Changeling

(105): Layer upon layer

The carriage passed the gates just as the sun set, coloring the pale walls crimson in an illusion of warmth. Temperatures had brutally dropped and despite her B-class body, Nestra still felt a light chill, her yellow dress affording her no protection. Naila’s manor boasted an inner garden as an extraordinary show of wealth and influence this deep in the noble quarter. Flowers bloomed even in the cold of this mountainous autumn thanks to a clever network of heating runes. Some of them shone in the darkness to join the lights in a harmonious whole around the lacquered wood of elegant stairs. Revelers left their carts in turn, and without hurry. This was a joyous occasion after all: Naila’s ascension to a public office, and one of the opening salvos of the social winter season after the end of the harvest. When her time came, a stuffy majordomo in green uniform checked Nestra’s invitation thoroughly before politely inquiring.

“Should I announce your presence, dear guests?”

“That will not be necessary,” Makihel’s voice replied from the carriage.

The majordomo didn’t show any reaction to a masked woman carefully emerging from the depths of the vehicle, even with her presence hidden behind a magical item. Such an occurrence was far from unheard of, especially at the beginning of the season when some players wished to delay the news of their participation. Nestra’s invitation was genuine, at least the paper, and that was enough to confirm her importance.

“My niece will guide me,” she finished.

Nestra grabbed the offered arm, going up the stairs at a slow pace to accommodate her companion’s extravagant dress. Nestra felt the majordomo’s gaze on their back, as expected, so nobody noticed the third member of the group disappear underground in a dash of earth mana now that they’d passed the wards: the female warden member of Spire’s team. Now that this part of the plan had worked, Nestra walked under a portico made from trees woven together which led to a well-lit entrance, and beyond, twin doors, bright lights and the sounds of music. Trees grew everywhere here, acting as support beams, stairs, and even living furniture in a spectacular display of nature mana. It would have made burglary a daunting prospect, but Naila’s mastery over this art didn’t match her absent mother’s, and so the defenses were momentarily weaker. The ballroom itself made no effort to look like a room, instead inviting guests to imagine they were stepping inside of the trunk of Yggdrasil. French windows led to a secluded inner court warmed by braziers, warm food and drinks made available to those looking for some peace. Nestra suspected those were not called French windows here though.

Their presence wasn’t announced; though they were still noticed by a slew of garishly dressed guests among the hundred already loitering in the hangar-sized space. Few wore masks while most matched the ballroom’s theme with garments that mimicked nature. Here was a bird of paradise in red feathers, and there an avatar of autumn wrapped in a fountain of twigs and rusted leaves. Nestra, unfortunately, was a daffodil. A good one though. She was supposed to show her status as a modest debutante with humility, letting her charms speak in her favor which was kind of a desperate cause, but would work out fine for a single evening. The next part of the plan called for limited mingling which was helped by the fact no one really knew who the masked lady was, and therefore Nestra was the flower pot to a larger, more mysterious vase.

This changed with the arrival of the next masked person. He was short and stout and unassuming which meant insanely dangerous, because try as she might, Nestra felt nothing from him. Nothing. Not even a speck of mana. Makihel’s voice came as a gasp first, then as a quiet urge.

“We absolutely must greet him. And his companion.”

Nestra had been so absorbed by the nondescript man that she’d failed to take a look at the one he’d been leading. Much like Nestra was being chaperoned into high society as a pretty little sprout, the unknown man accompanied a young B-class raider in a dark doublet with lotus patterns, petals adorning his sleeves. The newcomer was a dark-skinned heavenly with strange violet eyes the likes of which Nestra had never seen. His black hair was carefully arranged with obsidian petals that absorbed the light. He was incredibly haughty, his gear was enchanted to the gills, and the only thing Nestra and he had in common was that they both clearly didn’t want to attend. Nevertheless, Nestra would greet and smile because she was here as bait to allow the earth warden to infiltrate the manor. Already, guards had noticed and likely recognized her description. This wouldn’t have been a problem if she’d been a male with peerless shapeshifting powers.

But then I wouldn’t have managed the Imperial Palace’s spatial wards so well.

The dark noble stared at her like he’d turned a salad leaf and found a very enthusiastic slug. Nestra thought he might cut himself on all that edge.

“My dear Nezhra,” Makihel’s voice whispered as they approached. “Court Mirion while I pay homage.”

A waterfall of freezing horror spilled down Nestra’s back, drowning her throat on the way. Makihel wanted her to do what? Courting? Courting?

“Huh?”

“Do not embarrass me,” Makihel warned.

There had never been any mention of courting in the briefing! Nestra pushed her panic down. Ok. Ok. She was a deadly duelist and a somewhat capable politician. This was nothing. She was going to do fine. Plenty of people flirted and they even hooked up afterward and sometimes children happened even so it couldn’t be too complicated.

The pair bowed deeply. Nestra thought she saw the shorter man return a small nod though she might have been imagining it and was it... amusement? The other two spoke in slow, fast whispers that somehow came distorted to Nestra’s ears. It took her a second to remember that she had a task as well, with Mr Edge staring at her from an upturned nose. Fucker was tall as well.

“Greetings, I am Nezhra of the Emerald Sea.”

There was a long pause.

“Mirion.”

“So, do you like food?” Nestra asked.

Their companions stopped their discussion for a solid half a second before resuming. Mirion didn’t look impressed. There was another long, awkward pause but Nestra was pretty certain flirting required a back and forth and she’d given the first forth, so there.

“No,” he eventually replied.

Damn. Tough customer.

“Then, do you like fighting?”

There was another long pause. Was this guy’s brain on a five seconds delay?

“Yes.”

“How do you fight?”

He extended two fingers. A purple bolt zapped between them, making a nearby pair of guests flinch.

“Wow. That’s... not electric mana?” Nestra asked, suddenly fascinated.

“It is a specially modified affinity developed by my grandfather, Grand Duke Atanal, and passed on to his descendants,” Mirion cooly explained.

“Cool. Great. How does it compare to normal electricity?”

For the first time, Mirion smiled. It wasn’t very nice.

“Would you like to find out?”

Finally they were going somewhere.

“Absolutely! A spar?”

And the smile widened.

“Why yes, I would love a distraction.”

The two others stopped again. The short man addressed Mirion in rapid-fire words that also came out distorted while Makihel conveyed more horror now than she ever had in the sewers.

“... do you always spar against the people you dine with?” she demanded to know.

Nestra gave it a serious thought. She hadn’t sparred with Kim. And maybe her dearly departed cousin either.

“All the raiders, yes? The only one I didn’t spar with, I killed later.”

She felt Mirion’s attention on her back.

“He was a c — a thoroughly unpleasant person. My cousin.”

“I understand wanting to kill one’s cousin,” Mirion replied.

His chaperon scolded him with an audible tsk, but no one stopped them as they made their way through the not-French doors. Outside, night had fallen. It was cold enough to freeze. Nestra’s body could take this and more but somehow, it still felt mildly uncomfortable without her human ice affinity to help. The garden itself unfolded before her in a carefully curated semblance of real nature complete with a tiny brook, woven bridges and enough nooks and crannies to bury a body in peace. Light fell from discreet crystals hidden among bioluminescent species that couldn’t possibly survive here.

“The Imperial heirs are my cousins,” Mirion explained. “Threatening them is a crime.”

“But not all your cousins are heirs so you have plausible deniability?” Nestra asked.

“Precisely.”

She grabbed a skewer on the side. The meat was amazing. She tossed the naked wood stick at one of the guards trailing her after she was done.

“Make yourself useful,” she ordered.

A fencing piste surrounded by carefully camouflaged ward stones waited nestled between tall trees. The setup wouldn’t stop a true battle between B-classes, but it would allow sparring partners to employ a little mana without things spilling over, which appeared to be a constant here in the capital. The majordomo who’d welcomed her brought them a pair of thin blades without prompt. Those were closer to rapiers than the swords Nestra normally used, though they were long and well-balanced. There was an enchantment to avoid vitals, as far as Nestra could understand.

“Excellent tool to stop at first blood,” she admitted.

“If one does not aim for the eyes,” Mirion commented, and he looked already bored and supremely confident and that pissed Nestra off just a little.

“Don’t worry, I won’t aim for your eyes,” she replied.

Was it a genuine smile on Mirion’s face? Maybe. In any case, part of the crowd was drifting towards them as this was still quite early, and the main attractions had not started yet. More guards joined the crowd to box her in so she was definitely doing her job well.

“First, show me the electricity,” Nestra ‘requested’.

“As you wish.”

Nestra quickly cast a water shield, one of the best she’d learned in Shinran’s training center since she had time and didn’t need it quick and dirty. The layered shield assembled while Mirion politely waited at the end of the piste. It took maybe three seconds total, but with all the attention on her, it felt much longer.

Mirion flicked his fingers more out of habit than because he really needed to since no glyphs formed. The purple bolts crossed Nestra’s defenses as if they weren’t there, zapping her in the arm.

“Ow,” she said, rubbing her forearm with a frown.

Mirion gave her a knowing smile. Around them, the crows whispered about ‘The Duke’s heir’. Someone dared question the quality of her shield before being promptly corrected. Ok. Ok, so her shield had blocked some of the damage but it was more mana dissipation than a real block. As in, his mana had to struggle to get through her mana but her mana hadn’t been properly structured in a way that would block his. Interesting. She tasted the air, recognizing the peculiar smell of thunderbolts mixed with something else. That something else had shifted the alignment enough to give it strange penetrative properties. Honestly, it was super interesting to see how an advanced society like the heavenlies could come up with magics humans had not yet dreamed about. There was still so much to explore!

She kind of wanted to kill the guy and eat his core.

“Something on your mind?” he asked, blade swishing lazily in the air.

“You don’t want to know. Again.”

This time, Nestra used a different base structure. Rather than blocking and redirecting electricity through the path of least resistance like her shield ought to do, she rewrote the base structure to block blows. Mirion looked bored so either he knew it wouldn’t work, which implied an academic knowledge of shields on his part, or he simply didn’t care.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

In any case, Nestra was zapped again but something peculiar happened. The bolt angled around her defenses to find her, losing even more potency on the way. It was, quite simply, beyond her understanding. It just tasted too weird.

It would help if she could get her true self out, but alas. Now properly intrigued, Nestra devised a cunning plan. So. The thing still behaved like electricity but it had an unmatched ability to cross and ignore defenses meant for electricity. But what if, instead of trying to block it, or redirect it, she trapped it? She had a way to do that although it was a specific enchantment used to build rare static traps using electric mana. Instead of the rune for ‘electricity’, she used the one for ‘power’ which would make for an absolutely shit unstable trap, however, she wasn’t really trying to create a resilient construct. The larger definition would let the improvised capacitor capture something that resembled electricity with more reliability.

Mirion looked really smug. Bastard had never faced a human mind using two compatible affinities and the training of a dead civilization and it showed. Patiently this time, Nestra built her shield. It took over a minute to complete since she had never cast it before and it could generously be called a hack job by a very patient professor. Nevertheless, the blue shield took form in front of her. Mirion had stopped smiling. He merely looked curious. A flick, and the purple bolt traveled. It hit the shield, spread through a glass-pane-like core, and stayed there, turning the defensive spell into a striated work of art. Nestra had captured it. Oohs and aahs echoed throughout the garden as even Mirion nodded in acknowledgement.

Of course, it was an improvised spell that would require specific affinities and advanced training just to cast in combat, a spell that would only counter a single family’s mana, who no doubt had plenty more tricks where this came from but still, still. Moral victory.

“Well done,” Mirion allowed. “And now...”

“Now, the blades,” Nestra replied.

For the first time, Mirion looked genuinely pleased.

“Non-offensive spells are allowed?” Nestra asked.

“Sure. Just don’t damage the lawn,” Mirion replied with an amused tilt of the head.

They charged one another.

It had been a long time since Nestra had been on a piste, which prevented a lot of side-stepping and repositioning by forcing a north-south approach to the duel but she remembered learning when she was young, and some of the habits had stayed. To his credit, Mirion didn’t use any of his B-class strength, only matching her in speed and technique, and by fuck was the bastard good. Along the piste, blades clashed in a contained symphony that left sparks illuminating the crowd, suddenly very quiet. Mirion was lazy in his counters though he was flawless when defending.

He was toying with her out of a sense of show. For now. The rapid back and forth increased in intensity when Nestra realized she didn’t have to worry about counters so much. Pressed, Mirion focused on his defense which would have allowed Nestra to outmaneuver him except the piste made that nigh impossible. Fortunately, she had a secret trick. Charging herself with mana, she activated her buff spell.

Hypervelocity.

The burst of speed took Mirion completely by surprise which triggered a reflexive explosion of purple mana. Nestra sliced it down with her coated blade yet the questing bolts still scoured her arm, eliciting another hiss of pain. It was nothing but she still backed out.

Mirion was clearly having fun.

“You did say non-offensive spells were allowed,” he chuckled.

Nestra knew he hadn’t expected her acceleration, and that his casting had been done out of reflex ingrained into raiders instead of a strict adherence to the rules. It was a request to forgive his instincts and the pain they’d inflicted upon her.

As an answer, Nestra pulled her blade back. At the tip was a single, ruby pearl. Mirion blinked. She’d drawn first blood. Others saw it as well, and although he hadn’t been fighting at his best, applause and words of appreciation fell over the two contestants. It had been a good show, one that was about to be interrupted. The majordomo crossed the grass, his polite voice brooking no delay.

“As most guests have arrived, if the honored ladies and gentlemen could return to the ballroom...”

While the other guests shuffled in with pleased whispers, Nestra was stopped and attended to by a reedy heavenly woman with a frown and a nature affinity so potent the grass grew at her feet when she wasn’t paying attention. Mutters of ‘youthful idiots’ and other disparaging comments didn’t stop one of the best healings Nestra had ever experienced. Apparently the bolts had left strange scars on her arm and those were sometimes permanent. The presence of guards trapping her in only became more apparent as the crowd left. Neither the healer nor Mirion appeared to give a shit though. Nestra guessed it was nothing new. The purple duelist even offered his arm on the quiet way back, ignoring the silent glares of Nestra’s jailors. That made Nestra consider strange new things.

A man who could cast cool spells, use a blade and shut up? Oh my Riel, if she were into that sort of thing, he might steal her favor. But Nestra’s thoughts of possible distant matrimony ended in the ballroom. The crystals dimmed as they entered. A balcony Nestra was pretty sure hadn’t been there five minutes ago turned into a centerpiece of attention. A clever enchantment focused the light on the center of the balcony while below, a suspended water sphere hung, crystal smooth. Nestra recognized it as a sort of magical TV heavenly nobles used for messages and to display memory. The extent they had to go to to imitate a fraction of a visor’s power reminded Nestra of home. She separated from Mirion there, both of them returning to their respective protector’s side.

“It’s almost time,” Makihel whispered.

Naila stepped out from behind a curtain of roots like a dryad blooming to life. She wore an elaborate brown and green robe that perfectly complimented her viridian eyes. Blonde hair fell on her shoulders in heavy curls, enticing ripe grapes yet to be harvested, promising sweetness. The rest of her was all bark and thorns. She smiled warmly, eyes lingering on Nestra.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Capital. My friends. Let me be the first to express my fondest seasonal welcome for those of you who return to our great city, as the days grow short and we prepare to face the mountain. I apologize in advance, and ask you to indulge me as I speak of my own good fortune and the cause for tonight’s celebration: my ascension to Secretary of the Finance Cabinet.”

Polite applause celebrated this achievement. Makihel had said it was a big deal for someone who hadn’t graduated from the Imperial University.

“I will endeavor to prove that the Emperor’s trust is warranted with all my soul.

“And yet as I begin this new time of my life, I cannot consider the path forward without thinking of the road that led me there. I believe in what I refer to as a ‘calling’. I believe callings come to all of us, though few recognize it. The calling is a life-defining moment when one must face a choice and decide how they want to live, what values they must uphold to guide them, and what is the cost they are willing to pay. For me, the calling came six years ago when I discovered that my best friend had used public funds for her own benefit. The price to pay was the defiance of an Imperial scion, yet I didn’t hesitate. My calling was integrity. Justice. That the sacrifices of the many be not employed in the schemes of the ruthless. That moment has defined my path ever since.”

She leaned forward, delicate hands gripping the balustrade which made them almost melt into it. Nestra judged she was a powerful B-class from the sheer control she exerted, a B-class mage in her own den. Naila’s emerald eyes narrowed.

“Yet we are not always free of the past. Imagine my surprise when I learned that the criminal herself, having been granted mercy by the generosity of the throne, had returned to the capital with revenge on her mind?”

The infiltrated warden was pushed forward by a pair of B-class guards as the guests excitedly realized something unexpected was happening. Nestra hadn’t thought the warden would be caught with her earth alignment. Naila had certainly reinforced her defenses. Now, the light left the host to focus on Nestra instead, who, taking Spire’s advice to heart, pretended to be suddenly afraid. It wasn’t too difficult because she was already a little anxious.

“You could not face your moral failures and returned here thinking it would be different, isn’t that right?”

Guards rushed them just as the mirror below the host showed Nestra’s stress. Her hands were grabbed, violently. She didn’t resist though her instincts urged her to run, and showed it. Flight would serve no purpose here. Another pulled her companion’s mask aside.

“Makihel?” Naila almost screamed in a mix of fear and exultation.

But it was Grook who blinked with genuine confusion now that she was exposed to the full light and attention of the room. If the guard had looked down, he would have seen a sound enchantment inscribed on the mask. As for the crowd, they were loving it. Capturing an infiltrated rival in one’s own party could be entertaining, of course, but not as entertaining as failing to do so. Naila gestured in anger. Another guard brought a wand meant to dispel magic, waving it in front of the tall girl’s face. All this attention was too much for poor Grook who hid her eyes behind large hands with a sobbing ‘muuuuh’ of anxiety. Nope, she was the real deal.

“Accusing the wrong person again?” Makihel’s true voice echoed from all the corners.

An excited silence descended upon the crowd, not the awkward cringe of public embarrassment but the anticipation of the kill. Nestra looked around to all those high gleam predators sating their instincts on social drama. They knew a play had been made, and that Naila had lost hers. Something was coming. Something unexpected. That was even better. Nestra could see it in the way their eyes searched the room and each other for that hidden dagger that would plunge deep into Naila’s breast, reaping her future. They knew. And so Makihel delivered. The light dimmed over the room, while on the dais, a burst of light mana fell like a ray of moonlight. The water of the viewing orb rippled. It was just quiet enough for Nestra to hear Naila’s panicked demands.

“What is going on? I didn’t tell anyone to start!”

Loyal guards would have jumped to action but this was the Imperial Court, if only an offshoot of it. It was too late to make another play.

Makihel’s voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once.

“I knew you expected me, ‘friend’. So I came to visit... yesterday.”

And it was Nestra who had done the break in, helped by Fennek’s tools.

“But I didn’t steal anything, my dear. That would have been crass and entirely unnecessary.”

Well she hadn’t but Nestra had. The ring she’d come to fetch was safely at their safe house right now, and she had also recovered certain documents the wardens had used to get an arrest warrant.

“Instead, I left a little present.”

The water smoothed, revealing a bedchamber seen from a slightly awkward angle, yet it was abundantly clear that it belonged to Naila. The recording showed her standing in front of her makeup table in a simple robe, her blonde hair slightly tousled with the deepest night visible though half-drawn curtains. The vivid contrast with the artfully composed appearance of present Naila couldn’t have been more obvious. It was a terrible violation of intimacy and all the more titillating for it, because it was ‘justified’. The recording’s shoulders tensed as she gripped the edges, but then she breathed and only the noblewoman remained. The mirror shifted too.

In the ballroom, Naila let out a strangled yelp. Nestra watched wondering if she would jump down, or leave, and she did check for the exits but now Nestra realized guards in blue and gold armor stood vigil near them. Imperial Guards, faces hidden behind faceplates.

The trap was already shut.

The surface of the mirror blurred, replacing the stern face of the woman with the dark mask of an assassin in dark mail. Behind him, the stones of the canals provided an ominous background.

“She’s here, back in the capital. Makihel! That bitch is already here! What have you idiots been doing?”

Her counterpart remained calm.

“She must have used —”

“I don’t care about excuses! Tomorrow night will be my consecration and no one — no one! — will interrupt it! You lot have failed to track a malnourished, pompous trollop across a deserted tundra but I at least expect you to manage a single manor, or are you even ‘assassins’?”

The whispers in the room rose to a wave of gasps and excitement. Naila had damned herself.

“You will make yourself available to my whims and guarantee my safety and success, or I will find myself better candidates to fund. Am I making myself perfectly clear? There will be no surprises tonight.”

“We will stop her.”

“See that you do. I expect you to report to me at dawn with your full cabal.”

Naila smashed the connection shut. With dramatic flair, Makihel cut the recording at the exact same moment. Light progressively returned to the room and the engrossed crowd. After all, it wasn’t every day a noblewoman confessed to a capital crime on screen.

Makihel strode forward from a side door, flanked by two wardens. Gone was the wan prisoner fraying at the edge. Now, an Imperial Princess stood before the nobility in a magnificent dress of blue inlaid with gold threads, the azure matching her eyes to perfection. Makihel was regal in her smile and confident poise. Guards reached Naila’s position at the same moment. The noblewoman made no effort to flee. She was an exemplar of stoicism besides the two tear rivulets running down her cheeks. The Imperial Guards gracefully invited her to leave rather than force her in manacles. The host of the evening left the room under guard yet with her back straight to the approval of the crowd. Makihel now led the game for the night, and she stood among the guests rather than above them.

“‘Tis the turn of the season,” Makihel began, voice slightly breaking at the end.

People pretended not to notice. When the princess spoke again, she was, again, in control of her emotions.

“‘Tis the turn of the season. One leaves, one returns. I would like to thank my ‘best friend’ for her performance.”

The jab gathered a few snickers. Heavenlies were above vulgarity, but not above pettiness.

“For those who have never met me, my name is Makihel, Imperial Princess and Baroness of the Moonpeaks. Seven years ago I was accused of embezzlement by Naila with, ah, ‘incontrovertible’ evidence backed by her eager testimony. It was well done.”

Makihel shrugged, conceding her earlier defeat.

“During the five years of solitude that followed the exile verdict, I considered what I would say upon my return. I considered a great many declarations. It occupied much of my time, as you can imagine.”

A susurrus of indulgent chuckles welcomed the admission. Nestra had trouble accepting that this was it. They’d done it, and without a hitch. She had infiltrated the manor just after yesterday’s attack, gathered proof, planted the bug, then left before Naila even knew she was in danger. The wardens would have everything under control by now. Even if Naila would likely see her execution commuted to some other form of exile, she wouldn’t return in decades.

“But those were monologues, ravings I will not subject you to after tonight’s desperate and unsophisticated performance. So I will just say this one thing.

“Everyone, it is good, no, it is fantastic to be back. Thank you,” she choked. “Thank you.”

This time the crowd did cheer. Makihel had been right about ‘desperate’. Perhaps a more patient or cunning princess could have schemed better. Makihel had been at the end of her wits and only the positive results made the entire operation acceptable in the eyes of the capital’s finest denizens. Another day at court. And with lively exchanges and satisfied comments, the party resumed.

With the main attraction complete and her victory assured, Makihel made the rounds among the gossiping guests. Several expressed their support including Mirion’s guardian who gave Nestra the tiniest nod, definitely a big deal so Nestra bowed in return. All in all, this segment of the court’s high nobility expressed reasonable support. Makihel might not have been loved, but Nestra assumed she had at least been entertaining.

Naila’s arrest considerably shortened the list of this evening’s planned events. Grook immediately left with a pair of wardens to go home because there had been too many emotions and too much crowd for the poor girl. Makihel continued to make the rounds and reconnect. Sometimes, she presented Nestra as an ‘up-and-coming blade for hire’.The redeemed princess was clearly in a good mood though there was something fragile about the way her mana frayed at the edges. Many of the older ones noticed it. Some suggested a period of rest, a measure Makihel swore she would commit to the next week. Nestra allowed herself to breathe as well. The Imperial Guard had arrested all of the important members of the cabal who had been disguised as guards. Makihel was almost officially back in the throne’s good grace which gave Grook and Nestra protection until their next employment. All was well.

Much, much later, the evening wound down. Nestra left with Makihel to the Imperial Palace where the exhausted princess worked through several administrative hurdles. There were documents to sign to reinstate her, give her back her belongings, as well as access to her finances. The Imperial Guard released most of her possessions from impound, all of them delivered to her personal palatial estate which had been cleaned and prepared for the occasion. It was easily past midnight when the last of the clerks left.

Blessed silence returned. Only the two of them still remained in the solemn hall of the restored home with freshly unpacked furniture clogging the corners. It smelled of soap.

Makihel stood from organizing one last folder of documents, some of which she would need to drop off at the bank the next day. She approached Nestra, face cold but mana shivering and then she just... collapsed. Nestra had to grab her as she fell, long arms grasping at her back like a life buoy. Nestra resisted the urge to jump because of the sudden physical contact. Makihel was sobbing.

“Thank you. Thank you...”

It took a lot of time for her to calm down, but Nestra was in no rush.

“Years. Years I spent in that manor, picking bread crumbs with my wet fingers with only my bitter anger to keep me warm. It saps you, you know? No energy to do anything. Just lying there...”

Nestra nodded. Makihel’s dark hair tickled her nose. The princess smelled of sweat under her delicate floral perfume, and her skin was a little clammy.

“I thought... I lost count of the days. You gave me my life back. Thank you.”

“I’m glad I could help. Really,” Nestra said, and found she meant it. She still didn’t know Makihel well but she could see why Sereth had loved her. There was a passion and an intellect behind all that bravado, one that commanded respect.

When Makihel pulled back, her makeup had run down but she was smiling.

“Enough, we both need rest. I cannot offer you the hospitality for tonight but come tomorrow and you have my solemn word that I will fill the ring with my mana. Oh, and I will write a letter to Sereth as well, I owe you two that much. Will you be staying long?”

“No.”

Makihel didn’t look happy to see her go but she didn’t complain.

“It’s probably for the best. We attracted a lot of attention with this little stunt, especially from the wardens. You would be safer away. You know, you have a future in the capital if you want to be a player. Or at least help one.”

“I...”

Nestra hesitated. She had enjoyed her time here despite feeling out of her depth. Spire had been right. The capital was an ever-changing banquet of experience that would take a lifetime to explore, and she was tempted.

“Yes, but not now. I have unfinished business.”

Makihel nodded.

“And I feel like I came here too... unprepared.”

She was too new to life as a B-class and most of her magic, not to mention her understanding of heavenly society mostly came from the princess’ rushed lessons. Playing here was too volatile for now, but maybe one day.

“I’ll return after I’ve matured a bit.”

Makihel nodded.

“Come see me when you do. Although, it would be best if Sereth were here too. He always had a knack for avoiding traps. I —”

She yawned.

“I will see you tomorrow. Do not leave without saying goodbye.”

“I won’t,” Nestra replied, since she still needed the majority ring infused with her mana.

Makihel waved before half-collapsing on her way to the bedroom. Nestra was guided out of the palace by a flawlessly polite servant who bowed to her back as she left. A carriage had been made available to her.

The ride back to the new rental safe house was long enough that Nestra was seized by doubts. Everything had gone relatively well so far but now that Makihel had what she wanted, nothing prevented her from cutting a deal with her father. She could sell Nestra’s secret in exchange for a pardon and possibly some favors. Despite the apparent success of her plan, Nestra was at her most vulnerable.

She shook her head. Makihel would consider the option. She was too shrewd not to, but there were several elements that made Nestra trust it wouldn’t come to that. One, Makihel could not be sure she would get that pardon and not get executed for conspiring with reavers. Two, she had just rocked the boat and might prefer to stabilize before her next scheme. Three, it would make her the enemy of at least one man who could change shape and bend space, her brother Sereth. Four, Makihel wasn’t a complete twat. Five, she still loved Sereth.. And six, and possibly the most significant, Nestra was of more use to her alive in the future than captured or dead now. People like Makihel saw things in the long run.

Ok and lastly, Nestra was overthinking. The capital was getting to her so it was high time she left. You had to start trusting some people at some point when the alternative was to accomplish nothing at all. Nestra had to focus on the future. She would get her things done then head to her home plane. She could get Sereth. The show of loyalty would go a long way towards pulling the covens to her side of the human question. Besides the final ‘vote’, there was just one thing missing and then she could head back.

The carriage deposited her at the front gate of their unassuming house. Nestra felt Grook’s mana peacefully slumbering on the second floor, so her surprise was complete when she walked into the soberly decorated living room to find Spire standing over Fennek’s corpse, his sister Miria bound and gagged. He was holding the majority gift, the ring she needed to prove Makihel’s favor, between careful fingers. A flick, and it disappeared alongside other backup items they had liberated.

“Congratulations on completing your first scheme successfully. Before leaving, I just wanted to say goodbye,” Spire said in perfect Aszhii. “My dearest daughter.”