Ranthia took her time on her way back to Ariminum. Instead of a nonstop desperate run, she took breaks and camped at night. She even stopped early enough in the evening to do some hunting while rabbits tended to be more active. It was wonderfully nostalgic—and soothed her aching heart just a little—to once again make campfire rabbit stew with freshly caught rabbits and whatever the local woodlands provided. The food was just as tasty as her heart remembered, and she promised herself that she would find more opportunities to enjoy rabbit stew while she still could.

  The feeling that she was an outsider still continued to echo through her mind though. She had outgrown Sardonia—no, she had outgrown Remus, and its people treated her with fear because of it. But she was still a Sentinel. Whether or not anyone with [Identify] would accept her presence was irrelevant; she still had her duty. Each time the doubts threatened to overwhelm her, she clutched desperately at her duty—and made yet another vocal affirmation of her determination to help people as much as she could before she redeployed to the war. What the future would hold was a question she couldn’t answer—especially with the potential of her relationship with Avyna still unexplored—but she doubted that living within Remus would factor into it.

  Besides, she wasn’t done with Remus yet, duty aside. She also had old sins to right. While she enjoyed her nostalgic journey, she worked to convince herself that it was time to seek out two people that she had hidden herself away from. She would see Hexara and try to be friendly and happy for her ex. She would face her hateful mother and finally tell the woman the truth about the daughter that she had lost. With how powerful Ranthia had become, surely she could muster the strength required for emotional maturity. Hexara had hurt her badly, but after the intervening 8 years Ranthia was finally willing to accept that she bore some culpability—Hexara hadn’t wanted her to leave, and she was the one that chose to do a round instead of staying with the woman she loved. And her mother deserved to know the truth about her child and who Ranthia truly was.

  She doubted that either would turn out well (especially her horrible mother), but she was ready to face her past. Or, at least, she hoped that she was.

  Her journey was swift by Reman standards, but she took the time that she needed.

  It was midday when Ranthia arrived in Ariminum and her Sentinel badge got her through the gate without even a speck of drama or guard-related incident, which was lovely. Once she stepped through the gates and inhaled the aromatic blend of body stink, tasty foods of varying quality, potent scented oils, and hard work that was Ariminum air, she was ready to visit her first stop, which was… Huh. She actually had no idea where she was supposed to check in when she returned from a mission as a Sentinel. It wasn’t like she had a team leader or wagon to report to. There had to be something, but no one had bothered to tell her where or what. …A question to raise at the next day’s early morning Sentinel meeting, she swiftly decided. That sounded better than going up to random people in Ranger Headquarters and asking.

  Besides, she had her courage worked up, so it was time to make use of her sudden free time and face the women that she had avoided for too long!

  Decision made, Ranthia flowed through the crowds as she made her way to a certain salon that she had visited often during her days in Ariminum. Along the way, she took in the sights in that once-familiar district. The cheese shop was still there—and she’d swear the building hadn’t been quite so large before—though most of the stalls that she passed were unfamiliar. The sandal seller she’d frequented as an Adventurer was gone, replaced by a jeweler that sold elaborately carved wooden beads for accessories. The fashion shop where she had bought the fancy garment—which she had learned was a dress—long ago still stood, though the storefront had changed slightly from what she remembered. And when she peeked inside, they seemed to only sell garishly dyed togas, which was rather disappointing. Worse, the stall that used to sell rabbit stew was also gone, and she couldn’t catch a whiff of rabbit stew from the myriad scents in the air. The dolls that the new stall sold were cute, but Ranthia selfishly chose to hate them anyway. She had looked forward to patroning her favorite stall again!

  Ranthia was still dressed in her Sentinel armor with her sunburst badge on her chest, and was unsurprised that people gave her space. A few politely greeted her as “Sentinel” while she passed—or “Ranger,” which probably wasn’t surprising—but no one seemed eager to engage her in conversation. Hawkers never focused on her. Pickpockets chose other streets to work when they noticed her presence.

  Ranthia did stop at one stall to grab some food. Grilled meat and vegetables on bamboo skewers was—as far as she knew—a flavor that was unique to Remus, and she had kind of missed it. Her nose led her a bit out of her way, but the stall plainly had the best-smelling skewers in the vicinity. After waiting in line—which made a couple of people transparently nervous (groan)—she exchanged a handful of coins for two fistfuls of delight.

  After she finished her food, Ranthia found herself feeling all too tempted to visit the baths before she stopped by the salon. She hadn’t visited her old favorite bathhouse still, and the idea of indulging in a long soak after her journey was intoxicating. But no, she knew herself well enough—she knew that she was trying to make excuses. It was just yet another urge to put off doing something that was ‘scary’ in a way that fighting for her life somehow wasn’t.

  She was being ridiculous.

  She didn’t even need to visit a bathhouse; she had switched to a fresh image shortly before entering the city and she hadn’t been travelling long enough—or pressing herself hard enough—for her still-new armor’s lining to smell. She hadn’t even gotten any juices or any of the sauce from the skewers on her hands! …Somehow. It wasn’t like she had consciously put much effort into not making a mess, it was fairly inevitable with skewers in her experience. Or at least it used to be. It wasn’t like those skewers had been dry or anything either—they were definitely the delightfully messy sort of food that she had loved.

  Further evidence that stats got weird at her level, she supposed.

  …Oh, Xaoc take these distractions! Ranthia chided herself silently before she forced herself to just walk straight to the salon.

  The place was still there, practically unchanged—an echo of the past that held strong despite the intervening years, at least from the outside. Some noisy piece of her mind yet again clawed for an escape route and she found herself wrestling with her nerves and insecurity anew. But no—she was just visiting an old friend. Her heart barely even hurt anymore when she thought of Hexara. Mostly. On good days.

  Damn these fears and doubts—she could do this! She was a high level badass; she could face someone that broke her heart almost a decade ago and smile!

  Fueled by her latest frustrated self-admonishment, Ranthia finally entered the salon.

  “Hello there… oh wow, a Sentinel! Haven’t seen any of you in person before! And wow, you’re a woman too…! I didn’t know there were any other than Sentinel Aurora, not since Sentinel Dawn! And you’re so tall and muscular and—oh gods what am I doing? Ahem. Welcome, how may we assist you?”

  Behind the counter, the poor young woman’s face had gone absolutely scarlet. The kid was barely a woman old enough to be trusted with business matters, and Ranthia had inadvertently left the girl so starstruck that whatever Skills and training the youth had in customer relations unraveled.

  Ranthia chuckled good naturedly, waving the girl’s concerns off. It was oddly satisfying to see that other people had to deal with their train of thought outrunning their consciousness sometimes. She wasn’t alone!

  “Hi, is Hexara in?” She asked once the kid seemed to have composed herself.

  “Who?”

  …What? Ranthia had roleplayed so many scenarios in her head and yet had, somehow, failed to consider that response.

  High speed thoughts went through her mind. Was… Hexara dead? It had been eight years since she last saw the woman. But she wasn’t exactly old, what could have happened!? Elaborate theories wove through her head and heart, even as she struggled to force her face and voice to remain neutral while she sought more information.

  “Hexara. She was the [Sexy] stylist here last time I came in?” Ranthia clarified as she struggled with her fears.

  “Oh, that’s Gaia now. I’ve worked here for nearly four years now and I haven’t heard of anyone named Hexara. Mind giving me a moment? I can check with some of the other women that have been here longer.” The young woman requested. She seemed to have retreated into somewhat stiff formality, not that Ranthia could appreciate the kid’s dedication to doing her job.

  Ranthia managed to nod to the young woman, who smiled bashfully and hurriedly (for her level) retreated behind a closed door. Left alone, Ranthia had nothing to distract her from her fears and increasingly improbable what-if scenarios. But she just couldn’t imagine Hexara voluntarily leaving the salon, Hexara had loved being a stylist. Death was the only explanation to her panicking mind. Why had no one mentioned a plague rampaging through Ariminum while she was gone?!

  Too late. She had been selfish for too long, and it was too late to make things right.

  She would—

  “Hi Sentinel! Some of the others knew her! She moved about five years ago to a different city. Would you happen to be Ranthia?” The counter girl called out. Ranthia hadn’t even noticed the door opening again, but the girl only had her head poking out.

  Ranthia’s thought processes derailed cataclysmically.

  “Yes?” Ranthia replied.

  Why did she phrase her affirmation as a question?! She knew her name! She was Sentinel Ranthia! …Wait…

  Godsdamnit, she needed to breathe.

  “Yay! One more moment!” The young woman vanished again.

  Ranthia wasn’t entirely certain if she had a coherent thought while the girl was absent. It felt like something had shattered in her mind. Emotional whiplash should never come thrice in a row! She just focused on breathing through the short—or at least it felt short—wait for the young woman to return.

  “Okay, so apparently Hexara left a scroll here for us to give you if you ever came looking for her! Buuuut, we’re not sure where it is right now? Would you be interested in an appointment with Gaia while we look for it? We’ll give you a Sentinel discount! …I really, really should have made sure I had permission to offer that before I said it, I was just thinking I wanted to ask them if we could offer one. What is wrong with me today?” The kid grimaced.

  The coherent pieces of Ranthia sympathized with the young woman. She had been there far, far too many times to not feel a kinship with the young woman’s struggle.

  “Sure.” Ranthia agreed.

  A few more pieces of her mind returned to coherence, enough to briefly feel guilty that she hadn’t thought to wave off the unauthorized discount offer. But she saw an opportunity too. She could find out what fashion in Remus had become! The hairstyles and cosmetics that were part of her eight-year-old images were definitely antiquated after so much time spent without exposure to the new styles of the capital. It was always best to blend in with whatever was popular, at least so long as it still suited her.

  It was the same room, but all traces of Hexara were gone. The cosmetics were arranged differently. Hexara’s little personal decorative touches were absent or replaced with a stranger’s tastes. Altogether, it was profoundly uncomfortable for Ranthia to sit there, on what was likely the same chair. She had done ill-advised things with her former lover on that chair!

  She just closed her eyes and tried to relax—she’d given the woman that she had never met before permission to do what she thought would look best with Ranthia’s build (and her blue-and-silver mistweave blindfold), so long as the woman kept Ranthia’s hair at the same length it currently was or shorter.

  The unknown [Stylist] just hummed, rather than engaging Ranthia in conversation. Normally Ranthia suspected that she would have found that off-putting, but she welcomed the chance to remain silent while she recuperated mentally. At least Hexara was still alive, she just wouldn’t know where until the missing scroll was located.

  But after a bit, the woman’s humming took on a strained quality. The volume of her humming decreased as the woman’s discomfort obviously built. Ranthia wasn’t sure what the problem was, but she was willing to trust the process.

  “Um, my lady Sentinel?” The woman finally spoke.

  “Mmn?” Ranthia… well, not quite asked, but the intent was clear. After all, the woman’s tone clearly indicated that there was some sort of problem.

  “Uh, well. I seem to be too low level to help you?” The woman answered in a very hesitant tone.

  “…What?” Ranthia opened her eyes beneath her blindfold.

  How would that even work?!

  “Been trying to work on your hair. You’re completely resisting every Skill I use. Got multiple levels from trying, but… I’m guessing you’re not using some sort of Skill that would resist this?” The woman explained in the same hesitant tone, as if she was afraid of inciting Ranthia’s wrath.

  Was that a fourth emotional whiplash, or was this surprise more mundane and somewhat expected? Ranthia wasn’t sure. She had never even heard of being [Stylist]-proof, but then again, she was level 627. This poor woman was… Level 74? …Yeah, it probably wasn’t a surprise that the poor woman wasn’t able to even cut Ranthia’s hair.

  Then Ranthia found herself distracted by wondering if level 74 was just low for a stylist in the capital. Unsuccessfully, she tried to recall what level Hexara had been—that felt like something she should have remembered, but she just couldn’t recall. Her mindset struggled to recalibrate to the levels ranges she knew and expected back before she experienced the world beyond Remus. Level 74, for a woman in her late 20s would be… hm. She suspected that it would be maybe a touch low level for her age and job but not like alarmingly low. Maybe?

  “Begging the Sentinel’s pardon, but what level are you?” The [Stylist] asked.

  “613, 627, and 193.” Ranthia replied automatically.

  Her mind was fully occupied with her level assessment tangent. Or, at least, it was up until the moment she was wrenched out of her thoughts by a loud crash. At a glance, it seemed that the [Stylist] had collapsed into her small worktable and knocked over her tools and supplies. …Worse, the woman looked positively stricken.

  Ranthia silently cursed herself for casually sharing something that shattered the poor woman’s worldview, even as she swiftly rose to help her.

  Naturally, a few moments later, other salon workers rushed into the room. No doubt drawn by the racket. It really was eerily reminiscent of the moment that Hexara realized she knew Ranthia, back when they reunited in the same room.

  “We are so sorry Sentinel!”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  After the situation was explained, a woman that Ranthia had seen back when she was seeing Hexara—but had never directly interacted with—knelt in front of her, head down, to apologize. It was like everyone was trying to treat Ranthia as if she were some capricious governor with a penchant for cruelty that had been accidentally scorned! Several other women from the salon watched nervously—visibly afraid for their spokeswoman (or boss, maybe). Some of them were ashen faced, as if they expected the woman to be cut down before their eyes!

  “It’s okay… Really…” Ranthia gently urged the woman and the other salon workers.

  By Xaoc, how was she supposed to deal with this?!

  It took far too long, but at length Ranthia finally left the salon. She asked them to send Hexara’s message to Ranger Headquarters, since it had yet to be located. She just wanted out of the building.

  Yet again, she had found herself treated like a dangerous monster by everyone around her, just because of her level! She just wanted to help people! Well, yes, she wanted to spread chaos too—but not like that; she never wanted to spread fear. The feeling of helping people always sparked joy—it felt great!—but the sight of other people getting terrified just because she was trying to fucking coexist felt…

  Gods and goddesses, it felt terrible.

  Could she even truly help anyone anymore? Was she relegated to being a monster that clashed with and slew other monsters before leaving?

  Dark thoughts chased her as she made her way back to the hidden Sentinel area and returned to her room. She was done for the day, even if the sun hadn’t quite set yet.

  A largely restless night later, Ranthia made her way to the Sentinel meeting and settled into one of the surprisingly comfortable plush chairs. She wasn’t the first to arrive, but it didn’t take long for the others to filter in either. The Sentinel that had assigned her previous job was present, along with Sentinel Nose (not his title, but it was his most prominent feature) and a man that Ranthia hadn’t yet met. Nose did a double take at her presence when he stepped through the door, before he stiffly found his seat while the new guy waved and settled into his own. Sentinel Ocean—the one person she was actually confident of the name of—still wasn’t back from his own mission, it seemed.

  “You’ve got to be Sentinel Grace. I’m Sentinel Seeking. If I can touch something, I can find it later! Just got back from tracking a smuggling ring a couple of days ago.” The stranger greeted her.

  Ranthia politely greeted Sentinel Finding—wait, was that right?—and waited for the inevitable call to give her report. She wasn’t feeling very sociable, but at least no one in the room was terrified of her.

  Naturally, the Sentinel with the name that made her think of bugs for some reason—now if only she could remember what his name was—called on her as soon as he verified that no one had urgent business.

  Ranthia kept her report short and factual. The rush that she made to reach Sardonia, and thoughts on how she might have shaved off time. That the town had already been invaded before she arrived. She cursorily summarized how she eliminated each goblin or group that she found until all known goblins were slain. That was accompanied by a brief overview of the few survivors she rescued and why she left the others in their secure locations. No, she didn’t have the final casualty tallies; she hadn’t stayed long enough for that. She made sure to clearly note the Adventurers that had tried to hold the line to buy time for the civilian exodus—and how they provided her with invaluable information about the situation. She also briefly covered her post-battle clean-up of the remainder of the war goblins and her limited contributions to the efforts to prepare the dens for others to seal off—after all, every Adventurer knew that a goblin nest left to rot would cause sickness to spread.

  The one thing she intentionally didn’t share was the survivor’s fear and discomfort around her. That was just a personal matter.

  No one had any serious critiques for how she handled the mission. Her priority had been to root out the war goblins, not run rescue operations or start a fire brigade. Sentinel Locating (or whatever) suggested that she could have found the mayor or someone else that managed the town instead of relying on an Adventurer’s information, but even he didn’t seem to feel much enthusiasm for his words.

  “Any questions?” Sentinel Swarm prompted the group.

  That was when the meeting’s structure and sanity was lost.

  Clearly, Ranthia had sparked a problem just by confiding about her journey and her wishes that she had done more to shave time off the rushed journey! Gods and goddesses!

  By the time she left the meeting, three things were clear. First, she was fast by Remus’ pathetic standards—to the point that even so-called specialists (at less than half her level) were wildly outclassed. Second, while she might have known that, clearly every Sentinel that was currently present in the capital was obnoxiously jealous of her level and stats. And third, she needed to be more careful about bruised egos while she was a Sentinel.

  Sentinel Nose (still not his title, but it should have been) left with a stormy expression still plain on his face. Even the nice new guy with the boring name and specialization based on finding things was obviously moody! The only one that wasn’t in a bad mood after the meeting concluded was the bug guy (who presumably had nothing to do with bugs).

  “Alright, Grace, sounds like nobody’s given you details about Sentinel life yet?” The non-moody Sentinel asked after the others left.

  Ranthia just shook her head.

  “Right, well clear your schedule, ‘cause I am going to swarm you with knowledge!” The man offered with a broad smile that suggested he was making some great joke that she wasn’t getting.

  “…Y’know? Swarm you? My title? Because I’m Sentinel Swarm? …Eh, nevermind. Anyhow, follow me. I’ll show you around while we talk.” The man shook off his brief dejectedness before they left the meeting room together.

  Ranthia’s entire focus was consumed by the crash course in Sentineling. Not the field work—that was familiar enough—but the details of her duties off the field. They visited the location she was supposed to check in at and let her meet the staff that supported the Sentinels as a whole—the same ones that she had once delivered a message from Green to. After that, they visited the quartermaster to go over the different pre-built loadout kits and what was included in each. While Sentinel Overwhelm (wait, no, that was just what she was feeling) showed her various facilities, records, and resources that she now had access to, the man lectured her on support teams and how to build her own in the future. That was followed by a discussion that she nearly immediately forgot about the funding that she could access and various other minor duties that came with the job title.

  At least her teaching obligations at the Ranger Academy would be reduced since she would only be around for a year or so. Apparently, she was still expected to help with some classes and lectures and would probably need to do something for the hell months, but those details would be worked out once Sentinel Ocean returned from his mission.

  “So, how are you with social events, like parties and VIP interactions?” The man asked after they sat down in a Sentinel-only break room with food they had bought from a stall outside of Headquarters. The Sentinel that found things was already in there, eating his own lunch. He waved at them—thankfully he seemed to be over his bad mood—but remained focused on his meal.

  “Eh, not my favorite thing, admittedly, but I think I handled myself just fine after my big debut?” Ranthia hedged.

  “Well, that’s better than Aurora at least. We’ll give you a shot, we could really use a woman that can actually attend social events tailored towards women. …And, yeah, Ocean and I could use a third. Scorch is abrasive and Seeking over there has the personability of a stone block.” The man replied.

  “I resemble that remark!” The Sentinel further back called out.

  That was odd, the find-things Sentinel had seemed friendly, at least before he had gotten jealous. But Ranthia didn’t ask, decent odds he was just bad with crowds—her co-father Pupius had been that way (at least when he wasn’t drunk).

  “Right, any advice?” Ranthia asked after she rolled her eyes.

  “Just don’t cause another Pastos Incident.” Was his utter non-advice.

  “Uh-huh. Going to elaborate on that?” Ranthia replied, unable to quite prevent the hint of frostiness that slipped into her voice.

  “Hey Scorch, get in here! The new blood’s going to get briefed on Pastos!” Their distanced third wheel called out.

  The other man came running.

  “Okay, so this was before my time as a Sentinel, but I was basically Sentinel Acquisition’s right-hand man, so I got told about it as it happened anyway. I swear this is all true, but if you don’t believe me, feel free to check the After Action Report on the Pastos Incident yourself in the Sentinel report archive I showed you earlier. Fall, 4798.

  “Anyway, Sentinel Dawn was still pretty new and Ranger Command had the brilliant idea of using her [Pretty] face as the social face for the Sentinels instead of relying on Ocean. So, they finally decided to assign a social gathering to her…”

  Ranthia listened to the story of her one-time savior with low expectations that budded into amusement, before her mood blossomed into incredulous laughter.

  “Oh Xaoc, how?!” Ranthia demanded as she tried to reign in the laughter, though a few giggles still escaped.

  “Oh, I’m not even done yet. The worst bit’s yet to come…”

  Ranthia absorbed the rest of the story and took a few moments to process—and laugh—once it was done. But, after everything…

  “Okay, no, that had to be intentional. There is no possible way she was that damned oblivious!” Ranthia decided.

  “Want to put money on that?” The nose that wore a Sentinel asked.

  “…What?” Ranthia asked out of confusion.

  “The official explanation was ‘accident,’ but yeah, we have a betting pool over the actual reason. Night probably knows, but he’ll never tell. So, we keep our money, but if Dawn ever shows up again, we’ll ask. And we expect everyone to pay up to whoever got it right. Eight rods.” Sentinel Swarm explained.

  “You have to join in. People made fun of me for my ‘it’s her curse’ theory—as if it wasn’t an open secret that she had some Skill that cursed people in exchange for making them younger—but yours is obviously worse. Easy money when I turn out to be right.” The nose’s mouth insisted.

  “Fine, I’m in for eight rods. She had to have done it on purpose to get out of the social crap. …But seriously, Dawn’s on the wall, why are we acting like we’ll get to ask her someday?” Ranthia asked after she shook the hands of each of the men present to formalize her own wager.

  “She disappeared while on a rescue mission to the fae realm. We still keep eyes on that mushroom circle—though the facility we built around where it was got transferred to Ariminum’s guards seven years back. Talk to Guard Captain Athena if you ever want to see it for yourself. But yeah, with fae involved, no one would be surprised if she popped back up someday.” Sentinel Swarm casually explained, as if he wasn’t uttering some of the most horrifying things Ranthia had ever heard.

  Fuck!

  After lunch—and explosive secrets casually handed out in lieu of dessert—Swarm took her out to show her some government facilities that she had access to. Public records repositories, a secret labyrinth of tunnels that led… pretty much everywhere. A gigantic arcanite core that powered almost every inscription in the city. Mundane things. But finally, nearly dinner time, the man announced that he had shown her everything that he needed to.

  They had ended up back outside of the same meeting room they had started in.

  “I have to say, I’m glad you’re here. We’ve been short a powerhouse in Remus that doesn’t need to be on the water for too long, and it’ll be good to have a woman Sentinel who isn’t Sentinel Aurora around. She’s great, she’s just… very much a career soldier and doesn’t do charming. You though, you’ve already got invitations to quite a few parties and events. Don’t worry, I’ll get someone to screen those for you and give you ones that you should consider mandatory and a few you can selectively choose from as you can that would be helpful to attend. Just don’t cause an incident, please.” Sentinel Swarm concluded.

  Ranthia nodded along.

  “I look forward to working with you and the others. One last question though, you keep calling yourself our information guy, but your name sounds more like one that would be used by a speedster attacker?” Ranthia asked.

  “…No one even told you about our smoke and mirrors? Ugh, why do I keep expecting Night to have done anything to prepare you. Right, let me introduce you then.” He replied.

  He whistled and, after just enough time that Ranthia was starting to think he was making another joke she wouldn’t get, a yellow and black insect came flying out of some nook or cranny. The bug buzzed over and landed on his outstretched palm before he held it up to Ranthia.

  “You ask the average citizen about me and… well, okay they’d probably have no idea who I am. But, say you ask someone that’s a fan of the Sentinels or buys Ranger Convocation tickets every two years. They’d tell you I was a beekeeper and I have a—possibly impossible—companion bond with all of my hives of honeybees. This is the first layer of misdirection for me, and why I was almost named Sentinel Vespidae. But take a closer look.”

  The insect was yellow and black, but it wasn’t fuzzy like any bee she had ever seen. It was more angular and—

  “What in Xaoc’s name is that?!” Ranthia hissed as she backed away.

  There was something yellow and black that was growing out from the insect. Something that she suspected was fungal.

  “Misdirection number two. I have a whole swarm of wasps, yes, but I have no companion bond. My second class is my highest level one, much like yours. The Spore class lets me control small insects. I have a bunch of ants too. The insects’ve got their uses, but I mostly use them for a delivery vector for my first class.” His eyes twinkled; the man clearly enjoyed showing off his secrets.

  Ranthia, of course, was aware that he was an [Artisan – Wood] level 297 and [Mage – Spore] level 342.

  “I’m probably the best inscriptionist in Remus these days. I did all the inscriptions in your—er, well, everyone else’s armor. It’s why I used to work for a retired Sentinel, Acquisition. I invented an inscription that let me make small wooden beads that would, when activated, record a short bit of dialogue, then I could connect them to a larger inscription to play it back. My wasps could deliver them almost anywhere, then bite the last connection in place. Ended up generating a lot of the intel he used for years. When he unilaterally decided to retire and get out of Ariminum with his family—not how we’re supposed to do that by the way, asshole literally just left a scroll saying he quit and disappeared without even telling me. He just left a scroll for the Sentinels that shared my existence and named me as his replacement! Sorry, still kind of bitter about that.

  “Anyway, getting back on track… Obviously, I do a lot of stuff with my sound beads, but my real passion is in inscription research. The coalition has been like a never-ending festival for me on that front. Night constantly brings me new inscriptions—enchantments as some of them call it—and ideas that he saw being used by the dwarves, elves, or shimagu.” The man dipped back into pride as he muscled past his miniature rant.

  “Like the stasis inscription my Avyna had to keep her fruit fresh longer.”

  Ranthia had almost said ‘my girlfriend’ and then corrected it to Avyna… a bit late. Ironically, the result ended up even more romantically entangled! Not that Swarm seemed to notice.

  “Oooh, could you redraw those? I’m still trying to improve the ones I’ve learned. I still can’t even get them to work for some reason.”

  The man was certainly enthusiastic about his inscription work. She more-or-less playfully said as much out loud while she tried to trace what she could remember on a scroll he provided. It wasn’t much, unfortunately, and the result was far less and far worse than she had expected when she started. She hadn’t really paid close attention to them—she was always far more interested in the exquisite elf that used them.

  “Hm, this still might help guide my attempts to improve what I’ve got. My thanks to you either way. And yes, yes I am. Mark my words, in the future [Mages] will look foolish. Inscriptions promise a path toward magic that will eclipse any mage—just imagine a caster that can use any element. …Eventually. Hope I get to live to see the day.” He grinned wryly.

  Ranthia was less impressed. To her, it sounded as if the man sought to reinvent charged gemstones. Though she was probably slightly jaded by her inability to use inscriptions or gemstones, she was willing to admit that much.

  “Anyhow, I should let you go for now. There should be a few scrolls in your room that you’ll need to get filled out or sign, just official scrollwork. If you don’t like the report Seeking wrote for you, feel free to write your own. And seriously, welcome to the team. Your… incident on arrival aside, you seem reasonable, and I look forward to working with you!” The man waved as he turned to depart.

  Two turns down hallways later, the man started muttering to himself. Even classers were starting to underestimate her hearing.

  “At least she seems reasonable. Makes the friggin’ recommendation against her that Night filed even more baffling—she seems more sensible than most of the others. He even had me nervous with the reason why she was suddenly named a Sentinel, but—”

  “What in Xaoc’s name are you talking about?!” Ranthia interrupted the man mid-monologue from immediately behind him.

  The man spun around with a gasp and his face was positively stricken. Not that she had any real sympathy, honestly it was his own fault. The man worked his jaw for several long moments before he sighed.

  “Ugh, damn your vitality. Okay, look, I’m going to tell you because I don’t want you making assumptions that would probably be worse. If it ever comes up, you dug through the records and saw this for yourself. You were a Sentinel candidate ever since Massilix, even before you reported in—Ocean learned enough that he recommended you and Hunting had left a standing recommendation for you too when you ‘grew into it.’ Night disagreed to the extent that he officially lodged a recommendation against you. Things changed when he heard that the base you were assigned to actually held out behind enemy lines.” Sentinel Swarm’s voice was low, and he kept looking around as if he was expecting eavesdroppers.

  “Why did he change his mind?” Ranthia dealt with the more pressing matter that his words generated first.

  “Even I’m not supposed to know this, but I’m the information guy for the Sentinels for a reason. He was worried you would be hostile toward the military. Even before he learned that the emperor’s pet project, Statia, died in a battle you survived. He pressed your Sentinel vote through as an urgent matter to keep you from literally tearing into Remus’ leadership.”

  That…

  …That was probably a valid concern, she had to admit. She thought back to her temperament when she first arrived in Coalition City. The force of generals that met her and the arrogant demands they made. They clearly believed there was some danger, given the ‘elite’ soldiers they had present. And the frustration of her people had definitely been real.

  Would she have seriously attacked the generals had Night not declared her beyond their reach?

  Gods and goddesses, she wasn’t confident that the answer was no. Logically, it would have been suicide. Night would have been obligated to stop her. And he was far from the only powerhouse in the coalition that outclassed her. There had to be immortals that could have ended her with a thought had she started trouble.

  It was yet another point in time that her story could have easily come to an end. It was somewhat ironic that she had done everything she could with the System—including probable miracles—to make herself unkillable, yet she had practically lost count of the number of times she had nearly died. Events where if she played them out again a thousand times, the majority would have resulted in her end. The kraken. The battles against the shimagu twins. Danger raised by her own poor judgment was a more consistent companion though, such as her first clash with the war goblins or the ornithocheirus flock. And only from the lips of a man who hadn’t even been present had she realized another near disaster that she had never even noticed.

  She was more than a little unsettled by the line of thought and the questions it raised.

  Ranthia just waved to Sentinel Swarm and made her way back to her room. She needed to chew on her thoughts—again—and doing some clerical work sounded like a good way to keep herself occupied while she tried to work through everything. Reading and writing had once been a chore that she had struggled with, but at some point, it had become practically a mindless task.

  And gods and goddesses, she needed a mindless task. Dark thoughts often made her restless.

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  Nozomi Matsuoka.

  Sarah "Neila" Elkins.