The dojo in City A’s palace had rarely been used in the last century before Queen Pristil began her training there, but as it was maintained and cleaned just like almost every other room in the building considered the center of all Aurra, the place felt like it had been locked in time, waiting for a noble to return to it. She wanted to be strong, and the physical exercise of the training helped her deal with the mental stress that came from such a terrible and long conflict. Designed in the same style as Earth’s dojos of the Far East, she enjoyed the room for a secondary reason, as well; it didn’t have any paintings or statues of previous rulers watching her, judging.

  “Faster!” Cadius, her bodyguard and personal trainer pushed her as she kicked and jabbed at his cushioned arms. “Turn your speed into power. And never forget—conserve your alchemagi, turn bone into metal at the last instant, just before impact. Make your hits lethal at the final moment.”

  She bellowed out a loud burst of breath and hit his protected limbs six times in three seconds. Her training time was almost done for the day, and she had energy to spare, so she put everything into her final minutes. It wasn’t to impress him, but rather, simply to push her limits as she always did at the end of a session. At five feet and six inches, she was small compared to the six-and-a-half-foot giant that protected and defended her, and yet she was far fiercer and could hit harder.

  Once she was done with her final bout of attacks, she huffed and caught her breath, wiping the sweat away. Her training clothes were light and left much of her skin exposed—not proper dress for Aurrian royalty, but practical for her chosen combat style that relied on her agility.

  “You’ve grown so much, Tethis…” Cadius breathed out, equally exhausted. He tossed her a towel, adding, “Aurrian martial arts are a nearly forgotten form. Such a shame. But if the time ever comes where you need to use what you’ve learned to protect us, you may single-handedly revive it. Just don’t get carried away against a blade. Arms can’t block those.”

  “That’s what the swords are for,” she replied, giving her arms a few massaging squeezes before grabbing her royal, intricate robes.

  “Tethis,” Cadius said, stopping her before she left the room. “I know that William is scheduled to arrive today. I have serious concerns about his loyalty, and his other motives. Don’t lose a debate with him.”

  “If I could nominate you to be a new pretorian, I would. But I’m afraid that now, with Connarth… The senate may side with his choice.”

  “You made the appointments you felt were the best for Aurra. You never wanted to compromise our values.”

  “No,” she sighed. “I made a mistake with Connarth. What he did in T… I feel no sympathy for him. And I honestly would’ve chosen you.”

  “I appreciate it,” he said and walked her out. “But I’m no officer. I don’t enjoy giving orders. I prefer dedicating myself to just a few people per life and giving them my very best.”

  “I’m thankful for that. I don’t need more loyalty; I need friends.”

  They split off to the gym’s showers, Pristil finishing long after him. After she was a presentable queen again and had slipped into her robes, she made the journey to the middle of the labyrinthian palace, to the grand hall where her advisor and older friend Irietté was waiting for her.

  Made of marble that had been polished and glazed into shades of grays, blues, and golds, the grand hall’s buttressed ceiling was three stories up, with windows running along one side just as tall. The other wall was covered in large, framed paintings of past Aurrian rulers, explorers, military leaders, and scientists. As synthids made it easier to exaggerate Aurrian architecture when desired, the hall was also no less than a quarter-mile long. Irietté could have a full discussion before they got to the other side.

  “Tethis, you overexerted yourself again, I can tell.” Irietté pushed her glasses up with her free hand, the other grasping a folder of papers. “You know how I worry…”

  “I can’t appear weak. And staying active helps.”

  “Oh, but no one thinks you’re weak.”

  “You’re na?ve, or you’re only trying to be supportive as always. I was kept locked away—for my safety, not because I was sick. But when my mother’s life became public, that lie became the truth. And now I really am developing her illness.” She stopped at the portrait of Queen Seriph, as always painted as a benevolent and intelligent ruler. Beside her full name and life dates was the symbol indicating she was a fire adept. “And it doesn’t help that I’m on the shorter side and merely an iron.”

  “Surely alchemagi bias doesn’t still exist. Those of any alignment can become strong and talented. And don’t downplay being a sentinel.”

  “It certainly exists when you hold such a high position. People want a strong figure to look towards in trying times. I hate to admit, but my uncle would have no difficulty maintaining his position these past years.”

  Irietté looked up at Lontonkon’s portrait, or where it would have been—Pristil had it removed when she took power, leaving only the frame. And even though it wasn’t accurate or possible, before he died the man had his symbol changed to the one for nova, thinking he had conquered the forbidden alignment. She looked back down, seeing that Pristil had left her.

  After catching up, Irietté huffed, “You will go down in history as a rational, tactical, and cool-headed queen, Tethis. Aurrians want aggressive action, justice, sometimes revenge. There are too many asking for a high body-count regardless of actual success. You keep us from barbarism.”

  “You’re being dramatic. Anyway… what did you need?”

  Her advisor looked through her papers as they passed by the hall’s decorated and mighty Christmas tree, one of four throughout the palace. The holiday was on its way and would be celebrated despite the war, in the traditional Aurrian ways that were very similar to Earth’s—only without gift exchanges. In their place was a bigger focus on feasts and social gatherings.

  “It’s… the senate, Tethis. After S and Connarth… we did lose the support of three more senators, regarding the pretorians. They can overrule any appointment you give and approve Mr. Drides’ selection instead.”

  Pristil looked to the floor and sighed. “Then our meeting today is only a formality. It’s already too late. If the balance in the pretorians shifts towards his ideals, I fear that this war will only become more destructive.”

  “I’m sure that Mr. Renek and Ms. Anneise can still exert enough pressure to… I—I mean, they’re strong, and respected, and…”

  “Outnumbered. All they can do is loyally see through any egregious task that Drides assigns them. This will be terrible for us.”

  They reached the end of the hall, where a junction led to all of the major rooms of the palace. Pristil turned left to go to the clinic.

  “Do you need medicine?” Irietté asked her.

  “No. It’s just my annual alchestone check.”

  “Are they still stable?”

  “You needn’t worry. We have the best engineer in Aurra.”

  Irietté, still in the space where the hallways met, told her friend, “I have to hand this report to the senate. They’ll be in session shortly.”

  “I understand. Will you be attending dinner tonight?”

  “I believe I can make it,” she said and turned to head off.

  “Irietté,” Pristil stopped her.

  “Yes?”

  “I want you to put some distance between you and Mr. Drides. He’s dangerous and has dangerous ideas. I will continue to work with him as much as necessary, but I don’t want him to influence you.”

  Irietté hesitated but answered, “My loyalty will always be to you.”

  City A’s top alchemagi engineer, Henri Stinebeck, closely examined the implant just above Pristil’s sternum with a magnified alchemeter, which could pick up the slightest crack in the stone or a leak of her reserves, the latter sometimes proving fatal after several weeks. A small jeweled signet on her skin marked the stone’s location and helped protect it from any impact. As unusual as the implant spot was historically, it did provide a unique and balanced increase in power to the stone in each of her wrists.

  “It’s still in excellent condition,” Henri concluded his check. “I’ll move onto the other two. I don’t expect they’re anything less than pristine.”

  Pristil placed her arms on the large chair’s rests, and couldn’t help but briefly admire Henri’s handsome looks. He was her junior, but had been in the profession—and City A—for multiple lifetimes. Unfortunately, he also happened to be close friends with the headmaster of M’s alchemagi academy and played a part in selecting the graduates that would go out and fight, a program that she had strong disagreements with.

  Then again, she didn’t like most of what the war had also forced her to do, the principles it had made her compromise. At some point, she had to look past such things and still show respect for those around her, most of whom were only trying to end the conflict in their own ways.

  “Dr. Stinebeck,” a familiar, almost dreaded voice suddenly said.

  Pristil looked up to see that William Drides had just stepped into the clinic without any prior notice. He had barely changed over the years, other than his newer and already very recognizable red, white, and gold uniform and outer coat. But it was his old mechanical eyepatch that stopped him from accidentally killing everyone around him that was even better known to his allies and enemies alike.

  Pristil spoke first, “William, I hope you’re not just here to gloat.”

  “Now does that sound like something I’d do?”

  “Tipping the senate to your side is no small feat. And so go the pretorians. If you’re here to ask me to give Ms. Camryde my blessings, well, you know how I feel about her family name.”

  “Maybe you don’t have as many enemies as you think you do.”

  “I’m not paranoid. I’m surrounded.”

  “I’ve done my research on Phisa. She’s never served the Guard before, but I think she deserves a chance. She graduated top of her class in K’s military academy, and as an officer, she can come up with creative solutions to counter the tactics used by those kid commanders the Angels have employed. But, unlike them, she can actually fight, as well.”

  “I’m concerned about her stability.”

  “She’s already passed the evaluation. She’s nothing like Trinqit.”

  “And have you still been keeping her on a tight leash?”

  “That’s some coarse language for a queen, Ms. Pristil. But, yes, I’ve been keeping Jenera off of vital battlefields. I think that once you meet with Phisa, your doubts will be eased. I have plans for her.”

  “I know what she did to a prisoner in Z…”

  “Can you blame her? And she did show restraint.”

  “You’re doing well,” Dr. Stinebeck said, finishing his examination. “I may finally be able to say that you’re in the clear, barring any damage to the stones. What about you, Drides? Would you like a quick check-up?”

  He crossed his arms and said with a small sneer, “I’m confident about my stones, thanks.” He then took out his silver pocket watch and checked the time. “Anyway, I have a prior engagement.”

  “Give my regards to Flentek when you see him,” Pristil said. “I’ll be avoiding the senate chamber today.”

  “You should face your fears and disappointments, my queen. They tend to make one stronger, so long as you have the fortitude.”

  She replied sharply, “I don’t need any advice from you, Will.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  With that, Drides left the room and navigated himself to the palace courtyard, in need of the sunlight. It was a large, beautiful, and maintained garden with many fountains, flowers, and statues of more Aurrian cultural figures. It was empty again today, as war gave its potential visitors too many distractions. He wouldn’t be spending anytime admiring the place, either.

  After he used a pristine demirriage scroll to create his personal light carriage, he took it to the front of a laboratory in City O, far to the northeast. The marble steps to the esteemed institute, protected on the inside by an anti-demirriage field, were covered in snow and ice. As was the rest of the City—Drides had arrived while a blizzard was hitting the region, and he hadn’t bothered to bring his second coat.

  No matter; he got inside and out of the cold in seconds, and after some quick security checks, he arrived at the central testing chamber for the City’s portal technology. Dr. Flicker was waiting for him in the control room at the rear of the portal floor. Today, the device in question was of a peculiar shape, although not one unfamiliar to Aurrian iconography.

  “It’s a triangle…” Drides commented and looked at the three sides of the portal machinery, the operators performing last checks on the room’s terminals. “If my historic knowledge is correct, portals last used that shape thousands of years ago. Aren’t their openings not as stable?”

  “We, ah…” Dr. Flicker was clearly still nervous about working with Drides, even after several years. “We’ve forgone our advancements in efficiency and stability to focus purely on power output.”

  “I see. Less surface area to power.”

  “Exactly. If ever there was a chance to open up Earth again…”

  “Are we set to go? How much can you muster this time?”

  “Our engineers have connected us to more substations, and we’re now capable of sending 1.3 terawatts through our facility. But, Mr. Drides, it’s so very cold in O right now, perhaps if we could just delay until this storm moves on… Half of the City may lose power, some sectors for five hours or more, and people are relying on being able to heat their homes.”

  “Don’t they have blankets? They’ll live. At least most of them.”

  Flicker looked at him incredulously, knowing Drides never cared about being doubted, insulted, or talked back to. But he did care very much that his orders were followed out. Going against his morals, the lab’s director initiated all of the systems and began pushing the power throttle up, carefully and slowly. Too impatient of his methodical nature, Drides soon grabbed onto the throttle himself and applied full power.

  The lights went out as a surge of electricity flowed into the triangular portal, the interior space filling with lightning. At its peak, it emitted bursts of light and intense heat, and the lab workers became nervous once the building began to shake. This all lasted for about a minute before the emergency cooling systems kicked in and the available power dwindled. Once the attempt was concluded with no result, the lights came back on and Flicker looked at the recorded data on the computer screens.

  “Damn,” he sighed. “All of that, and we still weren’t close.”

  “We need to be the first to have access to Earth again,” Drides grumbled. “C and Eden’s Burrow must be in a race with us. Whoever gets to the other side first may be the ones that gain a needed advantage.”

  “Aurra just may not be ready yet, Mr. Drides. Until she returns to a neutral energy state with Earth, we… And, in any case, would the first side to Earth really gain such an advantage? I realize the worry is that they could travel anywhere there and come through on the other side, but they’d have no means of… I mean, if we can’t get through with this much power, they would need a way to put all of that into portable form, and…”

  “Stop rambling, Director. We’re confident that Eden is using Earth technology to give themselves a tactical edge. If they were to get even more of it—and now newer computers—that would be bad enough for us.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t heard the rumors. I suppose that would be true.”

  He muttered, “If I had known it would have lasted this long…”

  “Sorry?”

  “Nothing. I have to head back. Keep me updated.”

  “We won’t stop trying, sir. I apologize for the lack of results.”

  “If it can be done, we need to do it first. Just remember that.”

  Drides took his carriage back to A, this time arriving outside the senate building. But by the time he had passed through security, politicians from all over Aurra were already heading out, eager to tend to other matters of the day. The senators were never that quick to a decision, so they must have either been on an early recess, or there was a development they had to be updated on before the session could resume.

  “What happened?” Drides managed to ask the senator from L as he hurried past. “Aren’t you still debating?”

  The senator stopped and turned to him. “Sir Drides! Ah, you’ll be pleased to know that we already reached a decision and adjourned for the hour. In light of what happened to S, we’ll be fast-tracking Ms. Camryde.”

  “That is… unexpected.”

  “Congratulations. I’m sure she’ll get the pretorians back in the right direction. Excuse me.”

  He rushed off before Drides could get in another word. He had assumed she wouldn’t be approved until tomorrow at the earliest.

  “William, my boy!” a boisterous voice called out from the crowded hall. “We’ve done it. We’ve finally done it. Come, celebrate with me.”

  Drides realized who was shouting before he spotted him in the river of politicians. Arthur Camryde, the portly patriarch of a powerful family from K, strode up in his fancy suit, his wide grin and signature white mustache distinguishing himself among the masses.

  “We’ve elevated my family name, and the rest of the League of Flame in the process,” he said and went in for handshake, which Drides turned down with a single glance from his one exposed eye. “Hell, all of K as well. Phisa will be only the third pretorian from the City.”

  “I’m glad you’re happy.”

  “I haven’t forgotten about my side of things. Come, join me in my office for a quick drink and we can talk about how I repay you.”

  “Fine. But I don’t have long. Let’s be brief.”

  “Yes, yes. I too have a busy day, and I don’t wish to delay—I want to go to K and share in the good news with my daughters.”

  As one of the oldest and foremost Aurrian senators, Arthur’s office was nearby and oversized, filled with history books and ornate gifts given to him by his friends and allies. As Drides took a seat at Mr. Camryde’s desk, his host took out a bottle of City V Scotch from his liquor cabinet and grabbed two glasses. Once he sat down and started pouring, Drides covered his offered glass with his hand as his way of turning down the drink as well.

  Arthur sipped and asked, “As you helped keep the name Camryde out of the gutter it has long been heading into… What can I do for you?”

  “I need an army.”

  Arthur looked a little taken aback, or just confused by the request. After another swig, he asked, “Are the pretorians not already an army?”

  “I need a real one, of the proper size. Arthur, the truth is, Phisa was not my first choice. But then I learned that her father is good friends with the general of the Tillethian division of the Guard.”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “What the devil are you playing at?”

  “Mightoria’s division is fiercely loyal to Pristil, and don’t have the war fatigue the other two do. Onasia’s men, despite being on the frontlines of so many battles, have the full support of the kingdom and remain proud of their efforts. Tillethy, on the other hand… Neglected, never knowing where they’ll be sent next, all that oceanic travel… A miserable theater. It’s no wonder they have a reputation of being a little ornery.”

  “You… You want to turn General Fordein’s men against the queen? That’s treason, Drides. I could never be a part of that.”

  “No, it’s not treason. I don’t need them on my side until A falls.”

  “What are you…”

  “Let the fighting continue. But once Pristil surrenders—and she will surrender—and the Tillethian division feels betrayed, let us give a third of the Guard new leadership, a chance to fill the vacuum of power.”

  “You have such little faith in Pristil, and the Guard as whole? They couldn’t even take S. The senate had been worried about such an effort for years, and there were sighs of relief—I’d say that if it weren’t for us losing Connarth, there might’ve been laughter in the chamber the day after…”

  “Anyone who isn’t worried about two stolen full shipments of synthids is an idiot. And Pristil is a weak leader. Everyone sees it. She would rather negotiate with the Angels instead of coming up with new methods to crush them. The senate is in disarray, except for when they panic-vote in new leaders and place all their hope in a sudden turnaround. You can attest to that fact. We only move once she’s lost. But we move quickly.”

  “Is this a test? Are you testing me?”

  “Do you doubt your apostle?”

  “N-no, of course not, but… I’ve always served faithfully…”

  “Help move the League of Flame onto the side that will restore Aurra. Or the soldiers of Tillethy will find their own leaders and continue their war. K has been lucky to have avoided it so far, but what happens to your home when Tillethian tanks are rolling down Rose Street?”

  Arthur considered all of this for a few moments, before downing the rest of his drink in one shot and going in for another handshake. This time, Drides awarded it with reciprocity.

  Sweating, Arthur said, “I should bring this up with Fordein.”

  Pleased with his latest diplomatic efforts, Drides accompanied his new best friend of the day to the senate building’s fibrocator chamber, which had three of the world-traveling devices of the newest model. Having changed forms many times over the centuries, these versions had the appearance of wall-mounted units that looked like phone booths.

  “Tonight, I celebrate with a fine dinner with my daughters,” Arthur told Drides. “First thing tomorrow… I’ll work on our new idea.”

  “I very much appreciate that.”

  “City K,” Mr. Camryde told the room’s operator.

  Once he had stepped into a unit, the man at the terminal started up the system and ran several checks, which quickly made Arthur impatient.

  “What’s taking so long?” he grumbled.

  “Sorry, sir. We’ve added another layer of security. Angels have been intercepting our transport channels, redirecting arrival points.”

  “Well. I suppose if I don’t want to be held for ransom, then. Damn rebels can’t even make the day-to-day for the rest of us easy anymore.”

  Another minute passed before Arthur disintegrated, giving Drides a parting wave just before he disappeared. With a day’s full agenda ahead of him, the young apostle left for his own next destination.

  City K was one of Aurra’s largest, and it covered much of an island in the east, opposite of Japan. Stylistically, however, it couldn’t be more different. Its residences emulated the richest neighborhoods within old Victorian London, whiles its venues and streets copied French architecture.

  Rose Street was Aurra’s version of the Champs-élysées, lined with restaurants and boutiques and terminating at the enormous and decorated Royal Onasia Opera House, topped with a dome made of pure bronze.

  Inside, sitting by herself in the last and highest row and enjoying an early evening show, was a young lady with dyed ghostly white hair, wearing a hood and mechanized, armored plague doctor mask, its lenses zoomed in on the stage two floors below. The theater was only half full. It was an old play, sure—and she had seen it twice already—but the low occupancy was also the result of war diverting the public’s focus from art and culture.

  The play was a loose Aurrian adaptation of Macbeth, remade to tell the story of a mythical Aurrian king who gave up part of his soul to a witch in a trade for power, which eventually drove him mad.

  Content with enjoying it alone and from far away without the distraction of nearby patrons, Phisa became a bit frustrated when she realized someone with the theater staff was approaching her. A well-dressed man quietly approached her just as a climactic battle scene between the king and a royal traitor had begun.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Camryde,” he whispered. “You have an important phone call. You can take it down below in the booth.”

  She said nothing but did get up and follow him out onto the mezzanine and then into an elevator.

  “Are you enjoying the performance, ma’am?” he asked.

  Her voice coming from a small speaker hidden at the front of the bird-like mask, Phisa replied, “I was thinking… Perhaps they should create a modernized version with Lontonkon as the crazed king.”

  “Ah. I couldn’t comment on that. I am merely an usher, not a playwright or… political commentator.”

  “He did get what he deserved,” Phisa mused as the elevator doors opened. “Even just for destroying the Xin family clan.”

  Sparing him the burden of a response, she headed straight to the phone booth. Like any City that had service, it was strictly for local calls; only government and Guard buildings had long-distance capability. Once inside, she lowered her mask and spoke with her unfiltered voice.

  “Yes?”

  “Phisa! It’s your father. Come home and join us for dinner. And fetch Andrine on the way, if you happen to see her.”

  “Dad. I’m on the third act. You know it’s the best of the four.”

  “Osir the Mad will be playing for another month—you’ll have plenty of time to see it again. I wouldn’t interrupt you if this weren’t so important. You’re in with the pretorians, my dear! The senate just confirmed that Drides’ has majority rule of the troop, and as you were pre-approved, that meant you made it as soon as the votes were cast. You did it!”

  Phisa, not one to let her emotions often come to the surface, let herself smile, and the phone’s brass receiver slid in her hands just a bit.

  “Has Lenox Crawn been told yet?”

  “No, no—let’s keep this purely in the family for now.”

  “But, Dad, Lenox will be thrilled. The League of Flame will get its good name back after Viktor Wulf ruined us two centuries ago.”

  “Let’s not talk about that. Let’s just be grateful today that William has spoken so highly of… of us all of these years, restored confidence in the League. Now come. We will have our Christmas feast early.”

  “Have the servants begun preparing it yet? I’ve had a craving for Mary’s candied yams. And a goose from the finest synthids…”

  “Yes, yes, dear. Just come home before we eat it all without you.”

  Phisa hung up, moved her mask back in place, and paused mid-step in front of the theater’s grand staircase just for a moment, to hear the applause that always followed the death speech of Osir’s good-hearted brother, who falls in a duel of alchemagi and blade with his only sibling.

  She didn’t have the patience or desire to search the City for her younger sister, not when there was a celebratory meal that had its warmth at stake, but she would be thoughtful this evening and make the slight detour to her possible current locations. Not far from Rose Street were the best manors in the City, all of them three stories tall, each designed just as they were for the nobles of Victorian London. On one of the neighborhood’s side streets, near a small park, was a statue Andrine obsessed over.

  After turning into the street and walking past storefronts being decorated with Christmas lights and garland, she arrived at the old marble statue, which had once been the bane of the local Guard. They attempted to have it removed and destroyed many times, but the local historians and its creator managed to save it from each effort. Now it served as a reminder of the past, more of a piece of classic cautionary folklore than the seditious warning to the Guard that it was once perceived as.

  Sitting on the park’s one bench, making another drawing of the mostly forgotten work of art that had been relegated to what was little more than a back alley, was Andrine, the middle sister of the Camryde daughters. Her hair was in its natural state, strawberry blond. Her pale, childlike face almost acted as a mask of her own, as it made her look younger than the twenty-year-old that she had recently become. But it fit her; universally, she was by far the youngest of the sisters, and something of a curiosity for it.

  “The witch again?” Phisa moaned. “There are better places to spend your days. Why are you so obsessed with making art of her?”

  Andrine looked up from her sketchbook, visibly annoyed. “Why are you obsessed with dressing like that? You look like you escaped from an asylum, especially at this time of year.”

  Phisa laughed at the remark before comparing her sister’s sketch to the statue. Both depictions made the Witch of the Tillethian Winds look fearsome yet beautiful, keen and commanding of her followers. In hooded garbs that covered her long black hair, she held a book of watairre spells with one hand and pointed towards her coming victims with the other.

  The elder Camryde leaned down on the back of the bench and came in close, bringing her mask’s speaker right next to Andrine’s ear.

  “The witch from Osir was inspired by her, wasn’t she?”

  Andrine groaned and corrected her, “What? No. This ‘witch’ first reportedly appeared on K’s island about seventy years after the play; 1680 or so. They say she’d appear again every few years, kill hundreds of Guardsmen in a rage, and disappear again. They started thinking she was immortal… and her last known sighting was all the way into 1795.”

  “Well. Aren’t you just the history lover.”

  “Everything I just said is on the plaque.”

  “Sure, but still, leave it to a newsoul to come to Aurra and slobber all over its history, while the real historians just study and try to get it right.”

  “Did you just come here to annoy me, Phisa?”

  “Sometimes. But, today, I’m fetching you for a special dinner.”

  “And what’s special about it?”

  Phisa lowered her mask so Andrine could see her genuine smile and excited eyes before replying, “I’m about to become a pretorian.”

  “Oh. God, Phisa… So, you’re going to kill and get yourself killed.”

  “Nice. That’s the first thing you want to say to me.”

  “Five pretorians have died in the last four years alone. You should really just stay out of it. It hasn’t even hit us yet.”

  “And maybe thanks to me, it never will.”

  “Are you doing this to help the family, or the League, or do you just want to murder people like the rest of Mr. Drides’ bloodthirsty gang? Honestly, the pretorians are basically extrajudicial mercenaries. They take their name from Roman defenders of royalty, but really they only—”

  “Holy hell, Andrine, go find a soapbox already. All we want to do is end this war and save lives. We could double our aggression and prevent half of the total deaths we would’ve suffered otherwise.”

  “I know how aggressive you can be in combat. I saw some of your duels at the academy, remember? I don’t want to be the sister of a mass murderer, even if it’s ‘justified’ because you have orders…”

  “I’m not having this pointless debate. Just come to dinner.”

  Andrine closed her sketchbook, got up, and without another word followed Phisa back to the Camryde manor. She had grown up with the comforts of wealth, protection, and a large house that she didn’t mind, as the place was old and full of history. But she had never really felt a strong connection to her family. And the fact that they all had past Aurrian lives they liked to talk about and she didn’t was only a small part of the reason.

  There was a time, maybe ten years ago now, when she did get along well with her sisters. Once the youngest, Risar, got her full recall abilities at age four, they would often share stories or make up new ones in their front yard, which was spacious for an inner-City estate. But now the lawns were covered in snow, and their favorite oak assuredly dead, having withered by summer’s end, perhaps due to age or the new colder climate, or both.

  After traversing their brick path to the door, Phisa knocked and was greeted by Mary, the head of the house’s three servants. She guided them into the dining room, which could seat twelve and was on many nights host to political friends and other K socialites. Tonight looked like just a family occasion celebrating Phisa’s latest accomplishment.

  Arthur Camryde was waiting and dressed formally, talking with an excited Risar. She was in her finest black and white dress, nearly matching her dark brown hair. The sisters shared a father, but he used three different surrogates to build his legacy, and the girls barely looked alike. The bubbly sixteen-year-old seemingly belonged to a different family entirely.

  “Phisa!” Risar exclaimed and ran up to her, ignoring Andrine. “It’s amazing! I’m going to be a pretorian one day, too.”

  Phisa removed and hung up her outer cloak and her mask on the nearby rack, replying with a smile, “It’s going to be a lot of hard work, you know. I’ve already set my next goal: lead a regiment and retake a City.”

  “Lofty as always,” Arthur said and gave her a quick hug. “You’re more ambitious than even I can be, my dear. Mary! Is dinner ready?”

  She and the two other servants came out of the kitchen, each carrying a silver platter filled with traditional Aurrian yuletide cuisine. The four soon took their seats, with Andrine sitting by Risar, whom she could at least tolerate more than Phisa most of the time.

  After Andrine grudgingly joined a toast that her father initiated, she asked the only question on her mind, “When does she head out?”

  Arthur answered, “Ah, that’s right. I’ve been told they want you right away, Phisa. First thing in the morning, you’ll take the fibrocator to the pretorian castle in City A. That alone is quite an honor; so few have been inside it. I’m not sure if you’ll deploy right away, and you can always visit home, but I assume you’ll introduce yourself to the others.”

  “The way things are going, she may be sent out the day after. We have our disagreements, Phisa, but I don’t want you to do anything stupid. If you see a Nolland… Don’t fight them. Leave them to Drides or Trinqit.”

  “They don’t scare me,” she scoffed.

  “I’m sure that’s what all the others he’s killed thought, too! Why won’t the Guard start… start treating them like the real threat that they are? Garder alone has killed, what, three or four pretorians?”

  “She has a point,” Risar said and grabbed a bread roll. “You do need to be careful out there. If you see that monster, you should call in a few artillery strikes or something on his head. You know, just to be safe.”

  “Anyone’s he killed just made a serious mistake somewhere,” Phisa assured. “I don’t make those. And I will be the one that ends him. I make that promise right here and now. Our family name will forever be restored.”

  “All right, enough talk about who we’re killing and war and the like,” Arthur bemoaned. “This is a happy night, girls. Now dig in.”

  Andrine was the only one at the table who was reserved in having a feast. She was more focused on taking in the sight of perhaps the last family dinner they would have together.

  Early the next morning, the sisters gathered in K’s fibrocator chamber, located within its government plaza. Phisa had chosen to arrive in City A and the castle in her full outfit, only otherwise carrying a small bag of personal things. A few goodbyes were exchanged before she headed to the transport platform, where she turned around and put on her mask.

  “Will you be back for Christmas?” Risar asked her.

  “Maybe the day before or after,” Phisa’s digitized voice replied. “On the day itself… I may have plans with my new friends.”

  “Oh. Well… just come visit before winter break is over and I have to go back to Evirtide,” Risar said, referring to M’s famous academy.

  “I’ll try. And, Andrine—I’ll see if I can get you a visitor’s pass so you can see the Grandis history museum in A. See? I do think of you.”

  Admittedly excited about the prospect, Andrine replied, “Thanks.”

  Arthur joined his daughter, taking position on the neighboring platform to head to his daily workplace across the ocean. After a quick goodbye to his two other girls and once the transit line was checked by the operator, they both disappeared into beams of light from above.

  Once they arrived, Phisa followed her father straight to the pretorian castle, down the wide silver brick road that terminated at the royal palace. She took in the sights of A as much as she could, having never before been to the City some still considered holy. But her interest and focus were squarely on making a good first impression.

  The castle, though elegantly constructed in dark gray stone with sapphire accents, was smaller than she thought it would be; maybe about twice the size of her own manor. But as it only had six permanent residents, she knew she shouldn’t have been too surprised. Its high walls and small windows gave it privacy and security, which she certainly appreciated.

  “Remember, don’t show any fear,” Arthur offered some parting words. “They will be your allies, but you’ll need to earn their respect.”

  “Thank you for helping me get here, Dad.”

  “Yes… And you’ll probably want to enter with your mask down.”

  She needed verification to enter in any case, so she revealed her face to the gate’s security camera. The heavy metal doors unlocked and slid open, and the rest of City A disappeared behind Phisa once they closed again. The castle had a small courtyard and garden, and statues of famous pretorians from the past—the newest depicting the veteran Axil Breen—but she had doubts that the current ones spent much time in the space.

  Two servants clad in the castle’s traditional hooded black robes opened the front door for her, and then guided her up the grand staircase and to the conference room on the second floor, where they were waiting.

  The room had a checkerboard marble floor, red curtains, and more paintings of pretorians from older eras. Behind Drides, sitting in a large elevated chair, was a hanging golden shield with both the old triangular crest of the Guard and the newer infinity symbol. Orbiting a round table were the other pretorians, with Phisa’s seat empty and waiting for her.

  “Ms. Camryde, welcome,” Drides started. “Becoming a pretorian is a high honor, but remember that you still take orders when we work together. If not from me, then from Jenera Trinqit, or Kae Anneise.”

  He gestured to the tallest person in the room, a woman with short black hair, piercing eyes, and golden-brown skin. She was a powerful solar, and combined with her Middle Eastern appearance, her talent gave her a colloquial title in some Guard circles: the Egyptian Sun Goddess. Her skill with light was as famous as her professionalism as an officer on the field. She was known as being loyal to Pristil and for debating often with Drides, yet he also respected her and relied on her wisdom on the battlefield.

  Keeping her hands clasped and greeting Phisa with a nod, Kae told her, “I’ve heard that you too are something of a skilled tactician.”

  “Perhaps, but not so much over an entire field of battle, ma’am,” Phisa replied modestly. “I’ve always wanted to command a squad, though.”

  “Gause Lenal is another strategist,” Drides said, introducing the middle-aged man with short graying hair. “He runs our espionage and small-team strike operations. He’s about to leave for a mission in W, so you won’t work with him anytime soon.”

  “Mind adept,” he said, seemingly gloating about it as he picked dust off his jacket. “I always make the right decisions, very quickly.”

  “Charles Renek is our intelligence gatherer and when possible, he runs counter-intelligence against the Angels.”

  “And their sympathizers,” the shorter, rather plain man with messy hair added. “But we don’t share everything with the rest of the Guard.”

  “The pretorians didn’t always used to be so focused on gathering intel or commanding others,” Phisa commented.

  Drides explained, “War necessitated a change, and we became more focused on electing those who could also be officers, but we can still show our true power—the kind that’s made us feared for centuries.”

  “Oh, I’m certain. But I’m curious, Mr. Renek, how do you sneak around so easily? How could a pretorian, someone recognizable, be a spy? Do you rely on alchemagi? I… actually don’t even know your alignment.”

  “Silver,” he replied. After he watched her subtle reaction, he clarified, “I’m very proficient with all the base alignments—I had to be to become the first silver pretorian in modern memory. But, no, I don’t actually use alchemagi in that way. I simply blend in very easily.”

  Trinqit added, “He looks so ordinary, he often slips in and out of places effortlessly. And he’s strong for a silver, rivaling, say, General Rivia.”

  “Rivia…” Phisa muttered.

  “Jenera is third in command,” Drides continued. “If you’re with Lenal or Renek, just… work with them in whatever situation you’re in.”

  “Strongest known vector adept in the world,” she said and raised her right arm, everything including and past the wrist mechanical and gloved. “Even after I lost my original casting hand.”

  “A testament of your willpower, I suppose,” Phisa said. “And what about the man I’m replacing? I’ve heard little about Connarth.”

  “A Pristil appointee who never fully trusted the other half of us,” Drides sighed. “I told him his plan to risk two freighters just to have a chance at killing Garder was idiotic, but he did it anyway.”

  “But I may have a chance against him.”

  “Oh? That’s quite the proclamation.”

  “I will melt his ice, disrupt his air currents with my heat, and turn his water into steam. If he lets his guard down, I will boil him from the inside out, but rip him apart with my scythe before he explodes.”

  Trinqit raised an eyebrow, looked at Drides, then back at Phisa.

  “And I thought Jenera could be gruesome…” Renek murmured.

  “Where is this famous scythe of yours, anyway?” Trinqit wondered.

  Phisa swept back her cloak to reveal the storage disc on her belt. She gave it a tap, and her monstrous scythe materialized in her hands. It was made of pure metal, with a double-sided pointed curved blade at the top bolstered by the rocket booster at its end, currently dormant.

  “It weighs ninety pounds,” she explained, grasping the handle and swooping it across the air. “I have the strength training to use it, but that doesn’t mean I want to lug it around all day.”

  “You have a synthesizer disc… But those can’t hold fuel.”

  “I carry that with me. Should I demonstrate?”

  “Actually,” Kae spoke up, “I was hoping to see you exhibit your entire, let’s say, fighting style—along with the message you try to convey.”

  “The message, Anneise?” Trinqit scoffed. “The plague doctor mask, her blood-red cloak, the scythe? She’s trying to go for a big scary death motif. She wants to terrify anyone she fights… with clichés.”

  “Close,” Phisa replied. “But, for the record, I think the imagery used, and the perception of death across centuries and worlds is ridiculous. It’s a beautiful thing to both transition to a new life, and to end the threat that our enemies represent. I dress this way to mock the fear of death.”

  “I don’t believe the Angels will think about all of that when they see you charging at them in that getup.”

  “No. That was just my personal reasoning. In battle, I’m confident I can paralyze my enemies with fear, at least for the few seconds I need to get close. I use fear as a weapon, a suggestion of imminent death.”

  “I, too, dabble a bit,” Trinqit said with a smile.

  “Mr. Drides. Permission to speak freely?” Phisa asked him.

  “Hm? Um, sure. Say whatever you want.”

  “Ms. Trinqit, we aren’t the same. I’m doubtful we can be friends.”

  Her smile disappeared and she replied sharply, “What?”

  “Your reputation speaks for itself. You enjoy pain—inflicting pain on others, just because you can. That’s a sickness, a gateway to torture. I don’t share whatever insecurities you have that make you need to do that.”

  Trinqit looked at her incredulously and crossed her arms. “But didn’t you beat a man to within an inch of his life in Z last year?”

  “That was a personal matter, it’s not something I need to do again, and I didn’t feel any enjoyment in my actions. It doesn’t compare.”

  “You insulant…” Trinqit stopped when she saw Drides eyeing her in her peripheral vision. “This ‘fear’ and ‘pain’ nonsense… I’ve stood up for you for seven years. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me.”

  “I appreciate that, and I will follow your orders, but we aren’t going to bond or become ‘sisters.’ I have only disdain for your philosophy.”

  “Now listen, I won’t—” Trinqit suddenly closed her mouth when Kae raised her hand and gave her a stern gaze.

  She asked, “Perhaps we could see a demonstration, Ms. Camryde?”

  “Yes, I’d like to see this… weaponized fear,” Renek added.

  Phisa obliged, taking one of her three vials of rocket fuel from her left side and dropping it into her weapon’s tank. She fired up the burners, and even on idle, she had to keep a strong grip on the vibrating weapon.

  “It holds maybe a minute’s worth of fuel, so I save it for strong opponents… But for everyone else, this is often enough.”

  She put her mask back on, activated the red lights in their goggles, deepened her speaker’s tone, and pushed her fire alchemagi into the scythe. Most of the weapon was made of durable Aurrian steel, but the very edge of the blade was lined in crystal and lit up into bright orange plasma.

  “Look on my works, and despair…” she quoted Ozymandias in a deep, distorted voice. “Those against the Guard, all shall fall.”

  She used her rocket booster to slash the air with great power and speed, leaving behind a hot burning trail of embers. She did this twice more with little effort, before dropping the act and her mask.

  “So, yeah…” she huffed. “Clichés. But ones still effective.”

  Everyone looked at Drides for a reaction. He worked up to a grin.

  “Phisa, let’s get your pretorian implants in right away.”

  Many hours later, Pristil woke up in her chamber, just as she always did within a few minutes of five in the morning. Outside of her window, the sky was dark and cloudy, absorbing much of City A’s light.

  Not long after she had dressed, there was a knock at her door. She opened it to find a rather nervous and young intelligence officer, probably one of the few that was assigned to work such an hour. Escorted by two royal guards, he was apologetic just for bothering her so early.

  “S-sorry, my lady, but I was told this was very important…”

  “It’s all right, I’m always up this early. What do you have for me?”

  “There was an incident in City V.” He took out a sealed folder and handed it to her. “The full details are inside.”

  “Is it an emergency? Why’d they rush you up here?”

  “I wasn’t allowed to look inside, but… it feels like may be a photograph in there. Sorry, ma’am. Excuse me.”

  He left with the guards, and she closed the door. Once she was at her desk, she turned on the lamp and broken open the seal, curious and a touch worried about the contents inside.

  There was a single document in the form of a telegraph concerning a non-critical and recent incident in V, a black and white photograph that had been taken from a distance, and a hand-written letter from City A’s chief of intelligence, one of the few officers that she considered a friend.

  “Queen Pristil, during the incursion in City V, land surveyors in an airship that happened to be in the area managed to photograph one of the attackers. We are confident that she is Rayna Carthy, whose fate following the Red Caspianti island incident previously remained unknown.

  “We would both ask if you could confirm our suspicions, and let you know of this possibility. We should discuss if her existence threatens the throne and what it means that she is working against us.”

  Pristil picked up the photograph and stared at the young girl’s face. Though the image didn’t have much detail, the child’s appearance was unmistakable. Her hand began to tremble, and she soon dropped the silver gelatin print onto her desk.

  There was no doubt in her mind. Her uncle’s egregious science project had produced a replica of her mother.