[Vision of the Void] let Ranthia learn a lot more about the logistics involved in just making Sentinel Aurora function. The landing platform looked solid, but it actually concealed three massive chunks of arcanite—far larger than any Ranthia had seen before—that were on a rotating platform.

  And the woman drew so much mana it dimmed.

  There were crates and barrels set about in specially marked and color-coded sections. Ranthia was fairly certain that the colors were a misdirection though, as she peeked into their contents. Most of what they were bringing back were scrolls—presumably a mixture of reports and personal messages that were being sent back into Remus (not that she could somehow read closed scrolls)—but there were also numerous empty crates and barrels. There were a few colorful crates bore goods that were plainly of elven or dwarven make too. Though the crates that were stacked 4x2 were actually hollow shells, hiding additional large chunks of arcanite.

  …Which raised significant questions about how the woman had managed to evacuate anything when she was a Ranger. A single piece of the arcanite that she travelled with was significantly larger than the arcanite their wagons carried—and there were five of them!

  Ranthia tried to keep her awe off her face as she allowed the dockhands to position her on a specific spot and stood there daydreaming about Avyna while she waited for her journey back to Remus to begin.

  The [Starship] Sentinel Aurora could conjure was, if anything, even more beautiful and breathtaking than it had been six years ago. Perhaps the additional levels the woman had earned had filled it out more or, perhaps, it was just Ranthia’s senses being absurdly more detailed than they used to be.

  It was also a much more miserable trip.

  Last time, Sentinel Aurora had wrapped the whole ship in a barrier of Gale that kept out the wind and the cold. This time, the woman kept only herself wrapped up in her Skills. Her excuse was the bit of cargo they carried that was perishable. Literally, a single crate of exotic fruits.

  …Ranthia was less than convinced that any of them needed to be chilled. More likely, it was intended as petty revenge against her—over Aurora’s indiscretions during Ranthia’s own birthday! She had never really appreciated just how cold the sky could be at great heights though. Ranthia had no idea why it was so much colder up high than it was near the ground—the warmth of Pallos was apparently quite literal—but she was sorely wishing that she had bought a good, thick blanket or a new traveller’s cloak before she left. Vitality let her endure it, but it didn’t make the cold pleasant.

  So much for her hopes of grabbing a nap during the trip. There was no way she could snooze while she was that cold—it reminded her far too much of the worst winter nights back in the Unbreakable Image.

  Ranthia just sat in misery—pacing exposed more of her body to the cold—and waited for the inevitable.

  There was no ambiguity about when they actually entered the Dead Zone. Pallos itself seemed to lose something essential—a vibrancy that the world possessed that the lush territory of Remus inexplicably lacked. Ranthia felt almost gross. She’d been tempted to leap off the pretty flying ship of stars and run back to Avyna ever since they took off, and the desire nearly overwhelmed her better sense as that invisible border was crossed.

  She was being ridiculous. She had lived the majority of her life in Remus. She could get used to the sensation again.

  Probably.

  Bits of civilization showed up, then soon enough they were passing within sight of towns and small cities as they moved deeper into Remus and ever closer to their destination: Ariminum. Surprisingly, Aurora verbally confirmed as much.

  “Oh, and Grace?” The woman prompted.

  “Mn?” Ranthia was too cold to talk.

  “Fuck you.” Sentinel Aurora continued with a malicious smile. Even as she cancelled the portion of the ship that Ranthia was curled up on.

  Ranthia’s own curses that she shouted as she fell were far more creative and more than a bit foul.

  As far as petty revenge plots went, Aurora’s was, well, petty (obviously), but ultimately fairly trivial to overcome too.

  Ranthia had time to finish her tirade and come to her senses enough to confirm the direction of Ariminum. If Aurora had dropped her before Ariminum was in view things would have been far more difficult. With that, Ranthia put an image on the ground and shifted. All well before she would have impacted the ground.

  Easy, harmless, and—

  Wrong image!

  Ranthia had gotten so used to using the same slot out of [Image Recall] during her long stint in the war that she used it on instinct. She wasn’t wearing her armor, and it didn’t include her backpack! There wasn’t time to think her next moves through, so she acted. An instant of momentum and she embraced the rhythm of the immediate crisis.

  Her former body—with her backpack filled with invaluable and irreplaceable pears—was still falling. The mistweave tunic and backpack themselves would be fine (presumably) after impacting the ground once the image shattered, but the pears sure wouldn’t be. The body was nearing the tree line already, she had moments.

  Ranthia couldn’t worry about whether or not it was possible; even with her perception and body pushed to their limits there was still precious little time. She acted. A running leap carried her to the top of a tree and—with a silent apology to the tree—she kicked off of it and launched herself at her falling image.

  Her images were resilient, but they were still comparatively fragile—even before her concerns about the pears factored in. The speeds she was moving at were largely incompatible with fragile, but she had to trust her grace and her dexterity.

  Ranthia caught her image and rapidly adjusted her arms to absorb and bleed its downward momentum, even as her forward momentum brought her toward another tree. As gently as she could manage, she kicked off the first branch that she reached—expecting it to snap off anyway—then flipped down to another branch, which she lightly hopped off from.

  She landed, with her former image cradled in her arms and finally was able to take a moment to marvel at what she had just done. The image hadn’t broken! Ranthia carefully set it down and shifted back into it, then dismissed her nude image—thank Xaoc, no one seemed to be in the area—while she looked around.

  …There was no trace of harm inflicted. The tree that she had used as her springboard and gained so much momentum off of was barely swaying—as if a stronger wind had passed it than the surrounding trees. There were no falling branches from any tree that she had touched.

  Just an irate squirrel that she was pretty sure was already barking at her before she pulled off her feat.

  The Dead Zone was awful in ways she had forgotten to dread, but Remus itself was blessedly warm after her flight. It was almost enough to make her forgive Aurora for dropping her, but only almost. She danced through the wilderness in a straight shot for Ariminum, chasing the wake of the [Starship] as it made its own journey. She was fast in ways she hadn’t quite appreciated—the Unbreakable Image wasn’t exactly a place where she could just… run for a long while—but the damned vessel was faster still.

  Ranthia had just enough time to work herself back into a fury over the woman’s behavior—seriously, it was Ranthia’s birthday!—before she reached Ariminum. The gates were closed, but they weren’t an obstacle. The wall and gates were riddled with gaps to allow arrows and spears to be used against anything outside of Ariminum.

  Ranthia put an image on the other side and shifted.

  The guards were less than amused at her illegal entry into the city. Though they were also extremely aware of the fact that she very, very nearly out-leveled the combined level of all six guards that responded.

  In the end, between her self-identifying as Sentinel Grace, the sunburst badge in her hand, and her stated purpose of needing to get to the government facility before Sentinel Aurora left so she could punch the—pretend Ranthia just used the word ‘woman,’ it’s politer—in the face… the guards decided they wanted no part of any of it.

  Luckily, landing was an involved process with the [Starship]. The platforms were made for it, but Aurora still had to carefully lower the ship, cancelling it bit by bit, to avoid breaking anything. It gave Ranthia the time she needed to catch up.

  Ranthia arrived just in time, not that she followed any proper procedures, nor took the stairs. Aurora finished her brief discussion with the man in charge of the sky dock and found Ranthia there.

  Ranthia stormed straight up to Sentinel Aurora, her intentions obvious. Her bracer was already flowing down over her right fist—but not into a knife.

  Sentinel Aurora smugly put up a Celestial barrier before Ranthia could throw her punch.

  Ranthia’s adamantium-covered fist went straight through the barrier and broke the woman’s nose.

  And Ranthia felt so much better.

  The swarm of Legion soldiers, Praetorian Guard personnel, and the city guard were significantly less impressed with Ranthia’s actions. To their credit, the soldiers and guards actually had enough iron in their veins to detain two women that were vastly beyond their level and tier of authority. They even arranged for a drowsy [Healer] to poke both women—why were they surprised that they were both clean?!—and fix up Sentinel Aurora’s nose.

  Sentinel Night was even less amused when he arrived. The pale man was visibly angry to the extent that the guards and soldiers made themselves scarce without a fuss, freeing him up to bring the two of them to Ranger Headquarters then down through what seemed to be a hidden door. The two found themselves in what Ranthia could only assume was some hidden Sentinel meeting room.

  Night had yet to say a word. Until that moment.

  Once they set foot in that room, the floodgates opened.

  Ranthia had often thought that the man used a cart full of words where a few would suffice, but plainly when Night was angry, he became far more straightforward… and extremely repetitive.

  The salient points that he made were simple enough.

  Ranthia had managed to cause multiple incidents within moments of entering Ariminum for the first time as a Sentinel. She had disgraced both the name Sentinel and her personal identity as Grace. She was impulsive, reacted poorly, and chose her actions unacceptably. If Sentinels had problems with one another, they were to deal with them out of public view.

  Sentinel Aurora, meanwhile, knew better.

  The word infantile came up many, many times while Night got the story of what happened from both women. Apparently, Sentinel Aurora had also had a prior incident—that was not elaborated on, and Ranthia didn’t dare to ask—while under the effects of dwarven beverages, which made him doubly unimpressed that their feud began over them indulging in it.

  They both declined the offer to let them fight and get it out of their system. Ranthia, honestly, was done with the squabble and considered the score settled after her punch. …And, perhaps, she was just a touch doubtful that Aurora could pose much of a threat to her in a brawl.

  Night twice had to excuse himself from the room for a moment while he loudly broke other rooms while complaining about “reckless stupidity” and “utter foolishness” and other things. But they progressed.

  Sentinel Aurora was barred from drinking dwarven drinks unless there was no chance of her having access to any other person or risk of emergencies cropping up before she was sober—which effectively meant that she would never be able to touch the stuff again. Ranthia was to remain at Headquarters until the Ranger Convocation. The two were barred from being around one another without another Sentinel who could keep a level head present, except in an active emergency. And even the exception was delivered with an implied threat behind Night hoping that the two of them had enough sense between them to not start anything during a crisis.

  For such simple content, the lecture managed to last until mere moments before the first person walked into the room for the morning meeting.

  With how lightly she got off in terms of punishment, there was no way Ranthia was ever going to let Night know that she’d gotten multiple levels in her [Covenant] over the course of the stunt. The System just loved to tempt her to repeat her worst ideas.

  “Allow me to introduce Sentinel Grace. Her recent poor judgment notwithstanding, I am optimistic that she will be an asset to the Sentinels here in Remus. Between her presence and Sentinel Ocean’s, high level threats within Remus can once again be reliably countered. She is also uniquely suited to handling situations involving large numbers of hostiles.”

  Night was handling introductions and she was happy to let him.

  “You remember Sentinel Ocean, no doubt. He remains in charge of our operations within Remus.” The vampire gestured to the first man.

  “Of course.” Ranthia smiled and nodded to the man—and tried to disguise her shock over the fact that she had over 64 levels on the man. He had been one of the first three triple classers she had ever met! Then again, it sounded like Ocean didn’t leave Remus.

  “You are also acquainted with Sentinel Swarm, our information specialist.” Night continued.

  “It’s good to see you.” Ranthia chose a safe response. The man’s face was familiar, but she wasn’t sure she had ever heard of Sentinel… whatever Night had said. She was only mostly certain that he had been there when she met with the Sentinels after her first round.

  “And this is Sentinel Scorch. He was appointed two years ago and has the potential to someday become the fastest Sentinel.” Night concluded. It wasn’t like he needed to introduce himself or Sentinel Aurora.

  “Nice to meet you, maybe we can do some high-speed training sometime.” Ranthia offered.

  “I doubt you can keep up; heard you’re a split [Mage]/[Warrior]. I’ll hit forty thousand speed here soon.” The man retorted with a smug smile that was partially occluded by his prominent nose.

  Ranthia didn’t miss the unamused look that Night sent Sentinel uh… herd? (No.)

  “…Skills aside, I think I should keep up just fine.” Ranthia replied diplomatically.

  She was capable of avoiding escalating a situation, she just rarely had a cause to do so! But there was no reason to brag about her own speed stat and trample over the pride of a man that was roughly half her level.

  Introductions aside, there were no real action items from the meeting. Crime groups were showing more activity in and around Ariminum, but there was no sign that they were doing anything that escalated them to Sentinel-worthy problems. Other reports were even more mundane than that.

  Night and Aurora would return to Coalition City the next night.

  Ranthia was ordered to report to the quartermaster to get her gear prepared as the meeting concluded.

  If the surly old man remembered her, he didn’t show it. The man just eyed her badge with an expression that suggested he was half-tempted to bite it to make sure it was legitimate, before he finally nodded.

  “Right, what gems will you need?” The quartermaster asked.

  “Um, arcanite?” Ranthia replied, confused.

  “Ugh… Skill gems, I’m asking about skill gems. There used to be a standard loadout, but these days every Sentinel seems to run with something a bit different—as if I needed more headaches in my logistics.” The man groused.

  Ranthia had heard of skill gems. Gemstones that carried Skills from other classers. They were absurdly expensive and were generally single use—not that the gem was destroyed, but the Skill within was lost and it required a specialized classer to prime it to take another of the same element. The price and single use nature of them had prevented Ranthia from bothering with them as an Adventurer, and they were never part of the kit assigned to Rangers. As such, she had never really thought about them very much until that moment.

  What would she want?

  The possibilities were dazzling. Elemental ranged attacks that didn’t risk disarming her, utility Skills that could save her life, and Skills to subdue/capture enemies! Could she gain flight from a gem? She had no idea!

  “As long as they work with my Skills, I’d love to see what we could do!” Ranthia finally replied, once she freed herself from greedy daydreams.

  Ranthia’s words caused a delay. She had no idea why she had even said it like that!

  The quartermaster wanted her to test a gem though, which was simple enough. A simple, cheap gem that conjured a few waterskins worth of clean water—an incredibly desperate option, given the logistical problems with consuming conjured materials—was handed to her. Ranthia deposited the gem into one of her empty pouches, threw out a mirror image, and shifted to it.

  The feeling of water rushing down her leg came faster than she could reach into the pouch. Water was overflowing from the pouch and pouring down her hip and leg. Swiftly Ranthia opened the pouch, but the gem had lost its subtle glow—the Skill was spent.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Ranthia tried to shut the pouch and shift back to her former body, but she still had a pouch full of water and only succeeded in making a second mess.

  “Gaaah!” Ranthia grumbled as she tried to force herself to hold still before she spilled more water. Very carefully she removed her belt and detached the water-filled pouch—without spilling a drop—then poured the water into a proffered bucket.

  The quartermaster was watching her, with a small smile on his face. Even as she offered him the damp blue gem.

  Dreams of gem-filled solutions to all of her shortcomings were crumbling to ash.

  The quartermaster, surprisingly, allowed her to try again with another easily refilled gem. The same thing happened, except the stiff breeze that blew her pouch open was far less messy.

  When Ranthia returned the second spent gem to the aging quartermaster he had an open smile on his face as he exchanged it for a small wooden sheet with a simple-looking inscription on it.

  “Try that.” He requested.

  That time there was a brief flash of light from her closed pouch when she shifted the first time, but nothing when she shifted back to her initial body. She was far from an expert, but the inscription looked like it’d been charred when she pulled it out of her pouch.

  And the quartermaster looked suspiciously ecstatic when she handed it back.

  “Do I even want to know?” Ranthia asked moodily.

  “You’ll waste any gem, and it sure as shit looks like you’ll burn out inscriptions before you can get any use out of ‘em. You just became the cheapest Sentinel I’ve ever geared in my entire career.” The man replied in a tone that was almost gleeful.

  Ranthia, as part of her efforts to be less terrible of a person, cleaned up the water herself.

  With that done, the unnervingly smug and happy quartermaster took her back to the armorer. The woman had been young and prickly back when Ranthia had previously met her, but she had grown to be roughly thirty and looked half-feral.

  “What?!” The woman snarled at them the instant they opened her door.

  “Sentinel Grace, she needs armor.” The quartermaster answered.

  “Mn, let me guess ‘Oh, I like the usual stuff, I just need it stuffed with arcanite and gemstones. No creativity here.’” The woman replied moodily.

  “Actually, no, I broke the laminar of my War Ranger suit. I really need something that can match my flexibility.” Ranthia interjected, before the two could start an argument.

  To demonstrate, she lifted herself on the toes of one foot—straining her sandal to its limits—while she stretched out her other foot and bent over backwards until she was able to rest her hands on either side of the ankle of the foot she was balanced on.

  “Now that’s just unsettling.” The quartermaster grumbled.

  The armorer, on the other hand, was smiling—which was more than a little worrying with her half-crazed face.

  “Oho! I remember you! The dancer! Yessssss, you took my advice and became a Sentinel! Wait right there just like that, I’ve got some ideas!” The woman started to tear through a rack of scrolls, checking and discarding them rapidly.

  “Actually, get naked for me, I need to measure everything! Away with you, dirty old tightwad—you have no role in my domain, not for this.” The woman paused to give instructions to Ranthia and fix a glare on the quartermaster.

  The quartermaster just grunted before he left.

  Ranthia, thankfully, had the sense to wear her under armor garments—which were deemed “acceptable” by the woman. Scrolls were laid out, then, once Ranthia was back in her example pose, the woman thoroughly measured her. Ranthia went through several other poses, both exaggerated and combat plausible while the armorer checked measurements and adjusted figures that she was jotting down.

  Ranthia’s requirements were ‘simple,’ she needed to maximize flexibility as much as possible. She had no need for gems or inscriptions—apparently—and just needed all of the arcanite that could fit into her armor without sacrificing flexibility.

  Oh, and no bracers—she very nearly forgot that.

  The armorer seemed to come more and more alive as she worked through what was necessary, until Ranthia lost the woman’s attention entirely. She was comparing her figures with sixteen different open scrolls while muttering to herself about segments and connectors.

  At length, Ranthia decided that the woman was done with her. Which meant she could finally get some sleep.

  A week had passed. Ranthia was still confined until the Ranger Convocation and was growing impatient with her inability to do much more than just train and exercise. Sure, the facilities for the Sentinels were nice—the heavily inscribed weights were incredibly novel too—but it left her more than a little restless. Sentinels Night and Aurora had left Remus again. The other three Remus-assigned Sentinels came and went, but none of them were interested in sparring. Her level was just too high—even Ocean could only hope to match her in water, and for all of the Sentinel amenities, they didn’t have a large enough pool to do that.

  The daily meetings continued to provide little entertainment. …Okay, the lake monster that was reported by several dozen sources that turned out to be a floating log was kind of funny. At least to those of them that hadn’t gotten dispatched to deal with it.

  At long last though, Ranthia got to pick up her armor late into the night—finally, she couldn’t finish getting ready without it—and tried it out in a quick dance. Unfortunately, she had to hurry; she spent the rest of the night building a few new images and barely finished ahead of the Ranger Convocation.

  Ranthia waited in full gear, formal cape equipped, in an empty room. Through a small gap in the wall, she watched the Ranger Convocation and waited for her cue. …And aggressively tried to not think too much about why there were rooms around that room that had cleverly concealed spyholes.

  She would have never expected becoming a Sentinel to reveal just how creepy her empire was!

  “And now, I get a rare privilege. The Indomitable Wall is the final resting place for all too many of our names. But every once in a while, we get a special opportunity to reclaim a name from the wall. A Ranger that was believed to be lost that returns to our fold, intact. Some of you likely remember the last time that happened.”

  The Ranger Commander—a new one that looked vaguely familiar, but hadn’t been among those that were there when she was made a War Ranger—paused to allow a Ranger near the back to make a self-defensive interjection that Ranthia couldn’t quite make out through the chuckles that filled the space between them.

  “This Ranger was believed to have been lost to the threat of the shimagu. Behind enemy lines this Ranger endured and thrived! Like a true Ranger, the fight continued!”

  The man was obviously working the crowd, quite successfully.

  “And never forget these words as I tell you this tale! A Ranger. At least one round. The undisputed best in their field. A grand feat. An open seat. The ability to survive on your own. Powerful combat prowess. Able to move through Remus and beyond, solving problems.”

  Stick the obvious conclusion in the front.

  “This Ranger was part of the war, where the shimagu promptly sent their best to counter the threat! Two of their dreaded twins were cut down, one after the other! The first level 650, the second level 900!”

  A bit of puffery there, the levels were slightly lower.

  “Armies broke trying to overcome this Ranger, but we Rangers endure against all that threaten us!”

  A brief cheer of affirmations.

  “A Ranger that achieved level 648! And has over eighty thousand in at least one stat!”

  Neither of those was quite accurate. Yet.

  “I give you one of the most powerful humans in history! She left this hall a Ranger! Now, six years later, she returns! Ranger Ranthia’s name is hereby stricken from the Indomitable Wall, and it is my distinct honor to present to you: the Graceful Sentinel!”

  With those words, Ranthia sent a mirror image into the room—a new one made for this specific occasion—and shifted into it. Her new armor—flexible, segmented layers that hugged the arcanite-infused lining—was unlike any that Remus had ever seen (at least according to the armorer). It was paired along with the haircut she grew to prefer during her time with Ranger Team 6, the makeup Tertia helped her perfect, and her green-and-gold mistweave blindfold—all tied together by the cape that she requested, a shade of green that matched her blindfold (which had amused the armorer for some reason). Ranthia presented herself with a broad smile on her face as she stood proudly before the Rangers.

  And the crowd went wild.

  The speeches had concluded. Ranthia’s own had been prewritten by others, though she had approved the contents. It was fairly devoid of real content, though at her own request she was able to get a section crediting the skills she learned at Ranger Academy with her success behind enemy lines—she was more than a bit surprised that no one else had added something like that in. The Ranger Commanders loved the speech, and each of them pulled off a very convincing appearance of having heard it for the first time.

  With the speeches done, it was time for the usual party and mingling. A large mob of VIPs had moved straight for Ranthia, but the Rangers that moved for her were far, far faster.

  “Raaaanntthiiiiaaaaaaa!!!”

  Ranthia grunted politely as Pyra and Lysia slammed into her, one after another. Their weight and force might have been negligible for her, but some responses were expected. Juvenae and Art were behind them, though they were far more reserved.

  Ranthia very nearly teared up at the sight of her former team members, alive and healthy after all this time. It had been six years, and she hadn’t known who would still be around—she hadn’t dared to visit the nameless room on her own. She had been a Ranger for a decade now—oof—and her brief glance at the Indomitable Wall suggested that it was on the cusp of running out of space. Being a Ranger was far from safe, no matter how powerful you became.

  “I knew you were still alive. I just knew it.” Pyra was definitely crying into Ranthia’s shiny new armor.

  “Sooo strong! Can you wrestle a bear?” Lysia asked excitedly.

  Lysia’s words pulled Ranthia out of her somber thoughts and she couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Probably, but I’d rather not. I’m glad to see all of you!” Ranthia replied earnestly.

  She looked between the four faces.

  Four.

  Tertia had retired before she left for the war. But she didn’t see Green or Abillo. Nor had she heard their names during the Convocation. There were far too few names that she had even recognized.

  Art was leader of Ranger Team 3 this round, so she doubted he would be able to stick around for long. Ranthia tried to harden her heart and looked to him—er, actually Art was looking far more androgynous than he had before, so she was less than certain that Art was intending to be referred to as ‘he’.

  “I… Hey Art, good to see you. Sorry to dump this on you, but do you know what happened with Green, Abillo, or a Ranger named Vert?” She asked nervously. It seemed like a safer topic while people swarmed nearby, and, honestly, she needed to know the answer. Art’s own situation was just personal curiosity.

  He offered her a genuine smile, though his voice was tinged with the scars of old grief.

  “Green retired four years ago. I’m certain we could all meet at her place for lunch tomorrow if you’re all available, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you. Abillo… is on the wall, happened round before last. Ornithocheirus attack while she was scouting. Ranger Vert is also on the wall, though I don’t know what happened. I’ll see if I can find anyone who had been there, but I also need to meet my team. Give me a bit of time.”

  He saluted, then broke off before Ranthia could respond.

  Three sentences carried her through a wild shift in emotions. There was relief, then pain, followed by guilt that threatened to break her heart.

  Green, one of the precious people that Ranthia saw as a mentor, was safe.

  Abillo was gone. Another friend that Ranthia would never see again.

  And Vert died too. The kid—the woman—died as a Ranger. Ranthia had brought the woman, the closest person she had ever had to a disciple, to the Rangers. Ranthia was responsible, at least in part, for the woman’s death.

  Ranthia hugged Pyra and Lysia just a bit tighter—though she had to ease up when she heard Pyra wince, gods and goddesses Remus felt so fragile after her time beyond its borders—and tried to console herself with the knowledge that at least some people that she cared about were still around.

  “You all should probably meet your new teams.” Ranthia suggested to Lysia, Pyra, and Juvenae at length, once she felt less emotionally vulnerable.

  “Aw… You better come see us when we visit Green!” Lysia demanded, even as she and Pyra reluctantly detached themselves.

  “I will, I promise.” Ranthia answered earnestly.

  “Hey Lys.” Kaesios—Ranthia’s old friend from her Adventurer days—made his approach as Pyra and Juvenae moved away, neatly cutting off a man in a toga as he did.

  “Hi Kaes!” Lysia paused her departure to trade fist bumps with the man, then resumed wandering off to find her new team.

  “She was on my team two rounds back, when I ended up in charge after our assigned leader got himself killed. Stout woman.” Kaesios explained when he noticed Ranthia’s look.

  Ranthia just chuckled and offered the man her arm. He grabbed it and, on habit, they both squeezed as hard as they could. At least until Kaesios pulled away cursing.

  “By the gods’ heels woman, you have grown into a menace! That’s going to be a hell of a bruise!” He grumbled as he shook out his arm.

  …Gods and goddesses, she was well over twice his level. What was she thinking?!

  “I am so sorry, are you okay?” Ranthia asked with a wince.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m not that frail. Wouldn’t be on Ranger Team 1 if I was that far gone.” The man replied with a grin.

  “You, seriously?” Ranthia ribbed. She was secretly proud and thrilled for the man, but they were both steeped in the culture of Adventurers—it was hard not to fall back on old habits when they interacted.

  “Third in command, no less! Somebody’s got to keep an eye on the pansies that usually get assigned. …Also, between you and me, I miiight have saved a senator on that round.” The last part was said in a low, conspiratorial tone.

  “Whatever keeps you out of trouble, old man. How are things going with the tradition we trailblazed these days?” Ranthia steered the conversation in a less perilous direction with so many people blatantly waiting to speak to her.

  “Ha, would you believe it—about half of the new Ranger trainees these days have at least a year of life as an Adventurer under their belts before they apply. It’s becoming something of an unofficial tradition for anyone aspiring to be a Ranger. Mostly makes up for the Legions only sending us the dregs that they don’t want to field, though we find plenty of rough gems we can polish there. The School of Sorcery and Spellcraft stepped up recommendations too, so we’re managing well. The Adventurer experience has been invaluable though, we lose fewer Rangers than usual these days. …I told you I was in Ranger Team 1, we’re practically instructors.” Kaesios bragged, up until he noticed Ranthia’s look—despite her mistweave blindfold.

  The fact that the Adventurers were doing so well—that the path she helped to blaze was bearing fruit—helped ease the knot of guilt. But only a little.

  “Well, good to know you haven’t managed to completely doom everyone that tries to learn something from you.” Too full of emotions, Ranthia went with a safe bit of good old fashioned Adventurer-style teasing.

  “Yeah, don’t act smug—I’ll be seeing you around at the Academy, I’m sure. But for now, my leader’s probably about to insist on a meeting, so I’ll see you around.” Kaesios retorted, before he offered her a wildly sarcastic salute and walked away.

  …Shit, she had completely forgotten that Sentinels in Remus had to help at the Academy!

  Unfortunately, Ranthia was unable to spend her time solely amongst old friends. She was swarmed practically from the moment Kaesios left.

  Senators and wealthy citizens set upon her. It seemed that many VIPs were eager to waste the time of the newest Sentinel—especially one wealthy merchant. Seriously, why would he expect someone fresh from six years out at war to have an opinion on the tax rate for preserved foods vs fresh crops?! His long-winded tirade did nothing to change her utter lack of an opinion, though she was starting to develop quite a strong opinion about him.

  Fortunately, at long last, Art saved her. Her old teammate returned with a Ranger that she didn’t know, which gave her a great excuse to get away from the arrogant windbag. The unfamiliar Ranger promptly saluted her, his posture stiff and formal.

  “Sir, I’m told you have questions about a former teammate!” The man snapped with as much rigidity as he displayed physically.

  Ranthia sighed. She’d learned the lesson back in the Unbreakable Image, but life was determined to reinforce the fact that rank really was exhausting.

  “Please, at ease. I mentored Ranger Vert and recommended her to the Academy. Would you tell me what happened?” Ranthia asked gently.

  The man sighed and seemed to deflate when he released his salute. He still started to speak almost immediately, as if he was concerned that she would be impatient with him. …That or he had rehearsed exactly what he was going to say while he approached.

  “She saved a lot of lives. She and I both graduated from the Academy and ended up on Ranger Team 16. We weren’t even six months into our round yet when it happened. Big group of rebels outside Aquiliea, they attacked a tax collector’s convoy that was visiting the farms and estates outside of the city, but we were in the area. The damned savages were out for blood. Vert volunteered to run interference while we got the Governor’s people out. There would have been a lot of lives lost if we fought, the savages had actual classers. We got everyone clear, but Vert… didn’t make it. The fucking bastards even put her head on a spike. A Sentinel scattered them, killed a bunch but others got away.” The man reported as swiftly as he could.

  His words felt like an ice-cold blade plunged through the core of her being. The world felt distant… and cold.

  Rebels outside Aquiliea. Vert was murdered by a group of people that, quite clearly, grew from the protesters Ranthia had nearly died trying to save from a flock of Ornithocheirus! Twice over. That meant Ranthia was responsible for the bright young woman’s death in two different ways. Godsdamnit!

  She managed to thank the Ranger for the story. She also managed to keep her face locked in the form it was supposed to take. The blindfold would mask the fury in her eyes.

  She wasn’t great company for a while. She seethed inwardly and berated herself while she went through the polite motions of interaction with the VIPs that bought their way into an event that they had no true ties to. Not a single name slipped into her memory, but she could be charming on the outside while she chewed on her cold fury.

  Recalling Green’s words after Hylla’s death helped. How could Ranthia have known what the peaceful protestors would turn into? There was even a chance that it was an entirely separate group—she vaguely recalled that the protestors had gathered at the site of some rebellion from before her time, so it wasn’t unthinkable that someone else had made use of the same location.

  Thinking it through helped, but it didn’t absolve her.

  Ranthia had never actually stayed at a Convocation past the ‘normal’ party to see the night party. The crowd thinned as many Rangers departed, but the VIPs and key personnel remained. Entertainers came in and alcohol was opened. Things didn’t get wild—that would have been an insult to the Indomitable Wall—but the mood shifted.

  It was when the real political plays were made.

  “Sentinel Grace, would you walk with me for a moment?” The Ranger Commander that had worked the crowd for her introduction asked as he approached.

  She nodded and bade a polite farewell to the senators that she was speaking to, then fell in step next to the Commander. Two wolves—one black, the other white—seemed to materialize out of nowhere and padded after them. …Wait, those wolves… she didn’t know the name, but she had met the Ranger that had become a Commander!

  “It’s good to see that you’re doing well, sir.” Ranthia offered, feeling a bit self-conscious.

  “You’ve come a long ways since we first met when you were a young Adventurer. Though I suppose I have as well. Never thought I’d take a political job like this, but MoonMoon are old enough that they’re slowing down a bit—not that they’ll admit it. When the War Ranger fiasco opened a seat up, I was more than a bit surprised to get nominated.” The man answered as they slowly neared the Indomitable Wall—their pace was far from hurried.

  “At least that program’s done. I appreciate the opportunity to step away from the crowd for a moment, but did you want something Commander…?” She awkwardly trailed off, she wasn’t remotely sure what his name was.

  “I go by Commander Wolfy now.” The man answered with a smirk.

  “Seriously?” Ranthia asked before her better sense could stop her, just as they reached the Indomitable Wall.

  “It seemed fitting. …Besides, an old friend will find it absolutely hilarious when she returns.” His gaze flicked toward the wall as he mentioned it, as if he was expecting the name to be blanked out as he spoke.

  Ranthia just kind of nodded as she stepped up to the wall. Leoios. Republius. Hallus. Penticus. Mettlea. Secundia. Pibius. Bia—wherever her actual name was. Abillo. Vert. And there was the newly carved out spot on the wall where her own name had once been. It was fairly obvious; there were so few blanked spots on the wall to begin with, but there was only one that fit the right timeframe. Ranthia remembered each face she had known in turn.

  But she was bolstered by a name that wasn’t there.

  Hunting was alive.

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  Nozomi Matsuoka.

  Sarah "Neila" Elkins.