Changeling

(104): Your Princess is in this Sewer

Makihel had picked a utility access ladder opening some distance away from an aqueduct as the safest way to her safe room. It had been torn open and the lock was now lying in two pieces against the far wall so Nestra had the confirmation Grook had been there. She dropped down the shaft, then sprinted along a dark canal made of tiles and even darker gray bricks. The water mana was thick here, thick enough that she felt a spray of blood against one of the far walls. No bodies so far. A blue light came to life from behind so she could see better as Spire landed behind her. They didn’t slow down.

“Shortcut,” he said, turning towards a side passage.

It wasn’t the way but he was the expert so Nestra followed. They came across the first ‘body’ some distance away though this one was merely knocked out. Nestra noticed details as she ran by: cobbled light gear over street clothes, a hunting knife used by raiders rather than assassins. Fire affinity C-class gleam if she wasn’t mistaken. He could have just walked in the inn and barely gotten an acknowledgment.

Not an assassin, more of a mercenary so at least it wasn’t Naila’s shadow cabal. There was still a chance the noblewoman didn’t know about the plot against her. Nestra felt the distant explosion of a spell in her bones. They had to hurry.

Spire overtook her in the last bend, more used to moving in a B-class body despite Nestra’s recent training. She ran on the wall after him, learning from his example. Ha made it look effortless. The skirmish was taking place in a relatively small secondary reservoir barely the size of a basketball court. Rare purifying enchantments running the lengths of the walls bathed the battlefield in a dull blue color. It was concentrated chaos when she arrived. Spire had already used some sort of shadow teleport to block a throwing axe going for his colleague.

On the right, Makihel and a warden held a defensive position formed by walls of blue water held by the fallen princess while the warden jumped in and out, meeting a pair of B-class in short yet violent clashes. A third one was shooting arrows from corners, each one so accelerated they pierced the shields and had to be dodged. Grook was thankfully behind the shield and completely covered in a dense layer of hard rock that looked like obsidian and made her dwarf everyone else present. A group of C-class mercenaries hung around looking for openings after they were apparently warned off once if the headless body floating in the main pool was any indication. Spire and Nestra’s arrival would tip the odds in their favor. The older warden immediately went on the offensive, backed by his second while Makihel supported them with small yet intense spells that sliced through the armor of the careless C-class. Grook covered the mage though it didn’t feel necessary.

Nestra knew exactly what she should do. Charging herself with electricity as she flanked the enemies —

“No!” Spire screamed.

Nestra paused, unsure. An arrow almost caught her in the moment of confusion.

“You’ll damage the enchantments. Go after the archer.”

“Grook —”

“I got her,” he said, dark eyes meeting hers. “You have my word.”

Good enough. Nestra abandoned her concerns to rush across the reservoir, stepping on hardening water to close the distance with the archer’s latest location. Water rose from the basin to spray the corner where she was hiding. Nestra felt it close around the shape of a heavenly body. She struck the next arrow midair.

“Gotcha,” Nestra said, looking straight at the camouflaged sniper.

That somehow made her panic. The archer fled the room, Nestra close behind. She could feel the path of her prey from flickers of mana, or light wavering in front of a rare crystal. The mercenary’s flight was erratic. She was better at moving than Nestra but there was a lot of wasted movement. What was going on? Nestra was still struggling to catch up, so she created a water shield around herself and bided her time. The mercenary turned a bend. Nestra felt mana spike.

Ambush.

Nestra stopped but the water, moving fast and being quite heavy, continued. The ball of water smashed against a wall just as three shadow arrows carved deep holes where Nestra would have been. Ok, now that was B-class destructiveness. Droplets sprayed the entire section.

That was what Nestra had been hoping for. Her mind formed the symbols for one of the only lightning spells she’d mastered thus far. As always moving the high flow mana was akin to riding a wave. It couldn’t be controlled, only directed.

“Skyrend.”

With a single loud boom, a yellow tree flashed through the opening carried by the water Nestra’s had just spread everywhere. Nestra heard a scream of pain from the side. She closed the distance, staying low to avoid an arrow that never came. She thrusted and hit a hastily brandished knife coming from a cloud of darkness. With a flex of her mind, Nestra commanded the abundant water to rise and cover her quarry. Her follow up attacks pushed the woman into a side chamber.

That one only had a single exit. After the first three quick exchanges, Nestra came to the surprising realization that her opponent didn’t know how to fight in close quarters. She was scrappy with great instincts but... really poorly trained. Too messy. Shit technique. Nestra peeled her guard open in seconds, carving wounds that would have disabled anyone under B-class. Nestra wanted to take her alive though, so she went for the leg, then left arm, then right shoulder. Her victim must have sensed it because their defense grew increasingly desperate. Shadow blades hit and failed to pierce through her water shield. That gave her the time to cast another spell. Chains of water like tentacles surged from the ground, gripping the mercenary’s legs and revealing a black-haired, gaunt face ravaged by despair. It was over.

Nestra’s instincts saved her at this moment. The mercenary’s body language changed into one of abject hope when she spotted something near the entrance of the chamber. Nestra jumped to the side before her brain could register the implication. A swoosh of displaced hair and a few fluttering blonde tufts told her she’d just escaped decapitation. Someone rushed past her. She let it happen.

The newcomer hoisted Nestra’s opponent to her feet which was blatantly unfair. So maybe Nestra was a little bit of a hypocrite being mad her duel had been interrupted, but at the same time, fuck this. The new guy had the audacity to look mad under his black half-mask. To add insult to injury, she recognized him from her earlier warehouse raid: that was Gut, the one who had escaped by making himself stop existing in her perception. She had been denied by an overweight elf ninja.

Maybe her friends back home wouldn’t need to learn about that part of her adventures.

“Withdraw,” he softly whispered to his companion.

“But...”

“Please.”

“Be careful...”

The woman did as asked after one last guilty look and while Nestra considered her options. The female mercenary was still combat-capable and an enemy who withdrew was one she didn’t have to worry about on the spot so it was better to let it happen. Her objective wasn’t to kill everyone here. Her priority was the safety of Grook and also, possibly, a little bit, Makihel. As she cooled, Nestra considered the kidnapping again.

Maybe this was solid proof Makihel was in danger? Nah, it would never be accepted by Agathon’s court. Having her bodyguard fend off kidnappers was probably just a Tuesday here in the heavenly capital.

“This is the end for you, mercenary,” Gut growled as his companion disappeared in the darkness.

Nestra resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Hi Gut. So you’re a talker.”

He monologued while his wounded companion completed her careful escape. Nestra trusted Spire to fulfil his promises so time was most likely on her side. This guy felt like the cell leader. Taking him out might dissolve or at least cripple his gang which would help with Nestra’s peace of mind for when they went after Naila. Seriously, one innocent arrest and she’d made allies and enemies right to the gates of the Imperial Palace.

“Every year, provincials come here with their dreams and plans thinking they will be the next Shar the Unbowed, and every year the city chews you and spits you out.”

His accent was definitely local, and while Nestra was sure he’d started the speech to give his friend time to leave, now he was definitely getting enthusiastic. Nestra let him.

There was one thing she’d learned from Shinoda: when someone gets excited, let them talk because after that cathartic moment, they feel mentally exhausted. Of course, Shinoda used that to deescalate while Nestra would just stab the fucker but hey. Growth.

“You are nobodies. Makihel will toss out the moment you exhaust your usefulness, or you would have been if you’d survived. There is no special treatment for those who bumble in their lumbering clogs stepping on far too many toes. This is the capital, the heart of civilization. You are but one discarded pawn among countless others. I want you to know this, that all the years of effort you spend on the sword will be wasted as you choke on your own blood in this wet alley. You are nobody, you have achieved nothing, and your path ends here, all because you played a game of wit with no brain.”

“Are you quite done?” Nestra asked.

“We are done. I will kill you, grab the princess, and ransom her to one of her many political foes, thus making up for the months of planning your little stunt wasted for the boss. When you reach the afterlife, don’t blame me. Blame fate and the decisions that brought you there.”

And he disappeared.

This time, Nestra’s trained perception and warrior instincts didn’t help. The man had simply disappeared and the canal grew instantly darker. Even looking at where he’d stood an instant before became difficult. Was it there? Or there, slightly to the right? Her mind struggled to recognize one damp tile from another. She raised a water shield in reflex and not an instant too soon. A dagger penetrated it easily, searing a ling of pain along the right side of her neck and barely missing anything too important. A trail of blueish smoke was left where it had sliced through her defenses like, well, like water. Smoke? her mind struggled with her impressions.

No, poison. Shit. At least, it should be dissolving now. Nestra ducked and rolled to the side, barely avoiding another knife that pinged against her pauldron. She had no idea where her foe was, none at all. Out of ideas, she flooded the water near the entrance of the chamber with her mana. The mass was pulled with some effort while she danced away from a third dagger. The mass turned into a wave, then into a tide bolstered by a B-class’ immense reserves. The improvised spell flooded the chamber in a rush of speed, scraping the walls from its sheer power. A form briefly appeared in the center. Shadow blades cleanly sliced the unfocused wave aside before she could discharge electricity into it. Fucker was fast.

Nestra rushed in. Her sword surged, finding steel in a brief and terrible exchange, but it was like fighting a mosquito in a dark room. She could hear him, find a direction, but there was nothing when she struck. He was simply... not there. Another blade traced a crimson trail along her cheek. This time, her shield had been thinner and something both warm and cold spread throughout her face.

Not good.

I don’t stand a chance. Not in this form.

Her opponent was simply better at shadows in a place that was perfect for him. Her heavenly form wasn’t ready.

You can still win.

Nestra suppressed that thought on the spot as she reinforced her shield to give herself a moment. Stupid hubris. She was already lightly poisoned. If that guy killed this form, she’d have to disappear for hours — at least! — and then who knew what could happen? No. Escape then? She didn’t think he’d let her. Maybe Spire would come after her, or more likely he would secure Makihel first. Fuck it.

She wanted it.

Her shadow powers were lagging behind. This was the perfect opportunity. Was it hubris? Only if she left a survivor. Right.

When the next knife came, she disappeared in her own cloud of shadow mana as she assumed her true form. Her opponent might have seen the hint of a horn, or the diaphanous wing of an armored symbiote. If he did, he didn’t say it and his mana was still there now merging with her own. Something peculiar happened then, something her mother had mentioned before but Nestra had never experienced because it required two low flow opponents fighting over the same battlefield: a contest of dominion.

When two raiders, or raiders and monsters with the same affinity attempted to control the same environment, their mana combined rather than fight, then it was a contest to take over the total sum. Most of the time the opponents cancelled or at least hampered each other so it was up to the rest of the team to carry the fight. Sometimes, it was even a good strategy to stop earth-aligned monsters from staying out of reach. This was different. Shadow mana was never really meant to stay but here, in the bowels of the earth, it did. The chamber was filled to saturation like the deepest pit of an endless abyss.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

She could barely see the walls.

Nestra forced herself to breathe. Her true self was tempted to use the simplest method: charge herself with void electricity then turn the chamber into an Aszhii powerplant. He would have no time to slice that. She would get her opening... but what a waste that would be. She stepped to the side. Movement echoed. Curious, she removed the Threshold-issue emotional support knife from her pocket dimension.

Note to self: pick it up at the end.

Her throw elicited a yelp, then a hiss that came from everywhere and nowhere at once.

“How? How did you hide your true affinity? No matter, I will show you who the true Shadowmaster is.”

“You’re not even the best shadow user I’ve faced this year,” Nestra retorted.

The cabalite didn’t snarl but she felt his annoyance in the aggressive ping of a throwing knife against the stone of the wall by her side.

“You missed,” she mocked.

This time, he didn’t reply and the two opponents searched for one another in the saturated darkness of the canal. Nestra slowed down.

She’d been honest in saying that he wasn’t the best one she’d met. That honor went squarely to Miss Teneru the serial killer who, although not well-trained and definitely inexperienced in combat, had gotten closer to killing Nestra than most. Teneru hadn’t just used darkness mana, she’d been darkness mana in a way Nestra had never managed to match. Nestra could blame her dedication to the sword for her lack of progress with her various affinities, but the truth was that she’d neglected shadow in favor of electricity. She wasn’t lazy. She just hadn’t had the time. But now things were different. She’d experienced the way the Specter guild used shadows to hide their presence under the nose of an A-class huntress. She had classed up. Now, something about the shadow mana contest called to her.

Aszhii grew best under pressure. Flooding her surroundings with electricity would flush her target out without damaging anything.

There were another few near misses as Gut tried for a lucky shot, none of them landing because Nestra was practically lying down on the floor with the diaphanous wings of her Skin acting as bait. The shadows were thick. They were the night of the knife, the unsuspected ending. They were the cold across the throat and the taste of iron. They belonged solely to Gut for now and his own vision. Nestra didn’t contest it. She luxuriated in it.

This chamber belonged to the heavenly, for now. Nestra thought back on her first time acquiring the alignment back after facing Teneru. The chimeric woman had brought them alive. They’d been the madness lurking at the edge of the human psyche. The predator and the nightmare. Her shadows had been all teeth and jealous glee, a desire to crush those who thought themselves powerful. She had been the perfect spider. In the chamber, the shadows became other. They gained a presence that didn’t belong to this order of existence, an ancient and malevolent weight that begged for the flicker of a fire. The most animalistic part of Nestra’s brain pulsed once, but then went quiet. Human vestiges clung to the safety of the light from her.

Something scraped against Nestra’s skin. She ignored it, just as a gasp spoke of a gap in Gut’s defenses. She didn’t take that opening because sometimes, hubris had it right. She was almost there. Almost.

This still wasn’t her. Her shadows were not sublimed terror wielded against her own species. Aszhii lived in the shadows. There was little true light to be seen in the false radiance of the Abyssar. No, this wasn’t her quite just yet. Her shadows were the void. Infinity. An aimless expanse where one might fly for years without encountering anything, where planets were not even specks of dust in the far distance. There, shadows didn’t exist as the absence of light, but as the normal state of existence before light came and long, long after it was finally extinguished. It was the first view of the Aszhii home plane she’d seen before Sereth came into view and Grandmother Voidgale had come to greet her.

Grandmother Voidgale. That’s our darkness.

Yeah, that was it.

The darkness became nothing. The chamber grew darker than the void outside of the Aszhii system. It was the darkness beyond the stars. Absolute, unending night, where space itself stopped existing. Nestra tried to touch the floor and failed.

She started to float. Somewhere in front of her, something moved but Nestra couldn’t hear a thing. It was relaxing here, still devoid of the energies that would feed her but eerily familiar. Gravity lost its hold on her. She slowly hugged her knees, letting the world change around her as the Skin’s wings wrapped in a protective cocoon. She remembered her human horror at the infinite darkness but now it was just a distant memory. The Aszhii was fully in control, and she had lived among the Growth long enough to grow comfortable. The human part of her would have remembered something important, but Hubris sang a sweet lullaby in her mind until she was woken up by an unexpected burst of power.

Gut had died.

“What?”

Nestra fell on the ground when the effect suddenly dissipated. Concentrated shadow mana leaked out of the chamber as if from some chimney, revealing pitted walls like the cracked surface of a dead planet and the asphyxiated remains of the elf ninja. He had also gouged his eyes out at some point. The power surge was nice, mostly magical power and awareness just like the previous times she’d slain heavenlies. She absent-mindedly tore the shadow core off the fallen’s chest, eating it and relishing the taste: lone nights and hungry ambition. Out of curiosity, she called darkness again. The veil around her shoulder spread like wings and she floated again, then a thought carried her forward at a modest speed (for a B-rank).

“Huh. Guess I unlocked flight.”

Usually, it happened later for gleams without a dedicated affinity. Air gleams obviously could do it as early as C-class for the talented ones while fire gleams were known for getting it days after reaching B-class, although it was exhausting, but she couldn’t recall a known shadow mana method to do so. Maybe her method was Aszhii-specific or maybe shadow gleams just didn’t like to advertise it. Anyway, that was super neat though she wouldn’t use it in combat any time soon. Wasn’t she forgetting something though?

“Oh, right. The battle!”

It was silent in the canals by now. With B-class on either side, Nestra expected things to be already over. She wasn’t too worried since her side had Spire. She made sure to pick up her slightly corroded emotional support knife before returning her attention to Gut’s body.

Two people had entered his fight thinking the other was merely a hindrance in their grand plan, a temporary hurdle they would rid themselves of before continuing on with their lives. Now, one of them was dead. And after that grand speech too.

Hubris wasn’t just for the Aszhii, it seemed. As she stared upon his poor body, Nestra came to an unfortunate realization.

“I shouldn’t have eaten his core.”

***

Nestra returned to the reservoir dragging Gut’s corpse behind her. The battle was long over when she arrived with most of the mercenaries kneeling by the walls at one meter intervals under the watchful attention of the two wardens. To her surprise, most of the foes had survived to be arrested. Only the two B-class wore metal manacles while the threat of violence was enough to keep the others under control. Her arrival was received with gasps, shock, and horror from the prisoners. Their spirits deflated. It appeared Nestra’s hunch had been right and ‘Gut’ was an important part of the power structure.

Spire approached her with an unreadable expression. A curtain of darkness rose around them.

“Rookie, well done. I assume he couldn’t be captured?”

“Too strong for me. And too slippery,” Nestra confirmed.

His eyes went to Gut’s chest with a noticeably cooler expression.

“You didn’t defile his body after death, did you?”

“Errr.”

One of his brows rose alongside his ears.

“I need the core,” Nestra quickly replied.

Shit, she knew it had been a bad idea.

“Cover the body and I’ll make sure the report doesn’t mention it. This time. Don’t do it again, rookie.”

“Got it boss. And sorry.”

Spire’s expression softened.

“You’re not in the boonies anymore, rookie. If you want to play in the capital, you will need to sacrifice some short-term gains for a better long-term reputation. With that said, I saw you go after a girl. Why is he here instead?”

“Don’t know. He jumped me while I was beating her to a pulp.”

Spire scowled. His hand reached for his sigil which was slightly more complex than Nestra’s own. An instant later, the enchanted piece of gear pulsed with energy. The privacy curtain fell.

“Talon chased him off at the start of the skirmish. Looks like he’s alive, at least. Belt?”

“Yes, sir?” the other warden said.

“Belt, go find Talon and see if he needs help, then return here. We’ll move out once everyone has regrouped.”

The warden obeyed. Nestra wondered if the prisoners would use the opportunity to try something. It looked like their spirits were crushed, however, and they didn’t even look up when ‘Belt’ left. Nestra was left looking at Makihel who stood opposite the prisoner like a queen holding court, and Grook now minus the stone armor.

“So,” Nestra hazarded. “Do we know what this was about?”

“A kidnapping attempt on my august person!” Makihel haughtily replied from her corner of the reservoir.

Couldn’t have any fucking privacy with B-classes around, Nestra thought.

“Oh the usual,” Spire offered.

He walked towards the prisoners with the slow gait of someone who had already won. His presence alone cowed them more than blades and the threat of a decade in the mines ever could.

“Someone decided to use a proxy gang to damage the work of a rival. I am betting on...”

He leaned over one of the two B-classes.

“Greed. A gang weaponized to attack the caravan of another group. This smells of the petty competitions of the merchant guilds, hmm? Ah, but you do not wish to speak. After all, some of you can afford to spend seasons upon seasons digging ore in the northern mines, so you do not offend a powerful foe.”

A few of the C-class shifted. Their aging was only slowed, not virtually stopped. They would suffer the most from long imprisonment.

“Gut did mention ransoming the princess,” Nestra helpfully supplied.

“Ah yes, I can hear the distant tinkle of coins. There is a catch however, my darlings. You see, you brilliant new agents didn’t just try to kidnap someone important. You didn’t just attack wardens to do so...”

A few of the mercenaries started to realize how wrong they were thinking this was just some nobleman’s game.

“No, you targeted a princess. A disgraced princess,” Spire said, casting his attention towards Makihel who seethed at the reminder. “... yet a princess nonetheless. Now, a judge might accept that you could not possibly have known who she was from the lack of gold filigree in her clothes. Might, I said,” he added, tempering their rising hopes. “But for the rest of you, you’ll be lucky if you do not get maimed then executed. We can’t afford to let the rabble believe they can assault a scion of the throne. Oh no. That tends to make the old man... angry.”

The realization of what they’d truly done fell on the prisoners like glacial rain. Spire wasn’t even done.

“I imagine this sort of offer would be granted to someone who proves themselves very useful in the following investigation. It would require a contribution to offset attacking wardens to get at the daughter of Korellian II, immortal ruler of the Heavenly Empire and all its planets...”

All those heartbeats accelerating in panic... It was all Nestra could do to keep her ears in check.

“As for protecting your employer,” Spire continued as he approached the pile of discarded weapons. “Those are unmarked pieces of gear that could not, in theory, be traced back to any of the merchant guilds were it not for the fact that those weapons had to be manufactured and bought somewhere. We do not always find where they come from, but when the selection is diverse and recent enough, especially when the supplier didn’t expect the entire group to be captured at the same time...”

He lifted a pair of well-balanced knives.

“Enough for a benefactor to grow disappointed, perhaps even angry. One would consider seeking protection from vengeance.”

Spire was being intentionally heavy-handed, yet it did the job. Fear gripped the hearts of the captives, a fear Spire didn’t capitalize on right away. Instead, he let them stew in their own suspicions knowing they would turn on the other before someone else could do it to them. The tension in their collective shoulders meant that now their neighbors were their worst enemies. Satisfied, Spire turned away. He created another shadow privacy curtain.

“And now we allow them to simmer a bit.”

“You’re not into reeling in the fish while it is hooked?” Nestra asked though she already knew the answer.

Spire chuckled.

“Emerald Sea expressions, hah. And no. After a few hours stewing in their sweat, with suspicion and thirst hounding their every second, they will be ready. And there is another important reason for my decision.”

“Which is?” Nestra pressured when it became clear Spire was playing her.

He was a satisfied old fox sitting on a throne of slain hens.

“I will have to conduct interrogations and fill paperwork until midnight instead of going home so the least I can do is make them suffer a bit. I don’t suppose you would be willing to assist with the chores? As an exercise in blending in.”

“I fear having a deputized mercenary filling the forms could be used against the case. How can I be impartial when my employer was almost kidnapped? I am even lightly wounded. No, truly, for the sake of justice, I fear I must decline,” Nestra deadpanned with all the sympathy of a Threshold customs agent.

“A worthy attempt on my part,” Spire said to console himself.

The blue runes on the wall flashed. No one reacted so Nestra assumed this was normal. A moment later, the reddish spots of blood in the reservoir’s water faded while the still floating body was pushed by unseen currents towards one of the side canals. Nestra took a step forward.

“I’ll drag that one out. By the way, you asked me not to damage the enchantment? Are there any specific reasons? Are they irreplaceable?”

“Hardly. Half a day of work for an experienced rune master, at most!”

Nestra frowned.

“Then...”

“For an experienced rune master. One affiliated with the Imperial Water office. They consider their time very precious. The Throne tends to agree, considering the money the guilders charge for their services.”

He gave her a frank look.

“Do you know why, despite so many many raiders being concentrated here, the city remains mostly intact? It’s not just good engineering. Battles here tend to be very contained because the last thing anyone wants is attention. Some measure of disturbance is tolerated by the elders as part of the new generation’s efforts to progress. Great disturbances mean that one of the old monsters will take interest. A brief, intense interest. That is why, dear rookie, even powerful hydromancers like the princess prefer not to make waves.”

“Otherwise I would have drowned the entire room,” Makihel spat.

“Fair enough.”

Spire patted her shoulder.

“We’ll make a capital rat out of you yet, rookie.”

Nestra had to roll her eyes at that. While Makihel was obviously fine, she still wanted to check on Grook.

“Are you alright there?”

“I am unhurt,” the tall girl boasted. “And I punched one of them really hard.”

She pointed at one of the poor heavenlies who wore a scowl and an obviously broken jaw. Ouch.

“I didn’t know you could use coating so well,” Nestra whispered, the sound of water hopefully masking her voice this time.

“I didn’t.”

Grook rummaged through her rather ample cleavage to fetch a strange pendant that looked like it was made of chitin.

“My mom gave me this for safekeeping, she said. When I panicked earlier at the beginning of the fight, the amulet activated and I was completely coated. It’s very strong, strong enough to stop an axe thrown by a B-class. I checked.”

Nestra didn’t hide how amazed she was. Some Threshold-made top shelf armor sets could do that... but a bloody amulet? For an entire fight? Sorai hadn’t skimped on the means to keep her daughter safe. Nestra shouldn’t have been surprised but Sorai sometimes gave off clueless blonde vibes that had twisted Nestra’s judgment. The height of hypocrisy considering Nestra’s own blonde musclehead nature. Ah well.

Fortunately, Belt soon returned with the misplaced Talon who wasn’t worse for wear. He was furious that Gut had given him the slip, leading the poor warden to fill large swathes of tunnel with flame to flush his opponent out when the shadow user had, in fact, fucked off to regroup with his gang. With now 6 B-class guarding them, the prisoners didn’t resist on the way back to the warden facility.

It was still early afternoon when the group walked through the streets. Once, long ago, Nestra’s dad had tried to get her interested in western movies, which was basically people with old guns shooting at each other out of cover. Nestra respected duels but those guys didn’t have magic yet acted as if they had shields — so silly. Anyway, one scene had stayed with her: the tense hero strutting down the lone street while civilians hid and shutters slammed on his path. She was having the same feeling now with lunchgoers and pedestrians either changing streets or giving them an extra wide berth. The capital was a pleasant and peaceful city until the mask shattered and the spooks dragged losing mercenaries through the streets. Things looked up after Grook, Makihel and her split from the group in preparation for the next step. As they returned to the inn to move since the location was compromised, Nestra handed the haughty princess her special paper.

“Excellent. At least the day was not a complete disaster,” Makihel commented.

“You do not seem too shaken up. Not the first kidnapping attempt I presume?”

Makihel did not find this very funny.

“It was not, though the last attempt on my life dates back decades. Compared to being a prisoner in my own country manor; this is nothing. Nothing.”

“Okay.”

“Now we have a problem, however. We must assume Naila will be made aware of my presence before tomorrow.”

“What?” Nestra protested. “We don’t know if those two conspiracies are linked?”

“They absolutely are not,” Makihel explained testily. “However, we let one of them go. A third ascension assassin will know that she must leave the city as soon as possible. This requires funds. The best way to do so would be to betray my presence to interested parties, and no one will pay more for this than dear old Naila. Any information broker with half a functional brain will reach the same conclusion. No, we must assume she will be expecting something.”

“So... we move early?”

Makihel’s eyes glazed over as she considered their options.

“If it is you...”