As Melodia plummeted down through the portal she would slam straight down onto the tile below with a loud thud. If the mana explosion didn’t enrich her body moments before, she would have likely broken a few bones— maybe a nail or two. But instead she would just end up with a sore ass and sore palms from catching herself, who in the right mind would jump through a swirling vortex of dark magic. Oh yeah, Melodia definitely would.

As she pressed herself from the ground into a stand, Melodia would realized that she was recovering quicker than usual as well. And while the others within Harrow’s Tower probably entered a state of panic or were atleast a bit annoyed, Melodia was rather enjoying the outcome of things and wished days were this exciting all the time.

”Oh.”

And wouldn’t you know it something else interesting graces the Lapsean woman’s small red eyes. A device, a contraption, a box of mechanical origin placed atop one of the research desks in the lab. She had just been here- was it perhaps Arthur or Reina’s doing? As she took a few steps closer to the contraption her hands traced along the table before eventually making their way to the box. It was sealed, welded shut in a shit-poor job nonetheless. Also, it reverberated with a thick, strong aura of magic that was sensed by the girl immediately. Was this perhaps the origin of the event that had just occurred? She singlemindedly decided that yes, it was, and if someone later proved her wrong then— whatever time moves on. But nonetheless, her personality would soon get the better of her and she wanted to know what exactly this thing was.

The construction was shoddy, a rushed creation that wasn’t exactly meant to be designed for aesthetics. Lady Lapseus decided that the best method of opening it would be some corrosive solution to weaken the welding along the seams. Clickity clack went her small black shoes as she stepped over to a chemical closet, the smell of hydrochloric acid was prevalent along with a small beaker of nitric acid.

”Both will do.” She quietly chimed to herself, entertained.

Back she went to face the contraption, making another trip to grab some safety goggles before playing with chemicals. Carefully she diluted the hydrochloric acid and then traced the fluid along the edges of the box, it took some time for the alloy to weaken but eventually it ate through the allow and Melodia would carefully peel the top off. It revealed a globe that whirred and rotated, it glowed a vibrant magical blue, attached to it was a timer and a small black box.

”Why do I doubt myself? I’m always right.”

Melodia smiled wry from ear to ear, and she thought to herself. All of this bad karma must be paying off! This device was indeed a bomb, a mana bomb of some sort that had just gone off telling by the timer. Normal people would ask who, why, for what purpose would they do such a horrible thing? But Melodia simply saw an opportunity to gather some knowledge, as nothing else would have as much value. The black box in particular caught her attention, it was made of a strange metal she hasn’t seen before— thick, resilient, perhaps from that Dorksteel region? Her curiosity got the best of her, and anxiously she poured the solution along the side of the black box, carefully trying not to let whatever was inside corrode away.

”Futile.” Melodia huffed as the solution simply rolled away.

But her thoughts would now be reserved once again, as the portal she herself fell from began to hum and roar to life once again. But rather than absorbing, it seemed to be expelling wind and debris this time— and then a person. But it wasn’t someone that Melodia really knew, recognizing it was the young lord Reason. She removed her goggles and carefully tucked the black box she had removed behind her to conceal it from the man before she spoke.

”Have a nice fall, Mr. Reason? Where’s your betrothed?” Melodia rudely questioned, offering the man a curtsy and fabricated smile.

16th day of Anais


‘Well, that wasn’t very exciting.’ Drakus thought to himself after a short moment of staring expectantly at the darkness that had engulfed the monk.
Jerome.

Jerome?

he called out casually as he awaited a reply. Nothing. He shrugged with a dismissive ‘oh well’ and wondered off away from the devouring darkness back towards the pantry.

He was crunching down on a juicy warm apple when two things hit him, the growing stench of the two dead bodies and the realisation that this place needed a fresh air supply. Suddenly and quickly Drakus began searching the walls and roof. It was there just near where he found Jerome that he saw it, near the top corner of the far wall, an air ventilation shaft.

It was subtly disguised by a large stone block filled with many drill holes. In the dark corner you could barely notice it, but Drakus found it. He knew it was there and that behind that holey rock there had to be a larger and clearer path for the air to flow. Just how big, he couldn’t be sure until the cover was out the way. A smirking grin took his face as he welcomed the challenge.



It was a short time later and Drakus’s blood buzzed with the thrill of spent mana burning through his veins, sweat dripped down his forehead and his body heaved with the weight of his heavy breaths. There was a ringing in his ears that muffled the rest of the world, but it was quickly fading. But oh how he felt alive.
Above him a smoke cloud snaked across the ceiling, dark puffy tendrils reaching out from the now exposed ventilation shaft. Soot and char marks stained the walls around it, shrapnel of cleaning containers lay scattered across the floor and the centre table smouldered in patches around the dead monks. Small embers glowed on their robes, teetering on the swords edge, threatening to either grow and engulf their clothing entirely or simply fade away from existence and die like the monks it danced upon.
Either way Drakus did not care, he had his goal clear before him.

Wiping his brow with a kerchief from his vest, he took the last bite of his apple before casually discarding the core over his shoulder and raising his hand towards the open stone vent.
A wide and proud gate appeared before the shaft. Drakus mused and his grin widened, his mana already fully replenished. Maybe he didn’t want to escape this place after all, what ever was going on it made him feel near invincible.

A strong heavy gust of blazing hot air washed through the vents, clearing the dust and cobwebs, killing all the insects or creepy-crawlers that called it home, and sucked up all the smoke.
Drakus stared proudly and curiously at the now clean empty tunnel.
The mana high he was on made him too enthralled with action that he didn’t really stop to consider the possible consequences of the path that lie ahead, what had transpired here or what he might find. He just moved.

A move he might later regret.

The stone ventilation duct was tight, made for fresh air not men, lucky for Drakus he was not claustrophobic. Even still it proved to test his nerves.
For a start the round tunnel did not favour his rectangular frame. He had to roll his shoulders in and squeeze them together just to fit. Once his arms had a position either in front or behind him there were few opportunities to change that. From every direction the walls pressed in on him.
His body blocked nearly all light, and that tiniest bit that was left did not follow him around the first bend.
He wondered if maybe this was how Jerome felt right now.
The air around him felt thin and tasted stale. The stones in the wall ever so often sat jutting out grabbing at his soft body and he had to twist, wriggle or just drag himself over it.

And then it happened, he threw his arm forward as he had been for the last five minutes, to grab blindly at the floor in the pure darkness that had swallowed him whole. To get some small amount of purchase as he pulled himself forward as he wriggled and kicked his legs.
The five minutes of monotony seemed like forever and it all came to an abrupt end when so to did his path.

Panic hit him as he struck the dead end, again and again. His fingers bruised and his nail folded back and bled. He strained his eyes to try and see but it it made no difference in the pure black. He couldn’t go

But then a sound reached him, ever so faint but unmistakable. A horse. The panic receded on focused breaths and Drakus felt around. Above him, there was an opening above him, but his back did not bend that way.
It took a small amount of painfully slow backtracking before Drakus found the space to roll over. Once on his back, reinvigorated with hope he released a wave of mana into the tunnel around him before he wriggled on with renewed enthusiasm.

Still the bend was tight but after defying some of the bones in his body it felt damn good to be nearly standing. The slight incline and tight space made for a possible if not awkward climb. It was only a short one though. Then he could see it. The reflection of light.

As he manoeuvred around a small bend to a more verticals tunnel, suddenly the air tasted fresher and he could once again see. He was nearly out. Only one thing stood in his way, a heavy grate and old padlock. He made quick work of the lock, eagerly deforming it’s shape till it no longer served its purpose. Then, after getting purchase on the tight walls, he mustered his strength to push off the heavy grating.

Freedom!

As he flopped to the dirt floor Drakus found himself in the shadow of the grand keep. If that’s what it still was, it presented itself as more of an abomination than the portals now did. It was twisted and disjointed, defying gravity in ways no craftsmanship ever could. He looked around confused. The buildings were familiar but all wrong. Broken and misplaced like the stones of the cellar walls, but these were entire houses.

And the death!!!!

It filled the streets. Bodies were strewn everywhere where he looked. Some stumbling around or crying, others not moving.

It. It was just too much to take in. Drakus shook his head confused. None of this made any sense, where was the tower, where did he just come from. What happened to these buildings, what happened to these people. Just what in Anais’s name was going on!
All hell broke lose right after he teleported to the basement...
Did it have something to do with that swirling vortex?

Nearby a young girl on a small horse tried to rally some wayward and lost guardsmen. Drakus stood up and dusted himself off. His fine attire now disheveled, marred with dirt and small tears. He felt like words would not reach these people and considered opting for a display of power, but then again, under these circumstances maybe now was not the time to be opening gates, despite how badly he wanted too.

“I command all of you to fall into formation and report before me.” Drakus boomed in his most authoritative voice. This was not his first time taking command of local guards. Perk of the Immolis house.

He started with a simple command. One the guards would have completed a million times before, one their bodies could complete without their minds.

“ little girl on the horse, you too! I have an important mission for you.”

@Stitches

Abigail Harlow

Location: Harrow's Keep Townstead, Artisan Market

---

---

"As it stands, there is no mission as important as the wellbeing of the citizens. They’re dead in the streets!" Abigail snapped back, her pony shuffling in response to the sharpness of her tone. "You and you -” she pointed at two of the guards closest to her - "Spread out across the district and redirect anyone in need of medical assistance towards the market. You two over there - find anyone who even claims to be able to perform first aid and send them here as well. I’ll need a few hands to help me move what’s left of the stalls. I’m sure you can use the remainder for your important mission.” Abigail tugged on the reins and dug her heels into Munchkin’s sides as the ones she picked out clutched to the orders and marched into the residential areas, turning the beast around to trot towards the marketplace and hide her expression of sheer terror. Good Goddess. What had she done? Who was that man? She doubled down and scowled. Victor can cover the damages, surely. He’d have to.

"Bring the unresponsive to the eastern side of the plaza!” Abigail hollered, using her sword to make a sweeping gesture eastwards where there was some, though not a lot, of empty space. She turned her attention to some of the merchants who, stunned, were stood amongst the wreckage of their livelihoods. A few guards had followed her, which was heartening to see, but around half remained with the stranger. "Any of you gentlemen have a cart handy?”

One of the vendors was stirred out of his shock and, at length, pulled out a cart from underneath an impossibly spiked tarpaulin sheet. One of the wheels had turned a very funny shape. "Good enough for me! Come on then, let’s get this cleared up.” She dismounted and helped hitch Munchkin to the harness whilst a guard and the vendor gathered the detritus of what once was a ceramics stall and throw it on the back. She gazed around the befuddled faces. How come she, running entirely on adrenaline and sheer bullshitting of some semblance of an authority, could function better than men with ten years on her and a decent life making trinkets? "Get your thumbs out your arses and MOVE, people! We need to clear space!” she yelled again, nearly making herself hoarse. She was scared and angry. She didn’t know what she was doing. But she desperately needed help to do it while there were still a few people left to save.

”Shall I take these sheets to the wounded, ma’am?” a person rushed up to her with one of the tarps that were used to cover the stalls. Abigail was bemused at the ‘ma’am’, as she was young enough to be his daughter, but didn’t let it get to her. There were a lot of people looking her way and following her example as the silhouette of a sturdy yet small Balauran stallion hauling wreckage had created a chain reaction of clean-up duty.

"Excellent idea. See if you can get the others to follow suit.” Abigail lead Munchkin by the reins as more people tossed what could only be described as ‘material’ into the wagon. It made a horrible rough noise on the cobbles as the busted wheel had locked the back axle. Munchkin was undeterred from this and was rivalled only by the mageborn in terms of his sheer pent-up stores of energy, built gradually with the aftermath of the crisis and finally finding an outlet in the form of dragging a very heavy load from one end of the plaza to the other. Abigail didn’t care what happened to it. She just needed to make a heap that took up less space than it did currently. Once she got to the western edge she hopped up onto the cart and used both legs to kick all the crap onto the floor. Empty cart. Still a lot of marketplace waste to clear out, and in the distance she could see a trickle of shambling, mana-sick civilians starting to gather on a large space of colourful tarp.

"One thing at a time...Come on. There’s going to be more people soon.” Abigail talked both to herself and the small entourage she had unintentionally gathered, tugged on Munchkin’s reins, and made another pass through the ruins of the market.

Rhy̢thmia L̛ap̢şe҉u͘s

Moving through the Tower's wreckage

---

For a moment, neither thoughts nor breath moved through the two Lapeseans left behind in the broken bedroom. Melodia had gone through the portal - or what might be a portal but very well could have been some kind of miniature collapsed star that tore her molecule from molecule. Rhythmia and Vati stared at the dark void, speechless, before a distant scream from somewhere brought them out of their stunned bewilderment.

"My... my lady - !"

Vati made to jump in after his mistress but the remaining Lord of House Lapseus snatched him by the collar and threw him backwards into the room. She used a little more force than she'd intended, and the raven haired man was flung hard and landed among the busted furniture with a pained grunt. Without checking to make sure he was okay, Rhythmia looked back and forth between the portal and the vertical drop. Her body was tense and she breathed out hard through her nose, forcing herself to calm down. Her sister was alive. Even if she wasn't (she was), Rhythmia couldn't let Vati throw his life away, and she couldn't throw hers away either. It would be an insult to all the sisters had worked for over the years. It was worrying that Melodia didn't return, but it was alright - she was alive, somewhere. They were twins. She'd know.

Right?

"Lady Rhythmia!"

Ah, apparently Vati had climbed out of the pile of debris and was back at the doorway. He looked halfway between affronted and panicked, moving suspiciously toward the portal again. "We need to go after her! She-"

"No."

"But - !" His voice was pitched with emotions; disbelief, worry, obligation, even anger. Vati kept his eyes on the spinning black mist until Rhythmia clamped a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. When he looked at her, she silenced him with her dark expression. He swallowed thick and stood down, giving Rhythmia a short nod.

"Okay. Hold on."

"What - "

Rhythmia shifted her gun onto her shoulder, a comical sight given how large it was when compared to her. Then, she grabbed the bodyguard and threw him over her other shoulder and stepped out of the room, plummeting down the corrupted residency hall. To his credit, Vati didn't let out so much as a gasp beyond his initial confusion. He clung to Rhythmia's back as they fell. Mercifully, the Tower being so disjointed meant that they didn't need to fall all the way down at once. The borders of rooms jutted out into the hall, and Rhythmia landed on cracked stone or crumbling wood before jumping down again and again. The final stretch was the longest - the Lapsean shifted into a more lateral fall and when the bottom of the tower came rushing toward them she landed hard on her prosthetic limbs, letting them absorb most of the impact. She could feel them creak as the stone below them split open, and the flesh-covering of her deep black arm was shredded, but they held. It would have been a surprise if they didn't.

On solid ground now, Vati let go of his impromptu ride and stood up straight at attention just before bringing a hand up to cover his nose and mouth. There were corpses everywhere, people that fell from the hall as it twisted skyward. Among them were survivors: some unconscious and breathing, others barely awake and writhing with sickness. It was horrible.

The duo didn't stop to tend to any of them at all. They stepped around the dead and suffering alike, not bothering to wake any that were unconscious, they'd die soon enough. Even crumbled, twisted and destroyed they could tell that the large area was the Grand Hall - or what was once the Hall, anyway. Outside where light was filtering in from, they could hear the shouting of others. Desperate screams and urgent orders. They ignored them, as their goal was still somewhere inside the tower.

As the two Lapseans turned away from the exit, the sound of scraping caught their attention. A large collapsed portion of a wall was pushed outwards and from behind it stepped a beautiful woman. In a crisis like this, Rhythmia would have probably ignored any mages, but something about the woman caught her eye: the bright red hair that was the tell tale sign of those born in the North. She was vaguely familiar, hovering around one Southern heir or another, but she looked as if she'd come from deeper inside the Tower. Maybe she'd seen something. With a jerk of her head, Rhythmia sent Vati over to her and followed behind him a bit, casting her gaze about for anything... well, everything was out of the ordinary, but she looked for anything or anyone that might have been the cause of the explosion.

"Hey," the bodyguard called over to the woman, intending on seeing what she knew, "where did you come from, what's going on?"

Rendyl didn't quite grasp what Master meant.

“I need a new book, something old but new, something interesting but forgotten, something I could only get from here but shouldn’t have. Do you think you can do that one thing for me little birdy? Now go and don’t disappoint me.”

It seemed to her like it was easier said than done. Steal from their restricted floor when there were no stairs leading to it nor any feasible way to break in from the outside? And the order itself was pretty vague. 'Something' from a library encompassed practically the entirety of any possible subject. However, the Akeshan knew Drakus well enough to guess at what he might want in particular, so the Avian did what she did best in these sorts of commands: she would improvise.

First things first. Getting in.

It was obvious a beastman would never have the clout to get into the most secure library on the continent. That was resolved rather simply by tucking her wings into their grooves and throwing a cloak over her back and shoulders, reaching down to her ankles and wrapping around to drape across her arms. Her front was still visible, as she didn't want to be seen as a threat. Just another minor noble that had tagged along with a Lord. She admired it in the mirror of Lord Solaris's room, and smirked.

"I doubt there's an Akeshan alive that has been where I'm about to go…" she mused, flicking the cloak around her legs lightly. "Enough of this, time to get to work."

Rendyl strode out of the room and made her way out to the main hall. It was early morning, just in time for the meeting of the most powerful people of Croenia to begin, and that was what Rendyl wanted. She hoped anyone with enough sway to enter the major library would be in those talks, leaving the library empty for the time she needed.

The next challenge would be the gateway into the library. The woman approached the portal pad and waited a few heartbeats to see if it would react at all to her presence…

It didn't.

She lifted a hand and attempted to mimik what she imagined activating a gate would feel like.

No change.

She sighed and glanced around. She needed to risk asking for help. Rendyl did spot a single monk alone nearby, fiddling with something in his hands. She was too far away to see it, but it didn't matter to her. She walked over with a purpose in her stride, and lifted a hand to wave "Hail! I need a bit of assistance. Might you attend me please?"

Please? She's supposed to be a noble, why would she say please?

The monk slipped the object back into his robe and faced the woman, her armor and fancy cloak a mark of wealth "Yes? Of course, what can I help you with?"

"I have been sent here by my Lord to do some research. May I have you activate the portal to the major library?"
"I am sorry, ma'am. I cannot. Perhaps the minor library would do?"
"....Eh, no. See, I have already visited there, and they did not have what I seek. My Lord has requested knowledge on beastmen. We have a small outbreak among them and we don't want it to spread. If the old texts can tell us anything, it might help avoid a pandemic infecting us too."

The monk blinked at her, a little miffed. She was persistent. But he countered by asking "What Lord do you serve?"
"Lord Drakus of Solaris. We use beastmen in our construction work."
"...Ask a doctor in town. The major library is restricted."
"I already have, yesterday. But most of the doctors I spoke to didn't know anything about any epidemics. It affects the beastmen that have bloodlines from Ashket, which is why my Lord had the idea to try the old texts on their magic. Maybe there is mention of this disease."

This woman was not taking no for an answer was she? He sighed and bowed slightly "Very well, but I will accompany you. Do not wander off while inside, understood?"

Rendyl bowed her head back before she could catch herself, and quickly nodded "Of course. I would not want you to shirk your duty to protect this tower just for one person."

The pair walked back to the portal pad, and the monk stepped onto it, motioning Rendyl to follow him. When they were both standing still, the monk lifted a hand slightly, and Rendyl felt a sudden dizziness come over her as her world dissolved for what felt like a few seconds, only for the world to materialize around her, completely different to where she had been. Looking about in wonder, she knew she had made it to the major library.

The room was big by her standards. And almost all the space was taken up by bookcases in rows, broken up by aisles. Between the bookshelves however was a single table with a number of chairs around it, placed in a larger gap in the bookshelves. To one side of the room, a large window in the wall was their only indicator they weren't underground.

"You will sit here, and I will bring you books as you request." The monk strode forward ahead of Rendyl, leading her to the table. She was too shocked she had made it this far to hear him the first time, and she blinked as she looked back to the monk.

"Sit. I will bring books to you. You are not to go looking yourself." The monk repeated once he was sure the woman was listening. Rendyl nodded quickly and hurried forward, sitting in the offered chair and adjusting her cloak. The monk waited patiently for her first request, while Rendyl waited to be told what to do, the silence stretching out for several seconds before the monk offered "...what do you require first?"

Rendyl jumped slightly at the break of quiet, and replied with a slightly shaky "Ashket-born beastmen. None of the Akeshans born here in Croania have been infected, so we think it has something to do with their magic."

"You might want studies on beastman biology and kinesthetics." The monk walked off, leaving Rendyl to gaze up at the bookshelves, all of them full of various tomes of different colors and shapes. She had never seen anything quite like it…

The monk came back with a small selection and set them down in front of her. "You can read at the table. No books leave the room."

"Understood." Rendyl replied, and opened up one book titled 'What the wild things are', and got to reading with the monk hovering nearby. The book seemed to describe in detail that while each subspecies of Akeshan looked very similar, all of their functions differed. It continued with example after example of various bodily differences thanks to the type of animal they are most similar to, such as reproduction, digestion, visual, auditory, and the like.

She got lost in the book for nearly an hour, before finally setting it down after a page described a type of avian Akeshan actually laying eggs. "Nothing here on disease…"
Or much of anything based on reality. she thought to herself. She looked at the titles of the few other books the monk had brought her, and she shook her head.

"None of this will help…what about Akeshan poisons or rare beasts?"

"Rare beasts…" the monk was in full scholar mode as he walked off again, coming back with only one tome this time. He held it out to her. "Try this one."

Rendyl accepted the book and checked the title. 'Mythical and Magical Monsters'. She shrugged and opened it, a little curious despite herself. At the very least she could report her findings if she were unable to steal anything. She glanced over the index:
seraphim, sea monsters, dryads, nymphs…
She didn't spend too much time on this particular book, skimming through a few pages on each type. She was about to request a different one when a passage in the last section caught her attention. Nymphs, among other activities, could purify water without any tools.

"Purification without any help…?"

She delved deeper into the details on nymphs, and through a few more pages, told of people who encountered these creatures could manipulate water themselves. Rendyl's brow furrowed in curiosity "Transferrable powers? Now we are getting somewhere."

She spent the next twenty minutes discovering other beasts also had some powers they transferred on occasion, but as she read, no side effects seemed to be described.

"Nothing here, but there has got to be something similar. So this infection is only affecting Ashket born Akeshans, no livestock, humans, or Croenia born Akeshans...it might be a highly evolved strain specific to something just the Ashket bloodlines ha-"

It suddenly dawned on her. She whipped her head around to look up at the monk, somewhat startled by the sudden movement "Please, anything on Ashket magical rituals involving mating habits or offspring?"

Frustrated he had to spend his time babysitting a noble, his mood only worsened as she pried deeper..."We have very few texts on Ashket- especially the natives. I've given you basically everything."

"Then anything involving Akeshans and magic? I have a gut feeling about this, please! If I go back without looking under every rock, and this epidemic spreads to humans..."

"Mmh. Fine." The monk disappears into the shelves for a moment, then comes back with another book. This one seemed...different somehow. Old. Very old. "This one's written in an older dialect, so it'll take time to decipher its meaning."

"Then it is a good thing I can read and write. With you reading and translating, I can write, and perhaps we can finish before the day is out and prevent a catastrophe." Rendyl leaned over and tugged a few empty pages towards her she had been using to keep the occasional note.

The monk nodded reluctantly as he sat down into a spare seat, the pair got to work on transcribing the text into something more easily understood. Hours passed, each seemingly able to stay focused on a singular task if instructed…

"This word here, you sure its right?"
"Yes, though there might be a more accurate word…"

They kept going with minor exchanges, until at last, after Rendyl pestered him about another minor word, the monk huffs and shuts old tome with finality "I think that is enough. That is all we have on the subject. Now-" The monk stands and gestures for Rendyl to follow him "I will escort you out."

Rendyl couldn't hide her disappointment. She was just getting some good notes too…"Very well. Thank you for your time. I believe I have learned enough to chase a few possible options I didn't think of before."

The monk nodded once, and turned to take a step towards the portal pad…

He never took it.

The next thing Rendyl felt was the entire world lurching to the side, throwing both her and the monk into the air to slam against the wall. As darkness took her, she heard a sickening crunch beside her.
_________________________

The woman slowly blinked her eyes, groggy and dazed. She was staring across the room, apparently standing …? No that wasn't right, she was pinned to the wall. She slowly looked around, and noted everything looked like it was forced into the w-

"What…?"

Blood was seeping across the wall, and it finally clicked in Rendyl's head: Somehow, the entire room was now tilted 90 degrees on its side. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, rubbing her head as she tried to gain her senses "By the tomes, this is worse than some of Master's sessions…"

Rendyl lifted her head to glance around again. The library shelves were in disarray, some laying flat against the new direction of down, others miraculously standing on end. One shelve sadly found itself slammed into the monk, the source of the blood. He had been crushed by the wood, his entire lower body flattened by the force of the impact. Above her, light down down from the window, now facing upward. Through it she could see only swirling grey clouds, or at least that's what they looked like to an Avian who didn't care very much at that moment.

She had more pressing worries. First things first, she was stranded. The portal pad looking very ominous with a black swirling vortex to replace it. Any sailor knew that when you are stranded, you find food and water to last the day, then explore your surroundings. Rendyl employed this tactic without thinking, crawling over towards the monk.

She knew from her time in a port town how much blood was fatal for an average human, and the monk was certainly past that point. She avoided the pool, and quickly assessed his person. Not a whole lot was reachable with the bookshelf on him, so she looked around for a minute, searching and finding a chunk of broken shelf, before shoving it under the wood covering the monk and prying it up and across from his body. Then with an ease most would find distasteful, she riffled through the monk's robes, uncovering a single waterskin, a ration of bread, and a stopwatch.

Having not seen any sort of satchel before, she decided it didn't matter to hide herself any longer. The Avian tugged her cloak off and made a makeshift bag to carry the items in, then with a final nod and short prayer for the monk she never learned the name of, she closed his eyes and stood.

"Now…lets see, most likely if the library is in this state, and no one has come looking, I doubt anyone will be here anytime soon…"

She looked about slowly as she spoke to herself, thinking aloud to help focus her thoughts "Master will need me, but he is not helpless. He will want me to take advantage of my situation and complete the task he set me. Steal something old but new…"

Rendyl started digging through the books scattered about, taking the time to hunt for that old leather book where any normal person would be trying to find a way out. Slavery does strange things to the mind.
_________________________

"FINALLY!"

Nearly an hour later, she had found both that stupid old book, along with the notebook she had been translating into, and lastly the one describing all the monsters of Ashket. Rendyl quickly stored these in her cloak-bag, and grabbing a smaller chunk of wood she could use as a weapon, threw her cloak over her shoulder and looked back at the portal, the swirling vortex taunting her with each black shadow she imagined hiding inside...

"...yeah...no."

She looked up at the window, now her only safe means of escape. Some would call it impossible. They never had wings.

Rensyl walked over to a standing bookcase and flapped her wings lightly, loosening them up before crouching down, eyes upward as her mind judged the distance, then launched upward at a slight angle. The maneuver would only cost a single heavy flap of her wings, and by judging correctly she alighted perfectly on the top. Now she looked up again, noticing that a few of the smaller bookshelves that had held a more central point in between the others had been bolted down to the floor, undoubtedly to prevent a catastrophic collapse of all the shelving if one tipped over. It was a boon. She never would've had a chance of getting to that window without them.
Someone out there likes me.

She repeated her launch, zipping through the air and grappling onto the shelving unit's side, but not staying in place. Rendyl launched off again in quick succession towards the top of the bookshelf, and with a few more similar hops, was pressing a hand against the window.

"Surprised it's intact." Rendyl muttered, and smacked the glass with her club. The shattered pieces fell past her as she held her head away from the impact site, waiting until the tinkling stopped next to her before breaking a few last bits off with the wood in her hand. It was almost gratifying, breaking something like this window, since it was most likely older than her. She gripped the edge of the new opening and allowed herself to dangle, lifting her wings up...and thrusting down firmly, the result being her body streamlined as it leapt through and onto the top of the large box that was the major library.

"Next time, I'm going to ask for lighter armor." She panted, the exertion on her wings being more than what she was used to on an average day. The Avian pushed herself to stand and adjust the cloak-sack tied to her neck, then picked the club back up before walking towards the edge of the building look down.

Birds aren't afraid of heights. But never had Rendyl been so high up before. The entire tower and surrounding area looked like it was enclosed in a bubble...the world's very existence warped. The tower itself looked like a child had come and rearranged all the rooms like building blocks. But gravity still felt like normal to her, and as she gazed down, she was already imagining the pain her back and wing muscles were going to feel at the bottom…

Nothing for it. So without taking more time to think, Rendyl took a few steps back and ran towards the edge, diving off and allowing herself to be pulled northward for several seconds in a freedive, before letting her wings open evenly to catch the air and bring her into a controlled swoop. Anyone who looked up could see her silhouette against the sky as she angled to swoop downward and around the tower, hugging it to avoid touching the mysterious edge of the grey bubble they were in.

Rendyl was unconsciously whining softly as her muscles started to burn from the strain. But she still had some ways to go.
Come on, hold on a little longer…
She willed herself, but despite her best desire to stay in the air, her wing faltered, folding in on itself for a second and sent her into a spin. The world swirled as Rendyl forced her wing to obey, and just in time too as the ground rushed up to meet her. She was able to avoid smacking the ground headfirst, instead slamming down with her armored chest and legs before her momentum sent her rolling, wings flopping around and wrapping around her until at last she came to a stop on the gravel, panting heavily, her bundle laying off a short distance away, thankfully still tied together. The piece of wood was gone, but Rendyl didn't care...

She was out.

16th day of Anais


“That stupid fucking child!” Drakus snarled with a pure condescending disgust painted deeply across his face. “I’ll see to it that her misdeeds here sully her houses name forever.”

Drakus had been in his fair share of crisis situations and it was only for his knowledge that any conflict with this inexperienced brat would likely only lead to further hinderance than what she was already causing, that prevented him from putting her in her place. He would deal with her later, for now she could play her games and waste their resources.

For bards would soon be singing songs, and story-men spinning their tails of how the brat of house Harlow tried to play adult but only got good men killed. It would stick too because those with a lesson always did and this lesson was why little arrogant children should obey their elders, a story many parents would happily retell.

It didn’t really matter anyway if she was ordering people about since the guards loyalty would likely sway as soon as commands came from someone with the faintest hint of authority and who wasn’t a visiting child. And if for some odd reason they didn’t, Drakus would ensure they were properly punished for it.

He watched as one of her guards already stopped and wasted his time on some menial frivolity and conversation. A growl of frustration resonated deep in his throat as he put every face present in a permanent position in his mind.

Then those of proper training and stature approached him.
Drakus took a moment longer to coordinate the group of guards that heeded him, but in that time he rebuilt their composure, assessed their skillsets, ascertained the location of the hospice, (right under that stupid brats nose) and as he made his way there, formulated and carried out a plan.

If the lord of Solaris cared for the lives of the dead and suffering or not was unclear, but this was a moment of peril and crises. It was a situation requiring leaders and lords to take control and make decisions. It was his responsibility, a puzzle or challenge with action the only path.

Firstly four guards, the most confident riders were sent to locate horses in the near vicinity, two guards who had a light gate got to work assisting around the hospice, guarding it and sending up a pulsing, welcoming beacon above the clearing market place.
Inside the building of science and healing Drakus found it to be in reasonable condition. Lucky for them so too were the two nurses and doctor.
Introductions were kept quick and short, the situation made clear and actions put in place right away.

More than once Drakus’s eyes lingered on one of the nurses who worked with a resilient focus and determination. The other, Drakus sent to the market place to assist and overlook the growing number of injured arriving in the clearing and make the final call on who would be allowed past the light creating guards to be treated in the hospice.

It was then when they left the building that the four horsemen returned, followed by three horses. They were a little spooked and slightly injured but would do.

Drakus found the guard with the largest and most calm horse and clasped his hand on his shoulder before giving his order.
“With consultation from our nurse take that beast and ride quickly into the markets and where ever else she advises, your goal is not to stop and help any one individual but help all, by getting and bringing back the supplies that she needs. Make mental note if you wish of any suffering you see but DO NOT stop or delay, the lives of the many rely on you. Others will be on their way to aid behind you and you can always go back with the horse after. I’m counting on you.” And with that he sent him off with a willing aider from the markets.

That left two horses and seven guardsmen. Most of which just had weak force gates, except for one older man with greasy black hair and a crooked smile.

“I’m leaving you here to look over things. Use your gate to create what water you can and watch that child, if she interrupts or tries to overrule me again, kill her pony.” the man only nodded and smiled and Drakus realised why he liked him.

“You!” Drakus pointed to and singled out one of his young guardsmen, a thin agile looking man who had started to clear some debris. “Take the swiftest horse, you are the messenger. Once again don’t delay. Spread the message of what is happing here. Rally every guardsmen you can find. Seek out any known healers. You go east and I will take the West. Rendezvous with me at the north gate.”

That left five men and a horse Drakus had now claimed. A stray guard just happened to pass by while completing tasks set out by young Abigail Harlow. Drakus lashed out and grabbed the man by the arm dragging him into his little circle. In a cold harsh whisper he said.

“Listen carefully soldier. I will personally have you demoted and publicly humiliated if you follow one more order from that brat child girl. You are a bloody grown man and this is a crisis! Now go with your brothers, split into two equal groups. Travel in each direction. ”

He calmed a bit as he spoke to the whole group.

“Aid the able so they may assist others, do not waste your time on the damned. Keep moving. Unite others to your cause. Take the paths of noble houses, they are more likely to survive this mana storm and offer further aid to others. Once you have hit the northern gate leave one man behind and return back the way you came, assisting those you could not before.”

With that last command, all the men had duties and were off to work. This left only himself. He mounted the horse and looked back, Abigail Harlow was doing an alright job clearing the market place and making temporary accommodation and space for the injured. Pending the state of the other districts, it just might prove useful. Did, did she just smile at him? He gave her a fierce scowl, kicked his horse and galloped off on his way, heading along the west route. While he was looking at the carnage around him as he travelled, something caught his eye in the north. It propelled from the tower and plummeted towards the ground. A human sized bird noticeable against the swirling distraught background that Drakus had deliberately avoided acknowledging or considering. Rendyl.

ℝesults

---

• North Keep
  • Drakus’s rallied guards have succeeded in rounding up survivors. They now return to the mini hospital. Many of the survivors are in shock.
  • They’ve found 1 more doctor, as well as 4 people with some sort of medical training.
  • They mention a rampaging avian beastman who's destroying property and being generally disagreeable.
• East Keep
  • Aelious has successfully rallied most of the survivors into keeping themselves alive by using as much magic as possible.
  • A small crowd of about 25 approaches the setup in South Keep. 1 has medical training. Many are in shock.
  • Rendyl lands near the crowd, spooking them a bit.
  • A few unreasonable people get mad at her for no reason.
• West Keep
  • Victor is lying down and being sick.
  • A scuffle breaks out as people fight over food.
• South Keep
  • Drakus sets up a mini hospital- gets most of the people to get there.
  • Abigail’s clearing has helped many less-injured sit together and attempt to recuperate from the blast. Most of her soldiers are deviating to Drakus’s group.
  • The mini hospital is starting to run out of water.
• All the wells in the Keep are completely dry.
• The grey is starting to shift in faster patterns outside of the bubble. Some people near the edges are starting to claw unsuccessfully at the barrier.

𝔸rthur 𝕂othlin

---

It was going so well- they had passed almost every policy. The beastman thing had hardly even mattered- it was a simple request by the investors back at home, not even a personal vote. He’d said what he needed to say. Reina and Melodia had done amazingly, even if there were a few choice words they’d had to say about him.

The policies were sent off. He’d gone back to his room to confer with Elias and Hania. They’d been thrilled to hear the results- Elias, champion of beastman rights, Hania, with her fiery pushes for education reform.

And yet, even after losing the day’s battle, the South had found a way to strike back at him. They hadn’t even had time to celebrate.

The three of them were inside his room, having been discussing their next plan of action when the bomb went off. It had felt like seconds later when they woke up, the room upside down, furniture and luggage everywhere. “Lord Kothlin…” Hania said, her speech slurred. She was kneeling next to him, shaking him insistently. Her face had been shredded by vase shards during the blast. Both of her eyelids drooped, and she bled from several lacerations along her cheeks. He could see some muscles through the blood.

“Where’s Elias?” Kothlin stood up. He’d taken off his powersuit for the talks. He looked around. Angeline was safe, thankfully. It’d take more than a 4 meter fall to damage her.

“I’m not sure, my lord,” Hania said, teeth grinding together in an effort to bear through the pain. “I can barely see, what with my… skin in the way.”

Elias was not as fortunate as Hania. Kothlin spotted two legs jutting out from underneath the overturned bed.

“Oh, lord.” He jumped up and stepped into Angeline. His vision swam. His stomach gurgled, and he felt some acid rising. He pushed it down. It wasn’t the time to be weak.

Angeline’s lights flickered on. The display flashed a quick diagnostics test. Good. No damages.

Kothlin stepped forward, servos balancing his steps. It felt good to be in a suit again. He reached underneath the bed and heaved it up. The bed’s weight was no match for the powerful limbs of his suit. He pushed it aside, crushing an antique painting, and inspected Elias.

It wasn’t good. Blood seeped out from under his robes, painting the carpet a dark, grisly red. His torso was caved in- the bed had crushed his ribs. CPR would be impossible.

It wouldn’t be necessary. Upon closer inspection, he was breathing in sharp, ragged gasps, though they were steadily becoming more and more irregular. Kothlin knelt down.

“Elias…”

“My lord, you survived?” Elias choked up a small amount of blood. “Good, good.”

Hania rushed over. “Don’t die, oh please, Eli, don’t die, we need you. Lord Kothlin needs you.” Her words came out slurred, lip movement hindered by her injuries.

“Hah, don’t know if I’m much…” Elias stumbled over his words. “My lord, the explosion, that was magic. Strong magic. I could feel it. It was powerful, so powerful.”

“Magic, you say?” Kothlin stood.

“Yes.” Elias leaned back. “Ah…”

Kothlin looked down at Elias. He was dead. His eyes stared up at the ceiling, glassy, unfocused.

“Thank you, Elias. You’ve made things clear to me. A good man till the end.” He flicked a few switches in his gauntlet. Angeline’s helmet snapped over his head. The visor flicked down, flashed red, then became clear once more.

Combat mode engaged.

“Hania. Bandage your face, then take cover.” He engaged his legs, walked to the door, and opened it. The hallway plunged down in front of him- a long, long drop to the bottom. He could see several pieces of rooms jutting into the shaft, chaotic, disjointed corners blocking his view of the bottom. Across the hall, the sideways doorplate read Jevin Pachel.

“My lord?”

“Get to the grand hall. Gather up any allies you can find. I’ll meet with you later.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m ending this farce. The South has overstepped their bounds for the last time.”

The powerful motors in his greaves and boots engaged, and he leaped across the hallway and crashed through the door. Debris rained down the hallway, the stone and wood shattering under the reinforced plates of the powerarmor.

Behind the door was Jevin Pachel. He wasn’t dressed in his full plate, the shining armor he wore at ceremonies, but he was wearing some light mail and greaves. Good. Arthur hated striking down unarmored opponents. They crumpled too easily under the powersuit’s grip.

Pachel saw him and stood straight. “Kothlin, what is the meaning of this?”

There was a red-haired woman in House Pachel’s uniform cowering behind an overturned cabinet. She was completely unharmed. Incredible. Pachel’s room was nearly untouched from the blast.

“You know what this is, Pachel. I’m going to end you here and now. You southerners have been looking down on us for far too long. I’m going to show you what the North can really do.” He took a step forward. Pachel didn’t shirk away.

“Did you do this?” the tall warlord said. Even in his powersuit, Kothlin barely stood even in height.

“Don’t play innocent. Look around you, Pachel. That’s all that I need to know your stonging skin is behind this garbage,” Kothlin spat. “Prepare yourself.”

He stepped closer and raised a fist.

“So be it.” Pachel threw out a hand. His eyes flashed.

Incredible pressure. Kothlin’s arm dropped, pushed down by an unseen force. His boots sank into the floor, cracking the stone beneath the carpet. It felt as if gravity had just doubled.

No, not an unseen force. He looked up. Above him, covering the entirety of the room’s ceiling, was a spinning purple circle. Pachel’s gate. No matter. Angeline would take it easily. He pushed forward.

Pachel closed his hand into a fist. The pressure increased. It felt as if every single part of Kothlin’s body was being weighed down with heavy chains, pulling him down, down, down.

“Urgh.. You’ve never done this much before… not even in mock battles…” Kothlin said. Angeline’s sensors... The accelerometer was going insane.

“The mana here lets me truly show my might.” Pachel lowered his hand. He didn’t appear to be angry, just disappointed. And yet, in his eyes, there was a sort of fierce fire, the kind that burned in the heart of a warrior.

The force increased again. Kothlin sank to his knees. Any more and Angeline would start to crumple. Even with the powersuit’s assistance, he could barely lift his arms. He inched forward in a crawl, and ended near Pachel’s boots. The floor cracked, then gave.

Now!

In a last burst of power, Kothlin reached out and seized Pachel by the ankle, right as the floor collapsed. Stone and carpet and wood exploded into shrapnel, sending debris everywhere with a loud crashing noise. The red-haired woman screamed, and grabbed onto an outcropping, only barely catching herself.

The two men crashed into a lower room- another suite. Something crunched under Kothlin’s gauntlet, and Pachel grunted hard. Blood seeped out between his fingers. He tightened his grip. Another crunch as bones gave way underneath Angeline’s vice grip.

More force. The floor gave way again. Angeline’s display flickered, then gave out. Kothlin’s muscles screamed, but the powersuit held. He hit the next floor only moments after dropping. Luckily, the force of the impact was dulled by the padding in his suit. A few bruised ribs, maybe.

More crashing. More falling. The two tore through the floors of the tower, passing survivors and corpses alike on the way down. Angeline took blow after blow from stone, wood, and metal. Kothlin focused all his energy into maintaining his grip on Pachel’s bloodied, broken foot. More impacts. More force. His vision was starting to go. His blood flow began to slow.

Hold… on… longer… Kothlin thought sluggishly. Each individual word came slowly, like his mind was running through molasses.

Pachel stood above him, regal even amongst the whirling chaos of rubble and detritus flying about. Every time a small piece of shrapnel flew close, a tiny gate would open and repel it away. He looked down at Kothlin as a man to an insect. The only difference was, however, the insect had a very, very large set of mandibles. Kothlin maintained his iron grip on Pachel’s foot.

The two crashed through the final floors. They flew, suspended in the air for only the briefest of moments. Kothlin could barely make out the rafters of the Grand Hall flying past as he dipped in and out of unconsciousness.

They hit the floor of the grand hall, cratering the floor and sending lightning bolt-like cracks arcing out through the stone. A shower of wood, stone, glass, and metal followed- the result of their descent to ground level.

Eska

---

Without warning, a blade flashed towards her face, an assailant unperceived in her state. Surprised, she raised an arm, catching the sword on her wooden bracer, the blade leaving a thin scratch on the bark. Almost as quickly, the vine wrapped around her arm surged towards him, its iron grip leaving them unable to pull their arm back, immobilizing them completely as it wrapped around their entire body.

"Yo-"

"Shut up."

The vines pierced his flesh, sending tendrils boring into his skin, and through his bones, as it rooted into the ground, growing longer and larger, before she retracted a small part of the vines back onto her arm. Ignoring his screams piercing through the silence of the town, she raked an angry gash in his chest, before she finally spoke again, the dull anger rising up again.

"Where is she?"

Eska didn't let up, the vines already boring through his bones growing slowly, fracturing what they grew through bit by bit. It didn't take long before he was sputtering out everything he had, literally and figuratively. So... these people here thought Eska and her kind as nothing more than mere animals, mindless beasts to be conquered and sold like livestocks. As base creatures meant only for slavery and entertainment.

Perhaps... perhaps she should show them what it meant to war with an Emmerret. What it meant to slight a shaman of the land. To hell with the notion of killing only when needed. Sometimes, one has to burn the weeds, eradicate the pests, to make sure everyone prospered. And right now... these humans seemed like a pest she needed to eradicate.

Steeling her will again, she glared at the man, his body writhing unnaturally before the vines burst out his back, splaying open his ribs, stretching out his lungs like some sort of demented wings. Yet he was still alive, just barely. Leaving him behind to slowly bleed to death, if no carrion birds start eating him alive, she set upon the task of gathering what she could, and perhaps making it so no one of these people ever settle here again.

Melodia & Reason

---

Reason hit the ground with a muffled thump, his heavy cape cushioning the fall. The heir sat up, hat perfectly balanced, mask slightly askew.

“Ah, Lady Lapseus. I’d recognize your voice anywhere. I don’t suppose you’ve seen Tina?”

Melodia raised her nose up and flared her nostrils as Tuxedo Mask calmly spoke to her. She carefully made sure that as she paced a towards the chemical closet to put the flasks away the box remained hidden, couldn’t be too careful in this day and age.

“No, and if I did — I probably would have spent time convincing her not to shag up with a southerner. But nope, haven’t seen little Tina.” Melodia beamed at the man, offering a simple nod.

“I’m hurt. Didn’t you see my votes earlier?”

“Votes shmotes, you think writing your on a dotted line is going to change the world? Imagine, being daft and blind~! What a horrible existence.” Melodia began to let out short, high pitched chuckles.

“True. I could be old and single instead.” Reason sat down on what was once the wall. “Where are we?”

“I get laid all the time at h— we are in the laboratory, I was here earlier with Reina.” Melodia quickly retorted.

“The laboratory? Interesting. It’s really hard to tell where I am- there’s so much mana everywhere. How have you fared?”

“I feel twenty-something again, I’ll probably hit on that blonde noble boy I saw earlier if I have the chance to before we leave.” Melodia’s eyes widened and then squinted, her mouth opened and her lips pressed together tightly in thought.

“Actually, the mana bomb thing will probably throw a wrench in that— speaking of. Come over here.” Melodia would gesture towards the box, all the while stepping away and trying her best to keep the box within her hand out of any perception.

“Go where? I’m afraid you’ll have to direct me.” Reason smiled and shrugged. “A daft cripple needs his aides.”

“You’re not a fucking vegetable. Use that peanut sized southern brain to deduce where the general reverberations of my voice are coming from. Listen for the glass, the metal, I’ll throw something at you if you want me to help you get there.” Melodia decided to experiment.

“Alright, alright. I’ll just-” He got up and walked towards Melodia. Even though he dwarfed her in height, the heir was entirely unthreatening. “Come to you.” He stopped right in front of her. By the Tomes, his outfit was terrible.

“Now get the stick out of your arse, figure out what I’m talking about. I won’t repeat myself again—if you’re a good boy and give input, I’ll reward you with a hard candy like the good grandma I am.”

“Now that’s a motivator.” Reason reached out and examined the box. Over, under, inside—almost like he was looking it over. He reached out and brushed the spinning sphere like she did. He felt around and touched the wires, briefly stopping when he reached the loose ends where she’d disconnected the black box. Finally he stepped back and looked towards the ceiling.

“The spinning ball in the center is distributing energy outwards in a sphere. Seems like it’s some sort of magic similar to the portals—I’m feeling the same sort of energy from it, but it’s concentrated differently.” Reason pointed at the sphere. “It seems like it used to have a power source, but I think it’s missing. You didn’t do anything to it, did you?”

Melodia smiled from ear to ear as she watched the blind heir trace his fingers throughout the construct. It was always good to get different perspectives in situations like this, and while he didn’t have any particular insight she wouldn’t have thought of herself—Melodia was happy that the southern heir obeyed and offered what knowledge he had.

“Very good, I’ll make sure to put in a good word to Reina. I still don’t like you though. And there’s probably nothing you can do to change that.” Melodia’s words were punctuated with a hiss of chuckles, she kept her back away from Reason and slowly continued to back away from him.

“With what knowledge you have. Any hypothesis of who would be capable of cultivating such technology. You know it’s not me, as I’m here with you— asking that very question.”

Reason turned and looked at Mel. No, he looked somewhere over her right shoulder. “That’s the odd thing. It feels rather similar to the Queen’s magic. The original one. The one who made the portals. It’s not exactly the same, but it’s very similar.”

“So you believe the Queen had a hand in this? And perhaps that’s why she’s not here for these pointless meetings?” Melodia raised a brow.

“I didn’t say that. I meant the original: Ishtar Derim. She made the Tower and the portals here. This sphere… feels a lot like that.”

“That’s unrealistic. Let’s use tangible details and solid evidence when talking on this matter. The magic is familiar, yes, the wires are strangely familiar to me— personally me. We figure out something reasonable in this lab, or we leave and come out two suspects.” Melodia went on, her tone getting a bit more snappy and on edge than before. Seemingly her own childish ruse had begun to fade.

“It’s just us in here, boy. Unless someone else gets curious about those portals, perhaps the culprit, or someone who won’t be as constructive— things change after we leave this tower today, no matter what. So why not show your hand?”

“Alright. I have a reasonable idea of where we are. Would you like me to explain?”

“The Laboratory? Or is this some fabricant illusion that looks exactly the same— holds the same items, furniture, smell?”

[color=d8cfbe]“Not [i]here[\i] here. In general. I think we’ve just found out how magic works. You know how magic breaks the Laws of Conservation. You can’t just make fire or water or lava or light from nothing. You have to have a source of energy. Mana is transformed when it passes through a gate, yes, but where does the mana come from? Scientists have always theorized about how. I think we’ve just confirmed Rerik’s Dimensional Theory. This place seems to just flow with mana. Gates, somehow, link and take mana from here.”[/color]

“And how exactly can you tell? I’m not here to discredit your thoughts, but how exactly can you confidently say that? Even I can sense and feel mana to a small degree, but you can look at me as if I’m here despite being blind.” Melodia raised a loft brow and canted her head.

Reason tilted his head. “If everything goes down the drain, are you with the North?”

Melodia smiled, genuinely this time, her posture dancing from tension to ease and her weight shifting from left foot to right. “Lapseus is with itself. You’re a smart boy, I’m sure you’ve heard of the family’s history— how about this? You tell me a secret, and I’ll you one.”

“Alright, I’ll tell you. I’m not truly blind.” Reason took off the mask. “I can see mana flow, mana levels. I can’t see anything that doesn’t have mana. Walls, tables, whatever. Tell me this. I see an interesting flow from you to who-knows-where. A thin line, connecting to something far away. What is that?”

“How did you achieve that power? Was it a product of Reina and Tina’s research?” Melodia quickly spoke, almost correlating with young Reason’s words.

“The mask is just a ruse. It doesn’t actually do anything. I’ve been able to do this my whole life. It’s a well-kept secret.”

“Then why keep it a secret?” Melodia asked.

Reason shrugged. “A good advantage. I can see if someone has magic, how strong it is, sometimes what they can do. Same with artifacts or mysterious devices, like that one.” He pointed at the spinning sphere. “But tell me. I’ve never seen such a curious line like yours. Will you reveal that secret to me, in exchange for this one?”

“Yes, very well. While I may be cunning, opportunistic, and an old hag— I am a keeper of promises.” Melodia plucked from behind her the black box, revealing it carefully and making carefully sure to hold it close to her person.

“When I first came to this room, that device was fully operational. With some tinkering I came to a similar deduction on its purpose and creation as yourself. I disassembled it a bit, as you have noticed.”

Melodia stepped towards the research table nearby, pressing her free hand against its surface to hoist herself atop it. Sitting happily now as she had gathered some unexpected knowledge either way.

“We both know this is the power supply for that device over there. But I have no intention of handing it over, whatever is inside of this annoying alloy will be of use to my people.” Melodia stated these words boldly, her crimson sights staring directly at Reason with an unfazed expression.

“It very well might be an ambient collector. Mana’s flowing into it slowly, almost like… a whirlpool,” Reason said. “That’s not what I care about, though. The line of mana is coming, no, going into you. What is that?”

“Oh———— that.” Melodia frowned.

The Lapsean girl sighed heavily, her chest expanding as a big breath of oxygen entered her lungs. The release was audibly whiny, though this may have been due to her small vocal chords- or perhaps not. The hand that clutched the black box carelessly released it, and quickly traced along the table to grab of needlepoint tweezers. Her small hand clutched the metal handles, and soon after the girl pressed herself up from the table to stand atop it and with her newfound breadth of mana quickly made way towards the young Reason.

“Yes…?” Reason didn’t move, but he definitely followed her approach with his eyes. There was no doubt about that.

As she reached Reason the tweezer’s pointed ends were raised up to Reason’s throat. Straining to do so, really. Melodia widened her eyes with bloodthirst, her pupils dilating as vicious thoughts passed through her head. There were a few tense moments of delay before she even snapped herself from the carnivorous daze and spoke.

[color=Thistle]“Speak of this to anyone. And I’ll kill you— no, I’ll kill everyone you love, slowly, creatively, removing every piece of them one-by-one and since those beautiful images won’t be able to grace your sights. I’ll have you sit right next to that table as I do so, and you can listen—“[color] There was fear in her words, a quivering reverberation in her youthful voice that would be audible to even herself. But she didn’t care at that moment.

Reason’s mouth twitched upward, almost smiling. “That only makes me all the more interested, you know. You probably could have just waved it off and I wouldn’t bat an eye. But… I am rather fond of my life. I’ll keep your secret, Lady Lapseus. I’ve no desire to lose all I love.”

He pushed her hand down. “Still, perhaps you would like to cooperate a bit more nicely with those who may end up as your only allies. No need for… threats.”

Melodia whipped the sharp end of the tweezers towards Reason’s hand. As the tweezers neared his flesh, her hand… slowed. Not as if another force was pushing against them. She simply couldn’t find the energy to bring them closer. Her hand fell the rest of the distance, moving only by gravity’s influence.

The tweezers pricked the back of Reason’s hand, drawing a few droplets of blood. He winced.

“I got it, I got it. I won’t say anything. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“You think I care about your war? I’ve known Reina since we were children, and still I would sit in my comfy chair in Gohetia as the North & South tore each other to shreds.” Melodia reached out with an extended finger and caught a droplet of Reason’s blood. She sucked it off the slender digit.

“Perhaps the war itself is a fabrication of the person who placed this fancy mana bomb? If it is, I might very well wish to be on their side— that explosion has made me feel the best I have in years.” She then tossed the bloodied tweezers off watching them slide across the tile before grumbling directly at Reason.

His smooth, do no wrong attitude soured her stomach so very much.

“Mmmh. I’m inclined to believe it’s the South. Only House Croan would have any knowledge of magic used to distort space. That’s only a theory, though.” Reason went back to the box.

Her eyebrow raised once again, sights fixating on the little black box once again. “Not Balaur?”

“Maybe. Main thing is that Alarick and Rolst didn’t come. Same with her Majesty. Not saying it could be a conspiracy from them, but it certainly seems the most likely possibility.”

“Why?” Melodia quipped.

“Her Majesty, well, she doesn’t really care. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did this just because she wanted us to stop bickering. No North-South discourse if there is no North. Alarick doesn’t like technologists at all. Both have strong connections to Ishtar.”

“That’s not a strong enough argument to base anything off of. The hate has been there for decades, the mistreatment even more so— unrest is nothing new. This is. I couldn’t care less if most of the people in this tower, nor the town surrounding it were evaporated by the effects of this device. I care about my people, my land, my family.” Melodia licked her teeth before biting hard on her lip, drawing her own blood momentarily before allowing it to heal within a moment.

“I fear and desire the unknown. I am a seeker of knowledge, a solver of mysteries— Someone is doing that without me knowing about it, and stirring shit up while they’re at it. Not to mention with people I care about around me!” Her hands clenched, the veins in her hands tensing as the muscle fibers strained quietly.

Melodia spat to the tile, a light orange hue to her saliva from the blood. “You continue acting the fool. When you want to be someone who changes the world instead of someone who watches it, then we can speak on equal grounds.” Her hand extended out for the black box, expectantly.

“Well, knowledge certainly is nice. I’ll-”

A loud rumbling interrupted his words. The entire tower shook. Reason turned towards the source of the rumbling. The wall behind him crumbled to pieces as a great form rushed past. The wall of the lab was now open- behind it was the hallway.

The two rushed over. Falling debris rained down from above as parts of the tower above them crumbled. Down below, a large boom sounded as something hit the floor.

“I think we just got our way out,” said Reason.

Victor Moltke Abigail Harlow

Location: Harrow's Keep Townstead, Artisan Market to Harrow’s Tower to South Gate.

---

---

Victor finally came stumbling out of what was formerly the Spire Inn. With one hand pressing against the doorframe to further support himself. He took one last minute to recollect himself, hoist up his pantaloons by it’s belt buckle and start what could be best described as a walk of shame into the Courtyard. He spotted the makeshift hospital, along with the true devastation that had hit the town, some of the civilians being treated, and Abigail clearing a path to free more space. ”Good lord!” he shouted at her, waving his arms around to catch and gain the girls. Abigail stopped, bewildered, and stared at Victor’s flailing. She trotted up to him, rickety cart and furious pony in tow. ”What’re you doing, trying to rebuild the tower?! Leave this bunkum alone, we have more important things to see to!”

Abigail looked around, a little startled. ”B-but sir! The civilians…?”

”Leave the others to play nurse, we have more pressing matters to see to. Things like “what the hell happened?” or “who the hell happened?”” Abigail surveyed the situation. The largest parts of the marketplace had been set aside, and it seemed as if the richly dressed man of importance had started to stabilise the community.

”I feel kinda bad leaving them to it, though…” Abigail mumbled sheepishly, already unhitching the cart from Munchkin as ordered.

”The tower.” Victor pointed at it.”Surely things are all still being civilly discussed in there.”

”Y-yeah! Maybe we can see if Lord Matthias is okay!” Abigail chirped, clinging onto the hope of peace and order amongst the nobility. She helped Victor climb onto Munchkin and they took the main road towards Harrow’s tower. It was the easiest, fastest route as it had the least amount of material to sporadically glitch out and provided a wide, flat surface for Munchkin’s tetchy canter to cross in a few minutes.

The tower started to shudder and shake. Dust plumed from the windows. It already looked unsteady before, but now…

The pony stopped in its tracks, almost as if it knew the danger of the implication a giant structure of that size shaking so violently would have. Victor stared at it with furrowed brows. ”Mhrm. Maybe we should go the other way.”

”It uh. It looks like they have it covered. But what about Lord Mattias…?”

Victor wafted a dismissive hand at the air.”Ah, he’ll be fine! He’s the grand and noble heir of the Balaur household. A crumbling, bursting tower has never killed anyone.”

Abigail nodded, cleared her throat, mumbled some hasty words of agreement and made a sharp 180. They took a decidedly jauntier canter towards the Southern Gate instead - not so fast as to imply that they were escaping the impact site of a falling tower full of the continent’s leaders, but fast enough to imply that there were very persuading reasons to make it to the furthermost edges of the keep as fast as possible. Munchkin decided that this was as far as he was willing to go when it came to the swirling grey masses enveloping the sky and dug his heels in some short distance away from the gate, snorting and whinnying and completely prepared to throw off both riders if they didn’t agree with his decision. ”That’s as far as he’ll go, Sir. I can’t blame the wee lad…” Abigail did her best to restrain him.

”What -is- this…?” Victor was engrossed in the uncomfortable sight of null visibility outside of the bubble. Partially fearing the unknown but suddenly interested in more then just escape. He could see some of the civilians clawing at the bubble, assuming the barrier itself wasn’t harmful just a trapping mechanism, or maybe even created to hold out the smoke? ”Clouds? Fog?” A million questions and possibilities running through his mind.

Abigail sniffed, rubbed her nose on the back of her gauntlet. ”’Tis a gate, sir.”

Victor’s face scrunched up at the smart remark, turned to her with a deeply disturbed and unhappy scowl. ”Is this truly the time, damn it?! he then promptly turned back at the bubble. He grabbed a small rock nearby and threw it at it the barrier to test for a reaction to confirm the effects it would have.

”If anything, now’s the best time for a bit of lightheartedWOAHWOAHWOAHSIR?!” Abigail fell off her pony trying to rush up to him. ”I don’t think we should be throwing rocks at the bubble Sir! What if it pops?!”

”We smash rocks together for fire, it’s the best way to learn!” he exclaimed. Once he was certain it was truly just a bubble he approached it to lay a hand on it. Ever weary of drastic reactions it would have.

---

Morning

Abbi being an early riser woke as bright and cheerful as her birds. Morning had begun and she had a full day of… Sitting, waiting for Lord Drakus to call on her. So she could answer questions with limited detail having to make assumptions about motive, ability, and technical competency. She sighed; all she could do was her best. It was much better than being homeless and Lord Drakus had given her very liberal restrictions. There was the restriction against making explosives in the keep. It was only one window in the lab that was blown out, thanks to the doors being about two inches thick and the chimney flue really did get a good cleaning from it. There was also the sulfur experiment that made the southwest wing smell like rotting eggs for a week. And she couldn’t forget the time that one of the cats went after her birds only to find that birds could breathe fire, which hurts.. It nearly burned the fur off the entire cat and darn near caught the west wing of the keep on fire in the process. Accidents happen in her line of work. She tried very hard to contain them.

She headed she headed to a lower storage room to find her bird. They were constantly chirping and flittering in their cages. Freshwater and seed were placed. Next she headed down the Library. A monk taught her the basics of using the teleporter for a later return trip.

Breakfast was a delight. The serving staff had done well. She ate in the servants dining hall to hear the gossip of who was sleeping with whom, which noble the maids wanted to bed, and any gossip that might be of technical use. She also told a couple white lies that would help Lord Drakus negotiate with the other northern houses. Mainly that he would have to side with the southern houses if he couldn’t get something that he people would value from them. She pushed for teachers for the university and technology for manufacturing and processing. She made a note of who was acting aggressively towards the creation of House Solaris and who wanted to entertain Lord Drakus, for manipulative purposes.

After breakfast, she headed to the Library to look for books to look at while she was waiting. Her first selection was on ornithology to learn more about birds, their flight, illnesses and cures, and breeding for stronger gates. The second selection was on the development of simple mechanical devices like gearing, pulleys, and things like that. Her final book was a book of poetry that the monk recommended. She quickly penned a note about what she had learned and saw at breakfast on to pass on to her employer and Rendyl, she sent this with a scribe in one of her message tubes.

Leaving the Library, she used the teleporter herself. True to Abbi’s nature, there was a slight detail that the monks did not impress on her. They told her to focus on herself moving to the place she wanted. They forgot to include the idea that she also needed to include the dress she was wearing in that thought process. So, Abbi appeared at the end of the hall to her bedroom with the books in her arms, with barely a stitch of clothing on. It took her a moment to realize the problem. The cold draft indicated to her brain that something was not right. Her hang over did not help her thought process either. She let out a little shriek and streaked for her room. She had done house Solaris proud, she had entertained a small crowd of servants and heirs. A few moments after making it to the room, the Librarian brought her the dress and garments left behind in the process.

---

Abbi sat in a stuffed chair wearing a simpler cotton dress with roses and she had perfumed herself with a little bit of rose water. Now she spent time reading making notes in a couple blank books she had made and bound herself. Lord Drakus had sent a messenger a couple times to ask her questions, she thought more for show and reputation than need. They had been over the issues and the arguments many times and Drakus had is calculus down to a tee.

---

The first thing that happened when the blast happened was a sudden sickness hit Abbi. It really hit her maid and guard harder as they did not have strong gates. She would have to help them learn to use their power. Then the world seemed to come crashing in. Walls floors and ceilings were in places that they did not belong. She in her chair was in a place she didn’t belong. One of the stewards, a well fed, formerly nice looking man, collapsed on her and the chair she was sitting on. He was dead. Abbi screamed at the sudden weight and attack. As she tried to push him off, she grabbed his keyring from his belt. Then with her force gate, she pushed him off of her. With use of magic, that the world started to clear. Mana explosion of some form, she thought. The power surged in her more than normal and it felt better than the peppermint tea. She would have to really watch her magic as the power was calling her to push her abilities.

She found her guard and maid, both alive but with mana sickness. She set off to search for survivors. At times like these, Rendyl had told her always carry a knife. But she would have to search for one or better yet, find a nice person who has one and knows how to use it. She had some bearings and class marbles that she could use her force gate to “fire” them like a bullet. But she had limited speed and power.

Abbi made her way through the remains of buildings, rooms, and halls. Squashed and twisted. She had to use her force gate a few times to push parts of walls away from her. As she worked her way searching for people she came across a man looting the dead bodies of their posessions.

Abbi screamed at the sight hoping that others would hear her and come to her aid. Fighting was not in her normal skill set, at least not with weapons.

Someone had set up a makeshift hospital at the South side of the Keep? Good thinking, that was for sure. From his vantage point high in the sky, Aelious had a good view of everything that had developed during the last couple of minutes, and, after taking another moment to recenter his priorities, the wyvern-riding Heir was swooping down again, Freecloud gliding towards the hospital. Gusts of wind scattered dust and gravel as he landed amongst the commoners, golden eye burning bright. A couple of them looked shocked at first, but a warm smile was enough to transform that expression to relief, before the Aureolin Heir strolled up to the few that looked as if they were tasked with the care of many.

“What do you need right now, ma’am?” he asked the closest nurse.

She let out an ‘eep’. Even with Harrow’s Keep as it was, even with the knowledge that representatives of all Houses would be in the town, speaking to one face to face still looked to be a surprise. The woman paused, then immediately bowed. “Lord Aureolin, it’s a p-”

“What do you need right now?” Aelious repeated. “And I’m only an Heir, so no need for the formalities.”

“Ah, but y-”

“What do you need?”

The woman shut her mouth, looked around, and said quickly, “Water, lots of water. And then medical supplies. We don’t have enough for proper shelter too, but, wait, no, we need beds for the injured to recover in. Food. Warmth. And, uh…more helpers.”

Aelious licked his lips. “I can offer everything except medical supplies. Hang tight, I’ll be back.”

A flick of his cloak, a whistle towards his wyvern, and they were in the air again, flying off.

---

Wyverns were smart and wyverns were strong. With opposable claws and the ability to understand the human language, they were more than a replacement for a team of men if one knew how to command them effectively. And who else but Aelious could do so? There had been two dozen wyverns within the pits when that flash of light had segregated Harrow’s Keep from the rest of the world, and now, the Aureolin Heir put them all to good work. Half of them shot through the skies to deliver critically-injured individuals to the makeshift hospital space, while another six worked to bring urgently-needed individuals to that same area, air-lifting those with medical training, or those with a water gate, to put their talents to good use. What wyverns remained carried foodstuffs and cooking ware over to the same hospital area, which had transformed, in due time, to more of a general shelter.

Aelious himself supervised the distribution of food and resources, as well as negotiated with what merchants remained to purchase what goods they had for the consumption of the group. He probably could have stabbed some of the greedier ones and came out better for it, but, alas, that’d just be trouble in the future. The Heir could use his privileges in other ways, after all, such as organizing groups of able-bodied folks to clear out more open spaces, to create more makeshift bedding out of straw, cloth, and whatever else was at hand, and to generally make sure this whole place didn’t fall into disorder and madness.

…

Harrow’s Tower was still rumbling, still shaking. He had seen portions of it explode.

By the stonging Tomes, if it was the nobles who started this shit…

Rhy̢thmia L̛ap̢şe҉u͘s

In what remains of the Grand Hall

---

The appearance of the woman in the hall wasn't that surprising, but her sudden attacker was. There were certainly people out there that would take advantage of situations like this, times of confusion and crisis, but to be so brazen about it? Having already been instructed to speak with the redhead, the Lapsean bodyguard Vati wasting no time rushing over to her while Rhythmia considered the state of the tower. In the hall, there were a few other house lords and heirs though they seemed to mostly be gathered on the other side of the wide room. She met Reina's eyes but didn't call out to her nor any of the other individuals on the far side of the hall. With just that look she could tell they didn't have the information she was looking for.

There didn't seem to be much noise coming from below the hall, in contrast to above it where loud thrashing could be distantly heard. What exactly did that information mean? Was no one in the basement levels, or were they completely collapsed? Or perhaps the shifting of the tower itself moved the lower levels up above? The whole situation was stonged either way. The sounds of crashing from above were getting louder and louder, and Rhythmia looked up and braced herself for whatever was coming down.

Vati had only just made it over to the redheaded woman, putting himself between her and the scavenger, gun drawn, when the ceiling collapsed. The force gate bore down on the hall's occupants, and Rhythmia grit her teeth and narrowed her eyes as she planted her mechanical leg firmly into the floor and steadied her own weapon even as her flesh halves were being pressed upon. Through the cloud of dirt and dust that the ceiling's collapse had kicked up, the white haired woman could see the two figures who'd fallen, although the identity of one would have been easily assumed from the gate above them. They were Lord Pachel and Lord Kothlin, locked together.

Rhythmia was not happy. This trip to Harrow's Tower was one she'd already been loathe to attend, but now a mana bomb had gone off, her sister was missing, she felt woefully unprepared, and these two prideful buffoons were threatening to destroy what was left of the tower with whatever squabble they were having. It wasn't unlikely that the bomb's origin was the source of their fight, but the men were acting like adolescents instead of diplomats - very unbecoming, not to mention dangerous. Rhythmia brought the muzzle of her gun up, focusing it on the form of Pachel. It was charged and ready, all she had to do was pull the trigger and it would kill him and disrupt the gate overhead. Kothlin was in his armor, he'd probably be fine. Still, though the Lapseus Lord had a mind to do just that, a cold thought gripped the back of her mind.

She didn't want to drag Lapseus into a war that, despite the best efforts of the house heads voting earlier, was much closer to becoming a reality. If Pachel, a pillar of the Southern houses, was killed now in cold blood...

"Pachel!" Rhythmia shouted out, her normally low voice crackling with the volume she'd used. Her single word was a demand and a warning. If he didn't dismiss his gate and calm down, talk out whatever had happened, then how could she not assume that he or his cohorts were the culprits? Of course she had no knowledge of the mens' argument upstairs or what had led to this now, but the conflict and his gate was a detriment to the relationship between the North and South and perhaps the tower's stability as a whole... and Rhythmia was resolute. Cut it out or die. Hell, at this point if she had to sacrifice Kothlin too she very well might do it.

Rendyl groaned. Everything hurt. Whatever she landed on was digging into her all across her body, and none of it helped the fact her wings still burned from overexertion.
This is...nothing. Master has put me through worse!
Try as she might, her mind hadn't surrendered, but her body wasn't moving. Every time she tried to push her torso off the ground she would collapse after barely managing an inch, and only then did she realize just how much she was panting. She couldn't feel her wings. They were both numb and stiff, every fiber screamed for precious oxygen…

A long shadow is cast upon the avian, and she forced herself to look up at the source, neck muscles screaming for rest. Who she saw made her shiver in fear.

Lord Drakus himself was seated atop a horse, looking down at her with disdain and disappointment, and after a moment of examining her spoke "If you can’t get up from that you are useless to me. Rendyl! Get up. My guards do not fall so easily, do not forget who you have become. There is work to do. You can rest when I tell you to.”

He had sweat on his brow, blood on his hands and splotched on his clothes but with no visible injuries, she could only assume he had been fighting someone, or had been handling wounded. The latter seemed less likely to Rendyl. Under Master's glare, she pushed her body beyond its limits, forcing her burning muscles to push herself off the gravel as she gasped in pain. This was so much worse than sessions with the Lord...

"Yes...Master." she managed to reply, now on her hands and knees, panting and pausing to catch her breath.

"I am waiting, Rendyl!"

The Avian nodded mutely, and dug deep. She was so tired….but Master so orders, His slave obeys. Rendyl shoved her torso up and held her body upright, stretching her back muscles and realizing her wings were completely numb. That wasn't important at this moment. She needed to stand, and her wings weren't about to help her do that. Rendyl pushed up onto one foot, and using both hands on that knee, slowly shoved herself upward, albeit rather unsteadily. Gravel and dust fell from her form as she stood before Lord Drakus, and she nodded her head once to him once she steadied herself.

Drakus stared down at her from his horse, and once he was satisfied of her physical state, he pulled the reins of his horse and spun about "Come. We do not have time to waste."

Rendyl wobbled slightly on her feet and nodded again, walking with weak knees over to her cloak and scooped it up with a groan. Sheer determination doesn't tend a sore body. She in beside Drakus's horse and the pair headed back towards the town square.

ℂardinal ℝift

---

Incredible. Just her luck. Saved from a plunge to the bottom floor by dying from blood loss instead. Livia looked at her arm- or what she could see of it, anyway. It was pinned to the wall by a fallen slab of grey stone. Her shoulder burned, leaking blood in several places. It was only because of her training that she was still conscious.

The floor had given out just a minute prior. She’d tried to jump to safety and land on one of the stable portions, but her foot had slipped. Unfortunate.

Or maybe it was fortunate? Nobody’d survive a fall of that distance. An arm was a small price to pay for her life. Her legs dangled beneath her, reminding her of how close she was to death. By sacrificing her arm, shed managed to avoid falling to the bottom. She just had to free herself, somehow. Take advantage of the adrenaline. Pull your arm out. Livia flailed about weakly. No use. She couldn’t even find any purchase on the walls. Curse these fashionable shoes!

She relaxed and simply hung in the air, trying to ignore the screaming burn in her arm.

Livia had always known that getting with Jevin would have consequences- maybe even death. But not like this. She had imagined a stab in the dark from a hired assassin by Lady Alana, or perishing in a war. Livia felt something in her shoulder pop. The pain was returning, and now in full force. Another creak, another burn. She knew what was coming- the muscles and cartilage in her shoulder had already been weakened. It was only a matter of-

“Ah, fuck,” she croaked weakly.

Her lifeline, her saving thread, her arm tore apart, sending her down, down, down towards the bottom.

---

“If only you had properly thought things out, Kothlin.”

Pachel’s foot sunk deeper into the floor. How was the man still standing? Kothlin was sure that he’d crushed it to bits, but Pachel stood tall, looking down on him the way a common fisherman looked at a worm on his shoes.

“You might’ve actually succeeded in your pitiful attempt to harm me.” Pachel layered on more force. Kothlin felt his body creaking. What a way to go- crushed by the leader of those who’d crushed his people for so long.

“But no. You’ve only managed to doom yourself. The queen will hear about this treason, and you will be punished.”

Kothlin couldn’t even open his mouth to speak.

“Pachel!” A voice rang out. Kothlin could barely make out the speaker… Rhythmia Lapseus. When had she arrived?

Pachel turned to respond. The force lessened slightly. Kothlin lifted his head up to respond to the War Lord’s words.

...Only to see a body hit the floor next to him.

It landed with a thump, and bounced once. Black uniform, red hair. One arm.

Red blood.

Split open like a watermelon, a gush of fluid, revealing the flesh inside.

Pachel spun back around, eyes wide. The tall warrior fell to his knees, then let out a guttural howl. The force compressing Kothlin let up. He rose, almost by instinct, and gulped in great breaths of air. Pachel saw him rise, and raised an arm to force him down once more.

Kothlin wouldn’t let him. The joints on his suit groaning, he drew back and delivered a swift punch to Pachel’s skull.

The motor-assisted gauntlet drove through his head like scissors through wet paper. A horrifying crunch sounded as Kothlin tore off the entire right side of Pachel’s head, sending shards of his skull across the room. The grey matter beneath the bone exploded in a splatter of blood and fluids.

Pachel’s corpse fell forward, landing on the body of his lover. Both lay still.

Kothlin turned around and looked at the people in the hall. They’d been just released from the force, but now an even greater weight was pushing down on them- the weight of war. Kothlin spotted Reina leaning against an overturned table, giving him her trademark death stare. Her daughter and husband leaned against each other in shock.

Kothlin opened his mouth to apologize, when, for the second time that day, a bright flash enveloped his sight. He passed into unconsciousness.

---

In the Harrow’s Laboratory, a certain spinning sphere began to slow… and slow… and slow. As it creaked to a stop, the foundations of the small world of Harrow’s Keep began to shake. Once again, the blinding white light returned. Once again, everyone fell unconscious.

The Keep returned in much the same way it had left- with a bang. Smaller, this time, but a bang nonetheless. A massive displacement of air blew back anyone nearby, and the Keep was present once more.

Except.. The keep had changed. Every single home that had been displaced into the sky fell to the ground, crashing into the buildings beneath. More inhabitants of Harrow’s perished as the Keep flashed back into existence.

And the Tower that stood for a thousand years- the pride and joy of Golovan Harrow- began to rumble.

---

Light filled Kothlin’s vision, pushing him awake. The evening sun’s light gleamed through the open doors of the Grand Hall, a welcome sight. He retracted Angeline’s helmet. Sweet sunshine.

His eyes followed the sunbeam to… the corpses.

Reina ran up and slapped him.

“What in the world were you thinking?” She hissed.

“He was going to kill me, Reina. I took advantage of it. We’re better off now.” He looked down and spat on Pachel’s corpse. Good riddance.

“You know what this means, right?” Reina pointed at the others in the hall.

“Yes.”

Kothlin looked around. Alistair. Christina. Lord Aureolin. That young Immolis child. Not the most fitting audience, but it would suffice. And Rhythmia Lapseus...

”All who can hear, know this. The Houses Kothlin, Young, and…” he snuck a glance at the second twin. “...Lapseus declare war on Croania. No longer shall we suffer under the South’s oppressive regime. The North will live free!”

He raised his gauntlet high. No cheers. The tower shook ominously.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said to Reina. “Your transport?”

“The car is fine. I had Alistair verify it earlier. All of our belongings are in there too.”

“Hania will be coming with my things. Let’s move.”

---

End of Act I

That happened. That seriously, actually, totally, definitely happened.

Althein wanted to close his eyes, wanted to review his memories again, and digest everything properly, organize and categorize so that it made some fucking sense. But instead, Livia fell from the sky and splattered against the ground, while Lord Pachel himself was splattered by Kothlin’s fist in that moment of distraction. A flash of light, a moment of unconsciousness, and now…

War. Everything this talk was meant to avoid, and now all this was happening again.

A breath. His own body was still unsteady, and he tightened his fists to stop them from shaking. The explosion, who had caused it? He wanted to say the North, but it had empowered the South, with their greater magical heritages. Couldn’t be South though, could it? The collateral damage had put them all in danger.

The floor rumbled, and Althein’s eyes turned towards the rest of the Keep. Houses were falling, were crashing, more screams drowned out by dust and debris. Everything was normal now. Everything was so much worse.

He pushed himself upwards.

Pachel was dead. Kothlin killed him, then declared war. The bomb that went off had caused casualties on both sides. The Church and the Mage Queen did not show up. No, the bomb went off twice, so was it a bomb at all? Or was it a device, that could be utilized over and over, provided that there was enough power to fuel it? The epicenter was the tower, a tower that had been turned into absolute shit.

The Lord of House Aureolin looked in the direction that the Northern Lords exited, and forced himself to relax. It was going to be fine.

Definitely.

A squall blew behind him as familiar footsteps sounded.

“Brother, what the he-”

No hesitation.

“Time is of the essence, Aelious. I’ve got work for you.”

Moments later, a wyvern as white as fresh snow shot skywards, its dark rider urging east towards the closest town: Veilstone.

ASTER NOLS - Harrow's Keep

---

“Back. Back off, now!”

Cordoning off the Keep on both the North and South entrances had been a near impossible task. Thank the Goddess she remembered to take along her House crest, and that there were sensible people willing to take her advice and NOT jump into the hole of destruction. A few of the burlier ones sent to the other side and form a barrier had been enough.

Her luck held out and the stolen town was returned.

Not without its own flavor of terror though. Aster wasn’t fortunate enough to be looking away this time, she and Keater both getting blasted away from the crater.

“Stongeing…!” she gasped.

Bright spots seared into the darkness of her vision. She felt the ground blindly, then rubbed at her useless eyes as she heard the unmistakable sound of… buildings. Human cries and crashing debris. Some of it was around her but most was in the direction of the former crater. She felt herself shake in relief.

“Keater, baby,” she called hoarsely, “Get yer ass up, c’mon.”

People were streaming into the town and there was no point in even trying to stop them now, not in this state with the world still blurred and fuzzy. She needed to be there too. The reins snapped and Keater burst forward. He’d avoid what needed to be avoided. Human cries and crashing debris. Corpses. Ruins. The ambient scent of fruit and grilled meat was near gone, murky with the cloying stench of something she had only a cursory relationship with. It reminded her of the pit behind the abattoir.

By the tomes, she needed to puke. What the hell was this?

Keater slowed to a stop for her to catch her breath. On the ground, disaster. The skies were the same, save for a single distinctive form. A stark white wyvern. Aelious. By the tomes, he’d made it. He had his own destination by the looks of it, and as much as Aster needed a familiar face right now, they weren’t going to be speaking anytime soon.

She lifted a fist and shouted a piercing “Cooee!”

A traditional cry originating in the deep South, used by old travelers to attract attention from sometimes kilometres away in good locations. There was no guarantee that he’d recognize it, or even hear it, but it felt right to offer something in the moment. Before she headed into the heart of the chaos.

Most of the tower guards were dead or incapacitated, those still able to operate persuaded with a flash of her crest as she rode Keater right into the Great Hall. There was a heaviness in there. Only a few individuals, functioning ones anyway, remained. A white-haired young man. Aureolin. A blonde child. Older than Carrey. Ruel Immolis.

On the floor, a large man in an infamous set of armor, wading in a pool of his own blood. Aster turned away quickly. No, nonono, stop. Just focus on her job. Just one thing. The continent-wide implications of that blood were too much of a distraction.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured to the surviving lords, unsure of what she was apologizing for. “Keater, watch 'em.”

He responded with a snort of the nostrils and turned his incredulous gaze to the boy. Aster set off to the easiest place to climb, shouting Esmerelda’s name as loudly as she could.

Rhy̢thmia L̛ap̢şe҉u͘s

In what remains of the Grand Hall

---

She'd managed to get Pachel's attention and relieve some of the pressure from her fellow Technologist. That was good. When the woman's body hit the ground, Rhythmia didn't bat an eye - she kept focus on the two men. It was only natural that there would be people falling from above after all, though most appeared to have already fellow given the state of the Hall. However, Pachel didn't seem to think the same. The woman was dressed in dark clothes, red-headed - Ah, it's her. Rhythmia held no sympathy for the women, but her identity explained Pachel's intense reaction. With the force of his gate letting up, Rhythmia swiftly stood and began to make her way over to separate the two men, but force if necessary, but...

She didn't make it. Before her eyes Kothlin rose up and killed the Mageborn Lord. What was he thinking? Was he so full of adrenaline he was running on base animalistic instinct like the Beastmen he appeared to loathe, or was he... did he really want to sacrifice everything the North had strove for over the years, and just this morning, on a chance at war?

She clutched her weapon, then a surge of mana took her consciousness again.

She awoke much more quickly this time.

She stalked over to the scene where Pachel and his mistress lay dead, surrounded by dozens of other corpses as the tower crashed back into existence.

Well, she supposed in the back of her mind it wasn't "a chance" at war now, especially when he made his declaration. When he met her eyes and claimed that her house would be part of his war, her eyes blazed with anger while her heart froze over.

"What are you doing?" the Lapsean woman hissed, grabbing the front of Kothlin's power suit with such force that it dented it's metal frame before she bodily dragged the taller man's face down to her level. "Lapseus wants no part in this... We do not want a war."

"Mmh. The South doesn't care. Pachel is dead, and a Northerner did it. You'll be accused regardless of what you do. I promised your sister a quarter of my land if she helped," the man rushed to explain, struggling in her grip.

"You..." Rhythmia couldn't argue, because he was right of course. The deed was done and over with. Even the bomb would probably be blamed on the North, especially now. She didn't like it, she felt hot emotion course through her veins, ones she hadn't felt in years but made the experience all the more painful. With disgust, Rhythmia rattled Kothlin around in his broken cage of a suit and shoved him away from her. Her eyes bore into the man before her as though he were the most grotesque of shit-eating insects, then she took a breath and her gaze flitted over to Reina and her daughter. Her eyes landed on Tina, whom Melodia had told her was promised to their house in just such a scenario. The short haired woman beckoned her over. The girl approached, curious.

"Lady Rhythmia," she says deferentially, "How are your limbs treating you? If you wouldn't mind, I have some ideas for..." she stopped as soon as she saw the look on Rhythmia's face. In turn, upon Tina's reaction Rhythmia let her expression soften just a little, laying her hand on the girl's head and guiding her away from the scene. The Lord spared Reina a stern gaze, and one last time she faced Kothlin with a withering look.

"...do not regret this." Her words were hard, a threat even. She turned away, leading the Lapseus' new 'acquisition' back toward the tower's interior. She still had to find Melodia, and now explain the situation to her. Despite the surge of energy and the collapsing of the stone, she still felt that her sister was alive. Although, no longer in the 'mana bubble,' she'd definitely be needing some help. Vati appeared to be alright - the bodyguard was helping that other redhead up when he caught sight of Rhythmia's return and made his way back to her side. He looked at Tina curiously but didn't dare question the Lord when she was still so tense and ill at ease. The group was silent as they focused on finding and collecting Melodia before leaving Harrow's behind.

She had similar routines for waking up hungover and in solitary confinement. The world was crawling and morphing around her; nausea made dropping to the floor a constant possibility as the weight of her head swiveled in her neck. The prisoner tried to move, but between the salty ropes she wore and her stagnant muscles, it was like challenging a statue.

On the bright side, none of that mattered. She understood the circumstances, what was lost, and what she had to do now. Until an opportunity presented itself, the most the mageborn could do for herself was sleep. And, thanks to her prior overexertion, that would be easy. And it was easy, easy enough. Waves from the indifferent sea offered calming prattle and there was only a quiet aftermath aboard the Kiana after the losses. The sense of time she couldn't maintain in the pitch dark room further jumbled as the prisoner slogged in and out of a muddled consciousness. She felt feverish, but was not met with any dreams. It was peaceful, really. Somehow.

But something else wasn't. Something on her face--something undoing her gag. Maybe the wind? Overwhelming grogginess, and perhaps an ounce or two of grief, marred her judgement then.

Or they hadn't, and she had only faithlessly hoped that it wasn't Tobias Graves' bloody hands dipping into the mess of drool and cloth that held her mouth open. She wanted a little more time to herself before she had to put up with the inevitable.

Over the static and the droning him of the sea, she heard rabble. He was saying something.

"...Miss Rathas Graves..."

Uegh.

"...execution. However, if you truly are who I believe you to be, the family head will wish to see you. That display of power today… it could mean the future to the Graves family.”

She smelled the blood of her crewmates on his breath, but the weight of their loss already felt so distant. That demon would have its day.

For now she'd have to handle the more immediate issue: this corporate mook.

...But it sounded like the mook was offering an escape from an almost certain death row. At what cost? Proximity to house Graves and a past she'd have hoped to keep away until the grave.

There was only one right answer, and after a brief pause, the prisoner opened her mouth.

"...What makes you think I'd go back?"

Victor Moltke, Abigail Harlow and Meredith Shieldbreaker

Location: Harrow's Keep Townstead, South Gate to Furlton Farm.

---

---

”S-sir, please stop throwing things at the barrier, I’m really worried about what’ll-”

”Quiet now, there’s never been progress with a little brute force!”

”I know, but don’t you think it’s a little dangerous to-”

Abigail turned around just in time to see the flash of light and then found herself once again face-first on the floor, her tongue bitten. She rolled onto her side and spat out a mix of dirt, spit and blood, rubbing the spot where her jaw hit the cobbles. ”Lord Moltke…?” she voiced out, dusting herself off.

”Yes.” came a semi-defeated tone.

”Am I allowed to say ‘I told you so’ yet, milord?”

Meanwhile, several leagues away in the hilltops surrounding the keep, a young rider on a horse tugged on the reins and galloped down the valley towards a dilapidated farmstead. By the time he had broken through the treeline surrounding the old plot, cantered through the weedy field and ducked into the stables, his steed’s flanks were steaming with the exertion. Hurriedly but with an air of trepidation, he pulled open the barn door enough to slip inside.

Behind those worm-eaten doors sat a little under a dozen men in the gloom. Several glinting pairs of eyes settled on the boy as he cut through their rough bodies, their set brows and sneer of short-temperedness. They were all wearing armour which, whilst polished and gussied up for occasion, bore the telltale abrasions and cuts of real warfare. Their skin fared no better, what parts of it were visible under the leather and chainmail and colours of Balaur. Behind them all, lounging demurely in the wreckage of an old wagon, was a hulking figure lit only somewhat by the cigar in her gnarled fingers.

“The-...the keep has returned, ma’am.”

“And Moltke?”

“Alive, ma’am.”

A thick cloud of smoke escaped from her lips as she grumbled and hefted her bulk from the wagon. “Assemble the men. Let’s see what Victor has to say for himself.”

Still nursing her jaw and riding at a much more leisurely pace than the scout that preceded her, Abigail rode her twitchy pony side by side with Victor as they also approached the abandoned farm. ”You don’t think she’ll be mad at us, do you sir?” Abigail asked, fidgeting with the reins.

”No, of course not. She’ll be relieved at our survival.”

Abigail sucked her tongue thoughtfully, as if she was rolling the words in her mouth and ultimately deciding to keep quiet. She merely nodded, her gaze catching sight of twenty one men standing to attention somewhere beyond the trees. Before them stood one woman - one behemoth, dressed in finer gear than the troops behind her with a large and well-worn axe resting lazily at her hip. Her lips curled into a toothy grin at the two approaching horses and Abigail rubbed the back of her neck subconsciously.

Meredith Shieldbreaker strode towards the duo as they unmounted from their steeds, arms spread wide in a gesture of welcoming. ”Victor, Abigail! So nice to see you again. I hope the old man didn’t boss you ‘round too hard this time, eh?”

”W-Well, actually we-”

”Good to hear,” Meredith talked over the squire, giving Abigail a resounding pat on the back that sent the girl keeling forwards whilst her other arm swung around Victor’s neck in a display of camaraderie that dragged his upper half flush against the vicinity of her ribcage and in a low, chillingly cheery voice, she asked ”So, mind telling me what all that was about then?”

Victor was dwarfed by the woman and quickly decided it’d be well to explain the situation as best as he could. “Don’t look at me like I'm responsible for whatever that was! I wasn’t even invited into the damn talks themselves! I don’t think anyone has answers, and I want as far away from this place as possible!”

”Wasn't even invited?” Meredith's grin turned merciless. ”Can't imagine why, you seem like the kind of guy who'd really brighten up a peace negotiation. Harlow, stop eating dirt and get back on your horse. This isn't your parents' estate,” she idly barked as her meaty forearm unfurled from Victor's throat, setting him free.

Abigail was still recovering from the friendly pat as she scrambled to her feet and onto her steadfast Munchkin. ”Nice to see you too Lady Shieldbreaker,” she chirped with strained optimism, a sore upper back and a shaky smile.