“Our own reinforcements?” The spiress asked in return.

  “We received word yesterday from your sister agreeing to send a thousand warriors and ten of her scholars for a formal writ of debt; to the term of double the number of soldiers, should she ever need the aid.”

  “Abyssal whore.” Sylvi muttered. It was quiet, but just barely audible. “Fine, have someone draft the writ. I will sign it tonight. How long until she can arrive?”

  “The scholars agree that the fastest we can expect aid will be anywhere from a month to two months from now.”

  The spiress said nothing, all eight of her eyes focused on the messenger. Her form sank ever so slightly as her legs bent and Sylvi turned to look at Saga. The pair shared a silent moment before Saga nodded ever so slightly, the barest down turn of her chin.

  Without a word, the spiress pressed her hands into the stone table and loomed over the maps, her eyes almost doleful. Almost idly, she picked up one of the small figures of an eye that represented the First Oracles, rolling it between her four claw-like fingers. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed people in the room shrink back from the table.

  All but her three older advisors had stepped back from the table, their backs almost to the wall, each of them holding still. Like a climbing melody, tension built in the air as the spiress remained bent over the map silently.

  The spiress exploded into movement, sweeping the figures off the map and tossing the table towards the wall. A warrior ducked, and a scholar screamed as she threw herself out of the way just fast enough. A wail like a bat’s screech underlaid with a choir of chittering spiders filled the room, and I looked back to see Sylvi with her head in her hands screaming.

  Saga, who remained unmoved, leant over and whispered something into the young woman’s ear. Whatever she said stopped the spiress’ scream, and she straightened while Saga continued to lecture into her ear.

  “Can we hold for a month, Gunilla?” Sylvi asked, once Saga stopped whispering to her.

  “We can hold so long as the walls do Survivor.”

  The spiress ground her vestigial mandibles together at the response and I noticed one of her eyes flick over to our direction.

  “Gunilla, once the writ is signed, send our fastest laborer to my sister.”

  “Of course.” Gunilla responded with a slight dip of the head, the stinger above her head following the gesture.

  “Saga. Have some of my scholars draft an assassination plan for Elin. Her successes at court have made the runt forget her place.” The spiress said, petulant heat traded for cold control.

  Saga smiled at the younger woman, revealing a set of sharpened ivory teeth, and put a hand on one of the spiress’ legs. Sylvi didn’t acknowledge the gesture and turned back to Gunilla to continue their discussion.

  “How long unit the new arrivals are settled, and the wall repaired?”

  “Your chief laborer reports the timeline for the walls to be a week and a half.”

  The spiress’ eyes flicked over to where the table lay in a broken heap, torn maps scattered about the rubble. She took long breaths for a few moments and raised her eyes to the ceiling, which was carved to resemble bricks. Once she calmed, her four sets of eyes wandered the room independently until all settled on Mika.

  “You, adventurer. Mika Hearthtomb was it not?”

  “Mika Hillhome, spiress.” He replied.

  “You were marketed to me as a master of stone. You have the ability to aid in the repair of the walls. Yes?”

  “I specialize as a [Sculptor] rather than a [Mason] spiress. If you’d permit me to demonstrate my work?” Mika asked while gesturing to his pack, a restrained but proud smile on his face.

  The spiress made a wordless gesture of agreement with a leg and Mika pulled out the golem carved to look like a woman. The spiress barely glanced at the golem before she refocused on Mika. She continued the same line of questioning in a bored tone of voice; speaking to Mika as if he were simple.

  “Do you, or do you not. Have the ability to carve blocks of stone?”

  Mika clenched his teeth so hard they might have shattered and it took time for him to reign in his wounded pride before he could grind out a.

  “I do.”

  “Then you will spend at least an hour a day, when not otherwise occupied, in the quarry carving blocks for the walls. Now, do any of the rest of you have skills that could aid in the repair of the walls?”

  It would have made my life easier to not let them know I had basic proficiency in stone carving. Yet, even with the positive way things were going, I was new to the group dynamic, and I knew from my time in the Black Hands that nothing bonded people like sharing in the shit.

  “I have some skill in stone carving.”

  “Then you will join your companion in his labors.” The spiress said before she returned her attention to her general.

  “The new arrivals will be settled within the hour.” Gunilla said.

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  “Thank you.” Sylvi paused, and I noticed one set of eyes come back to us while the other three went to each of her advisors. “Do we have the reports of the updated troop counts?”

  “Your [Scouts’] reports vary. Some claim three thousand First Oracle tribes people, others claim thirty-five hundred.”

  “And where did these goblin rats climb out of?” The spiress spoke through a calming breath. Her tone was level, but underneath simmered that rage I’d seen earlier.

  “You are not the only child who can call in allies.” Saga scolded, speaking publicly for the first time in the conversation.

  A flash of rage twisted the spiress features, but before she could do anything more than scowl, she had herself under control again and nodded at her elder’s words. Turning back to Gunilla, she asked for the composition of the enemy troops.

  “Exact numbers for the infantry are hard to credit. However, from the reports I’ve gathered that the First Oracles have upwards of two thousand infantries at their disposal. Their cavalry is easier to confirm as they only have the mounts to field two hundred and fifty members. Lastly, we’ve only confirmed sightings of twenty Hoblite [Clerics].”

  “And what mounts are the cavalry using?”

  “Lanklatts spiress.”

  Whatever lanklatts were, they were enough to break the spiress’ composure again as she leant back and rubbed at a spot between her second and third set of eyes. She recovered quickly enough, however, that Saga chose not to correct the behavior.

  “What do we know about their strategy and how do you suggest we counter it?” She asked.

  “Until they can breach our walls, their infantry is essentially useless. Your scholars suspect they’ll rely heavily on their casters and cavalry to begin.” Gunilla replied. I noticed she didn’t state what she suspected would happen, only what the spiress’ scholars’ thought might.

  “The [Clerics] will be of some issue.” Saga interjected. “But until we know how their blessings have manifested; we cannot know how much of an issue they are.”

  In response to Saga’s comment, something snapped, and the spiress let out a barrage of words in her native language. The words flowing far freer than they ever did in the Trade Tongue. Faced with the onslaught, Saga said nothing. She kept her gaze locked onto her charge. Even when the tirade ended, Saga continued to say nothing, do nothing except stare.

  “We cannot allow them to grind my forces to seed slop!” The spiress protested in the Trade Tongue.

  Gunilla and Saga both said nothing, allowing the spiress to stew in her words like a child throwing a tantrum. As the moment stretched, I couldn’t help myself from noticing how similar the scene was to when no one would confess to an infraction when I was training with the Black Hands. Except rather than continually staring at us until we confessed, we were all flogged until someone did.

  As her handlers gazed at her silently, the spiress tried to glare back with equal disdain. Time stretched and her alien features grew so livid even I could recognize the emotion on her face. Right before the moment felt like it would explode into violence, the spiress made some kind of ritualistic hand gesture that was returned by both Saga and Gunilla. As soon as they put their hands down, the tension vanished like it’d never been there.

  “Helle! Enter!” Gunilla called, punctuating an end to that tense moment.

  The woman who entered was of the warrior caste, with three tails and exceptionally thick carapace. While she looked significantly younger than Saga, Gunilla looked only a decade her senior while Sylvi a couple years junior.

  “Ah, Survivor.” Sylvi said in the Trade Tongue. “It has been some time, has it not?”

  “Indeed, it has Survivor.” Helle said in return, unsubtly looking towards us.

  Part of me wanted to ask the significance behind the title Survivor, since it clearly held weight, but ever since the incident during the youth program, I’d tried to make a conscious effort to not cross cultural taboos. This seemed ripe for a misunderstanding.

  “Join us. General Gunilla must have called you in for a reason. I would hear your stratagem for this stage of the siege.” Sylvi decreed.

  “The General’s and your own regard do me much honor Survivor. As far as the opening stages of the siege are concerned, I do not believe we have the numbers to salle out and meet the Oracles in traditional combat. However, I believe there is a way we could do so.”

  “Do not leave me spinning. What do you propose?”

  “I am aware that, in your Wisdom, you have brought in a new contingent of scholars and I believe that with their power we now have the ability to sculpt the terrain of the tunnel to our needs. If we do so, we could face the goblins in combat rather than wait behind our walls.”

  The spires perked up a bit and shifted all of her gazes back to Gunilla. Gunilla, in response to the spiress’ unasked question, silently looked back to Helle, who I noticed had blushed. A dark blue hue coloring her cheeks.

  “And how would we do that? Plenty of my siblings have tried such a gambit and failed.”

  “Amongst the laborers, there is another Survivor who believes she has the skills to mold the tunnel wall to our needs if given the time.”

  “Again, Helle, how? As it stands, we have no way to meet the goblins in open combat. Even if the Survivor has the skills, how are we to provide the time she’d need?” Helle flinched as if struck when the spiress omitted her title.

  “I have already thought of that and sought permission to refit some of the…” Helle paused for a moment, searching for something.

  “Transports.” Gunilla added helpfully.

  “Thank you, elder. I have refitted some of the transports to be fit as barriers. They will provide the choke point we’d need to face the goblins as well as bring our troops to bear quicker than possible on foot.”

  “The idea has merit. But answer me this: what is to stop the goblins from simply erasing your work once the walls have been sculpted?”

  “Admittedly, that is where the plan becomes flawed, but it was both mine and the other Survivor’s hope that the plan might be complete with the aid of your Wisdom.” Helle said.

  It was amazing to me how servile Helle became once Sylvi omitted her title. It was like the spiress had removed the woman’s spine with a word. A brief silence built in the room and I saw Mika move in the seat next to me. I watch him war with himself for a moment before he sighed and spoke.

  “If I may spiress?”

  The spiress’ head slowly turned towards Mika; her expression locked into icy calm. With her monochrome eyes, it was hard to tell where she was looking, but the small twitches in her facial muscles told me they were moving. The spiress eventually gave a dismissive wave of the hand for Mika to speak, which caused him to clench his jaw even harder.

  “While developing my golems, I came across a rune series that makes stone extremely resistant to mana infusions.”

  “Go on.” She said, her legs straightened to give her some more height.

  “I originally designed the series to allow mana to flow easier through stone. Instead, the rune gathers mana into a singular point until it eventually overloads and explodes. However, until the rune overloads, no mana can enter the stone except through it.”

  Hearing what Mika’s runes did made Sylvi straighten her posture slightly and sink back down slightly. She leaned over to Saga and the two of them spoke in hushed whispers. When they broke apart, the spiress puffed herself up to loom large in her seat. Projecting a presence she’d missed during the meeting thus far.

  “Mika Hillhome. Do you know of a rune which will allow the collected mana to be vented without destroying the original series?” The spiress asked. Her voice dripped with a new formality that Mika obviously sensed.

  “I do not spiress.” He said with equal gravity.

  “Then I would share a rune from my personal collection that allows for the venting of mana. On the condition you swear a System backed oath never to share it.”

  “Would I be able to use this rune in my personal works, spiress?”

  “You would.”

  “Then I agree, on the condition that no one from clan Virtanen be allowed to study my rune series.”

  The spiress stared at Mika unblinking for a long moment before she nodded.

  “It is agreed.”

  There was no sweeping sense of presence, or surge of mana, when the two repeated their System backed oaths like the stories claimed. However, everyone in the room knew that the oath was binding. There’d be no official punishment in any realm if they broke the oath. However, every culture and people I’d ever met or read about feared breaking an oath to the System for one reason.

  The System did not provide Trainers to oath breakers. It would still teach them that was its Divine purpose after all, but rather than have crystalline experts formed from the entirety of a topic’s contents teach, the System taught oath breakers in single sentence long notifications.

  That didn’t mean an oath to the System was ironclad. No oath ever was. Every deal had loopholes. Mika could redesign the rune he learned, and share that and not break the letter of the oath. The spiress could have someone ‘defy her orders’ and study the runes. As long as she mildly punished the perpetrator, she wouldn’t break the letter of her oath.

  The System cared not an ounce for if the spirit of an oath was violated, so long as the letter was. I suspected both parties had kept the conditions so loose because the oath was more about appearances than actual concern over secrets.

  “Mika Hillhome, how long will it take you to build a new series with the rune to be given to you?” Sylvi asked.

  “I’ll have it done in two hours.” Mika spoke with absolute confidence.

  “Then go. Report to Saga here in the courtyard and she will see that you have a quiet place to work. Be ready to do battle once you are finished. We leave as soon as the series is ready.” The spiress said with a pointed look to Helle.

  With that Mika got up and left, smiling back at us before he passed the threshold. The spiress surveyed the room in silence until the echoes of Mika’s footfalls left earshot.

  “Get ready for battle. I want us to leave as soon as the adventurer finishes.” The spiress said, voice suffused with regal authority. “As for you three, you will join this foray under the command of Survivor Helle.”

  I looked briefly to Gunilla, but she was as calm as a placid lake. Nora accepted the command easily and Sylvi moved her attention back to Helle, who’d come further in the room to let Mika by.

  “I paid a premium for their services and I will not see that wasted. They are to be used as an elite defensive force, understood?”

  “Yes Survivor.” Helle said with sincerity.