The invocation of Korvus’ Bayle ripped through the council chambers, shattering the polished jade floor. The force launched Serena into the air, tumbling and throwing her into a marble pillar. The building was sturdy, true, but its large, empty shape amplified the shockwave. Anything that wasn’t firmly in place was picked up and thrown indiscriminately by Korvus’ aether release.

Before Serena’s feet hit the ground, she was already forming Narean.

“This is it!” Korvus roared, black and grey flame whirling around him. His Bayle communion continued to take hold, insisting on imposing its characteristic mutations. Serena could see him change through the chaos. His skin turned grey, dark mist wreathed his horns, and his fingers turned into razor-sharp talons that Serena knew all too well could cleave through a limb.

“The primordial truth,” Korvus said, his body blossoming a vibrant green aura. The last few flames died down, leaving him standing alone in the centre of the room. He turned, his eyes bright and burning, and looked at Serena. “Isn’t that right, Captain? Look. Look how they cower!” He jerked his chin towards the councillors.

Serena flicked her eyes to the elevated semicircle of ironwood furniture. Their seats, with the sole exception of Councillor Nasr’s, had fallen over, with all their desk instruments thrown into the mini storm that was Korvus’ communion. The councillors themselves were nowhere to be seen, but judging by the groaning Serena could hear from the general location, they were alive, no doubt nursing their damaged eardrums and hiding beyond sight.

She kept her eyes on Korvus, flaring her yellow and finishing the formation of her Word.

“Hold your Narean, Captain,” Korvus intoned, turning away and taking a step towards the councillors. “I won’t need your help for this.”

Serena clicked her tongue, the aura-enhanced action creating a sharp, thunderous noise that echoed in the spacious room. “What do you intend to do, Korvus!?” she shouted. “You cannot kill them! It would… it would…” Serena trailed off, her mind trying to understand the catastrophic consequences if Korvus slaughtered the Ishaqian council.

“Their lives are worthless,” Korvus muttered, the greenish hues of his fourth-level aura shimmering across his body. “I don’t want their lives. I want their votes.” With his emphasis on the last word, he began walking towards the councillors.

A few days! Serena thought. I just needed a few days without any drama, and then we would be gone!

She reached for her sword, only to find it wasn’t there. The force of Korvus’ communion had ripped it from its sheath and thrown it somewhere in the room. Keeping one eye on the Mad Dog, she scanned the floor, trying to find her weapon among the groaning bodies of a hundred Ishaqian civilians.

They were only just getting back onto their feet. The room being sturdy wasn’t the only correct observation Korvus had made. He had judged the distance well enough as well. Despite being unprotected, the Ishaqian citizens were far enough away from his aether release to avoid broken bones. Nevertheless, half of them rubbed bruised limbs, while the other half massaged their ears. With every step Korvus took, more and more of them pointed, muttering Hakian phrases with tones of awe and fear.

While searching for her sword, she saw Menes. The Arakian appeared healthy, although his fine clothing was beyond repair by all but the most masterful tailors. He’d managed to flare his aura enough to resist injury, thankfully. That said, any hope Serena had of the Arakian Sayyid taking charge was swept aside as he, too, bore a look of awe as he followed Korvus with his eyes.

“Menes!” Serena hissed. He didn’t seem to hear her, so she began making her way around the room, giving Korvus a wide berth. “Menes!” she hissed again, just as Korvus climbed up to the elevated platform full of hiding councillors.

“You reek,” the Northerner snarled. “I can smell your fear and corruption from here! Did you feel safe sitting up there!? Behind this fine”—Korvus tore up the councillors’ fixtures, ripping and throwing huge chunks of ironwood, marble, and jade into the air—“furniture. What do you have to say now, you bastards!?”

“Please…” came a whimper from the rubble.

“Menes!” Serena shouted, standing before the Arakian. “What are you doing?”

“Such divine power…” the demon said softly. “I have not seen a communion in many years. Look how mighty his Bayle is.” The Arakian blinked, still looking at Korvus in awe. “The Words are so beyond normal people, my sayyidah. Beyond us mortal men.”

“You’ll experience that mortality soon if you don’t focus,” Serena snapped, jabbing the Arakian in the ribs. The action finally got his full attention. “Stop standing there and gawking,” Serena quickly instructed. She gestured to the crowd of Ishaqians, injured and frozen in shock. “Go help your people, Menes! Get them out of here!”

She glanced at Korvus, who seemed to be roaring expletives at the cowering councillors. It was a good sign that he hadn’t ripped them apart immediately. It seemed the Northerner did intend to force them to vote and not kill them. For now, at least. Bayle Speakers were known to get carried away with their own power. Something Serena had seen more than once in the past.

“Help?” Menes asked, looking at the Ishaqians before facing Serena. “Should I not help you, in case, in case…” He glanced at Korvus, swallowed, and finished, “In case of a fight?”

“Your orange is useless now,” Serena said. “Go! Get them out of here!”

“Yes.” Menes nodded. He finally seemed to adjust to the reality of the situation and ran towards the citizens. The scene might have been comical, to see the Arakian Lord trying to fix his clothing while yelling commands with only one slipper, if it weren’t for the almost-rampaging Korvus demanding Serena’s attention.

“Vote!” shouted Korvus, towering over Councillor Nasr. “Sign it!” The demon had somehow found one of Menes’ petitions and was alternating between shoving it in the cowering councillor’s face and ripping out large chunks of the floor inches from the man’s head.

“Y-Yes!” squeaked Nasr.

Serena held onto her Narean for now. As long as Korvus kept himself at a modest green and didn’t rampage, she hoped to be able to settle this period of unexpected persuasion as quietly as a Spoken Word could be. Ishaq’s aetherscopes would have picked up on the communion, but who would they contact? Their first orders would be to contact their military commander, who was Korvus. It would take time before the report would reach further afield.

Plus, if she could avoid speaking Narean now, then she could avoid an obscene amount of paperwork after the fact.

“Korvus…” she said carefully, circling to get a better look at the proceedings while Menes funnelled the last of the citizens out of the hall.

“Sign it!” Korvus screamed again, thrashing like a wild beast, towering over the small councillor.

“I need… I need a pen,” Nasr whimpered, his voice small and pathetic.

Korvus froze and then looked around at the growing piles of rubble around him. After a few seconds, he looked at Serena.

“Have you seen a pen?” He asked. “Ink?”

“I believe they’ve all been destroyed,” Serena said cautiously.

“Oh,” the demon responded. He looked down at the councillor. “Then we’ll sign in blood. Give me your finger, you bastard. I’ll—”

“Korvus!” Serena shouted, just as Councillor Nasr screamed in animalistic fear. A pungent smell emitted from him—a testament to the raw effectiveness of the terror Korvus could impose. “Korvus!” she shouted again, getting his attention. “Would signing the document even count?”

Korvus shrugged. “How else would they do it?”

“You could ask?” Serena suggested.

Korvus sucked his tongue, an annoyed frown appearing on his grey face. He kicked a chunk of rubble by Nasr’s head and asked. “How do you bastards vote?” Apparently unsatisfied with the lack of response from the shaking councillor in the next fraction of a second, he roared, “Answer me!”

“Y-Yes!” came the squeaked response. “Raise of hands! W-We raise our hands!”

“Is that it?”

“Y-Yes!”

“Well then?”

“Well… what?”

“Raise your bloody hands!”

“Yes!” Nasr raised his hand. “A-All in favour, r-raise your hands!”

A line of shaky hands pointed to the ceiling. As much as a large part of Serena’s mind told her this was the beginning of a nightmare sequence of events that would lead to both Intelligence and Greatlord Oshiro squeezing their horns, a small part of her took great pleasure in seeing the formerly arrogant councillors quiver like worms.

“M-Motion passed,” Nasr whimpered. “M-Menes Bastet’s petition has—”

“Sayyid Bastet,” Serena corrected, unable to stop herself.

“Ah, m-my apologies.” The councillor looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him. “Sayyid Bastet’s petition has passed, f-four votes to zero. Secretary Marambe, could you…” The councillor trailed off, as if expecting something to happen. Instead, he was met with only silence.

“I think Secretary Maramba has fled the council chamber,” Serena mused. “That won’t be a problem, will it, Councillor Nasr?”

“Ah, n-no, no it won’t,” the councillor muttered. “For such an unorthodox vote, we can record it later and—”

“Shut up,” Korvus said suddenly, raising a hand. The demon stepped off the councillor and jumped down to the ground level. “Do you hear that?” he asked, his back to Serena. “Someone’s coming.”

Someone was coming. Serena could hear the rhythmic clicking of wooden soles on polished jade. However, it wasn’t so much the footsteps that tickled her instincts as it was the significant aether signature that came with it. From inside the great doors a shadow loomed, seemingly drawing in the light itself. On reflex, Serena’s sword hand went for her weapon, only to again find it missing. Resisting an urge to click her tongue, she resorted to the same fallback she utilised in the Highguard.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

She placed a hand on a marble pillar and began willing the stone to flow into the shape of the sword. It was slow progress, too slow to get a weapon in time. The marble here was far harder than the Manwese marble Uncle Yulan lined his hotel with. She needed—

Oh?

For some reason, the polished jade responded unnaturally easily. It flowed almost like water under her will, rushing into her hand and forming a replacement blade. The jade solidified, catching the light and glinting. It was as if it were saying hello to its new owner.

This isn’t normal jade, Serena noted, examining her weapon.

She was thankful the mysterious jade was there, for she’d prepared a weapon just in time for a tall figure to casually stride into the council chambers. With flowing robes of gold and a skin tone somewhere between Menes and the Teki dockworkers, the tall man scowled at them. His dark skin danced with hues of a brilliant yellow, so vibrant it was close to Amelia’s golden hair. He carried a long jewelled tahtib in both his hands.

Most notably, the man was human. His head bore neither horns nor hair.

“What is this foolishness?” he asked in thickly-accented Imperial. “A coup? Do you foreigners wish to conquer Ishaq?”

“Speaker Asrar,” Korvus spat. “So you can leave your home.”

“I sent you a message, Speaker under Plergoth,” Asrar said coldly, using the Old World name for the Purple Moon. “I told you not to challenge Ishaq’s authority.”

“I got your message,” Korvus snarled.

“And you…” Asrar looked at Serena. “Speaker under Bluheim. You too seek to impose Imperial rule over Ishaq?” He nodded at Serena’s blade. “With weapons made from our firejade?”

“That’s not right,” Serena objected. “We were merely…” She glanced at the councillors, still lying on the floor. Moons! What kind of mess had Korvus got her into! She hadn’t agreed to this! “We were merely… having a vote,” she said, hating how weak the excuse sounded.

“Nearly three hundred years ago,” Asrar began, slowly pacing in front of them, “my sperehand struck down the last Ishaqian king. With it, Ishaq was forever freed from direct foreign rule. Yes, we obey decrees as delivered by the child of Mura, but we do not allow her any further…” The human paused, as if finding the right word. “Impositions,” he finished.

“It had to be done,” Korvus growled. “We have our votes. That’s all we wanted.”

“As Head of the Council, I can overrule the vote,” Asrar whispered, running a hand along his staff. “And why shouldn’t I? Ishaq is a free city. We do not need you, foreign Speaker under Plergoth, to govern us. We do not need your ways.” Asrar’s expression darkened. “Ishaq has no king. Ishaq needs no king.”

“Who would want to be king of this boiling pit of sandstone?” Korvus stepped forward, punching his taloned hands together. “I have my votes. I’m going to the docks to get the ships I need to do my duty. Then I’m leaving this insane place for good.”

“No,” Asrar said softly. “No, you’re not.”

Serena backed away. Visions of endless paperwork kept her from getting involved unless she had to.

“Harus,” Spoke the human Speaker.

Burning red light exploded from Asrar’s staff as the communion was invoked. The polished jade floor rippled, momentarily flowing like water before resolidifying. Red flame engulfed the human for a second before vanishing, revealing Asrar with eyes of fire. Other than his green aura, nothing else about the man seemed to have changed.

That was until Asrar tapped his staff. The moment it hit the jade floor, a perfect note rang out, and the jade flowed up the staff, wrapping and solidifying itself, reminiscent of a hornweaving. It didn’t stop at his staff. It covered Asrar, forming into a set of glinting armour. His helmet formed along with two great jade horns. Asrar may be a human Speaker, but his allegiance to demonkind wasn’t in doubt.

“Nice trick,” Korvus growled.

“You’re not the first to challenge our freedom,” Asrar intoned. “And you won’t be the last.” He glanced at Serena with flaming eyes. “You wait your turn, Speaker under Bluheim? Honourable.”

“I’m not in any queue,” Serena snapped. “This wasn’t even—”

“Let’s settle this!” Korvus shouted, flaring his green aura and shifting it into blue. Asrar responded in kind, then followed up by spinning his tahtib and attempting to strike Korvus’ head with it. It was an easy blow for the Northerner to step back from. Asrar kept the flow of his weapon, spinning and striking again. This time, as Korvus stepped back, the jade surged forward, expanding the length of the staff and solidifying just in time to shatter against the demon’s head.

Korvus spun, stopping his momentum by digging his talons into a pillar. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes told Serena of the anger building in him. He spat out some blood and leapt towards Asrar. The human Speaker flicked his staff, forming waves of polished jade that surged towards Korvus, disrupting him mid-air. Korvus bounced high, falling unceremoniously onto his backside.

“Still don’t need my help?” Serena asked.

“He’s skilled,” Korvus grumbled, climbing to his feet. “But it won’t be enough.” He dug his talons into whatever he could find, whether that was bits of furniture, rubble, or the floor itself, and began cleaving large chunks, launching them at the human Speaker. The marble and ironwood Asrar would dodge, but he would catch chunks of jade midair with the tip of the staff. The chunk would grip onto the staff just long enough to be flung back at Korvus.

“Harus is an old Word,” Asrar mused in the middle of the bombardment. “It was the first word Spoken in the South after Mura’s child saved it. Even before it was communed, we had worshipped Harus for millennia. We have carved his name and worshipped his warrior ways for thousands of years.” The staff spun, sending another chunk of jade back at Korvus. “Harus is refined, yet aggressive. He values freedom, like a true Ishaqian. He is different from the young Bayle!” Asrar dodged a flying bit of rubble and the taloned fist that followed.

As confident as Asrar seemed, Korvus was adapting. The Mad Dog was the veteran of a hundred battlefields and had fought against all manner of unfamiliar human Words. It was unlikely he had encountered the demonic Harus before, but his raw instinct was starting to shine. The sudden changes in the size or shape of the tahtib no longer caught Korvus off guard, and he became adept at responding to the sudden movement of the jade.

It wasn’t long before he landed a clean blow on Asrar’s chest, cracking the jade armour. It only took a few seconds for it to reform, but the change in tempo encouraged Korvus further. He kept up his relentless attack, so ferocious that both Speakers were flaring their blue to keep up both their offence and defence.

It’s getting dangerous, Serena thought. For now, the Mad Dog seemed to be in control, but if he really let loose, Korvus and his blue aura could tear down this sturdy building within seconds. With that thought in mind, she moved around the edge of the room and dragged the cowering councillors to the door. Kicking them out, and in Nasr’s case, giving him an actual kick, she got them out of the chambers and shut the great doors in the hope of containing the duel inside.

Neither Korvus nor Asrar spoke, their concentration fully dedicated to their fight. Korvus, now able to throw a devastating punch a dozen times a second, continued to slip through Asrar’s defence, repeatedly cracking and shattering parts of the protective jade armour. The human Speaker made distance where he could, utilising footwork not entirely unfamiliar to Serena’s Shimokan. It helped, allowing him to smash his aura-and-jade-enhanced staff against Korvus.

Korvus roared, flaring his blue and punching the staff directly. The jade shattered, and when his fist connected with the hardwood, it shattered too, splintering the staff in two, sending both parts out of Asrar’s hands and flying into the far wall.

“Time to give up,” Korvus said with a bloodied mouth. “I can win. I will win.”

Asrar spat out some blood. “How are you still standing? Your bones should be broken.”

“My will is stronger than yours.”

“My will is Ishaq’s will.”

“Then my will is stronger than Ishaq.”

“Bah!” Asrar jumped back and flared his aura. No, not just flaring. He pushed himself to what must have been his limit, for small flecks of indigo—the sixth level of aura—began manifesting in his blue. While it seemed he couldn’t fully make the transition, it was enough for whatever he planned to do.

Korvus flared his blue further, watching the human Speaker carefully as he placed his hands on the jade and manifested a dozen pillars, each one the same height and diameter as his former staff.

“More?” Korvus asked. “That won’t do—”

“Heka-khet,” Asrar intoned, invoking a further power from Harus.

Serena’s eyes widened. While mages often had all sorts of spells they could pick from and keep handy, it was rare for First-Word warriors to commune further abilities of their chosen god. Even if they wanted to, not all gods offered them. She knew Bayle didn’t. Narean had some, but none Serena had yet been able to get a grip on.

She didn’t know the one Asrar used. She only knew Harus as a mystical Southern warrior Word. She’d never seen or heard of heka-khet before, nor did she need to ask now, for the answer made itself quickly apparent. The dozen jade staffs rose from the floor, hovering in a semicircle in front of the human Speaker. Then one moved, unnaturally sweeping up into the air and then slamming into Korvus’ side, shattering.

Then it reformed.

Asrar’s nose started bleeding, but despite whatever strain the human Speaker was experiencing…

He was smiling.

Twelve jade staffs, each moving independently at Asrar’s command, began harassing Korvus. Well, harassing was perhaps a polite way to phrase the heavy jade staffs throwing themselves at him, spinning all the while, with enough force to kill an orange aura like Menes in one go.

If it weren’t for Amelia’s backing wards, Serena would have already Spoken purely for defensive reasons. For now, at least, she got to stand back and—in a small way—enjoy her ex-mutineer suffer the consequences of his rebellious personality. As much as it seemed that Korvus was unable to handle the onslaught, Serena knew he was hiding his true ability. Perhaps he would take defeat over revealing his capabilities. She knew he was on the verge of indigo when they fought half a year ago. She wouldn’t be surprised if he could manifest the full colour now.

“I might need some…” Korvus began, trailing off as he dodged a flying staff to receive another on his chest.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” came the frustrated reply.

It took a few dozen more collisions with the jade staffs before Korvus spoke again.

“A little assistance,” Korvus said quickly. “A bit of help.”

There it is, Serena thought smugly.

“You want my help?” Serena asked. “After what you pulled at Port Highwind? After what you pulled today?” Honestly, she was quite content to sit here and continue watching Korvus lose. It was immensely satisfying.

“You’re in this too.”

Serena frowned. “How so?”

“Because,” Korvus began, snarling as he snatched a jade staff from the air and launched it back at Asrar. The action was hopeless, for the jade slowed down before it could strike its master. “Because you care more about saving Captain Matthews than I do! If we don’t force him to permit the vote, you won’t have your ships!”

Although many snarky replies went through Serena’s mind, she chose none of them.

Because he was right.

This entire thing was all about getting permission to launch a search and rescue mission for Captain Matthews and the missing crew of the Indefatigable. It wasn’t just their lives that were important, but the information they had about their encounter with the Blackhorn and his Chameleon as well.

Looking at Asrar, he was clearly struggling to keep the high-level Harus ability active. Still, it seemed he would outlast Korvus if the demon refused to reveal his true ability. Knowing the Mad Dog, it was fifty-fifty as to whether he would let himself lose to hide it from her, or blow up completely and go on a rampage.

And the latter was something that really would cause an inordinate amount of paperwork.

Serena sighed.

“You’ve forced my hand, you bastard,” she said.

She stepped forward, gripping her jade sword.

It was time to get this done.

The old-fashioned way.

“Narean,” she Spoke.