For Milla, the surviving Angels’ first steps through the Shangri-La gate felt unreal. Something from a dream. She had not seen the doorway’s engravings up close in centuries, and they had become far more intricate since then, telling an ever-growing story of Aurra’s royals and heroes.

  Ahead, the puddles on the long rain-soaked bridge over the sea reflected the parting clouds above, lit by a late afternoon sun. At the other end of the bridge was the four-story-high inner sea wall that surrounded the capital. Only the spires at the top of the palace, opera hall, grand cathedral, and the City’s silver clock tower could be seen over the enormous barrier.

  “The sky over the capital is clear,” Leovyn mentioned as he looked around nervously amid the forward march. “They wouldn’t just leave A undefended. Maybe they sent everything out to evacuate the locals?”

  “It is eerily quiet, to be certain,” Masayuki replied. “Those guns, though—they’re even more imposing than they are in the photographs.”

  The officers briefly stared at the famous “Sedition Breaker” cannons that flanked the bridge, six on either side. Thankfully, though unexpectedly, none of the turrets were aimed toward the bridge.

  “Heard those things can take out a battleship with one hit,” Viktor, still waiting for his second wind, said with a wheeze.

  “How would anyone know for sure?” Daschel asked pensively as he walked alongside Milla. “I don’t believe they’ve ever been fired.”

  “Are they rusted to hell or something?” Tabi wondered. “Why aren’t we looking down some barrels right now? The Guard could rebuild the bridge within a week. Unless, I mean… They’re letting us in?”

  “They must have opened the front door, right?” Simon questioned.

  “Could be they just don’t want us damaging it,” Shin suggested.

  “Or maybe that scream killed their motivation to fight…”

  “Yeah, not trusting any of this,” Leovyn muttered and raised his casting hand. “They’d never just invite us in. They have a plan for us.”

  “Dad, wait,” Milla said and pushed his arm down.

  “I was only going to give us some defenses—”

  “We can react in time to anything they send at us. I don’t want to put up a spell they’d perceive as a threat display. Let’s tread carefully.”

  “Y-yeah. Good point. But I’m even more nervous about this fabled waltz into A if they’re letting us in. We never exactly ironed out a solid plan for once we got to the capital. The local suppression, I’m not sure…”

  “Dad. One moment at a time. If they think we’ll just give up here as they fight us without reprisal, then we’ll target the City itself instead. We destroy everything, cause chaos. It might be the most we can do, and it could be enough. Whatever suppression they have in there, I doubt even Xavier would be able to get around it.”

  “We’ll find a way, General,” Poret said confidently from his position on Zalatrya’s nape, the rairer walking right behind the officers.

  The cannons showing no signs of life as they approached, Milla and her army stopped about sixty feet in front of the final door to the capital. It was a nameless entryway with a pearlescent coating, but otherwise featureless; more practical, and lighter, so that it could open quickly in case the Royal Guard had to rush out and defend A—which wasn’t happening.

  “Bit understated compared to the other one,” Wendell said with a huff, his and Corus’s rifles pointed forward. “What lurks just behind it?”

  “Army of schutz… rairer…” Corus mumbled. “Both?”

  Hearing distant engines over the march’s footsteps, Tabi and Milla looked back and over the outer sea wall and saw an armada of approaching airships emerging through the parting gray clouds.

  “L’s right behind us,” Tabi breathed out. “No going back now.”

  “Will they fire on us, this close to the capital?” Osk wondered, and raised his hand. “They’ll be in our range soon. If this door doesn’t open…”

  Milla, equally concerned for those still at B’s edge—all of the kids from the burrow and most of the young commanders, as well—spoke into her headset, “Sasoire? Lechi, Shiloh? Are you… okay?”

  After several tense seconds passed, it was Lechi’s voice that came in weakly over the interference, “Milla, we’re sheltered in the towers around the square, still keeping an eye on the captured Guardsmen.”

  “Copy. Good to hear. We’re at the capital’s door now. Stay safe.”

  “Will do. We hid when we heard them, but L’s airships never gave any indication that they’d fire on us. Didn’t even take up formation.”

  “This just gets stranger,” Leovyn remarked. “This is either an invite to a sit-down, or they’re about to say ‘screw it’ and blow us up right here.”

  Milla couldn’t muster the strength to reassure everyone again, and with her heart beating harder by the second, she gripped her sword’s hilt while trying her best to not show any fear to her flanking subordinates.

  The six locking mechanisms in the pearl door audibly shifted.

  Without any of the drama of Shangri-La Gate’s slow and noisy opening, the door slid from the side to fully revealed the capital just beyond it. The pavement of the bridge transitioned to A’s main road, made of marble bricks. Just past the security checkpoint were rows of luxurious apartments and townhouses, each with the fa?ade of a small mansion. Bronze statues, faux-ivory parapets, sapphire-coated bridges over emerald streams, street lamps with gold trimming. The silver clock tower was dead ahead, which overlooked a City of excess, made of materials that required an abundance of synthids and Aurra’s best architects.

  Somewhat miraculously, every single Angel held their fire—as did the Royal Guardsmen on the other side of the gate. Covered in deep lazuli plating, they were seldom seen outside of the capital, and their role was more ceremonial than anything else. But they still had the standard training every Guardsman knew. There were thousands of them, lined up and down the street to form a corridor of living armor. Every other soldier held a spear, halberd, or blade; the rest, rifles in a firing position.

  “Easy, easy…” Milla told her officers and the rest of her men, her arm up in a ‘hold your fire’ signal. “Let them make the first move.”

  The air had become quiet but heavy with intensity, and every sound seemed amplified amid the legions of soldiers on both sides trying to tamp down their hair trigger impulses. After some indiscernible amount of time, a hooded figure with a mechanical arm stepped out from the capital side. She was escorted by dozens of soldiers, who formed a barricade at the entrance.

  “Ms. Savienth…” Milla said—and even just that with caution.

  After a moment of hesitation, Savienth’s raspy voice replied, “Well. Should we get this over with? The queen is offering you an audience.”

  Osk spoke for Milla, “Then… is this officially a ceasefire?”

  “She doesn’t want to see fighting in the capital.” Savienth looked past her enemies, toward the L airships awaiting orders. “Anyway, if they were to fire on you here, it wouldn’t be good for us, either.”

  Daschel spoke up, “What guarantee do we have that you won’t—”

  She cut him off, “You have hundreds of our men at the square. Hell, for that matter, all of City B is your hostage as things stand. Let’s give the bloodshed a rest, and give diplomacy a chance. So she says.”

  Milla looked at her father and Osk for wisdom, and their stoic glances back at her were all the answer she needed. With a deep breath, she moved her hand from her hilt, relaxing her entire army ever so slightly in the process. Savienth sighed, lit a cigarette with a trembling arm, and after a hearty puff, beckoned in the Angels and had her men part to let them through. Once Milla had advised the Angels back at Zephyrda?s on what was happening and to expect radio silence, the march resumed.

  She was the first one to step foot into the capital, doing so for the second time in just over seven years. But seeing A again in its full glory was a much different experience than that brief visit to some dusty old palace rooms while trying to get to the complexes far below the City.

  It actually felt very much like her memories of her coronation from so long ago, with thousands of Royal Guardsmen lined up along the main road watching her walk by. It was like coming home; some full-circle repeat of the distant past. The capital hadn’t changed much since then, either. The biggest difference was the sight of combat rairer watching with their handlers from the alleyways, creatures still confined to Aurra’s depths until only recently. Some growled at the guests; Zalatrya snarled back.

  Savienth guided the Angels across the short distance to the grand plaza, a circle where the City’s major roads converged. The cathedral, palace, and senate hall connected to it via staircases, each set made of an ivory-like material. And, for some reason, Queen Pristil herself stood at the top of the steps that led to the palace. Milla’s immediate thought was if they would even be meeting face to face here if they hadn’t already done so back in N’s embassy. Whatever the queen was thinking, this was a surprise.

  She stood between Kae Anneise, Charles Renek, her bodyguard Cadius, and Commander Terront, who looked gruff and defiant as he leaned onto his cane. Pristil bore no real expression, and was dressed in a plain light gown—a standard of any nobility, instead of the usual lavish ensemble that she had worn in photographs and at pronouncements.

  “Nolland,” Pristil spoke once Milla and her officers made it to the middle of the circle, where they were surrounded by hundreds of tightly-packed Guardsmen. “Are you here to bring a vicious cycle to our world? To raze a place of opulence, destroy the elite, ravage Aurra’s very backbone?”

  “Queen Pristil, that was never our intention,” Milla replied, trying to speak respectfully. “We’ve always tried to avoid mindless destruction.”

  “Perhaps. Until rage overtakes you… as we saw in our neighboring City.” Cutting off Milla’s response, she continued, “Of course I realize that it was your brother who did it, disobeying orders—I hope. But what’s to say that such anger and potential doesn’t exist in you, as well? After all… it must have been you that unleashed the Divine Cry upon us.”

  Milla breathed, shook her head, and replied, “That was Caeden. I don’t yet understand the power. But it is true that Garder must have broken providence. I… sincerely apologize for B. It, too, wasn’t our intent.”

  “Any intent is not assured for either of us. For all we know, he may be lurking in the shadows, waiting to continue his rampage. Garder is unaccounted for, and we aren’t certain if you’re letting him get his hands dirty—that you’ve cut him loose, or are ready to disavow his actions.”

  “That isn’t the case, but I don’t think I can convince you.”

  “I doubt Jonan Rivia could, either. Not even he could keep that brother of yours under control. It is a shame that the general can’t be here, but he’d have been disappointed to see what his pupil has become.”

  Milla noticed Xavier look towards the ground, daring not to speak.

  “My son isn’t himself right now,” Leovyn argued, and was clearly struggling to keep things cordial. “But we’re not here to talk about him.”

  Milla then asked, “Queen Pristil. Why open the Shangri-La gate for us? Surely you weren’t simply trying to spare it from destruction.”

  She replied, “That gaudy showpiece? No. You had to have opened it. If you did not…” For a moment, she thought of possible explanations, just like Milla. But she shook off her confusion to focus on the present. “Right now, it doesn’t matter how it happened. Ms. Nolland, before we speak of anything else, I must ask. Is… Is Rayna Carthy safe?”

  Milla glanced at her officers before answering, “Yes.”

  Pristil breathed a sigh of relief, before taking on a look of indignation and sharply inquiring, “Why do you allow her to fight?”

  “Because she chooses to. It’s tough for her, but she doesn’t want to live with any regrets of not being involved. I understand how you—”

  “No, you don’t. I barely had a chance to know my mother, before my own uncle did the unthinkable. Rayna is all that I have left of her, and if I could just speak with the child… I’m aware she already knows this truth. It must eat away at her. I can help her, if you give me the chance.”

  “That can be arranged. She has told me before that she’d like to meet you. Perhaps, if you were to agree to some preliminary talks…”

  The queen shook her head dutifully. “I’m not ready to make any concessions. We are still in a state of war, and this is only a ceasefire. But I’m determined to keep anyone else, on either side, from dying for their leaders’ pursuits. Nor do I want the heart of Aurrian history and culture to be impacted by warfare. To see it here… has always been unimaginable.”

  “What do you propose? How do we settle things?”

  Aurra’s current queen stared down at Milla, locking eyes with one from a previous life. She then stepped forward, closer to the edge of the steps. Kae and Charles showed anxiety in their faces—it was evident in Cadius most of all. Pristil took up a posture showing that she was resolute.

  “Your convictions have brought you here, Ms. Nolland. All that stands in their way now are my own. We will see which of us has the greater devotion to the way we want to see this world.”

  Like her officers, Milla was taken aback by the idea. Once she had processed the fact that Pristil was serious, she replied, “You… want us to fight? Now, in front of everyone? One of us could die. Both of us could.”

  “My queen,” Cadius said forcefully and took a step forward. “I must reiterate my opposition to this. What purpose does it serve? You don’t need to prove anything to either your loyal soldiers, or your naysayers.”

  “I didn’t expect this from you, Pristil,” Milla added. “Has Aurra not seen enough of this already? Did Evirtide change nothing?”

  “Pristil, please rethink this,” Charles said quietly at her side.

  “Have you no faith, no confidence in me?” the queen asked her friends, and looked at her bodyguard. “You’ve done well in training me, Cadius. And, yes, I do have something to prove. It’s important that I try.”

  “Milla, don’t agree to this,” Leovyn urged her. “This is ridiculous, medieval. Like playing a game of chance to determine the fate of a world. Only, beating her demonstrates nothing about the reasons for this war. If you end up killing her, it’s even worse. We’ll be hated by millions.”

  Milla, trying to think of any other way out, replied harshly, “Dad, I’m aware. But if she’s set on this, how would I change her mind?”

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Find a way! There has to be some other option!”

  “Queen Pristil,” Poret addressed her from Zala’s neck. “Wouldn’t a duel involve turning off local suppression? A single bad move from anyone on either side could trigger that full-scale battle you’re trying to avoid.”

  It was Daschel that explained things to him and anyone else out of the loop, “This is seldom discussed and uncommon knowledge, but Aurra’s nobility have additional implants that work on another tier of providence. It keeps Guardsmen from easily rising up against her.” Daschel then looked at Pristil and introduced himself. “Queen, although I’ve fought against the Guard this lifetime, you may be aware of my prior service. I was as much a commander as Terront and Savienth. For three Aurrian lifetimes, I loyally helped to guide those I thought were protecting this world.” He glanced over at Milla. “During Seriph’s reign, I was Halser Drummond.”

  Milla’s eyes widened, and she exclaimed, “Commander, you never told me… Halser, I mean, you… were one of my dearest friends.”

  “I try not to bring up past exploits to advance anything in a current life. I’m a believer in the idea that every cycle is unique and should stand on its own. But in this case, at this moment…” He returned his eyes to Pristil, who was listening intently. “Queen, I knew your mother in my last Aurrian life, when she was very young. Despite her illness, she was always kind, and brilliant. Had she become Aurra’s ruler instead of your uncle, perhaps all of this may have been unnecessary, or simply… played out differently.”

  Pristil closed her eyes for a moment to take in this revelation.

  She sighed, “Thank you for telling me. I would very much like to speak with you about this, at a better time. You must believe that you can negotiate on our behalf, using your connection to us as a bridge.”

  “Pristil, please…” Daschel continued. “You two are good people. I don’t want to see either of you hurt… especially from the other.”

  “I can appreciate that, young commander, but like you, I believe that every life should stand on its own. So. General Nolland.” She looked back at Milla, with keen sharpness in her eyes. “Do you accept my terms?”

  Reluctantly, Milla exhaled and unsheathed her blade.

  “Are you sure this is the thing to do?” Leovyn whispered to her.

  “I think I know what she’s really after. I’ll hold back and try to, somehow, find a way to make this work. If she doesn’t make me…”

  “Yeah. I don’t believe she’s ready to die here, either.”

  Against the wishes of the thousands of soldiers and officers still in the capital with her, Pristil spoke into the transmitter built into her armlet.

  “Deactivate my protection. Code Autumn.”

  Over the course of several seconds, Milla felt her perception of the queen change, like an invisible barrier had been washed away. She became aware that Pristil was suddenly vulnerable, and her first instinct was to look around at both her own men and those loyal to the throne, having expected that someone would try to make a move. Once again, it was surprising that no one seemed ready to act on such an opportunity.

  Like the other Angel officers, Milla was aware of several possible plots from within the Guard to get rid of Pristil. Seditious behavior had been reported by Angel spies, in particular those that operated within the Guard’s Tillethian division. The queen was seen as weak and ineffectual by many in the capital itself—and paradoxically, there were also still some who saw her as a threat, scheming grand nefarious plans just like her uncle had, whose corrupting influence was far from being forgotten.

  Yet, as far as she could see, no one from either side had so much as taken a step forward, or appeared ready to bring out a concealed blade. And if anyone did, Milla thought herself ready to defend Pristil.

  Remembering that she was about to have a duel, she shot her eyes back to the queen in time to see two iron blades spring forth from her long, loose sleeves. Pristil then used an air burst to propel herself off the stairs, and effortlessly employed an air cushion to land just in front of Milla.

  The queen didn’t waste time on further formal declarations; she struck right away with both blades, and Milla only barely put her own in the right place to meet them. Pristil pressed down with unexpected strength. Her twin swords, though thin, were made of tough metal that refused to give way or bend in her grip. Milla couldn’t see the queen’s upper arms or hands, but it didn’t seem like she was even holding onto two hilts.

  Knowing she had to up her aggression, Milla knocked Pristil back, turned on her blade’s engine, and slashed with her vector-enhanced edge.

  Pristil effortlessly dodged each swing while moving in a limber and agile dance. Despite a few seconds of perfect and graceful avoidance from the queen, Milla’s greater experience with combat soon awarded her some landed blows, if only on Pristil’s swords. She cut through both blades—only to watch them regrow and return to full form almost instantly.

  Iron adepts who fought with blades were known to repair and manipulate their weapons; that wasn’t unusual. But there was something about the speed of their regeneration and the strength behind them that was unique with Pristil. All of this—along with the fact that like many, Milla had underestimated the queen’s prowess—meant that the duelists were closer in skill than many had expected. Either could be the victor.

  At the fight’s one-minute mark, Milla began to feel the drain on her alchemagi. With solid hits on Pristil being difficult to pull off to begin with, she deactivated her weapon’s engine and instead began to fire off basic vector lines amid the swordplay, in an attempt to simply nick the queen’s arms or legs to slow her down and end things faster.

  But even Milla’s quick lines were too slow, and Pristil’s keen eyes kept picking up on their glow as they formed, giving her time to avoid them entirely. It wasn’t long before Milla gave up on alchemagi altogether so that she could solely focus on “safely” subduing the queen in combat.

  Pristil’s blades were so thin that they could be cut down like grass, but they were no less deadly. At an opportune moment, the queen suddenly unleashed a brutal flurry of thrusts, her movements blurring together as her twin swords launched at Milla repeatedly. Parrying or dodging every attack proved impossible, and she felt the hot sting of warm metal cut three times into her legs, twice in her side, and a painful five times into her arms.

  Milla resorted to creating an air burst to push Pristil away and stop the attack, which had cost both combatants their stamina. Milla recovered first despite her injuries, and swung overhead and down towards the queen, at this point letting some leaking rage power her blow. Pristil brought the strike to a halt by bringing up her swords in a scissor formation and ensnaring Milla’s weapon at the point where they converged.

  “I know what you’re doing,” Milla huffed as she pressed down and steadily brought her edge closer to Pristil’s face. “But we could work together to do it.” She then took the chance to see just how the queen was holding her blades, and traced them down into her long sleeves. “So, that’s it…”

  Pristil was gripping her blades—her fingers were wrapped tightly around a portion of the weapons below the sharp edges—but the metal itself was coming out of her wrists, and there was a noticeable rod shape that ran under her skin, all the way down to her elbow.

  “This duel is real, Nolland,” Pristil said and kicked her away.

  As Milla took a moment to stitch the cuts on her sides with vector lines at a safe distance, she remarked, “Your swords run through your arms. You must have iron coating your bones… Isn’t that painful?”

  “Pain is only an inconvenience. My entire sword dancing technique is centered around natural strength, of both body and alchemagi.”

  “Cadius must have trained you well,” Milla said, glancing at the bodyguard who was quietly, anxiously watching the duel near Savienth.

  Knowing that she had to keep cutting down Pristil’s metal until she could no longer recreate her swords, Milla launched her next barrage of strikes, now targeting only the queen’s weapons. She went after Pristil’s legs and arms, forcing her into defensive maneuvers that let Milla repeatedly slice apart her swords after one or two hits. After a furious and costly thirty seconds or so, with Milla feeling her endurance waning even as Caeden helped her, Pristil suddenly found herself with two short, broken blades that she could no longer regrow; her body’s iron fuel had been exhausted.

  “Can we… end this… now?” Milla panted as she stared down an equally worn queen. “Your talents are… impressive, Pristil. But this…”

  The queen shook her head, and retracted the sword coming from her left arm. After a few seconds, its metal had traveled over to her right, letting it extend and change form. A second layer of reflective iron covered it, and the malleable blade turned into something heavier that resembled a claymore. Even so, Pristil was still able to handle it with just a single arm.

  Both combatants wiped the sweat away before clashing their weapons once more, and now Milla’s edge met fierce resistance when she tried to get it to cut through. Two heavy swords crashed into each other several times, with each swing showing the might of the war’s two leaders.

  Simon, whose gaze was transfixed on a battle without precedent like everyone else’s, murmured, “Leovyn… This is almost over.”

  At his side, Leovyn grunted back, “Yeah. They’re reaching their limits. Everyone, no telling what happens next. Be ready for anything.”

  Eyeing her crossbow but not yet reaching for it, Tabi replied, “Ms. Nolland is incredible. I wasn’t sure she could fight like this… Like Garder.”

  “But I’ve rarely seen such swordplay,” Shin added, her focus more on Pristil. “The queen treats it like a form of art.”

  At the top of the stairs, Charles had clenched fists and rapid, shallow breaths. “Come on, Pristil… Come on, you can do this.”

  “She’s not the girl she was when the war first began,” Kae assured him. “Regardless of what happens… She’s already proven so much.”

  The duelists, their physical tolerances pushed to the brink, had to tap into alchemagi to keep up the power in their attacks. Pristil guided her blades with iron control; Milla, airburst-aided thrusts that kicked up dust.

  With the additional energy coming from Caeden, and perhaps only for that reason, Milla’s strength endured over Pristil’s and she was eventually able to slash downward hard enough to cut into the queen’s new weapon. Seeing a chance to end things and with her sword now thoroughly lodged in her opponent’s metal, Milla turned on her engine again, letting her vector-enhanced edge eat through the larger sword.

  Pristil gripped her bladed arm with her left hand to help steady it, but both were trembling under the stress as the searing chainsaw-like vector teeth steadily ripped through her last defenses.

  As droplets of sweat slid into her eyes, Pristil breathed out, “Thank you… for sparing Odin, General… She is our finest ever airship.”

  “The Guard has already… lost enough today,” Milla huffed back.

  “True… But we also need that ship… for the coming conflict.”

  With one more push, Milla sliced off Pristil’s blade nearly down to the wrist. The chunk of metal clattered onto the marble tile, the queen took a step back, and the assumed victor pointed her sword outward.

  Milla said wearily, “Well fought. But now may be time to surrender. You’ve nothing left to prove; you put your life on the line for your people.”

  Pristil smiled and cocked her head. That bit of smugness threw off Milla for a tiny critical moment, which the queen used to unexpectedly clap her hands together around Milla’s sword. She yanked and twisted the blade right out of her grip, managing to toss it a good distance away.

  “Seriously?” Leovyn muttered, amid some gasps of surprise from the many onlookers. “Crap, if Pristil can do that, Milla’s in trouble.”

  The queen swept her feet, raised her arms, and took up a ready stance typical for all manner of martial arts. While it was known that Pristil was an iron adept who was skilled with a sword, no one in the Angels had any idea that she was adept in the closest styles of combat as well.

  Milla put up her arms defensively, protecting her face but little else as Pristil began to pummel her with both closed fists and open-handed jabs, her movements too unpredictable to read. Having only minimal training in unarmed battle, Milla dared not open herself up by going for a fruitless attack of her own. She had to devote full concentration just to keep her most vulnerable areas safe, and taking steps back or to the side to avoid Pristil’s wild and potentially devastating kicks toward her shins.

  The queen’s assault was unrelenting despite her exhaustion, and she was quickly tiring Milla. After taking two painful jabs at her already injured sides that made her lean forward and gasp, Milla noticed part of one of Pristil’s swords nearby. It was a longer segment, just off to her left. If she could grab it, she’d be back in charge of the duel, as Pristil wouldn’t take her by surprise and remove a blade from her grip a second time.

  After steadily shuffling closer to the piece of sharp metal resting on the marble, Milla dropped her defenses, giving Pristil a chance to strike her neck or face. The queen went for it, but having expected the heavy blow, Milla ducked, rolled, grabbed the sword while bracing for its sharp edge that cut into her palm, and then swung it around as fast as possible.

  Her slash only just missed Pristil, who had used a small airburst to propel backward and throw more dust into the mix. The queen had also positioned herself to land at a perfect spot—right behind another segment of one of her blades. Upon noticing it on the ground, Milla went into a full sprint, determined to keep a weapon out of Pristil’s hands and get her into a position where she’d have no choice but to submit.

  Yet she was a half-second too slow. By the time she was in striking distance, Pristil had used a foot to kick the blade up and into her right hand, and was already in a full motion to land a decisive hit.

  Milla dropped to her knees and came to a skidding stop, Pristil’s sword so close above her that she could feel it brush her hair. The queen kept on going with a wide slash, turning it into a downward blow that could still hit Milla, who had lost her momentum. It was a tight maneuver with no room for error, but somehow the Angel general was able to twist herself around on the ground and move her edge over to her foe.

  The thin layers of dust parted, and the shapes of the duelists became defined for those who had anxiously watched the fight. They soon found themselves looking at what appeared to be… a stalemate. Standing was Pristil, a broken sword at her throat. In turn, her blade went downward, where it touched Milla’s neck. Movement from either could draw blood.

  Cadius was the first to react in a manner other than quietly staring at the result. He raced down the stairs to Pristil’s side, both short-of-breath combatants unsure themselves on where to go from there.

  “Enough!” Cadius yelled. “Queen, Ms. Nolland… enough. It’s a draw. Take this as a sign. Let’s have talks, try for peace. We can end the war today. There is much work to do, if we are to stand against what Drides is planning.” Cadius calmly put his hands on both swords and pushed them away from any major arteries. “Tethis, you’ve proven yourself.”

  Milla and Pristil each took a step back, let their swords dangle at their sides, and after sharing quiet nods, they both released their grip. The air was so still that everyone in the capital may have heard the metal drop onto the pavement. After another moment of silence, Pristil raised her right hand. Milla took it, and they shook as murmurs began to sweep the crowd.

  “Perhaps…” Pristil exhaled. “A tie is an acceptable end. Symbolic for the compromise ahead. Ms. Nolland… I’d like to form an alliance.”

  “An… alliance?” Milla tried not to stammer.

  “I suppose you could still attempt to overthrow us instead…” She leaned in closer to Milla and whispered, “But that would only weaken us against our mutual enemy. I can no longer stand against Drides alone.”

  Milla hesitated, knowing that such a move would be seen as a betrayal by many of the Angels’ fiercest soldiers. Yet, in the moment, she could also see the wisdom in the arrangement. More importantly, she was fairly certain that most, if not all, of her officers would understand.

  With an approving look from Pristil, Milla turned to all of those who had followed her into the capital and announced, “Brave Angels and loyal Guardsmen… As of this moment… We are at peace.”

  Reactions were muted. This development had been unexpected and felt of neither victory nor defeat. People knew that anything could happen, and one side may still prevail in some way. But, for now, there was certainly a truce, and most of those who just witnessed the moment treated it with a somber humility. There were some Angels and Guardsmen who removed their helmets and patted the backs of buddies or wrapped their arms around others’ shoulders, grateful that they had made it this far.

  Pristil walked to the third step on the palace stairs to make herself more visible, and spoke loudly, “Guardsmen, return to your daily postings. L’s armada will protect the capital entrance. I… invite the Angel officers to our grand hall to commence negotiations. Your soldiers will find food and sanctuary within the cathedral for the rest of the day.” She glanced over at the Finx siblings and Zalatrya. “And our stable has space for your rairer.”

  Izae looked up at her brother, who breathed heavily and gave his mount a reassuring stroke on the head. Above them all, the sky was shifting into the long day’s sunset hues, redder than usual from the smoke in the air.

  An unannounced minute of silence seemed to develop on its own, and everyone quietly reflected on the solemn event. Remembering who and what they lost, pondering history’s next chapter, thinking about…

  A sudden breeze invoked an interruption. Out of nowhere, Drides had appeared in the circle. It took everyone several seconds of reading one another’s reactions to realize that he was really there, and not a hallucination or mass delusion brought about by a mind adept.

  “William…?” Pristil exclaimed.

  “Allying with the enemy, hm?” Drides said loudly enough for all those nearby to hear. “I always knew you lacked fortitude.” He opened his mechanical eyepatch, but Pristil was too bewildered to even close her eyes or look away. “Your purpose has come to an end, Queen. Goodbye.”

  What transpired next did so in just over six seconds.

  From his position at the top of the stairs, Charles raised his pistol to protect the queen—but not nearly fast enough to get a shot off.

  Kae, however, traveled through light and appeared in front of Drides nearly instantly. She swung her battle staff downward, aiming at the apostle’s head, but in doing so had left herself wide open. He blasted her backward with an airburst before the blunt weapon could connect.

  Milla pushed her legs hard, muscles straining as she tried to pick up speed and get in front of the queen, where she could absorb Drides’ death alchemagi and shrug it off. But it was Cadius who was closest to the apostle, and without hesitation, he fulfilled his role as the queen’s protector and shoved her away, just as Drides projected his soul-severing energy.

  He was hit, his body turning to smoke right near Pristil—who could only shriek out his name. Milla, who would never let any sacrifice be in vain, already saw her best next move. Guardsmen were rushing in and close by, so with her alchemagi almost empty, she simply tackled Drides. He was sent reeling towards the armored knights and away from Pristil.

  After audibly cursing as he was cut by spears and swords, Drides used blade and alchemagi to defend himself and blow them back just as he had done with Kae—who was on her feet again and on the way. Eventually, Milla knew as she watched the skirmish, Drides would run. But she believed she would first witness a massacre, of Guardsmen and Angels alike.

  Then, in that sixth second, a large bolt of lightning arced over the crowds and crashed down in front of Drides. Preoccupied with Guardsmen and taken by surprise, not even he could react in time against a crackling blow. A wide slash cut through him, from a sword that unleashed thunder.

  Drides’ smoke and robes moved like a phantom to just a few feet away, where he reformed. The mysterious swordsman was prepared to kill him a second time immediately, but the apostle disappeared into a vector beam that went straight upwards before firing off into the distance.

  “Shoot…” Drides’ assassin grumbled as all eyes fell on him and he looked around. He straightened his posture and holstered his sword. “Got here a moment too late. Bastard already made a mess.”

  “… Viveri?” Milla was the first to respond. “Is that you?”

  Smirking, he raised his visor. And that was the end of the war.

  “Negotiations, you say?” Harken grunted, still among B’s ruins.

  “Aye, sir,” one of his men replied as the boss oversaw a covert recovery operation in a forgotten debris-filled alleyway at dusk. “Word is they started an hour ago. God knows what concessions the Angels’ll make.”

  “Figured this would happen,” Harken said in a disgusted tone. “All the more reason to have a fallback asset. Careful with your digging, boys.”

  Poking out from a pile of rubble being dismantled in a safe manner by Guardfall’s survivors was Garder’s arm, still warm.