Part 1
Dawn broke over Podem with a crystalline clarity that mocked the brewing storm of war. The morning air bit with winter's edge, frost clinging to rooftops and painting the cobblestones silver. In less than twenty-four hours, Alexander's thirty thousand troops would descend upon them like wolves upon a wounded hart. Yet despite the cold, the city blazed with activity—a hive of preparation where every soul moved with purpose born of desperation and defiance.
James made his way through streets packed tighter than market day at harvest time. The normal population of Podem—perhaps eight thousand souls in peacetime—had swollen to nearly ten thousand with the refugees who'd fled south as the capital and its surrounding region grew destabilized. Though two hundred had chosen to leave during the three-day grace period, many remained, their faces etched with the peculiar exhaustion that comes from running with nowhere left to go.
As he watched a man sitting by the streetside staring soullessly into the distance, it reminded him of the time when he first took leave a few months ago. The memory of standing in that empty mansion in Clairedon, having lost all purpose in life, felt like a lifetime ago. These people wore the same look he'd seen in his mirror then: lost, searching for a future in a world of uncertainty.
"Make way for the Great Mage!" A young soldier pushed through the crowd ahead of James, but progress remained glacial. Children darted between legs, women haggled over the last scraps of preserved meat, and everywhere the press of bodies generated a heat that fought against winter's chill.
The transformation was remarkable. What had been broad thoroughfares now resembled narrow corridors, every available space claimed by someone's meager possessions or makeshift shelter. Podem's ancient stones groaned under the weight of so many souls, yet somehow the city endured—as it had endured Gillyrian rule, Vakerian liberation, and countless sieges before.
As James finally reached the officers' quarters near the citadel, he heard familiar voices drifting through an open window—one concerned and practical, the other defensive and embarrassed.
"—and I'm telling you, Bisera, with the siege coming, we need to start thinking like we did in the old days," Velika's voice carried clearly. "Before your precious mage started blessing us with his divine comforts."
James paused, curiosity overcoming propriety. Through the window, he caught a glimpse of Bisera's profile, and his breath caught. She'd braided her hair again—not the simple practical knot of a general preparing for siege, but an elaborate pattern that must have taken considerable time.
"What exactly are you suggesting?" Bisera's voice was strained with embarrassment.
"The baths, Bisera. We can't maintain our current... luxury. Biweekly bathing at most, like we used to. And you'll need to tell James to reduce his frequency too. I know he bathes daily, but it's simply not sustainable under siege conditions."
"Velika, please," Bisera's voice dropped lower. "Must we discuss such... personal matters?"
"Personal? It's about survival!" Velika's tone mixed concern with barely suppressed amusement. "I know it might be hard to go back to the old ways. You're probably worried about being viewed as dirty by James, but given our current situation, it isn't really a luxury we can afford."
James heard a chair scrape, imagining Bisera shifting uncomfortably.
"We need that practical general back," Velika continued, her voice gentler now. "We can't waste precious water resources under a siege just so you wouldn't smell bad to James. Think about it—how many more lives might be lost due to lack of clean water each time you take an unnecessary bath?"
There was a long pause before Bisera spoke, her voice revealing her compassionate nature despite the embarrassment. "You're right, of course. The people's needs must come first." Another pause. "I'll... I'll reduce my bathing to biweekly. But James..."
"Yes?"
"James should not be forced to adjust," Bisera said, her voice growing shy, as if she herself didn't feel convinced by what she was saying. "After all, he is a divine messenger. Ensuring his cleanliness and comfort is our duty."
Velika let out a long sigh. "Bisera, you know if you two are really going to have a future together, you've got to let him know how our world really is. Including—and I again state that I am extremely grateful for those white magical butt wipers he conjures—but you've got to let him know how life really is in this world without his divine luxuries. How we used leaves if we were lucky. Moss, if we could find it. And how in winter—"
James knocked on the door, deciding to save Bisera from further embarrassment. "It's James. May I enter?"
"Perfect timing!" Velika called out cheerfully. "Come in, we're just discussing resource management!"
He entered to find Bisera seated at a small table, her face an alarming shade of crimson that made her blue eyes even more striking. She glanced at him, then quickly away, her fingers nervously adjusting a braid that needed no adjustment. The gesture was so unlike the confident general he knew that it made his heart ache with tenderness.
Velika lounged in a chair with the satisfied expression of someone who'd been making an important point.
"I couldn't help but overhear," James admitted, taking a seat. "About the water conservation needs."
Bisera's blush deepened, but she forced herself to meet his eyes. "Yes, we were just... that is, Velika was explaining..."
"She's right," James said gently. "In fact, water management is one of the most critical aspects of siege defense. Where I come from, we have extensive systems for water purification and waste management. Perhaps we should discuss implementing something similar here?"
The change in topic to practical matters seemed to help Bisera regain her composure, though James noticed she kept stealing glances at him, as if gauging his reaction to the bathing discussion.
"Actually," he continued, remembering suddenly, "I have some experience with this. Before I came here, I was tasked with evaluating a potential investment in a waste management infrastructure project in a developing nation. I spent three months reviewing technical specifications, visiting treatment facilities, analyzing capacity requirements..." He paused, seeing their confused expressions. "It wasn't glamorous work, but it taught me more about sanitation systems than I ever thought I'd need to know."
"The Spirit provides in mysterious ways," Bisera murmured, and James caught the warmth in her voice, the pride in his unexpected expertise.
Suddenly, as if remembering something painful, Velika turned to face Bisera, her earlier playfulness replaced by nostalgic seriousness. "I received a message from your father, Duke Boris, yesterday. My daughter is well—safe in his castle, learning her letters alongside the other children." Her voice caught slightly. "She asks about me daily."
"She's a strong girl," Bisera said softly, reaching over to squeeze her friend's hand. "Like her mother."
"I know. But once this siege begins..." Velika's jaw tightened. "Communication will be cut. I won't be able to hear from her, and she won't know if I'm..." She shook her head. "Sorry. Mother's worries. Back to water purification and disease prevention."
James recognized the deflection for what it was—a woman who'd learned to compartmentalize her fears to survive. He saw Bisera's eyes glisten with unshed tears for her friend's pain, and loved her even more for that compassion. "Your concerns are valid. Both about your daughter and about water management. I've been thinking about a possible solution for clean water."
"Does it involve conjuring boiling pots for everyone?" Velika asked, half-joking, clearly trying to lighten the mood again.
"Not quite," James admitted. "But perhaps we could connect a modern—I mean, divinely manifested water purification system to Podem's existing water infrastructure. I understand the city already draws water from the River Maritsa?"
Bisera nodded, leaning forward slightly. The movement brought her close enough that James caught the faint scent of lavender—she must have found time to bathe despite the water restrictions they'd just discussed. The realization that she might have made such an effort for him sent warmth spreading through his chest.
"Yes, we have an ancient aqueduct system—built during the old imperial times. Stone channels bring water from the Maritsa into the city, feeding several cisterns and public fountains."
"Perfect," James said, his mind already working through the possibilities. "We could position a purification system at the main cistern point, where the aqueduct enters the city. The divine manifestation would continuously purify the incoming water."
"But how would we distribute it?" Velika asked. "The current system relies on the fountains, but under siege..."
"We'd need a more controlled distribution," James agreed. "A collection pool for the purified water, with soldiers overseeing daily distribution. Citizens could come with buckets each morning to collect their ration."
Bisera's tactical mind immediately grasped the implications. "The placement would be critical. We'd need somewhere defensible, easily accessed by civilians, but not impeding military operations." She moved to a map on the wall, her finger tracing the city's layout. "Here—the old garrison courtyard near the eastern wall. It's centrally located, has multiple access points for civilians, but can be sealed off quickly if needed. The aqueduct passes directly beneath it."
"That's..." Velika's eyes widened. "That could work. But the scale of such a divine manifestation..."
"Would be substantial," James admitted, already feeling the familiar tingling that meant Seraphina was listening. "For ten thousand people, we'd need to purify approximately a hundred thousand liters per day. Minimum."
"How substantial?" Bisera asked, her practical side emerging. But James noticed her hand had moved to rest near his on the table, their fingers almost touching.
The tingling intensified, and Seraphina's voice bloomed in his mind. "Oh, are we shopping for municipal infrastructure now? How delightfully civic-minded! And I see someone's been doing their homework on water treatment. Your portfolio management days are really paying off, darling."
"Just give me a price," James thought back.
"Well, for a nice containerized reverse osmosis system with UV sterilization, capable of handling your needs... I can get you a lovely model similar to what you studied, actually. Chinese manufacture, about $85,000. Very reliable, excellent reviews. Or if you prefer European engineering, I have a German system for $200,000. Comes with a warranty, though I'm not sure how you'd claim it from a different universe."
James relayed the numbers, converting them to terms his companions might understand. "The offering required would be... significant. Perhaps the value of a hundred warhorses for the cheaper option."
Bisera paled. "That's a fortune." Her fingers brushed his, whether by accident or design he couldn't tell, but she didn't pull away.
"But think of it," Velika countered. "How many would die of disease without clean water? How many would we lose to flux and fever in a usual siege?"
"Too many," Bisera admitted quietly. "Far too many." She was looking at James now with an expression that made his heart race—gratitude mixed with something deeper, more personal.
"They're my people too now," James said softly, finally taking her hand properly. She didn't pull away, though her cheeks flushed prettily.
Velika cleared her throat loudly. "As touching as this moment is, we have another problem. Waste management. Even with clean water coming in, we need to handle... the shit."
Despite her crude words, Velika was smiling at their joined hands.
"Velika!" Bisera protested, though with more fond exasperation than heat. She hadn't let go of James's hand.
"What? That's what it is. And with ten thousand people producing it daily, plus horses, plus food waste..." She shrugged. " It's going to be a mountain of shit. Literally."
James found himself oddly impressed by Velika's matter-of-fact approach. "In my world—in the facilities I studied—we have systems for this too. Anaerobic digesters, membrane bioreactors, constructed wetlands for final polishing. But they're even more expensive than water purification. And more complex."
"Of course they are," Bisera sighed. "Waste by definition contains far more contamination than water."
"There's another issue," James continued reluctantly, his thumb unconsciously stroking across Bisera's knuckles. "These systems don't manifest instantly. Seraphina follows certain... natural laws. A purification system this size would take four weeks to fully manifest."
The blood drained from both women's faces. "Four weeks?" Velika's voice cracked. "Alexander begins his assault tomorrow!"
"I know." James squeezed Bisera's hand. "It would help with a sustained siege, but not immediately. Rationing is the only solution for the immediate water situation."
"So," Velika mused, clearly trying to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere, "I guess even the Great Mage must enduring a few weeks of smelliness."
"Must you be so crude?" Bisera asked, though James caught the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
"I'm being practical. And honest." Velika turned to James. "No offense, but sometimes all your miraculous powers make you seem... distant. It's reassuring to know that our blessed Great Mage actually cares about us ordinary folks' daily needs."
"Of course I care," James said, then immediately regretted it as both women stared at him. The words had come out more forcefully than intended, weighted with emotion he hadn't meant to reveal. He was looking at Bisera when he said it, and saw her pupils dilate, her lips part slightly in surprise.
"I mean," he fumbled, "that is to say..."
But Bisera's fingers had tightened around his, and there was something in her eyes that made his explanations die in his throat. The moment stretched between them, charged with unspoken feelings, until Velika's exaggerated cough broke the spell.
"Right then," Velika said, standing with a grunt. "I'll go check on the city's existing cisterns and water distribution points, see what infrastructure we're working with. You two can... continue planning. Or whatever it is you're doing when you stare at each other like that."
She left before either could protest, whistling tunelessly.
In the sudden quiet, James became acutely aware of Bisera's hand in his, of the way the morning light caught in her carefully braided hair, of the faint blush that hadn't left her cheeks.
"The braids," he said softly. "They're beautiful."
She looked down, free hand moving to touch them self-consciously. "I... thank you. I woke early and couldn't sleep, so I..." She trailed off, then looked up at him with unusual vulnerability. "I wanted to look nice. For you. Even though we're preparing for siege and I should be focused on—"
"Bisera." He lifted their joined hands, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "You're always beautiful to me. Whether you're in full armor covered in mud, or calculating water requirements with fierce concentration, or blushing about discussing practical matters. But I love that you wanted to look nice for me."
Her breath hitched. "Love?"
The word hung between them, and James realized what he'd said. But looking at her—this magnificent woman who commanded armies yet worried about being attractive enough for him, who calculated siege defenses while secretly braiding her hair for him—he couldn't take it back.
"Yes," he said simply. "Love."
Her eyes filled with tears she quickly blinked away. "James, I... with the siege tomorrow, and my duties, and—"
"I know." He squeezed her hand. "I'm not asking for anything you can't give. But when you're making your battle plans and managing the city's defenses, I want you to know that you have my love. Not as the general, not as the hero of Vakeria, but as you. The compassionate woman who worries about her friend's daughter and braids her hair when she can't sleep."
A single tear escaped, trailing down her cheek. "You impossible man," she whispered. "How am I supposed to focus on defending the city when you say things like that?"
"The same way you always do," he said, reaching up to wipe away the tear. "With brilliant tactics, unwavering courage, and perhaps the knowledge that when this is over, we'll have all the time in the world together."
She leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. "If we survive."
"We will." He said it with such conviction that she opened her eyes, searching his face. "I will make sure we do." James said with a confidence that surprised even himself.
"The water system," she said after a moment, clearly trying to regain her composure though she made no move to release his hand. "We should start it immediately, even if it won't be ready for weeks. At least it gives hope."
"And interim solutions," James agreed, following her lead back to safer topics. "Boiling stations throughout the city. I can provide large pots, fuel, activated carbon for basic filtration. It won't be perfect, but it'll help."
"The cost?"
"For immediate supplies? Perhaps the price of a few warhorses, not a hundred."
She nodded, the general reasserting herself, though the woman who'd just heard his confession of love still lingered in her eyes. "We'll clear the pump house courtyard for the main purification system. Post guards to protect it during manifestation. And James?"
"Yes?"
"The manifestation... it emit light in the meantime? Like when you healed Velika?"
He consulted quickly with Seraphina. "Very visible. It'll glow for the entire construction period. Like a beacon."
"Then everyone will see. The citizens, the refugees... and any spies within our walls." Her voice dropped on the last words, and he knew she was thinking of Adelais.
"You still suspect her?"
"I suspect everyone," Bisera said, then caught herself. "Except you and Velika." The admission seemed to surprise her, and she flushed again. "That's probably foolish of me."
"Or wise," James said lightly. "Since I'm rather hopelessly compromised where you're concerned. It would be difficult to betray someone I'm in love with."
She made a small sound—half laugh, half sob. "You can't just keep saying things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because we're about to be under siege. Because I need to be strong for my people. Because if I let myself feel everything you're making me feel, I might—" She stopped, breathing hard.
"You might what?" he asked gently.
"I might forget my duty entirely and just be a woman in love."
It was James's turn to catch his breath. "You... you love me?"
She looked at him with exasperation and tenderness in equal measure. "Of course I love you, you wonderful fool. But James, tomorrow—"
He silenced her with a kiss. It was gentle, barely a brush of lips, but it stopped her spiral of words. When he pulled back, her eyes were wide and dark.
"Tomorrow we face Alexander," he said quietly. "But today, in this moment, we're just Bisera and James. Let's have this, even if it's all we get."
She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "You're right. Spirit knows we might not have another chance."
"We will," he said firmly. "But that doesn't mean we should waste this chance."
Part 2
Two hours later, the old garrison courtyard buzzed with activity. Word of the Great Mage's latest planned miracle had spread, drawing crowds despite the urgent preparations throughout the city.
James stood at the center of the cleared space, acutely aware of the expectations weighing upon him. Offerings had been contributed by the populace—enough to begin the manifestation, though he'd need more over the coming weeks.
Engineers had already exposed the ancient stone channels where the aqueduct entered the courtyard's underground cistern. The Gillyrian construction had endured nearly a thousand years, testament to the skill of its builders. Now it would serve as the foundation for something unprecedented—a melding of sacred power and modern engineering knowledge.
From her position near the courtyard entrance, Adelais watched with her group of orphans. Her handler had ordered her to observe and report any weaknesses in the magical defenses. But all she saw was a man willing to exhaust himself for people who weren't even his own.
"Ready?" Bisera asked quietly. She'd donned formal armor for the ceremony, but James noticed she'd kept her elaborate hairstyle, now crowned with her general's circlet.
"As ready as one can be for channeling infrastructure," he said, trying for levity.
She stepped closer, ostensibly adjusting his collar but really just needing the contact. "I've been thinking about the distribution system," she murmured. "We'll need to organize water brigades—trusted soldiers to oversee the collection pool, ensure fair distribution."
"Always the tactician," he said fondly.
"Always." But her eyes were soft as she looked at him. "Be careful. You look tired already."
He shook off his unease and raised his hands, opening his connection to Seraphina. "People of Podem! What you witness today is not an instant miracle but sacred craftsmanship! The blessed waters will come, but like all great works, they require patience and faith!"
"Initiating matter compilation," Seraphina announced in his mind. "Phase one: structural framework. This is considerably more complex than toilet paper, darling. The actual purification components won't manifest until the framework is complete. Think of it as building the house before installing the plumbing."
Reality rippled. Blue-white energy erupted from a point directly above the exposed aqueduct junction, forming geometric patterns that hurt to observe directly. Unlike the golden beauty of healing magic, this was industrial, almost alien—a skeleton of pipes and tanks and chambers building themselves from nothing.
The crowd gasped, many dropping to their knees. But others muttered uneasily. This wasn't the warm spiritual light they'd expected—it was cold, efficient, pragmatic.
"Stay calm!" Bisera called out. "The Spirit works through function as well as beauty! This construction will save our city!"
James felt the strain immediately. Manifesting even just the framework was like trying to hold a river in his bare hands. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the winter chill.
Then Bisera was there, standing close enough to steady him without making it obvious. "I'm here," she murmured. "Together, remember?"
He let himself lean slightly into her strength, and somehow that made the flow of power easier to bear. The manifestation continued, the skeletal framework growing, positioning itself to connect with the ancient aqueduct. Where the spiritual energy touched the old stones, they seemed to strengthen, as if recognizing a kindred purpose.
Hours passed. By late afternoon, the framework had taken shape—a building-sized skeleton of light that would eventually house the purification system. The collection pool's outline was visible, its walls partially formed but not yet capable of holding water.
"Twelve percent complete," Seraphina reported. "The framework is establishing itself nicely. The actual filtration components will manifest gradually over the coming weeks. For now, you're essentially building a very expensive, very shiny shell."
Adelais had drawn closer during the manifestation, ostensibly helping a tired child but really studying the process. She saw how the magic worked—not as an instant miracle but as a gradual construction. Information that would be valuable to Alexander's war council. Yet she found herself hoping it would succeed.
"You should rest," Bisera said during hour five.
"Can't stop now. The framework needs to be complete, or it won't properly integrate with the aqueduct."
Her jaw tightened. "Then I stay with you."
By evening, exhaustion pulled at James like lead weights. The basic framework was complete—a translucent skeleton of what would become the purification system. The ancient aqueduct's water flowed through it unchanged, but the structure was there, waiting to be filled with purpose over the coming weeks.
"Even incomplete, it gives them hope," Bisera said softly, watching citizens peer at the glowing framework with awe.
Then the bells began ringing—urgent, demanding. A messenger burst through the crowd.
"General! Fires on the horizon! The enemy's burning the outer farms!"
Bisera's fingers briefly squeezed James's arm before she stepped away. "How many fires?"
"At least a dozen, my lady. Advance forces, maybe three thousand horse."
"Go," James said firmly. "I'll manage the conclusion."
She looked at him for a long moment, a world of unspoken words in her eyes. Then the mask of command slipped over her features. "Velika! Guard the Great Mage. If anyone threatens this ritual, kill them."
Velika snapped a salute. "With pleasure, General."
As Bisera strode away, James caught her looking back once. Just once.
"She's got it bad," Velika observed.
The final phase of today's manifestation was simpler—sealing the framework, ensuring it would continue to grow properly over the coming weeks. As James completed the ritual, the skeletal structure pulsed once with brilliant light before settling into a steady, patient glow.
"First phase complete," he announced to the crowd. "The foundation is laid. Over the coming weeks, the blessed waters will flow!"
As the crowd dispersed, Velika handed him water. "Drink. You look ready to collapse."
The water was from the regular aqueduct—unchanged as yet, but symbolic of what would come. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. We still have a siege to survive." She looked toward the horizon, where fires painted the sky orange. "And bigger problems than plumbing."
Near the citadel, Adelais fingered the sealed letter hidden in her bodice. She'd observed everything—the manifestation's slow nature, the offerings required, the Great Mage's exhaustion. Valuable intelligence for Emperor Alexander.
But she'd also seen James's genuine sacrifice, Bisera's tireless dedication, the hope in the citizens' eyes. These weren't the heretics she'd been told to expect.
The letter seemed to burn against her skin. Soon, she would have to choose. As she watched the turquoise light pulse like a heartbeat, she prayed for wisdom, knowing that whatever choice she made would damn her in someone's eyes. But for the next few hours, she would devote herself to prayer, to seek the Spirit's guidance. After all, her decision tonight would determine the course of the war and seal the fates of everyone, including herself and her beloved emperor, in this life and, possibly, for all eternity. Hence, she could not afford to be wrong.