Hadra’s expression bore a curious mixture of utter glee and abject panic.

  Uraleka and I were both walking beside the two young guards, while Hadra seemed to be struggling to keep up. She was afraid. Terrified, really. For her, this had always just been dreams and stories. I was personally afraid for her, but I had seen an echo of how April had acted the first time she left home.

  Scary and exciting. That cold pit of dread, wondering if she could make it or if she’d just made a huge mistake. I knew how Hadra was feeling right now. Except… perhaps not. This world had no cell phones, no easy access to home. No support.

  The Duchess wanted her weaver, and in this world, nobles weren’t ignored. There was no easy way to call home, either.

  The guards were scared, too, but for a very different reason.

  Uraleka did not have the body one might expect of a weaver. That had never been more apparent than it was right now, with the warhammer slung casually over her shoulder, wearing leather armguards and pants.

  Uraleka Weaver had a bit of a reputation of her own in Pemolar’s Hill. She had a well-known morning workout routine, and she would often spend time at the bar when the summers were hot, and the need for clothes was lower. She was the best cook in town, and it seemed she was a competent fighter as well. I didn’t think she took any pride in that, though.

  She, much like Elsee, was bound by expectations and saw her less traditionally feminine attributes as a blemish, rather than something that made her unique. Part of me wanted to tell her that, but I didn’t think she’d believe me. She was still a bit scary sometimes, but my definition of scary had changed a lot in the past few weeks.

  Why, under the heavens, she was jealous of her daughter’s weaving talent when she had so many other interests and skills, I couldn’t fathom.

  Hadra must’ve taken more after her father than her mother, because Uraleka was broad and tall, while Hadra was petite and only a bit taller than me. I didn’t know that for sure as I’d never met her father. He’d died at the rift when Hadra and I were both too young to remember him.

  With a little convincing, all five of us had set off toward the northern road to meet this Captain Retham. I wasn’t strictly required to come, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave Hadra alone when our time together might suddenly be measured in hours instead of years.

  We approached the Northern outpost quickly and were immediately noticed by the locals manning the watch. The Denarlan Guard’s armor might as well have been a neon sign.

  “No soup, Mera!? What gives?”

  I grinned. “Maybe I’ll feed you pepper paste, Fred!”

  “Mera?” came a sudden, shocked voice I knew all too well. I winced.

  Mom looked… odd, dressed in robes and carrying a small rapier. The thing was ornate and really threw up some red flags about Mom lying to me when she said she’d been a scribe in Estermont. Her red hair had mixed with my dad’s blonde tones to create the almost orange color of my own, but I rarely saw it tied back like it was now.

  “Elmerina Farmer, what the hell are you doing here?” Mom snapped as she appeared out of the picket lines like a vengeful wraith. “Your ankle isn’t fully healed, your arm is wrapped up like a corpse, and you’re traipsing around out here–!? Why have you left the bar, young lady?”

  “Well, good afternoon to you, Atrinaska,” Uraleka said with a chuckle.

  “Afternoon Ura, wonderful to see you. And you as well, of course, Hadra. Mera, explain! Wait… Hadra?” Mom’s tone managed to flip-flop between cordial, enraged, and confused all over the course of a moment as she looked between me, the Weavers, and the two city guards.

  Then, realization. She’d always been quick.

  She turned to the two young guards, her ire rising.

  “So… Denarla didn’t send reinforcements. They sent an extraction for their new pretties,” Mom said bitterly. “Dobretin owes me a silver.”

  “Was pretty much my thought,” Uraleka said.

  “And how did you get mixed up in this? Was Hadra at the bar?” she asked.

  I hesitated for only a moment before shaking my head. “I was at the Weaver’s Hut.”

  Credit where credit was due, Mom seemed to take in my tiny defiance with both irritation and acceptance. I’d been at the bar for days. She knew it wasn’t reasonable for me to just stay there permanently, and perhaps this little bit of disobedience was normal.

  Or… perhaps she’d give me the tongue lashing of the century as soon as we weren’t in public.

  “Well, I suppose we’re off to see the city guard,” she said, before looking to Hadra. “It… it is well that one of us will definitely be safe.”

  “I haven’t decided to go yet, though!” Hadra said. “I can’t just leave!”

  Desten Guard, irritated by yet another new addition to this growing menagerie, finally had enough of holding his tongue. “We were just supposed to bring Lady Ilhadira. I don’t think–!”

  “Shut up, boy,” Mom snapped. A fire lit in her eyes that wasn’t at all metaphorical.

  Desten, suddenly pale, shut up.

  Mom turned to me and sighed. “I suppose telling you to go back to the bar would be pointless?”

  I gave her a half-lidded stare. My best friend might be leaving forever. Why did she even ask?

  “Right. Well, let's get on with it. Dobretin is already there,” she said before turning and walking through the pickets like she owned the entire camp.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  We walked on through behind her. Uraleka shook her head at her friend's antics. I looked to Hadra, and we both shared a nervous laugh. Desten’s face was flushed and Esmerla looked as cowed as Desten.

  We continued on through the watchpost, striding out past the blockades. As we did, I took the time to glare daggers at Fedenat, who’d decided shouting my name for the entire camp to hear was a great idea.

  To his credit, he winced with an apologetic grin. It would not save him. Not that there was any reasonable expectation that Mom wouldn’t have seen me passing by anyway, but still! It was the principal! If I got chewed out, that shit would roll downhill!

  This watchpost was the one that we had put the least effort into. Attacks from monsters were much more likely to come from the east or west, and it was even less manned now than it normally was. I didn’t know how Dobretin had found out about the soldiers so quickly, when I was sure I’d been one of the first to hear about them from Teskin, but it seemed he’d already re-allocated some people from this watch to the east and west, taking advantage of the extra soldiers camped just up the road.

  Mom… was not the most martially inclined. In fact, before seeing her pull that saber out of an old chest, I wouldn’t have believed she owned a weapon, and I was confident she wasn’t very good with it.

  No one knew about her fire magic, though. One of the main reasons she’d been so willing to take over the pepper pit was that it was private, and she could practice with little fear of being bothered by anyone but me, and maybe Dad.

  The camp was not a long way past the pickets, and it was larger than I’d expected. At least twenty men and women had set up a series of tents and cookfires in a small semi-circle off the road.

  A makeshift table had been unfolded and set up where a harried guard captain was sitting and staring at paperwork. Scouting reports, perhaps? I didn’t know what a field guard captain would do with a desk, but it seemed today’s agenda was being accosted by our mayor. The guard captain looked distressed, but Dobretin looked quite happy.

  “So that means you will need to stay for about three days, correct? I’ll make certain to have Edra and Lupkep, they’re the owners of the bar, bring you out the finest meals our kitchen can cook up!”

  I blinked.

  “Th-that… our orders are to–!” The flustered captain seemed to be struggling to keep up with Dobretin’s rapid-fire words.

  “Yes, I know your loyalty to the Duchess is paramount and all that, but surely you aren’t so eager to take a young girl from her home? She’s spent her entire life here, man! Do you have any children?”

  “I have… I have three. Two boys and a girl,” he said.

  “Good man,” Dobretin replied. Something in his tone felt entirely different from the last time I’d talked to him. Too charismatic. “Think about your girl. What if she got a talent and the duchy was coming to take her away? You’d be excited, sure, but would you be ready to immediately see her off!?”

  “Well I–!”

  “Of course not! You’d need time. Days, perhaps a week at least to make sure you’d said your goodbyes, and confirmed that the people you were sending your daughter off with have her best interests at heart!”

  “Yes but–!”

  “So, in the interest of making sure our little wonder girl manages to be happy, you’d definitely want to give her a few days to mull over–!”

  “Sir!” the overwhelmed guard captain finally seemed to have had enough. “Our orders are to convey miss Ilhadira back to the capital as soon as possible!”

  “Of course, of course,” Dobretin said, as if that’s what he’d been saying all along. “And it would be absolutely impossible to just take a girl from her home without at least letting her get used to the idea, and say goodbye to everyone, right? A minimum of three days. That is as soon as possible!”

  “You… have something of a point. But don’t think I can’t see what you’re trying to do, Mayor,” the captain snapped.

  “Making sure one of my residents is excited for her new life in the city and leaves with no regrets?” he asked.

  “Snagging my men to help defend you from monsters for half a week,” he replied.

  “A happy coincidence!” Dobretin said cheerfully.

  The captain barked a laugh.

  “You’re lucky I’m not more of an asshole. There are other guards who’d have drawn a sword on you by this point.”

  “If you’d had a different attitude, you’d have met an entirely different man, I assure you.” Dobretin insisted.

  “Ugh. Mayors…” The man grumbled. “Fine. Three days, but no more.”

  I was quietly amazed. This was the diplomacy skill in action, and I suddenly desperately wanted it. Dobretin basically told the man to his face that he was manipulating him, and it didn’t even matter.

  “Wonderful! Oh, and here she is now!” Dobretin exclaimed, pretending to have just noticed our approach.

  The guard hadn’t noticed us, and blinked at the somewhat large party heading up the road with his two youngest ranks. Poor Desten hadn’t said a word since Mom had told him to shut up, and Esmerla was quietly poking at him, amused.

  “Guards Desten and Esmerla,” the captain said as we approached. He stood, and the two guards saluted as they neared him, left hand to right shoulder, clasped in a fist. Their metal armor clanked loudly.

  “Captain Retham!” they both barked, surprisingly serious.

  The guard captain saluted back before lightening his stance.

  “Well done,” he replied. “I assume this is the family?”

  “Uh… yes, sir,” Desten replied. “Apologies. They insisted on coming.”

  “As well they should,” the captain replied. “The Mayor here is a weasel, but he’s not wrong.”

  Dobretin seemed to preen like that was a compliment.

  He turned to us and immediately realized who Hadra was, eyes focusing on her. Something about her nervousness and expression probably made it obvious to him.

  “Are you Ilhadira Weaver?” He asked, kindly.

  “Y-Yes,” she said.

  He nodded. “My name is Captain Retham, and I’ve been sent by Duchess Astra Denarla to bring you on as Weaver to the Duchy. Is it safe to assume this lovely woman is your mother?”

  Uraleka scowled. “Flattery is not going to make this easier, captain.”

  “Nothing ever does,” he said. “Nothing except the firm knowledge that your daughter will have a better life in the Duchy. Especially with the rift break and the war with Eschal.”

  Uraleka’s icy features melted a little.

  “Eschal!? So… the rumors are true?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid so. No one is quite sure why they’ve invaded but they certainly have. A muster is going through Denarla and Tacuria as we speak to repel the invaders. Denarla is far from the incursion, and the invasion has been stalled over a hundred miles to the east. Denarla will be one of the safest places for you to be, Miss Weaver.”

  “Wh-what if… what if I refuse?” Hadra asked. “We were just attacked, Captain! The town needs bandages and new clothes and refugees are pouring in–!”

  “All of which can and should be handled by me, Hadra,” Uraleka interrupted. “He is right… you will be safer and happier in Denarla. You deserve to be there, too. Your talent is… once in a lifetime, and you shouldn’t waste it here.”

  “Mom…?” Hadra asked. “I… I thought you didn’t want me to go?”

  “I want you to be safe. I’m angry that you aren’t being given a true choice in the matter, and that Denarla can just pick up commoners like baubles on the street… but no one could deny your talent.”

  “She’s right,” I said. “Your talent is unbelievable, Hadra. Both the normal one and the system one. You’re gonna make the most beautiful things.”

  The girl blushed fondly.

  “Okay… I… okay. I guess. I guess I’ll be going to Denarla.”

  “In three days,” the mayor piped up.

  “In three days,” the captain agreed.

  Mom, who had remained surprisingly quiet throughout the entire conversation, enveloped Hadra in a hug.

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