Translocation from Fort Turri was bumpier than our last few sojourns, with magical turbulence a mere footnoted phenomenon seldom discussed. Apparently, it has to do with poor attunement of the destination circle to the leyline it’s connected to. As someone who’s experienced it firsthand, however, I suggest we stop treating it like a rare, clinical curiosity and more like a never-event, because it felt like someone tried to pull my stomach through my ears.

  I arrived in Borealisca staggering like a drunk. Nora and Relias seemed a bit off-kilter as well, though they were much better at standing up than I was. Oliver stayed tucked away inside his serpentine mark. A casual brush of my hand told me he was perfectly fine, if not just as scathing in his semi-private commentary about the ‘poor quality of services rendered.’

  “Off the circle!” someone barked, their voice almost drowned out by a general clamor of shouting and banging from all sides. “Three more groups incoming!”

  Relias pulled me aside, his touch instantly stabilizing as amity flowed through his fingertips. After several blinks, I realized the platform we’d landed on was already being swarmed by workers hauling empty crates. A harried-looking mage recharged the runes while a priest scribbled off on a manifest thrust in front of his face.

  “No warm welcome, no moment to recover. Just a shove straight into the storm!” Nora snapped angrily.

  “Storm?” I looked around and realized the meaning was multifaceted.

  The gloomy air reeked of brine and tar, and the whipping wind didn’t so much carry it away as drag it along the rocky beach. Salt spray mixed with fine rain clung to everything as hammers clanged in a frantic, disjointed rhythm. Some were striking inland while scaffolding stretched upward, others were working in the bay to shape timber into seaworthy forms. The encircling echoes proclaimed a chaotic race where the town was being forced to widen and grow taller. Locking us in the middle of it all was the sprawl: tents, rough lodgings from scraps, and makeshift stalls all jammed shoulder-to-shoulder to protect the newly installed translocation circle responsible for our arrival.

  “A storm of desperation and opportunity,” Relias agreed somewhat sadly. “We find ourselves in its very eye.”

  “All this for the Ereborite…” I murmured.

  Nora sniffed. “Dark gold rush.”

  I closed my eyes, noting there were far fewer sparks signifying Holy Knights of Blue and White here.

  “Ready to come out?” I asked Oliver through the sword. “The coast may not be clear, but I think you’d be strong enough to hide yourself from the—”

  “My physical presence is unnecessary.”

  The jewel ceased to sparkle, and Will sagged heavier in the sheath, as if it too were disappointed in his decision.

  “Haa…”

  Relias glanced at the jewel, then shook his head as if he knew the entire exchange. “Perhaps we should seek the counsel of Morin, as Vulture recommended?”

  We had assumed Morin would be a merchant of means, so we started with the stalls nearest the circle and worked our way inland.

  “Morin? Feh, don’t waste yer time here,” a shopper said, jerking a thumb toward the water. “He’s down on the bay, where he can have his pick of the catch! Can’t miss him.”

  The catch of the day wasn’t fish. It was the crush of newcomers angling for passage to the Land of the Dragons. There were far too many for the handful of vessels moored there, so their captains took turns choosing only those judged worthy. Desperate shouts from those seeking work only increased as we pushed our way forward to the docks.

  Relias paused beside a weather-stained sign. “The voyage outward is granted without charge,” he said eventually, “but the return is dearly bought. A certain tithe of Ereborite as pledge, and a tenth of the miner’s gain besides. Even then—”

  “Let me guess,” Nora cut in. “They’re taxed on the haul before they even leave, so by the time they drag it back to civilization, there’s nothing left worth selling.”

  Relias released a slow breath and let his gaze drift inland. “I will not dispute the wisdom that forms your hypothesis, my Lady. This enterprise, though it flourishes in the moment, bears the marks of an older design, and those who oversee it have had time to bend it to their gain.”

  “Ereborite is a fairly recent discovery,” I said, frowning. “But the two deceased Councilmen knew of it before we did.”

  Nora and I exchanged a long look.

  “Just how close were Vulture and Councilman Procul?” she asked, making sure to catch Relias’s gaze.

  “I would think Vulture knows nearly everyone of consequence in the region,” Relias replied, though a note of hesitation crept into his voice.

  “Specifics, sir. Specifics,” Nora pressed.

  Relias stiffened, discomfort breaking the last of his composure. “We are treading close to something I vowed to keep in confidence.”

  “Vernie would never partner with the Church!” I blurted on insight. “Is this what drove them to divorce?”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Relias flinched as he stared at the ground. “Vernie did not share the… specifics, as you call them. Yet she confided that her former husband was working with those she most deeply despised.”

  He turned his gaze to me, his sapphire-blue eyes soft with regret. “I could not fault her for walking away from those who once called for her final judgment, nor can I condemn him for joining hands with them to keep her safe.”

  I swallowed hard. “That’s—”

  “Not your problem to solve,” Oliver prompted aloud from nowhere.

  Nora and Relias made rueful faces, making it apparent that they heard him, too.

  “Right. Morin… let’s find Morin.”

  Morin should have held the rank of Captain, but apparently, the name alone had become a legend in its own right. A loud dissenter of anything smacking of government or church, he’d been banished from the mainland, only to single-handedly carve Borealisca out of the rocky island as a final haven for every half-mad demonic beast slayer looking for bloodsport in the north.

  “After we cleaned out the serpents of the seas, all we were left with was fish!” he boomed from the deck above, his voice carrying across the harbor. “Course, that was before the discovery of the mystery ore!”

  He lifted his tankard, its beer sloshing, then paused with a grin. “Still don’t understand its Purpose—other than to make us money! Now then, let’s see how many of you scallywags we can make rich along with us!”

  Laughter rolled across the bay as his crew readied for priority boarding. At the first opening, Relias marched to the gangplank, shoving anyone who tried to block his path.

  He’s really into this mercenary bit, isn’t he?

  Relias presented Vulture’s sealed writ with all the confidence of an army. The receiving attendant jumped back after cracking the seal, the color draining from his face as he scanned the parchment.

  With a shrill whistle, the attendant ran up the plank. After a brief exchange and several dark glares in our direction, Morin waved his hand. Crew members shoved us up the incline, and the gangplank thudded as it was pulled up behind us.

  “Voyage closed!” Morin barked, his voice cutting through the harbor. “All hands, prepare for cast-off!”

  Startled would-be passengers froze, buzzed angrily, then retreated as sailors waved them back with anything long and heavy enough to resemble a weapon.

  We’re sailing solo?

  What had Vulture written, exactly?

  Morin gestured, his eyes narrowing at the other moored vessels. “Run the signal flags,” he ordered a nearby mate. “I want every Captain in this bay to ready their ships to sail light. Crew only! We sail together when I give the command.”

  All hands scattered at once, and the harbor answered with clanging bells and shouted relays. Several ships began sending passengers back down their gangplanks, and more than one fistfight broke out between those ejected. I watched the commotion for a little while before turning to Nora, whose thundercloud expression begged for a distraction.

  “I’m really impressed with how you’re handling all this. Maybe, just maybe, your, uh, condition is just an Earth thing?”

  Nora blinked, then brightened. “Hey! Maybe you’re right. Even with all this nonsense, I made it up the plank… I walked on deck… And now I’m on a boat! Take a look at me, on a motherf—”

  A large wave rocked the ship, bringing her and her stomach to her knees.

  “Hubris…” she moaned, gripping the nearby rail.

  I mumbled, feeling it was somehow my fault. “S-sorry…”

  Relias wordlessly helped Nora to her feet, seemingly distracted by something on the far end of the ship.

  “Is everything alright?” I asked.

  “Yes, though I will have to admit his decision to stay hidden was prudent,” he said with a sigh. “Worry not. My fears are of no moment. The crew is diverse with skill, that is all.”

  Our departure was relatively smooth, despite the chaos that had preceded it. As soon as Morin was free from cast-off duties, he ushered the three of us into his quarters. After slamming the door, he fell into an ornate chair and brought his fist down on the table with a sharp crack.

  “Alright, whoever you are, you’ve dropped disaster in my lap. Tell me why Vulture expects me to shut down the mining village without telling anyone why?”

  “Ah, is that what the writ says at the end?” Relias asked with unusual calm. “I couldn’t make sense of his encoded message.”

  Morin’s nose twitched under his bushy red beard, suspicion pulling at his brow. “While that signature was indeed Vulture’s, if you’re playing games, mercenary…”

  Relias shook his head. “Vulture’s divestiture is no jest. Had I grasped the breadth of his latest move sooner, I would have thanked him for his belated yet ultimate consideration for those being exploited.”

  At that, I almost let go of Nora, who had long since wilted like a flower.

  What happened to your casual speech?

  Morin stared hard at Relias, then stood up, ringing a bell. “You’re no mercenary. None of you are! Mattias! Florian!”

  Two tall, chiseled men with golden, curly manes burst in from the back door of the cabin, their blue eyes alight with excitement.

  They look familiar… Something about their face. They look… arrogant?

  “Be they demons?” Morin demanded, pointing at us.

  Relias scowled, yet made no move. “Call your aura,” he commanded mentally. “Coat the mark.”

  Already on it.

  The twins glowed brightly just as I complied, and I couldn’t help but notice our auras resonated together.

  “Nay, Morin. They are disguised, but they are human,” one of the twins replied, his tense frame relaxing as he gestured to Relias and me. “These two are skilled in amity of some sort…”

  The other twin lowered himself, leaning in toward Nora. “And this one is quite the curiosity!”

  Nora glared at him, but her greenish cast muted the effect.

  Morin growled, though it was clear he no longer considered us an immediate threat. “None of your nonsense, Mattias. Find love and heartbreak on your own time.”

  “He’s been heading straight for the second one, doing his best to speed things along,” Florian said with a chortle, earning a sour look from Mattias.

  “By curiosity, I meant that she—”

  “Your ailing father has been looking for you,” Relias interjected in an icy chill. “He is quite put out with both of you, flagrantly shirking your Purpose and avoiding your long-awaited investiture into the Order of Silver.”

  The twins froze in place at the thinly veiled rebuke.

  Ailing father?

  Order of Silver?

  These are the second and third princes of Ecclesia!

  I stared at them, noting their lighter features and yet uncanny resemblance to Prince Mito.

  “So you know these overcharged Lightwielders as well,” Morin said with a weary sigh, throwing himself into his chair once again. “Disaster follows them, too.”

  “It is their own hands that call it to them,” Relias replied, his brow twitching.

  The twins gave Relias an uncertain look, obviously trying to see through his disguise. Eventually, they shook their heads and gave up.

  Morin pursed his lips until they disappeared into his mustache. “Alright then. Whatever this is, it’s bound to leave its mark on my legacy, and I’d just as soon stay ignorant of the particulars. The other captains are already following my signal, and we’re past the breakwaters, so I’ve no taste for turning back. So welcome aboard, whoever you truly are.”

  He rummaged through a nearby trunk, drawing out heavy wool cloaks for us as Vulture’s note had instructed. “And understand this. If I so much as dream you’ll cost me my name, you’ll be over the rail before dawn.”

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