I sigh. “Well, at least there’s that. But why did she pick those twin hand-crossbows, instead of something with more impact?”

  Ulged grins. “No’ just any ordinary handbows, Kettrin. Those li’l beauties are charged up wi’ a bit of oomph that Ah only gie t’ the best o’ mah craft. Yer Stormbringer, fer example.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Charged up… how, exactly? Like, my weapon’s the spear-equivalent of a thermonuclear grenade, what are Dorothea’s handbows capable of???”

  Ulged’s grin widens, showing off a lot of very sharp teeth.

  “Oh, not TOO overpowered, ssie. Every tenth bolt has a chance to do extra damage, increasing every ten shots until it triggers. The tenth has a 5% chance to do double damage. If it doesnae trigger, the twentieth has a 10% chance to do triple. The thirtieth has a 15% chance to do quadruple, and so on. Theoretically, the ninetieth bolt fired has a 45% chance to do…”

  He calcutes swiftly, fingers flicking.

  “1000% damage. Ten times the base of the bolt. Plus whatever buffs and debuffs have been used to raise that number.”

  I gawp. “Ulged… why do you insist on flouting the ws of decency when it comes to making weapons? Are you TRYING to be the reason this game institutes a Geneva Convention???”

  Ulged cackles. “Thank ye, ssie! That’s the nicest thing anyone’s e’er said t’ me! Anyway, you c’n rest assured, Ah’m not lookin’ tae end up on any watchlists OUTSIDE of creating weapons of mass entertainment.”

  I roll my eyes. “Well, thanks for setting my mind at ease for this, at least. I’ll just have to watch for the pnet blowing up on my own time.”

  Somewhat reassured, I head out, running into Kyle, the soldier who’d been ordered to scout the Trevalli Manse during the brief occupation. He salutes quickly, then stammers, “L-Lady Argonaut, the Major wishes to speak with you! She’s discovered something interesting during her interrogation of the former nobleman and his coterie!”

  I sigh. “Alright, I’m coming. I swear, I never get a break, something’s ALWAYS happening…”

  Kyle leads me to the Vassim military complex, where soldiers in fine armour are milling about undertaking various duties, with squads leaving on or returning from patrol. I follow the soldier as he jogs steadily towards a small fortress-esque structure, the gates opening as two of the archers spot us and shout something down behind them.

  As we enter, the gates sm shut behind us, and Kyle heads up the stairs and into the room at the far end of the hallway.

  “Major, I found her!”

  He salutes, then steps back, letting me enter the room after him. It’s an office, with Brandia sitting at a desk, rubbing the base of one of her horns, with an expression that SCREAMS, at FULL VOLUME, ‘I need a fucking drink.’

  She looks up. “Good work, Kyle, you’re dismissed. Go get some food and rest, you did well today.”

  “Th-thank you, ma’am!”

  He turns and bolts, almost falling down the stairs. I cnk towards the Andromal Major, my armour a little messy after the fighting earlier, and lean one hand on her desk. “Hey, if you wanna take a few, I can wait. You look like you’re getting the absolute worst headache coming on.”

  Brandi shakes her head, her horns glinting in the torchlight. “No, I’m fine. Just… trying to figure out how I’m supposed to report this to the Council. We’ve heard rumours, and then my father’s betrayal… but this… this confirms it. We are on the brink… of war.”

  I stare. “At war? With WHO?! Not Mortis City, right?!”

  Brandia shakes her head. “What? No! They’ve never been our enemies; we’ve always just left them alone! No, we’re going to be forced into open conflict with the Pesian Dynasty. They’re a nation to the north of us, with a reputation for militarism and industry. They’ve always coveted our nds and resources, and now, years after they attempted to invade, they’re finally trying again…”

  She gestures to a sheet on the desk. On it is written a transcript of Leon Fitzwilliam’s confession, proof that the Pesian Dynasty had offered him a noble title far outweighing the lowly rank of Viscount, as well as great wealth and any prize he sought, in exchange for him giving them aid and information. It seems that part of the reason he’d sought to buy the deed to Dorothea’s ancestral nds had been not for his own avarice, but because the manor was in a very defensible spot, with its own well and plenty of space for troops to be garrisoned there. There were also a LOT of racial epithets and curses directed at the Major, at Dorothea, and at me, for getting in his way.

  I swear softly. “Fuck. I think some of the Argonauts might be working with them, too. I can’t say for sure, but we had best be prepared for more disruption. Fortify the walls, rally as many men and women-at-arms as you can. Don’t make it obvious. I’ll talk to my friends, we’ll see if we can round up some additional allies for our cause. If Vassim is lost, we’ll be in dire straits.”

  I straighten. “I’ll get started right away. You have my word, I’ll be right on the front lines alongside you.”

  With a thankful smile from the exhausted Major, I step out, through the gates of the fortress, and take off, beating my wings slowly as I think hard.

  If war IS coming, we’ll need as much help as we can get. The Lords are prohibited from directly interfering, so we can’t count on their aid. Having good armour and weapons will help, but Ulged’s a pyer. He probably can’t be on 24/7 to churn out passable gear for everyone we can recruit to the cause. Plus, how many pyers will take us seriously? There’s not been much in the way of build-up, very subtle stuff. Which makes sense, I guess, if the Pesian Dynasty wants to take us by surprise. But that means, until the enemy is literally outside, there’ll be pyers who won’t be prepared. And what about those who treat this as a casual gaming experience? They won’t get invested. “It’s just a game, why bother fighting a losing battle? The devs wouldn’t make it unwinnable by design. So what is Vassim’s destroyed? We’ll just find another city to sell loot in and get quests from.” This could be bad…. I need to find Astie.

  Angling my wings to hover, I wave my menu open and tab over to the friends-list. Asteria’s name is lit up, and I jab the icon with a finger, using the in-game call function to talk to my fiancée.

  “Hello, love. Are you streaming right now? We have a… situation. I need to have a private chat with you, if you’ve got a minute?”

  “Uh, yeah, but I’m just finishing up. Give me a minute to run my outro, and I’ll be right back!”

  The call cuts out, and I smile, waiting for her to finish. Oh, Dana. Even now, you’re still working hard. Just one more reason I love you!

  A few minutes ter, she does indeed call back. “Okay, I’m done. Where are you?”

  “About fifty metres of the ground, hovering over Vassim City’s… market district. I mean, I shouldn’t be TOO hard to find, what with my wings and armour!” I ugh, and hear the answering giggle.

  “Alright, I’ll be right there. Give me a few minutes! You’re lucky I had a quest I was doing a walk-through for in the area, ya cheeky mare!”

  I wait, hanging above the city, looking down at the people milling through the streets and shops. Poor buggers… they have no idea that we’re on the brink of war…

  A familiar figure sails through the air towards me, glowing dragonfly wings buzzing behind her. I wave, as the beautiful Tailtéann woman flutters towards me, her smile radiant.

  She tilts her head, my expression clearly drawing her notice. “Ookay, that look on your face is ominous. What’s up?”

  I sigh, then expin what I’m learned from Major Brandia, and Asteria’s face goes solemn. “I see. Yeah, we’re fucked in the ass if we don’t start finding back-up, NOW. I have a couple of ideas, but we’d make more progress by splitting up and covering more ground. You go talk to Dr. Frank and Ulged, I’ll see who I can wrangle. Did Brandia say when she thinks the war’s going to kick off?”

  I shake my head. “I’ll ask her for updates when I get the chance. But yeah, let me know if you have any luck gathering allies!”

  I turn in the air and start diving, sending Brandia a message asking to be kept up-to-date on the approximate date for the beginning of the war.

  She responds, giving me a date that I check against the in-game calendar. Looks like we could have around… 4 months. Not a long time to gather an army, but still time…

  I nd on the front wn of the Dupont-Moreau Academy of Magiscientific Education, heading for the rge door. Rutger Kael’Dornis, former General of the Vassim military, and a handful of volunteer guardsmen, are doing their rounds, and the dignified old man smiles when he spots me. I wave cheerfully back.

  “General, good afternoon! I was hoping I could meet with Headmaster Dupont-Moreau?”

  “Lady Kettrin, good to see you. Of course, the Headmaster is in his study. I’ll send word that you’re on your way.”

  He raises a hand to his temple, and his eyes glow a faint blue as he communicates telepathically with Dr. Frank. I blink. “Whoa, cool spell. When did you learn that?”

  He grins. “Last week. Thanks to the research being done here, even a magically-inept old fossil like me can wield a smattering of arcane power. In fact, I’m actually stronger now than I was twenty years ago!”

  One of the young guards groans, “Ain’t that the truth! The chief’s been challenging us to sparring matches every other day and even ganging up on him doesn’t help!”

  Rutger winks. “That sounds dangerously like you’re close to giving up, Evan. Should I take that as my win?”

  “N-No! I’m just saying you’re way stronger than I expected from such an old man!” Evan retorts, and the old General chuckles.

  “Oh, I’m OLD, am I? How about you get back here and say that again!”

  I giggle as Evan flees, Rutger chasing after him, the old man moving with fluidity and grace that I’d expect from a man thirty years younger.

  Heading into the Academy main building, I make my way up the stairs towards the Headmaster’s office, passing quite a number of students, some in robes, some in more casual clothing, and a couple of in piecemeal armour, like padded gambesons and studded leather.

  As I approach the doors to Dr. Frank’s office, a girl with rge horns and cloven hooves ctters out, clutching several books.

  “Thank you, Professor! I really appreciate your insight!” she calls, her gsses glinting in the light as she scampers down the hall towards me, her tail flicking with evident excitement. She nods to me, only half-concentrating on her surroundings.

  A dry, weary cough rolls out of the half-ajar door, and I stick my head in, knocking on the jamb. “Hello, Dr. Frank. Do you have a minute?”

  The elderly French doctor smiles as he spots me. “Ah, mademoiselle Kettrin! It ‘as been too long, young dy. I ‘ave ‘eard about ze situation from Yaya. You are in ze best ‘ands you could be right now. ‘Owever, I do not sink zis is why you ‘ave come. What is on your mind?”

  He steeples his wrinkled hands over his robed chest. Despite his warm smile, there’s a weariness in his eyes that was there before, but has only gotten more obvious. His body seems… frail, somehow. There’s a… thinness to him that wasn’t present st time we met, a sort of fraying at the edges.

  I sigh. “Dr. Frank… we might be at war. There’s a nation to the north of us, the Pesian Dynasty, which has begun preparing to invade our nds and we are… woefully under-prepared for this…. Which brings me here today. We need allies. Are… Would any of your students be willing to act as support mages, healers, communications assistants? We need all the help we can get…”