The night went by peacefully to the point that he might have forgotten they were at war.

  That was especially true because the quartermaster had provided Orion with a room for himself in a salvaged rowhouse just off the quay.

  Being the Veil Priestess’s son came with many perks, and while he wouldn’t brag or make a fuss about them, he wouldn’t make things harder for himself by refusing them. He checked on the stone foot, mentally tracing the translator runes until he was sure the mana feed was steady, and stepped out of bed, looking out the window.

  At some point during the night, the last of the toxic haze had been pushed out to the river and dispersed harmlessly there, and the wardwrights had set up wards along the streets to prevent a repeat attack even after they left, which made him feel much better.

  It’s not like I was responsible for Tia and Will just because I found them, but I’m glad they won’t be left to fend for themselves.

  With the flock moving back toward the northeastern Belt, it was very unlikely that anything would dare attack a settlement buzzing with protective magic, not to mention the other nasty surprises they’d leave behind in the form of knight constructs, courtesy of Eire.

  It also doesn’t escape my notice that we’re essentially claiming this village, but the Brine League is nowhere to be seen, and the Crimson Wheel might be involved in the whole mess, so there’s no one to really complain about it.

  A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. “Up,” Pauline called through the door. “We’re leaving in an hour.”

  “Coming!” He called back and hurried to get ready.

  Breakfast was a hot porridge, thick with milk and dotted with dried fruit, along with a cup of herbal tea that warmed him from the inside, even though it wasn't his favorite brew.

  He shouldn’t have been surprised that a major faction could organize such a spread even on the march, but the efficiency of the field kitchens, the way the cauldrons and supplies disappeared into travel bags within just moments of the last plate being served, still impressed him. An army capable of serving a hot meal to every one of its members in under an hour was a highly organized army, boding well for the future.

  Not that we even know what kind of campaign awaits us. This could all still be a quick affair where we eliminate the flock and return to the Sanctum in a few days, or it could turn into an endless slog if the situation is more complicated, as it seems to be.

  They took off before the promised hour had passed, and the formation’s point soared high into the sky, leveled out, and headed northwest, following the river’s bend.

  An hour later, another stretch of destroyed boats and blackened pilings appeared on the horizon, but with a difference. The houses behind the port still stood, though soot-streaked and scarred by war.

  Someone had resisted here, and they had succeeded in preventing a total loss. A ripple of surprise spread through the formation, as no one had expected any local to have the strength to resist the flock, even without Behenien’s presence.

  As they moved closer, a man rose up to meet them, creating a platform from the river water and levitating above what was left of the pier.

  Orion activated the SDGs, curious to find out who had held the wyrms back.

  Rellin Merrow — Captain of the Brine League

  Class: [Tidecaller] [B-rank]

  Level: 119

  Mind: 402

  Attunement: 768

  Body: 173

  Traits: Standing Wave [B]; River’s Grasp [B]; Pressure Lens [C]; Old Salt [C]

  Rellin looked like a fisherman and was a wiry reed of a man with sun-tanned skin, a salt-white beard, and rough hands. However, the way he controlled the water and his Attunement stat showed he was a true mage, regardless of his appearance.

  He’s a bit weaker than Hadrian Voss, but then again, that guy was a warden of an entire city and had the backing of the Sanctum. This old man is probably among the leaders of the Brine League, but that doesn’t mean much compared to the true powers of the world.

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  Asteria met him halfway, hovering just outside the town as a clear sign of the witch's effort to avoid spooking the man, exchanging a few quiet words that didn’t carry on the wind.

  Rellin gestured beyond them with a heavy look, and Asteria mirrored it, nodding, before they inclined their head and parted ways. He sank back to the river and strode toward the docks, walking on water as easily as if it were land, while Asteria turned, and to everyone’s surprise, did not signal to descend.

  Her voice echoed through the formation shortly after, explaining the situation, “The attack here took place last evening,” she said. “But it was smaller. A splinter from the flock separated from the main body in search of easy targets and found themselves denied by Captain Merrow and his men, who fought tooth and nail to keep their town safe. They have things under control and have asked us to make the wyrms pay for their arrogance. We shall.”

  It wasn’t a very long speech, but the flame that had been dimmed by the destruction of the fishing village reignited, and the witches echoed her back with a roar.

  They pressed on, gaining speed as a tailwind propelled them, which Orion easily traced back to Elder Candra, and soon, they came across the next settlements.

  Villages rushed below, all similarly affected, and Orion saw bits and pieces of piers burned down to the water, while smokehouses built further inland mostly remained intact; a small settlement where boats still floated but their nets had melted into the river from the toxic flames; and a sandbar scattered with blue scales and fragments of ships that had been engulfed by flames.

  In one area, men in reed coats shoveled mud into a burning house, while women cared for the wounded; in another, the only sign of activity was a single skiff rowing fiercely upriver.

  Under different circumstances, they would have been obligated to stop and offer help, but they were approaching, as the signs of battle were more recent.

  We need to stop the flock now before it sets the entire northern Belt on fire.

  By early afternoon, the Belt began widening again, expanding so much that it could easily be mistaken for a lake. On the northern shore, where the Brine League’s territory ended and the Crimson Wheel’s began, a city was visible.

  It wasn’t as majestic as Valderun or as picturesque as Silverpeak, but it couldn’t be denied that it was an important settlement, with vast stretches of warehouses, piers of all shapes and sizes, a large castle at its center, and enough housing for tens of thousands.

  It was also at war.

  The sky above the walls writhed with wyrmlings, which soared and dipped in predatory dives, with drakes rising and falling from the river like leviathans, while plumes of amethyst flame hit the city’s wards and skated off in great waves that made the water sizzle.

  The river churned with barges and flatboats, some overturned and at the mercy of the monsters, while others were held together with grapnels as men fought across planks.

  Flags snapped in the wind, all bearing the same sign with the crimson wheel on a field of gold.

  It was an absurd sight, and Orion struggled to understand what kind of situation could have caused it, but the closer they got, the more madness became apparent.

  On the southern curtain wall, which hung over the frothy waters and where the wards were brightest, men in those same crimson coats were stabbing and shooting at other men in crimson coats, using embrasures as cover while a wyrm’s breath threatened the wards just feet above their heads.

  Someone cast a spell at a tower, causing a large piece of it to fall onto the city, and then a different spell shot back from a building a hundred yards away.

  On the walls, men killed men, seemingly indifferent to the death hanging above them, just a hairsbreadth away, while on the boats, it was more like a free-for-all, with no clear way to tell who was fighting whom, given the identical uniforms, and the way both groups only engaged the wyrms when they got too close.

  “Hold,” Asteria said, and the formation froze, still too far to be seen by the warring parties in the chaos of battle.

  She and three other Magistrae soared higher until they became dark specks against a lighter gray, then grew still as their senses extended beyond their bodies, scrying the situation to gain clarity.

  The rest of the witches spread out in their flights, with Elder Candra leading the way, prepared to unleash the wrath of the Sanctum on anyone dumb enough to get too close.

  Orion’s skin prickled as the sounds of battle echoed all around him, and he had to fight the urge to do something, anything.

  Pauline noticed and drifted closer to him. “Going in blind would be a terrible mistake.”

  He grunted, knowing as much, but still annoyed. The enemy was nearby, within reach, and while he would never be particularly bloodthirsty, he could admit to wanting revenge. Losing a limb would do that.

  Asteria dropped back a few minutes later, her face set into a hard mask. It was easy for him to understand that whatever she’d found wasn’t particularly pleasant, but it didn’t seem to be catastrophic either, which hopefully meant they would avoid a full-out civil war.

  That would not be good, and not just because of the death and destruction. My long-term plans would have to be put on hold indefinitely, as I seriously doubt the Sanctum would approve my leave under such circumstances, not to mention what it would do to inter-factional diplomacy. My little club would die before it could even do anything.

  “The main flock is here, with five to six drakes, a swarm of sea serpents in the water, and more wyrmlings than we can count. Although the Matriarch herself is hidden from magical sight, we know she is nearby, waiting for something,” she said, looking up at the dark clouds above them, where the dragon was likely lurking.

  “The wards over Stillport are strained but holding, and they will stay in place for the next few hours, as long as the chaos within the city doesn’t weaken them. From what we could gather, the Crimson Wheel Consortium is currently undergoing a coup, as one of the merchant princes has declared his intent to seize control of the entire faction and oust the ruling council, with support from a large portion of their mercenaries, and that is reflecting in the local scene, where one of the man’s allies is taking advantage of the chaos to seize Stillport,” she finished, looking disgusted.

  Yeah, who could have seen that coming? Mercenaries are usually so good for a government’s stability, he thought sarcastically. He still remembered how the Consortium had promised to solve the bandit problem on the main trade routes and sent out its “troops,” only for many of them to become petty warlords, collecting tolls and living large while the major factions were busy with the war in the south and the sudden retirement of the Speaker.

  Asteria turned, her gaze briefly flicking to Orion before returning to the flight of witches overall. “We must drive the wyrms off first,” she declared, and Orion knew that this upcoming fight wouldn’t be a practice run like the previous one. “Only once that is done can we address the internal conflict of the Consortium. If one faction hasn’t already gained the upper hand by then, we will restore peace by any means necessary, but that is secondary.”

  There was a pause, as she turned around and eyed the flock of wyrms that was even now feasting upon the fleeing boats. “Kill them all.”

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