Yvonne Torres had set out on a road she knew well with her boys on a beautiful spring morning. Promethean maples in a dense canopy blocked out most light but left beautiful shafts of it dancing across fresh patches of wildflowers. They rode in the seat of an old wagon, pulled haltingly by a stubborn hornbeast named Bumi, the lizard rocking the wagon constantly. Her youngest, Jesus, had whined about cramped space, but grew much more cheerful when he picked his first wild blackberries, running ahead of their wagon to find more. Yvonne told him about how their ancestors had brought these plants and many others to this world, to give it life. When he asked how they had gotten here, Yvonne explained that the ancestors of the first Xexens were explorers from a far away land. She hated it when other people talked down to her boy. Curiosity was a good thing.

  Yvonne breathed deeply of the clean forest air. It was days like this that made her confident in her choice to stay in the outskirts of society, more disconnected even than towns like Oakheart. She had the opportunity to explore as a young adult, and she did spend a couple of years in Jarion. It was hard to give up modern conveniences like reliable electricity, vehicles, and runic devices. She’d only needed to press her hand to a symbol in her wall to be instantly dry after a shower… goodness, a shower, not a bath.

  And yet… even that far out from the capital, everything seemed a slippery slope. Appliances or golems took care of the household chores that gave her time to reflect, but high taxes made it hard to afford these modern toys. There was a easy solution in magical education, which would improve a resume quick - assuming she had good potential and it wasn’t just a waste of time and a lot of money. Even at her age, Yvonne was occasionally tempted by the sort of money she could find in Jarion with a bit of elbow grease. And then, if she did anything worth a damn, she’d be headhunted by recruiters for the military and great families. They would bother her the rest of her life, but if she was ever rude to any of them, it could mean the end for not just her, but everyone she loved. She was thinking worst-case, perhaps. Things hadn’t been quite so bad since the newest king. He was useless, but not dangerous - as long as he didn’t know who you were. Still…

  She watched as her middle child, Alvarez, pointed out a patch of wild dewberries to Jesus, the boy’s eyes sparkling like the berries themselves in the morning light. No, she thought, she wouldn’t move back to Jarion. It was a place for business on mornings like today, delivering a cart full of produce and trinkets to the fair - nothing more, nothing less.

  Yvonne’s quiet reverie was broken as booted feet crushed the berries and her boys staggered back, frightened. The man unsheathed a sword, and a moment later, nearly a dozen bandits that were previously invisible appeared around the wagon, carrying their own blades, rifles, bows, whatever weapons they could get their hands on. Some kind of illusion trap?! Their faces were scarred and clothes torn and worn to looseness. The type of people who were petty and mean, then got kicked out of communities, then grouped up and became dangerous. Yvonne looked around for a chance of escape and, not seeing one, hugged her crying children close and offered the wagon, dropping her hands from the reins. She wouldn’t struggle - it wasn’t worth getting anyone hurt. She could see her oldest, Juste, fingering a club as he sat in the wagon, eyeing the men with the stubbornness of youth. She had raised him well - he wouldn’t throw their lives away. But if the situation got worse…

  “This ain’t enough,” the booted man said. He strode over, his face covered in a messy beard. It was the kind of face that might be pretty, if it wasn’t twisted in malice. “We’re not common crooks, see. I’m Dallin Rogers of the Black Hand - I won’t stand for my organization being insulted. Show me what you really got, or we’ll have problems.” Reaching in to the wagon, he grabbed a wooden doll Yvonne had made in her grandmother’s style and crushed it to splinters in one hand. He found an orange, started eating it without removing the peel, one eye turned to Yvonne. He knew it made her uncomfortable. Everything was to make her uncomfortable. She’d heard about the Black Hand. There was some ‘travel advisory’ from the capital, but it had been out for months - and this was coming from the same place where people rubbed yeti oil on their face to look younger. Telling people not to travel wasn’t a solution anyway - she had to sell her goods some time to feed her boys. Yvonne regretted not being overly careful, even if there was little to do for it. She briefly considered agitating the Bumi to make chaos - but the hornbeast wasn’t very smart. If she did, the boys would be in the same danger. At the end of the day, they could have their fun and then be on their way. Even if that meant the worst for her, they didn’t have any use for her boys. She would make sure they made it out.

  “What’s the problem kid?” the awful man said, looking down at sniffling Jesus. He grabbed the boy by her head faster than she could process. Her blood went cold as she clawed impotently at his grip. If he squeezed like before -

  If the man was a blur, this was a blink. A flash of light. A flicker like lightning. Then, the awful Dallin was on the ground several feet away. Just past him, a girl Juste’s age landed gracefully in a ready stance, her muscles loose but one hand curled into a grip around something. Her red hair and lavender eyes made her striking, but her speed made her breathtaking.

  “You’ve got ten seconds to drop the loot, extras,” the girl said. “If you’re good, I won’t punish you too bad.”

  Almost before one of the swordsmen moved in her direction, the girl’s hand flashed. The gunman dropped to the ground, bleeding out of holes in his head. At the same time, barely following the glow, Yvonne watched the girl cut a man’s open with a machete, fire a wave of glowing orbs off, then bound off a tree and cut the head from another bandit. When did she draw that sword? Yvonne had pulled her boys to close to her, crouching next to her wagon for cover and blocking their eyes from the carnage. Bumi, thankfully, wasn’t making things worse, instead trembling - a reaction Yvonne could understand. She whispered quiet affirmations to the children and the hopeless dragon. But for her part? She was transfixed by the fight.

  An arrow missed the girl low, but then it exploded into a magical blaze that caught the underbrush and consumed the girl. Yvonne watched in horror. She was going to - Yvonne’s thoughts turned as the girl ran through the flames, unbothered. The same couldn’t be said for the archer, and she punched him in the throat before he could knock the arrow in his hand. Instead, she grabbed it and threw it, trapping another bandit in an ice crystal that expanded instantly from where the arrow fell. As she dealt with others in melee - was she taunting them again? - Yvonne’s view panned to a sound behind the wagon. Another bandit was picking up a heavy-looking machine gun, looking straight at the girl who’d saved them. Yvonne started yelling to warn her - when she saw Juste come out from behind a tree and strike the man over the head with a club. The brute staggered, but didn’t fall - he did moments later, when an old man appeared completely from nowhere in a pristine butler outfit. He cut down the bandit who fell to the ground, limp. The girl joined them a moment later and offered Juste a raised hand, which he clasped. It didn’t seem to be what she was looking for, but the girl gave him a friendly smile and Yvonne’s heart stirred with pride for her boy - no, a man by any account.

  Then, it was back to lightning-fast business. The survivors were handcuffed by the strange duo of the agile girl and the formal butler, and the girl additionally requested some cloth from Yvonne, who excitedly helped to blindfold and gag the men, then put on some more bonds to be sure.

  “Do we need to wait for the constabulary?” Yvonne asked.

  “They don’t exactly make rounds this far out,” the girl said with a shrug.

  “We’ll handle the delivery,” the old man said. “My apprentice called for this little excursion, so she can take them to the car. It builds character.”

  The girl groaned but didn’t complain further, hefting a man twice her size over one shoulder and dragging the other by his shirt. The would-be crooks called out muffled protests to the treatment. Yvonne gave them a wry grin.

  “Are you uninjured?” the older man asked. “We can tend to you, if needed.”

  “I’m alright,” Yvonne said, standing straighter. “I think I’ll be heading home with the boys. We will need to be clever with the finances, but it isn’t worth their lives.”

  “A wise choice - until the Black Hand is dealt with,” the old man said. “And perhaps I can lighten your load a bit.

  ***

  When Wyatt Rivers joined the Starlight Falls police force, he had expected a career of constant danger for him and swift justice for the criminals of his area. While there was that aspect, increasingly so with Black Hand presence, he hadn’t realized how much of his time would be spent corralling drunk teenagers, rescuing treebound cats, and breaking up fights that were really just cock-measuring contests. In short, babysitting. He didn’t hate this part of his job, not anymore.

  He was surprised when the two seemed to mix into one as a girl half his size dropped two handcuffed and gagged men on his counter and gestured broadly to him as the men made a muffled groans. Besides the other bonds, he had several tight ropes lashed around him. She had a shy grin on her face, waiting like a cat presenting a dead mouse to its owner. Beside her, an old man in a butler’s outfit stood by with his hands folded. Contrasting the girls worn trousers and jacket, the man’s clothing and manner was impeccable. Wyatt needed more coffee, and hell, the prisoners weren’t going anywhere. Leaving the girl confused, he got himself another cup before returning to the counter. She gestured more emphatically at the prisoners.

  “I can see you wrapped him up good, but it’s the wrong time of year for presents. Can you explain why you prepped this fella for interplanetary shipping?”

  “He’s Black Hand apparently,” she said, leaning closer and whispering. The effect was dampened by the fact that she was straining just to get close. “Anyway, that’s a lie. You can test him or whatever, but he’s too weak to be BH.”

  “And you know this how?” Wyatt asked.

  “It’s not my brains,” the girl said with a shrug. “Ask Darius, his daughter’ll explain.”

  “Ask who? Wait, do you mean the governor?!”

  “I bug him for stuff all the time,” the girl said with a shrug.

  “Well, I doubt I’ll even get through,” Wyatt said.

  “The master will take the call,” the butler spoke for the first time. “He has a special interest in this matter.”

  “Why would he - you know, never mind.” Wyatt knocked back a long sip of coffee, feeling the good heat, but his headache was growing. Nothing these two said made sense. Instead, he untied one of the prisoners’ gags with considerable effort.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?” Wyatt asked the prisoner.

  “Ayy, redhead?” the prisoner asked.

  “Yeah,” the girl said, clearly unbothered.

  “You got some slick moves.”

  Great. They were all useless.

  “Anyway,” the girl said, pretending to ignore the prisoner but with an obvious smile, “his buddies are all on the road east of town, some miles out. They were making trouble for a nice mom,” the girl said, “so I had to kill them.”

  The officer raised an eyebrow at that. He didn’t especially care, of course. Being out beyond shiny cities and fancy walls taught a person to think practically. Any bloke who tried to cut another person’s throat to get ahead had lost his right to his own. Wyatt would rather a hundred bandits died just to be safe than one good man get cut down for showing mercy. Still, this wasn’t a cop, but a child.

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  “You sure that was necessary?” Wyatt asked.

  “Guns are spooky,” she said. “I might be strong, but a few lucky shots’ll still kill me.”

  That was probably the most reasonable thing she’d said so far. Things were making at least a small bit of sense.

  “Alright, I’ll just need you to come inside to help me get some details straight.”

  “No can do, boss man. I’m here for the tournament and probably late for registration. Don’t suppose you can give me directions? You can arrest me later or whatever.”

  When Wyatt glared and started to move around the counter, the girl moved almost before he realized. Just when he’d thought she’d be too fast to catch - and he wasn’t going to shoot her - he saw how the butler had gotten next to her and grabbed her shoulder. When had that happened?

  “Ariel, you can’t make your debut in town by resisting arrest,” the butler said sternly.

  “But the registration -”

  “I will take care of registering you,” the old man said, and the girl visibly relaxed. She gave him a nod.

  “Sorry, Teacher. I got carried away.”

  The old man let her go with a nod before leaving, and she held out her hands, pressed together, to Wyatt. Wyatt sighed.

  “You’re not under arrest. I genuinely just have a couple of questions. If you’ll follow me…” his train of thought was interrupted by the ungagged prisoner.

  “I want my phone call. You got any massage ladies that do prison calls?”

  “You’ll get your damn call. Give me a minute,” Wyatt said. The man argued - until Ariel stuffed the cloth gag back in his mouth.

  Wyatt smiled, despite himself. Kids these days did the darnedest things.

  ***

  As Ariel walked along the streets of Starlight Falls with her teacher, she had to hold herself back from visiting every shop and stall. Darius had spoiled her with some pocket money to spend, and it look all her willpower not to run at the smell of sizzling meat skewers. True to the town’s name, a waterfall cascaded down past them, spraying up a refreshing mist that invigorated her. Ariel couldn’t wait to see the view at night.

  “Ms. Beskyte,” Dave said in an overly formal tone, “are you listening?”

  “Uh huh!” Ariel said easily.

  He furrowed his brow. “What was I saying, then?”

  “I should save my money for odds and ends to use in the tournament. There should be a weapons store and a fireworks shop on the strip, and a home repair store…”

  Dave nodded. “And then?”

  Ariel smiled sheepishly. “Something really important.”

  Dave coughed. “Very well. Fifty pushups while you think about it.”

  Ariel kept her grumbling to herself and got to it, not worried about the strange glances people gave them. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s been a while since I got to go somewhere nice like this.”

  “Remember this isn’t a vacation,” Dave said, but didn’t harp on the topic. “Anyways, I suppose you didn’t miss a terribly important topic. I happened to meet someone while signing you up, but I suppose you can just see them in person.”

  “Someone?” Ariel said, finishing her pushups. When she stood, she saw two people watching her punishment. They were here. It was impossible.

  “I thought we told you not to get yourself in trouble,” Dad said, “Ari-girl.”

  Ariel ran to him and hugged him.

  “What are you doing here!?” she asked. “The roads are dangerous!”

  “We got lucky,” her Mom said, “and caught a large merchant caravan. Although, I don’t think I could have stopped your father even if it wasn’t safe.”

  “Enough of that,” her Dad said. “What’s the plan? We’re here to help, not distract you.”

  “We’re looking at weapons,” Ariel said. “You can bring your own, so I have to make a plan.”

  “I apologize for my negligence,” Dave said, bowing slightly to her parents. “I did not realize that equipment would not be standardized for the tournament. I would have brought a magical weapon from the estate for her, had I realized. It only usually matters against enemies with superior magical equipment, but I should have anticipated that option. As it is, I haven’t the funds to buy proper magical equipment.”

  “P-please, that’s not your fault!” her Mom said quickly. “Besides, couldn’t she just use your sword?”

  Ariel was shaken by the thought. Dave’s blade was thin and unassuming, but by the way she’d seen it cut through people and carry magic, it was no doubt a treasure. Dave wore a hesitant expression. Ariel spoke first.

  “You think I need fancy gear to win, mom?” Ariel said with a lopsided grin. “I’ll beat everyone with the default gear they give you and some clever tricks.” After a moment, she added. “If something goes wrong in the real world, Dave having the sword will be more important than winning my matches.”

  Ariel’s mom smiled, messing up her hair. “Look at you, thinking ahead.”

  “Don’t be so surprised!” Ariel complained. “Anyway, if I’m winning without top class gear, I’ll need surprises.” Dave nodded.

  “You shouldn’t have trouble there. I got a copy of the restricted weapons list while I was waiting for registration. It’s more sparse than you’d think - so we have some options. And with your knack for improvised weapons, I think we can try some of the strategies we’ve practiced.”

  Ariel grinned. The first real spell she’d ever learned - Magnetic Resonance - had opened so many doors to Ariel. She had new ideas for spells every day, and Dave seemed just as excited to see what she’d do next.

  “What are we waiting for?” Her dad said. “Let’s get shopping! I’ve already scoped out all the special deals in town.”

  Her father still had the same love of haggling, buying used goods, and finding coupons she’d always known. He went beyond listed items and asked an older craftsman if he’d be willing to sell some extra copper wire he had in his workshop. As it happened, he was, and they got a good deal on it. Ariel smiled. Her father hunted deer, bears, and a variety of birds like many men in the area, but he was just excited to save some coin. That was a boon here as he stretched Dave’s budget and his own funds as far as they’d go. Short of a magic sword, Ariel was able to get everything she’d needed, and her mom insisted on the sewing and gluing needed to assemble the raw materials into pouches and traps. After trying to help and annoying her, Ariel had been sent out of their room at the inn to take a walk and clear her mind. She thought to herself at the irony of her mom sending her away. She’d given her a belated earful throughout the day for running off in the first place.

  At first, Ariel felt a little lonely, walking the quiet streets from the little-known inn Dave had booked days ago. This was the sort of quiet walk where Xenron always seemed to show up before she’d snapped on him. But, once she got going, Ariel found that she loved the streets of Starlight Falls. They were lively, packed with stalls. She had just planned to practice her spells and the basic martial arts Dave had taught her, but practicing at the last minute wouldn’t do her much good. Instead, she decided to people-watch and see if she could figure out anything about the competition. Buying a skewer of spiced hornbeast meat with pocket money Dave had given her - which had survived thanks to Dad’s sales - Ariel sat on one of many benches lining the thoroughfare and looked for oddballs. It didn’t take long to find one.

  Across the way from her, a girl maybe a little older than her sat with a skewer similar to Ariel’s on a paper plate, cutting off dainty little pieces with a knife and fork. It was obvious that she wasn’t from the sticks. Her sleek black hair had a shine to it, she didn’t have any dirt under her nails, and even her clothes looked like she’d been cleaning them constantly to stay clean in the dusty town. She wiped her hands and mouth incessantly. Despite this, she wore a simple local style cotton dress, her hair was in a bun rather than some fancy braid like capital folks liked, and she didn’t have a chaperone. Ariel had a sense this girl was pretending to be someone she wasn’t. The girl looked up before looking away shyly when she noticed Ariel staring. Crap.

  Ariel now needed to know what this girl’s deal was, so she did the only sensible thing - act natural. She crossed the road and found a stall a dozen meters from the girl - enough to be out of earshot and hopefully, her mind, but close enough to watch.

  “Welcome to Vaere’s Adventure - the Power Orb! Reenact his heroism on the Mountain of Truth and return the orb to its rightful place on the dais!”

  The heavyset man behind the counter had a broad grin and dramatic makeup on his face. Her uncle Lamont had told her the trick behind stalls like this - they’d make the game cheap and winnable - if just barely. Then they’d give you a plush toy they’d bought in bulk for cheap when you won. It all seemed the same here. The man had an easy set up - hand him a copper, and you’d get a ball. You’d throw the ball at the target from several meters away, from anywhere in a circular ring around it. There was the illusion of fairness and strategy, and people hurled dozens of balls and overshot or undershot the dais. Even when they landed on it, the balls usually rolled or bounced off. All the while, the man scurried about picking up balls and selling them to new customers. On the rare occasions some silly boy got a lucky throw and won, the man would dramatically present a stuffed howler toy and the boy would, for that moment, be the hero of his little sister, would-be lover, or whoever had convinced him to play this terrible game. Then, everyone else would clap politely and buy another ball. It was all a mostly-harmless scam that couldn’t be reliably won. So Uncle Lamont had said years earlier, before winning Ariel the toy she wanted on his first try.

  Ariel wasn’t as clever as Uncle Lamont, but while this had just been a scheme to keep watching the fancy girl, Ariel was curious if she could win. So she bought a ball and fixed her stance before throwing the ball right at the dais. As she probably should have expected, it bounced off and landed over a meter away. Ariel had another 15 coppers on her, but she was hoping not to burn them all on this game. She’d give herself two more tries.

  For her second throw, Ariel set her stance like when she’d played stickball and whirled her arm around before lobbing the ball high. It sailed up and came down right on the dais - but it bounced a few feet it the air and still had enough momentum to keep going right off the dais. Ariel sighed. She was a little off-center, but it’d be hard for her to throw much better than that. Maybe Uncle Lamont was right - then again, she had one more idea. Grinning, Ariel reset her stance.

  This time, Ariel lobbed the ball a little less high, but it was still mostly upward to limit the forward momentum. While it flew, Ariel manifested her Shell Aura in a protective field around her, but more weakly than usual. Then, as the ball fell, Ariel expanded her aura for just a moment - enveloping the entire space within several meters, including the dais. People around her stumbled or threw their balls weakly under the unexpected pressure. It was just enough to slow down the ball as a it fell, and it settled lightly on the dais. Ariel sunk to the ground, breathing heavily.

  “We have a winner!” the large man said, grabbing a narwhal and proffering it to her. Ariel took the toy, still steadying herself after burning up that much mana in a moment. When a boy a bit younger than Isaac’s age stared at her longingly, she held it up weakly towards him.

  “You want the prize?” she asked, and the boy nodded shyly after looking either way. It seemed his parents had warned him about strangers, and he couldn’t decide whether he was more afraid or excited about the toy.

  “You’re afraid? That’s good. It’s tough days,” Ariel said, and threw the narwhal to him. The boy bobbed his head with a quiet ‘thank you’, and scampered off to his parents. Ariel smiled as he went.

  That was when she noticed the faker girl, piercing blue eyes glaring at her.

  “Come with me,” the girl said, and Ariel followed with just a groan of complaint as she fought through dizziness to stand and walk off to the side of festivities.

  “What is your house, girl?” the fake asked, surprising Ariel.

  “House? It’s a real nice one. Four whole walls. Fireplace and everything.”

  “Don’t be coy,” the girl said in a posh accent, her hands on her hips. “Your control is crude, but no one from around here would have a polished aura technique like the Shell. There’s nothing for a skilled tutor out here. So why come out all this way just to mock the local entertainers?”

  “’Local entertainers?’ He’s not from around here. The setup is fine-tuned to make people lose… wait, why am I explaining myself to you?!” Ariel to push past the girl. She’d had enough of this. Instead, her hand stopped cold in the girl’s casual grip.

  “What noble family are you from?” the girl asked.

  “Beskyte,” Ariel said, forcing herself not to punch the girl. She could get thrown out of the tournament. “Maybe you’ve heard of us. We’re doing great things in the mining industry. At least we have union wages going for us.”

  The girl dropped her hand, fortunately, eyes wide. “You’re serious?”

  “My mom teaches, so the family tradition is grand and varied,” Ariel said with a sweeping gesture.

  The girl wrung her hands in front of her. “I’m terribly sorry for the rudeness.” She turned on her heel and started to walk away, then hesitated a moment. “You probably shouldn’t use your aura like that. It’ll burn you out in no time.”

  “I noticed,” Ariel said dryly.

  “It’s a useful skill if you can master it, but expanding your aura like that without practice is like over-stretching a muscle. I’m warning you because you might have coasted on talent this far, but there will be several petty nobles in this tournament. They won’t be easy opponents,” the girl said.

  “My teacher had a feeling they’d show up, so he warned me,” Ariel said, shrugging. “Don’t worry so much. Bumpkin or noble, I’ll kick their ass all the same.”

  The girl smiled. “I’ll look forward to watching your fights, then.”

  Ariel shook her hand, and they each went their own ways. It was only then that Ariel realized the other girl had left before giving even her name. So much for gathering information. That was fine, she guessed. She’d had her fun, but it was probably about time to give her strategies one last check with Dave. She was fired up - tomorrow would be her big tournament debut. If Xenron wasn’t going to check in on his own terms, she mused, she’d show up on his TV screen.