“What are you doing!? Get out of my off—”

 Such were the final words of Goraad Bleek, before the orichalcum bullet shattered his head and bored a hole through the bedrock wall behind him. His body slowly flopped forward onto his desk, shards of amethyst crystal spilling messily forward, the paragraph of his sad life of blind servitude ending with a louder bang than he deserved.

 Stepping into the room around the geolle holding the smoking handcannon, the poisonous-looking human clapped her hands beneath her cloak in delight.

 “Congratulations, Ser Alden, your oppressive governor is finally dead, and with it the vampires’ hold on this city has cracked. See how easy that was?”

 She—Alden believed it was a she, at least; Human and Vampire males also had moss on their head, confusingly enough—looked like a bizarre mushroom, with her pitch-black cloak pulled all the way around, obfuscating her fleshy body beneath. The long equally-black moss, highlighted at the ends with bright violet like a venomous piece of cave lichen and capped by a miniature frill-adorned and pointy hat, rolled down the back of her cloak in loose messy waves.

 The woman reached her bone-white hand out from the void-like cloak and placed it on the barrel of the firearm, slowly lowering the weapon in Alden’s hands. Her milky-white eyes gleamed like silver nuggets as she turned to look up at his face.

 That was the problem with humans, and vampires; they always looked at the face first, and the body second, and they never even bothered to look for how one angled their tusks when they did so! What was even the point of looking at the face to them? It made it impossible to deal with the fleshier races. He angled his shoulder at her and locked his jaw, hoping she’d get the message, but she ignored the gesture and danced around in front of him with a sly smile.

 This human reeked of ill omens—among other, strange and oily scents—but they had only made it this far thanks to her. It’d be poor manners for him to shoot her right now. Plus, the bullet he’d just put into the governor's head was worth more than a year’s salary.

 Looking away from the irritating and fleshy creature, he turned toward his comrade in arms, who had a large mattock resting against his mossy shoulder.

 His right-hand man, and a solid reason why Alden chose to get the stones rolling on his insurrection in the first place. If the vampires had found out Darnyle and his miners were skimming precious metals to sell off to humans for military support, then their rebellion would have to progress all the quicker.

 “Darnyle? Anything?”

 His companion, Darnyle, kept his eyes closed as he focused instead on the minute tremors running through the earth.

 After a moment the man nodded in satisfaction.

 “I do not feel any sign of the guards approaching, Alden. The human has kept her word.”

 Thankfully, this Tatyana girl was like a gift from Mother Terra Herself. He didn’t dare ask her age—he doubted he’d get a genuine answer regardless—but beneath her cloak she looked as mature as humans ever became.

 He turned back to stare down at her, fixing his eyes on hers as he slowly and thoughtfully rubbed his tusks together.

 “So far, at least. Human, we can assume that you wove your magic, yes?”

 “Mhmhm, of course darling~ not a soul could hear, or feel, anything that just happened on this floor.”

 “And you are also certain the vampires will be here—”

 “Today, yes,” she sighed and shook her head, placing a hand atop her cloak. “And before you ask: Yes, the Idra will be the first on the scene and will assume responsibility for slaying him, with the ‘proof’ you’ve provided as all they needed to pin him as the mastermind behind the sales. Happy?”

 “Hardly. We’ve been forced to take great risks because someone was careless.”

 “That we’re forced to rely on vampires to free us from vampires…” Darnyle thumped the base of his mattock on the ground in irritation.

 “Gotta crack some eggs to make an omelet, big boy~ Or… some rocks for their minerals? But don't forget, you aren’t the only ones skating the ice with those nasty bloodsuckers.” Tatyana smiled sweetly up at them, but her eyes were looking elsewhere. “We’re in this together, Alden. I swear upon the Goddess’ name that your people and mine shall one day be free of their yoke.”

 Alden folded his arms and angled his head, nodding in agreement and acceptance. He’d spoken with more than one human—not that he would ever admit to any self respecting member of his race—and every single one praised their sky-bound mother. It was because of Her that they’d found common ground in the first place, the symmetry between this Goddess above and their own Mother Terra breaking the ice and allowing them to find purchase among each other's cultures.

 Tatyana may have looked like a strange poisonous mushroom in her conical black robes and tiny hat, but her reverence was obvious.

 “Then let us abscond, before they arrive and ruin the groundwork that we’ve laid.”

 “Ah ah, not just yet! We’ve yet to plant the evidence! The Idra require a smoking gun, after all. And I don’t mean the one already in your hands, aha ha ha~”

 Tatyana held out her hand expectantly.

 With a low rumble, Darnyle reached under his green tunic and pulled out some documents. The moment he did so, she snapped them out of his hand and began rifling through them, muttering to herself as she walked over to the corpse.

 “… … …Speaking of, however, you may want to dispose of that gun somewhere.” She looked up from the papers, deftly slipping one of her own between the sheets. “I’ll make sure it ends up in the right hands.”

 “If they’re the first ones here,” Alden unceremoniously dropped the gun, “They can handle it themselves.”

 In response, Tatyana merely shrugged and sighed.

 Once she’d replaced the documents with forgeries and set fire to the originals with a snap of her fingers, the trio left the now-silent office. She drew a crystal-tipped wand with a flourish—Rubardium, meaning it would be most effective for etching runes of flame and shadows… Illusion magic—and waved it as she muttered under her breath.

 After examining and clenching her hand, she nodded to the two of them and the three left the scene, with nobody any the wiser.

 ＊　＊　＊

 Boralus walked beneath the decorated eaves of his clan’s camp, glancing up at the unlit lanterns. The chimes hanging from his great antlers jingled with every step he took like a fresh spring day—though it was already autumn. They’d already reaped their summer crop and left the seeds for winter to flourish for the Grandwoods’ return in spring.

 His eyes naturally looked past the decorations and toward the colossal hollowed out tree beyond, whose boughs blotted out the sky and whose peak was unassailable by any mortal creature. The Grandwoods had a tradition that whoever climbed the highest up its sides would be given the seat of clan chief.

 Already he saw the camps set up along the Great Hollow’s sides, full of eager young men hoping to claim his position. He was unconcerned, however; most of them hadn’t even brought enough supplies to make it halfway to his checkpoint.

 Remembering his actual purpose for rolling out of bed, he resumed his march toward the massive towering tree. Once he was out of his camp, his trunk-like arms and heavy footfalls attracted the attention of quite a few other clans’ members, in particular the surreptitious glares of the skulking, bushy-tailed Fangchasers. They’d always set up their camp amidst the roots, hiding away from the sun just like their steel-tree dwelling masters.

 Judging by the confident smirks on their faces, they likely had something cooked up for the clan conference at this year’s Harvest Festival. They’d steadily been gaining more and more influence among the clans ever since they swore themselves to the longtooths. It was no coincidence that they were the ones who represented the Plainstriders at that dreadful eyesore of a Spire.

 Do they really think that little tower could ever match the majesty of the Great Hollow?

 Boralus sighed and shook his head, ignoring their gazes and instead pressing on to the tree’s belly, the shadowed interiors chased away by ever-glowing lanterns filled with spark-beetles.

 The natural great hall where the conference of clans was held every year already had cushioning and blankets set out for all of the factions, though they were naturally still unoccupied, as it was days before the meeting would take place.

 He made his way to the largest cushion belonging to the Grandhorn circle and sat down with his arms and legs crossed. He looked around the empty hall and grunted in irritation.

 Perhaps the reason those Fangchasers had been staring at him was because this had all been a petty prank on their part.

 No, that can’t be right… There’s only one person who knows I can read, and she’s busy ruling her treetops to the west. Ugh, I hate this cloak and dagger business. Reminds me of those damned bloodsuckers. Why wouldn’t they have simply spoken to me directly? Hrmph.

 Did I get here early? The letter didn’t specify a time after all… Not like I’m a busy man right now, my part to play isn’t until the festival kicks off.

 “Right he is, isn’t he?”

 Boralus nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard a strange… and familiar young girl’s voice.

 He immediately turned his attention up toward where it came from, and his eyes widened in astonishment as he saw a scarlet blur falling from the darkness.

 He leapt up to his feet reflexively, and dashed toward the expected landing point.

 Not good, I won’t—

 “Make it in time? Nonsense, he’s here early, he is.”

 The blur of red interrupted his thought, causing him to freeze in place as it slammed into the grassy floor face first. An untamed mane of fiery autumnal hair spread out over the impact site, covering the figure’s entire humanoid body like a blanket of gold, orange, and blazing scarlet leaves; save, of course, for a thick crimson-scaled tail that protruded from the bottom of said mane.

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 Normally, he would have rushed over to check on her. Normally. But the manner of her speech evoked a memory of awe deep inside him, and as the diminutive shape of a little girl slowly got to her knees and stood up, the massive bear-like man fell to his own hands and knees as a pressure like the sky collapsing pressed down on his back.

 It took all his effort to simply raise his head and look at the child-shaped thing. Her hair fell messily in front of her face, partially obscuring the sharp-pupiled golden eyes staring past him. She wore pure white animal pelts of some variety like an off-shoulder dress, a rope of ivy wrapped around her waist adding a sense of shape to her figure. Her skin was soft and smooth, save for the extremities, which were covered in bright red scales and tipped by sharply pointed nails. A pair of ivory-white horns poked out of her wild mane and arched backwards like a goat’s, and as she smiled she revealed a row of jagged sharp teeth.

 The last time Boralus had seen her, he’d been but a little cub, not even as tall as she was. Even now, with one of his arms thicker around than her entire torso, her presence made him feel as insignificant as a child.

 “IWe should thank him for his punctual arrival, even if it means he saw meus in a rather embarrassing state. IWe hate waiting around, don’t Iwe?”

 “Was… it you, who sent the letter?”

 “Hmm… Is that truly a pertinent detail? IWe hardly think so. The important part is he’s here before meus now, and has ears that can listen.”

 “Th-Then… To what do I owe the honor?”

 “How much to say? Always the problem, it is. Saying too much ruins the suspense, but without a hint, he cannot play his part.”

 She innocently tilted her head this way and that, putting a finger to her lips at first, then scratching at her mane of hair as she became increasingly agitated.

 “No, no no no! IWe can’t do that! What am Iare we saying? …Hm? No, that isn’t any better. Ah well, the direct approach is always the best, it is. Except when it isn’t.”

 Though he was struck speechless, Boralus sorely wanted to mouth off as the girl rambled endlessly to herself about nothing. But he knew how impossible such a task was. Not even the greatest of the Greatwoods had the power or resolve to do so.

 “And he is wiser to not speak up regardless! For it is time for myour bestowal of wisdom! Ahem, ahem. Though it will come to him as a great shock, within the day the flag he has planted on the tree’s side will be claimed, and a new one inserted several hours above.”

 “What!? But, there’s no way that could happen! It’s only just started!”

 “IWe did say he would be shocked… but he interrupted before Iwe could say the most important piece: the one who accomplished that herculean task is Turbine, of the Fangchasers, kekekeke.”

 “I… but… what? Why? They would dare to invade upon our ceremonies now?”

 She squinted her eyes shut as she cheerfully and helpfully answered, “Yep~”

 “How… dare they!” He slammed his hand into the ground, tearing up a chunk of grass.

 “He will use it to claim the position of leader of the Plainstriders, and from there— Ah, no no, Iwe nearly said too much again! There is nothing little Boralus can do at this point but lose all that he has built up.”

 “Why… Why even tell me this then!? There has to be something I can do!”

 “…”

 She assessed him through narrowed eyes, her tail lightly thumping the ground behind her as it swayed from left to right. It felt as though she were expecting something from him, but he had no idea where to begin. His mind began spiraling as he accepted her word as unquestionable truth.

 Slowly, the thing walked towards him, every step constricting his heart tighter, as if to crush it. Pain and despair tore at him in equal measure, until a frailmighty hand softlyforcefully touched his head. After ruffling his hair and flicking one of the ornaments, she turned back away from him.

 His vision began to blur as the pressure became nearly almost unbearable, her voice sounding like distant thunder and intimate whisper simultaneously.

 “IWe know that once he has recovered from this, he will find the answer he needs. Boralus is myour favorite of the Greatwoods, he is.”

 “Yeah, I know exactly what I gotta do… Something even more impressive, more impossible.”

 Slowly, painfully, he forced himself to crawl a step forward, reaching his hand up in a final act of defiance.

 “Why can’t you ever just be straightforward, you stupid Dragon!?”

 He reached forward and gripped her tail, dragging her back with a yelp as he passed out on his knees.

 ＊　＊　＊

 Another beautiful day graced the royal capital of Traskia.

 The sun danced and frolicked between the scattered clouds above Castle Pirleth, the flowers outside the window swayed in a gentle breeze, and the air was crisp and cool, but not unpleasantly so just yet.

 It would have been perfect weather for Princess Fawaris to invite guests for tea. She was sorely missing the company of student and teacher alike.

 It’d been a few years since she last spoke with Mizar, and many more with his teacher. Her father, King Alibreo, had prevented her even from sending letters to the poor man, but she’d heard from Mizar that he’d sunk into a terrible depression ever since his failed attempt to win her an evening beyond the castle’s walls.

 She’d known better than to call her father’s demands unreasonable. The lieutenant had broken the King’s edict that she was to remain within castle grounds at all times. He said it was for her safety, but… Fawaris always felt more like a prisoner. It wasn’t even as though Vampire attacks ever reached as far down the peninsula as the capital, and they were far enough away from the eastern coast that the Piscin would never end up this far inland. The King’s fears were completely unfounded.

 Feeling her mood sour, she lightly patted her cheeks and turned her attention back to the book in her hands. She wasn’t particularly skilled with music, but she wanted to compose a piece—or poem, at least—for the grand return of the brave heroes who had slain the tyrannical Lord of Vampires.

 Though it’d been years since their departure, she had nothing but confidence that the Stardust Champion and his party would bring humanity their salvation. Even now, her heart yearned to greet the hero, and the thought of her father having no choice but to accept that Mizar had completed his unreasonable task brought a slightly dangerous and indulgent giddiness to her.

 “Still… it’s difficult to put verses to their accomplishments without actually knowing what said accomplishments are, or how they achieved them. What to do…?” she hummed in light frustration.

 Autumn had already given way to winter, and all but the most stubborn of trees outside her window had lost their color and hardened themselves for the season ahead—though it never snowed this far south. Instead, the Goddess’ tears fell as rain upon them, giving rise to stormy seas that aided in safeguarding their coasts from the Piscin and breathed life into their winter crops.

 Again and again, Fawaris found herself distracted from her reading, her thoughts consistently turning back to the ones that had brought color to her dreary life.

 Eventually, she conceded defeat with a sigh and closed the near-untouched tome, deciding that a walk around the castle would help sort her thoughts. She knocked at her own door to ask the guard posted outside to unlock it for her, but strangely, there wasn’t any response.

 “Hello? I would like to step out for a stroll.”

 After a few moments, she tried again.

 “Hello? Is anyone out there?”

 Odd, her father had always kept a guard placed outside of her room “for her safety” after she’d nearly been “abducted” that night so many years ago…

 Something must have happened if the usual guard posted was missing. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a key, and the door was made of treated wood… Far beyond Fawaris’ power to break down.

 Panic briefly set in as she wondered what would happen if she was abandoned, trapped in here forever. Her claustrophobia quickly passed at least, when she looked at the window and realized she could escape through there if necessary. She’d already debated internally before whether she’d be able to take that route in an emergency, but never had any reason to actually test the theory. The window was fairly high up, and she wasn’t exactly eager to test whether or not she could leap far enough to make it to the tree, or if she’d be able to climb down it without falling and shattering her legs.

 “Look at me… making excuses already. If only I could work up the guts to talk back to Father. He’s really taken things too far. This is just the sort of situation I—”

 “Your Highness!”

 A slightly odd-sounding voice cut her off from the other side of the door, filled with urgency and anxiety. The owner banged at the door, but didn’t unlock it for some reason. She didn’t recognize the owner either, but it had to be one of the knights in her father’s employ if they were shouting at her in concern.

 “I’m here. Has something happened?”

 “You must flee! The guards have gone mad and rebelled against His Majesty! I don’t know what’s possessed them, but they’re—Aggh!”

 The speaker cut out with a terrific guttural wail, before the sound of something heavy thumped to the floor.

 As Fawaris’ heart caught in her throat, she heard the sound of heavy greaves clanking against the ground. Then, the sound of the lock slowly clicking open. Her body trembled as she stumbled backwards and fell to the floor. The door slowly swung open, and standing there was…

 Mizar!? It… can’t be…

 Her voice was caught alongside her heart, unable to escape her throat as she saw the decidedly matured but unmistakably familiar hero.

 In his hand was a bloodied sword, and on the ground beneath him was a body in light leather armor, with a curved and spiked knife in its hand.

 Mizar’s expression was cold as he opened the door, but the moment his eyes met Fawaris’, some of the tension left his shoulders. He breathed a sigh of relief, but kept his hand on the doorframe as he looked back over his shoulder.

 “Is… Is that… really you?”

 “We can talk later, it’s not safe here. Do you have anything to barricade the door with? Goddess smite King Albireo for having the lock on this installed backwards.”

 “I… um, there’s a dresser but… What’s happen—”

 “Piscin have somehow infiltrated the guard’s ranks. I don’t have time to explain, but your father is in danger. The castle’s been thrown into chaos. We need to find somewhere to hide you until the situation is under control.”

 She could hear the honest timbre in his voice, his sky-blue eyes locked with hers as they stared into each other’s souls. When she nodded in understanding, he let out the breath he’d been keeping held in relief. How very like him, to be almost childishly nervous in her presence.

 But this wasn’t the time for either of them to feel relief.

 “O…Okay. What of the others? Where is Sir Al—”

 “He’s gone.” The boy—man’s voice suddenly turned raspy. “I’m sorry, Princess. I’m the… only one left.”

 “Wh… What…?”

 She almost couldn’t believe her ears. The man who’d been more of a guardian to her than the King ever had was… dead? There was a dissonance in Mizar’s words, but she couldn’t discern the truth past the terrified thumping in his heart.

 “Yeah. I know. We can mourn later. What’s important is your immediate safety, Faw…*ahem* Your Highness.”

 He spoke tersely, but still sounded just as nervous when it came to broaching barriers with her. The boy may have grown into a man during his journey, but beneath that shell was the same awkward hero she knew.

 “Right. Then, let’s go.”

 She forced herself to smile in spite of the dark news that suddenly assailed her, clinging on to her ray of light’s outstretched hand. She was sure that with Mizar at her side, they could see the Kingdom through this sudden calamity.