The buildings of Boadicea came into view several hours past midday, sun high and merciless above the bluff-lined trail. Dust clung to the truck, the cargo, and every rider. It coated the prisoner too—half-conscious and slumped over in the back of the convoy. His wrists and ankles were bound, his face swollen from Aurania’s headbutt and the rough landing after.

  The town was quieter than usual.

  No whistles. No half-hearted insults. The civilians just watched them roll in with tight mouths and arms crossed from behind shaded awnings and cracked doorframes. Most of them didn’t seem to care where the blood on the prisoner’s shirt came from. But some looked relieved—like they finally saw proof that the raiders weren’t just rumors.

  Aurania stood once Brolgar parked the truck in front of the mayor’s building. She picked the prisoner up and quickly scanned the streets. Soren hopped off the truck, then Aurania lowered their captive down to him.

  “Amalia, run and find Tamiyo and Riza.” Aurania directed.

  “Copy, Boss!” Amalia hurried off towards their ship with a smile on her face.

  Aurania hopped down after Veolo and Violet, their hooves sending up a cloud of red dust. She approached Soren and softly said, “Hey. You alright? Things got a little tense back there.”

  A warm look flashed across his face. “Yeah. I appreciate you asking. Really.” He smiled, then added, “What about you? You’re the one that was acting like a badass out there, jumping onto oncoming vehicles and kicking teeth in.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, I’m good. Been a minute since I pulled a maneuver like that, it was pretty fun.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Tamiyo came hurrying around the building as they were hauling the prisoner up the steps. Riza walked behind her at a more relaxed, casual pace.

  “Hey!” Tamiyo said. “Everything alright?”

  “Yep, nothing to worry over,” Aurania answered. She stepped aside, revealing their prisoner. “I hit this one pretty good on the head, I need you to make sure he’s not going to die.”

  Aurania glanced down at the prisoner, then added, “At least not soon.”

  “Oh, sure thing!” Tamiyo briskly walked up the steps and her eyes lit up. She observed him for several moments, moving around to look from different angles.

  The lazarco groaned.

  “Hmm,” Tamiyo said in thought. Then she told Soren, “Hey, take his chest armor off.”

  He reached down, took a breath, and ripped the ballistic plate off like it was thin fabric.

  A small, surprised, “Oh,” escaped Aurania’s mouth before she could stop herself. Soren looked up and she felt herself flush, so she quickly told him, “Shut up.”

  He grinned and looked away.

  Tamiyo pushed a knuckle into the lazarco’s sternum and rubbed hard.

  “Ow, ow—stop!” he blustered. “I’m awake.”

  “Mmhmm,” Tamiyo stood up, a half-bored look on her face. “He was faking how delirious he was. He’s probably got a pretty good headache, but he’s coherent.”

  “Oh good,” Aurania said, glancing at Riza. “Let’s go have some fun.”

  Soren threw the lazarco over his shoulder and they all walked inside. The mayor’s building creaked as they ascended—the old bones speaking beneath Venlin’s polished surface. Aurania walked ahead, Soren hauling the prisoner behind her like he weighed nothing. Tamiyo, Riza, Veolo and Violet brought up the rear without comment.

  On the third floor, the hall opened into Venlin Dread’s office. As always, the place looked a little too curated. Bottles on the shelf. A gleaming handgun mounted behind his desk. Maps of Mol’eyne pinned to the back wall with red thread connecting key trade points. Venlin was standing at the window, back to the door, as if he’d been expecting them.

  He turned when they entered, a tense smile on his face. “Well. I see you brought a guest.” His voice had that same dry charm it always did. "I take it the trip went less than smooth."

  Aurania shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “We managed. Got hit by a couple flatbeds on the way back. Lost one of them—scrapped entirely. The other gave us this fine specimen.” She nodded to Soren, who dumped the lazarco into a chair.

  The prisoner groaned, grimaced, then muttered, “Can I get a damn glass of water?”

  Aurania shrugged. “I don’t know, I just work here.” She turned to Venlin. “Mayor? Your building, what do you think?”

  Venlin walked around his desk and pulled open a cabinet, grabbing a mug and a large flask. He poured out a little water and handed it to Soren, who offered it to the prisoner without a word. The lazarco sipped it, both sets of arms still tied behind his back, eyes darting between everyone in the room.

  “What’s his name?” Venlin asked.

  “Duff,” the prisoner muttered. “Just Duff.”

  Aurania gave him a surprised look. “That was easy. We usually have to at least pretend to get creative before they start volunteering.”

  Duff gave a pained shrug, eyes on the floor. “If I say nothing, you break my ribs. If I talk, maybe you don’t. Not real complicated math.” He looked up at Aurania. “You are one tall fuckin’ lacravida.”

  “Oooh,” Aurania cooed. “Someone on this rock that’s familiar with us.”

  “Do you know they don’t like being insulted?” Soren chimed in. “Or that they have tempers?”

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Hey, I wasn’t insulting no one!” Duff quickly spouted. “She’s tall as fuck, the dirt’s red as shit. The fuck more you want from me?”

  “Oh, a couple things,” Aurania said with a light smile. She turned to Venlin. “What would you like to do with him?”

  He gave a slow blink. “He’s your prisoner.”

  Aurania raised an eyebrow. “Oh, come on. You’re the local authority, I’m just on loan from the Liberty Union. Isn’t this your jurisdiction?”

  “I’m not particularly trained in interrogations,” Venlin replied smoothly.

  “You know, neither am I,” Aurania answered, almost sarcastically. She squatted down next to Duff, getting as close to eye-level as she could. She pointed a single finger in his face and said, “You know who is pretty good at them?”

  Duff looked too nervous to answer.

  Aurania gave him a wide half-smile, cocked her head at Venlin, then shifted her eyes toward Riza.

  The sniper was casually leaning in a shadow by the door, intentionally not drawing attention to herself. Slowly, she pushed off the wall and took a couple steps forward, just close enough for Duff to be able to see her. She wore black, traditional cut lacravida robes, her scars on full display, her long dagger sheathed on her hip. She wore no cold expression, no exaggerated attempt at intimidation—but her mere presence pulled the air tighter.

  “Duff m’boy,” Aurania chirped, “This here is my friend Riza. Now, you surprised me by knowing about lacravida—not a lot around here seem to have heard of us. But the mayor,” she gestured over to Venlin, “he did say he knew something of us when we first met.”

  Aurania’s joking tone dripped with a nefarious undertone. “Mayor, what was the legend you asked us about?”

  Venlin looked nervous. “I-I don’t see— Uh, Proxinara. The Ghost of Proxinara.” He shot her a confused look.

  “That’s the one, thank you Mayor,” Aurania said jovially. “Riza! Where were you born?”

  “Proxinara.” Riza sounded bored, but maintained just enough mysteriousness in her tone to be chilling.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Aurania saw Venlin’s eyes go wide. “You’re kidding. There’s no way, what are you pulling here, Aurania? You told me it was a legend.”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t true.”

  He looked like he still didn’t believe her. “The story I heard was a ghost tale. No one survived Proxinara.”

  “One did,” Aurania smirked.

  His wide eyes slowly shifted from her to Riza.

  She just offered him a gentle wiggle of her fingers—a light hearted greeting from a woman who’d killed thousands. “Nice to meet you, Mayor. Now then,” she walked around to face Duff.

  “We could get all brutal, or threaten to use all manner of fucked up tactics to pull info out of you. But I’m gonna be honest. I’m not a psychopath. What I am, is pregnant. And tired. And quickly approaching hangry. So.”

  She drew her dagger and mirrored Aurania’s squat, flatly tapping the dagger on Duff’s knee. “If I start causing you a bunch of pain, you’re likely to just tell me what I want to know to make it stop.” She glanced at Venlin, then back to Duff, and shrugged. “Who knows if it’ll be the truth.”

  “Oh, darn,” Aurania toyed. “What are we to do then?”

  “Well, Boss!” Riza almost yelled. “The trick is to figure out what both parties need. Come to a compromise. We need to know how you guys keep learning about these shipments and where you’re getting your info from.”

  She paused, letting her words sink in as she trailed her dagger up the lazarco’s torso. “So what does Duff need? What does he not need?”

  Duff started to speak, “Well I—”

  “You have four arms,” Riza cut him off. “You got five pretty fingers on each one. I can tell you from experience,” she let a small laugh out, glancing at Venlin, “You don’t need all twenty of them digits.”

  Duff’s eyes got wider, and Aurania noticed Venlin shift uncomfortably.

  “I’ll even be nice,” Riza continued. “You tell me which of these four sandwich hooks you like to jerk off with and I’ll leave that one alone.” She looked up at him, half-smiling, and waited for a response.

  Duff opened his mouth but no words came out. His eyes moved wildly—looking at Venlin, then Aurania, Venlin again, then back to Riza.

  Riza inhaled through her nose and let a small sigh out. “Disappointing.” She stood back up and turned to the mayor. “It’ll be a bit before anything fun actually happens. A day or two, maybe. I find we get more reliable info when they’re hungry. You want me to come find you so you can watch when I begin?”

  Venlin’s expression drew tighter, and he heavily stammered to get a response out. After much too long, he finally managed, “T-that won’t be necessary.”

  Riza just shrugged and turned to Soren. “Carry him back down for me?”

  “I can walk!” Duff yelled.

  “And give you a chance to run away?” Riza glared at him. Then her eyes drifted to the ceiling in thought. “I do like a moving target…” She glanced back down over the bridge of her nose.

  He answered with silence.

  Soren threw Duff over his shoulder again, and they left the mayor’s office. Riza followed behind, unhurried, her hand resting on the hilt of her sheathed dagger. No one spoke until they reached the ground floor and stepped into the hot afternoon light.

  “North Wing please,” Riza tapped Soren on the arm. “Put him in one of the old, cold storage rooms. Veolo and I can rig something secure.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Soren replied. He was feigning a slight tone of fear, but Aurania knew he was trying not to laugh at their performance. He adjusted Duff’s weight on his shoulder, then started towards the edge of town.

  Riza watched him go for a second, then turned back to Aurania. They locked eyes for a moment, then both snorted. They had definitely shaken Venlin, but he wasn’t ready to crack.

  Yet.

  Riza headed after Soren, and Aurania glanced up at the third-story window, catching a flicker of movement—curtains swaying. She laughed to herself, then turned away from his building, nearly bumping into Cale, who was loitering too close to the base of the steps.

  He squinted up at her. “That the guy you caught?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yep.”

  “What’s going on with him?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  He made a face like he wanted to argue, but didn’t. He glanced toward the window, then back at her. “You know, this town’s been just fine without the Union til now.”

  She stepped past him without replying.

  As she walked, she spotted Amaryn standing off to the side, partially hidden by the edge of a shaded porch. The girl was watching her, and didn’t look away when they locked eyes.

  Aurania made her way over and gently said, “Hello there.”

  “H-hello ma’am. I mean, Aura.”

  Aurania chuckled warmly. “How are you today?”

  “Doing well, thank you. I saw you all drive back into town… who is that man you brought with you?” Her voice was small, but she sounded genuinely curious.

  “Someone who attacked us.”

  “Oh no,” Amaryn’s eyes widened.

  “Violet’s in love with that gun you gave her,” Aurania smirked. “She put it to good use today.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  A moment of quiet passed between them. It felt like Amaryn wanted to ask her something, but Aurania wasn’t sure it was her place to press.

  “I need to go check on my team,” Aurania finally said. “I’m sure Violet would love to see you. Would you care to walk with me?”

  “I, um…” Amaryn hesitated.

  Aurania tilted her head, but just waited patiently.

  Amaryn took a breath, as if steeling herself. “I would like to accept your offer. To leave Mol’eyne.”

  “Good,” Aurania smiled wide back at her. “I’m glad to hear that. Come—you should meet the others.” She put an arm around Amaryn’s shoulders as they began to walk.

  “Are the others nice?” the girl asked timidly.

  “They’re the best,” Aurania genuinely answered. “I think Amalia’s making pancakes for dinner.”