The delegations from other provinces were arriving tomorrow, and Aelia went over the instructions with everyone for...well, she’d lost count of how many times. Or rather, Esharah had talked her out of marking down in her notebook how many times they’d gone on variations of the instructions, so she hadn’t been able to keep count. Apparently, Aelia’s stress rose each time she marked one of the repetitions. Which was confusing, because her mind seemed to compel her to do so, and she couldn’t fathom why such an urge would manifest if it was self-destructive.

  “We are considered representatives of Septentrion,” Aelia reminded her assembled group. “Our behavior not only reflects others’ views of Septentrion and Hellfrost, but also, potentially, their willingness to believe our words and provide support in the coming conflict. The other delegations will be composed of influential individuals, and we must treat them with the courtesy their positions deserve.”

  “Deserve,” Janaya muttered, quietly enough that the comment was probably meant only for herself, but with such a lack of volume control that it was clearly audible to the entire room.

  “Aye, even if they are fools,” Sunshine added. “Especially if they are fools. Fools must be treated with special courtesy. They are so fragile, after all, and easily spooked. If you startle a flock of such sheep, they may stampede right off into the village and crush some poor child selling flowers to pay for her ma’s medicine. You wouldn’t want that poor girl’s death on your hands, would you?”

  Somehow, the convoluted metaphor appeared to reach Janaya, because she nodded slowly. Esharah’s mind offered no answers, only matched Aelia’s bewilderment.

  “So, we will all be on our best behavior?” Aelia waited for verbal confirmation from them all (well, all except Mensikhana) before continuing. It still took a while for the last voice (Katrin’s this time) to acknowledge the question. Between the maledictus and the hellfire vis, Aven seemed to have gathered all the most difficult women in Hellfrost together. Esharah found that thought ironic for some reason.

  Aelia took a deep breath before continuing, “I will remind you all that even if the situation becomes...tense, violence would be unwise. It is highly likely that the other delegations will be accompanied with their own 4th Circle vis. I am well aware that such vis can be...” she searched for the proper word. “Territorial? Provocateurs? In any case, I would ask that you, as much as possible, avoid their notice. Governor Iraias’ 4th Circle commissars should handle such interactions. We will be asked to testify as to the situation in Hellfrost and speak of our experiences with the void. I trust you are prepared for that?”

  Her gaze went to Aven, then Mensikhana, receiving confirmation from each. Esharah would also assist in the report, as would Ouron, since his status as a titled veteran gave his word a degree of standing that the others lacked. Janaya as well would speak on the creation of voidglass, a prospect that gave Aelia more anxiety than all the others combined.

  While delegations were arriving tomorrow, barring any unexpected delays, the formal conference will begin in two days. Tomorrow was, in theory, a more informal event. A demonstration of Northstar’s hospitality. That, at least, was not a task at all in Aelia’s hands. Nor did she envy whoever had the task of playing host to such disparate personalities. With the arrival of the other provinces’ delegates, Northstar was about to become a very crowded, and possibly dangerous, place.

  And for her part, Aelia was tired. She’d been going over the details of this conference for what felt like an eternity. Already, she missed Hellfrost. There, success and failure were visible. Successful management meant great quarry yields, a safe populace, good food distribution, improved infrastructure. Here, success just seemed to mean the Governor’s judgment was mollified for another day. With the arrival of the other delegations, even that small satisfaction would be gone. She’d have to convince a dozen people who’d never even seen a voidspawn that the fate of the empire was at stake. And that Hellfrost, and her Legion, were worth the investment of soldiers and resources to protect.

  She gave a sigh and finally looked up to see that the entire room was looking at her. Esharah’s mental touch came to her. “They’re waiting for you to dismiss them.”

  Aelia flushed, “Right. You’re all dismissed. Just...be mindful.” A useless platitude, but all she had left at this point.

  The room emptied, the Hellfrost delegation filtering out back to their various rooms. Most likely to rest. Or, at least, get out from under Aelia’s nervous supervision. Aven waited around, and Esharah left last, giving her a last encouraging mental pulse before their minds disconnected.

  “You’re doing a great job,” Aven walked over to her with a smile.

  “Am I?” Aelia asked. It certainly didn’t feel like it. What criteria was Aven using-

  He wasn’t using any criteria. Of course not. He was being encouraging. Like a person, not someone whose mind was nothing but ledgers. Aelia rubbed her forehead and tried to be a person. Easier with Aven than it was in an office with Governor Iraias and Magistrate Camus. Both made it easy to forget ordinary people had actual feelings and warmth. “Thank you,” she managed. “I’m just...worried.”

  “Of course you are.” He put a hand on her shoulder, and it grounded her. “You’ve got a lot of weight on you. And not just on your mind.”

  Aelia let herself lean into him for a moment. Just a moment. Then straightened up. “Tomorrow is going to be a...trial.”

  A different sort than the one before Governor Iraias. While at times a harsh judge, she at least knew what Governor Iraias wanted. Stability. Control. Order in Septentrion. The other delegations were all strangers. Presumably, all of them were united by desire for the Empire’s welfare, but in Aelia’s experience, one vision of what was “good for the Empire” rarely aligned with another’s.

  Aven laughed, “We’ll manage. I’ve been to gatherings like this before. Nothing on this scale, of course, but it’s not so different in principle. Everyone is smiling while holding a knife behind their backs, but no one’s stupid enough to actually stab.” He paused, “And if there is stabbing...well, that simplifies things.”

  Aelia forced a laugh, though she was unsure if he was actually joking. “You...yes, I’d forgotten your father was a prominent figure in Tenebras. Is there...a chance you’ll know the delegation from there?”

  “Possibly,” Aven shrugged. Which reflected a level of uncertainty Aelia should have expected. If Aven had any more concrete information, he surely would have spoken up before now. “I met the governor of Tenebras a couple times. Old, stodgy fellow. Mostly left the outer counties to fend for themselves. Barely left Lakeshadow. Probably will just send a representative, but I doubt they’ll be hard to convince. Tenebras faces voidspawn too. They just come from the Darkwood out west instead of pouring out from pits like ours.”

  A comfort, perhaps, but it only reinforced Aelia’s anxiety about the others. Frelund had their own threats. Tangible, earthly ones. Kingdoms to the north, filled with beastkin vis, giants, and all sorts of other warrior peoples to conquer. Agenthus and Orienbar held the opposite problem: no dangerous borders. How to persuade them to invest men and material into a threat so far removed from their own daily existence?

  “You worry too much,” Aven’s grip on her shoulder tightened slightly. “You’ve done everything you can. That’s all anyone can ask.”

  Yes, Aelia was acutely aware she worried too much. Awareness did little to still those thoughts. Aven’s hands helped, though.

  “Here,” he pulled her into a gentle embrace. “Let’s pretend we’re back in Hellfrost, alright? You’ve got your hourglass set, and it’ll be an hour before you have to go back to work.” A pause, “Or fifteen minutes before Tanya interrupts.”

  Despite herself, Aelia laughed and settled in closer. The same difficulties were out there. The same turbulent thoughts in her head. For a moment, though, in Aven’s arms, she could manage to pretend otherwise.

  * * *

  Aven had almost forgotten what it felt like to wear formal clothing. After a year in prisoner’s sackcloth and what little armor Hellfrost could provide, Northstar’s formal attire felt positively extravagant, even if the southern provinces would have scorned it as crude and rustic. Still, the dark blue tunic was of good quality wool. The black trousers had no holes. And the boots, while worn, fit perfectly. More comfortable than Aven’s usual attire. Long sleeves, even if Aven needed no protection from the early spring chill - apparently, Aven’s clothing was selected by the governor to not “attract undue attention”. As if the sight of his black-veined face wouldn’t provide plenty of that. Gave him a ceremonial spear too, which apparently was expected of officers in these kinds of gatherings. Father had always instead worn a sword at formal occasions. Maybe he’d had his own strange flavor of a rebellious streak.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  This sort of gathering was the kind where the various delegations would trickle in throughout the day, meaning there was a lot of standing around and talking. While the emissaries from other provinces were the greater deal, other counties of Septentrion also sent their own representatives. None had as much of a voidspawn problem as Hellfrost, but the threat could easily spread.

  With Aelia and Esharah handling the talking, Aven was left as ornamentation. Rather striking and unpleasant ornamentation, judging by the looks he received.

  “Hiding away in the corner?” Nadyar Velian plopped down on the wide couch beside Aven, biting into an apricot and spitting the pit out into a bowl on the nearest table. “Thought this would be a perfect chance to show off your heroic demeanor.”

  “I’m saving my heroic demeanor for later,” Aven said.

  Nadyar Velian laughed, “Good to pace yourself.” He pointed his half-eaten apricot across the hall. “I suppose I’m surprised to see you alone here. Not supporting your lady love?”

  Aelia was currently conversing with another of Septentrion’s executors. One who looked uneasy, but was clearly listening to every word.

  “When it comes to diplomacy, I doubt I’d be an advantage to her,” Aven replied. “She’s managing well enough on her own.”

  “Managing,” Nadyar Velian repeated. “Yes, that’s Executor Etrani.” His tail slithered out to stab right through a piece of cheese carried by the nearest server, causing the boy to jump in surprise. “She manages every scrap of cheese flowing through the province. What’s your game with her then? You’re the kind that likes being managed?” He leaned in, grinning. “Or has she just been hiding more than meets the eye under those executor’s robes?”

  Aven kept his expression carefully neutral while Nadyar’s casual prying raised his hackles. The fourth circle’s power was a palpable threat, even when it was contained in the form of a lazy, grinning dezar. “Is this a bad attempt at provoking me, or are you just naturally an ass?”

  Velian laughed again. “Not provoking. Curious. Etrani was already part of the governor’s circle by the time I made it in. Never thought someone so concerned with numbers and measurements would care about romance.”

  His tail next whipped out to snag a bowl of berries right off a passing serving boy’s tray, apparently a regular enough occurrence to get no reaction at all out of the servant.

  “Or maybe you’ve just got something worth measuring!” Velian winked.

  Aven sighed. The soldiers back in Hellfrost made similar jokes. But they were comrades, not strangers. And it was definitely rationality, not a grudge, that Aven thought most of Velian pinning his face to the dirt a few days ago. “Don’t you have anyone else to annoy?”

  “Hardly!” Velian spoke around a mouthful of cherries. “No one else interesting has arrived yet, and Vestra already tried to behead me today.”

  Aven glanced over to the woman in question. Vestra was once again perched above everyone else, sitting on the lip of a column like a gargoyle overlooking the party. Most formal clothing in Septentrion covered as much of the body as possible, but spiked, bony wings were an obvious obstacle to that goal. On any other woman, mostly bared back and arms at such a gathering would be seen as scandalous. Aven doubted anyone would be brave enough to tell Vestra vis Nightblood that. Thankfully, her attention was away from him. On the entrance to the hall instead, where a pair of servants were announcing the arrivals as they entered.

  The current arrival gave Aven a start, because it was the first time he’d ever seen a person as big as Logash, and this man appeared human. He also had a shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal most of his chest, where a very visible vis brand showed four circles blue as frost etched into his skin.

  “Egor vis Golqan!” the servant announced.

  “Egor!” Velian leaped to his feet, smile broad and arms outstretched. “Finally back from punching glaciers?”

  The hulking man laughed, voice booming out as if the whole room deserved nothing more than to hear his voice, “Aye! Poor mountains could use a break when your face had more need of my fists.” He strolled over to meet them, other guests moving out of the way when it became clear the man’s path was going to go through them.

  Nadyar Velian clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Captain Arvanius, allow me to introduce you to Septentrion’s very own icebreaker!”

  “The voidtouched,” Egor vis Golqan appraised Aven and held out a hand. “You’re the one that’s got Vestra flustered. My condolences!”

  Aven accepted the offered handshake. And immediately regretted it because the man seemed determined to crush Aven’s bones. Or perhaps not so determined, because Aven was certain from the strength in his grip that Egor easily could have crushed him if he wanted. So, Aven responded in the natural way: by sending a voidclaw out to grip Egor’s forearm as hard as possible. Which was, at best, half as hard as Egor did.

  Egor’s face split in an even wider grin. “Ah! A bit of fight in you then.” He let go, and Aven pulled his own arm back, flexing his fingers to restore circulation.

  To Aven’s greater horror, Vestra took Egor’s presence as a reason to swoop in. Her hand rested on his mountainous shoulder while one wing curled around to the other one. Putting the spikes on her wings meaningfully close to his neck.

  “Egor,” Vestra purred. “I thought you were still out in the western passes. If I’d known Iraias was calling you back, I’d have come picked you up.”

  “Only so you could drop me on the way back, you hellion,” Egor rolled his shoulder to displace the wing.

  Aven’s eyes darted around, seeking a reasonable excuse to escape the situation. Being in the middle of...whatever the three fourth circle vis had going on was not a survival strategy. The instant their focus shifted from each other to him, then-

  And suddenly, Aven didn’t see any reason to escape.

  In fact, he didn’t see a reason to worry at all. Everything was going to be all right. The gathering, the diplomacy...it would all take care of itself.

  “Lady Ashnya ars-Delis vis Rechan,” the servant’s voice echoed distantly.

  Aven glanced over, something about the title piquing his curiosity. The title vis was reserved for fourth circles, wasn’t it? A moment ago, that would have been cause for further alarm. Now, it was only...interesting. Who could feel threatened by the woman who glided through the door? She was a pillar of calm, dressed in a gown of deep violet that shimmered as she moved. And she was moving towards their group, which made Aven so happy-

  A tiny, split off piece of the Battle Mind gathered enough void energy to stab himself through the leg.

  Pain broke the spell, jerking Aven back to reality. Another fourth circle vis. Ars-Delis was a title given to masters of the arts of comfort, of joy, and of pleasure.

  The woman stopped and stared at him. So did the other fourth circle vis in the group around him. Probably because his own claws were sticking out of his leg, and black blood was beginning to stain his trousers.

  “Greeting, Lady Ashnya,” Aven tried to smile through the pain. “An honor to meet you.”

  The woman raised her eyebrows. Now a normal level of charming for a lovely, poised woman about forty, not the supernatural charm that had held him moments before. “An...unusual introduction, Captain Arvanius.”

  “Would be less unusual if I had another means of keeping my mind my own,” Aven said.

  “My apologies,” Lady Ashnya inclined her head. “I assure you I was not trying to threaten your mind. My Sign can be quite the burden if I do not carefully control it.”

  Aven didn’t believe for a minute any of that was unintentional. Most signs were physical marks, such as Vestra’s wings or Velian’s elongating, prehensile tail. He’d heard of the “Auras” that some fourth circles held as Signs. A change that affected everyone around them. No one could reach fourth circle, though, without already having the power to control their sign.

  “You don’t need to keep injuring yourself.” Lady Ashnya smiled reassuringly. “My aura will trouble you no further.”

  Carefully, Aven withdrew his claws. While still keeping the Battle Mind ready to split off a piece again if the rest started feeling that aura again.

  “You knew exactly what you were doing, you bitch,” Vestra sneered.

  Lady Ashnya only smiled, “Much as I would love to catch up, Governor Iraias has important tasks that do not require bloodshed or smashing. How unfortunate that I’m the only one here with the skillset to perform those tasks. Ta-ta, dears.”

  Aven let himself breathe a sigh of relief as she glided away. Now that she was gone, everything was going to be all right. No need to worry at all. Aven could just relax-

  Godsdammit, Aven glared at the woman, this time only needing to use the Battle Mind to fight off the aura rather than a full-blown self-stab. Which was progress. She still gave him a wink as she walked away. Maybe he’d passed another test. Or just survived another knife looking for a space between his ribs.

  Velian heaved a heavy sigh, “Whew. So it’s a full gathering then, is it? We should expect Old Frosty here too?”

  “He’s already here,” Vestra said. “Saw him arrive at the walls. Just not coming to the party.”

  “All six of his fourth circles gathered together again,” Velian glanced over to where Governor Iraias was now in deep conversation with Lady Ashnya. “Been a long while since that’s happened.”

  Hopefully, it was a sign that Governor Iraias took this meeting as seriously as it deserved. And not just a sign that Aven was a minnow surrounded by hungry pike.

  Aven tried again to look for a way out. Aelia and Esharah were still on the other side of the hall, conversing with other officials. No hope there. And no one else who seemed interested in speaking to Aven except for the pikes.

  Finally, Aven eschewed an elegant solution and just stood up.

  “And where are you off to?” Vestra’s wing flicked out to bar Aven’s way.

  “Privy,” Aven answered.

  Thank the paragons, Vestra’s interest in him did not seem to extend to watching him shit, because she withdrew the wing.

  Aven was halfway across the hall when the delegation from Agenthus arrived.

  Largest, wealthiest, and most populous of the to appear at this meeting, Agenthus brought a contingent large enough to nearly double the size of the party. Might have been thirty of them all gathered together. Aven paused in his escape to marvel at the task of the poor servants, who were currently calling out the names of the arrivals as best as they could.

  Aven’s sympathetic grin slipped when he saw the woman standing in the middle of the delegation. His heart froze.

  Mother.

  This had to be an illusion. A dream. He blinked, and she was still there. For a moment, Aven wondered if he was looking into the void. But no, Mother didn’t appear here as the Goddess’ face showed. This wasn’t the Mother of childhood memories. This was an older woman with grey in her hair that hadn’t been there when they’d last seen each other eight years ago.

  “Lady Elesmara Genthus,” a servant announced hurriedly, before rushing on to the next name.

  Aven’s throat tightened. The veins in his left arm writhed, as if the void sensed the presence of the woman who put it there. From across the hall, everything else seemed to vanish as Mother glanced around the hall and locked eyes with Aven.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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