand toward him, but stopped herself as an intrusive, treacherous thought wormed its way into her mind. That’s it, be there for him. Then when his relationship with Pyra and Mythra falls apart completely, he’ll be yours for the taking!

“Yes, Nia?”

Nia shrunk away from him. “Nevermind. I’ll just leave you to your thoughts, then,” Nia said, turning to extricate herself from the conversation before she could do any more damage. “It’s way too cold up here anyway.”

A day and a half later, the Zornian Titan came into view, and none too soon. Having never seen it before, Nia found it to be quite the breathtaking sight, but then again, what Titan wasn’t? Much like Gormott’s Titan, Zorn was quadrupedal, currently crouched down on its four legs and resting its long neck on the shore of the mainland, creating a large peninsula. On the Titan’s back towered a massive mountain like a large hump. Based on what Morgan had told her, as well as the stories she’d heard, Nia had expected to see black smoke and ash spewing from the mountain’s top, but the sky above it was clear and blue.

Over the voyage, Nia had taken the time to study up on the nation of Zorn with Morgan’s help. The broad strokes of Zorn’s history weren’t too difficult to remember. In the country’s infancy, its population consisted of disparate tribes whose warlords, the Ephors, frequently clashed for territory and resources. The tribes were then united by the first emperor, Arminius, and spent a great number of centuries as the Empire of Zorn. Eventually, the latest dynasty was ousted in a coup and the country was reorganized into a democratic republic some two-hundred and fifty years ago.

“Right, and the head of a democratic republic is the…?” Nia had asked during the lesson.

“Chancellor,” Morgan answered.

“Ah.” Nia touched the tips of her fingers together. “You don’t happen to have any connections with the, uh… Chancellorship, do you?”

Morgan shook her head. “Sorry. My Driver was a university professor and didn’t run in those kinds of circles.”

Now, as the Zornian capital of Neu Bauen came into view, Nia tried not to think about the fact that her diplomacy would not be able to rely on established connections this time. Standing on the upper deck at their ship’s bow, Nia glanced over at Morgan, the horned Blade looking ahead with an apprehensive expression.

“Nervous about returning to your homeland?” Nia asked.

“I’ve only come back once since… since Arthur died. It wasn’t exactly a happy homecoming.”

Nia nodded, internally kicking herself for having forgotten about her companion’s late Driver. Can’t go a day without verbally stepping in it, can I?

“Something you should know before we arrive, Your Grace…” Morgan said. “Blades in Zorn are not as… respected as they are in most of Alrest.”

Considering how many in Alrest believed Blades were little more than tools, that was saying a lot. Nia swallowed nervously. “Really? I thought you and your Driver were renowned academics.”

“Arthur and I were something of an exception to the rule.”

“I see. Will that be a problem?”

“Not for you, I imagine. You’re next in line to the throne of Uraya, and one of the heroes who saved Alrest a year ago! I just don’t want you to be surprised by what you might see or hear.”

Nia remained silent as the ship docked at Reise Port—giving Dromarch only a cursory nod and Rex an uncomfortable smile as they prepared to disembark. A cadre of Urayan soldiers waited to meet them as Nia and the others descended the gangway. With them was an older Urayan woman who introduced herself as Eloise Eilis, assistant to the Urayan ambassador in Zorn. She wasted no time, leading them through the streets toward the Urayan embassy.

The streets of Zorn’s capital wound and twisted through tightly packed buildings, and to Nia’s mild irritation they always seemed to be walking uphill. The streets themselves were cobblestone, and the surrounding buildings all appeared to be made primarily of brick and concrete. Though plenty of the newer and more affluent looking buildings were decorated with marble, quartz and gold. Nia was surprised by how much greenery there was around the city as well, considering Zorn’s reputation as a volcanic wasteland. Of course, Morgan had explained that the country’s soil was among the most fertile in Alrest, and that Mt. Feuchuss’s last eruption had been over three hundred years ago.

Neu Bauen’s streets were, expectedly, bustling with people. Nia spotted a few Ardainians and the odd Gormotti and Urayan here and there, but most of those they passed sported the bright hair and horns of Zornians. The Urayan guards escorting her had to shout for people to clear the way as they walked deeper into the city and the hustle and bustle grew. Many Zornians gave Nia and her retinue curious looks as they passed, and Nia realised that she’d missed her chance to come here as a simple traveller. She supposed she would never travel anywhere again without it being a huge deal. Yet another small joy the crown had taken from her.

After crossing bridges over multiple canals, Nia and the others finally arrived at the Urayan embassy. It sported the same theatrical architecture Nia had seen on the fancier buildings throughout the city—an intricately carved brick and marble façade broken up by gold gilded stone columns. The banners of both Uraya and House Selosia hung proudly above them.

“Your meeting with Chancellor Ermendrüd is scheduled for eight tomorrow morning,” Eilis informed Nia after showing her and the others to their rooms within the embassy. “If you need anything, Your Grace, our staff will be more than happy to assist.”

Nia thanked her before sending her on her way, then after a quick trip to the loo, wasted no time gathering Rex, Dromarch and Morgan and heading back across town. Her meeting with the chancellor was tomorrow, which meant it would be no sooner than tomorrow that she would be allowed to continue carrying out her investigation into Sosem’s dealings here in Zorn. However, this didn’t mean she couldn’t meet up with old friends first.

Morgan led the way, taking Nia and the others out of the city’s central area and towards the outer districts. It wasn’t long before they came upon the campus entrance to Bertold Universität. Young horned students were milling about the campus grounds—perhaps classes were just getting out for the day? None of them paid Nia or the others any mind, unlike the crowd in downtown Neu Bauen. Nia had decided to change into the yellow jumpsuit of her Driver disguise before leaving the embassy, more concerned about being recognized as royalty than as a Flesh Eater.

“Weird being back here…” Morgan muttered as she led them past an ornate fountain towards the far edge of the campus grounds.

Eventually, they came upon a building with the words Wissenschaft und Technologie inscribed over the door. Morgan led the way inside and across the lobby, where a female Common Blade sat behind the receptionist’s desk.

Nia cleared her throat. “We’re here to see the head researcher.”

The Blade receptionist looked up from whatever was on her desk and asked, “Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but we’re old friends. Perhaps he’s mentioned us? Nia and… Rex-Rex.”

The Blade raised her head with a hint of recognition. “Follow me.” She then stood up slowly with a groan of effort and began walking deeper into the building. Or rather, began shuffling. It was strange, the Blade moved like an arthritic old woman.

The Blade receptionist led them into a large chamber that looked to be a repurposed warehouse, and was absolutely filled with strange technology. Many of it looked like the stuff they’d seen in Morytha, along with a few control consoles of a make Nia didn’t recognize. Perhaps Zornian? At the centre of it all was what appeared to be the frame of something still under construction that towered up to the high ceiling. Fiddling with something on a nearby table, a familiar striped Nopon in overalls had his back turned

“Someone to see you, director,” the Blade said.

“Is that delivery from Mor Ardain? Tell them to leave materials on table over there,” the Nopon said in his soft, boyish voice, remaining fixated on his work as he indicated a large table with a wing.

“Is that any way to greet visiting friends, Tora?” Nia chided with a grin.

Dropping something that sounded very breakable in surprise, Tora turned around and beheld his visitors with wide eyes and a wider mouth. “Nia! Rex-Rex!”

“Hey, Tora.”

His work forgotten, Tora ran forward to meet them. “What a good surprise, seeing friends here!”

“It’s nice to see you too, Tora,” Rex said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Say, where’s…?” Before Nia could finish, she heard the sound of rapidly approaching metal footsteps and barely had time to brace herself as a pair of heavy steel arms wrapped around her and Rex.

“Poppi beyond elated seeing friends again!” exclaimed the mechanical girl, her soft voice as child-like and full of whimsy as ever.

“ Glad to… see you too, Poppi… but… ” Rex gasped.

“ Crushing… spine… ” Nia barely managed to utter within Poppi’s iron grasp.

Suddenly noticing her friends’ discomfort, Poppi released her vice grip on them and took a step back. “Sorry…” she said, sounding thoroughly embarrassed.

Nia meant to tell her it was no big deal but just started coughing instead. Tora, meanwhile, acknowledged Dromarch with a little wave and then looked over at Morgan, “Ooh, who is new Blade friend?”

“I’m Morgan, a specialist on extra dimensional anomalies.”

Satisfied that Poppi’s hug had not, in fact, crushed a lung, Nia set about making the formal introduction. “Morgan, this is Tora. He travelled with us to Elysium a year ago and created Poppi, one of the world’s first Artificial Blades.”

“Pleasure meeting Friend Morgan,” Greeted the Artificial Blade in question.

“Likewise. I’d heard a little about Artificial Blade research from… an old colleague a while back. Didn’t know you were acquainted with the one in charge of it, Nia,” Morgan said. 

Another familiar voice then called out from somewhere amidst the chamber. “Tora, is that latest salvage delivery?”

“No, Dadapon, friends of Tora came to visit!”

Another Nopon with the same golden-brown fur as Tora waddled out from behind some machinery. The telltale gray hair, mustache and jacket confirmed that it was Tora’s father, Tatazo. With him was his own Artificial Blade, Lila, who was dressed as always in her black maid dress complete with frilly apron. Her resting frown was rivaled by Tatazo’s active one.

“Forgive me,” he said. “Tatazo pleased to see friends of Tora, but still waiting on delivery of goods from Morytha. It now late by two days!”

This fact, however, did not appear to bother Tora as he turned to Rex and Nia, a huge grin on his fuzzy face. “Are friends here to see Tora and Dadapon’s work?”

“Maybe later, Tora,” Nia said. “We’re actually here because we recently found the Trinity Processor and wondered if there was a way you could get some of its functions working.”

Nia then proceeded to explain the situation with the Fog Rift and their plan to use the Trinity Processor to excise it.

“The Trinity Processor is currently on board our airship. Is there a landing area somewhere here we could use to unload it discreetly?” Nia asked.

Morgan was the one who answered, “You’ll have to clear it with campus administration, but there’s a space just behind this building used to receive shipments of equipment. I can get the ball rolling on that if you like.”

“Perfect. Time is not on our side, so how soon can you get started, Tora?”

Tora and Poppi exchanged a look. “Will have to tell benefactor we’re putting special project on hold for a bit.”

“What is it you’re working on here anyway, Tora?” Rex asked, curiosity evidently getting the better of him despite the urgency of the situation. Nia had to admit she was curious too as Rex continued, “When I ran into you in that Gormotti colony a few months back you mentioned you’re doing some sort of research commission with Core Crystals.”

Tora nodded, the little pudgy Nopon seeming all too eager to discuss his work. “That right! Tora and Dadapon working to unlock secret of Core Crystals so that new Blades can be born without touch of Driver. Now that old system of Driver and Blade resonance gone, some Blades still trapped in Core Crystal without way to be reborn.”

Nia had heard about that. Many Blades that were still in a Core Crystal at the time that the world was reformed ended up trapped in that state. Some had managed to manifest in the early days of the new world, but lately there hadn’t been any new resonances at all. With the lives of so many Blades now in limbo, it was good to see someone was trying to do something about it.

“Is that even possible?” Nia asked. “To pull a Blade out of a Core Crystal artificially?”

With an ecstatic grin, Tora answered, “It more than possible.” He then turned to the Blade receptionist who had escorted them here. “Friend Caroline, please to introduce self to friends.”

The Blade, who had been quietly observing the reunion, cleared her throat. “Right. Hi, my name’s Caroline and apparently, I’m the first Blade ever to be born from a dead Core Crystal.”

Nia raised her eyebrows. “Get out, really? How’d you manage that, Tora?”

She regretted asking as soon as she saw the sparkle in Tora’s eye. “First, contractors of benefactor go out and find Core Crystals to extract data from. Then, Tora and Dadapon take extracted data and distill it through machines here, creating artificial core from spoofed data using combination of residual core data with supplement of customized….”

“Masterpon, detailed explanation is lessening friends’ comprehension, not increasing,” Poppi stated flatly.

Tora took one look at Nia and Rex’s blank expressions. “Tora concedes point.”

“Look, we may not understand all the technical stuff but this is still pretty amazing!” Rex exclaimed.

“There still a few kinks to work out, though. For instance, Caroline here came out of crystal with appearance of aging.”

“Yeah, and who ever heard of a Blade with arthritis?” Caroline grumbled.

“But there is also unexpected good development!” Tora continued. “You know how Blades newly born from Core Crystal have no memories of previous life?”

“Of course,” Rex said, before giving Caroline a double take. “Wait, you don’t mean she….”

Caroline nodded. “It’s fuzzy and disjointed, but if I focus, I can picture bits and pieces of what I’m pretty sure was my previous life!”

“With further experimentation, Tora is certain can bring new Blades to life with all former memories intact!”

Nia was thoroughly gobsmacked. “Sounds like a real game changer.”

“Lately, it feels like I can get more of a clear picture when I try to focus on it.” Caroline closed her eyes. “I’m pretty sure my former Driver was a Gormotti man and….” Caroline trailed off and something about her demeanor changed. Was she trembling? “Wait, I’m remembering something else. A man with empty eyes….”

Her face suddenly contorted in pain as she sucked in air through her teeth, clutching her left shoulder. Was it her arthritis? Caroline’s eyes shot open and drifted over to one of the cluttered tables. “It was that… he stabbed me with that….” Her breaths becoming shallower, Caroline clutched her head with one hand. “I… please excuse me… I think I need to lie down.”

Caroline proceeded to do so, albeit much more abruptly and painfully than she likely planned.

“Miss Caroline!” Tora exclaimed as he and Poppi both rushed to the side of the collapsed Blade.

Rex and Dromarch both stepped forward as well, the latter offering the use of a healing Art while Morgan hung back, deep in thought. Nia, however, turned to investigate the table Caroline had looked at before her fainting episode. Her breath caught in her throat as she identified what could only have been the object that triggered the reaction from Caroline.

He stabbed me with that, Caroline had said, not knowing that Nia too had been stabbed with the very same device—or one just like it—in Colony Iota. Nia tentatively reached out and picked up the bulky bladed device off the table; an Arkblade, according to the blueprint they’d found in Sosem’s hideout.

All at once everything clicked. “Tora, did your Da say you were waiting on a delivery?” Nia asked.

Tora looked at her, turning his attention away from Caroline, who was being helped to her feet by Poppi and Rex. “Of materials salvaged from Morytha, yes. Is crucial for project.” Tora frowned. “Not sure why it’s so late this time, though. Man who makes deliveries usually very punctual.”

“Right, about that… I think your man was recently arrested in Mor Ardain.”

Tora gasped. “What? Why would Ardainians do such a thing to Friend Sosem?”

Several minutes later, after making sure that Caroline was alright and sending her home for the day, Nia and the others all gathered around the table with the least amount of clutter. Once there, Nia proceeded to give a thorough account of her investigation into the activities of Sosem. Rex and Dromarch interjected with their own perspectives where appropriate, and even Morgan touched a bit on her own history with the criminal Blade. When they finally finished, Tora’s spirits seemed considerably dampened.

“Tora had no idea Friend Sosem was such bad guy,” he said.

“Indeed, was very kind to Poppi.” The Artificial Blade looked like she was about to cry.

“Some people are very good at hiding their true intentions,” Morgan said with a frown.

Nia, however, wasn’t having it. “Honestly, Tora, how could you be so naïve? You and Tatazo both designed this ‘Arkblade’ device for Sosem, yeah? Surely, you could’ve figured out how he was gonna use it!”

“Tora and Dadapon designed Arkblade to extract data from dead Core Crystals,” said Tora. “How could we have known Not-Friend Sosem would modify it to steal core data from living Blades?”

“You could’ve known by asking more questions instead of just accepting everything at face value!”

“My lady, that’s enough,” Dromarch interjected.

“But….”

“Getting angry with Tora now is hardly constructive.”

“No, Nia right,” Tora said with a resigned sigh. “In truth, Tora did wonder why Sosem wanted to take Arkblades to frontier to extract data from Core Crystals in field himself. Tora even said it would be best for him to deliver dead Core Crystals here to extract data in controlled environment. But Tora was too excited by project to push issue when Sosem said doing it that way was wishes of client.”

“Right, and who exactly is the one funding all this, Tora?” Rex asked.

Once again, Nia was glad for Rex being here. She was so caught up in being mad at Tora she had almost overlooked the most crucial information of all.

It was Tatazo who answered, “Name of benefactor is Uthor Schäfer, member of Bertold University’s board of trustees.”

At this, Morgan gave the older Nopon a curious look. Nia couldn’t tell, but it almost seemed like recognition.

“Decades ago, when Tatazo was young Nopon, Schäfer was researcher studying Core Crystals and helped Tatazo and Dadapon Soosoo develop first artificial core,” Tatazo continued to explain. “Collaboration was brief but mutually beneficial. Tatazo and Soosoo had artificial core and could begin building Lila, and Schäfer published results of research after peer review from Indol, making big name for himself in Zorn.”

“Sounds to me like he took most of the credit for your work,” Morgan said with notable distaste.

“Tatazo not deny this, but at time did not care so long as work on Lila could begin.”

“Wait, slow down. Poppi and Lila have artificial Core Crystals?” Rex asked. “I thought they were powered by ether furnaces.”

It was Lila who fielded this question. “It true that Lila and Poppi both powered by ether furnaces, but without artificial cores, both Lila and Poppi would be no more than mindless automatons.”

“That right,” Poppi continued. “Just like with real Blade; heart, mind, and soul of Poppi and Lila all come from data in artificial core.”

“Yes, and even though he cut us out of profits and accolades, research collaboration with Schäfer is what made creation of artificial core possible,” Tatazo continued. “Though, after everything that happened with Bana and Muimui, Tatazo more wary of being used and nearly didn’t respond when Schäfer reached out with new proposal about three months ago.”

“So, he’s the one who approached you with the Arkblade project?” Nia asked.

Tatazo nodded. “Indeed, Schäfer invited Tora and I to his manor here in Neu Bauen.”

“Place was very lavish!” Tora added quite unnecessarily.

“Yes. At dinner, Schäfer made heartfelt apology for conduct of previous collaboration and said he wished to make it right.”

“And that’s when he proposed this project to you,” Nia said.

With another nod, Tatazo elaborated, “With full credit and forty-five percent of profits of all technology developed from research to go to myself and Tora, signed and stamped!”

“Pretty generous,” Rex mused.

“And I take it this Schäfer person is the one who connected you with Sosem?” Nia asked.

Tora answered, “Yes, Sosem was apparently contractor who’d done a number of jobs for Schäfer in past.”

“Sounds like this Mr. Schäfer is worth investigating, once I get the chancellor’s approval anyway.” Nia stood. “In the meantime, let’s get started working on the Trinity Processor, eh? I’ll head back to the Urayan embassy and arrange for our ship to deliver it here.”

“Think I’ll stay here and help out Tora and his dad,” Rex said, also standing and following Tora, Tatazo and the two Artificial Blades.

Nia couldn’t help but wonder whether he was avoiding her. She wished the notion didn’t bother her as much as it did.

“Something on your mind, my lady?” Dromarch asked.

“Just… thinking about this whole situation with Sosem,” Nia half-lied. Whether Dromarch knew or not he didn’t say. “There were two sets of research at Sosem’s hideout in Mor Ardain. It’s clear now that the Core Crystal research in the hangar was made by Tora and his Da, but what about the research Mòrag found about the Fog Rift?”

“Extra dimensional science isn’t exactly Tora or Tatazo’s area of expertise,” Dromarch agreed. “Do you think that research could belong to Schäfer himself?”

“If Schäfer really is the one behind all of this, then what’s his goal? What does gathering Core Crystal data have to do with the Fog Rift?”

“Can we be sure the two are even related at all?”

The date 23/12/4074 flashed in Nia’s mind, along with Sosem’s gleeful promise of coming annihilation. The circles in red pen around the date seemed to be screaming at her, like a cry for help from whoever drew them.

“All I know is, if the end of the world is really coming, Sosem wants it to happen,” Nia said. “But I can’t shake the feeling that whoever made the research predicting this so-called ‘annihilation’ was terrified. They were trying to find a way to stop it, I’m sure of it!”

Nia looked at Dromarch, hoping she didn’t appear as lost and confused as she felt. “If that person really is Schäfer, then why would he work with someone who wants to let the world be destroyed?”

“There’s no use getting worked up over these questions now, my lady,” Dromarch said, the gravel of his voice calm and soothing. “Tomorrow you’ll meet with the chancellor and if all goes well, you’ll be able to start seeking the answers.”

The Bundeshalle was the tallest and grandest building in Neu Bauen. Situated at the peak of the incline that ran through the entire city, the Bundeshalle loomed like a predator in wait. Its façade sported intricate carvings of the Zornian Titan amongst the marble and gold, the fiery Mt. Feuchuss billowing smoke on its back. According to Morgan, it had once been the palace from which the last imperial dynasty had ruled Zorn with an iron fist, each successive emperor having expanded its architecture to his own tastes over the generations.

However, what was once a symbol of oppressive rule was now a bastion of democratic liberation, with many of the palace’s wings now open to the public. Nia would have liked to have seen the grand ballroom, the twisting, multi-leveled gardens or the now retired battlements on the outer wall, but she was here on business. As she and her retinue of Dromarch, Morgan, Rex, Tora, Poppi and a few guards from the Urayan embassy arrived before the gates of the Bundeshalle, they were greeted by a modest contingent of the Palastwache: the gold-cloaked palace guards.

“Well, crown princess, guess I’ll wait for you out here,” Morgan said.

“You don’t want to come with?” Nia asked.

“Oh, I’d like to, but as a Blade I’m not permitted to set foot inside the Bundeshalle. It’s one of Zorn’s oldest laws.”

“Wait, really? ” Nia looked down at her own chest. She was wearing the big-sleeved white, red-and-gold trimmed leotard of her Blade form (having added a pair of black tights to the ensemble for modesty) and the tainted Core Crystal on her chest was plainly visible.

“Oh, you’ll be fine, don’t worry. Like I said, you’re the heir to the throne of a friendly foreign power.” Morgan stared at the ground; bitterness clear in her voice that Nia couldn’t fault her for. “A lowly Blade like me though—and a Driverless one at that? Never gonna happen.”

Returning her gaze to meet Nia’s eyes, Morgan tried to smile. It was a valiant attempt. “I’ll be fine, you all go ahead. This isn’t the first time I’ve waited out here.”

To Nia’s surprise, Tora went over to join Morgan followed by Poppi. “Tora been inside palace once already, so don’t mind waiting with Friend Morgan.”

“Artificial Blades probably also not welcome in palace, so Poppi stay too,” said Poppi.

For her part, Morgan seemed taken aback by the unexpected show of solidarity from the odd pair.

“We can talk Trinity Processor project while we wait,” Tora suggested.

“I suppose this means I must wait with them as well,” Dromarch said. 

“Sorry, Dromarch,” Nia said.

Upon following the Palastewache alongside Rex and the remainder of her retinue into the Bundeshalle’s halls, Nia was surprised to find them packed with members of the Zornian press. She had been warned by Eilis at the embassy that there would be press present for her meeting with the chancellor, but hadn’t expected so many, nor the deluge of questions and flash photography as she walked past.

“Are you staying in Zorn long?”

“How will relations between Zorn and Uraya change after you’re crowned?”

“Are you planning to endorse Chancellor Ermendrüd for re-election?”

“What’s your opinion on the chancellor’s proposed free trade policy with Mor Ardain?”

“Will you respect the Treaty of Deumin in the event of another war?”

Nia ignored all of the questions as Eilis had instructed her until she eventually reached the office of the chancellor, where waiting within was the man himself. An old Zornian with a long gray beard and dark robes, Chancellor Ermendrüd hobbled forward to meet her, a warm smile on his grandfatherly face.

“Fürstin Nia Echell, such an honour to finally make your acquaintance.” Rather than bow, Ermendrüd reached out and took Nia’s hand, squeezing it with surprising firmness for one who appeared so old and frail.

“Likewise, Your Excellency,” Nia said, but Ermendrüd had already turned away from her to smile at the flashing cameras. Nia hadn’t even noticed there had been more press waiting inside the chancellor’s office.

“How lucky we are to have not just the heir to Uraya, but two of the heroes of Alrest with us today.” Ermendrüd then released Nia’s hand and to her surprise, hobbled over to Rex, taking his hand next. “You have done us all a fine service, young man.”

“Oh, er… thanks,” Rex said, but just like with Nia, Ermendrüd’s smile was toward the cameras.

Only when he was satisfied there were plenty of good shots of him shaking hands with the Master Driver did Ermendrüd turn to Rex and ask, “I don’t see the Aegis here, is she not with you?”

“Uh… no, they’re… busy.”

“Oh. Pity.”

Ermendrüd turned away and walked to a pair of chairs that had been set up in a luxurious corner of the office. Nia immediately followed.

“Herr Chancellor,” she said, almost but not quite forgetting the proper Zornian term of address she’d been coached on before proceeding to her prepared preamble with her Royal Self. “I am here continuing an investigation related to the Fog Rift over the frontier colonies….”

Ermendrüd stopped her with a raised hand. “We’ll talk business later,” he said as he gingerly lowered his frail old body into one of the chairs, indicating for Nia to follow suit with a look.

After giving a bemused look to Rex, Nia did so, sitting in the chair beside Ermendrüd. Nia quickly figured out that what she was really here for was a glorified photo shoot. She had half a mind to say, “bollocks to this” and demand to get right down to brass tacks, but the next phase of her investigation hinged on the chancellor’s willingness to work with her. So, taking a deep breath, Nia swallowed her pride and mustered up all of the patience in her reserves to smile and endure what was clearly a publicity event. All of the frivolity was likely part of the chancellor’s re-election strategy. She remembered Eilis or someone at the Urayan embassy mention in passing that Ermendrüd was running primarily on foreign policy.

So, after a lengthy session of smiling and holding up documents that were passed to her (most of which she could not identify beyond being agreements between Zorn and Uraya), members of the press and palace staff finally began filing out of the room. Soon, Nia was alone in the office with Ermendrüd, whose warm grandfatherly smile evaporated almost instantly as he stood and shambled to his desk.

“Alright, so you were saying something about the Fog Rift, jawohl?” he said as he sat down. Nia couldn’t tell if the creaking she heard was the chair or his bones. “I take it you are looking to request aid, then?”

Blinking, Nia tried to re-find her centre. “I… well yes, any aid your country can spare would be greatly appreciated, but what I’d really like is your permission to continue an investigation I’ve been pursuing here.”

At this, Chancellor Ermendrüd frowned and clicked his tongue. “It is not typically Zornian policy to allow foreign powers to conduct investigations within our borders, but I am willing to listen to your brief on the situation.”

So, taking a breath, Nia once again proceeded with her explanation of her encounters with Sosem, his relation to the Fog Rift and how her investigation had led her to Zorn. She was honestly quite tired of giving it by this point, but at least with the information that recently came to light, she had something new to exposit.

“When visiting an old friend yesterday, I happened upon a connection between Sosem and a man named Uthor Schäfer, a board member at Bertold University. With your government’s assistance, I would like to begin a full investigation into him.”

With a groan, Ermendrüd stood from his desk and began pacing. “By my understanding, this Sosem individual is already in custody, correct?”

“With the Ardainians, yes.”

“As for that rift over the frontier, you’ve already enlisted Nopon engineers at Bertold to assist your head researcher in this matter.”

Judging from his tone, Nia wondered whether she had jumped ahead too quickly on her plan to get Tora and his father working on the Trinity Processor.

“Well, like I said, the engineers in question are old friends and not actual citizens of Zorn. They’re here on research visas,” she said.

“Oh, you misunderstand. I don’t care about that. In fact, you and your Nopon friends are welcome to continue using the Bertold facilities for your project as long as you need to.” Ermendrüd turned and began pacing toward her. “What I want to know is, why are you bothering to continue pursuing this investigation into Sosem’s alleged dealings here at all? By all appearances, you’ve found a potential solution to your Fog Rift problem and the criminal Sosem is in Ardainian custody now. I’d say the case against him is quite out of your hands, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I… well, yes but… there are still many unanswered questions.”

“An inescapable fact of life, fürstin. Best to accept it and move on.”

Damn, Nia thought. The conversation was not at all going the way she hoped. She wanted to avoid mentioning what Sosem had told her in the dungeons of Hardhaigh Palace but she was getting desperate. “I have reason to believe that Herr Schäfer has information on a coming global cataclysm and is withholding it at the peril of countless lives.”

This seemed to pique Ermendrüd’s curiosity. “Oh? What kind of cataclysm? Something to do with the Fog Rift?”

“Admittedly, I don’t know. That’s why I need more information.”

“Hmm,” was all Ermendrüd said in reply.

Seeing that she was losing him, Nia elaborated, “I have testimony and documentation to support this claim, of course.” She decided to withhold the fact that the testimony in question was from Sosem (and that the man would probably not be cooperative in giving it officially).

“Well, that’s something.”

Nia then remembered the reason for the big show she and Ermendrüd put on earlier. “If your government works with me to investigate Schäfer, you could be credited not only with rooting out corruption within your country’s academia, but also with saving many lives. Your constituents would like that, I’d bet.”

Ermendrüd stroked his beard. “Like I said, Zorn doesn’t typically pursue joint investigations alongside foreign powers within our borders. However, in the interest of continuing to strengthen relations between our two countries, I could begin an internal investigation into potential criminal conspiracy and keep you abreast of any developments relevant to your own interests.”

He gave her a severe look. “It will take time, though. Our Department of Justice would need considerable cause merely to start an investigation—that evidence and testimony you mentioned would be the bare minimum to get the ball rolling—and it could be years before it sees fruit.”

“ Years? ” Nia exclaimed.

“Zorn wasn’t built in a day, I’m afraid,” Ermendrüd said with a tone of finality. “For now, let’s move on to the topic of aid….”

Nia simply drifted through the rest of her conversation with Chancellor Ermendrüd on autopilot. She managed to secure a fairly generous donation of men and supplies from the Zornian government to help with the escalating situation on the frontier, but as far as she was concerned the meeting was an abysmal failure.

Hours later, Nia was walking out of the Brundeshalle alongside Rex with her head hung low. Chancellor Ermendrüd had asked her to attend the follow up press conference, but she had opted to skip it, saying she had much to do. It wasn’t exactly a lie. By now, the Trinity Processor would be waiting at the lab back at Bertold University’s Science and Technology wing. She intended to oversee the first stages of the project before returning to Goshen to manage the front line against the encroaching Fog Rift.

“Well, my lady?” Dromarch asked as she passed the threshold of the palace gates with Rex and the Urayan embassy guards. One look at her dejected face was all the answer he needed.

“You got the old ‘Brundeshalle two-step’ big time, huh?” Morgan asked with a sympathetic smile.

Nia looked at her. “Good guess. How did you…?”

“Arthur used to come here for federal research grants. One thing to know about Zornians, they love their red tape!”

“So, what friends do now?” Tora asked.

“I suppose we ought to start figuring out what to do with the Trinity Processor,” Nia said, her eyes fixed down at her feet.

“Right, Tora still has to inform Schäfer we’re putting Arkblade project on hold.”

“Even though he’s probably bad guy?” Poppi asked.

Nia looked up from her feet. “Will you be seeing him in person, Tora?”

“Probably. He has office on university campus.”

“Mind if I tag along?” she asked, the hint of a grin spreading on her face. “I think I’d very much like to speak with him.”

But Morgan frowned. “Trust me, you really don’t.”

“For the last time, Your Grace, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Morgan said as the group walked down the halls of Bertold University’s main admin building.

It had been probably the tenth time she’d voiced her concerns since they left the Brundeshalle. Behind her horn-rimmed glasses, her eyes were shifting nervously.

“It’ll be fine, Morgan,” Nia said, also for probably the tenth time. “Just because I can’t officially investigate Schäfer doesn’t mean I can’t meet with him.”

“The chancellor isn’t stupid, you know,” Morgan persisted. “If he finds out you went to see Schäfer right after you failed to get approval to investigate him, he’s going to know what you’re up to. There will be consequences.”

“And I’ll deal with them if need be.”

“Please, let’s just go back to the lab and start working on the Trinity Processor,” Morgan insisted as they reached a door labelled “Prof. Uthor Schäfer”.

As Nia knocked, Rex asked, “Is there some other reason you don’t want us to see this guy, Morgan?”

“ Eintreten, ” intoned a deep resonant voice beyond the door. Nia didn’t understand the word but could guess its meaning and turned the doorknob.

With a resigned sigh, Morgan said, “You’ll see now, I guess. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Nia barely had time to register the implications of Morgan’s statement before she was inside the office of Uthor Schäfer. The other day, Tora had used the word “lavish” to describe the man’s home, and clearly his on campus office was no exception. A plush red carpet lay at their feet and a huge window towered over the far end of the room. In addition to shelves of books, the walls were lined with a myriad of certificates, trophies and awards. They were just about all written in Zornian, but Nia spotted the word Core Crystal on one of them.

Seated at a fine wood desk in front of the large window was an older man sporting purple hair and a matching goatee. Much like the surrounding office, the man’s attire was similarly lavish. He wore a red waistcoat matching his horns, inlaid with gold thread and a white cravat around his neck. A gold chain was pinned to the breast of his jacket, and he wore a pair of half-moon reading glasses through which he kept his focus on whatever paperwork was on his desk.

Beside Nia, Tora cleared his throat. “Hello, Mr… er, Herr Schäfer!”

Finally, the man looked up from his work. “Ah, young director Tora. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Bad news, unfortunately. Tora regrets to inform Schäfer that Arkblade project will have to be put on hold for some time.”

Nia could see the sweat dripping through Tora’s fur under Schäfer’s hard gaze.

“For what reason?” His deep voice was calm, but Schäfer was clearly not happy, as evidenced by the way Tora continued to wilt under his oppressive glare.

“I’m afraid that’s my doing, Herr Schäfer,” Nia said, stepping forward to pull Tora’s fuzzy butt out of the proverbial fire. “I’m crown princess Nia Echell, heir to the throne of Uraya and these are my companions, Rex, Dromarch, and Morgan.”

Schäfer’s gaze flew straight to the latter. “I did not think you would ever show your face here again.”

“Technically, I’ve been at this school longer than you’ve been alive,” Morgan retorted, her voice ice cold.

“Arrogant as ever, Blade,” Schäfer tsked as he removed his reading glasses, stood from his desk and turned to Nia. “Now, for what reason is Uraya’s Cannibal Queen shutting down the research project I’ve invested so much money into?”

Nia ignored the use of the moniker given to her by the Uraya Herald. “I’m not shutting anything down, but I do have urgent need for the services of director Tora and his team for the next two weeks… more or less. They can resume working on your Arkblade project once I’m finished with them.”

“If you’re worried about losing money, I am sure the Urayan crown will be willing to compensate you for any financial losses you may accrue as a result of this setback to your work,” Dromarch added.

“And this ‘urgent project’ of yours… I presume Zorn’s own government is aware of it?” Schäfer asked.

“I just spoke with Chancellor Ermendrüd about it this morning and have his leave to use the research facility and personnel here,” Nia said.

After taking some time to consider this, Schäfer turned back toward his desk. “Very well. I’ll bill you in two weeks… more or less.”

Sensing an end to the conversation, Nia quickly spoke up. “I will admit, I am fascinated by the project Tora and his team are working on. Bringing Blades to life in a world without resonance. What exactly inspired you to fund this?”

Schäfer studied Nia and then Morgan suspiciously for a moment, and when they both gave him nothing, he answered, “It is a noble cause, and one that is sure to earn my name a place in the history books of this new world.”

Nia almost let it slide when she remembered a detail Tatazo mentioned the other day. “I was under the impression that all credit for the research would go to Tora and his father. That was in the agreement you gave them to sign, anyway, wasn’t it?”

“Schäfer not planning to fleece Tora and Dadapon like before, is he?” Tora accused, evidently forgetting how nervous he was in the Zornian’s presence.

“I am planning nothing of the sort,” Schäfer said, looking suitably offended. "I simply think it’s a shame that so many unfortunate Blades are trapped in their Core Crystals now that they can no longer resonate.”

He couldn’t have sounded more insincere if he tried. “Funny, you don’t strike me as someone who cares much for Blades,” Nia said, remembering the disdain with which he addressed both Morgan and herself.

“This is your first time in Zorn, isn’t it?” he asked.

“It is, though I’ve been informed of your country’s hatred for Blades.”

Schäfer’s smile made Nia think of an Aligo. “You misunderstand, nobody in Zorn hates Blades, though I suppose I can’t fault you for your unfamiliarity with our culture,” he said. “Ever since Zorn was still an empire, we Zornians have prided ourselves on not relying on the power of Blade resonance. Even in Old Alrest, Zornian Drivers were a rarity.”

“What? Why?” Rex asked. “Drivers and Blades are at their best when they work together!”

“And here in Zorn, it is widely believed that true strength must be gained with one’s individual might. Here, resonating with a Blade is seen as little more than a shortcut: an easy way to gain strength in combat… or a companion in your bed.”

Nia bristled as Rex took a step forward and exclaimed, “That’s a load of crap!”

Unphased by Rex’s outburst, Schäfer stood by the window, looking down on the campus below. “Much of Alrest thinks the way you do and now look at where it’s gotten them. So many frontier colonies lost to that Fog Rift, and why? They have become over-reliant on Blade resonance and now that they’re without it, they are weak.”

Rex went silent, and Nia’s hands curled into fists as she thought of all the suffering she had witnessed. The ball was wet to the touch.

Schäfer then looked back over his shoulder. “Furthermore, without resonance, their Blades are no longer incentivized to protect them. Isn’t that right, Morgan?”

“You cold hearted…” Morgan growled before turning away, hiding her face behind locks of white-streaked blue hair. Nia, meanwhile, bit back the angry retort on her tongue and reminded herself why she was here talking to this man. She needed to pry for more information.

“If you really don’t see the value of Blades, why fund such groundbreaking Core Crystal research? Your ‘Arkblades’ have the potential to save a lot of Blades’ lives.”

Schäfer paused. “My reasons are my own. Now if there’s nothing else, I am quite busy.”

As eager as Nia was to get out of the oppressive presence of this man, there was one last piece of the puzzle she wanted to press.

“Just one more thing, Herr Schäfer,” Nia said, idly wandering over to his wall of awards. “This is quite the collection of accolades. You must have studied a wide range of subjects….”

“Your point?”

“Considering the aforementioned Fog Rift, I’ve recently taken an interest in extra dimensional science.” Nia turned to give Schäfer her best serene smile. “Is that something you’ve ever researched?”

“No, that kind of thing is considered little more than a pseudo-science. It was never worth my time.”

His answer was quick and disdainful enough that Nia believed it was honest. Still, the documents Mòrag had found in Sosem’s hideout nagged at her. “Surely in your line of work, you must know someone who's been studying the rifts that have been appearing recently?”

Schäfer nodded, his face a stone mask. “My son was the only person I knew who specialized in that kind of research, but I regret to say it’s too late to ask him about it now.”

“Too late? What happened to him?”

Schäfer gestured to Morgan. “Ask her. His fate was her failing, after all.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Morgan said as she stormed out of the office.

Catching a glimpse of tears in her eyes, Nia had half a mind to go after her. To make sure she was okay. She once again reminded herself why she was here and turned a furious glare on Schäfer. “Why the hell do you blame Morgan for the death of your son?” 

“A Blade’s job is to protect their Driver, is it not? When you think about it that way, Morgan is the perfect representation of the inherent weakness Blade resonance has left us with!”

Before Nia could respond in kind, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s go, Nia,” Rex said. “I’ve heard just about enough of this guy’s guff!”

Nia agreed wholeheartedly, but she wasn’t about to leave without getting one final word in.

“I get that you’re grieving your son, Herr Schäfer. I can’t pretend to know what that’s like,” she said, fixing him with a stern glare. “But Morgan is suffering just as much from Arthur’s death as you. And you would know that, but you’ve never resonated with a Blade, have you? Probably don’t even have the aptitude for it. So maybe you shouldn’t pretend to know what that’s like!”

Uthor Schäfer matched Nia’s glare with his own. “Of course, being a Blade, you would side with her, but how well do you think you actually know her?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” Schäfer said, returning to his desk. “One day, that girl will reveal herself to you as the weak coward she truly is.” He then muttered under his breath, “ Diese erpresserische Schlampe.”

Done bandying words with the corrupt old fool, Nia turned and followed Rex, Dromarch and the others out of the room, immediately feeling lighter as she put it behind her.

They found Morgan sitting on a bench just outside the admin building. She had put on the wrist-mounted device that controlled her Mondo and watched with distant eyes as one of the origami figures danced in her palm. Nia motioned for the others to go on ahead before approaching her.

“Hey,” Nia said, before taking a seat on the bench beside her. “You okay?”

Morgan jumped, momentarily startled before relaxing. She lifted her horn-rimmed glasses to wipe under her eyes before answering, “I’ll be fine. Sorry things kinda got ugly in there.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I think I get why you were so reluctant to meet with him now,” Nia said. “You didn’t have to come with us, y’know.”

“This is his turf we’ll be working on for the next little while, I was bound to run into him eventually. Might as well rip that bandage off sooner than later.” After a brief moment of silence, Morgan said, “Hey, thanks for sticking up for me in there. Whatever happens, I’ll always remember that.”

“He’s wrong, you know.”

With a start, both Nia and Morgan looked over to see Rex standing just beside their bench. “Rex?” Nia asked.

“You’re not weak,” he said, looking at Morgan. “I’ve started working with Blades who’ve lost their Drivers. Sometimes they can’t… keep going, y’know? But you’re here, pressing on, and that means you’re strong!”

Morgan gave him a sad smile. “That’s nice of you to say, Rex, but… he’s not entirely wrong. I’m weaker than you know.” She then stood, leaving Nia to wonder what exactly she meant. “Anyway, enough moping. We have a Trinity Processor to study!”

Once they were all back in Tora’s workspace, Morgan was able to throw herself into their work on the Trinity Processor, quickly forgetting the unpleasant encounter with her Driver’s father. It was unfortunate that not all of them had such a convenient distraction from their issues. Rex offered more than once to help out any way he could but was repeatedly waved off. Between Tatazo, Poppi, Lila, and Morgan, Tora had all the help he would need.

“Mayhaps we three should head back to the embassy for the day,” Dromarch had suggested. “It feels as though we are only getting in the way here.”

Nia was inclined to agree, but didn’t feel like heading back to the stuffy atmosphere of the Urayan embassy just yet. Evidently, Rex felt the same.

“Think I’ll go for a walk, actually,” he said. "Need to clear my head.”

A chance to see the sights of Neu Bauen with Rex certainly appealed to Nia, and she almost offered to tag along. “Alright, see you back at the embassy then.”

Rex acknowledged her with a nod, lingering before turning to leave. It was for the best; Nia couldn’t trust herself around him. Either she’d say the wrong thing and make things worse like she did before… or she’d say the right thing for the wrong reasons, and then things would really turn messy.

So, Nia simply watched Rex go, the young man passing by Poppi without any acknowledgement as he disappeared out the door. Poppi, who was dragging large lengthy cables to where Tora and the others were working, tried to give Rex a friendly smile which vanished quickly when it wasn’t returned.

Rather than continue her current course, Poppi adjusted and approached Nia. “Rex-Rex not been acting like himself since friends all arrived. Is something wrong?”

Nia wasn’t sure where to even begin talking about this kind of stuff with the child-like machine. “Rex is… going through some issues back home,” she struggled to explain. “’Trouble in paradise,’ I believe is the expression.”

“Paradise? Did Rex-Rex find another Elysium? And there’s trouble there?” Poppi gasped. “Friends must go to help!”

Nia pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, that’s not…. Rex is having… relationship issues.”

Poppi nodded and let out a long, “Ooooooh… what is issue?”

“Dunno. He didn’t say.” Then again, Nia didn’t ask. “I guess it’s only natural. Without resonance, that kind of connection isn’t as strong. It frays more easily.” Nia sighed, once again letting the thoughts planted in her mind spread like a virus to those around her. “Maybe it was never real in the first place.”

“What Friend Nia mean by that?”

“It means all the relationships we took for granted were built on a foundation that no longer exists!”

“My lady, that doesn’t mean…” Dromarch started, but Nia was already on a spiral.

“It’s not just Rex and Pyra and Mythra. Rex and I were in resonance during our journey as well, and now it’s like… there’s a wall there.” Nia then looked at Dromarch. “Even you and I have had more spats lately than usual.” Nia let out a resigned sigh. “All of us have slowly been drifting apart ever since our journey ended. I dunno, it just feels like… those connections were never truly real. Just something Blade resonance gave us.” Real connections have no shortcuts.

Dromarch opened his mouth to say something but hesitated. Perhaps he knew she was right.

“Friend Nia is wrong,” Poppi said bluntly. “Friend forgets, Poppi and Masterpon were never real Driver and Blade. Never had real resonance. Because of this, relationship with Masterpon not always easy. Masterpon can be demanding and thoughtless. Not to mention a weirdo.”

Poppi looked over at where Tora was working alongside the others, and not for the first time Nia was struck by just how human the machine girl appeared. The smile on her face as she watched Tora work was filled with a genuine warmth supplemented with a hint of bemusement.

“Relationship with Masterpon full of ups and downs. It take lots of work, but… he worth it.”

“You really feel that way?”

With an emphatic nod, the Artificial Blade said, “For all Masterpon’s faults, Poppi cannot imagine better Driver… or better friend.”

Nia wasn’t sure what to say. She’d been so stuck in her own head that the obvious truth had once again eluded her.

“Poppi!” Tora suddenly called out. “What taking so long? Need ether cables now please!”

“Coming, Masterpon!”

Before Poppi could go to Tora with the requested cables, Nia stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Thanks, Poppi,” she said. “You gave me some much-needed perspective.”

Poppi smiled her remarkably human smile. “It no problem!”

Nia watched her rejoin Tora before turning to Dromarch. “Well, shall we head back to the embassy?”

Dromarch nodded, and after bidding Tora and the others a barely acknowledged, “good day,” Nia and Dromarch stepped out onto the Bertold University campus grounds.

“So, my lady, what is it you intend to do now?” Dromarch asked.

“Dunno. Guess I’ll stay in, write up a report to Queen Raqura. Been a while since I gave her an update.”

“That’s well and good, but it isn’t what I meant.”

Nia didn’t have to think hard about it. “You mean about Rex?”

Dromarch nodded. “Do you intend to speak with him? It would seem he could really use a friend right now.”

Errantly kicking a pebble further down the path, Nia said, “Dunno. My last heart-to-heart with him didn’t exactly go so well.”

“And you can’t try again?”

Letting out a breath through her nose, Nia said, “Whatever’s going on between him and Pyra and Mythra, I don’t think he wants to talk to me about it. He knows I’m not great with… emotional talks.” She decided not to mention the additional baggage that came with her own feelings where he was concerned. Once more, she wondered whether it was a mistake to confess her true feelings to him that day in the Spirit Crucible Elpys. 

“If I may point out, my lady, in the wake of his apparent troubles, Rex travelled out to Goshen on the frontier just to see you, and when you weren’t there, he followed you all the way to Mor Ardain, even showing up during the operation at Haerford.” Dromarch said. “That’s an awfully long journey, especially when you consider how many friends we have much closer to Leftheria.”

For the briefest of moments, Nia’s heart skipped. Out of everyone he could have gone to amidst his relationship troubles, he had chosen her. Did this mean something? Was she just the friend he trusted the most? Or was there something more to it? Bloody hell, get a grip Nia!

“But you know Rex better than I,” Dromarch said. “I’ll leave it to you to decide how to proceed.”

Dusk had fallen over Neu Bauen by the time Rex returned to the Urayan embassy. Nia waited in the main lounge of the residence wing, idly going over the report she’d written to Raqura. Seeing her there when he entered, Rex stopped in place, seeming unsure of what to say, or perhaps if he should say anything at all. It was really hard to get a read on him now that they were no longer in resonance. She hadn’t really noticed before, but now that it was at the forefront of her mind, the absence of resonance really was plain as day. Nia forced herself not to dwell on it.

“Hey,” Rex said as Nia set down her work and stood.

“Hey yourself,” she said. “Manage to clear your head?”

“More or less.”

“Good. Just turning in, then?”

“Think so, yeah.”

Nia cleared her throat. “D’you mind joining me out on the balcony for a bit? I’ve been cooped up here working all evening and it’d be a shame to let a nice night like this go to waste.”

With another hard to read smile, Rex rubbed the back of his head. “Um, sure.”

Nia led the way through the glass door and out onto the balcony, resting her arms on the railing as she looked out at the skyline. The embassy garden below was a serene contrast to the lights and sounds of the city nightlife just beyond it. Letting the tranquility of the moment fill her, Nia decided to allow herself not to think like Uraya’s future queen. No more allowing her Royal Self to meticulously strategize the conversation, at least for tonight.

“Rex, I… I’m sorry I haven’t been a very supportive friend to you lately,” she started.

“It’s alright. I know you have a lot on your plate now that you’re in line to be queen of Uraya.”

“That’s no excuse.” Nia looked into the kind golden eyes she loved, her heart fracturing at the hint of pain she saw there. “I know you’re going through a hard time and… I’d like to be here for you through it.”

Finally allowing himself to step closer, Rex leaned on the railing next to her, looking out at the streets and buildings rising up the side of the mountain and the huge Brundeshalle looming over all of it.

“Thanks,” he said. Nia could hear the slight tremor in his voice. “I wish the thought of losing them didn’t scare me so much.”

Nia softly asked, “Would it help to talk about it?”

“Not sure if it’s fully my place. Pyra was the one who wanted us to take a break.”

Nia did a double take. “Really? I would’ve thought Mythra would be the one at the heart of the issue.”

Rex shrugged. “Oh, she was on board too, but what happened really affected Pyra the most.”

He did tell her it wasn’t his place to talk about it, but Nia was too curious not to ask, “What happened?”

“You remember a while back I said I wanted to open a branch of the Garfont Mercenaries for finding placements for Driverless Blades?”

Nia nodded.

“Well, we did. Right outside Fonsett. Things went alright for a while, but then… something bad happened with one of the Blades we were helping. Really bad.” Rex took a shuddering breath. “Our relationship was already strained at that point for a number of reasons, not the least of which was me charging ahead without thinking about what they wanted.”

“Classic you, eh?” Nia was momentarily worried that she’d crossed a line with her usual snark, but the hint of a smirk on Rex’s face indicated to her (with some relief) that it was received in the spirit of levity in which it was intended.

“Yeah. Anyway, the… incident with the Driverless Blade was enough to turn that strain into a fracture.” Rex gripped the balcony railing tighter. “Now, I’m giving them space like they asked, but… I don’t know how I’m supposed to fix this!”

Nia tenderly put her hand on his, and she felt him relax his grip on the railing. “I admit, I’m not exactly experienced with long-term relationships, but it sounds to me like you’re just in a rough patch. From my understanding, every relationship goes through at least one. As for how to fix it, I guess you just… talk to them? Figure out a way forward together.”

Rex didn’t look convinced. “Yeah, that’ll be a job and a half.”

“Yep. Real connections have no shortcuts, but that isn’t a bad thing. It just means you need to put in the work.” Then, remembering the moment months ago that Nia first decided to walk the path of a queen, she said to Rex, “Tell me, do you want to be with them?”

There was no hesitation in Rex’s answer. “Yes.”

“There you go then! Just hold on to that feeling and let it carry you forward.”

Finally, Rex gave her a genuine smile. “Didn’t I tell you something like that recently?”

Nia returned his smile. “What can I say? It’s good advice.” She leaned just a little closer to him. “After all, it helped me.”

Once more losing herself in the tranquil beauty of the night and Rex’s kind golden eyes, Nia leaned closer still. It was only when she realised what she was doing that she pulled away, removing her hand from his and making to step back inside the embassy.

“Well, guess I’ll turn in,” she said, speaking softly. “Good night, Rex.”

"Nia, I..." Rex started, but hesitated, settling on simply giving her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

“Hello?! ” Nia called out to the empty corridor. “Rex? Dromarch? Anyone? Where are you? ”

Again and again, she called out to her friends and was met only with silence. She didn’t understand what was happening. One moment, they were all descending the stairs beneath the chapel in the heart of Elysium, following the Architect’s voice. The next, Nia was alone. Heart racing, she turned to run back up the stairs from whence she came. She had no real plan other than to get out of there. However, this cursed place had its own plan.

Nia stumbled as she crested the stairs and found not the chapel in the desolate wasteland that was Elysium, but the familiar green scenery of Leftheria, the Cloud Sea stretching over the horizon. She was standing amidst simple houses of wood and stone and recognized her surroundings as the main square of Fonsett Village. She tried to remember what she was doing here, but her mind was a foggy haze.

Was she here visiting Rex and his family? She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here, or where she’d just come from. Fonsett Village was unusually empty, and a sourceless anxiety deep within her made the vibrant colours of Leftheria seem almost muted.

I need to find Rex, she thought. Everything will be okay if I can just get to him.

She was already facing the direction of Rex’s childhood home and jogged across the empty village square until she was in front of the sturdy wooden door. At first, Nia considered knocking but quickly noticed that the door was ajar. She could hear the soft murmur of voices within, too low to make out any words. She recognized Rex’s laugh though, and that was enough to pull her forward through the door.

Rex was seated at the dinner table, and he wasn’t alone. Pyra and Mythra were seated across from him, all three of them eating and drinking from the hearty-looking feast on the table. They were smiling warmly and seemed perfectly happy… until Nia cleared her throat. All three of them turned their heads to look at her in perfect unison, their warm smiles gone. Nia should have known right then that something was very wrong.

“Hey guys,” she said. “Sorry if I’m late, I was….” Nia trailed off, still not quite sure what she had been doing before.

Doing her best to push down her unexplained anxiety, Nia moved to join them at the table but stopped when she noticed that the only three seats were occupied.

“So… where do I sit, then?”

At that, Pyra winced. “Oh… we didn’t set a place for you.”

“What do you mean? You invited me over, didn’t you?”

Rex furrowed his brow. “No, we didn’t. Sorry, guess we didn’t make that clear?”

“Oh.” Nia was now more confused than ever. If they hadn’t invited her, then what was she doing here?

There was a beat of awkward silence as Nia tried to figure out what she should do now. Finally, Mythra rolled her eyes.

“Ugh, are you two ever going to stop beating around the bush?” she asked, looking towards Rex and Pyra. “Fine. If you won’t be straight with her, I guess I will.”

Mythra stood from her seat, walking right up to Nia as she said bluntly, “You weren’t invited because you weren’t wanted.”

Nia took a step back, dumbstruck. “What?”

Pyra stood from her seat next, moving to stand beside her counterpart. “It’s the truth, Nia. We’d rather not have… well, someone like you around anymore.”

“You mean a Flesh Eater?” Nia asked, her mouth agape. She looked between Pyra and Mythra, their cold stares making her feel incredibly small.

“Well, it’s more than just that,” Pyra said.

“I don’t understand.”

“Like hell you don’t,” Mythra sneered. “Honestly, how stupid do you think we are?”

“What are you…” Nia started, but Pyra continued where Mythra left off.

“We know all about your intentions with Rex,” she said.

“My intentions?”

“We know all about what you said to him in the Spirit Crucible.”

This, Nia did remember. “So? I was just…”

“Even before that, it was obvious how you felt,” Mythra added.

Pyra looked down at Nia with open pity. “I’m sorry, but… we just can’t trust you around him.”

“Pyra, I don’t have any ‘intentions’ towards Rex.” Nia then turned to the boy in question, watching passively—emotionlessly—from his seat at the table. “Rex, tell them! Tell them I don’t…”

Rex stood from his seat and pushed past Pyra and Mythra, putting himself face to face with Nia. It took everything for her not to get lost in his kind golden eyes as he asked, “What you said in the Spirit Crucible… did you mean it?”

“Y-yes, but….”

“And do you still feel the same way now?”

Nia thought about lying but knew it would do no good. She should have known those three simple words she’d said to him then would be her undoing. “Yes.”

Rex’s golden eyes turned cold as he replied, “Then there’s nothing more to discuss. I think it’s time we go our separate ways.”

It was the finality with which he said the words that brought the first tears to Nia’s eyes. “B-but… why? You guys are my friends.”

“You thought of us as friends?” Pyra said with a rueful shake of her head.

“We barely even know you,” Mythra said. “Not truly.”

“What a load of bollocks! You know me!”

“Do we? You’re a closed book, Nia. In all the time we’ve travelled together, you’ve told us next to nothing about your life before we met.”

“But you told Rex, didn’t you? You opened your heart to him in the Spirit Crucible!”

“Conveniently when we weren’t around.”

The only thing that hurt more than their rejection was knowing they were right.

Looking at her with pity, but not empathy, Rex said, “You were a good travelling companion, nothing more. We appreciate all the help you gave us on our journey to Elysium, but now the journey’s over. We no longer need each other.”

The tears were falling freely down Nia’s cheeks now. “But I do! Please, Rex….”

“Nia, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Please don’t do this!” Nia sobbed, thinking about the hard, lonely life she led before she’d met Rex and the others. “Please… I can’t go back to living like that. I can’t go back to being alone!”

A grim new voice suddenly spoke—a familiar voice. “You have no one to blame for that but yourself.”

Nia turned to find a familiar man looming over her, his listless face framed by long white hair, a blood red diamond-shaped crystal on his forehead.

“You had something good with us in Torna, but you threw it all away the moment you thought you found something better,” said Jin. Nia was too confused and distraught to remember that she’d watched him die not an hour ago. “You’d have been better off if you’d stayed with us. After all…” Jin reached a hand toward her. “I’m the same as you.”

She turned away from him, desperate to get away. To find some place where she could collect herself. In doing so, she nearly collided with Dromarch.

“Ungrateful child,” the white tiger growled. “I’ve been by your side all this time, and you dare claim that you’re alone?”

“Dromarch, I didn’t mean…” Nia tried to speak through wracking sobs.

“Do not insult me with meaningless platitudes, my lady. We both know I’ve never been enough for you.” Dromarch turned to leave through a door just behind him that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Well, mayhaps it’s time you truly understand what it means to be alone. Goodbye, my lady.”

“ Dromarch, wait! ” Nia went through the door after him and came out in a familiar room inside a wooden cottage in the Gormotti countryside.

There was a bed by the window on the far side, and Nia saw the sickeningly familiar sight of a young auburn-haired Gormotti girl lying lifeless in it. Standing over her was a large man swaying back and forth, a bottle in his hand.

“I resonated with your core for one purpose: to heal my only daughter,” said the former Lord Echell as he staggered towards her.

“Father…” Nia whimpered.

“You had one purpose. One! ”

“I’m sorry… I-I tried…”

“And then, you were such a piss-poor substitute for my daughter that you couldn’t even stop me from drinking myself to death!”

The man she once called Father began chugging the bottle of whiskey in his hand ravenously, and then to Nia’s horror his body began to bloat and grow pale right before her eyes. The stench of death assaulted her nostrils as the walking corpse of her father bellowed, “YOU DESERVE TO BE ALONE!” Then like a puppet with its strings cut, her dead father fell to the ground in a lifeless heap.

By this point, Nia was acutely aware that what she was seeing couldn’t be real, but even so, it was all too much. She couldn’t breathe, tears blinding her as she hyperventilated. Nia took one step back, then another, and she kept going until she found the wall. She slumped to the floor against it, holding her knees to her chest as she sobbed, “Please stop please stop please stop….”

Thankfully, her pleas were answered, and when she opened her eyes, the illusions were gone and Nia was standing before the Architect himself alongside her friends, each of them equally shaken by their own respective visions. At least, that was how things had played out originally. This time, when Nia opened her eyes, it was not the Architect waiting to meet her but Queen Raqura.

The portly woman was missing half of her body vertically down the middle, just like the Architect. The half that still existed leaned on her cane; her whole being weighed down.

“Do not despair, child. This is the fate you chose,” she said. “Being a queen means living for others, not yourself. It means being alone.”

Looking down at herself, Nia gasped when she saw that half of her body was now missing as well. That was when Nia awoke with a jump, fleetingly feeling the sensation of falling.

Drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, she looked around. It took a minute for her racing heart to slow to a normal rhythm, at which point she was able to get her bearings. She was in bed in her quarters within the Urayan embassy in Zorn’s capital. She was here looking for a solution to the Fog Rift plaguing the frontier colonies. Her journey to Elysium and the terrible visions she’d seen there were now a year behind her.

This wasn’t the first nightmare Nia had about the things she’d seen during the Architect’s “test,” but it was the first time the nightmare had ended with Queen Raqura of all people. Nia tried to convince herself that her dream didn’t mean anything, but she knew better.

She checked the time. It was 5:40am. Early, yet not early enough to try to go back to sleep. So, with a groan, Nia pulled herself out of bed and proceeded to get dressed for the day. All in all, she got a solid four and a half hours of sleep last night. It would have to do.

After a quick breakfast and a coffee, Nia started her day the same way she always did of late: by turning on her crystal communicator and calling Yew in Goshen to check on how things were progressing with the counter rift operation. When she was in Mor Ardain, Yew had told her that the researchers anticipated the Fog Rift’s radius of destruction reaching Goshen in about two weeks, give or take (but probably take). It had been a little over a week since then, and Nia wanted to make sure that she would know the instant things started to take a turn for the worse. If nothing else, hearing from Yew that there were no major developments was always a source of relief each morning.

Unfortunately, on this particular morning, such was not the case. Nia raced to rouse Rex and Dromarch. “We need to leave right now! ” she exclaimed.

“Where?” Rex rasped, bleary-eyed.

“Back to Goshen,” Nia explained. “I can’t raise anyone on comms!”

It was mid afternoon, but the skies over Goshen were as dark as Nia’s thoughts. Seeing the harbour town from her place on the bridge of the Ardainian air freighter—dark and unresponsive—gave her a terrible sense of déjà vu. As their ship’s crew continued in their efforts to hail the harbour, Nia exchanged an uneasy look with her companions. Rex, Dromarch, Morgan, Tora and Poppi were all serious and silent.

“I repeat my last: this is the ANS Argent Lance requesting permission to dock,” the Ardainian communications officer spoke into the radio beside her. “Request confirmation of receipt of transmission, over.”

For what was now the third time, the comms officer waited for a reply, and Nia’s thoughts again turned to Fort Crocius and its grim fate. As the comms officer leaned forward to try again, a bright light from the harbour below steadily flashed on and off with clear intent.

“Looks like their signal lamps are working, at least,” a young ensign said.

The comms officer exchanged a look with the captain before transmitting, “Harbour control, are you able to guide us into dock, over?”

The signal lamp steadily flashed on and off again and Nia breathed a sigh of relief. A few minutes later, Nia’s ship was mooring at the nearest empty dock. Waiting for her there was a mixed welcome party of Urayan and Ardainian troops holding ether lamps: the only source of light in the pitch-black harbour. Mòrag stood front and centre, hands clasped behind her back. She seemed only mildly surprised to see Tora and Poppi now in their company but kept her focus on Nia as they approached.

“What’s going on? Why couldn’t I reach you?” Nia asked the moment she stepped off the gangway. Based on what she was seeing, there was no time for pleasantries.

“As you can see, comms are down as is the power,” Mòrag explained as they began walking through the harbour town towards the Prancing Ponio Inn, which had become their makeshift command centre.

Along the way, Nia noted just how different Goshen was from when she left. Sandbag barriers were erected every which way, blocking side streets and alleyways. These blockades were manned by armed sentries using ether lights to illuminate their surroundings. Many of these sentries did not appear to be military, nor were they mercenary forces. They looked like ordinary colonists armed with civilian rifles, farming implements and other makeshift weapons. Had a civilian militia been formed in her absence?

“About forty-eight hours ago, a horde of Fogbeasts attacked Goshen’s outlying facilities,” Mòrag continued.

So, the enemy was already on Goshen’s doorstep. The outlying facilities included a few farms, the weather stations and, as evidenced by the darkness throughout the harbour, the power plant.

“We evacuated those areas already, didn’t we?” Nia asked.

“Indeed, which is what makes this development so disturbing,” Mòrag intoned, leveling a look that set Nia on edge. “It means the Fogbeasts were not merely hunting or moving territory. They were targeting the power plant. Deliberately.”

“Are they really capable of that level of cunning?” Dromarch asked.

“Yeah, I thought they were just like… normal monsters with heightened aggression,” Rex added.

“After what I’ve seen, I believe we’ve greatly underestimated our enemy’s strategic capabilities.”

At this, Morgan rubbed her chin. “If that’s really the case, it could indicate the existence of some intelligent entity commanding the fog creatures. Perhaps even from the other side of the Fog Rift.”

“What, like some kind of king of fog?” Tora asked.

“Maybe.” Morgan then looked at Mòrag quizzically. “But how can you be sure the fog creatures are really acting with strategic intent?”

Mòrag elaborated, “After the power went down, commanders Yew, Dretus and I agreed to send our main force to retake the area and get the ether generators running again. The moment we did, the Blades we had under quarantine turned and broke containment. They immediately targeted the comms array, retreating into the night after they destroyed it.”

“Damn…” Nia muttered. The use of diversionary tactics certainly suggested strategic intent. “Does that mean the Fog Rift’s radius of corruption has reached Goshen?”

Mòrag shook her head. “The Blades that turned had all been with recon patrols before we pulled the line from Uramu to Goshen. It’s likely the remaining Blades here are fine for now but we’re keeping a close eye on them. I made Brighid swear to inform me the moment she starts feeling even the slightest bit off.”

Fighting Fogblades was bad enough, but Nia didn’t relish the idea of fighting against one of her friends. She put that unpleasant thought out of mind immediately. “What’s the status of repairs?”

“Engineers are working on repairing the comms array. They managed to get the receiver working again—to a degree—but the transmitter will need to be completely replaced and by my understanding, we lack the parts required to do so,” Mòrag explained. “As for our other systems, we have the command centre, the field hospital and other crucial assets running on emergency backup power, but I made the decision to pull all our forces sent to repair the power plant back here.”

“Why’s that?” Rex asked.

“Recent mercenary scout reports indicate that the Fogbeasts are consolidating their numbers in that area. It is my belief that taking down our power and communications was in preparation for a massive, committed attack on Goshen, and that it’ll come soon. The other commanding officers and I were just discussing our next course of action when we picked up the arrival of your ship.”

Mòrag looked at Nia again, and this time Nia could see the first hint of cracks in her stoic demeanor. Mòrag was worried. “Did you find a way to stop the rift?”

Nia exchanged a look with Tora and Morgan and tried to keep herself from audibly swallowing as she answered, “I think so.” I hope so.

They had arrived before the Prancing Ponio Inn now. Urayan Mercenaries stood guard at every entrance and Ardainian snipers were posted on the roof, scanning in all directions.

“Then you’d best brief us so we can come up with a suitable plan,” Mòrag said, leading the way inside.

Nia hesitated only for a moment before following her in. A distant rumble reverberated through the dark sky above, seeming to come from the northeast: the direction of the Fog Rift. Evidently, a storm was coming.

Inside the operational command center—converted from the main lounge of the Prancing Ponio Inn—Nia was greeted by the rest of the commanding officers as they stood around a map in the makeshift war room. The Volff’s Fang mercenary company commander Dretus gave her a respectful nod. His five o’clock shadow had grown since Nia last spoke with him and she thought she smelled booze on his uniform. Yew and Zuo, meanwhile, gave her proper salutes, still treating her as one of the Garfont Mercenaries’ commanding officers. The latter of the two appeared fully recovered from his encounter with Sosem at the Tipsy Gogol Inn across town; an incident that felt like a lifetime ago.

Nia was then introduced to Blevin, an old Urayan man with a bushy white mustache who was representing the colonist militia force that had been formed the other day. Also present was Brighid, the fiery purple-clad Blade overseeing the meeting in Mòrag’s absence. Next to her was an Ardainian lieutenant wearing a black officer’s dress coat similar to the one worn by Mòrag. His uniform was incredibly well pressed, even appearing to have been personally customized with additional buttons and pockets, and he wore a rather intricately carved silver sword on his hip that struck Nia as too gaudy to be practical in combat. He introduced himself as First Officer Lesser—Jac’s replacement as Mòrag’s second in command. Nia ignored the unpleasant feelings that realisation brought as the gathered officers briefed her on the details of Goshen’s defense plan.

They directed her attention to the map of Goshen on the table, pointing out each of the defensive emplacements and the buildings serving as overwatch. Most of Goshen’s architecture was not especially tall, but there were a few four- or five-story structures spread throughout the town that provided adequate coverage of Goshen and its surroundings. Additionally, upon her return to Goshen from Alba Cavanich, Mòrag had seen fit to bring a division of Archelons—the Ardainian military’s quadrupedal Titan weapons—ten in all. They were equipped with long range artillery cannons and the officers were just discussing how best to place them when Nia entered.

Goshen had no walls, so rather than attempt to hastily erect ones that likely wouldn’t last against a horde of angry Fogbeasts, militia captain Blevin had most of the men and women under his command digging trenches along the outer perimeter. The trenches were six metri deep by seven metri wide and they were sharpening logs from Goshen’s various lumber mills to use as stakes to line them. Combined with sniper fire and artillery bombardment it was a solid defensive strategy. The problem was the enemy’s numbers.

The last report from the scouting parties reported over eight thousand Fog creatures massing around the northern power plant. Dretus made sure to point out that that intel was almost six hours old, and that they’d have a more accurate count when the next reconnaissance team reported in, which he expected to be soon.

Either way, it was at least eight thousand Fogbeasts against two-hundred troops from the Garfont Mercenaries, six hundred from the Volff’s Fang Mercenaries, and eighty-eight from the original Urayan military garrison at Fort Crocius, as well as an Ardainian battleship with twelve-hundred combat ready personnel (including ten Archelon Titan weapons) and three-hundred militia volunteers. Just over twenty-three hundred of them versus eight thousand hostile creatures. Even with the defenders’ advantage, it was a lopsided matchup.

“Considering the Fogbeasts’ apparent assembly area, their most likely avenue of attack will be our northern perimeter,” stated lieutenant Lesser, using a croupier’s stick to point out the area in question on the map. “Though considering the surprising cleverness they’ve displayed, they could also try a flanking maneuver on our east and west sides.”

“Though the terrain to the west is difficult to maneuver through, full of sheer cliffs and steep valleys,” Blevin pointed out, eager to provide a local’s perspective. “It would take a long time for them to get around that way and our patrols would most likely see them coming well before they could get into position to attack. If these creatures are really as smart as our Ardainian ‘friends’ seem to think, any flanking maneuver they try would likely be from the east.”

It was enough to make her head spin, but Nia felt like she had a pretty good idea of how the coming battle would play out and she didn’t like how it looked.

“All this to say, we’ve narrowed our options down to two choices,” Zuo explained. “Either we hold the line here until we can send for reinforcements….”

“Which will take a lot longer without working comms,” Yew added.

“Or we evacuate Goshen in its entirety and fall back to the Urayan Titan.”

In other words, abandon their last foothold on the new continent that, a year ago, had been the world’s salvation. The culmination of Nia, Rex and the others’ quest for Elysium.

“Either choice comes with great risk,” Mòrag intoned grimly. “Our defenses may not be enough to hold out against a full-scale attack long enough for reinforcements to arrive and if we choose to pull out and retreat to Uraya’s Titan, there aren’t enough ships to carry all of the refugees from both the Urayan and Ardainian colonies. A sizable number of non-combatants would have to travel on foot east along the coast.”

Which, Nia knew, would make them sitting ducks if the Fogbeasts tried their eastern flanking maneuver. They were between a rock and a hard place.

“I say we stand our ground,” Blevin said in a tired but resolute tone which indicated to Nia that they’d had this argument before. “For many of us, this is our home and I’ll be damned if I let a buncha upstart monsters run us out!”

A chorus of “too right” and “fair dinkham, mate” from the other militia officers present echoed Blevin’s sentiment.

“And I say staying means certain death!” commander Dretus countered. “I know our people on the ground will be exposed to attack if we leave Goshen, but we have ways to mitigate the risk. Our airships can provide aerial cover, and we can even leave behind a contingent of troops to hold the city and draw the enemy’s attention.”

“We’d be sacrificing every last soldier we leave behind,” Zuo said with a disapproving frown.

“And? Is it not a soldier’s job to lay down their lives for their people?”

“Oh? You gonna be right there with ‘em, Dretus? Or will you be safe and sound aboard the Southpaw?”

Sputtering, Dretus rebutted, “As the commanding officer of the Volff’s Fang, I would be wasted on the front lines!”

“‘Wasted’ is the key word with you, isn’t it?”

Watching from the Ardainian side of the table, Lt. Lesser tsked loudly.

“Something to say, First Officer?” Yew challenged.

“Just that no self-respecting Ardainian soldier will be willing to lay down their life to protect Urayan soil,” Lesser said, his hands clasped behind his back in a pale imitation of Mòrag’s poise. “I believe evacuation is the correct course of action.”

“Typical officer, always ready to run from a fight,” Yew said with the disdain of a man who had experience serving under someone just like that.

Lesser returned Yew’s vitriol with a glare. “Typical grunt, too eager to run towards a pointless death.”

“I see nothing pointless about protecting our people, or did you forget we have Ardainian refugees here now as well as Urayan?”

“The impertinence! If you were one of my men, I would let you taste Avarice!” Lesser put a hand on his gaudy sword for emphasis.

“You named your sword Avarice?” Yew scoffed. “If I was one of your men I’d sooner fall on my own sword!”

While Yew and Lesser argued, Zuo and Dretus’ spat increased in fervor. All the while, Blevin raised his voice to match them, calling all of them cowards. Beside Nia, Rex and the others were looking on, seemingly wanting to chime in but not knowing how they fit into this meeting of military leaders. Everything was unravelling fast, and Nia knew it. She had to take control now. Fortunately, someone else beat her to it.

“That’s ENOUGH!” Brighid shouted, the blue flames in her hair seeming to glow more brightly. “Are you officers or children? ” The room fell silent and when she was satisfied the arguing men were sufficiently cowed, Brighid continued, “As things stand, crown princess Nia has operational command of the Urayan half of this combined action, and Lady Mòrag is the ranking officer for the Ardainian half. Whatever your opinions, you will defer to their decision like the professionals you are!”

“Well said, Brighid,” Mòrag intoned, casting her gaze to Nia. “I will defer to my Urayan counterpart on this.”

None of the gathered officers brooked any argument, and Nia gave Mòrag and Brighid a grateful look before turning to address everyone gathered. Really studying their faces, she knew at once why they were all so quick to fight with each other. Seeing what was behind each of their exhausted eyes, it was obvious.

“You’re afraid,” she said. “I get it. I’m afraid too. But we have to face this head on. That’s why we’ll make our stand here.”

The gathered officers all exchanged uncertain looks. But Nia was not done yet. “Fortunately, we have a plan to remove that Fog Rift once and for all.” She then turned to the pudgy orange Nopon at her side. “Tora, explain to them what you told me this morning.”

Looking suddenly very nervous now that all eyes were on him, Tora cleared his throat and began.

“Right, Tora and friends pulled all-nighter learning how Trinity Processor works until finally, big breakthrough! Trinity Processor originally harnessed power of Conduit to alter reality, but Conduit gone now so Trinity Processor does not work, right?”

The room full of military personnel looked at the stout Nopon, their expressions utterly devoid of comprehension. “Right…?” Zuo started.

“WRONG! Trinity Processor can draw energy from Fog Rift itself!”

Morgan stepped forward, pushing her horn-rimmed glasses up her nose as she elaborated, “From what I’ve been told about this ‘Conduit’ anomaly, I hypothesize that it functions similarly to the rifts we’ve been seeing pop up all over New Alrest. It emitted an unknown energy source which the Trinity Processor was able to harness. According to my data, the Fog Rift has also been emitting an alien energy—that’s how it’s creating Fogbeasts. It won’t be perfect, but we believe that the Trinity Processor can be calibrated to harness the energy from the Fog Rift to repair the broken space that created the Fog Rift. In laymen’s terms, I believe we can use the Fog Rift’s own energy to destroy it!” She giggled girlishly, affording Nia a rare glimpse of the real Morgan, before the death of her Driver had broken something inside her. “ I love it when science gets ironic! ”

“Tora already figured out how to recalibrate Trinity Processor during previous all-nighter and will work second all-nighter to have it ready!”

Nia looked with uncertainty at the Nopon, noting the subtle twitch of one of his bloodshot eyes. “You sure you’re gonna be alright doing that, Tora?” she asked, remembering her own series of all-nighters in the wake of the fall of Fort Crocius.

“It fine, Tora can sleep when dead!”

Poppi tried to give Nia a reassuring smile, but something about it set her on edge. “Masterpon is now seventy-five percent coffee!”

“All of the research my team and I did on the Fog Rift should make it easier to calibrate the Trinity Processor to its energy wavelength,” Morgan said, grinning far too widely. “Aren’t you glad I made sure to save that research when we last went to Fort Crocius?”

Considering the things they’d seen on their last visit to Fort Crocius, Nia preferred to forget about it. Nevertheless, she was grateful for Morgan’s prudence.

“Tricky part will be getting Trinity Processor close enough to Fog Rift to draw sufficient energy from it,” Tora continued.

“Exactly how close will we need to get, Tora?” Mòrag asked.

“Within sixty peds.”

Having learned this when she first heard Tora and Morgan’s plan, Nia said, “We’ll need to use an airship to do a pretty close flyby for this to work. The Trinity Processor is currently set up on board the Ardainian freighter Argent Lance.”

“Tricky is certainly the right word, the skies around the Fog Rift are swarming with aerial Fogbeasts,” Dretus said.

“So, we’ll have the Vandham’s Legacy and the Southpaw act as escorts for the Argent Lance. That should be enough to keep those Fogbeasts off our backs until we’re close enough to the rift.” Nia then turned her attention to Mòrag. “We should keep the Eadraig’s Jewel over Goshen. It’s a long flight to our objective. The Fogbeasts’ main force will probably attack during the operation and our ground forces will need full battleship support if they hope to hold out.”

Mòrag nodded. “Understood. Brighid and I will take point on the city’s defense.”

Lesser scowled but knew better than to openly question the Special Inquisitor.

“Tora, you and your team should get to work on the Trinity Processor right away,” Rex said. “The sooner we have it ready, the better.”

Tora agreed, gathering Poppi and Morgan and rushing out of the room to get to work right away. He passed an Ardainian soldier on his way out, who hastily approached Mòrag and performed a stiff salute. “A report, Special Inquisitor: the First Recon Decade has just returned.”

“Ah, they’ll have the updated enemy numbers. Send them in,” Mòrag ordered. The soldier departed to do just that and suddenly an imperceptible wince crossed Mòrag’s face. She looked over at Nia and the others, her gaze lingering on Rex in particular. “Right… I nearly forgot to mention another development since you’ve been away.”

Nia opened her mouth to ask what it was, but it quickly became unnecessary when she saw the pair of radiant red and white-clad figures enter alongside the Ardainian scouts. Pyra and Mythra regarded Nia, Rex and the others with only mild surprise as they approached Mòrag to deliver their report.

“We counted at least ten thousand,” said Mythra.

“But there’s less of them trickling in now,” Pyra added. “My guess is they’re just about at full strength.”

Mòrag was not pleased with this news. “Which means we don’t have much time.”

But Nia found her focus entirely on Rex at that moment. A look Nia couldn’t identify crossed his face so briefly that she didn’t have time to parse it before it became a strained smile.

Goshen’s hospital was buzzing with activity when Nia entered. Doctors and nurses were rushing to and fro as they worked to move their patients to the southern wing: what would likely be the most secure part of the hospital when the attack came. Additionally, new beds—many of which were simple cots without frames or just piles of blankets on the floor—were being set up in every last piece of space in the building. All the while, army medics were taking inventory of supplies; counting every last roll of bandages, gauze, sutures, morphine, and everything else they’d need when the wounded would start piling in.

In charge of all of this was chief medical officer Dufresne, who Nia vaguely remembered speaking to through a haze of sleep deprivation in the wake of the fall of Fort Crocius. The well-mannered officer appeared to be lacking sleep himself—judging by the dark circles under his eyes—as he briefed her on all of this. Nia only half-listened as they pushed their way through the bustling hospital, passing the row of beds that, in a simpler time, Zuo had been laid up in after his encounter with Sosem. In truth, she wasn’t only here for a sitrep.

Nia eventually found the subject of her search in the hospital’s rear courtyard. What once was a peaceful garden, likely put in place to ease the mind of recovering patients, was now occupied by a pair of Ardainian Artillery Archelons, each accompanied by an operating crew of Ardainian soldiers and stacks of crates of extra ammunition. The individual Nia was looking for was speaking to one of the artillery crew (the Fire Direction Control officer, Nia would later learn) with hands on hips and a non-plussed expression.

“I’m telling you; these things have to be moved!” Mythra exclaimed, gesturing to the Archelons.

For his part, the Ardainian FDC officer just sounded tired behind his helmet. “And I’m telling you; I have orders….”

“To hell with your orders, this is the primary field hospital! We need to be drawing the enemy away from it, not toward it!”

Watching the argument unfold from a distance, Nia thought back to the brief conversation she and the others had with the Aegis twins upon their return. With everything going on, there hadn’t been time for a full catch-up but even the brief interaction Nia had witnessed had left her with too much unanswered.

“Hey guys,” Rex had said back in the war room after the meeting between the officers had adjourned. “What are you doing here? I thought you were back in Leftheria.”

“Well, after calling to check in on Zuo’s recovery, we found out just how bad things with this Fog Rift were getting and both agreed we couldn’t just stand by and do nothing,” Mythra had explained succinctly.

“We arrived just before comms went down, otherwise we would’ve contacted you to let you know where we are. Since then, we’ve just been helping out however we can,” Pyra said. “From scouting missions, to gathering supplies….”

“To whipping some discipline into the civilian militia,” Mythra added with a frown that indicated she was still not happy with the results. “We may not have Siren or the power of the Conduit anymore, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still be useful.”

Rex just nodded uneasily. “So… you’re not here because you wanted to talk?”

Pyra gave him a sympathetic look. “Rex, what’s happening here is bigger than us. Whatever it is you want to talk about can wait.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.”

It was a well-reasoned point, though part of Nia had wondered whether it was also a convenient excuse to put off a hard conversation. Mythra had then used the opportunity to duck out so she could check on the field hospital while Pyra was following up on a potential new location for the non-combatant shelter. Seeming unsure of what else to do, Rex stuck by Yew and Zuo, helping them figure out how to best allocate Garfont’s mercenary forces. As the operational commander, Nia had her own plate full but after a brief conversation with Mòrag regarding the best placement of the Eadraig’s Jewel, she’d decided to make the field hospital her next stop. Ensuring its readiness was of vital importance, but it was also a good excuse to sate her curiosity a little.

So now here she stood in the rear courtyard of the hospital, watching an irate Mythra chew out the nervous Ardainian FDC, who was raising his hands in a placating gesture as he said, “Listen, I see your point, really, but my orders come directly from Lt. Lesser…”

“Lt. Lesser is an idiot! How he managed to get into Mòrag’s good graces is beyond me.”

Nia chose this moment to step in. “Alright, easy Mythra. I’ll talk to Mòrag. She’ll get this sorted.”

“Thank you!” the blonde groaned with an exasperated huff as she turned away from the FDC, who wasted no time returning to performing his checks on the artillery.

Mythra turned to Nia, her shoulders immediately relaxing. “Y’know, as an Aegis, I never thought I’d get to experience what a migraine feels like. But here we are!”

“Makes you miss the old days a bit, eh?”

Mythra shrugged. “I guess. Anyway, how are you holding up?” She then added with a slight grin, “Your Highness,” following up with an exaggerated curtsy.

Nia shot her a glare. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry.” However, the slight chuckle indicated to Nia that Mythra wasn’t terribly remorseful. “Seriously though, you good?”

“Good as I can be considering...” Nia gestured all around them.

“True that.”

Tapping her fingers together, Nia decided she’d just dive in with what she wanted to talk about. “Surprised you aren’t preparing for battle with Rex and Pyra.”

Mythra frowned. “Did Rex not tell you what’s been going on with us?”

“Not much beyond the general gist.” Nia thought back to her conversation with him in Zorn. “I wouldn’t mind hearing your perspective on it.”

With another shrug—this one almost trying too hard to look casual—Mythra said. “Eh, you know how he is. He means well but he can be pretty thoughtless sometimes.”

The answer was vague and evasive. Nia didn’t know why she expected any less from Mythra. “In what way?”

“Like, his whole idea to form an organization to help out Driverless Blades is nice and all, but he ran ahead with it completely half-cocked.”

Nia couldn’t resist the temptation of a cheeky jab. “So, you want him at full cock, got it.”

“I seriously will burn you,” Mythra said, giving her a hard glare before relenting. “My point is none of us are exactly qualified to handle the kind of emotional turmoil most Driverless Blades are dealing with. I told Rex as much, but you know how he is. Once he gets an idea in his head, he sees it through no matter what.”

“Sure, that’s Rex all over but it’s never been a problem for you before.”

“Well, when it leads to someone dying....” Mythra suddenly trailed off, seeming to realise she said more than she meant to.

“Someone died?”

With a sigh, Mythra said, “Look, it was nobody’s fault, but… when something like that happens, emotions run high. It’s easy to cast blame when you have the benefit of hindsight.”

“I see…” Nia said, even though she didn’t entirely.

“Regardless, I’m not even really mad at him anymore. But Pyra was the one who wanted us to take a break in the first place—the Blade that died had become pretty close with her—so I feel like the ball’s in her court for how we proceed from here, y’know?”

Rex had mentioned a little about that back in Zorn. “And you don’t know what she’s thinking?”

“Not these days. Almost makes me miss when we shared a body.” Then with a final shrug, Mythra said, “Anyway, enough about my drama. How’s the whole future queen thing working for you?”

The change of topic was about as subtle as a brick through a window. Typical Mythra. Nia once again made a broad gesture to all of the action around them. “I mean, you’re pretty much looking at it.”

“C’moooon, you know that’s not what I mean!” Mythra exclaimed with a grin bordering on lecherous. “I gave you the juicy details of my relationship stuff.”

“Honestly, my life’s pretty boring on that front.”

“Really? You don’t have a line of royal suitors a Titanped long?”

Nia shook her head with a single laugh. “I had one marriage proposal, but I turned it down.”

“Oh? Why? Was the dude a weirdo? Not cute enough?”

“Dunno, I never actually met him,” Nia explained. “The offer was made by his father, but ultimately the deal didn’t hold any long-term benefit for me.”

Mythra studied Nia with a curious frown. “You make it sound more like a business transaction than a marriage proposal.”

“I’m royalty. That’s just how it is for me now.”

Mythra’s curious frown persisted, “That’s… kinda depressing, isn’t it?”

“I suppose, but this is the fate I chose,” she said. “Being a queen means living for others, not yourself.”

She then turned away from Mythra, unwilling to see the frown persisting on her face; a look of open pity if ever she saw one. “We shouldn’t waste any more time talking. There’s still much to do.”

With that, Nia took her leave of Mythra, hurrying to her next task.

Nia bumped into Pyra outside of Goshen on the grassy path just beyond the western perimeter defenses, the terrain already significantly elevated. The redhead was returning in the company of a member of the militia, a younger Urayan man with the badge of a deputy on his lapel.

“Oh, hey Nia,” Pyra greeted. “I was just coming to find you.” She then nodded to the deputy with her, wordlessly giving him the okay to go ahead without her.

“Deputy Bogan here was just showing me what militia captain Blevin believes is a better spot for the non-combatant shelter,” Pyra explained when she and Nia were alone.

“Oh yeah?”

Pyra pointed back the way she and Bogan had just come from. “There’s a decently sized network of underground caverns in the valley further up the path here. Apparently, local criminal elements had been using it to manufacture red pollen orbs before the deputies busted their operation and now it’s just been sitting there abandoned.”

“Sounds promising, think it’ll work?”

Pyra nodded. “It might be a bit cramped, and honestly kinda smells funny, but it’s well hidden and, more importantly, will be far out of the way once the fighting starts.”

The current civilian shelter was smack dab in the middle of downtown Goshen underneath the building that served as the town hall. Mòrag had apparently personally inspected it days ago and believed it was secure enough, but Nia wasn’t sure it would hold if the Fogbeasts breached the outer defenses and made it into the city proper.

“Would you like to see for yourself?” Pyra asked when Nia didn’t answer right away.

Nia shook her head. “I trust your judgement, Pyra. If you think it’s the better option, I’ll tell Mòrag as such.”

“Thanks, Nia.”

A moment of silence passed between them and for the first time in what felt like ages, Nia found herself able to simply stop and take a breath. The sky above was clear for now (though the storm clouds she’d spotted in the distance were indeed moving closer) and the vast fields and distant valleys were bathed in starlight. Apart from the distant rumble of thunder, the only other sounds that filled the night were the chirping of crickets and the rustle of leaves on the nearby trees as the wind moved through them.

“It’s so peaceful,” Pyra muttered.

“Yeah, hard to believe there’s an army of monsters on its way to kill us.” Nia grinned a little at her own attempt at gallows humour.

But when she glanced over at Pyra, the girl’s eyes were far away; lost somewhere over the deceptively peaceful horizon. Nia wondered whether she even heard her.

“Pyra?”

“Hmm?” Pyra blinked as she returned to herself.

It was then that Nia was reminded of the last time she was able to enjoy a peaceful night like this. It had been on the balcony of the Urayan embassy back in Zorn, when she and Rex had their heart-to-heart. She remembered a specific detail of what he had said when he confided in her. What happened really affected Pyra the most.

Nia had wondered what exactly Rex had been referring to then. Now that she’d talked to Mythra, Nia had a clearer picture of it. She thought about how Pyra must have been managing alone, and suddenly her dream of the Architect’s test came rushing to her, unbidden.

“This may come off a bit weird, but… do you think of us as friends, Pyra?”

Understandably, the redheaded Aegis looked taken aback. “What do you mean? Of course we’re friends!” Her answer was quick enough that Nia didn’t doubt it. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I was just thinking… I know I’m not the easiest person to get close to. I always preferred keeping to myself. Keeping others at arm’s length. Simpler that way, especially after Da died.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. There was never any pressure for you to open up. Not from us, at least.” Pyra’s words were as kind as her soft red eyes, and Nia’s heart fluttered a little when she realised how similar they were to Rex’s.

“I know, but ever since meeting all you guys, it’s something I’ve wanted to work on.” Nia took a long breath. “Especially recently.”

Pyra seemed to grasp what she meant. “You must have a lot on your shoulders now.”

Nia nodded, glancing down at her hands for neither the first nor last time. It was wet to the touch. “So many lives depend on me now, and no matter how hard I try to help… someone always pays the price.”

Pyra took a trembling breath, and slowly, Nia looked up from the unseen stains on her hands to her. “Something tells me you understand how that feels. Especially recently.”

Steeling herself with another breath, Pyra began, “Her name was Lenora. She was one of the Driverless Blades we tried to help. She wasn’t a Common Blade, either. Dark skin, long dark hair, silver eyes. She could have passed for a human if not for the crystal on her chest.”

Nia’s eyes didn’t leave Pyra’s as she continued, “She and I grew pretty close. Without her Driver, she was so lost… I guess she reminded me of myself before we all met; still haunted by what happened in Torna all those centuries ago. That was why I thought I could help her, but then… then one day she didn’t show up to breakfast, or to training shortly after. So, a bunch of us formed a search party and set out to find her.” Pyra shut her eyes as tears began to fill them. “We eventually did… at the bottom of a cliff a few titanpeds away from base camp.”

Nia immediately reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

Sniffing and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Pyra continued, “The worst part is, she and I had talked up on that very cliff the night before. She went up there a lot ‘to think,’ or so she’d say. Guess I know now what she was really thinking about….”

“Listen Pyra, you can’t blame yourself for not knowing what she was going to do.”

“I know. Rex said the same thing, and I’ve more or less made peace with it, but… I can’t stop thinking about something she said during our last conversation.” It seemed a great struggle for Pyra to get the words out, but Nia waited patiently until she finally recited, “‘I don’t know who I am without him.’ That was one of the last things she said.”

Nia didn’t know what to say, and so opted for nothing, simply standing beside Pyra gently rubbing her back as she tried to regain her composure.

“I said she reminded me of myself, and when she said those words, it was like she was… reciting my own thoughts back to me.”

Now, Nia was confused. “You don’t know who you are without Rex?”

Pyra nodded. “Mythra too. I’m a product of her trauma. Without the horrible experience she went through all those centuries ago, I wouldn’t even exist. And both of us wouldn’t still be here without Rex. Without both of them… who even am I?”

Nia didn’t know how to answer that. Now, however, there was one more thing that didn’t make sense to her. “So, is this why you’re mad at Rex?”

Now it was Pyra’s turn to look confused. “‘Mad at Rex?’ What gave you that idea?”

Well, Rex for one. “So, you’re not mad at him then?”

“No, of course not! I mean yeah, we might have argued a little after the whole ordeal, but that’s not why I wanted us to take a break.”

“Then why?”

“Because if I don’t know who I am without him, then I need to figure that out, don’t I?” Pyra said. “For as long as I’ve existed, I’ve been living for the sake of others. First for Mythra, and now for Rex. I need to start figuring out how to live for myself too! And when I do, Rex, Mythra and I will pick up where we left off.”

Suddenly, Nia wasn’t sure what to think. From her conversations with Rex, it sounded like his relationship with Pyra and Mythra was as good as over. But Mythra was just following Pyra’s lead and Pyra was simply doing a little soul searching with every intention of returning to Rex when she was done.

“Pyra, did you explain any of this stuff to Rex and Mythra?”

“I told them I needed time to figure things out for myself.”

“But did you go into detail about what that Lenore Blade said and why it affected you so much?”

Pyra shook her head. “I thought it was best not to. Rex worries enough about me as it is. Mythra too for that matter.”

And there it was: the answer to the riddle. As far as Rex knew, Pyra was on the verge of walking out of their relationship and as far as Pyra knew, their relationship was still solid as a rock, with a thoroughly confused Mythra caught in between. It was such a perfect storm of miscommunication Nia almost had to laugh.

And yet, here she stood with the opportunity to correct it. To explain to Pyra how Rex and Mythra interpreted her actions so she could set the record straight. But to her own surprise, Nia found herself remaining silent.

The silence didn’t last long; a distant klaxon suddenly made her vulpine ears stand on end. She wasn’t the only one who heard it. Pyra suddenly looked toward the source of the noise: toward Goshen.

“Do you hear that?” Pyra asked.

It was Goshen’s alarm siren, which could only mean one thing.

“They’re here,” she gasped before rushing back towards Goshen at a full sprint, Pyra right behind her.

Nia heard them before she saw them. By the time she reached Mòrag and the others on the roof of the makeshift command centre, the alarm sirens had abated—their forces were all ready at their posts. The only sounds that prevailed now were the ever-closer rumbles of thunder and the rain as it started to fall around them. They were then joined by a chorus of feral, distorted cries carried on the wind, sending chills through Nia’s bones.

From atop the five-storey inn that served as their command centre, Nia and the others had a good view of Goshen and the rolling plains just beyond it to the north. At least, they would have if not for the rain and darkness. More inhuman howls filled the air, these ones sounding like Volffs but… wrong somehow. Like they were sick. Rabid. Then the rest of the varied monsters joined in, the myriads of different species somehow harmonizing with the Volffs. The sounds almost seemed to be coming from everywhere and Nia thought there must have been thousands of them out there obscured in all that rain and darkness.

Beside her, Zuo spoke into the short-range radio set up next to a crude, hastily built booster antenna. “How’s it looking out there, Yew?”

From his position on the front line, Yew responded, “Don’t have a visual yet. Can’t see anything through all the….” A flash of lightning and a particularly loud clap of thunder briefly interrupted him. “Wait, did you see that?”

“See what?”

Lightning flashed again, and this time Nia saw it too. For a brief couple of moments, the lightning illuminated the northern plains. A sea of dark, writhing shapes filled them, stretching for peds across the rolling hills and over the horizon.

“Architect have mercy…” muttered one of the Ardainian sharpshooters lying prone by the roof’s edge nearby.

Putting a hand to her ear, Mòrag spoke into her own headset. “Captain, ready the Jewel ’s main batteries. Target grid A723 to G958.”

In the sky above them, the hulking shape of the Ardainian battleship shifted as it aligned to its target. The battleship’s captain responded over the radio, “ Aye, Special Inquisitor. In position. ”

“Hold for orders, over.” Mòrag switched frequencies. “Archelon squads one to five, adjust to target grids B389 to H428. Incendiary munitions. Hold for orders, over.”

As Mòrag relayed orders to the troops under her command, Nia went through the leaders of each mercenary and Urayan military unit under hers, ensuring they would be ready. All the while, lightning flashes continued to illuminate the distant army of Fogbeasts. Grabbing a scope from Zuo, Nia used it to observe the enemy’s movements… or lack thereof. Now that she knew where they were and what to look for, she had an easier time spotting them through the darkness and rain. The distant fields were indeed brimming with Fogbeasts… but none moved to advance on their position. The beasts simply stayed put, staring down the city of Goshen with the intermittent ethereal cry.

“They’re just stood there doing bugger all,” Nia said, looking over at Mòrag. “What are they waiting for?”

Mòrag clenched her jaw. “For us to blink.”

Then, after nearly a minute of tense silence, that was exactly what happened. Nia wasn’t sure whether it was an Ardainian soldier or Urayan mercenary. Wasn’t sure whether it was the result of frayed nerves or a misfire. Whatever the cause, someone in the first defensive line fired an ether rifle. Then all hell broke loose.

With a single unified cry that shook Nia even as far back behind the front lines as she was, the horde of Fogbeasts rushed forward. Mòrag immediately gave the order for the Eadraig’s Jewel to open fire, and Nia’s ears fell flat against her head as it did so, loosing a volley of booming cannon fire that duelled against the crash of thunder above. The distant northern plains were alight with flame, the explosions incinerating dozens upon dozens of Fogbeasts instantaneously. It was a mere drop in the bucket against the oncoming deluge of gnashing teeth and claws warped through unnatural black fog.

“Repeat, over,” Mòrag commanded over the radio with surprising calmness and the battleship fired again, felling a number of Fogbeasts equal to the previous volley.

Bloodied but far from routed, the army of fog-tainted Volffs, Armus, and other mixed monsters continued on their charge toward Goshen’s defenders. Mòrag switched frequencies to address the artillery crews.

“Archelon squads one to five, fire for effect. Danger close, over.”

“Fire for effect, out.”

Artillery fire sounded from all across the city, pounding the rapidly advancing Fogbeasts without mercy. Walls of fire persisted even after the initial artillery strikes hit their marks—an effect of the type of munitions they were using, perhaps—and Mòrag once again gave the order, “Repeat, over.”

A second volley of artillery strikes hit the enemy vanguard and combined with the third volley from the Eadraig’s Jewel persisting to harry the Fogbeasts’ rearguard, Nia started to hope that they’d be able to stop the enemy from even reaching the first defensive line. Unfortunately, dozens of Aligo, Aspar and Feris broke through the wall of flames made by the artillery strikes and continued their mad rush towards the first line.

Nia knew right away these would be too close to safely hit with artillery. So, she took the short-range radio receiver from Zuo and did her level best to hide the tremors in her voice as she gave her orders.

“Yew, Dretus, all units engage at will!”

She barely noticed that she forgot to observe proper radio protocol by saying “over”. Nor did either of her mercenary COs acknowledge in kind. The sudden eruption of gunfire from the forward line was all the acknowledgement she needed that her orders were received. With the speed at which the enemy was closing in, protocol was likely the last thing on the minds of those on the front. Nia couldn’t blame them.

Still, some part of her found herself reflecting on the stark contrast between the lax radio discipline of the Urayan mercenary forces and the regimented professionalism of Mor Ardain’s military. It made her acutely aware that these two nations that had been waging war against each other on and off for centuries were now making this last stand together. Whichever way this battle would turn out, history was being made tonight.

Mòrag ordered her forward sniper teams to open fire next, creating a crossfire from their positions on Goshen’s various northern overwatch positions. All the while, the Eadraig’s Jewel and Archelon squads continued with volley after volley of artillery fire, further whittling away the army of Fogbeasts (the ones that weren’t yet too close to their own forces, anyway) as they continued to lope forward. What fog-shrouded enemies weren’t wiped out by artillery fell as they entered the effective range of the ether and steam rifles of the forward line.

Even so, many managed to get in close to the defenders, and the sounds of gunfire soon gave way to the clangs and crashes of an all-out melee. The rooftop snipers continued providing cover, ultimately giving the defenders the advantage in the quickly escalating brawl on the forward line. Almost unconsciously, Nia reached for her Catalyst Scimitar, but a quick look from Dromarch reminded her that her place was here.

Minutes passed as the battle waged on, and slowly but surely the sounds of combat began to dwindle until once again, the only sounds that persisted were the rain and thunder. Compared to the battle moments before, even the storm seemed quiet.

“Forward line point one, all hostiles eliminated,” Yew reported over the radio.

“Forward line point two, all clear. Minimal casualties,” Dretus reported.

Beside her, Rex looked around, a hopeful glint appearing in his golden eyes. “Is that it? Did we do it?”

“No,” answered Brighid with a shake of her head. “I counted just less than five-hundred enemies in that attack. A mere fraction of the force our recon had reported.”

Nia couldn’t believe it. The Fogbeasts’ numbers had seemed utterly daunting, the way they had filled the fields over the horizon. How could that only have been five percent of their numbers?

“Indeed, that assault was likely intended only to probe our defenses,” Mòrag intoned. “I suspect it won’t be long before they commit their full strength to a final attack, using what they’ve learned from this one.”

Nia took a deep breath, trying her hardest not to let her worry show. “I’m going to check on Tora and Morgan’s progress,” she said. “It’s clear we won’t hold out against a committed attack. Our only hope now is to destroy that Fog Rift first.”

The cargo hold of the Ardainian freighter Argent Lance was now acting as Tora and Morgan’s makeshift workspace. This was to save time unloading all of their equipment and loading it back up when they were ready. All other non-essential gear was removed to give the team space to work. What equipment was left was humming and whirring along, connected in a messy web of cables, the Trinity Processor at its epicentre.

Right away, Nia noticed the way Pyra and Mythra stared at the familiar machine as they all entered, like they were in a trance. She wondered what was going through their heads as they beheld the machine that birthed them for the first time since they all met the Architect over a year ago. This wasn’t the time to probe them for their thoughts, though. The one whose thoughts Nia needed right now was the pudgy tiger-striped Nopon currently hunched by the enigmatic machine, inspecting what appeared to be the bion connectors linking it to the cables from the other machines.

“How much longer?” Nia asked admittedly brusquely.

“Should be ready to go in about two hours,” Tora said, not looking up from his work.

“Better make it one, and you’ll have to finish while we’re in flight.”

She then turned to the Argent Lance’s captain, who was just now arriving at her summons. To her mild annoyance, he wasn’t alone. Lt. Lesser was with him.

“How soon can we get airborne?” Nia asked the captain, choosing not to acknowledge Lesser’s presence.

The captain seemed to have anticipated the question. “I have my crew running final flight checks now. Should be less than ten minutes.”

“Good, lift off as soon as your checks are complete. Set a course for the skies over Colony Iota.”

“Aye, your grace.”

“Seeing as this is an Ardainian vessel, as the second-ranking Ardainian officer present I will be overseeing the voyage personally,” Lesser stated with an eager smile. “Rest assured your science project is in capable hands.”

Nia knew what he was doing. Clearly a career officer, Lesser wanted to be present for the decisive blow to their enemy. It would certainly look good on his record. Nia wondered how much pleading it took to convince Mòrag to give him this assignment.

Of course, it wouldn’t do to criticize him too harshly, Nia supposed. She had the same idea herself, after all. “Understood, lieutenant. Report to the bridge and we’ll depart shortly.

Dromarch turned to face Nia as Lesser and the captain took their leave. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but when you say ‘we’, do you mean…?”

“Sorry Dromarch, by ‘we’ I just mean myself, Tora, and the ship’s human crew,” Nia said, giving him an apologetic frown. “I can’t risk taking you or any other Blades so close to the Fog Rift where you might be turned into Fogblades.” Nia then turned to Morgan. “Can the human members of your team finish your work on the Trinity Processor without you on board?”

Her eyes darting uncertainly behind her horn-rimmed glasses, Morgan said, “Well… Tora already has my data for his calibrations. At this point he should be good to finish without me. I can send a couple of my team members with him in case we need to recalculate anything, but we should be all set.”

Nia acknowledged with a nod. “Good. I’ll be on the bridge. The rest of you know what you have to do, yeah?”

She made to leave the hold but to her mild irritation Dromarch stepped into her path. “My lady, I must protest!” he proclaimed. “Have you forgotten that you are a Blade yourself? You are just as susceptible to becoming a Fogblade as Morgan or myself.”

“Half Blade, technically, or have you forgotten?” Nia retorted. “After all this time, not one human has been transformed by the Fog Rift, which indicates to me that it can’t be done. By that logic, the human DNA in my core should keep me safe.”

“Yeah, maybe, ” Morgan argued. “We have no idea what will happen if the Fog Rift comes into contact with a Flesh Eater. Your theory makes sense but it’s still extremely risky.”

“I’ll risk it.”

“My lady, I fail to see what would be worth such a risk,” Dromarch argued, the worry in his voice plain.

“Don’t you remember? The whole reason I came here to stop the rift in the first place is because I’m still paying the price for what happened at Priscilla Paronet’s dinner party all those weeks ago.”

Although silent, Dromarch seemed to begrudgingly understand, though Rex, Pyra, Mythra and the others looked at her, clearly lost. Nia figured the least she could do was give them an explanation.

“Shortly after Queen Raqura declared that I was to be her successor, a member of the nobility hosted a banquet in my honour. At that banquet, I revealed my Flesh Eater heritage to everyone present. Ever since, I’ve been known as Uraya’s ‘Cannibal Queen.’ You’ve probably heard the name before.”

“Might’ve been in a few papers,” Mythra muttered.

“Exactly. And unless I do something to change it, that’s the only way people will ever know me. The only way history books will remember me. That’s why people need to see me leading the charge when we finally deal with this Fog Rift once and for all.”

For a while, nobody said anything. Then Mythra spoke up. “Listen Nia, I get wanting to change a flawed perspective of yourself better than most. But maybe there’s another way?”

“People have already seen how well you’ve been managing the defense of Goshen,” Pyra said. “If you keep doing that… maybe that’s all you need.”

It made some sense, and truth be told, Nia was terrified of going to face the black maw of the Fog Rift. Terrified that the others were right, and that boarding this ship was putting her on a path to transform into something she did not recognize. Staying and continuing the work she’d already been doing was definitely the safer option. Which was exactly why she couldn’t take it.

“I’m sorry, but this is the best way,” she said with a tone of finality.

It was then that Rex took a step forward. “In that case, I’m going with you.”

Nia looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “Rex?”

“I’m human, so we know the Fog Rift won’t affect me,” he said with a reassuring smile that instantly eased the fear building in Nia’s heart. “I’ll stay by your side the whole way, and if that thing starts turning you, I’ll be there to pull you back.”

From anyone else, the words might have sounded like hollow platitude. Just something to say only because it was the right thing to say. But seeing the earnest sincerity in Rex’s eyes, and knowing him as well as she did, Nia knew he would make good on his words. That thought brought the first genuine smile to her face in what felt like ages, and she clung to that warm feeling deep in her core, deciding she’d carry it as far as she could.

“Alright,” she said softly, her eyes never leaving his. “Then let’s get going.”

On the uppermost deck of the Argent Lance, open sky all around, Nia stood alongside Rex, barely noticing the rain as it poured down around her. Behind them, Tora performed his final checks on the Trinity Processor, having raised it to the top deck using the cargo lift. All around them, Ardainian soldiers and Urayan mercenaries stood ready to defend the ship and its cargo from anything. Lt. Lesser stood front and centre, one hand resting on the hilt of his gaudy weapon. Avarice, if Nia remembered right.

Rex had given Pyra and Mythra back their Blade weapons before departing, and Nia had given him her scimitar to use just as they’d done when they were Driver and Blade. Sure, they weren’t in resonance any longer, but at this moment, Nia trusted him with her weapon more than herself. The last thing she wanted was to bring it to bear against him if whatever entity lay beyond the Fog Rift took control of her.

She stared ahead at the rift in question growing ever bigger as they continued closer to it. When all of this had started in Colony Iota, the rift had been no more than a small tumour marring the body that was this world. Much like a real cancer though, the tumour had grown exponentially since then. Now, it wasn’t simply marring the sky; it was the sky. The closer they got to it, the smaller Nia felt. The more she felt like they were being swallowed.

She looked over at Rex, taking comfort in the resolute look in his golden eyes. If he was afraid, he was doing a remarkable job not letting it show. He then glanced her way, their eyes accidentally meeting. He must have realised he’d caught her staring, because he gave her a quizzical look.

“Something up?” he asked.

“No, just… wanted to say thank you. Y’know, for sticking by me,” Nia answered honestly. “I didn’t fancy the idea of facing this alone.”

Rex just shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”

“No really, you didn’t have to,” Nia said, reflecting on what she and the others knew but didn’t say out loud: that this was, in all likelihood, a one-way trip. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Rex studied her with an expression that she, once again, was unable to parse. So, she returned her attention to the roiling dark void ahead of them. It almost seemed to be pulling her into it the way a black hole pulled in light. She squinted as she tried to see something, anything beyond that darkness. But there was only the void.

“Actually, you’ve got it wrong,” Rex said. “I owe you everything.”

The words were enough to pull Nia away from the all-consuming abyss before her, once again finding refuge in the familiar kind golden eyes.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “You’re the one who saved me, remember?”

Not just in the Spirit Crucible, where he’d convinced her to finally be true to herself. But way back at the start of their adventure, when he’d saved her from the brig of the Ardainian battleship in Torigoth. Saved her from the despair she felt, thinking she was alone.

Then he replied, “Well, maybe but… you saved me first.”

Nia tilted her head, opening her mouth but failing to find the words. “Wha?”

“On the deck of the ancient ship where we first found Pyra. You stood up for me. Even went against the only family you had back then.” Rex smiled his boyish smile. “Maybe you don’t remember, but I know I’ll never forget it!”

Nia did remember, of course, though she was surprised to hear just how much Rex still thought about it, even over a year later.

“Honestly, I barely gave it any thought at the time,” Nia said, trying to downplay the whole thing with a shrug and a playful grin. “If you saw a dumb, helpless kid getting the snot kicked out of him, you’d have done the same. It was an easy choice!”

“Sure. But then you made the hard choice to stick around after. Made the choice to believe in what I was trying to do.”

With a good-natured roll of her eyes, Nia said, “Actually, I remember quite vocally saying that your idea of finding Elysium was a load of guff.”

Rex just gave her a knowing grin. “And yet you tagged along anyway.”

With a sudden heat filling her cheeks, Nia shifted awkwardly in place, tapping her fingers together. “Well, even though I didn’t believe in Elysium right away, I guess I… believed in you.”

Rex nodded. “And when times got hard, your belief in me is what pushed me forward. Literally, at one point!” He rubbed his shoulder where Nia distinctly remembered shoving him into a stack of crates.

“Well, we all believed in you,” Nia said, glancing down the deck at Tora and then back to Rex. “So why do you say you owe me everything? ”

Rex rubbed his head, seeming unsure of how to answer right away. “Well, you were the first to believe in me. Back then, I was ready for it to be just me and Pyra against the world. But you showed me that I didn’t have to face it alone.” Then with a warm smile that warded her against the cold of the rain and the dread of the void ahead of her, Rex said, “So now, I want to show you.”

The smile that came to Nia’s face had the brightness to drive off the Fog Rift all on its own. “Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“Well… considering that I’m currently facing the possibility of a future without Pyra and Mythra… I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. And somehow… my thoughts always end up going right back to you. ”

Nia did a double take. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? The possibility alone filled her stomach with butterflies which were quickly swallowed by a cold pit in her stomach when she recalled her talk with Pyra earlier that night. Because Rex didn’t realize that a future without Pyra and Mythra wasn’t even a possibility at all.

She knew the right thing to do would have been to shut down Rex’s line of thought right then and there. To tell him exactly why he was wrong. But suddenly, for the first time, Nia found herself thinking—not just in the abstract, but as a real possibility—what a future together with Rex could look like. The thought brought back the butterflies, and the guilt that came with it swallowed them up again. Warm joy and cold terror in equal measure danced within her fast enough to make her sick.

But it was the terror that won out in the end, enhanced by the chorus of piercing screeches that suddenly sounded over the distance.

“Lt. Lesser, Lady Nia, we’re in range of the enemy security zone. Multiple Fogbeast squadrons closing at twelve o’clock,” reported the Argent Lance’s captain over Nia’s headset.

Nia could see them: a black cloud of fog-possessed Ansels and Rhoguls eclipsing the nucleus of the Fog Rift and flying straight towards them. She didn’t know how much time they had before they’d be all over them but knew it couldn’t be more than a couple of minutes. She wasted no time opening a channel to the Southpaw and the Vandham’s Legacy, the two Urayan warships flanking the Ardainian freighter carrying them along with their important cargo.

“Clear to engage,” she ordered. “Give them no quarter!”

“Aye, your grace.”

In short order, a series of deafening blasts sounded as the warships’ forward batteries opened fire on the approaching armada of flying Fogbeasts. Nia watched with some satisfaction as a considerable percentage of their number were hit and fell away from the black cloud of enemies like rain, plummeting to the ground far below. The Southpaw and the Vandham’s Legacy unleashed volley after volley of sustained fire, felling more Fogbeasts with each blast. But the enemy numbers were too great to hold off at range for long, and soon they were upon them.

Lt. Lesser drew Avarice from its scabbard and shouted to the Ardainian soldiers under his command, “To arms! ”

Rex drew Nia’s scimitar and with a nod, Nia began channeling power to its Arts. The aerial Fogbeasts met the ship’s defenders with unchecked ferocity, ignoring the Urayan warships entirely. The men and women on the upper deck of the Argent Lance opened fire with rifles and brought melee weapons to bear as their aerial adversaries drew close. Rex had evidently not lost his touch fighting with the Catalyst Scimitar, striking swiftly and with precision at any Fogbeast unfortunate enough to come within range. All the while, the two Urayan warships adjusted their positions to fill the skies with anti-air javelins, quite effectively shooting down enemy stragglers before they could regroup for another attack run.

Nia didn’t want to jinx it by speaking her thoughts aloud, but the battle—frantic though it was—seemed to be going okay. The fog-tainted Ansels and Rhoguls were relentless in their assault, but the ship’s defenders held fast, keeping them from getting anywhere near the Trinity Processor. Even Lesser was doing his part, sticking an Ansel Fogbeast in the heart with the tip of Avarice. We can do this.

It was only as she started wondering whether they were close enough to the rift to activate the Trinity Processor when Tora’s voice suddenly rose above the din of battle. “ REX-REX! ”

His voice was followed by another; an angry voice warped and distorted bellowing, “Woodcutting’s honest work!”

Eyes turning wide at the sudden memory the second voice brought back, Nia whirled around. A Common Blade wreathed in black fog lumbered across the deck toward the Trinity Processor, Tora interposing himself between them. The thing was dragging a greataxe Blade weapon that made Nia think of the very first Fogblade she’d seen in Fort Crocius. It raised the axe over its head intending to bring it down onto Tora’s, but the pudgy Nopon raised Poppi’s drill shield, absorbing the blow. To Nia’s immediate alarm, more Fogblades were emerging from belowdecks, moving to surround the Trinity Processor’s defenders.

“Rex!” She called out, but Rex was one step ahead of her, already sprinting across the deck to his friend’s aid. Seeing no recourse, Nia sprinted after him, watching as he engaged a Fogblade wielding a megalance as it moved to flank Tora.

“Where the bloody hell did they come from?!” Nia exclaimed, even though she already had an idea.

One that Rex gave voice to. “They must’ve stowed away before we left Goshen!”

More disturbing was what it meant. These could only be the same Fogblades that had sabotaged the comms array before she’d arrived in Goshen. Mòrag had said they’d disappeared into the night after, but it was clear now that they’d never left the city. They’d been lying in wait for the right time to strike for days, and the fact that they were here, on the ship with the Trinity Processor meant that they—or the entity commanding them—recognized the threat it posed.

Looking around, Nia saw that Lesser and the other soldiers had their hands full holding off the aerial Fogbeasts. It was down to her, Rex and Tora to fend off the Fogblades.

Nia had told Rex days ago all about her initial encounter with the Fogblades at Fort Crocius. Spoke at length about their unnatural resilience owed to the fog’s effect on their Blade regeneration. After hearing this, Rex had suggested with clear distaste a way to permanently stop a Fogblade—a theory he put into practice now. With a powerful swing of the Catalyst Scimitar, Rex cleaved straight through the Core Crystal on the chest of the megalance-wielding Fogblade, cleaving it and sending the hapless creature down with a distorted cry.

It had been the same with the Guldos of Morytha, Nia remembered. Their powerful regeneration only worked as long as their core was intact. And just like the Guldos, the Fogblades had been people once. Nia didn’t like the thought of killing the unfortunate Blades suffering from fog possession, assuming there was anything of them left. But at this moment, too much hung in the balance. She could feel guilty about it later… but only if they won here today.

“Rex!” Nia called out as another Fogblade charged her, and without a moment’s hesitation Rex passed the scimitar to her, Nia taking it slicing through the Fogblade’s core in a single fluid motion.

She quickly followed up with a water-based ether blast, stopping the swing of a Fogblade’s knuckle claw before it connected with Rex’s head, then passing her scimitar back to him so he could follow up with another precise hit to the Fogblade’s core. Tora did his part beside them, drawing the attention of the enemy just as he’d done in their many battles together a year before. Nia had to admit he was doing rather well without Poppi.

Amidst the rain, thunder and chaos of battle, Rex and Nia moved in perfect sync, passing Nia’s scimitar between each other as they cut through fog and cores alike, felling Fogblade after Fogblade. For as long as the battle lasted, Nia had forgotten entirely that they were no longer in resonance. Their movements were fluid, their timing perfect. He protected her and she protected him. They fought not as Driver and Blade, but simply as two people who trusted each other.

Finally, Rex struck down the last Fogblade and the final Fogbeasts fell from the sky in a hail of anti-air fire, leaving only the sound of rain and the rumble of the rift.

“That it?” Tora asked. “Fog monsters not so tough!”

“There’ll probably be more. Let’s get that machine started, we must be almost in range,” Rex said, glancing toward the Trinity Processor.

Nodding, Tora went to do just that, but all the while Nia couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The anxiety that had been building within her ever since the outset of this voyage was ever mounting. She felt unseen eyes on her making her hair stand on end. The darkness of her own thoughts was more oppressive now than they’d ever been. Then something within the massive rift shifted out of the corner of her eye, perceptible only out of the corner of her eye. She felt unseen hands grasping for her and suddenly her surroundings vanished.

Feeling a terrible sense of déjà vu, Nia frantically looked around, trying to see anything through the thick black fog.

“Hello?! ” Nia called out. “Rex? Dromarch? Anyone? Where are you? ”

Again and again, she called out to her friends and was met only with silence. She’d been here before, hadn’t she? She wasn’t sure where she was, or how she’d arrived here. All she knew was she’d felt this terrible feeling before. The feeling of being alone.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d spent stumbling around, lost in the fog. Hours? Days? Long enough that when she thought she heard voices, she tripped over herself in her desperate race towards them. As she ran, the nebulous shapes in the twisting fog began to form humanoid figures. Nia drew close enough to see Rex, his head hung low as he stood with his back to her. He wasn’t alone. Pyra and Mythra stood just before him, their eyes sad. They spared a brief glance towards Nia before turning and vanishing into the fog.

“Well, looks like you finally got what you wanted,” Rex said in a dead monotone. “Pyra and Mythra and I have officially called it quits.” He turned to face her, the smile on his face undercut by the listless look in his usually kind golden eyes. “Guess now you can have me all to yourself.”

Nia took a step back. “What? No! I don’t want this!”

“You’re a poor liar, Nia,” he replied, regarding her with utter apathy. “Seems the only person you can convince is yourself.”

“No!” Nia cried, trying to take another step back. Rex took her by the hand, pulling her closer.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” he asked in a mocking facsimile of his usual caring tone. “Why deny your own heart’s desire?”

“I-I… I’m going to be queen someday. This is the fate I chose. Being a queen means living for others, not yourself.”

“And who decides what it means to be a queen?” Rex pulled her closer. “You can have anything you want. Anyone you want. What good is power if you can’t use it to make yourself happy?”

Nia found herself leaning closer to Rex. Somehow, what he was saying made sense. Just what had she been so concerned with all of this time?

The crown is ravenous … a barely remembered voice from what felt like another life faintly echoed in the depths of her mind, trying desperately to climb free.

“It’s only ravenous if you make it,” Rex said, his calm monotone forcing the other back to the depths of her mind.

Suddenly the fog cleared, and Nia found herself seated at the head of the long table in Sevind Palace’s great dining hall. Rex sat at her side, dressed regally in blue robes fit for a king. A magnificent feast was spread out on the table before her complete with all manner of seafood and her favourite cream orange paratha. Seated around the table were all of her friends. Tora and Poppi, Mòrag and Brighid, Zeke and Pandoria, and finally Dromarch were all dining together. There were no stiff heads of state or scheming nobles. No criminal conspiracy to chase or existential threat to the world. It was just Nia and the people she loved most. She was barely aware that two of those people were missing.

“This is good, isn’t it?” Rex said beside her, turning his eyes to the opulent feast before them. “If there’s something you want, you need only reach out and take it. No reason to feel guilty.”

She was vaguely aware that things couldn’t stay like this. All of them had their own lives in their own countries to return to. Even so, why shouldn’t she just enjoy this moment? If the now lasted forever, then she’d need never be alone. Nia smiled and reached out, knife in hand to cut the meat on the table.

“ …out of it… ” a tiny distant voice called out.

It was strange, it sounded almost like Rex’s voice, but Rex was right next to her and this voice sounded far away.

Nia almost ignored it, returning her attention to the splendor of her hall. The warmth of her family. “ Nia please… it’s me…. ”

Now, the faint voice was clear enough that Nia could vaguely tell it was coming from just off to the side. She turned her head to look but saw only an empty corner of the room. The Rex seated beside her caressed her face, turning it gently but firmly towards him… and away from the faint voice.

“Nothing else matters but this moment,” he whispered to her. “Let’s stay in it… as long as we wish….”

His face drew near enough to kiss. Her heart fluttered, but she felt like she was wilting. She swam in Rex’s beautiful golden eyes, but it felt like she was drowning.

“Nia, please snap out of it! This isn’t you! ” Rex’s voice—his real voice—now sounded closer and clearer than ever.

Nia shoved the false Rex off of her and ran towards the voice she knew to be true. As she did, the great dining hall of Sevind Palace fell away and Nia found herself back on the upper deck of the Argent Lance. But something was wrong. Her surroundings were obfuscated by a black fog-like haze. What was more, she was holding something in her hand: a gaudy silver cutlass named Avarice. To her horror, she was brandishing it against Rex.

Through the black fog consuming her, Nia watched helplessly—a passenger in her own body—as she swung the blade at Rex. Still wielding her Catalyst Scimitar, Rex blocked the attack, and Nia realised she was snarling like something feral.

“It’s only ravenous if you make it!” she bellowed in a voice that wasn’t hers.

Her body struck again and again, and Nia could only watch as Rex struggled to fend off the attacks. She noticed a shape that might have been Tora in her peripheral, lying in a broken heap. Had she…?

There were other figures standing all around them, watching from a safe distance. “What do we do?” one of them asked in a clear Urayan accent.

“Nothing for it, she took out Lt. Lesser! We have to take her down!” another answered, clearly Ardainian.

“But that’s the crown princess!”

“Not anymore. She’s a Fogblade! She’s already gone!”

“NO!” Rex cried out as he and her locked blades. He then focused his gaze on her, reaching out with his golden eyes even as he struggled to push back her blade. “Nia… I know you’re not gone… you’re not gonna let this thing consume you, no matter how ravenous it is! You know why? Because you’re strong… one of the strongest people I know! That’s why….”

Rex grunted in pain as the tip of Nia’s blade found its mark in his chest, slowly pushing in. A soldier moved to help but Rex waved him off before returning his full attention to who he hoped was still his friend.

“That’s why… I meant what I said in the Spirit Crucible!” Rex winced in pain as the blade in his chest cut deeper, but he didn’t give in. “Do you hear me, Nia? I meant it exactly the way you did! ”

Her breath leaving her, Nia stopped in her tracks. Suddenly she forgot all about the fog filling her, violating her very being. She forgot the all-encompassing void looming over her. Nia heard the words she thought she’d never hear in her entire life, and what was more, they came—earnest and sincere—from Rex. And here she was with the tip of a sword in him.

Without thinking, Nia eased off of him and with a grunt Rex pushed the silver blade out of his chest. Nia still felt the push of the fog entity—the king of fog, as Tora called it—the thing continuing to assert its will. But now it didn’t seem quite so insurmountable. With a final cry, Nia turned from Rex and tossed Avarice over the side of the ship before collapsing to her knees.

“Yes! We’re in range!” Tora’s voice, weak but resolute, suddenly shouted further down the deck. “Trinity Processor is working!”

Through the black fog, Nia heard the whir of the ancient machine as it came to life. Then, she heard the roar. A terrifying, otherworldly noise of terrible fury. The cry of a beast that knew it was cornered. At first, Nia almost thought it was the sound of the Fog Rift itself, but looking around, none of the others seemed to hear it. That was how she realised that the sound was coming from within her own mind.

There was a living, thinking entity on the other side of that rift—as Morgan said, it was the only explanation for the coordinated tactics the fog-tainted creatures used. This entity—this King of Fog—could reach out to their world through the Fog Rift, consuming others’ minds and wills into its own. It had done this to Nia. Acted through her body. Seen through her eyes. But in its frantic final moments, as this so-called Fog King clung desperately to its hold over her, suddenly their positions were reversed. Now, she could see through its eyes, and what she saw defied her expectations.

Nia saw what appeared to be a palace of sleek white metal towering high into the smoke-filled sky. A beautiful garden full of flowers lay all around, clearly tended with love over many years, now the scene of a ferocious battle. Looming above was the familiar sight of the Fog Rift, but it looked different somehow. Flying teal creatures unlike anything Nia had seen were hurling themselves against the rift, using their own bodies as a battering ram. And then there was the night sky. Nia did not recognize any of the stars that dotted it.

Then, through the eyes of the Fog King—a towering monster made of the pure black fog—Nia saw people fighting courageously against it. One in particular drew the monster’s eye, and by extension Nia’s own.

A young woman wielding a glowing staff drawing in ether stood resolute before her. She was clad in white and sported silver hair curled in a style Nia had never seen before. Strangest of all, however, were the pair of feathered wings white as snow that grew from her head. It was this detail above all the others that cemented it for Nia: whoever and whatever she was seeing was not of Alrest.

“Grant me your strength, friends…” the wing-headed girl said before the monster she faced hit her with a powerful beam of eldritch energy. But the girl’s staff glowed, and the beam washed over her like waves on a cliffside. Then with a bold battle cry, the girl unleashed a breathtaking attack of blinding white light.

The towering fog entity was overwhelmed by the attack, then the very next moment Nia was back on the deck of the Argent Lance, ejected from the glimpse beyond the rift as the black fog was ejected from her. When the all-consuming taint of the fog was gone, Nia was left with only exhaustion. She collapsed onto her side, feeling the world drift away.

The last thing she noticed before unconsciousness claimed her was the beauty of the night sky where the Fog Rift had once been.

“My lady… can you hear me…?”

“…I think she’s coming round… ”

With a groan, Nia blinked the blurriness from her eyes, trying to parse her dreams from reality. She was lying in a bed inside a sparsely decorated room. What was more, she wasn’t alone. Rex was standing over her, his golden eyes appearing as tired as she felt. Nevertheless, his smile when he looked into her own was filled with earnest relief.

“There she is, the sleeping princess wakes!” he said, chuckling at his own witticism.

Next to her bed on the side opposite to Rex, Dromarch looked at her with barely contained worry. “My lady, how are you feeling?”

“Where… am…?” Nia started, but she could barely get the words out. Her throat was absolutely parched.

Fortunately, a hand wearing familiar fingerless gloves handed her a glass of water from the bedside table.

“You’re in the north wing of Goshen’s general hospital,” Pyra said.

Nia took the water gratefully and chugged it. “Thanks. How long was I out?”

Seated in a chair in the corner of the room, arms folded, Mythra answered, “About fourteen hours, give or take.” It was certainly the most sleep Nia had gotten in recent memory.

Dromarch then nodded towards Rex. “He stayed by your side the whole time.”

“My hero,” Nia drolled.

“Yeah, meanwhile the rest of us were busy actually helping with the reconstruction,” Mythra said. “Pyra and I were only stopping by to check on you and to make sure Rex doesn’t starve waiting for you to wake up.”

There was a certain bite to Mythra’s usual snark which made Nia wonder whether there was genuine annoyance—or even jealousy—behind it. She chose to simply focus on one thing in particular that Mythra said.

“Reconstruction?” Nia said. “Does that mean… is it over?”

Pyra moved to the window where the blinds were drawn. “See for yourself,” she said before throwing them open.

Beyond the window frame was a picturesque sunny sky, with only the occasional cloud breaking up the vivid blue. There was no trace of the Fog Rift in sight. Leaning back against her headrest, Nia let out a long, deep sigh. She felt as though she’d been crushed by heavy stones for weeks and now they’d finally been lifted off her chest.

“Apparently, as soon as the Fog Rift disappeared, the army of Fogbeasts went back to being normal monsters and scattered into the night,” Rex explained. “Then just this morning the remaining Blades that had become Fogblades started stumbling back into town. Totally dazed and out of it, but otherwise normal.”

“They’re still not all accounted for, though,” Pyra added, still looking as lost and distant as she had when they spoke the other night. “And all of them will definitely need help getting back to themselves.”

Remembering what Pyra had told her about the last Blade she tried to help, Nia asked, “Do you want to help them?”

Pyra nodded. “I want to try, but… there are still things I need to figure out for myself.”

“Well, then I guess there’s no use moping around here,” Mythra said, standing and heading for the door and motioning for her counterpart to follow. “Feel better, Nia.”

Nia gave them a wave and then they were gone. Neither of them so much as glanced at Rex as they left.

Nia’s eyes then fell on the bandaged wound on Rex’s chest. Clocking this, Rex gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. It was just a nick.”

It was a cold comfort to Nia. “What about Tora? And that Lesser guy? D-did I…?”

Rex shook his head immediately. “They’re all fine. You didn’t do any damage that will last.” He then frowned. “Can’t say the same for Goshen, unfortunately. Apparently the battle here went to hell in a handbasket before we took care of the rift.”

“Then I guess we’d better start doing our part.” With a grunt of effort, Nia sat up and swung her legs out over the side of the bed.

“Please do not strain yourself, my lady,” Dromarch said. “You should take this time to get some well-earned rest.”

Standing up and stretching, Nia said, “Don’t worry, I think I’ve rested enough to be ready for the next world-ending crisis.” She then turned to Rex. “Speaking of which, I need to talk to Morgan about something. What will you do now?”

“I was thinking I might help gather materials for the reconstruction. Commander Blevin mentioned something about needing black liver beans.”

“Sounds like he was joshing you. How would beans help with reconstruction?” Nia said with a laugh.

But Rex wasn’t laughing. “Hey Nia… are you sure you’re alright? I can’t imagine what it must have felt like when you were being controlled by the fog.”

“If it’s any comfort, the doctors gave you a thorough examination and found no lingering signs of fog corruption,” Dromarch added.

In truth, Nia was pretty far from alright. Even if she was completely free of corruption like Dromarch claimed, she still felt sullied, and suspected she would feel that way for some time. She saw lots of long showers in her future, and suspected there would be no shortage of nightmares.

“I’ll be okay,” Nia said, forcing a smile.

Rex didn’t look convinced. “It’s okay not to be, you know.”

“I know.” Nia’s voice was small.

“I don’t like the idea of you suffering alone, so please tell me if you’re not okay, okay?”

Nia didn’t have to force her next smile. “Okay. Thank you, Rex. That’s very kind.”

Rubbing his neck, Rex said, “Well… I care a lot about you.”

It was then that his words from back on the deck of the Argent Lance came rushing back to her. The words that had pulled her out of the waking nightmare.

I meant what I said in the Spirit crucible… I meant it exactly the way you did!

Even through the violation of her soul, learning that all of this time, Rex felt the same way that she did was enough to make her giddy. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she could see a future where she could actually be happy.

But then she thought of Pyra and Mythra. Thought of how happy Rex had been just being around them in those days. Thought of how cold and distant they were now. How a simple misunderstanding was pushing them further apart. She’d finally closed one rift, but another was growing larger by the day.

“Hey, Nia. There’s one more thing I wanted to ask you…” Rex said softly. “How much do you remember when you were under the control of the fog?”

“Dunno. The whole ordeal was so hazy and confusing.”

And yet, so what if the rift between those three was getting wider? She wasn’t the one feeding it. If things continued on their current course, who knew what the future would hold? Maybe her friends’ relationship would work out on its own. But if it didn’t, could Nia be blamed? The crown in her future was already consuming so much and was sure to take more. What was so wrong about affording herself this one crumb of happiness?

“You don’t remember anything we did?” Rex asked. “Or… anything we said?”

With a sigh, Nia forced an easygoing smile on her face. “Sorry, Rex. I’m afraid I don’t remember anything at all.”

Rex nodded. “I see.” He kept his voice remarkably neutral. It was hard to say whether he was relieved or disappointed.

Knowing she couldn’t leave things like this, Nia took a step forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Do you remember what I said you should do back in Zorn? Y’know, when you told me about what you and Pyra and Mythra are going through?”

“That I should talk to them, right?” he answered.

Nia nodded. “Right. I know things have been bloody crazy lately, but before you go off on your wild bean chase, you should do it. The bond you share with those two is something special. The ‘once in a lifetime’ kind of special you only see in stories.” Then with a much more natural smile that barely showed her pain, she added, “It’d be a shame to let that go over a simple misunderstanding!”

She then turned and made for the door before she had time to register the dopey look of confusion on Rex’s face. “Wait… what?”

Nia waved as she walked out the door into the hallway. “Be seeing you, Rex!”

As she walked down the hall towards the building’s entrance, she heard Dromarch elicit a single dry chuckle as he plodded along beside her.

“Something funny?”

“Just remembering how proud I am of you, my lady.” The pair exchanged a knowing look. “It’s not many people who can close two rifts in as many days.”

As Nia walked through the streets of Goshen, she finally got a sense of the scope of the battle that had waged while she had been dealing with the Fog Rift. The Fogbeast horde had breached all of their defenses and made it into the city proper, as evidenced by the many buildings now reduced to piles of rubble. Although the bodies of the fallen had mostly been cleared in the time she’d been unconscious, she was told there had been many. The nauseating smell of death still lingered in the air.

Just as was the case with Fort Crocius, Nia was tempted to agonize over what she could have done differently to save more lives. She shut down that train of thought before it could leave the proverbial station. She’d already learned her lesson from Mòrag where that kind of thinking was concerned and had something far more nebulous on her mind anyway.

Thus, Nia sought out the only person she knew who might shed some light on such a mystery. She found Morgan just beyond Goshen’s northernmost perimeter. The spectacled Blade was holding a device with a long antenna that Nia was sure she’d seen in her workshop before. Morgan was studying it with a contemplative frown.

Nia glanced off towards the western horizon, where the storm she had passed through to reach the Fog Rift to the northeast was now vanishing over the distant mountains. It was as good a conversation starter as any.

“Looks like the storm’s passed,” Nia said.

“Maybe,” Morgan said distantly, looking up from her device, her eyes looking almost comically large behind her glasses. “Or maybe we’re just in the eye of it….”

Glancing at Morgan’s equipment, Nia asked, “Is that your opinion as an extradimensional expert?”

“Hmm?” Morgan grunted, looking at Nia as if just now noticing she was there. “Oh, no. I was just….”

Nia waited for Morgan to finish her thought, but when it was clear she wasn’t going to, decided to take the initiative. “Well regardless, I think you might be right.”

Nia had Morgan’s undivided attention. “You don’t think our rift problems are over?”

“Well, maybe. I don’t know, but… something happened while I was dealing with the Fog Rift.” Nia paused to collect her thoughts. How would she even begin explaining what she had experienced?

“I heard a little about it from your friend Tora. Sounds like your theory about Flesh Eaters being immune to fog corruption was wrong.”

Nia nodded grimly. “The thing is, at the end, when the rift was mending and the fog entity—whatever it is—was being forced out of me, I… I saw something.”

Morgan’s eyes went wide behind her glasses. “You saw the other side of the rift, didn’t you?”

Nia answered with a tentative nod, and Morgan all but exploded, grabbing Nia by the shoulders in a fit of unrestrained glee. “OMYGOSH, YOU HAVE TO TELL ME EVERYTHING! What was it like??? Was it awesome??? Was it weird???”

Nia opened her mouth to answer but Morgan shushed her with a finger. “WAIT! Not yet!” She then pulled out a notebook and a pen, flipping frantically to a new page and giving the pen a single decisive click before saying with remarkable calm, “Okay. Go ahead.”

Taking a breath to reign in her exasperation, Nia said, “Well, it looked an awful lot like our world. I saw a building and a garden….” She paused, unable to completely focus over the sound of frantic scribbling.

Taking her temporary silence as a cue to give her own opinion, Morgan said, “Fascinating, I would have expected the fog entity’s world to look more… I dunno, alien?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t actually think it was the fog entity’s world.”

“Oh?”

Nia took another breath, again trying to find the words. “When we finally destroyed the Fog Rift, we didn’t do it alone.”

“Sure, everybody pitched in. It was a real team effort!”

“No, I mean… I saw people.”

Morgan’s frantic scribbling stopped. “People? Beyond the rift?”

Nia nodded. “They were fighting against the fog creature. Trying to close the rift from their end.”

Now that she was really thinking about it, Nia wasn’t sure that either side would have succeeded without the other’s help. Her plan to use the Trinity Processor was sound in theory, but completely untested. Then there were those others. That girl. They had been fighting desperately but with no apparent plan beyond defeating the enemy in front of them. It boggled the mind. Two worlds, their drive to create a future intersecting.

Morgan, meanwhile, had gone pale. “Are you sure that what you saw was even another world? Maybe you were just seeing our Fog Rift from some other Titan.”

“I can’t explain it, it just… felt different,” Nia said, trying to recall more details from the vision. “The stars in the sky didn’t look like our stars, and one of the people fighting… she had wings on her head. What race from Alrest looks like that?”

“Maybe a Blade?”

“Don’t think so. I didn’t see a Core Crystal.”

Morgan stared straight ahead, her pen and notepad forgotten. “A world with people…” she muttered, more to herself than to Nia. “This changes everything….”

Failing to notice that the words weren’t meant for her, Nia responded, “That’s exactly why I came to find you. When I get back to Fonsa Myma I’m going to see if I can convince Queen Raqura to hire you on full time. If there are other worlds out there also being affected by these rifts, then we need to understand exactly what we’re dealing with in case they become a problem again.”

“Actually… I’m already going to be doing that, just not for you or the queen, unfortunately.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you remember, I’m still technically under contract with Corbett Paronet. He hired me personally—as in, outside of a military capacity—when the Fog Rift first became a problem. Meaning even after you took over operational command here, I still had to report to him.”

“Oh, right….” With all they’d been through since meeting, Nia had almost forgotten.

Morgan then jabbed her with a playful elbow. “Trust me, I’d much rather be working for you and the queen, but you know how it is….”

“Right, but now the Fog Rift’s gone, so shouldn’t your contract be fulfilled?”

“Normally yes, but I just conferenced with him this morning and he renewed my contract for another five years. Said he wants me to continue looking into these phenomena. Since I wasn’t expecting a job offer from you and work is scarce in my field, I agreed to it.”

Knowing all too well how rough it could be living from one job to the next, Nia nodded and said, “That is a pretty good offer.”

Then with the hint of a smile, Morgan added, “I know, right? My salary is crazy. He’s putting me in charge of my own department in his military R&D company.”

It made sense, though the implications were concerning to say the least. What possible interest could Corbett have in extradimensional research now that the Fog Rift was gone? Somehow, Nia doubted he shared her concerns about future rift events. She then thought about the research Mòrag had found in Sosem’s hideout and a vague connection began to form in her mind.

“Well, it sounds like you have your heart set on this and honestly, it would have been a pretty hard sell to get Queen Raqura to invest sufficiently in your research anyway,” Nia said, not entirely certain it was true. “So… I guess that means this is goodbye for now.”

“Yeah, guess so,” Morgan said with a sad smile. “It’s been a real learning experience!”

Seeing the sad look on the other Blade’s face, Nia found herself imagining how her life would look in the coming years. She didn’t doubt she would be well compensated, but there was something a little depressing about the whole image. With her Driver dead and his family estranged, Morgan really had no one. She was alone.

“Hey, let’s stay in touch, yeah?” Nia said, offering her hand and a smile. “I’d love to hear all about the work you’re doing.” Especially if it gives me insight into what Lord Corbett is planning.

Morgan took her hand and shook it, smiling. “And there’s so much I’d love to tell you….”

“LIGHTS OUT IN FIVE, YA FILTHY REPROBATES!”

The guard captain’s voice echoed through the cell block, a more reliable means of tracking the time than any clock. If there was one thing Sosem had to give to his new residence, it was run very efficiently.

Freshly constructed in the region of Mor Ardain’s new capital on the frontier, the Li Garte Correctional Facility was a far cry from the sort of run-down prison Sosem had expected to be thrown in. His time was no cakewalk though. For twelve hours every day for six days a week, Sosem and the other inmates were subjected to hard labour. Some days he was mining ether veins on the prison’s lower levels; others he was gathering materials in the adjacent plains under strict armed guard. He wore his ether inhibitor collar all the time. The fruits of his and the other inmates’ labours were all shipped to the site of Mor Ardain’s new capital, where they were to be used in the construction of their fancy new castle.

All in all, it was a pretty miserable existence, but Sosem didn’t mind it so much. He was still a Blade without a Driver, and that made him freer than he’d ever been in all of his accumulated lives. Still, prison life was rather lonely, surrounded as he was by lesser creatures. Yet in spite of that, Sosem wasn’t truly alone. Not when he had his partner’s words for company. So, as he lay down on his cot for the night, he reached between his cold, hard mattress and bedframe and pulled out his sole companion: a single slip of paper folded in on itself again and again.

It had first been slipped into his temporary holding cell under Hardhaigh Palace before he was transferred here. Likely his partner had paid off a guard to deliver it to him. Of course, the smart thing to do would have been to rip it up and flush it as soon as he had finished reading it then. But he knew he would need the company to get him through the next few years, however many they would actually be. So, when it came time to transfer him to Li Garte, Sosem had slipped the paper into his mouth and kept it there until he was finished being processed. If any of the inept guards running this place had known him, they would have recognized his silence as the ill omen it was.

So, as had become a nightly ritual for him now, he unfolded the paper and immediately found comfort in the words of his partner: His saviour and his penance. The one who had given him glorious purpose. The one to whom he owed the world… and he intended to deliver before his ticket was punched.

Sorry things had to go this way but it’s for the best. With you off the board, the crown princess can no longer investigate us, and I can continue our work without further risk…

Of course, this meant that his partner believed the princess would not be receptive to their plan. Shame, bringing Li’l Filly Flesh Eater into the fold was his idea, and having the heir to Uraya’s throne on their side would have made things all the easier. Oh well, his partner knew best.

The cell block lights went out. It was exactly five minutes from when the guard captain said, like clockwork. Sosem kept reading. Even in the dark, he could make out the words. He practically knew them by heart.

Something new has come to light; the answer to one of our biggest roadblocks turned out to be sitting right under our noses. Using that, our goal can now be achieved long before our original deadline. 

After his conversation with the princess when she’d visited him in his cell, he now believed he knew exactly what his partner was referring to. The phrase deus ex machina came to mind: God from the machine.

I know our partnership hasn’t been ideal. Even now I’m tempted to simply leave you to your well-deserved fate. But I made a promise and will not forsake you. As you know, loyalty is everything to me. So, stay strong, and one day soon, we will build our Elysium together.

Over the years, Sosem had become very jaded. There was very little that he trusted these days beyond his own abilities. But he trusted the words of his partner. Whatever else they were to each other, they were honest. So, Sosem basked in the promise of the future he held in his hand. He chuckled quietly, and as it did most nights, his chuckles soon gave way to full blown laughter, tears of mirth blinding him. His cellmate rolled over on his own cot; he had long since stopped asking what was so funny.

Because the only answer Sosem had ever given him was, “You’ll find out in a few years.”

Chapter Text

Nursing a hangover from the previous night’s festivities, Nia trudged into what was once Queen Raqura’s office. For the past several months now, it had effectively been her office after the queen’s illness had bedridden her. And now that Raqura was dead, the office truly was Nia’s. It still didn’t feel like it. She wondered whether that would change after her coming coronation. She doubted it. After all, none of it had been truly hers from the start.

It’s impossible to prove that you aren’t really the Heir of Hannes.

Even if that was true, it didn’t keep Nia from worrying. During every conversation she had at Queen Raqura’s wake, she couldn’t shake the irrational thought that they knew. That all those chortling nobles would turn to her and say in unison, “Of course you’re not the real heir. It was all a joke from the start and you’re the last one to the punchline!”

The true heir of Uraya walks into a pub… and Nia was also there. Roll snare drum!

Nia had to laugh as she took her seat behind the queen’s grand desk. What else could she do at this point? The laughter only exacerbated the headache from her hangover. She was saved by the timely arrival of Queen Raqura’s attendant—Nia’s attendant now, she supposed—who entered with her morning coffee.

“Thanks, Dagen. What’s on the docket today?”

“You have several meetings this morning with the Nopon trade guilds, the housing guild, and the military reform committee. Then you have two public appearances this afternoon. Giving away scholarships to some lucky young people and then saying a few words at the grand opening of the just completed ‘Raqura Wing’ of the city library you funded six months back.” Dagen flipped over the page in his hand. “And finally, dinner with Lady Priscilla Paronet.”

“Ugh, that’s tonight?”

These little get-togethers with Priscilla were a semi-regular occurrence now. Nia knew that the old woman had very little love for her (and the feeling was mutual) but they were still allies, at least on paper. It was in both of their interests to keep relations between the crown and House Paronet strong. None of these dinners had ever been as grand or eventful as the one when Nia had first been named heir—just the two of them and the odd guest here and there. Priscilla still enjoyed playing her petty games, though. Nia had grown quite adept at navigating them over the years, but it was still exhausting.

“Anything else?” she asked, reaching for the first document from the stack on her desk left over from the previous day.

“A message from your husband.”

Just like that, Nia’s attention left the paper in her hands as Dagen continued, “The short of it is that he has urgent business on the new date of your coronation and will be unable to attend.”

Closing her eyes, Nia let out a long deep sigh. “I see.”

The coffee in her hands had slowly begun to cure the headache of her hangover but now it was back in full force. It would seem that her meeting with Priscilla would not be the only tense conversation she’d have to endure today.

Nia dismissed Dagen when he was finished with his brief. Once she was alone in Raqura’s office—her office—Nia closed her eyes, letting the dull persistent throb in her head consume her focus for a time. She found herself wondering—as she’d often done—whether her decision to marry after dealing with the Fog Rift three years ago had been the right one. It had been a leap of faith; she’d told herself time and again. However, it was times like this that she wondered whether she should have at least looked before making it.

Two months after the Fog Rift had been purged, Nia’s life had returned to… well, not “normal” exactly, but a more or less comfortable routine. She had stayed in Goshen a few days after the battle to get the ball rolling on the reconstruction, only returning to Fonsa Myma once it was clear things were well in hand. Then the following week, Zornian ships had arrived at the colonies carrying much needed food and supplies, further hastening the rebuilding efforts. Evidently, Chancellor Ermendrüd had made good on his end of their aid deal.

Back in Uraya proper, Nia’s public image was at an all-time high. Just as she and Raqura had planned, clearing the Fog Rift over House Gaselart’s frontier territory allowed them the use of their media connections to change the narrative surrounding Nia’s appointment as heir to the throne. Truthfully though, there wasn’t much work left to do where that was concerned: word of Nia’s heroic efforts to combat the Fog Rift were already spreading throughout the country and, Nia suspected, the world at large. Still, thanks to their deal with the Gaselarts, Nia and Raqura were able to push their narrative further.

Just about every media outlet was all too eager to sit her down for an interview and before long Nia found herself exhausted from what ended up becoming a lengthy press junket. A number of newspapers had even begun publishing exposes on the subject of Flesh Eaters, spinning a more honest and optimistic narrative that went against the fear-mongering that Indol and Amalthus had fermented during their days in power. Nia’s name never came up in these articles but the intent behind their publishing was clear, and she suspected Raqura was behind it. Nia really was becoming her proverbial golden child.

Now, the whirlwind of positive media attention was beginning to die down and Nia had since returned to her regular duties as Uraya’s crown princess. Currently, she found herself walking the halls towards the storage vaults on the mid-levels of Sevind Palace in answer of Raqura’s latest summons. Nia thought it strange; usually when the queen wished to speak with her outside of their regular lessons of statecraft and the like, she would summon her to her office or the main audience chamber. This would be the first time Nia had ever set foot into Raqura’s personal treasure vault.

The chamber was—as expected—grand and impressive, its cavernous ceiling stretching high above. The maze of shelves and storage containers reached all the way up to those lofty heights; each one filled with all manner of valuable looking items. Nia idly wondered how much the contents of this chamber were worth. If it wasn’t equal to the total gold in the country’s coffers, it must have been damn close. In Nia’s old life as a penniless drifter, she would not have hesitated to slip a few of the most valuable looking items into her pouches. Just one would have been enough to keep her and Dromarch fed for weeks back then. Of course, where she would find her next meal was no longer on her list of problems.

Besides, she would have had a hard time swiping anything with so many people around. The cavernous storage vault was a veritable hive of activity. Palace staff were working every way she looked, checking items against inventory lists as various treasures were removed from the shelves and moved over to an ever-growing pile near the loading entrance. Was this stuff being taken somewhere else?

Nia found Queen Raqura at the centre of all the activity, her lead attendant, Dagen, at her side. They were going over a list together while two more palace staff members held a rather large, framed painting in front of them. Nia could only see the painting’s back as she approached, but could see Raqura regarding its front with a deep, contemplative expression. Nia’s burning curiosity almost made her forget proper decorum and begin asking questions. However, recalling exactly how much Raqura had been on her case about that lately, she forced her Royal Self forward and greeted the queen with a respectful bow.

“I am here at the behest of your summons, Your Majesty,” Nia said carefully and deliberately.

Raqura pulled her eyes away from the painting to regard her with a nod. “Crown princess. Your regal diction is improving, I see.”

Nia stood up straight, mindful of her posture. “Verily.” She then made a show of looking around at the bustling activity around them. “Pray tell, what is… all this?”

Not the most eloquent, but Raqura let it slide. “As you can see, the treasure vaults were getting full. Over the years, the royal family receives many gifts from members of the nobility, visiting dignitaries and other heads of state and it becomes infeasible to keep it all. You’ll see for yourself once you become queen.”

So, spring cleaning then. “What will become of the trinkets you deign not to keep?”

“In the past I’ve sold or donated them. This time I think I’ll host an auction and put the money raised to something good. Perhaps to further help development of the frontier colonies.”

“I see.” Nia glanced over at the back facing painting. “And what of this?”

With a wave of her hand, Raqura beckoned her to her side, where Nia could get a good look at the front of the painting in question. It was a portrait: one depicting a much younger, slimmer Raqura side by side with a large muscular young man with a familiar X shaped scar in the centre of his face. Young Raqura looked admittedly rather fetching in a dazzling teal gown and tiara, and Vandham—Aquila Paronet—was sharp in his black and green dress robes.

“It was commissioned by Lady Priscilla as a wedding gift,” Raqura explained with a hint of nostalgia. “For many years it hung over the dining hall, but I had it taken down and moved to storage after….” Raqura hesitated. “After we separated.”

Nia nodded. Raqura had never spoken much of her marriage to Vandham, but considering what Nia now knew of their son’s ultimate fate, it didn’t take her much work to guess why they had no longer been together when she met them. Looking at Raqura now, leaning more on her cane than she had before, Nia could see her become lost in the memory within the painting.

“More than once, I’ve considered getting rid of it,” Raqura continued. "However, it seems to be one of those rare things I’m unable to let go.”

Looking again at the portrait, Nia took note of the cold, serious expressions on the subjects’ faces. Their sharp, rigid posture and the great distance that appeared to be between them even standing side by side. Vandham’s hand rested on the bare shoulder of Raqura but the painting conveyed very little warmth in the action. In stark contrast, Nia could sense a rare hint of warmth from the older Raqura standing next to her.

It was enough to make her ask, “Might I inquire about a personal matter, Your Majesty?”

Raqura’s eyes left the portrait to gauge Nia warily. “You might.”

“Your marriage to Vandham—to Lord Aquila, sorry—it was political in nature, correct?”

Raqura nodded. “It was arranged by Lady Priscilla and my own mother, yes. At the time, House Paronet’s mercenary naval force was unmatched in Uraya and my mother wished to use it to blockade certain trade routes. So, she and Lady Priscilla worked out a deal which involved my wedding her eldest.”

Nia shifted in place. It sounded a lot like the deal Lord Corbett had offered her during the Fog Rift crisis. “And… did you love each other?”

It took several moments for Raqura to answer, “Not in the traditional sense. We had grown… fond of each other after a time. And we were united in our love for our son. But in the end, we simply wanted different things, and after Raddis passed, well… officially we were still married, but we each decided to pursue what we wanted.”

Nia looked down at her feet. It all sounded incredibly bleak to her.

Noticing her shift in mood, Raqura spoke somewhat softer. “I know it isn’t exactly a storybook romance, but… it’s still a shape love can take.” She then turned to the attendants holding the portrait. “You can put it back. I suppose I’m not yet ready to part with it after all.”

Suddenly finding herself eager to move past this conversation, Nia asked, “What exactly was it you summoned me for, Your Majesty?”

For a few moments, Raqura seemed unsure of this herself. Of late, the queen had been slower to remember things than usual (a prelude to the dementia that would accompany her worsening disease in a few years, Nia would one day learn).

However, Raqura eventually regathered her wits and answered, “Just last night, a letter arrived bearing the seal of the Ardainian Imperial family. Enclosed within was an invitation. Apparently, construction was recently completed on the castle that is to be the emperor’s seat of power in Mor Ardain’s capital on the new continent. Emperor Niall is hosting a ball in honour of the castle’s grand opening and is inviting officials from all of the nations of Alrest.”

Nia had a feeling she knew where this was going. “Let me guess, you wish for me to attend in your stead?” Raqura’s distrust of Ardainians remained as strong as ever.

But Raqura shook her head. “You’re half right. Perhaps you should read it yourself.”

The queen pulled out an envelope, its seal already broken. Pulling out the letter of invitation within, Nia unfolded it and started reading.

To the honourable Queen Raqura Selosia sol Seebu,

You are cordially invited to the Farleigh Ball: a celebration of the grand opening of Farleigh Castle…

Nia skimmed over the wordy preamble, promising high quality Ardainian cuisine (Nia doubted the quality of any food in Mor Ardain) and lively music to dance to, both contemporary and classical (Nia actually liked some Ardainian music). She eventually reached the part of the invitation that pertained to her, and her brow raised when she read what was penned.

The invitation extends to Crown Princess Nia Echell, with whom there is a matter I wish to discuss at her earliest convenience.

The letter concluded with earnest wishes to see the both of them on the date (the following week) and was signed eloquently with Niall Ardanach’s signature.

“Intriguing, wonder what he wants to talk to me about?” Nia mused.

Raqura opened her mouth to say something but hesitated. Nia wondered if she was perhaps having another senior moment but realized she was—not for the first time—weighing whether to answer honestly.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Raqura finally said, her poker face excellent as always.

The week that followed was relatively mundane until the evening before they were to depart for Mor Ardain’s new capital. Raqura had come to Nia asking what she intended to wear to the coming ball. When Nia had replied with a gesture to her usual attire, Raqura shook her head and dragged her to her fitting room, where she had an attendant help Nia try on a number of formal dresses.

The one that they eventually decided on (or rather, that Raqura had chosen for her) was admittedly very elegant. Laced with incredibly soft silky gold fabric that complimented her eyes and woven with pretty floral patterns, what stood out to Nia was just how… suggestive it was. She gave her reflection in the mirror a grin and a slight nod of approval when she saw the way it hugged her hips and a slit in the side revealed a decent amount of leg. There was a window for her chest (they were no longer concerned with hiding her Core Crystal after all) and when she turned around, she saw that her back was exposed. Overall, the dress was—for lack of a better word—sexy, while still maintaining the propriety of a princess at a high-class function. Nia had then asked Raqura what she intended to wear to the ball, and the queen had shown her a rather modest dress of plain earthen tones. That had been when Nia’s suspicions had begun regarding Raqura’s choice of dress for her.

She stewed on these suspicions the following day while on board the ship (a seafaring vessel rather than an airship) as they departed Fonsa Myma Port. The queen was not a vain woman by any means, but it still struck Nia as odd that she’d spent so long picking out that head turner of a dress for her to wear while the one she’d picked out for herself was little more than an afterthought. Nia then thought of the day Raqura had first shown her Niall’s invitation to the Farleigh Ball. She had spent some time reminiscing over her marriage with Vandham before getting to business. The queen hadn’t exactly been sugarcoating it, but looking back, it did seem to Nia that she was—somewhat literally—painting a more favourable portrait of their arranged marriage.

It hadn’t been the first time the topic of marrying had come up between them. In one of the interviews during Nia’s press junket the previous month, the journalist who’d been interviewing her had blindsided her with the question, “Is there a lucky man in your life?”

Nia had been annoyed; she thought she’d be answering questions about the counter rift operation not feeding idle gossip. Thus, she had brusquely answered that there wasn’t and tried to move along with the rest of the interview. But then a couple weeks later she was approached by one of the lords of House Gaselart with a marriage proposal. From there, more continued coming in from all levels of Uraya’s gentry, even some branch houses that Nia had never heard of.

She had turned down each prospective suitor politely enough, and whenever Raqura inquired about it, Nia had simply told her that the match did not hold enough long-term political benefit. It was the truth, but Raqura could clearly tell how uncomfortable Nia was with the idea of marrying.

“You’re going to need heirs of your own sooner or later,” Raqura had said time and again. “And with such a delicate transition of power in your future, sooner would be better.”

Now here she was, on her way to a high-class ball with music and dancing where all of the most wealthy and influential people in Alrest would be in attendance. Many of them would likely be young bachelors and bachelorettes, much like herself. It seemed clear now what Raqura hoped to accomplish with the dress she’d chosen for her. 

Nia pushed her worries aside as she took in the view of their destination from the upper deck of the queen’s ship. The new Ardainian capital of Alba Brumsted was nestled on the coast of the vast Patulia Bay. Nia was equally surprised and impressed that the city already appeared as vast a metropolis as Alba Cavanich had been in its heyday, though much of it was clearly still under construction. The harbour was filled with both airships and sea-faring vessels, with even more spilling out into the bay.

Part of the harbour was sectioned off by fortified walls on all sides with a sluice gate as the only aquatic egress point. It was towards this that their ship was headed. Beyond the barbican loomed what Nia could only assume was the night’s main attraction. Farleigh Castle towered high over the bay. Looking at the sheer size of it, Nia wondered how such a structure could have been completed in only a year. Apparently, there was a materials production facility called Li Garte not too far away. Perhaps that had something to do with it?

After passing through the sluice gate, the queen’s ship was moored at one of the docks within the barbican, upon which a decade of Ardainian soldiers tensely awaited them. Once Nia and Raqura had disembarked with Dromarch, Dagen and their cadre of Queensguard, their hosts led them off of the docks and onto a large service elevator which took them up the large hill to the first level of Farleigh Castle proper. As they walked the castle halls, Nia took in the architecture.

It was built with finely welded metal typical of Ardainian construction, but Nia noticed some elements that differed from what she had seen in Hardhaigh Palace. Nia was no architect, but the use of vertical pillars with horizontal supports along with the tiled, gently curved roofs evoked Old Torna more than Mor Ardain. Perhaps Emperor Niall was an aficionado for Tornan Architecture? Whatever the case may be, Nia, Raqura and their entourage were led to a courtyard in the castle’s southern wing.

“These are the guest quarters. The staff here will show you to your rooms,” stated the decade captain, waving over one of the servants to do exactly that. “The festivities start at six. Someone will be along to fetch you at that time.”

Looking around the courtyard, Nia could see that a fair few dignitaries were already milling about. Some of them kept to themselves, reading or working on paperwork, while others chatted amongst each other. She thought she spotted Zeke and Pandoria on the far side of the courtyard, but before she could look any closer a familiar voice called out her name. The source of the voice instantly eased Nia’s troubles, and Raqura, Dromarch and the others made themselves scarce as the young man approached with a big smile on his face.

“Hey Rex,” Nia greeted with an easygoing smile. “Were you invited to this ball as well?

With a nod, Rex answered, “Pyra and Mythra too. They’re just getting changed.”

Rex himself looked halfway to changing into his own formalwear. He wore a white button up shirt—its top buttons still undone—and navy-blue dress pants. Nia was still in the white red and gold leotard of her Blade form but now found herself eager to change into her own formal duds, if only to see Rex’s reaction. Then again, if Pyra and Mythra were here maybe it would be best if she wasn’t too provocative around him. Especially when she considered the state of their relationship when she’d last seen them.

“How are things going with them, anyway?” she asked.

Rex smiled, and right away she knew the answer before he spoke it. “Things are good now. The three of us had a nice long talk after everything with the Fog Rift settled down. Turns out it really was a misunderstanding just like you said.”

Nia returned his smile, hating her treacherous heart for not truly feeling it. “Told you!”

“Yep, and I really owe you one because of it. Hell, all three of us do!”

Nia gave a modest shrug. “Nah, I get the feeling you’d have worked it out eventually one way or another.”

“Maybe, but if you hadn’t pulled my head out of my arse, it was gonna get a lot worse before it got better.”

Nia conceded the point with a noncommittal handwave.

“So, I know you’re probably super busy with all your future queen stuff now, but all three of us would like to treat you to dinner or something the next time you’re free. Give you a proper thank you and all that.”

“Well, I won’t say no to good grub and a night out, but you don’t need to do it to thank me or anything. We’re friends, right? Friends help each other.”

Curiously, Rex rubbed the back of his head and shifted in place—the usual signal that he had something else on his mind. “Yeah, about that… we had a sort of… idea we wanted to pitch to you.”

“An idea, eh?” Nia drolled before adding with a snarky grin, “Not trying to secure some crown funding for your next big benevolent scheme, are you?”

“N-no, nothing like that…” At this point in their friendship, Rex was practically immune to her teasing. Yet in that moment, he seemed more nervous than she’d seen him since they first met. “Just… try to keep an open mind, okay?”

Now Nia’s intrigue was piqued, though she supposed she wouldn’t get a straight answer until she had this planned meeting with all three of them. It was just as well, the clearing of a throat behind her drew her attention away from Rex.

“Oh, hello Mòrag.”

The woman stood with her usual impeccable posture, hands clasped behind her back. She gave Nia the hint of a smile and a nod. “Good to see you, Nia. Have you had a chance to get settled?”

Nia hadn’t actually set foot into the room she’d be staying in yet, but the attendants in her retinue likely already had her effects ready and waiting. “I have.”

“Good. Then if you would kindly follow me, the emperor wishes to speak with you posthaste.”

As Mòrag led Nia away, Rex called out, “If you want, I’ll save you a dance tonight!”

More than once as she followed Mòrag through the resplendent halls of Farleigh Castle, Nia thought to question exactly what Niall wanted to speak to her about. Mòrag had to know; there was little doubt of that. But Nia’s attempts at small talk were effectively shut down by one-word answers. Mòrag had always been a cagey one, but this day she seemed especially guarded. It was as if she feared that even harmless small talk would reveal too much.

So, forcing herself to remain patient with the knowledge that answers would come soon, Nia silently followed Mòrag along. Looking around the halls as they passed through, Nia could see that many crates of furniture and decorations were still being unpacked. The very same crates she’d seen being packed up back at Hardhaigh Palace, perhaps. It brought to mind the reality of the fact that Mor Ardain as it had been in Old Alrest truly was fading.

Many stairs and corridors later, the pair passed a large outdoor space on one of the uppermost levels that looked nearly but not quite finished being prepared for the evening’s festivities. Then, beyond a large set of doors was more stairs circling up, and Nia was worried she’d be absolutely knackered before the ball even began. Eventually, they reached another large set of doors at the top of all the stairs.

“His Majesty awaits you in his office there,” Mòrag said, stopping just short of approaching the doors. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I still have much to prepare for the night’s events. I trust you will be able to find your way back to your quarters when you’re finished here?”

“I should be fine.”

With that, Mòrag gave Nia a parting nod and turned to go back the way they came. With no other recourse, Nia marched forward, gathering herself. As she did, she thought she heard the muffled sound of voices arguing from the other side but could not make out any words. Worried that she was perhaps interrupting something, Nia raised her hand to knock on the door. Instead, the door knocked on her hand in a manner both shocking and somewhat painful as it was suddenly thrown open.

“Oi, watch it!” she exclaimed reflexively, clutching her wrist where the door had bashed into it.

Suddenly worried that she was on the verge of cursing out the emperor himself, Nia looked up from the minor wound to her wrist and ego but was relieved to find not His Majesty but a boy of similar age. Looking at his shoulder-length auburn hair and striking green eyes, Nia suddenly remembered that she’d crossed paths with the boy on her most recent visit to Mor Ardain. Mòrag had even addressed him by name then, though at the moment Nia was hard pressed to remember what it was. It was clear though that he was someone who worked closely with the emperor—a personal attendant, perhaps.

Whatever his role, something about him didn’t seem right. His breaths came heavy, and Nia thought she could see tears welling in the corners of his green eyes. Then those eyes found her and something in them changed. There was recognition there which very quickly turned to anger. Then just as quickly he took a calming breath and bowed.

“Begging your pardon, Your Highness,” he said, all but spitting the word before stepping past her down the stairs and out of sight.

“The hell…?” Nia muttered as she watched him leave.

Turning back to the emperor’s office, Nia saw Niall himself standing in the doorway, his expression carefully neutral.

“Ah, crown princess. My apologies, were you waiting here long?” he asked.

“No.” She glanced warily back to where the other young man had retreated.

Seeing this, Niall stated, “Please pay Colin no mind. I’m sure it was not his intention to offend.” He then moved to return to his office and beckoned for her to follow. “Please come in.”

Nia did so, taking in her surroundings. The emperor’s office was grand but sparsely decorated. It would appear that he wasn’t quite finished settling in yet. There was, however, a large desk that absolutely dwarfed the boy emperor’s petite frame and a smaller table and chairs tucked away in an alcove to the left. Niall moved to the latter and bid Nia to take a seat across from him. Two still steaming cups of tea sat in saucers on the table, still full to the brim.

“First, I wish to give you my congratulations on all of your success thus far,” Niall said as he took the cup of tea in front of him and gestured for Nia to take the one in front of her. “I’ll admit, when I’d first heard that you’d been named crown princess of Uraya I was not sure how you’d fare, but it would seem you have surpassed the whole world’s expectations.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Deciding it would be rude not to, Nia took the tea in front of her despite her general preference for coffee.

“I was particularly impressed with your handling of the combined Ardainian-Urayan operation against the Fog Rift.” Niall then gave her the eager smile of one about to become lost in a tangent on a subject of personal passion. Just for a moment, it reminded her that he was still a boy as much as an emperor. “Did you know that Mor Ardain and Uraya have only ever fought as allies once before?”

Nia shook her head. “I’ll admit, I’m not terribly brushed up on the full extent of our history.”

Though it was clearly a subject of great interest to the boy emperor. “I’m surprised your friend, the Aegis hasn’t told you about it. She was there, after all.”

Suddenly it clicked for Nia. “Wait, are you referring to the Aegis War?”

Niall nodded. “Five hundred years ago, one of my ancestors, fourth emperor Hugo Ardanach, fought Malos alongside Prince Addam Origo of Torna. However, few people know that the militia force that Addam commanded was actually a regiment of the Urayan Army at the time.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Back then, a shared victory over Malos should have ensured a lasting peace between our nations.” Niall gave a rueful sigh. “Instead, the Kingdom of Torna was destroyed, and Emperor Hugo was killed in the final battle. This left his brother Stewart to take the throne, and his ambitions to expand the empire in the years that followed were as aggressive as they were violent. Had Hugo survived to continue his rule, a great deal of bloodshed might have been avoided.”

“I see…” Nia said, familiar with Mor Ardain’s bloody imperialist history as someone whose first home had been one of the countries they’d conquered. She found herself wondering where the boy emperor was going with this.

Niall took a long sip from his tea. “Our more recent shared victory thus had me reflecting on my own recent brush with death.”

Of course, he could only be referring to Bana’s assassination attempt during the Ardainian-Urayan peace summit last year. When Nia had risked exposing her true form to save the young emperor’s life. “Is this why you summoned me? To repay my deed back then?”

“I don’t think I could ever properly repay you even if I dedicated my whole life to it,” Niall said with a grateful smile. “However, of late I’ve found myself wondering what might have become of my empire if you hadn’t intervened back then.”

A morose line of thought to say the least. “Would Mòrag have taken the throne in your place?”

“Indeed, but the transition of power would have been messy. There has never been a female emperor of Mor Ardain, and as a member of one of the branch families, there are others who could challenge her claim.” Niall let out a weary sigh. “And then there’s the Imperial Senate. If I had perished at a peace summit with Queen Raqura, the senate would have voted to declare war on Uraya regardless of who was actually responsible. Even as empress there would be very little Mòrag could have done to stop them.”

This had, of course, been Bana’s intended outcome with his attempt on Niall’s life. Nia wasn’t sure Alrest could have survived another war alongside the damage caused by Malos and Amalthus back then.

“Well… that’s an awfully grim picture you’ve painted, Your Majesty,” she eventually said.

“Is it not the same for Uraya?” Niall asked. “Without a true heir, what would have become of the kingdom if Queen Raqura hadn’t found you?”

Nia thought back to the conversation she and Raqura had in the palace Aquagardens months ago when she’d first been named as the Heir of Hannes.

“Ever seen a flock of Rhoguls picking apart a carcass?” she asked.

Niall seemed to understand what she meant. The look he gave her was serious, the tea in front of him all but forgotten. “The fact of the matter is, our respective nations are only stable for as long as we both still stand. Each of us are now load-bearing pillars, and the foundations are cracking.”

“I don’t know that things are quite that bad,” Nia reasoned.

“Our countries’ relations are better now than they had been in centuries, true enough, and I imagine that will continue after you become queen. But we can’t be load-bearing pillars forever. What about after we’re both gone?”

“Guess we’ll have to hope that the next generation picks up where we leave off.”

“That’s exactly right, and I believe I know a way to ensure that happens.”

Nia raised her brow. “I’m listening.”

Niall took a long breath, and for the first time Nia noticed how tense—how nervous—the boy emperor appeared. “There is one way to ensure the future prosperity of both of our countries for generations to come. Something that hasn’t been done in the history of our nations.”

“And that is…?”

“Last we spoke, you mentioned that you were not engaged to be married. Is that still correct?”

Finally understanding, Nia confirmed with a nod and Niall continued, “In less than a year I will be of age to wed. A union between the emperor of Mor Ardain and the future queen of Uraya will unify our people like nothing else will. Even after we’re both gone many years from now, our heirs will keep our nations standing together.”

It took everything for Nia not to spit her tea all over the emperor. “You takin’ the mick?”

The serious look on Niall’s face indicated that he was not. “I’ve given it a lot of thought. Passing on our mantle is a responsibility neither of us can ignore. Our crowns may make us load bearing, but two pillars stand stronger than one.”

His proposal made sense, but Nia still couldn’t believe she was hearing it. “It’s bloody mad. Even if I agreed to this, how exactly would we even go about it?”

“We would make the formal announcement of our engagement before my sixteenth birthday. The conservative factions of both of our nations will have their objections, of course, but in time they will come to accept it.”

Nia found herself grasping for any holes in Niall’s proposal. She identified one and latched on. “What would our living arrangements be like? We’re each a head of state—or soon will be—with responsibilities within our own countries. I can’t very well move in here with you and keep up my duties in Fonsa Myma, and you can’t start living with me in Uraya without abandoning your duties here. It would never work!”

But Niall didn’t waver. “I’ve thought about this as well and have… well, not a solution exactly, but an unconventional compromise.”

He then stood from his seat and gazed out the grand window where the city of Alba Brumsted stretched out far below. “The castle we’re now standing in has been in the works for many years now. It was built using technology and designs salvaged from Old Torna. Although tonight’s ball is in celebration of its official grand opening, the truth is that Farleigh Castle is far from complete.

“The original idea was to build a mobile stronghold capable of moving through the air—this way Mor Ardain’s centre of power would not have to go down when the next Titan we settled on would inevitably fall. Of course, now we no longer have to worry about living on dying Titans but the plans for Farleigh Castle had already been approved.”

Nia’s mouth hung open in a way that was admittedly un-princess like. “Pull the other one, are you saying this castle can bloody fly?”

But Niall shook his head. “That’s what I meant when I said it was incomplete. Our engineers have yet to get the flight modules functional but estimate that with the addition of salvaged technology from Morytha, the castle will be airworthy in a matter of years.” He turned away from the window to look at her again. “This would give us a seat of power that could quickly be moved between Uraya and Mor Ardain as needed. Until then we would have to live apart as our duties demand.”

“So that’s your ‘unconventional compromise.’” It was certainly an apt description.

“With all of that being said, what are your thoughts?” Niall asked. “Is my proposal one you would be amenable to?”

Her first instinct was to answer no. Nia knew Niall to be a decent boy, but that was the problem: he was just a boy. Then again, so was Rex. Hell, if Nia counted the exact years since Lord Echell first awakened her core, she was basically a child herself. No, age wasn’t what rubbed Nia the wrong way about Niall’s proposal. It was something more elusive.

“I would like some time to think it over if that’s alright, Your Majesty,” she said.

Niall gave her a practiced smile. “Of course, take your time. Enjoy the ball. I will await your answer with patience.”

The room Nia had been given in the guest residence was perhaps the most completely furnished she’d seen within Farleigh Castle thus far. Pots of red and pink flowers occupied the corners, red velvet carpets covered the floor, along with matching bedsheets and drapes flanking the window. An ornate bronze dresser was decorated with bits ‘n bobs and a few very pretty landscape paintings hung on the walls. Finally, the room was complete with a walk-in closet, within which hung the outfit Nia was to wear to the ball.

The dress that she had earlier been excited to wear now seemed almost like a pillory or stockade—something to chain her down for all to see. The thought occurred to her to skip the ball entirely—to spend the evening anonymously exploring Alba Brumsted. She’d even had the wherewithal to pack the yellow jumpsuit she’d worn on her journey last year. She looked away from the flashy dress hanging in the luxurious closet to where the more familiar article of clothing was neatly folded at the bottom of her suitcase. The jumpsuit had, back then, allowed her to hide her true nature as a Flesh Eater and would now allow her to hide her true identity as crown princess of Uraya.

What the hell…? she thought as she grabbed the yellow jumpsuit and began to slip it on. The last time she’d worn it was months back when she’d visited Zorn looking for a way to stop the Fog Rift. She had similarly wanted to walk the streets of the city without being recognised as royalty and the suit had been good for that. However, it was only as she struggled to pull the top over her shoulders that she remembered how it had felt considerably more vertically stretched since the journey to Elysium.

With some effort, she finally managed to stuff herself into the jumpsuit and zip it up. She checked herself in the mirror. The vertical stretchmarks in the fabric were noticeable, but it was still functional as a disguise. Then Nia made the mistake of stretching her arms above her head. Her heart sank when she heard a sudden rip accompany the action.

Checking the mirror again, Nia was dismayed when she saw the decently sized tear splitting the soft yellow fabric around her right hip. It was almost funny; as a Blade, she never thought that growing out of clothes would ever be a problem for her. She wasn’t sure whether it was because she was half human or that Blades all over Alrest had started aging. Whatever the reason, one thing was clear: she was taller now. Her old jumpsuit likely wouldn’t be the last thing she’d no longer fit into.

“My lady, are you decent?” Dromarch’s voice came from the other side of the door to her room.

“Yes, come on in, Dromarch.”

Nia listened to the door open and the sound of Dromarch’s paws padding along the floor behind her. “You still haven’t dressed? My lady, the ball begins in less than an hour.”

Nia turned to properly address him. He was already dressed in his evening wear: a single collar and black bowtie that stood out against his regal white fur.

“I’ve only just returned from my meeting with Emperor Niall.” It was not a lie, Nia told herself. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure how much time she’d spent contemplating alone since hearing Niall’s proposal. The sun was beginning to set, but in her mind, the conversation had been mere minutes ago.

“And may I ask what the emperor wanted?”

Nia held back a wince. She should have known he would ask. She briefly considered lying. “He asked me to marry him.”

Dromarch rolled his eyes. “A fine jest, my lady. But really, what did he…?”

Nia simply gave him a deadpan stare and held it until she saw comprehension dawn on his feline face.

“Oh…”

“Yeah, ‘oh…’ is right.”

Dromarch gave her a thoughtful look. “I hope that isn’t your answer.”

Nia furrowed her brow. “You think I should say yes?”

“Would it really be so bad? By all appearances, the young emperor is wise, intelligent and noble-hearted. Not to mention, the two of you are already well acquainted.” Dromarch shrugged. “Seems to me like it’s a good match, especially when put against some of your other options.”

Nia thought about that first deal she’d almost made with Corbett Paronet. Then all of the other nobles who had come to her in recent months to trot out their sons. Every one of them clearly only wanted to use her to advance their political standing.

“Yeah, I guess…” she said. “He is a fine young man, I suppose.”

“I sense a ‘but…’ coming.”

“Dunno. Guess I’m just… not ready.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, Raqura’s voice reminded her that her position as heir to the throne was still unstable. That she needed heirs of her own. Sooner rather than later.

“That’s understandable. I still remember our conversation in Tantal months back. I know how much the idea of marrying without love scares you…”

“I sense a ‘but…’ coming,” Nia echoed.

“But I know that is not truly the heart of the issue.”

“What do you mean?”

Dromarch let out a patient sigh. “My lady, may I be blunt with you?”

“Go on.”

He looked at her with plain sympathy. “I know who your heart truly lies with. But, when you hold a candle for one person for too long, that candle will eventually melt in your hands, leaving you with nought but hot wax.”

Nia knew instantly who he was talking about. “But I’m not….”

“Let it go. Otherwise, you’re just going to get burned.”

Nia supposed she understood what he was saying. She knew who her heart belonged to just as surely as she knew there was no future with him. She’d told herself she was okay with it while simultaneously clinging to her fantasy of a future together. Maybe it really was time for her to move on. Who knows? She could have something just as beautiful with Niall if she gave him an honest chance.

“It’s your choice at the end of the day, my lady,” Dromarch said as he made to leave her to get changed. “I only ask that you try.”

With that, Dromarch took his leave, and Nia was alone wearing her ruined old clothes, her new golden dress looming over.

As expected, Nia turned a fair few heads upon her arrival to the large rooftop terrace where the ball was taking place. The last vestiges of orange light from the setting sun could be seen over the horizon and the primary source of light came from the starlight above and the tall braziers scattered across the terrace.

The crowd of guests mingling on the vast castle terrace was similarly vast, and many of them took clear notice of Nia as she and Dromarch moved through the crowd. Looking around for any familiar faces, she spotted Zeke and Euloginemos dressed in traditional Tantalese black and brown dress robes. The two were in the midst of a conversation with what appeared to be Zornian emissaries, and Nia thought it best not to interrupt. She did, however, exchange a nod with Pandoria, who was as always at Zeke’s side. The spectacled Blade wore an aqua-coloured dress that complimented her green hair and appeared completely uninterested in whatever conversation she had been roped into by her proximity to Zeke.

Then, drawn to a faint pink-red glow deeper in the crowd, Nia saw who she quickly realized was Brighid, the elegant Blade having shifted the flames of her hair buns to warmer colours. Nia hadn’t even known she could do that. Brighid was wearing a black dress with red frills to compliment the different hair colour. Unsurprisingly, Mòrag stood next to her… what was surprising was that she had traded her ceremonial officer’s uniform for a white dress that was simple but elegant. She seemed to be having a rather stern conversation with the young man who had bumped into Nia earlier—Colin if she remembered right—who himself was still wearing his dark attendant’s uniform but with the addition of some sort of green flower on his lapel that matched his eyes.

Deciding that she wanted no part of whatever that was about, Nia pressed on through the crowd and her heart skipped a beat when she caught a glimpse of brown hair and golden eyes. Rex stood alone and looked incredibly handsome in a two-piece suit and vest combo over a white button-up shirt and tie. What was more, it looked like he’d combed his hair—a first for him. Though Nia quite liked his usual scruffy appearance, she had to admit the well-groomed look was working for her.

Then Rex noticed her and just like that his features went slack as his eyes quickly looked her up and down. Grinning a bit, Nia went over to greet him. “Hey Rex.”

“Nia, um… hey! You, uh… you look…” Rex stammered.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, grinning just a tad wider. “Cat got your tongue?”

Rex’s voice cracked with his laugh. “No, just…” He took a moment to clear his throat. “You look nice.”

“Thanks. You clean up pretty good yourself.”

She then heard Pyra’s voice call out, “Nia!”

Nia had expected that Pyra and Mythra would look good tonight—hell, the two of them looked gorgeous even after a full day and night of schlepping through Gormotti wilderness or Ardainian desert. But she hadn’t expected the sight of them to take her breath away. Pyra’s long red gown managed to show off her hourglass figure while remaining tasteful enough for a royal event. The dress was made of a shiny material that reflected the orange light of the flames from the nearby braziers, giving her the appearance of a flame herself.

Wearing matching gloves up to her forearms, Pyra carried two drinks: one was champagne, and the other appeared to be sparkling water. She handed the latter to Rex, who was clearly doing his best to keep his gaze at eye level. Nia sympathized.

“Looking pretty natty there, Pyra,” she said.

“Likewise.”

Just behind her was Mythra, who as expected, was similarly stunning in a white dress. It was shorter than Pyra’s, just going past her knees, but it was tipped with lace and inlaid with gold thread that similarly sparkled when the light hit it. And Nia couldn’t help but notice, it did just as well showing off her curves.

“’Sup,” Mythra greeted Nia with a casual nod. “Lookin’ good, hot stuff!”

“Right back atcha!” Nia replied, firing off finger guns and immediately feeling embarrassed for it.

“So, are we gonna tear up the dance floor tonight or what?”

“Didn’t know you could dance, Mythra.”

“Yeah, I’ve got moves!”

Rex shot an askew glance at Nia, communicating instantly that her dancing skill was comparable to her cooking.

Any further conversation was cut short by Emperor Niall’s voice echoing across the terrace. “Attention everyone! Thank you all for coming on this auspicious night….”

Following his voice, Nia spotted the young emperor standing on a large platform atop about a dozen steps at the terrace’s edge, the entirety of his empire (including the remains of Mor Ardain’s Titan) stretching out far below. He wore a grand white cloak embroidered with what Nia assumed was his family crest. Mòrag, Brighid and Aegaeon stood at his side, and a full band of brass and strings stood ready and waiting at either side of the stage-like platform as he continued his speech.

“First, allow me to express my utmost gratitude to our friends from the Kingdom of Uraya for accepting our invitation and hospitality in spite of the many years of turmoil between us.” Niall gestured to where Queen Raqura was standing in the crowd alongside Dagen and one of the ladies of House Gaselart. “But it is exactly because of that turmoil that I have gathered you all here tonight. It is my hope that the completion of Farleigh Castle will mark a turning point, not only for Mor Ardain, but for all of Alrest—that it will symbolize a new age of peace.”

Niall’s eyes then fell directly on Nia. “So let us celebrate tonight so that tomorrow we may continue working together towards a more prosperous future for us all.”

Taking their cue, the band atop the platform with the emperor began to play—a slow, classical waltz to kick off the evening.

“That was a nice speech,” Pyra mused.

“Yep, my favourite kind: Short!” said Mythra before downing her own champagne flute in one go. She then placed the empty glass in Pyra’s free hand and grabbed Rex by his own. He had just enough time to place his barely touched sparkling water into Nia’s hand before he was dragged towards the dance floor at the terrace’s centre, where other couples were already stepping out.

Pyra let out a good-natured giggle as the two proceeded with a rather clumsy slow dance with the occasional stepped on toe. Nia’s gaze meanwhile drifted over to the emperor. Niall was descending the steps from the raised platform escorted by Mòrag. Her presence alone seemed to deter the approaching small cadre of young women gathering nearby. Nia briefly glanced over at Dromarch, who seemed to have clocked this too and encouraged her with a tilt of his head in Niall’s direction.

Nia took a swig of the drink in her hand for courage, forgetting that Rex’s sparkling water was not only non-alcoholic but fizzed uncomfortably in her mouth. Whose bloody idea was it to make water that hurts to drink?

Returning her thoughts to the moment at hand, Nia approached Niall and dipped her head, remembering her Royal Self as she greeted, “Your Majesty.”

“Crown princess.”

“Might I have the first dance?”

“It would be my honour.” 

Nia extended her hand and Niall took it. She heard a few disappointed groans from the group of girls lying in wait nearby.

Then, realizing she was still holding the glass of sparkling water, Nia grinned awkwardly and held it out to Mòrag, dropping her Royal Self entirely. “D’you mind?”

Mòrag wordlessly took the glass, her expression deadpan as ever. Her hands now free, Nia stepped onto the dance floor with Niall and after waiting for the proper timing, began their waltz.

Nia had taken some dance lessons back at Sevind Palace a day after she’d first received the invitation to the ball, and her father had taught her a bit of dancing years ago at their estate in Gormott. Niall, however, was evidently well-practiced at dancing the waltz and immediately took the lead. Nia didn’t mind and allowed herself to move with the flow of the music and Niall’s movements, not worrying too much about keeping time.

The pair of them very quickly became the focal point of the dance floor, easily showing up all of the others. And yet, Nia felt that something was missing. Their waltz was as skillful but lacked any true intimacy. Nia felt none of the excitement or passion one might feel when dancing with an attractive young man. Looking into Niall’s blue eyes, she felt nothing. There was intelligence and even kindness there, sure enough. But not for her. In fact, he was hardly even looking at her, but past her at something—or someone—over her shoulder.

So, Nia took the lead in their waltz and eloquently spun them, so their positions were reversed. She then looked over Niall’s shoulder, hoping to see whatever or whoever it was he was looking at. She wasn’t sure what she had expected—maybe Mòrag, or maybe one of the young women she’d sniped this dance from. But the only face she recognized in the watching crowd was the emperor’s young attendant, Colin, glaring her down with those vivid green eyes. She then caught a glimpse of him leaning over to another younger man—this one with ginger hair and a vacant smile—before her waltz with the emperor took them out of sight.

Before she knew it, the song ended, and with it her and Niall’s waltz. The pair bowed.

“That was… nice?” Nia said awkwardly.

“Indeed,” Niall replied politely, almost robotically.

Soon the band began playing another song—this one a tad faster and perhaps more contemporary than the last. Nia thought of taking this dance with Niall as well, perhaps actually striking up a casual conversation with him this time.

But then she heard a nasally voice say, “I’ll take this next dance, m’lady.”

Before she knew what was happening, Nia was in some other man’s arms. It was the vacant red-haired man that she’d seen Colin speaking with earlier. His face was a battleground of freckles and acne, and his lips seemed almost too big for his face. As he tried—with middling results—to take the lead through this faster tempo waltz, the young man gave her a grin that she didn’t care for.

“There’s no need to be shy, you know,” he said, oozing unearned confidence. His breath reeked of wine and something egg-based from the hors d’oeuvre table.

“Excuse me?”

“If you really wanted a dance so bad, you could have asked me yourself instead of getting your friend to do it for you.”

“My friend?” Nia again looked over the shoulder of her partner at the crowd watching from the sidelines. Colin was still watching her with those green eyes, but now he was wearing the tiniest of smirks. Nia barely had time to shoot him a glare of her own before her new dance partner raised her arm and spun her.

Nia gritted her teeth, not wanting to make a scene but all too eager for this dance to be over. The red-haired man then pulled her in closer, and she became acutely aware of the grip of his hand on her waist.

“Really, there’s no need to be shy. I don’t bite,” her dance partner said. “That is, unless….”

“Finish that sentence and you’ll be on the floor so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

Unfortunately, her threat seemed to have the opposite of its intended effect, as the lad’s vacant grin grew wider. Nia then let out a soft gasp as she felt the hand on her waist wander further south. With bared fangs and a hiss, Nia grabbed his wandering hand and moved it back up to an appropriate place. For his part, her dance partner seemed to love this, and his hand began exploring again.

Suddenly, she heard Pyra’s voice say sweetly, “Hey, mind if I cut in?”

The man with the wandering hand had only enough time to mutter, “Wha…?” before he was inelegantly shoved aside, stumbling over himself onto his arse. This got a few good laughs out of the onlookers. His face now as red as his hair, the young man stood and beat a hasty retreat.

Nia now found herself looking into Pyra’s gorgeous red eyes as the redhead took the lead dancing.

“Cheers for that,” Nia said.

Pyra’s warm smile instantly made Nia forget all about her unpleasant previous partner. “It was my pleasure.”

As the movements of their dance brought them closer, Nia could feel the other girl’s warmth fill her. It wasn’t just that she was a fire element Blade, this warmth was simultaneously familiar and new, and filled her with butterflies. It helped that Pyra was, unsurprisingly, a terrific dancer. The way she led Nia—the hand on her waist much more tender and welcome—made her heart race.

“Still feeling flustered over what just happened?” Pyra asked with a curious frown.

“No, why?”

“Well, you’re blushing.”

“Oh. Am I?” Nia laughed awkwardly. “That’s weird.”

“Not really,” Pyra said with a surprisingly cheeky grin. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah yeah, shaddup.” Eager to change the topic, Nia said, “Can’t help but notice you’re in better spirits than the last time we spoke.” She thought about their conversation on the eve of the battle for Goshen. “I take it you found whatever you were looking for?”

Pyra nodded. “I know what I want now.”

“That’s good.” Then because she was curious, Nia asked, “Any chance you’ll tell me?”

“I’ve spent the past two months working with the kids at Azure Schoolhouse. Y’know, the one we helped build in Fonsett?”

“I remember.”

“I’m hardly qualified to be a teacher, but I helped out in other ways. Helping run the PE program, cooking lunches, working one on one with kids who were struggling.” Pyra’s warm smile grew bigger the more she reminisced. “No matter how lost I felt, seeing those children’s smiles made me feel like I was doing something that mattered, even if it was small. I was in a pretty dark place after what happened to Lenore, but each of those kids were a glimmer of light in that darkness. That confirmed it for me: I’d really like one of my own some day.”

“What, a glimmer?”

Pyra lidded her eyes. “A child.”

“Ooooh.” Nia couldn’t help but laugh a little at her brain fart. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be a great mum. Your future ‘glimmer’ will be a lucky kid.”

Pyra laughed, the warm sound filling Nia up. Then all too soon, the song ended and Pyra stepped back, taking a good bit of that warmth with her. Now recalling the reason Pyra had stepped in to dance with her in the first place, Nia scanned her surroundings. The freckled boor who had tried to dance with her earlier was gone, but he wasn’t the one she was looking for. The green-eyed boy Colin was the one who had set that particular beast on her, of that Nia had no doubt. The question was why. What did he have against her? Regardless of the reason, Colin had disappeared into the crowd. Most unsettling.

As the next song started, Rex stepped up to Pyra and extended an arm.

“You want the next dance?” he asked her. “My feet need a break from being crushed.”

“Not my fault if you can’t keep up!” Mythra called out as she left the dance floor in the direction of the hors d’oeuvres

Pyra laughed again, bringing back some of the warmth Nia just lost and the two began to move to the rhythm of the next song. Nia moved to the sidelines and watched for a bit, not sure which of them she was more jealous of.

As the evening continued, more and more young men (and even some older ones) approached Nia asking to dance. She turned them all away, using the excuse that she was tired and needed a break from dancing. This plan backfired when the latest interested party suggested they instead find a secluded spot to “get to know each other.” It was around that time Nia spotted the perfect escape: an old friend standing alone on the upper level above the terrace’s east side. Fresh glass of champagne in hand (she’d had a few already), Nia walked up the steps and approached the railing beside him.

“Heya Shellhead.”

Startled, Zeke turned his head to look at Nia with the eye not covered by a patch. “Oh, hey Furry Ears. Enjoying the party?”

“When I’m not busy ducking handsy bell ends.” Nia took a dainty sip of her drink. “What are you doing up here all alone?”

Zeke took a considerably less dainty sip of the wine in his hand. More of a gulp, really. “Gathering courage,” he answered.

“For what? Dancing? You can’t be any worse than Mythra.”

“No, that’s not it.” When Zeke saw Nia’s inquisitive look, he explained, “My father accepted the young emperor’s invitation on my behalf with the express order for me to foster a union between the Royal House of Tantal and the Ardainian Imperial Family.”

“What do you…?” Remembering the proposition recently made to her, Nia suddenly understood. “Ooooohhhh….”

“Hey, maybe you can help me run lines.” Then with a sardonic smile, Zeke turned to her and cleared his throat. “Hey, Mòrag. That’s quite a lovely dress. You should wear girls’ clothes all the time!”

Nia snorted. “Yeah, that’ll work… if your goal is a free trip to the castle infirmary.”

“Hmm…” Zeke turned away, deep in contemplation.

“You’re not seriously going through with it? You and Mòrag???”

Zeke scoffed, “Trust me, any man hoping to get with Mòrag is barking up the wrong tree. No, my plan is to ask her to dance. One dance in plain view of Father and the rest of the sycophants here. That way, he can’t say I didn’t make the effort. The tricky part is….”

“Asking her without getting murdered?”

Zeke pointed an affirmative finger her way and leaned on the railing, looking out at the festivities below. Following his cycloptic gaze, Nia saw who he was looking at. In the middle of the dance floor below was Pandoria, moving with absolutely no sense of rhythm or grace but clearly having a blast. Seeing the way he looked at her, it was clear to Nia that it wasn’t from the wine in his hand that he was gathering his courage.

“I envy you, Shellhead,” Nia said.

“What, you want to dance with Mòrag? She might actually go for it.”

“No, not that! I envy your sense of clarity.” Nia again followed Zeke’s gaze to Pandoria below. “You know exactly what you want.”

“I never liked wasting time on doubts.”

“Surely, you still have them though, yeah?” Nia asked. “I mean, you must know that you’ll need to marry one of these days, and in all likelihood, it won’t be to Pandoria.”

Zeke looked at her. “Why not?”

“Uh, we’re royalty? We’re expected to marry within our class?”

“Hmm… nah.”

“Nah?”

Zeke’s expression then turned serious. “Nia, have you ever thought that maybe if more of us royal types just married who we want instead of bending to politics, such expectations wouldn’t exist in the first place?”

“Yeah, but the reality is….”

“If our journey to Elysium last year has taught me anything, it’s that reality is what we make it. I know what I want, and I’ll be damned if I let outdated ideas keep me from taking it.”

Nia smiled. Maybe it was the booze, but she found herself feeling inexplicably inspired. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you’re right.”

“I’m right fairly often, yet people still act surprised.”

Scanning the crowd below, Nia spotted Rex standing with Pyra and Mythra just to the side of the dancing area. Taking a big swig of her drink, Nia started heading back down the stairs. She had to hold the railing to keep steady—the room was starting to spin. “Well, come along then, Shellhead. Looks like both of us have a dance to ask for.”

Nia finished off her glass of champagne as she made her way through the crowd towards Rex.

“Mind if I cash in on that dance you were saving?” she asked, extending a hand.

Rex glanced over at Pyra and Mythra. The pair were in the midst of a conversation with Brighid. Pyra gave him an encouraging smile and a nod, and that was enough for him to take Nia’s hand. They arrived on the dance floor just as the current song was ending. They weren’t alone. Among the other well-dressed couples were Zeke and Mòrag, the latter of whom appeared surprisingly tolerant of being in the former’s arms. Nia exchanged a silent nod with Zeke as she and Rex got into position.

Nia had expected to be leading their dance—from what she observed, Rex wasn’t terribly experienced—but to her surprise, he took over about halfway through the energetic number, spinning her and expertly dipping her, eliciting a startled gasp and a giggle. It wasn’t merely their flirtation with gravity that had her heart racing and stomach doing flops. Then to her disappointment the song slowed to a stop.

“You never told me you could dance,” Nia said.

“Auntie Corinne taught me when I was a kid,” Rex said with a boastful grin. “Pretty good, right? Level with me, am I the best dance partner you’ve had tonight or what?”

Nia scoffed, “Dunno, I was leading for most of it.”

“But I nailed the dip, though.”

“You didn’t drop me on my arse, so yeah. Nailed it!”

Rex got a good laugh at that, and Nia couldn’t help but laugh alongside him. Then the next song began.

“One more?” Rex asked. It seemed she wasn’t the only one still craving more.

Nia nodded eagerly and once again took his hand. This time the music was slow and passionate. They couldn’t do much more than rock back and forth. Nia didn’t mind. Her heart was still racing regardless. His hand on her waist, his kind golden eyes on hers… the feeling was intoxicating. In that moment all her worries melted away.

“Hey Nia…” Rex started, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.

“Not right now.”

But Rex persisted. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask….”

“Please, just…” Nia sighed. “Let’s just enjoy this moment while we have it.”

She then pulled him in closer, he wrapped an arm around her, and suddenly their dance became an embrace. She closed her eyes as her head rested on his shoulder. Somehow, she felt even more warmth than she had dancing with Pyra. She felt safe. Felt like she was home.

Then something came over her—perhaps the champagne, perhaps the thoughts filling her head all evening. She turned it and gave Rex a peck on the cheek, then pulled back a bit to look at his face and snickered at how red he was turning. Then, once again losing herself in his beautiful golden eyes, the last of her inhibitions slipped away. She brought her face closer to his, and he matched her in kind. She closed her eyes, their lips growing closer and closer….

It was at that moment she suddenly realized that the song had ended. Then she opened her eyes and saw the rest of the ball over Rex’s shoulder, and her heart sank when she saw that people were staring. Some were whispering to each other. Perhaps she’d felt a little too safe. Among the onlookers was Queen Raqura, who wore a disapproving frown. And then there was Niall, whose face was carefully neutral as his eyes met hers. Nia pulled back from Rex.

“So, um… what were you saying before, Rex?” she asked, clearing her throat as she tried to regain her composure.

Rex glanced around. “Maybe we should go somewhere a bit more private first?”

The pair decided it would be best to stagger their exit from the ball. Everyone who had seen how… intimate their last dance had been would certainly get the wrong idea if they both disappeared together right after. Nia did not need that kind of publicity right now. So, after explaining the situation to Pyra and Mythra, Rex departed first. Then, after mingling for about ten minutes, Nia excused herself to hit the loo.

Rex had given her directions to a quiet garden on the castle’s ground floor that he’d found while exploring just after he’d arrived. In stark contrast to the loud music and revelry of the ball, the garden was peaceful, the only sounds were the chirping of insects and the water from the central fountain. There were a few benches to sit on, and plenty of plant life, though the only flowers currently blooming were yellow acacias. Dromarch had once told her that they symbolized something related to love, though Nia couldn’t remember what exactly.

The city of Alba Brumsted seemed much closer now, just past the iron fence and down the hill. It was there that Nia saw Rex, looking out at the distant city rather than anything in the garden.

“Hey, Rex,” Nia greeted him as she approached.

“Hey. Sorry, I guess I caused you a bit of trouble at the end of our dance, didn’t I?” Rex said as he turned to meet her.

“No, I was the one who got carried away.”

“But it takes two to tango, doesn’t it?” He then added with the hint of a smile. “Though I guess ours was more of a slow dance, eh?”

“Hysterical.”

“Still, I’m sorry. How bad will the damage be?”

Nia shrugged. “It’ll blow over. I think part of me expected something like that to happen tonight.” She then looked out over the nearby city. “Y’know, I seriously considered just skipping the ball and hitting the town.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I even packed my old jumpsuit I used to disguise myself during our travels.”

“What changed your mind?”

“The jumpsuit, actually. Ended up tearing it when I put it on.”

Rex blinked. “Uh… have I mentioned how thin you’re looking lately?”

“Shut it, you. It ripped lengthwise, not sideways.”

“Oh. Then I guess that means you’ve outgrown it.”

Nia didn’t like it, but it was an unavoidable fact. “The thing is… it belonged to my sister. That old jumpsuit is the last thing of hers I have left.”

“I see. Mio, wasn’t it?”

Nia nodded.

“I would’ve liked to have known her.” Rex then surprised her by asking, “What will you do with it now? Try to repair it?”

With a shrug, Nia said, “I don’t see the point, really. I can’t exactly wear it again. Like you said, I’ve outgrown it.”

“Well, you can’t get rid of it.”

“It’s either that or put it away where it’ll never be used again. Doing that is like….” Like holding a candle until there’s nought but hot wax.

Nia sighed, acutely aware that she was no longer talking about clothing. “Sometimes when you love something, it’s better to just… let it go before you get burned.”

The two were silent for a while, until Rex spoke up. “Do you still want to know what I was going to ask you earlier, while we were dancing?”

Nia answered with a silent nod, and Rex proceeded. “I was curious about something,” he said. “How do you feel about me being with both Pyra and Mythra? I don’t think we’ve ever really discussed it.”

“Never really gave it much thought, if I’m honest. You and them are right for each other.”

“You never thought it was weird? That I’m essentially dating two women?

“I never said it isn’t unconventional. But they’re two sides of the same coin. It wouldn’t seem right to love one without the other.”

“Sure, but it’s a bit more complex than that.” Rex paced a bit, clearly searching for the right words. “They may be two sides of a coin, but each of them is their own individual, even when they shared a body. Being with both of them, rather than just one or the other… it was a choice. One that the three of us made together.”

“Couldn’t have been easy.”

“Nothing worth doing ever is.”

Nia wondered whether Rex would still be the envy of every man who saw him with Pyra and Mythra if they knew just how much work such a relationship took. Even the brief glimpse she’d gotten into their struggles two months ago exhausted her by proxy.

Rex continued, “We discussed it at length. Took us days overall. What it ultimately came down to was the three of us agreeing to completely reevaluate all our preconceived notions.”

“Of what?”

Rex looked at her. “Of the shape love can take.” Then, as Nia started to understand what he meant, Rex asked her, “So here’s my question: are you willing to do the same?”

“Wait, what are you asking?” Nia asked, even if a part of her knew.

“Nia, when I spoke to Pyra and Mythra the other month, I told them everything; including what I said to you when fighting the Fog Rift, remember?”

“Of course,” Nia said, realising too late that she’d directly contradicted the lie she’d told him back then.

“You hold a very special place in their hearts too. So, all three of us want to get together for dinner with you some time.” Rex then took her hand in his, looking right in her eyes as he said, “We want to talk things over with you. See whether there’s… well, another shape love can take.”

Nia’s heart was beating fast enough to be back on the dance floor. No, even faster. This was not a future she had ever conceived was possible. Could this really be happening?

Then in her mind’s eye, Rex’s kind golden eyes became dispassionately blue. She pulled back, wrenching her hands out of his. “Emperor Niall asked me to marry him, you know.”

Rex cocked his head and raised his brow. “Really? Didn’t know he felt that way about you.”

“He doesn’t.” It was clear now, the reason why Niall’s proposal had bothered Nia so.

Despite his wisdom, intelligence and handsome features, his kind blue eyes were nothing like Rex’s. The warmth within them would never be for her. Because despite the noble, honest intentions behind his proposal, there was a reason he chose to make it over a meeting table in his office. It was a business transaction and nothing more.

“If that’s the case, then why…?” Rex asked.

“Because it helps both of us,” Nia answered, her voice low and quiet. “Because we’re load bearing.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“And you don’t have to,” Nia said, once again taking his hand. “Let’s have that dinner and that talk. I’ll clear an evening in my schedule.”

But suddenly Rex didn’t look too sure. “Are you and Niall not going to…?”

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do about that, honestly.” Then, almost unconsciously, Nia reached out a hand and gently caressed the side of his face. “Either way, it couldn’t hurt to have a conversation, could it?”

“No. I think this talk has been a long time coming.”

While Rex had gone to rejoin the ball and Pyra and Mythra, Nia headed back towards the guest wing. The festivities would continue for another couple of hours at least, but now she no longer felt that it was important. All she wanted to do now was change out of her chilly dress and climb into a warm bed. She was tired, not just of the night’s events but all of it. The putting on of appearances, the sacrifice of her own wants and desires. For not the first time, she wondered whether being queen was the right path for her.

Her head was still spinning from her talk with Rex. Would a relationship with him as well as Pyra and Mythra really be possible? As messy as it was at times, it seemed like it was working for them. Why couldn’t it work for her too?

The answer lay in the faces of all the other ball attendees as they watched her and Rex’s near kiss. She could read the headlines of tomorrow’s gossip articles on their faces. If she was to actually pursue such a relationship, the scandal would hound her for the remainder of her political career. All of the work she and Raqura had done to fix her public image would be irreparably undone. It seemed that her happiness and her apparent destiny as queen would be forever at odds.

Her train of thought was halted in its tracks when she crossed the starlit courtyard towards her guest residence building, and saw a man seated on the steps. Long auburn hair curtained green eyes illuminated by the embers of a cigarette smoked nearly to the butt. He was leaning forward, studying the ground with a contemplative frown. He had an almost defeated look to him before he raised his head at the sound of her approaching footfalls and quickly stood. First disposing of his butt in a cylindrical metal container that he placed in his jacket pocket, he began to approach her.

Nia had no patience left for whatever game he had planned. “Look pal, if you’ve got something to say then say it and be done.”

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Colin bowed his head low and said, “Your Grace, I would like to formally apologize for my decorum this evening.”

Nia had a biting retort waiting in the wings, but now all she could do was stare at him, brow furrowed, and head tilted. “Uh… yeah, ‘s alright. Apology accepted, I guess.”

Colin studied her with those vivid green eyes. “Pray forgive my presumptuousness, Your Grace, but… you do not come from royalty, do you?”

“Not exactly,” Nia didn’t even noticed she hadn’t put on her Royal Self. “Is that why you’ve had it out for me?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

For a moment, it seemed that Colin wouldn’t give her an answer. Evidently though, he felt he owed her one. “I was under the impression that you were merely the latest of a host of vapid young women seeking to advance their standing with a marriage to His Majesty.”

“In case you weren’t aware, he was the one who proposed to me.”

“I am aware,” he said, glancing away. “However, I suppose I wasn’t thinking entirely rationally.”

Nia studied him. Something about his behaviour simply didn’t add up.

“Regardless,” he continued, “it’s clear to me now that your heart belongs to another.”

“Is it really so obvious?” Nia asked.

To Nia’s surprise, Colin gave her a somewhat bashful grin. “Only to someone who knows what to look for.”

He then started to make his way past her back to the castle proper, but Nia stopped him, realising what exactly wasn’t adding up to her. “Why exactly is a mere attendant so concerned with who the emperor marries?” she asked. “Just who are you to him?”

Colin gave her a sad look. “You seem like an intelligent woman, Your Grace. I’m certain you’ll figure it out.”

Then suddenly Nia did. She couldn’t believe she didn’t see it sooner. With one more bow, Colin took his leave, moving past her. She turned to watch him go and was surprised to see Mòrag watching a short distance away, still wearing her white dress. She nodded at Colin as he passed, and once they were alone in the courtyard, she approached Nia.

“I must say that went better than expected,” Mòrag said.

“Did you put him up to that apology?”

“Not I, no. I was merely ensuring that the conversation remained… cordial.”

Nia rolled her eyes. “I appreciate the concern, but you know I can take care of myself.”

“Actually, I was more worried for Colin’s safety than yours.”

Nia scoffed, “Do you still see me as a violent goon?”

Mòrag’s answer was to shrug with the hint of a humorous grin, and Nia gave a good-natured roll of her eyes. “Touchè.”

“So, just between us, have you given any thought to His Majesty’s proposal?” Mòrag asked in a low, conspiratorial voice. “Personally, I quite enjoy the idea of having a sister-in-law I can actually get on with.”

Nia smiled a bit at that. It was short-lived. “Honestly, it’s hard to see much point in it when both of us would much rather be with someone else.” She glanced past Mòrag towards where Colin had disappeared into the main structure of the castle.

“I understand your feelings, more than you know. But the fact is, His Majesty’s position is especially delicate where such matters are concerned.”

Mòrag then began pacing, her hands clasped behind her back as Nia had seen her do so many times before. Though, her movements were more rigid now. Mòrag was clearly less comfortable in the dress and heels as she would have been in a uniform and boots.

“As much as I love my country—and I do—it is an inescapable fact that Mor Ardain lags well behind the rest of the world when it comes to certain… shall we say, socio-political matters. People with His Majesty’s preferences in romantic partners are not looked upon favourably in Ardainian society.”

Nia gave a grim nod. “I suppose it would be quite the scandal if his relationship were to get out then.”

“It would be worse, actually,” Mòrag said, her expression grim. “If the senate has reason to believe that the emperor is unable or unwilling to produce progeny of his own, they can vote to remove him from office ‘for the good of the empire’. There are already rumours that he has no interest in getting married—not to a woman, in any case. The only reason a vote hasn’t been called yet is because he is still not technically of age to wed.”

More and more, Nia was beginning to understand. “I guess that explains why he wants to announce a wedding by his next birthday.”

“Indeed.”

The pressure the young emperor must have been under made her own problems seem very small indeed. Her stomach churned. “But that’s so stupid!”

“It is, regrettably, the reality we live with.”

But Nia wasn’t hearing it. “But what’s the point, then?! What’s the point of wearing a bloody crown if you have to hide who you are?! Who you love?!”

“The point is duty.” Mòrag stopped pacing, her eyes resolute as she looked at Nia. “Niall doesn’t like it any more than you, but he understands what must be done for the sake of maintaining stability in our country.”

Having apparently said her piece, Mòrag turned to head back to the castle but stopped partway. “The choice to accept or decline His Majesty’s proposal is still yours to make.” Mòrag then gave her an uncharacteristically tender smile. “Whatever you choose, know that you can still count on my friendship as you always have. All I ask is whatever choice you make be for the right reasons.”

Nia didn’t get much sleep that night, a pattern that would grow more and more common as the years would go on. All night, her mind spun as she weighed the pros and cons of the choice that now lay before her.

She wasn’t sure how her future conversation with Rex, Pyra and Mythra regarding their relationship would go. Assuming, though, that all her hopes would come true and she could become a part of that relationship, however it would end up looking, could she really do it? Putting aside for a moment her predisposition for monogamy—reevaluating her preconceived notions, as Rex had put it—such a relationship would surely be political suicide.

She thought of the way the other lords and ladies in attendance had stared and whispered at the near kiss she had almost shared with Rex. No way would any of the elite be open-minded enough to accept such a relationship as what Rex was proposing. Every kiss they’d share in public would be a kiss goodbye to all the hard work she had done for her public image. No, the only way would be to keep it a secret. And what’s the point in living if I have to hide?

The point is duty.

Of course, that was exactly what Emperor Niall was doing, wasn’t he? Just how long had he and Colin been keeping their relationship secret? And if he found himself a wife—whether it was her or someone else—would they continue with it? Could they?

Nia caught the errant thought like a fly out of the air. Whether it was her or someone else. Was she really considering Niall’s proposal? Certainly, if Rex wasn’t an option, Niall was the best she could likely hope for. None of the other young lords she’d encountered had been even remotely palatable. And certainly, their union would solve many problems for both of them. But it would be no more than a transaction. Come to think of it, she wasn’t even sure how they would produce heirs now that she knew of his preferences. It seemed that the short-term goal to simply find a wife before he could be impeached was his main priority for now. Any considerations beyond that would be addressed down the line.

Eventually, as the pre-dawn hours of the morning came, Nia decided it would do no good to simply lie in bed, stewing in her thoughts. So, she rose and donned her usual attire before making her way into the castle and up toward the emperor’s chambers. The heavily armoured guards at the doors stood straighter at her approach, and when Nia declared her intentions to speak with the emperor, one of them knocked on the door and announced her.

“Send her in,” Niall’s voice said from beyond the doors.

She didn’t see Niall right away when she entered. It was only as she walked further into the chamber proper that she looked off to the right and saw two figures standing on the balcony through the open archway, watching the predawn light together. Niall looked back at her, something sad creeping into the smile on his face before he turned and whispered something to Colin. Nia’s advanced vulpine ears could have heard it if she wanted to, but she made a conscious effort to tune it out. The least she could do was give them their privacy. Then with a tender kiss—clearly, they were not concerned with hiding their relationship from her any longer—Colin headed for the chamber door and Niall approached Nia.

“I guess you and I are a lot more alike than I thought,” Nia started.

Niall agreed. “In truth, I’m envious of you.” He glanced at the core on her chest. “You have the courage to wear your secret proudly.”

It occurred to Nia at that moment that Niall had known of her Flesh Eater origins longer than Rex. She had always chalked it up to gratitude for saving his life that he’d never spoken a word of it. Now, knowing what she knew, perhaps that wasn’t all there was to it.

Still, it was far from the only secret Nia harboured. “Personally, I think hiding your true self is the far greater burden.”

“You know, more than once these past months Colin and I discussed leaving it all behind.” Niall let out a weary sigh, more befitting a tired old man than the boy he was. “We’d have gone to Gormott, actually. There’s a lake there that I’m rather fond of. We were going to build a cabin on its shore to live anonymously as commonfolk.”

“What kept you from going?” Nia asked, even though she knew the answer.

“Duty,” he said with another sigh. “In truth, it was all nothing more than a passing fancy. I know what would become of Mor Ardain if I were to abandon it now. I couldn’t very well destroy everything I’ve worked for and leave my sister holding the pieces. I would be betraying myself as well as my people.”

He was right, Nia knew, but his answer made her heart drop. “Still, is it really worth hiding your true self your whole life?”

“That is where you’re mistaken. Who I love isn’t my true self—it’s only a fraction of it. I am, first and foremost, a ruler—a servant of the people of my empire. That is my true self.” He then studied her with his intelligent blue eyes. “What about you?”

Nia knew what he was really asking, and took some time to respond, “I don’t have an answer right now….”

“That’s alright. As I told you earlier, take your time. I shall continue to await your answer with patience.”

With a bow, Nia turned to take her leave. With the sun up, Dromarch and Queen Raqura would likely wonder where she was. She had been told their ship would be departing early. She turned back to ask one more question of Niall before she left.

“I’m curious, will you and Colin continue seeing each other even when you marry?”

Niall hesitated before answering, “It is something we’re still discussing.” He then asked, "What do you think we should do?”

He almost seemed to be asking for her permission, Nia thought. “I think that our crowns work very hard to consume us, and that it’s worth holding on to as much of ourselves that we can… no matter how small a fraction.”

As Nia’s busy day wound to an end, her thoughts again returned to the Farleigh Ball three years ago. She had made her choice then, after her conversation with Niall the morning after, even if it had taken her some time to realize it. Whether it had been the right choice, she still didn’t know even these three years later.

Right or wrong, there was still work to be done even with the day’s end. She returned to her chambers—formerly Queen Raqura’s chambers—to change out of her formal duds into something more familiar. She still had her dinner with Lady Priscilla, but first she had to speak with her husband.

Going to the desk against the chamber’s far wall—smaller than the one in her proper office—Nia set up her crystal communicator and started her transmission. Soon enough, her husband’s face appeared on the device’s mirror-like surface.

“Nia,” Emperor Niall greeted amicably enough. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Already Nia could feel the morning’s headache coming back. “You’re skipping my coronation?!”

“Ah. Straight to the heart of it as always….”

“Why?!”

Niall actually had the audacity to furrow his brow in annoyance. “You changed the date. My schedule….”

“The queen’s death necessitated it.” She then added venomously, “I’m sorry I didn’t factor that into your busy schedule.”

That wiped the annoyed look off Niall’s face in a hurry. “I’m sorry. How are you…?”

“Save it. Do you realize how bad it will look if my own bloody husband doesn’t show up to my coronation?” Nia really was trying not to shout.

“I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped. You know my schedule is locked months in advance.”

“And what exactly is in your schedule that’s more important than this?”

Niall hesitated ever so slightly before answering, “We… I was going to be in Gormott….”

With a frustrated groan, Nia understood exactly what he had scheduled. “Bring Colin if you must, but I need you here the day after tomorrow. Understood?”

“Nia….”

“Did we not decide years ago that we would be a team? That regardless of our true feelings we would keep up appearances for the sake of our respective nations?”

“Aye, we did.” Then with a resigned sigh, Niall said, “You’re right. I’m sorry, Nia. I’ll be there.”

Nia did what she could to reign in her simmering frustration. She couldn’t fully blame him—that was the frustrating part. From the beginning, this relationship had been hard for both of them. “Thank you, Niall.”

“See you in two days, then.”

With that, they disconnected, and Nia took a long breath. One unpleasant conversation down, one more to go. She stood and made her way to her closet to change out of the uncomfortable formal attire of her station. Every once in a while she would go to her dinners with Lady Priscilla dressed a tad more casually. It was a minor power play that Nia knew irritated her.

So, she browsed her wardrobe for something comfortable. Her eyes quickly fell on one piece of clothing in particular. Soft, woolen yellow fabric beckoned to her. A custom sweater-dress given to her as a wedding gift. Between all of the other useless baubles and trinkets (and in Lady Priscilla’s case, thinly veiled insults), the short yellow sweater dress was probably the most carefully thought-out gift she’d been given. It made sense, given who gifted it.

Rex had commissioned it from a Gormotti tailor through his connections in the Garfont Mercenaries. The yellow sweater-dress was woven from a certain torn and discarded yellow jumpsuit that she had long since donated—through the Garfont Mercenaries as it turned out. The very same jumpsuit she’d worn on her travels all those years ago had been presented to her in its new form by Rex himself, along with heartfelt words that she kept close to this day.

“If something you love doesn’t fit, you don’t always need to let it go,” he had said. “You just need to find the right shape for it to take.”

No matter how cold and lonely her life became, wearing it filled her with warmth. Her mind made up, she removed her stiff formal dress and put on the yellow sweater dress and a decent set of tights. Wearing it felt almost like a soft embrace, and it gave her the strength she needed to keep going.

Lady Priscilla awaited, and Nia didn’t know it yet, but she would need all the strength she could muster for what the old woman had planned.