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Ironha woke to the smell of something cooking—a rich, earthy broth that carried through the house.

She dressed quickly and descended the narrow stairs.

The common room was already busy. A fire burned steadily in the hearth, warming the room against the morning cold. Cassira stood near the kitchen counter, ladling soup into wooden bowls while Mira moved beside her, carrying the filled bowls toward the table where two of Rurran’s gnoll scouts were talking in low voices.

Rurran himself stood near the far wall with Mazoga and Marron, the three of them bent over a map spread across a makeshift table. A bronze radio sat beside the map, its faint hum the only sound competing with the crackling fire.

Ironha crossed the room.

Mira intercepted her halfway, offering a bowl with both hands.

"Morning," the girl said quietly.

Ironha accepted it. "Thank you."

The soup was hot enough to sting her fingers through the wood. She blew across the surface and took a careful sip. She could taste stonebulb and ashroot in the thick, earthy broth.

She walked toward the map.

Mazoga looked up as she approached.

Ironha stopped beside the table. “What’s happened?”

Mazoga straightened slightly.

"Just got off radio with Bran and Edda."

"And?"

“Bran says the outer district is still under curfew,” Mazoga said. “The watch has been searching the city and questioning anyone connected to the kidnapping.”

Marron tapped the map with one finger. “The innkeepers—Garrik and Elara—are still under guard. Garrik’s been taken in for questioning, and Elara isn’t allowed to leave the inn.”

“They haven’t found anything?” Ironha asked.

Mazoga shook her head. “Not yet. Bran says search parties have been going out beyond the walls, but no one knows where Cassira was taken.”

Rurran looked down at the route marked on the map. “Then the gates will be watched.”

“Most likely,” Mazoga said.

“And a gnoll wagon arriving with the missing princess will get noticed.”

Ironha let out a slow breath and looked toward the kitchen.

Cassira and Mira were cleaning bowls now, their voices low as they worked. Neither girl looked toward the map, but Ironha could see the tension in Cassira's shoulders—the way she moved a little too carefully, as though any sudden motion might shatter something.

Ironha turned back to Mazoga. "We're walking into a lot of trouble, aren't we?"

Mazoga nodded once. "Yeah."

Ironha took another sip of soup, more to give herself something to do than because she was hungry.

"Where's Doc?" she asked. "And the others?"

Rurran answered first. "Two of my scouts are on perimeter patrol. They'll be back within the hour."

"Tanna's checking the wagon," Mazoga said. "Making sure everything's ready to move once we finish here. Calen's with her, double-checking the load."

“And Doc?”

Mazoga’s mouth twitched. “Outside. Experimenting.”

Ironha stared at her.

“He said he’d be careful,” Mazoga added.

“Of course he did.”

“And that he wouldn’t use much mana.”

Ironha set her bowl on the table. “Where?”

Mazoga pointed toward the western edge of the village.

Ironha sighed and headed for the door.

“Tell him breakfast’s ready,” Mazoga called after her.

“I will. Right after I remind him that recovering is supposed to involve rest.”

She pulled open the door and stepped into the cold.

Doc stood in the western clearing, surrounded by three chalk circles. Each bore a different configuration—light, ice, and the newest: fire.

Fish sat nearby, watching with her usual patience.

Doc crouched beside the fire rune, checking the alignment. The glyph sat centered within a simple binding circle, its edges clean and precise. He'd copied the design directly from the textbook Mira had recommended—a Tier 1 activation pattern with minimal complexity.

He placed his hand near the chalk and exhaled slowly.

Lux, record output and measure mana draw.

Acknowledged.

Doc focused inward. He could feel the mana spread throughout his body now, a faint warmth that stirred whenever he consciously reached for it.

He channeled a thread of mana into the rune.

The chalk flared. A small flame flickered to life at the circle's center, no larger than a candle.

Doc held it steady for three seconds, then released the flow.

The flame died.

“How much mana did that require?”

Minimal. The rune consumed roughly one twenty-eighth of the mana currently present in your body.

Doc frowned. “And how much has accumulated since I woke up?”

Mana levels have risen steadily over the last eight hours. No upper threshold has been detected.

Doc sat back on his heels, considering.

So far, his body had continued gathering mana without showing any sign of reaching a limit. Whether that meant he had an unusually large capacity or no fixed capacity at all, they did not have enough information to tell.

If he pushed harder—

Two hands clapped together behind him.

Doc turned.

Ironha stood at the clearing's edge, arms folded and one eyebrow raised.

He smiled. “Ironha. Good morning. Sorry—I didn’t notice you there. Lux and I were testing how my body uses mana. He’s been tracking the energy inside me, and we wanted to measure how much the rune drew. The results are interesting—”

"You should be resting," Ironha interrupted, her tone light but firm. "Not using your mana."

Doc shook his head. "I feel fine—"

"Doc."

He stopped.

She stepped closer, her expression softening but her gaze steady. "Mana works like life energy in this world. You can't just experiment with it. There's a reason there aren't a lot of mages. It's a very dangerous profession."

"We were being careful," Lux said through the suit's external speaker.

Ironha's smile turned faintly amused. "I know you were. But you're new at this." She met Doc's gaze. "Please listen to a healer's advice. Don't do this without someone supervising—at least not until you're completely healed."

Doc looked down at the chalk circles, then back at Ironha.

He nodded slowly. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Her expression warmed. "Maz said breakfast is ready. We should go back and eat. I'm pretty sure they plan to leave within the hour."

Doc stood, brushing chalk dust from his gloves.

Fish rose beside him and padded toward the village.

Doc stepped into the common room and found Mira near the counter. She handed him a bowl without a word, but her smile was genuine.

"Thank you," he said.

She nodded and returned to clearing dishes.

Doc moved to the table and sat.

Ironha stood near the doorway, watching him with a faint, wistful expression.

"One minute you're knocked out cold," she said quietly. "And the next, you're up experimenting."

She shook her head, her smile soft.

Doc walked beside the wagon as it creaked along the frozen road, Fish pacing ahead through the snow. The village had been left behind hours ago, and the landscape stretched flat and white in every direction.

Mazoga approached from the front, her breath misting in the cold air. She fell into step beside him.

"Bran radioed while you were experimenting," she said quietly. "Same as before, mostly — curfew's still on, and they've got nothing. Garrik's been dragged in for questioning more than once. Elara's stuck at the inn."

She shrugged. "No trail on Cassira at all."

Doc nodded slowly. "Do you expect trouble?"

"Most likely." Mazoga's tone was flat. "Rurran's already armed two of the gnoll scouts with launchers, just in case."

Doc frowned. "Launchers?"

Mazoga stopped walking and turned to him, her expression shifting into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"Oh, right. You haven't seen what Carl's been making for the militia and Threeburrow."

She shook her head, the almost-smile widening.

"I'll show you after this. Trust me—you'll want to see them."

Doc tilted his head. "Should I be concerned?"

"No," Mazoga said. "You should be impressed."

She started walking again, and Doc followed.

"I just wanted you to know," she continued, her voice dropping slightly, "Cassira is apparently royalty. The High King—her father—is suspicious of anyone tied to where she was kidnapped. That includes us."

Doc exhaled slowly. "Politics."

"Yep."

"I hate politics."

Mazoga laughed—a short, dry sound. "You and me both. But we're in the middle of it now." She met his gaze. "Just be ready."

She moved ahead toward the front of the wagon, leaving Doc standing in the snow.

He watched her go, then turned his gaze to the horizon.

The wind carried cold across the Waste.

"What have we gotten ourselves into this time?" he muttered.

A situation with several similarities to the Dionis Protocol Dispute Lux replied.

Doc blinked. “The what?”

Proxima Secundus. Year seventy-three. You were twenty-six.

Doc frowned, searching his memory.

Then he groaned.

“That was different.”

You responded to a distress signal from a disabled diplomatic shuttle Lux continued. You recovered Ambassador Keiko, six members of her staff, and a sealed ceremonial case before the vessel lost life support.

“There were civilians onboard. I wasn’t going to leave them there.”

Correct. You then transported the survivors to the nearest safe station, unaware that the ambassador was traveling to a succession summit.

Doc rubbed his face. He remembered now.

“The station belonged to the Coalition,” he said.

And the ceremonial case contained the Dionis Founding Seal. Under local custom, carrying the seal into Coalition territory was interpreted as a formal declaration of support from the Federation.

“I didn’t know what was in the case.”

You stated that seventeen times during the inquiry.

“It was marked as personal property.”

The Syndicate accused the Federation of interfering in the succession. The Coalition attempted to award you a diplomatic commendation. Ambassador Keiko refused to clarify the situation because she found it advantageous.

Doc sighed. “I rescued her, and she let everyone believe I’d chosen a side.”

Correct.

“I spent two weeks explaining that emergency evacuation was not a political endorsement.”

You resolved the dispute by convincing both parties to sign an amendment stating that transporting an injured diplomat or ceremonial object during a rescue did not constitute support.

“And then Command assigned me to asteroid inspections for six months because they thought I needed a break.”

Correct.

Doc stared at the wagon ahead of them.

“This isn’t the same.”

You rescued a politically significant individual and are now returning her to a city divided over her disappearance.

Doc was silent for a moment.

“Fine. It’s a little similar.”

Probability that your actions will be interpreted politically: high. Probability that you will be required to explain yourself repeatedly: near certain.

“Thanks, Lux.”

You are welcome.

Doc kept walking.

Fish turned her head and glanced back at him, her amber eyes steady.

He sighed.

The gates of Glasshold waited somewhere beyond the ridge.

Glasshold appeared beyond the final ridge.

Doc slowed beside the wagon.

The city looked different from the last time he had seen it. More guards stood along the walls, and soldiers in unfamiliar colors crowded the road outside the east gate. Wooden barriers narrowed the approach into a single lane, forcing anyone entering the city to pass between two lines of armed men.

Imperial banners hung beside Glasshold’s own.

Significant increase in defensive personnel Lux reported through the neural link. Forty-three visible guards and soldiers. Additional signatures detected behind the gate.

Doc looked toward Mazoga.

She had already seen it.

Mazoga raised one hand. The wagon slowed behind her.

“Rurran.”

The gnoll commander glanced over.

“Keep the launchers down,” she said. “No sudden movements unless I give the word.”

Rurran bared his teeth slightly, though not at her.

“You heard her.”

The two scouts carrying Carl’s new weapons lowered the tubes toward the snow. Neither relaxed.

Doc looked toward the wagon bench.

Cassira sat beside Marron, wrapped in a heavy cloak. She had insisted on riding where the gate guards could see her. Mira sat behind them beneath the canvas, close enough that one hand still rested on the edge of Cassira’s cloak.

Cassira stared at Glasshold without moving.

Calen walked near the rear wheel, his eyes fixed on the soldiers gathering ahead.

“They know we’re here,” he said.

The yellow duck banner snapped above the wagon in the wind.

“That was the idea,” Mazoga replied.

They continued down the road.

The reaction at the gate spread quickly.

One guard pointed.

Another disappeared through the open doors.

Soldiers moved into formation across the approach, shields coming forward. Several watchmen stepped out ahead of them, uncertain whether they were meant to stop the wagon or clear the road.

Mazoga kept walking.

Doc stayed beside the wagon with Fish at his side.

The distance closed.

Then someone came running through the gate.

A woman in dark robes pushed past the watchmen without slowing. She crossed the snow-covered road at a near sprint, leaving the officials and soldiers behind her.

Cassira stood so quickly Marron reached out to steady her.

“Serin.”

The wagon had not fully stopped before Cassira jump down and the woman in dark robes caught her.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Serin wrapped both arms around Cassira and pulled her close. Cassira went rigid in surprise, then buried her face against Serin’s shoulder.

Doc looked away.

He focused instead on the people emerging from the gate.

An older man in formal Academy robes came through the gate first, followed by an Imperial Guard captain, a court-dressed official, and an Imperial commander in military armor.

Several soldiers followed.

“That will be the investigator and the commander, I assume” Mazoga said quietly.

Doc glanced at her. “Which is which?”

“The one dressed for a meeting is the most likely the investigator.”

“And the other?”

“The commander.”

Doc nodded. “Understood.”

Near the wagon, Serin finally loosened her grip.

She placed both hands on Cassira’s shoulders and looked her over, searching for any sign that something was wrong.

“I’m alright,” Cassira said.

Serin held her gaze for another moment, then nodded.

Cassira glanced past her toward the gate. “Where’s Mar?”

Serin’s expression changed.

“He’s still out with one of the northern search parties. They pushed beyond the third ridge yesterday and haven’t returned yet.”

Cassira looked toward the open Waste beyond the road.

“He’s still looking for me?”

“He refused to stop.”

Cassira closed her eyes for a moment.

“He’s going to be furious.”

Serin let out something between a laugh and a breath.

“He can be furious after he sees you’re alive.”

The man in the Academy robes reached them a moment later.

He stopped in front of Cassira and seemed, briefly, to forget whatever he had intended to say.

“Princess.”

Cassira straightened.

“Archmagister.”

Relief crossed his face before he brought it under control.

“Glasshold has been searching for you for sixteen days.”

“I know.” Cassira glanced back toward the wagon. “I would still be missing if they hadn’t found me.”

The Archmagister followed her gaze.

His eyes moved over Mazoga, Rurran and the gnoll scouts, Calen, Ironha, Tanna, and finally Doc.

“Who found you?” the Archmagister asked.

Cassira looked toward Calen first.

“Calen followed the men who took us. Doc found him and continued the search.” Her gaze moved across the others. “They all helped bring us back.”

The court-dressed man stepped forward.

“Investigator Crasus Marius,” he said. “I was sent by the High King to oversee the investigation into your abduction.”

Cassira’s expression tightened slightly, but she said nothing.

Marius turned toward the wagon.

“Everyone directly involved will need to provide a statement.”

His attention settled on Calen.

“You were present when the princess was taken?”

Calen nodded. “Yeah.”

“Then you’ll be questioned first.”

Marius looked toward Doc next.

“And you followed the kidnappers into the Waste?”

“I did.”

“You’ll be coming as well.

Doc looked past him toward the open gate, the soldiers, and the Imperial banners hanging above the walls.

“Near certain,” he muttered.

Prediction confirmed Lux replied through the neural link.

Marius narrowed his eyes. “What was that?”

Doc sighed.

The questioning had already started.

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