(A young woman from the Phillipines is a [Fisher] at the end of the world. The Last Tide, a comicbook illustrated by Shane Sandulak will be coming out this summer! Click on this link for more details!)

“Hey! You can’t arrest me! Let go! I’m innocent! I didn’t mean to do it! Put me down! I’ll wriggle! Hey! Hey!”

The Watch House on the 8th Floor of Pallass was one of many of the stations that Pallass’ City Watch operated out of. Again, unlike a smaller, and thus lesser city, Pallass needed multiple areas to allow its law enforcement to operate from.

Almost every floor had a Watch House, positioned so that a patrol was never too far from trouble no matter where it might occur in the city. The one exception was the 9th, and that was only because it was the floor right below the battlements, and thus immediately reinforceable from that spot.

In this case, the 8th Floor’s Watch House on the eastern section of the floor was generally quiet. You got thefts, and fights, and sometimes more serious crimes like armed robbery and so on, but aside from responding to an [Alchemist] causing an incident above, it wasn’t as bad as the lower floors with the bazaar, a hotspot for [Thieves], or the major warehouse districts, the night life…

But there were always surprises. And unfortunately, the Watch Captains on duty today weren’t present in this particular Watch House. Thus, it fell to the Desk Sergeant to manage the building and the patrols coming in.

Desk Sergeant. Different from Senior Guard. One was a rank, the other a position. A Senior Guard could fill that role if need be, and they often did, but a Desk Sergeant was temporary. The one on duty looked up as he heard the female voice shouting. A patrol marched through the doors, shoving a young woman forward. The Drake in charge marched up to the desk and saluted.

“Patrol Leader Medain reporting in, Desk Sergeant! We’ve apprehended the criminal responsible for the disturbance on the 9th! Orders?”

The rest of the patrol fell in behind the Drake, on two sides of their prisoner. Said prisoner stared around the familiar, yet unfamiliar Watch House in Pallass. It was rather like the one in Liscor, really, but just different enough to feel weird. Erin licked her lips nervously, staring at the patrol leader’s back and then at the [Guards] surrounding her. They’d carried her off the 9th floor and then marched her here and she had a bad feeling she was in serious trouble.

“Look, this is all a misunderstanding! Let me explain. I didn’t mean to use the Skill—”

“Silence, Human! You do not have the right to speak!”

One of the [Guards] holding Erin bellowed right in Erin’s ear. Erin opened her mouth, saw the female Drake make a fist, and went still. She was nervous. This wasn’t Liscor’s City Watch and she didn’t know anyone except Watch Captain Venim.

“I uh, know Watch Captain Venim—”

“Silence! You are under arrest for using a mass-effect Skill in public!”

Erin winced. She had done that. But by accident! She opened her mouth, saw the fist swing up again, and fell silent. This wasn’t her world where a beating was in theory, illegal. In this one, as Relc had once explained, punching a criminal wasn’t just part of the job, it was the perk of said job. Of course, that had been him saying it, but Erin wasn’t about to risk her teeth.

“Damage report?”

The Desk Sergeant was hidden from view. Erin heard the patrol leader snap a reply.

“Minimal. The patrol approached when the Skill ended and managed to successfully retrieve the suspect without resistance. Per orders, the [Smith], Pelt, was not apprehended and his finished masterwork appears to be completed.”

“I’ll send a memo to Watch Captain Qissa about it, confirming it was a success. Patrol leader, is there a report on the quality of the masterwork completed? Tell me it’s at least Gold-rank or all our tails are going to be chewed out by a [Senator] for delaying the arrest.”

The entire squad around Erin winced, but the two holding her arms didn’t let go. She bit her lip as the patrol leader replied.

“Some of the other [Smiths] vouchsafed to me that it was Silver-rank gear, but with enchantments it could be high-gold at least!”

“Let’s call it a win, then. Street Runner—message for Watch Captain Qissa! 5th!”

Erin saw a scaly hand flick something across the desk. Then she saw a young, male Garuda—but a boy, not an annoying teen—dash forwards. The Garuda grabbed the folded bit of parchment and hurtled out the door like a shot.

“Patrol leader, take your squad out and deal with any complaints or disturbances caused by the Skill. Leave two guards for the prisoner.”

“Yes, Desk Sergeant.”

The Drake at the desk saluted. He sounded tired, and he spared a glare for Erin as he passed. The rest of the squad fell in, grumbling complaints. The two holding Erin dragged her forwards.

“Charges?”

Erin heard a weary voice. She saw a Drake, head bent, buried in paperwork as he wrote with a quill. His voice sounded vaguely familiar, but the female Drake holding Erin’s right arm spat a reply at once.

“Use of a mass-effect Skill in public, Desk Sergeant! Resisting arrest, public disturbance, public nuisance, and disruption of industry!”

“What? I didn’t do all that!”

Erin protested. The two [Guards] holding her glared and she hesitated.

“I didn’t! And if you hit me, I’ll—I’ll kick you back! I mean it! I know Watch Captain Venim! And Pelt and Maughin can tell you this was all a mistake!”

The Drake [Guardswoman] made a sound. She raised a fist and the Desk Sergeant looked up.

“At ease, Guardswoman.”

The female Drake instantly sprang to stiff attention. Erin breathed a sigh of relief and then did a double-take. The Drake sitting at the desk in front of her had a familiar face. And scales. They were a dull orange, and his narked expression and glare put a name to his face in an instant.

“Kel? Hey, is that Guardsman Kel? Did you get promoted, Kel? Long time no see! I thought you were still on door duty! Hey, so this has been a complete misunderstanding—”

Erin brightened at once. Kel wasn’t the nicest [Guardsman] she knew, but she did know him. She smiled. Desk Sergeant Kel did not.

“Miss Erin Solstice. I have been promoted after the incident with the Creler attack. Two weeks ago, in fact.”

He looked openly proud about that. Erin smiled, and it was genuine, not just desperate; Kel had been the one who believed her when she warned Pallass about the attack.

“Great! So, look, about this—”

She was all set for Kel to tell the [Guards] to let her go, upon which she’d clearly be treating him to a huge bag of cookies the next time she got back to her inn. And a hug. But the Desk Sergeant did not immediately call for Erin’s release. Instead, he sighed and continued writing.

“Miss Solstice, this is your opportunity to explain the incident that occurred for yourself. Do you have any remarks?”

“What? Sure! Let me clear the air. Look, it was an accidental Skill. Pelt—you know Pelt, right? Grumpy Dwarf? Well, there was this thing with him—”

Kel held up a claw and checked something.

“Can you corroborate a report of intimidation and near-battery by the Dwarf on two aggrieved Garuda males?”

“What? Oh, that. They were bothering me. Well, Pelt overreacted, but—it’s a long story.”

“Proceed, then. As clearly as you can be, Miss Solstice.”

Kel looked up, clearly ready to take notes. Erin glanced at the two [Guards] holding her arm. She was still manacled, but after her threat to punch one of them, they weren’t letting go. It was cool, though. Protocol. She tried to give Kel as brief and informative a summary as possible.

“…And because y’know, Pelt was using the flames, I didn’t get a chance to put them out myself. Which I don’t know how to. But no one got hurt, right?”

She looked at Kel. The Drake finished writing, his quill dancing over the paper and only pausing now and then to dip in the inkpot. He looked up and cleared his throat.

“Hm. Thank you, Miss Solstice. You were cleared via truth spell, so I shall list your account as completely accurate. Now—”

The door to the Watch House swung open with a bang. Erin jumped, but a young voice shouted instantly.

“Message for the Desk Sergeant! 9th Floor!”

A young female Gnoll—another Street Runner barged up to the front desk without looking twice at Erin. She thrust a bit of parchment at Kel. He sighed and nodded to her.

“Received. Here. No messages at the moment.”

He flicked a Runner’s seal from a bowl at her and the Gnoll girl caught it and ran out. Kel unfolded the message and sighed as he read it. Erin was busy admiring the system of using Street Runners, but she saw Kel’s forehead crease. Now seemed like a good time.

“So, Kel, buddy. About this incident.”

The two [Guards] holding her, one the female Drake, the other a burly Dullahan, both glowered. The Dullahan, who’d been silent until now looked at Kel.

“Is this the Human, Desk Sergeant?”

“The [Innkeeper], Regil. Yes.”

Kel’s tone and expression made the two [Guards] eye Erin. She didn’t like the look they were giving her and each other. Kel sighed. He put the parchment down and addressed the female Drake.

“Was any [Guardsman] hurt when Miss Solstice resisted arrest, Guardswoman?”

“Nossir! But she squirms like a damn bag of worms, Desk Sergeant!”

The Drake glared at Erin. Erin glared back.

“Hey! You picked me up! I can walk! I—”

She shut up as Kel lifted a claw. The Desk Sergeant’s tone was…well, it was rather like Erin was used to in her previous dealings with Kel. Annoyed and resigned. The Drake sighed as he collected the note and paper he’d written on into a single report.

“Right. Well, all things considered Miss Solstice, I believe you when you say it was an accident. And apparently, I have two dozen [Smiths] already protesting your arrest and standing witness. So it would behoove the Watch to look kindly on the accident.”

“What? Desk Sergeant, it was a mass-Skill that could have been city-wide—”

The [Guardswoman] barked. There was clearly some level of formality to Pallass’ Watch system, because she shut up as Kel glared at her.

“The protesting smiths include Master Maughin and Master Pelt of the Blacksmith’s Guild.”

The female Drake bit her tongue. Erin smiled, but made it vanish as Kel looked at her. The Drake steepled his claws and sighed.

“On the other tail, this incident has upset a large number of Pallass residents. But given your unique relationship with Pallass, I have no doubt once we get it all sorted, Watch Captain Venim or another day-Captain will find you innocent. Or at least, reprimand you to Liscor’s care after paying a fine.”

Erin breathed a sigh of relief as both of the Pallassian [Guards] glowered. She smiled at Kel.

“Thanks, Kel. So I’m not in trouble?”

He nodded at her, and his half-glare didn’t change one bit. Kel paused.

“Not in any serious trouble, Miss Solstice. This is your first offence, and I will speedily convey the details of the situation to my superiors. I imagine they will want to speak with you before you are released. And until that moment, you are under arrest.”

He nodded to the two [Guards].

“Take her to the prison. I’m not having her in lockup.”

Erin’s jaw dropped. The two [Guards] grinned. And then, only then did Kel smile faintly. Erin felt the two arms begin to drag her back. She tried to fight forwards, shouting.

“What? You can’t do that! I thought we were friends, Kel! At least frenemies!”

“Silence, prisoner!”

“Treat Miss Solstice with care, [Guardswoman] Leciss. Unless she resists. Then I’ll authorize force.”

Kel warned the Drake. She looked disappointed, but Erin was furious. She struggled towards Kel’s desk, ignoring the other [Guards] who’d been idly watching her the entire time with urbane amusement.

“You can’t do this! It was an accident!”

The Drake sitting at the desk met Erin’s furious glare. He sighed.

“So you ‘accidentally’ used a Skill that caused sadness in anyone who beheld it? And we should let you go because you ‘didn’t know any better?’ Is that right, Miss Erin?”

She hesitated. Well, when he put it like that…

“But it was an accident. You know that. Right?”

Kel nodded agreeably. The Drake consulted his report.

“Absolutely, Miss Solstice. You were tested under truth spell and we have witnesses all corroborated in the report. Any Watch Captain would agree this was an accident. And I am sure they will when they have time to review your case. That usually occurs each evening before nightfall.”

“But why do I have to be in jail for it?”

The Drake paused. He met Erin’s eyes slowly.

“Why indeed? Miss Erin Solstice, I have over four hundred complaints in the lower Watch houses from people who witnessed your Skill. Distraught victims moved to tears. Families, guests of the city. People celebrating birthdays. Children. All of whom who were affected by your ‘accident’.”

He stared meaningfully at Erin. Her heart fell. And Pelt. She remembered his tears. Maughin’s too. Kel looked at her.

“Should I let you walk free, Miss Solstice? For your accident? That is within my authority as Desk Sergeant. If you believe I should, please, let me know.”

He was being unusually erudite. But Erin saw the glint in the Drake’s eyes. He was enjoying this. She hung her head and muttered.

“…I’ll go quietly.”

Kel the [Guardsman] nodded with great satisfaction. As the other two [Guards] turned Erin around and began leading her out of the Watch House, he called at their backs.

“Put her in the non-magical section. Block—no, put her in our temporary holding area. In the punishment cell.”

“What?”

Erin hesitated. The Drake grinned.

“As you say, Desk Sergeant! Come on, Human.”

She pulled at Erin. The young woman looked back.

“Kel? Wait. Punishment…Kel?”

She ignored Erin’s protests and dragged her out of the Watch House. Kel listened to Erin shouting until her voice was muffled by the door slamming shut. Then he sat back at his desk and sighed.

“Report to go to Watch Captain Qissa. Anyone headed down?”

“I’ll take it on my patrol.”

One of the Senior Guardswomen offered. A Gnoll trotted over and leaned on the desk. She was a grizzled veteran with a missing ear and scars from her encounters with trouble. She nodded to the door.

“So that’s the Human whose door you had to guard this entire time, Kel?”

“Yup.”

“Is she always like that?”

Kel paused. He looked the Senior Guardswoman in the eye.

“That? That was the most pleasant encounter with her I’ve ever had in my life.”

He held the look for a second. Then he went back to his work.

—-

Pallass prison was not a small place. Again, to compare it to a city like Liscor was to fundamentally change some aspects of, well, everything. Liscor was not Pallass. And Pallass, as a Walled City had a far larger criminal problem. And indeed, a different method of dealing with them.

The Walled City’s prisons ran along the 3rd Floor. And they were built into the wall. Not the actual wall, but adjacent, creating a pocket along the floor hidden by enchanted stone. Out of sight and out of mind for most residents. Well, not out of mind; property value didn’t seem to be that great around here, Erin saw. People didn’t want to live next to a prison, even one as well-guarded as Pallass’.

Indeed, the streets might not have been as nice as say, around Tails and Scales, but they were definitely clean and well-patrolled. The Watch was heavily entrenched in this area and for good reason. The prison kept Pallass’ worst elements locked up and the Watch was prepared to house even [Mages] and powerful threats. And apparently, Erin had just been given one of the worst cells in the entire prison.

“Peel my scales and call me a fleshbag. That’s a nasty punishment. Desk Sergeant Kel must hate your guts, Human.”

The female Drake was gloating as she led Erin towards the large prison doors. Erin stared up apprehensively at the prison. The Dullahan was more sympathetic. He looked down at Erin as one of his arms held her shoulder. Separate from his body; the rest of him was walking a few feet to Erin’s right. His detached arm had hold of Erin. It was very creepy.

“It seems harsh.”

The Drake snorted.

“It’s only for a few hours. She’s not gonna die. Anyways, she gave us all this trouble. Why not throw her in with a few criminals for a few minutes?”

She grinned nastily at Erin. The Drake woman paused as they approached the gates.

“If it was up to me, and if you hadn’t given us trouble, maybe I’d have let you off in one of our nicer cells. But you asked for it. You think you can waltz on in from Liscor and do whatever you want? This is Pallass.”

“Yeah, you keep saying that. But it was an accident. Hey, come on. I don’t need punishment. Right? How bad is this…cell?”

The two [Guards] looked at each other. The Dullahan shook his head. The Drake laughed.

“You’ll live. Hey! One for lockup!”

They passed through a double set of gates much like the plans Lyonette had drawn up for Erin’s inn. [Guards] could hold this position against intruders—and, Erin saw—attackers from within. They had to unlock the gates from their post to let the two [Guards] take Erin in. A Gnoll [Warden] called out.

“Which sector?”

“Punishment cell.”

The Gnoll did a double-take as she let the [Guards] and Erin through into the main prison. She stared at Erin.

“Really? What’d she do?”

“Tell you later.”

The Drake marched Erin into the prison. Now, they were closer to Liscor’s prison. Lines of cells, some with narrow steel bars, were the first thing Erin saw. She shuddered, but Pallass’ prison was far from dirty. In fact, it was uncannily clean and well-lit. Magical [Light] spells provided illumination and there wasn’t any smell of sewers or the bugs and stains that sprang to mind when Erin imagined a prison.

But it was far from nice. The [Warden] tossed the female Drake a ring of keys.

“You know the way?”

“Yes, Warden!”

“You have six minutes. Go.”

She nodded them off. The two [Guards] marched Erin forwards. She passed by cells, and saw the inmates look up as she passed. Some came to the bars. Others called out to the [Guards], asking what Erin was in for.

“Uh oh.”

Erin muttered. She hadn’t believed she’d actually go to jail. Not really. What was she, a criminal? But now she was here, it was starting to sink in.

On they went. The two [Guards] led Erin past steel-barred cells, to the left. The prison wasn’t one big corridor, but separated into blocks. The first block looked like a mass-lockup with steel bars and cells being the sole deterrent. The next area was filled with magical cells. Forcefields made of energy, glowing locks—Erin began to sweat.

Quick! What was the first rule of prisons? Erin hadn’t watched that new show, on TV! She tried to remember the few scraps she was aware of. Like when she and the Hobgoblins had been arrested. But this time it was serious. All of Erin’s jokes—in prison—in prison you attacked the biggest guy first! Or girl! Wait, was this an all-female prison?

Erin had a moment of hope. Right until she looked into one of the cells and saw a Gnoll glaring at her. He was male.

It was mixed prison. Drakes and Gnolls stared out of the bars. Garuda and Dullahan and even this guy with feline features were there too, but other races were rarer. Some looked innocent, or at least, like they were people who’d committed an offense that would land them an overnight sentence, like being drunk or causing a fight.

But some looked like career criminals. And Erin judged that only by the look in their eyes. That impartial, cold look that told you they had seen people die and they could see your death too. Erin had seen that look before. In Relc’s eyes, Klbkch’s…in many of her friends. And in a mirror. They stared at her, some grinning. Others appraising.

She stared back. Erin wasn’t afraid of them. Well, she was, but she wasn’t going to show it and the criminals whose cell she passed appraised her a second time as she met more than one growling Gnoll’s eyes. But Erin was afraid.

She was afraid of what the punishment cell was. Of having to do something to hurt someone. She remembered a Goblin, a pot of boiling oil. She never really forgot.

“Special section. Prisoner for the special cells. In here.”

The Drake and Dullahan stopped at a cell and Erin blinked. They hadn’t gone into any of the blocks. They’d just kept heading left and now they were at a dead end. Erin looked about apprehensively. What was this section?

It looked like just steel cells, like the standard ones. But the Drake and Dullahan were ushering Erin into the last cell in the block. They pushed Erin into the cell.

“Hands out of the bars. We’ll unlock the manacles.”

The Dullahan instructed Erin. Helplessly, the young woman did so. The Drake collected the manacles and keys. Erin stared around the cell they’d put her into.

“Wait, this is the punishment cell?”

The two [Guards] nodded. Erin looked around. The cell was small. Not as small as Calruz’ cell, but still like a box. And it was empty. Erin breathed a sigh of relief. Then she whirled, checking for traps, something horrible in the corner.

“You’ll be here until someone reviews your case. Don’t cause trouble, Human. If you’re in some kind of emergency, shout. [Guards] patrol regularly. But keep shouting and they’ll make you shut up.”

The Dullahan warned Erin kindly. The Drake just turned. They were already walking away. Erin stared at their backs.

“But wait! Why is this the punishment cell?”

“You’ll find out!”

The drake called over her shoulder. Left with that, Erin could only take stock of her surroundings.

Her first instinct was to check for something horrible in the cell or around her. But Erin only saw a slumbering shape in the cell across from hers. She glanced around her cell quickly.

It was bare. Well—there was a bench/cot worked into one side of the cell. Erin could sit on it or sleep there. And the bars were far too thin for her to stretch through and there were horizontal ones as well as vertical. Erin stared around. Then she noticed a hole in one corner. She walked over—and then walked back hurriedly.

“Sewage hole. Ew.”

It didn’t stink too bad. But maybe it really stank after a while! Or overflowed! Erin winced. She did not want to have to use the bathroom here. But…she hesitated.

“It’s really not that bad.”

After a second she even found the cot had a pillow and a blanket, folded, and hopefully, unused. There was a privacy screen Erin could drag out to use the bathroom—it was a nice cell if you weren’t going to live in it. But where was the punishment?

The young woman stared around the cell. Then she heard a sound. A voice rang out, sounding surprised.

“What’s this, what’s this? Looks like I have a guest.”

Erin Solstice froze. She felt her skin crawl. And she had a thought. A premonition. Maybe the punishment wasn’t a thing, but a person.

She turned around slowly. And then she saw him. The occupant of the cell across from her had risen. As Erin swung to face him, she saw the prisoner in the magical lighting. And Erin Solstice realized one thing.

A prison was where bad people went. Sometimes innocent people. Sometimes people who made a single bad mistake, or were desperate. But sometimes the worst of the worst. The kind of people who were more monster than person. Who made you question whether the devil danced behind their eyes, laughing as they did unspeakable things. The kind of people who left scars by their very presence on the earth, who could hurt you just from a single conversation.

A Drake stood in his cell, against the steel bars. His scales were dusky yellow, and his frame was slim. He was tall, and stood quite straight. He looked fine. Like anyone you’d pass in a Drake city, really. Except for one detail that made Erin realize why he was in jail in an instant.

He was completely, absolutely, buck-stark-naked.

Naked. Not a scrap of clothing on him. His scales shone in the magical light and he made no attempt to cover himself up. And the steel bars did not help either. The Drake posed in the magical light.

“Funny. I never get cellmates usually. I wonder why?”

Erin stared at him. He winked at her. She stared at his face. Then, slowly, her gaze travelled down. You couldn’t really help it. Erin stared down, and then her face screwed up into an expression of profound annoyance and disgust. She threw up her hands and shouted.

“Aw! Come on!”

—-

The world was changing. In small and large ways, unknowingly, the world Erin had found herself in was altering itself to mirror Earth. Some of it was intentional, by design of the strangers who found themselves in another world and tried to bring what they knew into this place. But other events were incidental. They occurred because it was a natural evolution.

Like weights. Pallass’ prisons were as yet devoid of sets of weights and the world in general lacked gyms. But in Pallass, at the very moment Erin came face-to-face with Drake nudity, the first weight bar was being lifted by a grunting Gnoll.

Some things were universal. A bar of steel, lead weights on each end. Rounded, naturally, and balanced on either side. Heavy lead weights. It had to be at least three hundred pounds of weight including the bar, and the Gnoll pumping the weight was unused to the exercise.

Her arms strained as she tried to do a bench press. For a second it looked like her arms might give out as she halted halfway, but a roaring voice shouted a few feet above her.

“Lift! Don’t you dare let that bar sink, Ferkr! Lift! Two more times! Push your limits!”

The struggling female Gnoll growled and the bar moved up. Slowly. So slowly. Grimalkin stood over her, bellowing encouragement.

“Don’t let it slide! Balance! That’s right! Up! Up!”

The arms moved—from the force of Grimalkin’s bellowing as much as sheer willpower. The bar rose—and it was up! But there was no place to lock the bar. The Gnoll panted.

“Master Grimalkin—”

“Two more times! That’s right! Down! Slowly—”

The Gnoll gasped as the bar lowered. She was fighting to keep it steady. Because—another thing yet missing from weight training—there was no locking nut on this bar. If Ferkr’s arms let the bar go left or right, the weights would just slide off.

Oh, and there was no spotter. As the bar lowered to her chest, Ferkr groaned. Grimalkin was still shouting.

“Inhale! And exhale as you push! That’s right! Up! One last time! Push!”

“I can’t—”

“No one will help you on the battlefield or when a spell fails! There is only you! Push! Now—”

One last rep. Ferkr growled, then she howled as the bar lowered—and then rose. It wobbled as it came up and Ferkr’s arms lost their strength. The bar twisted—the weights began to slide and Ferkr’s eyes went wide.

“Good!”

Grimalkin grabbed the bar. Without apparent effort, he lifted the bar up and caught the weights with one claw. He lowered the bar in a perfect squat, and then rose as Ferkr lay on the bench, panting.

“Look at that! Testicles!”

He bellowed and every head in the room swiveled. Grimalkin pointed down at Ferkr.

“Five times! Five lifts at three hundred pounds! Ferkr could barely do one, but she forced herself to do five! She pushed her limits with sheer willpower!”

He punched one fist into his hand. Grimalkin strode past Ferkr as she struggled to sit up. He was a giant compared to her. Not in height, but mass. Grimalkin was almost pure muscle, from head to toe. He was similar to Erin’s notion of a bodybuilder from her world; his arms were twice as large as a normal Drake’s. Three times?

He was also, coincidentally, a [Mage]. The Drake, or rather, [Sinew Magus], pointed at Ferkr and she winced. Grimalkin’s voice was near-bellow inside as he addressed the other occupants of the gym.

“Willpower! That’s all it is. You can force yourself to do what your body protests! If a Selphid can Rampage and unlock a body’s potential, we can do the same! Ferkr, up! To your desk!”

He pointed and the female Gnoll swung herself up with a groan. But she didn’t have time to rest; she slumped her way into a chair and desk. Then she stared at a roll of parchment in front of her. And a quill. And inkpot.

“You have thirty minutes. Begin!”

Grimalkin grabbed a sand timer and turned it over. Ferkr wanted to lie her head down on the desk, but she forced her paw to grab the quill and begin scribbling on the parchment. Her fur was matted with sweat and there was the odor of…workout in the room. Grimalkin paused and his head turned, looking for another victim.

“Terreskil! Stop lazing about and squat! You have fifteen more squats before you get back to your desk!”

He strode over to a Drake trying to do squats with a weight bar on his shoulders. The Drake groaned as Grimalkin stood over him.

“Squat! No, not that low! Do you want to injure yourself?”

“Magus Grimalkin, I can’t—”

“You only think you can’t! And your brain is wrong! Give me another squat! Lift with your legs!”

The smaller, younger Drake tried to rise. But his legs shook and then—he lost his balance. Grimalkin caught the weight bar before the Drake could collapse under it. He stood over Terreskil as the Drake fell to his knees, panting wildly.

“You have to push, Terreskil! Alright. Fifteen minutes of writing. To your desk!”

He hauled the Drake up with a single claw. Terreskil looked like he wanted to protest, but he slumped over to his desk. He lay on it, panting.

“If you do not have at least two pages of writing, I will make you run four laps up and down the stairs! From the walls to the first floor!”

Grimalkin turned and bellowed at the students at their desks and working out. Terreskil looked up, a horrible expression of panic on his brow. He forced himself up on one elbow and began to write—but the effort of concentration was squeezing even more sweat from his scales.

Across from him, Drakes, a pair of Dullahans, and a Garuda were working out. They were lifting weights, and then trudging over to the desks set bare feet from the lifting stations to continue writing their essays.

Desks set next to weights. If that was an odd juxtaposition, well, the room was large enough to accommodate both. And indeed, Grimalkin had cleared this space of his regular equipment. The students were in fact doing their writing on a lovely Chandrarian carpet. Sweating onto it. Grimalkin pointed to a huge sweat stain pooling under Ferkr.

“[Cleanse].”

The stain on the carpet vanished. Grimalkin waved one clawed hand and the smell of sweat and body odors vanished from the room. The Drake Magus nodded, satisfied. There was such a thing as cleanliness, especially in his domain.

The students were in Grimalkin’s home. Well, ‘home’ was misleading; they were in his laboratory area of his large estates in Pallass. Normally, that conjured to mind an [Alchemist]’s workshop, or a place like a library, filled with mystical artifacts and magical symbols and so on.

Not for Grimalkin the Fist Mage, self-proclaimed strongest [Mage] in Pallass. His laboratory was filled with weights at this moment. And the plain, marked square of stone he usually practiced new spells or experiments in had been occupied by the weights rather than the protective magical shield spells. On the other side of the room, where the students were frantically writing, they could look up at framed painting and diagrams.

The diagrams were of different species’ bodies, some sourced from other [Artists] fascinated with the body, or darker experiments. Some of them were hand-drawn, by Grimalkin himself, noting different muscle groups.

The portraits were of famous warriors. Heroes, [Martial Artists], all originals and illustrated by the finest [Artists] of their time. They were also all as true-to-life as Grimalkin could find; he had no time for fanciful imaginations.

One particularly vivid portrait of a [Martial Artist] Stitch-Woman had been vividly…perhaps too vividly captured in full scope by some avid [Painter]. It would have been lewd, but for—no, it was lewd. The artist had captured every detail and the [Martial Artist] had been very naked at the time. But Grimalkin kept it around. Prominently featured, in fact, next to one of his personal bookcases of texts.

It would make most people suspect his reasons, but his students knew he only had eyes for the geography of the body. He had one true love, and it was the physical form. He had other nude paintings and diagrams too. And all of his students had learned to ignore them.

Grimalkin of Pallass. To see him shouting or exhorting his students as they worked out was to get an instant snapshot of his personality. But that was only half of him. Now, as all of his students went to their desks, the muscular Drake [Mage] walked down the lines of their desks. And his field-roar became softer. Still loud and commanding, but authoritative rather than shouty.

“Control your breathing. Inhale—move your diaphragm. Wonderful term, that. Expand your chest. Inhale—exhale. Deep, controlled breaths. Don’t pant, Ferkr. Focus your minds as if you’re preparing to cast a spell. Walk on a razor’s edge of concentration. I want those essays as precise as anything I’d read from students in Fissival’s Scholarium.”

His students bowed their heads as Grimalkin walked past them, checking their work. They were writing essays. The apprentices were trading off, some exercising, and then, as they reached maximum fatigue, punishing their brains with magical textbooks or writing essays on their thoughts.

“I don’t see your claw moving, Terreskil.”

Grimalkin glared at a Drake. The Drake jumped.

“I was collecting my thoughts, Master—”

“You were not. I can see your muscles relaxing. Back straight! Think if you must, but don’t lose focus!”

Grimalkin whirled, and his tail slapped Terreskil’s back. The younger Drake—probably only seventeen or so, groaned. And he couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Master! Can’t we rest for a few minutes? We’ve been exercising for nearly an hour!”

The other students winced as his plaintive tone made Grimalkin turn back. The [Sinew Magus]’ brows shot together. He barked at Terreskil.

“Oh, and an hour’s work is enough to fatigue you so much that you can’t put two words together on parchment?”

“No, Master Grimalkin. I only meant—”

“Should we pamper you, Terreskil? Feed you as much food as you want and let you study at your leisure? Are we Wistram [Mages]? Would you like a couch to recline on? Something to drink? Alcoholic or not?”

Grimalkin’s purr was followed by him flicking his claw. A crystal decanter filled with a soft, amber liquid floated over. And a cup. Terreskil hunched his shoulders.

“I didn’t mean—”

“You want a break. Well, I have news for you, Terreskil! When the enemy is charging at you in the heat of battle, you do not get a break!”

Grimalkin roared in Terreskil’s earhole. His students winced as the [Sinew Magus] thumped a huge fist. Everything on Terreskil’s desk jumped, including the Drake.

“This is a crash course, Terreskil. I don’t have nearly a decade to waste on making you a [Mage]! Let alone the inclination! You have one year, two at most to pass my class. And when you do, you will find the rest of life is easy by comparison! Do you want to be a [Mage]?”

“Yes, Magus Grimalkin!”

“Say it louder!”

“Yes, Magus Grimalkin!”

Terreskil shouted. Grimalkin nodded. Then he strode past Terreskil as the Drake bent back to his essay. The [Mage] turned as he faced his class of a dozen students.

“[Mages] write! If you can’t express yourself on parchment and paper, you will leave nothing behind! More to the point—your brain is a muscle! You will use it or it will be as weak as an infant’s! If anyone has finished their essay on Valmira’s spellcasting in history and modern implementation, I want you on the weights! If one set of muscle is tired, work another!”

One of his students rose. A Dullahan. Grimalkin flicked his claw and the finished three pages of notes floated towards him. He read as the Dullahan wearily headed to his next station—a set of barbells—and began doing exercises with his arms.

The [Sinew Magus] read fast and efficiently, his eyes flying down the page. He dismissed the parchment and nodded to the Dullahan.

“Hmf. Not bad, Giren. Pass. I disagree that [Valmira’s Comets] is in fact a powerful Tier 5 spell if used with the proper base of mana—it’s costly and useful only against a massed army. Such as the Antinium. But there are more effective Tier 5 spells. Nevertheless—good.”

“Thank you, Magus.”

The Dullahan panted. Grimalkin nodded at him. The other students, including the sole Gnoll, Ferkr, looked up at Giren briefly. That was the highest praise Grimalkin normally awarded. Giren was his oldest student, nearing two years. He was muscular and, if his performance was any indication, he’d soon be graduated from Grimalkin’s training course.

“Twenty minutes left! Four laps if you fail to turn in an essay of the required length or present a halfway decent argument! That goes for essay structure as well! Push your limits!”

Grimalkin roared. His students worked frantically because he meant every word of what he said. And running four laps up and down Pallass’ stairs would kill them.

Now, why would anyone subject themselves to such intense and abusive training? Any casual onlooker would have conflated Grimalkin’s training with a kind of torture, and it was. His students worked their bodies day and night, collapsing into their beds, and then got up to do it day after day. They tore muscles. They bled. Some of them broke bones, but if they did, Grimalkin just healed them up and made them exercise properly.

It was said that even Pallass’ elite [Soldiers] received training from Grimalkin, and his instruction was feared even by them. Surely no one with a sane mind would ever apprentice themselves to him, master [Mage] or not. But one thing kept the students in Grimalkin’s class at their desks, as sweat beaded their skin, scales, feathers and armor.

His promise. Grimalkin would accept any student in the world, regardless of species or age or gender. All he demanded for his classes was raw talent. In either muscle or magic. His students paid to go through hell, but after only a single year or two, three on the outside, they’d be certified as full [Mages] by Grimalkin himself, capable of casting magic…in his unique way.

When Giren graduated, he could enroll in any magical academy in the world with credentials. Fissival would take Grimalkin’s students and assume they’d completed basic spellcraft theory, combat training, and any number of classes it would take their students four years to master. Belchan’s [Mage] College would likewise regard Grimalkin’s students as competent and ready to move into their advanced spell studies.

Wistram—Wistram would probably laugh at a student applying from Grimalkin’s training course, but not to the student’s face. Because Grimalkin’s students were also rated for combat. Even the worst students were instantly certified at the Silver-rank in the Adventurer’s Guilds and they could also enter Pallass’ army with immediate promotion to a lower officer rank.

That was the allure of Grimalkin’s training. He did not, in his own words, ‘coddle’ his students. Instead, he’d developed the harshest courses a body could endure, designed to bring out a student’s potential in the shortest amount of time.

And it worked. Grimalkin might be ridiculed as the ‘Fist Mage’, but never to his face. He’d killed Adult Crelers on the battlefield, slain enemy [Mages] with his bare fist and spells—he’d even dueled Archmage Feor of Wistram. And lost, it was true, but he’d walked away from the duel.

“Physical magic. Sinew magecraft. The concept of weaving mana throughout the body. Storing it in muscle. If Star Lamias can store it in their scales, and if half-Elf bodies are naturally magically inclined, why can’t any species create natural mana stores in the body? Yours are developing well, Giren. Yes. That’s right. Concentrate the mana in your arms.”

Grimalkin pointed at Giren. The Dullahan was lifting an enormous dumbell—seventy pounds of weight—and curling his left arm with slow, deliberate motions. Grimalkin’s students could see the Dullahan concentrating fiercely. He wasn’t just using his muscle—he was enhancing it with magic to lift the weight. Grimalkin nodded approvingly.

“It is the base of your spellcasting reserves! When you draw on it, you can be as strong as a regular [Warrior] with Skills! And when you need it, you will have deeper mana reserves than most common [Mages]! This is how we surpass more magically-gifted species!”

He flexed one huge arm. His apprentices saw Grimalkin’s body, a mass of magic, flex, demonstrating his very theory in action. It was Grimalkin’s unique way of spellcraft. The Drake was known for his outlandish theories that defied conventional, modern magical theory. He was always trying out something new.

Like this. Weight training with weights, made of steel and lead and iron followed by intensive mental exercise. Grimalkin peered at another essay as his Garuda student rose and handed him his papers.

“Pass! Your spelling needs work, Ekil, but pass. Good! I see this experiment is working. I’ll have to thank Miss Solstice later. And we will be trying out her sparring chess theory later.”

His class groaned as one under their breaths. Grimalkin’s apprentices had not met Erin Solstice except from afar or briefly, but they had learned to curse her name. This latest idea—writing essays after working out—was based on one of the things Erin had taught Grimalkin for his assistance.

“Chess boxing. Or rather, mental and physical exercise in bouts. Fascinating. And I would try this chess boxing, although it sounds highly unproductive. Especially if I were to challenge Chaldion. Still, this is worth trying. Now—”

Grimalkin stepped back and stopped exhorting his class for a second. He eyed Giren and the Drake’s eyes analyzed the Dullahan from top to toe. Grimalkin nodded to himself. He could read a body’s configuration, from the way sinew and bone and tendon moved to the health and strength of a person.

The Drake found his personal journal and opened it. A quill flew up and the Drake began dictating some notes as the quill, devoid of any hand, began transcribing his thoughts.

“Let’s see. Control group is actually progressing less quickly than my new weight-training class. This dedicated lifting with weights is more efficient—if very targeted towards specific muscle groups. But it is far better than full-contact sparring or training with leaded weapons for pure bodybuilding. Incredible.”

This was one of two groups of apprentices Grimalkin had divided up. The other group was partaking of Grimalkin’s traditional course. They ran, sparred, and exercised without the weights. This class was using the newfangled ‘weights’ that Grimalkin had been so taken by. In fact, the weights set he’d ordered from Pallass’ forges had arrived two weeks ago and Grimalkin had put his students through the wringer testing them out to their fullest.

“Magus Grimalkin? I’m finished.”

More students were handing Grimalkin their essays. He read them quickly before sending them to the weights. Three students he failed and gave them ten minutes to correct their errors.

Ferkr was one of them. Grimalkin flicked the parchment back at her.

“Incorrect! I want a thesis, Ferkr, not a history lesson. Give me a point! I’ve taught you the fundamental shape of forming an argument. Rewrite the essay. Twenty minutes!”

“Yes, Magus.”

The other students looked at Ferkr sympathetically as she slumped at her desk. She was the only Gnoll Grimalkin had ever taught as a potential [Mage]. The huge Drake hovered over Ferkr.

“What is your thesis?”

“That—that Valmira’s magic was powerful for its time, Magus?”

“Unacceptable!”

Grimalkin’s bellow made Ferkr clap one paw over her ear. The Magus moderated his tone.

“Ah. I forget Gnoll’s have such good hearing. My apologies. What I meant to say was—unacceptable! That is a bland, empty thesis, Ferkr! Give me something that won’t make me regret reading your essay! What about Valmira can you personally share that I don’t already know?”

“I—I—Valmira’s magic was powerful for its time, Magus, but it was fundamentally flawed? Which is why she perished in her magical duel with Archmage Nekhret?”

Grimalkin paused.

“Go on.”

Ferkr hesitated. The female Gnoll felt her way forwards carefully.

“She—had tremendous spell-theory, but her magic is fundamentally unshaped. Hence your notes about [Valmira’s Comets] being mana-efficient, but ineffective in how the spell itself is shaped?”

“Not my notes. It’s echoed in any number of analytical texts. Nevertheless, Valmira was so gifted at magical manipulation that the spell is still in use in any number of spellbooks. Good! Here—cite me from Archmage Redovil’s Analysis of Spells in Warfare, a Retrospective, and make me an argument. Twenty minutes!”

Grimalkin strode off. Ferkr sighed, but she got to work. And in twenty minutes, she came back and Grimalkin passed her.

“Good. To your station, Ferkr. Squats. No—deadlifts.”

The Gnoll nodded. She felt better after nearly an hour of writing, although her head hurt instead. She paused as she went over to the weights bar.

“Um. Which lift is this, Magus?”

“Ah. Back muscle. Bend—lift the bar from the front.”

“Right.”

Ferkr bent and tried the back-intensive lift. After a second, Grimalkin stormed over.

“No! Your hips are too low, Ferkr! Keep that back straight! Proper form is essential. You’ll damage your back. Not like that. Like this.”

He demonstrated. Ferkr, blushing, nodded.

“Apologies, Magus.”

Grimalkin shook his head briskly as he maneuvered Ferkr, making sure she was lifting right.

“Not your fault. I’ve been testing you all in too many positions. But there is a proper way to do these lifts. I can see I need some illustrations to go along with these sets. We have healing potions—but what a waste! Besides, healing potions undo all the work we’re trying to do. The low-grade ones, at least.”

He frowned as Ferkr did a proper lift this time.

“It is fascinating. All this potential for improving one’s strength in a relatively safe environment still has inherent risk. I can easily see someone failing to develop the body correctly. Just as Miss Solstice said. I’ll write a manual—the entire body needs to be developed. Upper and lower body. And the core.”

He relished the word. Ferkr grunted. She was keeping her abdominal muscles tight, as Grimalkin had shown her. He’d preached about the strength of the abdomen, but all these new terms like ‘repetition’, ‘core’, and ‘deadlifts’ and so on were a product of his meeting with one Human.

“Good. You’re clearly not at your limit, but this is meant to train the muscle rather than push it. Let’s call it…fifteen sets.”

“Magus, should I use the locking mechanism? I feel like these weights are going to slip off.”

Ferkr pleaded. Grimalkin snorted.

“They might. Which is why I want proper form. I’ll include them in the other sets, but I want you to learn balance, Ferkr. You have a good foundation; Gnolls are physically adept naturally. But I want you to learn control.”

“Yes, Magus.”

Grimalkin nodded. Ferkr got back to work and Grimalkin supervised his class. After a second he heard a chime.

“Someone at the door? Giren.”

The Dullahan was on his break between workouts. He got up and smartly came back.

“An apprentice to see you, Magus. Smith Tirren?”

“Ah, yes. Show them in.”

Grimalkin turned as a Drake apprentice, his scales smudged with soot, humbly entered Grimalkin’s abode. He bowed—or tried to, but Grimalkin was too busy for formalities.

“Smith Tirren’s latest work is finished?”

“Yes, Magus. Here’s the set of weights you ordered. Smith Tirren wants to assure you he’s used the best steel, so the metal shouldn’t flex like it did before.”

The apprentice offered Grimalkin a bag of holding. The Drake began pulling out metal bars and weights. He nodded, grunting.

“Quality looks good. I may need enchanted bars to hold the weight personally, but the expense—for now, steel. And there’s clearly a weight limit. I’ll add that to my manual. And I’d like to make another order of Tirren’s smithy.”

“Of course, Magus! More sets of weight?”

The apprentice bowed hurriedly. Grimalkin was a good customer and the [Smiths] of Pallass wanted his gold. Grimalkin nodded absently.

“I have enough personal sets with my students and I think I’m ready to send the product out. I’ll need to compose a manual, but the weights themselves are fine. I’ll need bags of holding—I don’t think I have enough. But never mind that. Let’s see. I promised a set to that Human City Runner. Guardsman Relc…hm.”

He counted briskly as the apprentice waited, fishing out a bit of parchment to take Grimalkin’s order. The Magus mused to himself.

“Let’s send a dozen sets to Manus so they can test the equipment thoroughly. I’m sure they can replicate the design once they see the inherent value. A few to the other cities—hm. I’ll take sixty sets in total to be safe. Payment up front.”

“Sixty?”

The apprentice’s eyes bulged. Grimalkin eyed him.

“Assuming Master Tirrel can handle so many weight sets? I would like all of them in…three days. And twenty by tonight. I can ask another smith to split the difference if—”

“No, no! Master Tirrel will absolutely have the sets done.”

The apprentice fell over himself trying to assure Grimalkin. The Drake nodded.

“Have Master Tirrel contact the Merchant’s Guild regarding payment. I will draft a note to them—here. No doubt they’ll send someone to confirm, but the funds should be immediately released.”

He handed the apprentice a letter after a moment and sighed. The apprentice took it and bowing over himself, hurried out of Grimalkin’s home. No doubt Master Tirrel would have to contract some of his fellow smiths to help with the huge order, but he’d scored a massive sale.

Grimalkin didn’t even think of the gold he’d spent, though. He was already back to coaching Ferkr and his other students. The Gnoll panted as Grimalkin had her doing a hanging leg lift. He’d already come up with the exercise, but now Ferkr had to hold a dumbbell between her feet as she lifted her legs up to waist-level and swung them down.

“Good. Good. I’m impressed; Gnolls do have an easier time by and large with my workouts than Drakes. Well, it is a species difference. I hadn’t appreciated it until now. But then, you are the first of my apprentices in your species. How long have you been studying, Ferkr?”

“Six months, Magus.”

Grimalkin nodded. Ferkr was a special project.

“And the Meeting of the Tribes is coming up. Hm. We’d better begin preparing you for that day. We’ll work in more private spellcraft studying time, although I hate to cut short your physical regimen.”

“Yes Magus.”

Ferkr brightened, although Grimalkin’s mental studies were almost as taxing as his physical lessons. But then her face fell.

“Magus Grimalkin—”

“Yes?”

The female Gnoll hesitated. She bit one lip as she lifted her legs, grunting with the effort of the exercise.

“Am I—ready for the Meeting of the Tribes?”

“You can cast magic.”

“Yes, Magus. But…”

But Grimalkin’s training was as much exercise as it was…magic. And Gnolls couldn’t cast magic like [Mages]. Everyone knew that. Ferkr bit her tongue on all of that; she’d get another shouting lesson. But Grimalkin seemed to read her mind. He sighed, and for once, didn’t bellow.

“If you’re worried about your magical ability, Ferkr, you are capable of casting magic. Drop. Cast [Light] for me. Now.”

She did so. Ferkr held out her paw, and concentrated. After a moment, a ball of yellow light appeared over her paw. It was hard, but as the orb rose, she stared at it.

Magic. The other apprentices eyed Ferkr. A Gnoll casting a [Mage] spell. Grimalkin nodded.

“There. What do you have to worry about? You will go to the Meeting of Tribes and show them you can cast magic.”

“Yes, Magus. But only Tier 1 and Tier 2 spells at best! I’ve been here six months and…”

Ferkr tried not to whine like a Gnoll cub. Grimalkin paused. He took his time in his reply as he eyed Ferkr up and down.

“It is true that you have had more difficulty naturally accessing your internal mana than any other apprentice I’ve ever taught. Which is fascinating, incidentally. In order to cast basic spells, it has taken you—how many months?”

“Four.”

“Longer than most, I will admit. It was a mental block near the end. But Ferkr, listen to me.”

Grimalkin put a claw on Ferkr’s shoulder, squeezing gently. For him. He met his apprentice’s eyes firmly.

“You’ve built up my fundamental basis for mage-muscle magical storage, or ‘magical sinew’. I’m still thinking of a catchy appellation. And it is true, you struggled hard to get to where you are. Are you lagging behind some apprentices in your spellcraft? Of course! I won’t lie to you.”

The Drake nodded, gesturing to Ferkr as he walked around her.

“There is some…strange phenomenon going on with the Gnollish ability to cast magic naturally. But you came to me to learn magic. You wanted to learn it and you had the passion and grit to overcome your limitations! Once you punched through your initial inability, you were able to cast magic! Effectively! Which proves Gnolls only need grit. Determination!”

He clenched a fist, his voice rising with each sentence.

“You will prove to the tribes that Gnolls can cast magic! You have what it takes, Ferkr! Don’t you dare doubt yourself after all you’ve done! You have what it takes! Willpower! Strength of character!”

“Testicles?”

One of Grimalkin’s apprentices muttered under his breath. Grimalkin’s head turned.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Terreskil. Anyways, I believe in you, Ferkr. And I will not tolerate weak-mindedness!”

Ferkr practically glowed under the rare praise. Grimalkin clapped her shoulder and she staggered. Briskly, he turned.

“It will be a huge discovery. And you and I will go down in modern history for bringing this, Ferkr. I have no doubt. But I’m still looking into this odd phenomenon with the Gnolls. You will certainly prove to all the Gnolls that you can cast magic. But you are not alone.”

The female Gnoll nodded hesitantly. She looked at Grimalkin.

“Is it just perception that makes it so hard for Gnolls to become [Mages], Master Grimalkin?”

He paused.

“No. I don’t think so. There is some reason behind the lack of magical ability in recent generations of Gnolls. There was a Gnoll apprentice who journeyed to Wistram, forty years ago. Or so I understand. One of their [Shamans]. Wasn’t there a controversy among the Gnoll tribes in sending such a student?”

“Yes, Magus. The tribes have an issue with the academy. They won’t trade with Wistram—”

Grimalkin waved a claw.

“Not that. I know all about the reaction of the tribes. I mean, the decision to send a Gnoll to Wistram at all. There was some controversy in even sending a potential student. And I checked the records via my contact at the academy—no Gnoll had been sent for the last three hundred years before that. Why?”

The young Gnoll shook her head.

“I’m not a Plains Gnoll, Magus. I was born in Pallass.”

“Hm. Well, I can see why this misconception occurred. There was a problem with your ability, Ferkr, but it can be overcome. Gnolls can be [Mages]. You’re proof of that. Not just you, either.”

“Magus?”

Grimalkin was rubbing at his chin. He spoke thoughtfully.

“The white Gnoll child—Mrsha—is also utilizing some nature magic. When you present your findings at the Meeting of the Tribes, you may cite her—although given what I understand of white Gnolls, it might prove controversial.”

Ferkr nodded uneasily. Grimalkin went on.

“A white Gnoll cub. I don’t know all of the nuance, but it would be at Miss Solstice’s inn. I must speak with her again. What is she hiding? A second Gnoll who can cast magic, weights, her uncanny—”

He broke off and shook his head. Grimalkin returned his attention to Ferkr.

“You will do fine, Ferkr. There are records of Gnoll [Mages] in history. And yes, a Gnoll [Archmage]! With the class! But that was thousands of years ago. What changed in that time? Why are Gnolls now only [Shamans]? You will go to the Meeting of Tribes, show them what I—we—have uncovered, and find out why this phenomenon exists. I expect a full investigation. You are my student. Do me proud.”

Ferkr nodded. She stood a bit straighter and smiled. Grimalkin did too, just for a second. Then his glare reappeared.

“And before you get there, I will have you half again as strong as you are now and you won’t quit training until you can cast [Fireball]! Back to work! And remember to hydrate yourselves! Hydrate. Where does she…?”

He paused. Then, Grimalkin’s head turned.

“Strange. What am I missing? How could she possibly know all this? Beyond strange. Either her parents were [Martial Artists], or…what?”

Grimalkin of Pallass paused. And his mind wrestled with the outline of an idea so audacious he couldn’t even frame it. But then he shook his head and got back to work. He’d check on Erin Solstice later. But he wouldn’t forget. Grimalkin had a list of important things, truly important things he was focused on like a bolt of lightning and Erin Solstice’s name had made it onto that list. There was something about her.

—-

When she thought about it, really thought about it, it was only fitting. Absurd, maybe. But it fit.

Erin Solstice sat in her cell and thought about what she’d done. Really thought about it.

She knew she could be reckless. Impulsive. And normally, normally that was fine. Erin knew people thought she was crazy, or an idiot. And some of what she put on was an act. But she could be spontaneous. It was fine when she was playing with Mrsha, or in her inn.

But sometimes, Erin just didn’t think. And when she didn’t, she hurt people. By accident, but she hurt them deeply. It felt like she’d done that more often, recently. First Toren, where Erin had come face-to-face with her biggest mistake. Now Pelt.

Erin hadn’t thought about her taking the knife he’d made. Or about the consequences of using her Skill on him. And perhaps it had worked out. But she remembered his tears.

She had done bad things. Erin saw a skeleton’s heart breaking. And her own heart hurt in reply. She’d done a bad thing. Not just to Pelt. Maybe she belonged here. Just for a bit. Erin sat on her cot and drew her knees up to her chest. Maybe she needed punishment.

“Psst. What’d you do to get in here? Come on. I know you’re awake. Hey, Human. I’m over here. Excuse me? Hello?”

And that punishment was sitting across from the most annoying Drake in the entire world. Erin put her hands over her ears. But she could still hear the Drake.

“Hey! Rude! Excuse me if I’m trying to be social. What, are you too good to talk? Typical. You know, this is why people don’t like Humans. You’re giving your species a bad name, you know.”

Erin glared into her knees. Perhaps this was fitting. She turned away from the Drake in the cell opposite hers. There was a pause and Erin’s hands over her ears muffled the Drake’s voice. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Then something bounced off the back of her head. Erin shot to her feet.

“Stop that! And put some clothes on!”

She shook her fist at the Drake standing in the other cell. She tried not to look, but—yes—he was still naked. He folded his arms, satisfied by her reaction.

“You’re not the [Warden], Miss Human. Finally willing to talk?”

“Go away! Turn around!”

“What? Why?”

The Drake struck another pose, one leg on his cot. He was doing this on purpose! Erin turned red.

“You’re naked!”

“So?”

Erin mouthed silently. She looked for what he’d thrown at her. It was a little stone. Erin picked it up and hurled it back. It flew through a gap in the cell at the Drake’s—he dodged.

“Hey! That was uncalled for!”

“Cover yourself up! Why are you naked? Aren’t there rules about this? Why don’t the guards make you put on pants!?”

“Miss, no force on earth could make me put on pants.”

The Drake smirked at her. Erin stared at his face. Just at his face.

After five minutes in here, Erin realized why this was called the ‘punishment cell’. She hadn’t really understood it at first, but it was a punishment. More than being locked in a cell with some [Murderer]. You see, that would have been cruelty. Torture. Or just plain old murder since you’d be in the cell with…a [Murderer].

But this? This was punishment. Erin had tried to ignore the Drake when she realized he was naked. But he kept bothering her. And throwing things at her. And refusing to leave her alone. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but…he was annoying.

“You know, you’re being quite rude. Here I am, trying to introduce myself, and you won’t even talk to me. Or look me in the eye.”

The Drake sighed as he leaned against his cell bars. Erin stared at him.

“Me? Rude? You’re the one with no clothes on!”

“And you’re the one looking. So why is this my fault? I’m not trying to offend you.”

The Drake’s voice was reasonable, plaintive. And—Erin heard the note of humor he was suppressing. She glared at him, but she was drawn into this stupid argument already.

“Why—you’re naked! That’s disgusting! You’re all offense! Stop waving that thing at me!”

“What? I’m not waving anything, Miss Human. And whatever offense you might be taking—there’s not much of it to go around! It’s tiny! And it’s not going to get bigger, trust me.”

The Drake gestured. Erin closed her eyes. The pebble bounced off her stomach. She made an inarticulate sound.

“Stop that! Or I’ll throw that through your face!”

“Come on. Let’s talk.”

“Not until you put something on!”

“Okay, okay, fine.”

Erin opened her eyes. She stared at the Drake. And then the pillow covering his crotch. Erin saw him grin.

“Don’t you have any clothes?”

“Nope.”

“Put the blanket on!”

“No. I’m making a concession with the pillow. It’s a pain to hold here. I—whoops.”

He dropped the pillow. Erin tried to unsee, but it was too late. The Drake bent and tried to pick the pillow up.

“Stop. Just—stop.”

“Hey you’re the one with the problem here. Not me. If you’re so upset, give me your pants! I’ll wear them!”

The Drake waved the pillow at Erin huffily. She stared at him. After a second she covered the lower half of his body with one hand. It wasn’t that Erin wanted to look, but she couldn’t help it.

“I get why this is called the punishment cell. Will you leave me alone?”

“Absolutely not. This is the most fun I’ve had all day. Hey, I have the pillow back on.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m trying! Look, I’ll hold the pillow here. If I lean against the cell—no, wait, there it goes again.”

“Please stop.”

The Human and Drake stared at each other from their cells. Erin tried to reappraise the Drake. Aside from the obvious…well, he was male. And naked. But Erin couldn’t help but feel like they’d met. What a thought!

But—hold on. Erin vaguely remembered this Drake. Somehow. He was eying her and clearly he had no idea who she was, but—

“Hold on. You’re that nude guy!”

“I am? I mean, I am. I prefer ‘all-natural’, but go on. Have we met?”

“No. Yes. I mean, I was in the bar and you were getting arrested.”

“Ah. That happens a lot. Which time was this?”

“Like…a long time ago. Are you—no—why are you naked? Please tell me that.”

“Well, it just so happens that I was arrested. And the [Guards] didn’t give me any clothes.”

“Really?”

The Drake sighed.

“Well, they offered, but I refused. You know how it is.”

“You got arrested for being naked.”

Erin spoke flatly. The Drake glared at her above her protective hand. He tried to rattle the bars of his cell, but they were too well-made for that.

“It wasn’t my fault! There I was, minding my own business, when suddenly I was arrested!”

“Were you wearing clothes at the time?”

The Drake paused. He scratched at the scales along his cheek.

“I was. But before I knew it, they were gone.”

“How does that even—you took them off!”

“No! Maybe! I have a habit of taking them off whenever. My clothes, I mean.”

“Whenever what?”

The Drake shrugged. He’d clearly dropped his pillow again. Erin’s arm was getting tired, but she kept the hand in place. The Drake put one foot on his cot again, casually speaking to her. It was a pose Erin wouldn’t have minded on anyone but him.

“Just whenever. Clothes go on, I take them off. It’s a habit. Anyways, I got arrested, thrown in here. I’d like to say that it’s rare, but I end up here at least once a week, or so it seems.”

“No, really?”

“Really. But it was an accident, I swear!”

“That’s not—”

Erin bit her tongue. An accident. She saw Kel’s face and glared at the Drake. She wasn’t getting anywhere with her first line of questions, so she tried another tack.

“Why do you take your clothes off? Are you just…a [Stripper]?”

“Nah. I mean, I’m sure it pays well, but that’s not me. It’s just a habit from work.”

“What work? Nude dancing?”

The Drake frowned absently at Erin.

“Again, no. I’ve tried it, but it’s a young person’s game and I never get tips—I’m an [Alchemist], actually.”

“What?”

Erin’s hand faltered. She saw—the hand went back up. It turned out the Drakes were like Humans in many ways. They had scales, but they weren’t Lizardfolk. Erin had talked with Selys and Krshia about it, actually. But she hadn’t realized—she glared at the Drake.

“An [Alchemist]? You’re lying.”

The Drake looked hurt.

“Absolutely not! I’m a 100% [Alchemist]. And before you ask—yes, normally we wear heavier clothing. I knew a fellow who wore armor when mixing his potions.”

“And you do it naked?”

Erin skeptically eyed the Drake. But now she was looking more closely—she thought she did see some colorful stains on his scales. Xif, the Gnoll [Alchemist] from Pallass had possessed the same stains. And there was a faint odor of chemical coming from the Drake. He shrugged at her.

“Look, think of it this way. Clothing is expensive. It also tends to get stained and messy when you’re mixing up reagents. Or catch fire, evaporate, retain poison—it’s really more hassle than it’s worth, haven’t you found?”

“Um. No. Not at all. And if I spilled a potion on me, I’d probably want clothing on me. Or my skin would do all those things.”

The Drake nodded wisely.

“True, true. Ah, well, perhaps it’s also my Skills. I have a number of them that help me resist effects on my scales, so if I drop something nasty on myself, it usually only affects said clothing. Which is why I’ve gotten in the habit of undressing when I perform alchemy.”

That…actually made sense. In a stupid sort of way. Erin had seen Relc demonstrating his [Iron Scales] Skill and she knew it was possible. She sighed.

“So why do you strip in public? An accident?”

“Well…”

“Oh come on! There are kids out there!”

“Hey! It’s comfortable being naked. Have you not walked around in the nude? Do you remember what it felt like?”

Erin’s cheeks turned red. She snapped back at him.

“I’m not answering that!”

He made a scoffing sound.

“Pssh. Please. Everyone’s been naked. And it’s natural. Anyways, that’s not my only reason. Being naked is actually an act of expression. A protest against society and the shackles of Drake culture. It’s my way of railing against the system.”

He drew himself up, spreading his arms in another pose as his legs opened. Erin refused to lower her hand.

“You’re just a pervert.”

“Hey! Only by society’s standards. Anyways, it’s not sexual. I’ve met weird people who enjoy this. In a sexual way. Disgusting, right?”

“Stop talking to me.”

Erin had to turn away and lower her arm for a second. Something bounced off her back. She swung around with a growl.

“Stop throwing things!”

“Hey, I’m just trying to carry on a conversation.”

The pillow was back in place. The Drake grinned at Erin’s expression. Grudgingly, she folded her arms.

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

“Nope. It’s rare the [Guards] throw anyone in the cell across from mine. Punishment cell? Now, that hurts my feelings a tiny bit. Anyways, what are you in for, Miss Human?”

He grinned at her. Erin realized she hadn’t gotten his name. She bit her lip.

“Erin. Erin Solstice. I’m in here because I…accidentally used a Skill.”

“Ooh. How many people died?”

The Drake eyed Erin. She glared.

“None! It was an accident!”

He grinned.

“Good. I’d hate to think I was standing across from a murderer. They have a few in here, you know. Nasty types. Good thing you’re stuck with me.”

“I’d rather be stuck across from a murderer.”

“No, you wouldn’t. They’re no fun. Well, do you have a class, Miss Erin? Can I call you Erin?”

“No. And I’m an [Innkeeper].”

The Drake’s gaze sharpened.

“Ah. So you’re the one with the magic door. I’ve been meaning to check it out, but I keep getting arrested. Pleased to meet you, Miss Erin! You know, I heard about you from some friends.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Xif. And Rufelt and Lasica. They keep talking you up and I saw the most fascinating flower Xif had bought from you. Well now, I am pleased to meet you. They call me Saliss, Miss Erin Solstice. Saliss Oliwing. [Alchemist] of Pallass, at your service. I’ll stop annoying you now.”

The Drake bowed slightly, and nearly dropped the pillow again. Erin stared at him.

Saliss?

The name rang a faint bell. But Erin couldn’t have said where she’d heard his name. She distinctly remembered Rufelt and Lasica talking about him, but for what? She tried to remember, and then frowned.

“Wait. You were doing that on purpose?”

Saliss winked at Erin as he held the pillow in place.

“Obviously. It’s fun to mess with people who haven’t met me before. But since you’re a friend of friends, I’ll stop. And I did think you’d committed an actual crime. The Watch really don’t put just anyone across from me. They must really hate your guts. Let’s start this over, shall we?”

Erin stared at Saliss. Then she hunted for the pebble he’d thrown at her. He nimbly dodged it as she hurled it back at him. He was quick! Even with her [Unerring Throw], she couldn’t nail him.

“Hey! I apologize, but you really should have introduced yourself sooner!”

“To a nudist throwing rocks at me?”

Saliss sighed.

“Everyone holds that against me. You know, Gnolls kids run about naked. And all they’ve got is fur! What’s wrong with scales?”

Erin pointed. The pillow was thankfully still in place. Saliss looked offended.

“What, that? Gnolls have them too! The male ones, at any rate. Don’t be vulgar.”

“You’re the naked one!”

Erin shouted back. Their argument had woken some of the inmates in the cells a ways away. Erin heard a chorus of voices and several insults.

“Shut up over there! I’m trying to sleep!”

“Ancestors. Who’s shouting?”

“It’s that freak. Turn around!”

Saliss turned as the other prisoners came to their cells and shouted at him and Erin. He dropped the pillow—Erin recoiled along with the others. But Saliss spread his arms and his legs and angled his body to face the other prisoners.

“Mock me if you will! But don’t pretend I’m anything but honest! Natural! All of you are just prudes! Constrained by clothing! Grow up! Everyone has something!”

Most of the inmates turned away, shouting insults at the Drake [Alchemist]. The male ones were mortally offended and Erin heard more than a few very pithy swear words. Saliss shouted back.

“Hey! There is a young woman over here! Can it! Don’t make me come over there!”

He was…incredibly insane. Erin had never met a Drake like him. She nearly laughed at him and the indignity in his voice as he berated the other prisoners. They eventually shut up as a [Guard] stomped their way, bellowing for silence.

After a few minutes, Erin looked at Saliss again. He had the pillow back in place. She realized his cell was different from hers. He had a desk along one wall—no—it wasn’t a desk. Erin peered at it, but he was in the way. There was a lot in his cell, actually. He had shelves, what looked like an actual toilet built into a modesty wall, a nice bed twice as large as hers…

“Hey! Why is your cell so nice?”

Saliss shrugged.

“I’ve been locked up in here so often I got my own cell. It’s still a bit of a pain, but hey, it comes with the territory.”

“You could just wear clothes.”

“Hah!”

The [Alchemist] laughed. Erin’s lips twitched, but she glared at him instead. Erin sighed.

“…How do you know Rufelt and Lasica? And Xif? Don’t think you’re friends with me just because you know them! I owe Xif a punch!”

“Ah, yes. Persuaded you to sell the flowers, did he? He’s pushy when he finds something new. But I’m friends with him. We’re both [Alchemists] after all. And Rufelt and Lasica are friends. Although I have to wear clothes when I drink at their bar.”

Saliss nodded wisely. Erin eyed him. That was odd. She knew Tails and Scales, the bar the joint [Chef] and [Bartender] wife and husband ran was exclusive. You couldn’t just walk in unless the two had approved you.

“…So you get arrested often? But you’re friends with Rufelt and Lasica?”

“Yup. And I’ve heard about you. Erin Solstice, owner of The Wanderer’s Inn, now connected to Pallass via a magical door.”

“The Wandering Inn. That’s right.”

The [Alchemist] blinked. Then he slapped one knee, dropping his pillow.

“Hah! Wandering inn? Good one! That’s clever!”

Erin stared at him. He was the first person to ever laugh at her inn’s name. And because it was him, she now regretted it. As Saliss bent to pick up the pillow, Erin averted her eyes and looked up. His nudity wasn’t that offensive anymore. It was rather like a bad smell. After a while…you just forgot it was there. Well, until she looked again.

“So, why are you here?”

Saliss leaned against the bars, looking at Erin. She sighed.

“It’s complicated, alright? I used a Skill. Accidentally.”

“Really? I don’t know many [Innkeepers] in Pallass. Well, sometimes I stay at the Noble’s Fancy. That’s a lovely inn, by the way. The owner’s over Level 30. I know another inn near First Landing that’s run by a Level 50 plus [Innkeeper]. Now that’s a nice place. Have you heard of it?”

“No.”

“Really? Ah, well, I suppose not all [Innkeepers] know each other. I know some keep in touch, though. And I imagine a Level 40 [Magical Innkeeper] like yourself would have a different background. Interesting class, by the way. Are you a [Mage]?”

Erin’s head shot up. She stared at Saliss. He winked at her.

“How did you…?”

“Oh, I can see a few things, Miss Solstice. Not any Skills, but I can see basic facts about you. So tell me, what did a Level 40 [Innkeeper] do to my poor city? Funny, Rufelt and Lasica were convinced you were Level 30. Don’t worry, I won’t tell them. I keep people’s level secret. But please, tell me how you got here! I could use a good story.”

He put both claws together. Erin didn’t even blink this time. She hesitated. There was something incredibly odd about Saliss, his demeanor aside. He was…refreshingly easy to talk to, compared to a lot of Drakes. Relc-like, but sillier. She hesitated, but there was nowhere to go.

“It was…I used a Skill on this Dwarf guy. The [Blacksmith].”

“Pelt? That old drunkard?”

Saliss’ brows shot up. Erin nodded.

“I made him cry. And I made a bunch of other people cry too, probably.”

“You. Made Pelt cry? And I was in here? Tell me everything!”

The [Alchemist] sounded delighted. But Erin felt her heart sinking in her chest.

“I don’t want to talk about it. It was my fault, really. What a crummy Skill.”

She lowered her head and turned away. Just like Toren. She didn’t think. Erin just wanted to sit and think, like she had at her camp. But Saliss was all-attention now. He jumped up and down.

“What’s that about a Skill? Come on, cellmate! Don’t leave me hanging!”

Erin hesitated. But Saliss was already hunting for something else to throw. She turned and glared at him.

“Fine. I’ll tell you. But turn the other way!”

“Aw. Fine. But you have to tell me. I guess I’ll do some work as I listen.”

The Drake sighed and turned around. Erin stared at his back. He went over to the workbench she’d spotted, absently pulled…a glass vial…off the table, and hunted along the shelves. He didn’t find what he was looking for, so he rummaged through a black bag on the table. A bag of holding. He came out with some grey powder, sprinkled it into the vial, and then stared at the shelves.

“Let’s see. Sage’s Grass water. Sage’s Grass…am I out of Sage’s Grass? Huh. I’d better buy more. Maybe I have some in the bag of holding? Let’s just see.”

He went back over to the black pouch and then glanced at Erin.

“Well? Come on, let’s hear the story! Or do you want me to throw things at you some more? Because I will. Tell you what, I’ll trade you a sip of my potion afterwards. I’m making a tonic. Very soothing. Makes you feel wonderful. Sells for a lot with old folk too. Come on, Erin! I can call you Erin, right?”

She stared at him. Then Erin stared around. She poked her head out of her bars and shouted down the prison.

“What’s going on here!?”

—-

The Wyverns flew towards the huge city in the distance. They had come a long way. Far, and for many hours. The High Passes were distant behind them. And now, as the thousand-some weyr flew, the creatures of the earth and sky fled their approach. They were a vast gathering, gigantic monsters led by the largest Wyvern of them all.

The Wyvern Lord was angry. It had been a bad day for him. Not only had the flight been long, but it was hot! Too hot for a Frost Wyvern who had lived in the reaches of the High Passes. He was far from home and lost. His home in the High Passes called to him.

Home was cold. Home had many places in the tall mountains for Wyverns to make their nests and hunt from. But there just wasn’t enough food at home. The High Passes had an ecosystem, and it could feed more monsters than anyone would expect. But there was so much competition. Go too high, and a Wyvern would die, even with all their strength.

The Weyr had battled other creatures in their habitat, but their growing numbers had led them to clash more often with other species. And there were these incredibly annoying little green things that had brought down a few of their numbers.

The Wyvern Lord had known his clutch needed to expand, so he’d led his entire flight out. The Frost Wyverns had challenged the Dragon whose territory was vast and took many of the spots his weyr would hunt. And they’d lost, so they had to go. There was no more food.

The Wyvern Lord wasn’t happy about it, or his personal defeat. He wasn’t thinking in the conscious way a Human might agonize, with words and thought and ‘what-ifs’, but he was aware that his position was threatened. So he wanted food, and a place to settle, and he wanted it now.

All the places he’d passed so far weren’t good enough. Small places with stone and wood and barely enough to feed his clutch for a day. He was getting hungry and he knew his weyr needed to eat. So he headed towards a landmark, a high spot.

Pallass. The Walled City was made of stone and it called to the Wyvern Lord. He could even sense it from afar. A gathering of magic. Of course, the Wyvern Lord didn’t think of it as magic. It was just something he could sense. But it drew him onwards. He wasn’t afraid of the power there! He was afraid of nothing! Not even that stupid Dragon. In time, the Wyvern Lord would challenge him again. With a weyr twice as large and when the Wyvern Lord was far bigger and older!

Speaking of which—the Wyvern Lord saw something odd as he flew towards Pallass. To the left, there was a vast herd of things moving across an open stretch of ground next to a forest. A lot of moving things. He swooped lower and the Wyverns at the front called out.

Food! Cattle! The Wyvern didn’t recognize the huge, fat beasts, but he recognized easy prey at once. He stared and turned his weyr as one.

Below him, in an open stretch of land were cattle. Thousands of them. And they were helpfully boxed in by some fences. As the Wyverns flew over them, the panicked cows began overrunning the fences in their terror. But the Wyverns were far faster and they circled the cows, shrieking with glee.

The Wyvern Lord salivated as he stared down at the cattle. Now, this was just what he needed. Food! And so easy too! His weyr could gorge on so many of these…things. They could eat, sleep, and find a new home tomorrow. He swooped lower, inspecting the food. It was so easy.

Too easy, as it turned out. From the forest, many, many concealed figures watched as the weyr flew over the terrified cows, herding them as the Wyvern Lord considered whether to dive on them. There was no question he would; it was a free meal, after all. His flock would eat—and then they’d sleep. And that’s when they’d die.

The hidden army in the trees was Pallass’ 4th army. The majority of them were hidden under illusion spells, further back, but a forward edge of watchers was keeping an eye on the Wyverns. They’d moved fast to get this many cows in the way of the Wyverns. As they waited, some of the watchers began speaking excitedly.

“Ancestors, look at the size of that one! There’s nearly a thousand!”

“Odd coloration. They’re not your typical grey. Most like off-white and bluish mixed in. Some rare variant? Frost Wyverns, most likely, if they’re coming from the High Passes.”

The officers in the 4th Army’s command watched, hands on their blades despite their concealed position. One of the Gnolls growled, his fur on end.

“Dead gods. They’d tear apart a smaller city in an hour. Rhir’s hells, if you dropped a thousand Wyverns on an army of twenty thousand…”

“Twenty [Soldiers] to a Wyvern? If you don’t have a good [General] or elites—more like fifty if they’re full adults! If it’s a regular [Soldier] at Level 10, you need at least thirty properly armed…”

One of the [Lieutenants] argued, shifting her weight from claw to claw. The officers buzzed, talking numbers. An older Drake in front with faded green-and-yellow scales raised a claw and spoke shortly.

“That’s why we’re attacking by night, not trying to take them by day. Silence in the ranks.”

And there was. The [General] snorted as he eyed the Wyverns flying overhead.

“Hmpf. Come on and land already, you beasts.”

4th Army’s [General] was a Drake named Edellein Blackwing. A relation—a half-brother to the famed Thrissiam Blackwing. The deceased [General] of Pallass’ 2nd Army who’d fallen in battle against the Goblin Lord last year.

That had been a huge blow. In some ways, it was still recent news, although much had passed since that time. But in the echelons of Pallas’s military, the loss of 2nd Army was keenly felt.

With the death of General Thrissiam Blackwing, Pallass had lost one of their prized [Generals] and replacing him was no easy feat. Even so, the Walled City always kept one standing army and [General] stationed at the city. They never left, although they did rotate out officers and soldiers as needed.

But Thrissiam’s death had been a disaster. He’d lost an entire army to the Goblin Lord. More importantly, he had died in battle, disgracing the Blackwing name. He—and Osthia. Edellein clenched one claw, thinking about it. Thrissiam had managed to lose another promising member of their family!

It still burned at him. The elder [General] was far older than Thrissiam, and he had no wings or magical breath despite being born of the Blackwing family. He had risen to his position through decades of service. And right at this moment, he resented the change in his fortunes that had led him to this point, sitting in a forest and waiting for the Wyverns to attack so his army could clean them up.

4th Army had the job of laying the bait and waiting for the Wyverns to gorge themselves and sleep. Then, and only then would the 1st Army stroll in to help with the night attack. Edellein glowered, imagining that damn Dullahan swooping in and claiming credit for his army’s hard work.

“General Blackwing, the Wyverns don’t seem keen on taking the bait. Do they suspect a trap?”

One of Edellein’s officers whispered at him. The older Drake snorted.

“Wyverns don’t think, [Major]. These ones are clearly distracted by something. But we have our orders. Directly from Pallass.”

His lips twisted sourly. The Day Strategist had given 4th Army the order, another thing Edellein resented. He was a [General]. He commanded [Strategists]! But the ones on the wall could mobilize an entire army. Grudgingly, he had to admit it was a good plan. The weyr would lay waste to the lands Pallass controlled, so they had to be driven off. Still—he looked up.

“Big Wyverns. I’ve hunted them before, but this is a nest and a half. We’ll keep them from getting airborne. [Mages] in first. Put the rest to sleep, then web them up with enough spells and move in. Not a challenge. If they were in the air, we’d have a fight!”

He laughed. The other officers laughed too, reassured by the Drake’s confidence. The Wyverns were outnumbered many times by 4th Army, after all. It was only to minimalize casualties they were taking the ambush approach. Even so…Edellein saw an opportunity as he eyed the Wyvern Lord warily circling above.

“They’d be interesting mounts. Pallass could use some [Wyvern Riders]. Hah! Now there’s a thought. Better than Oteslia’s Pegasi. Prepare me a battalion with nets, hooks, and ropes. And consult with some [Beast Tamers] about Wyvern capture.”

“Sir?”

The [General] turned his head impatiently.

“Why not? We might as well get more than meat and hides and talons out of them. And we’ll have enough hide to outfit an entire regiment! Which 4th Company will naturally acquire. We’re the ones doing all the hard work. Let 1st wait it out. As soon as those Wyverns land and start napping, we’ll head in and take them all.”

A muted cheer rose from the command. It would be a scandal, but Edellein could always claim he’d seen an opportunity. The Drake smiled as his underlings rushed to fulfill his orders. Why not ride a Wyvern? It was done—you just needed the right classes to tame it. And that would be a sight for sore eyes!

In a good humor, the Drake waited for the Wyverns to land. He wasn’t worried for the fight. 4th Army could bring down the Wyverns even in a fair fight. If anything, he only felt sorry for the people of Pallass. Beef would be in shorter supply after sacrificing so many cattle, but then, they’d be dining on Wyvern steaks tomorrow! All he had to do was wait.

But—

Overhead, the Wyvern Lord was very tempted by the food. He could hear the younger Wyverns shrieking their hunger, wanting to dive and snatch their prey. But only one thing halted the Wyvern Lord from attacking.

Magic. The Wyvern Lord stared down at the forest. And then at the distant fortress of stone. It was like a small mountain in its own way. And he sensed magic coming from the forest and the city.

There was something in the forest. The Wyvern Lord had no idea what, but his mind sensed a trap. And he didn’t like the Walled City. It had so much magic. In fact, the aura it was giving off reminded him vaguely of…

The Dragon. The Wyvern Lord hissed. He didn’t like it at all. No wonder few monsters strayed near Pallass. The ones that could sense magic surely sensed the same intimidating aura from the Walled City. But he—he was not afraid of Dragons!

Enraged, the Wyvern Lord turned. Enough of the fat things! He wanted a nest first, then food. And that stone mountain had it, he was sure. He changed directions, shrieking to keep his reluctant weyr in line. The Wyvern Lord aimed straight at Pallass. This time—this time he’d win!

On the ground, 4th Army went into a panic as the Wyverns flew away from the cattle. General Edellein swore a blue streak.

“General! The Wyverns are turning! What are our orders?”

For a moment the [General] debated hitting the Wyverns, but 4th Army would take losses fighting that many unprepared. And Pallass had defenses. He shook his head.

“Dead gods damn it. Tell the city the Wyverns are headed their way right now.”

He sighed. No glorious captured Wyverns for him to ride. Oh well. Pallass would have its beef. And some Wyvern meat. If the city left anything large enough to eat. He sighed as the Wyverns headed straight for Pallass. He estimated they had about thirty minutes before they came in range of the walls. Nothing to worry about, though. Pallass had been built to resist Dragon attacks. What could a bunch of Wyverns do?

—-

“I didn’t think it would hurt anyone. Or cause so much trouble, you know?”

“Famous last words. You know, most [Alchemists] have one. They’re generally not very good. ‘I didn’t think it would blow up if I mixed them together’. That’s a common one. Or just—‘Oops’.”

Erin glared at Saliss from her cell.

“I’m being serious.”

He half-turned and raised a single brow, Drakes not being naturally endowed with eyebrows.

“So am I. So your Skill was fire-based, hmm? And it made old Pelt cry?”

“Yeah.”

Erin sagged onto her cot-bed. She felt tired. And sad.

“I just—I think it helped. But it hurt him. And I didn’t want him to be hurt. I didn’t think about the knife.”

“Or your pet skeleton. Which could apparently think.”

“That’s right.”

“So—just to be clear, you’re upset about accidentally ignoring your pet skeleton gaining a mind, and accidentally traumatizing an old Dwarf [Blacksmith] with your magical emotional fire that you can conjure into being with the power of memory?”

Erin Solstice paused. She glared at Saliss’ nude backside, which was preferable to his front.

“I’m not lying!”

“Oh, I believe you. I’m just trying to put it all in perspective.”

“It’s not as silly you make it out to be.”

“I’m not saying it was silly. Did I say it was hilarious?”

“It’s in your tone of voice! Are you even listening to me?”

Saliss looked over his shoulder.

“Absolutely.”

“But you’re making potions!”

The Drake shrugged.

“I like to multitask. Go on. Did you get arrested after that? I assume so—the Watch wouldn’t just let you get away with that.”

“Yeah.”

Erin slumped against her bed. The [Alchemist] half-turned. The vial was bubbling in one claw, but he stopped it neatly with a cork. He put it in a little holder on his workbench and picked up a flask.

“Well, it sounds like you had a rough day, Miss Solstice. And I wish I’d been there to see it! But that’s the problem with the Watch. They’re overzealous. They got me this morning. And there I was! Just minding my own business.”

“What if children saw you naked?”

Erin scowled at Saliss. The Drake eyed her.

“Well, why is that a bad thing?”

“Because you’re naked! They’re kids!”

“And everyone gets naked. Do we have to have this argument again?”

Erin threw up her hands. Saliss nodded.

“Glad you agree. Now, where did I put…? Better mix this up before my vial explodes. One second!”

He picked up a glass jar and flitted to his shelf of ingredients. He was so quick! Erin could barely follow him as he pulled out powders or flasks of liquid and began combining them at rapid speed. They all went into the glass beaker, and Saliss mixed it all up before pouring it into a round container over a small burner.

He had any number of wonky containers, all glass, which did things like leave a thin layer between two liquids, or funnel both down towards a bottom…now Saliss lit a fire under the rounded beaker, and inserted a tube into the vial.

Erin watched the vial begin to bubble up. Since there was nowhere for the liquid to go, she saw it shoot up through the tube into the beaker which was bubbling. The two mixed and Erin backed up.

“What are you doing?”

“Just a little reaction. Want to see?”

Saliss picked up the connected vial and flask and waved it at her. Erin recoiled.

“No! Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Only if I drop it. Oops!”

Saliss dropped both containers. Erin jumped backwards. The Drake caught both containers a foot from the ground.

“Hah! Got you!”

“Don’t do that—if you—I’m going to kill you!”

Erin’s heart was beating way too fast. Saliss rolled his eyes, amused.

“Don’t be worried. Actually, the worst that could happen is that this vial overpressurizes and explodes. But you can’t make anything go ‘boom’ with this mixture. Not really. Everyone thinks that’s so common among [Alchemists] when it’s really just accidentally poisoning yourself with gas. Real explosions don’t happen that often.”

He paused.

“Well, they do in my shop. But I’m specialized.”

“None of this is reassuring me. And why do you get a workbench—no, why do you get anything in prison? Isn’t the point that you don’t get anything?”

The [Innkeeper] glared across at Saliss. He laughed lightly.

“But then how would I make a tonic for all the poor old people? Some [Senators] buy my tonic, Miss Solstice. Well, that damn Xif has cornered the market on most of the soothing tonics, but this one he hasn’t copied! Nearly done. See? Want a taste?”

The liquid from the vial had migrated over to the flask. Erin watched as he swirled the grey liquid from the vial into the flask. The result was…well, it was a beige-grey liquid. Not appetizing, but she had to admit it didn’t look the worst. More creamy, really. She still backed away as Saliss poured it into a bottle and offered it to her.

“No thank you.”

“Oh come on. It’ll make you feel better. It’s not poison. I’m an [Alchemist]. A professional! I’m part of the Alchemist’s Guild I’ll have you know!”

“You’re butt-naked.”

“And? At least I don’t get fur in my potions. Fine, suit yourself.”

Saliss sniffed. He took a sip from his tonic.

“Ooh, that’s hot. Good thing I didn’t offer it to you. You’d have scorched your tongue.”

It didn’t seem to bother him. The Drake happily bottled the tonic and put it on a rack to cool. Erin saw numerous bottles and ingredients on his shelves. Saliss sighed.

“What next? Another tonic? Or maybe something for hair loss? I could sell a few dozen bottles, maybe. Gnolls buy it up like mad. Say, do you know if Liscor’s got a market for strength potions?”

“What? You mean, strength as in…”

“Muscles. You drink, you lift heavy things. [Woodcutters] and such buy them, but they can’t afford a lot. I’m thinking more of adventurers. Any Gold-ranks in Liscor?”

“We have the Wings of Pallass, the Flamewardens…there are some Gold-ranks there.”

“I guess I could make a few draughts, then. Oh well. Busy work is busy work. So that’s your day, is it?”

Saliss casually found another beaker. Erin stared at him. Who was he? She was convinced he was not your normal prisoner. But she still couldn’t remember where she’d heard his name.

“Yeah. That’s how I got here. By causing trouble.”

She sighed. Saliss nodded agreeably. He was a good listener, which was surprising, but he’d heard Erin’s story out, even when she’d had to explain about Toren. Actually, he’d taken her story about a magical skeleton at face-value. Even someone from this world would have had to ask questions, but Saliss?

Erin eyed him. The Drake was nodding to himself. He turned his head as he dropped a very green root in a mortar and began smashing it up with a pestle.

“I get it. You’ve been making mistakes. But you know something, Erin? No one’s perfect.”

“I know that. And I don’t need a pep talk!”

Erin scowled at him. Saliss chuckled.

“Good. Because I wasn’t going to give you one. I was just going to say—the thing with your skeleton—”

“Toren. His name was Toren.”

“Toren. That’s different from what happened just now with Pelt. I mean, the thing with the skeleton was awful.”

Erin hung her head.

“Yeah.”

“It had a soul. A heart. And you killed it. All those people are dead because of you.”

“Yeah.”

The young woman sat heavily, staring at nothing. The Drake went on.

“Dead gods, all those deaths on your conscience? And you could have avoided it all? You’re a monster. If I had a club, I’d go over and smack your brains out.”

“I deserve it.”

Saliss nodded.

“You are walking scum. Scum! I’ve known Crelers who deserved more love than you!”

Erin looked up and glared at him.

“You can stop now. I get the point.”

The [Alchemist] grinned at her.

“Was I saying anything you disagreed with?”

Erin hesitated. Then she shook her head.

“No. People died and I could have stopped it. Toren was my fault. I just never—”

Saliss poured the ground-up root into a container.

“You made a mistake. And I’m no Watch Captain who can tell you how much was your fault. But that one was yours. Still—the thing with Pelt? That’s different. And I think you’re mixing the two up in your head. You used a Skill that got that old Dwarf to make something he was proud of.”

“But he was crying.”

Saliss laughed. Erin’s head shot up angrily. The Drake waved at her.

“Sorry, sorry. I know you’re upset. But Pelt cries when he spills his beer. He’s a terrible drunk! So you made him cry and cause a stir. So what? That Dwarf hasn’t made something he was proud of since he came to Pallass. If all it took was a bit of a stir—hells, I’d have blown up Maughin’s forge too if it meant giving the Dwarf something. So what if you caused a scene? The question is: was it worth the cost?”

He looked at Erin with a grin. The young woman stared. Then she remembered something. Pelt’s last look towards her. His words.

The craft thanks you. She hesitated.

“I don’t know.”

“Fair enough. But I think it was. Your problem, Erin, is that you just don’t know how to control your Skill. You let it get out of control. You don’t know what it does.”

“True. So what do I do?”

“Find out. Obviously.”

Saliss flipped a vial over his shoulder and caught it in the other hand. He waggled his tail in delight. Then he looked at Erin.

“Mind showing me?”

She blinked at him.

“What? Show you my Skill? That’s what got me in here!“

“So show me! How much worse could it get? That’s another famous set of last words. I think I knew a fellow who said that right before he melted his bones.”

The [Alchemist] laughed. Erin blinked at his back. Then she paused.

“It’s just so sad.”

“Show me.”

Saliss looked at her. Erin bristled, but the [Alchemist] didn’t blink. He gave Erin a steady look out of the corner of his eye.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Really. All that would happen is that I’d burst into tears, and then I’d stop annoying you.”

Erin’s lips almost twitched at that. He had a point. Reluctantly, she put her hands together. And it wasn’t hard. All she had to do was think of Toren. And Pelt. Her grief and guilt rose. It was all she could think about.

Guilt, and pain. And sorrow.

And there it was again. Erin felt the memory burning. And then there was fire. In her hands. A blue flame licked upwards. Erin stared at it—

“Prisoner using a Skill!”

A bellow rang through the prison. Erin jumped and saw a [Guard] pounding towards her, a huge baton drawn. Erin panicked, but Saliss whirled.

“Shh. Shh. It’s fine.”

He stuck an arm out of his cell. The charging Drake skidded to a stop.

“Sir Saliss? But—”

She looked uncertainly at him, and then at her companions, who had rushed over at her shout. Saliss leaned against his cell and waved at them.

“Hello! Thanks for shouting my earholes off. But I’m fine. This young woman is just showing me a Skill. Go on. Shoo.”

Erin’s jaw dropped as the cluster of [Guards] stared at Saliss. The female Drake with the baton hesitated. Erin waited for her to smack Saliss upside his grinning face, but to her astonishment, the [Guard] nodded. Without a word, she turned around and the [Guards] walked away.

“What? What?”

Erin stared at Saliss. He shrugged.

“Well, I can’t let them beat you into a pulp now, can I?”

“But they—you—who are you?”

The [Alchemist] smiled.

“Just a naked Drake in a cell practicing alchemy. Who are you, Erin Solstice? A random Human who’s reached Level 40 before she’s turned thirty? You know, that’s beyond a genius. The King of Destruction pulled off that feat, and he was called a prodigy and a threat to end the world. Who are you?”

Erin had no answer to that. But the blue glow in her cell made her look down.

The flame