Everyone was happy to get out and stretch their legs when they stopped about a quarter-mile from where the first of Guiche's treasure maps pointed to. Which was conveniently close, except-

"Hey, if there are orcs present like your map warns, how close can we get before they're alerted to us?" Jason asked. "Are orcs said to have superior senses of smell, for example?"

"They are," the blond Earth mage agreed. "That's why we came around downwind." He frowned. "Although this is close enough that I'd expect to smell the reek from their camp by now. The map to Fourrer doesn't mention a lair or den."

"Father says that if orcs aren't doing what you expect, it's because they're doing something tricky," Louise put in, frowning as well. "We should prepare as well as we can before approaching."

"Don our maile now? It'll be hot in this sun," Guiche warned. "I'm still learning Unsweltering Armor, so I'll exhaust my vis if I cast it on all four suits."

["Better to wear it and not need it than the reverse,"] Jason sent to his little mistress, as he pulled out his own suit and started unwrapping it.

"If my familiar can wear his, when it's as heavy as any two of ours put together, and not faint from the heat as summer comes upon us, I think we all can abide our own suits of maile," she observed.

Neither Guiche nor his girlfriend had an answer for that.

"I'll prepare a simple ward to protect the cart while you're gone," Miss Longueville then advised the four novice adventurers. "Take what you require before I trace the circle, so that I needn't break it before you return."

They did so, and quickly donned their protective equipment, although Montmorency's face became a bit strained under the weight. "If this exertion is the order of the day," she grumbled, "I'll be too sore to move tomorrow."

Louise's eyes glinted. "That won't be a problem," she reassured the potioneer, smirking. "I know a recipe for field medicine that'll help us all recover, if your medical spells aren't up to the task."

["You do realize that the women in your family can only get us men to drink that nasty stuff because we love you so much, right?"]

Her face suffused as she visibly fought not to giggle. ["Don't make me laugh, Jason! I'm trying to intimidate her!"]

Whether or not the slender blonde understood the threat inherent in vile-yet-effective field medicine, Montmorency made a determined effort to keep up with the rest of them. Which was perhaps not entirely fair, since they'd all been training and she'd just been helping them recover.

Not like it isn't an effort for us, moving around in maile. Maybe armor weight was exaggerated in D&D, certainly the encumbrance was, but Louise's armor is easily ten or fifteen pounds and with all the extra material needed for full coverage ours might well clock in at thirty or even forty. Like getting back all the weight we've managed to lose so far and maybe a little more, with a lot of it dumped right on our shoulders. Not exactly fun.

Worse, Guiche had been right with his warning. The maile quickly warmed up despite the walk to the treasure site only being five or ten minutes. Closer to the latter, probably, as they were doing their best to close in quietly and not alert any hostiles that might be present. (Although they were a lot quieter than Jason would have expected, as the links didn't rustle much as long as they moved carefully.)

Too bad we can't check the area out first before . . . hang on! ["Little mistress, would Guiche's familiar be able to show him where any orcs are if it scouted ahead?"]

["I don't know,"] Louise replied. "Wait," she said in a low voice. "Can Verthandi scout ahead? Can you see through her eyes?"

"She can't see very far," the Earth mage replied, equally quietly, "but perhaps she might smell-"

He broke off, closed his eyes, and waved his wand. His familiar burrowed forward, somehow moving as quickly through the admittedly soft soil of the surface as if she were swimming.

A minute or two later, Guiche's eyes opened again. "I don't think there are any orcs at Fourrer. Verthandi can't smell anything dangerous, and can't feel any tunnels or dens nearby."

"I'll try to get close enough to see for myself," Jason suggested. "Just in case there's something on the surface that's fooling her."

"Be careful!" Louise urged.

["I'll try."]

But when he was as close as he could get and still have any kind of cover, he couldn't see anything that looked threatening. Not even when he invoked his battle auxilum and looked around with eyes that seemed to catch every detail.

["I think this place is genuinely empty, little mistress. But just in case . . . let's try to switch again for a moment, so you can look through my eyes and see if there's anything a foreigner wouldn't know to be wary of."]

["Very well,"] she agreed.

Then came the dizzying sensation of their senses handing off to each other and imperfectly calibrating to their mutually-borrowed bodies. Jason swayed, as what little progress he'd made in learning how to balance in Louise's body seemed to vanish with the addition of ten or fifteen pounds of maile weighing her down. (It felt at least twice as heavy as the armor adorning his own body, but that was likely due to his considerably greater upper-body strength.)

"What's wrong?" Montmorency asked, sounding nervous.

He shook his little mistress's head. "Concentrating. Difficult auxilum."

Fortunately, a moment or two later Louise pushed back into her own body, and he no longer had to focus on the balance needed to stay upright.

["I didn't spot anything troublesome,"] she reported. ["We're coming forward, now."]

["Wands ready?"]

["Of course!"]

The three joined him a minute later, and Verthandi surfaced next to Guiche to receive a reward of ear-scritches. "If this place is already deserted, there may not be anything left to find," the blond Earth mage observed, sighing. "It's fairly close to the Academy, after all. But at the pace we've managed in the cart, we should be able to reach another site by luncheon, and that will be further out. The closer we get to reports of orc sightings, the more luck we can hope for."

"If it counts as lucky to run into orcs, anyway," Jason snarked as he checked again to make sure that nothing looked wrong with his shotgun. "But what about the treasure itself?"

"She's better at smelling gems, but she didn't smell gold or silver, and the map says it was just buried and not sealed away, so she should have smelled anything conceal there," Guiche replied, pulling out a bit of paper and peering around the little clearing. "That little circle of stones, that looks like an old fire pit? I think that's what the map is showing."

He closed his eyes again, and with a wave of his wand the boy's familiar burrowed towards her target. But then she popped up in the middle of the abandoned fire pit, and he shook his head. "The ground is looser there, so I think something was indeed buried there, but already recovered."

"Then let us be off," Montmorency demanded, looking cross. "The sooner we can doff our maile the better!"

"There should be a little time to rest in the wagon while we go to the next one," Jason noted. "If you want to practice Levitating for an extended distance you ought to be mostly recovered by then."

She gave him a sharp look, but then whipped her wand through the motions of the cantrip and was soon out of sight, her lover following in short order.

Louise gave him a wry smile. "I'd thank them for giving us privacy as we walked back," she observed, "if I weren't certain that Miss Longueville would feel obligated to report that you arranged an opportunity for a sudden tryst."

"I suppose we shouldn't give her reason for alarm," Jason replied, smiling back. "Although I still haven't gotten that kiss I was offered."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "What kiss?"

"Well, maybe it was Siesta's idea, but I'd rather get a good-luck kiss from-"

He broke off as, rolling her eyes, Louise Levitated up to brush her lips against his. ["If I took the time to kiss you properly that would be the tryst Miss Longueville would need to report! Now take my hand and let's try to catch up with them!"]

["Short or long, my beloved's kiss is worth it,"] he told her as their feet left the ground and they followed the hastier members of their party. ["Or at least as long as I'm not making you uncomfortable asking for one."]

["You aren't,"] she assured him. ["If we could steal the time for a faerie kiss we'd still be back there."] She paused. ["I don't know know how different it would feel to embrace in our maile. We could try, when we get a chance."]

["Just tell me if I'm asking for too much, okay? I've gotten too used to being able to hold you, and if Miss Longueville keeps us apart I'm going to miss that tremendously."]

Louise pulled his hand up to her face to rub it against her cheek. ["So will I,"] she thought back to him as she Levitated them onward.

Even after giving the others a head start, they had nearly caught up with Guiche and Montmorency by the time those two reached the cart and Miss Longueville broke the warding circle she'd traced around it.

The blonde Water mage, looking slightly out of breath, gave them a bit of a dirty look as they landed. "You made it back carrying him too?"

Louise's expression was a trifle smug as she removed her maile and took her place on the cart.

Guiche declined Jason's offer to try to pull the cart to give him a breather, insisting that it was good practice that he sorely needed, and they were soon moving on. Although he might have been more fatigued than he was willing to admit, as their pace was slow enough that it was a little after the usual luncheon hour by the time they arrived at the next site that he had a treasure map for.

"Irolis Ford," the blond Earth mage announced, gesturing at the small river that their road crossed. "If we go downstream for a little bit, we should come to a short waterfall, and behind that is a cave no one dares to enter, for fear of the monsters lurking within."

RPG dungeon intro #3, Jason thought to himself. Right behind 'abandoned (insert here)'s stronghold' and 'monster group X has carried off McGuffin Y'. And wasn't buried treasure something that western post-Renaissance pirates only did once, Oak Island gold-hunters aside? Still, orcs are a thing in this world . . . ["Can Monty's familiar remain unseen if it scouts the waterfall, once we get there?"] he sent.

["Perhaps, but she won't want to walk that far in her armor again."] "The riverbank doesn't seem terribly uneven," Louise observed. "Shall we try to ride the cart downstream a ways?"

It took a bit of work to turn the cart, but soon they were moving again. Montmorency had a faint look of relief on her face, although it wasn't more than five or ten minutes after that when they came to the head of what proved to be a small waterfall as Guiche's map had described.

"Robin thinks the water sounds odd," the slender blonde reported, after her amphibian familiar slipped into the river above the waterfall and made its way down.

"Does she taste any foulness?" Louise asked. "If monsters lurk in an unseen cave, then surely-"

"Nothing immediate, nothing that doesn't come from farther upstream." Then Montmorency swayed, and Guiche hurried to catch her.

"Monmon?" he asked worriedly. "What happened?"

His lover was quiet for a moment, before opening her eyes and straightening up. "Robin's sight is strange and dizzying, for all that she sees well in dim light, so sometimes the world seems to waver when I return to myself. Nonetheless, there's a cave behind the waterfall as your map claimed, but nothing seems to be moving within."

"Then shall we Flow the waterfall to one side and make our way in?" Louise asked.

"You may wish to forego the maile," Miss Longueville suggested. "If you slip and fall in the water, it can be surprisingly difficult to regain your feet when so encumbered, and it seems likely that this cave is equally as abandoned as the clearing."

"I'll not complain at that," Montmorency remarked, before brandishing her wand and diverting half the waterfall to make room to walk under. "But hurry! This isn't as simple as Flowing water around in the baths!"

Once inside, Jason unslung his shotgun. "And we shall know no fear," he uttered as he chambered a round, his auxilum activating and letting him see further into the cave by the dim light flickering through the waterfall. "Hmm. I see a little hollow in the back, but this cave doesn't seem to be very deep. Does Verthandi feel anything?"

Guiche focused on his familiar for a moment, before shaking his head. "No, not even pockets that might mean someone had caved in tunnels leading deeper." He cast Volitat and scowled as he marched over to the hollow. "Whatever treasure was concealed must have been right here, but someone already came, vanquished the beast that made this cave its lair, and claimed the prize."

"You know, it wouldn't surprise me if a lot of these maps are exaggerating the danger, to make them sound more exciting," Jason suggested as they left the cave.

"I've wondered that myself," the other boy admitted. "Some of the tales seem . . . but if it weren't very nearly in the opposite direction, I'd still want to visit the dragon temple and match my wits against the riddles of the priests guarding the Relic within. To be able to fly as the dragons do, and not merely on the back of one-" He broke off and sighed. "But you're right, that sort of thing is too fantastic to be believed."

"Yeah, the thing about Relics is, if they're publicly known, someone pretty powerful has to be in charge of them. And what's the point of handing it over if someone can guess the answer to a riddle?"

"Is that the Dragon's Raiment you're speaking of?" Montmorency asked as she Levitated up to the wagon. "I've heard that it was taken from the priests decades ago, when they begin asking their riddle, but then it was returned after the local lord couldn't command the dweomer. They say the riddle is the key to the mystery, and without deciphering it the spirit of the dragon won't answer to you."

She flushed faintly as everyone's eyes turned on her, and hastened to explain: "One of my cousins visited that temple in hopes of claiming it to help revive our fortunes. But even though he stared at the carvings for days, he could never discern what they signified."

Jason blinked. "Huh. So that one's real, then. I guess truth is stranger than fiction, sometimes."

"It's a minor pilgrimage site," Louise told him. "Mother visited it once herself, when she was younger and had more time to travel across Tristain. It's said that the first priest of the temple could use the Raiment to fly faster than even a wind dragon, so it must have been gifted from a Rhyme dragon." She sighed. "None have been seen for at least a thousand years, but they must still live in the land the priest originally came from. Mother wondered if perhaps he might have come from across the Western sea, if any land can be found beyond the monsters that spawn in the abyssal depths."

"I should not like to venture so far, myself," Miss Longueville stated. "And yes, the Dragon's Raiment is impressive to look upon, but Relics can be reluctant to yield their dweomer to new masters," she went on, a bit sourly, as if remembering a failed attempt of her own. "In any event, do you plan to light a fire to prepare luncheon, or shall we have a cold meal?"

"A fire would help us dry out without exerting our vis," Guiche replied. "If we can find any deadfalls . . . Monmon, would you like to help me look for them?"

Montmorency hesitated for a moment, flushing slightly, but then nodded, and the two left hand-in-hand.

"Luncheon might be delayed for some time," Miss Longueville noted dryly, "if we wait for them to bring any firewood they discover. So which of you will go searching, and which of you will stay here and begin mixing ingredients?"

Louise opened her mouth, then blushed. "Jason's better at both," she admitted. "Could you come with me and show me what to look for?"

The secretary gave her an amused look. "You don't think you'd be more use helping your familiar?"

The tiny rosecrown blushed harder.

"Let's face it, we're all pretty sure Guiche and Monty are out playing at barley-break right now," Jason said with a chuckle. "The Headmaster sent you to chaperone us, not them. So you'd have to be insane, subverted, or setting a trap to leave us to our own devices."

Miss Longueville gave him a long and considering look. "You seem more at peace with that than I'd expect from a man your age."

He shrugged. "There's what's possible, there's what's practical, and then there's what's prudent. Or as they say in my homeland, 'God grant me the courage to accomplish what I can, the serenity to accept what I can't, and the wisdom to know the difference.'"

"Then I shall expect continued prudence from the two of you. Miss Vallière, shall we be going?"

It didn't take long to mix up a simple batter for flatbread, water was readily available for beverages, and then Jason was left waiting for either party to return.

You know, if we could fake any kind of elemental magic, letting Miss Longueville report that we were disregarding propriety with our little mistress would get a bit less risky. So what's some good elemental-based moves we could try to hack with our auxilum?

The most obvious elemental move to attempt was 'bending', but anyone could chuck a rock (even if some idiots needed to be reminded of the earth beneath their feet, in certain atrocious and unbelievably moronic adaptations produced, filmed, and directed by utter imbeciles), his auxilum didn't so much as notice the air no matter what he did with his fingers, water just splashed, and he wasn't about to try to pick up one of the coals from the small bed he was tending to while he waited for someone to return with dry wood.

Sorry, but the only reason Tai Lung got away with that was because he was a friggin' cartoon. He sighed. If we can't even pull off a Hulk thunderclap, maybe we could try practice splashing water until the auxilum gets the idea, the same way Louise has to drill her spells? Except she was at least getting explosions, while our power doesn't even seem to notice water, so maybe we should start with the rocks instead. Try to expand the definition of weapons, hopefully get it to cover improvised tools eventually, and eventually expand that to be anything we deem a weapon in the then-and-there.

"Did you become bored already?" Miss Longueville asked, as she and Louise returned with some deadfalls Levitating between them.

"The fire's started and everything's ready to cook as soon as we build up the flames a bit." Jason shrugged. "My auxilum doesn't seem to want to cooperate with improvised weapons, but I'm hoping that if I practice throwing enough rocks it'll get used to the idea." Unfortunately, our name is not Bilbo Baggins, so we didn't spend our childhood chucking rocks at birds for fun.

The secretary looked at the tree he was using as a target and the scattered stones all around it. "You may need more practice, then."

"Yeah." He smiled wryly. "You ain't wrong, there."

["You're looking to learn even more weapons?"] his little mistress sent curiously. ["Shouldn't you have been drilling the ones you've already made? That strange tangle of leather, perhaps?"]

["You mean the bolas? I'll do that when Guiche can lend one of his valkyries as a target. But if I can get my auxilum to accept rocks then I can pick up a weapon practically anywhere, and if I can get it to accept dirt I can casually blind people in a fight. Worth shooting for on its own, I'd say."]

Louise blinked. ["What else would you want with it, then? Or it sounds like you have something in mind, at least."]

["There are people on Terra who learn how to walk on a bed of coals without getting burned. If I can figure that out, fighting with burning coals ought to be intimidating. Being able to splash an enemy in the eye would be a nifty way to use water."] He paused for a moment.

Longer than it took her to figure it out. ["You want to trick your way into using your magic with the elements, don't you!"] his little mistress accused, eyes widening.

["That's the thing. Air is-"]

"What are you two plotting?" Miss Longueville demanded. "Headmaster Osmond was right, one can tell when the two of you are communing with each other."

"Crazy ideas for how I could use my magical pseudo-mastery of weapons," Jason replied. He held up one arm. "This glove I'm wearing is nice in terms of being armed whenever I want, but I want more ranged options. And there's a legend among my people about a man who was so incredibly strong that he could clap his hands and it would create a gust of wind powerful enough to blow out a bonfire."

"And you think you could do the same?"

He lowered his gloved hand and shrugged again. "Depends on how my auxilum defines 'weapon'. It was willing to accept the fighting gloves, if I can get it to accept other things then it at least expands my options." Then he frowned. "And now that I think about it, I need to see if my auxilum works on other weapons when I've got the fingers attached to these. If I can get it to work across multiple weapons that would open up even more options."

Louise glared at him. "Have you been able to use the fingers on your gloves without collapsing?"

"Uh . . . no. Although I haven't tried, not since the first time."

She rolled her eyes. "Practice other things first, then."

"And remember not to spread yourself too thin," the secretary cautioned. "Now let's get the fire built up: If luncheon is cooked and ready to eat before those fools return we'll have that much more reason to mock them," she concluded with a slight smirk.

"It was hard finding enough-" Guiche stopped short as he lowered his Levitated faggot and finally noticed the meal waiting for him and his now-flushing lover.

["Little mistress, I don't think I can get away with a joke about him giving wood to Monty, so it's up to you."]

["That was lewd,"] Louise admonished him in reply, but her eyes were already glinting. "Was Montmorency happy with the branches you showed her?" she asked demurely, taking a sip of cold, sweet tea (courtesy of the block Jason had purchased back in Bruxelles, since of course he'd brought his precious caffeine along). "Or were they too short and thin to properly stoke a flame?"

The blond Earth mage gaped at her, his lover flushed deeper, and Miss Longueville did a spit-take. "Miss Vallière!"

His little mistress allowed herself a tiny, if smug, smile. "Mother and Father still command troops, you know. And Eléonore would have been worse."

"Worse," Montmorency repeated flatly. "How-?"

"She's been sharpening her tongue for as long as I can remember," Louise replied, frowning slightly at some unpleasant recollection. "When one of her friends had just graduated, and her fiancé had been unfaithful, Eléonore gave a speech that was supposed to be praising him but was subtly mocking him for all the lovers he had taken and the strange diseases they'd given him." She paused. "Or that's what Cattleya finally told me, years later. I was too young then to understand what Eléonore truly meant, and I can't recall her exact words."

["How'd her friend take finding out about the cheating fiancé?"]

["Madeline? She already knew. That's how Eléonore knew, because she'd found out that it wasn't just the usual kept mistress, he'd had dozens. Gallians, Germanians, Easterlings, dancing girls from Rub' al Khali, even a Romalian nun! He was an irredeemable rake, and he'd bragged to all his friends how his fiancée was too stupid to figure it out."]

Jason blinked. ["Your nicer sister told you all this?"]

His little mistress looked a bit embarrassed. ["It was last summer. Mother had just warned me that Captain Wardes would probably have a lover, and I was worried I'd be ignored in favor of a line of . . . wanton sluts like Zerbst. Cattleya was just telling me what Eléonore would do to him if he tried to shame me like that. She said it would be easy, since his name can be used in word-jesting to mean-"]

Whatever pun could be made in Tristainian with Captain Wardes' good name was lost as Miss Longueville interrupted them. "Miss Vallière, Jason, in the future I think I'll have to ask that you speak to each other out loud, at least when there's no combat advantage to be gained from silence. I shouldn't like to have to report to the Headmaster that you prefer to keep your communications concealed from me."

Louise shot the secretary a dirty look. "It's practicing. His universal auxilia have required it, and we're still improving."

"Nonetheless," came the dry reply. "You won't be questing forever, and can resume your practice then. For now, I have my duties to perform."

"And as it happens," Montmorency said sweetly, as she tore her bread into bite-sized pieces, "Guiche had a sapling to show me that was just the right size."

Her lover blushed, but nonetheless looked smug at the statement of satisfaction with his recent performance.

"I see I shall have to report to the Headmaster that your liaisons aren't ceasing, then," Miss Longueville told them. "Although I imagine he's already quilled replacements for the letters I was writing to your parents."

The two lovers flushed anew.

"He's not going to tell them . . . everything, is he?" Montmorency asked, suddenly hesitant.

"Officially, you never dabbled in love potions, so I'd expect not. But your quarrel this spring was quite noticeable, and I imagine that if you'd gone home for the summer you'd have both been questioned regarding the gossip that's already circulated among the noble families of Tristain."

Guiche looked slightly appalled. "Surely my . . . foolishness wasn't of such great interest."

Miss Longueville gave him an evil smirk. "At first? No, but when Miss Montmorency snubbed your attempts to court her again afterward the gossip soon eclipsed the news that Miss Vallière had summoned a human familiar. Or at least so it seemed, based on the inquiring missives sent to the Headmaster."

He winced. "I suppose the poetry, and the impromptu duel that resulted-"

"Yes, after that I imagine your parents will all be rather surprised to find out that you've now become lovers." She paused. "Unless any of them indulge in those absurd tales that show lovers-to-be constantly bickering with each other."

"What happened wasn't that farcical," Montmorency muttered.

"You're right, it had all the makings of a tragedy," Louise put in. "So make sure to keep the ending a comedy, because otherwise forcing my familiar to be your Brimir ex Apeiron won't have been worth it."

"I was their what?" Jason asked.

"Brimir descending from the Holy Void," Miss Longueville told him. "A device used all too often in comedies to resolve impossible situations, in imitation of the resolution of the scripture of the First Wand. I suppose they should be grateful you weren't their Gandálfr ex Apeiron instead: The Left Hand of Retribution and the Heavenly Hosts have been sent down from the Void far more often and rather more recently, if not in living memory. But most people prefer comedies to tragedies."

"We're very grateful, yes!" Guiche quickly assured one and all. "I would've been devastated once Monmon was caught out and expelled. Let us be sure to keep this a comedy!"

"I still say you're a fool, but Headmaster Osmond seems content enough. Now, if you'll finish eating, we can travel back to the road and perhaps try one more of your maps before we have to stop at a waystation for the night."

"I think I smell something," Jason murmured. Then he forced his auxilum to activate wordlessly, despite the extra time it required, and took another sniff. "Yes, there's definitely something foul in that direction. Faint, though."

"Verthandi smells it too," Guiche confirmed after a moment of concentration. "Could it be orcs?"

"Let's get a little closer," Louise whispered. "I can't smell it yet, but if it smells like some of the trophies Mother and Father brought home before they completely dried out, I'll know it's orcs."

A few hundred feet further on, the breeze picked up for a moment and her nose wrinkled. "Yes, that's orcs. But it's too faint for how close we are."

"Even still, orcs are orcs." Jason checked his shotgun to make sure the rounds hadn't deformed or anything. "Valkyries up and wands at the ready, let's not get taken by surprise."

He still hadn't faced any of the boogiemen that had so unnerved the maids at the Academy when they thought he might be one, so he was fairly sure that without the unnatural calm his auxilum granted him his heart would have been beating a mile a minute at the uncertainty. Instead his heartbeat was slow and steady as they crept forward towards what Guiche's map had labeled the Sesdis Shrine, where brigands had boasted of stashing their ill-gotten wealth before being slaughtered in turn by orcs. Who, presumably, had no understanding of the treasure they guarded.

But once again, there were no orcs present: The smell seemed to come from patches of blood and rot here and there among the rough stonework, and from a small midden-heap they found when they circled the shrine to catch any potential ambushers. And then when they Levitated open the 'hidden cache' . . .

"A handful of copper? Who would boast of that?" Guiche wondered.

Jason shook his head. "I think I might know. Let's go back, get to the waystation, and get started cooking, 'cause we need to have a talk about this."

Louise shot him a look. ["What's wrong?"]

["At supper. Still organizing it in my head."]

["Very well. Take my hand and let's be on our way."]

Thanks to the late luncheon, they were late arriving at the waystation that evening as well, but the extra wood that had been gathered for luncheon was enough to let them prepare an adequate supper without having to search for more.

"I know we've had scant success on our first day," Guiche began, once everyone was mostly finished eating, "but we're late-come in our questing, and can't expect much success while we're but a single day out from the Academy." Then he brightened. "Still, we've covered twice the distance that others on horseback would, so another day or two and we should be beyond where most questors would care to venture."

"That's nice and all, but there's the matter of the copper that we found," Jason pointed out.

The blond Earth mage frowned thoughtfully. "Yes, I admit I can't fathom why it would be left, when the rest was claimed. Surely the additional weight would be a trifle compared to the rest of their reward!"

Jason nodded. "Exactly. This isn't a game, so there isn't a sharp cut-off to how much weight they could have carried away. So my guess is that it got salted there by whoever made the map in the first place, after the first time the prize was claimed."

"'Salted'?" Louise asked.

"Uh, slang for . . . dammit." There's no way they'd have the cultural context to understand loot boxes. Or lotto machines. Or those gacha machines we saw a couple of time in Japan. Uh- "If I'm right, there might not have been bandits there in the first place. But just to make sure: You weren't the only one to purchase maps and quests, right? A bunch of other students did the same thing?"

Guiche nodded. "Thus our poor luck so far."

"Okay then, my guess is that whoever does these takes about half the money he makes off of a particular map and puts that in the 'hidden stash', leaving the other half as profit for himself. Then maybe comes back a few times and adds a bit of copper once the first prize is claimed, as a consolation for anyone who comes by later." Jason paused. "And maybe he puts an especially big prize in one or two of the maps, so that the lucky winners will brag about their good fortune and inspire more students to try next year."

Miss Longueville snickered. "This is common enough that your people have slang for it?"

He shrugged. "The thrill of a lucky win can ensnare people like strong drink. But seriously, this has been going on for long enough that Headmaster Osmond finds it amusing. That implies it's been going on for years or even decades, and after a few years of restless young nobles digging up every corner of Tristain, all the easy prizes should have been unearthed and recovered by now."

"But the bandits-" Guiche began.

Jason shook his head. "Back where I'm from, there's a thousand tales of brigands and pirates burying their treasure. To the best of my knowledge, in reality it happened exactly once in the last five hundred years. Do any of those quests of yours talk about robbing tombs or graves, by any chance? Burying treasure with kings and lords is something a lot of countries do." He paused. "Although those often got robbed before the bodies had even begun to rot, by trusted servants who figured the dead had no more need of wealth."

"No, people wouldn't stand for grave robbing," the blond boy replied. "And few quests send you after Relics." He frowned. "I suppose that once the riddle of the dragon temple is solved and the Dragon's Raiment claimed, there won't be any quests that send you after a Relic. Not serious ones."

"If you want to acquire a Relic, you'd do better to track down Fouquet and hire him," Miss Longueville pointed out. "To the best of my knowledge the Headmaster has yet to recover the Staff of Destruction, so the Earthen Fist appears to have gotten away with his robbery."

"Which doesn't help us," Jason responded. "Although . . . my apologies, this is something I need to suggest to Louise privately." ["Assuming we keep going with this questing, we should let Her Highness know we're doing it full time for the rest of summer. She, Agnes, and Wales might have missions that need doing."]

His little mistress nodded. "I may be able to use family connections find us commissions, if we can prove ourselves a capable team first."

"And that needed to be private?" the secretary asked skeptically.

Louise nodded again. "I'm sorry, but my familiar mentioned names that I'm not at liberty to disclose."

"Hm." Miss Longueville gave them both a narrow look, before sighing. "Don't make a habit of it."

"But how shall we prove ourselves capable?" Guiche asked. "If the quests that offer peril have already been handled, even our familiars' auxilia for seeking floral and mineral reagents surely aren't as useful as the knowledge held by those who've harvested nearby reagents all their lives."

Montmorency grimaced. "It's clear that there's little enough wealth to be had following your quests, at least now that classes have been out for a month." Then she hesitated. "So, shouldn't we push on to where the orcs have been particularly active? If your vernacula and Miss Vallière's familiar can act as a shield wall, we may be able to gather reagents where most couldn't."

Her lover visibly hesitated for a moment.

"I'm not sure we could quell more than a few orcs," he finally admitted. "I'm handling my Valkyries better, but my brothers surely spent years training with theirs before facing orcs without Father to step in if everything went wrong. These treasure maps don't lead to orc dens, so by following them we'd never face more than a few that happened to be guarding one of them." He paused again. "And another day or two of travel and we'll be further from the Academy than most of the quests lead to, save a few like the dragon temple or the fabled sunken treasure of Lagdorian."

"Was that one of the silly quests?" She snorted. "My family didn't leave behind any treasure when we were stripped of our title. What little we had we desperately needed for ourselves." Then a pensive look came over her. "Except someone did steal Andvari, despite everything the lake could do to a would-be thief. How that was done . . ."

"Either way, the quests he bought seem to have already been done, so we can't count on more than consolation prizes," Jason pointed out. "So we have to head towards the orcs anyway, if we want to continue. Monty, you said that you couldn't stockpile potions, but if we're going to be traveling all day tomorrow maybe tonight's a good time to hunt for reagents?"

Montmorency gave him a dirty look . . . but then glanced sidelong at Guiche. "Some valuable reagents are mineral in nature," she murmured. Then, a bit huskily: "Would you care to join me, milord de Gramont, and lend me Verthandi's expertise?"

It took approximately two nanoseconds for her lover to agree, and then the two were off once more.

Miss Longueville's lips twisted in wry amusement. "He must be doing something right if she's happy to lie with him morning, noon, and evening. Night as well, even, once they return and go to bed. Or perhaps she's never dared to indulge wanton impulses before."

"I don't think she's that wanton," Jason responded. "Or at least she was regretting his enthusiasm before he clued in how to make sure she enjoyed herself."

"And you know this?" the secretary asked, a bit skeptically.

Louise rolled her eyes. "After the potion was fixed, Guiche had to come begging for-"

Then she broke off, flushing crimson at the memory of receiving that mortifyingly salacious lecture. As did her familiar, at the memory of giving it.

Miss Longueville looked from embarrassed master to familiar, then shook her head. "You told him how to go on with a woman properly."

Jason shrugged, his blush refusing to subside for the moment. "His brothers forgot they were supposed to pass on that lore. And my guess is that mothers don't teach their daughters how to help their husbands-to-be figure it out until just before they marry?"

The secretary nodded. "One might steal lands and leases through trickery at Court, but the magical prowess brought by a mage into marriage cannot be compelled, nor thieved away by the laws of men. If a husband has reason to believe that his wife's children are not his own? Before the Blessed Realms – and Germania – brought all the petty kings and independent nobles in under their crowns, such suspicions could lead to open warfare."

He frowned. "If that's the case, wouldn't a lecher's by-blows be a similar threat?" Except Motte seemed to think he was immune to that or something, when he bragged about being ready to sire a platoon of bastards.

Louise shook her head. "Not unless he was foolish enough to favor them over the children he fathered on his wife. Or seem to. Some of those wars started because of wives and mistresses seeing each other as a threat to their own children." She paused, looked blank for a moment, and flushed again. "And I just realized what it meant, a story Her Highness once told me of a forbidden spell of the Throne of Water."

"That's not enough context to go on, little mistress," Jason pointed out, after a moment of waiting for her to elaborate.

Her renewed flush deepened. "I've heard that Easterling concubines don't need to be discreet, and that they can be treated as wives if their masters favor them enough. Except the quarrels between wives and concubines are just as vicious as between wives and mistresses."

"I've heard much the same," Miss Longueville agreed.

"Well, a long time ago a prince of the Water Throne once came up with a spell that kept all his dearest friends from quarreling with each other. For which crime he was imprisoned until his dying breath." Louise winced. "We were too young to understand that the 'dearest friends' were his many lovers, and spent hours trying to figure out what could be so horrible about stopping people from fighting with each other." Then her lips twitched in rueful amusement. "If it wasn't too awful to use on Eléonore, to make her stop being mean to me, it clearly wasn't awful enough to be what the prince's spell did."

"Well, some spells can mess with the natural alchemy of a person pretty effectively, so-" Jason broke off and shook his own head. "No. I will not speculate on using subtleties of scent to mark fellow mistre- Dammit! Miss Longueville, could you set up a stone pillar so I can re-familiarize myself with using a bolas? I need a solid distraction, quickly." Although was this prince maybe the guy who ennobled Scarron's bustier-?

Dammit brain, shut up!

The secretary nodded and waved her wand. "Miss Vallière, shall we go find a place to bathe? I admit, I find myself wondering if these strange underthings are as well-suited to water as your familiar claimed."

"They're already more comfortable, after a day sweating in the sun, than a proper brassiere and culottes," Louise observed. "But yes, let's go and find out."

["For the record, little mistress, I'm not going to sneak up on you and try to peep while you're bathing."]

["I didn't think you would. Why mention it?"]

["Because as all right-thinking stories assure the world, we men are lustful dogs and entirely unable to control our carnal passions."]

["Jason, why-?"]

["Also because if Miss Longueville weren't there I absolutely would be ready to go swimming with you. As long as you were fine with that, anyway."]

It was faint, but he could just about feel the butterfly caress of a ghostly kiss in response. ["You should hurry up and kill a lot of orcs, then. So Father won't mind as much when he and Mother find out."]

Miss Longueville had snorted when she saw how much less revealing American-style swimming trunks were compared to the bikini bottoms she and Louise were using as culottes in the field.

["I'm just glad she was busy laughing at you,"] Louise admitted as Jason left to wash himself off before evening faded away entirely into night. ["She didn't seem to notice me . . ."]

["What's that?"]

There was a pause.

["Mr. Colbert knows what he's doing,"] she replied. ["Your conditioning has improved remarkably since he took a hand in training you, and you'd already improved noticeably from when you were summoned. If she weren't here I'd be thinking of sneaking out to go peek at you."]

It took until he was drying off to get the silly grin under control.

"Uh, what are those?" Jason asked, staring at the circles Miss Longueville had drawn around both his bedding and Louise's while he was washing up.

"Alarm wards," the secretary-turned-chaperone promptly informed him. "If one of you enters the other's, or if both of you leave your own at the same time, I'll know. In which case you'll need to present a truly convincing emergency to persuade me that it's not the obvious."

Shit. Well, maybe it's been long enough that we won't have nightmares about killing anyone tonight. Let's hope.

["This is as close together as she'd let me set our bedding up,"] Louise sent. ["And if I hadn't reminded her that I shouldn't be separated too much from my familiar we'd have been even farther apart."]

["I'm guessing the 'I sleep better next to someone' argument didn't impress her, then."]

["I wasn't silly enough to try-"]

"A-hem," Miss Longueville interrupted. "I believe I already asked you two not to scheme together."

He sighed, feeling no impulse whatsoever to grin anymore. "Right. We'll just practice stuff until it's time for bed."

The next morning saw Jason up quite early, sipping on fresh tea. Which he'd needed to brew at quadruple strength to get the same effect as the double-strength coffee he'd used when classes, study, and work hadn't let him get more than a few hours of sleep a night. Fortunately, his mug was mostly empty when Montmorency began to speak and made him jump hard enough to spill the remainder.

"What are you doing up so soon?" the potioneer asked, looking rather well-rested. (While he almost certainly didn't.)

"Master-familiar separation issues," he replied. "Does Guiche have trouble with that, or does Verthandi-?"

"She sleeps next to his bed or cot," Montmorency confirmed. "I made a perfume that quells her odor when I started brewing the love potion."

"Okay." Jason glanced at the first pot, where there was about enough left to fill up his mug one more time. "You'll want to rinse that out with magic before you use it, I think. I learned how to handle stuff this strong when I was a student, but as far as I can tell even regular tea isn't very popular here in Halkagenia."

She took the pot after he refilled his mug and gave it a suspicious sniff, before grimacing and waving her wand at it. "That doesn't smell sweet at all."

He shook his head. "Sweet tea is best served chilled, and it took Louise enough time to fall asleep that I didn't want to wake her when I got up. Can't put her to sleep quickly like you and Guiche."

It looked, in the pre-dawn, like the slender blonde might be flushing a bit. "I thought we were being quiet after we returned last night."

"Mostly. But the walls of these wayhuts are thin and nobody here knows silence spells." Jason smirked. "Was that four times yesterday in total? Does practice make perfect?"

Montmorency shot him a sudden glare. "Familiar, I am not required to answer to you," she informed him, her voice frosty. "And you should practice being respectful, before you encounter a noble not beholden to your master."

He flinched back slightly, not having anticipated that response to his teasing, and left her alone to work with the reagents she'd gathered the previous evening without any more commentary.

The caffeine was enough to make Jason feel jittery, but at least his hands weren't shaking, and so he was able to make sure the sleeves on Louise's blouse were untangled before she got up. Even without the felted silk backing for her maile, the material of her blouse was heavier than the ones she wore at school, and since he wasn't quite as familiar with it, it seemed like a good idea to be absolutely certain her wand wouldn't catch on anything if she needed to draw it quickly.

His little mistress got up a little before breakfast, not looking like she'd slept terribly well, but there was no way he was giving up the rest of his precious wakey-wakey juice. (Plus he was two or three times her size and wasn't sure his geek-strength tea would be safe for someone who didn't have his mass or built-up caffeine tolerance.) Fortunately, the sweet tea was finished, since Miss Longueville had been willing to supply the ice, and its relatively mild stimulation seemed to be sufficient.

For now.

If she gets dependent on tea to wake up properly, our little mistress will have caffeine withdrawal in the morning on top of her usual temper. Bad idea. Gotta figure something out so she can sleep better before that happens.

"What's the plan for today?" he asked as he fried some salted pork and made pancakes in the grease. "Do we head out on as straight a course as we can, or do we try to hit any treasure maps aren't too far out of our way?"

"I'd like to try the maps, at least the ones we'll be passing close by," Guiche responded. "The last one we checked has seen battle recently, so if the tales of orcs stopped the other students from venturing further we might have a chance to claim some of these prizes."

"The potions I'm brewing this morning won't last long," Montmorency reminded them, "but we'll have them if any of us need them today. And I'd rather we face a smaller number of orcs before attempting to storm one of their lairs."

Louise still looked a bit bleary-eyed, was nursing her second mug of sweet tea (which Jason hadn't protested on the grounds that the ice and honey diluted the caffeine somewhat), and didn't look like she wanted to contribute anything. But after a moment she sighed and looked up. "Father says that if a small band of orcs without a lair find a good camping spot, they'll stay there until they're cleared out or they have a chance to claim a lair for themselves. The way he's been campaigning recently, there should be more of those small bands than usual, from the remnants of shattered tribes fleeing north. So perhaps we should check as many as we can, even if it means going out of our way. We're moving faster than horses could, so we'd cover the ground faster."

She paused for a moment. "Do you think these prizes were first set up to get students to check areas where orcs might camp if they overflowed their lairs and some had to leave? It all seems like it would be a great deal of effort to arrange, especially in the beginning."

"The Headmaster might be the only one who knows for sure," Miss Longueville replied, "depending on how long it's been going on." Then she smiled wryly. "But it might also have begun as a game to keep students busy during the summer months, without sending them against the nobles holding all the real treasures. One Fouquet is alarming enough, no need for dozens of children running around and causing trouble."

"Maybe see if the closest one shows the same signs of battle as the one last night?" Jason suggested. "If it does, we've probably hit the edge of increased orc activity."

Breakfast was eaten, potions were fussed over, muscles were warmed up, and they departed.

The sun was still rising when they reached the next area that Guiche had a map for. Unfortunately it was entirely deserted, without so much as a handful of hidden copper as a consolation prize. The next closest one was almost directly south, not making any progress to the east and away from the Academy, but it looked near enough that they could swing by it and still make decent progress eastward by lunchtime.

The wind was blowing eastward, so that was a little bit more time spent making sure they were downwind . . . but this time Jason could smell the midden rankness as soon as he flared his auxilum. Verthandi too, if the giant mole's haste to protect her nose was any indication. Then a gust of wind hit and the four mages reacted nigh-simultaneously in disgust.

"That's too strong for a small camp," Miss Longueville remarked. "I'll handle the spells for your arms and armor if you wish to approach, but be ready to Levitate back here quickly."

Shortly thereafter, they left her – with Verthandi to keep her company, to spare the creature's nose – tracing a circle of protection around the wagon as they crept as quietly as possible towards the site, a long-abandoned amphitheater that Guiche's treasure map claimed had loot hidden beneath trapdoors meant to allow stagehands to come and go quickly during performances.

There didn't seem to be movement behind the crumbling walls as they approached, but the stench was enough to have them gagging and only barely keeping breakfast down.

"Let's try Levitating to the top of the highest wall," Jason suggested in a whisper. "Maybe we can see if there's an army camped within or something."

Louise nodded, took his hand, and soon the two were airborne. She was careful to stay behind as much cover as she could, which meant keeping the least-ruined section of wall between them and what lay within, but soon they were on top and Guiche and Montmorency were following.

"'For frantic boast and foolish word!'" Jason quoted quietly, gripping his shotgun. (Which was loaded and ready to discharge without blowing up in his arms, his auxilum then informed him.) But it was the enhanced senses that he needed, at least for the moment, so he quietly crept to the edge of the wall and looked down into the amphitheater itself.

And if he hadn't been subject to the battle-ready calm of his auxilum, the sight added to the smell would have made him throw up. Two dozen bodies lay dead within, bloating and rotting in the sunlight. A few were smaller than the rest, and it looked like the smaller ones might have been human.

Human or not, none of the bodies were entirely whole. They'd clearly been fighting, but he didn't see any weapons on the smaller corpses, so it seemed a safe bet-

He carefully backed up to the others. "It's not an army, it's a bunch of them dead and rotting, along with the unlucky bastards that fought them. The smell may not be so bad up here, with the wind blowing it away before it rises too much, but I'm sure it's even worse down there, right next to them. Want me to look by myself? While I'm using my auxilum the smell can't overpower me."

Guiche frowned, crept over to the edge, then blanched and quickly stepped back. "Yes, I think this is a sound plan," he announced, offering the map. "And perhaps their misfortune will be our good luck."

Montmorency just nodded, breathing shallowly, and so Louise Levitated her familiar down.

First he approached the closest human corpse, to see if there was anything that might help identify it. Unfortunately not, for the clothing was plain and reasonably practical, which meant no fancy jewelry or crests to announce family or allegiance. But the broken wand nearby confirmed that the corpse had once been a mage.

Hey, there's a thought. ["Little mistress, if we recover their wands, is there any chance that the Academy can match them to likely students? To let their families know what happened?"]

["Perhaps. If you can find them, you should- Watch out!"]

Her warning made him spin around, trying to find-

But the warning had come a bit too late, and the blow in his side was heavy enough to send him crashing along the ground for at least a dozen feet.

It hurt, but not as badly as it had fighting the draugr, and as Jason wasted no time springing up he heard an explosion, which meant Louise was giving him cover fire. It also gave him the direction of danger, so he didn't need to waste time looking around. He spun around again, raising his shotgun as he did-

And his auxilum was the only reason he had enough presence of mind to pull the trigger, for the large figure had already recovered from his little mistress's spell and was scant feet away. He fired-pumped-fired-pumped-!

Then he was on the ground again, pinned down by the orc, its snarling parody of a face gnashing its teeth and trying to bite . . . but its fury quickly ebbed and the eyes of the huge brute glazed over as it expired.

["Are there any more?"] Jason asked quickly as he struggled to get out from under the suddenly-dead weight.

["I don't see any,"] Louise replied. ["The orc was hiding under the stage, but if there were more they should have followed it."]

["Well, if you can stand to come down, make sure Guiche has his valkyries out."] He struggled a bit more. ["I might need you to come down. I think I'm stuck."]

"You know," Jason mused, "I'm more than a little tempted to complain to Annabelle about the maids thinking I was an orc. Pretty sure I'm not half as ugly as this fellow."

His little mistress snorted, which as she was pinching her nose tightly shut sounded a bit odd. "I doubt they'd ever seed wod, just heard tales."

They were both looking down at the corpse that she'd had to Levitate off him, as Montmorency tried to cast a medical Line (it was taking her a few tries to form and align the figura correctly) in the interests of not having to expend a potion already, and Guiche directed his bronze constructs to surround and open every trapdoor the stage offered. So far he hadn't found any more surviving orcs, which was probably a good thing.

Even absent the bloating of the other corpses, the newly-expired orc was clearly inhuman. Not even close enough to be a 'rubber-forehead alien', either: On a TV screenit would've needed to be a full muppet or some pretty convincing CGI. The mouth was too big, the teeth were too big, too many, and too sharp, and the nose was impossibly wide. The eyes were the most human-seeming, but their bloodshot look didn't help, and to whatever extent its expression could translate, it looked rabidly murderous. Despite being dead.

All-in-all, it reminded him of the oni statues he'd seen in Japan, the ones that couldn't really be copied as masks for humans to wear, of course, except that those were always depicted as being in full health. This creature had been badly wounded before Louise exploded it and his shotgun had sent a couple of slugs through its chest, and some of the wounds on the nearby rotting corpses suggested that it had been scavenging carrion instead of trying to hunt as it hid and healed.

It had been several inches taller than Jason, maybe a bit over seven feet, and wide enough to almost have the proportions of a cartoon fat man. But a lot of that had been muscle, as it had been strong enough to fling him several feet in the first blow and heavy enough that he'd been pretty effectively pinned down. The only consolation in comparing the orc to himself was that the creature's belly was big enough to flop down and conceal whatever genitalia it possessed.

Can't even tell if those are man-boobs or functional teats. Aren't human women exaggerated compared to pretty much all the other members of the monkey kingdom? 'Cause we've been breeding ourselves for nicer and nicer titties since we became smart enough to appreciate the view? Either way, thank you God and-or evolution for the proof of Your love for modern humanity.

But anyway . . . "Nothing?" he called over over to Guiche.

The Earth mage shook his head, and came back over to them. "Dothig," he agreed, holding his nose as tightly as Louise and Montmorency were holding theirs. "Doe bore orcs left." One of his constructs stepped forward and let a small handful of silver – with a couple of flashes of a deeper yellow twinkling in the brief sparkling shower – fell to the ground, and he took a deep breath before letting go of his nose and speaking quickly. "Found this. Not as much as the map said, and scattered. I think another questor got away with the rest." Then he pinched his nose again before taking another breath.

Jason nodded. "If y'all will roll the orcs off the stage and together in a pile so we can burn them, I'll see if I can gather the effects of the questors without disturbing their bodies too much."

"Who are they?" Miss Longueville asked dubiously, as the four somberly returned to the wagon, three corpses Levitating behind them.

"The first group of questors to find the orcs," Louise replied. "Or some of them. We had to Freshen their corpses so we could move them."

"I think, perhaps, they came across the orcs as they were sleeping," Guiche offered, "and thought to secure the prize without needing to fight. Most of the treasure the map promised is gone, so maybe one of them fled once his companions were overcome."

"They fought pretty well," Jason said, picking up the narrative. "Three humans dead for twenty orcs, and we finished off the one wounded that was trying to lay low and recover." He shook his head. "I don't want to think about how much magic they had to be throwing around to have killed so many: Louise exploded the last and I still needed to put a couple of rounds through it before it finally died."

His little mistress grimaced. "I was trying to stun it. I don't know if I missed, or if orcs aren't vulnerable to brainstorms when they're fighting, but it was your shotgun that finished it off." Then she glared at him. "And then you let it bowl you over! Soldiers use orcspears for a reason, and you left both of yours here at the wagon!"

"I know," he replied.

"And you probably still need one of my healing potions," Montmorency reminded him. "I barely managed to cast that new Line in the end, so you might not be able to move tomorrow if you don't get extra healing for your side." She scowled. "We let the first several treasure maps lull us into complacency. If there had been more orcs still living there, it might have been seven people rotting in the sun tomorrow!"

"Do you plan to search for the dead questors' encampment?" Miss Longueville asked. "They may have left supplies behind."

"If the survivor didn't take them away," Jason pointed out. "And as bloated as the corpses were, there's been enough time for wild animals to get at any preserved food. If we don't stumble over any dead and rotting horses, it might take too much time to find their camp for too little reward."

The secretary nodded. "And the bodies?"

"We could hardly leave them there," Guiche declared, "nor burn them with the orcs!"

"If they're students, perhaps the Academy could identify them by the formulation of their wands," Louise said. "Or perhaps you recognize them?"

Miss Longueville shook her head. "The bodies are already too deformed for that," she admitted. "I suppose we can bring their effects along with us, but are you planning to cart around their bodies as well?"

Montmorency shook her head. "Keeping them preserved would take up all my attention, with the paltry tools I'm limited to. We'll bury them here at the road, with a marker so that they can be retrieved once their families get word."

The secretary nodded again.

Verthandi's digging skills were good enough to suggest an augmenting auxilum at work, and so proved invaluable in laying to rest the three corpses deep enough to keep them from being dug back up by scavengers. For the marker stone itself . . .

"We don't even know their names," Guiche said, troubled.

"We don't," Jason agreed. "So, 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.'"

The four looked at him silently, questioningly.

He shrugged. "Our best guess is that they died covering the retreat of the rest of their party. We don't know their stories, their hopes or dreams, the family or sweethearts they've behind. All we know of them is how they died."

Guiche slowly nodded. "They perished bravely, with a tally of dead that few would blush to own. I agree, that must be eulogy enough." So saying, the blond Earth mage Marked the gravestone, and set it firmly in place.

Then he sighed. "I wish I had studied dirges under Mother's tutelage, but they didn't seem fit to charm her ladies."

The group was silent for a long moment, before they started walking back to the wagon. All save Jason, who lingered behind.

And then his little mistress stopped and returned. "What's wrong?" she asked softly, as she came back up to him and took his hand in her own.

"Debating whether a song I know is close enough to fit," he replied. "It's not a perfect fit, but it includes a lament for the bravery of fallen strangers, no matter the banner they fought under." He smiled wryly. Hell, if you don't know the context, it's not obvious that it's about the dead on both sides of the fight. "But I don't have a translation for it, so none of you would hear the rhyme or meter."

Louise nodded. "Perhaps not. But sing it anyway, if you think it might speed their souls to peace."

He smiled down at her. "Of course, beloved. The Blue and the Gray, by Tom Roush.

"Now calmly they rest from the march and the fray
They sleep side by side, both the Blue and the Gray
For them let us weep, both for them and our own
For both have a mother, now weeping and alone.

We will weep, we will weep, for the Gray and the Blue!
Let them sleep, let them sleep, gallant souls brave and true!
As brothers together they'll rise on that day
When trumpets shall waken the Blue and the Gray.

From south is a cottage whence cometh a wail
From north is a home and a face sad and pale
Each mourns o'er her brave and for both we will pray
The birds sing the same o'er the Blue and the Gray.

We will weep, we will weep, for the Gray and the Blue!
Let them sleep, let them sleep, gallant souls brave and true!
As brothers together they'll rise on that day
When trumpets shall waken the Blue and the Gray.

We'll mourn for the brave caring not for the hue
We'll weep for the home of the Gray and the Blue
For soon through the valleys of Heaven they will stay
All clad in white garments, the Blue and the Gray."

It wasn't possible to tell whose eyes started leaking first, but they both had wet tracks down their cheeks by the end. But Louise smiled up at Jason before pressing herself to him in an all-too-brief hug, before they both turned and-

Miss Longueville was there waiting, with an unreadable expression on her face.

They stared at her for a long moment, and she stared back, no one saying anything.

Then finally she blinked rapidly and turned back around. "If your dirge is finished, let us return to the wagon and be off!"

Jason smirked down at his little mistress for a moment, and they followed their chaperone back to the wagon hand-in-hand.

"We'll have to hurry if we wish to reach two more sites today," Miss Longueville had noted when they stopped for luncheon. So they ate quickly and pressed onward, towards what Guiche's map called the Othodaris. The ruins of a monastery, the map said, with a basement where more 'bandits' were known to lurk and stash their ill-gotten gains.

This time the peculiar stink of orc was faint, if a little stronger than the site where they'd found the consolation prize of copper. The secretary renewed the spells on their armor and sharpened all of Jason's blades, and then they were on their way.

There wasn't any movement as they approached the ruins, but as they entered the rubble that was all that was left of the monastery's wall a fresh reek of decay hit them. It came from a little ways away from the stairs that led down underground, around another corner of rubble-

But when they split up by pairs to check the grounds more quickly, for possible ambushes from behind once they descended into the monastery basement, and Jason and Louise poked their heads around the remnants of the wall? It wasn't sleeping orcs that awaited them, or even bloated orc corpses, but rather a pile of bones and rotting flesh.

Those are far too small to be orc bones, he thought as he stared at the refuse heap. And they look well-chewed. This is their garbage mound, for when they're done with their food. One skull, split in half, still had a few ragged, bloodstained bits of skin clinging to it, a lonely tuft of curly brown hair clinging to it. Too small, too human to be from one of the orcs, and he started to reach out to the poor bastard's remains-

Suddenly it seemed like there was a roaring in his ears, and as perspective snapped into view he staggered, his knees no longer wanting to work properly. The remains weren't from some unlucky questor who'd trespassed onto what the orcs would see as their territory: They were too small to be anything but the bones of children.

"Jason?" Louise was there, steadying him.

"I- I-" His throat wouldn't work right. He looked at her with wide eyes. "You told me they ate children, but-" But he'd been distracted by the business with once-king James, and hadn't thought further on it.

"Have you not you seen their refuse heaps before?" Guiche asked, suddenly approaching with Montmorency. "Any orc den would have one. Any camp that isn't cleared quickly will accumulate one."

"We don't have orcs, where I'm from," Jason whispered. "Only stories. I've never seen one before today."

"Oh." The young man's eyes were sad and sympathetic. "Father says it can be a shock for recruits, if their home villages haven't been raided in living memory."

"They were children," Jason said, furiously and desperate blinking eyes that were suddenly wanting to water up again and mourn more dead. "Friends to each other, even."

Louise nodded. "Maybe all from one village, if it was a big one. If- If you need to stay back, this first time-"

"Stay back?" The thought was- No. What had been seen could not be unseen. Standing there, not ten feet from the butchered bones of the children, with the rotten charnel odor still wafting from the pile, drove the horror home with an immediacy that not all the pictures from Auschwitz in his history classes had ever managed. "Suffer the children-" His voice was coming back, and it rose in a growl. "There is no curse great enough-!"

"Are you steady?" Guiche asked, sounding a bit unnerved. "That is, I think I hear footsteps coming-"

He broke off as great, shadowy forms started to emerge from the stairway leading down, and the blond Earth mage quickly began to arrange his bronze Valkyries.

Like the one they'd killed earlier, these orcs were several inches taller than Jason and considerably broader in the chest. Their faces were inhumanly oni-like, but all were different in their monstrosity, as if they had been removed from the mold early and allowed to run like wax, each in its own way. They stopped momentarily upon seeing the adventurers, then uttered inhuman laughter and eagerly started forward again.

He needed a litany, he needed something that made it absolutely clear to his auxilum that now was the time for merciless battle, that every last one of those filthy child-eating monsters had to go down hard. That this was a time for madness and murder.

I scream in silence:
Bad is good and good is bad
Sacred is profane!
And it's wiser to be mad~~~!

"Let the bodies hit the floor," Jason chanted out loud, as the Valkyries advanced to stand between the four of them and danger.

"Let the bodies hit the floor," he growled as Louise fired off her first explosion, staggering the lead orc but not killing it.

"Let the bodies hit the floor!" he shrieked, reaching for his orcspear and his shotgun . . . but then his hand brushed the leaf-bladed sword. The one made heavy enough to cut through modern maile, and that Miss Longueville had sharped to an impossible degree only minutes ago.

"Let the bodies hit the-!"

Trigger(from-hell's-heart-I-stab-at-thee).
Link(awareness).
Link(physical augment)!Marginal
Secondaries(priming).

There was still work to do. Vast gains could yet be made regarding the familiar's condition. A full activation now would be wasteful, and end far faster than it might in better days to come.

But the progress that had been made was . . . adequate. Sufficient, if just barely.

Jason howled wordlessly as he charged, heedless of the warning cries of the others. He swung effortlessly at the lead orc, a horizontal slash across its throat. It felt familiar, like butchering a deer with a heavy and well-sharped hunting knife, the thick skin and tough muscle parting easily before the weight of his blade and the magical keenness of its edge, and then he was in among the next rank. The new orc in front of him raised its club to parry his blow, but it fell back, choking, when the brass knuckles on his left glove met its throat, the jab flashing forward faster than thought and with more force behind it than he'd ever managed to punch before. He followed up his strike with two quick steps forward before driving his sword through its chest, the skin and bones giving way to a point sharpened with magic and driven home with all the divine wrath that filled him, before he wrenched the blade free to spin to the right.

The orc that was there was just starting to turn to try to take him from behind, and so had its own club out of position, so Jason gifted the monstrous humanoid with another fierce slash, its skin and muscle and bone giving way from shoulder to sternum in a spray of gore before he whirled again, this time to parry a blow from the orc that had been on his left. The shock of its club as it was stopped by his sword was there, it should have been enough to tear the weapon from his hand, but the rage of Retribution had not even begun to abate, and his sword was too sturdy to be harmed.

Nonetheless, the orc stepped forward, raising its club once again. Then it stopped in shock when Jason recovered first and swung hard enough and precisely enough to take its club-arm off just below the elbow.

Another quick swing would have taken its head off, but there were two more orcs coming in behind him, so instead he stepped around the maimed orc, hamstringing its leg as he got behind it, forcing the two new foes to split up to come at him.

The first of the new duo had its club held high to fend off his sword, so he feinted a swing to cut off its neck, then reversed and gutted it instead, tearing its belly out in a fresh shower of guts and gore all over the ground.

He'd just wrenched his blade free when he had to spring to the side to avoid the club from the second of the new duo, crashing down a split second later on where he'd been. This one was faster than the others, and had recovered and was attacking again by the time Jason was ready.

The club met the flat of his blade in a desperate parry, and they locked up momentarily. The orc snarled at him, and he growled back, punching it just below what would have been the ribs on a human.

The orc just growled again, pressing Jason even harder. And for all his sudden strength, this orc was stronger still. He was starting to give way, and then it would-

A look of almost comical surprise came over the orc, and then it collapsed, revealing one of Guiche's valkyries with its spear extended, the edge now dripping blood as the construct withdrew its weapon from the back of the orc.

Jason looked around. He counted fourteen orcs, all now lying dead, the valkyries spread out among the corpses. The three mages were still standing back where they'd been when the orcs had emerged: Montmorency had an appalled look on her face, Guiche looked rather pleased with himself, and Louise looked like she didn't know if she wanted to be proud, terrified, or furious.

"What were you thinking?!" she screamed at him.

He shook his sword to clean it, then let his runes fade and stepped towards her. All of a sudden the shock of it hit him, and he felt himself paling.

"Jason?" Louise sounded much more concerned, now, and rushed up to look at him. "You're crying! Are you-"

No we're not! We aren't . . . why are our cheeks wet? We didn't get any blood on our face. "I'm not – I'm fine," he gasped. "Didn't realize how hard I was moving, that's all. My muscles feel– I think I just need a breather."

"That's alright," she told him. "Othodaris isn't supposed to have room for a tribe below, so these may have all the orcs infesting this place. But why did you charge like that?!" Suddenly she looked as if she wanted to shake him or bite him, and just wasn't sure which would get his attention the best.

"I-" He closed his eyes. They were as wet as his cheeks. Why were they wet? He hadn't been hurt. "I was thinking that no child should ever be dragged from his or her home to die for someone's meal. That the orcs all needed to pay for that." Why did his voice almost sound lost? Why was everything seeming so remote?

"It worked perfectly!" Guiche broke in, excitedly, coming up to them with Montmorency behind him. "They were a little confused by your charge, and then you were killing them, and the rest turned back to deal with you. I couldn't ignore that kind of advantage, so I sent my Valkyries in, and Miss Vallière kept casting her Explosion spell, and soon the only one left was that one you were locked with. Is this how we're going to do it every time?"

"No it's not!" Louise snapped at him. "Jason could have been killed if we hadn't been able to take advantage of their distraction! He was supposed to be using his guns against the orcs, not his blades, and his orcspears only if they overcame your vernacula and closed in on us!"

"I promise, I won't go charging the orcs next time," Jason said, trying to reassure her, his breathing starting to slow – when had it sped up? – but his eyes were still somehow wet no matter how much he blinked . . . his hands were covered in blood, so he didn't have anything to wipe them clean, but it shouldn't have been a problem in the first place- "It'll be a proper test of the shotgun," he promised.

"It had better!" For some reason, she didn't look reassured, the worried expression still on her face. But he was fine, nothing was hurt even if his eyes kept leaking-

"If we're done here," Montmorency spoke up, "shouldn't we go below, to be sure they're cleared out? And to see if the prize is still there?"

Below. If any children yet live, that's where they'll be. "Yeah, we should." Jason grinned. Although the way the other three were now looking at him, it might have looked like he was baring his teeth. So he went on, to show that he really was doing just fine. "And, hey, it may be our first time, but we're getting the order right!"

"The order?"

"Yep. Kill, loot, then burn. It's for sacking cities, but, eh. Don't know if orcs have those."

The blonde Water mage was now giving him an appalled look that was reminiscent of when he'd pointed out that she'd have needed to kill the entire Academy to get away with killing him and Siesta.

Which didn't matter, because there might be children to save. Priorities. His auxilum would help him feel right, so- "Nothing wrong with me, Monty. It's just that something had to give. Now."

Oddly enough, she didn't look reassured.

Oh well. Jason bared his teeth again. "Time to push again. If there are any left, this will be their end. Little mistress, some light?"

Louise cautiously nodded and raised her wand. Volitat was still beyond her, but she at least had Light, even if the cantrip required concentration to keep it going.

"Here we go here we go here we go now-" His runes relit, and he marched forward.

"One! Nothin' wrong with me
Two! Nothin' wrong with me
Three! Nothin' wrong with me
Four! Nothin' wrong with me!"

He reached the entrance and paused there for a moment, his little mistress's Light casting his shadow down the steps like a specter of death.

"One! Something's got to give
Two! Something's got to give
Three! Something's got to give-

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!" He took the stairs three at a time as he raced down them headlong, his sword ready to skewer any fool of an orc that might have been running late to the commotion above.

"Let the bodies hit the floor!
Let the bodies hit the floor!
Let the bodies hit the floor!
Let the bodies hit the floor!"

Louise's Light wasn't following very fast, but even without his auxilum Jason's night vision would probably have been good enough to see down the corridor of rough-hewed stone. With it, he could almost see as it if were high noon. The smell down here was thick and foul, rank piss and ripe shit overladen with the vile reek of orc body odor, but there wasn't any particular concentration, everywhere smelled equally awful.

No one was crying or making other noises as he tramped forward. "Can anyone hear me? Anyone there? There by yourself but you're not alone! I'm coming!"

His eyes stung once, his cheeks were wet again for some reason, but he angrily shook his head to get it off and headed for the first door.

It wasn't locked so Jason burst through, sword ready to skewer . . . nothing. The room was fouled and filthy, the orc version of a fratboy's bedroom, but nothing moved or breathed, no orcs or captives.

He snarled and wheeled around, heading for the next door.

"Jason!"

The voice of his little mistress, finally starting to come down the steps, bringing the light that he was going to need to keep going. Upset, but who wouldn't be in this den of horrors?

The second room was equally empty of targets to kill or captives to save, as was the third, and the fourth-

"Stop rushing ahead!" she demanded.

"Don't worry, I can see well enough," Jason reassured her.

Louise responded by yanking on him through their bond. It was almost enough to make him stop, but he couldn't stop, he couldn't, if there were any captives alive down here he had to get to them before any hidden orcs could-

Then she screamed, and he whirled around, his heart in his throat at the thought of missing a hidden orc that was now savaging her . . . but it was nothing. She just needed comfort in this pit of damnation.

"Don't worry, I'll give you a hug as soon as I've cleared the rooms!" Jason promised earnestly, whirling back around as his little mistress gaped at him. But there was no time for that, and he burst through the door of the fifth and sixth rooms, both as filthy yet empty as the rest. That was the end of the hallway, he turned the corner and-

A sharp pain stabbed through the back of his lungs, where he'd felt the vague sense of soreness before after running out the clock on his auxilum, and his sword slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers, as he toppled over and collapsed face-first onto the orc-befouled floor.

There was utter silence for a moment.

"Jason?!" Louise called out, now sounding far less frustrated and far more worried. The light sound of her footsteps grew closer, and-

"What happened?!" she demanded in truly alarmed tones as she turned 'round the corner. Her Light grew far brighter, banishing the shadows. "I don't see any orcs, was there a trap? Are you stabbed? Montmorency will need to clean the wound thoroughly-"

"No-" he gasped. Then spat in disgust at the bits of filth clinging to his mouth from falling over and hitting the ground. ["Could use a good Scour all over, but I'm not hurt. Not physically."]

She sighed, carefully Levitated him to turn him over, and then renewed the Light before it could entirely vanish. "You're crying again."

"I- I am? I don't . . . I couldn't find anyone to save, if there are any orcs left they'll have killed them by now-"

"Oh, Jason." Louise sighed again, shaking her head and patting his hair. "There won't be any left, not when they'd already feasted on the children they stole. Guiche and Montmorency will check the rest of the rooms, and then we'll go back to Miss Longueville."

He nodded and smiled at her – but why did that make her look like she was about to cry? – and picked up his sword where he'd dropped it. Or tried, but it felt ten times as heavy. Everything felt so heavy . . .

The secretary glanced up as they returned, then did a double-take when it registered that a recently-Scoured Jason was being Levitated prone though the air while Guiche had his constructs encircling the group. "Miss Vallière, was your familiar wounded?"

"I'm fine now!" he insisted.

Louise shook her head. "No he isn't, not after collapsing of vis exhaustion. Halfway through making sure the basement was clear, too." She shot him a reproachful look. "If an orc had been in the next room you'd have been dead before we could get to him!"

"Surely it would have heard the warsong and come out before then," Guiche offered. "And that was not a song to be missed, even with the translation so obviously difficult." He smirked. "Jason, you never told me you had balladeer training."

Dammit. "If we're secure enough that y'all can laugh at my expense, mind letting me down?"

His little mistress shot him another glare. "If your knees buckle under you . . ." she half-threatened, but lowered her wand and, perforce, him as well.

And then Jason swayed when he touched down and all his weight went on his knees, but he gritted his teeth and managed to stay upright long enough to get to the wagon and lean on it. "Yes, I know it was simple and repetitive. It's what I could think of at the time, and at least it let me evolve into my next form."

"Your what?" Miss Longueville asked, suddenly intent once more.

Louise rolled her eyes. "He's making a stupid joke from some story he's read. He does that sometimes, and it took me weeks to figure it out."

He sagged a bit more. "You can tell when I'm making a reference? Damn, there go most of my best lines."

The secretary shook her head. "Ah. Forgive me. For a moment I thought I would have something especially intriguing to report to the Headmaster. This was but an intense use of your known auxilum?"

Jason nodded. "I think so. Still need to be wearing a weapon to pull it off, but this time I didn't just get the better focus: I got enough strength to almost match the boss orc directly. Easily enough to kill the rest with a sharpened blade. Thanks for that part."

She nodded slowly, considering his words. "You are welcome. You found live orcs, then?"

"We found their refuse heap first," Montmorency told her, rather flatly, "then Jason was howling about dropping corpses in their paths, and when he charged down the monastery stairs he was screaming about bursting free and everything being well-" She shook her head. "It was lunacy."

"It was his first time seeing childrens' bones in an orc heap," Guiche pointed out. "I couldn't keep luncheon down, when Father took me to the field and showed me one, and that was after his Valkyries had already slaughtered every last one of them in their den." The boy frowned. "He only took me out to see orcs once more, just before I came to the Academy. I should have asked him again last summer, rather that go to Mother for advise on charming Monmon."

"Jason wasn't so bad when he saw the bones," Louise declared, scowling. "He was lucid enough after the shock of it, just eager to avenge the dead, which none of us can fault." Her scowl darkened. "Exhausting his vis so quickly is far more concerning."

Assuming it's vis at all. Our sore feeling doesn't really match Mr. Colbert's description of emptiness, even if it seems like it's about the same spot behind the lungs. Whatever it is, our Super Saiyan mode burns through our 'mana bar' like a dieter on cheat day with a triple-meat, triple-cheese Whataburger. "Oh, hey, I don't think it was just strength I got. I knew exactly what to do with my sword, like I'd been practicing for a decade."

His little mistress nodded. "Yes, you were as fast as if you'd been practicing for years as well. When they tried to surround you, you cut through them so quickly they never had a chance. Like steel lightning raining down upon them. And then you collapsed and sprawled on your face!"

Jason sighed. "Yeah, that happened too."

It had all been going so well up that point, no matter what she said otherwise. He'd felt unstoppable as he landed in the basement and stormed through each room, ready to dispense a bloody death to any orc he came across. Or rescue any lost children that might have been tucked away for tomorrow's meal, although Louise had been right about there being no prisoners left alive. The rooms had been filthy, it had been clear that the orcs had infested the monastery ruins for some time, and there was no treasure to be had, not even a consolation prize.

But once he collapsed, it was easier to rest his eyes and let the others finish the search to confirm all that.

"Best guess," he went on, "they'd been there since spring, and no one dared get close enough to hide any prize money. I take it orcs don't care about money at all?"

"Most of the time, no," his little mistress agreed. "People don't trade with them, they sound the alarm when they're sighted." She paused for a moment. "Although Father and Mother do occasionally capture a merchant willing to smuggle weapons to them. They're executed for their treachery, of course, but they can charge orcs a far higher price for good steel blades than a person would have to pay to commission a new sword from a smith." Then she scowled again. "Which doesn't change the fact that you put yourself in danger!"

Jason smiled sheepishly. "Didn't exactly expect to run out so soon. Usually I'm good for a few hours, after all. I'm guessing having the strength to almost match a boss orc is a bit more costly."

"In light of that, I think it'd be best that we not try any more maps today," Guiche commented. "You've proven that you can match half-a-dozen orcs when there's need, but until you've recovered we're left without that surety should it go amiss with my Valkyries."

"Right, I'll hang back with the shotgun next time. Uh, so what do we do for the rest of the day? Bury the bones of the children, I guess, or do we try to find their parents and give them a chance to sort out the remains?"

The blond mage looked at his map. "There are a few hamlets close by, and a village a bit further on. We could visit the closest, and see if they've news of children gone missing."

Be odd if they didn't. Those bones were still fresh, they hadn't had time for the scraps of uneaten flesh to rot away.

"We're not putting Jason in danger until he's had a chance to rest!" Louise declared, crossing her arms and glaring at them all. "De Gramont, would you press on if Montmorency had to use Vitriolic Rebuke earlier?"

Guiche gave his lover a quick look, and shook his head. "I wouldn't, but I doubt a town would present any fresh danger."

The tiny rosecrown huffed. "You only say that because you don't know my familiar. If there are any more orc camps within striking distance, he'll insist on going after them tonight if there's any hope of saving the children!"

They all turned to give Jason a considering look.

"I already said I'd stay in the back and use a shotgun," he muttered, feeling surly. "And if there's a chance of saving any kids, we should be swift to deal out death in judgment."

"When you act as someone's agent, his programme may not be terribly concerned with your own safety," Miss Longueville dryly observed. "If Professor Colbert's theory is correct, if the Left Hand of Retribution marked you, then the archangel may be pushing you to act to strike at the enemies of Brimir and save his followers." She shook her head. "Your familiar may not have much choice in the matter, Miss Vallière."

"I summoned him!" Louise snarled in reply. "He's my-!"

She broke off as Jason shook his head, stood up straight, staggered over to her, and wrapped his arms around her. ["Breathe, little mistress. I'm not abandoning you. No one, not even an archangel, is going to tear me away from you."]

["You can still be hurt,"] she replied sullenly, clinging to him and burying her head in his chest. ["You can still die, you may be stronger but you've already had to take one of Montmorency's potions today and your auxilum keeps doing things we don't expect! You can't rely on something you don't understand when you're fighting, not if you want to survive!"]

"Dammit," he muttered, then sighed. "I don't need my auxilum to use a shotgun, but you're right about me needing a chance to rest and recover. Unless, in the event, you'd be willing to accompany us during the rescue to make up for the lack in fighting strength, Miss Longueville?"

The secretary froze. "What have you-?!" she exclaimed, before freezing again, her eyes now rather wary. "I'm sorry, but the thought of facing orcs is more than a little unnerving. I certainly don't command anything like the de Gramont vernacula, and a single golem can't act as an effective shield wall."

Jason sighed again. "I guess that makes sense. Even if it might be fun to ride on a giant golem."

She twitched. "I'm not certain you could afford to pay what Fouquet would demand in exchange for that."

He chuckled tiredly. "Probably not. And we don't even know if there's further trouble to be found, so it might all be moot. But if we're going to head to the nearest hamlet, shouldn't we do that soon, before the sun starts to set?"

"Yes, that seems wise," Miss Longueville agreed. Then she gave him a long, considering look. "Miss Vallière, are you feeling somewhat reassured?"

Louise flinched, still wrapped in his arms. "I suppose I'm better," she admitted, more than a little reluctantly.

"Mm." The secretary-turned-chaperone paused for a long moment, before shaking her head. "If you believe it will aid you and your familiar in sleeping more soundly tonight, to be better recovered on the morrow, I'll not consider it worth reporting should you seek a measure of repose in your familiar's lap while we ride to the hamlet."

His little mistress pulled her head out of his chest and turned to stare disbelievingly at the older verdetress.

Who smiled wryly in response. "You summoned your familiar at the start of spring, Miss Vallière. I haven't been working for the Academy for very long, but as winter came to a close the Headmaster had me study several accounts of unusual familiars and the accommodations that we've made for them over the years."

"Surely you've never seen a mage seeking to lie with her familiar," Montmorency put in, rather snidely. "That kind of lurid nonsense only belonged in ragbook tales, until now."

Miss Longueville smiled thinly at the slender blonde. "Leaving aside the question of whose behavior is more fit for scandalous gossip, I'd advise against mocking the depth of affection felt by a mage with a companion familiar. I'm certain you care for Robin, but you might be surprised by the result if your lover is ever made to choose between you and Verthandi." Her lips quirked. "Nor would she be the first familiar who rarely uses the bed of straw set aside for her."

The potioneer's eyes widened slightly, as she turned to shoot Guiche a questioning look.

Who looked rather pained in response. "I would that I should never have to make that choice," he told her, trying to take her hand.

Montmorency resisted for a moment, but then darted a look at Jason and Louise and firmly returned her lover's grasp. "You'll not find it any more remarkable if Guiche and I seek similar comfort, I trust."

That got a smirk from the secretary as she moved to board the wagon. "If you each wish to hold your familiars in your laps, I'll not find it remarkable, no."

Both Jason and his little mistress were hard-pressed not to snicker as they climbed into their seat. Fortunately for them, so was Guiche, much to his lover's distinct lack of amusement at getting tweaked. (Although she still sat in his lap, with a defiant glare that promised vengeance upon any who mocked her for it.)

["Don't fall asleep, little mistress, it'll be that much harder to get to sleep tonight if you do."]

["But I'm tired,"] she whined. ["And I feel better here in your lap than I have all day. Do something to help me stay awake."]

["I'd pull out one of my books, if reading in a moving vehicle didn't tend to make me sick. But I don't think I can kiss you without Miss Longueville objecting, and she's already noticed Guiche's free hand inside Monty's shirt, so I don't think I can get away with that, either."]

Louise's eyes shot open and darted over to where their driver's off-hand did indeed disappear into the blouse of the blonde on his lap. (Who, by the way she was cuddled up against him, didn't seem to mind that he'd figured out one of the happier implications of flexible undergarments.) But then the rosecrown's gaze caught Miss Longueville's, whose eyes glinted warningly as the chaperone glanced down at Jason's hands, which were both carefully in view, and equally carefully not positioned anywhere lewd or otherwise objectionable.

His little mistress growled softly and buried her head into his chest, lightly nipping at him through his shirt. ["If it wouldn't cause a disaster, I'd tell you to wander with both hands, just to shock her."]

He chuckled. ["If it weren't her job to watch us, I'm not sure she'd care. And if it wouldn't make you fall asleep even faster, I'd already be offering you a back rub and a scalp rub. But-"]

"You might all wish to make yourselves presentable," their fifth wheel suddenly announced, looking ahead to where a small cluster of buildings came into view as the road curved.

A few flustered heartbeats later, blonde and rosecrown were both in their correct seats, smoothing out their clothing and hair, respectively. Then they turned their wands on their respective boyfriends, looking to remove any evidence that might be cause for comment if noticed by anyone with an idle tongue and an eye for detail.

But no one came to meet them as they approached the hamlet, and smoke was rising from the chimney of just one of the houses. Either no one else wanted to cook supper, or-

"There should be movement," Miss Longueville stated with narrowed eyes. "Something's gone wrong, here."

"Right," Jason sighed, picking up his shotgun. Then he gasped and doubled over, as a sudden burst of pain shot through him, centered on the spot behind his lungs that always ached when his magic ran out. Not as bad as when he'd collapsed, but not anything he wanted to repeat.

"What's wrong?!" Louise immediately demanded.

"I was thinking I should look for danger, but-" He shook his head, still wincing as the soreness only barely started to ease. "I wasn't even trying to use it right then, just getting ready to . . . huh. I should try this again once I've rested. See if it's easier tomorrow."

"And for now?" she asked, eyes narrowed.

"For now I'll do my best to keep from using it. But if there's trouble I really don't need an auxilum to use a shotgun." Hitting the target at anything but short range might be another matter, though, without the aim assist we've gotten used to using.

There was a long moment where nobody moved or said anything.

"De Gramont, you'd be the best choice to hail them," Miss Longueville finally pointed out. "With your vernacula nearby in case of the worst, of course."

Guiche looked a bit uncertain, but nodded and slipped off the wagon. He stepped forward, gleaming petals falling from his rose-wand as he waved it, hitting the ground only to spring up as bronze valkyries in his wake as he approached the one seemingly inhabited dwelling.

"Hello the house!" he called out, stopping several paces from the building. "What news is there of the Othodaris?"

Another long moment of silent stillness passed.

Finally the door creaked open, and a wizened matron's head poked through. "News of the Othodaris!" she repeated sharply. "Have ye come to mock the-" Then she broke off and stared at the sight before her.

"Questors?" she finally asked.

The blond young mage bowed gracefully. "Indeed, from the Tristain Academy of Magic. But what is such a gracious dowager doing by herself, in these uncertain times?"

The old woman snorted, although the slight smile curling her lips suggested that she'd been a little charmed, at least. "No need to flatter me like I was a witch in the woods, m'lord. Someone had to stay and see to the wounded if they were to have any hope, that's all. Better me than those that might still begat little ones, to replace what those forsaken filth stole to fill their bellies!"

Guiche had straightened up, and the mention of lost children wiped all trace of good humor from his face. "Indeed. We found their midden-heap, and I regret to say that there were no children to be found in the basement."

The crone's eyes narrowed. "The basement. Ye mean to say ye went and faced those demons?"

He nodded. "Fourteen dead and burned, but we'd no way of knowing if there were others out hunting, and we thought it best to ask where the grave for the children should be dug. I can ask my Verthandi to dig quickly, once she has a chance to rest, but it seemed ill-done to lay them to rest where the next pack of orcs would just dig them up again."

Her expression softened as her eyes suddenly glistened. "Aye, my last daughter – if she yet lives – might take comfort in a grave for her lost ones that she can safely visit. Adventurers, come at last! We'd despaired of seeing any this year, when the mapper dared not approach the Othodaris this spring. The orcs had come up from the south late in the winter, and Lord Ewan refused to believe they'd come marauding afore the thaw! He's still not sent men, even though they've started taking children from Breaunau. That's where everyone's gone to, those that could survive the walk. What's left is too badly injured, even for a wagon."

"A wagon with or without Tranquil Axis?" Jason broke in to ask. "I mean, if you aren't getting magical support-"

"I said no such thing, vagabond!" the old woman quickly interrupted, eyes widening. "Lord Ewan has his duties, and there'll be none who said I spoke aught against him!"

"Pay him no heed, he can be a bit simple at times." Guiche turned his head and quickly shook it in Jason's direction, before turning back to her. "None could accuse you of Protestant heresies, ma'am, not after witnessing your bravery in caring for the injured. But if they are few enough, we may be able to help you bring them to safety. Breaunau is the nearby village, yes?"

"Few enough, aye. There's not many blessed enough to survive being struck down by orcs, but we had little choice but to try to stop them. The fiends grew so bold they were coming into the hamlet itself by the end!"

"Bold indeed," he agreed, before turning his head once more, this time to his lover. "Monmon, if your potions will expire soon, perhaps we could spare them to fortify these brave men for the journey?"

The blonde Water mage frowned. "They aren't potent enough to heal truly grievous wounds, but they might effect enough good to be worthwhile," she agreed, climbing down off the wagon and Levitating the fruits of her labors along with her. "Is it far to Breaunau? We've never quested in this direction and so haven't walked the roads ourselves."

"Not far," the elderly matron agreed, standing aside for the amateur medica to enter the dwelling. "By your generosity, with Brimir's favor we'll all be safe behind the village walls by suppertime."

Jason tilted his head slightly as he watched the trio disappear inside. "'Simple'," he repeated flatly.

"You were inviting her to be disloyal to her lord, chosen by Brimir to care for her and her family," Louise told him, shaking her head. "Even if she harbors some small resentment for him not being able to attend to this infestation all spring, accusing her of voicing such heresies was incredibly rude!"

He tried not to hunch up at the scolding, but- "So what if he's not just entangled in some complexity of governance, and genuinely failing in his God-given duties?"

"Then it would be up to his peers to remind him of his responsibilities," Miss Longueville answered. "But surely this was merely a matter of him needing time to assemble sufficient forces to handle a dozen orcs without losing scores of the militia when facing them."

Jason frowned at that. "I honestly can't tell if you're being serious or deadpan sarcastic, but delaying all spring seems like a long time to gather troops."

"Only if there weren't other packs of orcs elsewhere that had to be dealt with first, and Father has been campaigning against them." Then his little mistress smirked slightly. ["I must confess, I rather look forward to telling him of our questing, later. I was dreading being left behind at the manor again this summer, for my own safety, even if it meant I'd be able to spend more time with Cattleya."]

"If I recall my geography correctly, Breaunau is on the very edge of Asponn, and Lord Ewan owes fealty directly to the Crown," Miss Longueville noted. "He'll have no immediate hope of relief, especially if orc packs are moving north all across southeastern Tristain and his neighbors are equally occupied."

Louise nodded. "And his barony is small, scarcely larger than some of the holdings Father grants to his vassal barons, so he may not have troops to spare from protecting his baronial seat."

Jason blinked. "Your dad has his own set of lords sworn to him?" Was that how they did it back on Earth? Could've sworn titles came directly from the king-

She shook her head. "They aren't lords, just vassal barons. Not true landed nobility like Lord Ewan." Then she shot him a pensive look. "So if we end up meeting Lord Ewan, and for some reason you have to speak to him, don't call him a baron. He's the lord of a barony, yes, but implying he's a vassal baron and not directly sworn to the Crown would be a grave insult. As rude as claiming that he's willfully derelict in his duties to his commoners."

"Miss Vallière, it might be best if you strive to keep your familiar from speaking at all to nobles who aren't used to his . . . unique manners," Miss Longueville counseled dryly. "At least until he's been thoroughly instructed in proper deportment."

"Then you'll need to let us commune mind-to-mind again," his little mistress countered tartly. "It's the only way I've found to get him to at least slow down all of his questions."

The secretary sighed. "Yes, I think I can see that. Very well, I'll not object to the practice around those not of your little company."

"Well, since we aren't around those others yet," Jason said, feeling no small amount of exasperation, "I'll go ahead and ask this out loud: Are vassal baronies how dukes keep strong mages in their service? It seems like the most likely reason to hand out titles . . . and I guess people would take them instead of going independent so they'd have a powerful lord for support and protection."

Louise nodded again. "That's right. A Line, even a strong one who expects to reach Triangle later in life, is far more secure if he has allied Triangles or Squares living close by. Some of our barons, especially on the border with the Zerbsts, have served us for generations, but some of the lords to the west and south petitioned the Crown for permission to become Vallière vassals when Grandfather submitted to Tristain as a Duke."

"Right. And ugh, noble etiquette. If it's as complicated as it got in Europe, learning it is gonna be a headache."

"Not so much," Miss Longueville disagreed. "You aren't noble yourself, so keep your head down, be still and respectful if you aren't set to any tasks, don't get caught leering at noblewomen – so try not to look at your master at all – don't speak unless spoken to, keep your hands clasped in front of you if you aren't working, and be respectful if you're asked a question."

He blinked several times. "What?"

Louise rolled her eyes. "Most of the time you'll be acting as my guard or secretary, but she's right about not leering," she told him before sighing. "I'm sorry, but I fear that Mr. Colbert and 'Ann' gave you the entirely wrong impression of what nobles expect from commoners."

You've got to be kidding us. "So what, being your familiar has shielded me from all of that at the Academy?"

"Yes, but I can't go around telling people you're my familiar: You've seen how everyone reacts to that!"

Jason opened his mouth to respond, but at that point the door opened and Guiche, Montmorency, and the old peasant woman emerged, followed by two Levitating bodies, each heavily bandaged.

["Guess it's time to get out of the wagon,"] he sent to his little mistress. She nodded and they clambered down. Fortunately, by now he'd had enough of a breather than he didn't need to hang on to the wagon to stand up more-or-less straight.

"Are there any more wounded?" Louise asked, striding over to them with her wand out.

"One more, Miss," the old woman replied. "They're doing better with your comrade's potions, and after she looked them over she said it ought to be fine to lay them in your wagon. With Brimir's favor we'll all make it to Breaunau safe and sound."

The slender rosecrown nodded, entered the house, and a couple of moments after she emerged with a third bandaged form Levitating behind her. (And the peasant woman must have doused the fire before leaving, for the rising smoke was thinning rapidly.)

With all four nobles, one commoner, and one giant mole now off the wagon, it proved to have just enough room for the three wounded men. And-

"Matron, I've no need to hold reins for my Valkyries," Guiche told the old woman. "Come, sit in the driver's seat, you must be exhausted after caring for these brave men all on your own."

"Hmph!" she replied. "I can yet walk the distance if I've need. Still, m'lord, that's a generous offer and my old bones are right grateful for the rest." So saying, she clambered onto the front of the wagon – a surprisingly spry display for one of her apparent age – and they set out.

"Have you been letting that one at the liquor?" the elderly peasant demanded a few minutes later, as Jason began staggering. Sadly, the caffeine had entirely worn out by now, and his burst of power-fueled violence was still making its costs known. She sniffed. "If he can't hold his spirits, oughtn't be letting him at more than small beer."

"Truly, he's a fine fellow once you get to know him," Guiche replied, "if a trifle uncouth at times."

The old woman harrumphed, but seemed content to let it lie.

Apparently there's an age exemption for being servile to nobility. And note to self: Make sure whatever title we buy from Germania is at least as high-ranking at the de Gramonts, and preferably higher. But on an entirely unrelated note, ["Think there'll be time for more of your field medicine tonight? Pretty sure I'm gonna need it if I want to be mobile tomorrow. And don't worry, as worn out as I am, I'm not going to even try to touch a weapon until tomorrow. Not unless something's coming for you specifically."]

["It's good that you're finally seeing sense regarding that,"] Louise returned tartly. ["There should be time, yes. Montmorency will need longer to gather her reagents unless she stumbles over them right away, so I'll come back and brew it up while we're waiting for her to finish gathering."] She paused, then: ["The old woman's not wrong about keeping you from liquor, though."]

["Har. Har."]

"Halt! State your . . . Orianne? Is that you?" The young man saying this was clad in armor that looked like an extra-thick quilt and carried a spear, which both he and his identically-equipped partner had leveled at the party when he challenged them. They guarded a gate in a wooden wall that was about twelve feet high, but at least had sharpened stakes jutting out along the top to discourage climbers.

"Aye, it's me you young scalawag," the old peasant woman replied, sliding down from the driver's seat and approaching the two guards. "Brimir finally sent us some good fortune, questors at last to face the orcs, and they say they've already cleared the Othodaris! So turn those spears aside and let us through."

"Already cleared-" The second guard, not quite so young, peered at the two constructs pulling the wagon. "Are those the de Gramont Valkries?"

Orianne shrugged. "Wouldn't know, never seen the like. Pulled the wagon neat as you please, though, no jostling at all to risk hurting Ange, Ludovic, or Killian."

"De Gramont," the older guard repeated. His eyes alighted on Guiche, and he immediately bowed. "Milord, your aid is truly a Brimir-sent mercy!"

The young nobleman inclined his head politely in return. "In truth, we were blessed by Brimir as well: It was our good fortune to surprise the orcs, and we slaughtered them before they quite realized that the tables had turned on them. Our tally was fourteen slain and burned, but we don't know if there were any out raiding when we attacked."

"Not from the Othodaris, not after they gorged themselves on our young," the older guard opined darkly. "They'd have lounged another day or two and come back out when they got hungry enough." He shook his head. "Been arguing for an expedition to try to burn them out tomorrow, but I suppose that won't be needed."

"You'll still be wanting to take a look-see, Remy," Orianne told him. "Can't see anyone going back to their farms if we aren't sure the danger's well and truly gone."

"Aye, true enough." He turned and bowed to Guiche again. "Milord, enter and be welcome! There's said to be more orcs at Aracys Grove and the Blae Pillars, if you've a mind to hunt them on the morrow."

"We're indeed hoping for more practice in killing such vermin," the blond young nobleman agreed, smiling. "If food is being rationed, we have our own supplies, but a spot for a campfire and a place to bed down would be most appreciated indeed."

"Hmph! They'll do better than that, or I'll know the reason why!" Orianne declared, marching forward and through the gate. "Océane, where are you?" she called. "These old bones need their rest, and there's mouths to be feeding afore they save us all again tomorrow!"

Then she turned back and gave Jason a gimlet eye. "Oh, and keep that one away from the ale." Then she turned back again and marched off. "Can't hold his spirits, probably had all the orcs laughing so they'd be easier to kill . . ."

He facepalmed.

"Here's your small beer," Louise told him a little while later, as bowls of thick stew were handed out. There was an undeniable smirk on her face, which he did his best to ignore.

Until an evil thought came to him, that is. "Hey, Guiche, if you have enough to drink, how do you start to act around women?"

The young Earth mage paused in the middle of emptying his cup of ale. "I would still get my kisses," he replied. "I didn't feel nervous about trying to bloom for them, and that made it easier, I think. Why?"

Jason glanced around. "By now, word's spreading that you've killed a bunch of orcs, so I'd expect there's more than one new widow sorely missing the man who used to share her bed, and grateful there's justice being done for their dead. Planning to bloom for anyone tonight?"

"I-" Guiche paused and turned his head to look at the blonde sitting next to him.

Her expression was stony, but she stared straight ahead and refused to meet his gaze.

"-think that perhaps I should stick to small beer myself," he admitted. "I've not had occasion for revelry since I pledged myself to Monmon, and it does seem prudent to avoid . . ."

He trailed off anxiously, then slumped in clear relief as Montmorency relaxed enough to lean her head against him.

Heading out to gather reagents had been deemed unwise with so many orcs running free, but the refugees had brought what they could when they fled to the sheltering walls of Breaunau, and that had included supplies to care for the wounded. They'd been free for the asking after Louise offered to brew enough field medicine for everyone who'd overworked themselves in the last few days, and the grateful cheers had been practically deafening when Montmorency offered to brew healing potions in exchange for a supply of preserved reagents to take with them once the orcs were dead and they were ready to move on.

Which meant Jason got to choke down the bitter concoction that much sooner, which was good because he was having more and more trouble staying upright and awake as the day wore on. Which seemed to have convinced half the village that he'd still gotten drunk despite the warnings otherwise, so he was quite ready to ignore them all and collapse into oblivion.

Fortunately, the combination of sleeping badly the previous night and wearing himself out by overclocking his auxilum was enough that, for once, he barely remembered laying down on his bedroll before merciful slumber claimed him.

"Jason, it'd be best for you to rise now." This was accompanied by someone shaking his shoulder, which turned out to be Miss Longueville when he opened his eyes.

"Are orcs attacking?" he muttered sleepily, before stretching and-

Oh. There, curled up next to him – frankly snuggling up against him – was his little mistress, snoring lightly, a comforting core of warmth as awareness returned.

Which nonetheless shot a cold jolt of adrenaline right through him. "Okay, I know what you said about-!"

"Right now the village is crowded enough," the secretary interrupted him, rolling her eyes, "that they put us all in this hut with you. Even de Gramont wasn't shameless enough to sport with his lover in our company, but if anyone comes in they'll wonder why your master chose to sleep where she did, and by breakfast they'll likely be saying we spent all night debauching ourselves."

"Village gossip, lovely. Okay, I'm up," Jason replied, suiting word to deed as he rolled to his feet. "Could use some tea again, if the breakfast fires are going yet."

"Smell the bread baking? They are," Miss Longueville confirmed. "Are you fit to fight?"

He stretched, and- "Yep. Everything's feeling better. As for my auxilum . . ." He trailed off as he pulled a glove on, trying to think of a fresh line to try-

The awareness of his basic auxilum blossomed in his mind: The glove was still in good condition, there were all sorts of rude places to punch, chop, or slap a person to disable them, and-

"Woah." Letting the effect end took a deliberate effort on his part and it seemed almost like his auxilum felt eager to be used. Straining at the leash, yearningfor battle . . .except a bit of soreness still twinged at the back of his lungs. "Okay, this is going to take a bit of getting used to, but I don't think I need to chant anymore. Unless I need that for the overdrive mode, but I'm only mostly recovered so I'm not testing that part today. Basic version should be fine for staying behind the lines and using the shotgun."

"Your auxilum has indeed evolved, then. The Headmaster will be pleased to hear it."

Evolved in the Pokemon sense, anyway. "Seems like. Let's go find that breakfast fire and brew some tea."

Scouts were dispatched early to the Othodaris and returned while the village was having a communal breakfast – which they once again insisted on sharing with Guiche's party – confirming the tally of burned orcs and lack of further activity below. This news was met with loud cheers and swift offers of directions to both the Aracys Grove and the Blae Pillars, should the three noble champions feel sufficiently rested after yesterday's trial to show forth Brimir's wrath upon the wicked once more.

["You're the only one who was hurt,"] Louise noted. ["How are you feeling today?"]

["Well enough for firearms, anyway,"] Jason responded. ["Just be ready to try out your steel balls, since I won't be distracting them like yesterday."]

["Indeed."] "Which would prove the more open field of battle?" she asked. "Are the pillars widely spread or close together like trees in a grove?"]

"It's said the Blae Pillars were once the gathering place for a Dominion's cultus," one of the villagers replied. He'd been one of the wounded that Montmorency had treated, and if he wasn't entirely recovered he still had the solid build of a fighting man. Might be a retired soldier who ended up as hamlet boss or something. "It's fallen into disuse and now thoroughly desecrated by those forsaken monsters, but it's far more open than the grove. Would that be more to your liking, Miss Vallière?"

"All of our liking, I think," Guiche quickly replied. "We don't know the grove and might find ourselves tricked attempting to fight within, but if the Pillars are cleared then the reduced threat of orcs would surely permit the men of the village to support us at Aracys Grove, when we face the last of the orcs plaguing Breaunau."

There was a bit of a worried mutter at that, but the wounded villager merely nodded. "If I'm well enough tomorrow, I'll be one of them with you. I faced death against the orcs purely to buy time for others to retreat, I'll not shrink from the same risk if it means killing them all and ensuring our safety!"

And that was the end of the murmuring.

They ended up setting out with about a dozen villagers accompanying them, in quilted armor, armed with spears and slings. Not for the front lines, but to provide a line to retreat behind, should the fight go badly and require a moment to resummon valkyries, partake of Montmorency's freshly-brewed healing potions, and so on. Miss Longueville came along as well, to stay back with the peasant militia, ready to raise a quick bank of earth to help slow down the orcs in case of such dire straits.

It made sense, but it left Jason feeling a bit self-conscious as they marched towards the abandoned and now defiled sacred site. The one thing he knew he could do well was forbidden on the grounds of Louise's displeasure, but they hadn't had a chance to see how well their intended tactics actually worked. And we've already managed to make a fool of ourself in the eyes of the village. We can't afford to screw up again, not if we're going to get that good reputation we need.

"Have you two had a chance to work on your group casting?" he asked, very quietly.

"Somewhat," Guiche replied. He glanced at his lover and smirked just a little. "It seemed the thing to do, when we needed a chance to rest."

Montmorency flushed a bit, returning her lover's glance with a quelling look of her own. "If we have time to prepare, I'll try to cast Mire. But I'm still learning it, so it may take too long to cast to perform the via lubricus."

"I can't complete an aggregate while conjuring my Valkyries," the Earth mage agreed. "So if the orcs advance quickly we shouldn't count on it-"

"Sorry," Jason interrupted, still very quietly, "but what about Miss Longueville?"

The blond pair blinked in unison. Then, after exchanging a look of mild chagrin, Montmorency started to drift back to consult with their chaperone.

The Blae Pillars were widely spaced pillars of blueish-white stone, perhaps twenty feet high for the most part, arranged in a rough circle. From within came the hearty stench of a band of orcs, who were clearly alert and ready to respond as the adventurers approached.

Unsweltering Armor and Keenest Edge had been applied back at the village when they'd set out, so with buffs already handled Guiche set about conjuring his bronze vernacula while Montmorency started to cast Mire on the ground in front of them. Louise pulled out her steel balls, Miss Longueville waited from behind for Mire to finish so that she could begin her portion of the aggregate casting, and Jason made sure that his shotgun was loaded and ready to fire.

Once again his auxilum leapt into action, and this time he didn't push it back down. It was only a twinge at the back of his lungs, after all, and now . . . "This is your time to pay~" he murmured. "This is your judgment- Ow!"

["I'd do worse than kick your shin if we were alone!"] Louise threatened. ["No. Singing!"]

Dammit. ["Okay, okay. Eyes front, little mistress, you want to use those balls before they get too close."]

She nodded sharply. As the first few orcs began to stumble in the slippery mud that Montmorency and Miss Longueville had raised, she flicked her wand and quickly Levitated the first steel ball out to where the charging orcs were clustered.

A few saw it and ducked out of the way, laughing at how easily the foolish human magic was avoided. Then Louise cast Transmutation on her projectile, and the steel ball promptly exploded.

The results were gratifying. The two closest orcs simply fell over into the mud, blood pouring from bodies that had been torn open, and several more orcs stumbled as steel fragments tore into them. Then another three collapsed as the triumphant rosecrown Levitated and catastrophically failed to Transmute a second steel ball in their midst.

The third pseudo-grenade failed to kill more than one orc, however, as the survivors responded to the unexpected assault by rapidly spreading out as they approached the pesky human vermin.

["No more, they're getting too close!"]

["I know!"] she snapped back. ["Be ready to fire!"]

["I am!"] he replied gleefully. Exterminatus!

Even after just a couple of weeks of practice, Jason was now far more comfortable with his weapons than the night he'd discovered his battle auxilum. Plus he'd learned something about orc fortitude when hit in the center of mass. So as he stepped forward, side-by-side with his little mistress, he had no doubts about his accuracy as he took aim at the orc on the left charging at their valkyries.

BLAM! The shotgun roared, releasing a massive cloud of smoke, and the target collapsed as the heavy slug it had been serviced with tore through its face and took its head half off.

He stepped forward again, pumping his shotgun, and the ear-tearing discharge roared again as a second orc experienced the brief and intense sensation of a high-caliber cranial lead injection.

"Die!" Louise snarled, and he quickly looked her way. An orc was being held off by three valkyries as she tried to explode another, but it was refusing to go down.

"Headshots!" he called out.

She snarled again, but elevated her wand and finally put her target down as its face was forcibly crushed against the back of its skull.

The final orc of the first four to approach them had battered the other three valkyries down, but then it screamed, clawing at its eyes and soon collapsing as Montmorency conjured a heavy spray of some fizzling liquid up at it.

But the three downed valkyries weren't getting back up, the remaining orcs had gotten free of the slick mud of the via lubricus, and now they were coming in from the sides. Best, they clearly thought, to destroy the troublesome magic-wielding humans before taking on the much easier villagers.

"Get those valkyries back up!" Jason shouted, grabbing his orcspear from the ground behind him and springing to take their place as the closest orc on their right flank tried to take advantage of the sudden weakness in their defenses. He had to use both hands, letting the shotgun dangle from its strap, and even as he braced himself the shock of the orc slamming into his spear drove him back a couple of steps.

The orc snarled and coughed, letting its club fall as it grabbed the spear with both hands. First it tried to pull itself forward up the shaft, but then it reached the lugs and couldn't continue. Whereupon it snarled again and set about shaking Jason loose from the other end.

Stop that for a moment so I can pull out a revolver! he demanded silently, but of course it wasn't about to comply. All he could do was hang on for dear life, listening to his little mistresses frantically blasting orcs on the other flank. Twice came the sizzle of Montmorency's potent conjured acid, presumably catching leakers, but she'd said she couldn't do it often and how much longer before-!

Then the orc finally shook him free. Mr. Colbert's wrestling training proved its worth as Jason rolled to his feet immediately, but the orc was already pulling the spear out, his shotgun had spun away and his revolver harness was tangled from the fall-

"Deus vult!" he snarled, yanking out his kukri and springing onto the back of the orc as it started forward. It grunted in surprise, but before it could do more he swung his arm around and sank the heavy Nepalese blade through its face and into the savage creature's brain. Then he jumped off and grabbed the orcspear from where it had been cast aside, brandishing it one-handed in the direction of the remaining orcs approaching the right flank as he yanked on one of his revolvers to try to free it from the snarled-up harness.

"Time to start singing!" he called out.

"No!" Louise shouted back, the pace of her explosions immediately quickening.

Three shots of his revolver into the face of the first remaining orc were required before it collapsed, and then another three put paid to a second, but there wasn't time to pull out another revolver and his knife was already stuck-

But then the three collapsed valkyries stepped up to join him, untangled at last, and two orcs found themselves stuck and halted instead of smashing through the defense of one human crazed enough to try to hold them off alone. Jason kept one hand on his orcspear to keep it steady, bracing it against the ground, while getting another revolver out as quickly as he could. The orcs weren't tamely standing there, the valkyries were already losing ground . . . but then his second revolver was free and he wasted no time in discharging it into the two orcs in front of him.

Then there were no more orcs coming at him, but two were seeking to run away back towards the pillars.

"Runners, little mistress!" he called out. But when he turned towards the other flank, she was clearly flagging, her explosions pushing three orcs back, keeping them off the valkyries but not managing more. Worse, Guiche was using his wand in off-hand, his wand-arm clearly broken, and Montmorency was crumpled to the ground beside him!

Shit! "Runners!" he repeated, then took a deep breath as he pulled out his heavy leaf-bladed arming sword.

We are a complete moron! With that he sprang to the side and charged, swinging with all his unenhanced might to try to hamstring the nearest orc and hopefully break the stalemate.

["You-!"] Louise began furiously, but as the other valkyries joined the three holding off her opponents she shook herself and looked around, spotting the two fleeing. Weary but unbowed, she began casting Levitate on one of her remaining steel balls.

In the meantime, Jason backed away as the remaining orcs sought to avenge themselves on easier prey, but Guiche's constructs were now stabbing them from behind and surely-!

Then the surety of their demise was delivered, as the dozen villagers suddenly came up from behind him and joined in on sticking the three remaining and wearied orcs, with Miss Longueville bashing at them with a large rock moving a little too fast to be Levitated.

As the three fell and as a last steel explosion scythed down the two orcs that had tried to flee, silence descended upon the Blae Pillars.

It was late for lunch and early for supper, but luncheon had never quite ended when they returned to the village of Breaunau, instead turning into a not-entirely-spontaneous festival. From the relatively rich dishes that were produced, it was clear that the villagers had been preparing to celebrate any victory at all, let alone such a complete one.

The three heroes hadn't been able to enjoy the party being held in their honor, however, at least not right away. Louise had avoided injury, but was so exhausted from heavy vis use that Jason was carrying her by the time they returned to the village, and she'd been put to bed immediately and without complaint for a restorative nap. Guiche had been able to walk back despite his broken arm, but after Miss Longueville had used Sano Ossum to repair it he'd too been banished to bed for some much-needed repose to aid his recovery.

Treating Montmorency had been somewhat more involved: Her right ribcage had been so badly broken that their chaperone had cast preliminary healing spells before very carefully Levitating her back to the village, whereupon – once Guiche was fixed and sent off to rest – Miss Longueville had spent most of an hour coaxing the ribs back into place and healing them as well as she could, given all the bruising and other internal damage.

Fortunately, it was enough to get the blonde Water mage to the point where she could safely take one of her fresh healing potions, whereupon she immediately began brewing the additional potions that the four of them would need in order to be as recovered as possible by the morning. This included animmediate recuperative tonic for Jason, to be taken along with orders to go be an overgrown puppy elsewhere and stop bothering her.

Once he took it, lying down while he waited for it to do its work was just too good an idea to ignore . . .

"Wake up, you overgrown lummox! It's too early to be passed-out drunk, there's celebrating to do and your lord and ladies want you up for it!"

"I'm not drunk," he muttered. Or hungover, although his mouth didn't taste very good. The tonic hadn't, either, which was apparently normal for field medicine no matter how skilled the potioneer.

"Of course yer not!" Orianne responded sarcastically, her toe digging into his side as she prodded him to roll over and start to get to his feet. "Haven't ever heard that claim before, you can be sure of it!"

Dammit!

"Can't rightly blame you for it, though," she went on, almost gently. "Facing orcs with no magic of your own, wouldn't be the first to find his courage in the alepot. Come on, we'll get you a cool drink of water to help with your head, and then another tonic from that Miss Montmorency. Merciful soul that she is, she hasn't stopped brewing all afternoon!"

He truly wasn't drunk or hungover, but nonetheless Jason found himself wondering for a moment if he'd fallen into a mirror universe, or if it was just the effect of the old woman's mistaken interpretations of everything that had transpired.

Either way, a refreshing drink sounded good.

It turned out to be very good indeed: The water was clear stream-water, with just a tiny amount of ale to make it safe to drink, and someone – almost certainly Louise – had chilled it with several chunks of Arisen ice. So after drinking enough to rinse his mouth out, Jason sipped at the rest, both to savor the 'flavor' of ice-cold water and to prevent an ice-cream headache.

Orianne chuckled as he slowed down. "Aye, quite a treat, isn't it? That Miss Vallière made all our ale as chilled as a noble's sherbet for the celebration once she woke, and since then she's been doing something uncanny to a big pot of cream."

Jason finally finished his drink and set the mug down. "If she's doing what I think, she's making ice-cream for dessert after dinner." Then he frowned. "Except I'm not sure the village has enough ladles for everyone to use, so this could get a bit tricky. The stuff's too cold to eat with your hands."

The spry old woman snapped her fingers. "Aha! That's why she asked who of us could whittle well. Showed them a strange metal wand and wanted to know if they could whittle copies of it."

He raised an eyebrow. ["Little mistress, did you borrow my spoon while I was asleep?"]

["That's right,"] Louise promptly responded. ["I'm making ice-cream, but they'll need to whittle their own spoons to eat it, there aren't enough-"]

["Right, right, just checking."] "I'm pretty sure you mean a 'spoon', it's a tool I use for eating things when a knife wouldn't work too well."

"Could be, could be." Orianne shook her head, smiling fondly. "Never in all my years have I seen a company of young questors so generous with their magic. You're a lucky man, to be in the service of the young lord and his friends."

Jason tried not to giggle helplessly. "I surely am."

"And then he barked out orders to kill the last two, so they wouldn't run off to Aracys Grove and warn the others!" someone was saying excitedly, as he approached the village square where the party was in full swing, accompanied by the older woman, who had apparently taken it upon herself both to be his handler and 'keep him sober through the night, for once!'

And after enduring her misconceptions, it felt more than a little gratifying to hear someone finally send some praise towards-

"Truly, Guiche the Bronze is every bit the master of his family's stratagems!"

What.

["Louise, is Guiche getting credit for-?"]

She giggled in his head. ["They refuse to believe a commoner would order nobles around, so it must have been de Gramont calling out to us."]

Dammit! ["We sound nothing alike!"]

["I know, but by the time I woke up the story had spread. He's embarrassed about their praise, but they're convinced he's just being modest and sharing credit."]

Jason let out silent breath and started towards his little mistress, where she was stirring a large pot of slowly-freezing cream with a Levitated ladle. ["Whatever. Like you say, the story's spread already."] "If you need a break, I'll take over as long as I can. Might need another tonic before bed, though."

Louise snorted. "Montmorency's already brewed tonics for all of us. They'll even help us get to sleep quickly. But yes, go ahead. I should go check on the whittling, at least."

As the rosecrown noblewoman left, Orianne gave the pot a curious sniff, as Jason grunted with the effort of stirring the substantial pot. "She asked for whatever berries we might have harvested. First harvest of blackberries this year, offered up for her whimsy. Hope it's worth it."

"Has been every time I've seen her try it," he replied, using both hands and putting his shoulders into it, necessary to keep the sizable pot stirring. "As long as there's enough for everyone, this should work out pretty well."

"Mm. But why ask for salt? Can't imagine it goes well with cream."

Jason shook his head. "No, that's a bit of natural philosophy. Add salt to ice and it become cold enough to completely freeze the cream. This isn't sherbet, that's why this is a pot inside another pot."

"Ah. Tricky that was, to find two pots to fit together so."

One advantage of focusing on stirring the ice-cream – until he had to give up and give it back over to Louise to finish – was that he didn't have to pay attention to everyone attributing all their tactics and success solely to Guiche's brilliance. The only thing that kept it from being infuriating was that the blond young nobleman genuinely looked embarrassed by the misdirected accolades.

"Don't forget this one!" Orianne called out during a lull in the noise level, slapping Jason on the back.

We're not going to complain about finally getting some credit, but how's she going to ruin it-?

"Might be a drunkard – but who can blame a man, when each day might mean his skull caved in by an orc's club? – but I hear tell he fought at least half as well as a de Gramont valkyrie! Hamstrung one of 'em proper when it was distracted, then stabbed it right between the eyes when it was down!"

Damn it to hell, that's not-!

"That's the reddest face I've seen in a long time!" came a call from the crowd. "You didn't let him get drunk again already, did you?"

"Wha-? Give me that!" Orianne snapped, snatching his mug from his hands. "Dunno how you snuck some of the stronger stuff by me, but . . . you! Go throw this out and fill it up with small beer!" Then she reached up to ruffle his hair. "Don't worry, I know you can't help it. But we can't have you falling over drunk so early tonight, there's too much to celebrate!"

Jason buried his face in his hands and groaned.

The ice-cream was a huge success, once bowls were emptied of stew and wooden spoons passed out to everyone. Not sweet, quite tart with the blackberries mixed in, but undeniably delicious nonetheless.

"This is beyond all . . ." one of the village leaders began to say to Louise, before trailing off. "Begging your pardon, Miss Vallière, but I heard tell you laid many of the orcs low yourself, with puffs of smoke that shredded them like lettuce."

"I . . . took inspiration from some Germanian innovations," she admitted, flushing slightly and with a quick glance at her familiar, sitting by her side. "My initial attempts went well, but I had to wait until we began adventuring to truly put my new spells to the test."

"Ah. Brimir be praised for your inspirations, then, and sending you to us to so test them. But have you not chosen a title, as your companion have?"

She flushed a bit more. "I've had trouble deciding, but recently I've thought to style myself as Louise the Breaker."

"Not grand enough!" Orianne declared. "By the words of these young ones, not just a breaker! You, young lady, are the Orcbreaker!"

The whole village went quiet for a moment, followed by some mutterings, but then they burst into loud cheers.

"VALLIÈRE THE ORCBREAKER!" "Three cheers for the Orcbreaker!" "Hail the Orcbreaker!" and so on.

Louise just sat there, looking completely stunned, as a smile slowly grew and widened on her face. Finally she stood on the bench and raised her wand to the sky.

The explosion that she cast into the air, high above the village, was loud enough to silence them all.

Then, in the sudden quiet: "Thank you." With that she bowed to the village and resumed her seat as cheers erupted once more.

["Good to see one of us is getting some recognition,"] Jason commented. ["Since I'm apparently a habitual drunk worth about half of one of Guiche's valkyries."]

Louise face suffused as she visibly fought not to giggle. ["We'll try to present you in a better light in the next village,"] she promised.

"Have to say, begging your pardon," Orianne began, "when I saw the three of you I worried it might be a rich young nobleman escorting a pair of pretty young ladies around for holiday. Couldn't say so when he claimed his tally of orcs, but I worried. Glad to see I was mistaken."

This time the giggles escaped his little mistress. "To compete for his affections, you mean? Don't worry, he's been courting Montmorency for over a year. I'm told that the Headmaster is planning to write to their parents concerning their understanding."

The older woman snorted. "So it's that way, then? And yourself, begging your pardon for asking?"

Louise smiled again. "No harm in asking. My parents found a truly grand match for me, and I've no wish to tell them to break it off." Then she leaned back and shivered a ghost of a wink at Jason. ["Yet."]

He quirked his lips into a brief smirk for only her to see. ["Yet."]

"Did you grow tired of celebrating?"

Jason looked up from polishing his kukri. It hadn't gotten nicked from face-stabbing the one orc, but beyond a quick wiping on the grass just after the fight there hadn't been time to see to his weapons. So after eating his fill and enjoying a small lump of ice-cream he'd retreated to attend to the post-battle necessities.

"Bad enough that I left this alone until now," he told Guiche. "Leaving it overnight would be inexcusable."

The blond young man nodded, hesitated, and then sat down next to him. "And you were robbed of the accolades that ought to be yours."

Jason set down his tools and raised an eyebrow.

Guiche grimaced. "Miss Vallière had the greatest tally of the slain altogether, but once they were close enough to attack us you accounted for most of the remainder. Whereas I can't claim a single uncontested kill: Even those three at the end that my valkyries slew were likewise pierced by the villagers' spears, and struck by Miss Longueville's rock as well. My 'strategems' were praised, but your . . . suggestions to your master were what they heard and attributed to me." He hung his head. "I didn't even notice the two that were fleeing until you called them out."

So once again we're the only sympathetic ear he can talk to. Jason reached over patted the younger man on the back. "It's easier for me to keep track in a fight, my auxilum helps me there, gives me the awareness of a seasoned veteran. Keeping track in your first fight to the death? Hell, you kept all your valkyries up and fighting even after your arm was broken, that's not something everyone could manage."

"I have improved since Miss Vallière's professor humbled me," the blond youth admitted, before hanging his head again. "But I still couldn't protect my beloved Monmon, when I was distracted by redressing our right flank. If Miss Longueville wasn't as knowledgeable regarding the healing of bones, it could have been days or even weeks before Monmon could effect her own recovery without risking it going awry."

"I was too busy to watch that part, but I'm guessing they didn't like getting their faces melted off."

That got a bark of laughter from Guiche. "No, they didn't! But when she faltered from the strain to her vis and the spell failed, her would-be target threw its club and . . . it was altogether too much for me to handle."

"Not really," Jason told him, patting him on the back again. "I didn't have to brave Louise's wrath and risk the strain of singing, and that's because you held the line even though you got hurt. But do I recall correctly that badly broken bones can take a few days to completely recover?" We damn well should remember that, given us almost dying against once-king James.

The Earth mage raised his head and nodded. "Yes, Monmon shouldn't put herself in danger tomorrow. She has no business on the casting line when we venture to Aracys grove." He let out a relieved breath. "It's . . . strangely comforting, to think of her safe and myself in danger."

"Nothing odd about it. I'd insist the same for Louise if it'd been her crumpled on the ground from a threat that I couldn't intercept." Jason's smile was more bared teeth than anything else. "Then there would have been singing, for all that she'd be mad at me later. 'Greater love hath no man', et cetera."

"Greater love hath no man . . . weren't those your words for the grave marker?"

He paused. Oh, right. "Not my words, to be honest. 'This is my commandment, that ye love one another, as I have loved you. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.' Something the God of my people told His disciples, before He-Well, it's a long tale. Before He returned to Heaven to prepare the way for those who follow Him."

Guiche blinked, a very odd look on his face. "It does sound very much like something Brimir might have said, before he returned to his ascension, if he hadn't been concerned with chastising the wicked." It was his turn to pause. "I was terrified for Monmon, I was frightened for us all if my lines collapsed, but somehow my fear didn't urge me to flee and save myself. Not with her looking so very vulnerable and broken.

"I . . .

"I don't think I knew I loved her so, to face death for her sake."

"The true love of a man for his maiden is madness," Jason pointed out. "Glorious, precious madness. So just keep loving her, since neither of you wants to walk away from the other."

"I- But that's not the point!" Guiche exclaimed. "My Valkyries are not yet each a match for an orc, I could barely keep us alive, your orders were attributed to me: I've been lauded as the perfect scion of de Gramont and it's all a lie! I've dreamed for years of receiving the praise due a victorious de Gramont, but now I find it gall and bitterness."

"Well, for what it's worth it's annoying on this end, too. Although don't lie to yourself in the other direction, kid, 'cause you did do well: You held the line, despite your injuries, on your first true battle. No one can call that a shameful performance. Hell, even if you hesitated at the lake for a moment, taking Kirche prisoner was what won the battle there as well, after Tabitha got Louise and then me. Now if only that old woman wouldn't keep telling everyone how I'm an alcoholic!"

The younger man nodded, looking a bit relieved, and shrugged. "Well, it was that or madness. I tried to suggest that it was a harmless madness, but then you stumbled and she took it for drunkenness."

Jason scowled. "It didn't have to-!"

["Can you help me find de Gramont?"] Louise suddenly sent, interrupting him.

"Hang on a moment," he said. ["What? He's-"]

["He's disappeared, and Montmorency is worried that one of the widows trying to ply him with the village's strongest spirits had led him off. The way Nicole plied you."]

["Uh, hold on."] Jason raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of drunkenness, have you been drinking?"

Guiche shook his head, looking puzzled. "Not after Monmon glared at the commoner who brought me brandy. They must scarcely be able to afford such, and I don't deserve such gifts!"

"Okay." ["He's here with me, actually. Wanted to escape praise he felt he didn't deserve. Feel free to drag Monty over if you can manage without bringing the party with you."]

["I will."]

"Sorry about that, auxilum stuff."

"You're communing with your master?"

"Yeah. She and Monty are coming over to make sure we're alright. So where was I?"

Guiche frowned thoughtfully for a moment. "You're upset that Orianne took your seeming madness for drunkenness."

Jason scowled again. "Right. Because it was madness to speak frankly."

Louise's voice broke in. "I already told you how rude it was!" she scolded as the two ladies joined them. "You should be grateful that she took it for drunkenness and not something worse, like harboring Protestant sympathies!"

"It'd be odd for a Protestant to take service with a noble," Montmorency pointed out as she sat down on Guiche's other side, close enough to press against him a bit. "It's most likely that she thought that your tongue gets a bit too loose when you're drunk, that you don't quite say what you ought. You should be grateful to that old woman, for she's clearly taken a liking to you, and has been doing her best to make sure that everyone knows not to pay attention if you utter something heretical."

"Heresy, great! All we need now is the friggin' Inquisition!"

"Jason, no!" his little mistress snapped as she plopped down next to him on the bench. "You don't want to face a Church Inquiry! If one concluded that you're a demon in human guise, then even if they didn't convict me of heresy for harboring you I'd have to summon a new familiar!"

"Wait, can't you only summon a new familiar if your old one . . ." He trailed off, paling. "I thought the familiar bond was sacred!"

Montmorency smirked. "But who better to discern whether some evil spirit had corrupted that bond than the Church?"

"Most Church Inquiries return a verdict of innocent, or at worse exile to a Protestant city for an accused commoner," Guiche pointed out, "and the last time a familiar was executed as a demon was generations ago. It's more common to determine that a noble's temperament has become unbalanced by his familiar, but Miss Vallière wouldn't necessarily be accused alongside you." He shook his head. "Her parents would advocate for her, before it came to that, and I think exile would be the likely verdict if you weren't exonerated."

Louise winced. "Exile would be bad enough-!" she began.

"Whoa!" Jason interrupted. "Okay, I get it, no badmouthing nobles. At all. I'll leave that to y'all to decide when and where." He sighed. "To change the subject, has anyone met the village blacksmith? I wanted to offer to show him the spoon and fork, maybe see if he'd be interested in learning about basic machines once Mr. Colbert's decided on some designs to spread around."

"No, he's dead," Montmorency told him. "I heard it while I was brewing potions for the village, he was one of the ones who tried to hold off the orcs, and he succumbed to his injuries the day before we arrived."

"Damn," he sighed, "so much for that. Well, maybe they'll keep the spoons around for stew and the like." He looked around at his party members: Blaster, face/CC, and healbot. "How do we want to handle it tomorrow? Monty, we talked about it a bit and Guiche and I both think you should stay back, even though your conjured acid was pretty impressive."

She nodded sharply. "I wouldn't be able to repeat my performance, especially not after so much brewing once Miss Longueville mended my bones. I've never conjured so much, so quickly, and I'll need more time for my vis to recover."

"Can you manage your part of the via lubricus?" Louise asked. "We owe some of our victory to being able to slow and scatter them in the beginning."

Montmorency grimaced. "I'll let you know how my vis feels tomorrow."

"Scattering and then killing them before they close with us is clearly the road to victory," Guiche agreed. "Can you think of ways to kill more of them so?"

"I can, yes," Jason replied. "Little mistress, I'm not blaming you for targeting their torsos first, all our aiming practice has focused on hitting the center of mass-"

"But their heads are nearly as big as a man's chest and so enough of a target already," she finished for him.

He nodded. "And I should have opened fire sooner. I only used the shotgun twice even though it's got room for six rounds. Seven if a round is chambered first." We also need to work on our harness, figure out how to carry the other shotgun without getting in the way and how to keep the revolvers from getting tangled, but there's probably not time tonight or tomorrow. "I doubt I'll have time to reload in battle, but I should be trying to shoot the first seven orcs that get close rather than just the first two, and I need to start shooting as soon as they're close enough that I can hit them instead of waiting until they reach the valkyries."

"That would produce even more smoke," Guiche pointed out. "Some of the confusion over who slew the orcs surely came from the fact that your master's explosions also create smoke. You still wish to receive credit for your kills, I assume."

"Then I'll step outside the valkyrie spear-line until they get close," Jason replied. "Speaking of mobility, though: Louise, if Guiche's line is broken tomorrow, grab him and Levitate you both over to Miss Longueville and Monty so you can regroup. I should be able to use my boosted auxilum to carve through the knot of orcs and rejoin you."

His little mistress glared at him and jabbed him in the side with her wand. "You will not-!"

"We're talking about if things go wrong," he interrupted, speaking over her. "If you've got time you can grab me too, but we might not be next to you, either of us. Guiche first, then trust me to deliver retribution and rejoin you. I promise I won't use it long enough to fall over again."

She snarled silently and jabbed him again. "If you let yourself get hurt I'll make sure they know that being a drunkard is the least of your sins!" ["I'll bite you! No, I'll- I'll hire a bard to mock you! I'll do both!"]

Miss Longueville's voice then let them know that she'd approached the four of them. "It's perhaps good that I've kept everyone away from the four of you, so that you could make your plans without interruption. Otherwise Miss Vallière's regard for her familiar might be noted and interpreted-" She paused and smiled dryly. "Well, correctly. Speaking of matters not the least of your sins."

"Thank you for that," Louise returned with only a little irony. "Are there petitions for us to hear?"

"Not so much," their verdetress chaperone replied, still smiling. "Some daydreams of catching a hedge-mage baby from the more ambitious women of the village, or even just a child with a soldier's size-" The two teenage girls scowled nigh-simultaneously. "-but I'm not the only one keeping them away from you, in the interests of preventing discord that might halt the clearance of Aracys Grove tomorrow. Other than that the mood of the village is presently more one of gratitude than expectation, especially as Miss Montmorency has already brewed potions to remedy the usual ailments that commoners must often endure. That said, there's to be dancing until the fires burn too low to see by, and they're hopeful you'll all join in."

Jason shook his head. "Uh, pass, I don't know any local dances. Besides, I need to finish cleaning my weapons, and then it'll probably be time to take our tonics and go to sleep."

Louise shot him a sharp look. "I could show you some dances. No one will care if you look awkward, what they're hoping is that we nobles show off what's been in fashion recently."

"I-" He shook his head again. "Seriously, if I'm going to dance at a party I need to practice first. It's- It doesn't- Think of your poor feet, if nothing else!"

She scowled. "But everyone knows by now that de Gramont has an understanding with Montmorency, so as long as you dance with Miss Longueville as well no one will think it odd if we're partners for some of the songs!"

"Watch me first," Guiche suggested. "I'll show you some variations that should pose less risk to your partner." A small grin graced his face. "And even then, Monmon's tonics should have us recovered for the fight tomorrow."

Dammit, this is going to be mortifying, Jason thought as he surrendered and let himself be dragged back to the party.

And it was, especially at first.

But, in the end, it was also fun.

A/N: I have been entirely too generous in letting Jason talk to nobles like an equal. Granted, so far they've mostly been people that Saito interacted with in canon, and without getting blasted for his presumption by anyone (except Louise, who darn well knew he deserved it!), but royalty and the rest of the highest nobility are sometimes so secure in their titles and dignities that they can tolerate uppity commoners. A noble in a more precarious position has to be more careful about getting appropriate respect, as determined by local standards, and Jason utterly fails at showing what's considered appropriate for his station. Thus he comes across as a Protestant, hardly better than an Easterling heathen with their infidel blasphemies and woman-hating customs.

Some beta readers have encouraged me to have Jason give a 'you all suck' speech to the locals for nobles insisting on upholding the dignity of the nobility. I'm not going to, because commoners who get that uppity around nobles tend to get their faces melted off sooner or later.

On the gripping hand, since he's trying to gain a positive reputation, it needs to be shown that it's not as easy as grinding rep in an MMO.

Anyway, what Jason experienced, upon seeing the bones of recently-devoured children, is supposed to be a mild psychotic break, which his Gandálfr package promptly took care of to keep him functioning in the fight. Although a state of mind reflecting the obsession of Captain Ahab isn't the healthiest. As I improve my writing skills, hopefully I'll suck less when attempting to portray similar scenes. Anyway, I need to go view some Shadow of Mordor and Shadow of War videos, as Jason's going to be swording more orcs fairly soon and I want to be able to describe that in a variety of ways.

Also, there are still a ton of typos in preceding chapters. I still need to go through and hunt them down.

And yes, Miss Longueville is enjoying her own cleverness.