Kathy had become accustomed to the ways of magic and the screwball physics, or random contradictions thereof, in Ether. So when she turned down an alley and found her body drifting sideways, causing her to walk upright along the side of a two-story house, she hardly batted an eye. She simply carried on as if nothing odd had happened.
As she came out of the alley, her body reoriented itself, sky above, ground below. Kathy made a mental note of this alley's location, then carried on. Craeton's Bay had a proliferation of statuary, compliments of the shipyard. Every vessel of good size had some kind of sculpted masthead, and the ones taken out of service were sold off and put on the porches of both homes and businesses. These would make for easy use for her during a town defense.
The narrowness of the streets, she found, would offer good protection against invading forces. Forming natural bottlenecks, each point along the compass from the town's center could be controlled until one got to the docks and the beach. Anyone using the sandy shore to approach could be easily spotted by defenders, who could use bow or blast to hold the docks.
She tried thinking of ways to get the milling, busy townsfolk to help in the defense of their homes, but they didn't even know there was any threat coming. Until then, she could only go by what she saw, and what she saw was not encouraging. In a township of around two-thousand, she suspected than less than three-hundred were capable combatants.
Byron, for his part, wasn't faring any better as came to developing defensive measures. He spent most of his wandering time trying to keep the whispers in his head from convincing him to do something foolish. But he did manage to discover a few Dark Zones in town, pockets of ground where no magic could be accessed.
Daggeuro spent two long, gruelling hours convincing the town's mayor, Urdus Rhal, that there was an imminent threat coming to his town. It had taken a conference via link mirror to several sages to finally sway the man into agreeing that the town's constabulary should be prepared for battle.
Daggeuro met with his companions at three at the hotel, as agreed. They stood out on the street, and spent several minutes reviewing what they'd learned. Daggeuro grunted as they finished. "Well, we should go meet up with their constabulary at their station, see what kind of personnel resources we're working with here."
The station was a low, long brick structure on the north end of town, flanked by a scholhouse and a playground. Kathy thought it looked like an afterthought to the town's builders, a necessary but unliked placement. The yard was well maintained, and the chrome railings on the ramp leading inside were polished to a high shine. She pursed her lips in thought; maybe not much of a force, but clearly somebody's disciplined.
The mayor, Urdus Rhal, was waiting for them at the front doors. A gangly owl-man in a dark blue suit more suited to politicos in her world, he struck her as sly from the first. "Our peace keepers are anxious to meet you, Sir Daggeuro," he said, stepping aside and sweeping his winged arm to the side at the doors. Daggeuro made no reply, pushing open the gray doors and stepping into the main constabulary chamber.
Before the kennin and two humans stood fifteen faerie, a row of eight on the left of the central aisle, seven on the right. The aisle stretched all the way back to the chief's office door, clearly labeled 'Chief Gafferty' and beside which stood another kennin. This canine faerie was of the terrier clan, a Scottie dog in chain armor who only stood as tall as Kathy's waist.
Ten of the officers were elves, three lizardmen, and two gotrin. The wore heavy blue wool uniform coats and trousers, wrinkled and stained, frayed threads plain to see. Their armor, if any had any, was worn under the coats. Kathy took one look at the lot of them and wanted to scream foul. These people were soft, kept too comfy in jobs that they likely barely did. She wheeled back at the mayor, but he was already gone, away from the scene of misery. Byron tapped her on the shoulder.
"There's hope yet," he said, pointing over at a pair of wee folk flitting about a desk. They were, Kathy could see, sprites, flying about not with wings, but with pure magical energy. They each had on their own miniature version of the constabulary uniforms.
"All right, people," snapped the chief, his accent fitting for his breed, "back to your paperwork, pomp's over." Sighs rippled through the officer who unbuttoned their coats and returned to their desks. The chief waved a 'come along' at the trio, who followed him into his office. As they squeezed inside, Byron barely managing to shut the door, the chief pulled on his long, mustache-like snout hairs. "Aye, is terrible, innit?"
"No, sir," said Byron. "The Lilliputians would marvel at your grand palace!"
"Don't be a twit," Kathy chirped, nudging her elbow into his ribs. "Sorry about him, sir, he has no filter between his brain and his mouth."
"I take no insult, lass," the chief said. "I'd offer you a seat, but we en't got one fer ya. How can we help ya, Sir Daggeuro?" The kennin chief opened one of his desk drawers, bumping his hand into the wall behind him, and pulled out a glass tumbler and a bottle of some thick white cream liquor. He poured himself a shot, drank it off, and put glass and bottle away again.
"That doesn't bode well, for starters," Daggeuro said. "Your people seem dispirited. Are they in fighting form?"
"Hardly," said Gafferty. "We can't really enforce any law here, what with the Free Traders' Guild mucking up the works with their writs and pals in the senate tying our hands."
"So, they're causing trouble here too, eh," asked Byron, finally on solid ground. "Hi there, sir, Byron Torg." Recognition lit Gafferty's eyes, and he smiled hugely.
"You're the hume journalist the guild is always bitching about! Well, that's grand!" He pulled out the glass and bottle again, offering Byron the drink. He took it down in one pull, grimaced, handed the tumbler back. "Oh, aye, t'is harsh stuff, this. Now, the mayor says we have trouble coming. Tell me all about it."
Daggeuro suggested they take their talk out into the yard of the building, and there, he conveyed their upcoming trouble. Gafferty whistled when he was done. "So, chief, you see why I'm worried."
"Oh, aye, I do. Well," said Gafferty, planting his hands on his hips. "I have a few ideas."
In Ryalt, province seat of Councilman Stahg, a different battle altogether was about to enter a new phase. The fellin politician took in the natural beauty of the quiet, dozy streets from his bedroom window, his elven lover pulling her dress back on over by the closet. He could still smell the faint perfume she wore, a sweet scent of honey and maple she'd learned to only apply in light doses. She had come to him early that morning, sliding into bed with him after undressing silently, putting his hand on her breast. That had roused him (in both senses), and they had made a morning of enjoying one another.
"Jamie," he said, turning away from the window. She was just pulling her shoes on, seated on the edge of the bed. "How would you like to come with me to the speech today?"
"Um, I'd be coming anyway. I'm your assistant, sir," she said with a smile.
"Not as my assistant," said Stahg, walking over to her. He put his hands down, pulling her up swiftly and wrapping his arms around her. She peered up into his eyes, her smile fading not with fear, but with anticipation. "As my lady, I mean," he said. Her face erupted in a beaming expression he could only think of as angelic, a look he imagined angels wore when in the presence of the gods. She squealed happily and jumped up and down within his embrace, eliciting a chuckle from him. "I'll take that as a yes, then?"
"Of course! Oh, wait. I should get on a nicer dress," she said, whirling away and unzipping her dress, letting it fall to the floor. She rifled through her overnight bag, tucked against the side of his bed. She finally pulled out a sleek green number he thought showed a bit more leg along one slitted side than most politicians' mates dared show. Then again, I'm not most politicians, he thought. He helped zip her up, then said brown when she held up two light wraps to chose from to wear so that her arms and upper back were covered properly.
"Now, Jamie, get Taylor and Rory to head down to the town square and bring back a head count," he said, fetching his own outfit for the stump speech he would be delivering. Jamie zipped away to track down his top campaign aides as asked, leaving him privacy in which to get changed into his white plantation suit. It didn't necessarily go with his fur color, a dappled gray with black patches, but he enjoyed his contrasts.
As he was buttoning up the dark pink shirt, Stahg thought about the speech he had prepared. His sister, a death magic wielder, would appreciate the vicious tone of his rhetoric, were she still living in Amermidst Kingdom. Her humor and tastes had always run dark, and she never apologized for this, a quality he admired.
He took from his dresser the short speech he'd written the eve before, going through it in his head, making short notes in the margins with a red pen. He finished touching it up as Jamie returned to him.
"I only found Taylor," she said in a rush. "There's close to six-hundred people there already and more coming all the time. Lieutenant Warren is already there, too. He's having a kind of meet and greet ahead of time."
"Hmph. Typical. Leave it to a Watchman to try getting every advantage, despite a gentlemen's agreement not to arrive before an arranged time." He pressed his silk tie flat, looking in his vanity mirror. "How do I look?"
"Dashing as always," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. "One hour until showtime, Herb." He folded his speech in thirds, tucking into the inside breast pocket of his blazer.
"All right, check with Kenneth, see if he has new numbers for me, then grab us a drink, dear," he said, his nerves jangling. It was always like this before a speech, and no matter how much experience he had, he always got jittery. Jamie came back with the latest preliminary estimate numbers from Kenneth, and as he reviewed them, Stahg felt the floor drop out from under him.
Overall, he was only ahead by four-hundred votes. Here in Ryalt, seat of the province, he was down by forty-three projected votes. In every election he'd run, he had only been behind once in Ryalt, the year he first ran. Trouble lay ahead if he didn't change the momentum.
He tapped his chest where the speech lay in wait. "I've got this," he said, tossing the projections sheet aside. "Just wait and see."
Daggeuro watched as the sprite constables, Turk and Reno, bombarded every defensive barrier Gafferty and his other men put up on the sandy shoreline a hundred yards away from the station. Even one created by Byron with his cards, upon which he wrote 'Sprite-Proof Magical Barrier', held only five or six minutes against their combined barrage.
"Encouraging," said Kathy to Daggeuro, hands folded over her knees as she sat on a blanket on the sand, Byron laying with his head in her lap.
"Yes it is. Chief Gafferty, Turk and Reno will stick close to me and my human companions during the assault, unless we split up. Then, they focus upon protecting their brothers-in-arms and attacking The Chained One. He is vulnerable to the spellcraft of wee folken."
"Ah, tha's why ye wanted ta see the wee buggers in action, eh?" The chain armor Gafferty wore clattered as he stood up from the sand, shaking his lower body off. "Well enough. Now, as for my other men," Gafferty began.
"Mostly useless to us," Daggeuro interrupted. Gafferty's brow furrowed, but he sighed and nodded in the affirmative. "They'll be all right, but I want them in three groups of five so that they'll stand better odds of survival. Are there any Wildmen based here in Craeton's Bay?"
"Aye, six of 'em. They're hard lads and lasses, very capable."
"Good. Have runners sent for them. They'll be the best bet for defending this town's outer areas. Now, what about mercenaries for the ships?"
"Hmm, there's about thirty in town," said Gafferty. "Two separate companies, the Bold Blades and Hazard Incorporated. The Blades are hired on to the Kurit, captain Legeer's ship, while Hazard's here fresh from a job escorting Swift Fury and her crew from across the blue. Both groups hang around at the docks."
"Excellent. Kathy! Byron," Daggeuro called, his friends getting vertical and coming over to him, the sprites zipping to their chief for further instruction. "Kathy, take this bag," he said, undoing the ties on a money pouch, "and go hire on the Hazard Incorporated crew. Byron," he said, grabbing another money bag, "you'll get the Bold Blades to help us with this."
Walking hand-in-hand, the humans headed off down the beach for the docks. Daggeuro only hoped these sell-swords would be capable in the face of whatever The Chained One brought against them.
Herbert Stahg walked among the crowd gathered around the temporary stage set up in the town square, doing his duty and shmoozing with the locals. He answered questions with vaguaries and counter-questions, as every good politician does, and deftly dodged the unfriendly faces in the gathered public. There were more of these than he cared for, but he still hadn't given his speech. Things would turn around quickly, he suspected.
Jamie came to his side and walked with him, hands wrapped around his arm like a proper lady. She stood on tiptoe and whispered to him, "Time to get on stage, Herb."
"Thank you, dear," he said, leading her to the steps and over to their seats, stage-right. He sat down slowly, Jamie's hand still on his arm, and a curious thought crept through his mind; people seemed to respond better to him with her at his side. He looked to her, sharing a warm smile, and patted her hand, kissed her on the cheek chastely, and turned his eyes out upon the crowd again. There, right there, he thought, seeing the expression on one elven woman's face soften upon him. Now isn't that a nice and unexpected bonus?
Ryalt's mayor Jacob Velit, a stern-faced elven man whose age was somewhere between 'ancient' and 'when the dinosaurs roamed the earth', shuffled with his cane to the podium set at center-front of the stage. He thumped his cane thrice on the floorboards, silencing the crowd. His wrinkled, seamed face rotated from side to side as he looked out at his citizenry.
A thin silver tube of metal, enchanted to amplify the voice, stood before him atop the podium. He leaned toward it and said, "Hail, people of Ryalt, and well met. Today, we are gathered to hear speeches from the candidates for High Council seat, Alsem province. The challenger for the seat, lieutenant Warren of the Watch, will speak first," he said, stepping back and waving to the officer, standing from his seat stage-left. A loud cheer went up from the crowd, and he gestured wild-armed hellos at them as he took to the podium. When they fell quiet, he took up the tube and began to speak.
"Howdy folks," he said. "I look out among this crowd and I see people I know, people I care about, people I've shared a drink with, and people who I've helped in a capacity beyond my job duties. I see folks who've lent me a hand with work round my house, and young men and women who, like me, have grown a deep appreciation for the kind of life we live here in Alsem.
"Now folks, I'm not the most society-bred fellow around," Warren said, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops. Stahg felt a stab of panic; here came the good ol' boy charm that had convinced so many people here to back Warren's bid for the Council seat. "But I know what the folken of this province want from the High Council, and from the King. And I promise you, folks, that if you put your vote in for me, and I go to Celia, I ain't gonna just disappear for months or years on end and play politics."
Here came the hoots and hollers of support, which drove Stahg up a wall. Yes, this had been Warren's primary criticism of Stahg, and yes, it was completely valid. The very truth of this observation was what made it so infuriating. He couldn't very well deny his extensive stays in Celia.
"Our current representative to the High Council is no doubt a well-read man," Warren continued. "Likewise, we need not wonder if he has what it takes to do the job. If he didn't, he wouldn't have served us as long as he has," Warren said, sweeping his left hand back toward Stahg. "Herbert Stahg has formed a rapport with his fellow Councilmen that no doubt has led to a comfortable and smooth working environment in the High Council Hall.
"However," he said, tone lowering, one hand gripping the podium like a preacher who has just got to the start of talking about Hell. "A man who gets too comfy overlooks the budding dangers about him," he said, his voice soft and reedy, delivered as a campfire storyteller would say it. "The Rangers and Watch have seen reductions in standing numbers for seven straight years. Specters have become more frenzied and bold, coming right into the smaller townships and villages to assault our citizenry!
"What's more, while all of this goes on, the High Council sits back and votes to take longer breaks and bigger salaries," he shouted, thumping the podium. The crowd was starting to get rowdy, and Stahg had a moment of terror wherein he believed they might not even allow him to speak. "We need change, folks! And I am here to be that change! So when the day of the election comes, remember, Councilman Stahg has served well, but we deserve a change, for the better! Thank you!" Lieutenant Warren set the tube back and waved his hands up in the air, bowing to the people's applause as he made his way back to his seat.
Stahg felt Jamie's grip on his arm squeeze tight a moment, a reassuring grin on her face, in her eyes. She tugged his head toward her mouth and said into his ear, "Maybe toss in the fact that Warren never caught our firebug from three years ago, the one who burned down the Rowek brothers' parcel service office?" Stahg pulled away from her slowly, a snake's smile lighting his face.
"You, my dear Jamie, are a beauty," he said. He got up and approached the podium, the crowd quieting as their incumbent Councilman took center stage. He pulled out his speech, looking it over one more time. The process of writing his speeches helped him to memorize them, and the notes in the margins served more as bullet points than bits to be rattled off verbatim.
"Get a shovel, folks," he heard Warren mutter from his seat behind him. This jab was delivered just loud enough that the first row of people before the stage could hear it and pass it along, ripples of laughter disrupting the moment. Stahg had come to recognize such bush league tactics, and he responded like a veteran, waiting with his hands behind his back until all had gone quiet again.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I greet thee to good days," Stahg began. "It has been my distinct honor to represent this province as High Councilman for many years. Through debate and legislative votes, I have fought hard to best represent the will of this province, whose faerie folken have ever believed in hard work, an honest wage, and the continued security and safety of the kingdom as a whole.
"I have been in close contact with numerous dignitaries and representatives of other nations over the years to that very end," he said, gearing up. He darted a look down at his speech with just his eyes and then surveyed the crowd. "My experiences in working with these men and women from foreign lands has not always been easy, or in some few instances, even safe. Surely you all remember some twenty-three years ago, when we were on the brink of war with Hailek, to the north." He silently looked out over a crowd suddenly turned quiet, thoughtful. "I was among the delegation of Councilmen who accompanied Queen Titania to their capital of Tel-Alpha. We risked life and limb going into the jaws of that savage nation, and from that lion's mouth we brought back peace.
"I was not the primary negotiator of that peace, but my hand is seen in the accords writ those days spent in fearful debate. I know what it takes to keep this kingdom, this province, safe." Murmurs rippled through the crowd, and like a true puppetmaster, he let these dolls believe themselves real boys and girls for the moment. When he continued, he didn't even need his draft anymore; he had positioned himself just right.
"Not only faerie from foreign lands, but humes as well have come to Amermidst, threatening our peace, our stability," he bellowed. "You all saw them here not even a month past, a pair of Awakened in Ryalt! And the male of them, he was a madman, was he not? Did I not hear him described just so by many of you who met him?
"Ever have humes disrupted our lives when they come to Amermidst. When the shade Luga waged war on us, why did he begin his campaign? Because a hume Awakened here touched by wyldfire! And now a dread creature comes to our kingdom, a creature named The Chained One, and we hear that it, too, was once an Awakened! And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I recently called the High Council to hold a vote which locks these Awakened safely away from us in 'asylum'," he said, using air quotes. This caused a great deal of snide laughter, everybody in on the joke together. Yes, he had them right where he wanted them.
"So you see, good people of Ryalt, the best choice for you on election day is the one that has ever kept you safe. That choice, is Herbert Stahg. Thank you, and best of days ahead to you," he finished, taking a sweeping bow as the entire gathering exploded with cheers and chants of his name, 'Her-Bert-Stahg, Her-Bert-Stahg'. Jamie dashed up beside him, taking his hand in hers and raising them high in victory.
This battle's victor was clear.