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’s tires, the cargo, and every rider. It coated the prisoner too—half-conscious and slumped over in the back of the convoy, wrists and ankles bound, face swollen from Aurania’s headbutt and the rough landing after.

  The town was quieter than usual.

  No whistles. No half-hearted insults. Just wary eyes and hushed murmurs from behind shaded awnings and cracked doorframes. Civilians watched them roll in with tight mouths and arms crossed. Most of them didn’t 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 with her eyes. Soren hopped off the truck and 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 off the truck bed after Veolo and Violet, their hooves sending up a cloud of red dust as they landed.

  She approached Soren. “Hey,” she said softly. “You alright? Things got a little tense back there.”

  A warm look flashed across his face. “Yeah,” he said after a pause. “I appreciate you asking, really.”

  He looked at her, smiling faintly, then said, “What about you? You’re the one that was acting like a badass out there, jumping onto oncoming vehicles and beating ass.”

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

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Soren said genuinely.

  They began hauling the prisoner up the steps of the mayor’s building and Tamiyo came hurrying around just before they entered the building. Riza walked behind her at a more relaxed 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 walked briskly up the steps and her eyes lit up a moment later. She took several moments observing him, moving around to look from different angles.

  The lazarco groaned, he seemed to be partially awake.

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

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

  A small, surprised, “oh,” escaped Aurania’s mouth before she could stop herself. Soren looked up at her and she felt herself flush slightly. “Shut up,” she told him.

  He grinned but looked away from her.

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

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

  “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. She glanced at Riza walking up the steps. “Come on, let’s go have some fun.”

  Soren threw the lazarco over his shoulder and the group walked inside, Veolo and Violet bringing up the rear.

  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 followed without comment, their footsteps solid and steady.

  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, never drawn. Maps of Mol’eyne pinned to the back wall with red thread connecting key trade points—too clean to be used, too messy to be performative.

  Venlin was standing at the window, back to the door, as if he’d been expecting them. He turned when they entered, expression hard to read.

  “Well,” he said. “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 without asking.

  The prisoner groaned but didn’t resist. He blinked, grimaced, then muttered, “Can I get a damn glass of water?”

  Aurania shrugged and said, “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 tin flask and a chipped mug. 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 and eyes darting between everyone in the room.

  “What’s his name?” Venlin asked.

  “Duff,” the prisoner muttered without being prompted. “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, gaze on the floor. “If I say nothing, you break my ribs. If I talk, maybe you don’t. Not real complicated math.” Then he turned and looked up at Aurania. “You are one tall fucking lacravida.” He sounded more impressed than anything.

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

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

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

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

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

  Venlin 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. One hand on her knee, the other pointing one finger up, she 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 to look at Riza.

  The sniper was leaning casually 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 turn and see her. She wore black traditional cut lacravida robes, her scars on full display. Her long dagger was sheathed on her belt. She wore no cold expression, no exaggerated attempt at intimidation—but her mere presence pulled the air tighter.

  “Duff m’boy,” Aurania said lightly, “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 also 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 for once. “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 almost 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,” he said. “There’s no way, what are you pulling here Aurania? You told me it was a legend.”

  Aurania looked at him casually. “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 said lightly, halfway smiling at him.

  He looked at her, eyes wide, then slowly shifted his gaze to Riza.

  She looked back at him and offered a light wave, more light hearted than one would expect from someone with her reputation. “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,” Riza took her dagger out and crouched like Aurania was. She tapped the dagger flatly on Duff’s knee. “Here’s the truth.” She glanced at Venlin for a moment, then back to Duff. “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. Who knows if it’ll be the truth.” She shrugged.

  “Oh darn,” Aurania said, playing along with her. “What are we to do then?”

  “Well boss!” Riza said, gaining volume. “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.”

  Riza 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 briefly to Venlin, “You don’t need all twenty of them digits.”

  Duff’s eyes got wider, Aurania noticed Venlin shifting uncomfortably too.

  “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, almost smiling, and waited for a response.

  Duff opened his mouth but no words came out. His eyes moved wildly—he looked 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 look at Venlin. “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 once I begin?”

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

  Riza just shrugged and turned to Soren. “Mind carrying him back down?”

  “I can walk!” Duff yelled.

  “And give you a chance to run away?” Riza looked at him, then her eyes rose to the ceiling in thought. “I do like a moving target…” She glanced back down at him and waited for his response.

  He answered with silence.

  Soren threw Duff over his shoulder again, arms still bound, and they left the mayor’s office in silence. Riza followed behind, unhurried, blade now sheathed but hand resting casually on its hilt. No one spoke until they reached the ground floor and stepped out into the hot afternoon light.

  “North Wing please,” Riza said, tapping 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 in his tone, but Aurania sensed through their mental link 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, holding back their laughter. They had definitely shaken Venlin, but he wasn’t ready to crack. Yet.

  Riza turned and took her leave, heading after Soren towards The North Wing.

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

  He squinted 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.”

  Cale 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 until now.”

  Aurania didn’t reply. She stepped past him.

  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 to Amaryn. “Hello there,” she said as she got closer.

  “H-hello ma’am,” Amaryn responded. “I mean, Aura,” she added quickly.

  Aurania chuckled warmly at her. “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,” Aurania said matter-of-factly.

  “Oh no,” Amaryn’s eyes widened a bit.

  “Violet’s in love with that gun you gave her,” Aurania said with a smile. “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 the girl.

  “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?”

  Amaryn hesitated. “I, um…”

  Aurania tilted her head slightly, but just waited patiently, her expression kind.

  Amaryn took a breath, as if steeling herself. “I would like to accept your offer. To leave Mol’eyne.” It looked like she had to try hard to get the words out.

  “Good,” Aurania smiled wide back at her. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Come, you should meet the others.”

  She extended an arm and put it around Amaryn’s shoulders as they began to walk together.

  “Are the others nice?” Amaryn asked in a timid tone.

  “They’re the best,” Aurania told her honestly. “I think Amalia said she’s going to make pancakes for dinner.”

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