Ranthia was very, very nearly late for the Sentinel meeting the next morning, even with her stats helping her to cross the city at ridiculous speeds. She was grateful that she could just shift to a new body to get clean in an instant—which no doubt saved her from no small amount of mockery. Fortunately, she also had enough vitality and stamina to not be winded despite her desperate dash across Ariminum to make the meeting.

  No one would ever know.

  …Okay, yes, the Sentinels were creepy; Swarm probably knew. Or would find out. Either way, she struggled to focus on happier thoughts. She had a lovely night, and she was ready to be a Sentinel once again. Right.

  The meeting was relatively dull. Ranthia’s own report of her patrol got a few laughs. The next report got derailed by a small bit of cheering; one of the other Sentinels—the nameless nose—had managed to get a trainee who was a little too used to the finer things in life to drop out already. Apparently, his father was unpopular for reasons Ranthia couldn’t hope to know. She was rather out of touch with Remus’ political landscape, after all. The fact that she had never, not once in her life, been in touch with it was irrelevant; her prolonged time at the war was a magnificent excuse.

  When the meeting broke up, Ranthia subtly signaled to Sentinels Ocean and Swarm while the others milled out. The two glanced at each other but sat back down and waited until everyone else had left. Ranthia waited until the coast was clear—by her standards, she was more cautious than Swarm—before she began.

  “So, vampires. What’s our stance on them potentially attacking people? Or do they just naturally smell like blood for some reason?” She asked.

  Sentinel Swarm buried his face in his hands and whined something not nearly quietly enough about her knowing just enough to be a pain in the ass. Sentinel Ocean, on the other hand, had an impressive gambler’s face.

  After a long discussion, Ranthia had her answers… and an empty belly that had been deprived of both breakfast and lunch. In summary, vampires were generally something she should avoid interaction with. She could step in if they crossed the line too far and went on a killing spree or something, but allegedly they tended to handle their own troublemakers themselves. Also, they required blood of all things instead of food (seriously, how did that work?) to survive, but allegedly they only took it from the willing.

  The men at least seemed convinced that no vampire was a threat to the people of Remus.

  Neither man seemed eager to say much about Sentinel Night’s role among the vampires beyond what Ranthia had already assumed. Namely that he had some level of pull among them and helped ensure that vampires never threatened humanity. It was nice to know, but the whole situation felt vaguely wishy-washy.

  Also, Sentinel Swarm in particular begged her not to dig any deeper. But, at the very least, it sure sounded like there were monitoring efforts and safeguards in place to keep vampires in line.

  She could live with that. And above all else, it was genuinely good to know that humanity had managed to coexist with another people—an immortal people, at that. If humans and vampires could walk side by side, then surely it was true for dwarves, centaurs, devils, and—more importantly—elves.

  She had her own coexistence in mind, after all!

  It took several days of patrol-by-day, Sunrise-by-night before Ranthia even thought to ask the promoted prostitute about why it had been so hard to meet with her initially. Annoyingly, there was some sort of criminal element that kept trying to arrange to meet the madams and the others that ran the brothels to try to blackmail them into protection rackets. Obnoxious, but it also sounded right up Ranthia’s alley for her protecting Ariminum busywork—er, duty—and she spent the evening distracted by her plans for how to handle it. Sunrise hadn’t asked her to take care of it, but she was a Sentinel. She wasn’t about to allow a friend to suffer over some criminal element that should never have been allowed to operate in the first place!

  The situation was, naturally, resolved all too easily. Ranthia worked with Sentinel Swarm and another Sentinel—Seek or Seeker or something like that (Xaoc take her mind—she had it just the other day). Swarm soon located a business that had been approached but hadn’t paid yet. Sentinel Seeko (okay, that definitely wasn’t his name) had a neat combination of skills that let him touch the rods and after that he would unerringly know exactly where they were. Supposedly even a Spatial storage Skill wouldn’t stymie him; he claimed that it would just lead him to the individual that used the Skill.

  The criminal element proved to be newcomers that were trying to establish a slice of the city for themselves, based out of the business district where they masqueraded as a legitimate trading house that had only opened a season ago. With their objective confirmed, Sentinel Swarm sent Ranthia—Sentinel Grace serious face on—in through the front door in full gear. The man that ran the trading house immediately confessed when confronted; he and his inner circle presumably all possessed [Identify] or some variant and recognized when they were hopelessly, hilariously outmatched (that or the Sentinels’ reputation carried her, either-or). It was wise, but anticlimactic.

  The true fledgling criminal mastermind had attempted to escape while Ranthia was mopping up their legitimate fa?ade, but by fluke the man grabbed several of the rods that Sentinel Seek-something had marked. The criminal was cornered by the city guard at said Sentinel’s direction, while Ranthia assembled the rest of the group and marched them peacefully into guard custody.

  Ariminum’s quality of life was once again slightly improved, even if the actual roundup ended up being a total non-event. Though, for all her grousing about how easy it had been, Ranthia always appreciated it when she wasn’t forced to carve through a large number of people just to resolve a problem.

  The speed of the resolution was for the best as well. As-is, everything took long enough to completely conclude that the sun set—and took Ranthia’s vision with it—before they made it back to their hidden compound. Worse, she hadn’t really thought about it before, but Ranthia honestly had no idea if any Sentinel in Remus could be trusted with her secrets—Night had thoroughly convinced her that she needed to keep her immortality and her curse to herself.

  Absent a better plan, she just followed Swarm during the return journey—awkwardly and uncomfortably close behind him—then stood outside… the general vicinity of where she was pretty sure her door was until her ears convinced her that she had enough privacy to grope awkwardly until she found her door and got into her room. She made no excuses, and—may Xaoc bless the man—Swarm asked no questions about why she was acting extremely weird.

  She got through the incident and was safe inside her room. Where she promptly banged her shin on the bed’s wooden frame.

  Ranthia fell into a sort of routine—though not exactly a wholly static one.

  She woke up to yet another invitation from Green for lunch—she fully intended to accept someday, but she wasn’t ready yet! She knew her former leader was going to have some… choice words for Ranthia over her refusal to make up with Lysia before her former friend departed for yet another round. In some ways she agreed, but the idea of apologizing to Lysia when she was the one making disparaging remarks about Avyna… No. Just no.

  By day she patrolled and made the city a slightly safer place, a few foolhardy criminals at a time. With crime rates becoming practically nonexistent during the day—her patrol routes were intentionally irregular—she found that she had become something of a lucky charm for merchants. It was becoming increasingly difficult to get certain stalls to accept her coin when she bought food for her solitary breakfast or lunch (or snack that her nose refused to let her miss out on—some of the more irregular stalls were a real treat).

  She concluded her patrols by dinner time and changed out of her armor. What she did for dinner depended on who got to her first. Sometimes she grabbed food with another Sentinel (usually Ocean or Swarm, though Seeking sometimes invited her out too). Other times she visited Tertia and her wife for another meal prepared by their incredible chef (usually along with another reminder that Green would like to see her), and tried to accept the sheer waste that came with eating with her closest friend. Or, if all else failed, she forced herself back out into the city in her mistweave tunic to sample another restaurant that she hadn’t eaten at yet (she had plenty of coin, after all; Sentinel pay was downright absurd).

  Her nights depended on Sentinel Ocean’s availability. She finally had a sparring partner! …So long as they ‘fought’ in the Nostrum Sea. It was invaluable training, and it was nice to be able to cut loose. …But, yeah, she could only handle Ocean’s attempts to murder her once a week at most. She swore it took her a few days to get the brine out of her sinuses every time, the man was an absolute menace! She might have a firm level advantage against him, but that was why they had to fight in his element. She had literally zero skills adapted to aquatic combat, and, in theory, the training would help her learn how to compensate for bad terrain and situations where her Skills didn’t apply properly. With every match she was increasingly convinced that she had wronged the man somehow—though he continued to deny it—and he was trying his best to murder her.

  When she wasn’t drowning sparring, she either visited Sunrise at her brothel or visited the beach that she and Ocean used as a staging ground to train and practice for her upcoming stunt for the hell months. …Or, occasionally, grudgingly accepted a full night’s sleep instead.

  Throughout it all, she continued to expect to receive an order to attend a party, but they were “between seasons” at the moment. Which, if she understood the lectures from both Swarm and Tertia properly (mild regrets about asking either, yes), meant that the wealthy loved to pile all their social events into densely packed periods of levity between other obligations. Not that either of them could give her a date for when the next season would start. She appreciated the chaotic whimsy this implied, but it left her expecting a complete derailment of her plans each and every day.

  As for her own chaos…

  Gods, it was harder than she expected. Every idea that came to mind felt almost abusive. It was one thing when she was young and there was an element of risk, but now that she was so far beyond almost everyone in Remus… Worse, Night’s repetitive lecture from the last time that she damaged the reputation of the Sentinels echoed in her thoughts too.

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  Being a Sentinel could be stifling, it seemed. Still, she was confident that she would figure out something. Tomorrow will probably work better, she promised herself each and every night.

  It was entirely too early. The trainees were on the opposite side of the island doing a series of exercises, so they needed to hurry. Her master plan wasn’t to debut until later in the day, but the cover of darkness—and the extreme winds that were affecting the trainees while they exercised—reduced the risk of someone noticing something had changed.

  Fortunately, the preparations amused Ranthia almost as much as her own plan. She was finishing up burying the inscribed tile. She had been the one that had asked if it was possible, but she had a sneaking suspicion that Sentinel Swarm was extremely proud of himself for creating it. They had tested the distance already and the sand shouldn’t be a problem.

  Supposedly, anything that stood on the sand over the tile would register as a [Mage], level 375-ish. Her own [Divine-Touched Identify] didn’t work on it, but the Ranger Team 0 members reported that it worked wonders. Both before they buried the tile and—thank Xaoc, she would have been peeved had something gone wrong at the last moment—after, whatever stood or was placed there registered as a [Mage] for them of the appropriate color.

  Including a rock Ranthia found in the shallows. No one else seemed to find it funny, but Ranthia found the mage-rock hilarious—and she couldn’t even see it for herself! But everyone else saw a decent level (…fine, high level by Reman standards) [Mage]. But it was a rock. A found rock, even. Mage-rock!

  Ranthia continued to giggle about it even after they made their escape back into one of the cleverly concealed tunnels, once they made sure that they hadn’t left any clues around the site that might suggest that something had changed. The trainees wouldn’t step on that spot, so long as things went according to plan, so Ranthia was looking forward to finally enacting her plan.

  Also, mage-rock.

  She was so keeping that rock and needed to convince Swarm to let her have that tile once they were done. The inscriptions wouldn’t last forever, but until they failed, she wanted to enjoy waking up to the sight of mage-rock. She didn’t need to be able to [Identify] it for herself, she would know, so long as the inscriptions glowed, mage-rock was there.

  All glory to mage-rock!

  From the secret tunnel, Ranthia watched while the trainees ran their first log-carrying exercise. Plots aside, Ranthia still had fond memories of the exercise; it was where she shamelessly cheated creatively used the opportunity to develop her proficiency with [Pure Reflections]’ prior form, [Reflective Motility]. The exercise itself was simple enough: the trainees were expected to carry inscribed logs in groups of eight. The trick was that the instructors could use those inscriptions to adjust the weight of the logs—it let them make the logs punishing no matter the group composition and let them adjust the weight when members dropped out. This helped to prevent unwanted injuries, at least so long as the instructors paid attention to the state of the trainees. Those that were at their limits could have their burdens reduced enough to let them keep going.

  Or, at least, that was how things normally went, but the instructors had the trainees do two laps with the logs as normal. But only two laps—to be followed by an almost unheard of opportunity for a bit of rest. The trainees pushed themselves as they ran, eager to steal extra moments of respite. But… gods and goddesses, had she ever been that slow? There wasn’t even any ill weather or other effects in play, it was just a beautiful and sunny day. They couldn’t even blame the gentle force of the breeze against the logs—someone’s Skill erased the natural winds before they touched the island.

  Ranthia’s own people—and a rare few other soldiers that had served against the shimagu—were throwing a major wrench in the hell months’ operation. The instructors had to divide them among other teams, but these logs—and numerous other challenges—were never built for the level curve that the war was producing. But a single individual could only do so much to accelerate a group, she supposed.

  One-by-one the groups arrived for their promised break and gleefully set down the logs. There was even refreshingly cool water on offer—Ranthia insisted—without any terrible additives. The wiser trainees were looking leery, but none of them dared to shirk the opportunity to recover just a little.

  “Okay you worthless maggots, back on your feet! Next we—” One of the instructors started to speak, but—just as planned—a powerful wind picked up and cut him off as the sand-filled gale thoroughly obscured everything in a sudden sandstorm.

  Trainees covered their faces or hurriedly dove back to the ground. The instructor was stuck coughing (his own fault, he knew this was happening). And Ranthia took her cue and slipped out of the concealed exit from the tunnel and danced over to her tile before the sandstorm came to a sudden stop the moment she was in position.

  It was so much fun to be on the other side of these mind games. Even as the trainees tried to wipe sand away and recover, she spoke.

  “Trainees! From this moment forward, if anyone speaks at all, except to accept my challenge you’ll immediately be running laps until I’m satisfied—so shut your mouths and listen closely! I am Sentinel Grace. I’ve been told that this is a promising class of future Rangers, but it sure doesn’t look like it from where I stand! Here’s your opportunity to prove me wrong! I’m taking logs by myself! If anyone thinks they can outrun me, speak your name and step forward! If you’re successful, not only will I apologize, but I will personally wait on you hand and foot for the next two days and give you a little vacation from this pleasant bit of idle training! However! If you fail—and you will fail—I will ensure your training is customized to my standards to make you into something better, and I’m not as soft-hearted as your instructors!”

  Sentinel Grace gave her pronouncement with a haughty smile, her arms crossed over the cheap tunic and leather vest she was dressed in for this.

  It was, admittedly, a plan that had an obvious potential point of failure. Of the 119 survivors from Ranthia’s forces on the front line, a staggering 82 were in the Ranger Academy. Another 21 had already accepted supporting roles within the Rangers’ ranks, while the last 16 had opted to retire and return to their families. But that meant 82 trainees could have already given her game away. They comprised a decent percentage of the group and it would have taken just a few stories from the war to ruin things. Effectively, she was betting heavily on the fact that the early days of the Ranger Academy offered few social opportunities that lingered long enough to get into story swaps.

  Thank Xaoc, it seemed that her gamble was paying off! Men looked at what they were convinced was a [Sexy] level 375-ish [Mage] and volunteered one after another. A few women volunteered as well, mostly [Warriors] of course, and Ranthia was simply delighted to see the one that had been occupied with a prostitute during her prior speech among their number.

  She was more surprised that one of her men, a level 529 triple-classed [Warrior], stepped forward as well. Seriously Novius!? She very nearly lost her composure and laughed out loud when he said he’d take a log by himself and would match what she did. Oh, that poor fool—Novius was a strength and vitality focused [Warrior], he had no idea what he was truly getting into.

  Enough trainees volunteered that they were assembled into five groups. Her soldier stood near her. Ranthia signaled to the instructors.

  “Bring me a log!”

  It was hard to keep her face straight. Several of the trainees winced aloud when she stepped away from the tile and the level 375-ish [Mage] suddenly was revealed as a level 627 [Warrior]. One of the trainees that challenged her cursed, which technically violated the rules, but she ignored it. He earned that swear with his hubris.

  Sure, she could run with a log solo—she had tested as much—but that wasn’t her plan. Her strength wasn’t her secret weapon here, it was simply the starting line. Novius, her former soldier, definitely had more strength than she did—though she was still confident she could beat him with her speed—but she wasn’t done yet. Novius was a good man, but he was going to have regrets about boasting that he was going to match her carry.

  Four [Warrior] instructors finally brought her the requested log.

  “Right, tip it towards me.” Sentinel Grace ordered, her lip squirming slightly as Ranthia fought back her grin.

  The instructors were blanching as they tipped the log into her hand—especially when she held it upright in her palms.

  “Is this as high as the weight inscription goes?” She asked, innocently, knowing damn well they already put it at its safe maximum.

  One of the instructors nodded.

  “I see. Bring me another too, in that case.” Ranthia decided after a feigned pause for thought.

  Artillery Mage C was still an instructor—one of the ones watching from the sidelines—and the man, somehow, clearly still had no control over his facial expressions. His grin was threatening to split his face in two if it went any wider. Of the four instructors that brought her the log, an older [Warrior] that Ranthia didn’t recognize, started to protest, but instead ground his teeth and nodded.

  The group lifted and carried a second log to Ranthia.

  “Excellent, give me one moment, then tip it over to me the same as before—but be quick!” Ranthia ordered, her own grin was escaping confinement.

  Swarm had almost pissed himself laughing when she told him about this next bit. It was tricky to pull off, but she was confident after all of her practice. And, honestly, it was just plain fun to have an opportunity to show off a bit.

  Sentinel Grace planted her feet, tensed her muscles, then launched the log she was carrying straight up into the air. With her hands freed, she hurriedly took the second log from the stunned instructors.

  The instructors nearly introduced a disastrous delay, but she managed to get the log upright and hurriedly altered her position as guided by her Skills and training. Then, with a satisfying crack that made a few of the lowest level trainees wince, the log she had thrown landed.

  Upright.

  Atop the second log she was carrying.

  It was a feat that was downright impossible in Remus. For her, it was a casual (ignore the numerous practice sessions that enabled it) display of a high level classer’s strength, grace, and dexterity.

  Ranthia took a moment to adjust her stance and footing until she stabilized the two weighted logs that were stacked end-to-end. A few moments later she nodded.

  “Excellent, I’m ready when you lot are. Let’s keep it to three laps. Don’t want to keep the others waiting too long.” Sentinel Grace called out.

  “Nope! I’m out, I should have known better. I’ll take the punishment.” Her former soldier grumbled before he threw himself into the sand. A pity, she would have paid rods to see Novius try.

  Artillery Mage C gleefully called the countdown, and the race was on. The poor trainees were already pale, but they tried. Xaoc bless them, they tried.

  Admittedly, Ranthia had a harder time than she expected. The weight-boosted logs pushed her into the soft sand more than she expected—she had practiced on firmer ground, it seemed. [Rhythmic Grace] helped a little, but the Skill wanted her to dance. Dancing while carrying two improbably stacked logs like this was not an option. She had proven that in her practice efforts; even with her strength and dexterity, it was challenging to keep the logs balanced as she sprinted. Her practice and levels made it possible, but what she was doing was difficult and there was no way she could make use of anything close to her full speed.

  She still completed her third lap before any other team completed their first.

  “Whew, that was actually a pretty decent workout. I should join the lot of you more often!” Ranthia called out loudly while she haphazardly discarded her weighty cargo to the side.

  Ranthia spent two weeks among the trainees. The fools that had thought they could match a Sentinel were driven as hard as she dared. Of the thirty-seven that challenged her, a full twenty dropped out within three days—the inadvisably horny woman among them (good riddance, and Ranthia was refusing to let herself feel hypocritical).

  The rest rose to the challenge.

  Novius, the soldier from her group that had briefly dreamt of challenging her, was fun to press. He had proven his worth during the war, but he wasn’t quite at her level—she had level and class quality advantages over him. Still, pressing him through the hell months wasn’t easy, given his level. At least until she came up with a fun solution: she made him spar with her, hand-to-hand, while he participated in the log carries and exercises that the rest of the trainees went through.

  She pushed the seventeen that rose to her expectations hard. She customized her expectations for each man and woman. Pinnius was expected to complete an extra lap for every three his peers completed. Sabelle got a weighted cloak. Heius was pulled entirely off the main group’s regiment; the kid’s stats were already unbalanced, and she was going to try to get him some late natural points to help balance him. They were willing to meet her challenge, so she was going to do her utmost to give them the best foundation she could.

  They bled under her orders, they suffered beneath her expectations, but she was careful not to break them.

  By the time she announced her departure, the trainees had a newfound awe and fear for the Sentinels.

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  Nozomi Matsuoka.

  Sarah "Neila" Elkins.