Ranthia was still in a bit of a sour mood the next day, though she was confident that she was managing it well.

  “Three lessons. Three! I had twelve on that damned scroll, and the whole ‘keep your passion in your Skills’ bit wasn’t even one of them! There were important things that I never even mentioned! And the worst bit is that multiple instructors complained about me to Ocean, said I ‘was undermining their authority’ to shape the trainees.” Ranthia grumbled moodily.

  She had decided to drop in on Tertia and her wife after failing at burning through her frustration with exercise. It was too early for lunch, but Tertia seemed to be pleased to drop whatever she had been working on and have tea prepared for them. Of course, her dear friend seemed to be highly amused at Ranthia’s misery.

  “So what? You’re Sentinel Grace, just tell them to get bent.” Tertia replied as she gestured with her fine teacup before she took another sip.

  “Yeah, well. The Sentinels came to a ‘consensus,’ which basically meant Swarm proposed something and the others decided to inflict it upon me. They’re going to treat this batch of trainees as an ‘experiment’ and see how my idea goes. …Which means the bulk of my last season here will probably be spent working with trainees on what their passions are and how they differ from habits that can be safely kicked.” Ranthia replied before she took another swig of her own cup of tea.

  Tertia had promised that it was one of the best teas to be found in Remus. Ranthia wasn’t sure if it was any different than any non-Green tea she had ever tasted. Her vitality meant her sense of taste should be able to discern subtle flavors better than ever, but it still just tasted like a failed attempt at a leafy soup.

  “Oh no, you have to talk to people. What a horror.” Tertia deadpanned in response.

  “This is why I came to you; I knew you’d understand my suffering.” Ranthia held up her beverage to toast her friend.

  Tertia tried to hold her laugh in and it came out with an undignified snort instead. Not that she seemed to be bothered by it—the woman was chronically unflappable.

  “So how many invitations to parties and events have you received?” She asked after she finished laughing.

  “I don’t even know; Swarm’s handling them. Sooner or later, I’m getting a pile.” Ranthia admitted.

  “This is going to end so badly.”

  “Hey, I’m charming!”

  “Ran, ‘charming’ doesn’t just mean seducing some senator’s wife and dragging her off somewhere for a quick fuck. You’ll have to actually talk to people.” Tertia informed her in a grave tone.

  Ranthia just flipped Tertia off in response, or at least she did for a moment. When the door to the sitting room opened—heralding the arrival of Tertia’s wife—Ranthia swiftly put the rude gesture away and went back to pretending to enjoy her tea. The younger woman probably already had an absolutely horrible impression of Ranthia from her first visit, and she wasn’t in any hurry to make it worse.

  “My sincerest apologies, my hair refused to cooperate.” The short woman explained with a charming smile, before she sidled up next to her wife with a cute little happy noise.

  “It’s fine, I was just venting a bit. And you seriously didn’t need to get your hair fixed up just for me.” Ranthia insisted.

  “You are a Sentinel, I am the spouse of one of Remus’ greatest business owners, and my appearance Skills would have my head if I didn’t provide even this informal gathering with as much class and beauty as I was able.” The young woman replied with a smile.

  Gods and goddesses, Ranthia really needed to absorb her name soon.

  “Fair enough, but you’re making me feel bad for not putting on any cosmetics. Anyway, new topic… your brothers didn’t contest you taking over the family business?” Ranthia directed her question to Tertia.

  “Oh, I had them killed when our round concluded.” Tertia answered in a cold tone.

  Ranthia chuckled.

  “You got me with that act too many times during our round. I may have issues remembering some minor things, but I learn my lessons. I know your fibbing mask.” She needled.

  “Aw, you’re no fun anymore.” Tertia pouted.

  “Well, I am a Sentinel.” Ranthia replied smugly.

  “She’s learned to see through your lies. That’s okay, love, you’ll just have to accept it. Just take care not to let her find out about all the wildly illegal things that we do.” Tertia’s wife chimed in with a perfectly innocent little smile before she took a dainty sip of tea.

  Ranthia and Tertia gawked at the younger woman, but her mask refused to show the slightest bit of strain.

  “I’m so done. Even Sentinel Density herself can see through my only mask these days and my own wife shamelessly and effortlessly outclasses me.” Tertia gasped with exaggerated distress.

  “There, there.” The younger woman soothed while she gently patted Tertia on the shoulder.

  Ranthia just groaned at the insult—she knew she would regret sharing that Avyna had called her dense—but she let it roll past. She wasn’t about to get outraged while the civilian was present. She was blithely ignoring the fact that Tertia was also a civilian now.

  “The actual answer is my brothers never wanted the business, so there was no contest. My parents retired to Massilix—not a word, I know—after my wedding and now I run things. My brothers tend to… sow oats, let’s say, so I’m seeing to an education for my nieces and nephews. If any of them seem promising, we plan to adopt one or two. Otherwise, we’ll just buy a couple of young, clever slaves to claim as our children when we get older.” Tertia explained.

  Ranthia could have writhed in discomfort. Kids had become a weird topic for her—even aside from the horror that was Remus’ slavery. She was still trying not to think too much about the fact that Avyna had a daughter. …At least one daughter. Gods and goddesses, could she have other kids too? If Ranthia and Avyna really did end up together, would that make her a mother? She had never wanted children! It helped that Avyna’s daughter (and presumably any other children that may or may not exist) were grown and independent, but it was still weird.

  Awkward thought processes aside, Ranthia appreciated the visit with her friend. It was good to catch up with someone that actually made her feel welcome. And by the time the tea was done and Tertia had to return to her duties, Ranthia was feeling much better.

  Ranthia ended up just returning to the Sentinels’ private areas after she left Tertia’s home. There were things she could have done, but she was feeling a bit socially drained. She just wanted to be alone with her thoughts while she ran through dance practice and other training until it was time for dinner—followed by prayers to Xaoc.

  She was finally ready to tell Him about what had been bothering her—she was reasonably confident that she could do it without losing her temper, finally.

  The next morning’s Sentinel meeting was focused on plans for the upcoming hell months for the trainee candidates. Their meeting room was invaded by legions of scrolls—a hostile presence laden with unnervingly detailed reports on each trainee, complete with feedback from the instructors, facility staff, Ranger Team 0 members, and even the prostitutes that had interacted with the trainees so far. It was almost as invasive as it was thorough.

  Gods and goddesses, why did being a Sentinel have to continuously remind her that the world was creepy and privacy was nothing but an illusion that was just a few stat points or a clever ruse away from being erased?!

  They started by marking the prospective trainees that they wanted the hell months to focus on driving out. Swarm had four that had potential ties to some criminal organization or another—which raised significant questions for her about why they were just leaving it as ‘let’s keep what might be their people out of the Rangers.’ The grand nose’s host had two he wanted to see out and raised a suggestion that they needed to take it easy on any [Healer] candidates—he and Ranthia were the only two to vote in favor; Ocean, Seeker (close enough), and Swarm crushed the notion. Ocean, somehow, had an entire list of people that he considered to be ill-suited to becoming Rangers. Ranthia managed to get the amorous young woman that ignored her added to the priority target list—which was probably petty, but to heck with the kid.

  After that, they started plotting what to do to mess with the trainees as the hell months began. Swarm had an arsenal of tricks that ranged from cruel pranks to so narrowly tailored she suspected the man had designed the inscriptions to use against a specific individual. Ranthia got to stay out of the first part of the hell months—her plan had to wait for the log-carrying portion to start up once they weeded out the easy marks.

  “I’ll be crushing arrogance.” Was all Ranthia would share—Swarm already knew the details.

  Unfortunately, this left her with a problem. Free time still… felt strange after spending so long in the Unbreakable Image. Yes, she had downtime there, but it always had a pall—a silent threat hanging over it. Despite the time she had spent since, a lack of focused necessity just disagreed with her. Yet she didn’t have enough tasks on her agenda to keep her busy. Relaxation felt wrong and trying to exist with her guard wholly lowered rankled her instincts. Sentinel Ocean seemed to be able to at least recognize, but perhaps not quite sympathize with, her plight and assigned her the unusual task of patrolling the city.

  Praise Xaoc, busywork!

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Ranthia emerged from Headquarters in her full Sentinel armor, with her badge pinned on her chest and twin short swords sheathed at her sides (announcing “No, seriously, I’m armed. See my bracers?” just felt like a bit of a non-option). She was a Sentinel on duty—Sentinel Grace out to solve the problems in Ariminum, one by one! It was hard not to smile; the sense of duty and idea of improving the expansive city just spoke to her on a deep level. She was there to do good—it was what she had signed up for long ago! …More or less!

  Naturally, most people in the city gave her a wide berth. She carefully kept her speeds to levels normally seen in Remus’ couriers—after observing a few from a discreet enough distance to not freak them out. While she patrolled, she took in the city. She browsed stalls, explored the docks, examined the parks, and even found a body in the sewage that had been missed—a missing worker, almost certainly an accident.

  She helped people in minor ways, often unnoticed, as she went. A young Adventurer that was a coin short to buy the supplies he needed found an extra few coins in his pouch that he swore hadn’t been there a moment before. A stumbling [Laborer] was gently steadied. A frantic mother suddenly found her errant child back at her side. It was nice to just add a little good to the world, even if she wasn’t being particularly chaotic—she could focus on mischief when she was off-duty.

  She even had an amazingly brave kid try to steal the pouch from her hip. He was filthy and far higher in level than a child that probably wasn’t even ten years old yet had any right to be. She effortlessly evaded him, but slipped a full rod into his hand instead. The kid had the sense to not look a gift horse in the mouth after he tried to steal from a Sentinel—he took the bounty and ran. She followed the boy to ensure he wasn’t a footpad for some would-be crime lord, but the kid simply turned his new-found fortune into a couple of loaves of bread and a large pile of meat-and-veggie skewers that he excitedly shared with some other street kids.

  She wished she could do more for the kids, but after she stealthily replaced their tattered, parasite-infested blankets and bedding with newly purchased camping supplies she forced herself to move on. Pallos was riddled with people with vague good notions like giving every street kid a home, and the reality was a larger obstacle than the notion encompassed. She had some ideas, but it was better for her to spend some time in thought and do things properly. If the solutions were messy, then she could lean into that and embrace the chaos, but she refused to do something that might make things worse for the kids in the long run.

  The day had ended, but Ariminum never quite settled down. Ranthia returned to her room and changed out of her armor—she wasn’t ready to sleep, so she re-emerged into the city dressed in her mistweave tunic. The nightlife of Remus had already started, with most market stalls replaced by performers and prostitutes. Food and drink were still available, of course, but most of the non-edible goods were sold strictly beneath the sun. There were no tunics or jewelry peddled beneath the waning moons.

  Ranthia wandered past the displays, but they didn’t do much for her. Most of the performers relied on Mirage classes, so to Ranthia’s [Vision of the Void]-enhanced eyes the splendor was rather muted. [Dancers] were sloppy and uncoordinated to her discerning eye. Sure, she still appreciated the view the buxom or lithe prostitutes offered, but she wasn’t really in the mood. …Though part of that was just the fact that when she tried to consider it, her mind inevitably drifted to Avyna—who was far more attractive than any of the women on offer.

  Still, daydreaming about her future paramour was a wonderful distraction that kept her from brooding. She began to wonder if Avyna had an appearance-improving skill. Would elves even need something like [Sexy]? Somehow, she imagined Avyna would giggle one of her beautiful giggles with the side of her wrist held over her mouth if Ranthia asked, before dismissing the notion. Gods and goddesses, Ranthia was so eager to see the woman again; she was downright impatient to find out if she could truly have a wonderful relationship with Avyna. To hold her. To truly get to know her.

  …She was pulled out of much more vivid and lurid mental images of certain other things she wanted to do with Avyna as well. Her sensitive, overly abused nose had just detected a scent that most people mistakenly described as coppery. A scent that she knew far too well.

  Blood.

  Bizarrely, it came from the breath of two distinguished men. They were plainly overdressed for Ariminum’s nightlife and were engaged in a meaningless conversation that felt somehow stiff and scripted. The two were linked arm-in-arm, though their body language screamed that their focus was outward, on the men and women out and about, while they all but ignored one another. Their skin was pale, and their red eyes betrayed a predator’s focus despite the mirth plastered over their faces.

  She was halfway done trying to imagine how to sculpt some of her adamantium into a Sentinel badge replica—she was not about to carry something so irreplaceable on a night out to unwind—when the memory struck. Sentinel Night’s pale skin and red eyes. That conversation they had back in Coalition City.

  Vampires.

  They were another race that moonlighted—oh Xaoc, pun so not intended—amongst humanity. Ranthia had no idea how important Night truly was to the vampires, but he at least considered himself to be important enough to unilaterally give away some of his people’s greatest secrets. She had no idea why these men smelled of blood, but they were plainly vampires.

  She could wait until she brought it up with Sentinel Ocean or Sentinel Swarm. At least one of them had to know if this was a problem that needed to be resolved. She wasn’t about to stick her neck out where she had limited knowledge. If the men were attacking people, they could be dealt with later. …But there was too high a risk that vampires just smelled like that for some reason—Night hadn’t, but the man likely had better hygiene practices than most with how much care he took in his appearance.

  Even if they were attacking people, the vampires might have their own justice system—if they kept hidden, it wasn’t like Arminum’s guards could get involved. Were there vampire guardsmen patrolling around at night in secret? It was a fun theory, even if there were numerous obvious holes in it.

  Either way, with the mystery raised, Ranthia felt less content to remain on the streets at night. And, well, speaking of her reawakening libido, there was another old friend that Ranthia had avoided for far too long—gods and goddesses, she was a horrible friend. But it seriously would be good to see Sunrise again. Catching up with an old—painfully out of touch—friend would be lovely, and a good massage sounded nice, even if she still couldn’t be worked up to desiring anything more.

  The brothel in question was exactly where it had been before. The surprisingly tasteful mural of women frolicking among flowers that was inlaid across its outer wall was new (what was with the boom in murals over the past several years?), but it was clearly the same business. Even better, as she stepped into the building, she found that their boasts so many years ago about their soundproofing really were almost as great as they claimed. It was enough that she wouldn’t be driven to distraction by the other customers, at least.

  Ranthia was no stranger to how the place—and other brothels—worked. She immediately approached the pretty, likely [Pretty], young woman wearing a single-shouldered toga that stood ready to greet customers. The breast left on display would have distracted her when she was younger, but she had grown desensitized to casual nudity. There was just something distinctly different between nudity because of circumstances or fashion and nudity that was offered to delight her, specifically.

  “Hi, is Sunrise working tonight?” Ranthia asked.

  The young woman blinked several times and retreated backwards slightly. Ranthia frowned, had the woman used [Identify] on her after she made her request? Two people, a man and a woman, large and intimidating to most approached her from behind, their footsteps as obvious as a large dinosaur’s.

  “You should leave.” The man suggested.

  “What? Why?” Ranthia turned to face him, the confusion clear on her face.

  “No one is permitted to see one of the Madams. Leave.”

  Well, that explained a bit. Good for Sunrise! Being part of what Ranthia understood to be the brothel’s management sounded like a nice upgrade from being a mere prostitute. But the attitude still confused her.

  “Okay, I didn’t know she was a Madam now. I’m an old friend of hers and—”

  “Don’t care. Leave.” The man cut her off.

  Ranthia felt her temper rise, but she tried to restrain it—she hadn’t forgotten Tertia’s warning.

  “Look, you’ve got to have something like [Identify]. I’m also a Sentinel. Isn’t it obvious that I’m not here to cause trouble?” She snapped.

  Oops, she needed to try a bit harder.

  “Yeah, you’re a triple classer. Good for you. Now leave.” The man ordered as he crossed his thick arms.

  Ranthia was, honestly, a bit impressed. The man was level 201, the woman flanking him was level 128. Yet they both stared down someone who could go through them effortlessly, someone who likely had the backing necessary to not even face real punishment for doing so. And they knew it, yet they still held firm. The place hired amazing people to keep their own safe.

  But they also were trying to bar her from seeing one of the very few friends she could speak to!

  “Ugh, look I just want to see an old friend. Can you let her know Ranthia is here?”

  The man shook his head and opened his mouth to repeat his favorite word yet again. She was starting to hate “leave,” it sounded weird after so many repetitions.

  “She would want to see me if she knew I was here.” Ranthia tried.

  “Feel free to think that. Then leave.”

  Ranthia bristled and was getting dangerously close to shouting a—likely ill-advised—more direct threat when she was interrupted.

  “What on Pallos are you fools doing in our lobby?!” An older woman with greying hair demanded as she descended the stairwell.

  To the guard’s credit, his report was worthy of any Ranger. It was to the point and didn’t try to unduly color Ranthia in a negative light. He stuck to the facts and the woman simply rolled her eyes before she waved the security team off and pointed to a room and told Ranthia to wait there. Ranthia complied, though she realized afterwards that she had failed to say a single word to the weirdly intimidating older woman.

  Ranthia stood in the disturbingly salty-smelling sitting room for a while—she was not sitting on that—until a mostly familiar face cautiously poked into the room around the door. Sunrise’s face split into a massive smile almost immediately and dashed into the room.

  “Ranthia! You’re alive!” She squealed while she threw her arms around Ranthia.

  Ranthia just embraced her old friend happily. Twelve years. Gods and goddesses, it had been twelve years since she had last seen Sunrise. Her friend (with transactional benefits) had grown older, but she still looked amazing. And she was still there.

  “Yeah, I made it.” She assured, as she carefully held the older woman and tried not to get embarrassingly sentimental.

  Sunrise still looked good, but as she took in time’s numerous marks and changes to the woman, it also made Ranthia feel a pang of loss for her original body. Her 24-year-old form felt just as out of place next to a woman from her past as Ranthia herself felt in Remus. She once again acutely felt like she was an anomaly that shouldn’t be there.

  “I was so sure you were dead! It’s been years and years and I had tried to ask Hexara about you once, but she got upset and started crying and—”

  Ranthia not-as-subtly-as-she-hoped winced at that. Her feelings about Hexara were still complicated, to say the least, but the fact that she had apparently hurt her former lover just as severely as she had hurt Ranthia was not a good thing. She wasn’t that petty, thankfully.

  Sunrise brought Ranthia up to her rooms once they both managed to compose themselves. The rooms were nice, well furnished, and surprisingly large. She even had a personal bath that was larger and superficially nicer than the one in Ranthia’s Sentinel room—though Ranthia’s was far more heavily inscribed. The decorative touches were pure Sunrise too, colorful and cheery, with a lovely mural of Sentinel Dawn prominent in the sitting room.

  They sat and talked for a while. Ranthia gave her the same highly edited version of events that had been such a hit with Tertia’s wife… and then had to give the same treatment to both of her Ranger rotations too, because it had been so damned long since she had last visited Sunrise. The former prostitute had the sense to not ask about what had happened with Hexara, since it was obvious that something had gone wrong between them aside from Ranthia’s frantic life as a Ranger.

  Sunrise’s own story was far briefer. She had brought in enough coin to qualify for her promotion, then when one of the madams that oversaw the brothel retired, she named Sunrise her successor. She did mention that she missed getting to serve certain customers, in a way that Ranthia hoped was a hint.

  After the necessary talking was done, Ranthia oh-so-innocently inquired about maybe getting a massage, but Sunrise replied that it just wouldn’t be proper for a madam to serve a client. Instead, she swiftly—and somewhat brutally—negotiated with Ranthia before she called two of her employees that she was certain Ranthia would enjoy the company of.

  It was just an innocent, soothing massage while two old friends talked. Until it wasn’t. Propriety ended up discarded.

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  Nozomi Matsuoka.

  Sarah "Neila" Elkins.