Looking out over the bustling streets below, Lyanna doubted the town of Faron had seen such activity since the fall of the Dweomer. The artery main-streets overflowed with the life-blood of the town; adventurers. Come to chase the dreams that seduced their kind. Promises of riches and fame, of noble titles, of power – the precise goal varied but the greed was always the same.

That day was different however; the adventurers weren’t alone. They mingled with mounted knights and lowly grunts, even civilians and clergy, all making haste to prepare for the big day. The Expedition.

Baron Faron had commanded that the hunt for the mimic begin tomorrow. It was already the better part of a week since Thunderbolt had reported the sighting of the monster, but Jalera and the adventurers and mercenaries she’d recruited in the capital had only arrived the previous evening – leaving the bulk of their force only one day to ready themselves.

The chaos was audible even in Lyanna’s room at the Relentless Rat. The Rat was one of the worst inns in town, a dilapidated and dingy wooden structure in the cheapest part of town, the entrance overhung by an inexpert painting of a rat stealing a drumstick from an overfull table as the drunken patrons tried to shoo it off. Lyanna often thought that having just a single rat stealing food was aspirational for the place.

The Rat was still better than its neighbors however – any holes in its walls were plugged and the fireplaces kept the inn warm. The same could not be said of the crumbling stone or wooden shacks of the slums around it.

Worse than the disrepair was the miasma that hung over the buildings, odors of latrines and outhouses mixing with raw monster meat being butchered and the rank stink of rendering tallow.

It had raised eyebrows when a gold-rank party like Thunderbolt had taken rooms in the worst part of town, but the kindly old inkeep at the Rat had given them two rooms free of charge indefinitely – having adventurers of Lyanna’s caliber around was far better security than the town guard could ever provide. Not that the guard ever entered the slums in the first place.

Yet that day even the Rat was heaving. Every room in Faron was full and there were more people still pouring into the town, forced to sleep in stables and barns, or camp on the grassland outside the north gate.

It was no wonder there was chaos – between the mercenaries, adventurers, soldiers, clerics and bearers Lyanna guessed there must be well over a thousand people joining the expedition. That meant a lot of people who needed equipment, weapons and supplies. If the Lastborn and many of the adventurers hadn’t brought their own armor and weapons the smithies would have long since given up.

The Lastborn presented their own set of problems however.

The mercenary band was famous, formed by the youngest sons and daughters of noble houses. They were spares and extras too far down in the line of succession to ever inherit lands or real power, but when it came to warfare they were still elites, taught by their family masters-at-arms and wizards, with the armaments to match.

But even so the Lastborn were woefully ill-equipped for the Bloodsucking Forest. Mercenaries were not adventurers – they were trained and geared to fight radically different battles. Even setting aside the difference in tactics, the armor they wore was entirely wrong.

Each had their own personalized suit, all finery and ostentation, yet the goussets left all too many patches of exposed chainmail with no plating to stop needlegrass slipping through, while their sabatons were soled not with metal but easily-lacerated leather!

The work of adding lames to cover the goussets and attaching metal soles to the sabatons of five hundred suits of armor was no small task. The craftspeople of the town had been working non-stop by the Baron’s order.

Already more than a few arguments had broken out as prissy children of noble families found crude metal strips pinned to their prized, immaculate armor. Lyanna wondered how well they’d handle the Bloodsucking Forest or the Cyclopean Bones beyond.

Armor was far from the only problem however – there was also the matter of transportation. Few adventurers owned horses, especially in Faron, as the Bloodsucking Forest was singularly unsuited to the animals. As a result the Lastborn had little choice but to abandon their proud destriers and swift coursers in all their barding, instead loading their supplies into packs they would wear themselves and wooden carts for the bearers to push.

The horses would be stabled all around the town and the burden on each of the mercenaries was relatively light, but the Lastborn had complained bitterly all the same at the last meeting – even after Baron Faron had personally guaranteed the wellbeing of their steeds. Many of them were the spawn of earls, or even dukes; the Lastborn weren’t cowed by the title of Baron.

It was only when Jalera had stepped in that the pampered nobles had simmered down. Noble or not, no-one spoke back to a diamond-rank adventurer. Especially not to Jalera.

Active for decades without any sign of slowing down, the older woman’s brown skin had started to show the odd wrinkle, but she had a youthful intensity and no patience for nonsense. She also retained the athleticism and conditioning of a woman half her age.

When Jalera spoke in her guttural and harsh accent the menace had cowed even Lady Ondora, the captain of the Lastborn. The proud daughter of a duke had even apologized for her rudeness.

Lyanna had seen Jalera once from a distance in the capital, but the woman was even more intimidating up close.

It wasn’t Jalera or the reliability of the Lastborn that was on Lyanna’s mind that morning however.

All of them were individual parts in the huge expedition that was soon to depart. It was Lyanna’s role to direct the entire endeavor to their prize. No matter how many people they gathered it would all be for nothing if the mimic slipped out of the region and into the territory of another nation. That was why Lyanna had been checking the location of the mimic every day, morning and evening.

The further away a target was the less accurate her spell would be, but with a mana signature as powerful as that of the mimic losing contact should have been impossible. The signal had even been growing steadily stronger after a strange spike. Yet that morning she’d performed the incantation on her staff only to find… nothing.

Naturally she’d assumed she’d made some mistake. It wasn’t unheard of for a spell cast without proper care and attention to simply fizzle out. Magic involved complex control of mana within one’s chosen tool and the careful recitation of a chant, making focus and precision vital for a spell to function.

The second attempt also failed however. She had checked her staff for damage then, and even tried locating a few other targets; her brother had been in the brothel… again… and Dolm breakfasting at the bar below.

Targeting the mimic once more, with all the power and precision she could muster, Lyanna had been relieved to detect a faint trace – yet it was all she could do to determine that it was somewhere to the south.

That would have made sense if the creature was outside of her range or something was blocking her magic, but it was hard to believe the mimic could have travelled such a distance in one night, or created a barrier that stopped her sensing it.

She told herself that something else must be interfering with her magic. The only other explanation she could think of was that the mimic was dead and she was detecting only its remains.

She should have reported that to the Baron immediately once she’d confirmed the result. Even if they could recover the body, the rewards for finding the creature dead would be only a fraction of what a live specimen would be worth. But she hadn’t said anything.

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The overweight and overeager lord of the town had already committed too much to easily turn back. If the expedition was cancelled at so late a stage there would be dire consequences.

The baron himself would suffer some backlash from the court most likely, but it was the adventurers who had promised him a mimic and then broken their word on which the real repercussions would fall.

Despite the warm weather of southern Bellwood Lyanna shuddered as she gazed out the window at the malodorous streets beyond. If she messed the expedition up then living in a slum would be the least of her worries. She’d be lucky if Thunderbolt were just banished from the town. On top of all that there would be the reactions of the other adventurers who had gathered too.

As for her mother, without any money coming in there would be no more treatments and no-one to care for her. Never mind a cure, in her unending sleep she would waste away….

The expedition had grown into a monster just as terrifying as the mimic itself.

A creak announced the return of her brother, Marcus, back from the brothel. He thought she didn’t know of course. Just as Dolm thought she didn’t know when he snuck a drink on watch.

She should have noticed Marcus tread in the hall outside, but the door had startled her. Lyanna made herself smile as she turned to greet him.

“Streets are crazy out there, sis.” Marcus observed, grinning. “With this many people that mimic doesn’t have a chance!”

She managed a nod.

“I can’t believe they’re all doing this for us. Well, for the mimic, but because of us. Even a baron can’t just call up a thousand people on a whim. Even if we’re not in charge we’re still going to be famous! The girls were all over me last night at the bar….”

Lyanna ignored his lecherous grin – and his lie. “Congratulations, Marcus, perhaps one of them will make an honest man out of you soon?”

“What? No way, I’ve got years of adventuring to do before I settle down! Besides, I’m not gonna marry a h… uh… woman I just met… at a bar.”

Lyanna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Just don’t spend all your coin on these women at ‘bars’, Marcus.”

He laughed defiantly. “Why not though, sis? We’re going to have a lot more soon! Enough to pay for everything! We won’t have to live in a stinking slum anymore!”

She gave a reluctant nod.

“It still doesn’t feel real, you know? It feels like it’s been decades since mom got sick. I can hardly remember her voice you know, Lyanna. When I try to think what she sounded like I just hear you. But it won’t be long now. After all this time, risking your life, risking our lives, hunting monsters and treasure, saving every last coin we could to pay the healers…. When I think about how in a few weeks we’ll be back in the capital, how mom will finally be… awake….”

The boy in Marcus came through as his voice cracked, and any thought of coming clean was lost from Lyanna’s mind.

His big sister pulled him to her chest as the siblings hid their tears from each other.

Even if it was a gamble she had no choice.

~~~

Atop her obsidian throne the Stormqueen radiated anger, static tingling on Agytha’s fingertips as she tried not to cower. Though she had served Queen Aellope for a number of years she had never seen her so enraged. It was all the worse given that it was Agytha’s own fault.

Around her the courtiers were gathered, summoned by the Stormqueen’s wrath. The open-air platform where they met was tense, the queen interrogating her court on the events of the previous night.

Agytha’s mistress, Lady Safkhet… Saf… had disappeared.

At first Agytha had simply been confused – Saf had asked her to fetch a bath while she spoke with Lady Ventora, yet she’d never returned from the meeting. She and Chione had searched for Saf of course, looking in all of the eccentric human girl’s haunts, despite the late hour. A human couldn’t leave the Eyrie unaided, not without magic more advanced than any Safkhet could use, so they had never imagined she had gone far.

Yet as they failed to find any sign of her they realized something must have happened to spirit here away. They’d raised the alarm of course, but too late. By the time a search turned up the news that the human girl was seen with the Valkyries they had long departed. Without a word to her handmaidens or Ael, Safkhet had eloped with Captain Berenike!

Agytha felt sick with worry just remembering the moment she found out that Saf was on her way to a battlefield. It was bad enough that her sister was in the town somewhere, without her friend going too.

It was all her fault. She should never have spoken to Safkhet about her sister or her worries. The human girl was too kind and too fearless….

Agytha would be lucky if she was merely ejected from the Queen’s retinue. She might even be banished from the Eyrie. She wondered if perhaps that would be a fitting punishment. The discussion was still proceeding however, with the queen’s ire yet to reach someone as insignificant as a handmaiden.

“Your majesty,” one of the courtiers spoke, “we understand you are concerned for Lady Safkhet, as we all are, but… should our focus not be the attack on Grand Chasm and the invasion? Lady Safkhet likely chose to join the captain in order to help defend Grand Chasm after all.”

“Even if she did indeed leave with Captain Berenike, Safkhet did not fly herself over to the barracks. I will know who is responsible for this.” The queen spoke, her deep and imperious voice carrying a dangerous tone. “Until news comes from Berenike, Grand Chasm or Arawn this is your priority.”

Lady Ventora stepped forward, bowing low. “I fear I am to blame, your majesty.” She hung her head in shame.

“You?!” Ael’s eyes fixed upon the smaller harpy as she spoke out, boring into her. “Speak, Ventora, just what have you done?!” The Queen’s voice reverberated with power even in the open space around her throne.

If Ventora was flustered she did well hiding it.

“I went to speak with Lady Safkhet after the tense discussion at the Temple last night. Given her position as a… human so close to your majesty’s heart, I felt I should clear the air between us. It seems I made a grave mistake….”

Ventora spoke with contrition that surprised Agytha. It was rare that she felt such empathy with the high-born lady, but it seemed they both bore a share of the guilt for what had happened.

“She told me more of her concerns for Grand Chasm and its people, so to set her mind at ease I suggested she go see off captain and her women. I hoped she might see that even without her the town is in good hands. I must confess that was something of a manipulation on my part – a good flight has always helped clear my head, I hoped the same would work for her, so I offered her one of my handmaidens to fly her there…. Alas it seems I miscalculated… I am truly sorry, your majesty!”

“How could you be so foolish, Ventora?! You knew Safkhet wished to go with them, yet you sent her to see them off?!”

“Your majesty, I meant no-”

“Silence!” Ael snapped, slamming a fist down on the arm of her throne with a boom. “You wanted this, Ventora! You yourself argued she should go!”

“P-please calm yourself, my queen,” stammered a smaller noble, the Lady Tanit, her face deathly pale. “L-Lady Ventora is your loyal servant, as we all are, but… well, we cannot help but worry when a human, a newcomer, takes such precedence over the nobles of the court….”

Ael glared at her, but other voices murmured their assent. Tanit seemed to find her courage.

“If Safkhet chose to go to Grand Chasm to fight we should be grateful – according to the stories we’ve been told she could save a lot of lives, my own dear sister among them! Why would you hold back such a valuable asset, when the lives of your own people are on the line?!”

The mood of the court was growing ugly, yet of all people it was Ventora who spoke out. “Lady Tanit, enough.”

Agytha hadn’t imagined she would be the one to come to Aellope’s defense, but then the old harpy had served the Queen as long as anyone, even if they often disagreed. She was influential too, the core of the traditionalist nobles who made up the majority of the court positions.

Ventora went on. “It is not our place to question her highness – we are but servants of the Stormqueen. If I am to be punished for my mistake I will gladly accept whatever fate awaits me. I am deeply sorry, your majesty.”

It seemed Aellope was convinced, or perhaps the Queen simply couldn’t punish Ventora after she’d come to her defense.

Either way, Ventora was off the hook, managing to come out looking good despite her questionable actions.

The blame had stopped with her too, leaving Agytha to stew in her own guilt.

For a moment the tiny handmaiden wondered if Ventora had engineered the whole argument – Tanit was one of her closest supporters after all – but Agytha dismissed the idea. What reason could Ventora have to try to undermine the Stormqueen, irreplaceable leader of their people?

~~~

After dismissing her court the Stormqueen retired to her chambers to wait for news. A report had to come from Grand Chasm soon.

Aellope had ordered her handmaidens and other attendants out, but she would barely have noticed an intrusion as she sat hunched forward atop her bed, head resting on one knee, her wings drooping behind her.

She was still as a statue, but her mind was racing. There were countless things she should have been doing, things that needed to be done, but the thought of attempting any of them turned her stomach.

The events of the previous night kept looping in her head, increasingly disjointed fragments of arguments and bad decisions replaying over and over as she tried to make sense of it all.

Safkhet…. The human girl was so sweet, so kind, so beautiful and vibrant, full of life and intoxicating power, yet naïve and near-helpless in too many ways. Her understanding of the world and even of her powers was that of a fledgling.

She had the arrogance of a fledgling too, and the stubbornness. The tiny girl was so obstinate and stupid it made Ael want to scream.

The argument in the temple bubbled up once more and the harpy clenched her fist, feathers ruffling at the infuriating memory. She’d told Saf already that it was too soon for her to join the fighting – for all her power the human girl was soft-hearted and inexperienced, a lethal combination on the battlefield.

But Safkhet had pretended to accept that, only to start the argument again at the worst possible time, in the middle of the temple as the dire news of Chasm was arriving!

It was as if Safkhet had no idea of the hostility that many of the courtiers held towards her, or the impossible position she was putting Aellope in, forcing her to argue against sending help to her own people!

She recalled when she learnt Saf was gone. Confusion and anxiety grew heavy on her chest once more, like a suffocating blanket. The pain hadn’t left her since that moment, but her anger distracted her at times.

She asked herself yet again how Saf could be so cruel, so uncaring towards her as to leave without even a word.

Ael wondered if that was a sign of how little she truly meant to the human.

Had she been no more than a convenience? A gullible source of food, shelter and clothing? Many of her courtiers seemed to think so, but… Aellope had felt a connection with Safkhet, an understanding and attraction. An affection that had grown deep and strong despite their short time together.

But still she left.

No matter how the Queen tried to think it all away, that truth came back around each time. Saf walked out on her without even a word.

Even if she’d refused to stay in the Eyrie as Ael wanted, even if she refused to talk to Ael directly, she could at least have had her handmaiden deliver a simple message or a note.

She flew away to risk her life for people she’d never even met and left the Queen without a word. She could be dead or dying at that very moment, but the last time they’d spoken had been a bitter row….

What else could it mean, but that she didn’t care?

Aellope had no idea how much time had passed by the time someone disturbed her.

Looking down at the small woman she realized it was one of the Valkyries – it was news from Grand Chasm!

“Your majesty,” the messenger began, face pallid, “I have-”

“The battle!” Ael boomed, leaping up from the bed with a tremulous impact. “What happened? Where is Safkhet?!”

The woman’s face lost what little color it had as she began her answer. Aellope barely heard a word of it. Only three broke through the static in her head.

They repeated over and over in her mind;

“Lady Safkhet died”

Everything else was blank.