They said the best thing about visiting the Governor-General's Palace was that it was the only spot in New Londinium where you couldn't see the Palace. Universally regarded as an eyesore, its creation had sprung from a noble idea: to have every Kindred in Atlantica contribute to the design. The result, however, was a jarring patchwork of architectural styles, creating a sprawling complex that looked less like a unifying monument and more like a disorganized compromise.

From the day it was completed, there had been talk of tearing it down and starting anew. Yet the approvals and, more crucially, the funding never came. Ornate construction projects like the palace had long since fallen out of vogue in the Imperial Federation, as public opinion had grown more critical of wasteful government spending, especially when it involved nobles' vanity projects. Now, time had turned the monstrosity into a historic landmark, its mismatched wings and adornments preserved as a testament to both grand ambition and haphazard execution.

As the only woman in our group, Dagna would need to go through a more detailed security process, binding her magic with oaths. So she steered the van toward the security checkpoint. Every item destined for the palace underwent rigorous screening as well. A hard-earned protocol ever since the infamous Blasting Jelly Plot ages ago had shown just how vulnerable aristocratic opulence could be. The nobility had cultivated a deep-rooted paranoia after that ordeal, and no one was taking any chances.

My bosses and I headed for the men's entrance. A relic, presumably left over from either the misandrist Legionaries or the patriarchal Drow contribution. Hard to say which. Designed back when men were only around eight percent of the Kindred population, it was far smaller than the main entrance. Nowadays, with men making up closer to thirty-two percent, the checkpoint was packed, like an airport at peak holiday season. Thankfully, the line still moved quickly. After all, men posed little threat without any magical ability, or so the women believed.

Because of the labyrinthine traditions and laws governing the Federation, the guards weren't your typical security detail. Instead, they all served in the Queen's Dragoons, a military branch akin to the United States Marine Corps and considered the premier fighting force in the Imperial Federation. For reasons I never fully understood, they were also tasked with providing security for every government building.

As I inched forward in the line, I found myself marveling at the sheer diversity among the guards. Humans of every background made up nearly half the force, while the remainder was split among various other core Kin and Goblinids, each sporting their own distinctive features. A few elves stood out with their differently pointed ears and four-digit hands, and I even noticed a lone Cursed, a dryad, if I wasn't mistaken, methodically scanning Links.

I knew, at least on an intellectual level, that the military had always been one of the most egalitarian institutions in the Federation, largely out of necessity. Still, seeing it in action felt different, almost inspiring. It made me wonder if the rumors about the Dragoons finally opening their ranks to men were more than just idle talk.

As we neared the front of the line, I saw dread flare across Krenk's face when he spotted a goblin woman manning the next open kiosk.

"Troll's breath!" he sputtered. "Quick, one of you swap places with me before she sees me!"

But he was already out of luck. She'd spotted him and was waving him over with a bright grin. Strom, ever the opportunist, ducked away to a newly opened kiosk, leaving Krenk in the lurch.

"Traitor," Krenk muttered after his partner who was laughing at his misfortune, then turned to me, desperation shining in his eyes. "John, you're my only hope. Come on, be a decent employee and take care of this for me."

I sighed, resigned to taking the hit on his behalf.

"Thank you! I owe you one," Krenk called back gratefully, scurrying off to the other kiosk.

It wasn't that Krenk hated goblin women; quite the opposite, they adored him far too much. There'd been a few times when an adventurous goblin girl defied the council just to see the infamous rogue for herself, lavishing him with over-the-top praise and cooing that would make anyone squirm. I could hardly blame him for wanting to avoid that kind of scene again.

The young goblin woman, barely out of girlhood, visibly bristled as Krenk slipped away. Her face darkened in frustration before she turned on me, her features tight with anger. "Please present your Link for identification," she said, her voice frosty enough to make me shiver.

I knew better than to underestimate her. She could probably beat me senseless without breaking a sweat. Still, it was hard to feel genuinely intimidated by a short-stack who barely scraped three feet in height, no matter how fierce her glare.

I handed over my Link without a moment's hesitation, fully aware that it was best to comply rather than risk stirring her temper any further. She took the device and examined it as though it were the most riveting artifact in the realm. Of course, most people these days don't own a Link custom-built by an artifice; they rely on generic, mass-produced models.

Her anger melted away, replaced by a look of utter bewilderment. "How did you get a gnome-built Link? They're forbidden to sell them to the public."

"It was a gift from a friend," I answered. In my mind, I pictured Scruffy, my closest friend in this life. We'd been gaming online for years, and she was one of the few in our gaming guild who knew I was a man. When she discovered I struggled with interfacing with standard Links, she surprised me with this device as a Yuletide gift last year.

The goblin woman squealed, her eyes dancing with excitement. "This is Taimi Quickwit's handiwork! I can see her master mechanist mark right here. How did you manage to get this? She never sells her inventions!"

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"I already told you," I repeated calmly, "it was a gift from a friend." Truth be told, I was as astonished as she was. Scruffy had acted like it was no big deal, so I'd never suspected its true rarity.

"Is this going to be a problem?" I asked, eyeing Krenk and Strom as they slipped past the checkpoint, already laughing and embracing on the other side.

The goblin guard followed my gaze, her expression darkening when she noticed my bosses' display of affection. Outrage briefly flared in her eyes before settling into a deep scowl as she turned back to me, her mood souring all over again.

"I'm afraid there are irregularities with your identification process," she said smugly. "Your Link is being confiscated for additional screening. Please step aside and follow my colleague to the waiting area."

I jolted when a Valkyrie woman touched my shoulder—so gently that I almost forgot she looked capable of crushing me with a single hand. "Please follow me, Sir," she said, her voice calm and professional. I hadn't even heard her approach, which was impressive, considering she had to be a solid eight feet tall and built like a fortress. She radiated the kind of commanding presence the goblin girl had lacked entirely.

I knew better than to argue. Making a scene here, of all places, would be the worst possible idea.

Strom spotted me being led away and immediately bellowed, "Stop! You can't just take John!"

"Yeah!" Krenk jumped in, blunt as ever. "He's our best employee, and we need him tonight."

"Sir, please do not interfere," the Valkyrie replied, her tone crisp and unyielding. "This doesn't concern you."

Strom looked incredulous. "Doesn't concern me? Krenk, did you hear that? My best employee is being snatched away on the very night he's meant to serve the finest brew in the city. I'll have you know I was summoned by the Governor-General herself."

I doubted that last part, and from the Dragoon's unimpressed glance, she clearly did too.

"Sir," she repeated, "if you have any concerns, you'll need to address them with the officer on duty."

"I'll make sure she hears of it, all right," Strom thundered, his face reddening. "Maybe I'll get the Commandant herself to come down here and see how you're kidnapping a vulnerable young man who's done nothing wrong."

His outburst was beginning to turn heads. Some of the other Dragoons were already watching from the periphery, and I could feel the Valkyrie next to me tensing, one step from calling for backup. This was supposed to be Strom's big night, I couldn't let him derail everything just because of me.

Before she could activate her wrist Link, I cut in, "I'll be fine, boss. It's just a misunderstanding. Go set up. I'll catch up with you both when this is settled."

Strom fixed me with a furious glare. "I'll have none of that. I can handle this myself."

Krenk tugged on his arm. "Strom, look around." The dwarf finally seemed to register his surroundings and that this wasn't the kind of place where you could simply complain to a manager and expect to walk free.

He let out a reluctant grunt. "Fine. But if anything happens to you, it's on your own head." Then he turned back to the Valkyrie. "If so much as a single hair is out of place when he's released, I'll make sure everyone knows how the Dragoons treat an innocent man. Do I make myself clear?"

The guard's expression soured, clearly insulted by the implication. "Yes, sir."

Grumbling under his breath, Strom stomped off, smacking Krenk on the back of the head on the way.

"What was that for?" the goblin whined.

"This is all your fault, for being—" Strom's words trailed off as the Valkyrie guided me away, their bickering fading behind us.

----------------------------------------

Codex

You won't believe what I found!!!!! Transcript of video by Oolan Flax, hosted on Linkspace.

Helloooo my lovely audience, today on Oolan Tech Dive, I got my hands on a rare find I know all my lovely would die to see.

Without further ado, ta-da.

What's that, my lovelies? That's just a boring old Link. Everyone has one. I hear you say.

Well, you're right. This is just a Link, but like me, there is nothing boring about it.

This is a genuine gnome-made link from the Age of Reason.

Ya, cool, I know.

This little baby is over eight hundred years old and still works.

We halflings certainly know how to make things last. Am I right or what?

Now, the Link doses have some tiny tiny problems that shows its age.

You can't use it to transfer mana to pay for things, connect to the web to watch yours truly, or use it to connect to a terminal to play video games.

Shout to my sponsor, Raids Shadow Legends. Hit that link, my lovelies.

Now, for all that it can't do, this baby packs a punch.

It has sixty-four linking crystal slots. That's right, sixty-four slots, a bonkers amount compared to today's standard twelve.

Why? Because why not?

Oh, alright, my lovelies, if you really want to know, this was made before switchboards became common. You would need to physically switch crystals in person to call or text each other.

It's a pain in the butt we all hate.

But what is not pain is how easy it is to order one of my crystal links so you can watch my private streams.

Why would you want to do that? Because this Link can capture sixteen K video.

If you want to see me, try out my new toy, my lovelies in all that high-definition glory. Order your crystal today.

For now, let's get ready, too.

Say it with me.

DIVE IN

And see how those clever halfling gnomes made this fantastic Link.