Levia’s sun arches loomed over them as the carriage clattered away from the riverbank.

From its name, Ari had imagined a cross between Arc de Triomphe and a section of a Roman aqueduct, basking in the golden glow of the sun. Reality was, as was becoming the norm, completely different.

The arches had only been dwarfed by the Cathedral as they had been built at the bottom of a hill. Perhaps built was not the right word; it simply rose out of the ground, dark amber and crystalline, glittering under the surface. The arch that they approached front-on melted into a milky white at its pointed roof, and a columned temple sat atop it all, a golden disc gleaming from its uppermost window. Ari thought she could glimpse three figures in red floaty dresses, spinning and dancing within the temple, as if its floor was not translucent, offering glimpses of its dizzying heights.

~That will be the priestesses of Levia. The sun is high. It is time to dance.~

A second arch sat perpendicular to the first, seemingly serving no purpose other than to throw shimmering shadows and spots of light onto the grounds below.

Claribel nudged her, jabbing at a plain wool cloak rolled under her carriage seat, meant to disguise the riches underneath.

Sir Edwin offered her a hand to alight the carriage because a knee-high wall built from dull grey bricks encircled the whole area.

~That’s the Long Wall.~

~Are you talking about men from Jumont?~

~It is not a defensive wall, though I suppose all walls are defensive – against the elements, if nothing else. I only meant the intentions behind it. Ninus built this out of love. It was supposed to be a home for Moracea, but alas, it was never completed.~

~I am.~

~Oh no, Levia chose to bury her Eye in the middle of Long Wall’s circle, not the other way round. Levia believed that there was no place that’d burn brighter than grounds dedicated to love.~

The Long Wall stretched as far as the eye could see. Which wasn’t all that far, considering that the crowd almost rivalled rush hour in central London.

~It is a week from Midwinter. People have started to celebrate Levia, getting ready to welcome the longest night before the rebirth of light and sun.~

Those people gathered beneath the spots of light reflected from the arches, drumming and dancing to their own rhythms, enjoying their moments of peace on a sunny winter’s day, drinking in the–

‘SO I SAY! SAY NO TO HEAVY PLOUGHS!!!’ cried a burly man with a scraggy beard and muddy face. He would have looked more convincing as a farmer without those soft and fleshy palms. Not a soldier either. Not with those hands. Though in this world, mage was always an option, a wildcard.

~No, he’s not. Your assumptions are correct though. He is not who he pretends to be. I’m ashamed to say that he is Lord–~

‘HEAVY PLOUGHS ARE KILLING OUR FUTURE!!!’

‘For fuck’s sake, shut–’

‘THEY ARE WHY PEOPLE AREN’T HAVING CHILDREN ANYMORE!!!’ he cried, waving about a wooden rake.

The dancing crowd inched away from him, leaving only a red-faced young man in a pair of tattered boots, still attempting to swear at the man.

~He’s not.~

‘WHY WOULD THEY NEED CHILDREN WHEN THEY CAN PLOUGH THE HARDEST OF GROUNDS WITH THE INSTRUMENT OF EVIL?’

‘Why do you have to–’

‘THEY WOULDN’T!!!’

~I believe so. That young man is Henny Rockbottom. I have seen him before, on my way to the House of Giving.~

A man with a surname? Was that a first?

~That’s his nickname. I am not privy to the reason, though it may have something to do with his behind. Lady Cass – a friend of mine – likes to describe it as pert. Henny has been growing in popularity recently. People gather to hear him speak by Levia’s sun arches, and he has been speaking of–~

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‘SAY IT AFTER ME!!! HEAVY PLOUGHS ARE EVIL INCARNATE!!!’

Ari clenched her jaws, headache rising.

Shame that the scruffy lord merely smelled of mint leaves and earth; if she made him faint, there’d be no alcohol to blame. Not that people didn’t sometimes blackout for no discernible reason.

‘Lord Estan! What a surprise it is to see you here!’ Claribel stepped in before Ari could take further action and flashed him a toothy grin, twisting Ari’s face into an expression it had never worn before. ‘How wonderful it is to hear someone speak so passionately about the heavy plough! I, myself, have found the purchase to be an enormous success, especially in the clay-rich lands around Wingshill House, but it is so good to see that anyone is free to express their opinions under the protection of Levia.’

‘Who are you meant to be?’ Lord Estan scowled.

Ari was wrong. The hooded cloak that wasn’t even long enough to cover the bottom of Claribel’s embroidered gown had somehow worked as a disguise.

~It’s likely because he has only seen me from a distance…~

‘I am a Royal Coroner,’ said Sir Edwin, stepping forth to flash his chain of office. ‘Tell me, Lord Estan, how alive do you feel?’

‘…Fully?’

‘That’s a shame. Looks like I was too early. Not to worry! I will be back to examine your body next time. Please make sure you are here again on the morrow! I don’t want to waste this lady’s time again. She was kind enough to come with me to identify you. I’m sorry, my lady,’ he said, turning to Ari, ‘sometimes my visions get the day wrong, but the location… oh… the location is always crystal-clear.’

‘Are you saying you’ve seen my death?’ Lord Estan’s face grew as grey as the bricks of the Long Wall.

‘Nothing to worry about, my dearest Lord Estan!’ Sir Edwin tapped the space between his brows. ‘We will all return to the Fated One one day. I will be gentle when I examine your wounds when the time comes, so… Hey! Don’t run away! Come back! Actually, no need to come back right now! Just make sure you come back on the morrow! Hey! You will, won’t you? And… he’s gone.’

‘I thank you for your help, sir coroner,’ said Henny, face no longer competing for redness with the dancing priestesses’ spinning skirts high above them. ‘He has been a regular for – has it been a month?’

‘Sure felt like it,’ said a stodgy man with a missing set of front teeth, ‘but I reckon a week. Can’t believe he’s a lord! These lofty lords sure have a lot o’ time to spare, comin’ here to play poor.’

‘Did you call him Lord Estan?’ A girl who wore bells around her wrists joined in. ‘Never heard of him. Bet you his manor ain’t big enough to take up even half his day. Roll out of bed, dust his hearth, mop his face ‘n’ he’s done. Any lord worth his salt should be too busy sortin’ out his household or preparin’ for His Majesty’s tournament.’

‘Sir coroner, have you foreseen any other deaths with your third eye?’ said the man, tapping the space between his brows like Sir Edwin had done.

‘Why? Whose were you hoping for?’

‘Namin’ no names, but…’ He looked left and right, but somehow missed Ari. ‘See, some people are bad influences. There, I said it.’

‘Not this again, Pa.’ The girl rolled her eyes.

‘But how could you stuff sunflowers down your gown in church? You ‘n’ Effie both?! She’s a bad influence, that’s what she is. What are you goin’ to do next? Crack a walnut on someone’s head?’

‘Lady Oriana was protestin’ how Baron Somner treated Lady June, and he deserved that walnut!’

‘Protestin’ my arse. Why can’t you find a better lady to copy, eh? Look at Lady Claribel. She’s always workin’ hard, buyin’ heavy ploughs ‘n’ grantin’ children’s wishes. She’s not out there gettin’ locked in her manor for weeks by Cardinal Octavus for her behaviour. Sendin’ a golem to attend a burnin’?! Really?!’

‘Coz it was boring. Just like Lady Claribel. Even her gowns are boring.’

‘Boring?! She’s a mage! She controls the wind!’

‘If Lady Oriana was a wind mage, she’d have blown off Baron Somner’s clothes ‘n’ lifted him into the sky, squealin’ for all to see. She’s a real legend! All Lady Claribel does is spin windmills. Boring. Don’t you think so too?’ The girl peeked under Ari’s hood, hoping to find an ally, and paled.

Not many in Eirene had the same amber eyes as Claribel. Paired with her darker complexion and the jewels on her hairnet that peeked through under the hood, there was no mistaking her identity.

‘I quite agree. I also think that Lady Claribel is too boring to take offense at your comments, and that Lady Oriana would have hidden dried sunflowers around Baron Somner’s vicinity before sending him into the air, making the overall effect a lot more dramatic than what you have described.’

‘Are… Are you headin’ to the House of Givin’, by any chance?’

‘We are here to find Hesperus, the fire mage,’ said Sir Edwin, pulling Ari behind him. ‘Have you seen him? He said he’d wait for us along the Wall, but unfortunately the Wall is long, as its name does so accurately describe.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Henny, ‘he passed by a while ago, and had kids with him. They’ll be near Heart Pond. Lots of kids are down there today buildin’ sandcastles.’

Sir Edwin thanked him. Moments later, a crowd had gathered again around Henny Rockbottom: men, women, children who no longer danced, but listened intently to the words that Lord Estan could no longer drown out. ‘What truly matters to the Fated One? Is it the relics you buy from the Holy Fang, or is it your acts of kindness towards your neighbours?’

*

Heart Pond was crystal blue. Unnaturally so. It was also perfectly heart-shaped, and surrounded by soft, white sand.

~Behold the magic that only an Eye of Una can grant.~

Children congregated here. Some balanced on the Long Wall, and jumped down onto the soft, sandy floor. Some drew letters in the sand. One drew a sausage, and had managed to add a circle near the bottom before being wrenched away by his mother.

Henny was right. Hesperus was here too, sleeves rolled up, patting sand out of a bucket.

Tilly grinned when she saw her. ‘Look, my lady! We are building a real castle. It’s much better than what Ninus managed to build for Moracea.’

‘Yeah, that’s just a wall,’ added Finn. ‘Ours has rooms and stuff. Look! This is the hearth area, and then you’ve got the toy area, and the sword area, and the horse area, and the poo area–’

‘I am sorry to interrupt the tour of your grand castle,’ said Sir Edwin, ‘but I must speak with you, Hesperus of the blue flames.’

‘As you can see, I am occupied.’

‘If it is about finding someone to watch over the children while we talk, then rest assured. That Sailan’s priest is watching the children well enough.’

‘What Sailan’s priest? You don’t mean… That’s Lord and Master Keating to you. His head and brows are bare, but not shaven…’

‘Ah. Now I see. Yes. It’s great that the children are in the hands of such a famed Master from the Academy. All the more reason for you to come with me.’ He introduced himself and flashed his chain of office once more. ‘Let’s not waste any more time and get on with your account. Pray tell me, how did you know Tristram, and when did you last see him?’

Hesperus closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. ‘If you are asking me officially–’

‘I am, with the authorities granted to me by His Majesty himself.’

‘–then I can hardly refuse, though there is not much to tell. How did I know Tristram?’ Hesperus walked over to an unoccupied stretch of the Long Wall and sat down. He looked into Ari’s eyes, and said, ‘You know the story already, don’t you?’