The Wandering Inn

10.01 L

[Will Wight is Kickstarting an animation for their Cradle series! The Kickstarter is already funded and I was not aware of it during my break, but shouting it out for people to see. Fantasy stories moving into other mediums is always great to see, especially newer ones! Check it out here!]

The next day, Calescent slowly and reverentially broke an entire stack of spaghetti in half. He tossed the pieces into a pot, then poured in a dram of red wine he’d found to add to the taste.

Then, after closing the door to the kitchen, Calescent added a bulb of peeled garlic to a second pan of sauce. Then another bulb. Then five more.

After some thought, he put ten more bulbs’ worth of garlic into the tomato sauce, some butter, onions, salt, sugar, garlic, and more garlic.

The point was, in Calescent’s opinion, to create the most garlic-flavored sauce possible without ruining the sauce. Or to murder Fierre.

He snapped more pasta into the pot he’d already brought to a [Quick Boil]. The point was also to offend as many sensibilities as possible. Joseph had once jokingly complained to Calescent when he’d found the Hobgoblin broke up longer pieces of pasta so you could have a nice dish rather than long, stringy stuff. He’d told Calescent that ‘the Italians’ would hate him for doing it.

Thereafter, Calescent had deliberately broken spaghetti every time he’d made it, and especially for Joseph. This critical task done, the [Spice Chef] had a moment while both pots simmered. Then Calescent slowly inserted a piece of garlic into his mouth and began to chew.

It was definitely…spicy. A different kind of spice than regular garlic, and after eating about twenty pieces, he was getting sort of tired of the taste.

On the other hand? It was free food. Even if—

Someone hammered loudly on the door to the kitchen. Lyonette opened the door as Calescent sighed.

“Calescent, are you eating the garlic? I told you to stop before we test it!”

“I’m not eating.”

Calescent spoke around his mouthful of garlic. He poked at the cloves of garlic in the pot and had a thought.

I really should have put a pre-peeled garlic into the box.

That would have made his life so much easier. Well, it wasn’t like it was that hard to peel garlic, especially since he just slapped it on the table and picked the pieces out of the shell. It took five seconds, but…Calescent looked over his shoulder.

There was a reason he was considering garlic-based foods. And why Fierre had decided to nap in Lady Ieka’s reserved rooms tonight. The Hobgoblin hunched his shoulders and decided the sauce could have a few more cloves of garlic.

He was used to buying in bulk. But the pile of garlic behind him?

That scared him. Every four seconds…he heard a pop, and another piece of garlic plopped down onto the pile.

They hadn’t even left it running for more than a few hours this morning. There were hundreds of pieces of garlic behind him, and as far as Calescent was concerned…he popped another piece into his mouth and chewed.

“Yah. Very real.”

“Calescent! Stop eating it!”

——

Garlic. Such a strange thing. Relative to the onion and leek. Said to have medicinal or possibly purifying properties. Bane of vampires and good breath.

What might one do with garlic? No, seriously. What were they going to do with all the garlic?

“That’s nine hundred and sixty-four pieces. Lyonette, I don’t think it’s stopping.”

Yelroan did a count after one hour and eight and a half minutes. Almost exactly. The garlic was popping out at a rate of 4.2 seconds, which meant that you could calculate exactly when a new bulb appeared.

Not just ‘approximately’. Exactly. The [Mathematician] had a counting Skill running, and it was a perfectly precise increase in garlic every minute. He’d thought, at first, that it had been variable, but that had been just Calescent snacking on it.

“It might stop at one thousand.”

Lyonette du Marquin hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. She looked stressed, her hair frazzled, her eyes bloodshot. Yelroan hadn’t seen Lyonette so worried for almost a month, and he regretted that that sense of—of pressure was back.

Yet he couldn’t deny that he, personally, was excited. Disbelieving. Amazed at the power of…the box.

It was hanging in the kitchen, suspended by a rope so it could drop pieces of garlic. Lyonette paced around. She snapped at Calescent and made sure her daughters didn’t go anywhere near the kitchen. She was waiting for Magnolia Reinhart to respond to her [Message] spell—or for Valeterisa to wake up.

After about three minutes, Yelroan called out.

“That’s one thousand and one pieces of g—”

Lyonette strode into the kitchen and slammed the door to the magical box. The Erin box. That was what everyone was calling it. She brought it back out, slammed it on a table, and glared at it.

“It’s not real garlic. It’s clearly a cornucopia-type Skill.”

“Ye-es. Definitely.”

Yelroan adjusted his sunglasses. They were also handy because he could avoid meeting Lyonette’s peeved gaze.

Yelroan was new to The Wandering Inn. It had welcomed him gently, without castigating him for his past sins, and while he didn’t feel like ‘part of’ the inn fully, he found it healing in a way. Useful and interesting, but not like being Yelroan, the [Mathematician] in charge of Plain’s Eye’s entire financial structure and helping a Great Tribe of Izril run.

It wasn’t like he had been planning to run off, but he’d been wondering if he could have put his talents to use here or there, and he’d obviously stayed at the inn but made more use of his time. But each time he thought about straying, Erin Solstice revealed a<Quest>, or he was suddenly talking to Normen about how you’d set up an entire [Knight] Order.

Or, suddenly, wondering how you could offload 20,571 pieces of garlic every day. Because that was how much that box would produce—assuming it had no limits. Of course, garlic rotted, and there were limits to how much people wanted to eat garlic. But pig feed? Garlic could be boiled to reduce the flavor, and even if it sucked to eat, how many [Alchemist] recipes called for garlic?

Assuming it was real, of course. But if it was real…was there a magical cost? Was this real garlic?

Could that box copy…other things?

Yelroan’s heart was beating far too fast for the morning. He slowly sipped from a cup of coffee that Peggy brought him. Lyonette was just sitting there, staring at the box.

“You want milk with coffee? Garlic?”

Yelroan grinned at Peggy, and the Hobgoblin grinned toothily back—but she kept her voice low to keep from angering her boss. She was actually one of the people Yelroan knew more of in The Wandering Inn.

Consider, for a moment, the division of jobs as Yelroan saw it. You had the ‘core family’, which was Lyonette, Mrsha, Nanette, Numbtongue, Bird, and, of course, Erin.

Then there were the regulars, guests everyone knew, like Menolit, Relc, formerly Selys, the Earthers, Krshia, and so on.

The adventurers were another category since they came and went, and then you had people who were maybe less regular, but valuable associates like Grimalkin and Ilvriss. Allies. Antinium, different cities or groups like House Veltras, and so on.

But the staff—the staff were a bit odd. Peggy and Rosencrantz had both come fairly recently to The Wandering Inn, from the Flooded Waters tribe and the Free Antinium Hive, respectively. They had settled in very quickly and quite well. They, sort of like Yelroan, were background to a lot of events.

But valuable background. Yelroan considered Peggy and Rosencrantz to be much like him. They kept the wheels moving, and even if they didn’t attract a lot of attention, well, neither had Ishkr or Normen. Look at them now.

“Maybe no garlic, Peggy. But I’ll take the milk. Er…can I have some sugar too?”

Yelroan had discovered the joys of coffee and lattes, but Peggy gave him a severe look.

“Sugar? Sugar is expensive now that the Admiral, eh—the one at sea became a traitor. Sugar from Baleros is expensive.”

“Oh.”

Peggy saw Yelroan’s face fall and glanced around. Then she hurried off and got a small pitcher of milk and a bowl of sugar. She winked.

“Just for you. But no showing other guests or we have to charge them, eh?”

He grinned at her. This was why you made friends with people like Peggy. She was a [Floor Boss] and, as he understood it, a former Redfang. Rosencrantz was an ordinary Worker who’d been elevated to ‘Individual’ by dint of personality.

Who else was on staff? Well, there was Asgra, a Cave Goblin, Sticks, Picker, and Inkpaper—those were the Goblins that Yelroan knew really well.

On the Antinium side, there had been Silvermop. Yelroan’s face fell slightly. There was Dots, Silverboots, and a Soldier named Handyfellow. Yelroan knew he had a list of all the staff; there were only about sixteen in total, eight and eight of each species.

He hoped they were happy with their jobs. It occurred to him someone should check on that sort of thing. Lyonette was good at teaching the job and managing people, but his role should be a backup check on what she was doing.

“Peggy, we don’t have many guests this morning. Do you have a second to sit?”

The [Floor Boss], in lieu of other work, had been ordering the Goblins and Antinium under her command to set a table for their morning guests. She looked around, decided she did have time, and sat down.

“Sure. What’s happening, Yelroan? You got anything for me to beat up?”

She reminded him a lot of Merish. That was it. Yelroan grinned at Peggy and realized they had a lot in common.

“No. Just checking in on the staff. How’s the month been?”

“Check in. Ooh, interesting. You mean is am I grumpy?”

“Er, yes. Don’t Goblins do that?”

Peggy shrugged expansively; she had on a uniform with a black paw on one corner of the apron and an adjusted [Barmaid]’s outfit, shortened on her right leg for her peg-leg. Hence the name. She was still a former Redfang, but she didn’t have the same attitude Numbtongue had once had towards training religiously every morning.

Actually, Yelroan saw Numbtongue doing less of that recently; Lyonette seemed to be occupying the morning workouts. Well, Relc and several others took the gym.

“Goblins mostly know if you’re sad. If a Goblin is, uh…mad, a Hob notices. Or other Goblins. Chieftain finds out, does something about it. Other peoples can’t tell?”

Peggy looked slightly amused, and Yelroan hesitated. He fiddled with his sunglasses, and Handyfellow moved out of the way of the blinding light.

“Sort of. Everyone can obviously notice things, and Gnoll tribes are rather like that. But I’ve found in, uh, ‘civilized’ society it helps to have practices and rules like that.”

“Because people in cities have hearts like dried plums?”

“Something like that.”

They both grinned. Peggy looked amused but indulged the concept and waved at Asgra.

“Hey. You bring me first garlic pasta and coffee.”

“Yes, boss.”

Asgra grumbled. She headed into the kitchen, and Peggy rubbed at her leg unconsciously. Yelroan coughed.

“Well—you and I both come from tribes, so I think we’re more alike than I realized. Strange…or not so strange since I’ve never talked to any Goblins before coming to the inn. I suppose I can lead with whether you, or the staff with you, feel like you’re working too much. Are you enjoying work here?”

“Huh? Enjoying? Is great. You see this?”

Peggy gave Yelroan an incredulous look as she accepted a hot plate of spaghetti. Lyonette opened her mouth.

“We have to test—”

Peggy inserted a huge bite of noodles and sauce into her mouth and chewed. Then she shouted.

“Hey, Calescent! Is good! Nice taste! Good as shit!”

“Good! Food’s up!”

He shouted back. The staff hurried into the kitchen, hungry, and Lyonette raced after them to insist the garlic pasta be tested first.

We could sell all this garlic to the people afraid of those ‘Vampires’, but that might be against The Wandering Inn’s policies. Yelroan watched Peggy eat with gusto.

“The work’s not too hard? Can I get a plate too?”

“Hard? Psh. Standing on feet for, what, nine, ten hours? Is not hard like running for twelve hours. Or fighting Gargoyles. Food is always good, can eat as much as we want—this is good living. Any Goblin will tell you that. Except Mountain City Goblins.”

Peggy waved a clawed hand dismissively. Yelroan glanced at her foot.

“You don’t miss the tribe?”

For one second, he thought he was being too direct, but a glint from Peggy’s crimson eyes turned into a grin.

“You say things to my face. Is good. Gnolls is smart. Miss tribe? Maybe. Maybe…but I have no foot! Hard to be good Redfang. I could be, but not a great one. See?”

She slapped her peg-leg and sighed. Yelroan followed her logic.

“You’re still a good warrior, but you wouldn’t be one of the best.”

“Yep. Can’t ride with Redscar. Maybe if I was higher-level or had a Carn Wolf, but…I was a good warrior. Not great. Great warrior with bad leg is great warrior with weak spot. Good warrior with bad leg is okay warrior. So Chieftain Rags said, ‘Peggy, you want to guard an inn and serve tables to stupid Humans and Drakes instead of having babies or something’? And I said, ‘Sounds great’. Maybe I thought I’d go back if it was bad, but this is nice.”

Yelroan made a few notes about that.

“That’s great to hear. Your rooms are big enough? Is—is there anything Goblins need that we’re missing? I should ask the Antinium that.”

“Good, good, we don’t need anything…eh. Life is nice. Except that there are not many Goblins, so less people to talk to. But you fun, and Ser Normen and others are good. Only one shame—handsome Drake got stolen by the stupid Archmage. Always the good fighters everyone wants.”

Peggy heaved a huge, morose sigh, and Yelroan opened his mouth.

“—Relc?”

“Is hard competition. Can’t beat woman who can lift city over her head. But hey, I live longer than three more years, so maybe I’ll find another person. Maybe a [Swordmaster].”

“So you want to raise a family?”

Peggy nodded energetically.

“Someday. Big family of Redfangs. Not many of us left, and Flooded Waters tribe is good—but we shouldn’t forget how to ride Carn Wolves. Is a good plan for me; when I have gold saved up, I can buy magic sword and build a house-thing in the High Passes. What I want, you get it, Yelroan? Not sure about Asgra, Sticks, or others. Inkpaper just wants to sit in the inn and read books instead of working!”

She shouted that last part, and the other Hobgoblin, who was prone to avoiding work, flinched into the kitchen.

Inkpaper was another interesting Hobgoblin. Yelroan noted down Peggy’s ambitions. Then he was taken off-guard by Peggy’s knowing gaze on him. After all, a [Floor Boss] was an advanced type of leader class, even if it was Goblin-specific. And Hobs were natural leaders. Peggy focused an eye on Yelroan.

“What about you, math-man? You staying around?”

Yelroan hesitated.

“—I’d like to. I just haven’t yet found a role fully suited to my abilities. I hope to. But it’s, uh, rather like having—let’s try an analogy. It’s like having Redscar only kill Shield Spiders all day.”

The Hobgoblin blinked, then slapped the table and hooted with laughter. She shouted a translated version of Yelroan’s comment to the Goblins, and they all began laughing—or cheering Yelroan.

“This Gnoll has giant, furry balls! I like how he said it—because it’s true, right? You’re very smart math person.”

“Mmm. Yep.”

Yelroan was a bit embarrassed by saying it so outright, but it was true. With his understanding of the science of mathematics, he suspected only an Archmage or very few other experts in the world would be able to keep up. The problem was that he was too good at his specialization. Peggy gazed at Yelroan, and he sighed.

“I’m good at managing people, and I can see myself helping run this inn or the Order of Solstice. But I want a mathematical challenge.”

“Eh. Not sure how you fight a strong math-monster. What do math-people do?”

Yelroan was glad someone had asked! He enthusiastically began to explain as his pasta arrived along with a refill of coffee for both.

“Well, I’ve actually apprenticed with the Engineering Guilds of Drake cities, and I’ve studied architecture as well. What we can do is model real events with numbers. So calculating how much weight a structure can take, or siege weapons—I don’t like war. I know on Earth my class models…physics. The movement of stars and so on. I’d love something like that, or to push forwards the entire understanding of it somehow.”

He’d been studying Earth math and had considered writing a book about it, but what was the point when they already had books in the [World of You and Me]? The Earth-tent was a better teacher than he could be, so Yelroan was searching for a role for his class in this world.

Peggy took a piece of paper from Yelroan and began writing that down. She was scribing in Goblin and nodded and tried to look serious. She steepled her claws together.

“Hmm. Yes. We will work on this thing for you. You want to talk to Rosencrantz? He easy. He happy like Goblins, but I know his dream.”

“Oh?”

It was always good to hear this, even if it was only Peggy’s understanding of Rosencrantz. Yelroan made a new entry.

“What does Rosencrantz want?”

“To meet Players of Celum and see tons of plays. Duh. He has fancy name from one of them. He likes music and acting and such.”

“Interesting. The Wandering Inn’s moved away from that. It was a pity we didn’t keep the Players of Celum—or Players of Liscor—in the inn. But if he’s happy—do you have any worries?”

Peggy nodded seriously. She leaned over the table as more guests came downstairs.

“Big fear is next time Draugr make it in, we all die. I am not so good, and last time, good people died, like Silvermop. I don’t think I can level up high enough. So…concerning.”

That…was a valid and legitimate concern, and Yelroan underlined that a few times. He sighed.

“That’s the concern of everyone here, I think. And why Lyonette is so resistant to anything…big happening. The box included. I hear there might be plans to, uh, upgrade staffing.”

“Ooh. More Goblins?”

“More people.”

Yelroan clarified and saw Peggy’s faint look of concern for a moment. He understood her reservations, but he nodded to where Lyonette was pacing back and forth.

“Without Erin, it’s in Lyonette’s hands, and she is a [Princess]. More staff would be nice. Then again, there is Miss Tessa.”

She was upstairs, but Peggy grimaced.

“Her? She crazy. I don’t trust her. She stabbed people after Roshal gave her drugs. Is like a Goblin with a blood class. Can’t trust her. Point her at enemy and run the other way. Very sad; nothing can do.”

“I hope that’s not the case.”

“Well, Ulvama gone, so no good [Shaman]. Never seen a good Drake [Shaman], so what can you do?”

It was a puzzle, and Yelroan sat there, ruminating, as Peggy turned to stare at the plain, wooden box. Because as far as the Hobgoblin was concerned, the box was great. Maybe it would lead to them all dying soon, but she didn’t see why you had to be afraid of it until it started spitting out Crelers.

It was Erin’s Level 50 Skill. And yes, her Skills were dangerous and tragic—but Peggy had seen her rescue Rabbiteater and ally herself with Greydath of Blades. The [Floor Boss] grinned. As far as she was concerned, bad things from Erin’s Skills happened to other people.

——

Here was what they knew about the mysterious box. First. It accepted a single object—a piece of garlic—and could not fit another object inside. Calescent had tried, but the box had an occupancy of one item.

Second? Unless you took the item out (if you even could, no one had as of yet tried), the box would clone the object inside.

Third. There seemed to be no limit on the number of copies made. They didn’t dissipate, they seemed genuine; Lyonette had mashed one up, and Calescent had done too much taste testing, and they were all identical. They might be…real.

To test this, Lyonette waited until someone came downstairs. A sleepy woman was letting Montressa chase after her with a brush to comb her wild, grey hair.

“Where’s Relc?”

“At work, Master. I tried to wake you up at six, but you were reading books too late. You have a call with Archmage Eldavin in an hour.”

“What’s breakfast?”

“I don’t know. What do you want, Master?”

Montressa du Valeross had a too-patient tone of voice with Archmage Valeterisa, and the absent-minded Archmage of Izril was reading a book at the table. She looked up as Lyonette approached.

“Breakfast is garlic pasta—unless you’d like anything else. Good morning, Montressa, good morning, Archmage Valeterisa!”

Instantly, Valeterisa’s eyes narrowed.

“She’s using my title. She wants something. Take care of it, Apprentice.”

She pointed, and Lyonette saw Montressa stop combing and look up, frowning. Lyonette groaned internally.

A mix of oblivious and the kind of insight that had allowed her to survive years of politics in Wistram.

“I don’t have a large request! I just have an, uh—an object of extreme magical interest. Potentially.”

Valeterisa stopped pushing Montressa in front of her and peered at Lyonette.

“Go on.”

The [Princess] handed over a cloned garlic bulb. Valeterisa levitated it up and frowned at it.

“This is garlic. Non-magical garlic.”

Her betrayed look made Montressa frown at Lyonette. The [Princess] hadn’t told everyone what was going on, and she’d ordered the witnesses to keep silent. Lyonette heard Mrsha and Nanette come in, and a sleepy Rose appeared. They noticed her showing the garlic to Valeterisa, and Lyonette hoped they could be subtle.

“Well, apparently not, Archmage. But I suspect that this is, in fact, some kind of Skill or magical copy. Is there a way to, uh, test it?”

Valeterisa peered at the garlic with more interest and cast a few spells, though they were far too advanced for Lyonette to detect more than magical outflow. She frowned at the garlic, then at Lyonette.

“Is this from a Cornucopia Skill? I can test it. This is interesting. Montressa, cancel my appointments! I’ll teach you how to look for simulated objects. Unless you studied that in Wistram? [Create Food] is an old spell that was only supposed to be Tier 4, but it’s been lost to time, yet I did find out how to test for fake creations due to an incident where the Ullsinoi kept faking food at the banquet hall. It was edible and tasted good, but Telim passed out because he hadn’t had anything actually nutritious in…”

She was halfway up the stairs when Montressa tried to drag her back.

“Master, you haven’t eaten! And Eldavin in an hour?”

“Cancel it! Wait, who’s faking garlic? Are you sure this is fake and not just real garlic?”

Valeterisa halted, turned to Lyonette, and the [Princess] assured her this was important.

“Archmage, it is vital I know if this is faked. I am sure it is, in some way. Or it…expires? If you can prove it, definitively, I’ll—waive your room rental fee for a week.”

Valeterisa brightened up.

“A cunning fakery? I can do this.”

She vanished upstairs, and Montressa shot Lyonette a dirty glance, then requested two breakfasts to be delivered upstairs. Both she and Lyonette knew that Valeterisa’s room fee was nothing compared to her other fees.

“We’ll get you the information by evening—if you tell us what this is about. I suspect inn shenanigans, am I right?”

“When you tell me it’s fake, I’ll tell you everything, Montressa.”

Lyonette crossed her arms victoriously. She ignored Peggy, Yelroan, and Calescent giving her skeptical looks and turned and clapped her hands.

“Alright! I need someone to run a delivery to Magnolia’s mansion. Ishkr?”

“Absolutely.”

The Gnoll appeared behind the bar, and Lyonette handed him another bulb of garlic. She gave him brief instructions and knew he’d be back the moment he handed the garlic off. He could teleport back to the inn from almost anywhere with no hard limit—except that he couldn’t immediately reappear where he’d been.

They had all leveled up. Lyonette felt certain she’d have her answer on the garlic by evening. She strode past Calescent, who was trying to take the box back into the kitchen.

“No more cloning garlic, Calescent. Just take the garlic out. No one, and I mean no one, touches the box. That includes you, Mrsha, Nanette.”

“What?”

Calescent looked hurt, but Lyonette reached into the box, snatched the bulb of garlic out, and put it on the table. All the inn’s staff looked disappointed, but Lyonette was doing what she had to.

Keep the inn safe, keep disasters curtailed…she checked, and the wand that Hethon and his mysterious ‘friends’ were after was still in the [Garden of Sanctuary], buried in the metal case.

The inn could stay free of disasters for a while. Speaking of which—Lyonette squared her shoulders and went upstairs. She’d overheard part of Peggy’s interview with Yelroan. If Draugr came back, or if Lyonette did have to fight off people seeking the wand that Ryoka had brought here—the Thronebearers and staff could fight off Level 30s, maybe.

But there was only one person who could be counted on for anything worse than that. The problem was—Lyonette couldn’t count on her. If the inn had multiple ticking explosion spells on countdown, from the box to the wand to reprisals from abroad—

Shriekblade was the most volatile. And Lyonette didn’t know what to do about her.

——

Tessa. Shriekblade. Unclear who was who.

The Drake had grey-green scales. Scars.

She sometimes failed to recognize herself in the mirror. Then she’d tie a scarf around her face, or put on a mask, and the reflection would look more familiar.

Shriekblade. Because she screamed. Named-rank adventurer. Face of Salazsar’s underworld. Killer for hire. Member of the Assassin’s Guild in the south.

Largely broken. Unpredictable. Her employers were warned about her; she’d read the contract. Good at killing.

Don’t murder the clients. That was her rule. They could do whatever they wanted with her, to her, as long as it paid well.

Save up. Go to Tenbault.

That was the purpose of…no, wait. That was what she had to do. To feel right. At least, it had been.

The days before were…hazy. She was sweating, naked, in her rooms under the bed. She didn’t like sleeping on beds. She remembered, faintly, a somewhat better employer. Purple.

Ilvriss? Something about hitting him and not having sex? She didn’t recall. Then there was a mission to safeguard a random Human. Boring, boring—until the moment she found it.

The cure.

Then she had been healed. Free! Better than the Healer of Tenbault. Normal.

Bzz. Bzzzz! Something was buzzing. Tessa licked something furry and kept sweating. She was in withdrawal.

Selphid Dust. Made you crazy angry. Even when she was indulging, she’d been careful with it. You went berserk. Like a Selphid going on a Rampage. But it was a bad thing to come off of.

You went through withdrawal six to eight times. Slowly, Tessa reached for a vial among the ones scattered on the floor under the bed.

Chink. Chink. They were all empty. She tossed them away and finally found a half-empty one. She lifted it, and a bright yellow glow made her fumble with the cork.

Salvation. Only—it was all wrong. She took a drink of the Faerie Flower draught, which could do so many things.

Painkiller, cure for addictions, drink of remembered glory—a magical drink that came from the flower that obeyed no known rules, even magical ones. This particular variant cured her addictions.

Or—should have. Tessa drank. The cravings vanished. The screaming voice in her that told her to get more Selphid Dust now!—vanished. She became normal Tessa again, and her mind cleared up.

The Selphid Dust in her system was mostly passing. Now, Tessa remembered her last name. Since it didn’t matter, she just lay there. Sweat cooling. She was once more cured of her addictions.

That damn Gnoll of Roshal had restored them to her. Thrown a bag of Selphid Dust, and it had coursed through her system until they got a Faerie Flower draught in her. Even afterwards, she had been plagued by her body slowly, slowly purging the symptoms.

—And yet, even as her blood cooled and she was granted relief, the memory of being normal—something was terribly wrong. Tessa lay there, curled up, as something buzzed. She hesitated, tried to stop herself—then began to suck on it.

It’s not working anymore. Why isn’t it working?

She was in The Wandering Inn, in her rooms they’d given her, having failed her job. Erin Solstice—kidnapped. Tessa, incompetent.

Would they throw her out now? What happened when they did? Tenbault?

Tenbault. The Healer of Tenbault had said she was waiting for Tessa. Half off. Tessa should go.

She shouldn’t go. It smelled like a trap. This place was nicer.

The potion wasn’t working.

Buzz. Buzz—

“Tessa? I’m coming in.”

Then Tessa heard a voice she’d learned to recognize over the last few months. She curled up and said nothing. The door was locked, and she’d pushed a dresser in front of it. Sadly—the [Princess] just walked through the wall. She looked around, then remembered and peered under the bed.

“Tessa? Are you—why are you licking Apista?”

——

Lyonette sort of understood why Erin didn’t know what was always happening in her inn. Like with Laken, the power to sense anything in an inn wasn’t the same as understanding it.

For instance, Lyonette knew Tessa was under the bed in her rooms. But she hadn’t realized Tessa was naked. Or understood why she’d sensed Apista there.

Now, seeing Tessa licking Apista’s back…Lyonette had questions. The bee finally escaped the Named-rank adventurer’s grasp and flew away, shaking herself.

Apista was not happy. Lyonette could sense her pet’s emotions, and Apista flew around her, trumpeting anger at Tessa. But Lyonette’s wariness eclipsed that.

Dame Ushar appeared in the room a second after Lyonette, looking, as ever, very tense around the famous Drake Shriekblade. She gave Lyonette a look—which Lyonette ignored.

“Tessa, are you okay? Are you having withdrawals again?”

She made her voice gentle as possible. That damn Selphid Dust…the Faerie Flower draught didn’t detoxify Tessa, only remove the symptoms of her addictions.

Lyonette’s reply was two eyes, long, reptilian slits, slightly aglow from the daylight, staring at her from under the bed. The rest of Tessa was practically invisible.

“I have potions.”

“Are you—are you doing well?”

Silence. No. Lyonette bent down, and Ushar shifted.

“Your Highness—”

The glare Lyonette shot back at Ushar made the Thronebearer shut up. Tessa didn’t have her blades. That might not make a difference, but Lyonette had been talking to her. At least now Lyonette didn’t get a swipe of the claws.

“Tessa, come out of there.”

“Why? I like it. Do you have anything for me to kill?”

More of the Drake appeared as Lyonette cast a [Light] spell. Pale scars, a curled up Drake—sweating and wild-eyed. She didn’t look comfortable.

“What’s wrong, Tessa? We have breakfast. Do you want—”

“No. I want Selphid Dust. I want—it’s not working anymore. The drink isn’t working. Tell that—tell that stupid Stitch-girl to add more Faerie Flowers to it! Tell Saliss the Stitch-girl’s making it wrong!”

Tessa clawed at her cheek, and Lyonette bit her lip. To her knowledge, Octavia hadn’t been making the Faerie Flower draught wrong, and there wasn’t a way to ‘intensify’ the effects.

“But it is clearing up your addictions, isn’t it?”

“Yes. No. It’s not working right anymore. It wasn’t working right before the Solstice. Where’s the bee? Is there any Dreamleaf left? Where’s the Centaur?”

When the Drake did move, she kicked herself out from under the bed like the world’s largest cockroach. She was so fast that she was tossing objects aside, hunting around the cluttered room, then moving the dresser aside before Lyonette caught her.

“Tessa, Palt’s not here. No more drugs. You don’t need them, remember? Do you still want them?”

Was the Faerie Flower potion losing its effectiveness after all? Tessa turned in a flash, grabbed for Lyonette’s arm—

Dame Ushar’s gauntleted fist caught the snarling Drake’s hand. Tessa blinked, looked at Ushar, then pivoted. The Thronebearer grunted as the Named-rank moved her sideways, out of the way, but she didn’t let go.

“Ushar.”

Lyonette’s glare made Dame Ushar release her grip. Tessa stopped making a fist. Her face had gone alarmingly blank for a second. Then she stared at Lyonette. Grudgingly, with a kind of recognition.

“It’s not working. It is, and it isn’t.”

“Explain it to me. Start with Apista. Why were you licking her?”

This was the furthest they’d gotten in a while, and Tessa’s eyes darted to the bed. To the window. She seemed to want to escape or go back into hiding, but then she blurted out.

“The Faerie Flower draught isn’t working. It is—I don’t need Selphid Dust anymore. But I want it. I want it. And yet I don’t. I don’t need it—but I remember how it feels. It’s not fair. I want to try it again. I have to…but I don’t. I can’t forget what it felt like. You can lick Ashfire Bees sometimes, and it’s like mushrooms if they’ve had the right nectar. I think. Maybe it’s eating wasps.”

Ah. Lyonette exhaled. It was confusing, but it fell in line with what Tessa had screamed or said to Lyonette over the last few weeks. Lyonette was no expert, and Palt wasn’t speaking to her, but Nanette had helped cobble together an understanding for Lyonette that made sense.

“You’re saying…the Faerie Flower tonic makes you stop needing the Selphid Dust and whatnot. But you still want it.”

“It tastes good. Phlack powder. Selphid Dust. Can’t do Selphid Dust. Dreamleaf pills. Five for a gold piece on Hatlever Street. Blissbloom. Blissbloom from Conec the [Fence]. It’s worse than last time.”

“Why? Sit down, Tessa, just…Ushar? Get me some breakfast, and find some clothing here, would you?”

“I’ll have Ser Dalimont pass it to me.”

Ushar didn’t leave the room. She cooly spoke into a stone, and Tessa sat there, shivering, as Lyonette draped her in her blanket.

“You don’t understand. It’s worse now.”

“Because you want it so bad?”

“No! Because it’s like the first time I ever had it.”

A clawed hand grabbed at Lyonette, and Apista jabbed it. Her stinger was sharp and venomous. Lyonette grabbed for Apista—but then she saw Tessa’s eyes focus on the bee.

Only the tip of Apista’s sharp stinger had grazed Tessa’s scales, but the Drake took the bee’s stinger—and jabbed it deeper into her hand.

“Ow. Ow.”

“Tessa? What are you—”

The Drake had closed her eyes. She grimaced—then let go, and Apista flew back, as unnerved as Lyonette. Tessa stared at her hand, then licked the blood welling from the gash. When she looked up, she was happy. And sad. And slightly insane.

“It hurts. It hurts.”

“Yes. It does. Why…why is that good, Tessa?”

The Drake stared at Lyonette.

“It didn’t hurt a while ago. Food tastes like food. I forgot how it tasted. I forgot what water felt like. Blissbloom on the tongue makes it go dead. Phlack powder numbs the…it was like the first time I had Selphid Dust. I want to again. Where’s the Centaur? Dreamleaf isn’t bad. It’s—”

She tried to get up. This time, she went for a window. Lyonette pointed, and the window locked, and Tessa scrabbled at it. Then Lyonette seized the blanket.

“Tessa, you don’t want to relapse.”

“Why not? If the potion cures me—I shouldn’t do it. I shouldn’t. A voice in my head tells me not to. I want to.”

Sweating, clammy, the Drake looked around for a vial of Faerie Flower tonic. She had countless vials, despite Octavia protesting she never got the glassware back, and she swallowed more of the tonic.

“—Nothing.”

“Tessa. Won’t you come downstairs and socialize with us?”

Lyonette stared at Tessa as Dame Ushar put down a plate of food on the desk. Tessa darted over to it and began to eat with her clawed fingers, not the utensils. She turned to Lyonette.

“I can’t do it. I can’t…a voice says I owe you. I want it. You need to kick me out. Selphid Dust. Next time, I’ll kill everyone. Why didn’t the potion make it so I couldn’t ever take Dreamleaf again? It makes it worse, not better.”

A Faerie Flower’s bargain. Lyonette swallowed hard. Just like everything the Faerie Flowers did, there was a great downside for the upside. She put a hand on Tessa’s shoulder.

“I want to help, Tessa. But I don’t know how. Do you think you can put on some clothes? I might—need your help, soon.”

She didn’t want to get into specifics. Tessa stared at Lyonette.

“I can kill anything you want. I can do that.”

“Can you—eat breakfast with me and sit in the common room of the inn?”

That was what Lyonette needed. She didn’t want an unpredictable Drake who had no care for herself and knew how to kill. But Tessa? The Drake sat there, shuddering, shivering, licking sauce off her claws.

“I’m sorry. I tried to stop Roshal. I did. They’re good at breaking people. I was already broken.”

She said the same thing she’d said for the last month. Lyonette turned her head away.

“It wasn’t your fault. Put on some clothes and meet me downstairs if you can, Tessa. There’s something odd happening—”

Tessa wasn’t listening. She cut into Lyonette’s conversation, still staring a million miles away.

“It was my fault. Liar.”

So, Lyonette stopped, then rose and nodded to the Drake after a moment. She had to go. The Drake watched Lyonette heading for the garden door. She gave Lyonette a blank, sad look, then stared around at the inn and the room she’d trashed. She kicked an empty vial, then whispered.

“This is a good place. Too good for me. I can’t be cured. So that’s what Hekusha was telling me.”

She seemed relieved by that. After a while, Tessa realized the plate was empty. Then she hunted around and saw there were some folded clothes on her bed. She stared at them—then put on her gear.

——

For a woman who was complaining about having little to do, Lyonette had a lot to do all of a sudden. She wasn’t done with Tessa, but she had obligations.

One of them that couldn’t wait, that trumped even the box, was Ser Normen. When he called, he didn’t waste time.

“Lyonette. I have a problem. I need your help.”

The [Grandmaster] of the Order of Solstice was standing on a cliff looking out over snowy plains below. He had to own, it was a nice view.

It was a shame he hated heights. But he could see why it was beneficial to be up this high. It gave one a splendid view of the northern plains around which Celum was based. In theory, if Humans had ever settled in large numbers this far out, Normen could imagine the comforts of living near a nice town or city with only a minimal journey to this place.

…Since Celum was the nearest city and the only village close by was fifteen miles away, the nice journey became isolating, which was a benefit and a curse. But he understood why people had settled here, once. Everyone needed to eat, and a reliable source of anything, be it ore, fertile land, or ivory, would have been appealing.

—Unfortunately, the Village of Rheirgest hadn’t ever been as prosperous as they’d hoped. Prosperous enough, but susceptible to the rising and falling call for ivory, which, yes, was a strangely volatile market. At least, it was when [Necromancers] being in the vogue or out of favor were your economy and lifeblood.

If Normen turned his head, he would be able to see the other Knights of Solstice, Jewel, Durene, Vess, and a newly-reborn Antherr, securing packhorses and breaking down the last houses. But he didn’t because it was painfully sad to see children crying or the villagers looking grim faced and worried but trying to seem cheerful.

Brothers of Serendipitous Meetings weren’t good with such things. They tended to hit anything that they felt increased the levels of sadness in the world. But Normen didn’t see a way to fight his way out of this problem.

In a sense, fighting had ruined Rheirgest, when a desperate battle through a blizzard two months past had saved it. All the hard work he’d gone through, and it was wasted…

No, not wasted. The people were alive. Normen turned and saw Rittane, a villager he knew particularly well, and her parents, Dorkel and Leiithe, waiting by the horses. She was looking at her home being torn down piece by piece, ivory loaded on a separate wagon bound for the market. When she saw him looking, she waved. He waved back, his azure armor glinting in the sunlight.

He smiled—then finally heard Lyonette, breathlessly, get back to him.

“Normen, apologies it took a moment to—I’m entering the [World’s Eye Theatre] now. What’s wrong?”

“Rheirgest. They’re almost ready to move out, but they’ve been talking, and I think they’d prefer to move to Liscor…if it’s acceptable. The local villages aren’t any good. That is, they could try to join one, or go to Celum, but even with the money Magnolia Reinhart gave them and their ivory sales, they’d be unable to house everyone.”

“…Pardon?”

At this point, Normen realized Lyonette hadn’t heard from him for the last two weeks. The last they’d talked, he’d been heading to Rheirgest—he froze up and turned red underneath his helmet.

He kept forgetting he was a [Grandmaster] now, not a regular [Knight] or a [Thug]. He tried again.

“Let me explain it. You know how we went to Rheirgest to help them resettle? Now that their ivory source is gone?”

“The…bone giant Magnolia stopped. How could one forget?”

Normen had a vivid memory of it crawling through the Floodplains, looming above everyone and everything, a monster the size of a city as he raised his mace, fighting against Kasigna’s Draugr. He swallowed hard.

“Yes. Well, with it gone—”

“Rheirgest is out of ivory. Of course. I thought they’d just switch to a different, um, product. Or, as you said, join another village. Why Liscor?”

“Liscor has the bone giant. They’re all—they have interesting classes, Lyonette. I spoke with their Village Head, master Elosaith, and he believes mining the ivory and, ah, continuing their unique methods of agriculture and so on would be best done around Liscor. There isn’t really enough to sustain the village here, and they’re not well-loved in the nearby settlements. So he thought—”

“—Well, of course that makes sense. Absolutely. And Magnolia’s stipend of funds probably helps with the transit.”

Normen was glad she agreed. He’d been hesitant to agree to Rheirgest’s idea, but he trusted Lyonette. She was, after all, a [Princess], and a fellow assumed they knew how things were. He nodded a few times.

“They’re also selling off their houses. That will cover a lot of costs, though it’ll eat into their coin to resettle. It’d be best if they could just—move each house, but there’s nowhere near enough Chests of Holding we could borrow to move that much ivory. So they’ll sell it and move to Liscor. The thing is—”

“Hold on, ivory? I vaguely recall—their houses are made of bone, aren’t they? Hold still, Normen. I must see this.”

He hesitated, but in less than ten seconds, he saw a telltale glimmer of light, and Lyonette du Marquin, or rather, her projection, stepped out of the air, found herself standing in the empty air past the cliff’s edge, and leapt forwards.

“Dead gods! That’s terrifying.”

She clutched at her chest a second, then smiled at Normen.

“Sorry, Normen. It’s been frantic today and yesterday. Has it truly been two weeks? You must have worked hard.”

“Not in any dangerous way. Durene’s pulled more weight than the rest of us…it was mostly loading wagons with ivory.”

“With—of course. Look at that.”

The final house was coming down. The villagers had been sleeping together, or in tents, and they were now deconstructing Rittane’s house piece by piece. They’d made it out of huge blocks of smooth ivory that, despite the years, had worn down little. Bone-white ivory, beautiful even if it was from the bones of a giant, hard and durable—excellent material if you forgot where it was from, and a [Necromancer]’s treasure—was being loaded into a wagon.

Lyonette saw the villagers, just around a hundred and fifty men and women, Humans who’d lived here for generations, staring around a rather barren place that had been their home. But then—it had already been gone before they’d pulled the first house down.

After all, the Giant of Rheirgest was gone. Its absence was rather more dramatic.

“Eternal Throne.”

Lyonette’s head craned up, and she saw the sight Normen had been watching for two weeks. It was as if someone had punched a hole straight through part of this particular mountain that made up the High Passes—and the ensuing month had seen more and more of the mountain crumbling away. Most of it was filled with rubble, including the ‘mine’ that had been set right next to the villagers’ houses.

When Kasigna had animated it, the giant had crushed several houses to dust, though the villagers had sensed the shifting bones and fled long before it had started moving. Even after, the horrific giant of bones had left a literal trail of flattened earth that the snow had covered, but was visible from above, a furrow in the landscape.

That journey had ended in Liscor, just past the main road, and Normen knew that while the Giant had made the trip overnight in hours, the villagers would take days, maybe up to a week, to do the same.

It would be cold, even with the snows about to melt, and dangerous if brigands or monsters attacked. But Normen had less worry about escorting so many with only a handful of people backing him up.

For one—they were the Knights of Solstice. Jewel, Vess, Durene, and Antherr were all exceptionally dangerous. Three of them were over Level 30, and only Antherr’s rebirth had lowered his level. More than that—Rheirgest was more than capable of defending itself.

Lyonette’s amazement at the damage to the mountainside was replaced by sudden, and worrying, nerves. She gazed across the hundred and fifty villagers—then blanched. Because their numbers were closer to two hundred—if you added in the help.

“Are those—skeletons?”

Nearly fifty skeletons, of varying heights and builds, were carrying the ivory to the wagons or tearing down tents. One, as large as a Draugr, with huge, spade-like hands, was digging up the foundations while a pair of undead horses stomped in front of a wagon.

“Rheirgest’s undead. You can see why other villages don’t want them around.”

“Yes…and you want to send them to Liscor? Liscor, where Az’kerash died?”

Headman Elosaith twitched as he turned and saw Lyonette and Normen talking. Instantly, he bowed, as did several villagers, and she waved and smiled, then turned to Normen.

“It…they trust Erin Solstice more than most. Because she helped organize the delivery of food.”

“And you.”

Lyonette gave Normen a pointed look, and he blushed and fiddled with his visor, sliding it down.

“—I can’t help them do more than resettle. So I thought I’d do what I can. That’s why I called. I, ah—I promised Rheirgest’s people I’d help them go wherever’s needed, Lyonette. But I just realized, today, that I hadn’t asked Liscor about Rheirgest’s people moving in. Could you—that is—would you be able to approach someone about it? Whoever that is.”

Lyonette’s face went from amused to concerned in a moment and Normen kicked himself again. No one had brought it up until Durene had wondered aloud where the villagers would settle, and Normen had said in Liscor probably until they could find a spot—and then Jewel had asked how much that would cost to rent that many rooms.

It was the kind of thing a [Grandmaster] ought to think of. Normen wasn’t a regular [Knight]. He should have asked before he even left. Worse, he was used to Erin being here, so he’d taken it for granted it would just…happen.

If Ser Solton, the Knight of Haegris, could see Normen now, he’d shake his head at the younger [Knight]. The Order of Haegris knew full well how hard it was to do this sort of thing. All Normen could do was beg for help.

Thankfully, Lyonette’s face cleared, and she nodded and took a breath.

“It’ll take days for Rheirgest to get to Liscor, won’t it, Normen? That gives me time. Let me petition Liscor’s Council. I’ll see if they can find a place for Rheirgest’s folk. Maybe even free housing until they can set up a village? It’ll have to be fast if they want to avoid the spring floods, and it’s not easy to just relocate that many people. You need hills. Maybe the Antinium could help? Give me until the afternoon, and I’ll hopefully have news.”

Normen exhaled, grateful.

“Thank you, Lyonette. We’ll be heading towards Celum, and if we can use the door, that would be splendid. If not, it’s possible to do the rest of the journey on foot.”

“You might have to send the wagons overland if you have a lot of possessions, but I’ll let Liska know and see how much she thinks she can transport. I’d better get on that quickly. It would be good to have the Order of Solstice back as well.”

Something about how she said it, too casually, made Normen look up swiftly.

“Trouble?”

“No…possibly. Nothing urgent, I hope, but it’s nice to have people I can rely on around. There’s been more updates. But I’ll tell you when you’re back. Don’t rush, and, ah, ah—keep the undead hidden, perhaps?”

“No fear, Lyonette. They’ll keep all but the horses hidden, and we have a good lie—we’ll say Pisces animated them.”

Lyonette blinked, then laughed.

“Pisces! Good idea. But aren’t [Knights] supposed to tell the truth?”

“I didn’t swear an oath to do that.”

Normen replied, and she smiled—right before turning.

“Dame Ushar is giving you an approving nod. I must go, Normen, but I’ll be on the job.”

“Ah, one more thing, Lyonette?”

Normen caught her before she could vanish, and she turned back obligingly. He leaned over—and nearly fell off the cliff—as she bent closer to hear.

“There is something that could be valuable. Perhaps you could give it to Liscor to sweeten the deal?”

“Oh?”

Normen pointed at the hole left in the mountain.

“When the Giant of Rheirgest left, before the mountain started collapsing, some of the villagers inspected the wake it left. They think they saw something in the mountains that resembled a structure. Something made by people. But no one wanted to risk getting hurt, so they could only send a few skeletons to check it out. It’s a network of caves. Maybe a dungeon or something buried?”

Lyonette’s eyes lit up with fascination.

“That’s…valuable. I can’t imagine anyone but an adventurer would pay for it, but I’ll tell Liscor’s Council if I may.”

“Please do. We—the Order of Solstice, that is—aren’t likely to want to go exploring dungeons. None of us save Jewel does traps, and we can’t spare the time. If it’s a bargaining chip or whatnot, I think it’s best used, as it were.”

“Then I’ll begin asking. Thank you, Normen!”

Lyonette gave Normen a big smile, and he regretted dumping the problem in her lap. He’d do less of that, he promised himself, once they built a keep.

…It occurred to Normen he was going to need help funding and finding a place for that too. He sighed. He had gotten this far purely on the generosity, trust, and help of many people like Erin. Someday, he would have to start repaying that debt.

——

The handy thing about having a staff was delegation. The moment Lyonette got Normen’s request, she sighed, then asked Yelroan to head down to City Hall to put in an urgent request to the Council.

“We could file a request through the main desk. But Normen left it hanging, so if you could find a way to speed that up, Yelroan?”

The [Mathematician] nodded.

“I’ll just have them treat it like a request from The Wandering Inn. I’ve heard those get expedited.”

“We shouldn’t cut the line—”

He scratched his chin and shook his head amiably.

“Yes, we should. Everyone else tries. We’re just better at it.”

That made her smile. Lyonette sat back and thought about checking on Tessa, but she had no time.

“Lyonette, I’m back. I got the garlic to Magnolia and phrased it right. You’ll have an answer by early afternoon or late evening. You are also paying for a certain old man’s meals.”

“A small price to pay, Ishkr. How did you convince him?”

The Gnoll strode out from behind the bar as Lyonette re-entered the common room, and she smiled at him. He looked rather pleased with himself.

“I just treated it like a challenge and mentioned we have a new dish on the menu.”

“—Calescent hasn’t invented a new dish. Has he? The garlic pasta surely doesn’t count.”

Ishkr shrugged.

“Anything Demsleth hasn’t eaten is a new dish.”

Well, that simplified that. Lyonette began to feel more in control of things once again. Yes, there were problems, but no one had exploded into flames, and there was no drama to be had. Soon, they’d have a more concrete answer as to this garlic phenomena.

Unfortunately, Lyonette was then met with a piece of paper as she was about to sit down and write a formal letter to Paeth asking them to connect her with Erin. A solemn quartet of children filed up to the table, and Lyonette saw Mrsha offer her a sealed envelope with a serious face.

“Er—hello. Can I help you, Lords Veltras? Mrsha? Nanette?”

“Please read the letter, Miss Lyonette.”

Nanette’s eyes were twinkling, but she kept her face straight and her hands clasped behind her back. Lyonette eyed Mrsha, and her mind flashed to a few scenarios.

Mrsha’s broken something. Mrsha wants to eat dessert. The children want to do something in Invrisil or Pallass.

She unsealed the envelope and found it was none of the above. Rather, it was a petition. The writing was definitely Mrsha’s.

Dear Miss Lyonette,

We, the undersigned, would like to present you with a formal petition to return the ‘Wand of Ironwood’, heretofore referred to as ‘the wand’, to the possession of ourselves that we might fulfill Hethon’s promise and/or a debt of profound gratitude.

It has not escaped our notice that you have deliberately hidden and lied about your possession of said wand, and we, the undersigned, find this both a dereliction of your own friendship to Ryoka Griffin and parental duties as a mother not to lie.

Whereas you may object that the wand is Ryoka Griffin’s property and therefore not in any person’s said custody, I remind you that stewardship of The Wandering Inn does not convey upon you any material claim to goods of your guests. Furthermore, as Ryoka Griffin is also affiliated with House Veltras, custodianship of her possessions is therefore the purview of Hethon and Sammial Veltras.

If you would be so good as to return the wand posthaste with sufficient apologies (dessert may suffice), we will consider the matter dropped. If not, we, the undersigned, will have no choice but to escalate this matter to concerned parties such as Enchanter Hedault, who will doubtless be displeased to learn his wand has been purloined in such a perfidious matter for little good cause. Thank you,

—Mrsha du Marquin, Nanette the Witch, Lord Sammial Veltras, Lord Hethon Veltras.

It was a beautifully made letter. Lyonette admired the calligraphy as a mother. As a [Princess]—she hated petitions. So she compromised.

“Thank you, Mrsha dear!”

She patted Mrsha on the head. Then tore up the petition. Mrsha’s jaw dropped. Lyonette handed the pieces of the petition to Ushar.

“Have these [Repaired], and please