Barukk has the numbers, the machines, and the ambition. But they lack what matters most - reach. Their army is too thin. An offensive would leave them vulnerable and spent.

  – Lady Nova Price, heiress to the duchy of Valhollow

  It was a rainy evening. Trista's coat clung to her, sending chills through her body. The last time she had been here was that day—the day she didn't want to remember, before she had worked for Lord Clarke, and eventually his daughter Vaera. Their patrol officer had led the charge through the damp terrain until they found their target—the necromancer.

  Trista shivered at the thought—friends she had spent the previous night revelling and drinking with, suddenly turned into thoughtless killing machines. Her inexperience had saved her, when her officer commanded her to call for reinforcements. The Order of Skaal from Freyland had been far too happy to help out. As if they had been waiting for the opportunity.

  She shook her head to clear her thoughts, grabbing the hilt of her sword subconsciously and feeling the satisfying crunch of the leather straps underneath her fingers. That was then. This was now. At a loud pop nearby, Trista's impish tail twitched and her eyes narrowed at the nearby circus. A circus—here to mock her, or just Rihtae's way of messing with her. She mentally shook her fist at the gods.

  The maid had been left in another town when the magic had worn off—no point in lugging her around any longer than that. Now it was only Trista, pushing her horse and making good time on her way to Freyland. But even on a tight schedule, a person will need food and water. That's why she had picked Perterwick as her first stop to resupply.

  There were plenty of people around thanks to the circus and Trista knew, she had to get back to her horse lest someone recognize her. Her fingers danced along the hilt, ready to unsheathe should any trouble arise. "Let them come," they seemed to tell her, "Vaera's enemies are our enemies. If we get to kill some of them, she'll have less to worry about." Trista clicked her tongue at the thought and chided herself for thinking like that. She really needed a rest. These thoughts would surely stop, once she crossed the border.

  Before she crossed the road, she was stopped by a tall person, poorly concealing their weapon in their dark cloak. Her eyes flicked to the side, spotting another hiding in an alley near a building. Given their confidence, Trista assumed she was already surrounded.

  "Trista of the Royal Guard, is it?" The big one growled at Trista as he spoke. His size made it clear he must be a beastfolk—caninus or bovinus maybe? Either way, he was easily twice as tall as Trista. But she had fought beastfolk before. "Would you mind leading us to your Lady?"

  Trista grinned. So they didn't know. They had no idea, Vaera was long gone. That she had fled in an airship. She couldn't stop the chuckle from escaping her lips.

  "What's so funny—?"

  "Nothing. Forget it." Trista said, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "I just thought of something funny is all." She pulled on her sword to unsheathe it, but in that moment an invisible blow hit her in the abdomen and she keeled over panting. Magic! The bastards. Trista was poorly equipped to deal with magic. Counter-magic artefacts were expensive and she wasn't wearing her regular armour in order to be less conspicuous.

  "I wouldn't try that if I were you," the beastfolk man said, as he approached her.

  Trista looked up, furious and ready to fight. She'd never known magic, she was useless at it. But she'd still sworn to protect Vaera despite all that. As if she'd let some of Kara's goons take her down so easily with their cheap tricks.

  She rolled back, when suddenly a large red shape rolled in from her side and came to a stop between her and the beastfolk. It was a large circus ball and on top of it, balancing elegantly was a clown—her blonde hair framed a face painted with clown make-up. A red circular nose adorned her cute face and in her hands was a speaking trumpet into which she yelled at the crowd which had suddenly gathered around Trista and her attackers.

  "DEAR PEOPLE OF PERTERWICK! OUR CLOWNS ARE HIDING A MAGICAL TICKET UPON THEIR PERSON" At this, she materialized a shiny ticket in her hands and showed it to the crowd. "CATCH THEM, GRAB THEIR TICKET, AND PRESENT IT TO US TO ENJOY A FREE NIGHT AT OUR CIRCUS AS WELL AS AN EXCLUSIVE TOUR"

  Trista blinked as the woman leaned over, removed her red nose, and pressed it onto the beastfolk that had previously threatened Trista. "Boop!" The clown snickered as the beastfolk clawed at his face, trying to remove the nose, but it was stuck tightly to his face. Trista saw the air bend around the clown, but the magical attack had been blocked with the tell-tale sizzle of a counter-magic artefact.

  The clown grinned as she repositioned on her ball. As Trista looked around for the other attackers, she saw circus members placing shiny red clown noses onto all of them. "LET THE GAMES BEGIN!" The woman shouted, spinning on one leg. "GOOD LUCK!" She winked at Trista and beckoned her to follow, as she rolled away on her ball, the crowd parting for her.

  Trista watched people crowding her attackers and grabbing at their clothes and gear, searching for the magical tickets. She swallowed, finally closing her mouth and releasing her sweaty grip on her sword. Her fingers tingled. She looked at the clown rolling away, then at the mob clawing at her attackers. What in Rihtae's name was going on?

  She took one cautious step, then another. Was it fine to trust this clown? Had they disabled all the attackers? Would there be more? She bit her lip. Where was Aron's brain, when you needed it?

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Without looking back she hurried after the woman and entered the circus tent. This had better not be a mistake.

  Trista frowned as she sat cross-legged on the cart, rocking back and forth on the uneven road north. "Where is Vaera?", "We can bring you safely to Freyland.", these were just a few of the lines the clown had told her. The clown—Poppy was her name—had been helpful, a saviour in her time of need. Suspicious, but what did she have to lose?

  She stabbed a piece of apple with her dagger and shoved it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. She was still moving towards Freyland. True to Poppy's words, there had been no more attacks. Her eyes scanned the horizon beyond the cart's tailgate—a peaceful morning. She couldn't even see Perterwick anymore. All around her were the Dead Tops, mountains so salty nothing would grow here. They were the natural border between Freyland and Reikha.

  A now familiar face sprang into her field of vision as Poppy effortlessly jumped up onto the cart. "Hey there, sleepy head," Poppy greeted her teasingly and grinned. The clown make-up was gone now and her natural beauty nearly blinded Trista's weary eyes. Even her fox tails were impeccably groomed. Just how early did this unbearable woman get up?

  Before she could snap a retort at the morning person, Poppy's finger poked her nose playfully. "I promised you a conversation, so let's go meet Finn."

  Trista recoiled from her touch and pressed her lips together. "Finn? Is he the one in charge?"

  A look of hurt crossed Poppy's face, too fast for most people to notice. But Trista had seen it, even as the kitsune's carefully constructed mask slipped back into place. "He's the one that suggested we should help you, yes." Poppy deftly snatched up a piece of apple and spun around, her tail brushing against Trista's face, tickling her. "Come on, let's go."

  As Trista watched the woman jump off the cart again, she slowly got up and sighed. This was going to be unpleasant. Not only because of Poppy's ego. She had no idea who this "Finn" was, and clearly Poppy and he had expected Vaera to be here with Trista. What were they going to tell her now? Would they demand payment for keeping her safe? Would they want her to explain the plan?

  Following Poppy through the caravan, which was moving northward at a snail's pace, Trista saw all sorts of different performers and their carts—acrobats, beast tamers, clowns, magicians. Conversations hushed when Poppy passed them, their faces awkward smiles like children trying not to get caught in a lie. "Ringmaster," Trista thought. Poppy was the ringmaster, not just a clown. She led the circus. Well, that might explain her hurt ego. Maybe Trista should apologize, but maybe later. She watched Poppy's movements—a skip in her step, energetic, anticipatory, proud. The woman was probably fine, no need to worry about her.

  Poppy slipped into a canvas-covered cart and Trista wordlessly followed her. Her eyes slowly adapted to the darkness and she found herself in a stereotypical fortune-teller's den. There was a crystal ball on the table in front of who she presumed to be Finn and everything.

  Taking in the surroundings, Trista hesitated for a moment before sitting down in the only empty chair in the room. The man's hair was black and tied into a ponytail. Poppy was a lithe and slim woman, but compared to this man, she looked almost pudgy. When their eyes met, she froze for a moment. He didn't even see her. Not in the physical sense, not blindness. It was like he was looking past her. The way one might look at a pebble on the road. Was this part of his act?

  Finn cleared his throat. "Ahem. You are Trista, yes? Of the Royal Guard?" His voice was weaker and warmer than she had anticipated. He reminded her of Aron in that way—an older gentleman.

  "Yes," she replied and nodded curtly. "My apologies for disappointing you, but Vaera didn't come with me."

  The man closed his eyes as he nodded slowly. "Yes, we are aware. It's not a bother." His tense posture and the set of his jaw told Trista a different story. It was a bother. Something unexpected. That should mean something. Could she trust him? What about Poppy? The kitsune just smiled and winked as Trista looked at her. Ugh.

  "She's heading to Meredith Lloyd isn't she?" As Finn asked, Trista couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in response. How had he known? Noticing her dismay, Finn smiled in satisfaction. "So, it is as I thought. You see, I'm not just a fortune-teller. I am a prescient."

  A prescient? Like the Oracle of Freyland? Trista narrowed her eyes. "Then why is it we're talking? Can't you just get all the information you need by seeing the future?"

  Finn chuckled and shook his head. "No, no. That's not how that works. I can only see snapshots—Pieces and fragments. I saw you travelling north and I saw you being in danger. So, we came to help."

  "Why?" Trista asked and crossed her arms. What was in it for them? A circus saving a queen-in-exile?

  Finn sighed and folded his hands in front of his face. "We'd hoped to prevent the coming of an unfortunate future. Something I've predicted. A war between Barukk and Reikha."

  "Barukk?"

  "Yes. You see, Meredith is not someone to be trusted. He's going to use Vaera for his own gain." Finn spread his hands as he explained. Trista's attention jumped between the eerie crystal ball, Poppy, and Finn. "But this isn't the part we're concerned about. Kara will not lead Reikha well. She's made a deal with Barukk. In return for weapons, she would let them build a railroad through Reikha." He sighed dramatically. "But Kara is proud and so are the Reikhan people. She won't allow the project to go through. The broken deal will only further hostilities between Barukk and Reikha. And do you know what will happen, when Barukk attacks?"

  Trista gulped as she thought it over. A war between Barukk and Reikha? She'd heard Aron talk about it before—what had he said? Her face drained of all colour as sweat beaded on her forehead.

  A few moments passed before Trista opened her mouth to reply, "Bangna and Freyland would be forced to intervene?"

  Finn smiled brightly despite the horrific possibility she had just presented. "Quite right! Barukk is a giant. Powerful and threatening. The only reason for our current stability is that it is spread too thin. It can't defend itself from three sides. If it were to overextend in one direction, the other sides would be too weak. Likewise, if it ever conquered one of its neighbours it would be impossible to keep it in check. And so... Bangna and Freyland would get involved."

  "But a war on that scale..."

  "Would be devastating? Yes, quite so." Finn tapped on the table impatiently. "A tragedy." His tone wasn't right. Was he being serious? Was this a game to him? Before she could contemplate this further he continued, "And this is why we need Vaera on the throne."

  Trista's focus returned on the matter of Vaera's safety. "What did you mean, when you said Meredith would use Vaera for his own gain."

  Finn shrugged expansively. "We're not sure. It's likely he will send her back to Kara or execute her on the spot."

  Trista swallowed hard and studied the crystal ball, trying to see an uncertain future in it. She couldn't let that happen. Could she catch up to Vaera at all and warn her? Was there any way? A semaphore message perhaps? No, it would be intercepted and she didn't know their stops. They hadn't shared their route with her on purpose—just in case.

  When she finally looked up, Finn's apologetic smile was directed at her. She bit her lip. He had no idea Vaera was going to make it to Coldtide long before any of their warnings could. He didn't know they were already too late. And she didn't have the heart to tell him.

  "I see..." she muttered instead. "I suppose, we should continue heading north then."