It was a painful journey to Helscope that morning. The paths were long and winding, moving over rock bluffs and soft meadows that treated every centimeter of her chafed legs as equals. At one point, in a patch of foliage, she even fell off her monta, something Edico panicked about. But she got back on, suffering through it, continuing on toward her destination.

Sara didn’t get any sort of relief until the paths became roads with deep ruts from wagon wheels. By then, they had already entered the fields of farmers that stretched for miles. Serfs were busy harvesting hemsgrain, a long green stalk with rice-like grains that, when fermented, could quell the night terrors. The brew was called twalla, an adventurer favorite, and it was big business.

As they passed, two tanned farm boys without shirts snickered at her.

“Hey lady!” the older said, using his hands as a megaphone, “Ain’t you never rode a monta before? You look like you’ve double-bagged a grave digger!”

Sara’s eyes deadened. You know…. I’ll have to remember that. God knows I’ve run out of things to say to Mary.

While she was musing, the boys’ father jumped off his monta and burst through the field, clapping the kid upside the head.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Is you crazy, boy? When people pass, you pay them no heed. Ain’t we ever teach you nothin’?”

“But Dad, they’re—“

“But nothin’. One of these days, you’ll be apt to get us all killed. Now get back to harvestin’ and pray to Delina they don’t return, or I’ll offer them a piece of your hide.”

“She ain’t gonna hurt us, Pa. She can’t even ride a monta!”

“Power ain’t judged in ridin’. Now, back-talk me again, boy, and you’ll be takin’ your meals standin’ for a month!”

Sara developed a bittersweet smile as their words faded into the distance.

“Did you find that strange?” Edico asked.

“No,” Sara replied. “I think it was wise.” Farming boys understood that males were physically stronger than females, but harsh experiences taught farming men that magic and money made physical strength irrelevant.

“It is,” Edico said. That was the last exchange they had until they saw Helscope over the horizon.

Towns in Reemada weren’t what people imagined towns in the Middle Ages would be, but they weren’t exactly modern, either. They were just different, much in the same way that the streets of Bangalore were different from Chicago. Forges pumped black smokestacks into the air as Artifaces (as trades mages were called) regulated carbon input to create steel. Then blacksmiths struck the red hot billet on anvils in geometric arrays, using minor gravity magic to hit harder and more evenly. Outside, there were public fountains filled with water magic, and the ground was perfectly level, courtesy of work from earth mages. None of this arcana was advanced. Military magic was banned for the citizenry. But it was technology, much in the same way that citizens could own factories but not military-grade weapons on Earth.

Being in Helscope, watching people weave in and out of taverns in a drunkenly organized manner filled her with a deep sense of nostalgia. It had been eight months, but she had finally returned.

Edico didn’t fail to notice.

Sara didn’t hide it. She couldn’t even if she tried.

“Where’s the tavern?” Edico asked. He didn’t know the specifics of the mission but knew enough not to ask more questions than necessary.

“I’m unsure,” Sara replied. “Let’s look around.” And so they did, walking aimlessly through the streets, Sara disguising her scouting as curiosity. When she spotted a beggar on a side street of Alexbrook Tavern, she had what she needed and set her plan into motion.

“Guh….” Sara gripped her head, groaning. Suddenly, a pulse of mana shot through her, spreading through the streets. The citizens didn’t notice, but Edico panicked. “Lady Reece!” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Sara didn’t reply. She let out another groan, collapsing toward the ground. Edico caught her with ghostly speed. “Lady Reece! Speak to me!”

She grabbed his breastplate to hold herself up. “I-I know where it is. The tavern. It’s—“

“Don’t speak. We need to get you to an inn.”

“No…. We must. It’s the mission. If we don’t….” Sara trembled, genuine anxiety on her face. “I can do it. It’ll only be an hour.”

Edico frowned as he sat Sara on an empty farmer’s crate. “An hour? What are you going to discuss?”

“What?” Sara chuckled breathlessly. “You make it sound planned. Conversations take time, and it’ll take a lot longer if King Escar’s Royal Guard kicks down the door. Assuming it doesn’t mess it up.”

“I…. Lady Reece….”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Where… is it?”

Sara pointed a stone’s throw down the road, just past a bustling side street of busy citizens carrying bread from a nearby bakery. There, on the wall, was a large sign that read Alexbrook Tavern. “I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know,” Edico grimaced. “It’s my sworn duty—“

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. It’s your job to break down the door, terrorize the common folk, and make declarations of the king if anything happens.”

“This is serious, Lady Reece.”The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“I’m being serious.” Sara sighed and presented her bare palm. “Just trust me. This is what we’re here to do.”

Edico grimaced. “Let me at least check it out.”

“By all means,” Sara said, wiggling her fingers.

Edico sighed, reached into his leather satchel, and presented Sara with a wrapped bottle. “I’ll be right back.”

When he put up his hood and disappeared into the crowd, Sara pulled out a pink plant from her pocket. It had hundreds of serrated leaves that resembled a Jurassic-era chainsaw. Today’s going to suck, she thought, chomping into it. It tasted like chewing on Tylenol and had twice the burn. Her mind immediately flooded with the euphoria of endorphins, removing the pain from her chafed thighs, and she remembered why dope fiends braved tista weed. Time’s ticking…. she thought grimly.

Stepping forward, she bumped into a citizen, making him fall to the ground. “I’m sorry!” she said, rushing forward to help him up. “Let me help you.”

The citizen’s eyes widened at her appearance, and he blushed. “O-Okay.”

As she helped him up, she dusted off his jacket, smoothly sliding the tista weed into his pocket. “I didn’t mean—“

“No worries,” Sara said, flashing him a bright smile. “I need to go before my father comes looking for me.” Without giving him time to speak, she walked toward the Alexbrook Tavern, smiling as she watched his mana signature disappearing—along with the evidence.

Tista weed was the most notorious poison on the continent. If Edico found it in the Alexbrook Tavern or anywhere else in the vicinity, he would start breaking down doors and trying to get random shop owners hanged. So long as it was beyond his sphere of perception, it would play out like a freak occurrence—

—just as she planned for it to do.

That said, it was now a race against the clock. If she took it later, the symptoms wouldn’t hit in time. Since she took it now, she’d start keeling over before she finished. The game was on.

“Why didn’t you wait?” Edico asked suspiciously.

“I was hoping for a chance encounter.”

Edico’s eyes widened, and he pursed his lips. “There’s no one suspicious. You have 30 minutes.”

“I have as long as the mission requires,” Sara replied, walking past him. “Besides, you’ll be able to watch me, right?”

Edico developed a poker face. “Of course.”

Now who’s good at lying? Sara thought sardonically. “I’ll try to be out in a half hour,” she said. “I’ll check in an hour and fifteen minutes at the latest.”

“50 minutes.”

“Fine, whatever. I’m going.”

As she moved forward, she coughed into her hand and took a strained breath. Before Edico could ask, she disappeared through the crowd, entering into the Alexbrook Tavern.

Inside a quaint tavern in the center of Helscope, adventurers drank their fill, eating stew and telling stories of wild beasts and hallowed wars. Despite its cracked tables, rotting floors, and heavy blocks of solid wood that constituted “seating,” the atmosphere was lively, and new people flowed in and out of it in increments of ten minutes.

Kyritus moved and weaved through the crowd, putting pots of stew and bread onto the table. It was just him running the tavern that his late mother left him, so he didn’t have the means to run the kitchen and deal with the brawling men asking for beer and spirits around the clock. Instead, he pre-prepared food and specialty items and then warmed them up and served them to everyone at designated tables. Those people paid two silver gliders each to eat their fill. It was expensive or a bargain depending upon a person’s appetite, and adventurers always ate dirt cheap. It was a problem, but it was the best he could do. He and his sister were barely eking by as is.

Despite hellish hours and hard realities, Kyritus enjoyed his life, and it showed in the way he interacted, greeting everyone by name and taking “friendly” back claps that could paralyze a monta with a return hello.

Suddenly, a commotion broke out in the room, and two adventurers started screaming at each other, standing up and pounding their fists on the table.

“Say it again! I want to hear it! I’ll rip your face off for it, but I’m in the mood.”

The other man laughed and spoke without hesitation. “This. This right here’s why she left your fuckin’ ass, you—“

The first grabbed for his throat while the other reached for his dagger.

Kyritus didn’t even glance their way. Instead, he let out a boisterous bellow. “Oooooooh, Timmind, oh Loma, oh beach by the shore!” he sang. Suddenly, the atmosphere dampened, and the annoyed regulars grinned. “By morrow, by morrow, you’ll stand here before… my young an’ be~lov~ed and write us no more!” they responded, creating a burst of anxiety through the room. Soon, the men stopped fighting, afraid the whole place would turn on them if they broke the trance.

Kyritus led the song, dropping off their beers and smiling. As he made it past the counter, his tiny little sister tugged at his trousers. “What is it….” His eyes widened in horror when he saw how pale her face was. “Come on, let’s go.”

The adventurers stopped singing when they saw him drop everything to pick her up, carrying her up the stairs. Then the locals started shouting, “No fighting, or we’ll break your skulls!” as they disappeared. Kyritus usually rolled his eyes at that mentality, but at present, he barely registered it as he laid her down on the bed. “Rest, Jasperberry.”

She coughed and gripped his hand. “Please don’t go.”

Kyritus’s face twisted into a grimace. His sister had tyexis, “spirit sickness,” as people often called it. It disrupted mana channels through people’s bodies, making mana flow into physical veins and muscles, depleting their bones and physique. It was usually caused by reckless use of magic, using spells beyond one’s means, or fighting long past mana deprivation. But it could develop in anyone, and it was costly to treat, let alone cure. To keep her alive, he needed money, and to do that, he needed to work. But he knew at any moment she could fall asleep and not wake up, so he wanted to stay next to her. She was all he had.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. “Hey, Kye. The regs have got it handled. We practically live here.”

Kyritus smiled wryly at the thought that anyone that frequented his tavern, Got it handled. Their version of handling problems was by ganging together to destroy any of the unvets (as they called first timers), which had its virtues but always resulted in property damages. Adventurers pitched in, but the time it took to fix it…. No matter what he did, time was looming like a guillotine.

Tiber coughed and gripped his hand, and Kyritus grimaced, turning toward the door. “Okay, Jant. I’ll be back down in an hour. Try to keep this place handled until then.”

“You got it, Kye. Get well, Tiber.”

“Okay…” Tiber said weakly.

Kyritus’s eyes welled with tears. Tiber wasn’t his sister. Not exactly. She was his half-sister by blood and child by circumstance. His mother died during childbirth, and Tiber’s abusive father left when Kyritus refused to sign the tavern over to him. Thus, he ended up raising Tiber alone from the day she was born, so their bond was far deeper than that of normal siblings. If she died…. Kyritus winced and gripped her hand. “I’ll stay here for an hour, okay?”

“You never stay,” Tiber pouted.

He smiled ruefully. “I… I’ll stay this time. No matter what.”

“You promise?” she asked.

Kyritus swallowed, feeling a surreal wave of anxiety wash over him. Terrible things always happened when he was away, so an hour was harsh in general. But right then, right there, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that something serious would happen, and he didn’t know why. Still, looking at his sister’s body, more pale and depleted than he had ever seen it. It was terrible timing, but his priority was his sister. Always.

Kyritus swallowed, taking a sharp breath and then letting his tense shoulders relax. “I promise.”