There was a certain word that Sara had heard a million times in films and movies that she'd never quite understood, even if she was aware of its literal definition: 'debrief'. Every movie featuring some spec-ops dudebro had the token bit at the end of a mission where they're brought in to debrief , which was a code word for telling the commanders everything they'd seen. Sure, if it was a recon mission, Sara had thought, that made sense, but why did everyone need to do it all the time? They'd all literally just lived through the events, didn't they, so why bother recounting it for each other?

  The Battle of Tulian Harbor, as some of the overly-enthusiastic (and unimaginative) Guardmembers had taken to calling it, answered that question for Sara. Despite having been at the very center of the entire affair, which sted no more than hour, she had no damn idea what had happened. Where had Evie taken Vesta and her children? Why was Tarlin dressed like a hobo-knight, and what the hell, he was a Feline? Weren't those super rare, and usually nobility? What had Vesta done to piss off of the Sporaton military, and for that matter, what the fuck was up with that one boat that got surrounded by fog? The creepy-ass Silent Hill cloud was still sitting in the harbor, and the heat of midday had only burned away enough mist to only expose skeletal masts bobbing with the waves.

  And with all that constantly running through her mind, Sara was stuck working her way through the assembled prisoners with Ignite, pying the part of a living political banner. Her presence was entirely unnecessary, save for the fact that having a man that looked for all the world like a Carrion officer handling the surrender wouldn't be great for future cims of Tulian sovereignty. She walked just beside and behind him, with her arms folded behind her back, staring sternly down at the grim-faced and defeated Marines, barely paying attention. There were nearly a great number of prisoners, as they'd promptly surrendered when Guard reinforcements had arrived. Trapped between two Irregurs and Ignite's bolstered forces, no amount of authoritative bellowing from their commanders had kept them from throwing down their weapons.

  Ignite had them assembled in rows just beside the harbor, their armor and weapons piled up unceremoniously nearby. He walked among them while dictating the terms of their upcoming imprisonment, which he and Sara had hastily worked out a few minutes before. By the medieval standards of this world, it was incredibly generous. In particur, the notion that they were guaranteed the right (after a vague period of time had passed) to be repatriated to their home was cause for excitement, as it was a term usually only extended to nobility or officers. If Sara's pns worked, though, most of them would be fighting tooth and nail to stay in Tulian by the time their 'imprisonment' was over.

  Unfortunately, the task wasn't enough to distract Sara from her own curiosities, which were burning her from the inside out. Long-term goals like asserting her authority over the nation were obviously what she should address first, but damnit, she was a Divine Champion. Shouldn't she be allowed to sprint around tilting at windmills, rather than taking the sensible, responsible course of action?

  To her great relief, the barest excuse to do so presented itself in the form of a distant shout. Sara heard it only briefly, between Ignite's words, but its familiarity caught her attention. Several of the prisoners were indeed cocking their head, looking over their shoulders, and so Sara split off from Ignite, whispering a brief assurance for him to continue.

  She walked a few wharfs down, the only sound coming from Ignite and the sorting of looted equipment, until she heard it again, this time much clearer.

  "Hel- lo? I know someone's up there, and if you're ignoring me, I assure you, you'll regret it!"

  Sara honed in on Ketch's voice, which echoed up from down below.

  "Ketch? That you? Where are you?"

  "I'm down here," she replied, a spsh of water thrown up from one wharf further down. The tide had begun to ebb, and Sara hurried over to find Ketch clinging to the mossy stones ten feet below the walkway. She held, seized spitefully by the colr, a fat, balding, middle-aged man, who was gasping terribly at the exertion of treading water.

  "The fuck?" Sara elegantly greeted, crouching down. "Ketch, did you steal a dude? Who's this guy?"

  "The captain of the ship that was--"

  "I am not just a captain , you mongrel -- ! " Jowls quivered as the man did his best to draw himself up while being kept afloat by the scruff of his neck. " I am Lord Acertan Vidanya, of no small importance in the Sporaton Navy, and if you free me from this wretch's grasp, madam, I assure you, the rewards will be great."

  In an instant Sara's train of thought switched tracks, calcuting all the variables involved in her address of the man. Certainly, she had an incredible position of power over him right now, in the physical sense, but she had plenty she desired of him that would require time and finesse to extract. Information on his task, resources, allies, and pns of his superiors, all too easy to lie about if she antagonized him. His general obesity, an astonishingly rare trait in this pre-industrial society, suggested a life of biblically sinful excess, his love of luxury an exploitable avenue of approach. Referring to Ketch as a 'mongrel' was either cssism or racism, though considering Sara's own experience with Sporaton nobility, it was most likely both. She'd be best served by having him interact primarily with humans, and even then only those he viewed as appropriate to his station. Further conversation would determine exactly how she would pick the man's mind apart, but this preliminary evaluation would serve for now.

  A heartbeat had not passed before Sara straightened, regarding Ketch with reproachful distaste.

  "Well, let us bring the unfortunate gentleman ashore. Are you incapable of delivering him yourself?"

  "Of course not," Ketch snapped, giving him a demonstrative shake that sent his jowls jiggling. "Get a dder or something, because I don't think I can keep him from going under if his weakness overtakes him."

  "Hmph," Sara huffed, as if disapproving of the crass words. She nodded to the captured man. "I apologize for the regrettable circumstances of our first meeting, Captain Vidanya. Much better for these affairs to be handled between peers, rather than their lessers. I will return in a moment with a manner of retrieving you."

  "Oh, much appreciated, My Lady," he replied breathlessly, doing his best to match her formal air while treading for his life.

  Sara retreated back to the Guards and their prisoners, snagging a few that had been set to the duty of organizing the looted equipment. She whispered them a quiet few instructions, mainly not to address her with her preferred familiarity in front of the prisoner, then hurried back over with a half-finished tangle of webbed ship rigging.

  "I apologize that we have not a dder for you, sir, but the battle has caused quite a level of disorganization, as you might imagine, and I supposed you would rather sooner be free of the ocean than wait for a finer means of egress. Will this serve?"

  Sara dropped the rope over the side, which spshed directly before him and Ketch.

  "I-- ah," he paused to pant, paddling over to the ropes. "I must agree, I would much rather be upon dry nd, unbecoming as it might be for a Captain to state."

  Sara's face remained professionally impassive as she watched the captain wallow about in the water, which was difficult with Ketch making theatrical expressions of exasperation behind his back. A few of the guard weren't as stoic as Sara, chuckling to themselves, but Captain Vidanya was thankfully too preoccupied to notice.

  Eventually he managed to find a pce on the ropes, some sailing instincts from his younger and less moribund years guiding him through, and Sara hauled him up with the help of the Guards she'd recruited.

  He scrabbled onto the stones with all the grace of a gutted fish, his ruined suit squelching with each motion of his infantile crawl. Sara helped him the st few feet, not trusting anyone else to keep a straight face.

  "You, there, bring the poor gentleman a chair," she said, waving one of the guards off. While he y on the stone with his eyes closed, breathing hard, Sara took a few moments to hastily adjust her armor for a better presentation. As she did so, she said, "While I'm most eagerly awaiting a proper discussion with a peer, which I have gone far too long without, I apologize that I must first attend to other business. I trust to your honor that you will await my return so we may discuss the specific terms of your parole?"

  "Of course, of course," he breathed, cracking an eye to nod gratefully. "By all means, My Lady, organize your affairs. I am all too familiar with the demands of command, I assure you."

  "My thanks, Captain Vidanya," she said, bowing just enough to satisfy the social demand before turning about.

  Ketch followed behind her, lips pursed. When they were back to the prisoner's staging area, and well out of Vidanya's earshot, Sara let out a great sigh.

  "Sorry about that, Ketch. I figured I better butter him up, if I want him to talk about what the hell he was doing here. The other two Captains didn't make it, so he's the only one we've got."

  "I suspected that was what you were doing," Ketch replied, eying Vidanya with contempt. "He's a coward, let me warn you. Told his archers he'd have them all hanged if they let anything happen to him."

  "So you yanked him off the ship, then?" Sara asked. "I saw the middle ship doing weird stuff, but I was too busy to get a proper look."

  Ketch nodded, trying to keep her pride casual, but Sara caught the excited smile slipping up her face. "I did indeed. Simple enough to climb up the stern when all eyes were to the front, and the first anyone aboard knew of my presence was in the press of a dagger to his throat. The coward nearly fainted on the spot, which would have greatly complicated things."

  "Ha! That's a good damn break for us. I appreciate it. New levels working well for you, then?"

  "Of course. And your theory was right, by the way. I haven't progressed any further since my fifth."

  Ketch's meteoric rise through the ranks had continued over the st few weeks, even when she spent an experimental period idle, with nothing to fuel the progression. Sara's core group of allies had talked it over and concluded a Champion ability was certainly at py, even if the specifics were inscrutable. Sara's own guess was that Ketch's progress would eventually come up to match her own, pteauing at the level of five, a sort of catch-up mechanic she vaguely recalled from video games. With Ketch's progress now stalled, she'd been vindicated. Sara had probably never noticed the effect because she'd only ever taken in people well above her rank, but now that she knew of it, the implications were earthshaking.

  Sara shook her head, grinning. "Well, as much as I'd have liked it for you to end up the strongest person on the face of the pnet before the year was out, it was probably too much to ask. We'll have to go over it ter, when we're all together, but right now I've got some noble prick to interrogate. You know anything else that might help me wrangle him?"

  Ketch put a finger to her lips as she considered, then shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Sara. Living in the ocean never taught me much about the humans that sailed over it."

  "No problem, I figured as much. But..." Sara turned to look at the harbor, where the mist was slowly sinking into the sea. A greater portion of the ship's masts had been exposed, revealing wood that was pitted and pored as if locusts the size of bulls had gnawed upon it. Sara jabbed a thumb in the direction. "You know anything about that?"

  Ketch, of all things, blushed. "Oh. I was hoping you wouldn't ask about that."

  "Literally why in the hell would I not?"

  "I don't know. I was hopeful, alright?" Ketch blew out a breath, scratching her buzzcut. "It's Selly. I told her that some of the archers had tried to shoot me when I jumped off with the captain, and she... took offense."

  The fog continued to fade. The ship's deck was revealed, great chunks ripped from its surface, and not a person was visible, dead or alive. White tendrils lingered in their retreat from the hull, a great mass of tentacles slipping silently beneath the waves clutching stolen sections of the vessel. With the entire ship now revealed, its awful condition apparent, Sara found herself shocked it was still afloat.

  "...I really need to go meet her, don't I?"

  "That would be best, yes, especially now that she's so directly assisted you."

  Sara frowned, a petunt tone entering her voice. "But you all live with your dad . I've met my girlfriend's dads before, and that was bad enough, but now I'll be meeting your dad and your girlfriend at the same time."

  Ketch rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you'll do fine, Sara. So long as you have a potion of water breathing, at least. No way you'll get Dad out of the sea."

  Sara grumbled, taking from her bag of holding the itinerary notebook Evie had made her. As she searched for a free spot in the coming days, she said to Ketch, "You don't have to stick around for me schmoozing Lord Dickwad, by the way. I'm sure Ignite will have something for you to do, or you can head home if you think Selly and your dad are anxious."

  "They shouldn't be, considering my progression, but knowing them, they'll still worry themselves sick. I'll help Ignite make sure the prisoners aren't hiding any contraband, then I'll head out. Good luck with the interrogation."

  "Appreciate it. I'll send you the bullet points of what we discover."

  Ketch flitted away as Sara found a spot to pencil in the meeting with the Azerketi family, just a few days out. She added a note to find a way to breathe underwater for her and Evie, then snapped the book shut, heading over to Ignite. The gore-spattered man was in quiet discussion with a pair of his lieutenants.

  "Hold a moment," he instructed them as he noted Sara's approach, adopting the same at-ease position the lieutenants had been using to address him. "Ma'am, the prisoners are disarmed and have been given their terms. If rebellion sits among their thoughts, they are likely too exhausted to show it for some days yet."

  "Good work, Commander Ignite," she said rigidly, for the benefit of the lieutenants. It was one thing to insist upon informality between Ignite and herself in private, but she wouldn't usurp the discipline he sought to instill in his own troops. "If you were not yet made aware, I will inform you that Ketch has captured an enemy captain alive and well. Having little experience with matters of the navy, I would have you advise me on the particurs of the upcoming interrogation."

  "Of course, ma'am. Allow me just a moment." He turned to the two lieutenants. "If appropriate quarters cannot be found, we will have to hold them outside the city. It will be difficult to ensure none escape without walls, but I would rather have enemy soldiers loose among the countryside than the capital. You are dismissed."

  The lieutenants saluted sharply and turned on a heel, moving to take to their orders. Ignite fell in with Sara, who guided them to a slightly more private area, if only because there wasn't a crowd.

  "So, a navy captain," Sara began. "If they're anything like the nobility, they've probably got all kinds of stupid-ass traditions. What do I need to know to butter him up?"

  "More than can be told in few minutes, ma'am," Ignite replied, sighing. "You are correct that they have many traditions, and conclusions to nobility are apt. I avoided formal dining events as often as I might, but I learned the motions by way of necessity."

  "How bad are we talking here? Like, I'll be mocked for putting my utensils in the wrong order on the table, or more general manners-type things?"

  "That and more, ma'am. In the dinner between captains I most attended, all was based upon hierarchy. In the Carrion Navy, which has no nobility beyond captaincy, this was based first upon css of ship, then seniority." He sighed, lifting his helmet to wipe the sweat away from his brow. It looked odd, seeing the glistening reflection against his bck marble skin. "The complexity begins at the seating arrangements. The Magecraft captains sat closest to the host, in order of their date since first being assigned to a Magecraft, while the captains of mundane ships were organized by their vessel's tonnage, ties divided by seniority of first having achieved captaincy of any ship, not just their present assignment. Marine officers sat across from their captains, unless they had served previously as a captain, in which case..."

  Sara nodded seriously as Ignite continued on, dredging out heaps of information he very clearly wished he'd never had to commit to memory. The dizzying social complexity of the Carrion Navy would have been impossible to parse, Sara would guess, if it wasn't for Amarat's blessings. With the supernatural assistance, it was only frustratingly tedious, rather than incomprehensible, and Sara quickly empathized with Ignite's difficulties during his time as a Carrion Marine. Who sat where, who sat first, who spoke first and who spoke second, even what meals were expected to be served, it all had some asinine expnation. If there was one bit of good news in it all, it was that the Carrion Navy was considered a model to every continental military, and Vidanya would likely be familiar enough with Carrion practices to forgive what Sara learned from Ignite as foreign, rather than intentional rudeness.

  He had moved on to several more specific issues she might encounter, such as the expectations of captured officers in terms of bedding and meals, when his eyes suddenly widened, a visceral fear striking him through. Sara swung about with a hand on her sword, searching for the cause of his arm.

  She found only Evie. The feline was stalking towards her with a saccharine smile, the bitter intensity of which sent every Guard and sailor in her path scattering for cover.

  "I-I will make my leave, ma'am," Ignite hastily said, skittering away without another word. It was the first time since they'd met that he hadn't requested her permission to leave.

  Evie reached Sara with her hands csped before her waist, all smiles and sweetness, save for her tail, which was shing in mad fury.

  "Hey, Evie," Sara greeted, nerves infecting the words. "Everything go alright with Vesta? The battle here wrapped up pretty easy, but if you haven't got a report yet I can give you a rundown of--"

  "I already know, Master."

  "Fuck."

  A hand tched itself to the colr of her armor, dragging her down to eye level with the feline. Sara was normally several times stronger than her, but there was a force of fury in the grip that left Sara wriggling uselessly in Evie's hands.

  "We are going to go into the nearest building, Master. And we are going to have a discussion. "

  "Y-yes ma'am," Sara stuttered. Evie turned on a dime, dragging Sara towards the nearest door. She cast one desperate gnce over her shoulder, looking for some member of the Guard that might save her.

  Of three dozen soldiers under her employ, not a one met her pleading expression. They all found something very interesting in their clothes, the back of their hands, the cobblestones, or the sky, utterly fascinated by anything that might pusibly expin why they couldn't interrupt. Several, Sara even noticed, were trying to avoid grins.

  Traitors.