Close to the eastern limits of the town, not far from where I was originally meant to go, a modest bar was stuck in the side of a longer house. “The Miser’s End” was its name. The signboard featured an evocative painting of a gray rodent, carrying its belongings in a sack flung over the shoulder, looking at the door of the bar.

  The door was now closed and the windows dark, though it wasn't so late at night that a working-class citizen would've said no to a pint or three. The Emerald Blade strode to the silent door and gave its boards a quick, soft knock, three times, a pause, and then twice more, and the way soon opened for us.

  Me, Emily, and Tatari followed the Swordmaster down short stairs to the concrete bar floor a bit below the street level. There was barely enough space for four tables in the narrow lounge, four seats per table, a long counter cutting across the room in the far back. A lone lamp hung from the ceiling, but it was without power, the task of lighting delegated to ordinary candle lanterns standing on the tables. Their wobbly glow threw long shadows quivering across the chalked walls, and the mood was by all means fit for a secretive meeting.

  Only one person waited inside. A tanned, sinewy woman of dark locks, thirty or at most forty, in a plain olive dress and a well-used apron. Probably the owner of the bar, or otherwise in charge. She looked so much like a plain barkeep, I would never have thought she could be an imperial commando, if I met her in daylight. But she was evidently in the know.

  The woman watched us come in without too much surprise, though it clearly wasn't academy students she'd expected to see.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, frowning. “Isn't this a little late for students to be in town?” Then, to the Emerald Blade, she scathingly added, “No matter how hard it is for you to find a woman of your own age, picking up school girls is clearly over the line…”

  Maintaining monkish stoicism, the Emerald Blade faced the matron and gestured at me,

  “Allow me to introduce you, Calidea's Witch of Fire, the Demon of the Red Moon.”

  The woman looked at the swordsman and then at me and at him and at me, and it looked like her brain was showing error code 610. What kind of introduction was that?

  “My name is Hope,” I said, knitting my brows. “I'm fully human, thank you.”

  Trying to hide my name was meaningless. Rafel should've reported it to them already. It wasn't my real name, anyway, and if they wanted to get back at me by targeting my family, then good luck with that.

  The woman sized me up for a time and then turned to slap the Swordmaster’s shoulder.

  “Haha, very funny. You almost had me! This skinny little princess, the Horror of Nines? What's the matter with you, trying to pull such a stupid prank? Have you lost your mind? Weren't we supposed to meet with the Kingdom’s contact tonight?”

  “This is her,” the man insisted somberly. “The very same mage I saw two years ago in Arbusia with my own two eyes. Though it was only from afar at the time, the impression I had from her magic is no different. How many ordinary students do you know, who could keep up with Tatari without taking a hit? No. There can be no mistake. She’s the authentic article.”

  “She? Fought Tatari?” The woman looked at me again, disturbed. “And still has both her hands?”

  The homicidal knifeslinger was no longer around. While no one paid attention, she’d mumbled something about keeping watch and vanished through the back door behind the counter.

  “Uhum…” The matron looked at me again with new eyes, raking her hair nervously with her fingers and fixed her apron. “It's—um, isn’t this a surprise. I thought you'd be older than that. Er, nice to meet you? I'm Nicolea, the owner of this bar. I've lived in Grimons since before the war, and have legal citizenship. Jeiyd here is my childhood friend. We used to be neighbors when we were young, and lived in the same village.”

  So, an inside informant. Hidden right next to the academy through all the years of the conflict, unnoticed. Another concerning bit of trivia I didn’t care to know.

  “This is not an official inspection or anything,” I told her. “You don’t need to tell me more.”

  “I see. Okay. And this is…?”

  Nicolea looked past me at Emily, who jumped a little.

  “Oh. Hi! I'm Emily! Just Emily. Nice to meet you—Is it? I'm…”

  She didn’t seem to know how to introduce herself and aimed a distressed glance my way, asking for help. But before I could say anything, Nicolea’s face brightened with a big smile.

  “Oh, so you're Emily?” she exclaimed, clasping her hands. “I've heard about you from Rafel!”

  “Really? You have?”

  “Yes, yes! He says you're one of the most talented mages he's ever seen and a good person! Beautiful too! That’s a lot said, coming from a guy so dense! Thank you so much for being a friend to him. People willing to deal with us Tarachians are kind of rare in Calidea these days. By all means, keep it up, if you can!”

  “Eeh. Uh, right. I try to, ma’am.”

  The barkeep warmly shook hands with Emily.

  Not that Emily even knew Rafel was a Tarachian until recently.

  What was this, anyway? We were supposed to be negotiating with an undercover task force, but the vibe was more like meeting your classmate’s family. Made all the more awkward by the fact that the guy himself wasn't even here.

  “Is Padros back yet?” the Emerald Blade asked.

  “No,” Nicolea replied. “He’s checking out a new lead in Lemin. He should be back by tomorrow.”

  “Oh. Too bad. Watch the door. We shall talk upstairs.”

  “Maybe I—” Emily began to speak, but I gave her skirt a quick tug to silence her.

  I agreed it would’ve been better if she didn’t hear more life-threatening secrets, but I didn't trust Nicolea enough to leave them alone. Maybe Emily’s neck was safe, but the Tarachians were infamous for their concoctions and had tricks to turn even the stoutest of men into unquestioning followers over a cup of tea. Their women, especially, were to watch out for. Who could say other girls were beyond their charms?

  We moved to a quiet room on the second floor. That room was probably reserved for the team, decorated in traditional imperial fashion. The beds, chairs and tables of Calidean make were removed, the floor covered with a thick, richly embroidered green-gold carpet. We left our shoes at the door and went to sit on the carpet, with only flat, decorative pillows to soften the experience.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  By the part-open window stood an ornate brass urn, decorative holes pierced in its lid. Incense smoked inside, dispatching its spicy aroma into the vicinity. Such urns were in every home in Tarachia. They weren't only to set the scene, but every scent apparently had a hidden meaning that could be used to send discreet messages. Of course, intoxicating substances could be put in too, for better dreams, for pleasant trips to fairy realms, or—if you didn't like the guests—to the afterlife.

  “Shut that down,” I told Emily.

  I can't stand the reek.

  The girl glanced apologetically at the Emerald Blade, who answered with only a subtle nod. She went and used her magic to extinguish the burning herbs in the pot, sparing me the effort of launching the whole thing out of the window.

  Then the three of us plopped down on the floor, our host with his back against the wall and us in front of him, just about outside the reach of his sword hand, taking in a moment of nonplussed silence.

  “Let me apologize one more time for the rudeness of my subordinate,” the man said. “Tatari is a Sheng-rui of unusual skill and among the best trackers I know. But, alas, not entirely stable, due to the difficult experiences of her early life. I took her into the team for her talents, in order to locate the Locusts as soon as humanly possible. But her wrath for the Kingdom still burns hot.”

  “And what about your own wrath?” I asked.

  The green of the man’s narrow eyes flashed at me, momentarily caught off guard.

  “Apologies that lack sincerity are meaningless,” I continued. “Didn’t you actually wish she had succeeded? Neither of us is a politician, so let's not play those games. I know you hate us, and that's fine. I won't lie and say I love you, either. But there's a world of difference between holding a grudge quietly and jumping from words to deeds. I take it you're still mostly on the side that would rather rebuild than go back to ripping each other apart?”

  The Emerald Blade didn't speak for a time, only sat cross-legged, his large hands rested on the knees, bulky knuckles straining against the skin.

  “It would appear I’ve misjudged you,” he finally said, nodding. “Or maybe it was Calidean mages in general I’ve appraised wrongly? In my country, there is a saying, ‘Only a heart may know a heart.’ That is to say, a feeling you've never personally experienced can't be inferred by logic. I was raised to believe the Calidens had traded away their humanity for power and were too proud to see their own feet, but here you've taken the measure of me after only a minute in the same room. Meanwhile, your mind remains obscure to me. I can only concede defeat. This is twice you’ve humbled me tonight, Destroyer.”

  “My name will do.”

  Being called that really made me want to break things.

  “Very well, Ruthford.”

  A little better? I didn’t especially want to be reminded of the General at a moment like this.

  “I'll start then,” the warrior said and looked up. “As Rafel has told you, there exists a separatist faction of our military loyal to former General Karnos. They call themselves the Jade Army. They've refused to accept the peace terms and consider our current government unlawful, and unqualified to represent the will of the people. The more conservative provinces are sympathetic towards Karnos, but he has failed to start the uprising he hoped for in the mainland. The truth is that most of us are tired of war and oppression, and only wish to start over. For the time being, we have the Jade Army contained in Turuna, where their means of influencing affairs on the continental scale are strictly limited. It's only a matter of time before they’ll be forced to lay down their arms.”

  “But they won’t do it the easy way.”

  “No. Karnos reasons that if the Tarachians won't rise to war again willingly, they must be coerced. Terror strikes against Calidea are likely to compel the Kingdom to tighten its hold on our land, perhaps far enough that our people see no other choice but to revolt. The result will not be a civil war, but new, stronger unity against a common enemy…at least in the Devouts’ imagination. If nothing else, it will help increase public support for the Jade Army and maybe help them across their current bind. To that end, Karnos has deployed the Locust unit, an elite force specialized in undercover operations and sabotage, to strike deep behind enemy lines.”

  I nodded. So far, his story matched what Rafel told us.

  He continued,

  “We don't know precisely how large a force they’ve sent, or all the names involved, but we believe there is no more than one platoon, or about forty combatants. Any larger group would be too slow to move and struggle to avoid hellion attention. Former Colonel Ghang-Zi Redesz is likely to be in charge. He is Karnos’s right-hand man, a fanatical supporter of the Devout party, and also a former veteran instructor of the SF. Redesz is undoubtedly the biggest threat in the unit. But he is also a man of high age, and the long journey will have taken its toll. He is no match for myself, if only we can find him. Provided, of course, that he has survived the trip.”

  “What about the rest of them? Do you know anything about their specializations?”

  “Most of the unit are plain foot soldiers. I did call them an elite force, but—truth be told, our true experts were thoroughly spent in the war. The current Locusts are either young punks with more spirit than skill, or stubborn retirees, experienced, but hardly fit for battle anymore. They believe blindly that Redesz will lead them to glory, but turning a blind eye to reality comes with its risks. If only we can eliminate the leader, I am confident the rest will surrender willingly.”

  “Is that a priority for you?”

  The man closed his eyes at my question.

  “I'd spare them if I could, but…By choice or none, they are criminals now. If it comes down to it, I won't show them mercy.”

  Emily shuddered.

  “There must be magic-users in the company too, right?” I asked.

  “So one would assume,” he answered. “Although we’ve been unable to confirm their identities or abilities, there are three Ascendant Shamans affiliated with the Jade Army, whose current whereabouts are not known to us. Especially troublesome among them is the fiendmancer named Malacyt. We may only assume those three have all come with the unit and prepare ourselves accordingly.”

  “Ascendant Shaman. If I recall correctly, they're equivalent to a Tier 5 mage by Mysterium standards?”

  “You are well-informed. That's about correct. Of course, our way of magecraft is worlds apart from yours and not directly comparable. But broadly speaking, yes.”

  The Tarachian shamans gave up trying to fight fire with fire long ago, and instead trained hellion control and other scummy, roundabout techniques that helped them better survive in the harsh conditions of their homeland. In a way, it made them more unpredictable and dangerous, but they also lacked versatile powerhouses like our High Mages. In direct combat, they could be subdued.

  “What do you think their objectives are?” I asked. “Is the academy the main target?”

  To my surprise, the Swordmaster shook his head.

  “We believe the academy will be only a diversion. They will probably strike here with a small token force, in an effort to divide the response. But I'm convinced the capital will be their primary goal.”

  “Canelon?” I frowned. “Is that why you went there the other day?”

  “Yes,” he admitted. “I went to chart potential target facilities and hideouts. Though I can’t say my search bore fruit. The city is...rather large.”

  “Why there? The difficulty level is significantly higher, and so is the travel distance.”

  “An attack against the students would be easier to carry out, perhaps. But Karnos is ambitious. More than blood, he wants publicity. The deaths of noble heirs would hurt the aristocracy, but the common people would be less affected. Grimons is too remote, the results amounting to no more than lines in a newspaper. Our informant says Karnos has ordered a tragedy that's impossible for the world to miss. A spectacle. A strike against the heart of the Calideans, preferably close to the King himself, to demonstrate his inability to protect his people. Ah, my apologies. Those were the informant’s words, not mine.”

  I didn't care how they slandered His Majesty. If it was only the King getting hit, I would've gone to help the Locust unit instead. But plotting a mass murder of uninvolved civilians just to send a message…I couldn’t well pretend I didn’t hear that.

  “I understand the situation now,” I said. “So, what do you want from the Kingdom?”

  “Nothing,” Naradhran Jeiyd said and shrugged his broad shoulders. “This is our problem to solve. The remnants of our darkness, as a nation. We would've shared all this through official channels, if we knew anyone we could trust not to further complicate matters. The last thing we need is winning Karnos the political points he wants through increased reparations and territorial demands. All I ask is that your people don't get in our way when it's time. Should you learn anything about the Locust unit’s moves, we’d naturally appreciate it if you could pass the word. But we have our own methods to gather information. Our goal is to track down the Locusts before they ever step out of the shadow of the trees and eliminate them quietly there. Once the threat is dealt with, we vanish without leaving a trace. That's all.”