Five days later, Emily and Pod descend from Elisime once again to meet Old Man Silver at the door to his company’s headquarters.

“Are you three ready?” the old mage asks enthusiastically, remembering to include Mensacus in the address and receiving two nods and a chilling whisper in response. “I’ve just been notified that everyone’s present; they’re just waiting for the stars of the show. Shall we?”

He nods towards the ship above, but Emily waves off his suggestion as she and Pod step off the lowered passenger hatch, sending it back up behind them.

“We’ll go ahead and have Elisime meet us there,” she says, pouring a blend of sky-blue and electric-purple mana from her skin. “She won’t be needed for the initial greetings.”

Silver nods in understanding the momentary disappointment in his gaze vanishing as he tries to read the twisting runes forming a cage of crackling purple plasma around them.

“Is this… spatial magic?” he asks curiously, reaching out to gently touch the forming magic circle.

“A branch of it,” Emily says, running through hundreds of calculations as she sends out a single streaking tendril of mana that connects to a set of coordinates right in front of the city’s central palace, drawing a bolt of lightning across the city’s sky. “Now that I’m fourth circle, I can control fine spatial movements. However, since it’s not one of my primary affinities, my spell creation and rune discovery are slow going.”

The cage around them pulses with light and roars with thunder and, in the blink of an eye, their surroundings change. Pod and Silver both feel a tugging at the core of their beings, and a ripple of electricity passes through them as their vision distorts for a moment before returning to clarity with the grand, white stone palace standing before them.

“So, I found a way to work around that problem,” Emily continues as if nothing happened, ignoring Silver clenching his teeth to stop himself retching. “By using my lightning magic as a medium, I can stabilise short-range spatial warping, like that, without as much need for fine control over space. Of course, it puts a bit of extra pressure on our bodies as a result, but it’s the same for extreme high-speed movement, so Pod and I are already well adjusted.”

The crackling magic circle around them fades into nothing, leaving them standing in the middle of the street with several wide-eyed officials staring at them in awe. Emily notices the lack of non-uniformed pedestrians but doesn’t pay it much heed, turning her attention to the magical and political heart of the city.

“Follow me,” Old Man Silver says after quickly recovering his composure, leading them towards the palace’s massive front doors.

The squad of weak Defence Force mages standing on either side of the doors don’t move to stop them, letting them walk freely into the grand entrance hall. The wide-open room is lit by a sea of floating silver flames, swirling overhead like unstable desert winds, and the floor is covered in a beautiful, patterned rug that practically breathes mana, injecting colour into the otherwise plain, white and silver aesthetic of the city.

The walls are lined with doors, each one tinted a different shade by a thin film of mana. Silver leads them through the centre of the hall, drawing the gazes of several mages and unawakened officials moving about the lobby space with purpose as their group approaches the largest doorway, which stands opposite the entrance. It glows with an imposing golden hue, highlighting its significance, and hanging above it is a white stone plaque, carved with golden letters reading: ‘Elders’ Council’.

Emily recognises the telltale fluctuations of space as they approach, and her magical senses tell her, despite the thick mana filling the building and distorting her more detailed readings, that the only fourth circle mages in the building are above her, not on the other side of the wall.

“A spatial door?” she questions, gazing at the construct with interest as she notices several well-hidden runes carved around the inner edges of the frame.

“Yes,” Silver nods with a hint of pride. “We don’t have any Elders with the affinity unfortunately, but, luckily, we have a few talented scholars with it working on developing our amenities. The warpstones we use in our internal communications at the company are their work too. Fascinating stuff. I’m sure Minerva will be happy to introduce them to you later if you’re interested.”

He steps into the golden doorway and vanishes, leaving Emily and Pod to follow on their own. Emily glances at her apprentice, meeting his calm gaze before stepping through the doorway herself.

She feels space twist around her, but there’s no unpleasant feeling as she moves from one place to another in an instant. The moment she sets foot in the council chamber, she feels seven powerful energy signatures focus on her, surrounding her on all sides.

The room Emily finds herself in the centre of is large, but not unreasonably so for the small gathering. The walls are all made from clear glass, giving them a clear view of the city stretching out around them from their raised position near the peak of the palace’s tower. Each member of the council is sitting on a throne formed from their magic, displaying their creativity and casual magical mastery.

“What in Ulea’s name is that?!” one of the Elders cries with shock behind Emily.

Pod appears at her side, but Emily doesn’t pay him any attention as she slowly turns to the man in question. He has dark, tanned skin and eyes as black as obsidian, glistening with fear and apprehension as they remain rooted on Mensacus, hanging from Emily’s shoulder. She notices the crest of Snake Nest fixed to his chest and barely spares the inky-black seat of solidified darkness he’s pushing himself from a second glance as his mana starts to seep from his skin with intention, creeping towards her.

“He… is my son,” Emily hisses, charging her voice with mana and machina as she releases the crushing pressure of her dual energy organs, focusing it on Snake Nest’s leader and forcing him back down into his seat. "And you will treat him with respect.”

The man pales, realising his mistake as none of his peers speak up on his behalf, instead choosing to observe the interaction with unconcealed interest.

“R-Right, I apologise,” he stammers to recover, swallowing his pride and dipping his head respectfully. “That was completely uncalled for. I was simply taken aback by the… unique constitution of your child.”

Emily draws her pressure in, her face a calm mask as if nothing happened, and nods, accepting his apology. She scans the room in the silence following their confrontation, finding nine seated Elders, two of them powerless images projected from a set of long-range communication artefacts, surrounding her, leaving no gap for her to take a seat.

Emily shrugs off the inconvenience, letting mana slip from her skin and form into a metal throne, crackling with streaks of lightning. She pulls four small cameras from her belt in the process, fixing them around her seat and connecting them to a screen formed from her light mana, giving her a full view of all nine Elders without having to turn her head.

She relaxes into her throne, noting the obvious approval in Silver’s gaze and drawing Mensacus into her lap to affectionately stroke his receiver. Pod stands to attention beside her, watching the screen over her shoulder without saying a word.

“It’s good to see you again, Emily,” Max says, flashing her a smile from his pale stone throne directly in front of her and bowing his head politely. “I apologise for Elder Beryl’s lack of respect towards your… son, but I’m sure you can understand our hesitance. We don’t have a good history with mental magic and, well, he feels a lot like the Denros Royals’ favourite brainwashing tool.”

Emily notices one of the Elders behind her, a woman who looks to be in her late thirties with a straw-coloured bob, flinch at Max’s choice of words. Her knuckles turn white against the armrest of her seat, formed from rhythmically beating winds, and she glances between Max and the back of Emily’s seat with blatant fear.

That must be Minerva.

“He’s not a tool,” Emily responds, meeting his gaze with a cold smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “But brainwashing isn’t so far off.”

Several of the Elders tense in small, barely noticeable motions, but they all cover their reactions and wait for her to continue.

“Mensacus was born from a curse I nurtured. He specialises in corrupting and controlling his enemies, but it’s not subtle by any means,” she explains, immediately alleviating some of their worst concerns.

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Max says, glancing pointedly at Old Man Sliver to his right. “It would have been nice to have a warning, though.”

“Must have slipped my mind,” the old mage responds with a shrug, grinning as Beryl glares at him.

“Well, now that that’s dealt with,” says the imposing image of a woman on Max’s other side, sitting on a seat made from what appears to be burning magma as fire and earth mana intertwine, scattering her fiery red hair with heated air. “Maybe we could focus on the purpose of today's council. Let us begin with proper introductions for our guest. You already know Max, my Vice, but I’m Josephine Barbier, Commander of the New Denntimo Defence Force. It’s a pleasure to finally meet The Savage Moon I’ve been receiving so many reports about.”

“I’d prefer if my name were forgotten, but I’m Beau Corbin,” says the image of an androgynous mage to Josephine’s left, floating above an almost invisible platform of solid air, as the greetings move clockwise around the room. “Director of Intelligence within the Defence Force. Please try not to refer to me, but if you do, my gender, name, and position are all classified.”

Emily doesn’t bat an eye at the odd introduction, choosing not to question them further and turning her attention to the next man in the circle as both Max and Josephine roll their eyes at their colleague.

“Orcus Saville,” the man sitting on undulating waves of fire offers with a measured nod of greeting. “Head of public relations.”

“I’m Favio, Favio Fortescue,” beams the next mage from behind Emily’s throne, waving at her, unbothered by the magical seat separating them. “I’m sure you know my sister here already, but I’m the head of agricultural development. Thank you for that aquacillis, it’s been fascinating trying to work out if we can cultivate it ourselves!”

Emily raises a brow, glancing between the enthusiastic man with scruffy sand-coloured hair and a deep tan and the timid woman beside him, shrinking in her seat as if trying to hide from Emily’s gaze. Favio is sitting on a chair woven from earth and water, modelled after layered desert rock forms with water trickling through the gaps.

“Just doing my job,” Emily responds, waving off his gratitude and moving her attention past Minerva to the woman sitting beside her.

 “Gem,” she offers tersely from her icy throne covered in beautiful, expanding fractals. “Black Fang’s leader.”

“And I’m Beryl Manda,” adds the man who challenged Emily moments earlier. “Leader of Snake Nest.”

“Well, as I assume you all already know, I’m Emily Coldstone, an A rank mercenary currently working with Silver Moon,” she says, observing a wave of reactions, some subtle and some less so, spreading through the room as she confirms her close relationship with the grinning Silver. “And this is my apprentice, Pod.”

“Nice to meet you all,” he says with a confident smile, not letting his nerves show despite being surrounded by some of the most powerful beings on the planet.

Josephine’s eyes never leave Emily as she nods and attempts to take control of the meeting.

“So, Miss Coldstone-“

“Please, just Emily.”

“Of course, Emily,” Josephine corrects herself with a tight smile. “As I was saying, we’ve all heard of your existing achievements and, though we are grateful for the impact you’ve made so far on Denros’ high-level combatants, your recent offer seems… ambitious. Making any moves of this scale at this stage of the war could lead to our destruction if we’re not careful. What gives you the confidence to face off against potentially the entire forces of Denros?”

“The same thing that gave me the confidence to walk in here,” Emily responds, casting her cold gaze across the mages in front of her and slowly letting out the combined pressure of her mana and machina. “Overwhelming strength.”

A chill passes through the room as sweat forms on the brows of everyone but Pod, Silver, and the two mages present only in mind.

“Throughout my development so far, I’m yet to meet a single mage who can compete with me within the same circle,” she explains, watching Josephine maintain a blank expression as her colleagues sweat under the pressure.

“That may be so,” the stern military woman responds, narrowing her eyes. “But surely even you’re wary of the defensive arrays they have set up in Rizenford. The second they know you’re coming they’ll hide in their shell and hit you with their damn Sunbeam.”

Another shiver passes through the room at the mention of Denros’ favourite superweapon, a long-range attack array carved into the foundation of their royal palace.

“That array was only created by a fourth circle mage, correct?” Emily asks with an innocent tilt of her head.

“Yes, but it’s charged by several! Each shot has the focused strength of six fourth circle mages,” Josephine says, emphasising the scale of the attack.

“My point still stands; they’re only fourth circle. How many times can they fire it?”

“Three before they’re all drained, why?”

“Then each shot is only powered by two mages' worth of mana,” Emily responds, her mouth stretching into a wide grin as Elisime finally arrives at the palace, floating before the wide window behind Josephine and blotting out the sun. “I feel like a demonstration is in order. It should clear up your doubts.”

The Elders follow her gaze to the ship outside, taking a moment to drink in the floating behemoth as they process Emily’s suggestion.

“So, your ship is where your confidence comes from?” Gem questions, drawing a condescending chuckle from Emily as they still fail to understand her strength.

“No, I am where my confidence comes from.”

She lets out a flood of machina which vanishes into the ether, slipping through space to a marker fixed inside Elisime’s Logic Core. The ship sings with an electric hum as streaks of burning plasma skip along its surface, gathering towards the two railguns in an overtly threatening display.

“My ship is just my focus.”