"Empty. You see, Winston?" Lizzie rolls her eyes rather dramatically, setting the wine bottle to the side. “I insisted, dear, that you have two brought up from the celr. I was right, as I often am.”

  I can’t help but snicker, using bread to mop up the remnants of my stew. I’ll have to get the recipe from the cook; there’s an odd tang to this one that I’d like in more of my food. And as the bread hits my tongue, I realize it's even better when matched to the faint and strange fvor of wheat breads. Not something I get much of on the road, and frankly I think I've bitten more monster than wheat.

  I'm not the only one savoring the meal, either. It's taken us well over an hour to finish eating, and even now we're pecking away at the food. My tail comes up, stretching until it ys in my p.

  Winston and Lizzie are bickering as they often do in private, fencing with sharp words and parrying with blunt wit. It's more fun to watch, but I can't help but add my own thoughts on occasion. Harriet is much the same, though he's more focused on a book he somehow smuggled to the table. Still, he takes the time to look up and stare at his husband, eyes gleaming inscrutably. Love, possibly. Adoration.

  Perhaps bemusement, from the way he elbows Winston after a particurly sharp jab at Lizzie.

  I clear my throat to join in. “I wouldn't say you're flighty, Lizzie, unless throwing you counts. Whimsical, maybe?”

  “You flicker in and out, cousin, coming and going as you please. If anything, I envy that...” Winston shakes his head, chuckling as he pokes at the st of his food. “And you're a feathered mageblood, so the bird comparison is not unwarranted.”

  Lizzie huffs. “And you're as stubborn as a goat. Or a bull. I go where I'm needed, dear, however much I'd like to go off and discover something interesting.”

  Something in the air shifts. Silence looms above us, waiting, watching. We all know what comes next, and we all look to Winston. Hesitation holds him in pce, like a fish stilling under a bear's gaze. I know it's an unkind comparison even as it forms in my mind— Winston is not prey, after all.

  “To business, then?” he says quietly, shoulders rising and squaring.

  “To business.” I speak louder, seeking to cut the thickened air. “We should go to the office.”

  Nobody moves, though.

  Lizzie hums, drumming her fingers along the table with bck-painted nails.

  “Fine.” I growl, grabbing my chair with one hand. I rise in one move, letting my tail drop to the floor with a thump. “Let's get this over with. I know something wrong is happening to my— to Craumont.” I amend my statement quickly, and thankfully nobody comments.

  I stalk over to the door, stopping only to make sure I don't break the handle.

  “Let's fix it, shall we?” Lizzie chuckles.

  Yes, let's. I'd rather dine without doom hanging over my head, rexing with family... and friends, maybe.

  “Must this family be so ominous?” Harriet drawls, and we all look at him. He raises his chin in response, holding our gazes with a gleam in his own. “I know we're dealing with serious matters, don't mistake that.”

  “When we need to be, Harriet,” I reply, my voice ft. Perhaps we are being too ominous, perhaps I am allowing dread to lock horns with my heart. “It's our duty as Lords and Dames.”

  There's not much said after that.

  The hooks in my scales burrow with each movement, jabbing and twitching and digging their barbs into the flesh beneath. Winston's hand rests atop the beating heart, the knot of lines that bind me to this city.

  It is, by all measures, merely a map. Large enough for it to have its own table, with blocks of wood and scattered parchment across its surface.

  “We are not, as I'd hoped,” Winston says aloud, his finger wandering the streets of his city, “Dealing with one opponent. This changes much, and makes me fear there's a more eborate pn.”

  Multiple opponents and a pn, huh? My tail shes against the ground. At least he's getting right to business, I suppose.

  Lizzie speaks first. “And you're sure, dear? You'll have to show your work on that.”

  He inclines his head, plucking four blue-painted cubes off the side of the table. He drops them down: one in the Wildflower District, the newer part of the city I had yet to visit, two closer to the city center, lining up with parks... and one in the woods beyond the city, on a drawing of a ziggurat that I unfortunately recognize.

  Given the context, the worry of city wards being broken up by Delves, I can only assume these marks are portals. And yet...

  “These aren't active Delves. I walked by the ones in the city yesterday, I would’ve felt something.” I narrow my eyes. “And I don't think they're recently sealed ones. I've got a map back at the Manor, drew out everything I knew. There's no way you wouldn't have mentioned a portal in the Imperial Temple.”

  “They’re incursion attempts, so you're not far off,” Harriet replies with a grimace. “Excursion attempts, more likely. Failed attempts at making Delves, from our side.”

  I raise an eyebrow in answer. He'll have to eborate, because something is still missing here.

  Winston taps the cubes one more time. “All four of these occurred within a half hour of one another, and two took pce nearly simultaneously— the Imperial Temple, and the Wildflower District.”

  “Meaning there's multiple opponents, to use your words.” Lizzie hums, and I can see her lips curling into a frown, too. “I'd prefer malcontents.”

  Tension knots in my chest, pulling tight around my heart as I y a hand on the map. I don't even realize I'm growling until I try to speak. “And coordinated. They've got the knowledge to try a cut, and enough Mages to try it multiple times in quick succession. Two, three, possibly four of them. What about the other two? One after the other, or...”

  “Unfortunately, Ivy has gotten it exactly right. The incur— excursion attempts in the city were seven-odd minutes apart, with the first taking pce perhaps fifteen minutes after the simultaneous attempts.”

  Gods. I'm not even sure how to feel, exactly— stressed? Angry? I want to dig my cws into something, tear it apart and roar. Let my tail swing freely, stir Wind and Lightning with my mind.

  Lizzie chuckles, and I'm a bit envious of her ability to do so. “I do pray we are lucky, but let us assume otherwise. Four Mages, all with a skill recalling that of Ivy's fortunately deceased parents.

  “And dear? You're growling again.”

  “I know, I know.” I grumble. The sound rolls in my chest, soothing me but likely irritating everyone else. Breathe, Ivy. In through the nose, out the mouth. Ease the knot.

  “It's all quite stressful, I know. I'm... sorry, for that. But it needs to be done. We need to do it.” Winston sighs, fingers curling into fists. Harriet ys a hand on Winston's shoulder, rubbing it.

  It's enough for Winston to push on. He rises, eyes hard and jaw squared. “Ivy, then, you'll need to investigate the Temple. Not now, to avoid showing our awareness, but maybe in a week. I'll ensure you're well equipped. Elizabeth could accompany you, if she's able.”

  I hold my tongue, despite the words bubbling to the fore. Do this, Ivy. Fight those monsters. Take me with you, Amelia. Run to get the door, Amelia, mother is busy. You can't be a Delver, you should follow in your father's footsteps. Skin fades to scale and cws dig into my armored palms.

  I will not hang on hooks as a puppet.

  Lizzie inclines her head. “I’m a fair hand with a crossbow and fencing sword, but a far cry from our dear Ivy's competence in battle.”

  “Anything helps, and I know you can hold your own. Ivy, you'll need to capture anyone you find, if—”

  I cut him off with a sharp snarl, letting it trail off into silence with a hiss.

  Still, I take a breath. In and out. I need to speak with reason, not anger. My tail curls around the table leg, rustling and clicking gently.

  "You keep issuing orders, cousin. I won't be a pawn on the board, here," I say, lifting a block off the map with two cws. "Maybe this morning, or a few days ago, I would've said that's all you want from me. I know that's wrong. It still doesn't feel right."

  "But?" Lizzie interjects, eyes trained on my own.

  "But I can't leave this alone. We can't leave this alone, and I think I can understand, Winston." I set the block back on the map— on Crawford Manor. "Don't—"

  My voice falters, much to my frustration. I grit my teeth, though, and push forward. "Don't take advantage of that."

  "Of that, I can promise you." Winston's reply is swift and steely, somehow easing my tensed shoulders. He holds my gaze without wavering, and I give him a nod in return.

  He slumps. The room eases, the tension fades. Warmth returns to his eyes, tinted with something I can't pce. “And I'm sorry, Ives. I truly am. Stress is no excuse.”

  “We're sorry,” Harriet adds, moving his hand to wrap around Winston's waist. “You're family, after all.”

  “And I wasted a perfectly good rexing meal on being annoyed.” I grumble back, because whining is undignified and childish, but today has been a damned pendulum of emotion. “Thank you.”

  I might even mean it— I'll take his word, and hope he sticks to it. Trust, certainly not, but hope.

  With that in mind, it takes time for me to ease my nerves. The pnning and thinking resumes, looking at youts of the wards and comparing them to Delve locations. There doesn't seem to be a pattern, but it's worth investigating.

  But I do, eventually, allow myself to rex. The hooks ease from my scales, pulled from flesh with each quiet exchange and teasing remark.

  Eventually, though, things wander. I tell them about the investigation I'm helping with, about the box and the Church. About Helena's lie, the contradictions, the repced wards on the vault, the will of my parents, the key...

  Lizzie seems thoroughly intrigued, despite having involved herself by asking to be a suspect.

  “She was cleared of suspicion early on, I'm told. Nothing connecting her other than a history of erratic behavior,” I say dryly, and Lizzie snickers back. How is she a bird instead of a fox, exactly?

  "And it's not Helena?" Winston raises an eyebrow. "I doubt her capable of such a thing, but the question remains."

  My imagination scatters a vivid image across my mind— Helena, with her burning curiosity and honest eagerness, probing at my own magic in that bakery. I smile, just a bit, to prove my point.

  "It's not." I state, because obviously. "She's involved, but she's not the culprit. Gods, I hope she'll help us find the thief, once she gathers the courage."

  My family stares, and I bat their irritatingly impenetrable gazes away. "Let's move on, please. Gelson and I have it handled, and if it is connected to the Delve in... excursions, I'll let you know. I doubt the box is tough enough to resist me.”

  I gnce at Harriet as I correct myself, and he seems quite pleased with himself.

  “So, the temple. Yes, I can visit it,” I affirm, bringing us back to a more important subject. “Anything I should be aware of? Ancient traps? Possessed statues? Ancient Emperor-given Sun magic?”

  “Imperial Temples were administrative buildings, Ivy. Traps would be counterproductive.” It's Harriet that interjects, leaning forward to trace a route through the forest. “I've been there with Winston and some guards. I'll see if I have my old yout maps... hm. As for Sun magic, that's more Winston's expertise.”

  Expertise is a strong word, but maybe I'm taking it wrong. I have expertise in Lightning and Wind, because I can cast with them and they obey my will without much effort. Winston has Wind and Water— if he'd found a connection to Sun magic, I would've heard of it by letter, probably with an invitation to the party as well.

  Winston nods, though, even as I exchange a gnce with Lizzie. I suppose we're of the same mind. “Yes, good memory, Harriet. I'd nearly forgotten.”

  “Forgotten what? Your secret mastery of the ancient art of Sun?” Lizzie chuckles, her voice musical. “Dear, I'll be furious if you hid it. The Caliburnite nobility supposedly know a secret approach, but I couldn’t get even a wisp of Sun out of them.”

  Winston looks at her, looks at me, frowns, and then his eyes brighten. “Ah! No, no, Harriet means I have studied Sun magic, which leads to my point. The wardings of Craumont are composed entirely of Sun, which is quite rare even among Old Imperial cities. It makes them heal quite quickly in the day, but not fast enough to counter the number of Delves we're getting. Given the wards do cover the temple, keep a look out for a keyward or magic storage crystal?

  I should probably be writing this down. My memory for tasks is much better than my ability to recall names, but still. I hold out a hand and reach my mind out to connect to the manor. Magic flows from me through the link, and I push the request across.

  The Craumont Estate regards me with familiar warmth, but that's all. Right. It wouldn't answer me, would it? And it certainly cks the wordiness of the Crawford Estate.

  “Could I get parchment for this? It'll be a lot to write down,” I say, clearing my throat.

  Lizzie snickers again, and Winston's eyebrows shoot up.

  “Cousin, did you just...” Winston starts, working his jaw. His lips twitch upwards. “I felt that. That's more mana than my estate needs in a month, and you asked for parchment?”

  And now Harriet's chuckling, too.

  “And a pen,” I correct him, because that certainly makes it better. My voice goes ft, a proper imitation of Gelson. “Just point the damned things out so I can get them myself. I'm the one who'll have to punch any animated statues into dust.”

  “Meaning you have plenty of energy to pick up such things yourself, dear,” Lizzie joins in, her voice light and teasing. “While I'm certainly coming along, I doubt you'll need the help.”

  And now I'm chuckling. Winston points me towards his desk, unsurprisingly, and it doesn’t take long to find what I need. As I return, though, I fix Lizzie with a halfhearted gre.

  “Come on, Lizzie. You know you're good, don't try and be humble. Plus, it's nice to have backup.”

  Lizzie huffs quite dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest. “I am good. Excellent, even. I'm gd you recognize that, dear, but it’s less about how fantastic I am and more about how my skills lie elsewhere.”

  “Backup,” Winston repeats, running a hand through his hair. “Backup, backup. We should get some. Especially if you're busy with something else in the city, like you are now.”

  Harriet's eyes spark. “Of course. Backup other than Elizabeth and yourself. What if she's—”

  “—called back to Tousavon?” Winston finishes, nodding along. He's gazing at his husband now, and I suspect he'll forget we're here if it goes too much longer. “But who?”

  “Another Delver? No, we picked Ivy because we need someone we can trust.” Harriet hums, chewing his lip. “But who, indeed.”

  A pause, but not a quiet one. It's a good moment to scribble down notes about the temple. I'll have to see what the library at home says about it, too... hm.

  “Elizabeth.”

  Lizzie looks up when Winston calls, stowing the dagger she... when did that come out, and from where? Her dress doesn't leave much to the imagination to begin with. A leg sheath, maybe? Bah.

  “Yes, cousin?”

  “You said something, earlier, about a Padin in a neighboring town,” Winston says thoughtfully, and I think we all pick up his thought process at once.

  A padin? Many Gods have padins, but usually people say padin when they refer to a Padin of Adamantine. A servant of my Goddess would definitely be trustworthy, even if they are a bit... eccentric.

  “I’m afraid that gossip was aged by the time I heard it— a month or two old. We'd just heard back from Ivy when it happened, if you'll recall?” Lizzie smiles, then covers her mouth for a moment. “But Padin Greyfeather should still be in the area, yes. I heard she was pnning on trekking through the vilges?”

  “Perfect. A padin might match you for might, Ivy, and they're quite reliable. A good backup, even.” Winston nods, looking back towards me.

  “I, hm.” I breathe deeply, mulling the words over. A padin... “Wouldn't be a bad idea. We can't give orders or use payment as an incentive, though, so you'll need to give her a good reason. Sure.”

  And I can trust her to keep their word. One can't call upon Adamantine's light without a measure of honor and integrity.

  “Then we'll do it. You're not a tool or a pawn, Ivy, and if we can ease the stress, we will.”

  I can't help but smile at that. All teeth, all pleasant warmth, and it takes effort to keep my tail from shattering the table leg.

  “She is also quite pretty. I could court her, perhaps?” Lizzie muses. “That does sound entertaining.”

  “No.” We say, all at once. Harriet's going so far as to gre in warning.

  Lizzie holds her hands up, grinning the whole time. “No sense of humor, the lot of you.”

  “Oh, plenty of humor. I just know you'll try and use our furniture for it again.” Harriet makes a face, and Winston isn't far behind.

  My family is a bit strange.

  The moon finds me through shaded boughs, dripping silver through the gaps in leaves. The light it grants is sporadic, illuminating only patches of the cobbled path. My breath catches in the air, too, made mist by the cold night before trailing away behind me.

  It's a beauty that I missed while I was away. I know I'll have to leave again eventually— Delvers tend to roam, not stick around— but my now extended stay will give me plenty of time to enjoy the view.

  That in turn leads my thoughts to my pns; we're dealing with something organized, and we'll need time to root it out. Any contracts abroad would have to be cancelled, and I might want to hold onto a bit more of the tax money owed to the Crawfords. Enough to upgrade my equipment and prepare for fighting people instead of monsters, if need be.

  With such things churning in my head...

  It is an excellent time for fitness. To keep myself sharp, to move and lift and flex to keep my body fit. And when an hour of that leaves me sweaty and sore, but fails to burn away my worries?

  I go for a run. It’s a good night for it.

  It is a good night to feel my heart pound in my chest, drowning out everything else. Sweat clings to my body, chilled by the breeze. Muscles ache and twinge as I push them, and Gods is there nothing else quite like it.

  My chest is bound and I picked a pair knee-length trousers tailored for such activities— honestly, I think I just enjoy having to wear less. Feeling the wind on my scales is such a freeing experience.

  I roam the estate, these barely-tamed nds held only by faint magic, weaving between broken mps and forgotten gardens. My scales clink on thorned roses, my tail rustles through the bush.

  The Imperial Temple rises through the trees, a monument to the Sun Emperor standing proud despite it all. It'll only take half a day to cut through the wilderness and reach it, when the time comes— next week, maybe. Next month, if we can secure the padin's help, giving her time to arrive.

  Next month.

  My footfalls slow, my run flows to a jog. Magic picks at my legs and core, easing the strain as best it can. The jog, in turn, slows to a stop, leaving me panting in the moonlight. Twelve-odd grand marches looping around the manor is a bit much even for me, let alone in... half an hour, maybe. I’d forgotten my pocket watch, as usual.

  It feels nice to let my tail thump to the ground, dragging the tip along weedy cobbles for a nice cck swish cck.

  “I'm going to be here for a while, aren't I?” I ask the moon between breaths, resting my hands on my knees. “Next month. Weeks from now, not that I've checked a calendar recently.”

  Unsurprisingly, the moon remains silent. I'm no Hero of legends, and Daughter Moon is hardly going to leap out and offer me advice.

  Heh.

  I drop down to the ground with a grunt, palms in the grass and shoes on the path. My chest rises and falls with each heavy breath, and I count the moments by them.

  “Gods damn it all, Olivia. I'm solving a mystery with a detective too, you know? Detective Ruby Gelson. Not how I pnned to spend this time of year.”

  I pause to hum, and I let the sounds of night fill the air.

  “It's not that bad, actually.”