Helpless to intervene, Adarin saw the chaos unfolding around him. The marketplace platform was ringed by four houses, one ablaze, its smoke and heat casting an eerie gloom.

  One squad of musketeers wheeled and fired into the house, several shouting as they pulled their triggers. At the same time came more splashes—bodies hitting the water. A scream from inside the house. Then Liora’s voice roared out with surprising fierceness:

  “Cease fire! Stop this!”

  Adarin jolted back to himself and barked the order even louder.

  “Cease fire! Now!”

  The musketeers formed a huddle around them as gusts of gentle wind carried ash and smoke over the square. Sounds of swimming and the crying of children rose from the water.

  Adarin extended one of his manipulators through a split in the planks and observed. A dozen people—half of them children—stood hip-deep in water, freshly escaped from one of the houses. He reported his findings, and a collective sigh of relief went up.

  Duchess Viola was first to act.

  “I believe this chaos is quite enough. Stay back. I will talk to them.”

  Adarin considered it, then nodded. “Go ahead.” Hopefully this goes well, so she can feel useful again.

  The duchess stepped forward to the edge and began speaking.

  “We come to bring aid. The shot was a misunderstanding.”

  “Misunderstanding?!” a young woman hissed back. “You killed my brother!”

  That was Liora’s cue. Before anyone could grab her, she scrambled into the house.

  “Liora—” Adarin hissed, but she vanished through the cloth-covered doorway. Yells followed, then silence.

  Adarin ground his teeth. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He reached for her through the noospheric link. ‘What happened? Are you…’

  ‘Someone—it’s dark—knife—’ she gasped, then added, ‘They’re unconscious now.’

  Liora scurried back out of the doorway.

  “That ended fast,” one sergeant muttered dryly. Laughter erupted from the soldiers and the rest of the delegation. Even Adarin joined in.

  “Liora, how often have I told you not to rush into situations like this?”

  She pouted. “It was fine. I was in no danger. I’m a healer, remember? The moron touched me.”

  Adarin remembered the first assassination attempt on Rüdiger when they had met him. Some peasant with a knife hadn’t stood a chance against a mage, least of all after Liora’s control had sharpened through training.

  Then the angry female voice from below erupted again.

  “My uncle! What have you done now, you monsters?!”

  ‘Yeah, this is going great,’ Adarin remarked privately to Liora. ‘Seems our track record of diplomacy isn’t improving.’

  She gave a bitter chuckle.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Duchess Viola let out a long breath.

  “We are sorry for what happened to you—both here and with us. We will pay recompense. We have a healer. If only you would let her reach your brother.”

  The voice below grew hysterical.

  “What have you done with my uncle, he isn't moving!”

  Adarin prodded Liora over the link, and she smiled sheepishly. ‘I restricted blood flow to his brain. He’s out cold.’

  “He’s just unconscious,” Adarin called down.

  The negotiations dragged on as the girl grew more hysterical. Two minutes later Duchess Viola suddenly gestured, tipped her head, and pointed to Adarin.

  He connected her into the noospheric link.

  ‘Yes, Duchess?’

  ‘Have the musketeers storm the house and drag the brother out. We’ll heal him and set them free. This is getting nowhere.’

  Adarin clicked his tongue in the privacy of his mind. ‘That’s ruthless, Duchess.’

  She gave him a vulpine smile. ‘Just because I prefer peace and harmony doesn’t mean I can’t see the advantages of decisive action, Sir Adarin.’

  He coordinated with the sergeants. One of them held up three fingers. Two. One. The last finger dropped.

  Musketeers stormed the house. After a brief scuffle and screams, half a dozen older men were dragged into the square. Among them was a man in his mid-twenties with a nasty gunshot wound in the gut. They fought tooth and nail, but a well-placed musket prods kept them in line.

  The girl’s screaming had gone beyond hysterical, but Liora calmly walked over and healed the brother.

  Duchess Viola swept her hand. “Let them go.”

  The musketeers backed away, returning to their cordon. The villagers’ eyes were wide; Adarin could practically feel their heartbeats and see sweat glistening on their foreheads. The first one bolted, stumbled and dove head first into the water. After a second of silence, he came back to the surface splashing and spluttering and began swimming away. The others flinched, expecting him to be cut down—but he simply disappeared behind the cover of a boat. Two more, including the young man, followed in less dramatic fashion, until only an older woman and a defiant boy remained.

  She looked down, listened to the screams of the girl and the splashing of swimmers in the water. Then she studied the marketplace and swallowed hard.

  “You… you truly mean to help us? You mean us no harm?”

  Adarin’s first instinct was to reply, If I wanted to harm you, I’d have used incendiary munitions. But he swallowed the thought for diplomacy’s sake and let Duchess Viola take the lead.

  Viola stepped forward, hands open.

  “We merely came across the village going up the Dray. Are there more survivors?”

  The woman swallowed hard, gazing across the ruined town—three dozen houses, most of their roofs torn apart and floating in the river.

  “They went around methodically. Cracked most of the houses. I think they stayed away from the market square because of the fire. Old Magdalena… she must have had oil.” The woman trailed off, eyes downcast. “I think the elder man is dead.”

  Captain Viola sighed.

  “I have worse news for you. The way wyverns feed—they create a slaughter ground and return to it several times. They like the meat ripened. You’re not safe here.”

  The woman’s eyes widened in panic. “What?”

  The duchess turned to Adarin.

  “Do we have space on the ships for them?”

  Adarin shrugged, casting a sidelong glance at Magus Cooper. “Of course. The more the merrier on this little expedition.”

  It took nearly an hour: coaxing survivors out of hiding, salvaging what could be carried, musketeers and sailors keeping anxious watch on the sky. Using ship hooks, the dead were dragged from the water and laid in the one remaining longhouse, which was then filled with timber and straw and set aflame.

  Adarin stood on the rear castle of the Magnolia as they left the village, nearly thirty pyres burning by the river. He felt tired. Somber.

  Such horror. This is the world the system made—for what?