“That was easy!” Amelia declared, dusting off her hands. “Date and match, set!”

Mel fell in next to her friend, glancing back at the pale-faced arena official. She’d never seen someone put through such a contrasting wringer of veiled bribes and cheerful threats, layered into an overwhelming storm of I-won’t-take-no-for-an-answer friendliness. The poor man—utterly inexperienced with Amelia’s way of imposing herself upon the world—looked like he didn’t know what expression he should make, settling on something between confusion and dread.

At least Amelia had maintained her disguise, if only by ferociously interrupting the official every time he tried to ask a question. In all honesty, it was a little entertaining to watch; there was a kind of morbid satisfaction in watching someone else get caught up in Amelia’s energy.

How would the Empire react, Mel thought, if they could see how their newly canonised saint acted in public? Then she felt her fists tighten as another thought manifested. How will they react when I eclipse her? Making a mental note to train harder in the future, Mel followed Amelia as she darted down a side street, her attention caught by something shiny.

“Will Hinako be ready in time?” Mel asked. “It’s a bit short-notice, isn’t it?”

“Bah.” Amelia waved a hand. “She’s as cool as a cucumber.”

What in the Seven Hells is a cucumber? Mel thought.

Before she could ask, Amelia continued, “You saw how she did in the academy tournament, right? From what the official said, a second-circle newcomer will be a big hit.” Amelia nodded to herself and finished, “She’ll be fine.”

“...Right,” Mel replied. Perhaps Amelia hadn’t yet seen how Hinako and Daichi would pore over the annotated magic book she’d gifted him for Christmas. Judging by how many times they would huddle over it late at night, occasionally blurting out cries of frustration like, ‘How can she do that?’, ‘That’s impossible!’ and ‘She’s not human, is she!?’, Mel suspected Amelia hadn't yet realised the level of mental damage her magical revelations had inflicted.

“This, please,” Amelia said to a stallowner. She purchased a few pouches of spices and dipped away as another spice-seller tried to block their path. They walked down one street, and then another, before grabbing two kebabs from a street vendor. The meat was fatty, with pungent spices that made Mel’s nose wrinkle. She had trouble biting off mouthfuls without getting grease on her lips, something Amelia seemed to find amusing.

Still, she ate without complaining.

“I guess it must feel different,” Amelia said as they disposed of their sticks in a nearby bin, “eating food in this manner compared to Manwese cuisine. Serena taught me how you eat in Kenhoro, where you pick a meat”—Amelia motioned with her fingers a pair of chopsticks—“and a vegetable, and wrap it up in a bun to make a mouthful. Eating greasy meat from a stick must feel… inelegant?”

“The captain warned us the culture would be different,” Mel said, rounding a corner and dodging a large man who grumbled something offensive. “To be honest, the me from a few years ago might have complained, but that’s a privilege you lose when you enter the military.”

Grandmaster Gu, the director of the Kenhoro Officer Academy and the brother of the grandmaster of the Asamayway Academy, was a man who was traditional down to his bones. The only food trainees were permitted to eat while training was bland balls of rice, with the occasional inclusion of salted meat. Supposedly, it was all in aid of removing distracting thoughts, allowing the individual to focus fully on their practice.

After a year of eating like that, Mel had come to appreciate flavoursome dishes. In fact, the dishes the Vengeance’s kitchen produced were rather tasty, especially when they incorporated locally-caught fish. And the hog… Ah, that hog was delicious…

“Stop blocking the path!” someone snarled from behind before elbowing past them.

Mel spun around, her hand instinctively going to where her sword would be. She glared at the man, who stopped and squared up to her, scoffing at the challenge. His brazen confidence quickly evaporated as Mel flared her aura, bathing the area in a subtle red hue. The man raised a hand in apology, muttered something about alcohol and quickly backed away.

Cooling her aura slightly, Mel looked around. “I think we’ve entered the less… affluent part of Ishaq,” she murmured. Even as she said it, she realised that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t that there was less money being spent here; rather, the nature of the establishments had changed. Instead of aggressive merchants blocking their path, attractive women tried to catch the attention of the men, luring them into their windowless establishments.

For Mel, it wasn’t a completely unusual sight. Prostitution wasn’t banned in Kenhoro, and she’d seen her father’s friends walking with ‘companions’ that would giggle a little too much at their terrible jokes, while always ready to pour more alcohol to loosen their purse strings. She’d thought that behaviour was brazen, but what she saw in front of her now made her re-evaluate that label.

The Ishaqian women were shameless, wearing clothing that was so loose and transparent Mel wasn’t sure why they’d bother to get dressed at all. Looking closer, she saw that many of the entrances were lit by red aetherlights. Under each there was, more often than not, a bulky guard keeping a watchful eye. Some guards kept their hands hidden within their clothing, no doubt clutching a hidden blade or firearm.

More than a few were looking at her with cautious, wary expressions. They’d clearly picked up on her aura. Mel quickly cooled her red further, letting it simmer so that it was barely visible before quickening her pace and dragging Amelia around a corner into another street. Judging by how many of the men were unstable on their feet, there was no shortage of alcohol being consumed.

“Isn’t this fun?” Amelia quipped, spinning around with a grin. “Although we do look a little out of place, don’t we? I bet everyone knows we’re foreigners at a glance.”

“We should leave,” Mel said, shaking her head. “This is not where an officer should spend their time.” Although she knew her logic was sound, the true source of her unease was the slight niggling of her instincts; the subtle feeling of being watched. Mel had a feeling that if they stayed in the area, something bad would happen.

“Mmm, okay,” Amelia replied, chewing her lip.

And so they left. Or rather, they tried to leave. Any hope Mel had that the scantily dressed women were only there to entice men was quickly extinguished. It was like their desire to leave had awoken a hidden beast within the prowling vixens. Within moments, it felt like every step they took, they encountered another woman cooing over them. They were so forward and so exposed that the only thing that stopped Mel from flaring her aura to scare them away was the order from Captain Halen not to cause a scene.

“Why, good afternoon, my anisas. Looking to relax?”

“We have some wonderful calming herbs. Care for a sample?”

“You look like a pair of scared peekas! Why don’t you come inside and have a man look after you, hmm?”

“Oi! Back off, you carrion crows!”

The last shout sent the crowd scattering as a feminine figure stepped into view, shooing the offending women away. “Honestly,” the lady said, their frame standing a few inches above Mel, “they’re like rabid hounds, aren’t they?” The woman looked down at them. With a snap of her wrist, she extended a hand fan and began wafting herself. “I thought I recognised you both. I wondered who from the Black Ship would come into our little district first, but I didn’t expect it to be two women, ha!”

“..Ihra?” Amelia asked, tilting her head.

“Oh, she remembers!” Ihra’s expression broke out in a wide smile. “Well, I should have expected it. While most of the men were watching my chest, you were one of the few looking at my face. Although”—Ihra’s eyes glinted—“don’t think I didn’t see you blushing!”

“I wasn’t!” Amelia protested, puffing out her cheeks.

“No, you weren’t,” Ihra intoned with a mischievous, sly smile. She nodded at Mel, saying, “But she was. Tell me, are all Eastern women so easily flummoxed by the sight of a woman’s body? You must bathe without any mirrors, young lady, given how bright those cheeks were shining!”

“I—I was not!” Mel protested.

“I could feel the heat from where I was. Like a second Red Moon, it was.”

“This is nonsense!” Mel clicked her tongue in her best imitation of Captain Halen. “I don’t even know who you are!” She looked to Amelia for support, but finding that her friend had her hand covering her mouth in an expression of mock shock, Mel resolved to glare at the cheeky courtesan.

“I have good eyes, my dear.” Ihra tapped her cheek and said, “I saw you through the bridge windows. You kept stealing glances at me, didn’t you?”

Damn it. She’d been caught. How in the Seven Hells had this woman seen her? Was she a warrior in disguise? What kind of perception did Ishaqian women have!?

“Well, of course I did,” Mel declared, forcing her voice louder, hoping that it would give her more confidence. “Anyone would be surprised by such brazen”—Ihra’s mouth opened in mock indignation—“shameless”—Ihra raised one hand and rested it flat against her cheek—”and indecent behaviour!” Ihra pointed at herself, as if the accusation was entirely unfounded. Just as Mel was seriously considering slapping the woman, Ihra burst out laughing.

“I’m only teasing you, my dear,” Ihra cooed, waving her fan. “Only a bit of fun. Eastern women are so reserved, aren’t they? Your men aren’t so bad, but the women, oh my…” The courtesan giggled, giving Mel a wink. “Well, enough time under my wing and I could have you loosened up, I suppose.”

Mel breathed out slowly, doing her very best to exhale all her thoughts that were extremely inappropriate for an Imperial Officer. The last thing she needed was to have to explain to Captain Halen why she broke the nose of a local prostitute.

“Do you serve a lot of women?” Amelia suddenly asked.

“Mmm?” Ihra twisted her body, a thoughtful expression on her face. “More often than you’d expect, I imagine. But less often than we would like. More customers mean more business, after all!”

“Can you just… give us directions to get out of here?” Mel asked with a sigh.

Ihra didn’t respond immediately. The woman spent a few seconds appraising Amelia and Mel. Eventually, her lips curled, and she gestured with her fan. “Down there, through the gambling dens. You’ll see the arena walls, so just keep going in that direction.” Ihra leaned in and said in a hushed voice. “From one woman to another, don’t be tempted to gamble. The dice are weighted.”

“...Thank you,” Mel said. She glanced at Amelia. “Shall we go?”

“One more thing,” Ihra said quickly. “A small payment.”

Mel felt her forehead furrow. “For the directions?”

“Mmm. But a payment not of coin, but of names,” she said, making a small motion that was something in between a Cerulean curtsy and a Samino bow. “I am Ihra, humble courtesan of fine ladies and the occasional man. Now, what lovely demons have entered into Ishaq’s underbelly?”

Mel inhaled and straightened her back. After casting a quick glance at Amelia and receiving an encouraging nod in response, Mel looked at the woman and said, “Officer Mori of Her Majesty’s Imperial Cruiser, the Vengeance.”

“Lia Liona,” Amelia declared. “Humble icemage under contract, pleased to meet you!”

“Oh?” Ihra’s eyebrow raised. Facing Amelia, she said, “When I saw you on the bridge, I thought you were one of those fancy Eastern aristocrats. But an icemage? How interesting. Now I think about it, you do have an air of confidence around you, don’t you? You don’t seem concerned about where you are. And you…” Ihra turned to Mel. “Being an Officer would explain that brilliant red aura I heard about. What other interesting talents have made land, I wonder?”

News travels fast down here, Mel thought.

“If that’s all,” Mel intoned. “We’ll be on our way.”

“Of course, of course,” Ihra cooed. “May the Red Moon light your path, young ladies.”

“...May the Red Moon light your path,” Mel mumbled, doing her best to match the Southern custom.

“And remember”—Ihra gave them a wink—“If you know of any men that need some relaxation, then send them to Madam Sakina’s. We have talent that’ll untwist any horn, and I’m not talking about the ones on their heads, either!”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Mel practically pulled Amelia away and down the pathway Ihra had indicated. The shameless courtesan’s words had been true, and as they turned the corner into an area packed full of gamblers and drinking establishments, the high walls of the arena they’d come from could be seen above the roofs.

It didn’t take long before men and women tried to pull them into their games.

“Game of Moon Eyes? One chit for a roll, hit a double and get ten chits back! Hit Moon Eyes and earn ten denari!” To emphasise his point, the man made a snapping motion with his fingers, spawning a shining gold denari. The flashy trick caught Mel’s attention before the coin vanished, no doubt into the man's sleeve or some other hidden pocket. “If you want to see the Empress’ gold again, young lady, you’ll need to roll Moon Eyes.” The man raised a cup, shaking the dice inside.

Mel clicked her tongue. She had no intention of losing her wages and embarrassing the prestige of Imperial Officers everywhere by foolishly betting with weighted dice.

“No, thank you,” she said firmly.

“Yes, please!” Amelia chirped.

Moons save me, Mel thought. What past crime did I commit in the mists to deserve this?

“Wonderful, wonderful!” The man said, smiling widely, revealing a golden tooth. “You have an aura of luck around you, young lady! The Luck of the East, I can see it now! Come this way, come this way.” They were led to a table in the shade of a shale tree, with a painted and numbered grid. A dozen more tables surrounded them, but the foolish punters only spared them a passing glance before resuming their relentless journey of losing money.

It was a chit a roll, or five rolls for three chits.

“Ten chits on a double,” the man said, holding up the dice after Amelia handed over three chits. “Free roll if both dice land on green. If they land on the moon…” He tapped the table, where a red moon was painted in the centre. “And you roll a double one, that’s Moon Eyes, and ten gold coins will be yours, young lady.”

“And how often does that happen?” Mel asked, crossing her arms.

“Happens all the time!” the man huffed. “Why, it just happened last week, isn’t that right, Hama?”

“That’s right!” a man relaxing at a nearby table spoke up. “I saw it myself, I did!”

“...Sure,” Mel said. She had no doubt that these establishments would fake large wins to catch the attention of passing groups. After all, a gambling establishment that lost money was a failed business enterprise, wasn’t it?

“I’m going to get Moon Eyes,” Amelia said, nodding to herself and looking at the board. She spoke as if stating a concrete fact rather than a possible future.

“Ha! You’ve got hard horns, young lady!” The man handed her the dice and gave her further instructions on what constituted a valid throw or not. From the rules, Mel could quickly see how it was engineered to make as many rolls of the dice invalid as possible. The table had no guards, so the dice could easily tumble off, which was an invalid roll. The dice had to be thrown or dropped from at least a certain height, meaning it was already a coin flip if the dice would stay on the table, let alone land on the painted moon.

“This won’t take long,” Amelia said, grinning at Mel as she began shaking the dice. Amelia closed her eyes as she shook the cup, her forehead creasing in concentration. She began to mutter something. At first, Mel thought it might be a prayer, but the snippets her ears caught, of strange terms like ‘achievement grinding’ and ‘boosted stats’, didn’t make much sense to her.

“I believe!” Amelia declared, releasing the dice.

Time seemed to slow as Mel watched, transfixed, as the dice tumbled through the air. They slammed into the table, bouncing off as if determined to find the floor. And that would have been their fate, Mel was certain, if their edges didn’t then catch the table's surface to redirect them back into the centre. The dice bounced once, twice, then thrice, with each tumble carrying with it a symphony of bone against wood, until the dice finally settled, their energy spent.

There, the dice slept, their faces each showing two ones.

Their bed was the Red Moon itself.

Amelia had thrown Moon Eyes.

“It… It worked!” Amelia threw her arms up in celebration.

“W-What…” The man mumbled, his golden tooth seemingly duller than before. “She actually threw…” He trailed off and gulped, casting a complicated expression to his friend. “Hama…?”

“Geez,” Hama breathed out and scratched his chin. “It had to happen sometime, didn’t it?”

“What do you mean, ‘It had to happen sometime’?” Mel challenged, narrowing her eyes at the demon. “Thought you said it happened last week, Hama?”

“It did!” Hama quickly corrected himself. “It’s just so rare. What I mean to say…” Hama glanced back, towards a darkened doorway. “Uh, congratulations, young lady. Con… Congratulations!”

“Right, congratulations!” The man with the golden tooth joined in. Finding his stride, the man boomed, “We have a Moon Eyes, ladies and gentlemen! A Moon Eyes! The lady has won, she’s won…” The man snapped his fingers, manifesting a string of gold coins between them. His expression was tense, as if the act was painful. Still, determined to make the most of his loss and Amelia’s unbelievable luck, he dramatically showed the coins to everyone before slowly handing them to Amelia. “Well done, young lady! For rolling Moon Eyes! Here, at Tamas and Hama’s dice board! The luckiest board in Ishaq!”

“Hehe…” Amelia grinned and pocketed the gold coins. The sight of gold, along with Tamas’ quick-thinking advertisement, had meant they now had a small crowd. “Okay, here we go…” Amelia mumbled, shaking the cup once more. Everyone, Mel included, watched with bated breath. How would the next roll go? Would Amelia’s luck produce another double? A free roll? Or would the dice fly off the table, determined to win their owner back his lost denari?

The dice tumbled through the air, and for a short moment, everyone held their breath. When the dice settled, the only thing stopping an awkward silence from manifesting was Amelia’s loud cheer and declaration.

“Two in a row!” Amelia yelled, her voice snapping everyone out of their surprise and igniting the crowd to begin hollering and celebrating. The fierceness of the celebrations took Mel aback. It was as if the degenerate gamblers believed the harder they celebrated Amelia’s second Moon Eyes, the higher their chances of reversing their own fortunes were.

Still.

A second Moon Eyes!

Aren’t they supposed to be weighted dice? Mel thought, glancing at the widely grinning Amelia. Wait, she isn’t using magic, is she? Unable to stop herself, she cast a nervous look around. A hive of gambling like this would have at least one talented aether user whose job was both security and to try and identify other mages and warriors.

“Umm,” Tamas and his dull tooth seemed unsure of what to do. The man glanced at the darkened doorway, and this time, Mel focused fully on the entrance. It was hard to see, even with her aura-enhanced senses. Could it be…?

A Kanaxai ward on the doorway?

While she struggled to see, she did pick up on a quiet, male voice emanating from within the darkness.

“Pay it, Tamas,” the voice growled.

Tamas swallowed. After a moment, he manifested a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and made a grand show of announcing Amelia’s once-in-a-lifetime double Moon Eyes and handing her another ten denari. By now, even the most obsessive gambler had been pulled away from their table, drawn in by the radiance of Amelia’s achievement. In only two rolls of the dice, Amelia had become the centre of attention.

Instead of letting Amelia pick up the dice like before, Tamas reached down and snatched them up. He looked at them, as if verifying that they were, indeed, his dice. Glancing at Amelia, he flashed a dishonest smile and riled the crowd up, going on about how his board was the luckiest one in Ishaq. Then, with an almost imperceptible tremor in his hand, he handed the dice to Amelia. Reaching back, he rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling as he said, “Haha, you’re killing me here, young lady.”

“One more for the road?” Amelia asked with a sly smile. Undeterred by the shadow of anger in Tamas’ eyes, she raised her arms, dramatically shaking her cup for all to see. With every clatter sounding from within the cup, the anticipation grew, both enticing and suffocating the crowd. Even Mel found herself drawn in, her eyes unable to look at anything other than the rattling cup.

It was only when the dice began to fall for the third time that Mel realised that her instincts were warning her of something. It was only when the dice bounced across the table, defiantly refusing to fall onto the floor, that Mel realised the potential for trouble. And then, it was only when the dice stopped moving for the third time, resting happily in a bed of red paint, each staring at the sky with a single eye, that Mel realised that they were in danger.

Judging from the expressions and energetic movement of the crowd, Mel suspected they were making a lot of noise. She didn’t hear them; she’d adjusted her hearing to drown it out, instead focusing her senses on Tamas and Hama’s worried expressions, and the movement and sounds of large men making their way through the crowd, coming up behind her and Amelia.

What should she do?

She could disperse the crowd if she flared her aura, but what if the nearby Kanaxai mage or hidden guard took that as a threat? If she pushed into orange, she was sure she could intimidate whoever it was, but that would mean an incident. The exact type of incident Captain Halen had warned Mel not to let happen. Whether by some type of divine providence or clever use of magic, Amelia’s three Moon Eyes—thrown with likely weighted dice—were too much for whoever ran this area.

“Tamas,” one of the large men said. “The boss wants to see you.” The demon, a huge Arakian that towered over Amelia by almost a foot, looked down and placed a hand on her shoulder. “The boss wants to see you as well, young lady.”

Amelia snapped her fingers. “Where’s my denari? I won fair and square!”

“Fair and…?” The large man’s expression narrowed. “The boss will give you your money. It is…” The guard looked at the doorway before looking back at Amelia and Mel. “It is unsafe for young women to carry such large amounts of gold. The boss will write you a note of credit.”

“Amelia…” Mel said quietly, catching her friend’s eye. She did her best to communicate a telepathic message that was a mix of both What the hell do we do? and What the hell are you planning to do? She wasn’t sure what part got across, but she did see Amelia wink at her in response.

Hells!

Why was she winking?

What was she planning!?

It wasn’t that Mel felt that she or Amelia was in danger of physical harm. Seven Hells, Amelia was a Speaker of Suijin, after all. There was nothing a ragtag group of organised criminals, no matter their connections, could do to contend with that. Mel had seen Amelia Speak enough times during their training in Asamaywa that she knew her friend could Speak so silently that it was quite possible Ishaq’s strategic aetherscopes would miss it.

Oh, Moons, Mel thought. She’s not planning to Speak, is she?

“You as well,” a voice intoned. Mel felt someone place a hand on her shoulder. She closed her eyes, focusing her senses, and reassured herself that it wasn’t an aether user. With her aura in check, ready to explode at a moment's notice, Mel only nodded meekly and followed Amelia as they were guided into the nearby building.

As they climbed the stairs towards whatever room the ‘boss’ was in, Mel could only think of one, unanswerable question: Who were the ones actually in danger? Her and Amelia, or these guards and their mysterious boss?

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