Warding children is a most Admirable of Noble practices still widely practiced in the Greater Alten Peninsula. Though there are Some, Few cases of abuse, there is Little Doubt that it is the children who benefit the Most. The Vast and Enviable augmentatation in Social Standing provides Resources and Opportunity to the Miserable and Dull existance of peasant children, and in fact I find the Vile Accusations of 'irreversible psychological trauma' caused to the children by the 'procedure' to be total Poppycock!

  -The Great Late Lord Huberlas of Esgard, Fifth Esquire and High Sovereign Custodian of the Royal Eastern Gardens

  "The shire reeve can't handle the cold. The shire reeve has bad knees. Help the old man out and handle the outer villages. It'll be easy, they said. Blumming unnatural, is what it is..."

  Kellira Hupriss, third circle paladin of the accursed Lady Sakra Norgard glared at the wall of frost with no small amount of distaste. The line of snow stood before her menacingly. As if daring her to step over the unnaturally straight and foreboding line of ice. The air rippled above the divide, dropping nearly fifty degrees over the span of five strides and forming a visible distortion that did little to settle her nerves. As if the entire land was cursed with some dark magics. Which wasn't far from the truth.

  "First time in dragon territry, eh?" Uldlas the merchant smirked at her.

  The cool midsummer breeze caressed Kellira's dorsal braid and over her sweat slicked brow. A heavy winter cloak clutched distastefully in her hands. The thing weighed as much as she did, and was unfortunately necessary where she was going.

  "What makes you say that?" Kellira replied coolly, her expression a placid lake.

  "Oh, yur one of them girlies!" Uldlas chuckled merrily, pushing roughly past her and into the snow. "Stone faced you may be, but it'll take more'n a glass soul to trick me merchant's eye. Sharp as a tack, I am. Now, come along. 'Less you get left behind!"

  Kellira's eye twitched but swallowed her retort. Instead, she followed the short, aggravating merchant and his short aggravating caravan. It didn't even have any proper carts. Just laborers marching through the snow with eye wateringly large backpacks.

  Ridiculous. Why was she here again?

  The wall of frost hit her like a physical force through her cloak, and she could swear she could feel the dragon's aura constricting her soul. She grit her teeth and marched on, her fingers and toes slowly growing numb.

  It took a special kind of crazy to live in the Dragon Raith's domain. A kind who wasn't perturbed by remote mountain peaks and the endless winter. Or the niggling auric compression that made every spell just a touch harder and mana just a touch more slippery. No, Kellira wasn't crazy. At least not yet, but Lady Sakra had commanded it, and so, here she was.

  The rest of the way to the first village—imaginatively named Cold Ridge—was uneventful. Kellira remained near the rear of the formation, trying her best to close the flaps of her cloak and step in the footsteps of the man ahead of her. They made it to the village square and within moments sightlines were blocked by wool-bundled villagers mobbing the trader.

  Kellira scanned the crowd, then turned her back and pushed her way into the headman's house. She found the man paused halfway through a curtain to another room, a surprised look on his face. A quick tilt of her chin in greeting revealed the man was freakishly strong. A third circle mage in his own right, or close to it.

  "Yes?" The headman asked, his voice pitched surprisingly high for such a burly individual.

  "Greetings, Headman Donlas. My name is Kellira Hupriss, sent by Lady Sakra to review the harvest and aide in any problems you might be having. I am a certified third circle paladin. At your service."

  "Ahh," Donlas said slowly, inching into the room and closing the curtain behind him. Did they not have doors here? "Are you... replacing Joshua, or..."

  "The shire reeves is taking a short hiatus from his duties due to medical concerns regarding his knees," Kellira said stiffly. "I am sure he will return by the end of the season."

  "Ahuh, right. You would think having eight knees would make him tougher, am I right?" Donlas chuckled awkwardly. When Kellira didn't join in, he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Well, right. Did you want to do this now, or..."

  "We are both here, aren't we?"

  "Yes, well. I was hoping to peruse old Uldlas' wares befo—"

  "There will be plenty of time for that later," Kellira interrupted with a wave of her hand. "Lead me to your office, and we can begin."

  That was all it took for the man to bring her to a... living room. Honestly. Kellira bottled a sigh. They sat on cushioned chairs and the man spread a worn notebook open on the table and began reading the harvest results of the last few months.

  Kellira resisted the urge to shake her head in astonishment, simply writing down the impressive figures before moving on. She supposed she'd finally figured out why people chose to live here. Class II spawners were no joke.

  "... and you're sure there is nothing I can be of help with?"

  "Absolutely, miss paladin. We are very capable here. Everything under control!" He laughed heartily. "So... if we are done..."

  "Actually, there is one other thing. Do you have any talented children in the village?"

  "Children? Uh, ma'am?"

  "Yes, the Lady wishes to sponsor a child."

  "Sponsor a, uh. Ahuh," the headman said slowly, a slight frown darkening his expression. "No, I cannot say that we do. In fact, we are quite low on young talent these days. It's got us quite worried, actually. I imagine you will find more luck heading down to Brook End. If I recall, there is a rather talented young girl by the name of Akira there."

  "Brook End?" Kellira chewed on her lip. That was the last village in Uldlas' rotation. "Alright, thank you for your help, Headman Donlas. I appreciate your candor. Have a good day."

  Donlas gave her a thin smile. "You as well, Paladin Kellira."

  Kellira stepped out of the headman's house, instantly regretting it as the cold struck her. She eyed the agglomeration of people huddling around the merchant caravan, and instantly decided she needed a fire to curl up next to until they were done.

  Luckily, a nice older lady was more than happy to share her hearth in exchange for stories from the academy. Unluckily, Uldlas decided that he would leave in three days. While Kellira could go out on her own, she was loathe to leave the amenities of the caravan behind. Few as they were.

  The time gave Kellira plenty of time to ruminate on the supposed talent of this Akira girl. She tried to speak to some of the other villagers, but the whole crowd was fairly reticent. Even the old lady who hosted her wasn't much for conversation.

  Small towns, she supposed.

  The merchant's caravan arrived at Brook End a week later. The town was just as imaginatively located at the terminus of a frozen creek. As she had in the previous three villages, Kellira found the headman and did her primary duty.

  At this point she wasn't overly surprised at the impressive productivity of the local spawners. They were all Class II-mp; massive and passive. All of them. And even more fortuitously, the spawned were deficient in some way. From the sub-sentient, unaggressive mushroom-like megaflora at Cold Ridge to the freakishly useful eight-horned bison variant of Brook End whose wool, hide, meat, bone, horns, brains and intestines were all of higher quality than what could be found in much of the mainland.

  It was... eye opening. This trip. As the days progressed, and the looming threat of the sleeping dragon faded into the background, Kellira realized what the look Lady Sakra had given her had been for. The lady had wanted to teach Kellira something about life. That valuable things can be found in unlikely places.

  It wasn't just the spawners, the people were also impressive. It was always difficult to tell how strong people's auric control was. Muscles visibly grew in the physically strong, but the soul remained dense and intractable regardless of training.

  But Kellira had spent years at the academy and she saw the signs. These people were strong. Every. Last. One. The bullish, brutish strength of farmers and laborers, but still strength.

  It left Kellira jittery with excitement to finally meet this Akira girl at last.

  She thought nothing would surprise her at this point, but when she finally knocked on the door of Perrylas and Mariera's home, she was once again floored.

  "Come in! Come in!" Mariera ushered her inside with a bubbly enthusiastic bluster that brought a smile to Kellira's expression. "We heard that a paladin had come with the convoy. I'm honored to meet you, my lady. Do you need a place to rest?"

  "If it's not too much trouble, ma'am. I can pay," Kellira smiled politely.

  "Nonsense! I'm sure Perry wouldn't mind in the slightest, and the kids will be so excited to meet you! We have a stew on the fire. Come! Meet my family. I hope you don't mind, but we have company."

  Kellira allowed the excitable woman to lead her into the warmth. Another family was over for dinner, a certain Medlas and Lira with their baby boy Silas. Kellira introduced herself to the small gathering, but couldn't help the blip of surprise when the two children were brought away from their toys to say hello.

  First circle mages. Both of them.

  Kellira's eye twitched all throughout dinner and she was unable to stop herself from tilting her chin toward the two toddlers. No. The toddler and the, the, the... infant. She couldn't help herself. She had to ask.

  The parents laughed and smiled indulgently. They were all too willing to talk about their children, regaling her with tales of their minor achievements. Like how they fought with each other with rudimentary magic missiles instead of fists, and were capable of maintaining rudimentary acceleration enchantments on their... diapers.

  It became abundantly and unfathomably clear that none of the parents understood how freakish any of these accomplishments were.

  As dinner ended she almost brought up her mission. Something held her tongue, though. And as everyone gravitated the several steps to the 'living room' she simply chose to listen and watch.

  After dinner, Akira begged her to perform some 'magic', and it was clear by Silas' shining eyes that he was just as eager. Kellira obliged, and she couldn't help but show off a little. The thickest strand she could conjure. The most complicated spellwork she could control. And so on. The air reeked of mana by the end of it all and Kellira's voice was hoarse from telling stories.

  She tried her best to test the two kids, but even she could admit that she wasn't the greatest with children. The mothers laughed at her fumbling attempts, but thankfully neither kid was particularly reticent about sharing their magic.

  Then, she was once again surprised when little Silas demonstrated abilities equal to the freakishly talented Akira. It was weird how close they were in ability, but she supposed they did grow up together.

  Kellira smiled through the afterparty, and when Silas collapsed from exhaustion on his mother's shoulder. She smiled as Medlas and Lira bid them goodbye. And she smiled as she bit her traitorous lips hard enough to make them bleed.

  She stayed the night, getting to 'play' with Akira some more in the morning. She forced herself to stick around until Uldlas finished trading. She made herself available to the town—despite her presence not being exactly necessary—and tried to be as sweet and helpful as she could to the parents of the twin terrors.

  But when Uldlas finally got off his ass and started the long march to the mainland, Kellira ran ahead. She couldn't—wouldn't—wait for the slow carriers to march through the snow. She flared her will, straining her abilities to their absolute limits to speed her pace through the frozen land.

  Lady Sakra was waiting. And Kellira had news.

  I levered myself upright, my legs wiggling like they were trying to get away from me as I held onto the edge of my parent's double-wide loveseat for support. Then with ponderous intensity, I bent my backwards knee and shifted it forward. I pulled myself forward with both hands and feet, skating across the edge of the couch until I hit the edge.

  Mom smiled down at me. She leaned down and stuffed my face with a small sliver of shredded meat. I glmurphed at the sudden assault and nearly fell over. Emphasis on nearly. Chewing wasn't really a thing yet, but I tried anyway until I eventually gave up and swallowed.

  I sneezed.

  My head ricocheted back and I lost my balance. Next thing I knew, mom's hand was under my head and she was looking at me with concern.

  I sneezed again, spraying mom with snot.

  Oops. Sorry mom.

  She chuckled, wiping her face, and brought a cloth to wipe my runny nose.

  Turns out, illness was a thing here. I suppose it was too much to hope for that bacteria hadn't colonized everything. Personally, I blame that knight lady. Bringing her nasty little germies and infecting my fragile baby immune system.

  Ehh, if so. It had been worth it.

  I reminisced at the awesome power that had filled our house that day. Akira and I had regaled the lady with our abilities—me carefully keeping my power in line with Akira's—but I doubted she was impressed. She'd channeled a thousand thaums of raw power that shook the air and made me feel impossibly small. Or thereabouts. My unit system sort of broke down at higher thaumic outputs. The pillar of mana she'd summoned had certainly looked like a thousand of my gossamer strands, but honestly the whole thing had more guessing than I preferred.

  Mom finished whatever she was doing and took me to the bedroom, which was odd. She set me down and played with my toes for a bit, procrastinating something. I sneezed again, in triplicate, feeling like my soul was shriveling. Mom cleaned my face and I eyed her curiously as she took a deep, bracing breath before placing a hand on my chest and my back.

  Her will wrapped around me, similar to when she didn't want me performing magic, but instead of staying on the surface, she dove in. I gasped, squirming instinctively, as her will scoured my soul. It was violently unpleasant, like chewing on an aspirin. And just like chewing on an aspirin, it left behind a bitter aftertaste that remained.

  She retreated, probing me carefully with her dorsal braid, but seemed satisfied. To my utter surprise, after the bitter aftertaste of whatever-she-did lapsed, I felt better. In fact, the sniffles were gone. Completely.

  Well, isn't that interesting.

  The following week was intensely interesting and exhausting in equal measure. Turns out, I had been infected, but not by bacteria. Some kind of virus had infected my will. There were little blips in my core that nibbled at me and made magic difficult unless mom scoured them regularly.

  Naturally, I didn't take this sitting down, or well... you know what I mean. I immediately initiated a war against the blobby distortions. It was hard to see them and they were surprisingly tenacious, but a focused pressure with my will was enough to snuff them out. It was actually kinda therapeutic. Like popping pimples.

  But they just kept coming back, which sort of made sense considering they fed and replicated with the same tenacity as bacteria. The whole experience was unpleasant, not least of which because I was forced to pause my training routine.

  What I really needed was a better way to detect the viral particles. They camouflaged against the backdrop of my soul almost perfectly. Even staring directly at my chest was only enough to see vague outlines. The whole thing reminded me of those little floating shapes I sometimes saw in my eyes in the morning. The ones that twitched when my eyes moved.

  The difficulty came from the constant swirling density of my core. The small currents carrying mana to my limbs were an order of magnitude larger than the virus and hid a countless number of invaders within the three dimensional veins.

  So I reached inside and gripped my mana. It was hard. Harder than anything I'd done so far, and made harder by the pervasive weakness of my sickness. The sensation was odd and quickly grew unpleasant if I held it for long. Like holding my breath. And like holding my breath there were physiological consequences if done too long.

  Ask me how I know.

  The real discovery was in the function of my arcane eye. It saw movement, and since my core mana had acquired the consistency of treacle, my core grew more and more blurry to my preternatural vision.

  I improved rapidly at slowing my core, and as the week plodded along, I finally managed to freeze my core to a standstill. The viral particles zipped around, drawing my eye aggressively, on the blurry faded background.

  On day seven of my sickness I found myself sat in the corner, ostensibly 'playing' with another of dad's intricate enchanted wooden toys. I stilled my soul carefully, then reached inside and compressed my will.

  My whole body tensed. I grabbed at the disease, and pierced the ugly little dots as fast as I could. My constant practice over the last few days lent me speed, and I blitzed through my two legs at record speed. Then I quickly cycled my core, banished the dizzying unpleasantness in a rush, and then tightened my grip once more.

  My arms were cleansed next, then I blasted everything in my chest. Handling my head and my back was harder, but I managed by forcing the mana in those locations further downstream—to a body part I could see with my arcane eye—while I filled those areas with purified mana. Then I was done. Surprisingly simple, all told.

  Mom glanced back in my direction, then did a double take. My stomach dropped as I realized I may have done something unbabylike, but her next actions confused me. She set down the pan she was washing and stepped into the center of the room.

  "Silas?" mom called, her aura tightening into a frown. "Silas where are you, sweety?"

  I blinked, raising my hand slightly, only for her to stalk into the bedroom.

  "Silas?" A note of panic entered mom's voice and I suddenly realized I was still holding my aura tight.

  Holy shit, I was invisible.

  I briefly considered maintaining the effect, but the ache in my chest quickly convinced me otherwise. I released my grip on my spirit, slowly upcycling the currents.

  "Silas!" Mom burst into the main room, eyes wild. She scanned the room, eyes skipping over me like I was invisible, then sprinted toward the front door. Uh, oops? I guess my core was still moving slowly, but I would have thought she'd see me by now. I was sort of tucked into a corner, but still. Maybe it was just the panic dulling her senses.

  Before she could alert the entire neighborhood, I raised my voice.

  "Mama!" I called, raising my arms. Her neck snapped around, and she rushed over and scooped me up.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "Oh, Silas baby, you scared me," she said. I cooed consolingly, but inwardly I was grinning.

  Oh, the things I could do with this.

  Milo opened the door to the Lady's office and stepped inside. His eight chitinous legs clicking softly on the hard tile as he addressed the Lady with a small bow.

  "Paladin Kellira is here to see you, my lady," Milo said.

  Lady Sakra scowled at the papers on her desk as if she wanted to burn them. She held the position for a second, before groaning and standing up and stalking over to the window. A lesser attendant might have thought she was ignoring him, but Milo could sense the ripples in The Fabric as she collected herself.

  "Isn't she early?" Lady Sakra responded, her voice even despite the repetitive tick in the muscle in her jaw.

  "Yes, my lady. She has news. Regarding the child you've been searching for."

  "Oh, wonderful! Did she perhaps discover that our entire people have gone infertile?" Lady Sakra scoffed, then sighed heavily. "Sorry Milo. Never mind me, please let her in."

  "Of course, my lady," Milo bowed carefully.

  Paladin Kellira entered the office a bundle of trepidation. She was covered in sweat and road dust, clearly not having paused even once on her run back to Norgard Castle. Her news must be important if it couldn't even wait that long.

  Milo gave the young paladin a small encouraging nod, to which she vibrated the Fabric in that particular alten manner that indicated appreciation. To this day, Milo didn't particularly understand how they could function with such a crude method of expression. The drider way was so very much richer.

  "My Lady," Paladin Kellira gave a small bow. "I finished the circuit of the Raith villages. I... um, I found a child. Two children actually. That fit your specifications."

  "Are they orphans?" Lady Sakra asked, still facing the window.

  "Um, no—"

  "Then they do not fit my specifications, do they?" Lady Sakra said calmly. She turned from the window, pinning the young paladin with a piercing glare. Poor Kellira appeared quite stupified at the reception, so Milo decided it best if he intervene.

  "Perhaps, my Lady, as this initiative has been running for over a year now, you might consider relaxing your requirements? In the same way you decided to expand the search. At least until Paladin Kellira can make her report."

  The Lady waved her hand dismissively and turned back to the window. Kellira shot Milo a hesitant look, so he gestured encouragingly for her to proceed.

  "I..." Kellira paused.

  "Perhaps you might consider starting at the beginning?" Milo murmured.

  Kellira nodded and the words began to tumble out of her mouth. She'd discovered a lead on a talented child in Cold Ridge and had followed the merchant's caravan patiently until it arrived at Brook End. She'd finished her administrative duties with the headman and located the family of the talented girl.

  Milo felt his eyebrows rise as Paladin Kellira recounted the events of her first evening in Brook End. Two first circle children was a rare find, and despite the poor reliability of typical observational analysis, Kellira was known to be skilled in this domain.

  When Kellira got to her testing of the children, Lady Sakra took her seat and steepled her fingers in thought. A four year old first circle mage wasn't unheard of, but it was rare. A first circle infant was most definitely unheard of. It spoke of eyewatering talent.

  "There is one other thing," Kellira hesitated. "The boy. Silas. He has a glass soul."

  Milo blinked twice in surprise. A seven month old sociopath. What an odd thought.

  "Is he well adjusted?" Lady Sakra asked.

  "Yes, yes! He seems like a happy baby, just... when he is distracted he has the smoothest expression I have ever seen. Including Morag."

  Milo's eyebrows rose up into his hairline. The Lady glanced at him, and he pulled them back down to something more reasonable. How unprofessional of him.

  "Yes, Milo?"

  "Morag would appreciate training an heir with natural capabilities of that caliber, my Lady. He might also be less than enthused to discover such a gem slipped through his web."

  "I imagine so." She turned back to the paladin. "How confident are you in your spectral analysis?"

  "...I spent several days with them, my lady. Both children. They are both early first circle. Maybe a little raw compared to a first semester academy student, but... there's an age gap there."

  Indeed. An age gap.

  "Expand on the skills you tested them on, please. The diaper specifically."

  "It is a flexible, semi-dependent enchanted fabric with non-explosive deformation characteristics. The enchantment is a tier 0 mono-directional acceleration enhancement. The infant was very possessive and didn't allow me to touch, but I imagine it can withstand a continuous auric flux of at least four thaums. It... it was very well made, my lady."

  Lady Sakra rubbed her face with a hand. "Dragons take me. This is ridiculous. Milo, talk to me."

  "The two children might be as talented as you yourself are, my Lady," Milo bowed shallowly.

  The Lady snorted. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Milo."

  "It is as you say, my lady."

  "I see," Lady Sakra eventually said. Her fingers drummed on the desk. Once. Twice. She glanced at Milo. "This changes things."

  "Indeed it does, my Lady."

  "How many others know of this?" Lady Sakra asked Kellira.

  "Just us, my lady."

  "Good. This information doesn't leave this room. Thank you, Paladin Kellira. You are dismissed. Go wash up and rest."

  Kellira nodded then, after a glance at Milo, slipped out of the office.

  "Milo? Your recommendation."

  "I suggest you adopt both children, my lady. They are incredible talents which you might have considered nurturing regardless of your current initiative or any other personal preference. They are also good friends which will ease the transition dramatically. I do have doubts about the boy, Silas. While I do not doubt Paladin Kellira's analysis, I find her report difficult to believe."

  "There is also the matter of the glass soul."

  "Indeed, my lady. That could be troublesome but may also be extremely beneficial. I imagine the boy will not be as troubled by the transition as Akira. You might also wish to consider that such an ability is highly prized in a political heir."

  Milo's leg hairs curled as The Fabric rippled with Lady Sakra's pensive expression.

  "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I need to go see them for myself."

  "That is probably most wise, my lady. I imagine it would be an incisive choice to remain reserved until a more comprehensive assessment of their talents can be preformed. By you, perhaps?"

  The Lady chuckled, shaking her head slowly. Then she sighed. "I am not happy about this, Milo. I would have much preferred to adopt some talented orphan."

  "One cannot have their cake and eat it too, my lady. Perhaps we should be simply glad that such talent has fallen into our laps. It will uplift and enrich the Norgard name."

  "Is there no chance we can leave them with their parents until the age of majority?"

  "Unfortunately none, my lady. The headman at Cold Ridge has already heard of Akira and, if Paladin Kellira's analysis is correct, then information on Silas will spread even quicker. I estimate only a year or two before the two children are poached by less scrupulous hands than ours."

  "Of course... the merchant?"

  "Precisely, my lady. Uldlas passes through Brook End six times a year. He is bound to notice and his tongue is not known for its discretion."

  "Right..." Lady Sakra chewed on her lip, then stood abruptly. "That settles it. I'm going to meet the children, and if I'm impressed I'll bring them both here."

  "I'll prepare the carriage post-haste, my lady."

  "No, I'll run. It will be faster that way. Prepare an exo-suit."

  "With respect, my lady, perhaps the children would find the journey more comfortable in a warm carriage."

  "Ah," Lady Sakra's expression flickered. "Right. Then I'll—"

  "You might also consider riding with them, my lady. To begin bonding with them as quickly as possible. They are young, and I can't imagine they have yet acquired the patience for such an extensive trip."

  The Lady blinked, then chuckled softly. "Look at me, all flustered. Go Milo. Prepare the carriage. I'll be at the front gate at the toll of the clock. In the meantime, I will finish up here."

  Milo bowed as Lady Sakra turned her attention to the mountain of papers on her desk. He slipped out of the office, his long, spider legs carrying him at speed toward the stables. There was much to prepare, from travel rations to toys for the kids. Morag would also have to be updated to silence rumors of the pair.

  And can't forget to strip the carriage of heating runes. It wouldn't do to anger Raith in their haste.

  Mariera burst into the crafting hall with perhaps more force than was necessary. A draft of cold air rippled across the floor, tickling Lira's ankles like a bad omen.

  "Lira! Lira! Have you heard the news?"

  Lira set down her spindle as her friend slid beside her on the bench.

  "Probably not, no," Lira replied.

  "The Lady Sakra of Norgard is searching for a ward! And get this, she has been searching for more than a year already and hasn't found one."

  "Has she now? Do you know why?"

  "—Why? I don't know," Mariera blinked at her. "I—well. I heard it from Klara who heard it from her friend in Cold Ridge. Do you remember that paladin that came by here the other week? She said she was asking around. I guess Lady Sakra has finally decided to expand her search to our little corner of the world."

  "Wait," Lira froze, a pit of dread opening in her gut. "Say that again?"

  "Say what? That the lady is expanding—"

  "No, the paladin. The paladin that we hosted. She was searching for children?"

  The two mothers froze, eyes locked on each other as their expressions morphed through several ugly expressions one after the other.

  "They are going to take our children," Lira whispered.

  "We don't know that..." Mariera whispered weakly.

  "Don't be naive," Lira snarled, jumping up from the bench and stalking out of the crafting hall. "How long ago did that paladin come through? A week... taking into account the journey. Dragons above, they could already be back here by now."

  "Lira, wait! Wait!"

  "I'll go get Medlas. Where is Perrylas? We need to talk together about what to do."

  "Okay, I'll find him. Just, Lira? Don't do anything rash."

  Lira nodded. "Come to our place. As quick as you can."

  The two separated, and through shear dumb luck managed to gather the husbands in record time. As soon as they all sat around the dining table, the arguments started. Medlas blamed Mariera for bragging to everyone of Akira's talent, while Mariera shot back that their daughter hadn't shown off a magic item to the paladin.

  "People! Please, let us focus on what we can do rather than bite at each others throats like fools," Perrylas said, ever the voice of reason. His hand on Mariera's arm did much to cool the tempers in the room.

  "What can we do?" Medlas broke the silence.

  "Hold on," Mariera snapped. "Do we even know they are coming here? Isn't that Sakra bitch a do gooder? Klara said she'd been searching for orphans."

  "Open your eyes," Lira snapped.

  Mariera's expression narrowed, but Medlas placed a calming hand on his wife's arm. "Let's assume they are, and we can laugh at ourselves afterwards if we are wrong. Yes?"

  "Agreed, so what do we do?" Perrylas intoned.

  "We can run," Lira said simply.

  "I think that's treason, sweety," Medlas patted Lira's hand.

  "It also won't work. Where would we go?" Mariera said.

  "Then—" Perrylas started.

  "Then we plead our case. And hope," Lira said.

  "That she is only looking for one ward?" Mariera snapped.

  Lira's expression hardened. "Maybe."

  At that, both men's eyes met and they collectively gathered their partner before someone resorted to violence. No hard and fast plan had been made, but further conversation was impossible with the vitriol hanging in the air. They bid a careful farewell, and went their separate ways.

  Medlas and Lira collected Silas from the crafting hall's nursery and headed home. They didn't speak much, and Silas seemed to absorb the mood in the air. By lunch time neither adult had figured out what to do, so they sat for a tense meal.

  Before they could even start, a cry came from outside.

  "A carriage on the road! A carriage on the road!"

  Lira met Medlas' gaze and he instantly sprinted out of the door. Lira scooped up Silas, who had gone uncharacteristically silent. A moment later, Medlas burst back in with a grave expression.

  "It's a noble carriage. Pulled by four fast runners."

  "Stall them!" Fear gripped Lira's heart like a vise, but she somehow managed to keep her tone even. She ran into the bedroom. Her gaze panned over their belongings. She bit her lip, then opened up their chest at the base of their bed. Then she set Silas down on the soft pile of clothes.

  "Silas, baby. I need you to be quiet, okay? Can you be super quiet? Like we are playing hide and seek. Just stay very still."

  Silas stared up at her with huge, intelligent eyes for a moment. Then he grabbed his toes with a giggle and simply... faded.

  Lira blinked in surprise, then blinked again to ward away the tears.

  "You are so so so smart, Silas. Silas. My boy Silas. I'm going to close the lid now okay? Don't be scared. Mommy is just going to deal with something. Okay?"

  Lira slowly shut the box, then joined her husband at the front door.

  "They parked. It's the lady. There is another knight with her who went to Perrylas and Mariera's place." Medlas summarized, pointing out the figures in the town square.

  "She's coming right for us," Lira finished.

  They waited in tense silence as the well appointed lady walked down their path. She was tall, with simple, well made clothes that lacked the fur trim that kept the villagers warm. If the cold bothered her, she made no sign.

  "Good afternoon, Lira and Medlas. My name is Sakra, but... it seems you both already know that. I apologize for the sudden visit. I think we have much to talk about. May I come in?"

  Lira's jaw clenched. "No."

  "I see," Sakra said. Her expression didn't waver in the slightest. "Well, we can have the conversation out here if you prefer—"

  "You won't take our son!" Lira snapped, stepping forward. Medlas grabbed her, holding her tight as her fist clenched in impotent rage.

  The noble lady glanced in askance at Medlas but whatever she saw in his stony demeanor didn't encourage her.

  "I... see," Sakra repeated, then sighed heavily. "I was afraid of this. May I tell you a story? I think it might help us all understand the situation more clearly."

  Lira opened her mouth to retort, but a calming hand on her shoulder made her pause. Medlas shot her a warning glance, and she was suddenly reminded that Sakra was still a noble. And they were still no name villagers. There was only so much insolence that could or would be tolerated before the consequences became very real and very dangerous. It was only the Lady's grace that protected them from Lira's impudent words.

  Lady Sakra didn't seem to mind the lack of response, turning around and beholding the village as she started speaking.

  "A year and a half ago, my scouts detected an unusual surge of monsters to the north. It was actually not far from here, though out of the dragon's domain. Of course, we sent more scouts and found that a class three spawner had appeared in a valley."

  Sakra waved her hand dismissively, turning back to face them as she continued.

  "We sent soldiers, of course. I headed the campaign myself. The monsters were highly magic resistant and were capable of instinctive spell unravelling at scale. They were also big, strong, and tough, with what I imagine was a ravenous hunger for fresh meat. Not that any of that stopped us. We marched into the snow and ice, and made battle with the brutes."

  She paused, seemingly considering her next words carefully.

  "Why are you telling us this?" Medlas asked softly into the silence. "If you mean to remind us of what you do for—"

  "No, no," Lady Sakra shook her head. "Nothing so crude. Merely to say that we won. Of course," she smiled ruefully. "Or else none of us would be here right now. And no, before you interrupt me again. We won. But not without cost. I myself was injured rather severely in the battle."

  Lady Sakra raised her shirt and surprised both of them with cruel black scars wrapping around her stomach and disappearing beneath her belt. It was a nasty wound, the edges of which were still faintly red and puffy.

  "I was unconscious for days, and bedridden for weeks after I awoke. I did wake, though imagine my surprise when the doctor helpfully informed me that I would never bear children—"

  "So you come to take ours?" Lira bit out. Medlas' grip on her shoulder tightened.

  Sakra's expression was a placid lake as she speared Lira with a piercing gaze. "Do not brand me a monster when you understand so very little. Especially when you insist on interrupting like an impatient, impertinent child."

  Lira's mouth snapped shut.

  "To finish my point: I cannot bear children, and my husband has made it quite clear that he will not sire an heir by another woman. Which is a problem because Norgard needs an heir."

  "Wait..." Medlas murmured.

  "You wish to make Silas your heir?" Lira gasped, slightly stunned with what was being suggested.

  "If he is willing and able, I will do much more than make him Norgard's heir. I will train him along with the talented Akira girl and provide both of them with everything they could want. You too will be compensated. A generous monthly stipend for as long as Silas is in my service."

  "And if he is not willing?" Medlas asked.

  "If he is not as talented as my knight has led me to believe then he will return to you." Sakra shrugged. "I would still likely return to sponsor him, either directly or at the Academy. Regardless, that decision can wait until Silas is older."

  Lira glanced up at Medlas, struggling to convey her thoughts through her expression. This was an incredible opportunity. A once in a lifetime chance to give Silas a rich future. All for the cheap cheap cost of sending him away. To not know him as he grew up. Or see his small victories turn into large ones as his abilities developed. Lira's heart instinctively rebelled at the thought, but her more rational side didn't allow her to reject it wholeheartedly.

  "Allow me a moment to be perfectly blunt, Lira. Medlas." Lady Sakra's expression flared with an iron hard resolve. Lira flinched, and Medlas' grip on her shoulder tightened almost painfully at the hostile intent. "There is nothing you, your husband or anyone in this village can do to stop me from taking Silas to my home. I will not be denied."

  "I cannot—" Lira swallowed, fighting off the aura by the skin of her teeth. "You cannot understand. You are not a mother. I can't let you do this."

  Sakra flinched, and for the first time her perfect control slipped. Her oppressive aura retracted like it was never there. The flash of grief stabbed into Lira's heart, but a moment later it was gone, leaving Lira wondering if she'd imagined it.

  "Perhaps," Sakra said quietly. Almost a whisper. "But I do not want to force you. It would be far better for all of us if Silas came with your blessing. Most of all for him. He may be young but I think children can remember events like these. You can help ease the transition."

  "I—" Lira started, but her words locked in her throat. She realized her cheeks were wet, and she desperately turned and pressed her face into Medlas' chest. He hugged her tightly, his dorsal braid entombing hers.

  "Can he visit? Or can we visit him?" Medlas took over for her.

  "My understanding is that a clean break is healthier for the child," Sakra replied sadly.

  "Will he know we are his parents?" Medlas asked, his tone hardening.

  "He will know he is a ward," Sakra said. "If he asks."

  "I—It's—It's too soon," Lira cried out. "When are you taking him? I can't just say goodbye. I... I... Please. Lady Sakra. Please. Take him next month. He is not even one year old yet."

  Sakra sighed, rubbing her eyes in exhaustion. "I can give you the rest of today, and... until afternoon tomorrow. Maybe early evening if I push the runners. But I must return to Norgard before nightfall. Is that acceptable."

  Lira clenched her jaw, wishing with all her heart that she could say that it wasn't. Of course it wasn't. No amount of time was enough. To put a deadline on her time with her son. The very thought was ridiculous. But she knew what she needed to say. She needed to say yes. Because in actuality, Lady Sakra wasn't asking.

  But she couldn't do it. Her mouth wouldn't open and her voice wouldn't speak.

  Thankfully, Medlas was there.

  "Yes, that is acceptable, Lady Sakra," he said with stiff calm. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to spend time with my son. Alone."

  The lady wisely kept her mouth closed. She nodded silently, and walked off in the direction of Mariera and Perrylas' home.

  Lira broke free of her husband and raced into the house. She dashed to the dead spot in their chest of clothes and ripped open the lid. Silas' face was bright pink, and his eyes were a little cross-eyed in concentration, but Lira barely noticed. She scooped him up and squeezed him tight to her chest. A moment later, Medlas enveloped the both of them in his strong arms, and Lira had to fight to stop the tears.

  "Ma—MA!" Silas squeaked in protest as he was squeezed from two directions.

  Lira burst into tears, which only grew worse as Silas grabbed her dorsal braid in his small fist.

  "Ma ma ma ma..." Silas babbled, patting her face with a concerned expression. She laughed, the sound choking into a sob a moment later. Unbelievable. Her son was trying to comfort her! Silas squeezed her braid, then turned to Medlas as if asking what was wrong with her. "Papa?"

  "I'm okay, I'm okay sweety," Lira murmured, brushing away her tears. She needed to be strong for him. Not devolve into a teary mess and squander the last few hours they had together. "I just got something in my eye. Everything is okay. It is going to be okay."

  "Let's play together," Medlas said. He broke from the hug and collected a new, half finished toy he'd been carving. "To say goodbye."

  "Yes!" Lira said.

  That was how they spent the evening. Just the three of them, sitting beside the hearth and regaling Silas with toys, and stories and sparkling threads of mana. The entire house glittered by the time night fell and Silas fell asleep. Even in sleep, he clutched tightly to Medlas' shoulder as if sensing the coming separation. Lira watched quietly from the side, sensing in the tremble of her husband's hand how much this meant to him.

  The coming morning was quiet. They fed Silas his favorite foods, though he had never been that picky of an eater. They played with him a bit, before collectively deciding to take a long walk. Medlas held Silas as they toured the village and when they ventured further afield.

  They took him to the town's spawner. Silas eyes immediately glittered as they entered the small reinforced hut protecting the monolith of crystal from stray damage. Both Lira and Medlas couldn't help but smile indulgently as they held Silas up to the lifeblood of their village. He pressed his throat against the crystal, flexing and probing it with his will in that oh-so-curious way of his.

  Then they returned to the town square. Akira was already waiting there with her parents. Mariera had a haunted look on her face, and she wouldn't meet anyone's gaze. Perrylas was more put together, but only managed a grunt when they approached.

  "But why do I have to go, papa?" Akira whined. Clearly not for the first time.

  "You just do, little one," Perrylas replied.

  "But I don't want to go! I want to stay here with you and mama!" Akira declared.

  "I know," Perrylas hugged her tightly. "Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to."

  "That's dumb. I don't understand."

  "I know," Perrylas grunted.

  The carriage rolled up, pulled along by four strong soldiers strapped into enchanted exo-suits that extended their legs and empowered their strides. The entire thing looked sleek and fast. Lady Sakra stood beside the open door, eyeing the gathering. She stepped forward and handed a small clinking pouch to both parents. Lira accepted hers numbly, the act feeling like a betrayal.

  "Is everyone ready?" The accursed Lady Sakra asked.

  No, "Yes," Lira said. Then she crouched beside Akira. "Akira sweetheart. I need you to do me a favor, okay? I'm not going to be around, so I need you to take care of Silas for me. Like a big sister. Can you do that?"

  "Okay?" Akira said, looking confused.

  "It's really important, Akira. I need you to promise me. You have to be the responsible one. Okay? Take care of him. Promise me."

  "I promise." Akira agreed.

  "Good," Lira said. She handed Silas to her and Akira struggled with the small boy. But still she managed.

  Silas looked around with his intelligent, surprisingly mature eyes taking in every detail. His expression was eerily flat, as if he were looking upon ants and contemplating their worth. But that was only how he was. Lira had learned to read his tiny facial expressions over the months. He was tense. Confused. He didn't understand.

  Lira kissed his forehead, giving him one last caress with her dorsal braid before stepping back.

  Medlas replaced her, cradling Silas' head before whispering something suitably gruff into his ear. Silas squeezed his dad's braid, refusing to let go until Medlas was forced to gently pry open his grip.

  "Goodbye, my son," Medlas smiled. It was strong. And almost convincing. Lira mimicked his expression.

  "Come along now, children," Sakra interrupted softly from the side. "It is time to go."

  Akira hesitated, but at the urging from her parents, she carefully waddled to the cart with Silas in her arms. Lady Sakra helped her into the carriage before giving the parents a respectful nod. Just before the carriage door closed, Silas extended his small hand.

  "Mama!"

  The door shut, and Lira felt something in her heart break. The runners pulled hard on their harness and in far too short of a time, the carriage disappeared from the village. Before she knew it, all that was left were twin tracks in the rime.

  Then... the day went on. There was only so much time one could spend staring at an empty road. Still, Lira's fingers and toes were numb by the time Medlas urged her away. He didn't go hunting, choosing to remain at her side in the crafting hall.

  She tried to distract herself with weaving, but the activity felt gray and lifeless without Silas' eager fumbling in her lap. Eventually she noticed that she was just holding the spindle, and had been for an hour. No one commented, not even Medlas. He hadn't even noticed.

  They returned home then, but the house felt empty with just the two of them to fill it. There was no screams, or babbling baby talk. They chose not to light the fire and shivered in each other's arms as night fell.

  The following day came and went. Then the one after that. A week passed, then two. Then three and then four. Each day was the same. Waking up. Going to work. Eating. Right, eating. She sometimes forgot about that. The others in the village reached out, and she spent time with Mariera.

  But it all felt hollow.

  Some small part of her had thought it was all a joke. A bad dream. That if she just waited long enough, she would wake up and little Silas would once more be stumbling between her legs. Medlas said nothing, though Lira knew he felt similarly. It was obvious in the long looks he gave the walls, and how he held her painfully-tight when she cried as the dusk settled over the land.

  The weather remained the same, a frozen endless winter frozen in time. It left its chill on the land, and seeped its wrathful fingers through the gaps in the shutters. Their home grew cold in a way that no hearth could warm.

  When a full thirty days had slipped by, that small part of them that still held onto hope finally cracked.

  Silas wasn't coming home.