Shiny black leather shoes covered in dust swung like a pendulum in the air. A hanged man spoke to Arche, “Our noble house wanes. Peace is failing. A time of catastrophe is upon us. What will you do?”

A child gripped tightly onto her mother’s hand. She wanted to hide but there was nowhere to go. She looked up at her mother, her face, multitudes, warped into a melting mask of fury. “It has to be you! You’re all that’s left!”

She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. She wanted to run, but there was no where to go. The hanged man and the enraged woman of many faces were all she could see. She held tightly onto her mother’s hand. “Stop being angry with me. I’ll do whatever you say. Please don’t be angry. Please don’t leave me with them.”

“It has to be you!” the mother screeched as the masks fell, all of them clattering onto the floor where they stared up at the child, laughing, resembling young, feminine faces. They began to hop and clatter, chomping and gnashing, taking chunks of her flesh as they ate her piece by piece. The laughter rang in her ears.

Arche’s eyes flickered. She was once again back in her tent. No crystals had formed during her slumber; she remembered her dream vividly this time. With a groan she stepped off her cot, her stomach ringing silent alarms of hunger. The clamor of returning soldiers echoed around the room instead. She recognized at once the low, powerful voice of General Porfyrian giving urgent commands, wondering if she might at last have an opportunity to meet her.

She peeked outside only to find Rania waiting, as if guarding her tent, cast in the golden hue of a setting sun. Their eyes met. Rania smiled as she bowed and said, “Are you well? Lord Hadler wishes to speak with you.”

Arche scowled instinctively. A beat too late, she replied weakly, “What are you, a messenger? Then tell him I shall be in my quarters.”

Rania had already begun walking away holding an empty bucket as she taunted, “Unlike you, we are both busy. Seek him in his tent.”

Arche gave another tired groan before disappearing back inside, already exhausted from the brief encounter. Seeing Rania only drained her of whatever motivation she could muster for the moment, but she realized something. If the soldiers had returned from battle, most of them would likely make their way to the rear market in order to purchase provisions. It had long been the case that caravans of merchants would follow the Imperial Army to trade spoils and loot for various goods and services, but she herself had nothing she was willing to part with for food. Perhaps it would be best to pay him a visit after all, she thought to herself, since he had all of their coin to purchase food, and she had no desire to go there by herself.

The mages were cordoned off in a separate part of the army campus, so neither was very far from the other. However, as she walked along the empty beaten paths, she wondered to herself where the other mage cavalrymen were. There were at least nine others besides the aged Lord Hadler, who wasn’t meant to enter the front lines regardless, but perhaps they were elsewhere. Announcing her arrival, she entered the only illuminated tent there. General Porfyrian was huddled onto the ground staring, her scarred face twisted into a grimace, her large, masculine body completely covered by her draping, crimson cloak. They had both been inspecting the body, an air of absolute quiet dread having fallen over the two mages. Arche stammered, “What is that? I’m not responsible for that, too, am I?”

“No, this is not the reason why you were called,” Hadler answered, rising to his feet and stretching his back. “I’m afraid the battle turned sour. According to the general here, the Cybelean counterattack was quite effective. This is the body of one of our cavalrymen.”

As if offering a prayer, Porfyrian muttered, “The only mage we could recover in our retreat, hewn like dry wood by a barbarian’s axe. I saw them myself, those Cybelean lords. They fall but rise again, undying. They move as swiftly as the horses they ride with an uncanny strength in their blows. They are bound by a far more dangerous esoteric than we could have known.” She too stood and continued, “It has become a top priority to understand and undo their magic. They are completely impervious otherwise.”

“Impervious?” Hadler said almost taken aback, “Could it be that the body we recovered is not then one of the immortal lords? We truly knew nothing of the Cybeleans, did we? For instance, the fact that the boy and I could communicate in the same langauge is nothing short of a mystery.”

“There is naught to know. The only thing of value in Cybele is their magic, which has rotted their culture and their people. They have no achievements or monuments. They engage in no diplomacy. Every messenger was turned away and they have abandoned themselves to isolation. The only knowledge that could be attained was to strike them with an iron and see how they react.”

“In such a scenario, oft it is the iron that reverberates.”

“None could have imagined the legends of their immortality to have been underplaying their power. Ask the Cybelean you captured what he knows. It appears we knew and still know next to nothing.”

“I’m afraid he is unavailable for the moment,” Hadler said with a quiet glance at Arche, “And we must act fast to restore his trust or what knowledge we acquire may not ring true.”

Arche spoke at last, “Why do we need his trust? We can wring the information out of him with magic.”

“There is no such magic which can be relied on,” Hadler continued, “Unless you mean to say we torture the information from him.”

The general nodded, “If that is what it takes.”

“No,” Hadler shook his head, “In my youth, working with my predecessor, I have witnessed the futility of coerced interrogation.” He froze, struck by a dark thought. “There is another method of inquiry, but it still requires Nils to cooperate of his own free will.”

“Again, whatever it will take. I must tend to other matters. You and your apprentice are to get this done as soon as possible. You have full access to the reserves in order to do so, but you must be discreet. I will inform the guard captain.”

“He will certainly not like that,” Hadler chuckled, “But yes, thank you again for the visit, commander. I hope to offer a report worthy of your confidence.” He gave a half-hearted salute. She returned it and left in a hurry with the rustling sound of chainmail.

Arche hunched down to inspect the body, too. This was not her first time seeing a corpse. She fought the urge to run. Her chest felt heavy as she scanned the body. The cause of death was immediately obvious; there was a gaping hole where the heart should have been. “What are we to do, Lord Hadler?” she said trembling, barely hiding her terror, “Truly will the fate of this entire affair rest on our shoulders?”

“Firstly, Arche, you are to apologize to Nils. Rania has already informed me that he is conscious and unscathed; nevertheless, you have wronged him, and you must repay your debt to him in kind.”

“What debt do I owe a prisoner?” she said with an intense glare, her chest still heaving, “Why do I have to apologize?”

“Because you nearly killed him. It was a miracle that he survived, considering the amount of energy that was expensed. Imperial law dictates that a captive is the property of the captor, and he is my captive, so I believe a fair punishment for the crime of private vandalism is for you to ensure he still trusts in the mission.”

Her breathing seemed to worsen as she listened. “What if I fail? Will I have to return to the Academy?” she panicked, “Is there no enchantment that will bind him under our control?”

Hadler’s expression was stony, his eyes tired, “That is a far more ancient magic that intermagia shall perhaps some day replicate, but for now, the best you have is to say sorry. Now, I must find a vacant tent to retire for the night. It has been a long day. We shall resume in the morning.”

“But-“

Hadler stopped just as he reached the exit and added as his expression loosened, “The mention of punishment was in jest.” He drew a deep breath. Then he sighed. “But it is only right for a lady of Concordie to make amends, not enemies.”

She fell silent, her heart still pounding as she was left alone with the corpse, the heart once buried in his chest exhumed. She knew already who he was. He had a reputation as a cruel and vicious soldier, adept at a particularly gruesome form of intermagia that would create thin blades of highly pressurized air. She had no fondness for him, but to see his lifeless body filled her with foreboding. This kind of mage on the battlefield should have been unstoppable. For someone to have gotten close enough to scoop out his heart so precisely was unimaginable.

“Oh, I had nearly forgotten,” she heard Hadler from outside, snapping her out of her trance. “You’ve probably not eaten all day. Fortuitously, the best way to apologize is over a meal. Seek out Nils in Rania’s quarters and buy yourselves something from the market. She should be familiar with the vendors there and can tell you which stalls won’t upset your stomachs.” Her mentor held a silver coin between his fingers. “A milligram should cover the three of you. Prices are higher here than you might expect.”

“You want me to dine with them now? How much further must I humiliate myself?”

With a frown, the man took her hand and opened it himself, placing the silver coin called a milligram into her palm before he gently closed it like a locket. “Pay close attention, Arche. This is no place for pride. I have long since cast mine aside joining this endeavor. The magic there is to be learned from Cybele will far outweigh what personal concerns you may have. It may alter the course of the Empire itself.”

She took the coin and pocketed it without complaint, merely asking, “When should I return with the prisoner?”

“I’ll have Rania fetch you tomorrow morning an hour after sunrise.”

Without another word, she did an abrupt about-face and left, her rapid gait overflowing with nervous energy. Her thoughts raced as she approached the tent she would usually go out of her way to avoid. “It is only right to make amends,” she muttered to herself, a short mantra as if to persuade herself. “As a lady of Concordie.”

She announced herself as she entered, seeing Nils alone, stunned by her presence. He leapt out of the low cot and scrambled back. Arche hardly knew how to react, simply watching as he glared from the corner of the tent, his body arched and tense like a wary housecat. It would have been humorous had she not felt so awful about it. Everything felt awful about this.

“I’m not here to attack you,” she said firmly, “Relax.”

He did not yet speak. He lowered his shoulders and stood upright, still on guard. “For what have you come?”

She swallowed, unsure how to word her response, her mouth opening to form them before she shut her eyes. Her hand gripped the single silver coin her mentor had given her as she found herself holding it out in front of her. “This.”

The boy flinched, “What is it?”

“It’s enough to buy food. You will accompany me to the market.”

He stared at her hand, not knowing what to do, only able to muster up, “I’ve never actually handled coin before.”

She cocked an eyebrow, almost smugly, “See? I knew you were nobility. I’ve never had to touch something as base as metal coinage until I got here, too, but this is all the market deals in. The rations given out to the soldiers taste like dust and sweat, so we must make do.”

“Why should I accompany you…?” he asked warily, meeting her gaze.

“Do you have no sense of duty? A lady is requesting an escort, and you’d deny her?”

“I am under no such obligation to you. You attacked me,” he said bluntly, lowering his guard at last, “You belittled me, and now you are pressing me into your service. It is just as Rania said about you.”

At her name, Arche threw down the coin in her hand. She could feel heat and tears rising to her eyes as if a mental dam had broken. “It’s because of her… that I can’t go to the market by myself…” She stood there, her arms stiff. “She spread malicious lies about me to the other merchants so they won’t do business with me. Don’t ever listen to Rania. She pretends to be sweet and compliant, but she’s a liar!”

Nils lowered his gaze, “Is it proper for me to waste time like this?”

The two stood in silence.

Suddenly, she shouted, “Fine! I have given you ample opportunity! I’ll go by myself!” However, her legs remained rooted to the ground as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’ll go! I’ll go!” she stamped her feet.

The tantrum stunned the young knight. If Rania was a liar, she hadn’t lied about Arche’s fragility thus far. Nils shook his head, knowing full well what his master would think in this situation. With a strained effort, he let out, “Very well, I shall escort you.” He stepped forward and picked up the fallen coin. “I apologize for the hesitation,” he said as he bent down, as if not to Arche but to his late master.

“What?” Arche said, rubbing an eye, “Don’t apologize. Please. Just be quiet and come with me. And you do all of the talking.”

“Verily, which is it then?” Nils complained under his breath, shuffling behind her driven almost entirely by hunger rather than honor.

They navigated across camp together towards the rear market, which to Arche seemed livelier than usual, although it appeared that many of them had started to tear down their stalls. She had expected the smell of roasting meats and fried dough, but there seemed only to be the sight and sound of furious movements. “That’s strange…” Arche noted, “Night time is when it is most active. Why are so many of them packing up?” Her voice was somewhat muffled by the scarf she had wrapped to keep her face concealed, although anyone could tell from her outfit that this out-of-place girl could only have been Arche of Concordie.

“Do you know where a food merchant might be?”

“It was harder not to run into someone hawking grilled meat on a stick or baked goods here,” Arche said at a loss.

They continued to meander where they could until they had finally found one food vendor still willing to do business. The two eagerly approached, dodging in and out of the crowd, only to find vegetables brined in clay pots. “Surely we cannot just eat pickles,” Arche groaned, holding her nose.

Nils, however, was beaming, “I happen to relish pickled food. My mother would pickle eggs in a sweet vinegar for my sister and I. Radishes as well. And carrots. If we can find cheese and bread, this would be more than a feast.”

“Your mother did all of that?”

The old merchant finally noticed the two as he peeked up from under a wide brimmed hat. He rasped with a smile, “None of those, I’m afraid. Just cucumber and cabbage left.”

“Will this coin be sufficient?” Nils asked boldly, holding up the coin that Arche had thrown between his fingers.

Arche forced his hand down with her own, “Are you crazy or just stupid? That coin could buy almost five whole giant pots of pickles!”

“Oh,” the old merchant reacted, “I recognize you. You’re famous.”

Arche wrapped her face back up and turned away in silence.

“Sir, if I may ask, does she hold some disrepute at the market?”

“She stole something that wasn’t hers. Ain’t no bigger taboo among merchants, my boy.”

“It wasn’t like that! That wasn’t what happened at all!”

The old man grinned, showing off a smile of several missing teeth, “Gossip travels faster than sickness. When one of us is hurt we all react quick.”

“And if I may ask one more thing,” Nils continued, “What has caused the market to stir in such strange ways? It appears many are closing earlier than expected.”

“Ah,” the old man stood up, stretching his back, “Well, I answered your last question for free, but any more will be for paying customers only.”

“Let’s go,” Arche said, tugging on his shoulder, “I don’t even want any dumb pickles.”

“Then I shall purchase a pot, sir,” Nils said.

“What?!”

“Heh,” the merchant smiled toothily, receiving the silver coin from Nils, “Take whichever one you want. Take two in fact. The market is shutting down as of today anyway so it won’t matter none if I sell to a thief or not. I’d rather not carry these back home anyhow.”

“It is shutting down?”

“The Empire has never lost a battle for as long as I have been alive, my boy. Until today. We’re not sticking around to see what will happen in a retreat. Our livelihood is trade, not war. We profit off of it, but we don’t engage in it.” He, too, started to put away the small blankets and goods into a cart. “You look surprised.”

“The Empire… lost?” Nils said, stunned into a wide-eyed stare, “I had thought with our vanguard decimated it would only be a matter of time before the rest would fall. Were the other Lords truly so powerful?”

Arche looked at him quizzically, “You mean you didn’t know? Aren’t you Cybelean?”

“Our people have not engaged in conflict in over a century. There is not a person alive save for the Lords themselves who would have seen battle. They were keen to ensure our martial prowess was honed for such a day, but the mages of the Empire wiped out Lord Labroaig’s unit before we could even realize what had happened. I had thought intermagia invincible.”

“It seems like it’s the opposite. The other Lords launched a counterattack that wiped out all of the other mages. Lord Hadler, Lady Porfyrian, and myself are the only mages left in the camp for now. I’m sure they’ll send reinforcements at once though.”

The once carefree old merchant’s grin had loosened into a frown as he heard the two children speak, “You are both far too young to be speaking such words.”

“I am old enough, although perhaps not as old as you,” Arche spat.

“Do you dislike our manner of speech?” Nils inquired.

“You two are both looking for food, right? Haul up those pickles for me, boy. I’ll take you to my tent where I can feed the both of you some dinner and some wisdom.”

“Wisdom? I need no lecturing from some common pickle peddler,” Arche scoffed, “Come, Lord Nils.”

“We are invited as honored guests, Lady Arche. Is this not the opportunity you so desired to soothe your hunger and restore your reputation?”

She was silent, the tension in her arms causing the scarf she held to her face to shake. “It is only right as a lady of Concordie,” she relented, “You make a fine advisor, Lord Nils. I shall humbly accept.” Despite all of this, a confident smile returned to her face. The prospect of food must have driven away all other thoughts of humiliation, or so Nils thought. He picked up the pots of pickles the old merchant indicated and followed behind Arche, who had already begun trailing the old merchant and his cart.

It wasn’t a long way before the backroad lead them to a series of large circles of exotic tents, where the clamor of a communal dinner ritual was taking place. “Do you not purchase food among yourselves here?” Nils asked, taking in the sights and smells of frying oil, meal preparation, and children squealing and running in play.

“It’s all based on promises organized by the women of the caravan. Coin is used for dealings with the Empire, but among our group, it’s a matter of trust. Makes it easier to survive that way when times are tough. What you’re looking at ain’t usual, though. Looks like we have to start preparing enough rations for the trip back home now that it’s dangerous to stay. We’ll likely leave first thing in the morn.”

Both Nils and Arche remained unfazed by the chaos of the languages and movement at the merchant camp, both doing their best to hide their overwhelmed senses. They entered a smaller tent towards the center where a lively old woman with braided hair was perched on a stool over a pile of unusual root vegetables amassed on a woven mat, peeling them. She greeted the old man first with a wave, “Hurry up and sit. We’re gonna be up all night if we don’t get to it,” she paused, peering past him at the children, “Good, tell them to get cracking, too.”

The odor rising from the tent hit Arche first like a slap. “What is that?” she coughed nasally, holding her nose and turning away.

“It’s dinner, and if we don’t hurry, there won’t be none for us, little thief girl.”

“Wha-” she started, “Does every one of you people know who I am?”

“There’s only one other Helikan girl in camp besides little Rania, right?” the old woman guffawed, her deep voice far mightier than her age would suggest. “My baby brother brought you here to make amends, I’m guessing.”

“That’s me,” the old man grinned, “I’m her baby brother.”

“I gathered,” Arche said flatly, still holding her nose aloft in the air.

He ushered the two of them inside, “We’ll make sure the two of you get fed, but nothing in this life is free.”

Arche recoiled at the very thought, “You want me to do this? Peeling vegetables? No. I’ll be waiting outside. Alert me when dinner is ready.”

“There is no dinner if you don’t do your part, young’un,” the old woman chided.

Nils sighed, sitting at the mat and crossing his legs, “I shall do her part then,” he said, “It would be sooner done myself than convincing her to cooperate.”

“You’re wrong there,” the old woman said as she bounded to her feet, stomping towards Arche with a paralyzing glare, “If you care about someone, you’ll make sure they participate and do their share. You’re doing them no good by abandoning them like that, you know?” She grabbed Arche by the arm and started to drag her back inside. The girl flinched at first shocked at the sheer strength of the old woman, unable to peel her thick, worn fingers wrapped like deciduous vines around her slender wrist.

Her feet scrambled as she plead, “Wait! Wait! We can negotiate! He’ll do the peeling and I’ll do anything else! I have a very sensitive sense of smell!”

“You can cry all you want, but working with your hands will make you forget all about the smell soon enough.”

“I’m going to gag! I’m going to throw up!”

“Stop your wailing!”

As soon as Nils looked up, Arche tumbled to the ground, wheezing and dry-heaving, her eyes watering as her chlorine hair seemed to shudder, draping her face. Everyone watched quietly, stunned as she picked herself back up, involuntarily sniffling. Just as she was about to say something, she turned and ran from the entrance, wiping her face with her open palms.

“I shall return not long hence,” Nils said, rising to his feet.

Arche did not make it far, and the figure of her hunched over, retching, stood out enough for him to spot her at a distance. He hesitated for a moment just to see her whispering something. As he approached, she looked up and seemed almost relieved to see him. “I told them that the smell was too much. They didn’t even bother listening to me,” she rasped.

Nils noticed her eyes glittering, illuminated by the large bonfire at the center of the encampment where people were congregating, the setting sun causing them to sparkle like gems. She was doing something strange he did not immediately understand. It appeared as if she was gathering her tears into her hands, gently sifting her finger across her palm.

“I shall acquire food enough for us both,” Nils said. “Despite what happened, I cannot believe that they mean harm.”

“I don’t feel like eating anymore,” she muttered, moving to sit on the trunk of a recent felled tree, “You must think I overreacted, too, don’t you? That I’m being too dramatic?” Her chest slumped into her knees as she caught her breath.

He thought about it for a moment and said firmly, “I do not. My lord did always say that individuals have unique weaknesses that must be compensated for with mutual cooperation.”

“Cooperation?” she stared up in disbelief, “The way of this world is domination. It is ridiculous that your lord of all people should say such things. The weak obey the powerful; the powerful do not cooperate with the weak. It is eat or be eaten, and the more weakness I show, the more likely I’ll be no more than food.” She spoke as if those words were being spoken by someone else, her stiffened composure nothing like the frightened girl from earlier. “Therefore, I must be powerful, too.”

Nils wished to disagree but remained still. Certainly it was true that there were people like that, but Lord Labroaig was never domineering. To Nils, he was a good lord. “Is that why you have become a mage? For the sake of power?”

“Is that not why anyone would pursue intermagia? There doesn’t exist a person alive who studies magic for the pure love of it. You study for wealth, fame, power, and success. Anything else will get you trampled underfoot in the Empire. Isn’t that why you chose to become a knight?”

“I wished only to serve my lord.”

“What could this lord possibly have done to earn such loyalty…?”

“I believe it impossible to become powerful when weakened by starvation. Shall we return?”

“Were you not listening? I’m not going there. Find some food and bring it back,” she said.

“How are you so certain I will return?”

“What?”

“I am under no obligation to fetch your food for you. Escorting a lady is one thing, but this is another. Is it not possible for me to abandon you here and acquire food merely for myself? After all, as you claim, it is eat or be eaten, is it not?”

“You…!” she gasped, flabbergasted, “You’re right… What was I thinking trusting you? We’re not friends. We’re supposed to be enemies.”

“Was this how you treat friends, Lady Arche?”

“I know! If you get me food, I’ll give you this in exchange,” she said confidently, hopping back to her feet and holding out her palms. There, where Nils had expected the wetness of tears, were tiny glimmering pebbles.

“I have no need for dirt,” he replied dismissively, baffled at this gesture.

“This is mnemos! My mnemos!” she yelled, pulling her hand back, “Dirt? Dirt?!” she nearly laughed, “This is a precious part of my very soul! I shouldn’t even be trading this to you, but I did it as a show of good will.”

“If this is of worth, why not offer this to the merchants for food instead?”

“I could never trade my mnemos with mere merchants. The fact that I was willing to give you some at all is an honor, Lord Nils. I’ll give you one last chance since you’re a Cybelean, and you may not have understood the extent of my generosity.” She held out her hand.

Her embarrassed expression drilled holes into Nils’s eyes. He mulled the idea over in his head before he finally responded, “Can I trust you? Rania told me something of great interest. She claimed that you were a liar. That I should not heed your words at face value.”

“So? You trust her then? She lies all the time, too.”

“We are all liars. Myself included,” he could not meet her eyes as he continued, “I am uncertain as to how to proceed. If only my lord were here to guide me. In truth, I have never been as alone as I am now, and so despite everything, I would rather not stay alone.”

“For a liar, you’re stupidly honest,” she sighed, taking in his words as if they were a breath of air. “That kind of behavior can get you killed. I suppose I was almost the one to do it.” Stepping forward, she pushed the single small crystal that had conglomerated from the glittering pebbles to his face. Softly, yet incandescent with a youthful awkwardness, she muttered, “I apologize for that.”

Nils took her hand with his own and shook it, the crystal clasped between hers and his. “I accept. My lord would approve of peacemaking over conflict. That is the kind of man he is.”

“Enough about your lord already. What do we do about dinner then? I have no intention of going there and doing as they demand. They have no such authority over someone like me.”

“I do not believe it is necessary to do anything that you do not wish to do. We have already acquired two pots of pickles, in any case. It would be best, however, if we could be in their good graces so as to find some common ground.”

“We could trade those for different food with someone else,” she mulled, her hand to her chin, ignoring everything that he had been saying.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that,” came the voice of the old merchant now approaching the two, “Truthfully, you overpaid for those. I’ll find a way to get you some food with the silver you already paid with.”

“See?” Arche glared, hands on her hips, “That is how things should have been done in the first place.”

“Well, no,” the old man added, “I’m being generous because you’re children, but the world is a cruel place even to young, little nobles like yourselves. Do you think we follow the army because we want to, miss?”

“Aren’t you? Aren’t there plenty of ways to earn money in the Empire?”

“For most of us here, we have to. This is a group of exiles, criminals, and displaced. Orphans too frightened to sell their bodies. The hungry seeking opportunity. The spoils of the wars they wage make their way to us. Soldiers seeking the comforts of food, drink, and women and we purveyors of such things don’t have a lot to offer children. You should leave while you still can.”

Nils responded, “I thank you for your kindness, but there is no leaving so long as my lord rests here. I must find a way to wake him from his slumber, and if I cannot, to bury him. There is a mage lord here who is inspired to unravel the secrets of my lord’s immortality.”

Arche stared in disbelief, “Why did you tell him all of that? Have you no sense of privacy?” She hadn’t known what Nils had been promised by her mentor, but she had to wonder if he had been deceived. There was no possible way that Lord Hadler would allow an enemy lord to be revived in the middle of their camp.”

“I was taught to use dialogue to find consensus. Deception has no place in diplomacy.”

“Diplomacy is to turn information into daggers, Lord Nils. Keep it to yourself until it’s necessary.”

“Kids like you shouldn’t be touching knives or diplomacy,” the old man muttered, his hoarse voice steeped in lament, “The world’s cruel enough as it is. The least I can do is deal fairly with children.”

“Fairly… Yes, your sister would have Lady Arche work for her food,” Nils added, “But peeling vegetables is something that disagrees with her sense of smell. I believe compromise is possible and other work can be done.”

“He already said that he’ll give us dinner, Lord Nils. The matter is settled.”

“I shall not dishonor my lord by dishonoring our hosts. When visiting another clan, we are to abide by their rules. Accepting exceptions would be no different from admitting we are incapable of becoming peers.”

“Merchants are not our peers. We do not do things here the way that they are done where you are from. They are lessers.”

“Their customs are no less worthy of honoring.”

“I don’t understand you. Why are you making things difficult for me? I thought we’re friends now.”

“This is what is best for both of us.”

“Enough, enough,” the old man waved, interrupting the children, “The boy’s right. The girl’s right. Chirping in circles like call birds. Listen, I’m telling the two of you to come with us when we leave first thing tomorrow. I don’t think this is any place for children to stay.”

The two glanced at each other and back at the old man, almost simultaneously replying. “That cannot be done,” the boy said. “Absolutely, no,” said the girl.

“What’s possessed the two of you to stay on a battlefield…?”

“The same thing that made me come in the first place,” Arche scoffed, “I plan on becoming the most powerful mage to have ever and will ever live. No one will be able to defeat me in matters physical, intellectual, or social.”

Nils stared at her in disbelief, his mind unable to complete its next thought. What she had said was as absurd as confidently declaring that she would one day become a tree. “For in truth, what has possessed you to say such a mad thing?”

“As if your reason is any better!” she shouted, “You want to revive someone who is already turning into food for worms! What you say doesn’t make sense to me, either!”

“Is of food all you can think?” Nils slung back, “We could have already been eating if you had cooperated.”

“Silence! As my friend, you have to be on my side!”

“That is not how I have perceived it.”

As the two bickered, the old woman approached, balancing three bowls of a fragrant stew on her arms.