Relias lifted his chin, and a rather sly smirk crossed his face. “There is only one dragon. Find comfort in the knowledge that Sparkles is a faithful servant to our Goddess.”

  I guess you don’t often get a chance to out-info an information handler, but wasn't that Oliver's argument from earlier?

  “As you say…” Vulture replied, turning away to rifle through a stack of ledgers on his desk. It only took him a moment or two to regain his composure, and his voice was once again full of ease. “It would seem I have some new business to attend to. And while I would never presume to travel in your company, I can at least see you leave the fort as my hired hands, bound for the north.”

  Relias quirked an eyebrow. “Is there a benefit to doing so?”

  Vulture was already scribbling across a parchment. “I would ask that you carry a message for me. Mining investments in the north will sour quickly if certain matters go… unchecked.”

  No more side quests!

  “Mr. Vulture,” I objected, not knowing what else to call him. “We’re sort of in a hurry, and while I understand that finances are important to you, I don’t believe we have any more time to devote to running errands—”

  “Dropping off this note will cut off a month of travel through the Wastelands. I’ll also be issuing you a writ of passage to board the… fishing boat bound for the Northern Land of Dragons. I would think that in this case, the errand is to your abundant profit.”

  “Well, uh, when you put it that way—”

  “No boats!” Nora shouted, her face paling. “After everything I’ve seen around here… I’m not about to trust a seafaring vessel!”

  Beads of sweat coursed down the right side of her face, her hands so tight around her staff that the whole thing shook. “Boats sink! They go up and down and up and down and…” She covered her mouth.

  “Motion sickness!” I blurted out in realization. “Wait. But you rode horses and huddled in wagons with me just fine. So maybe you’re cured?”

  Nora scowled. “That’s different. And I’m not about to test your theory without any evidence!”

  But that’s the whole point of testing…

  “My Lady, I will be there with you for every roll of the ship,” Relias declared. “No such malady will befall you, even if I have to hold your hand the entire way there.”

  We all straightened at that, and Vulture looked hard at me, of all people.

  What? I didn’t say the lousy line, he did!

  Nora let out a long groan for any number of reasons. “I’ll make you all pay for this. Mark my words!”

  ***

  After following Vulture through a narrow back stairway that better aligned with my initial stereotype of him, we turned down one of the side streets that led to—

  “The barracks?” I gasped at Relias, flooded with fresh feelings of fear. “I don’t want to go in there…”

  “Courage, Chosen One. There is a translocation circle there,” he replied through a mental link.

  I admit, it was stupid, worrying about being locked up in there once again at this age, but some feelings stick with you no matter how hard you try to forget.

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  The barracks’ side door opened into one of its inner courtyards, stone-paved and buzzing with activity. Blue-cloaked knights moved about with swiftly, staging resources and scheduling their departures. I also caught glimpses of the Order of White scattered and working among them with only minimal friction.

  The translocation circle itself was the central hub of it all, and an interesting pair worked it: a priest of White, sleeves rolled up, face flushed from effort, and a dark mage in robes inked with protective sigils. They moved in tandem around its circumference, powering up the different wards in a colorful exchange as if they’d done so thousands of times before.

  Small groups of soldiers went in, and single or couplets came back just as quickly. Civilians who entered Fort Turri from the circle were escorted out of the barracks unless they were injured beyond repair. Some looked half-starved, but attendants from both Blue and White rushed forward with water and bread the moment they stumbled through.

  “Bait!” one bandaged ox bellowed, shaking his head so hard the wrappings flapped loose. “They said we were bait, just to draw out the knights! Then this other demon, ugliest wet worm I ever saw, well, he shows up with a buzz and calls the whole lot of ’em cowards! Next thing, these little worms burst out of his back, latch onto the other demons, and melt ’em down to the cores! They all went crazy!”

  A nearby rabbit thumped her foot several times, her ears at full attention. “He’s preaching Goddess-grade truth! And that giant worm thing, well, he wasn’t too happy with us being there, so he called up a portal of vines. Next thing I know, we’re on the other end, and some angry, antlered demon shrieks at us to get out of the Wastes, or she’s gonna decorate the flats with our entrails. Lucky for us, a patrol came along and intervened before she made good on it!”

  The Sharpstrider, taking their statements, looked ready to chuck his notes into the far beyond, but a more decorated Blue knight leaned down, whispered something sharp in his ear, and suddenly his quill was moving again.

  I guess General Ragnerus is playing along for now.

  Vulture motioned us to follow him, and we obliged, waiting a few feet off to the side as more knights left for the Wastelands or wherever beyond.

  “This circle is not for private use,” the priest said as soon as his eyes fell on Vulture, though without much conviction.

  “By Order of Captain Armand himself,” the dark mage added with a resigned exhale, her hair falling across her features.

  I glanced around quickly, hoping to catch sight of him, but I had no such luck.

  Vulture set a parchment on a nearby crate, tapping it once with a long finger. “Red Mountain Mining Corps is a joint venture,” he stated. “To ensure the Blue and White’s proper allocation of secured resources, I’ll need my employees translocated to Borealisca.”

  That’s not on our map… but that does sound like something way up north.

  The priest and mage shared a dubious glance before the mage reached out for the parchment.

  “You’ll find the official writ in perfect order, with Lieutenant Balor’s signature,” Vulture continued, handing it to her for closer inspection.

  That weasel probably sold him the signature! I hope he didn’t pay too much for it.

  After receiving a nod from his partner, the priest asked flatly, “The three of them, then?”

  “Uh…” I started looking around helplessly.

  What about Oliver?

  My sword subtly twitched, and I grabbed the hilt.

  “I can make the proper adjustments to include myself,” Oliver confirmed, his voice a sibilant whisper in my left ear.

  Snake-like speech because that’s your mark’s form, or are you just being playful?

  “… I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” he hissed back.

  At least I confirmed he could hear me this way, too.

  Realizing people were once again staring at me, I lied, saying, “Sorry, it’s… my first time translocating?”

  At that, I was issued the standard fibs about how enjoyable it would be if I followed all the safety rules. After they downplayed the side effects, I pretended to be relieved by their instruction.

  “Look for Morin the moment you arrive,” Vulture advised, handing Relias another parchment from a side vest pocket. He’ll handle everything once he sees this writ.”

  Relias grasped the parchment and gave Vulture a respectful nod. “Once again, I find myself in your debt, Good Sir.”

  We gathered into the circle, and Vulture let out a small sigh as he stepped back. “Just remember what I said about getting together for a drink and a laugh. I’ll no doubt call upon you to convince her to join me at the table.”

  Oh… poor Vulture.

  I couldn’t help but wonder what had really happened between him and Vernie. My fingers had tightened around my sword hilt without me noticing, bracing for the pull of translocation. That was when Oliver’s voice brushed my ear.

  “Relying on a priest to rekindle a flame already gone cold? That’s tragedy pretending to be comedy.”

  What, are you jealous?

  “Most certainly not.”

  And that was the very moment I finally realized he was perfectly capable of lying—if only to himself.

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