The next day, Serena woke just as the first trickle of morning light began warming up her quarters. Blinking awake, she began the careful task of untangling herself from Amelia, who’d somehow wrapped herself around Serena throughout the night. The attempt was short-lived, as Amelia soon stirred, grumbling something about Romulus stealing her fried chicken in her dreams.
“Are you doing the Korvus thing today?” Amelia mumbled into her pillow. “Want me to come?”
Serena leant down, kissing her head. “Not unless I want the docks destroyed.”
“You think he’ll recognise me?”
“Rather not risk it.”
“Mmm… Come here.” Without turning around, Amelia’s hand found Serena’s and a surge of golden light flowed into Serena’s body. The morning tiredness was wiped away, replaced with an eager vigour to go out and seize the day. Any grime or sleepdust between her eyes was obliterated under Amelia’s cleaning spell, although Serena would still splash her face with water out of habit.
“Thank you,” Serena replied.
“You’re…” Amelia paused, yawning. “...Welcome.”
Serena dressed quickly, opting for her military uniform. Today was all about showing status and confidence. Entering her office, she greeted Anathor and brewed a cup of Jimari.
“Leaving you a cup,” she called back into her bedroom.
Amelia hummed her appreciation.
Serena took a sip, appreciating the mellow bitterness that was somehow so smooth it felt like it was massaging her throat. Something about the secret method Jimar used to grow their coffee meant it possessed so much more flavour than anything else in the Known World. With Amelia’s stocks getting low, they would have to buy some more before they left. Or maybe wait until they got to Hakim, where it wouldn’t face Ishaq’s tourist prices.
She finished her drink in a contemplative silence and returned to the bedroom.
“Want me to have some food sent?” she asked the sleeping bundle of bedding that hid a living saint.
“I’ll get something from the markets.”
“Planning to go out today?”
“Mmm.”
“Stay away from any gambling dens.”
“S’hup.”
Chuckling to herself, Serena made her way to the mess hall and had a quick breakfast with her officers. After eating, she turned to Finella and said, “Miss Liona believes Noburu has potential as a mage. I told her to introduce him to the basics.”
“Really?” Finella paused mid coffee-sip. “I’ll have Officer Aikawa get him started. Do you think he could go far?”
“I’d be surprised if we could get him past first-circle magic,” Serena admitted. “It would be a great help, regardless.”
“Purely for the squad?” Finella questioned. “Or are you thinking about a future military career for the man?”
“Such as?” Serena asked.
Finella shrugged. “An officer position.”
To Serena’s left, Dagon snorted. “Do you think it would be beneficial to the reputation of our ship’s staff to take on someone with his checkered past, Officer Bright?”
Instead of shrinking under the First Officer’s gaze, Finella leaned forward, a sly smile on her face. “But, First Officer, weren’t you and the Quartermaster yourselves picked up from prison in Shimashina by the captain? What was it for, again? Conduct prejudicial to good order and discipline?”
“Think she’s talking about when we busted a few noses, Dagon,” Tomes said.
“There’s a difference between breaking a nose or two and being a fingersmith,” Dagon grumbled. “Only one can be done with honour.” The demon paused and then added, “Or to reclaim honour.”
“He paid for his past,” Serena said, tapping the table. “With his fingers.” She avoided reminding her officers that those very same fingers were now healed, courtesy of Amelia. “I have no plans on putting him down the path to officership, so cease your complaining.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Dagon responded.
“Have any of you spoken much to Korvus?” Serena asked the table, changing the subject.
“See him from time to time,” Dagon said. “Only had a short conversation. I don’t know if he’s avoiding the Vengeance or what. It was strange talking to him, Captain. Felt wrong to be friendly, given what he did, and felt wrong to be cold, given all that he’s done for us.”
Serena nodded. Despite his mutiny and a few teething issues here and there when Serena was made captain, Korvus had been an efficient and effective asset to her. Numerous strike missions would not have been possible if it weren’t for his leadership over the ground forces.
And, of course, his Bayle.
“Do you think he regrets it?” Tomes spoke up.
The table murmured their agreement or disagreement to Tomes’ question. It was a question Serena had wondered. Korvus’ mutinous actions had failed to achieve his goal of eliminating Amelia. How did he feel now, knowing that she was a Lord-Prospect like him, and further, a living saint?
“He can regret it all he likes,” Serena said, “but he won’t be coming back to us. Not unless the Empress herself orders it. He’s made his bed, and now he can lie in it.”
“Hot bed,” Finella muttered, prompting a few laughs.
“Has anyone had any problems with the natives?” Serena asked. She’d already given her officers a rundown of what happened, including sharing knowledge about black crystal. Given the rise of aetheric warfare and the prowling Blackhorn, it wasn’t something she could keep from them.
Apart from one or two minor incidents, there was nothing that Serena could be blamed for. No one had reported being followed, but one of Allston's engineers and Thorne’s weapon officers were encouraged to take bribes. They had dutifully reported the attempt to their superior, but there was always the possibility that someone had let their greed get the better of them and was keeping it a secret.
“As long as information about Miss Liona isn’t leaked, we can manage,” Serena said. She was confident in her crew's loyalty, but sometimes people were caught in bad situations or forced to reveal information. Either way, she hoped any bribed crewmembers would know the fatal consequences of revealing anything, and the especially fatal consequences should they let slip Miss Liona’s true identity.
They just had to make it to the end of the Arcwhale festival before any drama.
“Expect to sail for Hakim at the end of the week,” Serena instructed her officers. “I’ve heard the weather worsens in the desert during the red moonrain. That, and the trouble around the Shattered Isles, means we can expect to be battered by sandstorms even when docked.” From the reports she’d read, the desert cities were assailed by relentless sandstorms every mooncycle.
“Guns will be protected just fine, Captain,” Thorne said. “We’ve got gun covers, replacement gun covers, and replacements for the replacements.”
“Won’t let a single grain of sand get into the engines,” Allston said confidently. “Evelyn’s installing a fine mesh on the propeller intakes. Might lose a knot or two at flank speed, but better than the engines seizing.”
“Excellent work.” Serena finished up and exited the ship, narrowing her eyes against the morning sun. Ishaq was relatively cool this early. It would be a few hours until the city started to bake. With any luck, they’ll be done by then.
She made her way down the dock, dodging Treki and Hakian workers. In contrast to their riot when the black Vengeance made land, now that the ship was painted white, the area was peaceful, if a little hectic. Ishaq’s docks weren’t as industrial as Asamaywa’s. No rails were crisscrossing the ground, carrying docktrains with hundreds of tonnes of cargo. There were no massive indoor maintenance halls to move ships in. Still, the mostly demon-powered operation worked well, even if a few workers mumbled what Serena suspected was a Hakian swearword when she momentarily got in their way.
She reached the planned meeting location, where she, Korvus, and Menes were supposed to gather before heading to the council. She was the first there and stood watching the sun slowly rise while she waited. It took only thirty seconds for her to realise that she wasn’t in the mood to be the one waiting for an ex-mutineer and a boisterous Arakian Lord that, for all she knew, was still sleeping in.
So she went to Korvus' office.
Of all the things she might have expected to see when she opened Korvus’ door, one of the last items on the list would be Korvus leaning back in his chair, fanning himself with some papers, while a human was brushing down his hanging captain’s jacket.
She was a young Ishaqian girl, perhaps twenty. Her skin was a smooth olive, and her black hair was tastefully covered by a transparent, patterned cloth. She wore a simple work uniform, similar to the ones Amelia owned. An assistant, perhaps? Surely not.
The human stopped brushing when she heard Serena come in. Korvus didn’t pause his fanning, instead grumbling, “Have you heard of knocking?”
“You’re…” Serena’s eyes flicked from the human to Korvus. “You’re late. I’m not in the mood to wait.”
“My uniform needed cleaning,” came the reply. “You wouldn’t believe what they charge here for magic cleaning services.” Korvus looked like he wanted to spit, before changing his mind. “They charge triple for foreigners, I swear on the Purple Moon.”
Whether that was true or not, Serena made a mental note to once again thank Amelia for her cleaning capabilities. Hells, her cleaning magic was so powerful that should she start her own cleaning company, she would surely put everyone else out of business.
“That’s enough, Yasmina,” Korvus said.
“Yes, Captain Maranai,” Yasmina said in a small voice. She placed the brush down, bowed, and continued, “Dockmaster Tariq said he wishes to meet regarding problems with the fishermen. He said that they’ve started ramming each other in the sky, fighting over spots.”
“I’ll find him later. Go.”
“Yes.” Without another word, Yasmina the human bowed to Serena and then vanished from sight.
No one spoke for half a dozen seconds.
“So,” the Northerner eventually said, “how far are we going to bully the council into sending this rescue mission? For military purposes, we need three out of five signatures of the main councillors. The smaller officials are just noise.”
“I’m hoping Menes has enough sway to either shame or otherwise pressure them,” Serena said. “That, and the fact that I’m told the council has never been petitioned by two Speakers at the same time. That should help.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Korvus’ eyes narrowed. “What then?”
“If it comes to that, I’ll send an aethergram to Greatlord Oshiro. Let him know that what the Ishaqian council are doing amounts to obstruction of military operations and endangerment of servicemembers. At the same time, I’ll find a way to petition the Southern Overlord and—” Serena’s mind interrupted herself. She couldn’t help but ask, “...Are we going to ignore what just happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“That human assistant of yours.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?
“Yes, I plan to ignore it.” Korvus fanned himself some more. “It’s hot even in the morning. I can’t wait to get out of this damn place. I’m rotting down here. I need snow. I need battle. I need—”
“I can’t,” Serena said.
“You can’t, what?”
“I can’t ignore it.” She pointed to the door Yasmina left through. “You have a human assistant? What in the Seven Hells? You hate humans!”
Korvus blinked slowly. “I do,” he finally said.
“But…” Serena trailed off, feeling the urge to grip her horns. Her brain was spinning like a damaged aetherscope. It felt similar to when Amelia had told her the truth of Katalin’s identity. Not only that, but she’d just gone through a demigod-and-dragon-laden series of revelations yesterday. She didn’t need whatever it was Korvus was about to say. All she could say was, “Have you finally gone truly mad?”
Korvus snorted, as if Serena’s cloaked confusion was amusing. “I guess I’d be in good company with you then.”
“Are you… involved with that human?”
He clicked his tongue, a flash of disgust flickering over his face. “Don’t insult me. Do you want to fight?”
“What am I missing, Korvus?” Serena asked. “You hate humans.”
“Ah…” Korvus stopped leaning on his chair. He scratched his head. “Hate, is it? Tell me, Captain.” He leaned forward, his expression darkening. “What do you know about hate?”
“I’ve seen my fair share.”
“You’ve seen it, but you haven’t felt it. Not truly.” Korvus looked to the side, his brow furrowing. Whether he was actually in deep thought or just pretending to be so, Serena wasn’t sure. He faced her again and asked, “What did you feel when your brother died?”
Maybe he does want to fight? Serena thought.
She tapped the hilt of her sword. “Careful, Korvus.”
“Just answer my question,” he said. “Did you feel hate? In the deepest pits of your heart? Did you?”
Serena hesitated for a long time. “No,” she eventually said. “No, I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because he died in the line of duty.”
“Died in the line of duty,” Korvus echoed, almost mockingly. “What a privilege that was for you, Captain.” Before Serena could interrupt, he continued, “I told you once about my family dying, didn’t I? They didn’t die in the line of duty; they were butchered. Butchered by the same humans who wore false-faces of friendliness for years. Do you have any idea what that kind of betrayal is like? To come home to your entire world destroyed?”
Serena watched the demon’s eyes carefully, trying to decipher his inner thoughts.
“We were innocent,” Korvus continued. “A family of shipwrights. No threat to anyone. We sold hulls to our own and the humans. What did they do to deserve to be torn apart? I still see their faces, Captain. Every night I sleep. I still see their heads impaled on pikes. Do you know what it’s like to see their last moments carved into their torsos? To know it was done by those you thought were your friends?” Korvus let out a long breath, his eyes moved from her, and he stared unfocused at something in the corner. “It does something to you, Captain.”
“...What?” Was all Serena could say.
“It takes something. Something irreplaceable. A part of you is ripped from your mind. It leaves behind a hole, a very cold, very black hole. A hole that can only be sated by revenge… by vengeance.” Korvus’ eyes snapped to Serena’s, and she saw that he was terrifyingly lucid. “You think of hate as an emotion to avoid, as an emotion that clouds judgment. As a weakness. No…” He shook his head. “Hate held me together, stopped me from killing myself. It motivated my first communion and led me to the battlefield. Hate kept me fighting when my comrades couldn’t go on. Hate made me survive. It is an everlasting fire within me, stronger than any aura. It will never be extinguished.”
Korvus raised a hand slightly, slowly squeezing it into a fist. He flared his aura. Serena reflexively flared her own, but the Mad Dog wasn’t attacking. Just making a point.
“It is like aura, in a way,” he said. “It burns differently for different people. It can take on different colours, like aura and like a real flame. For the Human Church, it is a crimson inferno within me. A flame that burns as passionately as the fire that Asamaywa suffered. For others… it is different. For Centralis, my hate burns a cooler yellow, the same colour as their moon. The North bled, Captain. We bled so very much. Centralis did too little, too late, and they will pay one way or another. I will ensure that the North becomes too powerful to ever suffer again what we did.”
“And your flame for Yasmina?” Serena asked, deciding not to point out the borderline traitorous rhetoric coming from the demon. “What colour does your hate burn for her?”
“I hate all humans, Captain. You know this.” Korvus, his eyes now losing their intensity, took up his fan of papers and began wafting himself once more. “People call me a mad dog, but they don’t call me a mad fool. I know what the future holds for the Empire’s humans, including Ishaq.”
“...And what’s that?”
“Their demise is inevitable,” Korvus said. “They make up four per cent of Ishaq’s population. A century ago, it was ten per cent. A century before that, it was fifteen. Ishaq is friendly to humans, more so than the East. That friendliness will be their undoing, do you understand?”
It took Serena a moment to realise what the normally battle-thirsty demon was talking about. The offspring of a human and a demon, regardless of the race of the mother, was always a full-blooded demon. Given enough time, the remaining native human population would die out, peacefully, from interbreeding. The fact that Ishaq was friendly to them only accelerated it.
“A cool blue,” Korvus answered, still wafting himself. “That is the colour of my hate for them here. I can never let my guard down, not truly. They may be faithful to the Empress for now, but humans are emotional, irrational creatures. If Federation or Christdom wormed their way down here, how long before they would turn them against us? So my hate for them is blue. For now, at least, I am satisfied.”
“Your punishment was your deployment here,” Serena said. “Don’t you think they did that so you can learn some tolerance? There will not always be war, Korvus.”
Korvus snorted. “I am tolerant.” He gestured to his recently brushed uniform. “See? I let them brush my clothes and bring me my messages. I’m not cutting off their heads, am I? What more could they want from me?”
Ah, still a mad dog, Serena thought.
Before she replied, there was a heavy knock at the door. It opened to reveal the towering figure of Menes. Instead of the casual dress the demon usually wore, this time he was dressed in formal Ishaqian clothing, the sight of which stopped Serena in her tracks.
He wore a long, flowing kaftan—Ishaqian formal dress—of fine silk, embroidered with gold along the seams. A pale, light-green cloak draped over his shoulders. His feet were inside a pair of soft leather slippers. But it was not the kaftan, or the cloak, or the slippers that caused Serena pause.
It was what he wore on his head.
“Menes,” Serena said slowly. “What are you wearing on your head?”
“This?” Menes pointed to the small, bright red, brimless hat with a dangling black tassel. “This is a tarbouche, my sayyidah. But everyone calls it a fez these days.” Menes tilted his head side to side, the fez’s tassel swaying with the movement. “It is part of Ishaqian formal dress. Do you like it?”
“It’s… something.”
“They are given as gifts,” Menes explained. “A little bit like when Eastern houses give those metal rings to each other, only not as serious. I will send you and Miss Liona one, I’m sure she will like it.”
“Can we get a move on?” Korvus grumbled. “I want to get out of this damn place.”
Menes laughed. “Let’s go, my Northern friend. With Sayyidah Halen, we will get this done. I am confident.” Tapping his horns, he left. Serena followed, and not long after, Korvus joined them, putting on his jacket as he walked.
“You’re not armed,” Serena pointed out. Menes carried neither his sword nor his traditional fighting staff—the tahtib.
“Because I am not expecting that kind of fight,” Menes answered. “We can only beat them with words. We need to persuade them to take a vote. After that…” Menes sighed. “The tricky part begins. Councillor Nasr will always vote against us, which means we need three votes from four men. Idris will vote for us, as we are friendly and fellow scholars.”
“And the others?”
“That is the tricky part,” Menes said.
“I see.”
While they continued in silence, their lack of discussion did not make them discreet. It must be quite the sight for the citizenry to see the trio make their way to the council. Menes, with his flowing formal attire, was paired with two Speakers, both famous in their own right. One from the North, one from the East.
It didn’t take long to realise they were being followed. Not by a suspicious guard or shady hooded figure, but the ordinary citizens of Ishaq had sensed something was happening and were tagging along. Menes didn’t seem to mind, cheerfully humming as he walked through the streets, waving and acknowledging those who called out to him. Still, Serena could sense a growing change in the city, a growing energy of anticipation. By the time they were halfway, the crowd behind them had reached several dozen and was growing by the second.
“Menes!” A playful woman’s voice spoke out. Serena turned to see a dervish dancer, spinning for the entertainment of those around her. Her white robe billowed upwards as she spun, the fabric catching the air like unfolding wings. It took Serena a moment to realise this was the very same woman who had exposed herself to her crew when they first came into Ishaq.
“Ihra!” Menes waved.
“Where are you going?” Ihra called back. “It looks serious!”
“Bah.” Menes made a dismissive gesture. “It is no big thing. We are going to talk to the council.”
“With those two?” Ihra kept spinning, giggling to herself. “Be careful, Menes. Your wife won’t forgive you if you get into trouble!”
She’s a strange one, Serena thought, giving Ihra a last lookover. Carefree, but in a manner that feels different from Amelia. Like it’s an act. Well, it was to be expected. It was the job of women of the night like Ihra to put on a facade to entice men.
They continued walking, the crowd building up behind them, now more people than Serena could count. She thought Korvus would remain silent for the whole way, but he suddenly spoke up, saying, “Don’t be mistaken, Captain.”
“About what?”
“I’m doing this out of respect for Sayyid Bastet, not you.”
“...Noted.” Serena didn’t expect Korvus to respect her. He merely had to tolerate her until they left Ishaq.
“I respect him.”
“You said.”
“He is a respectable leader,” Korvus said, “who understands the way of things.”
Serena rolled her eyes.
Was he just trying to piss her off?
She ignored him, choosing instead to focus on the great council building ahead of them. No, ‘building’ was perhaps too simple a word. It was a sandstone palace, with shaded courtyards and tiled fountains. A square tower rose above it all, on top of which a flag bearing the colours of the free city of Ishaq fluttered in the wind.
“It is the old palace of King Oziren,” Menes said, as if he were taking them on a tourist walk to see the sights. “It burned in 580 A.V. but was repaired. Now it is the home of the council.”
“Will this be a problem?” Serena gestured to the hundreds now following them. “They seem to know something? Were our intentions leaked?”
“It is good,” Menes said. “Very good. It will help pressure the council. They cannot refuse hearing our petition, but they will try. Remember that. No matter what they say. Let me do the talking. I am prepared, my sayyidah.”
While Korvus grumbled something, Serena agreed.
Together, with the energy of Ishaq behind them, they approached the palace and the council therein.
Into the den of snakes.
