“Congratulations on the founding of your Order, Hart,” Itzelan said to me quietly, in the aftermath of our dinner. It was dark enough by this point that I’d already taken the time to lay Aveline down for bed. It had been hard, considering the emotional moment we’d had just before we’d had our pizza. But, in the end, Aveline was still just a little mortal child, without a Status to bolster her endurance. She wasn’t like either the Orc woman or me, who barely needed to sleep or even eat to function anymore. I’d read her enough of our current book for her to conk out, and then joined Itzelan back out on our porch to finish off the bottle of wine.

  I was grateful for her patience. Meia Itzelan was…kinder than my first impression had been.

  “Thank you,” I said, inclining my head to her. “It’s certainly been a challenge so far. Especially with everything else going on, currently.” I half muttered to myself. At her raised eyebrow, I just shook my head and changed the subject. “I hope you enjoyed dinner.”

  “It was certainly…unique,” Itzelan said carefully. “I’ve never had a dish quite like it. For an Orcish pallete, however, it needed more meat. Was that something from your…homeland?”

  I smiled at her outright curious look. “From Terra, you mean?”

  Itzelan was far from the first person to ask about Earth, ever since I had essentially announced my origins to the whole world at the Ball. In the intervening months, I’d patiently answered dozens of probing questions from anyone with a shred of interest. That included my friends and companions in the Order. I had no reason to hide anything about my ‘homeland’ anymore, now that I was strong and settled enough to defend myself. Everything from the political structure of Earth, to our religion, to the races, and yes, even the cuisine. I’d easily answered enough of them, from all corners of my life, that I was starting to get the impression there was a genuine interest in Terran culture. I had…ideas about that.

  After all, I had essentially sworn by the tenets of the Academy of Mystic Arts when I made my Knightly Oath. Maybe…I could do something more with it, one day.

  Hell, Grey did it. He juggled the duties of leading an Order with teaching classes all the time.

  “Yes, pizza is one of the most common dishes on Terra,” I answered patiently. “I’m barely doing it justice. And if you want more meat, well. You name anything, we’ve put it on a pizza before.”

  “Anything?”

  I laughed lightly. “This one time, when I was young, there was a short-lived fusion restaurant where I lived. They had this crazy menu where you could order a pizza with anything they had in house on it. My friends at the time dared each other to dream up something truly gross, purely for the hell of it. I ended up getting a banana, black olive, and tripe pizza.” I smiled nostalgically at the thought of old memories. “Honestly, it wasn’t that bad. Better than a sharp stick in the eye, as my Father used to say.”

  These days, I was at peace with the likely fate of my Father, and his memory no longer haunted me. He had likely passed by now without me there to care for him. I would never know for certain, of course. But I was more inclined to remember the old days than those moldering years spent caring for him.

  “Fathers…” Itzelan whispered quietly to herself, circling the rim of her wine glass with one grey-skinned, black-nailed finger.

  I eyed her for a moment before deciding to broach the subject. “I…can’t help but notice that you don’t quite appear…”

  “Like an Orc?” Itzelan smiled mirthlessly. “As if I am pure? Perhaps even a dirty half-breed, with tainted blood?”

  “Ah…I wouldn’t quite put it like that.”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t believe you would. But I am used to such…rhetoric. And you are correct. I am not a full-blooded Orc. I am merely half.”

  “I’m guessing the other half isn’t Dwarf, because you are not a small woman,” I joked somewhat desperately, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “And since you’re not an insane monster, can’t be Elvish. So…you’re half-human?”

  Either my ‘jokes’ fell completely flat, or Itzelan simply didn’t take notice of them at all. Either way, a decidedly bitter look stole over her chiseled features. “Something like that,” She said sourly, before abruptly lifting her glass and finishing it off. “But we didn’t come here for dinner and a conversation, Hart, as thankful as I am for the meal. We have a project to work on. Now, do you have any ideas on the kind of Ward Stone you’d like us to create? Remember, it has to be non-standard and creative.”

  I took the hint and dropped the subject. Though I did think it was curious how Itzelan had dodged the question of her parentage. My Core Ring neatly filed that away as I smiled at the woman. “I do, in fact, have an idea. Something a bit mysterious, actually. Let me ask you something, Itzelan-”

  “Meia,” She interrupted me abruptly. At my curious look, ‘Meia’ just shrugged. “Anyone who feeds me can use my given name.”

  “Alright then,” I nodded easily. “Meia, you’re a student of Abjuration. What have you noticed about the Wards here on the terrace?”

  Meia’s thick grey brow furrowed for a moment, partly in thought, and partly, I think, in concentration. The brow that had formerly been scrunched shot up. “They’re good,” She said in surprise. “I had no idea you were so skilled, H-Nathan,” She corrected herself, at my own prompting eyebrow. After a moment, however, a frown stole over her lips. “They’re actually…suspiciously good. I’ve rarely encountered single homes this well protected.”

  “Anything else?” I said leadingly. “Do they, perhaps, remind you of any other Wards? Maybe even…”

  The half-Orc woman followed my gaze to where I was looking out over the city of Blutstein. I could see the exact moment when Meia Itzelan realized just how similar the Wards emanating from my lighthouse were to those of the city.

  Her reaction wasn’t quite what I was suspecting. I saw it as all the blood rushed from her face, and her expression collapsed into shock. The effect left the woman looking distinctly ashy.

  “It can’t be…” She whispered to herself, seemingly forgetting that I was even here.

  “Uh…” I started slowly, causing her eyes to snap over to me. “I mean, it’s interesting how it seems like an extension of Blutstein’s Wards, but I’m not sure-”

  I was interrupted before I could even finish. Meia reached out and grasped me by the shoulders and stared into my eyes with an almost desperate gaze. “I need to see it,” She said urgently, almost shaking me.

  “What?”

  “It. It!” Meia growled. “The Ward Stone! Where is it?!”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  I furrowed my brows in confusion. “Uh, it’s up the stairs at the top of the lighthouse. That’s actually what I was inten-”

  That was as far as I got before Meia Itzelan abruptly let go of me and dashed back through the open door of the lighthouse. She quickly disappeared up the stairs, taking the steps three at a time. I cursed and followed after her.

  What the hell had gotten into this woman?

  When I reached the room at the top of the lighthouse where the actual light was supposed to be, I found the half-Orc woman staring in what looked like horror at the odd Ward Stone. The diamond-shaped hunk of quartz simply floated innocently in place over its brazier, unaware of the emotion it was, for some reason, drawing from Itzelan.

  “Meia, what exactly is the problem?” I asked her, concerned despite myself. I had thought the two of us had been hitting it off fairly well, actually, despite the gruffness of our meeting those months ago. I’d found Meia to be far more quiet and reserved than I’d been expecting, if not with a very prominent blunt streak. This was far from the reaction I’d been expecting when I invited her over so we could make this strange Ward Stone our Abjuration final project. “Is it…dangerous?”

  Slowly, Meia Itzelan turned her head to regard me with her coal black eyes, and I immediately tensed.

  All emotion had fled the gaze she fixed me with, and I was now being regarded as little more than an insect. One to be squashed, too. I could feel the ripple through the ambient Aether of the room, as the woman seemed to contemplate attacking me right then and there.

  I breathed slowly and carefully spiked my Mana, ready to cast at a moment's notice from the unexpected hostility. If she attacked me, I’d need to be fast and complicated at the same time. As a fellow Abjurer, she no doubt knew all of the ready cast defensive Ward spells I did. I’d have to surprise her in multiple ways if it came down to a Spell exchange.

  That, and gut her for the temerity of attacking me in my own home.

  All of this passed through my rings in an instant, and I very gradually began to reach for the hilt of the single dagger I kept on my person at all times, strapped to my thigh beneath my pants.

  And then the ill intent passed, as Itzelan appeared to dismiss the possibility of attacking me. She shook her head slowly. “No, you weren’t the one to create this,” She murmured. “Your origins are public knowledge by now. You only arrived on Vereden sometime last year. This…” Meia turned back to stare at the innocently spinning Ward Stone. “This is older than that. Easily several years or more. The traces of it linger in the Aether in a distinct manner.”

  I let out a slow breath and contemplated kicking her out right then and there. Damn the project, I’d just tell Stendahl I couldn’t work with Meia Itzelan flat out.

  Is what I wanted to say…

  But I didn’t. This was Vereden, after all. It was a brutal place, sometimes, and you couldn’t go around holding grudges about what people considered doing. For all that I could easily tell that this woman had nearly launched an unprovoked attack on my life, she hadn’t done it.

  You’d never get anywhere, holding potentialities against people.

  I would remember it, though.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “You know what this is.”

  Meia didn’t turn to face me. She just kept staring at the stone. “I do.”

  I took a breath to stifle my frustration. “And? What is it? You owe me an explanation. We both know what almost happened.”

  She remained silent for a moment more before turning to face me with a frown on her face. “I…suppose. Here in Blutstein, we are out of their reach. And no, I cannot tell you who I’m speaking of,” Meia said, raising a hand to stop my protests. “They placed a powerful curse upon their very name, to more easily track those who would dare to undermine them. Know only that they are essentially the…secret police, if you will, of the Dominion of Xilochtlan. I have no doubt that they have agents hiding in the shadows of this planet, able to tell if I dared speak their name. First, though, a question. This Ward Stone came with the property when you purchased it, yes? Do you know the name of the person who owned it previously?”

  I…filed away the fact that the Dominion had cursed a word in a way similar to how the Sea Beast had done so, and applied it to their own force of apparent spies and assassins. Instead, I dug around in my mind for the answer to the question, furrowing my brow as I did so. “Graham,” I eventually replied. “This property used to belong to a ‘Sir Graham’, who apparently died in the war. I don’t know his first name.”

  Meia breathed in for a moment, appearing to concentrate. “Yes, the name is familiar. I…believe there was a Sir Linus Graham who spent some time in the court of the God-Empress, as an Ambassador from Herztal.” She shook her head. “That he was able to gather enough information on how to construct this…they would cry tears of blood at the affront…”

  “Ah…” I hummed, nodding to myself. “I see. This isn’t some new method of Ward Crafting that a Hedge Knight miraculously discovered. It’s just an Orcish design, isn’t it? A different spin on the same Magic? I’ve heard before that the Orcs have their own methods of Mysticality, their own unique spins on Magic and Cultivation.”

  “Yes, we do, but…” Meia heaved a sigh of frustration, turning to face the Stone again. “This isn’t one of those. Most of the Dominion uses what is functionally the same Ward Stone design as the Veredenese do. There’s more…blood involved in shaping the crystal, but it still requires a plinth. This though…this design is specialized. It’s a weapon of war.”

  I jerked back in place, letting my arms fall to my sides. “Wait, what? Is the Dominion…?”

  Were the Orcs preparing to…attack us?

  To my relief, Meia immediately shook her head. “No, that’s impossible. If the God-Empress was intending to bring Vereden into compliance, she never would have allowed me-us,” She hastily corrected herself. “To attend the Academy. She would not place us in harm’s way or allow us to be held hostage in the event of resistance.”

  Well, I’m not so sure of that. This ‘God-Empress’ of yours was actually a millennium-old Netherim betrayer. If she had betrayed an entire civilization in a grasp for power before, what would stop her from throwing a couple dozen Orcish students aside?

  I didn’t say that, though.

  “This Ward Stone…” Meia continued, unaware of my disdain for her leader. “It’s meant to slowly drain the power of whatever Ward it’s attached to. It latches onto the host schemata and copies it through complex methods of drainage. It’s disguised as part of the host Ward, and so the owners are never aware of the slow weakening of the fields until those Wards flat out break. The Ward Stone crumbles harmlessly, the gradual process of weakening enough to prevent the cascade of a Breakage Effect. Thus are Wards defeated, without the danger of hordes of monsters spawning.”

  Oh. I…could see how that would work. It was a pretty novel concept, I had to say.

  But…

  “Are the Blutstein Wards in danger from this thing?” I asked in a concerned tone.

  If they were, I’d break the damn stone myself.

  To my relief, Meia immediately shook her head. “No, not a chance,” She outright scoffed. “This is not sufficient to drain strength from the Wards of Kyron, Lord of Magic. The Aetherial well of the Zenith Crystal of Kyronkar is veritably inexhaustible. Not only that, but this is a simpler design, intended for small scale Ward drainage. Not one of the siege variants, and I don’t think even those would truly affect the Wards of Blutstein. Instead…I think this Sir Graham might have stumbled upon one of the only places on either Indiqua or Vereden where this Stone would be outright harmless. It’s almost…admirable, really.”

  Yeah, sure. ‘Admirable’.

  That’s the word I’d use. Reckless was another one.

  I eyed the half-Orc woman for a moment when she was done speaking. “What are you intending to do about this?”

  “Do?” Meia scoffed at me. “Nothing. I’m here for a reason, Nathaniel Hart. I wanted to get away from Xilochtlan and the court,” She snarled. “If they were sloppy enough to allow the design of a secret weapon like this to fall into the hands of a minor Knightly Ambassador, then it’s their problem. Not mine. Still…it would be best if we didn’t do our project on this,” She warned me. “It’s…probably fine, if you don’t broadcast its existence. As long as they don’t know you have it, you’ll be okay.”

  I sighed. “Yeah, alright,” I said tiredly. “We’ll do something else, I suppose. Let’s just…go downstairs and brainstorm, okay? We still have work to do.”

  Meia Itzelan eyed me for a moment with a considering gaze before nodding. “That we do. I’ll see you downstairs, Hart.”

  I was Hart again, was I?

  I stood there for a moment, watching the stairwell the half-Orc woman had just marched down.

  I found it…very interesting, just how much Meia had been willing to share with me. That had sounded like a lot of precious, need-to-know information. I’m not sure if the Dominion would be happy with her at all if they found out she’d told me any of it.

  That, and how she had known it period.

  I had found it very interesting how she had spoken about the Xilochtlan Court.

  Like she had been part of it.

  I shook my head to rid it of those thoughts and spared one last gaze at the apparent weapon of war spinning innocently at the zenith of my own Blutstinien tower. That was one mystery down, I suppose.

  I swear, there was always something.