It was not political savvy that saved members of the Old Royalty, anyone could see the disintegration of Claridia was inevitable. The survivors were those humble enough to relinquish power to the Barons.

— Memoir of Claridia

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It was early morning in Clais, and Duke Alexandre tended to his garden. He was a scrawny ibex of average goat-height, dressed in silky, finely trimmed blue robes. His horns were polished and smooth, with decorative satin ribbons flowing on the gentle wind. He wore no brand or cape, and the only jewellery on him was a blue brooch on his chest, with two ornate horns of silver in the same shape as his real ones.

He meticulously trimmed the flowering hedges in front of his study’s window. Hired gardeners managed the expansive garden in his estate, except this particularly important bush. It needed to be perfect so that when he got lost in thought while working, no imperfections would distract him. Not that he lacked pride and joy in the work.

Alexandre was brushing some leaves that had gotten stuck in his fur when he noticed a commotion near the gate of his home. The two guards there posted were asking questions of a robed person, who he recognised as Veera.

The guards were large, wearing full armour and carrying halberds that were more ornamental than practical. It was hard to pinpoint their species under so much steel. Bears? Aurochs? That was the point of their armour, to smooth out the individual features of people.

Veera gave them no heed. Alexandre saw her reach a hand through the thin lattice of the gate; one which a mouse would struggle to fit through. Then she pulled herself through like loose sheets on the wind.

He giggled, watching Veera approach while the guards barked orders.

“Get back here!”

“Open the gate!”

“You’re the one with the key!”

And so on. Again, they got no answer from the interloper.

Alexandre placed his sheers on the ground and got closer to Veera.

“My Lord, get back!”

“Which key is it!?”

He waved a hand to dismiss them.

“Did you get them, Veera? I mean, maybe we should discuss this in private—” Only then did Alexandre notice Veera’s state. Her cloak was soaked and perforated; her face was bleeding and her mask shattered. Though he could only faintly see her expression under the hood, he sensed her agitation. “What happened to you?”

Veera lowered her hood and opened her mouth, but the gates swung open before she could utter a word. The guards dashed toward her, shielded Alexandre, and pointed their halberds on either side of Veera. Alexandre protested, but it took a second for the guards to realise there was no imminent danger. After some hesitation, they lowered their weapons.

“Everything is fine. She is an old friend,” Alexandre said.

“She shouldn’t barge in like that,” one guard contested. Veera glowered. He defied it.

“The last shift probably forgot to tell you I was expecting her. You may return to the gates,” Alexandre said politely.

The guards shot unsure looks at each other, then left, whispering between each other.

“Is that the Master Enchantress?”

“No way, lizards can’t get titles like that, probably a concubine.”

That was all Alexandre could hear before they were out of earshot. The comments upset him, but he tried his best to ignore them. He escorted Veera inside his home, following her exhausted gait.

Upon entering, Irma, a short-eared owl, spotted Veera and glided down from a perch on the second floor. Once a maid, she had recently been taken in as commis chef.

“Good morning, Master Veera, I made some fresh pastries—” Her pupils dilated, her expression changed. “Spirits! What happened to you? This wasn’t the guards, was it?”

“Retrieve them,” Veera said.

“Huh? What? The guards?” Irma was rattled.

“The pastries,” Veera clarified.

“And some medical supplies too, please,” Alexandre added.

Irma took a moment to process the commands, then flew away in a hurry to ready everything.

Alexandre and Veera headed into the study. It was a familiar, cosy room, equipped with furniture that could accommodate their diverse sizes. While Veera settled in an armchair, Alexandre received medicine and pastries from Irma.

“Should I call a doctor, Duke?” Irma asked.

“Probably not. Go back to your duties. “I’ll tell you if we need anything else,” Alexandre said.

“As you wish,” she was visibly unsatisfied but spoke no more and left.

Door closed, Veera swiped her tail from side to side. “New guards again?” Veera asked.

“The barons keep swapping them. I think they are scared I’ll get too close to them or something,” Alexandre shrug. “You should use the key I gave you.”

“Inefficient,” Veera retorted. This was the same answer she had given him many times before.

Veera removed her mask and Alexandre approached with a wet cloth in hand, ready to clean the wound.

“Tell me what happened,” Alexandre asked. Veera’s expression did not reveal much, but he could tell from the slant of her crest of feathers that she was tired and disappointed.

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“Four thieves for hire, instructed to ambush, rob and murder whoever arrived in search of the Feathers. I am yet to interrogate one of them,” Veera said. Her feathers bristled up in pain while Alexandre worked on the injury.

Alexandre considered this. “Did you… kill them?”

“No,” Veera said.

“Good.”

Alexandre applied some ointment and made a curative with dry cloth.

“One of them was an ibex,” Veera said.

“Oh?” The Duke pulled his own chair to sit next to Veera. “Did you feel differently beating up someone that looks like me?”

“Not particularly.”

“Why did you bring it up?” He asked curiously.

“I am trying to make conversation,” she said drily. Alexandre chuckled at that.

“Well, was he as handsome as me?”

She thought for a moment. “His horns were unkempt,” she finally said.

“Good thing I take care of my horns, then. I wouldn’t want you to beat me up,” he joked. Veera judged his horns with a glance and her feathers settled in an approving slant.

After that, she recounted the events in the Devoras’ Domain. Alexandre was quite intrigued by the story, repeating that he wished he could have accompanied her. She did not approve of the suggestion, and the fight she had was a good demonstration of why. Veera was large, frightening, strong, but fights were dangerous, uncertain endeavours.

“So, no Crystal Feathers?” Alexandre mourned, upset at the violent outcome.

“I have a lead.”

“Veera, you really need to be careful. This violence will only get worse as you close in on the Feathers. I wouldn’t be surprised if Archenchantress Celara is involved.”

“Her involvement would correlate with her recent breakthroughs. A Crystal Feather would make even her inelegant spells effective.”

“She is smarter than you give her credit for, and inelegant or not, she has some powerful tools at her disposal. Not to mention the backing of the Barons,” Alexandre said.

He could tell Veera was considering this through the motion of her crest. “Regardless,” she said, “I will have confirmation soon.”

“You said something about interrogating them, but if you left them all behind on that island…” He shuddered to think of what could happen to them in that terrible darkness.

“I captured their leader.”

“Even if he’s just tied up in the underground…”

“That is not what I meant. I have him with me.”

Alexandre’s frown turned into concern and panic. He looked at Veera, then at her cloaks. “He’s… you didn’t…”

“He is physically unharmed,” Veera reassured Alexandre.

“But… Veera, last time I dipped my head inside, I couldn’t walk for hours. If you leave him inside for too long, who knows what might happen!?”

“You also vomited,” Veera added. “Both times.”

“W-well,” Alexandre was flustered. “On the second time, I missed your cloak.” Veera glared, and he sighed. “Are you sure he will be fine? Isn’t he going to be torn apart?”

“Real-space distance of neighbouring points is preserved,” Veera said. “Shapes remain homeomorphic to their R3 counterparts even if the cloak-space is not.”

“Veera, I have no idea what this means,” he said.

“He will fold but not tear,” Veera said. “And he will remain physically safe as long as he answers my questions.”

The Duke was unhappy, but he knew better than to keep protesting Veera’s methods. At least he trusted she would not be needlessly cruel — sparing the thieves’ lives was proof of it.

Alexandre left Veera to rest and eat pastries while he went to get more food. Most of the time, the cooks avoided meat to keep the herbivores in the staff comfortable. It was a simple gesture — they were used to the habits of their carnivore companions — but the staff appreciated it. Veera’s incoming visit placed this practice on hold so they could cook fish. Some herbivores were unhappy, Alexandre could tell. It was as if some of their comfort and safety had been infringed upon, even if consuming sal’meat was an abhorrent barbarism left to the past. Alexandre, a herbivore himself, sympathised with the sentiment, but he was more concerned about Veera’s well being.

When he returned to his study, he saw Veera had moved to his desk. Her broken mask rested on atop next to a padded gemcase. Neatly organised within the leather roll were several gemstones, all of them secured and tagged with a strange hexagonal scrip.

Veera finished cleaning the blood off the mask, then grabbed a pink fluorite and some chunks of ceramic from her cloak. Alexandre wanted to watch this, he always loved seeing Veera’s enchantments.

With one hand, Veera held the little shards of ceramic where her mask had shattered; with the other, she brushed the fluorite between mask and shards like someone applying glue. The chunks of ceramic joined the rest of the mask seamlessly — it was like playing with clay. Veera shaped the ceramic until the mask was repaired, missing only its golden flourishes, but she would have to add those later.

“Magnificent!” Alexandre said. A hint of pride flashed through Veera’s plumage.

After stashing her mask inside her cloak, she devoured the bread and fish the Duke had brought.

“What are those for?” He asked. Veera had already explained it plenty of times to him, but he enjoyed hearing her talk.

Veera preferred a demonstration. She tapped it on the entrance tear in her cloak where the goose’s arrow hit and the cloth mended itself. She tried to reach for her back but had to contort herself.

“May I?” Alexandre asked. Veera handed him the gemstone. He focused on the enchantment within, feeling the sharp edges of Veera’s intellect embedded in the intermediate, describing an incomprehensibly complex set of instructions. He allowed his energy to flow within the stone and the tear closed.

Veera handed him another gemstone. “To dry my cloak,” she said.

Alexandre was more than excited to use more spells. This one was simpler than the one used to mend the cloak, but he doubted he’d ever be able to produce an enchantment of this calibre. It felt so clear, like an image in sharp focus, but still incomprehensible in its contents.

He placed the gemstone on the cloak, allowed his energy to flow freely. Water evaporated before his eyes until the cloak was dry. When he pulled back the gemstone, he felt faint and stumbled, but Veera caught him before he fell to the ground. Alexandre was so excited to test the enchantment, he had not paid attention to how much of his energy it absorbed.

There was a deep rhythmic rumble coming from within her, so deep that Alexandre could feel his chest vibrate.

“Hilarious,” he said playfully, slowly recovering from the sudden drain. Veera bristled brightly, amused. “Does that get rid of the water inside the cloak?” Alexandre asked.

“I have found no remedy for my cloak’s permeability. The only way to remove it in its entirety will be to lift the enchantment and return to normal space,” Veera said.

“Well, at least you have a source of potable water when you need it.”

“Inefficient, water is too dense. It would slow my movements and drain my strength. Furthermore, I would not drink water from the Devoras’ Domain,” Veera retorted with a hint of frustration in her voice.

Alexandre nodded thoughtfully. It was interesting to think about Veera’s cloak, even if he did not understand all the mechanisms behind its enchantment.

He kept going like an excited child, “Those two are new,” he pointed at two gemstones. “What are they for?”

“They are attempts at manipulating normal space outside the confines of my cloak. Without a solid object to map the manifold to, I cannot calculate the enthalpy precisely,” Veera said. “They require more testing.”

“So you waste too much energy for little effect?” Alexandre said.

“Fundamentally correct.”

Alexandre held a soft smile. He brushed his curled horn with hers and they returned to the armchair to rest, and sat on the chair’s arm — it was more than large enough to accommodate him. Veera’s feathers had settled, her tail no longer swished anxiously; she had calmed down.

“The éclairs are stuffed with jam,” Veera said, staring at the dripping pastry in her claws.

“You don’t like it? I asked Irma to add extra for you,” Alexandre said.

Veera said scooped up jam, “I meant it as a compliment.”

Alexandre rubbed his horn with Veera’s gently as he settled on the arm of the chair. “I will make sure she knows you are pleased.”