Amelia Thornheart-Chapter 129: Disturbance

“What do we do, Captain?” Finella asked, casting a wary eye at the safe. “I’ve felt coldness before. I’ve felt the brisk Northern chill and the freezing stillness of the ice spirits, but I’ve never felt this before.” Finella raised her gaze to meet Serena’s, saying, “It’s what you warned us of, isn’t it? The darkblade weapon?”

Serena hesitated only for a fraction of a second before giving a short, curt nod. “That’s right.” She bent down, raising one hand to hover a few inches from the safe. Through the aetherfield, she could sense Amelia’s work—a thousand threads of magic, weaving together to form the ornate construction of Kanaxai spellwork. The cloak was almost finished, but through the ever-shrinking gaps, Serena sensed the alien coldness that had burned its unnatural sensation into her mind ever since she’d first wrestled with it in Shimashina. She raised her head, met Amelia’s eyes and asked, “How is it?”

“Devilishly tricky,” Amelia replied. “But all Kanaxai magic is, I suppose. It’s a little surprising… his spellwork seems more resistant to the interference. I can feel it trying to unmake my wards, your wards. I can feel it pushing against the aetherfield, but when it comes to Kanaxai, it seems to settle down somewhat.”

“Do you think there’s a connection?” Mel asked, speaking up for the first time. “Between Kanaxai and… whatever’s in there?” Mel scratched her nose before asking in a quiet voice, “What exactly is in there, anyway?”

Serena exchanged a glance with Finella. The plan had been to disseminate the existence and properties of black moon crystal with the rest of the squad only after they’d been sufficiently trained up and integrated with the Vengeance’s crew. The only exception to this was if they unexpectedly encountered the material beforehand.

“It’s a black moon crystal,” Serena said. “It repels aether itself, making it extremely effective against aura and magic. When fashioned into a blade, a common man can kill a warrior. When wielded by a warrior… even a Speaker is in danger. It spews darkness itself and causes aetheric interference when interacting with normal crystals. It’s probably what the Blackhorn uses to attack ships.” Serena breathed out slowly. “It’s where the darkblades get their name.”

“...I see,” Mel said. “There’s a black moon, then?”

“Apparently so.”

“Hmm.” Mel nodded and then echoed Finella’s question. “So what do we do with it, Captain?”

“Can’t leave it here,” Serena said. “We have to take it somewhere. Somewhere secret. Somewhere safe. Contact Intelligence and let them know we’ve found proof—more proof—of darkblade operations in Ishaq.”

Finella snorted. “Couldn’t have picked a better place to set up shop, could they? End of the Empire, hidden away behind mountains, the Red Sands, and the Shattered Isles. That said, never would have imagined it would have been this plain.”

“Plain?” Serena asked with a frown. “Explain yourself, Officer Bright.”

“That the darkblades are just like any other criminal group. Operating gambling dens, scamming citizens for their wages. I expected we would find one of their weapons… I don’t know, just not in the safe of some low-level charlatan like this Lady Houk.” Finella paused momentarily, her forehead furrowing. “Maybe not low-level. Her aura wasn’t half-bad. When we fought, Miss Liona’s enhancements really messed with my perception of strength.”

I know what you mean, Serena thought, thinking of how powerful Amelia’s wards were. Serena’s red aura—the weakest colour—was already naturally strong, having been enhanced by her communion with Narean. But under her girlfriend’s cloaked magic, it was refined even further, possibly matching the red aura of even a Second-Word Speaker. Serena had tested it at the academy, punching through steel plates that a typical warrior would need a solid orange or even yellow to break through.

“I know what you mean,” she said. “Regarding the darkblades. But even those”—Serena reflexively clicked her tongue—“even those who gnaw at the foundations of a good and proper society need to fund their insanity. It appears to me that Ishaq, lacking proper oversight from the Southern Overlord and being allowed to simmer outside of proper Cascadian Lordship, has become rather rotten. What was it you overheard again, Officer Bright?”

“I heard, ‘Lady Houk has the item. We’ll use it during the finals, to maximise the effect.’” Finella recounted. “The speaker was a man, I’m sure.”

“Not to jump to conclusions too quickly,” Serena said, “but I suspect we just stopped—or at least delayed—a darkblade assassination. That’s in line with your instincts, is it not, Miss Liona?”

“Mmm.” Amelia nodded. “It is!”

“Once you’re done cloaking this thing, we’ll take it to a safe house. Intelligence will have some, even in Ishaq,” Serena said. “Officer Adachi will know how to decipher the locations. Once we—ah, damn it.” She felt her head tilt in shame before snapping herself back into perfect posture. “I just gave Officer Adachi leave,” she explained to the group. “He’ll be in any one of the hundreds of drinking establishments dotted around the place.”

“Ah.” Finella nodded with an understanding look. “Should we notify Commander Maranai? Regardless of what may or may not have happened in the past…” Finella trailed off, glancing between Serena and Amelia. “When it comes to darkblades, he would be eager to help, I’m sure. They were behind the fanatics that invaded Greatlord Orlan's domain, after all.”

“No,” Serena said a little too quickly. “And it’s Captain Maranai now.” Ignoring Finella and Amelia’s raised eyebrows Korvus’s promotion prompted, Serena continued, “He’s too unpredictable. I fear he would be too eager to take action.” Not that Serena was necessarily averse to being proactive, especially when it came to darkblades. There was, however, a difference between calculated action and letting a mad dog off their leash. The battle-hungry Korvus had already been stuck in the humid South for weeks, constrained by the Ishaqian authorities, and Serena suspected it wouldn’t take much for him to let loose.

After all, when it came to dealing with darkblades, the law prohibiting Speaking in urban environments didn’t apply. Although Serena’s experience told her that any loss in punishment would be replaced by an equal amount of paperwork after the fact.

If things get bad, Serena thought, I can give him a poke and point him at the Enemy. But until things got bad, she wouldn’t go down that path. The last thing she wanted was to have Korvus under the influence of his Word—with all the sensory enhancement that came with—and be around Amelia and her second-circle Kanaxai disguise.

“The Ishaqian Council?” Finella offered.

Serena shook her head. “From my discussions with Menes and Korvus, the few councillors that aren’t lining their pockets with pirate gold are impeccably incompetent, focused more on bureaucratic processes than getting anything done. If only we were in Asamaywa…” If they were home, Serena would have access to her network. She could contact her Highlord father or even go straight to Greatlord Oshiro himself. In fact, situations like this were the exact kind of thing that the Cascadian system of government was designed to handle—no matter where in the Empire, no matter what the severity of a situation was, there was an appropriate level of Cascadian Lordship to take control and address it.

But not in Ishaq. She had no contacts here, no Greatlord to report to. Whoever was supposed to meet them from Intelligence hadn’t appeared yet, and Aiden was for all purposes lost until he either reappeared or they hunted him down. Who could she rely on? Who could—

No, Serena thought. Not him.

“We take it to the ship,” Serena said, injecting as much confidence and finality into her voice as possible. “It’ll be both safe and secure there. We’ll regather the squad. Where did you arrange to meet Officer Aikawa and the twins?”

“The ship,” Finella replied. “If anything went wrong, we were to return there. If they’ve faced no problems, then they’ll be due before sunset. Told the same to the cadets. They’ll be there, Captain.”

A plan formed in Serena’s mind. “I’ll send men out to hunt down Officer Adachi. While we wait for his return, we’ll wait on the ship. The only thing we have to consider is getting back undetected.” Serena kicked the safe lightly. “Miss Liona. Can you make this look like a common crate?” After Amelia nodded, Serena finished, “No one will bat an eye at us carrying back some supplies.”

“And if they do?” Finella asked.

“Then they’re related to the rot and corruption that’s seeped into this city,” Serena said with a half-shrug. “With darkblades involved, my legal right as a Lord and Speaker widens tremendously. I’ll stab anyone who gets in the way, unless they give me a damn good excuse not to.”

“Ah, the usual then,” Finella mumbled.

“What was that, Officer Bright?”

“Nothing, Captain!” Finella snapped into a perfect salute. “Excellent plan, Captain!”

Honestly, Serena thought, why couldn’t I have been given a normal squad? It’s not like I—Ah, no. That was right. She did pick them herself, didn’t she? A bed of her own making. Had the influence of her chaotic girlfriend created a predisposition in her to pick unusual demons?

They waited in a contemplative silence while Amelia worked her magic, folding and twisting her aether around the safe. With every layer she applied, the Kanaxai formation took a firmer grip. The metallic sheen of the metal faded, replaced first with a grainy texture, and then the characteristic dark colour of ironwood.

“Can you lighten the colour?” Serena asked. “They don’t use ironwood much here. They use lighter woods.”

“Mmm, good point,” Amelia hummed, making the adjustments.

While she worked, Daichi returned and gave his report.

“I couldn’t see anyone looking for us,” he explained. “But I could sense more people behind windows in the upper floors of buildings. It might be my imagination, but Noburu explained that’s how information is gathered in places like these.”

“Any increase in guard patrols?” Serena asked.

“Not that I could see. No one is talking about any arrests either. People either don’t know, or are keeping their mouths shut.”

“It’s possible they’re panicking and haven’t yet come up with their own plan,” Serena said, coming to a decision. “We’ll go from here straight through the main markets and streets. Even if they see us, they wouldn’t cause a scene.”

Unless they’re desperate, Serena thought. In fact, if they did cause a scene, it would imply the black moon crystal they’d acquired was the only one they had easy access to. If they had a replacement, they wouldn’t risk exposing their criminal plans by acting against Serena so quickly.

After explaining her reasoning to the squad, they collected the now adequately disguised safe and exited the dark and damp underbelly of the bridge. Amelia carried the safe; the Kanaxai glamour and cloak were more stable when she did. She walked between Finella and Mel at the front, and Serena and Daichi at the back. It only took them a few minutes to navigate to the busier markets, and another few to reach the main thoroughfares that circled the outside of each layer of Ishaq. There, through the intermittent shade of overhanging shale trees and even the occasional arcwhale-shaped kite, the group proceeded with heightened care.

Ishaqian merchants, with their braggish compliments and charismatic smiles, did their best to block their way, but Finella and Mel did a fine job at pushing them aside. The few that didn’t take the hint and slipped past were vanquished with a glare from Serena. She kept her aura as invisible as possible without compromising on its strength. By convecting her aether into her eyes and ears, she expanded her senses, looking for any sign of an upcoming disturbance.

When the disturbance finally happened, it wasn’t quite what Serena had expected. In fact, she was sufficiently taken aback that she wasn’t sure if it had anything to do with the darkblades at all. Instead of cloaked assassins with weapons of black crystal, there, in front of the group, was a well-dressed, pudgy man with a handlebar moustache every bit as curly as his Southern horns. While he himself was no threat, the half-dozen guards flanking him had a bit of a bite to them, each one a warrior in their own right.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Captain Halen,” the man said, his voice sounding thick, as if he were chewing on every word with great effort. His forehead was slick with sweat and his cheeks red, as if he’d run from somewhere. “I am Secretary Maramba under Councillor Nasr, who requests that you and your…” Secretary Maramba trailed off as his pudgy eyes drifted over the squad members. “Request that you and your men surrender your weapons and come with us. The council has some questions for you.”

“Questions?” Serena asked, stepping forward so she was positioned slightly in front of Amelia. She gestured for Finella and Mel to step back. Their new formation didn’t go unnoticed, and she didn’t miss the slight stiffening of the guards. “Regarding?” she continued, letting her voice drip with pleasantries.

After all, there was no need to cause a scene. Not yet.

“Councillor Nasr has received a report that has been passed around the rest of the Council,” Maramba wheezed. “A report that contains an account suggesting that your ship, the Vengeance, was responsible for targeting the arcwhale that has stranded upon our lands.” He dabbed his forehead with his sleeve, continuing, “The Council has unanimously agreed that you and your men shall be detained until trial, where we can peacefully put this matter to rest.”

Was it her imagination, or did his eyes flick to the disguised safe in Amelia’s hands?

“What kind of nerve—” Finella began.

“Secretary Maramba,” Serena said, forcing her mouth into a smile. “These are troubling accusations. Why, I don’t recall giving any orders to target a baby arcwhale. Do you recall any such orders, Officer Bright?”

“No,” Finella said through gritted teeth. “I don’t.”

“And you, Officer Mori?”

“No, Captain,” Mel replied.

“This appears to be a dreadful mistake,” Serena said, keeping her voice even while her heartbeat accelerated. “I, of course, am only too eager to bring myself forth before Greatlord Nasr and explain myself.” While smiling at the large man, Serena kept her senses spread wide, monitoring the surrounding crowd that had formed, watchful for any sudden movements.

“Greatlord?” Secretary Maramba’s forehead furrowed. He chuckled in a slow, condescending manner before saying, “I would have hoped a foreign woman of your standing would be familiar with Ishaq, Captain Halen. Councillor Nasr is not a Greatlord. He—”

“Oh?” Serena interrupted, raising a hand to her mouth and countering with her own innocent giggle. “I must be confused. There are many Cascadian Lords, and I am admittedly not as well educated when it comes to the Southern Tasalsul, Secretary Maramba. Highlord Nasr, then?”

“...Counciller Nasr is not a Highlord,” Maramba replied, his voice carrying the slightest tinge of annoyance. “Councillor Nasr is not a Cascadian Lord. The authority of Ishaq is bestowed and sanctioned by the Empress herself, outside of the Cascadian system.” The man’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his expression darkened as he finished, “Ishaq is a free city, Captain Halen.”

“Then, Secretary Maramba. I fear you’ve rather confused me. For you see, I am a Cascadian Lord, and I am inside the Cascadian system.” Serena tried to keep her smile up, but even she could feel it begin to flatten. “Upon all the soil where She walked, upon all the soil where She fought, upon all the soil where She bled, so it remains, now and forever more,” she intoned, quoting part of her formal vows she took in Centralis.

“Secretary Maramba, I would happily entertain a request to explain myself to a Greatlord. I would entertain a request to explain myself to a Highlord. I could even, if asked respectfully, find myself willing to answer a fellow Lord. What I simply struggle to understand, as a foreign woman of my standing, is why you believe I would entertain a request to surrender myself from a mere councillor?”

Maramba spent a few seconds grinding his jaw before answering. “You haven’t been in Ishaq for even a day, Captain Halen. I can allow a little naivety, but you must understand…” Maramba’s veneer of respect was eroding as quickly as Serena’s smile. “We operate under centuries of legal precedent. Cascadian Lords are not to exercise their Imperial privilege within the confines of the city’s boundaries. To do so would be to disrespect the Empress herself, Captain Halen. She has sanctioned our status quo for centuries; to resist now would be a terrible insult.” Maramba laughed loudly, raising his arms in a dramatic gesture to the surrounding crowd. “Why, you might as well rub her face in the dirt!”

“Pfft!” Amelia snorted.

“Something funny?” Maramba snapped. “You laugh at Ishaq? At our customs?”

“No, no,” Amelia replied, waving her free hand. “It’s just… never mind.”

While the secretary’s comment had annoyed Serena far more than he could have ever realised, he was undeterred as he continued, “We are proud of our independence, Captain Halen. We are proud that, in a time when more and more authority is being taken from the Terra Firmas and centralised in Centralis, Ishaq has remained free. Do you really think it is wise to disrespect the council's authority? What message do you think that will send to the Southern Overlord? To the rest of the Tasalsul and the remaining Terra Firmas? To illegally enforce your privilege here and now? Surrender your arms and present yourself before the council, so this may all be resolved in a just and fair way, in a manner that avoids a catastrophic incident.”

Maramba made a motion with his hand, and the guards stepped forward. Their captain, a stern-looking man with a holstered short sword, flexed his aura as a warning. While his deep-orange glow wowed the crowd, Serena was unfazed.

“You are aware I am a Speaker, Secretary Maramba?” Serena asked, any sweetness in her voice replaced by venom.

“Of course, Captain Halen,” came the reply. “But I know you come from a prestigious family, with close ties to highborn demons in the Three Sisters. Although you may be naive, you are not a fool. To Speak here and thus slaughter so many innocents would be a declaration of war against the South.” Maramba raised a hand and stroked his moustache, as if proud of his statement.

After watching the man’s moustache ping back, Serena said, “Even if I were to entertain your custom of precedent overriding my privilege, a legally minded man such as yourself must know that Imperial decrees, by definition, cannot be overruled. Precedent or no precedent, there are situations in which it all becomes null and void before my duties as an Imperial servant. These are decrees that not even your overlord can ignore, let alone your council.”

“Hmm?” Another stroke of the moustache. “And what decree might you be thinking of, Captain Halen?”

“In the pursuit of the one true Enemy,” Serena snarled. “Against the servants of the Malignant Darkness, all shall be permitted, and all shall be done, until they are rendered to ash and dust.” As she spat the last word, the guard captain gripped the handle of his sword. Maramba’s eyes widened, only for his expression to quickly recover with a punchable sneer.

Serena’s hand twitched, but she kept it under control. Better to threaten this fool and cause a small scene than fight it out and cause a large one. As irritating as the man was, he wasn’t wrong regarding how catastrophic it could be if things went wrong. It had been a hundred years since the South and the East warred against each other, and Serena would rather not be the cause of another one.

“And is that what you claim, Captain Halen?” Maramba exclaimed, raising his voice to capture his audience. “Are you perhaps here to hunt down darkblades? Is that your argument? That the council cannot protect its citizens from such evil? Tell me, are you perhaps chasing a group of darkblades right now?” At his words, a titter of jeers rang out from the crowd. “Have you perhaps captured one? Are they in that crate there, perhaps? I find your actions mightily suspicious, Captain Halen! First, you are accused of harming our sacred arcwhales, inviting doom to all the good citizens of Ishaq, and now you skulk about our streets with mysterious crates, rambling about darkblades! Tell me, what’s in this crate that you seem so determined to hide from us?”

Serena breathed slowly. At some point in the man’s calculated mockery, she realised he was trying to escalate the situation, and publicly so. The Ishaqian Council clearly spent a lot of time and effort convincing its citizens of its efficacy, and Maramba was abusing that effort to gather the crowd to his side. He must know, or at least suspect, what was in the disguised safe. That meant he was caught up in the rot and corruption. He was goading her, knowing she couldn’t publicly show the highly classified moon crystal to the public.

I could do it anyway, she thought before dismissing the idea. Even if she risked it, she suspected Maramba had prepared for that eventuality. It was a trap. He would convince the citizenry that they were darkblade smugglers or similar, further reinforcing the Council’s so-called authority to detain them.

Damn it! If they were anywhere else in the Empire, the fact that she was a Speaker alone would mean this situation would never happen. Did this foolish man not value his life? Or was he so arrogant and so confident of his rhetoric that he felt he could talk to her like this? Didn’t Menes say they respected Speakers in Ishaq?

If this were respect, then what would disrespect be?

“Now I ask again!” Maramba declared. “In front of the good citizens of Ishaq, Captain Halen, will you peacefully surrender yourself and respect the wishes of Ishaq’s authority? Or will you insult our goodwill and invoke Imperial privilege against these so-called, yet-to-be-seen darkblades? Will you Speak your Word, and betray the confidence of the gods themselves?”

Serena mentally sighed. The man, as punchable as he was, had put her in one heaven of a difficult situation. It was her fault, not choosing violence as the first option. His formal and official appearance had caused her to pause, allowing him to suffocate her in his rhetoric sludge. If they’d been ambushed or otherwise attacked, Serena could have argued self-defence and handled the aftermath once things were settled. They must have been aware of the previous fight and chosen this tactic to try and limit her options.

She was teetering on the edge.

“Captain?” Mel asked quietly. “What are we doing?”

“...I will not Speak,” Serena intoned. She raised her eyes and met Maramba’s gaze with a fierce glare. “As you said, it would be an insult to Speak in this situation.” Serena took a step forward. “You are also right that enforcing my privilege without justification may cause a diplomatic incident. However…” Serena looked up just to see the triumphant grin that was forming on Maramba’s face pause. “I cannot and have no obligation to share with you my reasons. Your actions have, unfortunately, forced me to choose.” Serena snapped her feet together and gave the man his undeserved Samino-style bow. Straightening her back, she placed her right foot forward and rested a hand on her sword’s hilt.

As long as I don’t kill them, Serena thought, it should be fine, right?

“Tsk!” Maramba waved his dismissive hand. “After all that, you still choose to disrespect—”

“There is no disrespect here!” Serena shouted, injecting enough aether into her voice to dominate the area and capture the ears of every part of the crowd. “I shall give my answer to Councillor Nasr in person! But first, you have spoken to me in a manner no man has ever dared to, Secretary Maramba. You have disrespected me. Not as a Cascadian Lord. Not as a Speaker. But as a woman.” Serena felt her lips curl. “Before I go along with Ishaqian authority, I’m afraid I must request something from you, Secretary Maramba. Something to restore my dignity.”

“And what do you want?” he replied, flicking his hand in a dismissive wave. “An apology? If that’s what’s needed to move this charade along, then I’ll happily—”

“A pound of flesh!” Serena exclaimed.

It was as if she’d cast a spell, silencing the entire area.

“Moons…” Finella muttered.

“Ooo!” Amelia whistled.

“W-what?” Maramba stuttered, his voice wavering for the first time since they met.

“I care not from where upon your body I take it from,” Serena said, slowly lowering her centre of gravity, “but I suggest you remain still, for a cleaner cut will heal better.”

“You can’t impose—”

“I impose nothing but the return of my dignity and honour!” Serena roared. “You’ve taken it from me, and now I ask that it be returned, in the form of flesh!”

“The Council will—”

“I don’t care!”

“The Southern Overlord—”

“Isn’t here!”

“T-The Eastern—”

“Give me my honour back, Maramba!” Serena shouted.

Things become a lot easier if I don’t let him talk, Serena thought. I just needed to channel some of Amelia’s stubbornness. He’d bogged her down with doubts and verbal tricks all designed to make her think that she had no option but to go along with his scheme. But, once Serena had really started to think, she realised the obvious truth: No war would be declared over a missing limb or two of a civilian.

“D-Detain her!” Maramba yelled, taking a step back.

The guard captain stood forward. “Be nice now, good Captain,” he sneered, his orange aura taking on flecks of yellow. A naked attempt at intimidation. “I don’t want to fight a woman, but—”

“If you draw your sword,” Serena warned, “I’ll have your arm.”

“Thought you Easterners were supposed to have manners.” The guard snorted and drew his sword.

So Serena took it.

He’d underestimated her. Her aura had simmered at a low red the entire time they’d been arguing, so maybe he thought he could subdue her before she could manifest a higher colour. Perhaps he didn’t know how advantageous the increase in capabilities gained from communing a First-Word was. Perhaps he hadn’t underestimated her and simply hadn’t detected Amelia’s cloaked wards.

Well, he would have time to think it over. Serena left him there, falling towards the floor, clutching his bloody stump. She ducked under another swing and positioned herself to take the sword arm of another guard. As she sheared through the man’s limb, she found herself wondering if these men had ever seen a Speaker fight before. How many did Menes say were in Ishaq? Not many.

It took a third arm before the rest of the guards realised that Serena’s red was something unusual, and drawing their swords meant they would be drawing them for the last time. They backed away, their expressions fearful and tense. The crowd was silent, and the loudest sound was the scrabbling of Maramba’s feet as he tried to slither backwards, having fallen sometime during Serena’s arm-collecting session.

“Captain Halen, I—” Maramba raised his hands in a useless effort to ward off her advance. “The Council will… they will… Lord Halen!”

“Oh, now you call me Lord,” Serena mumbled.

Without any hesitation or further words, she raised her blade for the fourth time.

And once she brought it down, she had her dignity back.

“As if war would break out over you,” Serena snarled, looking down at the man with his stump and bloodied moustache, now unevenly trimmed as Serena made extra sure to catch it with her blade on the way down. “I’m returning to my ship. I expect a full apology from Councillor Nasr regarding this matter by tomorrow. I advise—” Serena paused as her instincts tickled at her.

Another warrior was approaching.

She turned as the telltale signature of aura pushed through the crowd and into the clearing. The figure stood tall and wore a puzzled expression, scratching their neck as they looked at the bloody carnage.

“What?” Serena asked, frowning at the man.

“I’m just wondering,” Menes mused, gesturing to the severed limbs and bloodied bodies withering in agony.

“Wondering what?” Serena asked the Arakian.

“...Did they propose to you as well, my sayyidah?”