These past two weeks had been relentless.
The Peace Day Festival alone would be one of the busiest times of the year for the city guard, let alone the Captain of that guard. And this year's had been the centennial celebration, lasting an entire week rather than the usual night-bleeding-into-morning. Throw in a mysterious demon mage, captured Morningstar members, and a dimensional anomaly that had brought grand magi from the Thaumaturgical Institute scurrying across the continent, and Soren had been reasonably hounded. The most recent disruption, introduced two days ago, seemed practically inconsequential by comparison. Which told him that the bar hadn't been set low so much as buried a foot underground.
But things had settled down. The Peace Day Festival had concluded. The near-apocalypse had been averted and Prismarche had received reassurances—if vague ones—from Meridian that they need not worry about a second such event… though also to be ready for emergency scrying. Contradictory, in his opinion, but he understood. Best to be on high alert.
The Grand Magi in Prismarche were studying the dimensional breach quietly, not causing problems, and even the strange new adventurer was only drawing attention and spawning rumors rather than creating chaos in the city.
All in all, the status quo had returned.
Maybe that should have been his warning. Clearly, he wasn't allowed peace in his life anymore. Those days were long past.
"The mage from two weeks ago is looking for you, Captain."
Soren wasn't sure there was a sentence in the world that could have dropped his stomach further into his boots. He stared at his subordinate, suppressing the dismay he felt. A response didn't come for long enough that the other man started to shift uncomfortably in place.
"The mage from two weeks ago," Soren finally repeated. "By that, you mean…?"
"The demon. Short woman in black robes, sir. Responsible for the Morningstar captures."
"Ah."
"She wants to speak with you."
"I gathered that, Sergeant."
After a couple of deep breaths, Soren mustered up the steady assuredness he carried around at all times, which had flagged more than he'd have preferred at his subordinate's announcement. A Captain of the City Guard, or indeed any superior officer, should always project confidence. Even in circumstances as dire as these.
"Shouldn't keep her waiting, then. She's at the front?"
"Yes, Captain."
"No need to accompany me. Thank you, Sergeant."
As he walked, his thoughts churned. The 'mysterious mage' from two weeks ago had made him uneasy even back then, before he'd come to a stunning realization. He'd already deduced that she was Titled, of course, but Soren had dealt with Titled before. Any Guard Captain of a large city would have.
Yet this wasn't simply 'a mysterious, wandering Titled.' Soren hadn't made the connection immediately—not even when news of Meridian's dimensional breach had reached Prismarche, nor when Prismarche's own sky had split open and monsters from beyond the first horizon had slithered into their world… only to be rebuffed by a black dot of a mage hovering a thousand feet in the air.
He'd realized it the next night, shooting up in bed like a lightning bolt had struck him. It almost seemed obvious in retrospect. He doubted he was the only one to figure out the woman's identity. Or suspect, since he had no proof.
…especially with the alternate name she had given. Not even an 'alternate' name. A nickname. 'Vivi.' Disorienting in how casual it was. Ridiculous as he knew the opinion was, heroes of history really shouldn't have nicknames. There was something fundamentally wrong with it.
So. Indeed, he wasn't striding out to go meet with 'a mysterious mage.' He was about to speak with the Sorceress herself. And gods forgive him for saying it, but so far, that had yet to bode well for the city he was struggling to keep from sinking into chaos.
When he arrived, he was met with the image of a woman he remembered well, despite their few meetings. He couldn't help but be caught off guard once again. This was the one piece of evidence that made him doubt his theory: her appearance. Everyone knew that the Sorceress, while shorter than the other four Heroes, had still been a striking, elegant demon, with a… well, a figure not quite so petite, to be blunt.
Not a woman so small she would vanish the moment she stepped into a crowd.
Then again, the Sorceress had been famously reclusive, and deeper research at the library had given him conflicting information on the topic. So it wasn't necessarily 'counter-evidence,' just a strange discrepancy.
In the end, it hardly mattered.
The red-haired cat beastkin surprised him too, for a different reason. Saffra, he believed he remembered. One of their up-and-coming adventurers. He'd forgotten that the woman had brought the girl along when she'd left Prismarche.
Did that mean the Sorceress had taken an apprentice? Or was the girl simply a ward? He approved in either case, but especially the former. Though the girl hadn't acted as wisely as she could have, by pursuing the two Morningstar members she had displayed a level of valor he rarely saw, even in grown men who were supposedly honor-bound to act in such a way. Character would obviously matter more to the Sorceress than talent—because really, would a mage ever exist to draw her attention in that regard?
"Lady Adventurer," he greeted warmly as he walked up. He also offered a smile for the girl. She gave a halfhearted one in return, obviously just being polite. Her eyes were slightly narrowed, suspicious of him. Would take more than two weeks away for that to change, apparently. "I'm glad to see you looking well. We received reports of the Convoy incident." Even before he'd deduced her identity, he'd known she was responsible for salvaging that disaster. "What brings you back to Prismarche?"
"Business," the woman replied vaguely, as cool and detached as always. Those red eyes had unnerved him from the start, but only in that moment did he realize why. Realize what they were: the eyes of a mage who had peered into unknowable depths, and now found all else dreadfully monotonous by comparison. He fought off a shiver. "Can we speak privately?" she asked.
"Of course."
As he led them to his office, he racked his brain. 'Here for business.' That could mean a number of things, seeing how this was the woman who had saved Prismarche from extermination by Cataclysm-rank monsters. Something he wanted to thank her for, but he didn't know whether he should—because it would indicate that he'd deduced her identity, and if she was keeping it hidden, there was a reason. Moreover, what if he was wrong?
'Business' might also mean something smaller scale. Maybe she'd come here because of Prismarche's most recent strange adventurer?
Best not to make any assumptions. He would hear what she had to say first.
Once arrived, and after he shut the door behind their party of three, Soren pulled up a second seat and gestured for the woman and her apprentice to sit. They did so. He settled into his tall-backed, wooden chair and asked, "How can the city guard be of service, Lady Adventurer?"
"Have you figured it out?"
The question put him off balance. "Have I figured it out?"
"I'm assuming you did. I didn't have [Invisibility] on myself. I was high up, and I dispelled any magic coming at me, but a spyglass could still have given you an idea."
"Ah." Tone growing cautious, he replied, "I believe I know what you're speaking of, yes."
Without ceremony, the woman waved her hand over her face, and the illusion covering her tattoos melted away, revealing the iconic marks of the Sorceress.
For some reason, Soren sat back heavily in his seat, as if he hadn't already known. Confirmation was another thing entirely, apparently. The cat beastkin gave him a sympathetic look.
"Please don't treat me differently from before," the woman said. "And don't thank me. It gets…" She paused. "Exhausting. I'm here for business, and because I owe you explanations. No need to make an event out of it."
Soren wasn't sure the Sorceress owed anybody anything. The entire world was so astoundingly in her debt that even if they tried, collectively, they could never repay her. Rather difficult to return the favor of putting down seven of the greatest killers of history.
"And it was my fault, in a manner of speaking," she added. "So really, I was just doing what I should've."
Her fault? That threw him. But only for a second, because he determined that she was laying blame at her feet when she shouldn't—the 'in a manner of speaking' gave that away.
Besides. With the lives the Sorceress had saved, she could accidentally erase all of Prismarche, admit to it, and still be worshipped. At least by those old enough to remember the Cataclysms. She'd rescued thousands of cities through her actions… if not more, seeing how those beasts would've kept rampaging for millennia.
"I see," he said, not voicing any of that aloud. "If the Sorceress requests it of me, I have little choice but to oblige."
The woman sighed, a muted exhalation he barely noticed, and he realized responses like that were what she'd meant. She clearly didn't like her reputation, which was… interesting.
"I'll get to the point," she said. "Prismarche shouldn't be in any danger. The breach—well, breach and half-breach—were one-time events. You could say both were related to me, and since I don't have anything anchoring me in Prismarche, I doubt you'll need to worry about a third."
"I appreciate those reassurances," he said cautiously, "but the 'shouldn't' and 'could's don't sound particularly absolute."
"I suppose they aren't. Nobody can say with certainty what will happen. I just wanted to let you know that both events have explanations, and those explanations don't suggest future problems for Prismarche." She paused. "Well. The boundary is weaker here now. That does create some vulnerability and increase the odds that something targets you. At least more than other cities."
Soren had to admit he wasn't feeling very reassured. The opposite, in fact. But he always preferred concrete analysis over hopeful promises lacking substance—any Guard Captain would.
"But I should be able to respond quickly if something does happen," the Sorceress said. "Have the emergency procedures spread to you yet?"
"Yes. I believe so." Meridian had disseminated instructions across the five kingdoms for how to handle another breach. They boiled down to 'Launch a magical flare of the included design, then contact us immediately.' He understood why now. The Sorceress herself was the only real defense against Cataclysms. To survive, they had to catch her attention.
That idea didn't sit right with him, but his discomfort hardly changed the reality of the situation.
"Good," the Sorceress said. "Also, I'm still looking into manually repairing the damage done here." She idly glanced up and through the stone wall, toward the center of the city, no doubt sensing mana currents he himself couldn't. "Not sure how that's going to work out."
"Prismarche thanks you for your continued generosity."
A slight twitch of her lips, which he thought meant displeasure. "Now, the other matter. I'm just informing you in advance, so I don't cause a panic."
Soren sat up straighter. "A panic?" Alarm leaked into his tone despite his best efforts.
"Nothing serious. I'm taking that ball in the town square back to Vanguard."
Soren blinked.
Nonsensically, the first question that popped into his head was, 'How?' Even Titled-rank adventurers couldn't move that thing. Maybe if it'd been made out of normal stone, there wouldn't be much problem, but it most certainly wasn't. It was half an army of gigantic, invading monsters condensed into a sphere a thousandth the size it should be.
And the material was skill- and magic-resistant. Not immune, like he'd heard living voidbeasts were, but a tiny fraction of that resistance still vastly complicated attempts to move it. Various high-rank adventurers had tried, with efforts escalating into a competition of sorts. Nobody had so much as budged the thing.
He'd been wondering if it would sit there forever. A new centerpiece for their town square.
But no, this wasn't some random 'high-rank adventurer.' But the Sorceress herself. The woman who had crushed that invading army into a polished rock with a spell, then dropped it neatly on top of her party's statue to begin with. Soren felt a wave of disorientation wash over him.
"Of course," he said. "And that will be happening… when?"
"Soon. I hope." The demon's head tilted a fraction, an almost imperceptible gesture he could've missed. "I can work around your schedule, but I'd prefer by today. Will it vanishing cause problems?"
"Not so long as it appears to be sanctioned by the city." He should consult the Marquess first, but he had the authority to act unilaterally should the situation call for it. "I can mobilize a unit and clear the town square. It'll be done within the hour." The woman had given him until the end of the day, and while that was short notice by itself, when the person asking held status equal to the High King… if not arguably greater… then working with utmost haste seemed wise. "Prismarche thanks you for the warning."
"No need. And sorry for the trouble. Both now and before."
"You've caused no trouble at all." Perhaps a technical lie, but he meant the words in spirit. Even if she wasn't heaping more blame on her own shoulders than warranted, she had fought off those Cataclysms with zero casualties—and aided Prismarche with the Morningstar members before that.
She stood, clearly preparing herself to leave. Even in previous meetings, she hadn't been one to linger once she'd accomplished what she'd come for. But Soren stirred in surprise.
"That's all?" he asked.
"…yes?" she said after a moment. "Is there something else you need of me?"
"Well," Soren said, then stopped.
He'd honestly thought she would bring it up on her own. Maybe she didn't think a conversation with the guard was necessary? That it was her own business to handle?
Or perhaps she didn't know. He shouldn't assume omniscience, not even from the Sorceress.
Just to be safe, he phrased it like he wasn't informing her, but simply inquiring about the topic. As politely as he could, he asked:
"The dragon who's been looking for you. Do you… intend to deal with that?"