Book 9: Chapter 10: W

Book 9: Chapter 10: W

After so long, she was coming here. There was more than a bit of fate in it, but fate was such a fickle thing. As immutable as belief and mountains, and as fragile as both before will, chance, and magic.

Even so, like belief, like a dream or a mountain, only the most foolish ignored such things, and so she took notice.

The omens were everywhere. The very earth muttered it, whispering in toadstool rings, and she felt it in her blood, in her hata hat was a very sensitive thing, and hers seemed to shift about on her head more than it shouldand the deep ways of her kind. Her class.

[Witches], you see, listened to thought and omen. They listened to the fates, and some wove threads, others looked into tea or the flights of birds. Some listened to the wind.

Especially when an [Emperor] told you that Erin Solstice was coming. That was a very useful trick [Witches] had picked up, listening to people. Even the new generation hadnt forgotten that most ancient of magics.

But she, Wiskeria, woke up with a tingling in her toes and saw a line of ants marching in a concentric spiral that slowly looped across one of the newly-built walls of her home. She walked to the window and reflected that building a home for strange friends was not always wise.

For, in the lack of cold iron nails or other fittings came a little, natural slime made of water rolling across the windowsill. It was trying to devour a little stone with a hole in the center of it, a natural, if rare piece of geology, and as she watched it glide past, it slipped and splattered onto the ground. The water of its body flew up and landed, and she read the odd, unnatural pattern as it began to reform.

All these things Wiskeria, the daughter of Belavierr the Stitch Witch, saw. She saw a great flight of Mavikas crows cross the air and split three ways down the center across a cardinal point where land influenced sky. And those were just the things she exposed herself to by looking. The tea leaves clumped in her morning pot of tea, and she had to shake it gently until they came out in a rush.

A meaning in each sign, a divination into the future. Wiskeria sipped at her tea and listened to the old man sobbing in the distance. She heard the land muttering Lakens name and tasted a dire warning on the air blown far from the obscured heights of the tallest mountains in the world.

And Wiskeria calmly, deliberately, and intentionally ignored each and every one. She had some tea, blew her nose into a handkerchief because it was getting colder and shed been out late last night, and munched on a bit of toasted, day-old bread with some of the [Beekeeper]s honey shed purchased last week in a lovely little blue ceramic jar.

After all, an ordinary [Witch] paid no attention to such things. She was oh so ordinary. Yes. Wiskeria carefully adjusted her hat and robes, then, humming, walked out of her house and started her day. Shed been dreaming her mother was drowning in deep waters as black as a midnight squids ink.

That did put a smile on Wiskerias face and a pep in her step.

At the same time, quite far awayover four hundred miles at least as a crow flewanother [Witch] started her day unnaturally. She opened her eyes as her inn clattered about with people getting dressed and checking their things last-minute, and a [Princess] loudly marshaling a few [Knights] into packing up a lunchand decided to try breathing fire.

Fooh. Fuuf. Wait. What did they say in that game? Fuuuuus Doooohum. Peh!

Quite why she wanted to breathe fire was beyond her. If she had really thought about it, the act of exhaling fire didnt seem quite as practical as conjuring it in her hands. But if she had actually thought about it, she wouldnt have tried.

It just sounded cool. No, she had a vision of breathing a stream of fire like a firebreather, and that was such a tantalizing image that she chased it. The young woman lay on her back, making odd sounds at the ceiling and pursing her lips. She nearly spat, then realized shed hit herself in the face.

Plus, gross. She tried to conjure an emotion, and that was difficult.

Because she had to feel it. Fire was no light thing, and Erin Solstice hesitated. Then she thought of Laken Godart and visiting the Goblins. Her face fellthen she thought of Pebblesnatch, and her eyes widened with determination. Only one fire fit them, when she met the Goblins.

And that fire was pink like few things in nature. Like that rare colorof Glory.

Fooof! Whoa!

A Hobgoblin holding a morning bisque and wondering if you could get tired of the stuff knocked and opened the door when he heard the shout of alarm. He was just in time to see a young woman, lying on her back, exhale a plume of pink fire straight up.

Not a firebreathers concentrated stream of it, mind you. More likea little expanding mushroom cloud of pink flame. Numbtongues eyes opened wide. He beheld Erins beaming face as she stared upwards.

Thensudden alarm as the fire of glory did what regular fire did not. It hung around. And it landed in a burning swath of expanding glory.

Straight on her and her bedsheets.

Aaah!

The young woman flailed about as the [Bard] covered his face. He almost threw the bisque on her, but she scraped the fire off like it was trails of gossamer.

Numbtongue! Dont just stand there! Get somewater? Get some help! Ive set myself on fire!

Erin tried to get up, realized she was too weak, and shouted at him.

Bisque! Bisque me!

She had the wadded bedsheets gathered up, currently burning with the faint pink flame. As mildly-horrifying statements to hear in the morning went

Yvlon Byres paused with a toothbrush in her mouth. She had just heard, Ive set myself on fire! Bisque me! followed by a clatter, then an exasperated Hob running with flaming pink bedsheets downstairs.

To her credit, or perhaps as a sign of how the inn was, Yvlon just stared a second, then kept brushing her teeth, because dental hygiene was important.

That was how Erin Solstice started her day. Staring glumly at her slightly-burned bedsheets. Glory burnt fast, but it didnt scorch and blacken the cloth in the same way. It hadmore evaporated a good amount of the cotton cloth, exposing the innards and thinning out the material.

Lyonette was patently exasperated, but her guests expected nothing less of the [Innkeeper]. No, the [Witch].

A strange [Witch]. A poor one, half-trained, half-made.

After all, she had no hat.

And what kind of a [Witch] had no hat? It wasnt that she had an invisible hat or a hat full of sky, which was an obviously acceptable and practical kind of hat. She had no hat.

She had no craft.

She didnt even think of herself as a [Witch] at times. She obviously had qualities, but qualities did not a full [Witch] make.

Coal had the same qualities as diamond, but one was not the other. And yetsoon she would be heading to a place with many [Witches]. On a task from one of the greatest [Witches] of her era. The signs were everywhere in the inn. A swirl of salt knocked over by a little Gnolls paw. Soap suds in the bucket of water the [Head Server] patiently dunked dirty plates into.

Even the way her maple syrup drizzled out of a bottle. Erin stared blankly at the plate.

Hey, lookit the weird syrup, Mrsha.

Then she took a bite. The Gnoll girl barely looked around. She was racing around so much that Lyonette was having trouble keeping track of her and checking her list.

Okay, we have a lunch packed. Burritos to go. Whos allergic to what? Ser Sestput an S there. Ah, ahMrsha refuses to have sauce in hers. M. Is that all? No, wait. Why does it say no tomatoes, Tkrn?

Because Tkrn is coming?

Tkrn? Inkar? Weve forgotten to make them lunch! Where are they?

Lyonette threw up her hands in exasperation. Ser Dalimont, marking the burritos in their paper bags, sighed and glanced at the kitchen. Erins head turned at her table.

Inkar? Tkrn? Whosoh, Inkar!

She had barely seen the young woman from Kazakhstan. Mrsha gave Erin a highly offended look and was scribbling when Erin poked her.

Dont you insult me! Shes been with the Silverfangs, Mrsha. I wondered why she wasnt at the inn.

Probably in mourning. Honored Krshia has been absent too. I will make two burritos. Without tomatoes, Lyonette. You finish packing.

Ishkr whizzed past them into the kitchen, and Lyonette finally exhaled.

We need a [Chef]. Okay. Mrsha, are you packed? Dont give me a blank look, missy! Do you have your clothes? Dont point to your bag of holding! You pack, not throw everything in higgledy-piggledy last minute!

Mrsha sighed long and loud, but she was still excited as she raced upstairs. After all

She was going on a vacation! Erin herself scarfed down her food. It was still funny to her.

You sure you want to come, Lyonette? You look like you, uh, might be stressed.

The [Princess] gave Erin an arch look.

Im fine, Erin. Its true that we could use someone to run the innbut I dont foresee as much business with you gone. And frankly, after all these adventures, if Mrsha is going, so am I.

And no ones getting into trouble this time. That was the unspoken promise, and Erin shrugged guiltily.

Whos on the final list?

A small group.

Lyonette assured her. She read from the list.

Lets see. Erin, Lyonette, Mrsha, no Bird because of a certain potential issue with a Mavikaand Antinium abroad, sadly. Numbtonguecan Octavia make it, Numbtongue?

No.

Good, then

But Garia can. Shes coming. Maybe write that down.

Lyonette threw up her hands and went on rapidly, as if afraid of being interrupted.

Inkar, Tkrn! Sest, Lormel, Dalimont, Ushar, Typhenous, and the Horns are?

She turned, and Ceria raised a hand.

Not coming.

There we are, then.

Erin turned in her seat. It was a large group, really, but it was far smaller than you could have asked for, given the inns population. No Halfseekers, no close friends.

No Normen and Alcaz either. She waved at them.

Sure you guys dont want to come?

I have practice, Miss Erin. And it occurred to us that someone should be here with Mister Ishkr, as it were.

The bulk of the security was going with them. Although, there wouldnt be any adventuring teams, but if there was an issue that Numbtongue, Typhenous, the Thronebearers, and Mrsha the Great and Powerful couldnt solve

Well, Erin could probably find it. Lyonette did look slightly nervous as she turned to Ceria.

Are you sure? House Byres is not that far from Riverfarm

Were lazy.

The half-Elf gave Lyonette a smile and glanced at Pisces, who was looking nervous. Was he sorting through notecards? Erins eyes were fixed on him, but he glanced up and nodded. He had something to tell his friends.

We shall do without. We have at least six fighters.

Lyonette murmured. She gestured at Numbtongue, Typhenous, who was delighted at being able to return to Riverfarm with Erin, and the Thronebearers.

Six? You mean eight.

No, I mean six. See? Unless Tkrn counts? And Erin? Me? Oh, Garia.

Lyonette tried to add up the numbers as someone interrupted her. But the Hobgoblin just pointed at her chest.

One.

Then she pointed at the grinning little Goblin dressed all in black, like an edgy shadow in a pitch black room lined with charcoal. With two shining red eyes peering out of charcoal eyeliner and dark lips, although it wasnt really lipstick.

Gothica and Ulvama. Lyonette gazed at them.

But youI didnt ask you two!

Okay.

The [Shaman] gave Lyonette a blank look, then she fished a burrito out and sniffed it.

Put beef in mine. Also, you forget scary stabby Drake.

She glanced around, and Lyonette realized she had missed Tessa, as usual. She covered her face with her hands and screamed silently into it for five seconds.

Then she got back to work. Mrsha rushed down, beaming, with a little rucksack along with her bag of holding. She didnt need it, but she wanted the look.

She was going on a vacation! Not an adventure. A proper vacation, and she would get to see [Witches] and meet an [Emperor] and add him to her collection of contacts, and Typhenous said that Riverfarm was fun, and, and

It was fun. Erin beamed as Mrsha scribbled on a piece of parchment.

You want to take Moore? Awsorry, Mrsha, he has to stay with his team. Plus, he said he visited Riverfarm briefly. But well take him on the next vacation! Well go to tons of fun places, just like I promised. Likea beach! Thats better than some village-place in a forest, anyways.

A beach?

Mrsha gave Erin a dubious look. She had expressed the disillusionment she had with sand, but Erins smile grew wider. And if a [Witch] could have seen her then, through one of the windows, per se, what would she have seen?

A young woman gesturing excitedly as she stood up with magical food in her veins. Her inn replete with the most strange and outlandish of guests.

A beach! We could go surfing, Mrsha. Youd love that. Surfing and swimming andwell do it. First Riverfarm and Nanette and the Goblinsthe next, beaches!

And the inn.

Right, right, and the inn.

Erin turned guiltily to Lyonette, but she didnt focus on that long. She stared ahead, if not always physically, then with eyes alight when she talked about the future, like the fire she had conjured. A strange [Witch].

But even she noticed something, at last, and turned to the window with a puzzled frown. She put a hand on her headand then looked outside. Then Erins eyes widened, and Ulvama glanced over sharply and saw it too. She hissed

And a raven cawed loudly. It beat its wings, and Erin blinked. Numbtongue glanced over casually.

Thats one big raven. Bird didnt shoot it?

Thatsno normal raven.

Erin muttered after a second. She felt a tingle down her spine, and then it lit up her face, a bit worried, a bit nervousbut she waved at the raven. She should have tipped her hat, but she had none.

Then she threw up her hands in alarm and ran upstairs.

Bird! Dont shoot the raven! Dont shoot the

She found Bird sitting glumly in his tower and staring at the huge bird. The Antinium looked up as Erin rushed out an explanation about the dangers of hunting certain creatures.

I know, Erin. I am not a silly Bird. That raven is a bad bird.

You didnt shoot it?

For answer, Bird sulkily held out his bow. The string was snapped. Erin blinked at it.

Oh, well, dont try to shoot it. Worse could happen.

Bird tossed three broken strings down in front of Erin and folded his arms.

I know.

He shook a fist down at the raven arrogantly preening its feathers.

I will level up and hunt you down!

Then he turned back to Erin and spoke conversationally.

The world of bird-hunting is very deep, Erin. I did not know this, but first I had to learn to hunt big Wyvern-birds, next, I learn some can snap your bowstrings. Others flash, and some have owners who try to stop you. Do not worry, I will rise to the challenge.

Erin opened her mouth. Then she patted Bird on the shoulder.

Just, uh, just be careful, Bird.

He waved as she left and was still waving as the group began to leave for Invrisil. Though they took the door downstairs for that. He called out cheerfully to the air.

Do not worry, Erin. I know my level is not high enough yet. I am a cautious [Hunter]. I need twenty more levels at least before I hunt a Wrymvr.

He rubbed his hands together.

Heh. Heheheheh.

He normally worried about the ethics of hunting people-birds like Bevussa, but Klbkch and Chaldion and Saliss had all told him he was welcome to try. Pivr was sadly more cowardly.

So, a [Witch] set out to meet a [Witch]. A classic. The journey was different, non-standard. She began her trip by stepping a single time and moving four hundred miles. She prepared little, and she gave no warning.

Oh, she gave warning to the [Emperor], but none to the [Witch], save by proxy. Nor to the other [Witches]. She strolled about in company, arranging a carriage ride to a series of stops over the next two days that would see them in Riverfarm.

Nor did she realize there was a stirring in the air. Grave worms amidst a fallow field. Not that Wiskeria paid attention to that either.

Or the old man sobbing as she walked over him. Each morning he whispered to her, and each morning she broke a tiny bit of his skin away. She walked over the wet ground tilled by farmers and found a father searching for food to feed his family.

He froze, and she snapped his neck. For a second, they locked eyes, then he turned, and she put a foot on his back and drove her other heel down as he writhed and began to scream. Her sensible boots struck the bone on his neck and snapped it. Blood rushed helplessly around as she ground the flesh down, and the head lolled, eyes blank, as she lifted him up.

His children watched as Wiskeria turned. She hefted the limp rag up, a bit of blood running from the nose, and met the childrens eyes. She would have had them too, but they fled, and the [Witch] simply exhaled.

She could have tracked them down to their homes and snuck upon them at night. A hammer to bash their brains out or a knife in the darkness. But that required more effort than she had. If she wanted, she could have followed them by day, using the fathers corpse like a dowsing rod. She could have whispered a name into the dark roots of the forest and heard an answer for a price.

She did none of those things. Instead, Wiskeria walked on, ignoring the signs of the worms. A farmer groused at them, then jerked in surprise as she offered the fathers body.

General Wiskeria! What brings you here?

Just touring the farms, Mister Ram. Worms?

Odd bastards. Grave worms. Not natural. I think it might beer, some of your folk, begging your pardon, Miss Wiskeria.

He was careful around her. He almost said something else, and Wiskeria caught the not-words.

Might be unnatural magic. Tampering.

Witchcraft, or what the [Head Farmer] thought witchcraft was. She took no offense. A [Witch] could conjure worms or relocate them, but she had done nothing about it.

I can ask about, Mister Ram. No doubt its just some carrion. Speaking of which

She showed him the body again, and the dead father stared out with glassy eyes, head hanging askew. Blood was drying, and his body was stiffening already in rigor mortis. Murdered moments ago by those sensible boots trodding over worms and pulping them into the soil.

Mister Ram stared at the dead body and smiled. Approvingly, gratefully. It was something Wiskeria had learned people did.

Damn. A racoon by daylight?

He must have been hungry. Should I not have killed him?

Wiskeria saw the man instantly shake his head and purse his lips.

Not at all. You needntve troubled yourself though, General. Not youwell put out some of Graltons dogs on night-watch. The last thing we need is them stripping some of the good crops.

He nodded at the valuable crops, not mere wheat or barley sprouting up in vast fields, but even some aspiring grape vines and most cruciallya whole host of pumpkins.

Are they growingwell?

Ram nodded.

Well be eating them for ages. Pumpkins in the bread, pumpkin piethough were not growing sugarcane, as of yetand have enough for Emperor Godarts funny tradition. Carving faces.

He laughed at that, like a man who saw only a funny image in a face carved. Not a curse. Not a place for a screaming soul to hide or eyes to watch. He accepted the dead body from Wiskeria.

Ill trot it over to a [Butcher]. Could be some good meat for the hounds. Thank you kindly.

The [Witch] smiled and tipped her hat. She turned, stomping more worms to death as they writhed awaybut so did he. She walked off, deliberately not worrying about what was coming. Because she wouldnt know anything about that, would she?

She was a [General], a [Witch]and most thought of the two classes as an odd combination. They forgot that [Witches] had led armies. A [Witch] could marshall a village. How hard was an army compared to that? If she could medicate wounds, settle disputes, make sure there was enough to eat, the animals were fed, the pests dealt witha talented [Witch] could do that for a hundred thousand people.

It was only a matter of scale.

So, Wiskeria walked the farms. She checked on the people in the towntoo large to be called a village now, even with the other outlying settlements being builtand listened for the sounds of disputes, people who might be unwell.

These were far more difficult for her to pick up than the man weeping and begging her to listen. Mortal voices were soft andconfusing. But they greeted her with smiles and called her General, Miss Wiskeria, or Witch Wiskeria, and she smiled back.

How has your day beenYesel?

Prosts wife was only too happy to tell Wiskeria.

Its been a night, Wiskeria. We had little Rulent up with a fever, so his parents came rushing to us. Nevermind that it was a spring fevernew parents get worried, so I was up halfway till dawn with tea and blankets until we all passed out.

Oh no. How terrible!

Wiskeria seemed shocked and upset. Right up until she noticed the blank look cross Yesels face.

I meanfor Rulent?

Then her heart was pounding fast in her chest, as fast as the dying fathers, with worry until Yesels expression cleared.

Yes, the poor dear! He was so upsetI should see if he can take down some soup.

Wiskeria smiled, and her heart rate calmed down. Oh, so that was how it went.

Itstough for you? A nuisance?

Not too much, but thank you for asking.

Oh. I see. Well, let me know if I can help.

Yesel waved it away, but her smile seemed to increase, and she patted Wiskerias hand.

You are so thoughtful, Wiskeria. Not like

She caught herself, and Wiskeria read the other words. The [Witch]s smile never changed. But she remembered this, remembered this and tried to figure out how to do it right next time.

Because this was hard. Not that Yesel noticed, aside from that one moment of uncertainty. They were all people. More than Humansand Riverfarm did have a few non-Humans these dayspeople were well-trained. They ignored little moments like that, smoothed them over, and Wiskeria was intensely grateful for their forgiveness.

Yet if she passed by in the eye of many as an important person, but unseenthere was one group of people who did watch Wiskeria. Who looked at her oddly.

Whosaw her.

And they were also [Witches]. But they were not the ones Wiskeria was trying to fit with. So she ignored the straightening [Witch] with her sensible cardigan sweaterunder the lightest of robes, more like a long jacket, all bright red over a linen-beige covered with little mauve flowersand her non-threatening hat with a little embroidered crown like leaves. The green thread spread downwards until they bloomed into flowers which were black cats and broomsticks, cauldrons and wands and stars.

A beautiful hat that took everything that was [Witch] and made it somehow less and expected. A terribly wretched hat, to some, which offended their eyes.

But a perfect hat for the friendly woman with a face that was welcoming and excited to tell you things as a teacher, for that was what she was. Witch Agratha carried sweet toffee she made in one pocket, sealed with bits of wax paper that she would give to children or her apprentices. She had a handshake that even a [Miner] respected, and her clothing was often the brightest among any coven of [Witches].

In her way, she was as noted and as separate as Wiskeria was. But even Agratha, who smiled in the face of scorn like a willow in the windseven she looked at Wiskeria with a frown full of unease. Until Wiskeria turned and Agratha smiled as if Wiskeria could not see out of the corners of her eyes.

As if Wiskeria were as blind as a [Witch] like Agratha, who didnt need to ignore the whisper of the winds and the old mans sobbing. For she, who taught hundreds of apprentices, had never learned to listen.

A [Witch] was made by many things. Her craft, her personality, her deeds and experiences and if she was sick or well and her friends andeverything.

But she still expressed much of it in her hat. A hat, Emperor Laken had learned, was a [Witch].

Which annoyed him no end because the blind [Emperor] did not have eyes, and even his senses, which allowed him to detect most of Riverfarm, did not do detail like hats. It was something he would have learned to live withexcept that they sounded like wonderful damn hats.

Nor could he go around and lay his hands on and feel out each [Witch]s hat one-by-one. Even an [Emperor] did not go around touching hats.

So, in his desperation, like a [Pervert] seeking intimate details of the goings-on in a bathhouse or restroomthat was how he felthe summoned one of Riverfarms subjects to describe hats.

It was objectively weird. And not the thing he should be doing while Erin Solstice was headed this way. Durene had paused for the longest time when he confessed his hat-envy.

I think Ill go fight those skeletons in that graveyard, Laken. Have fun?

It only made him more uncomfortable, and the unfortunate hat-describer was no less awkward as he laid out his request.

Why me, Your Majesty?

To that, he only responded with honesty:

You, Adventurer Revi, have the best sense of fashion and a way with words among everyone I could name. I also think a Gold-rank adventurer might be discreet.

The [Summoner] huffed and tried not to sound pleased.

Well, I suppose thats true. A Stitch-Woman for a cloth job. Do you want a hat?

Me? I dont think so. And I dont think a [Witch]s hat is that, ah, simply obtained. I am trying to learn more about [Witches]. Do youknow much about them?

Revi hmmed.

Theres not many in Nerrhavias Fallen. They weremore common with the Tyrant herself. Ive met a few. Never partied with anyWiskerias the first [Witch] Ive really met in that sense. Do their hats matter?

The [Emperor] thought about the question.

Absolutely and not at all. But they do sound fascinating. Possibly fabulous or striking.

Revi nodded slowly.

In that casethats all the justification they need. Where do we start?

They started with Hedags hat. The Hedag was, after all, one of the great [Witches] who had come to Riverfarm and among the greatest who remained.

Laken left the wide, vacuous throne building, which was an old storehouse they had converted into a place for him to take audiences, and walked down the bricked roads of Riverfarm. He could not see, but he could smell a mornings breakfast on the air, hear excited panting as dogs ran up and Revi cursed at them and they danced away.

A wagon rolled past as he seated himself at an outdoor caf and was brought a milk tea. Oh, the teas. It smelled of mild juniper, and if you so wanted, you could have a tea filled with a bit of saffron from Chandrar or something so hot and refreshing as to wake you up in Cenidaus colds.

The great Tea-Witch, Eloise, was much to do with Riverfarms renaissance in tea, and the iron lattice of the chair and [Servers] fussing over Laken, very pleased at their modest outdoor cafs patronage, faded into the background. Laken had heard coffee had been discovered or rediscovered, but he had found tea was far better with an expert in Riverfarm.

Hedag was on the same street, hence them choosing one of Riverfarms new outdoor cafs where everyone could get a cup if they waited in line, gratis. Money was still something being worked out, but there were enough people and gold coming in that they had more than just the Unseen Empires citizens.

And somehow, Hedag picked out children of [Merchants] in the crowd. She, despite being an imposing figure, attracted children and younger people who sat about with her. She needed no toffee; she needed only to sit on the sidewalk and let a boy dangle his legs on her knee, perhaps wiping his nose on her dress, and whisper timidly in her ear until she handed him a coin made of wood and gave him a promise with a handshake as wide as his head.

Of such things was a Hedags craft, and Laken would not stop her even if he could. Of the [Witches], she stood out for what she did. More than that, she had a title from the days of old. Hedag. A word like the woman herself. A force of nature walking as much as a woman. Like old law given form. Arms like a woodcutters, a smile, or so Laken had been told, as broad and unassuming as could be.

As terrible as the axe she carried, which Revi claimed had the red of rust or blood on it, but an edge as sharp as a razor. Revi described Hedag as best she could as they had breakfast.

Shes gotwell, if there were workwomans robes, thats what theyd be. I dont think its cotton. Some kind of sturdy, twill cotton? Maybe another fabric like that?

What, its not a robe?

Laken had assumed all the [Witches] were walking around with what he took to be classic [Wizard] and [Mage] robes, long and flowing, long-sleeved, a tripping hazard. But Revi, much amused, corrected him.

Nope. Hers is more likea riding dress? Have you seenuh, nevermind. Shes got long socks underneath and trousers under her dress. Good thing toothe dress isnt that clean. But its got some pockets, and itsbrown. Like her hat. Which is nothing special, by the way.

Really. No unique ornaments? No

Revi studied Hedag, and her voice, often snappish, judgemental being the default state, grew uncertain.

Well, no. Its just a hat. Much the same material. Old leather, maybe, cracked as can be. I think its dirty, but not filthy, if that makes sense. Just travel-worn. It looks like its been on her head forever. Nice brimand old. So old. Its got tons of patches, butthats a lot of lines. It almost looks like its a hundred years old. Older. I dont know why. Its just a hat

She laughed, uncertain.

But itsits crooked, bent at the tip. It has all these creases, but I could imagine its been in the family ages. Passed on from mother to daughter or

Hedag to Hedag? Laken tried to imagine it. A hat as old as the name upon a smiling womans head. The hat would witness sins and pettiness, and yet for all it was bent and oldit was a proud hat.

For no evil it saw remained. The Hedags axe swung up and down, and the hat, stained perhaps, was the only memory left.

Is there power in a [Witch]s hat? Is it more than just a symbol, or are even the best hatshats?

The [Emperor] wondered aloud, and Hedag heard him. She strode over as Revi made an uncertain sound at this hat-voyeurism, but Hedag just laughed like booming trees.

Laken, lad, youre interested in hats? A fine thing for an [Emperor] to take interest in! More than a womans thighs or how gold shines! A hat is a hat. Some of us put things under them or make the hat well, but its no helmet a [Soldier] swears by.

But you can do magic with a hat?

Hedag winked, and she lifted her hat up.

Can a [Farmer] use an adze? Does a [Painter] benefit from a better brush? Of course a hat matters. If you go lookingwould you like to know the [Witches] with the most interesting hats?

Of course. Would that beWitch Eloise? Witch Mavika? Alevica, if shes here?

Hedag affirmed all the names, but added a few of her own.

You might as well see Agrathas, for contrast. Oliyayaand Wiskeria. Though if you see what she has, a blind man would see more than most.

She laughed, then strode off. Revi glanced at Laken, and the [Emperor] tapped at his lips, much amused. He hadnt missed the scorn in Hedags voice.

It seems this hat-lesson will have more about [Witch] culture than I thought, Miss Revi.

Oh, goodie. Lets go.

Eloise had no embroidery on her hat, which made Laken sad at first. He had passed by Agratha, who greeted him as she stood in the street teaching her apprentice [Witches] how to perform magic.

Ward the street with the pellets, just so. Dont scatter them like a [Farmer], Mavaise. An intention to each action. Place them like a [Hunter], but not to catch. Where might they go? Each pellet contains a bit of clover and onion, a hot pepper as spicy as you like, and some vinegar or other strong-smelling odors.

They dont smell of anything to me, Witch Agratha.

A young apprentice piped up, and she sounded nervous and interested. Laken wondered if she was one of the new ones from Riverfarms own. He noticed a number of people watching this lesson in the street.

Mothers and fathers, interested people watching a [Witch] at work. But Agratha spoke loudly for all, and he thoughtto her audience as much as her apprentices.

Look at me, a [Witch]. Fear me not.

Revi had already described Agrathas rather attractive-sounding dress and hat. Yet even in this lesson, Laken thought he understood why she was as much a rebel as a constant in the [Witches] loose network of covens.

Agratha waswell. Mundane.

They might not smell to you, Mavaise, but trust me, a rodent will not enjoy biting into the rind of such pellets. One bite and they will have a very unhappy day. And you see, weve added a tiny bit of magic to cloak their nature. Run them around with pellets of grain and bits of cracker, or even seeds, until they all have the smell and taste. Borrow a [Miller]s place, or do it in a bowl, but make sure its windless on the day. Then put them in a house or street, and the rodents will soon think twice about nibbling scraps! It wont solve a bag of grain broken or a constant mess, but it will bother them.

Her audience appreciated the lesson as much as Laken and the apprentices. It was sostraightforwards. A tiny bit of magic filled with clever-thinking. How practical.

Haugidghpffle.

What?

Laken heard the most ungodly sound from his left and jerked. Revi made a noise of horror, but he was distracted by the thought.

Ungodly. Oh, how wonderful. He couldnt keep the smile off his face, but that soundhis stomach roiled just hearing it. It was the sound of phlegm and bodily functions, and by Revis reaction and his faint sensesit was Oliyaya expelling a lot of it onto the street. Possibly through multiple orifices.

It was like a curse made manifest. Someone gagged, and there were cries of dismay. Agratha raised her voice.

Witch Oliyaya! Do you have a problem with my teaching?

For answer, Oliyaya, who was as much the old guard as Agratha was the new, tipped her hat in a way Laken knew was mocking. Her voice sounded, well, like a [Witch]s.

Cracked and cackling at times, others, oozing with secrets and malice. Even when she wasnt annoyed, Oliyaya could set your hair on edge with a chuckle.

Not at all, Witch Agratha. Each Witch teaches their craft as they will. No matter how they explain every trick like a [Scholar] describes a [Charlatan]s sleight-of-hand. Tis amusing to watch the learned [Scholar] try to perform a true trick, though.

Agratha replied in a clipped voice, and Laken knew she had spectacles she was fiddling with.

It is my belief, Witch Oliyaya, that all magic should start small at the beginning. The basics are as potent as any great ritual, and our craft has suffered from disorganization, inconsistency.

Oliyaya nodded as Laken whispered to Revi, asking what she was wearing.

Fair points and fairer work, for the Teacher Witch. You have taught more apprentices than any [Witch] here. I tip my hat to thee for keeping [Witches] continuing. And I continue tipping it, never let a soul forget.

Thank you

For as long as witchcraft endures with teachers like you.

Oh snap. Laken tried to hide a smile as Agratha made a faint scoffing sound, which didnt hide how vexed she was.

Agratha and Oliyaya had not been the coven who had come to Riverfarm to strike the great bargain, but they were as relatedboth had come to practice their kinds of witchcraft and raise a new generation.

They headed two kinds of ideas about what [Witches] were. Even their dresses and hats showed that. Revi did a running narrative on Oliyaya until Laken thought he could picture the woman.

She did not have tattered robes or decrepit clothing like some wraith-woman of the wilds. [Witches] were exceptionally practical.

Yet if Agratha wore friendliness and accessibility like the cardigan shed knitted, plain thread shed spun, know-how and a bit of artistry to make a piece of clothing that Revi claimed any decent clothing-shop would be happy to sellOliyaya wore magic.

Like their approaches to apprentices, perhaps. You could, with effort, mass-produce a hundred of Agrathas sweaters, and they might not be so fine, but mostly as good. There could be only one of Oliyayas dresses for that much effort, if that.

Black was a color that few [Witches] wore. Even Belavierr hadnt worn black, Laken had learned. Not that he understood the color by sight, but by symbolism, how it was talked about.

Oliyaya had woven her robes, or enchanted them, out of what Revi described as a shadow or piece of dusk. She had snipped it down out of the firmaments, perhaps, and then decorated it with her tools of work.

A skull resting upon one shoulder, a pocket from which hung dried stalks of fennel that never seemed to fall out no matter how she moved, the scent of toads and other animals, often poisonous, that the [Witch] found and squeezed or cultivated.

But the hat was ironically simple. And though Laken hadnt known itOliyaya, of any [Witch], suited the Unseen Empire most. For her hat was as dark as that shadow, so that she could seem to step out of twilight like a [Witch] straight from Shakespeare or speak unseen, just out of sight.

Yet what made it unsettling were the eyes.

Two, stitched out of dark purple thread, which Revi, classically, had to characterize as old lavender purple with complex pupils of cloud-grey and, faintly, a rotten acorn brown.

Just like Oliyayas eyes. They would pivot on her hat. Such that you might glance up and see the hat staring at you. The eyes moved. They might well see magic or help Oliyaya in her craft.

The two [Witches] seemed on the brink of fighting, and it was hard for Laken to see how Agratha would win this one. He might not have seen the two squaring off as more than shapes and vague figures, but he felt Oliyaya tapping the ground with a cane she carried.

Oh, stitches. Shes building up charges in her cane.

Charges? Charges of what?

Looks like some kind of ranged spell.

At this, Laken stood up in alarm, but Agratha raised her voice, sounding like she was trying to project calm.

And this, apprentices, is why a [Witch] does not invite malice. Although sometimes it comes to her. Witch Oliyaya, are you truly preparing for strife? Here?

I am merely preparing to defend myself, Witch Agratha. I do not have a club in hand.

Laken seized Revis arm.

Agratha has a what?

A nice club. Its got an embroidered handle, too.

The other [Witch] had pulled out a tool of her trade. Which was, apparently, a club. A most[Witchy]weapon? Agratha snapped back at Oliyaya.

Im not building up spells in my cane. You go too far with words and deed, Oliyaya.

A [Witch] goes farther by her nature. No pond exists that can contain us. Yet you draw lines in the muck and tell your apprentices it is a wall. You dance with words behind my ears, Agratha. I have heard you disparaging my craft.

Imay say things in private

Words be weapons. I am not a [Witch] that lets any hurl them against me unopposed. Shall we show your apprentices what a battle between [Witches] looks like? It shall be instructive.

Oh no. The rivalry between [Witches] was threatening to turn into a full-blown conflict. Today of all days? Laken stood up in alarm.

Witch Agratha, Oliyaya! Desist!

They heard him, and both turned his way. But Gamel and Revi were the only combatants here, and Laken feared a spark might set things off. Oliyayas two apprentices were facing off the twelve Agratha was teaching. Laken knew one was one of the scary children, apparently the survivor of a terrible fire, scarred with burns. The other, allegedly, never spoke, a huge problem for him to get to know her.

Emperor Godart.

Both [Witches] tipped their hats at once. Yet neither desisted.

Would you not permit us to entertain the folk of this land with a bit of strife? No harm to anyone watching. Just [Witch] blood upon the ground.

And let one of you two injure the other? I think not.

Behind closed doors, then. At a later time. This is a deferred battle. You see, apprentices, many things are best settled away from the standing authority

Agratha kept up a low monologue, and Laken snapped.

No one is battling anyone! I will know. If you have a conflict, settle it without violence. Settle it with

He hesitated, then, because he didnt know what the proper solution was. But Laken Godart relaxed and turned his head, which confused Oliyaya and Agratha until they both turned and felt it.

A tickling on the back of their necks. A twist in their hats. What did they see?

A Wolverine pretending to be a badger? A lion who had taken its teeth out? No, that implied something else. They saw Wiskeria striding along, a hand on her hat to keep it on as she hurried to this altercation.

And Wiskeria spoke, answering the [Emperor]s question.

A competition, Your Majesty? Witch versus witch. Anything you please would suit. Be it baking or creating a potion, sewing or solving a problem.

Ah, a competition? Is that traditional?

Wiskeria tipped her hat as the two [Witches] regarded her. She was a Silver-rank adventurer, but ironically, Wiskeria was less well-armed than the two bristling older [Witches]. She had a long dagger at her side, an adventurers belt, and a wand, but she did not seem as threatening as a witch carrying a three-foot-long club, carefully hollowed and then filled with lead and marked with a little witchy cat wearing a hat burnt into the wood. With an embroidered handle.

Or a [Witch] whose crooked cane seemed to smoke with dark ash near the tip, and whose magic charge was slowly blackening the bricks it was resting on with soot.

Yet Wiskeria defused the situation, somehow, with words as well as her presence. Agratha folded her arms, and Oliyaya made to spit again, much to everyones horror.

A contest? What shall it be, then?

They turned to him, and the [Emperor] did not hesitate long. Because he had learned that he could say, what would be best?, or what would you do?, and if he had the right person, they might offer an opinion, but if he asked for a decision, they would hem and haw until he said it.

I believe Riverfarm lacks for suitable style.

Style?

The [Emperor] smiled tightly. He touched his un-hatted head of mousey hair, whose color he kept forgetting because it didnt matter. An inferior head, despite being an [Emperor]. Especially compared to all these magnificent hats.

We have fine clothing from some of our experts, and we are growing cotton and importing style and fashion. We have wool for sheep, and I am told by Adventurer Revi that Riverfarm does not lack for style.

Indeed, while a lot of the clothing was utilitarian, he had been informed that the symbols of the Unseen Empire had begun to appear sewn onto clothing like badges, or embroidered. A hat, a triangular pyramid, or a giant hawk riding a bear. However, Laken gestured to his head.

Yet hats? We lack for good hats. Hats for [Farmers] in the fields, or [Scouts], or a hat for the coming cold. I, myself, have been fascinated by them of late. Why not a contest? Let the best hat win, [Witches] or [Tailors] or whomever wishes to compete. And I will wear the best one for a day.

Now that provoked a furor. Laken was proud of himselfright before he heard Oliyayas cackle and got worried. But Agratha bowed instantly.

A hat contest? I shall need to prepare. When will it be, and what will the rules consist of?

Laken had no idea, and he didnt like Agrathas enthusiastic tone. But he had methods for dealing with this. He turned his head ever-so-slightly and nodded, and Wiskeria broke in.

We shall announce it by the end of the day, Witch Agratha. For nowdisperse, please. No more fighting, indoors or out.

And there ended a fight. Laken exhaled, then turned to Revi as Wiskeria marched over, talking to the citizens, but going to both camps of [Witches] and having a word.

His [General] really was good at her job. Which was keeping the peace, being the arm that connected [Witches] to people.

For a Witch of Law, or so she had claimed, Wiskeria truly was efficient. He had heard she was diligent in making sure the new trainees and [Soldiers] drilled, and she listened to experts like [Instructors] and weapon trainers and delegated her command to the actual soldiers.

He trusted her, for all she was Belavierrs daughter. He thought Wiskeria liked her job, but Laken had to confessof Prost, of Durene, even compared to the changed Rie

He did not know Wiskeria. Laken realized how much he did not know her the longer they were acquainted. It was not just the tests hed had Gamel run in the past, where Wiskeria had performed all manner of unsavory tasks without missing a beat.

It was not even her relationship with her mother.

There was something off about Wiskeria, and Laken confirmed that by the reaction of the other [Witches]. He leaned over.

Revi, what is Wiskeria doing? Oh, and what is she wearing?

He had high hopes for Wiskerias hat, but Revi took a few seconds before replying.

A vague sense of helpless unease.

It didnt feel right. Not anymore. So she sat down, wrote [Message] spells as the carriages were loaded up, and ended up riding to Riverfarm on the third day, writing notes to friends and waiting for responses. She didnt turn around to Invrisil. She had something else to do.

She was on vacation, and for once, The Wandering Inn would not march on the High Passes.

It wasnt her fight.

The Horns of Hammerad were packing up while Ceria argued with Yvlon. She gave up in the end and sighed, but the inn was quieter than Ishkr expected.

He was almost as shocked as Erin when he got the [Message].

Ishkr. Stop. Will not be returning to the inn. Stop. Please tell any adventurers to take gear if needed. Stop. Its their choice, stop. Hold down the fort. Stop.

Stop?

He held up the message and didnt get the irony, but he understood the broad meaning. The humorhe wondered what her face had been like when she sent it.

A few Antinium, Menolit, a handful of regulars, and Relc stirred when Ishkr announced Erin wasnt coming back. Ceria threw up her hands.

See? Why are we joining the muster? Even Erins aware how far away it is.

Someones got to stop the monsters. Have you gone mad, Ceria?

Yvlon glared at her, and the half-Elf scratched at her head.

No, but Im aware of how many thousands is. Fine, other teams are going. Lets scope it out.

And that was it. Ishkr saw a [Guardsman] get up and sigh in relief. Some of the Antinium looked around blankly, but only Relc sighed.

Damn. No Solstice event? Come on! Shes losing her touch! Oh well, glad shes safe.

Ishkr got back to work. He didnt believe Erins message. Oh, he believed she might not come back, but he was waiting. A few Antinium hires were on trainee duty, so he let them serve their counterparts, mostly the Antinium on break like Squad 5 had been or Pawns Painted Antinium.

That was a good portion of the business at the inn without Erin. The other part were guests who just liked it, like Menolit, and Ishkr was enough to hold down the fort for the remaining guests with Liskas help. He sighed.

She was forty minutes late. But he kept working and occasionally checked the position of the sun. It took him only twenty minutes before he heard an exclamation, and someone came running into the inn. Ishkr nodded to himself as Relc came roaring back in.

She did it! I knew it! And Im gonna miss it!

<Mass Heroic Quest Stop the Monster Hordes from the High Passes!>

Failure: Horde dissolves, destroys (8) settlements.

Monsters are pouring out of the High Passes! Eater Goats, Gargoyles led by Bosselswatch out! An army needs to fight them back. Any brave adventurers or people, stop the monsters and evacuate people! I cant offer much, but please do what you can and stay safe!

Conditions:Destroy monsters, save lives in immediate danger, aid with evacuation or intelligence leading to the hordes destruction. Higher value monsters rewarded proportionally.

Quest Reward Pool: 200 Gold Coins, flawed simple agate, half-pot of butter, iron butter knife, experience in <Combat>, <Aid> class categories.

For someone who was interestedwell, it was all interesting. Firstly, that there were other elements to the quest that had appeared.

For instance, this was a mass quest. Second? There were conditions, a way to fail, as if it could be judged. Finallythe quest pool.

The morality didnt come into play. Oh, it was interesting, but the keen minds who noted this phenomenon were concerned mostly about that last bit.

A simple agate? The goldpredictable. But why a half-pot of butter? A butter knife?

The answer became obvious over the course of a few hours as the <Quest> circulated. But in the opening moments of the day, when it was postedonly Erin Solstice realized what was going on.

Erin, stop putting things into the quest!

Lyonette stopped Erin from adding the farmers family heirloom to the <Quest>. Erin guiltily lowered her hand.

I didnt know I could do that! Ill pay you back!

Did you justpost a pot of butter as a quest reward?

Typhenous looked at the place where the butter had been and his hither-to unbuttered piece of toast, which would never receive any, as the butterand butter knifewere gone. But that wasnt the fascinating thing.

Once they got on the road, Erin was reading [Message] spells like the Horns telling her theyd head to whatever rally point was set up and do what they could. She wrote a reply, and was told by Selys not to come back, that Liscor was abuzz with the news, although they were far from danger, as was Celum, for now.

Then she received an update.

Quest Reward Pool: 1236 Gold Coins, flawed simple agate, half-pot of butter, iron butter knife, experience in <Combat>, <Aid> class categories.

Hm? What the

No less than ten minutes later, as Erin was waiting for Ishkr or Selys to confirm what was going on, it happened again. It was likeshe could always check on her <Quests>. The ones she had posted.

But if she thought about the one shed just added, Erin realized something had changed.

Quest Reward Pool: 5236 Gold Coins, flawed simple agate, half-pot of butter, iron butter knife, experience in <Combat>, <Aid> class categories.

And it kept happening.

Quest Reward Pool: 5237 Gold Coins, 15 Silver Coins, 44 Copper, flawed simple agate, half-pot of butter, iron butter knife, experience in <Combat>, <Aid> class categories.

Then it began getting weird.

Quest Reward Pool: 6536 Gold Coins, 515 Silver Coins, 994 Copper, flawed simple agate, iron butter knife, 299 potatoes, goosefeather pillow, 5 pots of ink, steel sword, rusted buckler, 22 apples, 18 fake gold coins, pewter mortar and pestle, low-grade healing potion, full pot of butter

And it kept going. The list, no, the quest pool began expanding so much that Erin began reading the worlds craziest laundry list. Then she heard from Selys what was going on.

Erin, theyre adding to the quest in the Adventurers Guilds! Lady Reinhart, apparently, added those four thousand gold coins, and shes done that in addition to regular bounties in the Adventurers Guild. What have you done?

Selys

You could add to a quest bounty. And if Erin was right

I bet you get a proportion of the rewards! So thats how it works!

She sat back as Numbtongue folded his arms, fuming.

Its not a flawed agate. Its nice.

That gave her some hope. More adventurers and people might go help just for a slice of that growing pie. She wasnt stupid; some people would help purely for the money, but if it was more hands evacuating citizens

She noticed something.

Wait a second, did someone already get the pot of butter? So its already giving out rewards!

Erin sat back and felt better. Not like shed helped, not really, but better. But she wondered who would stop that many goats. Who cared enough? Magnolia, enough to offer gold? OrHouse Veltras?

Who would care and do something? She didnt, and it gnawed on her. But Erin turned ahead and also thought of a promise she had made. For a girl named Nanette. Her head bowed, and she exhaled.

Yes. She did have to keep on this path.

That was how, on another day with rain and monsters, a [Witch] came to Riverfarm. The instant she passed over the border where a totem pole decorated with eyes sat by the road, an [Emperor] felt it. Like a burning outrage, like instinctual hatred. Like

He closed his eyes and smiled grimly. It was not his heart that beat for instant dislike. His heart surged against the other emotions foreign to his soul. So the mind and the heart liked her even more even as he felt it in his blood, like boiling contempt.

Erin Solstice had arrived.

A girl sat with locks of slightly curly, chestnut brown hair tangling underneath a hat fit for a child. Navy blue and dark, but not poor, not ill-made. Simply a childs hat, because it had a little star on top.

Made of thin wood, painted silver, like an idea. A childs idea of magic, and so simple, so innocent and thus so wonderful that it sometimes made people smile to see it.

In other days, she had been hurrying along, trying to match a longer stride, looking up, looking ahead, looking behind uncertainly but expecting in all three directions only great things.

That was the promise. Something scary, perhaps, or wonderful, hard work or daunting as it might beher round cheeks would light up with a smile or a frown of determination, or shed crumple a bit and look for guidance.

But such things were fine, because the world was solid. Where she stepped, the ground held firm, and in those days, her hair had been shorter and always combed, because such things were expected, and if it had ever become a nest, someone would have briskly produced a comb and lectured her about appearances as she gently untangled the locks.

There were other hands, now, and gentler words. Gentler words, but never kinder, never better, and never more welcome, so the hair tangled. The hat, with its silver star, no longer seemed to glimmer.

The girl sat under a tree like a doll with its strings cut. Her name was Nanette Weishart, and her mother was no more. It was a terrible thing to tell a child directly or confront. Yet she was a [Witch]. And Califors daughter should do nothing less.

On this day, she thought like a dream, hoping perhaps shed wake and knowing that her days of daydreams were forever gone. But she still thought, as she sat, of children. Of mothers.

Ever since she had been old enough to walk and know, she had been a secret daughter of Califor. Not that her mother had ever left her side or been ashamed. Shame had met Califor and walked the other way down the street.

No, it was, as the great Witch of her time had told Nanette, purely practical. Nanette should not be favored. Whatever she was should not be done in the shadow of a name. So Nanette became Califors apprentice, already startling, for the Witch Califor had never had any, but a fair one, whom [Witches] held expectations of, but treated like any other.

By contrast, when she had heard of Wiskeria, even from afar, and especially when they had been preparing to visit Riverfarm, the other [Witch] had always been Belavierrs daughter.

Nothat wasnt right. Nanette had never heard the other, older [Witches] say Belavierrs daughter. It was more that Belavierr was Wiskerias mother. An odd distinction, only a change of words. But [Witches] paid attention to words.

Wiskeria had been kinder than Nanette thought. Odder too, but not in a way Nanette expected. She had feared an Alevica or someone who walked heavy in the old ways, like Mavika, or simply was, defiant of all whispers, like Hedag.

Yet Wiskeria wasnormal. And when she had said that, her mother had looked at her and told her to find the true Wiskeria. Which was how Califor had always taught her daughter when she was wrong.

So Nanette had thought and listened and realized how [Witches] talked of Wiskeria was odd. They spoke of Belavierrs legend and were glad Wiskeria was no monster to sacrifice all for a power so depraved it defied death. They were relieved she denounced her mother, and that, to all intents and purposes, she was naught but a credit to [Witches].

But then they spoke of her, in the same breath, with a bit of disappointment.

Wiskeria? Shes talented, in her way, but she never took to my lessons. She is exceedingly practical, but I dont know what to make of her.

So spoke Agratha, who praised Wiskerias lack of showing off, but found her disquietingly hard to read. She would, with Agrathas encouragement, seek out others and try to befriend them or perform good acts, which would endear Agrathas style of craft to the world.

But something made the Teacher Witch uneasy, and so she did not talk to Wiskeria much.

She knows every old way, and if I wore her face, I would sneer and spit in my own shadow for daring to try to teach her. I think she knows it all, but she practices no great craft. Never have I seen a greater failure of a [Witch] for what she should be. But is it failure if she is the Stitch Witchs daughter? I can judge neither, but she is not mine.

And there was Oliyaya, whom even Califor respected for her views on craft. Oliyaya, who told the others that Wiskeria knew more than she.

Yet Nanette had done magic with Wiskeria and seen no great art. So, the little girl had realized, before her mother died, that something was off about Wiskeria. But she had thought Wiskeria was kind, and kindness was all Nanette needed to like someone.

Her craft washad beenhappiness. Happiness and contentment and good things. Califor had indulged it with a bit of exasperation and told Nanette it would not last. But for the moment, the apprentice had trundled along, tucking a smile for a meal into a hat filled with a passing compliment, an infectious laugh, and she had baked little tarts filled with mirth like sugar.

Now, her hat lay empty on her head, and everything she put in it drained away like water through a sieve. Only grief sat there, brooding and heavy. So much so that she could barely raise her head.

Only the other [Witches] knew what to do with her. So Nanette was like Wiskeria to those that remained.

A puzzle. Here were the daughters of two great [Witches]. One was too young, and grief might eat her whole, but she should be saved, must be saved, yet it was hard.

The other was older, a [Witch] on her own, and a [Witch] was a [Witch]. No one had forgotten.

But a [Witch] of Law? Could she even have that as a craft? She did less magic and more mundane things than even Agratha. They were puzzles apiece, and perhaps that was why Wiskeria often visited Nanette.

Even if her mother had been the one to end Califor. Perhaps because of that.

They could have been great friends.

Nanette thought that and felt a lump in her throat, like a frog. A tingle in her toes, a creeping down her spine. A [Witch] paid attention to such things, Califor said. Sometimes, it meant you needed a massage or you were getting a chill. Other times, it meant something else.

However, how many [Witches] knew each stage of the two moons that hung overhead? How many could still speak the old words and not be laughed at by the trees? Nanette understood that when the older [Witches] saw Wiskeria and said, what a shame without saying it, they wondered what she could do.

Nanette? She knew. Not that Califor had taught her the old ways. They were lessons at midnight or in the blazing sun, where dark things couldnt listen or take note. And the lessons were sometimes just stories in a pool of crystal water, where Nanette tried not to splash about while she listened to a secret or aa change of perspective.

That was how Califor had carefully taught her daughter, looking to raise a child as much as lead a [Witch] to her craft. But Belavierr?

Of all the differences between the two, and they were great [Witches], the one thing Nanette would always believe, alwayswas that Califor had been the better mother. For Belavierr had taught her daughter, in her strange love

Everything.

The result was Wiskeria. Wiskeria, who sat with dark hair, closer to black, but the faintest bit bluelike her robesif you looked hard enough. Her eyes were like a pale fireflys yellow crossed with the wereflames in a swamp, a lurid green.

But she didnt often meet your eyes long, so you might never notice how beautiful and eerie those eyes were. If you looked, you might never notice the roots of her hair tinged blue. Her dress was simple and ordinary to the point where it offended other [Witches], even Agratha. For where Agratha took her craft to be inviting and accessible and non-threatening, Wiskeria craved something else. She was a wonderful [Witch], with all the potential in the world.

Her hat was empty. She had no craft, no stored anything. So she was the least of [Witches], even among the youngest apprentices. Even Nanette.

She sat down next to Nanette, and she was so silent she might have been a corpse. She was so still that a butterfly landed on her shoulder almost at once. Nanette had been sitting there, a doll filled with grief, for hours.

Yet Wiskeria was somehow less of a presence than the younger girl. Nanette had to breathe and fidget, despite how she lay there against the oak. Wiskeriashe had to do all those things, surely. But when she spoke, the butterfly flew away in a terror, like an insect having a heart-attack.

I killed a father today. I snuck upon him while he was searching for food, and I broke his neck. It was well done, or so Mister Ram said. Then I made a mistake with Yesel. Rulent was sick, but it didnt matter, nor her lack of sleep. It mattered, but it didnt. I suppose it was how she said it.

She stretched her legs out in the grass, and Nanette listened. She looked sideways and saw Wiskeria staring thoughtfully ahead. It had probably seemed quite normal to everyone else, but it was the hardest thing for Wiskeria. Harder than fighting or resolving disputes between [Witches]. Harder than speaking to Laken.

Not for the reasons Nanette had thought at first. The younger girl spoke, coughed, and hacked out what felt like dust in her lungs.

Who was the father?

I never knew his name. He was a racoon.

That was what you had to ask Wiskeria. The first time she had told Nanette she had murdered sixteen people, the girl had almost gotten up and ran. Then she had realized why Wiskeria told no one, not even Mavika, her true thoughts.

Where?

The fields. I gave Ram his body. Should I have killed his daughters too?

To that, Nanette had no good response off the tip of her tongue. So she held it and thought, as a good [Witch] should. Then she asked a question.

Did you have to kill him?

It was Wiskerias turn to think. She adjusted her hat and peered up at the sky. In the distance, both [Witches] could see Riverfarm below the forest where Durenes cottage lay. Across the swift-flowing river, past what had been burned land, the crops were growing and more and more buildings were springing up. Soon, the place where the old village had been buried in snow, where death still hung like tears, might be resettled or turned into a proper graveyard.

Laken Godart had killed Riverfarm as much as saved it. What sprouted here was, in some ways, anathema to [Witches]. It would become the seed of nations. It was that already. But they needed it as well, in this world where the wild was vanishing. The Gnolls had learned that as well. It was a lesson.

Someone was coming. They sensed it and saw it in the gathering of people, like a vast anthill turning upon an [Emperor]s will. People were preparing an entire parade. Beniar and his Darksky Riders were setting forth, and was that a dot on the horizon, coming their way? Nanette felt an itching in her hair, but it might have been a bug. Wiskeria stared ahead, then ignored whatever she was seeing.

Did I have to murder him? No. I did it because I thought I might be praised for it.

Nanette waited for a larger reason, but that was it. What should terrify her was that Wiskeria meant it. There was little distinction between the racoon and another person. A Human person and the racoon she both called him or father.

Nanette wondered if Wiskeria would be more bothered if it had been a Human or Drake. She thought she knew the answer.

But she tried. She had learned, and she carefully unpacked Yesels interaction.

I suppose it was because the boy wasnt that sick. Yet if he had been about to breathe his last, I would have been right, isnt that so?

Thats right. Cant you tell the difference?

Wiskeria shifted, and Nanette did not mean to hurt her feelings. After a touch of awkwardness, Wiskeria replied.

He could have breathed his last in the night. A childs lungs can close. A summer cold can be a parasite or rot in the lungs. He was still sick; these could be his last days.

But you dont know that.

But Yesel couldnt know hell live.

She hoped he would.

Hm. I think I see it.

Despite her grief, the young Nanette stirred. If she had been well and not heavy with sadness, she would have laughed, or given Wiskeria a disbelieving look, orinstead, she asked a question that bubbled out of her like the curiosity it was made of.

Wiskeria. How did you live as an adventurer? Was it this hard?

For answer, Wiskeria tilted her head upwards and stared at the sky. She had begun weeping, nearly five months ago, for no reason. Not even she had known why until later when she had learned that the [Maid] called Sacra was dead. Wiskeria had known her as Odveig.

Its easier to be an adventurer. You smile at people, you tell jokes, and if you just do what youre told, thats called professional. People rather liked me, I thought. My team often told me I didnt have to do menial tasks, but it made me liked. And I didnt lead my team. Odveig did. So we went around and killed whomever we were paid to. A task as old as time. My teammates seemed happy. Murder and pay. Simple and easy.

That was how she saw it. Then Wiskeria smiled sadly.

I guess that might have been too easy. Odveig was really Sacra. I wonder how odd she thought I was. I never knew, Nanette. Really and truly. I thought I had a friend. Oh well, Ive been wrong before.

The doll-like girls limbs twitched. She almost wanted to hug Wiskeria, to standbut Belavierrs shadow loomed wide, and Califor was dead. So Nanette didnt move as a cry came up from Riverfarm.

It sounded like, Goblin. Wiskeria turned her head and hesitated, but she relaxed when she saw an [Emperor] raise his hand.

You dont sound mad Sacra tricked you.

Nanette whispered as the other [Witch] began to stand. Wiskeria turned as she adjusted her hat and made sure she was looking proper. She gave Nanette a blank glance.

No. She was probably told to trick me.

But you thought she was your friend.

For answer, Wiskeria shrugged.

Yes, but she had her job. And I do not blame Magnolia Reinhart for spying on Belavierrs daughter. I would, if I was her. Something is happening below. I should be there, as Lakens [General].

Nanette peered up at Wiskeria, and she eyed the other [Witch]. Wiskeria had been a Silver-rank adventurer. Before that, she had apparently sailed from Terandria and worked as a sailor in all but class for two years. Now, she was a [General] for an [Emperor].

Did it feel more or less important to her? Did she enjoy it? What a mystery she was. Nanette spoke softly, as below, someone like a lighthouse, like a roaring flame, like a waving flag upon the wind, strode into Riverfarm. Nanette wondered who she was. Wiskeria turned her head once and then looked back.

Wiskeria. Why dont you practice the old ways? Why dont you strive for your craft? Mavika says you could surpass her. Oliyaya thinks you could teach her. Why are you like this?

For answer, Wiskeria thought for a long moment, then nodded down the hill to where her humble house lay and Riverfarm was in uproar. She spoke, though Nanette knew she would have to uncover the true meaning.

Theres an old man around Riverfarm. Every morning, as I wake, and in the night, I can hear him weeping. He knows Im here, and he whispers to me, begging for me to pick him up and carry him with me. Hes dying, and Mother ignored him because he had nothing she wanted. Maybe Califor could hear him. Perhaps Mavika can or only knows that hes there. But if I bent down, I could lift him up and add him to my craft. Or strike a bargain for Laken or do many things.

What old man? But Nanette saw Wiskeria adjust her hat.

A [Witch] with no hat has walked into Riverfarm. I can sense her like a [Lady]s fire, smelling of Goblins, and ghosts. I can hearher coming. I can see it on the wind and in the ants. If I wanted to protect myself, aid or help her, or make good on my promise to end my mothers evil, I could whisper down a well long abandoned into the deeps. I could journey to Chandrar and cut a piece of flesh that never rots and devour it. Or if I feared that, walk into the blood of this land, like Riethough shes also corrupted in her wayand offer to strike a pledge with the nobles of this land. Those are but options. I could bleed myself for a month and then offer it all up for a pact if there were anyone left to listen.

All these things were secrets. Terrible secrets. Nanette felt chills as she heard rituals that Califor would never teach her. Some things should be forgotten. Yet Wiskeria knew them, and she could do them all, Nanette believed. Wiskeria turned her head, and her smile was no more or less bland with all the words that made the air darken. The promise of such acts and deedsbecame a strange look in her eyes. It was the first true emotion shed shown this day, and Nanette read it on Wiskerias face.

Slightly scornful. Slightly sad. Wistful and resigned, andWiskeria shook her head.

I could do it. But how boringly predictable would I be? Mother taught me too well. Its easy. Thats not my craft.

With that, she turned and strode down the hill. An ordinary witch with a hat full of nothing. Wiskeria headed down to meet a [Witch] with no hat. Nanette closed her eyes.

If only they had met earlier. Indeed, they might have been such wonderful friends.

Erin Solstice had fallen in love with Inkar. Just like so many of her guests, over the course of only three days, she had seen Inkars way of travelling across the world and envied and admired how she was.

I want to help you. Are you going back to Longstalkers Fang?

Probably. I dont know what Tkrn will do. Or what will happen. I like Liscor, but Eska might need me.

The [Innkeeper] solemnly placed a hand on Inkars shoulder and patted it a few times, and the [Traveler] smiled at her. Erin looked ahead to the people waiting at the huge town and spoke to Inkar.

Ill do something. For you and your tribe. You helped Mrsha so muchI promise. Itll be great.

Uh oh. Goodbye tribe.

Gothica spoke up, and Erin turned her head to glare. Erin knew it was a wild promise, but she meant it with all her heart. Then she raised her head and turned, for she felt him across the middle distance. A blind manwith an aura so vast she had ridden into it. She felt as if there were an eye looking at her. But the personErin waved at Laken Godart and realized he couldnt see her since he was blind.

But to her amazementhe waved back.

Gothica. Why are you harassing Erin? She fought the Raskghar, and you helped bring her back. Stop it.

Numbtongue hissed as he disembarked from the carriage. He poked the little Cave Goblin in the side, reminding her of everything. Gothica stomped on his foot. As if she had ever forgotten. She glowered up at him and whispered back.

I am [Goth]. Goth doesnt respect stupid laws or authority.

Right, but Erin is nice.

Erin is also biggest authority ever. No killing Goblins. Bullies Titan. I level up. Who bullies biggest bully?

Gothica tapped her chest proudly. Numbtongue opened his mouth and thought about it. He folded his arms and nodded.

Mm. Good, keep it up.

He gazed ahead at Riverfarm, and the [Bard] wondered if this was such a good idea. For the instant he was spottedand he had to admit, hed gotten used to this on the ride herethe first thing the people did was shout.

Goblin!

They pointed to him and Ulvama. Gothica, ironically, was harder to pick out since Riverfarms folk werent used to a [Goth]-style Goblin. Numbtongue smiled and didnt reach for his sword; he unslung his guitar.

He didnt want to call lightning down, but he was noting the armed [Cataphract] and the better-than-average fighters here. And the Troll. Was she wearing armor? He decided hed let the Thronebearers fight her.

He had heard of Riverfarm, though he had never been with Rags. But Ulvama had said there were possibly captive Goblins here, a reason for Erin coming. And that this had been a bloody battlefield between Rags tribe and the Humans. So Numbtongue waitedbut then he realized that cry of Goblin was odd.

A man with his eyes closed had raised his hand at the furor, but no one had raised a bow, just pointed at him. Which was the most tame reaction that Numbtongue had had since leaving Invrisil.

Strange and stranger. Lyonette looked worried, but she advanced with the Thronebearers flanking her and Erin just as planned, and the welcoming parade seemed to kick off as planned.

His Majesty, [Emperor] Laken Godart of the Unseen Empire, Protector of Durenes Cottage, welcomes the [Innkeeper] of Liscor, Erin Solstice! A friend of Riverfarm and ally of the Wind Runner!

Some fancy [Knight]-fellow was shouting the address as Numbtongue sauntered after Erin. Unlike the [Innkeeper], he could observe since he wasnt in the spotlight. Erin had frozen up a bit at all the fanfareliterally, a group was wailing on some trumpets. A cheer began, and he wondered what Ryoka had done here.

But Numbtongue also got the juicy gossip from the rest of his companions.

Ryoka was here? Oh, with that Centauress. Charlay. I heard shes a character. Numb, theyre not aiming bows at you! Good sign?

Garia hissed at Numbtongue. On the other side, Dame Ushar was whispering to Ser Sest.

Lormels got his shield up in [Invisible Guard]. We should have had two Torchlights securing this area.

It cant be helped. We are entering a foreign monarchs presence. Is that aa [Knight]? It surely is. Low-level, butwho is that half-Troll?

Politeness. Thats the [Emperor]s consort, Sest.

No, I know. Durene Faerise. I meanther class. Her class is making me

Achoo!

Mrsha sneezed all over Ulvama as the exasperated [Shaman] carried her. Shed fed Mrsha a little tonic, but now Ulvama responded by wiping her arm all over Mrshas fur. The Gnoll tried to punch her, but then sniffled.

This is so fun, and Im sick! Curse you all!

All of this made Numbtongue smile. Because it was chaotic and silly, and if no one died today, hed consider this a win. He was especially looking forward to seeing how Erin reacted to the welcome.

She had frozen up a bit at the grand welcome, which Numbtongue knew she did not like. But he also knew she was no fan of this [Emperor].

Laken Godart. He stood with an interesting cast of people. Numbtongue eyed them.

A huge bald mana bodyguard, some kind of high-level brawlerstood at the back with the young [Knight]. Numbtongue saw what seemed like a [Farmer] wearing a kind of compromise between a suit and work clothes, but he seemed almost as authoritative as the [Lady] flanking the [Emperor] on the other side. She was quite attractive in a Human-conventional way, and Numbtongue only barely noticed heruntil his eyes drifted back.

Huh. Whoa.

Garia punched Numbtongue lightly. She mistook his look for eying Lady Rie for bardic inspiration. Namely, the kind they got a bad rap for, like how they might sing of the low-cut bodice, alluringly clinging dress, or some such.

Numbtongue didnt go in for that. Although the [Lady] was attractive and had a nice dresshe was eying her skin. And teeth.

Was there a faint ochre tinge to her skin? It looked fairly flawless, no freckles or scars. But that wasnt what interested him.

He thought, even as she smiled and held a hand over her mouth

She had faintly sharp teeth. Not just her canines like Fierre, but all her teeth, like a Goblin.

Which was hot. And probably justified the punch. More than that, Lady Rie was shifting, and Numbtongue saw, faintly, some muscle move along her arms and shoulder and even along her calf, exposed by the aforementioned dress cut down the sides. Ooh, muscle. She didnt seem like she worked out.

What an interesting Human. She went up higher on the danger-meter. Then he paid attention to the half-Troll girl, Durene. Lady Ries unusual features or notshe was squashed by the Troll.

After all, it wasnt often that Numbtongue had to stare up at someone only a bit shorter than Moore, with tough, grey skin and armor. It was faintly golden, with an authentic glow that beat the Thronebearers shiny armor. A giant wooden mace was propped beside her, and she was giving him a glare. He blew her a kiss, and her look of outrage made him laugh.

Oh yes, if Riverfarm was showing off, Erins group was giving at least a bit of what it got. People were pointing at Tkrn, who looked embarrassed to be so interesting. Ulvama glanced around with a vaguely interested expression because she had seen this before and eyed the crowd, then sniffed the air for the food set out. Typhenous waved grandly as people cheered him, beaming and winking into the crowd as a group of three pushed forwards.

The Thronebearers and Lyonette attracted just as much attention; Dalimont and Lormel flanked Lyonette, who had not been announced because she was incognitobut people cheered and waved her like, well, a [Princess]. She was even doing the graceful little wave.

But it was Erin Solstice who had locked eyes with Laken Godarts closed ones. And it was harder to say whether they liked or disliked each other at once.

Or rather, which outweighed which.

Erin Solstice was smiling, but her eyes darted around the huge crowd with a clear dislike for the moment. Laken Godart was almost ignorant of the commotion, as if this were commonplace. Yet his smile was equallystrained.

She could not know it, but a bubbling dislike was warring with an intellectual appreciation that knew full well his animosity was not natural. Still, the feeling was hard to erase. And at the same timeErin gazed at Laken.

Laken, whom she knew full well had participated in the siege of Liscor. Laken, who had kidnapped the Goblins; to save them, but also kidnapped them. And fought with Rags. Who hadsaved her life. And he was Ryokas dubious friend or acquaintance. Also, Laken from Earth, who had become an [Emperor]?

She was eying Laken Godart in a way that Lyonette did not like. The [Princess] knew Erins moods, and Erin had the same expression she sometimes cheerfully gave to Zevara or Lism ora lot of people.

Erin. Erin, this is his welcome, and we need his cooperation. Be very polite. Erin? Erin?

The procession was coming face-to-face with Lakens entourage, who had waited for them to approach. Like supplicants before an informal throne. Erin even smelled flower petals and a faint perfume in the air instead of sweat or anything else.

Such an orchestrated event, and people were cheering or applauding. Laken raised a hand, and the sounds died down instantly.

Erin tried. She really did. She twitchedthen, as Gamel began to read out an official welcome, she lost control.

Hey, Laken! Good to meet you at last! Put her there!

The [Innkeeper] strode forwards with a hand stretched out. Lyonette screamedinternally. Erin halted a second as the half-Troll girl stirred, frowning. Laken had no eyes to blink, but he twitched, and Gamel faltered.

His Mer

Undaunted, Erin took another step, holding her hand out, right before a womans arm shot out and the [Farmer] blocked her way. Prost and Rie gave Erin long stares.

His Majesty doesnt shake hands, Miss

Emperor Godart is waiting upon a formal greeting, I believe

The two began until Laken coughed. They stopped, turned, and he walked forwards.

Laken!

Durene hissed at him, but the blind man continued. Erin blinked. He wore pale white clothing with flashes of color added to them along the sleeves and leggings around his ankles, an oddly austere look matched by the embroidery of that pyramid and eyeshis symbols, emblazoned on his chest.

Royal-casual clothing? It certainly seemed nice, and he had a few artifacts on. A ring like hers, probably, buffed walking shoes, but he didnt dress like Altestiel even.

Yet never had Erin felt an aura as strong as his. Not even Magnolia had theintensity. The power, maybe, but she felt like it was pressing all around her. Erins own aura was skin-deep, and she pushed it back, but shed never been so conscious of the authority in the air.

But the blind man was casual, and indeed, he walked without a cane, as sure as could be across the newly-laid brick street. Erin had only half meant it when she held out a hand. Yet up his came, and he clasped hers with both of his. And shook it gently.

Erin Solstice. Youre every bit as outstanding as Ryoka said.

His grip was firm, even tight, but Erin saw him smile widely. Almost too widely. Did henot like her? Was he offended?

For once, she had no idea. She had knownwell, met people who were blind, a few times, but she couldnt read Laken for more reasons than just that. Fortunately or unfortunately, her mouth was running on autopilot.

And there were people watching her. Erin felt a prickling on the back of her neck from somefeeling. But she couldnt turn away from Laken, so she smiled and joked.

Its a pleasure, Laken. Im Erinyou knew that! Oops, sorry. Can I call you Laken?

Outrage and murmuring from people who could hear. Laken Godarts brows just rose, and then an expression of amusement crossed his face.

You can call meL, Erin.

She blinked in confusionthen began to giggle and laugh as she remembered. Laken chuckled, and the expressions of anger changed to confusion. A joke only the two of them knew as Lyonette smiled desperately and everyone watched. And suddenly, Erin felt a little calmer.

She let go of Lakens hands and looked at him again. Then Erin properly stared around Riverfarm, at the thousands of people, and whistled.

Whoa! This is amazing! This is your village? And youreand Im here at last andthe Summer Solstice party happened? You, an [Emperor]!

The young woman laughed in delight now, and Laken shrugged self-consciously. His head turned as if he was looking, but his eyes never opened.

And youre as striking as Ryoka said! You know, I felt the moment you crossed into the Unseen Empire? Are those three Goblins with you? And two GnollsI should love to meet them. No Drakes? More friends from home?

Oh, just one. Um, the others are sort of busybut we brought you gifts! Sorry, I forgot you didnt get Drakes up north

Lakens smile changed, and the word Drakes produced a rumble that Erin didnt like, but she held judgment, or tried.

It might be just as well. We have run into a few. From Manus.

Ooh. Manus? Whatno, um, maybe we should do the introducing thing?

Erin faltered, because Lyonette was staring at her out of the corner of her eyes. She was embarrassed, but Laken just turned his head. Cool as a cucumber.

Of course. To whom do I have the honor of meeting?

His head turned straight to Lyonette, and Ser Lormel stepped forwards and bowed smoothly. He performed a strange bow, deep, for royalty, perhaps, and spoke.

Your Majesty of Riverfarm, it is my honor on behalf of the Eternal Throne of Calanfer to extend the greetings of thrones from His Majesty, King Reclis du Marquin. I present to you Princess

Lyonette was hissing at him, but Lormel had clearly decided that this was not the time to play incognito. Erin saw Laken turn and then greet Lyonette, waiting through five minutes of floral addresses.

He was so unbothered by the attention. Which was unlike Erinshe could generate it, but she always knew it was there. Laken stood with thousands of eyes on him as if he had forgotten they were there. True, he might be blind, but this was different.

It was all going better than you could hope, if less well than planned, in short. Lyonette was stepping back, eying Laken with clear interest and wariness, but he turned his head.

May I meet the rest of your group, Erin, Princess du Marquin? I confess, I am powerfully interested.

That was unusual, and Lyonette faltered, but Mrsha was squirming with a notecard in Ulvamas arms, and Dame Ushar was trying to take it from her with clear worry. Numbtongues eyes lit up, and he produced another, worryingly toothy grin. But the person that Erin feared most was a Goblin spitting into her hand and cackling.

Gothica.

They never got that far, and Laken was spared whatever Gothica had planned for one simple reason. Erin heard, in the crowdwhich was murmuring, calling out, hardly silent during these proceedings now it was more casuala familiar, caustic voice.

Did we miss it? Did we missmove it, please. Gold-rank adventurers, coming through! Come on, Halrac. Wheres Briganda? Dead gods, what are you, shy? Come on and

Then Erin Solstices head turned, and she saw a familiar Stitch-Woman tugging on a loose thread in her neck anxiously. Half-bullying, half-cajoling a taller man with a face set with lines that defaulted to grumpy, through the crowd.

He wore enchanted leather armor and a bow was on his back at all times. Or rather, the invisible outline of one. His grey hair was not an indication of his actual age, but added to the grumpy old man. He seemed far more tired than Erin remembered. As if someone else were weighing him down, and he had always seemed tired.

But right nowhis eyes were lowered, fixed on Revi determinedly, as if he were trying not to look. His eyes were always roaming, but they were turned away from her.

Shyly. As if afraid to look. A [Shieldmaiden] was pushing through the crowd with a little boy on her shoulders, who was waving at a Gnoll whod sat bolt-upright in Ulvamas arms, sickness or not.

Typhenous hurried through the crowd and turned, delighted. But Erin turned away from Laken Godart and began walking, completely forgetting the [Emperor] was there.

Revi Cotton looked up as Halrac the Grims head rose. His face was set in that expression that had earned him his nickname before Named-rank. The face of a man about to take a wound or endure a sandstorm naked.

His friends and teammates knew it was fear. That of someone afraid of what he might see, or not see. His gaze rose, passing through people stepping to one side, sounding shocked.

He saw a young woman in travelling clothes, her brown hair flying in the wind a bit, hazel eyes on him. She was running forwards, arms waving, outstretched, flying past a surprised [Emperor].

Halrac! Halrac! Haaaaalrac! And Revi!

The Gold-rank [Marksman] had only a second to blink before she leapt and threw her arms around him. He froze up, and Erin laughed as she grabbed him.

Erin! Emperor Laken

Revi was horrified, but Erin just grabbed Halrac, and the man stared down at her. His arms went wide, but hesitated, hovering over her.

Erin?

Halrac stared down at her, taking in her face, how shed changed from beingdead. Those eyes seemed older, and yet, when she looked up and smiled

Hug me, silly! Or are you too cool?

Awkwardly, flushing as Master Helm and Windrests folk watched, Halrac put his arms down andpatted Erin on the back. She squeezed him harder.

You silly guy! Ive missed you. Youyou

Erin. You did it.

You came back to life. He had never expected to see her again. He had gone to the Village of the Dead for a dream, but never had Halrac thought to see Erin again. Ulrienhis friends in war and as adventurers.

He thought hed known some things never changed. NowHalrac, who kept his feet planted on the ground, felt as though he were floating. He squeezed harder as Revi made a gasping sound.

Youyoure soErin!

She grabbed Erin, and Typhenous gently placed his hands on Erins shoulders, seeming delighted. Briganda watched, looking at Halracs face. Stone was trying very hard not to crack. Erin squeaked as her feet left the ground. The [Marksman] realized she was alive.

Thena laughing, snotting, sobbing little white blur leapt towards Halrac and slammed into his legs. He glanced down, bent down, and Mrsha was all over him. She hugged Halrac, clinging to him as he tried to say something.

Halrac? You look like someones just slipped ice into your britches. Say something.

Briganda teased. Revi glanced up at Halrac, and then her head spun around.

TyphTyphenous, get a scrying orb. Record his face!

What did he? Halrac almost let go, but then he saw Mrshas sobbing face. She was hugging him, and Erin gazed up at him. Her eyes were shining. She wiped at one and then began to hiccup.

Oh nohicwhats goinghicnow? Come on, this is so embarrassing.

She glanced around as an [Emperor] held up a hand and listened, smiling. As a coven of [Witches] halted and an ordinary witch caught her first sight of Erin. For there was Erin Solstice, Mrsha, Halrac, Griffon Huntand then Lyonette came hurrying over, and to the horror of her Thronebearers, flung her arms around the group.

At this, the little Goblin with the poofy hat issued a strangled cry and broke off from the cautious group whod left their territory and ran, screaming, across the ground. A [Shaman] shouted and ran at her, but Pebblesnatch ran straight past Ulvama and launched herself into a flying headbutt that nearly took down the [Innkeeper].

And all through it, Halrac didnt understand why Erin was hiccuping. Until he realized his cheeks were faintly wet. Erin was sobbing.

Pebble? Halrac, stop crying! Youre making me cry!

Im crying?

Halrac felt at his face, and Revi looked up. Mrsha offered him a truly soiled handkerchief, and the [Summoner] pointed at Halracs face as Typhenous took a magical image for posterity. Just in case he needed to show it around, because no one would ever believe this.

Youre crying and smiling, you idiot. Make up your mind.

Halracs fingers found his lips, and there it was. He bent down as Pebblesnatch and Mrsha sobbed and patted each other on the head and hat. Erin Solstice looked up at him, and the [Bowman of Loss] stood there.

His class was founded upon his past. It was informed by the wounds he took, wounds which would never close, not with a thousand Potions of Regeneration. He bled into the ground invisibly, in a way not even an [Emperor] could see. A [Witch]? Of course.

For the first time, Halrac Everam felt himself stop bleeding. A hole in his chest closed, and he bent down and hugged an [Innkeeper] a while longer. Though his wounds made him stronger, Halrac would have thrown it all away to stay like this a little while longer.

Because she knew that, the moment stretched. The [Innkeeper] asked him where he had been and thanked him, until time forgot it died and became immortal.

That was almost long enough for him. Almost.

The [Witches] watched her. Not one, nor a few.

All. All of Riverfarm had comesome called, others informedto see this stranger to the [Emperor]s lands.

[Witches], from Eloise standing in the shadow of Hedag to Mavika, perched upon a branch with her flock, to Agratha and Oliyaya, even Alevica, who had come to a halt as a Centauress, who was a local celebrity and runner for the region, frowned.

Is that Ryokas other, second-best friend? I guess she looks okay. What do you think, Alevica?

A herd of Sariant Lambs were sitting in peoples arms or watching out windows, warily appraising how much danger they might be in. They had recognized the Ryoka Griffin connection.

All eyes on her, and two last [Witches] saw Erin Solstice differently.

A little girl sitting under the shade of a tree wondered why her hat rustled when she saw the [Innkeeper]. Another stood almost unnoticed in all the hubbub, for all her rank. She listened to the [Witches] talking.

She has no hat.

She has no hat, but she was part of the deeds of Gnolls. Look, you can almost see the possession on her.

An [Innkeeper] and a [Witch]?

Why not? Yet she has no hat. Yetshe summons a prickling in my thumbs. A [Witch] this way comes.

Now, they saw her. NowWiskerias eyes locked on Erin Solstice. She looked at the [Innkeeper], the [Witch] with no hat, for a long moment. She saw more than most, even the blind [Emperor], and a dozen omens wrote themselves around Wiskeria in a moment.

She ignored them all. Then she turned away from Erin Solstice. Idly, as if there were other things to do and Erin was but one of them. Too bad.

I dont believe I will like her.

The old man was weeping again. Wiskeria ignored him as he whispered, begging. Ignored him, but this time

The [Witch] without a hat heard him.

Authors Note:

Whew. As you may realize, this is the poll chapter. And it is Part 1 ofat least 2. I decided to mix it with the Erin storyline because itll work better, but I split it up because I felt like I needed to.

And this is me, who normally expects to write 60k in one sitting. So I think I was wiser? I also worked harder on setting the scene up more, and doing other things.

Always improve, and always try new things. Im feeling a bit tired, though, so Im gonna rest.

And play Immortal Empires on Warhammer 3! Theres a video game I want to play. Look, this is how I relax. I dont watch the new um, House of Dragon show or whatever. I do something where I can use a different side of my brain.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Some slice-of-life as well as a completely unrelated vacation story. Ahem. Thanks for reading and stay healthy!

Pirateaba Baking Bread, Sugar Tea, Mrsha Ramsay and more by /demoniccriminalKo-Fi: /lechatdemonStash with all the TWI related art:https://sta.sh/222s6jxhlt0

Belavierr by butts!

Belavierr by /peekay