[41st Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 2]

A streak swept the dark, a claw-like thing slipping into the body infront of her. Evileye hung in the air, casually watching as two men died. The twins were - as always - efficient killers, their actions minimalistic yet never languid. The method of death didn’t interest Evileye, but the way the pair closed the distance did. Tina and Tia had an affinity for shadow, a way of drawing on the black of the world to cloak them as they moved.

It’s strange, the way they slip from shadow to shadow, not traveling the space in between, but the blackness itself. A way of drawing on the space between space.

The soft gurgling trailed off as Tia and Tina drained the men of the last of their blood. Evileye realized it was her time. Her mana pool was slowly burning with magics of bodily levitation and transparency, but she showered more sparks into it now, its power surging. Her heart beat once, the ichor inside her shedding its vampiric energies through the walls of her veins and piercing her skin. She poured both into the palm of her hands, drenching the air in anguish and axiomatic arcana. The immateria emulsified, spells and suffering interweaving, her fingers dripping with the forces of vampirism. Turning them outward, she tugged at the false larynx formed only by experienced mages, issuing a silent cast.

“Silent Magic - Create Lesser Undead.”

The emulsions bloomed from her hands, plunging into the bodies of the two men before they could fall to the ground. It took root in the nape of their necks and writhed down the length of their spines, some tendrils splitting off to grip the skull. Within an instant, the rest of their skeletons had been touched by the blackness. Their bodies were at once converted from flesh to something other, a web of incorporeal order coiling and winding around their muscle and marrow. The umbilicals severed themselves from her palms and shed their dark vitality to the air, tainting it as they shriveled and turned to dust. A necrogenesis occurred; two wordless voices appeared in her mind. They thanked her, grateful for their making. Such was the process of dark creation. Evileye fought back the urge to yawn.

“This spot is prepped.”

“Perfect.”

The pair were whispering for her benefit, as Evileye was unable to read hand signals. Even if she knew advanced battlesign, she wouldn’t be able to respond in it when invisibile. That they had to communicate verbally at all was a sign of evolution in their enemy. The warehouse they last hit had a magical drogue thrown over it, a thread drawn into the material world and tied round the handle of a water bucket; when Evileye had attempted to cast ‘Message,’ it had drawn taught, dumped the bucket, and alerted the guards to their presence. Taking the subsequent fight hadn’t been particularly difficult, but it dirtied the engagement and prevented them from taking prisoners uninjured. Evileye whispered back.

“Mm, got it. Saw everything. I'm heading to the next target - want to catch someone important."

“We’re starting too. The other two?”

“Slackers. Can’t pull their weight this time?”

Are they always this sardonic on missions? I can’t imagine the shit they say in their hand language.

“As if. No, they planted themselves just outside the village. Worst case, they’ll door knock and drive the group into your knives. Alright, I’m going to Priority One. Keep fast, you two.”

Evileye ascended, drifting over to her next target. The Blue Roses were performing a midnight raid on an Eight Fingers base, a fortified hamlet south-southeast of the capital by about eight leagues. The turnaround was somewhat sudden, an offhand mention of a convoy’s position to Renner during a weekly checkup earlier that day turning into a new target within about a minute of her thinking. She had a peculiar way of getting excited over a message link, her speech turning chipped and rapidfire; little was understandable - something about “one of the ten core growing sites,” which then snapped to begging for a strike faster than Evileye could track. Her prediction as to its location had only been off by a league, though her assay of its defenses was a woeful underestimation. The village had been entrenched to such a degree that Evileye remembered what it felt like to laugh.

Walls, watchtowers, patrolling guards at night - it’s absurd. It’s just a Laira field and a few buildings. I know we went into this whole attack slightly hot, but these defenses are far stronger than I expected.

Two structures sat within the walls, one a plantation house, the other a warehouse. She flew to the former. Lazily rolling to face the sky, she flew head first in the air, cocking her head to spy the two zombies she had made. Their gait was stilted, but she suspected that for those lesser kins not gifted with darkvision, the undead would be impossible to mark as such.

I’m sort of surprised Lakyus is letting me use them. She’s a servant of Elydro; it must have been difficult for her to say yes, irrespective of their utility on the field of battle. The undead are abominations in the eyes of the Gods, after all.

Approaching the plantation house, she sped up, circling it with a wide berth. The house had two floors, with a center decorative rotunda splitting off into opposite wings, five rooms to a floor and side. Each had its own window, though only one on the second floor cast light into the night. Coming round to the other side, she spotted an entry point. A single shutter had been left cracked half-open on the first floor, likely as a result of someone trying to keep the house cool through the heat of the day. Evileye flattened her body, turned onto her side, and drifted in. Her objective was simple: hunt the mage.

She’s tired - well, all four of them are, but she’s the most… uh… vrathir hjodlik hlind… what’s the term in the speech of western men? “Wants rock sleep?” That’s the literal but it doesn’t sound good. What was I doing again? Find the caster, then go outside to dry the fields. Shame it rained yesterday, a lot more to draw from the crop.

Arcanists were pesky things, and tended to weave spells at precisely the wrong moments. If they lurked undiscovered, they would often message for reinforcements, summon them from the ether, or send surprise firebolts from locations difficult to assail. The presence of a caster was suspected before the Blue Roses began their assault - the number of wizards and sorcerers they faced week after week steadily increased - but the wards had confirmed it. Evileye decided to probe for a sensor net.

“Silent Magic - Counter Detect. Silent Magic - False Cover. Silent Magic - Message.”

The spell blossomed, yet it did not connect. Evileye had not locked Lakyus or any other member of her party; rather, she commanded the spell to seek herself. The thread turned around to link to her, yet she held it at bay. It distended, reaching over four hundred paces in length in the span of a second. She kept it from touching her mind, letting the thread whip around her until it was nearly a mile in length. She snatched it from the ether as it threatened to fizzle. Listening inwardly to the gentle feedback of the spell, she evaluated the clicks, pops, and background hums of the manatiac expanse. Pulling the noise apart into its components, she sensed a low warbling intermixed with two resonant tones.

Drogues, sounds like… second tier. A ward too, also second. That clicking is regular, an ‘alarm’ spell… These are all fresh too, no degradation in the pattern, so all are less than an hour old. I didn’t see any carts or parties leaving on the approach, so I can confirm the caster is still on site - judging by the strength, they likely only have access to second tier magics. Where is he? Check the lit room first.

She had popped into a room with three women bunking together, all lazily spread across a blanket on the ground. The door to the hall was closed; Evileye thought wiser of opening it, instead simply letting her body come apart. Her skin peeled apart, flakes shedding into the air through the tatters in her bodysuit; once it was gone, her muscles unwound and snipped themselves into little pieces, what fat remained on her body falling apart into motes and being caught by the air; the liquid in her ichor boiled away, the residue disintegrating as well; her bones rotted and undid, turning to dust. As her eyes dissolved, her vision slurred, slipped, then winked out altogether.

I haven't done this in years; need to reaccustom myself.

It was a chaotic aspect natural to her status as a superior unliving being, an emergent magic of vampirekind that allowed them to rapidly decompose into a thin cloud of dust, move dissociated through the air, and then reform themselves at will by way of their regeneration. Her mask and her cloak undid themselves as well, slipping into the manatic expanses, she having inlaid them with such magics for just that purpose. When it was done, she and her equipment had become a brackish cloud, still invisible by way of her arcane aptitude. She seeped through the lock in the door before recombining on the other side.

I remember the days back then, spending entire hours slipping through the cracks in rocks to get to my safe harbors, sealing them to prevent shadow demons from following me. Gods, I was so young.

Lost in a bout of nostalgia for the days of the Demon Gods, Evileye steadily reknit herself, her bones building and becoming a site for the growth of muscle, which then supported skin. As her eyes returned to her, she found herself in the hallway through the centerline of the plantation house. To the left was nothing of note other than more bedrooms rooms, but to the right was the building’s rotunda. Moving that way, she approached the space, finding a single Narcotics Division bladesman on duty walking the length of its bottom stair.

One guard? I mean, not that it matters. But just one? You're going to build this place just shy of a fortress and then have a single watchman at the barracks?

Evileye slipped overtop the head of the guard. Ascending to the second floor, she flitted round the corner of the staircase, searching for the lit room she had seen on the approach. She found it to her right, still emitting light and with its door open, and drifted towards it.

Who doesn't close their door at night? Idiot. Not that it would have stopped me, but you could have at least forced me to return to cloud form.

Peering in, she saw exactly what she wanted to see.

Found you.

He was up late, pouring over materials set on his desk, the space only lit by the light emitting from the tip of his staff. She drifted closer, drawing herself flat as she slid into the space between him and the ceiling above. Looking down, she idly read the contents of his spellbook.

Continual magic theory? That went out of fashion fifty- er, no, a hundred and fifty years ago. What sort of second rate instruction has he been getting?

Evileye sighed and removed her mask, which caused the man to jerk his head upward. His eyes darted around, peering through her to spy the source of the noise. She considered which spell she wished to close his life with, before coming to a realization.

Animating those men has left me a bit... Yeah, I should have time.

Evileye dispelled her invisibility, and fell upon him to drink.

—

[41st Year of Foresai, Upper Fire Month, Day 3]

Renner idly watched her friend, tracing the rounds of her eyes and curves of her face; they were worn.

I think she’s doing better - at least, I’ve been able to walk her back from her worst rages.

Lakyus had come close to the edge three weeks prior, and Renner realized that she had driven her friend too fast for too long. She was strained to her limit, and Renner did what she could to relieve tension: providing gifts, casual conversation, and selecting easier targets for jobs. It had worked, and the woman who sat in front of her now seemed half as stressed and agitated as she was a month prior.

Maintaining her is becoming more difficult. Her insides are fraying; no, they are burning out. It’s a delicate balance, keeping that flame lit, yet low all the same. I loose her on too many hard targets, she’ll extinguish; I fail to provide her satisfying victories, she’ll do the same. If I can keep her from consuming herself by the equinox, it should be alright. Should be.

Renner sipped her tea, casually shifting her gaze over to Tina. The twin was sitting at the table along with the other two women, and did what Renner had just done despite holding her cup incorrectly.

She goes completely against my expectations. How can someone that short and light have killed so many? I mean, she’s more diminutive in stature than every maid in the palace. With Evileye, it at least makes sense - she is a magic caster, after all - but the thought of the woman sitting beside me actually downing a man at her size, much less scores of them, is absurd. It's almost humorous, how could- Ah, Chardelon, you’re falling into the same traps her victims do. She’s tiny, yes, but she has a deadly air about her.

This was the first time she had actually met either of the sisters, the pair having slipped away before she could see them on the Black Night. Her outfit was completely afield any sense of etiquette or class, somehow managing to simultaneously armor the forearms, breasts, and shins while exposing everything else; as far as Renner could tell, it was her actual battlegear, and she was left wondering how Tina entered the palace unaccosted by the Royal Guard. Somehow, she had remained armed, a haft protruding from the small of her back. Suddenly, she set down her cup, sprung out of her chair, and began pacing the room. Her route inscribed the walls, and she made it a point to kneel down to inspect individual pieces of furniture, using the span of her hand to measure the cap in between their bases and the ground. Her arms were thin, but not dainty. By Renner’s measure, she dripped violence.

I wonder how different this room looks to her. What she sees in it that I don’t. I look at this table and spy what went into it, the methods of its creation, its cost and what could have been in its place. For her? Its value is as a hiding place, or perhaps in how it could be toppled or slid over in a brawl. Not just this room, but the whole of the world. City streets, forests, farm fields, all of- oh, wait, yes, on the matter of farm fields.

“So, I’ve had an idea as of late.”

“Oh yeah? That being?”

“A scheme for the rotation of crops.”

Crop rotation had been a flit of Renner’s for some time now, a practice she had experimented with for the prior three years. On her slice of the crown lands, she had abolished monoculture, raising new crops in the same field year after year, this on the idea that varied cultivars took varied things from the land when they grew. Her supposition had been correct, and on the land she had her peasants sow, harvest bounty had increased significantly. Thus, she had prepared another policy proposal, drafted a speech to deliver to the House of Lords, and was now in the process of penning copies to send to those not in attendance. What she intended to do with Lakyus now was practice.

Thinking on the topic, I really ought to do this more often. Push for ideas that I know will fail, yet spread them to as many ears as possible. It’s a three-way safety, no? Picture my brother’s ascendance, I’ll simply have him parrot my ideas with less womanly waffling and reap the benefits; picture Jircniv’s victory in the east, and i will have already proven my value as a policy maker and willing hostage; picture a grand discontent on the part of villeins, and as my family is slung over the gallows I will have a reputation as the only of my kin to truly care for the people. As such, I ought to rehearse rejection.

“Rotation? What do you mean?”

“Mm, you know the patterns of on and off years for land?”

“Swapping between using it for grazing and for growing crops?”

“Exactly. Alternating between agriculture and husbandry has its benefits, but it’s a basic progress. Not only should fields be swapped between fallow and growing periods, but the types of plants used year to year should be changed; or rather-”

“‘Rotated.’”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Not a problem. What would you plant?”

“Three fields: For the first field, autumn rye, then spring oats; in the second, red beans or perhaps root vegetables; the third field would be left fallow with some potential for grazing. It’s worked quite well on the land I’ve tested.”

“And what would this help?”

“The health of the soil. I must admit I know nothing of the principles behind it - something about aspect-salts in the dirt - but the results are clear. Improvement for no additional labor on the part of the farmer.”

“Then?”

“Then? Mm, yes. Lag time as farmers gain experience with the new methods, as well as less valuable harvests to bring to market.”

Lakyus’s face began to turn, steadily darkening as she tried to find a response. Narrowing her eyes, she darted them away from Renner, resting them on the table.

“I'm not sure, your Highness.”

“Why is that?”

“I mean, we’ve had discussions like this before.; Many lords want immediate gains.”

“Hm.”

“This scheme you’ve devised… well, frankly I have no idea how that will actually increase yields, but how long will it take to show results?”

Ah, wonderful. She found the sticking point.

“Six years, give or take.”

This was a lie. Renner had not done six years of testing, but the trends made it clear that she would turn a profit on the endeavor by the end of the current harvest. That her yields had not yet exceeded pre-rotation levels was due to a variety of factors, only one of which was related to her proposal: her tenants had never attempted to grow red beans before, and would take time to acclimate to the new crop. They had adapted to planting the new crop within a single harvest, though to hamper them, she had ordered rearrangement of the irrigation ditches and a number of other useless tasks, many of which were only partially complete when time came to sow. Alongside a late cold snap last year, this had kept her harvest out of the black. The proposal she would submit contained none of these details, and despite having falsified no data, would lead readers to the misleading conclusion that Renner’s plan would take half a decade to yield results.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“And how much money will be lost by planting crops other than grains or cereals during those six years?”

“The specific yields vary from crop to crop, as does price at market. However, I think a farmer’s overall profits would dip at most eighty silver on the parity, which means a twenty percent loss in revenue. However, once farmers gain the requisite experience, the profit should go up to a hundred-and-thirty silver on the parity. I’m sure the figure would be higher with the integration of proper husbandry.”

One-hundred-forty on the parity if grazing is kept to cattle, and if a farmer bothers to collect and spread the manure of their chickens, one-forty-five.

“I mean, it’s tempting, but can farmers really take a twenty percent loss on their income for six whole years?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a flat loss, but I see your point. We would need a lending structure: interest free lines of credit to cover the gap, then repayment after. If for whatever reason yields don’t recover, we’d simply waive the debt, but otherwise, we could recoup the outstanding balance in four years. Everything after is profit.”

What light remained in Lakyus’s face died, and with a slight sigh, she began the visibly taxing task of letting her friend down. Renner was elated.

“You’re being too optimistic, Your Highness.”

“Why is that?”

“I told you, didn’t I? A lot of lords prefer to focus on immediate gains; moreover, they want stability in the short-run. I imagine most peasants will hesitate even if you tell them they’ll be able to get a harvest four thirds larger in six years.”

Renner contained herself, instead letting her lips quiver and her eyes droop. She snapped her visage back together a moment later, this to give the tantalizing impression that she was suffering inside and yet too brave to show it. Lakyus noticed and similarly repressed sadness.

It’s like I hoped; she’s hung up on the time delay. It should be fine to allude to that only once in my speech then.

“I don't understand it. Things went fine on the test field. Good, actually.”

“Just because you had good results doesn't mean you can guarantee others will.”

"Well, true. I didn't test for every condition - cycles of the weather confound everything anyway - but how could I have? It would have increased the effort fourfold, not to mention taking more time."

“Sure, but you’re going to unsettle people if you don’t have solid figures. I don’t know if thirty percent is a conservative estimate or an average on your part, but either way, it’s not very convincing. You'd need to guarantee profits, otherwise they wouldn't be able to look past the deficit in the short run.”

A little desperation to sweeten the act then.

"Perhaps not a loan then, but an outright subsidy. Cover up to twenty percent in losses for the full six years."

"The only supporters you'd find would be from the Noble faction; you'd weaken the crown and its treasury."

“But, if we can guarantee significant returns in six years, all the Kingdom would benefit. Better, strengthen!"

Lakyus twitched, and even Tina stiffened in the corner of eye. It was the sort of perfectly tragic statement which Renner loved to make, its flaw obvious and unbearable.

“It will, but not equally. The crown would still be out the money, but you'll have lost over a year's worth of taxes. The royal faction wouldn't stand for it."

“Then how about asking the merchants to front the cash? Lending, but give them a token interest-"

“Any merchantmen or banks large enough to front that much coin would be just as mired in politics as we are. If they help the Royals too readily, it would jeopardize relationships with Noble factionalists. I- I’m sorry. It wouldn’t work.”

Renner allowed the following pregnant pause to stretch, her chest deflating and her gaze dropping. Before Lakyus could grow uncomfortable enough to apologize further, Renner conceded.

“Right. My apologies. There sure are a lot of issues, Lakyus.”

“I mean, you have to have seen these objections coming, right? I'm sure what you're saying has merit, but proposals don't pass on their merits alone. Well, sorry, but you need to take politics into account sometimes; I'm just saying this now so you won't hear it later."

And I thank you for it, Lakyus.

"Mm. I suppose."

"What about just implementing it in the Crown lands? Not just what you manage, but-”

Cut her off.

“My brothers wouldn't approve.”

“Ah, you mean those feebleminds who… those sons who left their faculties in the womb for your sake.”

“Eh? I don't share a mother with either."

“Ahhhh, then they left it with your father! To think the Royal Family is in such a decrepit state.”

Renner let the subject die, having confirmed all she needed to from the conversation.

“Ah, you can come in! You’re fine with that, yes?”

“Hm?”

Renner’s perplexion was genuine; Lakyus’s words were a complete non-sequitur, and they were followed by a number of confounding things that happened all at once. Tina suddenly dove to the side, catching herself before she struck the ground and rolling under a loveseat, all without making a sound. Stranger still, this earned no reaction from Lakyus, who sat entirely nonplussed, drinking her tea. When the door to the corridor opened an instant later, Renner shot her head around to look, and upon seeing the entrant, felt her heart bloom in happy surprise.

Climb! Oh, how wonderful it is to see you! Wait, so… how did she… what? Did she hear him at the door? They both must have.

“Pardon me.”

Renner was at once torn between awe at her friends’ senses, intimidation at Tina’s sudden disappearance, and general joy at Climb’s unexpected arrival. She realized she ought to pick one to focus on, and in an instant, chose to celebrate Climb.

I thought he was training for another half-hour. He must have cut it short. Did I lose track of the time? Ah, I’m positively discombobulated.

“Good morning, Your Highness, Lady Aindra.”

“Good morning, Climb.”

“Morning.”

Her dog slipped through the room, working his way over to the table. Looking down at it, he snagged on Tina’s cup, who had - for her part - remained hidden.

“Climb, not there. Here.”

She gestured to an as-of-yet unoccupied seat. He paused, pivoting in place to look for the third person in the room. He missed her, and with a tinge of confusion in his eyes, turned to reject Renner’s offer.

“But...”

Ah that puppy dog look, that nagging voice in his head that tells him he’s being disrespectful. Intoxicating. He feels his place is not at this table; for what it’s worth, he’s right. He shouldn’t be sitting at it, nor standing beside it; rather, he ought be underneath it.

“I don’t mind.”

“Th-this… Lady Aindra."

“I've told you before, haven't I? Call me Lakyus.”

In defeat, Climb made to sit, Lakyus turning back to Renner with a wry delivery.

“Climb is special.”

Ah, I’m having a lot of fun right now.

“I’m warning you, I won’t have mischief in this room.”

“Lady Aindra, please don’t tease me.”

“Fine, fine… fine. You really are a stick in the mud, aren’t you, Climb? You should learn not to get hung up on protocol like her.”

“Eh? I think it’s perfectly within my purview as princess to get ‘hung up’ on-”

“Yes, yes. It is. Though, in any case, Climb is special because he’s yours.”

Entirely correct.

Climb suddenly spotted Tina - who had at some point slipped out from underneath the loveseat to ball in the far corner - dropping into a defensive stance with a short cry. Lakyus sighed, issuing a rebuke a moment after.

“Now you’ve gone and scared him. You don’t need to hide here.”

“Understood, boss.”

The tension drained out of Climb as Tina sprung to her feet and lazed over.

“Ah, I don’t believe you’ve met. Climb, this is-”

“Tina."

“She’s a member of my team.”

“Forgive me. Pleased to meet you, my name is Climb.”

Of all things, Climb then decided to bow. Renner all at once gave up trying to predict the course of events, and though she was miffed that he had still yet to sit, tried to find the entertainment in what was happening.

“Huh? Oh, don’t worry about it."

“Tia’s not here. Gagaran and Evileye both should be here, but… well, they aren't. It's not like me wearing a dress makes this stuffy, does it? It’s not like they need to wear one here, but they still resist coming.”

“I see. Still, it is an honor to meet the famed Miss Tina. I hope I’ll have the chance to learn from you in the future.”

Is he going to join us? Not of his own accord. Just order him.

“Talk after you sit down, Climb.”

This finally snapped his attention back from Tina, and with a look of remembrance on his face, he slunk into his chair. Renner swept her hands across the table, laying out a saucer and cup for him and pouring him what remained in her tea-pot. A royal pouring out tea for a commoner was a more egregious breach of etiquette than anything Tina had done since she arrived, but Renner couldn’t bring herself to care. Climb silently thanked her and drank from his cup.

“It’s delicious, Princess.”

He has no clue, does he? Ah, he’s precious.

Renner held in a giggle, and offhandedly decided that today was a good day. Tina interjected, seemingly at random.

“Tia is off gathering intelligence. She was supposed to be here, but Fiendish Leader dropped it on her last minute. Blame her.”

Gods, I can’t scry her at all. I so rarely encounter members of her kind, I have no tools to read them.

“I see. Well, um, anyway, I hope I’ll be able to meet her sometime.”

“Climb, Tia and Tina are twins. They even wear their hair the same way.”

“You two are quite the pair - honestly, the similarity is impressive.”

Tina blinked at Renner once, before turning her eye to Climb. She spent some time peering at him, more staring than looking. There was an odd intensity to her gaze, one that stirred discomfort in Renner. Climb noticed it too, and with a sheepish look to the woman, asked a stuttered question.

“I-is something the matter?”

“Too big.”

“Huh?”

What?

Lakyus scrambled in place, sitting ramrod-straight in her chair while frantically waving her hands.

“It's nothing; just, um- an inside joke. Doesn’t matter. I’m serious; don’t worry about it, Climb. Don’t worry about it. Really.”

She sounds positively panicked… I haven’t the faintest idea why. What in the name of the Gods does “too big” mean? “Too tall”, maybe? Chardelon, you’re regressing into your act.

“A-alright.”

“Lakyus, what are you on about?”

She snapped to Renner, a look of genuine desperation in her eyes.

“Look, I don’t want to get dragged down this path about Climb.”

Dragged down what path?!

“I just meant-”

“Quiet. There’s a reason I put your sister on duty instead of- like- just, keep quiet, please, Gods. Understand that, please.”

She doesn’t want Tina to explain. So, wait, what?

“Yes, Fiendish Leader.”

“Lakyus, I haven’t the faintest clue of what you’re talking about.”

Is- Tina isn't speaking of a proclivity of hers, is she? I… I don’t know how to feel about that.

Lakyus visibly cringed, and Renner found herself caught in a storm of emotions. She felt, at once, jealous, wildly angry at Tina for having dared look at him with lascivious eyes, and deeply insulted that he had been deemed unfit. Making this all-the-stranger was exactly why Climb had - at his modest stature and build - been deemed ‘too big.’ The moment was too much for Renner, and she let Lakyus divert without objection.

“Um, well… Ahem. Climb, that armor of yours, is it treating you ok?”

“Yes. It’s really nice. Thank you very much for it.”

“Of course. I mean, well, honestly it was just the scraps from our own armor. Besides, Renner asked me. How could I refuse?”

“You refused to take payment. I had some savings I was ready to give to you for the cause!”

I mean, I know I ought to thank her, but it really does sting.

“It’s not right for a princess to spend her allowance, don’t you think?”

“That’s separate from my domain’s income. I just wanted to use my own money to commission Climb’s armor. I was trying to work through you, not command you to do it for me!”

“I figured that’s what you wanted, though I couldn’t bear the thought of a Princess needing to provide armor for her own bodyguard.”

“Then, if you knew, why did you gift me it in the first place? Lakyus, I am highly dissatisfied with this course of action.”

“Given the circumstances, I think you’re being quite picky about a gift that by all rights you should accept without resistance.”

Climb struggled in place, visibly unsure of whom he should make his appellations to. Eventually, to her satisfaction, he picked Renner.

“Thank you very much, Your Highness.”

“It’s fine. Now, I think we’ve drifted quite a ways off-topic. Returning to the previous discussion-”

“Something about Eight Fingers… Ah, that’s right. We were going over the raid details. We hit the one you gave us last night- er, I suppose early this morning. Burned what we could to ash. That makes three now; starting to become significant. Actually-”

Tina foisted a bag onto the table, Lakyus withdrawing a scroll from it and handing it to Renner.

“We found this scroll in one of the warehouses. Encoded, and it doesn’t look like a supply order. Instructions from higher in the division, maybe. Can you make heads or tails of it?”

Renner unfurled it, spotting row after row of symbols covering the page. Stars, dots, dashes, alchemical symbols, those of the elements, and others; none resembled the language of Re-Estize, nor of Baharuth.

“It’s a substitution cipher, no?”

Alchemical symbology - fitting for the Narcotics division. Hm, this entire scroll drips sophistication on the part of the scribe. At the very least, they were experienced in the symbology of Slane - the usage of elemental light and dark is only something done by those believers in the Six.

“I thought so too, but I wasn’t able to make any sense of it - I spent a few hours swapping symbols around. We took a man prisoner who looked like he was a commander - or, at least, in charge - in the hope that he had the cipher key. We were going to use enchantments on his mind, see what we couldn’t draw out, but… well, the effects of the cast degrade over multiple uses. You’re less likely to actually get the truth, and that’s a pain in itself. I didn’t want to misspend our leverage, so I wanted to check with you first.”

“I see. The presence of encoded orders like this begs a few questions, foremost of which is ‘why is this at a village.’ A trap, or something more? If that’s the case, they would want a relatively unsecure code. I don’t imagine this being difficult. Let me think. I suppose I just need to find the starting pronoun. Once I do that, everything else should fall into place.”

Renner drew herself out of her chair, wandering over to one of the side tables in the room to retrieve ink and parchment. Returning to the table, she laidd out her equipment and read over the scroll in detail.

Only twenty four symbols in total, so likely written in our tongue. Tutulian requires too many when written naturally- ah, it might be phonetic though… No, this is our speech. The same pattern of three symbols is repeated seven times here: elemental water, brimstone, and a dash. Unlikely to be referring to a single gender each time unless it was the neuter pronoun. Well, there’s three letters decoded. If it’s neutral, it’s possible that this includes locations.

Renner looked away from the scroll, and penned the seven opening words of each sentence on the blank page she had laid out, then inlaid the individual letters she had decoded in their matching spots. She began to look for common sentence fragments, proposing and rejecting several combinations. Typical phrases, the words for directions, and frequent patterns of punctuation were all missing from the encoded page. Renner pulled her mouth to the side, unsure what she was missing.

Is this not one-to-one? That would be a more complex code, but methods of cyclical encryption wouldn’t preserve seven identical starting pronouns. Were those written to mislead me? Maybe.

Looking at a particularly thick patch of vowels, she suddenly came to a realization.

Ah, the phrase that slots in there is “all this was as it was told.” My Gods, this is all literary references, isn’t it? The code here is dual layered: both the script and what that script contains.

With the letters that phrase provided, the code broke. Renner swiftly divined the remaining substitutions, fully accounting for all twenty-four symbols and their associated letters. From there, she swiftly transcribed the remainder of the scroll into plaintext. Each entry in the note was some combination of substitution cipher and literary reference, numbers written out by their spellings rather than numerals. The three sharing her table looked on with fascination as she worked, the steady pace of her stylus unwavering as she finished writing out the raw words.

“So didst the lode waver in the eve of the sun’s set, ere the sunbound flow twice-fold, and so came the place of the women of the night. All this was as it was told.” The lode, north; the sunbound flow, a west flowing river; twice-fold, two blocks; women of the night. This is in reference to the brothel in this city, the one just north of the Kerene River. Still, who among Eight Fingers would have been able to read something like this and understand it? That text is positively scriptural in style.

Surely Eight Fingers doesn’t have that many literate underlings. Ah, it's as if this document was meant to be seen by the educated, which means it was written by someone of a similar stripe. Wonderful, this is bait. I’m getting ahead of myself; solve what remains, Chardelon.

She dismantled the next six entries with ease, each some reference to a new location: the aforementioned brothel, a Security division compound, a manor for the that served as a waystation for the Smuggling division, a merchant’s venue under purview of the Banking division, a Gambling division high-bid cards table, a hideout for the Assassination division, and a warehouse stowing the take of the Larceny division. An odd sense of excitement began to fill her chest; this variety in targets - one per division, except Narcotics - couldn’t have been unintentional.

“This is a simple imperial cipher, one character per symbol; easy to break. That was just the symbols though, everything underneath was, as it were, literary references. Fortunately, each one was in our tongue, and none were too complex. Had they started quoting the Imperial canon at us, it would be a different story; I don’t know about you, Lakyus, but I haven’t done the shallowest foray into Baharuthian books. After that, it’s just a matter of iterating, eliminating duplicate symbols, and actually writing it all out. Anyone could break this, at least if they worked hard.”

“I’m sure that’s a bit of an exaggeration. I mean, you make it sound easy; but wouldn’t you need to know our written language in absurd detail?”

“Well, again, these are literary references - many from popular myths. That rules out everything flowery, and they can’t use words that are too complex to boot. Not everyone has read things either, so they’d have to make it simple enough for even a child. That narrows things down a lot.”

Renner finished writing the rest of the decrypted locations, dropping her quill back in her inkwell with no small amount of aplomb and handing the solved scroll to Lakyus.

“It’s done. Again, just a bunch of book references,”

“These are base locations?”

“And the like. I suppose that confirms my previous suspicion. There is no reason why this should have been there other than as bait.”

“Bait? You think they intend to lure us in?”

“It seems unlikely. My thought process goes something like this: Eight Fingers is too decentralized; this document is too important to be left where it was. So this should be information about the other seven groups- er, divisions? In any case, this is chaff: a way to shed heat by deliberately leaking information on everyone besides themselves - Narcotics - to outside enemies. Rather, this is meant for us.”

These are death throes, a desperate move to buy time before we close the book on them. Narcotics is close to collapse, and considering they were the most robust of the organizations, the rest must be in similar straits. Ah, I’m close. I’m so close. I can taste victory in the air. Wonderful.

“Are you saying that they’re willing to compromise every other division in the organization to… what, buy time? It’s insane!”

“Something like that. While we are already moving cautiously, we’d best not leap ahead on this - only the Gods know what could go wrong if we try to seize upon too many targets in sequence.”

“So what should we do about that brothel? Everything I’ve heard from prisoners suggests it’s a vile place. Out of any of these, we should hit that first. Your Highness, there’s no reason to do this above board, right? Half the city guard commissioners receive that organization’s coin; why not just hit it ourselves? It’ll be okay as long as we find evidence, right? And besides, if the slave trading division really is running that brothel, then hitting it hard and fast should shock their transit for a time. Plus, who knows what other traitors we’ll dredge up? Collaborators.”

Renner snagged. Of every location listed, that was the one she had intended to avoid.

The political crisis that striking that place would cause is unimaginable. Uncountable numbers of men from both sides of the faction divide have been there, indulged in… blacker pleasures. Records there would reveal names, and I can’t have a Count or a Marquis suddenly outed as a murderer - Gods forbid Lakyus and company discover someone in the act, or worse, some of the slaves talk. Perhaps if I needed blackmail material, it would be worth hitting simply to retrieve information, but I can simply fabricate anything I need and use the Blue Roses to plant it. No, assaulting it is absolutely untenable. Ward her off.

“You might be right, Lakyus, but won’t it inconvenience your house? I find it difficult to act on this point because of that. The same thing goes for the rest of the Blue Roses, too much political exposure; but it’s not as if I can send - say - Climb in there alone.”

“I apologize, Your Highness, for my lack of strength.”

Eh? Oh, that’s quite sweet.

“No, no! Forgive me, Climb. That wasn’t what I meant at all. It’s the only remaining slave brothel in the Royal Capital, and… well, it likely has many supporters in high places. I trust you, Climb, and I know how hard you work for me, but I won’t wantonly put you in danger. The thought of something happening to you, it’s overwhelming. This isn’t a request, but an order. If anything happened to you… I… I don’t know what I would do.”

A look of disappointment crossed Lakyus’s face, her staring off into the distance for a time before shaking her head and turning back to Renner. A glimmer of suspicion lingered in the eyes of her friend, something Renner chose not to take as a coincidence, but as a warning.

Perhaps I was wrong earlier. I won’t be able to drag this out to the equinox. No, this needs to end. This needs to end quickly. She’s hollowed out, bitter. She sees my reasoning for not wanting to attack, and yet struggles against it. Unless I manage her carefully, she will. You tread dangerous waters, Chardelon. Take care not to drown in your own hubris.

“Another thing. Tina managed to listen in on a conversation two villages ago. She managed to overhear the names of two captains, as well as a bevy of ‘nobles’ in bed with the enemy. We haven’t searched their manors for evidence yet, but once we do, we’ll confirm it.

“Which ones?”

“The Barons Yilra, Ulovan, Venthris, Rellent, Laqruis, Philsef-”

“That man’s daughter is one of my maids.”

“Hm? Is she now? Well, I’m not sure if she’s a spy sent against you, maybe against the palace in general. I can’t imagine you being targeted specifically, but still, be careful. Though, maybe it’s just social advancement?”

“Mm, perhaps. Thank you for the warning. Well, with that out of the way, I’m not sure there’s anything left to discuss. Climb, you also have to keep that in mind. Be careful around the maids.”

Not that I want you near them anyway. You’re mine, Climb. Mine alone.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

I suppose it goes both ways. As you are mine, I am yours. You have captured me, as I did you. Your unwavering patron, your stalwart advocate, your shepard. I am those things to you. I will always be those things.

“Then, what to do with these ‘chaff locations’, as you called them? See what other orders are in that document, even if hidden between the lines? Ah, actually, Renner, would you mind lending me Climb? I need to borrow the services of a footman, and there’s no one I’d trust more.”