Disguised Viv leaned against the railing, studying the sailors as they climbed ropes and jumped deftly from the main deck to the secondary hulls. The catamaran she was on was fast, impressively so, though there wasn’t much cargo space if her cramped quarters were any indication. Despite the pleasant feeling of the wind whipping through her hair and the overall sunny weather, her travel companions were not enjoying themselves. They wore grim expressions and talked in low voices, backs bent, hands grasping, eyes lost in dark memories.

Her host was taking his role as a guide with a seriousness that bordered on the obsessive. When he wasn’t on the deck giving orders, he was giving her etiquette lessons.

“Vizimiran women of your station join their hands in front of them when standing at rest,” he explained on the second day. “As for lying down, it should not happen in view of others. For sitting, keep your back straight unless you are on a high back chair — those are rare outside of negotiations. Also, avert crossing your legs under any circumstances.”

Viv’s default standing position was ‘menacingly’ and her sitting one was ‘on the damn throne’ so those were invaluable pieces of information, but the more in depth the captain went and the more Viv smelled a rat. On the third day, she cornered him before the lesson could begin.

“You are hiding something,” she accused.

“I am hiding many things, but none that would hurt you,” he said with apparent confidence.

“We’re supposed to sail directly to Sandsong. There is no need for me to hide who I am with such diligence if we are in friendly territory. Even if the guards suspect me of being a spy, you, as the queen’s uncle, can just wave them off. Tell me the truth. Now.”

He broke down in shame the same instant.

“I did not mean to deceive you. When I said this was the storm season, I’m afraid I did not convey how dangerous they are. We avoided such a storm when we left. It is in full swing now.”

Viv frowned. The weather outside was windy and wet, but only thick white clouds sometimes blocked the autumn sun.

“This is my path. I know the weather. Trust me.”

“So we will make landfall somewhere else?”

“Yes? How did you know?” he asked, a bit surprised.

Viv rolled her eyes.

“Well obviously you’re training me to go unnoticed so I assume we’ll be crossing neutral ground..”

“It would take two weeks for the storm to fade. We cannot afford such a delay.”

“So where are we going?”

“Ravinport. A neutral city, not too far from our kingdom. It will be another week before we can travel through the Salt Mountains to the middle cities where the royal army camps. I was not certain of the storm’s location when we departed, Your Grace. That is why I didn’t want to alarm you.”

“So you were planning on, what, letting me know at the last moment?”

He looked embarrassed.

“In a way, yes. I would have warned you once the storm was in full view so you would not find the change of direction suspicious. We will approach it before heading east anyway, Your Grace. I apologize for the deception. I assure you —”

Viv dismissed his explanations with a wave of her hand. She wasn’t really mad. He hadn’t lied so much as waited until he was sure before informing her of the situation all while preparing her for ‘the worst’. The spark of luck was also pulsing brightly in her soul so there was no way she would have just reached the dragon unimpeded. The last time she’d expected a straight trip to her destination, that had ended up in a half flooded tunnel feeding into a cannibal farm so… at least they wouldn’t get shipwrecked.

Viv immediately knocked on wood before that slippery thought doomed them all.

“Is something the matter?” the captain asked, twirling his mustache with concern.

“Tell me more about Ravinport.”

“Well, my family was originally from that place. I was hoping we could talk to my eldest son, Sin. He is a Janar, a knight.”

“He is not in Sandsong?”

“From my first marriage,” Captain Kass said, and it was clear there was a story there. “He might not be… disposed to listening to me. He is, after all, a talented blade master of high status. And no thanks to me.”

Viv leaned forward.

“And you want to talk to him because…”

“His help against the dragon could be invaluable,” the man said as he started to sweat heavily. “No lies, Your Grace, I swear! He is divine with a saber! Some say he is Eron the Dragonslayer’s true heir!”

Viv had heard that one before. Well, they’d see. Blade masters actually worked well with mages like her mostly because she could cast much more easily without someone in her face actively trying to pull her innards through her belly button. When Solar or Solfis took the brunt of someone else’s attention, it was a much easier and more relaxed battle. Usually.

Actually that would be the third in-your-face warrior protecting her whose name started with an S. Maybe there was a pattern? Well, she had to recruit him first.

“Very well. Let us see this Ravinport you speak of.”

“May I suggest… a bit more practice, Your Grace?”

Viv was informed she was supposed to let the men speak if granted the honor of sitting at their table. So Vizim wasn’t exactly as bad as Enoria but it still wasn’t a very nice place to be a woman in. The exceptions were casters — as always — and noble women who chose a martial path. Strangely, they were just considered dudes who happened to be women, and they were expected to find someone to take care of their children while they returned to the front. It was an interesting piece of trivia Viv filed to the back of her mind alongside the proper way to serve tea and which Viziman pet it was considered acceptable for her to own. The medallion offered by the Sandsong royal couple presented her as an artisan as well so she used some free time to brush up on enchantments. The patient art of carving and animating runes was a relaxing activity she’d taken as a hobby because it was good practice and also because the One Hundred now had spears that could punch through steel plates. She was confident that, as far as transparent mana was concerned, she was one of the very best. It was still good to work on her fundamentals with pieces of gear and weapons the crew was happy to lend her. It wasn’t every day that one could get free enchantments done by an empress.

The promised storm came into view three days later as they were well on their way to their destination. The Opportunity was insanely fast for such a large ship — it was honestly impressive. Viv watched the curtain of clouds covering the horizon with that ominous quality that seemed to dim the light around it, while Captain Kass argued with her over accents.

“That is not the proper pronunciation,” he politely noted.

“It’s not in Vizim, but it is in Zazas. They have idiosyncrasies such as adding ‘oh’ at the end of a sentence for emphasis, or swallowing the middle syllable in ‘shehrlem’.”

“But…”

“What is more important?” Viv finally asked. “That I do not attract attention at all, or that I match the character I pretend to be? There is no way for me not to look like a stranger, so I need to be a consistent stranger. One who matches the Viziman’s opinion of northern Param women.”

“Vizimans look down upon them. We call them barbaric,” the captain mentioned.

Viv got the implication. It might lead to poor reactions.

“I’m not infiltrating the city to get information, Kass, I am passing through with a cover story.”

Hell, she’d stayed disguised the entire trip just to get used to it. It had worked to an extent. The crew now treated her as an honored guest, talking to her in the northern tongue like she was only slightly above them in station. It was a stark difference compared to the terrified first hours. Truly, appearances mattered.

The captain conceded the point. Viv still had a lot to learn, however, and so the lessons continued.

***

When the sandy beaches and pleasant cove of Ravinport came into view, Viv sent a quick prayer to luck as a thank you for not smashing her ride against some rock after a massive kraken battle like she half expected. She didn’t thank Emeric though. That rank fucker had nothing to do with her own fortune. He merely rode his own to success or an entertaining failure, bless his stranded ass. God of Luck? What a hilarious joke. He was a lucky god, nothing more. Nevertheless, as Viv watched the noon sun reflect on the white roofs of the town coming into view, she realized it was only delayed gratification on luck’s part. The ‘Viv malarkey specials’ segment was well and truly arrayed before her eyes in the presence of the Sheem.

Now the Sheem had been part of multiple intel briefings back home because they were the major power in the fragmented clown fiesta that was Vizim’s international community. They were the kind of people who had risen to power two hundred years before on the back of a revolution, naming themselves after a small rapacious bird to show they were the underdogs. Since then, they’d become the normal post-purge expansionist kingdom that had nothing left of their old dreams except a cynical approach to propaganda only equaled by Earth’s corporate juggernauts. Viv had been convinced they were assholes the moment she’d heard of them and every report had confirmed her in her opinion. There were currently two warships moored in Ravinport’s cozy bay, and they both bore the red eagle of Sheem. She could see the beak-nosed helmets of their soldiers patrolling the white-tiled piers as well. Not a great many, but just the fact it was allowed was a major problem. One the captain didn’t fail to understand if the many swear words coming from under his mustache was any indication. Viv used a subtle long view spell to get a closer look. It was acceptable for her to perform colorless spells in public, so long as the mana drain was minor. It was obvious that they’d been spotted. The Sheem were growing more agitated, some rushing under the deck.

“Should we veer away?” she asked.

“The Ravinport flag still floats over the keep,” Kass replied.

Viv had another gander at the city. At first glance, it was large enough for a few thousand people and gave her a Greek island vibe: beautiful and almost scenic in the way the large houses merged with the slope of a gentle hill, each building placed to match the rock and not its neighbor. That faded away after only a few seconds. Those brown splotches half-hidden in the surrounding lush forest were not trunks: they were the visible part of a shanty, a layer of rot under the pristine appearance. Viv didn’t judge though. This was just the local flavor of poverty. More interesting was the keep overlooking the city, only different from the many rich houses due to its size. It used the same white stone and the same flat roofs otherwise. Even the walls were as decorative as they were presumably functional. A simple blue flag with two yellow dots floated over it. No birds, thank fuck. Yet.

Viv had another look. Warriors in white and blue uniform patrolled the upper streets as a mirror to the Sheem-controlled port side. They appeared to be more numerous. Viv couldn’t be sure.

“Yeah but I think the ships might be here for you,” Viv still added. “There are officers on deck looking at you right now.”

And indeed there was a commotion. Local soldiers also left a large seaside building along with a man wearing enough shiny metal and colorful fabric to mark him as important. Viv walked back from the railing, taking on a more submissive position.

“Do I land here or not? You must decide.”

“Land here, please. Our time may be short. I will… find a way to distract them. Listen, if we are separated, find my son, Sin. He will be with the city’s Janar. Watch out for the local lords. You cannot trust them.”

“Will your son help me?”

“I hope so…”

Viv could have asked about what sort of bullshit answer that was, but instead she went below deck to her small corner of the ship to grab her pack. It was a simple if large thing that was not even enchanted. In it, she had money, clothes — all simple dresses a person like her could afford except for a marginally fancier one, sundries, and a basic inscribing kit she could use to justify her arcanist path. Without her crown or her focus she felt a little bereft, but nothing too traumatic. Even the potion belt she kept for emergencies — since life spells basically did nothing — was an acceptable loss — she could always get more here. The thing that she missed the most was, weirdly, her shield. By now it was completely unbalanced, unwieldy, and more welded on signs than the original steel but it was still solid, it was still reliable, and it was definitely hers — a collection of all her achievements, really. When magic hadn’t been enough, the shield had protected her like it was meant to. It was ok, she told herself, she would get it back when she returned.

The Opportunity slowed down. It was time. Viv walked to the deck to see a couple of other sailors who had changed clothes to look richer. They had some luggage with them. She wondered what it was all about.

Captain Kass moored his ship with a level of control Viv would have thought impossible. The hull came to rest near a pier while at the same moment, a gangplank was lowered to rest on the stone with nary a scrap. The captain was the first to come down. He strode down the plank with an imperious step, every bit the confident commander. One of the two sailors ushered Viv forward with a quiet gesture. He really looked like a young nobleman now. Curious, she inspected him.

[Heir of the Barony]

Huh.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

He must have felt her because he winked. Damn, but she was completely out of touch with all the cloak and dagger stuff. Her style was… different for sure.

Viv walked down the gangplank after the false heir, then stopped next to the captain as he argued with the Important Person who’d come to ‘welcome’ them. Several guards with spears stood at attention, curtailing them but also keeping the red ranks of the Sheem away. The beaky fuckers stayed at a reasonable distance, though here they outnumbered the blue guards. There was a peppering of patrols up and down the quay. Citizens were quietly walking into shops and taverns at a savvy pace. Viv couldn’t blame them.

She quietly stood by the captain alongside the other two fake travelers. She averted her eyes and took on the default posture while fully aware that the guards were inspecting her from hair to toe, with and without their skills. She wasn’t even mad, or tempted to defy them. It was just all so exciting because it was not just new, there were stakes. If she got found out, then the Sheem would attack immediately, causing the death of many Sandsong people. It was a contest, and she intended to win it.

Viv crushed the thought that she might have invited Irao as a precaution. He was not just needed back home, it was also like trying to sneak in a powder store and bringing a flamethrower for safety. She remembered the fucking golem buckets.

“While I understand your precautions, I must ask that you at least allow my passengers to leave the ship, as I promised to deliver them safe and sound.”

The city official gave all three ‘passengers’ a thorough look. Viv felt the nudge of an inspection skill brushing her soul, but the necklace must have worked because the man spent much more time glaring at the two fake noblemen than at her.

“Very well. They may stay… in custody until they prove their identity!” the man bleated with a tremulous voice that carried all the way to the Sheem.

He and the captain talked a little more in that loud voice that was meant as much for each other as for the people around. Viv listened with some attention though she also used the opportunity to look around. The streets were almost empty except for armed men by now, some of whom were not in uniform. The official was preventing the captain from getting down on suspicion of smuggling (no surprise), yet at the same time he was protecting him. Viv also noted that the two Sheem warships were preparing to raise anchor. It was going to be a bit of a problem.

Viv followed the official once he was done posturing. They traveled up the narrow streets past the locked gates of affluent estates. The smell of flowers and wet vegetation saturated her nose, yet it was also mixed with the scents of humanity. In this case, it was piss. They didn’t have the kind of advanced sewer system Sinur’s Gate claimed. More guards watched them pass by, some in white and blue, others in the liveries of local notables. It told Viv of a rather fragmented local authority which was always a bad sign.

The small squad finally reached the keep. It looked defensible enough, but it was also clearly more a last resort bastion than a real fortress. There was nowhere near enough room for the local population to hide in, even if they were to stand next to each other. The inner courtyard had stables, and two mages in gray turbans. They watched her with more attention than they gave her companions.

They were Viziman gray mages. Harrakan files called them ‘screechers’ although it was derogatory and reflected the fact the Viziman navies had handed Harrak their own asses the few times they’d met in battle. They used sound based tricks that she had never seen in person. Right now, she was letting off some transparent mana in a polite, ‘I’m warning you I’m here’ sort of way. It would reveal her as someone with great control but little reserves which was what an arcanist was supposed to be. She nodded as greeting before lowering her eyes and it was enough to be dismissed again.

Before entering, a glint in the sun caught her eyes. Camouflaged behind a wood panel, on a side tower, was a ballista. It looked heavily enchanted. It appeared the locals were more prepared to face hostilities than she’d first assumed.

The escort brought them to a small waiting hall centered around a long, low table. Men and women in worker garbs were drinking tea on well-worn cushions. The official gestured, and Viv found herself pulled by the arm towards a corner of the room by a guard who then waited around with half-assed attention. Another sailor was kept standing under strict guard while the third was led farther into the compound.

Viv sat on one of the cushions since that’s where she was. The locals spared her a curious glance before returning to hushed conversations. Soon, the guard she was with took a few steps to the side to discuss with a maid. A kindly old woman brought her a cup of something warm. Viv accepted gracefully.

“You’re alright, young lady?” the woman asked with an amused smile.

She had used a familiar term normally used for the mistress of a house. It was a sign of respect, one that Viv reciprocated.

“I hope so, grandmother. I really do.”

“Oh don’t let old man Dar scare you. If he had any bite in him, the Sheem would be out on their butts,” she claimed.

The nearby guard frowned but decided, after a measuring glare, that it wasn’t worth his time. It told Viv that the kind old woman was significantly more important than her simple dress suggested.

“You’re a traveler, yes? From the south?” her host asked.

“Yes, from Zazas.”

Viv offered a short, polite bow. It was the neutral kind used when one was not sure of the other person’s status but wished to be polite nonetheless. It made the old woman smile.

“I’m an arcanist,” Viv offered.

“Oh you are too modest. I can tell you are on the third step — an impressive achievement at your age! You’re here to work?”

“I have been requested, yes, although I was also asked not to share by whom.”

“You don’t have to,” the old woman replied. “You came here in old Kass’ ship, and the Sandsong are in dire need of some powerful weapon, hmmm? Don’t worry about a thing, darling. You’ll be fine.”

She left without ceremony which was a little abrupt, but then a younger maid came bearing a smile and a plate of biscuits so all in all, it was a positive first interaction. Viv just hoped she wouldn’t get poisoned.

The second fake noble was soon brought in with much protest which left Viv alone with a bored guard. A short trip to the lavatories revealed nothing of interest, only that the place was tense and its people worried. It took another ten minutes for her to be called forward. The guard left her through a series of narrow corridors towards a central room with so little care she could have slipped away by simply walking in the other direction. Like the rest of the keep, the ‘throne room’ felt oppressively narrow. Five people were waiting for her there.

The guard locked the door behind her.

This time, Viv gave her best curtsy. Two of the men were Janar, elite knights of Vizim. They both wore studded armor and sabers shining with enchantments that Viv recognized well. There was also a bored screecher mage who barely spared her a glance. Those were the usual retinue of someone pretty important everywhere: the intimidators, and the arcane bullshit experts. Viv would have used the same formula were she not also the intimidator and arcane bullshit expert herself. As for the important man, he was sitting on a platform, on a folding chair that didn’t look very comfortable. Enchantments engraved in the rock protected him from assassination attempts, which was a nice touch. They looked a bit flimsy though. He wore an even larger turban and even more gold than the customs dude, making him, without doubt, the head honcho. Thus her curtsy. The last person present was Bad News: it was a Sheem man in red robes with some casting ability given the focus wand hanging from his waist. He had a long, well-oiled beard and the hooked nose Viv had seen on Wamiri. Viv would have cast him as Jaffar in an Aladdin live action within fifteen seconds of meeting. He was just perfect as the darkly charismatic evil vizier.

One of the Janar addressed Viv with impressive solemnity. It was even more shocking when she realized his mustache and voice were familiar.

“You stand before the great Dar, Lord of Ravinport by the grace of the Council of First Families, Flame of the East, The Builder, may Sardanal bless him. Bow.”

Viv bowed again which was received in silence. The mage sighed. His Boredom the great Dar was the first to speak with obvious annoyance.

“And her, dear Kit, is she also a dangerous and seditious element I should immediately throw in prison?” he asked.

‘You have no fucking idea,’ Viv thought to herself.

It was a bit of a struggle not to smile. Fortunately, only one of the Janar was still looking at her.

“You, woman, who are you and what are you doing here?” the Sheem spat.

Viv didn’t dare inspect him though she was curious. She eyed the lord who gave her a curt nod, ordering her to answer. Viv gave another short bow as she introduced herself and considered that three days of this kind of exchange with all the genuflexions and she would be able to crush watermelons between her thighs

“My name is Sai Jaratalassi. I am a Journeyman Arcanist from the city of Zazas, on Param. I have come at the express request of certain customers in order to provide magical services.”

“And who might those customers be?” the man demanded to know.

“I fear I was asked to keep this information secret. I beg you not to force me to break my word,” she replied.

It was Dar who spoke before the red-robed and now-red-faced man could press her.

“Why would you even need to ask. Kit? This old rascal Kass carried her here himself. This is the safest western port of the rain season, his niece has a dragon problem, and the lass is a weapon maker. A child would figure out who she’s here for.”

Viv kept her peace though Kit didn’t. His eyes narrowed as he searched her face for signs of weakness. Maybe. Or maybe Viv had crumbs on her nose.

“If you’re so famous he crossed the ocean to find you, then how come I have never heard the name Sai Jaratalassi before?”

Once again, Viv waited for Dar’s permission to speak. She wasn’t sure but she thought he was enjoying the deference she was giving him, and denying his Sheem ‘guest’.

“With all due respect, lord, you cannot afford my services, therefore there is no need for me to be known to you.”

Kit took a step forward but an arm blocked him. It belonged to the Janar who was definitely Sin, Captain Kass’ son. She remained impassive before his anger.

“Are you truly famous?” Dar asked.

“There is not a king or duke on Param who has not heard my name,” Viv replied with absolute confidence.

“Hmm. It sounds like the truth,” Dar said.

“Are you really an arcanist though?” Kit asked with a growing grin. “Surely, you do not mind me asking you a few questions then? To prove you are who you claim to be.”

Viv almost shrugged before remembering that wasn’t a local gesture. Instead, she made an extending hand gesture that symbolized a go ahead.

“How many links should you inscribe between the ‘exception’ and ‘condition’ glyphs,” he asked.

“None unless you mean for it to explode,” Viv deadpanned.

“Hmph! An apprentice would know that!”

Then why did you ask, Viv thought, though an arcanist would remain quiet in the presence of a lord so she did, too.

“What is the best pattern to draw the reinforcement enchantment?”

“I free hand everything,” Viv replied.

“Hah! Nonsense. And you call yourself a journeyman? What stylus is best when working with sword steel?”

“I only ever use my basic one.”

“She is an impostor! A liar! Everyone who has ever worked in enchantment knows that a thrice stamped steel stylus —”

Viv rolled her eyes. This guy was kind of annoying but at the same time, she could understand the growing doubt in the eyes of the lord and his mage. Viv didn’t have the knowledge of specific tools the others had because she could bypass the need for most of them. She had an option to save herself, though: a proof of skill.

“Your deflection enchantment is broken,” she told Lord Dar, interrupting Kit’s tirade.

The red-robed villain was so surprised, he actually stopped telling everyone she should be flogged.

“Pardon me?” Dar asked.

“You have a deflection enchantment engraved under your seat. It has been damaged and is currently inoperative.”

Lord Dar gave Viv a measuring look. She felt something poke at her, a soul imprint that was a mix between intimidation and leadership. Some paths merged them, though not all. Obviously it didn’t latch on her. He frowned.

“Captain Sin, strike your blade at my feet.”

Clang!

Viv watched the saber embed itself between the lord’s legs. The defensive shield had fizzled before it could even form.

Damn but Sin was fast. Not Solar fast but really up there. It was a reminder not to underestimate the locals.

Dar was still looking when Viv put her backpack down. She opened the latch and made herself not react to the two sabers suddenly placed under her chin. With very slow, very deliberate movements, she removed her arcanist’s kit from the top. She ignored the small vials of powder to grab her stylus and a ‘putty’ stick, which was a stick enchanted to soften the steel without heating it but only for a few moments. It allowed enchanters to repair broken arrays without having to weld new metal in the gaps.

“If I may?” she asked.

“This is the work of the famous enchanter Ahn. What makes you believe you can fix it?”

“Your enchantment is broken and I am not charging you for my services. What risk are you taking?” Viv respectfully said, and by respectfully, she meant that she was not obviously condescending.

“Let the lass prove herself,” the mage suggested.

“Ah, very well.”

The chair was moved, the circle revealed, and Viv went to work. The enchantment itself was top notch but the surface it had been carved on was the stone that made most of the structures here. The white mineral was too soft, and countless hours of moving chairs with metal feet had dug enough grooves that the enchantment had fragilized, then crumbled.

“If I were you, I’d forge a three-dimensional silverite-steel alloy and hire a brown mana specialist to merge it into the platform. Much safer that way,” she suggested.

“I would very much prefer to spend that many gold talents on something more useful. Like new barracks,” a sarcastic voice replied on the side.

She ignored it. Normally, she would have simply carved a new enchantment with annihilation mana as it would have been faster, but here she was an arcanist and arcanists didn’t do that. The first step was to repair the obviously broken links using the putty stick and then carving properly over that with the stylus. It helped that the enchantment was neat, clear, and streamlined. She started with the feeding arrays which she suspected the mage had to recharge on occasion, then worked her way inwards.

“Hmph!”

Viv tsked in her mind. She’d committed a small inefficiency in her haste. It was fine though, easily corrected. The next section required a more thorough cleaning because the stone was pitted and cracked. Thankfully, the putty stick worked with stone as well.

“Pfft!”

Viv bit her lips. She knew what she was doing. Her work revealed a few issues a more cursory approach would have missed. She decided to address the shield formation before she finished all the feeding arrays just so she could do micro activations.

“Ridiculous.”

Viv turned to the red-robed man whose face was dangerously close, as in, within punching distance. She addressed him in Viziman.

“Shut the fuck up while I work or I’ll shove that entire stylus up your ass.”

She ignored the choking sound of outrage. That idiot was being shushed so it didn’t matter. Micro activations soon showed the shield was functional, then it was only a matter of repairing all the links one by one. Fuck but was that enchantment a mess of damage.

“Wish I had some normal steel, at least. It would stick to the enchantment if nothing else. Maybe get another chair, one with wooden feet. Or dig little wells to prevent it from sliding.”

“It will be done,” another voice said.

One last check, then she manually activated the enchantment. A transparent shield covered her in a light blue dome. It looked sturdy.

“Incredible. It is even more potent than before.”

Viv suddenly remembered she had shield mastery and arcane constructs in the late intermediate levels, which was too high even for a journeyman. Ah well.

“You truly are an arcanist,” Dar conceded with respect.

She turned, vaguely realizing she’d been in her little zone of concentration and fun unraveling and fixing that poor array. The only person who didn’t look happy was the Sheem.

“She insulted me,” he feebly tried, but his heart wasn’t into it.

“The mark of a true mana engineer,” the screecher mage commented. “For none who ply their craft tolerate comments from the back of the temple, from people whose hands are as idle as their tongues agile. Milord, I believe we have wasted enough time.”

“Very well. You are, without a doubt, an arcanist, Dame Jaratalassi. May I call you Sai?”

Viv curtsied once again. The lord’s gaze wandered to her toned forearms, which she’d revealed when she’d pulled up her sleeves.

Ah, oops.

“And may I ask if you would like to stay for a few days?”

“Milord, I am very grateful for your offer, however my customer needs me. Urgently.”

“Ah yes, indeed,” Lord Dar huffed, though he didn’t insist.

Kit’s eyes narrowed. Viv had done too good a job. Now that he believed she was a reasonably talented arcanist, it was his duty to prevent her from reaching the Sandsong Kingdom lest she actually helped them forge a weapon that could defeat a dragon. As he was about to speak however, a blue guard burst into the room without knocking. Dar stood to all his height before this intrusion. The guard, however, kneeled and spoke immediately.

“Lord Dar! The Sheem ships have taken it upon themselves to board the Opportunity. They are preparing to attack!”

“What is the meaning of this?” Lord Dar roared at the red-robed Kit who didn’t seem too happy with the development.

“I am sure there is a reason for their decision, milord. How can one not expect treachery from such a sordid individual as Kass?”

“How dare your compatriots infringe our sovereignty with such brazen audacity? The nerve! It appears I have been too tolerant and now your gall has grown to unbelievable proportions! Is this how you repay my hospitality? Guards! Seize him!”

Before Kit could react, the second Janar punched him in the face. He fell like a rock before he could even reach for his wand. Viv watched the intruding guard pull him by the feet and thought: boy am I glad it’s not me getting in trouble with the law, for once.

“Quick! To the walls!”

Viv followed the sprinting lord, mage, and the two Janar to a side corridor, and then up narrow winding stairs to the battlements. They all stared out at sea to find that the Opportunity was still pulling out from the pier, blue guards having formed a barrier against red-dressed ones. They had not come to blows yet, nor would they need to. The two warships were converging on the catamaran from the sides. Caught in the bay, Kass would not have the time to accelerate to make use of his ship’s unmatched speed.

“They dare.”

“Milord,” Sin said, “my father…”

“Is a great man. If only we could help him!”

“I shall fly out with my men,” the screecher mage announced.

“Ahem,” Viv interrupted.

Thanks to her earlier demonstration, their opinion of her seemed to have improved because they actually turned to her when she pointed at the ballista.

“Quick, call the siege specialists from the barracks!”

“Actually I'm relatively certain I can operate it,” Viv politely suggested.

“Lady Sai?”

“I have worked on siege equipment before. I am a colorless mana expert, and they tend to use a lot of it.”

“Of course, it is perfectly logical!” the city lord roared.

In reality Viv field tested everything Lak-Tak produced because she wanted to know which specific clause of the Geneva convention her people were going to violate. She jumped on the ballista while the Janar opened the wooden panels and the screecher mage rallied two others to fly down to the port. Viv cranked the string in seconds, then she grabbed a bolt from a storage crate and placed it on the war machine with a satisfactory sound of metal sliding where it belonged.

Dar was now staring at her biceps, taut under the dress because the bolt was on the heavy side. Yeah, that might become a problem later. She supercharged the enchantment and turned the ballista towards the closest red ship. It was maybe thirty seconds away from ramming the fleeing catamaran.

Sin was blocking her way. He looked very surprised.

“It… takes a team to rotate this contraption?” he hazarded.

“Move.”

He did. Thankfully, the ship was so close there wasn’t going to be much fall off. The sights were sensibly the same as they used in Param as well. She still checked the bolt angle, and pinched the string once just to be sure. Yep, solid stuff. She grabbed the lever.

“Loose!” she screamed.

The bolt took off with a loud twang. In the distance, the red warship’s deck exploded in a shower of debris. Its main mast fell on the rear castle with a cacophony of distant screams. It veered off course, and Kass deftly maneuvered the Opportunity so it would avoid getting hit. A few seconds later, the screecher mages engaged the second boat. Arrows were deflected by gray shields. A loud sound, like an incredibly loud cicada, made the water around the ship vibrate in a surreal display. A moment later, all of the ship’s sails fell to pieces.

Viv turned to see that Dar was now standing on the wall below the largest flag. He blew his horn as guards in varied liveries flooded the port.

“My brethren, my friends, hear me! In their arrogance, the Sheem have spat on our hospitality! They have violated their word! Will we bow before them, allowing them to trample us? I think not! To arms, my brothers! TO WAR!” he yelled, his aura flooding the city.

The red guards were piled on with a ferocity that spoke of long-held resentment, including from dockers who either crated or bodied the stragglers.

Viv sat on the battlement as well. She’d been in Vizim for all of two hours. In that short span, she’d passed a trial, sunk a ship, triggered a war, and accidentally seduced a muscle-loving city lord. Things were off to a fantastic start.