One day, Ado would grow accustomed to the visceral acceleration of Shaiagrazni’s new carriages.

That day certainly had not been yesterday, nor did she think it would be any day soon. Every fluid in her body seemed eager to escape at the rush of movement assailing her. A phantom sensation, she knew. As Shaiagrazni had so kindly explained when asked for a less fearsome vehicle, he had precisely measured the acceleration to leave it well short of dangerous levels, and any sustained pressure or weight Ado thought she experienced was no more than a result of fear and uncertainty manifesting as false feeling.

As usual, she found a complete lack of comfort in the caster’s comfort. Probably, that was his design. Silenos Shaiagrazni was not one to mince words or coddle a person.

Any person, for that matter, Ado realised. Man or woman. She wasn’t some delicate child to be cradled and cared for in his eyes, just a person. A resource, with boons and flaws, uses and failings. To be assessed, employed and, if without further utility, discarded all without a moment’s thought.

She steeled herself, opened her eyes, and sat forwards in her seat. The sickness was still there, but Ado pushed it down, ignoring the feelings.

“Wretched thing.” Folami breathed, hand tight around the armrest beside him. “Dark magic, unnatural. What sort of madman would ever devise such a monstrous creature as this?” Ado found some measure of satisfaction at that. She tried not to think of how much worse she’d handled the construct during some of her earlier trips within one.

Unfortunately for both her and her brother, the nation of Wudra was not the short journey she’d grown accustomed to taking. That meant an opportunity to practise steeling her belly against the casual torments of inertia and angled turns, with precious little good but that.

The Whispering Hills themselves were not so hard to reach, but infuriatingly tedious to pass through. Lots of turns, curvature in the roads, dips in altitude or towering heights on paths not designed for their speed.

They did not quite go so far as to tumble off the edges, but on more than one occasion Ado swore- despite Shaiagrazni’s assurance that his creation possessed the innate sense to keep itself steady- that she was about to personally test the limits of its speed against the grip of gravity. Fortunately she was not left to fixate over their tenuous proximity to the pathways ledges for long.

Soon enough, the city of Wudra came into view on the horizon. Ado was careful to get a good, long look at it. As much for the weight of its reputation as any practical advantage she thought might come her way from doing so.

Wudra was not the largest city Ado had ever seen, not in gross terms of area at least, but it held a considerable density of architecture between its outer walls. It seemed to have endeavoured to fit the largest sum of humans physically possible within itself, and done a fine job of testing those limits.

At its centre was the customary spire common to all truly Holy cities of the faith, a spear cutting up through the ground and reaching high to demonstrate the distance between heaven and earth. Around it were the largest structures, homes for the clergy or aristocracy, and, of course, the city’s main palace.

The martial centres came next, and they were no less impressive in scale. If less luxuriously decorated and aesthetically considered.

Within the place, technicoloured stones seemed to have been the common inspiration, and as Ado grew closer to the city she was struck by its scent. Human life, hitting her like a riptide.

Unthinking, she sent a glance towards Folami, and found that her brother was staring at the place even more awestruck than her.

“This, sister, is a heartland.” He whispered. “Do you think your dark caster could ever achieve such splendor as this?”

As a matter of fact, Ado was entirely certain he could. She’d heard of how Silenos Shaigagrazni had coated the entirety of Kaltan’s great wall in bone, with only a few hurried days to work. It was simple prioritisation and practicality which held him from creating such a towering structure.

For now.

Their vehicle slowed as they approached Wudra, for good reason. The pedestrians among the city would not have reacted well to an object so foreign and fast tearing through its streets, surely interpreting it as a threat, perhaps even as an attack. Nonetheless, they were notably swifter than a carriage as they entered through the towering gates and headed for the spire and mansions at its heart.

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Through the window, Ado saw glimpses of the many faces turned their way. Some were tight with fear, confusion, others hate and revulsion. She supposed it would have been stupid to expect anything else.

Up close, the spire itself was more intimidating by far. For several reasons. Ado felt the prick of its presence against her arms, the hairs standing up on end where they sensed its static power. She swallowed, mouth dry, throat tight.

Of course, she had grown up on the tales. Everyone had. The slivers of divinity, wrought from the stuff of primal magic itself and buried in the dirt by the first men. She saw no great mystery in its form, from her new proximity Ado could clearly make out the wrought iron for what it was. Dark and jagged, clumsily worked and crudely twisted.

But in spite of that, she knew it was a thing beyond anything modernity could muster. The Godblade, stretched a thousand feet high and a score of yards wide. It was a wonder the unholy magic of her carriage didn’t combust on the spot.

“It’s wonderful.” Folami whispered, stepping out of the carriage beside her. Ado didn’t reply. She wasn’t sure whether it was wonderful. Great, certainly. And perhaps terrible. Wonder, though, felt an alien emotion these days. Was it so impressive a creation as Silenos Shaiagrazni’s? No. Did it have even half the utility? Unquestionably not.

But there was something there. Something eerie and foreboding. It sent an icy finger running down her spine as Ado tried to articulate what it was. Something told her that she may well have been better without any specifics. Knowledge was power, her mother had said, and power was everything.

This, though, felt like the exception.

Fortunately, not everything around Ado was as confounding as the spire. She soon found her way to the palace of the city, announcing herself at its doorstep, and patiently awaiting the residents to make note of her presence. She was rather unsure what sort of reception she might receive.

An answer was quick in coming, as they were ushered inside with only minutes of delay. The interior might have impressed her, once, for the finery of the church was more than any royal might have afforded with a mere nation’s wealth. Ado had acquired a more pragmatic sense of taste, however, and found herself assessing the place only through eyes keyed towards utility.

Mostly, it was Paladins they passed by. That made Ado feel comfortable, despite herself. Secure. The Paladins had ever been an order more trustworthy than…Well, any other. Certainly more so than her own family. And it helped that they cut impressive figures. Those who were not wrapped in plate armour of masterwork articulation and craftsmanship only made it easier to see their bodies, and each one was a vascular idol to the God of physical prowess. Watching them move was like seeing predatory cats stalking through undergrowth.

Ado’s sense of security was befouled, however, by seeing the distrust, disdain and dislike evident in so many of their eyes.

“They’re glaring at us.” Folami snapped, voice fortunately low. He had the sense not to advertise his petulance among Paladins, at least. “See, now, what comes of your association with that animal?”

Ado certainly saw a common closed-mindedness in them that she recalled from herself not too long ago. It was difficult, sometimes, to remember that she’d known Shaiagrazni for only a few short months. So much had changed, and not all of it had been external to her.

But that made it no less frustrating to see. Why shouldn’t she have worked for him? Months she’d watched him use his dark magic, and it had only ever been for the betterment of their cause. She raised her chin, meeting the Paladins with defiance, daring them to disapprove.

She wouldn’t be judged by their kind, not anymore.

Finally, Ado was ushered into the throne room, or temple crux, or whatever the place was called. She found herself far less eager to internalise the terminology than she might once have been. It was a nonetheless grand room, large enough, she thought, that fifty men might have paraded inside with room to spare. Its ceiling sat atop thick stone pillars, painted and ornate with scenes of scriptural import, while its walls were decorated with long-hoarded relics and trinkets of sacred significance.

At the end sat the most important men in Wudra. They were men, of course. The King and the High Priest, twin spheres of authority over which all else hung.

The former was a short man, and old. Of course he was old. His hair was grey, thinning, moustache prominent and carefully styled, chin and jaw shaved bare. He had cold eyes, scrutinous where they landed upon Ado. It seemed to her that he was trying to take her measure. She let him. At worst, he would learn something of her. There was always an advantage to frightened enemies.

On the other hand, she could not imagine gaining much of one from the High Priest. He was fatter than the King, but younger, and bald as a baby with seemingly no grooming needed. His pudgy face contained a pair of small eyes, and his nostrils flared as he beheld her. Anger, Ado thought. A fascinating thing to see in one she’d exchanged not even a word with.

“Good afternoon.” She began, with a smile. It would disarm them, or anger them, or in any case tell her something about them, and that was always an advantage. “I have come on the behalf of Silenos Shaiagrazni, and I bring with me an offer of alliance against the Dark Lord and his forces. I have no doubt the both of you have heard of his approach across this region- albeit far from the Whispering Hills- and are wondering what might be done to curtail his next moves. Well, my Lord is planning to do just that. In order to best heighten his chances, he requests your aid to bolster a force against the Dark Lord capable of sundering his army.”

It was a temptation to prattle on, explain the costs and rewards, but Ado made herself stop. To speak too much would only convey weakness, and right now she needed them to see strength.

But they did not seem to, nor, even, did they appear to see her at all. Both sets of eyes flickered without a moment’s pause to the guards lining the room’s walls. The King’s voice rang out, booming and acidic.

“Arrest this woman.” He declared. “She has openly confessed to colluding with practitioners of the dark arts, I will not sully these halls by suffering her to stand free within them for a single moment more.”