Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The carriage jostled and rocked with each crag it crawled over. It made him sick at the start, admittedly. The village wasn’t known for its size, so carriages were a pointless novelty. He’d seen them before of course— in picture books! Actually, at first he was excited to board the tiny bonneted vehicle. If only they weren’t so bumpy.

“It could be worse,” Gallica had offered quietly from the safety of her hiding spot. “They’re usually way more cramped. I think.”

Easy for a fairy to say, Will wanted to say, holding his swaying stomach still.

As the journey stretched on, the nausea eased. Will found his thoughts, equal parts blank and noisy swirling in his head in a silent storm despite the clear skies canopying the crags of the badlands. The other passengers had fallen asleep mostly— all roussiante or clemar— a sign of their destination. Will hadn’t paid them mind before. When they boarded the vehicle back in some town he had forgotten the name of, it was only by some miracle the driver accepted the hefty sum (Gallica was hesitant to call it what it was: a bribe). The others boarding weren’t so happy. If looks could kill, Will would have been diced into chunks of bidou meat. The only thing that seemed to assuage their tempers would putting him toward the front with the driver. Easier to push him off if they were to run into any misfortune, one passenger advised. But as those slicing seconds dulled into jejune hours, those sharp expressions melted into slumber, or half-dazed boredom— save for the red tressed rouissante across from him.

“Looks like we’re in the clear,” Gallica whispered between the lips of his satchel. “The capital’s just through this desert.”

A clemar moved to his right. Will closed the purse with a hand, careful not to let the metal lock the air out. A breath punched his throat. He didn’t loosen it.

But the clemar didn’t seem to notice. “Is it true, then?” he asked the man seperating them. “The king is dead?”

“Aye,” the other stranger told him, “and the guard’s more concerned with the funeral than keeping the roads safe. So now the monsters are roaming in broad daylight. No soldiers to stop ‘em.”

Monsters?

Will remembered seeing something like those on their way to the station. Some looked like deranged dogs prowling at the prospect of a meal, but they lingered in the thickets infringing the forests and crude pathways. Others took flight and looked ordinary— except they weren’t ordinary at all. They were extraordinary in size, and trilled and hissed faulty igniters. Neither beasts nor igniters were common back home. Gallica had urged him to keep moving.

“I’ve certainly been hearing the stories,” the first one drawled. “To say nothing of the vacant throne. There’s a storm coming.” He pointed a finger for emphasis. “That much is certain.”

Will tried not to let his attention linger on their conversation. The last thing he needed was to think he was eavesdropping. He didn’t need those tensions flaring back to life inside a very flammable carriage. He’d get thrown out, no doubt. It’d be a long walk back to—

The carriage lurched forward. Will’s body slammed to the side, and those clemar collided into his shoulder with a noise. Will shook it off quick, tightening his grip on his bag. He felt Gallica flitter inside.

“We stopped,” Will observed in a whisper.

“Shite,” the driver cursed. The reigns trembled in his hands. “Bandits.”

People weren’t what Will saw at first, admittedly. He saw tall, stacked legs of some sort of machine. It was a bipedal vehicle, but nothing like the carriage, with a wide steel belly instead of a cloth bonnet. Its head shone both clear and dark like an obsidian eye ribbed by polished steel. It was crowned with more metal curved inward to hide away its passengers.

A clemar with horns pointing inward roared from the top. “Come on! Let’s see some respect for the militia!”

“Militia?” Will murmured to no one in particular.

“Hardly,” the rouissante across from him muttered.

“Vigilantes more like it.” Gallica’s whisper was muffled beneath the satchel.

“Us folk! We’re commoners! No crown or Church will save us!” the bearded clemar continued, before being flanked by a low-ponytailed rouissante.

“But Lord Louis will save us one and all!” he promised. “All we ask is a little tribute.” Slowly, he raised a baton topped with a diamond-shaped ornament. “You’re either with us or against us. And if you’re against us—“ the veins on the top slowly woke to the glowing blood of gold, before flaring to life with a spark— and then an explosion.

A whip of fire lashed over the carriage. Will cringed, head shrinking into his shoulders The heat soaked through the cloth cover. Others screamed behind him. The horse bucking wildly in its reins. The driver snatched back hard.

Will tensed, a tiny tuft of ginger springing from the confines of his bag. “An igniter?!”

“Gallica—“ he warned in a whisper.

She grit her teeth, ducking back inside the rivets. Her sapphire eyes sparked as the igniter cooled into half-tempered embers.

It wasn’t long before the ‘militia’ lined each passenger up by the edge of the cliff. The behemoth of a vehicle closed off the exit, unless you counted the edge of a cliff as one. One by one, a green haired man went through their belongings and plucking whatever seemed valuable.

Will watched. All he could do was watch. His throat felt tight, and his heart roared in his ears with a deafening ring.

It’s okay. Just stay calm. He took a breath, and set it loose. They’re just robbing us.

He and Gallica had practised this. All he had to do was hold out his coinpurse, they’d take it, and he’d be alive. Broke, but alive. Their mission didn’t need money, right? Being in the army would fill his pockets a little, right? Unless his salary happened to be forgotten. Insurance for eldan-brought misfortune.

He kept his head down. He didn’t meet his mugger’s gaze as the cloth sack was snatched from his grip.

“Huh. Look at you.”

They hadn’t rehearsed that. Will’s gaze shifted away from the man’s scrutiny.

“What have we got here? He’s an elda!”

Like he was some sort of novelty. A four leaf clover with only bad luck and no charm.

“So he is.” The green-haired one looked up from his pouch with a tickled chuckle. “No horns, no knife-ears… hah!”

Will’s teeth kneaded his lip. He willed his body calm, even as he wanted to shrink and disintegrate into dust. It never gets easier— he knew that. Staring that scorn in the face, the same fire that burned down everything? It was suffocating, and the smoke squeezed his lungs.

He wasn’t scared. No—

“Filthy gremlin like you.” The clemar’s gloved fist found his collar. He jerked him forward. Will steadied his head from clashing with the horns. “Whatcha got in the capital?!”

Spit splattered against Will’s skin. He met the man’s gaze steadily.

He was angry.

But the clemar didn’t notice. “Oho?” His attention instead landed behind him. “Looks like you’ve been holding out on us!”

That gloved hand grabbed at the hard cover. Will latched on with a death grip. His fingers trembled beneath leather, clutching onto the hardcover like his life depended on it. The man hissed in annoyance, tugging it. Will didn’t let go. Gold and sapphire dug sharply into him. His teeth clenched behind a taut lip. Even as the assailant pulled upward, trying to snatch it from his bruising fingertips from above, Will leaned in on his toes.

Out of the corner of his eye, there was movement.

And then a scream.

Horns whipped to the sound of a body hitting the floor.

The man from before—

The stench of blood burned in Will’s nose.

— the one from the carriage—

A woman screamed as crimson blossomed beneath him, each litre crawling in petals of a spider lily.

Will swallowed thickly.

“Now fall in line!” The man’s sword still dripped with claret. “‘Less you wanna get stuck like a—“

More blood spat out of his chest. Steel pierced through his sternum. The man choked, body thrown forward into the hilt. His sword fell with a clatter, as his carcass was thrown to the ground.

That red tressed rouissante flicked what she good of his blood from her blade. “You drew steel. I take it you are prepared to die by it?”

There was no haughtiness to her voice, not by Will’s account. Her thick bangs sliced her clear sky eyes into a rousing sienna sunset. It was both a challenge and a promise from the sounds of it.

Will couldn’t dwell on it. The book nearly smacked him in the nose as the clemar threw it aside. He stumbled suddenly, balance knocked hard. His feet hardly found the ground again before a thick, steel-soled boot slammed into his stomach.

His heel couldn’t find ground. Will’s heart sank, but it only soared above his sickened stomach.

I’m falling—

He could only watch for a second as the scene sank behind cliffs. His shoulder crashed into the side of the steep, before his spine, and then his back. Jagged rocks cut into him as he crashed downward.

His conscious returned in a slow tide. The first thing he noticed was the air. It was dry and stung his nose. It powdered his skin with sand that itched in patches. His boots swam through the grains for some semblance of balance.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.”

Will groaned in response. “I guess that means it’s just you and me again?”

Sand tasted…. bland. He expected it to be saltier like how the pictures looked.

Gallica scoffed, hands landing on her hips. “I wouldn’t be flying around like this otherwise!”

“Right,” was all he could offer as he struggled to stand. His head roared. Darkness nibbled at the corners of his vision before settling into a haze. He shook it off, but Gallica’s snark melted into soft concern.

“That was a pretty nasty fall, though. Are you okay? You still got all your limbs attached?”

“Two arms, two legs,” he counted off. He stretched his fingers out in front of him. “Ten fingers and,” he paused, looking down at his feet. “Ten toes. I think.”

He didn’t think the not-salty sand would feel good between his toes. Wool socks or not.

She snorted, looking around the place. Desert. Not a lot too see. Vast stretches of unsalted sand with the sparse cactus or dried bush. “This place already feels like a death trap.” The fairy frowned. “You hear all about that stuff about ‘Lord Louis saving us’?” She shrugged despondently. “Well, it could have gone worse. They didn’t figure out our mission, at least.”

“I don’t think they expect anything of an elda. At least, not that specific.”

Gallica’s floating posture crumpled. “It really did get to you, huh?”

He didn’t let her worry. “It’s just how it is. Are you alright?”

And luckily, she brightened instantly. “Been worse. And from the sounds of it, you’re about the same. We should probably get back on the road, though.”

The mission, his hazy brain supplied. “What road?”

“Well,” the fairy hummed, “we kinda fell off it, didn’t we? I guess we just gotta walk through this desert. We’ll hit a road eventually, right? We can’t afford to die here, at least. The mission’s dies with us.”

“We should probably find a place where we can get a good sense of our surroundings. There’s only one,” he paused, “city.”

Gallica’s coy grin stretched cheekily across her face. “You forgot the name, didn’t you?”

He tugged at his collar. “Yeah.”

She laughed. “Once we get there, you won’t forget it. But you’re right. We need to find a good vantage point.”

“Straight’s a good of a direction as any.” He didn’t wait for an answer, plowing through the sand ahead. “We can’t go back.”

“Especially not if we fail,” Gallica supplied from behind. “But be careful. I’m sensing some dangerous monsters.”

Will’s hand reached for the hilt of the weapon strapped on his hip. A sword. Long, with a semi-thick width. Nowhere near a broadsword, but enough to stand if you were to try. It stayed in its sheathe.

“Do you even know how to use that thing?” Gallica asked flatly.

“Uh, swing it?” 

“Maybe the army will do you some good, after all.”

“It’s just a cover, though, right?”

“There’s a good chance you’ll get deployed at least once. Or, y’know, trained.”

Will shrugged, pressing onward. The endless sea of gold rolled on. As he followed the curves of the cliff, he heard something like hissing vipers and hungry growls, low and demanding. They weren’t snakes or lions. Not normal ones, at least. Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen one of the ‘snakes’ move. Its mouth opened like petals and were tipped with incisors. And the lions were larger, too. Paws sank feet into the shifting land, the weight of the beasts too much to bear. Thick, skeletal tails coiled into points like a knife.

Will kept moving until he reached the top of the slope. The natural rock walls separated the space, curtaining the view of a distant city in crags. Distantly, he could make out an inverted pyramid among the islands of rock and sun-sapped trees. It was like the pyramid was the only thing keeping the surrounding city from floating away.

The thought made him smile.

“I’m just checking.” Gallica flew ahead, stopping him as she turned in front. “You do remember what we’re here to do, right?”

The mission. Save the prince. Enroll in the military to save the prince.

That—

That was basically what he knew. The rest of the details had gotten jumbled between the changing carriage rides, the emptying of coin purses, and being chucked off a cliff.

Will didn’t realize he had been staring blankly at Gallica. It wasn’t until she spared his machinations with a sigh that he snapped out of his stupor.

“Let’s go over it one more time. First, we get to the Royal Capital, and get you enlisted as a guardsman at the army’s recruitment centre. Then, we meet up with our contact and I’ll deliver my message.”

Who? “What does this contact look like?”

“He’s,” she paused. “It’s been a while.” She hastily added, puffing up with confidence, “But I’ll know him when I see him! And he’ll know you’re one of us by that sword.”

Will glanced down at the still-covered sword on his hip. He didn’t notice any special engravings, but maybe Gallica saw something he didn’t?

“Hey, Gallica. What is this message anyway?”

She hesitated, before answering quietly, “Nothing you need to worry about, I hope. This could decide the fate of the whole country,” she continued louder. He watched her practically pace in the air. “We either do our jobs, or we die. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stay alive. So we’ve gotta see this mission through!”

“Sounds like a plan.” Will offered her a warm smile. It only grew as he watched the tension in her shoulders melt. “It doesn’t look that much farther.”

“And we don’t want the sun to go down on us in the wastes,” she agreed. “The last thing we need is to be monster food. Let’s pull ourselves together and get back on the road. You know what they say: ‘Anxiety breeds the world’s cruellest monsters.’” She paused with a chuckled, “I mean, fairies say that, at least.”

Chapter Text

The stark difference between the desert and the capital was startling, to say the least. From coarse grains of unsalted pyrite to stiff steel— it was jarring. The main gate was lined with guards cloaked in black, a sun-like insignia stitched into the fronts. Their helmets shielded their faces. Will wondered if they could see, or if the buckets made them rely on sound. Probably not. Even with their eyes covered, Will couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched as he entered the city. He was used to it.

Gallica hovered over his left shoulder. “Woah, just look!”

Will stopped. The city was stacked with spires and walled with windows. People flooded the streets, mindful of the carriages passing through. Trees offered color like dianthus in a baby-breath bouquet, wrapped in the black and white flags hanging from various lampposts. He saw some of the guards wearing the same design. It must have a meaning, he figured.

The inverted pyramid from before was much larger in person— even from the outskirts of the city. A pyramid was underselling it. It was more like a tower stretched out into a triangle, each corner reaching to the city like a needle inside of a compass. From every angle, the building could be seen. Intricate details and carvings bore into its shape like it was an art. Will couldn’t make out the geometric designs. He wondered what the building was for. Something important, no doubt, with how its top was coasted by clouds.

Will soaked it all in. It was loud. It was busy. It was…. a lot. “It’s like an iron oasis.”

Gallica side-eyed him. “What book did you pull that one from? That fantasy novel?”

He shrunk away from her scrutinizing gaze. His fingers fumbled with the collar of his coat. “No.”

“So it is from a book.” And she read him like one. The ginger sprite snickered. “Well, we probably shouldn’t stay out here in broad daylight. We draw too much attention.” She flittered in front of him, eyes darting about the vast, open streets.

“How about down there?” He pointed with a gloved hand.

He didn’t even wait for an answer, making his way to the alleyway. A tall sign of, well, signs promised its contents, at least. It softened the blow of the shadow canopying the alley.

Honestly, he just didn’t like the raucous of the city. It was amazing, yes, and similar to the illustrations all but burned into his mind. Those pictures did no justice on the amount of noise that comes with the territory.

“It’s as good of a place as any,” Gallica’s voice was tight and words slow with reluctance. “Just be careful, okay?”

Will slowed his pace down the stairs. Gallica sighed, following him down.

The alleyway wasn’t as bright as the rest of the steely city. It was like the underside of a blade: dark and sullen. He didn’t have to look long to find the blood.

Directly across from the mouth of the open stairwell was a scaffold. Three lynches were strung tall. A loud crowd gathered around the scaffold, cheering and hollering. Their words weren’t as cheery. They were pointed, and each person’s jab only sharpened the next’s insult with its metal.

“Get on with it then!” A clemar jeered, boasting a hefty glass of liquor. Booze splattered with the swing.

“Drop the dog!” a man from the front row howled. “Hang him dead!”

The man in the middle, elevated by a crude stool, trembled. The guards behind him, lances in hand. If the damned were to take a step back and escape the rope, he’d meet the end of a spear. Neither were merciful ends.

“Please!” the paripus pleaded. Cold sweat slicked his skin. The noose tightened on his neck as he lurched forward. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”

Will’s jaw tightened. Clear blue eyes offered tepid solace in comparison to his boiling blood. “You don’t have to watch,” she told him in a whisper.

“Lying dog!” another from the back barked. “Don’t try to deny it! You trample the law for the fun of it!”

“I did no such thing!” The paripus’ voice cracked in his throat like a spark. Will felt its burn. “Please!”

The cry fell on deaf ears and got lost in the clamouring crowd. The guards behind the accused had already decided. “Let it be known: for misuse of an igniter, you will hang by the neck— until dead.”

There was no a warning. There wasn’t a courteous request for last words. A steel-clad boot kicked the stool from beneath the man. There was a snuffed scream, the flailing of feet for a ground that never came, before silence. Will didn’t have any time to shield his gaze. He wrung a clumped knot into his coat. His heart beneath twisted the same.

“There’s no way that crowd was going to listen to anything a paripus has to say.” Gallica’s voice was soft. It felt like bristle against his thin skin.

Will took a deep breath to assuage his stomach. It tempered his blood at least. He couldn’t stay silent. He needed to say something. The man that fell, he had a name. “He deserved a trial, at least.”

“That kind of money is hard to come by. When it comes to,” she paused, “circumstances like these, it’s more or less up to what the people want.”

The sounds of merry mead clanging in goblets drowned out the silence. The laughter and chatter filled the space. He distantly heard half-cocked bets being wagered for the next hanging. Like it was some sort of show.

Will wanted to scream.

“Gallica,” he said instead “why would they want him to die?”

“I don’t know, kid,” she answered him honestly. Softly. “But there is a lot more magla here than I thought there’d be. Maybe they like watching things like that thinking, ‘at least I’m not that guy.’”

“That’s horrible.”

Will wanted to scream.

“I know.” But Gallica, thankfully, wouldn’t let him dwell on it. “But come on. We should be able to cut through here to reach Sunlumeo Street.”

“Do you know a lot about the capital, Gallica?” Will felt his feet follow the fairy.

“Not exactly,” she admitted with a sheepish shrug. “This is my first time here, too. I just have Russell’s old stories to go by.”

Will felt his chest lighten at the sight of the sun. The gentle lull of the broad-street city was a lukewarm comfort compared to the frigid shallows in the shadows.

Gallica, too, seemed to enjoy the sunlight. Or, rather, the jewels in them. That wasn’t a figurative descriptor, either. The fairy’s eyes were all but glued to the jewelry on the display beside them.

Will smiled. “Want one?”

She jolted as if she was zapped by lightning. She shook it off like rain. “We’re not tourists here!” She puffed her chest and folded her arms and legs indignantly. “We gotta stay focused.”

It didn’t leave his face. “Right.”

She swiftly changed the subject. “You noticed back there on the wagon, right? You might be the only elda here. In the whole city, even.”

His fingers fumbled his collar. “What happened to not wanting to draw attention?”

She hesitated. “Well, it should be fine. After you enlist, you’ll be well-known, for better or for worse. We’ll just have to be careful in the meantime.”

It was a lie. They both knew it. She just wanted to spare him from that.

“The capital is incredible, though,” she continued. “Just look at all the different tribes! You never see this kinda diversity out in the countryside.”

“Doesn’t look too balanced,” Will observed, eyes glancing to the café they were passing. It was mostly clemars and rouissantes. From the looks of it, the paripus largely took to the back alleys.

“Too bad we can’t hide your ears in one of those helmets or even a cloak,” Gallica mused, shaking her head. “Just keep your head down for now or we will stick out like a sore thumb.”

Will nodded, lowering his head. The fairy sighed, “Not literally. Just—“ she leaned down, catching his eyes from beneath his bangs, “— avoid eye contact. You look like a hunchback turtle. And that’s even more distracting.”

“R-right.” He straightened his posture and kept his head down in the way Gallica meant.“What about you?”

“I’ll just sit on your shoulder,” she decided, already taking her perch. “I want to be able to see the city, too, you know.”

“What if you’re spotted?”

“I think the elda is the more distracting thing here,” she teased with a smirk.

Will opened his mouth for a remark, but another voice caught his attention instead.

“Did you hear?” A woman beside the lamppost not-whispered. She adjusted the crate in her hands. “What they’re saying about His Majesty? They say it wasn’t illness at all. I heard it was foul play. Assassination.”

The clemar lightly tapped the rouissante’s feet with the bristles of her broom. “Careful who hears you say that!”

She paid her no mind, laughing. “But it’s just like the prince, isn’t it? They say he was attacked in the day of night! A war of succession is coming, I tell you.”

The ladies weren’t the only ones gossiping. Sitting on the box of flower beds were two clemar. They pulled and pushed some device from their mouths. Bad news and bitter gossip smelled like a confection, apparently, if the colored trails from their noses were anything to go by.

“Sounds like monsters have been prowling the countryside,” the taller of the two hummed, pink smoke puffing from his nostrils. “They’re sending more and more guardsmen to deal with them.”

The stout man scoffed, leaning on his knees. “The army’s really gone to hell. It’s a far cry from when we had Count Louis at the helm, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Hard to see how the nation can come back from this.” He took another puff. “We’d not have to ask, if the prince were alive.” He paused, fuchsia foaming from an open mouth. “If anyone can save us from this barney rubble, it’s Count Louis.”

His friend’s laughter was like a chimney. “Hah! With no one to wear the crown, there’s a mighty good chance of it, yeah?”

Will felt the fairy beside him stiffen. Sky eyes turned stormy and her jaw tightened to silence any foul syllable. Most striking, though, was the way her fists trembled.

“Gallica?” He called to her softly.

“I’m fine.” Her voice was blunt. “Anyways, getting to the capital was only the beginning. Now comes the real high-stakes part. You gotta go get enlisted so we can meet up with our operative.”

“I remember,” he assured her, returning to his prior pace.

“Nobody here knows who we are,” she continued, “or the prince might still have a claim to the throne.”

“He does have a claim,” he pushed back firmly.

Her lightly embarrassed giggle was music to his ears. “Exactly.”

She’s right, though. If we get found out, no one’s going to save us.

“Did Russell mention where the recruitment centre is?”

She shook her head. “But it shouldn’t be too hard, considering the need for soldiers. We should be fine if we stay on the main street.”

The main street. Sunlumeo Street, right? That’s what she had called it before. Will eyed each street sign and small market’s bulletin as he walked, mindful not to bump into anyone, or make any unwanted eye contact.

Something shiny caught his eye. “Another jewelry store?”

“Oh, geez,” Gallica breathed a sigh of disappointment. “You really don’t know anything outside the village, huh?”

His two-toned eyes blinked at her. “Are they not jewelry?”

“Not exactly. Those are igniters. You don’t see shops as big as this one just anywhere, though. That’s the big city for you. Everyone and their mother has a magic igniter.”

His eyes danced across the wares. Some igniters were small, with an intricate gemstone fitted within a ring. Others were large and boastful like one in a wisened staff. The colors varied piece to piece from emerald green to amethyst purple. There was an igniter for every taste, it seemed. “So many different types. Are they useful?”

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned. “They might look pretty, but wait until you see the price tag!” Gallica’s attention returned to the display. Her head tilted to the side thoughtfully. “Still, though. I can’t imagine what it’s like, having to wave around some shiny stick to use magic.”

“Not all of them are sticks,” he kindly pointed out.

Her fists flung indignantly to her sides. “You know what I mean!”

Well, he did now.

Clacking heels cut through the conversation in a cold, calculated rhythm. Stark white hair shone like a bayonet in stark contrast to the dark clothing the woman wore. The rhoag’s coat, backed with a midnight blue velvet broadened her silhouette. She had a commanding presence, more so than anyone else Will had passed by— including the guards. Her eyes were cold as ice staring at him through frosty eyelashes. “Wonders never cease. A fairy and an eldan child. Are you new to our fair city?”

“You could say that,” Will answered, adjusting his slouching satchel.

“Well, I suggest you keep a low profile,” the woman warmed lowly. “Trust me when I say you don’t want to catch the eyes of the lords and ladies.” Her tone brightened slightly. “Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself. I run this humble shop. Are you in the market for an igniter?” Her head turned to the tallest window in the shop. It only had one item housed within its glass container. It was tall, winged with articulated decorum with a stone of sorts in the center. It reminded Will of a heart inside of a ribcage.

“Here’s something that might catch a foreigner’s eye,” the shop owner hummed. “This is modelled after the Royal Sceptre, and would make the perfect souvenir.”

“How would you even know what the Royal Sceptre looks like to begin with?” Gallica spoke up.

Will stared between the two ladies. He said nothing, but— What is a Royal Sceptre?

“From the look on that boy’s face,” the woman observed, “the novelty is lost on him.”

Gallica’s head whipped to Will. “Do you seriously not know?”

Will’s smile shook at the corners. “No?”

“It’s a symbol and instrument of the crown’s sovereignty,” the shop owner continued, “passed down through generations. If you believe the legends, it houses incredible magic. ‘World-shattering power,’ as it’s described in mythos. More practically, you might call it the world’s most potent magic igniter. And in the king’s hands, it was enough of a deterrent to stave off invasion.”

“Now he’s dead.” Will flinched at Gallica’s flat tone. “With no living heir, either.”

“Tragic, isn’t it?” Her sympathy came with an aloof hum. “Kingly magic is of little use without a king.” Her rimed eyes turned back to Will. “You picked a bad time to visit, boy. I don’t know why you’re here, but there’s trouble brewing.”

She’s kind. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“A word of caution, then,” she decided. “Your survival is your own responsibility.”

And with that, she strutted away. The bell to her shop rung a soft welcome before the door closed behind her.

“Well, that was unnecessarily ominous,” Gallica criticized lowly.

“I think she was trying to look out for us,” Will offered.

“You’re too trusting,” she hoved. “She has a point, though. We’ll need to be careful. Anyway,” she clapped her hands. “We don’t have time to hang around chatting with the locals. We have a recruitment office to find.”