A holographic window materialized, showing the interior of a government office. A spider-gun symbiote was perched at a computer terminal, its mechanical legs resting on the keyboard.

  "Unit Epsy reporting from Seattle City Hall Municipal Building," the weapon voiced.

  "Epsy, use the human network to search for Ashcroft Julian Clifford, Cascade, Washington," Kawathra commanded.

  The gun's mechanical voice responded: "Accessing LinkedIn profile. Subject Ashcroft Julian Clifford is an electrical engineer, recent graduate, currently marked as 'seeking opportunities.' No employment since May 2021."

  "Unemployed!" Kawathra bobbed excitedly. "That's useful. What else?"

  "Accessing public records. Subject inherited property from Archibald Clifford, deceased August 2025. Property tax database shows—"

  "Kathy stop," Stormy said quietly.

  Stop? She couldn’t stop, not when she was this close to uncovering some kind of a conspiracy.

  "What?" Kawathra stared at her potential consort. "I'm gathering intelligence, Stormy. Your internet makes personal information so accessible!"

  "Kawathra, stop digging into that human's life."

  The magpie Pradavarian paused, turning to look at the masked human. "Why? Commander Sillicia wants evidence of Knight Galateya's incompetence. Binding an unemployed human with no prospects and plentiful debt seems sufficiently embarrassing."

  "You're obviously trying to destroy someone you don't even know," Stormy said. "That human? He's just trying to survive, like me."

  "It's just data," Kawathra shrugged. "Gun unit, continue search. Check social media for anything incriminating."

  "Accessing G-book," the gun reported. "Limited activity. The last post mentions grandfather's death. I can access government records for more…"

  "I said stop," Stormy's voice sounded firmer this time. "Kawathra, if you keep doing this, I won't even consider your consort proposal."

  That got her attention. Her beak swiveled toward him. "You're... what?"

  "You asked me to be your consort. I've been considering it," Stormy said. "The idea of analyzing data with someone who values information as much as I do... it's appealing. But not if you use that data to hurt innocent humans!"

  "But the tactical advantage—"

  "What tactical advantage?" Stormy demanded, crossing his arms over his plate-armored chest. "You're planning to embarrass an Omnid Knight for binding a perfectly average human. I’ve had university debt too, before I got a job at CrawdGpt, you know. So please stop.”

  “Ughhh, fine, fine,” Kawathra groaned. “I won’t dig into this… human. Epsy, cease data mining. Delete cached searches."

  "Compliance," the gun replied. Kawathra vanished the window with a wave of her hand.

  “Wait…” The magpie girl twitched, suddenly realizing something. "An Omnid commander who's never bound anyone because she obviously hates blood bonds as a Taniwha… suddenly creates her first blood pact within hours of arriving on Earth? That's statistically incredibly unlikely unless the blood bond was flawed, sabotaged in some clever way… Ah! AH!"

  Her feathers fluttered up in waves. "Corpse Seeker Kappa, initiate deep resonance Astral scan. Maximum intensity. I want to analyze that blood bond's structure down to the quantum level."

  "Stop," Stormy said quietly. He reached to the lynx maw and unclasped it, revealing his real face between the fake teeth of the synthetic beast. His green eyes struck Kawathra. “Right now. Or the probability of our relationship falls to zero, Kawthy.”

  "What? What now?!" Kawathra blinked, staring at the cute barbarian knight, his face dripping with sweat she wanted to taste. "Halt scan! I don’t understand. I stopped digging into the human! Why can’t I dig into the blood bond? If Knight Galateya messed up her first binding in some—"

  "Kawathra," Stormy interrupted. "What is your end goal here?"

  "Commander Sillicia wants—"

  "Commander Sillicia obviously wants to hurt Galateya," Stormy said. "She's a Wendigo who feeds on human suffering, enjoys turning people into dissected art as Linari told me yesterday. Is that really who you want to win here, Kawthy? Someone who takes humans like me apart?"

  “The humans turned into art by Frontenachii are criminals who deserve…” Kawathra began to rationalize Frontenachii command actions.

  “An eternity of suffering for a finite crime?” Stormy ground out, scowling adorably at her. “Do you really think that that’s fair?”

  "That's not fair," Kawathra protested. "I compute fairness differently. The criminal chose to commit their crime. The consequences are simply... extensive. The Frontenachii bring order to doomed and dying worlds."

  "Our world isn’t doomed or dying! Also, would you want someone to suffer forever for something you did in a moment of desperation?" Stormy pressed. "What if it was me? Would you want me turned into wall art?"

  Kawathra's beak opened and closed several times. "That's... you wouldn't commit crimes."

  "You don't know that. You've known me for less than a day."

  "The probability matrices suggest—"

  "Forget probability for a second," Stormy said. "Just think. Is eternal torture justice? Or is it just incredible cruelty with extra steps?"

  The magpie was quiet for a long moment, talons clicking against the crystalline console. "The blood-bond scan wouldn't hurt anyone," she said finally, deflecting. "It's just data collection. Completely harmless. I'd simply be examining the blood bond's structure to understand how a Taniwha who hates hierarchical bonds managed to—"

  Through one of the holo-windows, a fraction of Kawathra’s split mind noticed that the human leaned out of the Cherokee's driver window and said something to the Serval. The Marshal's ears perked up, and she nodded vigorously.

  Nexxali blinked for several seconds, wobbling slightly on her feet. Then her posture straightened, and when she spoke, her voice danced through the air, amplified by her Charisma-skill.

  "Corpse Seeker 881-Kappa," Nexxali declared. "Master command override Nexxali-Alpha-Seven-Seven-Seven. Acknowledge."

  The Seeker shuddered around them. Kawathra's eyes went wide, her mind snapping together into one. "No, no, no! Override command Two-Two-One-Nine! Acknowledge! ACKNOWLEDGE! She can't—"

  "Override acknowledged, Marshal Commandant," Kappa's synthesized voice resonated through its crystalline structure.

  "Eject all current passengers immediately," Nexxali commanded. "Then enter full compliance mode under my direct authority."

  "What?!" Kawathra shrieked as the floor beneath them suddenly liquified. "This is completely against protocol! I have Commander Sillicia's authorization! You can't just—"

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The liquid floor became a chute. Stormy slid out of the Corpse Seeker's now-gaping maw along with a frantically squawking Kawathra. They tumbled onto the grass in an ungraceful heap of feathers, jiggling armor and synthetic fur.

  "Passengers ejected," Kappa announced. "Awaiting further orders, Marshal Commandant."

  Nexxali sauntered over to them, golden eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Up close, Kawathra confirmed that the Marshal’s movements were too loose, too relaxed. She was definitely under the influence of something, most likely catnip as cross-confirmed by the Moscow-inhabiting Division that was affected in the same manner.

  "Hi Storm-o-Lyx!" Nexxali purred, patting the lynx-costumed head. "How's my Linari treating you?"

  "Um, fine?" Stormy managed.

  "Good, good." Nexxali turned to Kawathra, who was furiously trying to reconnect to Kappa through her ring, mentally shouting all of the override commands she knew. "And the nosy, little data-bird who's stalking us. Naughty, naughty!"

  "This is highly irregular!" Kawathra protested, feathers fully puffed in indignation. "I'm on an authorized reconnaissance mission! You have no authority to—"

  "I have every authority," Nexxali interrupted. "As Marshal Commandant, I'm responsible for operational security. And you, little magpie, are conducting unauthorized surveillance of a classified operation."

  "Classified?" Kawathra's beak clicked rapidly. "What?! Nothing about Knight Galateya's assignment is classified! If it was… I’d… the data…"

  "It is now super-extra-classified." Nexxali's grin widened as she glanced at the human in the car who nodded. "Retroactively. Very important. Super secret. Can't have data-minin’ birdies poking around and compromising... things."

  She drunkenly, slowly reached on her belt and pulled out a black hand gun, pressing the cold barrel against Kawathra’s head. “Guess who just earned herself a bullet to the noggin?”

  "You… No! I…" Kawathra's feathers went completely flat against her body, trembling with panic. "Please! I just died four times already! If I die again, I'll lose so much!"

  "Out of service for a month, yes," Nexxali purred, pressing the barrel harder against Kawathra's head. "Maybe longer. The Incarnator really doesn't like repeat customers. How unfortunate…"

  "Wait!" Ashcroft called out from the Cherokee, leaning out the window. "Nexy, don't shoot her."

  The Serval's ears twitched toward him, though she kept the gun steady. "Why not? My V-ring told me that she’s being a nosy little data-vulture."

  "Because she might be useful," the human said, climbing out of the vehicle. "Kawathra, right? You're Division 881's Datamancer?"

  "Y-yes," Kawathra stammered, wet eyes fixed on the gun barrel pointing at her head. "Please, I wasn't trying to cause problems! Commander Sillicia ordered me to investigate Beta-Knight Galateya! I was just following orders!"

  "Following orders," Nexxali repeated mockingly. "Where have I heard that before? Oh right, from every spineless pawlicker who's ever covered up atrocities because someone with a fancy title told them to."

  Kawathra wanted to whine at the Marshal, to clarify that the serval Marshal covered up things all the time. And yet… she was terrified. Something was wrong here. Everything was wrong. All of her probability-estimating skills screamed about the absurd surreality of the situation.

  "Don’t shoot me! I'll forget myself!" Kawathra's voice cracked. "The compression algorithms, the seventeen-dimensional matrices I use for fleet logistics! It took me decades to develop those patterns! If I die again, they'll be gone! Corrupted! I won't even remember why I created them for a month, maybe longer!"

  Stormy stepped forward carefully. "Marshal Nexxali, she's just doing her job. She doesn't deserve—"

  "Her job?" Nexxali's golden eyes flicked to him. "Her job is to dig up dirt on Knight Galateya so that beerch Sillicia can destroy the one Omnid commander who might actually give a damn about justice on this planet." Her finger moved to the trigger. "Maybe a month of reconstruction will teach her to pick better sides. Sit down and don’t get in the way, human."

  Stormy blinked and then sat down, not looking at Kawathra, unable to disobey the Marshal’s voice.

  "Please!!! The data loss alone would set Division 881 back significantly," Kawathra babbled desperately. "We could lose our lead! All the Earth datasets I've been compiling! The correlation matrices! The probability calculations! Gone! Commander Sillicia would have to request a replacement Datamancer, and that could take—"

  "A while, yes," Nexxali finished with a villainous grin. "What a shame. Sillicia would have to actually think for herself instead of having you crunch numbers for her."

  Galateya approached from the Cherokee. "Marshal, perhaps we should—"

  "Stay out of this, dragon," Nexxali said without looking away from Kawathra. "This is between me and the bird-knob spy!"

  "I'm not a spy!" Kawathra protested. "I'm a data analyst! I analyze! It's what I do! It's all I know how to do!"

  "And you were about to analyze our mission, to analyze MY precious human, weren't you?" Nexxali's voice dropped dangerously. "Poking around in things that aren't your business. Looking for ammunition to use against us. Do you know who stands behind us? Knight Galateya is working on a personal project for Legate Ixthia! Do you know what the Legates do to little birds who disrupt their most essential passion-projects?”

  Kawathra's beak opened and closed soundlessly.

  "That's what I thought," Nexxali said. "You know what? Maybe losing yourself would be an improvement! You could come back as someone who isn't Sillicia's obedient data-puppet. I could order you to remain on Earth, use my voice to alter you ever so slightly day by day after your incarnation… steer your new self in a more desirable direction."

  "Please," Kawathra whispered, tears forming in her large eyes. "Don’t kill me! I don't want to forget. I don't want to wake up not knowing who I am, having someone explain my own life to me from archives. It's... it's the worst feeling. Like drowning in your own emptiness. I won’t dig any further into you or Galateya, I swear! I haven’t found anything yet… Stormy…” Her eyes shot to the human who wasn’t looking at her anymore. “Stormy asked me to stop before I could uncover anything of value!”

  “You swear it? Upon the name of Empress Aconia?” Nexxali’s voice deepened in an unnatural Charmchain resonance.

  “I swear it upon the name of our immortal Empress!” Kawathra nodded rapidly. “Stormy told me not to dig into your affairs!”

  "What a lovely little human," Nexxali cast Stormy a feline smile. "At least someone here has sense not to stick their nose into other people’s biz."

  Ashcroft stepped out of the vehicle and approached them with measured steps, his movements deliberate and far too relaxed. Without hesitation, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around Nexxali's wrist, pulling the gun away from Kawathra's temple.

  "That's enough, Nexy," he said. “She’s scared enough.”

  The Serval's golden eyes flashed with annoyance, her voice still carrying a Charmchain resonance inflection. "Ash, go chill in the car, I'm handling—"

  "No, you're traumatizing a potential ally." His reply carried no judgment.

  It took Kawathra 62210 microseconds to process something impossible. The human didn’t obey a high level Charmchain Marshal Commandant. He simply talked back to the serval. As if her commanding voice had no effect on him whatsoever.

  Ashcroft turned to the trembling magpie, extending his hand. "I apologize for our kitten's... enthusiasm. Allow me to properly introduce myself. I'm Ashcroft Julian Clifford, Kobold Administrator of Lady Galateya Frontenachii, the future Baroness of Earth."

  As he spoke, the overcast sky that had dominated Cascade all morning cracked ever so slightly. A single beam of sunlight broke through the clouds, positioning itself directly behind the human’s head. The effect was striking. Golden light radiated around him in a perfect corona, making his dark hair glow at the edges like he'd been touched by a halo of… something divine.

  Kawathra's black-blue eyes went wide.

  Her beak opened slightly, her mind splitting two, four, sixteen, thirty two ways, data feeds cascading through her neural interface as her mind made rapid calculations, cross-referencing patterns, probabilities, and possible outcomes.

  Something fundamental shifted in her, spilling uncontrollably into her expression. Recognition forged with utterly profound terror struck her like a Corpse Seeker falling from orbit. Her feathers began to undulate in wild waves.

  "Why don't we all be friends instead of fighting?" Ashcroft continued, seemingly oblivious to her realizations. He opened his arms slightly. "You look like you could use a hug."

  The offer was so unexpected, so utterly human in its simplicity, that everyone froze. Even Nexxali's tail stopped its irate swishing.

  Kawathra's ringed talons clicked against each other nervously.

  The probability matrices in her head were screaming vast impossibilities at her, patterns that couldn't exist, shouldn't exist, yet clearly did.

  The dark haired, average human in front of her: unemployed, indebted, ordinary by every metric she'd found, momentarily haloed in light like something out of the very religious texts she'd dismissed as primitive mythology.

  His posture, the way his head tilted, his utterly calm voice. An inexplicable something that somehow allowed him to completely ignore and also to command the pradavarian serval, who complied without second thought. The Marshal calling him “my human”. His blood bond to an Omnid dragon. His lack of cowering. Kawathra knew with absolute certainty that 99.99986% of kobolds behaved submissively, spoke low and cowered on their first day when standing next to their dragon, as the bond traumatically adjusted itself across their souls.

  Then, most damningly of all, there was the way Ashcroft said “Kobold Administrator” with a slight, barely noticeable, bold inflection.

  As if he wasn’t the kobold in the relationship at all. As if he was the Master Dragon instead.

  It inescapably reminded her of another, masked face, one that she’s examined far too many times already, searching for him across every broadcast, every human record available.

  The Emperor of Earth.