Harriett inched from her hiding place, tools of her trade in tense hands. The oversized pot slid open soundlessly, and Harriett held back a sigh of relief. Then Harriett closed her eyes and focused. The sound of the room. The feeling of the paint on the wallpaper. The tapestry that hung quietly, absorbing a fraction of the sound. And her, five feet of silent presence. But with careful breaths, Harriett willed herself away. Fading from notice as she considered herself no more than a portion of the wall she stood in front of. It wasn't a perfect trick, but enough.
Harriett thought, It's time to go.
And, in her haste, the pot door ground as she shut it. A sound ever so slight that it could be mistaken for your own bones.
"Did you hear something?" One of the men said.
Harriett breathed calmly, hand inside her bag as the men listened. One of them laughed. Harriett sidled from behind cover and crouched.
"I was listening for the dragon." He said, "But we have an isolator here. I couldn't possibly be h-"
"AAHH!" The isolator cried, grasping her wrist as she fell to the ground. Blood spurted in bursts across the room.
The silence broke as the sphere disintegrated. Harriett blurred around the room in a streak of black leather, making for the door. Raucous commotion hammered through the stone walls, screams and shouts to battle, and above it all Harriett could hear the roar of a dragon.
One of the men aimed a glittering orange crystal. It spat a splutter of fire and whooshed past Harriet to cut off her escape. Harriett skidded on her knees below the flames, trusting the enchantments built into her armor to take the worst of it. Harriett came up on the other side and unlatched the door, then dodged back as a spear of light slammed into the door. A swarming motion, like a hungry wave, rolled and reached for Harriett. Harriett wove and dodged, locking in as the world crystallized around her. Harriett smiled.
A dance of her own, the partner of death. Failure was more unbearable than ever. War if discovered. Her brother dead if stopped. She didn't need to think anymore, she simply danced the night away.
Harriett left the door open behind her.
A crown of nobles turned to the opening and barely caught a dark blurring form before the hunting attacks plowed into the crowd. Attacks which were turned aside at the last second by men that had not gotten where they were by recklessly killing bystanders.
Harriet sprinted on top of the crowd, making her light path across unsuspecting shoulders and heads. Windows to her left revealed a flickering stop-motion battle, chaos surrounding her unarmed friends. Fire tore through her home, and for one heart-stopping moment Harriett saw her perfect mother enshrouded in flame. Then Harriett was gone. Sprinting through the halls of her childhood, looking for a murderer and worse, a body.
She knew where her little brother Liam would be at a time like this. Playing with his collection. He probably hadn't even gotten the message to hide from the attack-
Except he would have gotten the news. The maids had found most of his hiding places. There were only a few places to hide a collection of bugs in this castle. At least, to hide them in a way that the bugs would survive.
So the maids would have found him, probably with a guard. Which meant that he would be en-route to the safety rooms. Harriett didn't have experience with assassinations, but she did have experience in popping out of nowhere and scaring her brother. Lilliam Peckishire had the best scream.
The halls blurred and Harriett skidded along the walls to make the turns. There! A guard and two women, escorting the fourteen-year-old boy down the hall. The guard whirled and raised his sword as Harriett skidded across the floor. A good reflex.
Where would I be? Harriett thought, I would hide to reduce chances of being discovered, but assuming that I was skilled then that would be anywhere. Not in the safety room. Too many guards. And there's a guard with him now, but only one. This guard is tough but…then I'd have to pick a good moment.
Like when the guard's back was turned, facing Harriett running down the hallway. She'd become the perfect distraction.
Harriet threw her sword to the ground, sending it skidding towards the guard and catching the man off guard. Harriett drew three throwing stars and whipped them towards her targets. One on the opposite side from the guard, one above her brother, and one skipping between her brother's legs.
Crash!
Movement appeared behind her little brother, and Harriett jumped. It had been a rough bet, more of a precaution than anything. She'd been about to de-mask and reveal her identity, but suddenly a portion of the wall seemed to have… slipped on her throwing star?
"What the-" The guard shouted, and Harriett raced past in the confusion. Harriet scooped her sword from the ground and vaulted her brother, planting both of her feet on the rising assassin in a flying full body kick.
The assassin barely moved.
Harriett hissed in pain and fell to the ground as she thought, Well, that's not an illusion. That's real stone that's trying to kill us.
Harriett rolled out of the way instinctively and felt the guard thrust. Harriett felt herself get annoyed. Hadn't she just proven that she was on his side? He didn't seem to get the memo. She flipped the guard off.
"Oh," The guard said, turning away, "So sorry, milady. Let's go, young master. This is no longer a safe route."
Harriett circled the assassin, putting herself between her brother and the assassin. It would probably drop the heavy getup and try to get around her, or better yet switch to fighting Harriett herself-
The wall charged, and Harriett reflexively stabbed it. Once, thrice, seven times.
Her blade snapped off inside the running bricks, yanking her sword from her hand.
&$^$, Harriett thought, throwing herself aside, that's one strategy I guess. Rest in peace, Life Ender. You were a good sword. Now I just need to lure it the other way until-
"AAAH!!"
Harriett whirled as she got to her feet, and turned to see one of the maids bleeding on the floor. Lying on top of Lilliam. The assassin- no the monster's dagger punched through her back.
The guard hacked at the assassin, chipping away great heaps of stone. For a brief moment, Harriett caught an undulating black beneath the living wall. Then the assassin whirled on the guard and slammed a stone fist into his heaving chest. The guard flew and the assassin calmly pulled the body of the maid off of Harriett's little brother, as if it was pulling aside a bedsheet.
Lilliam was frozen, eyes reflecting the blood that covered him. The other maid rushed to get in between as the guard pried himself from the hole in the wall.
Time slowed down. Harriett felt her vision narrow as she calculated a dozen ideas. She could feel every inch of the world around her, could see the next attack in perfect clarity. She was the daughter of the Butcher Baron. Fighting was in her veins. But none of it could chop off an arm made of stone. Nothing except her name itself.
Harriett ripped her mask off and threw it at the assassin and screamed, "I am Calendula, first child of the Peckishires. And I have no other title to my name."
The Assassin froze, then turned to Harriett. The stone cleared away and revealed the hint of eyes looking at her. It looked her up and down slowly, understanding dawning in the faint mind behind the glassy eyes of a killer.
"I am your target," Harriett said, "Not him. I was to be on a date with the golden apples' boy. Svarm. You were to kill us both and send this castle into uproar. That was your original mission. So change targets, you useless brick."
Harriett grinned as she saw something familiar glint in the assassin's eyes, "Come on. I won't die easily. Don't you want a challenge?"
****
Petra soared above the Dragon, Clara holding piggyback. A normal wood mage could grow a barrier of some trees and throw some sharpened sticks, but the Duchess displayed a level of refinement and power that left Petra feeling…small. Unfortunately, it was also quite flammable. Petra watched as the dragon turned away, burning the forest that grew and wrapped around it.
The contrasting cut and processed nature of Scott's signature wood crafts cut strategically through the chaos. The structures materialized and locked the dragon's limbs in a series of eastern wooden arches, a masterful display of precision. That made Petra giddy about the future. This man had come to help them? Amazing.
Although, a part of Petra could stop herself from doubting him. Why had such a mage joined their lowly cause? There were several…options that Petra would have to keep her eyes open for.
"Petra!" Clara shouted, dangling from Petra's arms, "Aren't we high enough? Will you be able to pull out if we're this high?"
"Right," Petra shook her head, "Are you ready? Raging?"
"Oh you bet," Clara sneered, "I got Svarm on the brain."
Petra smirked then rolled over and dived, willing the surrounding air to throw them with force that pulled at her blood until the world started to darken. Clara pushed off, battle cry screaming through the night. Petra pulled up, envisioning the air into a slide that flung her violently across the courtyard. The world faded briefly before she was caught by a gentle leafy tangle and-
BOOM!
Petra struggled up, healing herself back to full awareness. She was lowered to the ground by the leafy tangle, and Petra realized how close she had come. She'd pulled out of the dive less than ten feet above the courtyard. If she'd kept going, she would have hit a wall and…probably not died. But she'd have been down for a bit.
Petra thought, Thank goodness the Duchess was paying attention and caught me.
The leaves parted and vanished, leaving Petra facing the Duchess and beyond her, the dragon. The dragon's head was drilled into the roof, and had disappeared inside. Clara was kicking it in the neck beside the hole, steaming.
The dragon thrashed, tail ripping out of the Scott's wooden bonds as the whole monster grew in size again. Unfortunately for the dragon, this meant that it's head was now significantly bigger than the hole.
"I don't suppose that it's stuck like that?" Clara said, stepping their way and shaking her legs out. The rage was fading from her face.
"No," Petra hurried to the Duchess, "Pardon, but do you have an armory? My sister needs a sword."
The duchess was quiet for a moment before she said, "If I recall correctly, the twin daughters of the Silver Sabers and the Golden Shields were masters of greatswords and Earth magic. I do not recall them being masters of fists and flight."
Petra bristled and said, "Yeah, well it's not good to advertise all of your cards. Do you have a sword or not? And I could use an Earth crystal, now that you mention it."
Crack!
The dragon grew again, it's scales deepening in color as its neck grew bigger than the hole and cracked the stone.
"I have several of each you could use," The duchess said, "But I am afraid that we no longer have the time for half-hearted measures. I am not the most suited for this, and my husband is away. You two will have to do. Consider us equal with this favor."
A thick vine whipped out of a window on one of the castle towers and an enormous object flew through the air, burying itself in the ground behind them. A great ax the size of a horse, with a wicked design and blade that felt almost…patient. Waiting for an arm to wield it.
"I trust that you will not be at too much of a disadvantage with my husband's second favorite ax," The Duchess said, "And as for you, my girl."
The Duchess turned to Petra as Clara snatched up the ax. The Duchess seemed to lower to look Petra in the eye. But one of this grace does not lower themselves, and the Duchess certainly did not stoop to look Petra in the eye.
"Tell me," The Duchess said, "What would you have of Stalt."
"An ally," Petra said, reflexively, "But a neighbor would do-"
"You seek to make an ally of us?" The Duchess said, "And yet, with your very introduction, you bring the wrath of the Taste'r house upon us? The wrath of the king? Your houses have fallen out of favor. Your name means nothing but wasted buildings and a bounty to be returned 'home'. Your inheritance is a festering fiery ruin and a home yet to be built. What would I gain from allying with you? What can you offer to replace that safety we had from being unaffiliated?"
Petra frowned and met the Duchess's eye. There was so much there, yet nothing at all. It was the kind of political stare that Petra wished she had. Yet…this was Harriett's mother. She couldn't be unfeeling.
In the background, Clara started to swing the ax experimentally at the dragon's neck. The castle began to creak at the dragon's struggle. A noble whimpered nearby.
Petra took a breath and said, "First: you are no longer unaffiliated. This dragon proves it. Although not the same, it was an event much like this that slew my family. I would be willing to bet that, in the streets below, there is bloodshed. They hate you as much as they hate me. Maybe more."
There was no change in her face and Petra continued, saying, "Second: we are dear friends with your daughter. We are allied already, if only a generation apart."
Petra sighed and said, "And I shall not reveal my third answer in the presence of current company, but you may rest assured that we have tremendous resources which-"
The dragon roared and twisted, planting all four feet and flapping its wings wildly until-
Crack-boom!
The dragon tore the hole apart and reared its head again to the sky, breathing a brilliant gout of fire straight up. Petra dodged a falling chunk and blew another away with her air crystal. She turned back to the Duchess, who took Petra's hand.
"What-" Petra said.
"You only needed the second point," The duchess said, then turned around, "Everyone, clear out! We'll only be in the way."
Petra looked down. In her hands was an Earth crystal, glinting green, a foot long. It was the kind of crystal wielded only by a Duchess.
Petra felt a grin spread widely across her face. It had been a long time since she had held a Primary Crystal worthy of her station.