Tables spilled onto the sidewalk beneath striped awnings, the café alive with morning clatter. At one sat the Vaelthorn trio: Halden Sinthurk, Carthis Virelles, and Aria Devanthes. They’d been in town a week, consulting with the High Mages; they were booked to return next week, but not all of them seemed eager to go home.

  Aria reached for the other half of her sandwich and froze when she saw Halden. He wasn’t eating; he was stabbing the meat with the fork as if it were an enemy. His jaw worked like someone trying to hold a wild thing in.

  “Halden,” she said, frowning. “Again with Earl Robertson?”

  He made a low sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Yes. He ruins everything. Seeing him with Marlena…” He cut the rest off with a breath that smelled of bile. “I should never have forgiven him. He deserved to be removed.”

  Carthis stirred his wine with the rim of his cup, calm as ever. “The assassin failed, true. You paid good coin and had him slipped in…”

  “…and the man botched it,” Halden finished. “Dead shame. I suspect he’s been dealt with for his incompetence. And that waiter that I gave all that gold, couldn’t even give him that tea,” His eyes were diminutive, bright, hungry.

  A hard clink as Aria set down her cup. She looked from Halden to Carthis, then out across the street as if the city itself might answer. “You two are talking like conspirators,” she said. “I think you’re going too far. The Earl is not a threat until you make him one. You want vengeance, fine, but don’t dress it up like strategy. Talk to him. Learn from him. Killing is a stupid solution.”

  Halden’s fingers curled around his fork. “He’s weakened; he barely stood on that airship. Now is when we strike.”

  Aria’s eyes flashed. “Strike now and you’ll be the ones to bleed. I won’t stand with you on this.”

  She rose, cloak gathered about her shoulders. Before she walked away, she leaned over the table, voice low and cold. “My oath still binds me. Remember that.”

  Carthis watched her go, a slow smile forming that did not reach his eyes. “So,” he said to Halden, quiet as a promise, “what’s our next move, partner?”

  At the nearby table, half-hidden beneath a dark hood, a cloaked figure watched and wrote. The pen’s scratch was steady.

  _____________________

  “You know you snore,” Seraphina whispered in my ear. I opened my eyes to find her lying close, fingers tracing lazy circles on my arm.

  “We should do this more often,” she murmured.

  “Just lie in bed?” I teased, failing to hide my grin. I pulled her close and kissed her before rolling out to start the day.

  When I emerged from the bedroom, Marlena and Allira were giggling, while Erica sat stiffly with an embarrassed look.

  “A little noisy this morning, David. Everything all right?” Marlena asked.

  “Just a battle with tangled hair,” I said with a smirk.

  “Allyson,” I added, “Seraphina will want a good breakfast after mornings like these.”

  “Yes, Master,” came the reply from the kitchen.

  I collapsed into a chair, savoring the rare luxury of doing nothing. That peace lasted all of two minutes before Erica approached, letter in hand, cheeks pink.

  “Good morning, David,” she said, bowing slightly. “An urgent request arrived from the King. He asks if you are available for tea with his daughter this afternoon.”

  “Tea?” I blinked. “Is that normal? I’m a man. Do kings usually send their daughters to tea with strange men?”

  “Not quite,” Erica admitted. “It seems Princess Thersia struggles with mathematics. The King hopes you might tutor her.”

  I chuckled. “Well, that’s new. What level of math are we talking about? Calculus? Trigonometry? Differential equations?”

  “Division,” she said meekly. “What is calculus?”

  I grinned. “Calculus is a way of studying change. It can even predict where the moon will be on a certain night, based on today’s observations. Developed by a very clever man named Isaac Newton.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “You can do that?” Allira asked.

  “Yes. But only after algebra. First things first, division.”

  The three of them exchanged impressed looks. Marlena leaned in. “When you have time, my sweet husband, I’d like to learn this too.”

  “I’d expect nothing less from my mage,” I said warmly.

  “Erica, could I bring my wife of the day with me?”

  “Wife of the day?” she repeated, puzzled.

  “One of us always stays by his side,” Allira explained. “Today, that’s Seraphina.”

  “I hated the old term… ‘duty wife,’” Marlena muttered. “Made it sound… unpleasant.”

  “What about the wife?” Seraphina said dryly as she padded out in her robe, only half-tied.

  “Sweetheart,” I said with a grin, “we’re invited to tea this afternoon. A princess needs help with her numbers.” Her look was priceless.

  Before we could continue, Allyson called from the kitchen that the bath was ready. I stretched and asked, “Anyone else want to join me?”

  My three wives all moved at once toward the bath. I glanced at Erica. “You too?”

  “What?” she squeaked.

  “You’re flushed. Did you run here with that letter?” Seraphina teased.

  Erica turned crimson. “I… I can’t. We’re not family. And marriage requires a class. My awakening is in two days. I hope for a scout, like my father.” She rambled.

  “Scout’s a good class,” Allira nodded.

  “Lots of versatility,” Seraphina agreed.

  Allyson entered then, calm as always. “Any needs, Master?”

  “For me, no. I’ll be in the workshop for a while.” I gave Seraphina’s thigh a quick pat before slipping away.

  As the door closed, Erica glanced nervously at Seraphina. “I hope I didn’t upset David.”

  Seraphina smiled reassuringly. “Not at all. That’s his way of respecting your boundaries. Now, let’s get ready for tea.”

  The four women headed toward the bath, laughter trailing behind them as clothes hit the hamper by the door.

  _____________________

  I sat at the workbench with a clean page in my sketchbook, idly drawing the outline of a small flower. The motion calmed me.

  “Master,” Allyson leaned in, voice soft, “what are you making?”

  “This will be a necklace for the princess we’re meeting this afternoon.” I tapped the page. “I do like making jewelry.”

  “You do enjoy it,” she observed.

  “Guilty, but this… this is relaxing. The best part is seeing my wives light up when I give them one.” I smiled.

  “When will you make one for Miss Erica?” she asked.

  My pencil froze mid-stroke. “…What?”

  “Melissa and I ran the numbers,” Allyson said matter-of-factly. “There’s a probability Miss Erica will be your next wife.”

  I set the pencil down and laughed. “First, she can’t marry anyone until she gains a class by her own rules. Second, why are you trying to arrange my life?”

  “History shows six wives are optimal for a Tower Master,” Allyson said. “Some had more, others fewer, but eight provides the best stability. There was one Tower Master who had fifteen wives.

  “Fifteen? What a busy life that one had. Optimal? Like a mathematical formula?” I grinned. “Fine. Present your evidence.”

  “Her heart rate rises when she’s near you. Her skin temperature increases. She watches you when you think she isn’t, heart rate still elevated.”

  “So she has a crush, or she’s nervous. Not evidence.”

  “She matches the parameters of your current wives: intelligence, beauty, and…” she hesitated, “certain physical attributes.”

  I snorted. “So, you’re saying my type is smart, beautiful…and busty?”

  “There is supporting data for that conclusion,” Allyson replied calmly.

  I shook my head, grinning. “And Marlena? She’s not as uh, well-endowed as Allira or Seraphina. I love her no less.”

  “Compensating variables,” Allyson said without missing a beat. “Her other qualities outweigh that metric.”

  “Stop right there. If any of them hear this, I don’t know which one will dismantle you first.”

  “Melissa’s projections suggest Lady Allira,” she said primly.

  “That I believe.” I chuckled, then wagged a finger. “I need to teach you chess.”

  “What chest game?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.

  “Chess. Strategy. Nothing to do with your chest.”

  “Then perhaps you should not have looked at my breasts while saying it.”

  I laughed until my ribs hurt. “Touché, Allyson. Touché.”

  She gave a faint curtsey. “Thank you, Master.”

  She pointed toward a large wooden crate on the other workbench. “Master, we have your rifle prototype.”

  “You do?” I crossed the room and opened the box. Parts were wrapped in oiled cloth: a blued barrel, a stock shaped for the shoulder, a lever-action assembly. The craftsmanship was tidy and practical, meeting the standards of a prototype.

  “Nice,” I said, lifting pieces onto the bench. “Excellent workmanship.”

  “Thank you, Master. We aim to please.”

  “And you do, every day.” I began assembling the weapon. Fitting the barrel, seating the action, checking the trigger pull, this familiar rhythm relaxed me. When the rifle was put together, it looked right, even in the dim light. The stock felt solid in my hands, and the metal fit well. There were issues: the bluing needed some touch-up, some tolerances needed shaving, and I wanted a slightly different balance. All are fixable.

  “How does it work, Master?” Allyson asked, honest curiosity in her voice. She wasn’t an engineer; she hadn’t pretended to be. She wanted to learn, and that was all that mattered.

  “Here.” I lifted the rifle and settled it against my shoulder. “You hold it like this. Those sights on the barrel are for aiming. When you’re ready, you pull the trigger. This one won’t function until I etch the scripts, which are the safety and power bindings. However, mechanically, it’s a lever-action repeater. Think of it as a cross between a bow and a long-range wand.”

  “Will the maids be able to use one?” she asked.

  “With training, yes.” I tightened a screw. “My plan is for a small unit, a handful of trained maids. In my old world, they would be a rifle squad, a small, well-trained group that works with the main force. The rifle adds reach without replacing the sword.”

  Allyson’s face brightened. “That could change defense doctrine in small households.”

  “Exactly.” I ran a thumb along the wood. “I’ll polish it, etch the scripts later today, then teach you. This one’s the prototype; if it works, I want ten for the trip north. Also, I am not the type that Erica wants. Captain Ryes is more her style. I saw it in her eyes. ”

  “We need to update our parameters.”