Siren's Reach - Fallen Lands Book 3

Chapter Thirty

The Whiskers of War

Evelyn

I woke with a startled yip, scrambling upright so fast that my tails accidentally whipped Amélie right in the face.

She flailed, sputtering and sitting up with a look of drowsy confusion. "Huh? What's going on?"

My ears flattened sheepishly as embarrassment heated my cheeks. "Nothing… I just had a really weird dream."

She blinked at me, still groggy, then snorted softly. "Must have been something impressive. You are shaking."

I tried to brush it off, but my heart was still pounding. "It—it started out nice! Really nice, actually." I shifted my weight uncomfortably, glancing away. "I was a fox, my fox form, and I was in this beautiful, endless snowfield. Everything was soft, glittery snow, and the air was filled with the scent of ice cream."

Amélie's eyes narrowed skeptically. "Ice cream?"

"Look, it was a dream, okay?" I grumbled. "Anyway, there were these adorable little ice cream bunnies hopping everywhere, and I was just so excited! I mean, ice cream and bunnies. How could it possibly go wrong?"

Amélie covered her mouth, stifling a giggle. "And did you catch one?"

I groaned, ears flattening further. "Yes, several! And every single one turned into sand the moment I bit into it. Sand! Cold, gritty sand!"

By now, Amélie was shaking with suppressed laughter. "And that warranted your dramatic awakening?"

"I was devastated!" I protested. "Don't look at me like that! Until you've experienced the ice cream bunny dream, you have no idea how cruel that is to a fox. It was a total betrayal."

Amélie finally gave up trying to hide her laughter, collapsing back onto the bed, clutching her sides. "Evelyn Shakespeare Dalen, Hero of Siren's Reach, Liberator of West Peak, brought low by treacherous ice cream bunnies."

I glared halfheartedly at her, but I couldn't stop myself from laughing along, my embarrassment melting away. "I'm glad my emotional trauma is amusing to you."

She wiped away a tear, still grinning. "Oh, immensely."

I rolled my eyes, sighing dramatically as I settled back down beside her. "I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

Her chuckle was gentle as she closed her eyes again. "Not a chance."

I let out a sigh as she settled comfortably back onto the pillow. My mind began to wander on its own path, eager to ascend beyond this moment. I was starting to debate going to check how close to Blackstone we'd gotten, but Amélie wasn't quite done.

With a snort, she continued, "Well, at least you didn't wake up mumbling about Alice. Now that would have been embarrassing."

My ears twitched, and I felt a sudden tightness in my chest at the mention of Alice. Amélie's teasing was meant harmlessly, but it stung more than I'd expected.

"Actually, about Alice…" I started, hesitating slightly.

Amélie cracked one eye open, sensing my change in tone. Her playful smirk faded into concern. "Evie? What is on your mind?"

I shifted awkwardly, sitting up again to meet her eyes directly. "Yeah, we really need to talk about this whole prank thing you were pulling on her."

Her ears immediately drooped, and she looked genuinely confused. "The thing about you two? I was just having a little fun. Alice knows it was a joke."

I shook my head, sighing softly. "No, Amélie, I could tell she doesn't see it that way. I'm pretty sure she was stressed and worried the entire time she was traveling with you, and when she realized what you did, it wasn't funny to her at all. She was really upset and angry."

She sat up slowly, her expression turning serious. "She did not seem that upset to me. No worse than anyone caught in a prank, anyway."

"Of course she wouldn't," I pointed out gently. "You're level twenty-nine. She's level four. You brutally killed several pirates she was struggling with right in front of her with your bare hands. She doesn't know you very well, and now she knows you've been walking the line just short of outright lying to her as long as she's known you. What was she supposed to do?"

Amélie opened her mouth to reply but closed it again, her shoulders slumping as my words sank in. "I didn't think about it that way. She seemed to be taking it pretty well, joking back, even."

I reached out, gently taking her hand to soften the blow of my words. "She didn't have much of a choice. Alice isn't used to this world at all, and for all she knew, you were just some powerful noble. She's just someone trying to figure out her place here, just like we were, and she trusted you. Now she's confused, embarrassed, and probably thinks I was in on the joke."

Amélie's eyes widened, guilt evident on her face. "Oh. Evie, I really didn't mean to hurt either of you. I thought maybe it would help break the ice, make things less awkward between you two."

"I get that," I said softly. "But it's just made things more complicated. Alice is probably too embarrassed to even approach me now, and honestly, I feel awkward, too. How am I supposed to build a friendship with her when she thinks I'm either laughing at her or avoiding her?"

Amélie sighed deeply, looking away with regret. "I did not think it through. I am sorry, Evelyn. I really was trying to help."

"I know." I squeezed her hand reassuringly. "But maybe the best thing to do right now is just clear this up. Talk to Alice, apologize, and tell her it was just a poorly thought-out prank that had nothing to do with how either of us feels about her."

Amélie nodded quickly, clearly relieved to have some way to make amends. "I will apologize to her as soon as we are back. I'll make sure she knows it was not your fault and do whatever I can to fix things."

I smiled softly, feeling a weight lift from my chest. "Thank you."

That was a lot smoother than I'd expected things to go. Maybe that was because I didn't really remember Amélie ever showing remorse for her jokes or pranks in the past. Of course, in the past, they'd mostly been as harmless as she'd intended this one. And I think I could understand why this time was different. It was more than just her misunderstanding of who she was teasing. Something about Alice was different. It wasn't just that she wasn't one of us. I hadn't quite put my finger on it yet, but I kept thinking about it as we got dressed.

I was wearing my battle gown Sibylla had made for me again. It felt very multi-purpose, ready for a fight or negotiation, depending on what we found when we arrived at Blackstone Keep. I helped Amélie with her armor, and as I finished, she bounced over to a mirror to work on her hair. That simple bounce and grin, I think, was what made things click in my mind.

Of the three of us, Amélie was technically the oldest, and it showed. She was often very good at thinking things through and really letting some of her previous life experience show. She had been very good at finding exactly how she wanted to live her life in this world. She had a clear, grounded vision for her future—one shaped by genuine compassion, practicality, and maturity that neither Sibylla nor I could quite match. And that was also the problem.

Despite how well she'd been managing and everything she'd done, she was still a kitsune, and a very young kitsune at that. In this world, we were only sixteen years old, and no matter how mature and advanced we'd been in our past lives, no matter how many memories we had or how much easier that made it for us to look at the world around us and make decisions expected of a young adult, we were doing that while fighting against our nature. A sixteen-year-old kitsune was not the same as a sixteen-year-old human, let alone a twenty-four-year-old, full-grown adult woman.

I wasn't actually sure what a sixteen-year-old kitsune was supposed to be like. We didn't have any examples at all, but the older kitsune had no problem at all letting us know how much they thought of us as small children. I had a feeling that if we didn't have the system propping us up with stats and levels, we'd be doing far worse in that department. Not that the thought of being a carefree fox kit playing in our family's grove didn't have its own appeal. Having nothing better to do than play and learn all day sounded much better than dealing with war, politics, and saving the world.

But everything made a little more sense. How easy it was to want to just stop dealing with all of these things and go have fun, how easily Amélie, of all people, was able to completely miss Alice's feelings. Even how easy it was for Sibylla to treat everything like a game without a hint of remorse.

Alice was a whole different story. I didn't know a lot about Naiads, barely more than I picked up from Alice's retelling of her story when we'd met. The more I thought about it, though, the more I had a feeling they probably matured a lot more like humans. Alice looked our age, but there was a certain presence about her, an aura of confidence and maturity that felt distinctly human. She carried herself naturally, without the same unconscious internal struggles the three of us were dealing with.

A sharp knock at the door brought me out of my thoughts, and Sarah called out, "We are half an hour out from Blackstone Keep. We should do some planning before we arrive."

I stepped over to the door and opened it. "Sure. We were just about to head up."

She gave a nervously excited smile and spun to lead the way. Looking over her shoulder, she said, "I almost wish my brother was still around to see this. The look on his smug, superior face when we appeared overhead in a skyship… That would have been priceless."

I started to smile but stopped. "That brings up a good point. How likely are they to see us coming in? I expect they have something to deal with flying monsters?"

She started on the steps to the top deck, trying to focus on us and watching where she was going at the same time. "I don't think there is much threat to the ship. They have weapons for dealing with monsters, but they're more to drive them away or bring them to the ground. Without a specialized classer or mage, there isn't a lot of hope of seriously harming something high up in the sky."

I nodded, curious but not terribly worried. We passed a lot of marines and soldiers ready for battle on our way to the quarterdeck, where we joined Commander Aric and a combination of ship and army officers. They were discussing troop insertions before we arrived, so I stopped and joined them. Rather than just keep going, he nodded toward me and went a few steps back in his explanation.

"Captain, thank you for joining us. We were just going over the deployment plan one last time. As the soldiers with us have no experience rapidly deploying from a skyship, we will be pulling alongside the keep itself." He indicated a spot on a rough, drawn map of the familiar layout. "We will align the ship with this walkway behind the keep and away from the wall. That will give us cover from most soldiers on the wall and give us plenty of space to maneuver if needed. Boarding ramps will be dropped, and the soldiers will take the structure from the top. We expect little to no immediate resistance."

I nodded along with his words, then looked to Sarah, "Where do I need to go to claim the territory? And where do you need to be to tell the soldiers to stand down?"

Unprepared for the sudden question, she stiffened but quickly recovered, cleared her throat, and explained. "Once you're inside, you will have to descend two floors to the audience hall. The gaudy throne there will allow you to claim the keep. I should be able to find the watch captain on the same floor."

I crossed my arms and bit my lip, thinking for a moment before asking, "How likely is he to rush to the audience hall when he realizes that they are being invaded? Can we hold the exit to the residential floor and the audience hall at once without fighting and wait for him there? If we can avoid killing everyone, that might be preferable."

"Maybe if I stand in the clear where I can be seen? They likely think everyone is dead and are waiting to hear from the Baron on who is taking over command. Without anyone else present, I would be in charge by kingdom law. I can't say if they'd respect that or not.

I looked to Aric. "What do you think?"

Aric rubbed his jaw, eyes flicking from the map to Sarah and then back to me. "It's a gamble," he said candidly. "But not a bad one. If they haven't received orders and think you're dead, seeing you alive and calm might shake their footing. Soldiers prefer clear authority, especially in chaos. If Sarah steps forward visibly, flanked by our troops, it may buy enough hesitation for us to talk rather than fight." He tapped the walkway on the map again. "I'll have a squad move to secure the stairwell between the audience hall and the residential floor. Non-lethal force unless engaged directly. If we control both points, we force them to come to us—and if the watch captain sees Sarah first, we might just avoid bloodshed." Then, he gave a thin smile. "But I'll have archers ready, just in case diplomacy fails."

Amélie crossed her arms and sighed, "Perhaps I should wait on the ship in case anyone is hurt or if anything unexpected happens."

I nodded. "Alright. It sounds like we have a plan."

They worked out some finer points, orders were given, and several officers moved off to brief the soldiers on the plan. I couldn't focus on all of it. I was a little caught up deciding if I felt cowardly for letting them prepare everyone else to fight or relieved that I likely wouldn't have to. After just leaving a battlefield with so much death, the idea of joining another was entirely unwelcome.

I waited on the quarterdeck in silence as we approached. Amélie and Sarah chatted quietly nearby, mostly about politics, but my eyes were stuck on the huge wall and fort behind it looming in the darkness. I wasn't eager to test the ship's shields against any kind of artillery. As we closed in from above, I was relieved to see that the wall was nearly as poorly manned as before. No cries of alarm went out until the ramps were being dropped onto the roof, and by then, it was far too late to do much about it.

Several heavy infantry crossed first, including four of the Dalen Dragoons, and that was as much as I was allowing to go ahead of me. The squad I followed, my escort as much as they were the spearhead, led the way directly down into the keep, the short march across the barren residential level to the next flight of stairs down. Soldiers behind us ensured the spaces were empty and took up posts as we passed through. We didn't encounter any resistance at all until the two guards outside the audience hall spotted us. At first, they moved as if they were going to intercept the twenty heavy infantry themselves, but they stopped and wised up, about to flee in terror before Sarah interrupted them.

"Guardsman Aleck. Please alert the captain of the watch that I will be awaiting him in the audience hall."

Her words were like a beacon of hope, and I think the two of them would have collapsed on the spot if they could have. Guardsman Aleck nearly fell over as he offered her a quick bow, "Yes, Lady Sarah, right away!"

Nervous as they were, both guardsmen ran together. I snorted but kept going. The soldiers burst through the now-unguarded doors into a large, ostentatiously decorated hall that practically screamed of misplaced grandeur. The last of our escort closed the doors behind us, leaving us to take in the scene. Polished marble floors gleamed beneath towering pillars lined with gilded trim, each carved intricately with patterns that were far too elaborate for a remote fortress. At the far end of the room sat an actual throne. It was a gaudy, high-backed monstrosity of polished wood, velvet cushions, and excessive golden accents. Tapestries in vibrant colors hung from walls, depicting exaggerated scenes of heroic conquest clearly meant to flatter whoever sat on that ridiculous chair.

Despite its extravagant decor, the hall felt oddly empty, almost hollow, as if waiting desperately for a sense of genuine authority to finally fill it. So, naturally, I obliged. As the soldiers spread out, Sarah and I walked directly to the throne. Reaching it, I sat down, tried not to notice how comfortable the chair actually was, and, just as my conquests before, spoke aloud.

"I declare this keep conquered and under my control."

A moment passed with nothing, but then I grinned at the familiar chime of a system notification.

You cannot conquer a territory that is actively defended. Pacify all resistance before attempting to claim a territory.

I sighed. "It was worth a shot."

I stood back up and moved to stand beside Sarah as we awaited the watch captain's arrival. We didn't have to wait long. By the time I had reached her side, we could already hear the argument echoing out in the hall as someone was being told in no uncertain terms that only the watch captain would be allowed to enter, and any guards would need to wait outside. The booming voices calmed to a more reasonable level, making listening through the closed doors much more difficult, but when they finally opened a couple of minutes later, I was a little surprised.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The expected watch captain was present, but he was being escorted by yet another pair of the Dalen Dragoons, leaving me wondering how many of them had managed to sneak onto the ship before this mission. But also, more notably, he was accompanied by a man in silk pajamas and a distinct, silly style of foppish hat that I recognized.

He was older than the last creep I'd encountered sporting such headgear and clearly either stronger or more important—evidenced, I was increasingly convinced, by the elaborate curly mustache now paired with a matching, equally ornate beard. I didn't have scientific proof that these facial adornments directly indicated status, not yet anyway, but I had a good feeling.

The pajama-clad nobleman stormed forward with theatrical anger, though admittedly it was difficult to focus on his outrage when I was preoccupied wondering exactly what sort of life you'd have to lead to think this was an appropriate moment to carefully curl your facial hair and don a flamboyant hat—but not appropriate enough to get properly dressed.

In a stroke of luck, my flighty thoughts went unnoticed as he ignored me completely, instead launching immediately into a venomous rant at Sarah.

"Where have you been, Lady Sarah? I was sent here days ago to retrieve you, yet you vanish without so much as a word? How dare you disrespect me like this? How dare you disrespect the Count! He graciously lowered himself to choose you—a girl who, frankly, has always been too willful and ill-mannered—to be honored as his wife, and this is how you repay him? It is utterly disgraceful."

He took a breath, adjusting his ridiculous hat as he glared down at her. "I should have known you'd prove unsuitable. The Count generously arranged tutors, wasting good money and effort on your training. Do you have any idea how many fine, obedient women were overlooked in your favor—women who would have known their place, who wouldn't require constant correction? But instead, the Count must suffer your insolence, your selfishness. And now, thanks to your childish disappearance, the wedding must be rescheduled! The humiliation he suffers because of your irresponsible, selfish tantrum is inexcusable."

His voice rose, dripping with contempt as he continued, "Perhaps your father failed utterly to instill even basic decency in you, Lady Sarah. Clearly, you lack any understanding of your rightful place as a real nobleman's bride. But rest assured—once we return to Drolia, you will learn your role, even if it requires extensive... discipline." He practically snarled that last word as if anticipating delivering the punishment personally.

Stunned silence filled the room for seconds, only finally broken by a nearly giggling, "Wooooooooooooow!" Oh. Wait. That was me. I cleared my throat, "And what flavor of idiot are you to speak to my lovely vassal like that right in front of me?"

He spun on his heel, eyes bulging with disbelief as he finally acknowledged my existence. His gaze traveled dismissively from my fox ears down to the hem of my battle gown before settling on the antlered crown atop my head, prompting a sneer of pure disgust.

"And who exactly allowed you, some beast-kin child dressed up for a costume party, to open your mouth in my presence?" He gestured contemptuously at my gown. "Is this supposed to impress someone? That ridiculous excuse for clothing looks like it belongs on a tavern stage dancer, and the silly little antlers—are you pretending to be royalty now? How adorable."

He scoffed, drawing himself up taller, eyes gleaming with contemptuous amusement. "Listen closely, little girl, because clearly you haven't been taught properly: creatures like you exist solely to entertain, serve, or carry burdens—preferably silently. Now, hold your tongue before I have someone fetch a leash."

His lips curled cruelly, utterly confident in his own superiority, as he turned dismissively back toward Sarah, as if expecting no further trouble from the tiny beast-kin who dared interrupt his tirade. Which was exactly his first mistake.

I smiled at the Dragoons escorting him and the watch captain, taking them in and then focusing on the really big one, standing at least six and a half feet tall with a hammer that probably weighed more than me, and putting on my most brilliant smile. "Loyal Dragoon, please do me a favor and break his legs if he speaks again."

Entirely unexpectedly, I was answered by a woman's beautiful, lilting soprano. "Of course, Princess Evelyn. It would be my honor."

Looking more annoyed than anything else, the man made his second mistake, "Be Silen—"

CRACK!

In a blur too fast to follow, the Dragoon swung her massive hammer low, cleaving clean through the man's legs midway down his shins. Bones snapped like dry twigs. For a heartbeat, he seemed to hang in the air weightlessly, disbelieving shock spreading across his face, before crashing down onto the jagged stumps of his tibia. He toppled backward, a shrieking, gasping heap. My eyes went wide, and my hand flew to my mouth. I hadn't expected her to actually do it, especially without a moment's hesitation. As the man lay there screaming, she tilted her head to the side.

"Princess, does screaming count?" She asked in a curious and sweet tone.

"Uh..." I answered, intelligently – which she took as a yes.

Her hammer flashed through the air again, cracking into a femur with a meaty crunch that left no question about the fate of the bone beneath. I wasn't sure whether to be thankful for the sudden silence or concerned that I didn't know if he'd only just passed out—but ultimately, it didn't matter. I had a schedule to keep.

Turning my attention to the pale-faced watch captain, who stared in horror at the broken figure on the floor, I asked brightly, "Alright. So who's in charge now? You? And more importantly, do you surrender?"

A system notification later, and we were on our way. The guards didn't give us any trouble. They were more concerned about keeping their jobs than who exactly was paying them. Several of our soldiers stayed behind as planned, and we were off to Ashenford. I marched back aboard the ship, careful to hide in the silhouette of the Dragoons as I passed Amélie by, but she somehow spotted me anyway. In only a moment, she'd bounced up beside me, linking her arm in mine.

"I saw the notification! Congratulations! That should really make the rest of this so much easier! I am glad there were no complications. Well, not that we really expected any!"

Sarah coughed behind us, chiming in with just enough venom and sarcasm in her voice. "Just the one complication. An emissary from His Radiance, Count Alexandros Oriol Vega—may his mustache forever tangle in his soup." Her voice brightened with joyous vindictiveness when she continued, "Evelyn ordered his legs broken. It was magnificent!"

I squawked in protest. "Hey! That was an accident! Sort of! I mean, I technically did order…" I paused, looking to the nearby dragoon, "I'm so sorry, I still haven't gotten your name."

"Valoranthe Milly Sunpetal, my lady."

I nodded. That seemed appropriate. "Ok. I did technically order Valoranthe Milly Sunpetal to break his stupid legs if he opened his mouth again –"

"If he spoke again, my lady."

"Right! If he spoke again, but I didn't communicate very well that I didn't mean it literally or immediately, so I guess it was my fault, but also an accident."

Amélie was holding back a giggle, and Milly asked, "My lady, are you displeased? Should I try to go put him back together?"

I held my hands up, "Oh, no, no. You did wonderfully. Uh. Some… Really good initiative. Wait, are you a healer?"

"Sadly, no, my lady, but I do have some rope."

Amélie burst out laughing this time. "Okay, I like you." Turning to me, she continued, "You know, you really don't seem very upset about this situation, Evie."

I shrugged. "I mean, he was warned. Also, he was being super mean to Sarah."

Sarah nodded, her eyes sparkling with cheerful mockery. "Honestly, it's true. But I probably deserved it. I was being terribly difficult, what with daring to exist within eyesight. Really, the man was just bravely defending his mustache's honor from my overwhelming mediocrity."

"That is a very good point!" I called out, cutting through their laughter. "I never did figure it out! Okay, so he had an even bigger mustache than Alexandros, and he also had a twirly, fancy beard! I was pretty sure that the stupider and bigger your hat was, the more important you were in Drolia—and this guy even had the devil beard! So I thought maybe he was a duke or something. But then it sounded like he was just a servant for Alexandros, who doesn't even have much of a mustache anymore, so… how are we supposed to rank them now?"

Amélie hummed thoughtfully. "Well, considering you are personally responsible for Count Alexandros' current lack of mustache, we can no longer fairly judge his rank by mustache size alone." She began thoughtfully stroking an imaginary mustache of her own. "Typically, in Drolia, rank corresponds directly to mustache magnificence. A simple mustache signals lower nobility, while elaborate curls and adornments denote ascending status. Twirled ends indicate minor nobility. The presence of beard ornaments signifies baronial rank, at minimum."

Sarah nodded with the solemn air of a lecturer. "Precisely. A beard styled into sinister curls—commonly called the devil beard—is usually reserved for viscounts or dukes. But it's tricky. Sometimes, a high-ranking servant wears an exaggerated beard to appear important, despite actually being little more than a decorative doorknob for their master's ego."

Amélie coughed delicately to suppress a laugh, then continued, "But Evelyn threw off the entire ranking system when she violently relieved Alexandros of his facial hair privileges."

Sarah's voice turned somber with mock sadness. "Tragically, this plunges Drolian society into chaos. Without his mustache, Alexandros is effectively demoted to stable boy or possibly chamber pot inspector. I foresee much confusion in their future. For my honor, I cannot marry such a man."

I nodded. It was settled. The science was complete, and now we finally had the answers. With only a slight shiver down my spine, I put that whole situation behind me and moved on.

It was the early hours of the morning, well before sunrise, when Ashenford came into view. Nestled in a shallow valley between gently sloping hills, the village looked more like a farming hamlet than the seat of one of Blackstone's vassal territories. There were no walls to speak of, only a few old watchtowers scattered along the road and a dry wooden palisade surrounding a manor house that looked more rustic than fortified. The fields stretched wide around the settlement, dotted with simple cottages and livestock pens, all still cloaked in darkness save for the occasional lantern glow.

Ashenford's manor sat at the village's edge like an afterthought, its shutters closed tight and its banners already pulled down, as if surrender had been decided long before our arrival. I could see signs of disorder in the way the guards loitered near the road instead of holding their posts. Their disheveled and weary appearance was likely due to the war alert they'd received in the middle of the night. The fall of Blackstone so quickly after the retreat of their people from the battlefield was far sooner than they could have possibly expected. As far as they were concerned, it couldn't be anything but bad news for them. If things went how I was hoping, the whole mess here would be resolved without them realizing what was going on.

Dawn's Light silently slid into position over the manor house. This time, without the threat of siege weapons firing on us, we used the gondola to lower down onto a flat rooftop sun deck, the highest point of the manor and just sturdy enough for a "diplomatic" landing. I was in the first group to depart, primarily surrounded by the same guards as before, though this time, Amélie joined me, and she was glad she did.

The rooftop door burst open just as we stepped from the gondolas, and a frantic-looking guard stumbled forward, clearly unprepared for our arrival.

"Wait! I'm not ready yet!" A voice behind him shouted in panic.

The guard froze, looking at our assembled forces, eyes wide in the dim lantern glow. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly before finally managing, "You're... early?"

I exchanged a glance with Amélie, who merely shrugged, smiling pleasantly. "Did we have an appointment?"

He winced, lowering his spear awkwardly. "We... assumed you'd come in the morning, properly terrifying... um, sorry, I mean, greeting the village." He hesitated, glancing back at the stairs. "Lord Merrick wanted banners, music, possibly some sort of welcoming ceremony… maybe pies. It was all very rushed."

I couldn't suppress a laugh, stepping forward reassuringly. "No need for all that. We're just here to make sure everyone's okay and officially accept Ashenford's surrender. It sounds like your lord has already planned to offer it anyway?"

He sagged visibly with relief. "Oh, yes! Please, follow me. I'm sure he'll be delighted to know he doesn't need to rush to put on his armor."

Amélie leaned in to whisper playfully as we followed the guard, "Did he say pies?"

"Priorities, Amélie," I whispered back, though secretly, pie did sound appealing. It had been a long night.

We descended into a flurry of activity that quickly turned to relieved confusion. It wasn't the grand conquest I'd been dreading in the back of my mind, but perhaps it was exactly what I needed. Once everyone realized we weren't there to kill them, evict them, or generally do much other than get a surrender and oath of fealty, the mood quickly improved. The people of the valley were never exactly fans of being under Lord Edgar's thumb, but when he rode in with an army a dozen years back, Lord Merrick had to choose between a hopeless battle or bending the knee. He'd chosen to save his people and had been fortunate enough to retain his family's lands in the bargain.

I personally had no desire to own his land, either, but I also had no illusion that it wouldn't be turned around and used against me again if I didn't keep it. Either way, they fully intended to turn everything to a level of ceremony and hospitality that I found incredibly endearing but also frustratingly unnecessary. I still needed to head to the last of my destinations and the one that I was most worried about. It took us nearly an hour to extract ourselves. Unlike the people of Blackstone, no one was terribly eager to see us go, but with a little grace and polite insistence, we were soon on our way.

I'd had an unrealistic hope that perhaps we'd be able to take all three domains before the night ended, but the first rays of the morning sunlight were already cresting the horizon as we boarded the ship. I didn't need to give any orders. Everyone knew what to do, and the moment all of our people were aboard, we were moving. Needing a moment to myself after such an uncomfortable social situation, I made my way to the bow rather than the quarterdeck to watch the world go by. Feeling the sun on my face and the wind in my hair drained the stress right out of me. The morning birdsong was a quiet anthem of comfort and peace, and I was feeling better within moments.

So, naturally, Amélie burst into the space next to me, a stolen pie in one hand and a pair of forks in the other.

"We almost missed breakfast! Fortunately, I was able to swipe something on the way out!" She cheerfully announced, waving one of the forks in my face.

I shook my head with a quiet chuckle. "I have no idea how I missed you grabbing that. Thanks." I took the spare fork from her hand and breathed in the scent of the fresh baked apple pie. "Maybe we will get lucky, and Ironwood Hollow will have a nice brunch spread."

She nodded, taking a moment to finish her bite of pie before responding, "That sure beats a spread of arrows. What do you want to do if they decide to fight?"

I sighed, my fork inches from my mouth. My appetite seemed to flee with her words. "Then… I guess I'll fight. I really just want this to be over. And I know this won't end things, not really, but hopefully, it will put them behind us for a while. At least long enough to get some advice and maybe help from Grandfather on how to make the peace stick."

She bumped her shoulder into mine, "Oh, cheer up. Things may go very smoothly. They did retreat from battle just to avoid fighting you once already. Now, most of their soldiers are probably on the road marching, and you will be showing up in a flying warship. It does not seem terribly likely that they will choose to fight you when you are offering to let them just swear allegiance instead. Now eat your pie before it gets cold."

I sighed but took a bite of the pie. "Oh, this is really good!" I managed, covering my mouth with my hand, trying for whatever bare minimum of politeness speaking through a mouthful of pie could offer.

We ate in silence for a few minutes, there was an entire pie after all, and I thought about how this whole mess had really taken a turn away from the life we kept talking about. Our stopover in Lihume could have possibly been avoided, but it felt like an investment and wasn't something either of us regretted in the least. We'd learned a lot, even if it hadn't been as exciting as running off to adventure. While we'd talked a little about our plans and goals as nobles back in West Peak, I'd never imagined things would go in the direction they had.

Even after gaining ownership of Siren's Reach, I had expected we'd still be doing the same thing most young classer nobles did – Going out, exploring, adventuring, and making a name for ourselves. I knew both of my sisters would agree that we needed to work on leveling up, and these pointless skirmishes were getting in the way of that. Of course, I had a way to level up quickly again with my second class, but just the thought of it sent a shiver down my spine, not to mention that it did nothing to help my sisters.

"What is going on in that head of yours?" Amélie asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Just, life. I guess. More of the same frustration, really. Like, nothing seems to go the way we plan. We're supposed to be finding quests and hunting monsters to get stronger, and somehow, we're here, doing this."

She nodded. "That does seem to be the case. But Evelyn, we are not exactly in a rush. We have all the time in the world to explore and grow. Even now, we are going somewhere we have never been. Things are not so bad."

"I guess so. And this did help us get Sibylla back faster, but having her pop up in the middle of a war was not how I'd hoped to introduce her to this world."

Amélie shrugged. "Me either, but she is here now, and that is not the only good thing to come out of this. It likely made it far easier for Alice to find her way to us. Imagine her trying to follow stories of us around the kingdom as we explored. Anyone could have stumbled across her, and then she would have been in real trouble."

That was a good point, and it also brought up another problem. "Amélie, how are we going to tell her about her sisters?"

That caught her off guard, and she froze. It was several seconds before she replied, "Maybe they were not her sisters before, you know, back on Earth. We could be unique in that."

I slumped a little, hoping she would have had a better answer. "I find that incredibly unlikely, considering how they were so specific when choosing us to be compatible with the ritual. And she hasn't mentioned them at all. I don't think she realizes that she had two sisters in that ritual chamber with her when she died. It was dark and chaotic in there, but if she starts to remember the years they were trapped in that place before appearing on the alters, she is going to figure it out. We need to talk to her first. That would be a horrible way to find out."

Amélie let out a slow breath and nodded. "Yeah. That will be hard. I think we should talk to her about her life before. Make sure before we explain. If mother returns first, we can ask her for help, too. She might be able to tell if they somehow survived like Alice did."

That hadn't occurred to me, and I almost let the excitement get to me before calming down. "Okay. But we can't wait too long. It wouldn't be right."

Time slipped by faster than I would have liked, and soon, Dawn's Light was gliding into the territory of Ironwood Hollow beneath the golden wash of mid-morning sunlight. Unlike the subdued submission of Ashenford, Ironwood appeared more alert, with armed soldiers already lining the manor's stone walls and more stationed visibly around the modest fortifications. It wasn't much compared to Blackstone, but we'd definitely been spotted some time ago, and someone here clearly intended to make a statement.

Still, the gates were left wide open in a gesture that announced their openness to discussion, and I thought that was a good sign. Not wanting to ignore the olive branch they'd extended, I decided that rather than stopping above their fortress and dropping directly inside, it would be best to stop the skyship outside their walls and approach for a parley in the traditional manner.

I had a good feeling about this, especially with how willing they seemed to talk, but I knew better than to let my guard down. To be safe, I decided to leave Sarah on the ship and handle the talking myself this time. Amélie stayed in her full adventuring kit, and while carrying my glaive openly didn't feel particularly polite, I still wanted to be armed. So, instead, I brought Zoila's staff. It was just as dangerous but less pointy, and something about its druidic nature just felt… happier to me.

Valoranthe Milly Sunpetal was accompanying us, of course, as were a few of the soldiers we intended to leave behind and another of the Dragoons. With a nice, round ten members, our party descended in the gondola to the ground. Our host didn't keep us waiting at all, with the delegation from Ironwood Hollow stepping out from the gates almost as soon as we touched down. Only, they weren't alone.

Another delegation with regalia I didn't recognise stepped out with them, led by a man who looked mostly Drolian. He had the correct stupid hat and curley devil beard, but his outfit was much more practical, and he lacked a mustache entirely. As the groups approached together, he waved the other group back, and much to my disappointment, they reluctantly yielded to let his entourage approach first.

Unlike the natives, they were more heavily armed and felt significantly more confrontational. I was having none of that. I was already annoyed that he'd just given orders to people who would soon be under my banner, and I was pretty much done with these jerks.

"Wow, Amélie. This one doesn't even have one of the stupid traditional Drolian mustaches. I really thought we had the science on this figured out, and now there's another wildcard."

Amélie glanced over dramatically, making a show of examining him. "You're right, Evelyn. No mustache, not even a little twirl! I'm starting to think he's not a real Drolian at all."

The man bristled immediately, lips twisting into a scowl, but before he could retort, I jumped right back in. "Oh! That's a good point. Or… maybe he's an apprentice? They probably don't let them grow the real facial hair until they learn how to properly threaten people."

Amélie clicked her tongue sympathetically. "Ah, yes. Facial hair is reserved for true villains. Perhaps we should wait for his master to arrive?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously, and he drew himself up with forced dignity. "I am Lionel Verrant, emissary of Baron Roquefort—"

Amélie gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "Oh, Evelyn! An emissary! That explains it. He traded his mustache for a fancy title."

I nodded sagely. "Yes, clearly a poor choice. The mustache would have been more impressive."

Verrant's face reddened visibly, his hands clenching into fists. "Enough! I came to—"

"To deliver threats, yes," Amélie interjected smoothly. "I hope they are more convincing than your lack of facial hair."

Milly chuckled softly behind us, further irritating the man. His face was quickly turning crimson as he struggled to maintain composure.

"Listen closely, you insolent—"

"—Beautiful and elegant princesses who just utterly destroyed your mercenaries and claimed all the territory between here and Siren's Reach?" I offered cheerfully. "That is who you meant, right?"

Amélie leaned toward me conspiratorially. "Maybe the hat is cutting off circulation to his brain?"

He sputtered in building rage, taking a breath that practically vibrated with indignation. "You dare mock me—?"

"We dare quite a lot," I assured him sweetly. "Mocking is actually the least interesting thing we've dared lately."

He drew himself up with cold fury, his voice dripping disdain. "Yes, you dare—like the foolish, ignorant children you clearly are." He waggeled a finger at me imperiously as he spoke with his eyes narrowed to slits. "Enough games. In the name of Baron Roquefort, I demand you bring this silly war to an end immediately. Withdraw from and relinquish control of Blackstone and its vassal territories, cease all hostilities, and I might yet offer you this single opportunity to comply peacefully."

My playful demeanor cooled sharply. "Rest assured, emissary Verrant, I fully intend to end all hostilities, but not because you or your baron asked. My conquests in this defensive war are entirely lawful under the customs of the Spires, and more importantly, I do not take orders from Baron Roquefort—whoever that even is."

Amélie shifted subtly beside me, suddenly tense. In English, her voice low and urgent, she murmured, "Careful, Evie. He is level thirty-five. His class shows Phantom Blade, but everything else is weird and scrambled. I am not even sure he is actually standing there. Maybe…"

I felt a chill run down my spine at her warning, but before I could process it, Amélie's words cut off abruptly, as though someone had simply closed a door on them. At the same instant, the comforting pressure of her auras vanished, leaving me feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable.

A telltale crackling in my ears told me my ghost helm had activated, alerting me to danger, but even as I spun to face my unseen attacker, a searing pain pierced through my back. I'd only managed to turn far enough to see Verrant standing behind me, arm extended and a slender blade in hand. It slipped through the enchanted fabric of my gown as though it were no more substantial than smoke and punched straight through my ribs, driving the breath from my lungs in an agonizing burst.