The streets were as full as before, but the cheer wasn’t there. It wasn’t just a case of the world being at war. With no one firmly in control of the domain, there were no limiting echoes to boost people’s mood, nor did the domain itself fill the city with joy. The overseer could probably do that, but she was as much a tool as a person—the owner of the domain had to make the decision, which apparently hadn’t occurred.

Some stalls and shops were better than others. The Mirror Pool seemed to be doing well. Thanks to his magic skills, Dallion was instantly able to recognize anyone with disfocus items as they tried to blend into the crowd.

This place has seen better days, Vihrogon said. Don’t worry, though. It will again, once a proper ruler is determined.

Dallion nodded. Good or bad, as long as the ruler was confident enough, all efforts would focus on getting the inhabitants to believe that they were the most fortunate people in the world. Just as life had been in Dherma village during the rule of Aspion Luor, ignorance was bliss.

The Gremlin’s Timepiece was noticeably less lively than usual. There were no tables on the street and from what could be seen through the windows, there hardly was anyone inside.

Here goes. Dallion stepped through the door.

To his great surprise, the place was not only rather full, but he knew a large part of the people there—all of them, with the exception of Hannah—were former Icepicker members. It was as if half the guild had relocated here.

“Dal!” Estezol shouted, causing all eyes to turn in the appropriate direction.

All chatter suddenly stopped. Any other time Dallion would have been concerned with what would follow, but knowing their emotions was a pretty clear giveaway that none of them were mad at him. Even after all this time, they still considered him one of them and were glad he was alright.

“It’s been a while!” the short, bearded man continued. “Being a mage must have kept you pretty busy.”

Only an optimist like him would greet him in such a fashion. One would almost think that the last few years hadn’t occurred, and the guild was about to take part in another Nerosal Festival any month now.

Everyone has their way of coping, dear boy, Adzorg reminded. One of the best ways I’ve observed is to skip long stretches of time, pretending they never happened.

The rest of the people soon followed. A pair of siblings with whom Dallion had started his item leveling career were quick to rush to him, almost drowning him with questions. Grunt, the quiet giant, was also there, as were Bel, Spike, June, and several more people Dallion knew rather well. Not least, March was also present. Seeing her, though, filled Dallion with mixed reactions; he couldn’t be sure whether that was really her or a copyette.

A burst of combat splitting suddenly occurred, putting Dallion on guard. Unable to see the immediate consequences, he split as well, concentrating on all points of entry into the hall. One of his instances rushed to the staircase, only to see someone else’s instance already there.

“Vend?” Dallion asked.

“Good to see you still have it,” the other replied. “I feared magic might have made you rusty.”

All of Vend’s instances faded away, leaving only the one Dallion was talking to. Naturally, Dallion did the same.

A new silence filled the room. In the main hall, the table March was sitting at quickly cleared.

“You look well,” Vend said. “More or less.”

In contrast, the old guild mate hadn’t managed to go through the last few years unscathed. His entire right arm was missing, leaving an empty sleeve hanging from his shoulder. Looking closer, Dallion found that it wasn’t a simple wound, but a permanent condition. No healing spell would be able to restore him, even if Dallion had the affinity to cast one powerful enough.

“Let’s have a drink.” Vend made his way to March’s table. After a few seconds, Dallion followed.

A jug of ale and several glasses had already found their way there. The taste was passable, but not something Dallion was keen on. Gaining a few dozen points of perception had changed his tastes quite a lot. Thanks to his time as a hunter he was able to endure it.

“Where’s Hannah?” he changed the subject. “It’s not like her to be gone.”

“Out haggling for supplies,” March said. “The guild master…” she paused. “The former guild master restored the Icepickers making her inn our guildhall, but she still insists on doing the work herself. I guess that’s her way of dealing with things.”

Of course she would. Dallion thought. Of all the people she found dear, only one remained at the inn. Eury had left long ago, Jiroh had returned to her world, and Dallion had become a mage who had captured Adzorg. That only left Pan hiding in the kitchen.

“Is that why you came here?” Vend took a mug with his left hand.

“No,” Dallion admitted. “I came to settle some old debts. After that, I’ll be heading south.”

“Back to your home?” March asked.

“Further south.” After what he’d learned about his grandfather, passing through his village had become even less appealing than before. “I just thought I’d pass by and see how she was doing. Didn’t expect to see the guild back.”

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“You always had your eyes on bigger things. I suppose it’s normal for an otherworlder.”

“The guild helped me a lot. I enjoyed my time there, but—”

“You’ve all grown up now. There comes a time when you must stop playing with children and move on to the real game.” She looked him straight in the eye.

No words were said, but Dallion knew she was aware of his change. Of everyone here, she was probably the only one who knew with certainty that he had become a noble—the thing she used to be.

“I see that a lot of the city guards are gone,” he changed the subject again. “Any reason for that?”

“Who’d be stupid enough to attack a city under the protection of the Order? Even the Pool is on guard. Every week, a few of the leaders go to the temples to donate and make sure things remain acceptable.”

“And the arena?”

“Just for show. The festival was Priscord’s thing. After what she did, people want to forget. Maybe the guild master will start a new event at some point. He’s on thin ice as well. As a remnant of the previous war, he’d lose his life if he attracts too much attention.”

“A slow decline until Archduke Lanitol passes on,” Dallion sighed, then took another sip of his ale.

The province had survived the worse, but had definitely seen better days. If Dallion were in charge, he knew he could turn things around. Could he achieve that, though? Archduke Darude had a nice ring to it. He’d have to forsake his family name—no one would permit the existence of an Elazni archduke, least of all his own family. Still—

A presence suddenly emerged a foot away from Dallion. It wasn’t a spell, nor was it the appearance of an overseer, meaning that there could be one single answer.

Dallion’s fingers moved quickly, casting a summon spell. In less than a blink of the eye, the Nox dagger was in his hand, ripping the air to the new presence. However, it never managed to reach its target. The attack was blocked. It wasn’t a complicated block, just a person’s hand grabbing hold of Dallion’s forearm. Breaking out of it would have been easy, if that’s what Dallion intended to do.

“You ungrateful pisser!” Hannah shouted. “After all I’ve done, you still attack me in such a sloppy way. I had hoped the world would have taught you better.” She let go of his arm, then slammed a large plate on the table. “Some battlemage you turned out to be.”

Laughter filled the room, but unnatural laughter. Looking closely, Dallion could see the fine threads of magic in the air connecting to most of the people present. All of them were coming from the kitchen.

“Put that away,” the innkeeper hissed.

Dallion obeyed, causing the dagger to disappear.

In the background Grunt approached, bringing a chair for Hannah to sit.

“What am I going to do with you?” the innkeeper asked, leaning back in her chair. “I told you you’re the eye of a hurricane and you come here first chance you get.”

“Di is fine,” Dallion said. After all this time, his fear of the woman had completely faded, yet the respect had grown.

“And the captain?”

“Adzorg is fine.” There was only one person Hannah referred to as “the captain.” “He achieved what he was aiming for.”

“So, it’s over.”

Dallion could see the internal sigh of relief pass through the woman. The emotion was so strong that it nearly knocked him down. It was as if she had been carrying the weight of the world for years, before finally casting it off moments ago.

She knows, Dallion thought. All this time, she pretended to be nothing but an innkeeper, yet she knew.

Of course, she knew, dear boy. Adzorg joined in. She knew about the device from the very beginning.

Before Dallion could say anything, a series of air currents sliced through the door, removing it from its hinges.

You’re quite popular today, Vihrogon said.

Popular in all the wrong ways… Dallion thought.

This time, the atmosphere in the inn changed completely. The guild members had drawn their weapons and were looking into the street where the entrance door had been. A large fury, clad in light armor, stepped in, followed shortly by a second.

How many of them are there? Dallion asked all items and area guardians in a hundred-foot radius.

Hundreds of voices replied, all saying the same thing: there was absolutely no one outside.

“The general would like a word with you,” the large fury said, ignoring the hostility of the room.

“Sure.” Dallion feared that might happen. “Tell him that—”

“The general wants a word with you now,” the fury interrupted. “A Moon vow was made, so he’s within his right to drag you out, if that’s what you prefer.” Glancing at the Icepickers present, a smirk appeared on the mercenary’s face. “He’s not the only one who’s made a deal with the general. If you want your debts postponed, you better not interfere.”

So that’s how it was. Due to the many conflicts and misery that Nerosal had been subjected to, the slimy snob’s influence had grown tremendously. Hardly surprising given that the artifact bubble had popped long before the poison plague and subsequent provincial war. Still, Dallion hadn’t imagined it would get to the point that he’d become this brazen.

“Can I finish my drink?” Dallion used his music skills to add some weight to his words.

The fury glared at him, but said nothing.

“I don’t have debts,” Vend stood up. “I’ll join him.”

“Vend,” March grabbed him by the shoulder. “You’re in no state for that.” She pulled him down, standing up instead. “But I am.”

“I’m touched, but there’s no need,” Dallion said. “This’ll be settled quickly.”

“Nothing with the general is settled quickly.” The woman put on her helmet. “If it is, I’ll just enjoy the walk.”

Dallion finished his mug in one go. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience. Drinking the liquid felt like drinking sandpaper with a hint of oranges. Once he was done with his debt, he’d ask Pan to make him something better.

“Is he in the usual place?” Dallion asked as he placed the empty mug on the table in front of him.

“I’ll escort you.” There was fear in the fury’s voice, but even so it was less than the fear that emanated from him.

“I also don’t have any debts,” Hannah stood up.

“Captain.” March turned to the innkeeper. “I can handle this. You don’t have to.”

She was the captain of the guard, wasn’t she, Adzorg? It suddenly hit him. The first time your device exploded.

MEMORY FRAGMENT

Imperial Academy, 35 years ago.