Bessen yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Even though she wasn’t one to stay up late, she was finding these morning meetings harder and harder to attend. Still, she sat up dutifully and tried to pay attention to Cleora.

Instead of folding the Adventurers’ Guild into the military, Andra had chosen to keep them separate. The Guild’s council had placed one of their members, Cleora, in charge and she handed out jobs to the various adventurers. Usually something like “Assassinate this general” or “Raid that cave.” Things adventurers had experience with. In some ways it was nice; it kept Bessen away from the large battles and sieges, but she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the arrangement. After all, she hadn’t become an adventurer to fight in wars. She was supposed to be rescuing princesses and recovering lost artifacts, not fighting random demons who were protecting their land.

Still, every morning she dragged herself to this high-class Ambrosia City restaurant that had been converted into a meeting hall and listen to Cleora list off the latest pieces of news. Then she would hand out the newest list of jobs. Occasionally there would be one for Bessen, but her skill set did not often lend itself to the types of jobs Cleora had, so most often she would wander off to get drinks with a group of adventurers, rolling her eyes as they made comments about Cleora’s ass. She felt no kinship with them in the way she had with Maxine, Nightingale, and Atworth, but at least they were company.

“As I’m sure all the mages know, Magi-net hasn’t been working properly since yesterday; this is making communication difficult,” Cleora droned. Wasn’t that a huge problem, Bessen wondered? Wouldn’t the armies descend into chaos without their most reliable communication method? Yet Cleora read off the item as if it were utterly meaningless.

“As a result of the issue, Lady von Ekko will be cutting her visit short and leaving today. This also means that we don’t have any updates of the battle at Conflagra or the hunt for the Buer.

“A rogue group of Athorian priests has attacked several vampires as they were sleeping and one of them was killed. As a result, the entire Vampire Brotherhood is threatening to pull out of the alliance.”

Seriously? How could she just read that news item off like it wasn’t a huge deal? And weren’t bards supposed to have honey-sweet voices as powerful as any charm spell instead of tired monotones that threatened to put people back to sleep?

“Finally, the International Society of Alchemists will be deploying the latest group of their riflemen at the beginning of next week.”

At least there was one piece of good news in the day’s updates. Cleora continued, handing off the latest assignments to the various adventurers. Bessen’s attention started to drift again and she began staring out the window.

“Bessen, a dragon has been attacking groups of soldiers at New Malebolgia. You will find its home and put an end to it.”

Bessen’s head snapped around to face Cleora, the lamia she had been watching slither across the street instantly forgotten. “Seriously? A dragon? Who am I working with?”

Cleora checked her paper. “No one. You’ll be alone.”

Bessen struggled to think of what to say. Wasn’t the ludicrous nature of this request self-evident?

“Dragons aren’t really my area. I’m more ‘groups of skeleton warriors’ than ‘enormous fire-breathing beasts.’”

Cleora checked her paper again as if it would tell her something different. “Nevertheless, it appears that you’re to face one.”

“A mage could blast one with magic, a thief could sneak up on it. If I had an enchanted shield or armor I could stand a chance, but as I am I’ll be incinerated.”

Cleora sighed heavily. “These assignments are handled by experts. They know what they’re doing. They aren’t simply going to send you off to die in a hopeless fight.”

“But that’s exactly what they’re doing!” Bessen protested.

Cleora fixed her with an annoyed look. “Can’t you just go into one of your battle rages?”

“Battle trances. And improved fighting instincts and faster reaction times aren’t going to matter against a dragon.”

Cleora shrugged. “Well, you’ll just have to figure something out. Your train leaves at noon.”

Without waiting for a response, Cleora continued with the next assignment. Bessen spent the rest of the meeting in a daze. When it finally ended she wandered out of the restaurant with the rest of the adventurers. One of them patted her on the back.

“Tough luck. It was nice knowing you.”

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She would not be getting on the train, that much was for sure. She made her way back to the apartment she was using and started to pack her things. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she couldn’t stay here. She could always get on another train, head to another city closer to the front, then sneak into demon territory and start a new life there. There were plenty of humans on the southern continent; she wouldn’t raise any suspicion.

Except, she realized, that she couldn’t speak the language. True, Rampartian seemed to be commonly spoken here, but a person who couldn’t speak Inferno, the demonic tongue, would be instantly marked as a northerner. In that case, the only possibility was to return home. That would require getting on a ship, which would be impossible without orders. She didn’t even know which ships were leaving today, aside from Andra’s.

Andra’s ship was leaving today.

She was out the door before her plan was fully formed.

When she arrived at the docks, she found Andra’s ship easily enough. It was a modern metal ship, not one of the wooden sailing vessels that populated most of the docks. These new ships, much like trains, were powered by some alchemic concoction that was produced in several ISA facilities and they were still something of a rarity. Many were war ships, but some were the personal transports of nobles or ISA higher-ups. Bessen couldn’t imagine Andra traveling in any other ship.

She made her way across the crowded dock to the gangplank where, as she had anticipated, a guard was checking the paperwork for everyone boarding. She was grateful for her large size, it made it easy for her to look confident as she approached him.

“This is Lady von Ekko’s ship, right?” Bessen asked. “She requested a bodyguard for her companion’s child.”

The guard nodded and held out his hand. “You have orders?”

Bessen sighed as if this were an inconvenience she had anticipated. “Not written ones, no. You know how Lady von Ekko is. She just pointed to me and said ‘You. You look pretty tough. You’re Drake’s bodyguard now. Get over to the docks and wait on my ship.’”

“That sounds like her. She doesn’t care about protocol or tradition at all, does she?” The guard leaned in close. “Do you know she’s going around calling herself the princess’ fiancee?”

Bessen leaned in close to reply in a low voice. “Yeah, and I hear the king’s none too happy about it.”

“Well, why would he be? Lady von Ekko and the princess can’t exactly produce a child, can they?”

Bessen carefully considered how to respond. After all, she didn’t want to say anything offensive, even without Andra around to hear it. “From the way she describes it, that’s not a concern.”

The guard scrunched up his face. “That’s the other thing. I’m a modern guy, I don’t have any problem with the transgenders. But does she have to be so...proud of it? I mean, if a man wants to be a woman, shouldn’t he want to be just like any other woman?”

Something about that annoyed Bessen, but she tried not to let it show. “She doesn’t strike me as the sort to be ashamed of anything about herself.”

“But then why not just be a man?” The guard looked over Bessen, suddenly aware of her bulk. “Wait, are you one of them?”

Bessen laughed. “Me? Nah, I’m just tall.”

“Right, of course.” He leaned back and spoke normally, sounding relieved. “At any rate, you’re putting me in a tricky situation. We’re supposed to watch out for people who have aligned themselves with the demons.”

“Really? Because lately I’ve been hearing that the big concern is doppelgangers.” That wasn’t something she had planned to say. She couldn’t decide whether she had just taken control of the situation or lost it entirely.

“Doppelgangers?” the guard asked, looking concerned. “What are those?”

It occurred to Bessen that if the guard didn’t know what doppelgangers were, she could tell him anything.

“Shapeshifting demons. It’s said that they can look like anyone. But they’re worse than regular shapeshifters, see? First, a doppelganger stalks the person they want to imitate until they’re alone. Next, it slips out of the shadows and cuts its victim’s throat with its claws. Then it swallows the victim whole while they’re still alive, gaining their knowledge and memories and the ability to take on their form. Finally, they start living their victim’s life, going around and imitating them perfectly, and none of their friends or family members can tell.”

Bessen had no idea if any of that was true. She wasn’t even sure if doppelgangers were demons. But her story seemed to be working. The guard looked sick. “But that means they could replace anyone. Even the king.”

Bessen nodded. “By the time someone goes missing, it’s too late to catch the doppelganger because it’s already moved on to imitating someone else. That’s why Lady von Ekko wants the extra security. More people around makes it harder for the doppelganger to catch someone off guard. I hear her alchemist friend is working on some potion that’ll force them into their true form. That’s why she’s been keeping him so close, and his child, too.”

The guard thought about this. “If it’s that important, I suppose I should let you board. After all, I don’t want to put a child in danger. And as long as Lady von Ekko is expecting you, there won’t be any problems.”

Bessen thanked the guard and stepped up the gangplank, smiling to herself. Perhaps she should change jobs and become a thief.

She had never been on board a metal ship before. She found that the inside was all tight hallways and unmarked doors. At least it was well-lit with rows of light potions. After checking a few doors she discovered an out-of-the-way closet full of cleaning supplies. She supposed this would be a suitable place to hide until the ship launched. After that she would have to figure out where she could keep hidden for the next few days until the ship reached Port Cullis. She would also have to figure out food and water.

And she would have to figure out everything else.

Her life was completely changed, she realized. She was a deserter now. She could never return to the Guild, even if the war ended. And until the war ended she would be a fugitive. She would have to live in hiding, probably under a false name. She wouldn’t be able to live in her old apartment or see any of her friends again. It occurred to her that she should probably feel some emotion about that, but she found that she was happy. She didn’t want anything to do with this war, and she’d finally decided to say “no.”

Taking control felt right.