The capital city of the Republic - yes, that was confusingly the nation’s full name - was strange from above. Their group had gathered next to a tall railing as they were finally approaching it, first seeing the sprawling industrial complex to the South of the city. It reminded Irwyn of Ebon Respite somewhat - massive buildings on the outskirts where they were less of an eyesore. Massive in width anyway, surprisingly low in height.

  Except in Ebon Respite, they were also quite a bit closer to the town proper and were not releasing massive plumes of thick black smoke. So thick the airship had to take a bit of a detour from its straight course.

  The actual city beyond that was also extremely flat. From distance it seemed almost as a board. Whereas Abonisle would tower from the horizon, the city in front of them couldn’t have many buildings taller than three stories and even that was quite rare. Which was particularly confusing to Elizabeth.

  “They can make plastics but not proper urban infrastructure?” she half-asked with confusion. “Those buildings should be taller.”

  “Maybe they just like it like that?” Waylan guessed. “Good view, easy jumping on rooftops.”

  “Even the factories are too low,” Elizabeth shook her head. “Those need to be efficient. If they are making plastic they will need large tankers with chemical compounds. But I don’t see anything of the sort anywhere.”

  “Something to look into,” Irwyn nodded.

  Otherwise, everything was built of concrete with limited patience for aesthetics. Buildings shaped like boxes as if made from the same template occupied most of the cityscape with a few larger buildings - still shaped like boxes though - sprinkled from place to place. All individuality was in their colors, which were not actually all that diverse. The most unique feature was the river going basically through the middle of it. It was all rather… utilitarian.

  “The city is very precisely planned,” Elizabeth noticed. “That means it was built from scratch like that, not sprouted naturally.”

  “Yes, that is how buildings work,” Waylan nodded sagely. “Only rarely do they grow on trees.”

  “Hush,” Elizabeth said but smiled slightly. “Cities either grow over decades from smaller settlements or are built from scratch with no pre-existing community. That this is the latter means there is a good reason to plan a city here. One important enough it eventually became their capital.”

  Soon enough, they were at their journey's end. One of the Aeronauts showed up and brought them to the ‘landing room’ which only Waylan had seen before then. It was a place full of literally just seats with belts. Most people from the crew were already present there.

  “Tie yourselfs in,” captain Tobba instructed, the seatbelts lacking actual buckles and isntead requiring simple knots. Irwyn did not know how to do knots, so he just improvised what he could while the captain continued talking. “Nowadays the landings are usually smooth but there is no reason not to take precautions. If there is a fire for some reason there are emergency doors in those two corners. They lead directly outside, around a meter above the ship's very bottom. Once we touch ground it’s a safe way to exit - but only use them if something goes wrong.”

  “Are fires and botched landings common?” Alice asked curiously. Their group obviously did not fear fire nor freefalling overmuch.

  “Used to be a few firefighters had to be present for every landing,” Tobba chuckled, probably joking. “As I said - it’s better nowadays. But you could at least have the grace to look worried.”

  There was indeed a slight impact when the airship touched the ground, but it was not quite a tremor. One of the navigators took the lead in opening a side door - distinctly different from the emergency ones - to which a group of men in reflective clothing were already bringing a portable wooden stairway on wheels. Irwyn noted that not everyone left the airship but most of the firefighters did, alongside Tobba who stuck around with their quartet afterward. To the side, Irwyn saw a bigger ramp being brought over to a different part of the airship as unloading began.

  The place they landed at was a large but mostly empty concrete lot - if Irwyn was guessing the construction material correctly. Another three airships were visible on the ground a good distance away but they were clearly not too common given the lack of any in the skies. There was also a concrete wall built around most of the area, as well as a large building in one corner so Irwyn guessed it was some kind of military base.

  What did catch the eye were the strange vehicles. Not quite carriages yet clearly related, several driving around. Still boxes but in different shapes and clearly not needing any beasts of burden to move. Irwyn would need to ask later. For the moment there was something different that required his attention. Upon landing, men in dark green - clearly military if Irwyn was any judge - uniforms were already waiting for them. Inevitably, someone had questions about who they were.

  Major Zema stared through the half-window, frowning. The young woman they had brought in first seemed somewhat nervous, even jittery. Not used to interrogation, or merely acting? How would he tell? Her body language was vaguely familiar but there was something foreign to it - clearly a cultural tick, yet from far away. So, he merely watched, deferring judgment for the moment. Sound isolation was a different problem. He knew the higher higher-ups had argued long and hard about allocating the metal necessary to project the voices within one-sidedly but eventually managed it. Zema could thus listen in without fearing being overheard. For the moment the interviewer was merely going through the easy questions like name and origins.

  “Major,” a voice called out from behind him, though Zema did not need to turn to know who it was.

  “Captain,” he quickly saluted back. “Long time no see, Tobba.”

  “So, you have questions for me,” the firefighter nodded. “I was directed here. Fancy. I don’t think I have ever been on this side of the window.”

  “Who ever even needed to interrogate you?” Zema wondered out loud.

  “Getting security clearance for the airship,” Tobba grimaced. “Like I could somehow commandeer it by myself even if I wasn’t trustworthy. Aeronauts are not idiots.”

  “You would be surprised,” Zema said. “The reports of accidents go through my friend’s desk. They can be… innovative. The number of ways one of them has managed to fall over a railing is on its second page, I am told. Impressive given they don’t operate that many airships to begin with.”

  “Did you get anything on this Federation?” Tobba changed the topic.

  “I send out word to Terroka,” the Major sighed. “They were very interested. So interested in fact that the principal sent someone to come consult in person… without sending us much actual information in advance. All I received was that the place was likely ‘highly magical’ and well outside our map’s edge. For anything more we will need to wait for said expert.”

  “Typical,” Tobba shook his head. “They made me wait several months for a sample analysis after the whole blue fire mess. It took the General Director personally going to breathe down their neck to get it done.”

  “I didn’t know you were in charge of that,” Zema commented.

  “Just part of the investigation in the aftermath,” Tobba shook his head. “I was merely on the ground during.”

  “So, what is your take on the four of them?” he finally sighed, looking over at the girl. She just happened to look his way in the middle of the question, as if making eye contact. Just a coincidence, since she could obviously not see him through the wall. He thought he saw the flicker of something on her finger, but it was gone in a blink - must have imagined it.

  “Bit strange for kids, I suppose,” Tobba said. “Too fearless, definitely. Lost in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by strangers and they don’t even look worried.”

  “Which would make perfect sense if they were spies,” Zema nodded.

  “Were you always this paranoid?” Tobba rolled his eyes subtly. Not discreetly enough to not be noticed though. “They cannot be even twenty.”

  “The Western kingdom trains their agents from childhood,” Zema countered. “18 or so is a perfectly reasonable age group to draw an elite squad from.”

  “And drop them in the middle of a forest - at a place very far away from their closest border - and hope they are found by us before succumbing to nature.”

  “Fake forest fire,” Zema simply said.

  “You cannot stop a wildfire once it gets going, not without incredible luck,” Tobba said. “And the station recorded a proper one, spreading quickly.”

  “Yes, which is why you don’t burn anything,” Zema agreed. “They could have just faked the readings directly at the station. Which would fit with there being no real signs of said disappeared inferno. I have already put someone on it.”

  “Chase ghosts all you want,” Tobba shrugged.

  “Yes, that is my job description,” Zema agreed. “You should know the threat from the West is looming. Now is the time we should be most careful.”

  “There is careful, then there is extensively interrogating lost children.”

  The interview was playing on a bit lower volume, Zema paying half attention to it. At least recordings did not require metal so he could review everything again later at his leisure. That being said, he frowned slightly. The jittery and clearly nervous girl had at some point calmed down. Too much even. Perfect cool remaining even as the interrogator pushed for harder questions and tried to find holes in her story.

  “It doesn’t quite add up,” Zema muttered

  “What doesn’t add up is pressing an orphan on how her parents died,” Tobba said with some disgust as he listened, clearly more hung up on the details. But those weren’t really the point. “What does that even have to do with anything? Of course she wouldn’t want to share any details!”

  Which was indeed the case. Zema with his experience could tell that the interview would need to go in a different direction soon - from the way the girl’s cooperation slipped over the invasive line being pursued. She was still extremely calm but that shift in her tone was incredibly realistic. Her life story was probably at least mostly true.

  “So, tell me more about this town…” Zema turned up the volume with the nub his hand had never left.

  “City,” the girl, Alice, corrected.

  “City then. I did not catch the name.”

  “Steelmire,” she nodded slowly. “A city carved in a nook between three giants…”

  And it was such an outlandish story Zema’s suspicions dropped significantly. A single settlement with large enough iron mine to extract tons daily. Downright ridiculous. Unheard of! If the Republic had a trading partner like that… Zema stopped himself from contemplating it. Work hours were not times for fantasizing. Either way, it seemed that the Federation was hardly united if thriving city-states were just allowed to exist in their territories - for what little that observation was worth.

  They listened for a while but there was little useful. More lines of questioning were broached but all they found was already known or mostly pointless. There was not that much more to the story than the girl speaking briefly on becoming a retainer after her tragedies and the supposed teleportation accident ‘caused by forces they did not fully understand’. She was elusive about the highborn girl’s background though, insisting it was not her place to speak on it.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Nobility,” Zema still commented on a crucial point. It was clear of what caste the group's leader was even without it being said out loud.

  “The girl acts humble,” Tobba shook his head. “None of that dismissive arrogance I expected when I first heard. We shouldn’t judge real people based on stories… or caricatures in them.”

  “Maybe she is just smart enough not to show how she feels,” Zema said doubtfully. “The idiot inside didn’t bother asking how important her family is.”

  “Nobles are nobles,” Tobba clearly also didn’t understand the issue.

  “But kings aren’t barons,” Zema shook his head. “Like a generational senator is not quite the same as a small town notary.”

  “On paper, they are in most ways,” the firefighter pointed out.

  “On paper, you can draw a pile of dung as large as a palace.” The interrogation winded down and the girl was brought away into the waiting room. “Who do you think we should bring next?”

  “That’s up to you.”

  “You have spoken to them,” Zema said. “That’s why I wanted you here in the first place.”

  “The tattooed one seemed the most rogue-ish,” Tobba said after a moment of thought. “Very quick to get out of sight. Might be a troubled childhood there.”

  “Or a burglar,” the Major offered.

  “Working closely with a rich noble girl?” the other man doubted. “I assume that at least pays well.”

  “Thieves are some of the easiest people to convert into spies,” Zema noted, adding it to his mental calculation. “They already have half the skills needed.”

  “Just call him in.”

  “Yes,” Zema nodded and stood up. The door at the back was not locked so the Major needed to open it just a creek. “The tattooed one next.”

  “Sir,” the officer outside saluted, then headed off to relay the message. Soon enough that boy entered the room.

  His testimony was sadly not useful. Because the man quote: didn’t know nothin’. The lack of education was… glaringly obvious. And the attempts at using half-remembered idioms in the wrong context did not help the impression. Tobba’s estimation at least might have been right given his admittance to various petty crimes with repeated insistence that ‘It’s fine ‘cause I was paaar-douned’ - the mispronunciation of the word very much present every time.

  He frankly gave up on learning much as the boy explained his recruitment as a lucky break after he got a bit overly confident, then caught but recruited instead of executed. The only information they confirmed was that his new employment indeed paid much better than his old occupation along with repeated reassurances he had no reason to commit any crimes he wasn’t asked to do. Zema was not sure why exactly someone would hire a brick but decided the boy was likely at least competent in activities that required limited thinking.

  “The other boy next,” Zema decided to which the captain did not refute. Best leave the noble girl for last. He peeked out of the door making a similar request as before.

  “Sir,” the soldier saluted again but continued speaking. “I received word a few minutes ago, you have a guest.”

  “Who?”

  “Someone from the academy in…” the soldier paused, looking through his notes urgently.

  “Terroka,” the Major said before the man could. The place was very secular, thus many did not know it by name - though that might need to change given recent events. “Is someone from there not on the itinerary?”

  “Not in the version I have, sir,” the soldier said, sweating.

  “Invite them in,” he nodded. “Right away actually,” he did not want some self-important scholar getting too upset just because of a few minutes of waiting. Prickly and cooperative rarely went together. It was a good opportunity to also gauge other things.

  His guest was with them quickly, before the next teenager was brought in. An old man, that was immediately apparent, but still relatively spry despite the wrinkles. He wore colorful robes that were almost silly to look at. Out of place, like from a story. So was the thick grimoire dangling from it, attached by a thick string. If one spotted them on the street, the elder would be presumed crazy. Except the robe was supposedly more durable than kevlar and the lining of that book was actual titanium. Enough of it to pay for a mansion or five. Filled with deadly secrets, Zema knew. It was half his job to be aware of dangerous people. So he did not appreciate one duping him into a more important visitor than had been implied.

  “I was told you sent someone personally,” Zema paused, frowning with the recognition but remaining polite. “Not that you would come yourself.”

  “I am unfamiliar, sir…?” the captain spoke.

  “Deito, the Dekano of the Academium in Terroka,” the old man announced, chin rising with pride.

  “Or Principal Deotp, if we use a more widespread term,” Zema translated. “Why did you make the trip, sir?”

  “Someone mentioned mages,” the old man said. “Who made that testimony?”

  “That would be me,” the firefighter confessed.

  “Convenient,” Deitos nodded “Mages, are you certain that they claimed that?”

  “That is what they said,” Tobba nodded. “There is a difference between you and them, I assume?”

  “On behalf of your ignorance I will not take insult to comparing my wizardry to their reckless magic,” he immediately lectured. “A wizard and a mage are different words for a reason.”

  “I know there is a distinction,” Zema added in appeasing. “But not really what. I don’t deal with your people directly most of the time. Usually just with the trinkets. The Western Kingdom has some mages, that’s all I know.”

  “And they are fools for it!” Deitos declared. “The immediate first distinction is that practicing any kind of magecraft is illegal in the Republic.”

  “It is?” Zema frowned. “I have never heard of such a law.”

  “It is on the older side,” the principal nodded. “And that you do not know it means that it is working just as intended. It was my teacher and predecessor who had pushed hard for it and convinced the senators.”

  “Arson is also illegal but I know about that,” Tobba frowned.

  “The talents required for magecraft have overlap with that of wizards,” Deitos explained. “By banning the practice, then mandating the talented can only learn in our academies, we have successfully stomped out any such dangerous traditions that might have once existed in our country.”

  “So, you say it’s dangerous,” Zema nodded. “How? They don’t seem to have any of those symbols on them. Certainly not a book’s worth like you.”

  “If they are ‘mages’ as I know the term, they do not need them,” the headmaster grimly said.

  “What do you mean?” Zema said, looking inside the interrogation room where the second boy had just been brought and sat down. Should he get his man out? No, if things were going to go down badly it would be too late anyway. No need to antogonize a calm lion.

  “Magecraft requires no catalyst. What I need a drawn rune or a carved crystal for, a mage can simply manifest.”

  “And we have banned it.”

  “For a very good reason.”

  “It seems like it would have an edge,” the Major admitted. And the Republic needed all the edges it could get. The other two did not understand that but he had such insight.

  “Yes, indeed, a mage with ten years of experience has an edge over a wizard in some areas, such as not needing preparations to use their magic,” Deitos nodded. “For every mage with ten years of experience, you will also have 20 piles of corpses of those who did not make it that far.”

  “Surely that is an exaggeration.”

  “I remember those times, Major, in my teens,” the principal shook his head. “I have seen once barely a boy of twelve melt the flesh off of his arms on accident. Not even doing anything particularly dangerous. He was trying the warm a cup of water. That was one of the better cases. It is harder to survive accidentally beheading oneself or receiving 25 times the lethal dose of epinephrine from miscalibrated glands. We have banned the practice for a very good reason. Anyone using those arts is either dead, soon to be dead, or a statistical anomaly.”

  “Three of them claim to be as much and they seemed fine,” Tobba pointed out.

  “18, or thereabout,” Deitos looked through the window at the young man being interrogated about his background. “He might be past the point where most succumb. That does not mean he will not suddenly self-combust, fall into pieces between two steps, or implode. I have heard of it happening. Forty-year-old practitioners turning from masters to corpses in seconds, taking enitre buildings down with them.”

  “They do not seem afraid,” Tobba reiterated. “If it was as dangerous as you claim, they would need to be at least somewhat aware to make it so far, right? Yet they show no worry.”

  “You have not seen or read what I have,” the elder frowned and it was a mighty furrowing of brows.

  “I am not doubting that,” the firefighter said. “But maybe they did something differently?

  “There is no save way to hand firearms to toddlers.”

  “Well, you could give them toys first to teach safery?” Tobba tried “I don’t know enough about this to make a working analogy.”

  “Do you have a way to figure out how dangerous they actually are?” Zema was much more interested in that.

  “I am not sure,” Deitos admitted. “I can try to repurpose a different spell but there is no guarantee it will work on a mage.”

  “Please,” Zema encouraged.

  The wizard nodded, opening the grimoire. There was a clear practiced grace in that, the man seemingly finding the right page among the thousands in a single motion. He placed the book on the table, then withdrew a piece of paper from within the robe, which he then quickly placed over the open pages, putting a small inkwell by its edge afterward. A moment later, the contents of the page - some kind of complex symbolic combination, was copied over.

  Then the headmaster began quickly changing it. He drew additional lines with a regular ink-pen while wielding a piece of white cloth in his other hand. This piece of fabric seemed to have the uncanny quality of sucking in ink extremely well in exactly the spots it touched, allowing for easy erasure of otherwise permanent stains. That way it took less than half a minute to be finished with whatever wizardry the man was doing. There was a muted flash of dim light, then the old man stared through the one-way mirror.

  “This is unexpected,” the headmaster muttered.

  “What do you see?”

  “I am trying to see leaking magic,” the wizard explained. “But there is… too little. Especially for a mage. Some of my students would not be this subtle. The spell is likely not working properly. I will have to consult older archives – there was no time before I left in a hurry.”

  The boy’s interrogation was ongoing in the meantime. But it was again nothing new. Orphan from childhood, picked up because of his talent. The only interesting thing the Major wanted to know about was the noble family associated with them which he barely even spoke of by name. The interviewer clearly realized there was little to be found there either and ended the interrogation rather quickly.

  “So, does Blackburg stir any memory?”

  “We have next to no details on the Federation, unfortunately,” the principal shook his head. “And what little we have is either speculation or unconfirmable accounts from travelers.

  “I will talk to the girl myself then,” Zema said.

  “She is incredibly dangerous,” Deitos warned.

  “So are you,” Zema shook his head. “I will rely on you for prevention, sir.”

  “Very well,” the man nodded. “Just do not needlessly provoke her. She might have methods that bypass my countermeasures.”

  When the girl was eventually brought into the room, she strode with confidence. Definitely ego but not the kind people usually thought about. No wonder the captain had missed it, he was not trained for the same things as Zema. But in her eyes, the Major saw that quiet contempt. Not that of people who were obnoxious a belligerent towards other. But those who knew for certain they were better and thus had nothing to prove. No reason to push other's down, for they did not doubt that there was no reaching them at the top.

  “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, I am Zema,” he started with a smile.

  “Elizabeth,” she returned it. Fake and trained. Much like his own. The strange wart on her nose was a... baffling cosmetic choice for someone so beautiful it could not be purely natural but Zema refused to comment on it. It smelled like a deliberate trap.

  “With respect to both our time, I will assume that nothing will change about the story of how you got here,” he began. Whether it was true or a lie, it had been clearly rehearsed to some degree. No point poking at the strong point. “What interests me more would be your background. Are you highly positioned within your family.”

  “Merely 5th in line, likely further now that I have gone abroad. The exact rank can shift,” she explained. “Not that I ever aimed for first. Such competitions are notoriously dangerous as you might be aware even here.”

  “And how important exactly would this House be,” Zema pushed. “You can imagine we lack records from so far away.”

  “My father’s name and titles are known to all who matter within the Federation,” she said. Vague but better than nothing. Certainly on the upper side of things at least, or so she would have him believe. Zema had still not completely ruled out them being convincing spies.

  “I have heard that magecraft can be dangerous from someone quite concerned,” Zema decided to change the topic. “Because of that, I would like some reassurances. Fears have been raised over your own safety and over collateral damage.”

  “Now that is an insult,” the girl’s eye bore into his, though he did not see actual heat behind them. “Likely the gravest one ever spoken to my face, if I were still home.”

  “As you can imagine, we seem to have a disconnect,” Zema backtracked. “I apologize for any offense given, it is not my intention.”

  “I am a daughter of House Blackburg,” she said simply as if it explained anything.

  “We do not stand for fiefdoms here in the Republic,” Zema reminded. “Do not mistake my curiosity of foreign lands for any form of acknowledgment.”

  “You do not understand. What my family’s name means,” she shook her head. “How do I say this? You look at me like I was an eagle that could not fly. A tiger without legs. A tree that never grew roots nor branches. That is an insult. Had I truly been so talentless, rest assured I would have been given the kindness of a smothering in the crib.”

  “You think highly of yourself, dully noted,” he decided to try and rile her up then, hoping she would let something slip. The way she spoke made this House Blackburg sound even more important than she had made it to be earlier.

  “Be assured that my magic has never hurt anyone on accident and nor will it ever,” she said, calm again. “And I do know better than to fight against a whole nation. Offer no harm and receive none in return. Or do and pray my family never finds out.”

  “If only everyone’s word could always be trusted,” Zema said. “There would be no need for me to have this job.”

  “Take your precautions,” she shrugged. “Or just send us on our way on the other side of the border if you cannot trust strangers to not accidentally explode among your citizens. I am curious to have a look around your nation, Major, and would love to sightsee a bit. But I am not willing to risk my life over idle curiosity.”

  “So you say,” Zema nodded.

  “So I say,” she shrugged. “You make the call.”

  Then she stood up and headed for the door. Which was certainly locked. Zeta waited for the moment she would realize that for his next words, which he was still mostly considering. So he was mutely silent when they opened with a push. There was no sound of resistance either, so it must have been actually unlocked against protocol. The Major decided to chew out whoever messed up the usual procedure but lost his opportunity to speak.

  He contemplated having her brought back in by force but for the moment he chose not to escalate. The principal thought she was dangerous and it would be unwise to engage an unknown threat already within their base without good cause. Given few other alternatives, he returned to the hidden room, to once again consult with a certain old man.

  “I have a suggestion,” the principal said as soon as the opportunity arose.

  “I am not risking anything drastic,” Zema made sure that was apparent before any ideas of ‘punishments for illegal magecraf’ were even voiced.

  “What? Of course not,” he shook his head. “I say there is a way for this to be handled perfectly.”

  “Well?”

  “Bring them to my Academy,” Deotp said. “In the first place it was founded to help people safely learn magic. I don’t believe I cannot convince a trio of children to take up the right way.”

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