Jazathya was having a bad day.

It wouldn’t have looked that way to the crowds on the sides of the canal. To them, Jazathya would have looked like one of the many foreign dignitaries and merchants who flocked to the city of Darazzo. She was dripping with jewelry, her ears, neck, and fingers all gleaming with gold and gems. Her clothing may have been scant, but it was cut in the latest fashions of Irdishan, meant to be light and breezy for comfort in the harsh desert sun of her homeland, and woven of the finest silk, dyed with vibrant and captivating patterns. It showed off much of her well cared for, bronzed skin. Her black hair flowed down her back, expertly maintained and fashionably curled. She even went barefoot, the brass Levitater Anklets able to keep her feet just an inch or so off the ground as she walked, an extravagance designed entirely to show how much money she could spare on even such minor frivolities.

Her conveyance was hardly less impressive. She had rented one of the higher class magic gondolas the Tide Masters Guild had on offer. Shimmering translucent curtains formed a kind of impromptu tent on the boat’s surface, in which the passenger road. Their magic produced a pleasant, cool sea breeze for the rider inside, no matter the actual weather. The boat itself was self propelling, leaving the gondolier free to spend the journey serenading her with a lute and offering refreshments.

To all appearances, she was one more rich visitor come to experience the high life in the City of Dreams and perhaps buy some magical trinkets.

Jazathya herself was more concerned about how much this was all costing. She cursed the need to keep up appearances like this. She hadn’t been able to bring nearly as much of her own family’s wealth with her as she’d hake liked. Faraq, her father’s cousin, had given her some traveling money, but he was only an earl-consort. Even at that, his offer was too generous, and she’d accepted only a smaller sum as a gift from him.

But it was a necessity no matter how much she disliked it. She had to strike a balance between admitting a bit of vulnerability from her homeland’s political situation and the stance that it was all just a temporary downturn in fortunes. She still had her skills and her family’s connections. If only someone would lend a helping hand now, she’d be ever so grateful when she was back on her feet. Even a hasty political marriage wasn’t off the table at this point.

Or at least, that had been her plan. But the news coming out of Irdishan was much worse than she’d feared would have been possible, not the least of which was the death of her own father, and no one seemed to see value in the scion of a duchy that had taken the full brunt of the invasion. Everywhere she went, it was polite refusals, rejected offers, and slammed doors.

She didn’t bother trying to contact the duke who should have been her equal. The man rarely came to Darazzo anyway; the place was a sore spot for him as in some senses it was nearly an independent city state squatting in his territory. She hadn’t even tried an appointment with the mayor either.

Looking back, trying to talk to the marquesses had been a bit optimistic, but at least their rejections had helped give her a better sob story for the lower ranked nobles.

The earls had been a real disappointment. She had really expected one would offer patronage or at least an offer of employment. But they had all believed that Irdishan was doomed, that her holdings and connections there were worthless.

Even the nobles who were truly foreign, men from distant continents that had never been part of old Artrellia, thought she had nothing to offer them.

The counts apparently shared that opinion. It was more than a bit insulting to be ignored and condescended to by people who by all rights should be far beneath her. Count Karil was the last count on her list, and if he wouldn’t listen to her, she’d have to start begging for help from viscounts. Slumming it like that would be demeaning in a way she could have scarcely imagined a year ago.

But still not demeaning enough to make her consider taking up with the one group which had reached out to her. There were a number of expatriates from Irdishan in Darazzo, people who had been drawn in by either curiosity over or greed for the city’s unique magics. In fact, there were similar groups from every nation and race, who carved out little enclaves for themselves throughout the city.

It wasn’t surprising. The land the city occupied had a very strong connection to the plane of magic, making travel into that plane simple. One had to merely step into one of the numerous glowing pools to be transported to what was surely the most profitable region of the Depths ever found. The plane of magic even owed its very name in the Artrellian tongue, the Depths, to that vast ocean filled with treasures and secrets that this city served as a gateway to. One moved deeper into the Depths by literally going deeper beneath that ocean’s surface, where the magic grew stronger and stronger. Nearly all the human magical traditions in the world had their origin in some stone tablet or magical item which had been dredged up from the Depths by Darazzini explorers and eventually studied and reverse engineered.

She could hardly fault her fellow countrymen for also wanting to see the wonders of the Depths first hand or make a bit of gold by treasure hunting. Jazathya had even dreamed of coming here herself when she was younger. But then Krovia had turned expansionist, and expert mages and fighters started fleeing their fatherland in droves to come here before the wars had even reached Irdishan.

So far, she’d politely delayed accepting their invitations. She’d rather become a housewife for some low ranking knight than stoop to joining that pack of traitors and draft dodgers. But then again, she’d already resorted to selling some of her less impressive jewelry to fund herself...

She sighed and rested her chin in her hand, turning to take in the sights along the canal bank. A street performer was putting on some kind of acrobatic act where she hopped between two giant flying manta ray monsters. Past that was a market full of merchant stalls hawking exotic wares. Next, down a cross street she saw a brief flash of magic between two men, followed by one falling to the ground. Then the gondola speed past and the altercation was again out of sight.

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“Gods, what a bunch of savages,” she muttered to herself. Probably a couple of Divers killing each other over something they’d pulled up from the Depths, she guessed. The deeper parts of the Depths were filled with danger: monsters and deadly natural hazards both. Only the strong could survive there, and where strong men and unclaimed treasure mixed, blood was sure to follow.

She saw nothing so dramatic on the rest of her ride to the count’s manor, only the same crowds of merchants, mercenaries, and tourists interspersed with some obviously magical building or creature which would have awed her when she first arrived. By now, she was becoming jaded to the whole cavalcade of strange sights. Sometimes, she wondered why her father, gods rest his soul, advised her to come here when the war’s outcome became so uncertain.

He’d always been such an intelligent and shrewd man. He’d also been far more religious than she was, and had insisted that the decision had been based on prayer as much as the common sense arguments for why a woman in her position should seek out a city full of the wealthy and influential instead of one of the countries closer to her homeland.

Who knew, she mused, maybe the gods really did want her here, even if the local nobles didn’t. As the gondola neared its destination, she certainly felt she could use some divine intervention.

“Karil Manor, ma’am,” the gondolier said, parting the translucent curtain for her to exit. “Shall I schedule a return trip?” Jazathya shook her head. If things went well, she wouldn’t mind waiting around a bit at the manor for another gondola. And if not, she’d be walking back to her hotel to save money. Again.

As she stepped up onto the canal bank, she took stock of the count’s residence. It was only barely large enough to be considered a mansion. The architecture was about standard for what she’d come to expect from her visits to the Wavecrest district, upscale but not fabulously wealthy.

But every noble needed his own little flourish to demonstrate his wealth and stand out from his neighbors, and Count Karil’s was standing in front of his door. A hulking humanoid figure made of coral served as the noble’s doorman, its glowing blue eyes contrasting against its mainly orange body which held small swirling patterns of blue and green coral streaking through it.

As she approached the golem, a voice emanated from it despite its lack of a mouth. “Welcome to Karil Manor. Please state your business.”

“I am Jazathya Abdurk, Duchess of Tammar of the Kingdom of Irdishan. I seek an audience with his lordship the count.”

“Be welcome, your grace,” the voice from the golem replied as it opened the door and stepped inside, beckoning her to follow. Jazathya made her way inside, allowing the golem to lead her into a meeting room. “Please wait here while his lordship is informed of your visit.”

Jazathya sat down on one of the plush couches in the room and clasped her hands nervously. She knew this was her last chance to make a good impression on someone of real consequence in her new home. She could not afford even a single mistake.

She took a look around the room to calm her nerves. There were a few pieces of artwork scattered about, statues and vases and such, but the real centerpiece was a vast painting hung on the far wall.

“Painting” was perhaps the wrong word, as the contents were utterly lifelike, making it look almost like a portal to another world. It showed an underwater tableau where mermaids frolicked among swarms of fish. The figures actually moved and interacted, turning the whole thing into a soothing distraction from her current predicament.

Half an hour passed while she continued to wait, until she heard the golem’s plodding footsteps coming up the hall. This struck her as strange. Surely whatever butler was remotely controlling and speaking through the thing could have come to fetch her himself instead of sending a guard.

“My apologies,” the voice from the golem said. “But his lordship’s schedule does not permit a meeting with you.”

“Oh, that’s no trouble at all,” she replied, trying to keep her demeanor calm. “I can come back at his lordship’s convenience.”

“I’m afraid that it will never be possible for you to meet with the count. Regretfully, his lordship lacks any substantial interest in what you could offer him. Please allow me to show you the way out.”

“No! Wait! My family has plenty of holdings! Taxation rights, mines, caravans! We could negotiate a very profitable trade agreement.”

The golem was utterly impassive in the face of her outburst. “Your family’s land is already overrun. People wanting continued trade with Irdishan are already talking to the Krovians instead.”

“But we still have our reputation, our connections. The Abdurks have always had strong ties with the crown.”

“The government of Irdishan is on the brink of collapse. It’s sure to either surrender or be annihilated soon.”

“I’m a trained war mage. I was educated in the finest…”

“This is Darazzo, ma’am. The streets are choked with the number of battle mages here with more skill and experience than you.”

At that moment, she wanted to demonstrate her skill and experience on the damn thing’s head. “I AM A DUCHESS!”

“I hate that I need to be this frank, but no, not anymore you aren’t.”

“FUCK YOU AND FUCK YOUR STUPID COUNT TOO!” Jazathya pushed straight past the thing and ran down the hall and out the door, tears streaming from her eyes. She dashed down the street until she found an alleyway to hide in. She smacked her head against the wall and just sobbed, unable to focus on anything but the cruel truth which had been shoved in her face.

Eventually, she managed to compose herself enough to stagger out back onto the street. Peering down at her reflection in the canal, she saw that her tears had caused her mascara to run. She’d have to suffer the humiliation of the long walk back to her hotel with ruined makeup.

She decided to get it over with and set off at once, ignoring the looks passersby gave her as she hurried through the city. She had an important appointment with one to several bottles of cheap alcohol back in her room.