Irith plodded along the road to Lem, taking a long look at the walled city as she approached. The past week had been annoying, but nothing else. Moving in shadows was a knack of hers. A day after reaching the first town, she stole a pair of clothes from an elderly woman. The baggy fit, thrice-patched elbows, and haggard feel of the cloth hid her otherwise feminine figure. A good thing, too; the road to Lem could be difficult for a woman traveling alone.

She was a dedicated field agent; she’d covered her face in brushes of dirt and took a roll in the forest foliage. Twigs and half-dried leaves stuck to her clothes. Even her long black hair was tucked and tied into a cap she’d purchased off a passing trader. To complete the look, she held a staff whittled from an old branch while pretending to favor her left leg slightly.

The traffic beside her moved at a laggard pace, a common occurrence in the midday heat. The plains outside Lem, mottled withfields and cracked dust paths, provided no shade. As if all travelers to Lem had to earn their passage with perspiration. She walked between a wagon filled with barrels and a trio of chittering young women visiting for their first time. Something she’d overheard at length for the past hour.

The line to enter Lem was long, and she intended to disappear as soon as she passed through the walls. She’d considered entering at night, but the guard seemed to have doubled since she’d left. She noticed a few clergy lingering past the gated entrance, shifting their heads amongst the crowd without focusing intently. Something about their demeanor triggered a feeling in her gut. Their heads swiveled a bit too much, they talked too little, and they constantly reached into the folds of their white robes to grasp something.

There would be no avoiding them once she’d passed by the guard, but the mass of people might be enough camouflage to reach the inner street.

As she reached the gate, a guard looked at her briefly while glancing at a series of posters stuck to the wall on her left. She was careful not to react. They were faces she recognized: Antone, Turgi, Sirius, Zeek, and the she-demon. It seemed Penny hadn’t been singled out yet, but that would likely change soon.

The guard paused a moment, rechecking the drawings, but relented with a snort and shrugged his shoulder to let her inside. She limped past him, remembering to address him as “m’lord” before entering Lem proper. She moved instantly towards the nearest alleyway when one of the priests pointed towards her.

The feeling of venom and hatred she’d felt near clergy in the past assailed her as a bishop rounded the corner and looked her directly in the eyes. She curved her mouth into a snarl, baring her teeth, before sprinting into the nearest shadow and disappearing.

An hour later, she lay on a roof a few streets over, waiting for the clatter of metal bootsteps and shouting to cease. Deciding on caution, she remained motionless on the roof till nightfall. Using the shadows as steppingstones, she flitted in and out of view from passersby, appearing behind crates and barrels and in the flickering darkness that stretched from unlit corners.

She made her way through the winding, now hostile, streets of Lem and scurried through a hidden portcullis lying against a building in the red-light district. She took a rag from her back pocket and used the temporary relief to scrub dirt and grime from her face. She opened the door to the storage room she’d crawled into and walked down a stone hall, heading towards familiar voices.

She rounded the corner and entered the open door of an underground barracks. Zeek was there, sitting cross-legged on the ground with a sweating Sirius and Penny. Antone and Turgi were around a wooden table arguing in hushed breaths while the Lady Demon listened with her ear cocked in between them.

“Irith!” Zeek shouted, and the rest of the room turned to the doorway. Antone jumped from the table and wrapped her in a large hug. Turgi went to stand up, but a quick look at his wife made him sit back down. They all gathered around the small table as Irith took the remaining empty seat.

“It’s good to have you back. What happened out there?” Turgi asked.

“It was an ambush. They set me up for the whole mission. Halfway through my ‘investigation’ they sent a light mage and squadron out to kill me,” Irith explained.

“How did you get away?” Zeek asked.

Irith looked at him with a raised eyebrow and confused stare. “Get away? I killed them all. The bastard bishop included.” The room got quiet as Priscilla began to cackle.

“Mother!” Sirius chided. “You told me Aunt Irith was weak.” Irith rolled her eyes as Priscilla patted Sirius’s arm.

“Oh she is, my sweet. Weak to men. The worst weakness of all.” Antone hid his face in his hands while Turgi pretended to examine the ceiling. Irith ignored the exchange.

“Well, you lot seem to have had a good time. They have your pictures lining every flat surface from the gate to the palace.” She stared at Antone while she spoke.

Then Zeek, Antone, and Turgi all launched into an explanation at the same time. Irith held up her hand and pointed at each in turn, listening to the story. She made no reaction when Zeek explained his “source,” but her eye twitched a little when she saw the book. Something only Priscilla noticed.

There was a long pause after they re-telling ended, and Irith’s face morphed into a scowl before she spoke. “This is worse than I thought.”

“How?” Penny said suddenly, rubbing her hands together as all eyes turned to her.

“It would seem some of the bishops have Zeek’s mana vision. We’ll be as clear as a flame on a moonless night if any of us walk the streets. Except the creature and the children,” Irith waved her hand at Priscilla.

“About that, I have an idea,” Zeek said. “It’s true you can tell an arch mage easily with mana vision. But it requires the person to be in line of sight. I can’t see through walls, at least not yet.”

Antone tapped the table. “Even so, we can’t move around without knowing where the patrols are.”

Zeek winked at him before cupping his hands and stage whispering to the book, “Send a message to Timeldra Orthan: All clear.” Irith’s face twisted into a grin as she watched the black beetle form and fly in front of Turgi. It transformed into translucent paper and oily black ink a second later.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Oh, this will do nicely,” she whispered.

A half hour later, Jarvis walked in with a half-finished cigar in his mouth and a rolled piece of parchment in one hand. He opened it on the table and looked around the room before turning to Irith. “They’re trustworthy?” he asked.

Irith nodded. “You can go look at their wanted posters if you need reassurance.”

Jarvis frowned. “Sorry to see you involved in all this, Sirius my boy.”

Sirius looked shocked for a moment then sputtered, “Who…who’s Sirius? I’m Ester, sir.”

The three archmages and Priscilla eyed him before bursting into laughter. Jarvis grinned while taking a puff of his cigar. “Kid, those names are for the patrons upstairs. I knew who you were the moment I saw you. Same for this lot,” he said while pointing his chin at the others.

“Speaking of,” he continued, “it’s nice to finally meet you, Captain Antone. Was a good raid you did on my boys last year at the docks. Took me months to recover.” He held out his hand, and Antone sighed and shook it.

“Jarvis, eh? Can’t say I’m happy to be helping the resistance, but it seems our goals align for once.”

Jarvis gave him a toothy smile. “That’s the way of the world, isn’t it? Today’s enemy is tomorrow’s friend.”

Zeek was confused, having never met Jarvis before. “Mr. Jarvis, who are you exactly?” he asked.

“The leader of the resistance.”

Sirius gasped, and Zeek blinked and scrunched his eyebrows. “Uh, what are we resisting?” Jarvis began to laugh, his belly jiggling as he held it. Irith rubbed her forehead and glanced at Turgi, as if imploring him to explain.

“I forget you’re a country boy sometimes,” he muttered. “They’re a group of… how should I put it? Dissenters who want the king to end hereditary nobility,” Turgi explained as Penny and Zeek nodded.

“We prefer the term ‘concerned citizens,’” Jarvis quipped.

Zeek shrugged. “Seems reasonable. Why won’t he do it?”

Irith snorted. “Aside from his entire power being based on hereditary nobility? Can’t imagine a reason.”

“At least he has a pretty face,” Priscilla said, watching Penny. The girl blushed and turned away, not that Zeek noticed.

Jarvis finally regained control of himself and placed a few mugs on the corners of the map, then turned to Irith. “The floor is yours.”

She pointed to a large plaza in front of the fortress gates, “The Festival of Light will be held throughout the city. But the king always gives his speech from the ramparts of the fortress,” she said, tapping the location. “We have two goals in all this. First, we help the resistance send a message to the king. Leave that part to the demoness and me, Jarvis. Second, we need to get the guards to flood the central plaza. With the current state of patrols, that will probably drain the clergy into the same place. Giving us some room to rush the undercity.”

“Probably?” Antone asked.

Irith frowned. “There are as many clergy as guards. They’re even more beholden to the king since he technically counts as an archbishop of the church. We want to force them to overcommit to his defense. It won’t mean everyone comes, but one less powerful clergy below makes our journey easier.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Zeek asked.

“We need to regain our ability to move above ground. That means plotting the patrol routes, especially those of the clergy. That’s where you and the other two come in. “We need to regain our ability to move above ground. That means plotting the patrol routes, especially those of the clergy. That’s where you and the other two come in. With the help of magic, we can use you and the other resistance members to fill this map in. Once that’s done, we move to phase two,” Irish explained.

““Phase two requires you three to work on recruiting. Zeek, I’ll have you deal with Mord and Vale. I have enough dirt on their families to get them to open up to you.”

Zeek blanched. “Blackmail?”

Irith shook her head. “No, that never works in the long term. Rather, I think you’ll find they share the same sentiments as their fathers. A bit of pushing in the right way and they’ll join us in our venture. It will require you to reveal some of your secrets, though.” Zeek nodded slowly, but his face was a bit paler. Espionage wasn’t a skill Granny had taught him.

Irith looked at Penny next. “Aury is your responsibility. You’ve developed a friendship and I think you two are more alike than you realize. I’ll give you some background information on her.”

Sirius chimed in, “What about me?”

“Felix is yours. I’ll assist you with that,” Priscilla answered.

Irith pointed at Turgi and Antone. “You two will make explosives. Lots of them.”

Antone scowled. “I’ll do no such thing. I said I wouldn’t help if people got hurt.”

Irith scowled back. “Then you’d better do a good job. The point of this whole thing is to show how little control the king has. I have a few targets in mind that won’t affect the general populace, just scare them.”

Antone slammed his fist on the table. “You want me to be a terrorist?”

“Don’t be childish. If they capture us, we all die, resistance members included. Terror is better than death,” she retorted.

“You’re using sophistry to justify this. We could just go into the undercity now and avoid being entangled in this,” he said, gesturing towards Jarvis.

“You aren’t with the kingdom anymore. It’s best you remember that, Captain. They abandoned you first for nothing more than possibly knowing a secret.” Her glare did nothing but spur him into anger, and he went to shout back at her when Turgi placed a hand on Antone’s arm.

“Come now, old friend. They’ll do this with or without us. At least we can do it right. What’s the saying you’re so fond of? Only a fool fights the tide.”

Antone crossed his arms and muttered, “A fool fights the tide, a fisherman embraces her.”

Irith turned to Jarvis. “It’s getting late. Let’s continue our discussions in the morning.” The large man took the hint and bowed slightly before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

“You’ve begun training Sirius and Penny?” Irith asked Zeek after Jarvis’s footsteps faded into the distance.

Zeek nodded. “It’s only been a week but there’s been some progress. I’ve managed to repair their mana veins with the technique I learned. Penny has begun to control her mana, but Sirius is still struggling with it.”

“How long till they can hide their mana like you?” she asked.

Zeek ran a hand through his hair. “Like me? A few months. Maybe more. But enough to hide their arms only?” He paused. “Probably another week or so. But they’ll feel numb, like their arms fell asleep. That won’t fade till they’ve made a lot more progress.”

“It will have to do. It will give them some camouflage if they get caught outside,” she replied.

Turgi looked at Priscilla. “What will you be doing, my love?”

“Whoring, of course,” Irith snapped. Priscilla grinned at her.

“What my less-than-human companion means, dear husband, is that I will be entertaining a few of the less pious clergy who frequent this district. Nothing untoward, of course, just making sure they drink and talk too much,” Priscilla explained.

Turgi’s face went a bit white. “What does that mean…exactly?”

“She’s going to try to learn more about their magic. It’s been bothering me why their mana comes and goes,” Irith said.

“I don’t see them revealing anything important,” Turgi replied.

Priscilla brushed a hand against his face. “You’d be surprised what men will say with a drink in one hand and a pretty woman in the other.”

Zeek swore he saw Turgi blushing again.