Population expansion protocols now in place to help further growth of the communities being set up far to the north, as well as returning some slaves to their families (and hopefully bringing those families away from repeated slave raids if possible), the rest of the night passed in quiet meditation, none of the locals daring the tents of the creepy foreign wizards.

Zanzyrans were known to be prickly about being bothered by warriors, and even if the warrior-centered culture bristled at the idea… you still didn’t bother a wizard if you had any brains.

Likewise, there were some early risers in line at the gates when morning came around, everyone chafing to get in.

I glided up, wings out, everyone else either standing or sitting leisurely on their Disks, spectral black Skulls with the flowers in their eyes bobbing around and looking at everyone, sparks and flames dancing on Staves and fingers leisurely, Wizards dressed in bright flowing robes and talking animatedly in Zanzyran accents and leaving sparks and streams of colors behind as they gestured energetically.

For some reason, all the farmers and merchants in line there kind of drew back and didn’t say a peep as I moved to the front of the queue. The soldiers standing there kind of gawked, before rallying with the practiced boredom of veterans and deciding not to look so impressed.

The gate commander was even at the point of going to take the merchant who’d bullied his way to the front before me, knowing he’d get a good bribe out of it, when I just narrowed my eyes slightly at him, and frowned a little bit.

Also, all the Skulls turned around to look at him at the same moment, and everything went very, very quiet.

I turned slowly to look at that rug trader, and all the skulls, and all my fellow wizards, turned to look at him, too. The fat fellow in overly rich robes and haughty demeanor went quite white, and made a shooing gesture urgently at the guard.

The commander was happy to accede to that request, knowing he’d get a bribe regardless for allowing us through with speed and minimal fuss.

“Name and purpose for visiting Siricil?” he asked me in his best authoritative voice, which for some reason squeaked as it came out of him.

I flicked up a sheet of very white paper with answers to the routine questions, and twelve Siricilan gold coins rotating around it, not deigning to say anything to him.

He took the paper, matched up the simple images on the paper to those behind me, their names and purposes, and made a show of double-checking everything before carefully setting it down as the first tally sheet of the day… and quickly depositing the gold coins for entry for a spellcaster to Siricil into the toll box.

He almost palmed two of them, felt all of our gazes upon him, and decided not doing so might be a better idea.

“Lady Edge and party, you may enter!” he managed in a grandiose voice, which sounded more like he was sick to his stomach and just glad to be rid of us.

“Centurion Korspos,” I replied smoothly, with just the right enough amount of pause to make him pale at the fact I knew his name. We glided silently past him over the much-traveled stones of the roads here, to the immense relief of everyone behind us, and even the more curious guards backed hastily out of the way.

We came in and out from under the gates, and the smells and sounds hit us, naturally enough.

Centuries of poor sanitation, animal waste, and hordes of humans living in close proximity and not bathing enough warred with the spices and sweetness of early morning cooking and baking, while animals called out to one another, bipeds shouted and murmured, wagon wheels creaked, birds shrieked here and there, and the ancient and great city of Siricil sprawled out before us in miles-long streets and two and three-story buildings, housing half a million people.

It was the largest known city on the continent, although not as large as some of the cities of the Delphan Empire.

Even from here, the great white stone buildings of the Imperial Palace, the Senate, and the Colosseum were visible, by Imperial decree their sight-line to all of the city gates to remain unimpeded in order to impress all comers to Siricil.

If you had a keen eye, you could also see the signs of war. It hadn’t been all that many years ago that another war with Delphan had concluded with an invasion that reached all the way into Siricil, mowed a line of destruction from the eastern gates, and slew the then-Emperor in battle.

Current Emperor Magni had gained his throne by organizing a counter-attack of gladiators and freed slaves, driving the Delphans back out of the city and humiliating them enough they had withdrawn, offered terms, and ended the war at that time. He had been voted into office by acclaim, his achievements the very picture of a Siricilan warrior ideal, rising to power on the strength of his blade.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

That he was half-Croggi and was born in the northern city of Seacall was all waved away, especially given he dazzled the daughter of the dead Emperor Ocari into marrying him. Impressing the masses, the military, and the conservative elite, he’d been a right proper Siricilan emperor ever since… although he’d turned the Empire’s attention away from conflict with Delpha, instead focusing on the ancestral Hinterlands of the tribes they’d come from across the Sea of Strife.

Short, victorious wars to distract the populace from the fact they’d definitely lost their confrontation with Delpha, again. The timeless appeal of war and conquest of others beloved by the Immortal Tenya.

The place was definitely filled with a sort of energy, chaotic and ambitious… underlain with desperation, as fully a quarter of all the humans I could see bore the marks or collars of slavery upon themselves.

Siricil’s labor force was based upon slavery, of course, another reason for wars. Prisoners of war and subjugated populations made excellent slave resources.

I reached out my hand without stopping, Funf grabbed my target, who yelped in surprise and panic as he was snatched through the air right to my finger.

My index finger, black and sharp, stopped right in the middle of the hyn’s forehead.

“You’re attempting to pass yourself off as a human child,” I noted, not looking at him and his bare, shaven feet as he hung in the air beside me. “You are not. That means you’re operating with a gang, you’re systematic and organized, probably a dues-paying member of the local thieves’ guild.

“I don’t care much about that. What I care about is a proper and experienced guide. I will pay a fair daily rate, that will improve with good performance and a lack of treachery.” I slowly turned my face to face the brown-haired, dark-eyed hyn hanging there in midair next to me, carefully not snatching at my sleeve with great self-control, and he froze motionless at the sight of my eyes. “I have your name, Pontius Treadtoes. I have your face. I can reach across the world and kill you if you steal from us, betray us, or play us false.

“I am a direly dangerous enemy. I am an excellent friend to have, and a remarkably good acquaintance.

“Would you care to serve us as a guide to Siricil for this day and any following ones, as we need them, Pontius Treadtoes?” I asked him in cold and level tones that bore absolutely no empathy or kindness in them whatsoever.

“Yes, m’Lady!” he squeaked quickly. “Fine and true as ever a guide you’ve ever seen, I am, m’Lady!” he agreed energetically, head a-bobbing urgently.

“Excellent. You will address me as Lady Edge.” A Disk zipped up, propped itself up under his soles, and the Telekinetic grip on him faded, to the little fellow’s shuddering relief. “First order of business: where is the Zanzyran consulate?”

He blinked as an image of the city from above popped up in front of him, zoomed down on a dot that revealed our current location and the main road down to the harbor we were moving along, with the locals wisely getting out of our way with the instinctive reflexes of those used to not pissing off people displaying wealth, power, and magic.

“Oh! Oh…” A smile rose up on his cherubic face despite his situation as he bent down to look at the map. “Uh, we have to go down the Starboard Road towards the harbor…” He reached out with his finger into the Holo, froze a moment as a light formed on the edge of his finger, and marveled as he traced a path through the city along the main roads, watching the line extend behind his finger and even light up the destination he indicated.

“Very good. The Federyn Embassy? A fine and trustworthy hotel that we will be verifying elsewhere? The smithing shop of Master Briggs?”

“You know Master Briggs?” His eyes grew very wide, almost glowing at the mention.

Glowing, because the Mark in the sinus chamber behind his eyes had just subtly lit up, if you knew what you were looking for in the thaumaspectrum.

“We knew one another through his time commanding Redshore.”

He blinked at me. “That’s… not a tale I’ve heard of Master Briggs,” he probed deeper.

“Unsurprising. His reticence on the matter is appreciated.”

It was just a twitch, but he was an experienced pickpocket, and he noticed all the small things. Like a particular Rune flaring just for a moment under the lace gauntlet on my hand.

His large dark eyes grew quite large, indeed.

“Master Briggs’ complex is not far from the Colosseum!” he squeaked in shock, reaching to point out the area, and then trace a path to it that connected to the others we would be taking.

“Excellent. Master McMikal, where else do we need to go to that this fine young hyn can lead us to?” His Disk turned beneath him to face the Caergard swordsman behind me, who eyed him speculatively.

“A dealer in Pierro wines. Someone who can make use of fine swordmetal. Where they sell the finest and most faddish of high society women’s clothing and perfumes. Your clockworker’s street,” he began to tick off, and the hyn’s eyes flashed as he realized he’d actually stumbled upon big money here, and there was a chance he could come out of this really well… if he kept his nose very, very clean indeed.

“M’lady Edge,” he hastened to add. “I can… introduce you to several people who will be very interested in your wares, but I am not, ah, currently dressed to appear in such company as theirs…”

“How long do you need to attire yourself properly?” I responded evenly.

“If you drop me off here, I can meet you outside the Zanzyran Consulate in an hour, if that is your first destination!”

“Very well.” I slowed to a walk, lowered his Disk, and he jumped off nimbly. He sketched a bow while on the move, and turned and zipped off down an alley there without breaking stride.

The Disk zipped back to the stack of them as our pace picked up again.

“He’s definitely Guild, Lady Edge,” Nico said from behind me, in a warning voice.

“I imagine the Guild has no idea how dangerous he actually is,” I replied with definite schadenfreude. “He will serve us ably and well, have no doubts about that.”

He had a Mark upon him, which meant a Sama was definitely here, if the fact she was a famous gladiator here wasn’t proof enough. I imagined the depth and reach of her adventuring career here would awe anyone, and the number who knew of it was probably only her and Briggs.

Going to the Consulate and Embassy first would also give Sama plenty of time to get into position and observe us.

Feeling more positive than I had in some time, we moved through the great city, on the way to deliver some mail.