Eli POV

‘I’m so sorry.’ Salamede’s voice reverberated in my mind, cutting through the fog of satisfaction clogging my senses.

Grey stone wall directly opposite of the bed we were sitting on made up most of my vision. My cherished and beautiful wife was on the left, her hands and circles of gold mana working a healing spell in my peripheral vision. The Kelton woman’s labor was directed at a gash on my left temple, though the bits of blood that dripped onto my white shirt would not be undone with such magic.

‘It doesn’t hurt, does it?’ she asked, her voice having an almost breathless angst to it mixed with genuine worry. I looked down to the bottom hem of her dress, the light green body and blue trim being ruffled as the fabric was still drawn above her thigh despite the cold.

‘Eli!’

‘Yes?’ I asked mildly, my eyes brushing past the gold triangles flowing from the hole for her neck before meeting those white orbs.

‘Stop smiling.’ She demanded with a grit of her teeth despite no audible sounds being made.

Was I?

…

I was.

Salamede had a rather flustered air that just tickled my soul. Her ears had a deep red tint, lips bitten, and snout flaring with her heaving chest. A fantastic display all around.

‘Honestly!’ The healer Kelton continued, sounding like she was forcing the anger through with the warmth tingling through my skull. ‘Doing that on Gula’s maiden night. The poor girl never had a chance.’

‘Maybe the next time you feel like making a joke involving me being pregnant with Cell, you’ll remember that I have many ways of exacting my revenge.’

She huffed, resting her arms on my shoulder without another word. The healer continued her work for a few more seconds before pulling back. I moved my hand to the raised hem of her dress, gripping the cloth like it was a life raft.

‘Do we need to bring things to a proper finish?’

A swat on the side was the reward for my charity.

‘I-‘ she bit her lip for a moment before snuggling closer to me. ‘It has already been well finished. I fear you wouldn’t survive a second time.’

Her hands pried her dress from mine before pushing her chest against me and getting under my shirt to rub my left peck. Faint sensations of pain could still be felt across my scalp from their frantic shoving just minutes prior. The only regret I had of the foray was Salamede throwing her head back at the final moment, the resulting injury being the lesser of the two reasons.

Still, a new foundational memory had been acquired.

‘Eli, are you ok with this?’ Salamede asked, sounding a bit uncertain as her gaze trended downward. ‘I could try to-‘

I stole her lips, with the needed washing done when she first started the healing. Sweetness filled my mouth. A taste accentuated by her light moan that traveled down my throat with her tongue. The wet smack of us pulling away for a breath filled the room.

‘I’ve gotten more than I could have asked for from this rendezvous.’ I responded in a firm tone. Salamede rubbed her newly blackened fur against my cheek.

‘This has certainly… enlightened me as to why men have some of the preferences they do. But work is calling.’

Her tone screamed that she was trying to convince herself in equal measure.

‘It is.’ I agreed.

We vacated the room, with me making sure to not hit the square wooden pad on the right of the door as I did so. The housing complex was mostly massive blocks of stone being put in place with designs that matched the regular walls almost perfectly. Aside from the occasional inspection, this left me with enough time to work on some additional protection for my home until the inner expanse needed working.

Along the top of the ceiling was an inlay of leather cord that connected to wooden slabs around the sides of the windows and outlet for the toilet. Pushing the pad on the side of my bedroom door would act like a switch, activating noise-deadening crafts. Since I was now a plant mage, I had to use long fans of water to still allow airflow and cover up the noise of any business being conducted inside.

The door on the opposite side of the hall lead into the workshop. I opened it for Salamede, who walked past with a grateful nod. A stack of magicless wooden boards was lying on the left with an empty wall on the right, the residents previously leaning on it now doing their duty. I went up to the desk in the middle and plopped into the seat.

She had some concerns about the sizes involved, but my work in the base gave me some good references for what the best spacings were. As I went about getting enchantments inscribed into the wood, Salamede worked my shoulders with deep rubs or palmed my chest. Each time I completed one of the boards that could feed a small village on its own, she rewarded me with a kiss.

An exchange well in my favor.

‘Eli?’ My wife enquired as she lounged on my shoulders.

‘Yes?’ I asked, finishing the initiation square of the enchantment.

‘Palta knows we’re dangerous. We as in we Keltons. I’m not sure how, but I’m sure she knows we’re mages.’

‘Ah!’ I replied as I pushed the board aside and pulled my head back to rub her cheek against mine. ‘That would be Pipkin’s doing.’

She raised a black eyebrow at me.

‘The giant otter. Palta’s familiar and the one who sucked in all the harbor's mana for a water display.’

Her teeth bit down on her lower lip.

‘A drain on the mana we all turned to look at.’

‘A clever trick, that.’ I admitted before turning back down to get another board. ‘Harrah seemed quite worried when she flew down here and explained it all. A new ache that won’t be hers to bear soon. The royal couple are due to arrive here tomorrow. I haven’t been given any details, but the princess told me the person to lead during this moment of calm won’t be her.’

All of her questions were apparently answered as she went back to rubbing my shoulders. When the twelfth board was placed on the stack, Salamede put my head in her hands and pulled me into a deep kiss while lifting me from the chair.

‘That’s as much as I could justify buying with my craft.’ She said in a spirit connection with a pull away.

I raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing as she ushered me out of the seat and moved one of the magicless boards in front of her. Of course, I needed something to show that our exchange wasn’t just kissing. Mana was sucked in by my wife while I stood on the side. It was a minute or so of work before she handed the board back over to me.

‘A healing craft. I could imagine getting these crop crafts for it.’ She said, sounding like she was hoping I’d agree.

‘My crafts plant growing enchantments aren’t concentrated enough to grow magical crops to any usable degree, leaving regular food and other woods as their main purpose. Twelve of them for something that might save my life is something I could easily justify.’

It was a few more minutes of her cutting around where her enchantments were and working around them to mold a necklace. The finished craft was a large circle with a square above. On the sides were holes for threads to be weaved through. The treasure was about the size of my palm and could be worn below any shirt.

Our time together, like the visit from Gula, had its end come too soon. We looked at each other for a moment before getting one last kiss in. When we pulled away, Salamede looked me up and down for any signs of what she had been doing. Her eyes spent most of it going over the place where the wound had been, but after a few seconds she pulled back with a satisfied nod.

I left the room with a slap on the wooden pad, with a quick once-over in the bedroom to remove any indication of our activities, including a change into a grey shirt. Salamede came out of the workshop with her stack of precious boards in hand while my prize rested in the pocket of my pants. At the door leading outside, we both took a deep breath before I opened my sanctum to winter’s bite.

My fears weren’t left disappointed as a gust blew in. Across the bridge were our two groups of guards, mine off to the left while her steel-clad Keltons stood on the right. The men seemed fine in their red leather, despite the cold. Their hardiness in these conditions was probably owing to their hearty lineage as much as it was the thick fur around the necks and hands. Kelton guards made the first move, walking across the bridge and relieving my wife of her burden as husband and wife turned to each other. This was the final goodbye and, like all good things, its pain was born out of the joy preceding it.

“Good day, Lady…”

“Passmede.” Salamede offered with a sideways head bob.

“A good exchange. I hate to hurry a guest out of the door, but these times…”

“Most demanding.” She agreed before turning away.

People were watching us, leaving me no opportunity to fully appreciate her leaving. I walked back into the house, shutting the behind me door with a sigh. The kitchen table called to me, with its firm seats and call of rest for sore feet. A few minutes passed until the expected voice rang out.

“Tilvor!” Palta yelled.

“Come in,” I replied with a sigh at my lost peace.

The door swung open to reveal a leather-bound princess. The brown and green contrasted with her black shoulder-length hair, though half of it matched the jade eyes looking at me with exhaustion.

“This region doesn’t seem to be trying to kill my body. No. My mind is the prize for ruin. A boat filled with mages, Kelton mages, shows up out of nowhere.” She said, seemingly more to herself than I.

“Taking those refugees was a charitable showing. They’ll probably be more aid than hindrance.” I meekly offered.

“Pff!” She scoffed as she walked forward. “Everything the advisors told me of their kind says they probably just couldn’t stand having the humans being involved in their affairs.”

Her trek ended with her taking the chair opposite me with a scrape of wood on stone.

“But I haven’t talked to them. Not as much as you have, Tilvor.”

I shrugged, giving her a small smile.

“They gave me the dimensions for plant growing enchantments in exchange for items of interest.”

My guest’s pink lips were getting a severe bite to accentuate her held breath, that sharp chin staying completely still all the while.

“Not enough to make magical resources,” I offered to still the simmering worries. “Nor could they be used for weapons.”

There was a question in her eyes. The inquiry involved the private matters of mages, a scion no less, and prying into such exchanges seemed like a taboo she didn’t want to cross. I was tempted to reveal it to build trust but a hidden healing craft that I could easily explain was too good to make known. To say nothing of the ire that such a gift might stir in the healing house Kraton.

Palta nodded with a strum of her right hand on the table.

“More food this far north can’t be a bad thing if we don’t come to blows. Even if we aren't destined for friendship, their first swing was at the pirates. How has the newest abode been coming along?”

I raised an eyebrow but coughed before gathering the figures together like stray chicks.

“With the new supplies, I can put it together properly without splitting resources to the farm. We should have the first floor done by this afternoon. If the workers are still going to be around.”

Palta continued strumming her fingers on the table. The clacking bounced against the bare stone wall for only a few moments more. Her hand withdrew before meshing into the other on the table.

“They will be as long as I am sitting on the chair here. A poor thanks for all you’ve done but it is the one I have enough time left to give. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel like I was leaving the job half done, but a new governor has been lined up and I am weeks past when I should have been finished here. Queen Verness has set up the new navy well and is returning to try and salvage the south. All things considered, short of stopping the slaughter of the towns, this excursion has gone better than I dared hope.”

A question came for me now, though etiquette allowed mine.

“How has queen Verness been helping?”

“Setting up crews, conducting quick training, and many, many more tasks. Her people have the seas as a second home and her uncle is the best in the kingdom. Verness’s skills are only second to his. Skills that are currently holding the south together. She decided to try and shore up the north when it became clear that the pirates were making heavy moves up here.”

In the military district then. Far away from what I’ve been dealing with after the first day. Still, this was the first time I had heard details of the royal family’s life. Palta was the only means I had to ply the hardest question and the time to ask it wasn’t going to get any better than this.

“Your mother, Nestel. Is it true that she hails back from the days of Rodring?”

The princess perked up at the question though no objection to the change in subject came. A proud smile stretched across her face, showing between the waves of her black hair.

“It’s true. She helped bind the disparate, squabbling people into this kingdom with my greatest ancestor. Even I have a hard time believing it. The woman who fussed over my dresses and cleaned my face at the table was a part of making humanity what it is today.”

I nodded, unable to deny the small light of glee in her eyes.

“You must have a lot of half-siblings. Where are they in the midst of this chaos?”

The shake of her head left me genuinely surprised.

“None. Plenty of family from Rodring himself, though rarely seen. A Usel-… Socially extravagant lot. Some spend their days and coin out west, the place of their birth a distant memory while most live their days basking in their heritage at our hold. As for my mother, she was a recluse for a long time after Rodring passed. Her legacy almost became a myth to the wider public, though the people in charge knew the real flesh and blood behind the legend the whole time.”

“How? The people must have known she was in the capital.” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Palta shrugged, pulling back in her chair with slack shoulders.

“She’s lived there my whole life. Before deciding to come back into the political slog, she spent… gods, centuries in her personal village nestled in the south.”

Another point. Dior, the elf who told me of the person who knew how to work the magic that brought me to this world and had the materials to work it, gave three characteristics for them. Nestel was an original member of the Rodring party. A strong contender, but there might have been a member hiding away. Another was an estate in the south. The biggest question had yet to be asked, so I wasted no more time in delivering it.

“In all that time, has she not acquired any other titles or feats of renown? I’d understand living on her own but that’s an awful lot to leave behind to squat in the south for one lifetime after another.”

The princess nodded, though she looked a bit uncertain at the answer to give.

“I’d be lying if a similar question didn’t occur to me. Kings and queens often visited her estate for counsel on one item or another for hundreds of years, apparently. Some call her the Advisor because of that, even if the peasantry is unaware of the depths of her involvement. It’s said the reigns of Ballud the fool and Geshton only went as poorly as they did because they did not seek her wisdom. I’ve heard some speculate her return is an attempt to pull her late husband’s creation out of the rut. How true that is, I cannot say. She is my mother first, a living myth second and I try not to pry too much into the latter.”

There it is, the final piece: The Advisor. Dior said she was only known in certain groups, but which facet of her existence he was talking about was apparently open to interpretation.

“Were things really that bad?” I asked, trying to make my face as passive as possible.

“I didn’t think so, hearing from the older staff about it. Orc gangs in the south made food production in the mana-dead-zones there difficult. When the diseases of the Beastmen don’t make it impossible. Alone, I wouldn’t think that’s enough, but that made us even more dependent on the Coalition, which bit us hard when the fight for the quad mage came. I don’t claim she has visions of the future, but I do think she saw a decline and decided trying to wrangle the family from afar was no longer sufficient. Perhaps a bit too late if my time here is any indication.”

The last thing I wanted to do was mentally relive my time in the Coalition more than I already had. Sadly, my character wouldn’t have heard about it, and the fiction I was living demanded the curiosity.

“Quad mage?”

Her mouth puckered while that slim nose flared like she had gotten a whiff of something foul.

“Most men are always looking to get women into bed. Often with little concern for where or how. I had long assumed that your kind would just rut on command, alas it appears one of you wasn’t so inclined. The last man anyone wanted showing that kind of constraint. In the Coalition, a man with all base and dual elements was found.”

I raised my eyebrows at such an impossible revelation. Palta nodded, understanding such skepticism.

“But he didn’t make the women bowlegged from shagging. I’d imagined he had that vile inclination; save for the fact he did take a Kelton woman to bed. To think having some of the goat-headed people sail away all that long time ago would have such dire consequences. He died, in the course of events. We sacrificed so much for that gift… No, we are still sacrificing for it. Yet the miserable cur rots in the cold ground, a new age for humanity feeding the worms. I can only thank whatever divine will exists in the world that my mother is around to help see us through these dark days.”

At the end, Palta was still looking at me, but her eyes were somewhere far off.

I nodded while fighting down the stupid voice in me that wanted to argue the points. Particularly the course of events part, which included a lot of threats and blackmail. Sadly, I, as a vagabond plant scion roaming the woods here, had no way of knowing them.

Palta pulled herself back up, biting her lip as she leaned into her chair. Those green pools looked at me with some disturbance as her hands lay on the table.

“He killed my future fiancé as he went about massacring his own people. So bitter or dead inside that he denied his entire species the ability to finally win out over nature and the demons. For what? You know, there’s so much pettiness and selfish greed I’ve seen in the capital. Gods, you’ve seen it enough here with just the associations.

But that selfishness makes people predictable. And what is predictable is understandable. You get used to it, work with it, and can accept it. A frame that you feel helps you understand how it all works.

Then someone comes along who doesn’t fit. He had nothing to gain with his actions. No wealth to be earned, glory to be bathed in, or power grown. Now, he has no legacy and his line ended in a bandit’s basement. For what? Spite and bitterness, no one to remember him besides future bookkeepers looking over boring texts. Perhaps I’ve been too harsh to the greedy and unpatriotic in the past. Better them than a black void that destroys everything around it with no thought or care for the consequences.”

It was a very personal attack I was under, but a pertinent question needed asking.

“Fiancé? How did the quad mage kill her?” I asked as I leaned back, genuinely interested in how that piece of grievance happened.

A smile stole over her face. It was the kind a mother had when a babe said something uncouth and the scold was fighting with laughter.

“HE was a prince of the Bodding kingdom. Our marriage was going to be… political, as most are. Yet… I liked him. Maybe not in the way most men want women to like them, but he always had a good humor about him, and he treated me well. Even with my inclinations, he never insulted me or made me feel lesser. His ferret familiar got along with Pipkin so it seemed like we were a good match.

More importantly, our union would have started the process of healing a division going back to the founding of our two kingdoms. After all the battles I fought, wounds received, and strategies planned, marrying him would have achieved more good than anything else I’ve ever done. All ash on the wind now.”

Her memories of him didn’t match the one I had when I killed him in the Diamond Academy town, with the calm of high rage and a sword aimed at me. Though he had no prospect of bedding me, so that might have colored his intentions.

“Despite all that, it appears I’m not to live in the monster’s shadow for much longer. Which is another thing I came to discuss. The next governor has been decided and while I’m sure you’ll get along well.”

Her shoulders tensed even as her face retained a small smile with her speech.

“I’ve made it clear that all laborers of the Crasden government are to be made available to you, not including those on contract. Some three hundred or so for your current or future projects.”

Get along well she says before telling me to get going while I’m still allowed some scrap of support. Can’t say it was entirely unexpected, there was bound to be a price for flicking the mage association’s noses. I suppose I couldn’t blame the next poor sap trying to wrangle this place together if they didn’t want to risk undoing a nationwide agreement by lending me aid.

“A big ask. I’d better get on it then.” I agreed.

We both got up from the table, though it was Palta who put her hand out for a shake, which I took with a firm grip.

“I try not to repeat myself, but thanks again Tilvor. You’ve saved so many people and if those farms are workable, you’ll save an amount of people you’d never imagine you could in the future. And I only say that because I know you care.” She finished with a withdrawal of her hand before walking towards the door.

"Oh!" Palta exclaimed with a turn to me."The team of royal chefs has also arrived. They shoulder the duty to provide full meals for us and have a system for tackling times when poison is often added for seasoning. A summons will be coming tomorrow and I would advise not getting wrangled into anything you can't stop."

I gave her one last smile and nod before Palta left with a creaking close of the door behind her. As pleasant as the morning had been, karmic balance was coming for my afternoon. Left with nothing else to do, I got myself a thick coat from the bedroom and left to continue the work that my wife’s arrival interrupted.

When I opened the door, the wind gave me a small bite across the face. The bitter chill really accentuated the miserable grey of the sky. Walking across the bridge took me into the caring embrace of the red-leathered guard. They were all still looking wearily at the harbor gate in the distance where Salamede had come from, only falling in around me when they heard my steps.

The vast empty plain of stone stretched out before me but the task lay closer to the other end of my open-air abode. A sharp turn left took me down the artificial river. Ambling water filled my ears as I approached the wooden arch serving as the means of getting over the channel. Further ahead to the far right was Harrah’s finger, a neck-straining tower with the single deadliest weapon in the region. It had been the focal point of sweat, agony, and worry for what my joints said had been years. Now? The biggest lookout point around, a shelter for a few desperate souls, and a deterrent for an enemy that probably wouldn’t be back.

Moving over the bridge, I approached the newest challenge. The kitchen for the workers sat further ahead in the middle of the two towers now standing near the gate leading to Crasden. Huge pots bubbled with soups and grills for searing meats filled the winter air with swirls of delicious smoke above the canopies and tents arrayed around a series of tables. My appreciation for the lack of death run intensity like the defenses wasn’t shared by the foreman running from the eating area. His black moustache was the only hair I could see on him with everything else being covered in a fur jacket and hood that went up to his sharp jaw.

“Great mage!” He exclaimed with a bow and a look down with his brown eyes. “The supplies from those goat-people are being inspected. It all looks to be in order. Mostly food with the rest being cloth. I just wanted to check with you before we started inspecting for poisons.”

Sadly, the waste of time was necessary as I couldn’t risk being seen totally trusting this entirely unknown Kelton clan.

“Do it,” I commanded. “What about the second tower?”

“Good.” He nodded, taking up my right side as I approached the newest addition. “The first floor has been set and the supporting columns are in place.”

The five stories of round tower had a flurry of workers in front of its gateless arch that served as an entrance. Most of the men were moving stone blocks to the sides while some were still moving items from the living quarters of the older tower back to where they had been when the now vacant refugees arrived. Well, vacant save one.

An older Kelton man sporting curling brown horns, done up with a white shirt, leather vest, and equally brown pants approached from the mass of workers. We met halfway to the new tower, ending our walk as he did a light bow.

“While it was far shorter than anyone thought, our stay will always be remembered.” He intoned in that rough voice all Keltons bore.

“Will you be safe?”

He did an odd sideways head-bob.

“They brought the former chief’s father. A trusted man who told of a return to our home. We were getting ready to sail off when one of us realized no thanks had been given. Our gratitude isn’t worth much of anything, really, but it would shame us to not do at least this.”

“Perhaps that gratitude can be paid in the future. For now, all we can do is just survive these trying times.” I offered with a gracious nod.

He did another head-bob before walking to the left towards the bridge. Not the chattiest of his kind, but it was the attitude that best served me right now. A few of the guards looked askance at his quick exit before seeing my unoffended demeanor as I continued forward. The workers made way for my entrance with their typical deference.

When I made it past the empty entrance, I finally came onto a small field of smooth wood, save the middle wide circle of grey stone for the ovens and the four columns around it jutting up six floors just past its walls. I walked into the center until I looked down at the rectangular holes beneath the floor where they should be. A quick sucking of mana gave me the fuel to make a man-sized bubble of water around the entrance of one of the holes.

The bubble was squeezed into a fist, forcing the air inside through the rectangle. I was rewarded with a loud gush of wind sounding off from what sounded like the outside of the wall. A smile stole over my face at them getting the ventilation right.

“Good.” I announced to no one in particular.

The remaining workers walked behind me like a flock of chicks, intent on learning all I could teach about putting the new floor in. My building’s wood for the floors was lying in long slabs to the right and hardened to that of rebar. Walls for the hallways were quickly erected with the markings showing how those inner walls for the residences were to be placed. It took a few double-checks of the blueprints I had made, but the sides for individual sections were eventually made whole. Each had an entrance to the hallway that led to the center circle with an empty door frame.

At some point the inner rooms would be covered in smooth stone to help control fire outbreaks, a task the workers could do later with provided crafts. It was hard enough to let balls of that amazing material be used as ammunition, but having a whole building of it possibly burn to the ground was too much for my soul to bear.

And the people inside, of course.

Overall, I couldn’t say I was particularly happy with the design. No precise laser measurement tools or nanite load testers meant I had to make everything twice as thick and strong as it probably needed to be even with the potential for attacks from the wild. Rooms were also not egalitarian, with some being more well-heated and insulated due to positioning. Another issue was the columns, which would stick out on the sides of the hallways by a good foot or so. A casual walkthrough would reveal no less than a dozen shortcomings compared to the typical work I did.

By local standards, it was still an unthinkable upgrade for the peasants, especially when the cooking oven was in place acting as heaters for the inner rooms. This floor alone would have fifty-some apartments, each similar to a house in the city from what I’ve been told. If the residents were particularly fruitful, this slice of the complex alone would be housing two hundred some people.

Which is why the two residences closest to the river were going to be communal bathrooms. With magic, the sewage could be flushed away with deluges of summoned water that would only last long enough to get into the river of real water running through the center of the city. A small channel I spent a good hour digging out with some bars preventing intruders from stealing in through the toilets.

Even when the sun died, torchlight helped push me along into the late afternoon. The men were likewise enthused. A third tower of equal thickness to its siblings was already getting the second floor of its outer wall. The newborn was between the other two only a bit closer to the river leaving the kitchen between the three. The trio was in a triangular shape right now, though future additions would have similar spacing despite not sharing the current geometry.

My struggles eventually saw the roof above the third floor go in. Despite my magical abilities, exhaustion set in once the wood was fused to the sides of the columns and walls. After preparing for the siege, I wasn’t going to run myself ragged. I left the overseer instructions on how to install the inner walls and the dimensions to be used.

I had gotten a good idea of what he and the builders under him could do, so there was some hope that it would be well done come morning. Moving away from the worksite, I eventually made it home and slammed my head into the waiting pillow. The pleasant memory of what happened there earlier sent me off to oblivion.

When I woke up the next morning, winter got her nibble in as I retreated into my blankets before stretching. A second longer and I was getting up. Feeling that sweet agony in my feet as they touched cold stone to start the day. I got up with a final stretch and took through the door to start my routine in the kitchen/dining room.

A warm bath delivered by two maids to wash away the feeling of grime followed by a change of clothes and a steamy bowl of spicy chicken soup with bread at my kitchen table. The last slurp sounded out over my home before the bowl was placed down with a solid thunk. My fresh grey shirt moved with my exit from the chair while my brown pants received a few swipes to knock away any offending crumbs or dust.

With the hard part having arrived, I took a final sigh before fetching my leather coat and coming to the exit of the stone hovel. A painful sting of winter blew across my face as the door was pulled open. Despite the cold, the troupe of red-leathered guards was waiting across the bridge. Hearty locals who grew up on this chill unlike those who were currently overseeing Crasden.

I spent an hour inspecting the rooms that had been sectioned off. The circular shape made a totally even distribution of room too much of a pain to deliver, so I gave more space to those in the residence closest to the outer wall in compensation for less heat and a longer walk. I couldn’t put in an elaborate fire suppression system, which left me putting disks at the side of the hallway entrances that would spew streams of water when the person holding them pressed a white square. The complex didn’t have the heating in place, so after finding the rooms were done to my specifications and the watercrafts were in place, I concentrated on getting the central area finished.

The belly of the tower was left open air with a stone spiral staircase on the sides leading to the floors above. It also served as the communal cooking section. Ten wide stone ranges would be placed along the rock walls, with their tops funneling into tubes leading upward to give the houses along the inner wall some heat. These tubes had a small hole below to allow the collection of ash, which rested to the right of the oven. In their backs were the rock tunnels to suck in air from the outside vents

It wasn’t anywhere near enough to fight back winter, but the guards told me thick walls and good blankets would make up for it. Housing was so cramped in the city, and fuel so scarce, that in-home fires were only found in higher levels of society or huge communal gatherings like pubs. The rest got by on thick paddings and soups as hot as could be made.

Three ovens were slapped together before I felt enough had been done to allow construction on the next floor. My exit from the tower was accompanied by a flurry of workers who hurried about trying to put what they saw into practice under the eyes of foremen. It was going to be a disaster the first time around, but like making airships at the base, I couldn’t personally oversee everything all the time and the painful process of honing skills had to start somehow.

Winter blew over my coat and exposed face as I trekked over the stone floor toward the newest tower with my guards cluttering around me. About halfway there, a shout with a panicked tone rang out behind me.

“Oi!”

I turned back towards the source to see a foreman pointing to the sky. Following his finger, I turned up to a long dot in the sky. It was getting closer and within seconds, a long log could be distinguished floating toward Crasden.

The ship was a long piece of seamless wood with perfectly round ends, the only distinguishing geometry was a larger bulge in the middle. The thing came close enough that details like gold paintings of circles, triangles, and squares along the hull became visible, as did the various windows. The ship did an upward list as it came within a few hundred or so feet of the ground, sending a blast of air over my walls before jetting off to the right.

Royalty.

Taking a deep breath, I went to walk towards my destination but had to stop when the ring of my guard had become a circle of statues. Their heads followed the retreating ship, mouths agape and eyes wide. It wasn’t much to me, but for those whose only experience in travel involved carts and boats, God himself could have split the skies to say hello and I doubt they’d be any more stunned.

I couldn’t bring myself to deprive them of this wonderous moment, so I waited patiently for a few seconds until one of the older men in front turned his brown eyes to me. He jolted in place with a bite of his lip.

“Lads!” He yelled to the rest of the group.

That got them out of their stupor. They noticed I was at the outer part of the ring and moved to walk with me, trying to hide their sheepish faces all the while.

I spent a good hour going over the third tower's walls. They were at least a dozen feet thick, with strengthened wood to act as additional support. It was only two floors high, but the foundation was solid and I could see no reason to think the rest could not be done to the same quality. Something the overseer on my right was waiting to hear as I left the empty spot where the entrance would be.

“It’s good,” I announced as the stone walls moved past us.

He gave a deep nod and smiled with a deep bow.

“The men will be grateful to hear such praise.” He replied. No sweat dripped down his nose nor did he look like a man with a noose around his neck, even if he still had a nervous air. The overseer, like most of the men who had been present for the hell leading up to the battle, understood they weren’t one mistake or displeasure from death around me and had relaxed a bit. Not much, but a lifetime of fear was loosening its grip on their souls.

My feet were getting a bit sore and the open kitchen near the middle of the towers was calling me with its benches. The fine-looking coach that came out of the gate towards Crasden seemed to have other ideas as the driver brought his carriage around the side of the kitchen to rest on my right. It was painted with gold trim and a purple body, the typical coloring of official Rodring property. Out of the side door came a smaller lad wrapped in a coat and pants of that same purple with a golden collar. A grand appearance for someone whose soft chin and dimpled cheeks spoke of puberty still a few years off.

“Tilvor Laperict,” He announced with a slight bow. “You are hereby summoned to meet King Jeremy, Queen Nestel, and Queen Verness within the hour. Princess Palta impressed upon me the need to make your…”

His brown eyes struggled to not look over my work clothes.

“Attire appropriate.”

He moved to the side, leaving me a clear path to the open carriage. There was no way of refusing the offer, so I nodded to my guards and proceeded inside. The benches were fluffed with red upholstery and the floor was painted purple, though the gold inlay was kept to the wooden walls and headboards. What drew my eyes was the mirror hanging on the solid wall ahead and the clothes dangling from the ceiling by a thin rope.

That was all I got to take in before the lad pulled the door shut behind me and the wooden box began moving forward with a slight jolt. Given it was only the two of us with the windows shuttered, I quickly changed with a throw of my clothes on the bench behind. Black shoes with matching pants and a white shirt under a green coat were soon donned. These were of the highest quality that I had seen here, with no obvious stitching and padding for the feet and elbows. The finery even extended to the rustic aspects, with a fine fur around the neck of the cloth jacket.

I was made presentable in a few minutes with a quick look over by the lad, who had been given this mission by the princess herself. My young guide was the more nervous party, inspecting me over twice for any stray threads or crinkled corners. When the ward of propriety deigned me worthy of being seen, he lifted the curtains.

Out of the window, I saw the lion guard holding off some carts that were traveling along the stone road with black flecks. These were a bit different than the other guards donning the visage of a cat here. The cloth was purple and the metal itself had a tint of that same color in its metal. A minute of idling passed before we took a left and came under the arch of the wall leading into the main tower. A second longer and the carriage was being slowed until brought to a complete stop. The lad got to the door and held it open as he waited on the left outside.

Walking out, I came onto the stone steps leading up to the abortion of a tower. Its wide glass panels with steel frames only emphasized how poor the metalwork was and the lack of stone told of pointless maintenance. Between getting it cleaned and replacing damaged glass, the thing was a money pit determined to make a mockery of the cloud cutters it was based on.

A crime against decency laid firmly at the feet of Rodring.

Off to the right was the log ship on a raised platform of magically summoned stone, sticking out over the grass field like some kind of shrine constructed by a nature-worshipping cult. The main occupants were apparently long gone, as the servants bustled about with crates and boxes being taken out of the side door. A display I largely ignored as I moved ahead to the tower.

The lad was quite proud as he led me up the steps towards the glass double doors guarded by men in lion-shaped helmets and steel armor embroidered with fur indents. I moved past them into a wide hall. The staircase on the left stone wall was pretty crowded with those going up and down, something I had little time to go over as my guide moved me through the wood double doors on the right. I was greeted with glass walls and wood flooring before the messenger boy worked the dial on the left side and got us going skyward.

We stood in silence for a minute before the motion stopped and the doors opened onto a wall of deep brown oak and white tiled floor. I stepped out and immediately came into a long hallway with couches along the walls and pictures of various stern-looking women and men or vast landscapes. There was a small alcove of couches, tables, and chairs to the left looking out of the window, but the lad gestured to the right.

The wide hallway had metal arches along the ceiling that seemed too thin and ornate to serve as bracing. Between each was a chandelier with a central mana lamp that sent gold rays through the glass crystals surrounding it. I could instantly tell it was a long entrance to a far larger room, owing to a wide opening at the end leading onto a hall with several rows of white-clothed tables. Against a back wall of stone flecked with black was a raised platform two steps above the rest. On it was a long table with three chairs inlaid with gold and made of steel where the purple furnishing let the metal beneath shine through, each of which was placed so that the occupants could oversee their lesser fellows.

When I came up to the edges of the hallway, I noticed that the tiles now went between grey and white and there were thick purple drapes along the sides of the wall that left a good foot of cloth pooled on the floor, the pieces stopping before getting to the wall. Maids moved between the curtains, carrying pails and rags to clean the rather intimate-looking tables and chairs within. I wanted to say they were sectioned off from the rest, providing a small slice of the gathering for more personal discussions. What was most noticeable was the thing not present. Winter lessened around my exposed hands and face as a growing heat came from the tiles below.

One of the curtains was pulled back by a lion guard in the back left, his metal head peeking out for a moment before his hands motioned for us to come. My shoes smacked across the floor of white and grey tile until we came up to the guard, the air feeling rather chill despite being so deep into the building. The instant I turned into the room, I registered the person directly ahead of me and nearly walked right back out.

In front of me was a horizontal table of fine oak and three well-embroidered chairs sporting purple cushioning along the left, which was the only side visible to me from this angle. I could also see the shit-head plant mage Percy. The green robe had the emerald-crusted hood pulled back to reveal his shoulder-length black hair. The mage was rubbing his stubby chin, trying to act casual even if his right hand covered in gold rings gripped the right arm of his chair.

Consigning myself to a bad time, I moved forward. The people directly across the table came into view from left to right. A man in a purple shirt with black pants, sporting a thick purple fur around his neck. His black hair flowed from the front to the back in a slick manner, accentuating his dark green eyes. Those midnight locks matched the smooth beard covering his face. The facial hair didn't cover the bit lip pulling on the skin of his wide chin.

Next was a woman of doll-like beauty. Her hair was so blonde that it almost matched my natural braids. The locks fell to her waist, flowing over a silver dress so thin it might count as indecent if it didn’t cover everything up to the neck. Her sharp chin contrasted with her soft cheeks, though it matched her ears, whose edges were only just soft enough to discount them from those among the elves. The youthful appearance waned around the eyes, which showed some unspoken intensity.

Those soft blue eyes above the thin nose turned to me with the man. Accompanying the two was Palta at the second to last chair, whose black hair, green eyes, sharp chin, and slim nose made her look like God had decided she should forgo any other ancestry besides her immediate parents. Her body was covered in a deep blue dress, complete with a necklace of sapphires shining from the golden glow of the mana lamp above.

“The royal couple, I presume?” I asked the group, noting the empty chair beside Palta and the guards behind each of them.

Jeremy nodded with a suppressed smile, though Nestel’s nod was slight enough that I couldn’t be totally confident that it had actually occurred. Palta was stiff as steel beam and didn’t have the emotional energy to react.

“Yes,” Palta put in with a bite of her pink lips. “We were just going over some issues about… a proposal.”

I moved to take my seat along the left side of the table that was still the farthest from Percy.

“Let’s not waste time,” The deep voice of Jeremy rang out. He leaned forward on the table, clasping his hands together. “As tremendous as your arrival has been, we need to establish a proper definition for your home in relation to our kingdom. We want to make your domain an officially recognized territory of your house.”

“Does the official title come with official taxes?” I asked the group.

The king chuckled at that, pulling back into his chair with a smile on his wide face and large arms crossed.

“Puffy, your letters were quite accurate. As always.”

The princess finally reacted, her cheeks getting some color while her pink lips puckered. A small smack on the leg from his wife only made Jeremy chuckle again, with her blue pools getting some whiff of his joy even if the queen’s face remained unmoved.

“Depends,” He responded. “The local governor determines the tax from each territory under their jurisdiction. It all has a few more twists but for your part, that will be determined later. Not that anyone with any sense would overly burden someone who helped restore the region.”

My eyebrows couldn’t stay down at that.

“Restored? Has Pastoon's watch been retaken?” I asked no one in particular.

There was a second of silence before Percy coughed.

“If I could be so bold as to step in.”

Nestel gave a more visible nod.

“A plan has been worked out.” He continued with a grand air “The associations will be assisting in retaking the sea fortress. This is to help stabilize things in the south and to make it abundantly clear that provoking King Beasts is not a rule that can be broken at their convenience. The mist pirates will feel the displeasure of mages everywhere and your... great assistance will not be required.”

It was clear the latter was the more important objective. They were all self-serving scum, but they still knew the consequences of letting such tactics go unpunished. Well, if that’s what it took to get them off their asses, so be it.

“What about obligations further south? Near the poisoned lands and such.” I asked him with a blank look at the plant mage.

Percy bit his lip at that, thumbing one of his many gold rings.

“I cannot say.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Taking a deep breath, I turned back towards the leaders of this nation. Which was when the curtain to my right opened to let in the apparently late member.

“Ah! Verness.” Palta said with a small smile.

I turned to my right to see the queen famed for her ugliness and stopped dead.

Jeff.

It wasn’t him, but he was the first person I thought of.

Clad in a thick black dress that only showed the tanned skin around her neck, Queen Verness had her bowl of black hair going down to her shoulders with those wide ears sticking out of the midnight locks. Thick lips smiled below the crooked nose, though the early 30's looking woman only had some amusement in her green eyes.

“It’s nice to see I made such an impression at the docks that you’d still remember me.” The harbormaster offered as she sat beside Palta.

Don’t look at the man whose wife Jeff is currently trying to bed with anything but indifference.

“It’s hard to forget my first day visiting the wall-bound.” I refuted. “Though I suppose my wooden crafts will have even more use for the queen overseeing the Rodring fleet.”

A rough cough came from Percy, this time without a polite interruption.

“Yes. Those.” He intoned with a tight voice before turning his brown eyes on me. Those pools of mud had barely restrained anger in them. “Congratulations on the bestowment. That also means you are an official part of the Rodring kingdom. The rules governing magical affairs in the kingdom now fully apply to you.”

“Indeed,” Palta cut in. “As a mage unaffiliated with the royal family, your domain will be subject to the requirements and discretion of the Seed guild. Given you’ve shown such an affinity for construction, I’d imagine the Mountain Top association will likewise take an interest in your abilities. Such incredibly valuable and revered company will be receiving letters signed by all four members of the royal family, attesting to his ability.”

I puckered my lips as my fingers strummed on the table. Taking in the royal family of four, they each looked a little peeved, save Nestel. The ancient queen sat perfectly still; her hands cusped in her lap.

“Does this mean membership, or are they serving in a purely supervisory role?” I asked.

The snort from my left drew everyone’s gaze. Percy straightened up a bit in his chair, looking at me with a stiff face even if his eyes screamed disgust.

“I speak for the Mountain Top and Seed associations when I say that your ascension to our ranks is thoroughly out of the question.”

“Good,” I replied with a shrug. “I can continue my work in peace then.”

Percy opened his mouth, but Jeremy broke through our pettiness.

“What would that entail?” He asked, stroking his oiled black beard. “I must warn you, selling crafts to be used outside of your domain will not be allowed going forward. That shipment you gave the Keltons can be overlooked, but we can’t risk the pirates getting ahold of the ability to make forts out on the sea for free or stockpile ammunition from mana.”

The list was two items long, but there was a lot needed to get them.

“Housing and food. A nice little corner for my retirement. That's what I'll be working towards once we've sent the pirates to the bottom of the sea.”

The plant caster got some pink in his tanned cheeks, the emeralds of his hood clacking together as he did a proper turn to me.

“Such duties are legally under the auspices of the associations. What works of yours will involve magic in that stone abode?”

“Farms, obviously. Homes need thick walls for the cold and summoning crafts are the best for that. Well, everything needs thick walls to keep out the beasts. I’d imagine I’ll use plant-growing crafts soon for furniture and plant fibers.”

Percy was getting a shade redder with each item, though the worst had yet to come.

“I don’t have the fire element and freezing to death isn’t a good end to my tale, so I’ll be growing wood for fuel as well. Judging by the smells of my workers, I want to say I’ll need to set up some bathing facilities, whether those will be an entirely separate -.”

*BAM*

The plant mage slammed his fist on the table with a metal thud of his jewelry.

“Using magic for the peasants directly? To wash filth and grime? Have you no dignity?” He demanded from between gritted teeth.

And I didn’t even get to the sewage system.

“It is my spell craft to use. Unless you claim dominion over mana itself?”

He bit his lip at that, even if those brown eyes looked ready to explode. An opportunity Verness used to verbally get in between us.

“Tilvor, no matter his eccentrics, has proven an invaluable asset to the well-being of the kingdom. What he is building won't take revenue away from the farms the Seed works with. They’re running at full capacity and still not meeting demand. And they never have, if the needed trade with the Coalition wasn’t a sufficient clue.”

“The law is very clear. We handle food production.” Percy replied with bitterness soaked in every word.

A cough from the other side of the table drew my eyes to the princess.

“With one exception to personal workings.” Palta cut in, her blue dress shifting with her hand being placed on the table. “The associations aren't allowed to tell the royal families what they can do in their ancestral abodes. We might have some far-off cousin adopt him, making this a Literrean fort. He could make as much food as he wants as long as he doesn't sell the crafts elsewhere.”

She put a hand to her chest and waived to her companions with a smug smile.

“Unless you think to undo the exception for holds of the royal family.”

So, the families descended from Rodring’s party cut out exceptions for themselves. A bit sketchy since they didn’t get the shackles off the rest of the populace, but monarchies weren't known for being egalitarian. A monarchy I might soon be an offshoot of.

“This isn’t about fretting over words on paper.” Percy shot back, a bit more restrained now that he was facing them. “The esteem of mages everywhere is soiled each day he plies our gift in shit and filth. Letting the dross think they have any expectation of the time or resources of our kind will only make them more entitled in the future.”

First it was legal, now it’s all about their pride.

“It is shameful, but do you understand which direction the disgrace flows?” I asked with a turn in my chair to him.

He turned to me with raised black eyebrows.

“You are of lesser value than the messenger boy who fetched me.” I declared.

Percy went wide-eyed while in the corner of my vision, I saw Jeremy bite his lip.

“He did his job.” I continued with an accusing finger. “We can rely on him to do what is expected of him. The plain hammer. You are the gilded tool that never leaves the shelf. Your head is a fine, shiny metal, but your handle is rotten. Maybe you’ll hit the nail, maybe you’ll fall apart on the swing and injure the worker.”

I leaned forward to emphasize the point.

“Those peasants will do their jobs. I can’t say the same of your ilk. You scurried away at the moment of pressure like the vermin you are, leaving behind just enough to hobble the people who are actually worth something. Any of the peasants I’ve worked with these past weeks is of far greater worth to humanity than the Mountain Top or Seed associations.”

The plant mage stood straight up, sending his chair crashing behind him. Red pushed back the tan of his cheeks as his teeth were bared like a wolf.

“Percy.”

The word had a woman’s inflection but with winter's chill dripping through.

I turned to see Nestel now leaning on the table with her hands clenched together. Her deep blue eyes held no warmth, and her sharp chin now emphasized a slight clench of her teeth even if everything else had the same doll-like perfection. The plant mage went pale, standing totally still like a deer stunned at the sight of a predator.

“I can’t say I’m in agreement with Tilvor.” She announced in a calm tone even if her gaze and manner were still ones of intense hatred towards Percy. “But know that one of you is responsible for endangering my daughter and the other helped her. Do you think that I am inclined to favor the latter over the former?”

A moment of silence hung in the air.

“Percy?” Nestel, widow of the ultimate mage Rodring and living legend, demanded like a mother running short on patience. Though, this one seemed like she was not averse to culling said brood.

“No… Yes! Yes, Queen Nestel.” The man corrected, sending some spit on the table as his bejeweled fists clenched behind his back.

Jeremy was leaning back in his chair, taking a conspicuous gulp as he shrunk a bit inward, while Palta sat there like a child waiting for the moment to pass as she squeezed her hands, as did Verness. The predator of the group didn't acknowledge the others, instead continuing her mauling of the plant caster.

“Most free traveling mages consider working for any government a stain on their reputation. Something that those of the associations have no doubt snickered at me for.”

Percy shook his head. As much as he wanted to deny it verbally, he couldn’t seem to find the words.

“That, however, is up to the mage. If Tilvor wants to spend his years making a nice little corner for the magicless peasants, that is up to him to decide. Especially if he continues aiding in areas of mutual benefit as he has been.”

The plant mage straightened his back a bit. However nervous he was, he knew what the people filling his coin purse expected.

“The Growing Accord doesn’t allow for mages whimsy. We handle all the magical growing of food and the Mountain Top is tasked with overseeing construction. An agreement I’m sure you understand the importance of.”

Nestel’s almost silver eyebrows furrowed into a V. The change was far more pronounced in her features due to the pull on the tight, pale skin. It was backed up by finely manicured nails moving to strum on the table.

“You wailed like a babe about the bounds of sacred laws, then it’s all poetry about dignity. Now you want to go back to ‘fretting about words on paper’? What a merry circle you’ve dragged us all on. Still, I suppose a territory under us needs to follow our rules.”

She threw her right hand up in an open palm to her shoulder. Percy drew his head back but relaxed when the guard behind the queen produced a paper that was quickly handed off. Placing it on the table, she cleared her throat with a cough before reading it aloud.

“The hold of Tilvor Laperict, in recognition of his brave service, is hereby recognized as a fully independent territory. His domain is subject to a flat tax of five percent of revenue and will be expected to defend the common good as laid out by the royal family of the Rodring kingdom and its leadership. His domain, while a subject of the Rodring kingdom, is exempt from its treaties, laws, and agreements. With the only exceptions being those specified by the leadership of the royal family.”

Nestel handed the paper back to the guard with barely a look in my direction. Percy looked like he wanted to throw up.

“What is the process used for obtaining an exception?" The plant mage asked as he swayed a bit in place.

The woman shifted back, resuming that doll-like stiffness as those perfect hands resumed resting in her lap.

“When I feel like it.”

The plant mage bit his lip, the gears of his mind almost visibly turning as he tried to pull himself out of this trap.

“Do tell your betters to think back to this moment the next time you decide to pull the supports out from under the bridge my daughter is walking over. The pirates aren’t the only ones whose attitude will be getting adjusted.” Nestel said with the pleasantness of a walking companion.

Jeremy was sitting a bit more comfortably now that the centuries-old woman wasn’t so visibly irate. Palta was more worried as a bead of sweat ran down her forehead while Verness just looked like she wanted to disappear. Nestel then turned to me with a small smile on her lips.

“I hope I won’t have to carve out exceptions for mass murder, rape, and such. Turning the place into your personal pen of gory fun is something I’ll make exceptions for.” She said with a measuring look.

“Tales of mages abusing peasants have reached my ears. I will exchange blood for blood, lives for lives for any on my land, be they peasant, caster, or scion. Besides that, I have a more laid-back retirement in mind. Once the scum has been dealt with.”

Jeremy gave a light cough as he inserted himself back into the conversation.

“And how far will that revenge extend? We’ve pushed the pirates back to the misty veil once or twice over the centuries, but I wouldn’t hold out hope for getting in the place.”

I shook my head and leaned back in my chair.

“The mighty leaders weren’t the ones who slit my daughter’s throat. Even if they came up with the plan. No. I’ll kill every last one of them that arrived here just to make absolutely sure I got the shit stain that did it but after that… I might supply ships but the world beyond these lands’ fades to nothing in my eyes.”

All four of them nodded. Probably a bit happy at not having a huge unknown factor tearing up and down the coast while burning through the established order.

“Good.” Palta put in with a hand on the table. “The ordaining of such a territory would typically demand days of feasting, but we have to announce the establishment of the next governor as well. Would you be fine with an announcement tonight of the new governorship and their speech presented the next morning? Of course, you’ll be given a room and care for an overnight stay.”

“That’s fine.” I agreed with a nod.

Our time together reached its end, with Percy bowing before fleeing the scene and slinking through the right curtain like an exposed rat. He stopped for a moment, looking me in the eyes. Those ponds of mud had some simmering look of satisfaction for but a moment before the caster stormed out. Any joy felt by that scum probably bodes ill for me but the moment flashed by with his exit.

I got out of my chair with a bit more leisure, giving the four a smile before moving out of the curtain as the new ruler of a free city. The large room was much the same, though the tables now sported a maid or two putting on tablecloth and silverware.

What drew my eyes was the purple-clothed lad on the left, rubbing a sore cheek and looking confused at the retreating green robes of Percy. The furrowed brows and whispers from the servants made his assault on the poor boy readily apparent. I stepped forward to stand in front of him.

“You did well lad. Don’t let overstuffed losers get to you.”

It was all I could offer, which he seemed to appreciate with a nod. My guide then showed me back towards the exit of the grand room. As we approached the cusp of the hallway, he stopped and turned to me.

“It may be some time before we can take the elevator down. We could wait in the lounge further ahead or take the stairs to your room on the floor below.”

“The stairs.”

The lad smiled before leading me to the right in the open space by the wall.

“Tell me, boy,” I asked as the oncoming maids made room for us. “You wear purple and gold in what I’ve gathered is the national colors. Yet I’ve seen other couriers wear red and gold. And the guards all wear red leather despite the colors of the nation being your attire. Is there some station involved or…?”

“Ah, these colors are for matters of the royal family and national affairs.” He said, sounding rather upbeat to be instructing a mage as we turned left at a less grand exit with stairs beyond. “Those you’ve seen are for people dealing in local affairs. It’s a practice handed down from Rodring himself. The Bodding typically wear red and a dull yellow, so the addition of gold in higher ranks was added to distinguish.”

“You have them wear an enemies color?” I inquired, raising an eyebrow in genuine surprise as we descended down the wooden steps.

He shrugged while three maids moved to the side at our approach before applying his honed craft of the guide trusted by the royal family.

“We were brother nations at the beginning, great mage. Closer to being one at a few points before the ultimate mage’s friendship soured. The Bodding empire has been a thorn in our sides at times, and we theirs at others. Still, we aid them on the Demon Coast as everyone else does when the time comes. And if we ever decided to start throwing out everything connected to them, no one’s entirely sure where that purge would begin or end. I believe they follow a similar practice, at least in the eastern region.”

The historical instruction ended with us at the bottom of the staircase. Directly ahead was a large kitchen sporting sizzling grills, wood-fired ovens, and a chorus of chopping vegetables at the tables in the back. The men and women preparing the feast wore white short-sleeved shirts that clashed with the leather armor of the guards overlooking them at various points.

My guide took me to the right further down a hallway. It was a long corridor with wooden floors and dark oak walls with doors on each side and a double door at the end. We continued forward until he turned around at the door with a golden five on it.

“Here are the accommodations,” The kid intoned as he handed me off a round tube sporting the same number in its handle. “I will come for you in a few hours, until then don’t hesitate to fetch a maid for whatever services you may require.”

I nodded before placing this world's version of a key inside the door's hole for a lock until the layered bits on the end of the rod finally produced the needed click. A smile and the lad moved past me to return to the upper floor. Going in, my room consisted of a large fluffy bed on the right against the stone wall, with a desk by its left. Directly ahead was another wooden door that matched the boards on the ground. There was a certain quality about the room that put it above anything else in the city, though how it compared to the average fare enjoyed by royalty and mages was beyond me. Not that the mana lamps on the sides of the bed that bathed the room in flickering light would be found among the peasantry.

I spent a few minutes sorting out how to meet up with Jeff to warn him of who he was tying his heart to. What I got was more reasons not to do it. We never met save a quick second after the battle in the docks, so asking to meet him was off the table. He was staying in the mage quarter, a place I was very much despised and had no reason to visit. The brothers didn’t have a radio even if I could get myself back home. Jeff hadn’t gotten her into bed yet and I would just have to wait until after the governor's announcement tomorrow.

Fortunately, the desk came with a small stack of papers and an accompanying quill with ink. A few hours passed in sketches and calculations for the dimensions of the farming complexes. It was a nice reprieve from the constant physical labor, and, despite the ever-present cold, they managed to make it a bit warmer here than in my hovel. I was putting the finishing touches on the placement of the troughs when a knock came.

“Great mage.” My young minder's voice rang out.

“Coming,” I called back, pushing my work to the side. A quick walk to the door and I was greeted by the purple-dressed lad, his brown eyes looking up to me with warmth.

“King Jeremy has instructed me to take you up through the elevator. It would not due for the honored guest of the day to come through the servant's stairs.”

I only nodded before following behind. We made our way down the hall and up the magical contraption imitating my world’s equivalent. I didn’t know for a fact that it was an invention from my universe, but if they were going to poorly steal our building designs, then I was going to at least claim the part of it that worked well.

The wooden doors opened onto the same hallway, only this time there were people meandering about. All sporting fine coats and dresses as they were served drinks and sweets from trays by servers. The lounge seemed like the preferred spot, with most of the noise coming from the left as we disembarked. That same trek down the hall was done again, only this time we had to do some maneuvering as my guide wasn’t as confident in shoving aside the idlers this time around.

When we arrived in the big room again, I was led to the table closest to the raised platform and promptly abandoned by my protector. I noticed more than a few eyes looking me over with interest as I took my seat, though only one bothered approaching. A thin woman with brown hair and darkly tanned skin. She sported freckles that emphasized her green eyes and smooth cheeks. The most recognizable feature was the black dress and suit-like top, which marked her as a member of the Front and a portent of bad memories.

“Hello, my name is Nina.” She offered with a bow.

The name was buzzing in the recesses of my mind, eluding any firm placement despite being on the verge of remembrance.

“I am the representative of the Front here.”

Ah, the women Palta mentioned when I first arrived. Preparing for a conversation about being slung out to the local women, I pulled myself up straight.

“I’m afraid my duties to bring in the next generation have a snare.”

She did another curtsy bow.

“Palta informed me as such. If that was the only thing that could be done to further humanity’s ability, I would have only sent congratulations on the new territory.”

So, they told the important before they arrived. Was this all just a reason to party then? Well, royalty typically required a certain level of pomp.

“What else could be done?” I asked.

“That depends on you. More specifically, the laws you make.” She countered with a smile that bordered on forced.

“My laws?”

She nodded, meeting my gaze.

“I’ve heard you're rather cordial with the workers. If I could pry, what would happen in your domain if a mage should injure a peasant?”

I licked my lips, pondering the question.

“If you’re talking about a malicious display of cruelty for some small slight, the answer would be a worse treatment than was inflicted. Up to and including death. If it was an accident or a matter of negligence… that would have to be decided on the facts of the particular case.”

That brought a genuine smile to her face, free of the stiffness that accompanied simple etiquette.

“Then you and the Front are of a similar mind on this issue. We have long advocated for more restrictive laws, though it is done rather carefully to avoid offending mages.”

My eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise.

“But I thought you lot were all about maximizing humanity’s magical potential?”

Her posture stiffened as she delivered what seemed like a rehearsed line.

“Indeed, we are. And each peasant has the potential for magical ability. It’s far less than those sired by mages, but the chance is always there. That roll of the dice, however, cannot happen if they are killed for some trivial matter by a mage.

Even if they or their line never produce magical offspring, they are still needed to help man the walls against the ever-encroaching wilds and the thousands of other tasks that keep our little oases of humanity going. Allowing careless brutality to them only lessens our species' overall ability.”

What a tricky little organization, this Front. Of course, the Coalition had a far better handle on the mages than the Rodring kingdom did, preventing the need for such advocacy.

“And what do you do besides legal work?”

Her back stiffened a bit, shaking her black dress.

“Most of our resources are pooled in the west. We are found in every institution of learning, and in the case of studying ultimate mages, lead the academic side of things but… The associations have far more influence than we do. And since they are the ones who make the cities and all but dictate the laws our ability to directly affect the lower levels of society isn’t what we would like.”

I leaned back in my chair, now fully paying attention to this conversation.

“And what would a civilization made by the Front look like?”

Nina bit her lip, clearly not having considered the question before.

“A big wish is to set up a system where small amounts of magical resources are distributed among the peasants, allowing us to pick up people who might have extraordinary magical affinity but lack the resources to display such talents. A very unpopular notion, as I’m sure you would imagine. Aside from that… I cannot profess any knowledge in city design or architecture.”

I sat there, pondering over her words. An interesting twist in the road could be ahead if she had the right mindset to see it.

“But is magical ability the sum of humanity’s potential?”

She furrowed dark eyebrows. Green eyes looked at me with an uncomprehending stare.

“You mentioned the ability of magicless peasants to contribute to humanity’s ability. To help make a safeguard against nature. But is the peak of man’s power its magical ability or the ability to conquer the bloodthirsty trees?”

Nina bit her lips before doing a light bow.

“I’m afraid your question evades me.”

“Is the point of improving our species gaining more magical power or is it to ensure our survival?”

“Is there a difference?” She asked with a puckered lip, a bit of understanding taking hold in her eyes.

“The magicless peasants contribute to our endurance in the face of nature even if they or their kin never obtain magical abilities, as you explained. So what I’m asking is this: Does the Front care more about maximizing humanity's magical potential or making sure humanity has a future?”

“Survival. Though magic is the best means to that.” She answered with a bit of uncertainty.

“Ah. Thank you for clarifying, Nina. I make no promises, but it seems like we have similar views on the state of our kind.”

The Front woman did a little bow.

“Thank you for your time, Tilvor. And a rather engaging discussion.”

With that, she turned to go behind me. Now that humanity’s survival and magical ability were two distinct things in her mind, she might prove fertile soil for the seeds of heresy in the future. Time would be the judge of that, and I could do no more to subvert her at this dinner.

It was a few more minutes of idling before the messenger boy came from the curtain to the left. His approach to the raised platform slowly killed the stream of chatter from the rest of the room.

“Please remain seated. It is my esteemed honor to introduce King Jeremy, Queen Nestel, and Princess Palta.”

The same spot in the curtains was pulled back to reveal Jeremy. He now sported a purple coat and pants with gold edges, only now the gold was weaved into sharp ninety-degree turns leaving edges all up and down that all eventually traced into a full gold ring around his feet. His favored wife had his right arm.

Nestel sported the same dress and doll-like stature. Her dress and feet seemed to almost glide across the tiled floor as they came up the stone platform. Palta followed close behind, dressed as she had been at our meeting. The lack of their fourth component went unremarked.

They made their way up the stairs without a hitch, with Jeremy pulling the center seat back for Nestel and scooting her in before doing the same for his daughter on the left. When he took the last seat, he nodded to a maid on the right.

She returned the gesture before turning back to the purple curtains. Out of the purple drapes came a small army of platter-wielding servers and jugs lofted by maids, each in the black and white attire of their station though the sleeves were all near their shoulders. They moved between the tables and chairs like commandos storming the enemy position.

Plates of sliced meats, rolls, and vegetable dishes were offered to the guests who accepted. The wave of charred meats and freshly baked bread surged through my nose with their approach. The next wave of selections were fish and water-bound bugs of every steamed or grilled variety, giving a faint whiff of heavy salts and spice. I took a bit of everything. I had earned this entire meal a thousand times over this past week alone and I was going to take every molecule of gratitude that could be sucked out of a lobster’s tail or steak’s sear.

No such fuss was needed for the incomplete royal family, whose meals had already been preordained. Wines and juices were quickly dispensed into tankards, which everyone had started washing down with a few bites of the meal. After a minute or so, Jeremy put down his mug of ale and stood, bringing any munching or clanking of silverware to a stop. His green eyes surveyed the room, not stopping even as his mouth finally opened.

“My father once said that toughness isn’t something given in the womb, it is given through sore back, tired arms, and worn hands. A man as great as you’ve all heard, I assure you. I’ve seen his wisdom exemplified by one individual-“

He did a grand sweep of his arm to me.

“Tilvor Laperict. A man from the wilds and as tough as any mage could ever be. He has displayed great strength in his magic but also his spine and grit. It was through his efforts and determination that so much was saved from the menace on the seas. The only reward that I and my beloved Nestel could think to grant for such service, and aiding our daughter, was the official recognition of his independent domain. The grand stone tapestry beyond Crasden will no doubt blossom under his guidance into a sister city for this region and its people.”

A round of applause went up, with Palta joining in while her parents maintained a stoic stance.

“Part of that great future will be the establishment of a worthy partner in government. After much consideration and the endorsement of several of our great kingdom’s mage associations, I am pleased to announce that the handling of the local governorship will be handed to Lady Ashe Kraton though her arrival tomorrow will be her first official day in the chair.”

He may have sat down with that last word, but the local chatter rose far above what it was before. It was an interesting tale I had pieced together from the overseer on one of our working lunches. Her rather lacking uncle had used Orcs to make some mages that would do all the work or supply them with additional magical talent, it was a rather high-level investigation with only some bits getting leaked to the public. He was a rather close relation in my opinion despite Ashe's description of a distant relative at our minute of dinner. A perpetrator of the most revolting act mankind had ever known and a few pleasant nights for me. Kraton getting back the reigns to the very city that sickening crime took place in was… a political miracle.

The temporary governor after the Kraton house was relieved of his station for making such a huge mess that the whole region rebelled. I was certain that still wasn’t as bad as Orc mating in the eyes of humans. Coming back from that was almost as impossible as someone from such a stained family receiving the endorsement of the mage associations. My political senses couldn’t guess which of the two was more significant, but I would have bet neither had been diplomatically possible. No divination of how this happened was going to come from the royal family, who resumed working their plates.

As did I.

A good ten minutes of stacking a small mountain of empty crab shells and swigging weak beer passed before one of the servers came to my table with a small bow making his brown hair shift.

“I have been informed that the dancing portion of the evening is approaching. You seem well situated and, if the lord would rather enjoy his meal in peace, one of the private rooms in the curtains could be made available.”

“Definitely. My feet have been put through enough these past few weeks.” I agreed as some servers came to move my unfinished feast.

I was soon enjoying a fresh steak in a pepper sauce inside a little world consisting of purple drapes forming walls and a wooden table with upholstered chairs. The mug of beer was halfway up to my lips when there was a shift in the curtains ahead letting in a slow chorus of flutes and some instrument like a violin with a deeper base. In came King Jeremy, who moved up to my table with some red on his cheeks and a mug in hand.

“Tilvor!” He yelled with a large smile. “I just wanted to give you my personal thanks for helping my daughter. Little Puffy always pushes herself too hard. Seems like all mages do these days.”

I nodded to him, noticing the eye of a guard behind him perusing the room.

“Palta is certainly a determined leader. A good daughter for any father.” I offered as I placed my mug down on the table.

Jeremy raised a black eyebrow as his thumb rubbed the wood mug.

“You’re far more trusting than I would have thought.”

“Days like these show you people’s sides that typically take years to come out. The hard times came and she kept her head through the ups and downs. She’ll make a good queen to guide her future king.”

The king smirked as he moved closer.

“I don’t know where you’re from, but here the queen is in charge. In a similar way to the empress of the Bodding kingdom. The king used to be stronger until my ancestors Ballud, and to a lesser extent, Geshton made the messes we’re still trying to recover from. My father was something of an exception. He helped push key victories against the pirates AND the Orcs. Everyone was rather reluctant to have a king front and center in the royal family again, but he proved them all wrong…”

He paused for a second before sticking a finger up.

“Though I was the one Nestel decided to wed. I can’t help but wonder what she could have possibly seen in me that wasn’t present in Dad. Whatever it was, at least in that way I haven’t fallen short of him.”

Oh. He was THAT drunk. I looked behind him as he moved around the table, seeing the helmet of the guard still facing us even if I couldn’t see him in the dim light. The king completed his journey with a small smack of his hip against the table before sitting next to me. The stab of ale that accompanied his breathing was expected, yet no less potent for it.

“I saw the place on the flight over. An impressive set of structures all around. My metal element hasn’t imbued me with such an architectural ability. Maybe something about growing plants translates to making buildings.” He bemoaned as he placed his tankard down next to my pile of slain crab legs.

“Not exactly.” I refuted with the patient smile I would use to placate any other man at a bar. “Certain woods can be hardened to that of steel. Layering those inside the stone can act as bracing as well as providing flooring for when the stone would be too weak to be useful.”

“Weak?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows and puckered lips.

“Stone is strong, in the right shape and thickness.” I offered with a quick suck of mana to fashion a thin square of grey rock. The king leaned closer with that same puzzled face as he looked at the result of my spell. As I breathed in to make the point about tensile strength, a quick shove of the curtains to my left drew both our gazes.

“Dad!” The voice of Palta almost screamed out. I turned just in time to see the princess rushing into the room, not drunk yet still having some red in her cheeks from anger. Those royal black locks flapped with her sprint between us.

Her finely manicured hands took her father’s left shoulder and yanked him out of the chair.

“Got some bite in that grip.” Jeremy offered as his daughter unceremoniously dragged a key leader of the nation out of the room.

They disappeared through the purple cloth with my final gift being a nod from the king. My turn directly ahead showed the guard had since withdrawn from the show. Drunk man getting chewed out by their child is a fun skit in shows, though the real thing is never as pleasant. Especially when the members are descendants of an esteemed bloodline guiding a nation.

I continued my conquest in silence. Another plate of steak and crab legs was on its last slurp when the curtains to my left shifted again. What came through was not an irate Palta or unsteady Jeremy, but the pristine Nestel.

“Tilvor, would you accompany me downstairs for a minute?” She asked in a soft tone, her soft blue eyes holding some warmth.

As confused as I was at the situation, I was in no position to refuse the lady’s request. A quick wipe with a napkin and the table was quickly left behind. We moved side by side between the curtains, the world nothing but deep purple cloth save the stone floor. One component lacking in this new world was guards, leaving just us two to walk alone. After a turn right, Nestel spoke up again.

“Do you have some issue with me?” She asked almost innocently while a platter-bearing servant ducked out of our way to the left.

“Why would you ask that? Most of my grievance was aimed at the green-laced rat.”

A small chuckle came from her as we came up to a stone wall and turned left.

“When Palta was talking about me in your home, she says you got a strange look. Has my fame reached even the trees and creatures of the wilds?”

Damn this lack of face coverings.

“It is an extraordinary tale. And you really were there all those ages ago when Rodring walked these lands?” I asked. Hearing about a fellow traveler from my universe did spark some genuine interest.

“I suppose it does spark some skepticism on the first listen. Yes, my late husband was the vaunted ultimate mage that formed this very kingdom. As his widow, I still stand vigilant over his enduring creation.”

We came up to the stairs that served as the entry and exit for the workers. The expected turn left never came, instead, she put a hand through my right arm and moved us down with the current occupants rushing to the sides. More than one seemed to be silently praying that the two mages walking past wouldn't deign to notice them.

“The buildings are also his doing, yes?”

“Very much so.” She offered with a small smile across her face.

“A lot of glass and steel that. I would never slight your late husband’s ability, Lady Nestel. However, as something of an architect, I must say I do have some criticism.” I offered with our approach of the turn in the stairwell. The waft of dozens of meals went by as the boards of the stairs creaked with our descent.

“I almost certainly raised some of those very points to him.” Nestel offered ruefully. “But he said it reminded him of home.”

“Where was his home? I’ve only ever gotten vague descriptions of the ultimate mages, and nothing ever seems to be very well-defined with them.”

“As it should be.” She refuted with our turn to the last set of steps. “Everything about them is strictly controlled. An army of schemers and petty liars would be marching into every government hall all day long with grand claims if certain… aspects were not curtailed from public knowledge. Of course, honor would demand I personally oversee their execution, replete with an impassioned speech and a march displaying the body, things I certainly don’t have time for.

His home, however, was never discussed in detail. My recollection is that the buildings are based on a nation called your-up. Their only neighbor was to the north. A collection of people called Asia, though any details about them are lost with Rodring. I'm inclined to say they were his personal labels for the Far Shores.” She finished as we approached the stone floor.

Well, it appears some memory of hers has failed along the way. Unless Africa had lost its position beneath Asia without anyone knowing, it would be safe to assume she’s not remembering everything he said correctly. When we left the staircase, our duo moved down the hall a bit to the right while the kitchen directly ahead was still at its full tempo. The hallway with gold-numbered doors started, though we stopped at none of them.

“Did he bring anything else from this…your-up?” I asked with a slow attempt to replicate the mispronunciation of Europe.

“He had many plans and tinkerings.” Nestel offered with a small sigh as we came to a double door at the end of the hall guarded by two men in lion-shaped armor. “Like all men, really. Though, he never completed most of them. Always something about certain oils or powders he couldn’t remember how to make. Unlike most men, the small slice of his vision he did achieve was enough to shape the world.”

I only nodded as we came up to the doors, which the men opened for us. Inside was something between a study and a meeting room with a white tiled floor. A roaring fireplace was on the right, sporting a wooden bottom that sucked in mana to produce its smokeless flames. A large leather couch was on the left that let the sitter stare into the fire. Between them were two leather chairs sitting opposite each other. In the back was a desk by the window with bookshelves on both sides of the studious mind plying its trade.

Palta was sitting on the chair closest to the study while a late twenties lion guard was standing near the left of the fireplace. His purple-tinted helmet imitating a roaring lion was tucked beneath his left arm, revealing brown locks. We walked forward in the flickering firelight that illuminated the otherwise dark room.

Nestel put out a hand to the only other available seat. As I took my spot, I noticed the tense rise in Palta’s shoulders and the beads of sweat on the guard’s exposed forehead, as well as the fear in his green eyes. The prim queen took her spot on the purple upholstery on the couch, sitting as still as a doll.

They were scared.

Palta’s green eyes were a bit wide and her breathing was closer to a scared rabbit's than a sitting woman’s. The guard was biting his lips, and the sweat had a drop fall down his chin. Nestel was the same level of proper she had been since I had first seen her, though her eyes looked between the three of us with a cold menace. That air of dread seeped into me, making my back sit a bit more rigidly.

“All right,” The queen announced like she was opening court.

Her hand went behind her. A whoosh of air filled the room, which memory said was a noise-deadening enchantment going off. Her blue eyes turned to Palta.

“What happened?” She intoned like a judge.

“Father was sitting beside Tilvor. I saw his lips drawn outward as they leaned together.” The princess said, shooting a rather severe stare my way.

Nestel turned to me, her hands clasped together.

“And what were you doing with Jeremy?”

A snide comment was fighting its way up. The tension in the room fought it down and I stuck to a direct answer.

“I was showing him how stone works.”

Those almost silver eyebrows furrowed, and I felt Palta’s green eyes drilling into me.

“Stone is very strong. In certain shapes. Using it as flooring exposes a central weakness of the material, which is that it doesn’t hold up when placed in a long thin sheet. Something I was getting ready to demonstrate.”

Nestel turned to the guard along with her daughter. The poor man nodded like a man agreeing to forgo the death sentence.

“I saw a bit of stone form in Tilvor’s hands. But with the music, I couldn’t hear what they were talking about. I obeyed Jeremy’s orders and stayed out of the room with only a look inside.”

Palta’s cheeks got a bit of pink from embarrassment before she looked down at her blue dress.

Ah. Were they worried people would suspect the king had more similarities to his daughter than just looks?

“Good,” Nestel put in with a pleasant smile. “Derek, you are dismissed. I will see that your…discretion is properly rewarded when we return to the capital.”

He did a quick bow and turned to almost fly out of the room past me. I waited for the door to close before turning to the members of royalty. The two women regarded me with piercing eyes that scoured for any signs of betrayal.

“Can I rely on similar discretion from you, Tilvor?” Nestel asked with a subtle warmth.

“All I want is to retire someplace where I won’t be eaten in my sleep. I will say nothing of… can we straighten out this conversation a bit?”

She raised her eyebrows at me but nodded all the same.

“Are you concerned about people finding out Jeremy might have a taste for men?”

“There is no might.” The queen corrected, drawing the gaze of Palta who scrunched her blue dress in her fist. “I love that man, but that doesn’t mean it is easy every time we have to cover up his repulsive acts. We had hoped he was getting better though it looks like some restriction on ale will have to be a part of setting him on the right path. Can we trust you to keep this matter close to the chest?”

“Absolutely,” I agreed. There is a lot on my shoulders right now and getting enmeshed in palace wranglings was not what I came here to do. The princess looked a bit skeptical despite my assurance.

“Ale has proven the enemy of reason, and I would hate for you to say something without proper thought.” Palta pressed further, biting her lower pink lip. “Can you really assure us there won’t be any rumors about this incident flowing through the maids’ lips in the months or years to come?”

“If some server saw something or was of a particularly keen hearing, I have NO control over that. I can guarantee if such rumors start, they will not flow down from me. Have I not shown myself to be discerning when the time called for it?” I stated between gritted teeth in an even tone.

Honestly, being pressed by the lesbian princess of all people on this issue was rather maddening. A bit of malcontent must have seeped into my voice because Nestel raised her right eyebrow at me.

“In what way?” She asked in a rather demanding tone.

The queen had to know what was said of her daughter and I couldn’t think of a way to avoid saying it.

“I have heard rumors around the princess” I shot my hands up defensively “Rumors I have never given life to or used to slander. Nor would I use them to hurt your family's standing just as I wouldn’t use any around this incident.”

Palta looked at me with furrowed eyebrows and puckered lips that spoke of absolutely no comprehension of what I was blathering on about. Nestel leaned forward with an elbow resting on the couch arm. The wheels of her centuries-old mind turned for a few seconds before she clicked her lips with a small pop and those soft blue eyes lit up in comprehension.

“Oh, you mean her preference for women?”

Our gazes met and the aqua pools there held, not anger, but curiosity about why I had mentioned the subject in the first place. Palta was visibly uncomfortable, more in the way of someone bringing up an unpleasant memory rather than having a horrid secret blurted out.

“Tilvor,” The princess asked with mild irritation as she leaned back into her chair and crossed her arms. “What does that have to do with this?”

“You share the same… proclivity as your father, do you not?” I asked, feeling like the world had suddenly tilted even as my butt remained in the seat.

Nestel now furrowed her eyebrows, leaning back into the leather of the couch before lightly coughing and speaking like I was a slow child.

“Her proclivity is for women. How is that the same as Jeremy's? Two men being together will expend virility, but a woman could lay with a hundred of her gender and be just as fertile at the end. It may not be… the best even with that, but the difference is rather obvious. Is it not?”

We sat there staring at each other, neither side really adjusted to the other.

“Palta said you were from the wild.” The queen stated in not quite a question.

“I spent all but my recent days there. My childhood was in a wrecked ship scrounging for supplies and feasting on a weird squid that got impaled on the ship's broken mast.”

“Well,” Nestel pronounced with a rise from the couch that seemed to involve more floating than mortal movement. “The woods breed rather strange notions. But perhaps it’s for the best. If you think those are the same and you acted with discretion towards her situation-“

She stopped with a look at her daughter until Palta nodded. That doll-like beauty then turned to me with a small smile.

“Then I can trust you in the other matter. Let’s put it down to a favor in the future then. Within reason, of course.”

Don’t, Eli.

Don’t ask for specifics or try to parse this cultural morass. Get out of here and back to your room. Right now.

I pushed out of the chair with a bit more energy than required before giving her a nod and a light bow. My turn towards the back was almost complete when Nestel coughed again to draw my attention.

“Actually, Tilvor. If you do hear any more rumors concerning my daughter, I would appreciate it if you reminded people that she has given me two grandchildren and of her incredible service to our nation.”

“I doubt I would need to.” I offered with a smile that didn’t feel too forced. “Her actions here have won her many fans among the people.”

Of the three, it was the princess who seemed the least convinced. Her smile was a bit downcast, and those green eyes spoke of some internal wrangling going on. Unseen by the mother who still had her gaze on me.

I quickly resumed the walk out of the room which concluded with a slam of the doors courtesy of the guards now behind me. The hallway was less barren now, with one or two couples kissing as they made their way into a room. Going over the conversation, I couldn’t see any reason Nestel would have to off me. Killing the most visible person in Crasden would only make giants of any rumors concerning this incident with Jeremy, and of course, potentially destabilizing an entire region of her beloved late husband’s kingdom.

The arrangement was for me to stay here all night, so I couldn’t make sure Jeff didn’t hop on the other queen’s thighs. That probably wouldn’t be as big a problem as it was an hour ago. Given the situation, Verness probably took on lovers with a regular frequency and was well practiced in that vaunted discretion Nestel spoke so fondly of. But her latest paramour would have to make an expedited exit.

No.

If Jeff found out she was the queen, he would probably have to cling tighter to her lest she ask what he was hiding to avoid the higher echelons of society. Hopefully, he was blissfully ignorant when I next met him. It was a thorny issue that had no immediate action to be taken.

I made it up to the door with a golden five and went inside. The shoes were quickly thrown off in the darkened room and I made it into the bed from memory. A night of rest came and went too fast for comfort.

*Knock*

*Knock*

My hand went to the space where the mana lamp on the wall should have been until I felt the smooth surface of chilled crystal. A press against the bottom flooded my closed eyes with a faint orange glow. Bitter cold nipped at my fingers even with the relative warmth of the sheets. The heat of the base had been a far-off thing for what felt like ages and it seemed particularly distant when even the best accommodations in the city couldn’t keep out the cold.

I took a deep breath and committed to the day’s first labor by opening my eyes. The second was a pull out of the barely warm blankets finished with my feet hitting the icy boards of the floor. The move across the room bathed in golden light took a second of agony but the handle was somehow reached and pulled. It was the lad, done up in the same purple with what looked like a thick green blanket in his hands.

“Here is another gift from the royal family. A warm bath is a few minutes in the making and will arrive shortly.” He announced with a quick bow and stretch of the material.

I moved to take what he displayed to be a robe but stopped when he reached into the pocket of his pants.

“A letter from Ashe, the lady of house Kraton.” The messenger offered before producing a creme-colored envelope sealed with red wax that was handed off with the robe.

“Ah, thank you.” I accepted like I was being handed a snake.

“The thanks is all mine, great mage. Lady Nestel commended me for my work in helping you.”

“A rare thing?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. The lad got a huge smile that split his now reddened face almost in half.

“Unheard of. The maids have spent all morning talking about it. I’ve had to retell my time with you to more than a few of them.”

“All well deserved,” I assured him before taking the door handle.

My former guide did another slight bow before turning away with the close of the door.

The robe was of the same fine quality as my current attire and lacked the waft of spicy seafood. Pulling off the green coat and white shirt took a few more tugs than it should have but I was eventually down to my green pants with nothing aside from bitter cold wrapping around my bare chest. I then remembered the letter and walked to the desk by the left of the bed. Sitting down in the chair while making sure to avoid having my exposed top touch the cold wood, I opened the letter to read the political greeting and small talk.

‘Tivlor Laperict,

I am writing ahead to inform you that the Mountain Top and Seed associations have confirmed your ability to meet the challenge of my proposal and have been equally assured as to their assistance in your domain. It was quite a relief when they informed me that you are rather close to the single men. While this will be immensely helpful when the time to relocate them out of Crasden comes, I would advise keeping some distance in such relations.

The simple fact is they are all partakers of the green flesh, thus their coming expulsion. You may feel a lack of threat from the menace below due to no Orc children coming from your capture and such an attitude may prompt you to take a lax posture in their men’s presence. I will warn you that doesn’t mean they will not try to take you. Even if the Garren’s bane is gone from Crasden, the climate and lack of wildlife in this rocky patch means they will no doubt forge some meager existence out in the fields and they will be even more interested in your abilities and crafts as we work to close the wound of the slum.

Sincerely and with good wishes,

Ashe Kraton.’

I drew in a lungful of icy air, continuing the needed function that had stopped at the end of the first paragraph. For a moment, I pictured my hands around the healer's throat until I re-read it. The associations appear to have been acting as an intermediary in a discussion neither of us were properly informed of.

So that was how Ashe got the seat of power back. She was going to expel all the Orc's husbands and crush their underground abode. A city with their blight moved out of sight of a mage quarter that would go on to reside next to a freshly leveled slum. No doubt being replete with gaudy parks and monuments. And it would still have the needed labor from the men since they would all be living elsewhere.

My blood was screaming to beat Percy to a pulp then that earth caster woman for good measure. I couldn’t see what the associations would gain from this deception. No. Not the associations. They certainly agreed to this proposal but Percy and that earth caster were probably the ones who deceived the two of us in order to force me into a death march with no preparation. Those petty curs stewing in self-importance probably haven't faced any real consequences for their actions since birth and figured their station would protect them from the consequences of this jab. The regret of not clobbering one of the fools in front of the royal family stung, but the important item at hand was whether to deliver what others had promised in my name.

How many thousands of single men were here? Crasden was the main city for a minor region and that slum wasn’t all husbands of Orcs. A few pointless mercies when their homes took up an entire valley and then some. The local government didn’t keep good numbers on their citizens but it was tens of thousands, at the absolute least.

What a goddamned mess.

Could this even be done? I had the room for a few ten thousand with all the towers…. No. Towers weren’t going to be enough. The numbers involved in this many people with my current design would require layered roads to handle even decent traffic. A compact design was needed, where stacks and stacks of houses resided in large blocks with roads between each other and thick walls between each of them as well as the outer defenses.

And I had to make sure to consider the Orcs living below. As Ashe mentioned, they could eke out a miserable existence in the rocky plains but realistically, they needed access to a city for goods. My original plan was to have towers and buildings that were too hard to move, leaving the Orcs ample time to vanish whenever my fiction demanded I push them out. It would be a sting to my pride in the craft of architecture to have people think I had stupidly forgotten about that problem, but a needed one.

I pondered and considered the most obvious solution.

A two-level city. I could make a huge network of strong wood supports beneath all the stone acting as a cocoon for the lower sewer system and underground warehouses where the men would leave enough room for their wives. Seeing as I was about to have a workforce almost half the size of a city, it could be done. Some consideration would have to be taken to make sure the sewer tunnels and supports were sufficiently labyrinthine and the final piece supporting the upper city would need to be made into modular components with redundancies to allow the Orcs and men to work out how to puncture into the surface when needed. Most of the accommodations for the Orcs would be done by the workers outside of the blueprints and without my help, which meant I needed to make a workable subterranean structure that served its official purpose yet allowed the men to carve out a small civilization in the spaces between the supports with as few fatal errors as possible.

My hand floated to some of the papers and ink quill before stopping. My shoulders ached and my arms suddenly felt like they were filled with lead. Those well-worn mathematics began resisting the beckon to my frontal lobes. That slog before the battle was a special form of hell and this was going to be worse. Remaking everything while keeping that huge tower upright was going to require my full mental concentration, which meant I was going to have to leave a lot to the Overseer and his workers.

The vast majority of which would be new men who didn’t even have the meager experience those currently under me had.

For a moment, some selfish part of me weighed blowing up this deal that had been foisted on me. It would lead to months of political chaos if Ashe didn’t couldn’t fulfill the signature promise to her mage benefactors, potentially giving the pirates needed breathing room. Thousands of people could very well die in the ensuing mayhem but the Mist filth was too weak to threaten the Kisspin harvest this year. The aches in my hands and feet became more acute as if preemptively protesting the coming work.

Was there a formula in the scriptures about how many innocent people you could let die before God wouldn’t forgive you? Would it have a hard limit or was it more stages of damnation?

Then I pictured Gula’s face. Not filled with rage, hatred, or fear, but wearing a look of disappointment in her husband. Disappointment in the man she thought she could rely on. I slapped the pains and groans away before retrieving the blank papers and ink. Of all the levels of divine wrath, failing those I love was the most scorching and my soul could not bear that stain. Placing the pages down, I began drawing up orders for the Overseer to be delivered and the beginnings of rough sketches for this city on a city as the brutal chill of winter whirled over my bare chest.