IN WHICH EVERYTHING IS FINE.

Everyone was very nice to me. After I stopped screaming. My eyes hurt from crying. My right wrist was aching even worse now, from punching John in the chestplate. It was all just... embarrassing, more than anything.

Alaxoria was the one that sent everyone away, eventually, and just sat with me for a bit. To be precise, she was currently sitting on me, to stop me from running away again.

"What's wrong with me." I wheezed gently from under her foot, flat on my back. She was sitting by my side in the dirt, the weight of her leg was enough that getting up quickly wasn't an option.

"Nothing wrong, Susan. Just sad. Very sad."

"What in the hell have I got to be sad about? I'm alive, aren't I? Got all my limbs, I've got all of you."

"The library."

"The- the library? Are you, are you serious Ala? You think I'm losing my blasted mind because of the library? I'm hearing voices, trying to fight everyone, running off and getting myself half-killed fighting creations because of the fucking library?"

"Yes."

"I - can you let me up?"

"Are you going to run off again?"

"No."

She took her foot off of me, stood, and picked me up as well. Her massive hands patted me down to get rid of the worst of the dust, while I looked up at her.

"The library, it was home. Very long time, yes? You always went there first, when we got back."

"To the attic. I needed to check on, just my things. I was working up there. Projects. Home was with you Ala, all of you."

"Yes. But I know you. And I know us. We are all too much, too much for all the time. This-" she broadly waved her arm across. "This is too much. You need to stop awhile."

"Ala..." I put one hand over my face "There is so much to do. Everything is falling apart. We can't stop now. People are counting on us."

"Yes. It is all very important. You are very important. Which is why I am making you take the day off."

"Ala, you can't just-"

"Ah! But little Susan, I absolutely can." she leaned over me. "Either you relax, or I put you in a barrel until you relax."

"How - am I going to relax in a barrel, exactly?"

"You figure it out. You very smart. Or, you spend long time in barrel. Ha!" She clapped me on the shoulder, almost sending me to the beaten earth again, before striding towards the forest. "Relax! What is the worst that could happen?"

"Easy for you to say." I groused, before skulking off.

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I did a lot of skulking, for the rest of the morning. I flitted around the settlement, practicing my footsteps and spending time, just. Looking. I looked in on Mr. Berkeley, the clerk called Mackerel - eating. I looked in on Hedda - darning her dress with a borrowed needle and borrowed thread. I could've stepped in and spelled it back together in an instant. I didn't.

I watched the swaggering gang of soldiers head out to patrol after John ordered it so, watched them march back in, white faced and scrupulously polite to every woman they passed. They set to drilling afterwards, all remaining nineteen of them - all twenty? One of them was dead and swinging from a tree, and I could've sworn there had only been twenty of the career soldiers. It had only been a few days since the , surely I hadn't lost count...

The discrepancy staggered out and face-planted in the dirt after less than a minute, to the guffaws of the drilling warriors. "Come on baby, don't be like that!" cawed one "You've only been at it a stretch. Alright, get up. Get up! Back to it!" The man in the dirt was panting with exertion, scrabbling for the dropped rapier. Not man, I realised, hopping down from the tree I was perched in. I landed silently, drifting towards the soldiers from behind, they were distracted by the older boy who still couldn't drag himself upright. One of them was about to get a quick kick in, when I appeared amongst them.

"Lady Susan!" one of them span around to face me as I pushed them lightly aside. "My lady, I did not, um, my apologies." I said nothing, just hopped around another armoured clodpole and reached the side of the young man. The soldier that had his boot raised, lowered it, slowly, as if pretending he hadn't even noticed himself bringing it up. He tugged nervously at his helmet, but I didn't care.

"Can you stand, or will I have to carry you." I said, looking down. The young man was wearing chainmail that had been resized with a few belts, and looked strangely familiar. He didn't respond, just took in a deep breath, coughed, and levered himself upright. There were scuff marks along his elbows, the armour had been forged delver-style, leaving the arms entirely free, and his fingers looked red and swollen.

"Right. Get your rapier. You're coming with me, this is just embarrassing. Not!" I turned to face the rest of the squad, some of whom wore nervous half-grins. "His performance, to be certain. Yours." I swept away, before any of them could speak, masking a little grin of my own.

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The young soldier followed me, stepping heavily through the undergrowth that I stepped over, pushing aside the branches I ducked. I didn't turn until we reached a clearing. He was utterly out of breath, but maybe that was just because of the armour and other equipment he was lugging. I held out my hand, and he carefully placed the handle of the rapier into it.

I took two steps back, gave it a look up and down, an experimental flick. "Yep. It's a sword." before sticking it point-first in the ground. He stared at me blankly, mouth a thin line, and I instantly remembered where I'd seen him before. "The rest of your squad are trying to teach you the way they were taught, through double application of shame and failure. It clearly won't do you any good in the amount of time you've got, which would be obvious if they thought about it for more than a moment. Or at all. And I'm no good to teach apples to elephants. So!" I clapped my hands together and began to pace. "Here is what you'll do instead. You will find Keller. Do you- of course you know him. And you will tell him this:"

"Good afternoon, or morning, Keller. My name is, you don't care what my name is, so I won't bother telling you. When I go into battle for the first time, I will perish. However, it would be shameful to die without putting this weapon I carry to good use, not even once. Will you teach me, not to fight, but how to kill and die?"

"And then," I paused, turning to face the horror-struck man. I don't know why I thought he was young, he was roughly my age. "When he inevitably demurs or fobs you off for a later day:"

"That is fine. Although, I think I saw Sir John earlier, saying something about patrol. I'd be glad to accompany you."

"But." I turned on my heel, to stare deeply into his light brown eyes. He had taken off his helm and let it hang by the side, his eyes matched his hair. "And this is important. If he thinks he is being manipulated a little too well, things are likely to get a bit complicated for you. So, don't lie. Don't go silent. Do not mention my name. Definitely don't run, absolutely not. Just, briskly walk back to camp, and come find me or Ala. That is, Alaxoria."

"What-" he swallowed, then again. "What happens-"

"If you run? Or lie? He kills you. Maybe straight away. Maybe he, cuts you up first. Figures out what you know. How you know it." A shiver ran up my spine, Keller's focus on me, I am going to die. "But whatever the case, if Keller thinks you are a spy or the like, that's it for you."

He paused. Looking at me, looking at the sword, looking out into the forest.

"But if I. But if I don't do this. If he doesn't teach me. I'll just. I'll die for no reason."

Hmm. Maybe he wasn't a coward or a dullard.

"Exactly. Or worse, get captured alive." That got a wince and a nod from him.

"Right. If I'm not even remotely threatening, they'll leave me to last. Drag me back instead."

"Yes, exactly. It doesn't matter so much whether you are a skilled warrior or not, which is good, because you're not. You just need to seem like one, and get your blade wet. Let me see you swing it."

He took two steps, bent, and flicked it out of the ground. "Just... swing it?"

"Imagine there is a creature in front of you, half your height, with three legs, two eyes, and more teeth than you've had hot dinners. And it wants to eat you. Slowly."

He nodded again, took a stance, and... did a sort of, swishy lunge?

"Right. Ok. I'm no expert, but I think I see the problem. You've seen too many actors holding swords in the theatre, and you've read too many books about master duellists."

He hung his head, blushing mightily.

"It's, it's fine!" I felt so bad, all of a sudden. He blushed the way I did, all the way up to the ears. "It's just, you've been told over and over again about swishing blades, you're focusing on the swish. Yes, there are master duellists who do that kind of fancy swordwork, Keller can do it even though he thinks it's a waste of time. But when they, you know, wobble the tip around, they are in complete control, deciding whether it goes here or there or into your lung. You are just, letting it wobble."

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

"... I'm guessing if I ask Keller to teach me that, he'll just stab me in the lung instead."

I laughed, despite myself. "Yeah, probably. Say, what's in this flask?"

He looked at the hardened leather flask in my hand, then down at his belt. I waggled an eyebrow at his astonished expression. "Um. Water. My lady."

"Are you sure?"

"... rum. Sorry, my lady."

"Susan."

"Sorry, my lady Susan."

"No," I popped off the top, and took a whiff. Definitely rum, and definitely leathery. "Just Susan. Say, what's your name, boy?"

"Arsworth, m- Susan."

"Really, is that so? I know another Arsworth in the settlement."

"That would, well, that would be my father."

"And you're both Arsworth? Seems a little confusing."

"No, it's. The family name."

I coughed madly, struggling to laugh while the rum burned. It took me a minute to compose myself. "On my life, you? You've got a last name?"

He nodded. "The genuine article. It's old too, all the way back from the Old Empire."

"No way. What kind of a title is Arsworth anyway?" I tried to work it around in my head.

"Don't bother. Legend has it Emperor Vexica was tripped into the mud by my ancestor, and the Emperor said he was like a donkey, but not even Worth an Arse. Hence, Arsworth."

"Wow. So, what's your actual name then?"

"Andrew."

"Alright, Andrew Arsworth." I took another pull from the rum. It went down easier that time. It wasn't so bad, the leather was easy to ignore. "You're not a soldier. And you frequent the theatre. Those hands have seen work, but neither sword or spade. What are you, then, to be swinging a rapier now?"

"I'm a- I was training to be a scribe. My dad, he's the captain. Wanted a better life for me, before, you know, everything happened. He didn't tell the others I was his son, just said for me to show up."

I nodded, swallowed, enjoyed the warmth some more, looked him up and down. And up. He had good arms, for a scribe. I couldn't tell how Andrew felt, about his father snapping the quill for a sword. Maybe the elder Arsworth was wracked with guilt, the destruction of the West Citadel had sent all the plans for his son up in flames and down in stone. He had stopped talking, and Andrew's brown eyes didn't tell me anything either. "We've met before, haven't we? You told me that joke. You know, the one, about the horse and the duchess. Tell it again."

I hadn't laughed the first time I heard it. Andrew told it again, while I watched him, and tried to figure out what was wrong with all of this. It wasn't really a joke. More of an anecdote. I didn't laugh the second time I heard it either, just dropped the empty flask to the grassy floor of the clearing, took three steps forward, planted my hand in the centre of his chainmail coat, and kept pushing. He waved the rapier towards me, but I vaguely brushed that aside and kept going until he smacked up against the closest tree, at the very edge of the clearing.

He dropped the rapier, or maybe I made him drop it, I wasn't really paying attention. What was it? What was wrong with all of this? I ran my hand up the chainmail, making it clink, until I reached his neck. His pulse was going mad, but he didn't say anything. "Say something." I said, pushing his face gently to the side and leaning in close to his neck. Under all the metal and sweat, he smelled of ink. I wondered if he tasted like ink. It wouldn't be hard to find out. I wondered if Keller tasted like blood. I placed two fingers on Andrew's jaw, turned him to face me, and stared into those nice, safe brown eyes, resolving to say nothing more until he kissed me and this stopped feeling all weird.

He didn't.

I left.

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The horizon had crept closer over the course of the day, a grey line crawling upwards across the blue. The rising golden sun, courtesy of John, was rolling towards the mass of black and grey clouds that stacked up above the ocean. The first winter storm was about to smash right into the coast, the type of storm that sent ships scurrying back to port, that sent clay tiles smashing down into the streets below, that blew the birds from their perches and howled through the night, eager to creep through windowsills and suck the stove-warmth from a bundled household.

The ships had all been sunk, the roofs were all staved in, no stoves would be lit in the West Citadel tonight. We were all just birds in the forest, waiting for the icy egg-shattering wind.

John had seen it coming early, of course, and done everything he could to prepare the settlement for the wind and rain. Everyone knew where they were supposed to be, that is, under a tree, getting wet. The bonfire would stay lit for as long as possible, great stacks of firewood under leafy green branches would hopefully be fuel enough for the coming night. Would hopefully, be enough fuel for the end of the storm. If the storm lasted more than two nights...

Zephyr had sent a scintillating shard of white light spinning off towards the storm, a nifty little spell to gauge the depth of the rolling grey sky. It hadn't come back. "That is, in some ways, a uniquely affirmative result."

"In a, yes, affirmative, you're definitely fucked, kind of way?" said Keller from a stump nearby.

"Well, when you put it that way, anything sounds bad."

"But it is that sort of thing, right?" pressed Keller, leaning forward on both elbows.

"...The border trap sigils need assessing."

Keller twisted to watch the mage go, flitting just above head-height, making a few survivors flinch as the blue haze waved past. "That is, well. Have any of you seen Zephyr this twitchy before?"

I shook my head "Not outside of battle. I guess that survey spell must've been less reliable than expected."

Keller just stared in the direction that Zephyr had left in, then at the oncoming storm. "Right, but. Whenever a spell goes wrong, Zephyr normally takes it as a challenge, right? All about seeing failure as a chance to learn and improve and refine. That was just. Nothing. If I'd ever heard them tell a lie..."

"You don't really think-"

"No! I don't. Not really. It's just."

I could see John waving at me from the far side of the clearing. "Just what, Keller?"

"Do you think Zephyr could've, stopped it. Stopped what happened to the citadel?"

(the earth folding up, swallowing down the cathedral in one great glass-spewing gulp)

"No."

"But they didn't even try!" Keller stood up from the stump, spinning away from me.

"I guess... they didn't need to try. Once the wards went, they knew exactly what it meant, that it was already all over." I reached out to put one hand on his shoulder, but he had already stepped away.

"Come on. There's a thousand things to do, and if we stay here any longer, John'll try and get us to do them."

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We toiled in the sun, the pleasantly warm breeze had died away to leave a stifling dampness to the still air. At that we could do was prepare for the worst, and watch the storm roll towards us, stately and sedate. Keller and John sweated with the other survivors to have enough plain shelter to cover everyone. The nights had been just mild enough that plenty had been sleeping under the stars around campfires, out from the cramped confines of the huts and hutches. That would all come to an end with the rain, and I wouldn't be surprised if the close quarters ended in blows if the storm dragged out too long.

Zephyr was presumably reinforcing the lightning traps, since the cover of the storm would be perfect for an ambush. Hopefully any creations in the area would be hunkering down as well. The cold wet didn't discriminate. I spent the afternoon casting exactly one spell: a badly scribed earthenworking. The incident with the grimoire-ghoul had left me with a number of weird scrolls, even after Zephyr took the cream. This one was shoddily aligned, but sufficient for the task at hand. I snagged a few of the older children who were too young to help, and had them be my eyes and voice. While the spell was unwinding in my mind, I'd be half-blind, and I wouldn't be able to halt the spell without the scroll burning up the rest of the way. The children were more than happy to help, stepping by my side as I walked backwards, guiding me around trees, yelling and shoving to get adults out of the way. Behind me, the earth boiled up, pebbles and chunks of dirt flinging away, leaving behind looping smooth-sided ditch. We did a lap of the settlement, and traced back and forth across it, without a geomancer on hand there was no way to tell if the ground was prone to flooding. Perhaps this would be enough to divert the muddy waters.

I emerged from the spell-casting fugue like I was coming up for air, eyes smarting in the dim sunlight. The first wisps of cloud were sliding across the shining disk, the last we might see of it for a while. It took a moment before my vision was clear enough to see who was puffing and panting towards me. "Susan!" huffed Berkeley, waving me forwards even as he heaved in great lungfuls. "I've been - chasing you - all over - camp. It's Alaxoria, she sent me to find you. She says - the baby is coming."

The first fat drop of rain hit the ground next to me, landing with a splat.