On Tuesday morn, Gwen set out her schedule while basking in bed like a lounging lizard. She managed to jolt her brain with just enough juice to generate an itinerary:

\- Work out a Spell-list with Petra after breakfast.
\- Check out her CC balance at the Tower and see what’s for purchase.
\- Establish a training schedule between November and early February.
\- Try to catch up with Gunther and co.
\- Contact Elvia.

‘Ding!’

Her Message Bracelet pinged.

“Hello? Pats?”

Petra had called to inform her cousin that Magister Wen had received ‘the good news’ and was thus expecting Gwen’s august presence at the 2nd PLA Hospital.

“Oh.” Gwen's mood instantly fell several fathoms. “Okay, I’ll be there in an hour.”

In her smallclothes, she walked onto the winter-garden to check the weather. With the quiet death of September, Summer had come and gone. Below, the oak and mulberry trees lining University Avenue were transforming into a river of brushed orange and daffodil yellows.

Thinking of the hassle of changing into the hospital gowns, Gwen elected easy ankle-pants and a silk pullover sweater she had bought in Hangzhou that hung loosely over her body. She tied her hair into a knotted bun and rounded the outfit with her peep-toe Hermès. If there was one thing she loved about her insanely expensive magical-shoes, it was that damage-resistant, elementally-attuned, self-cleaning couture could be worn whenever, making the purchase of artisanal goods actually worthwhile.

She took the subway, the same route Petra had shown her but in reverse, picking up a milk-tea on the way. Alighting from Wujiaochang, she then proceeded through the internal stratum of the hospital's megastructure until she reached the lab.

“Miss Song, Magister Wen and Director Song are waiting for you,” a guard informed her politely.

“Cheers, Cheng.” Gwen waved.

Cheng beamed, he had not expected the girl to remember his name.

“Have a nice day, Miss Song.”

Gwen was surprised herself, given the perspicuity of her recall. Even with her babulya’s Clarified Ioun Stone, her memory was hardly eidetic. Was it a condition attributed to her newfound Draconic-essence? They did say Dragons held grudges forever.

She entered the sterile laboratory.

There was Magister Wen, seated by the affinity-machine, her pale crystalline eyes scanning over slates of data placed beside and in front of her.

“Gwen.” She managed a smile, evidently less salty over Guo’s rebuke now that some time had passed. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Gwen nodded curtly, bowing succinctly. “Where’s Grandmother?”

“She’s with Petra.” Wen patted a seat beside her. “Come, sit. Let’s talk.”

Gwen kept her expression as ambiguous as possible as she ‘took a seat’. Her rip-roaring, palpitating heart, however, failed the subtlety test. The distinct impression Gwen felt was that she was seated next to one of those tigers you took a picture with while in Bangkok.

“Come on. I won’t bite.”

Gwen sat, her face a wholesome apple-pink despite her best efforts.

“Look.” Magister Wen cleared her throat. “I am sorry.”

Gwen blinked at the Magister.

“I have allowed my curiosity get the better of me.” Magister Wen extended a hand. “Truce?”

Gwen stared at the hand as though Wen had suddenly shoved a barbed tentacle in her face. She had known that Wen was awkward when it came to things like ‘empathy’, but asking for a ‘pass’ in the aftermath of having Gwen murder a stranger in the name of Spellcraft was a little too strange.

But - she took Wen’s hand anyway.

It took two to tango, and Gwen was confident she wouldn't be cheated again. Like a great statesman once said: "There's an old saying in Tennessee—I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee—that says, 'Fool me once, shame on...shame on you. Fool me — you can't get fooled again.'

“Of course,” Gwen smiled amiably. “Let’s work together as before. We're both stakeholders, are we not?”

“Very good!” Magister Wen stepped back, then stood awkwardly, unsure of what came next. “That was easier than I’d thought, to be honest. I had anticipated resistance or outright rejection.”

“Nothing so complicated! We're colleagues, and also...” Gwen decided to do a little politicking of her own. “Secretary-General Miao sends his regards.”

Wen visibly paled.

“Yes. Yes indeed.” She forced a cringeworthy smile to her thin lips. "The Secretary's office did say to keep you out of harm's way."

Watching Wen fidget, Gwen regretted borrowing the tiger’s terror, hoping that her spontaneous indiscretion would not make Petra’s tutelage under Wen more awkward than necessary.

‘Beep!’

The laboratory’s glyph-protected doors opened.

“Gwen, you’re here!” Petra’s voice greeted the two already within the room.

“Gwen, how are you feeling?” The other voice belonged to her babulya.

“Alright!” Wen clasped her hands, interrupting the irksome public display of affection. “Let’s get some numbers!”

Magister Wen stared at the script in her hands with such intensity that one wondered if her colourless, crystalline orbs would fracture.

“Lightning - 6.54.”
“Void - 4.32.”

“Just how many mid-tier Lightning Creatures did you consume?!” Wen’s complexion appeared as though she had enjoyed a glass too many of chardonnay. “You were at 4.8! Your affinity growth is worthy of two decades of dedicated practice!”

“Gwen.” Petra nudged her cousin. “Stop teasing my Master, bring out Ariel, I want to see what it’s giving you.”

“Ariel!”

“MAO's Tomb!” Wen spluttered. She had known that Gwen had a ‘Kirin-like Familiar’, but the visual confirmation was shocking nonetheless, especially as she had known Ariel in its infancy. In fact, by her recount, only a few weeks ago, Ariel had been a furry marten.

The two girls bit back laughter.

Seeing as Gwen, Petra and even Klavdiya were having a go at her expense; Wen took several seconds to compose herself.

“Petra, help me set the machine up to measure Ariel,” she commanded, putting a hint of steel back into her shaky speech. As one of the very first individuals to encounter and study Gwen, she knew more than anyone else what the girl’s absurd growth portended. Her research with the Void was making steady headway. If she could replicate its effects, a Meistership was assured.

As for their immediate question: If Gwen’s affinity was 6.54, how much of it was courtesy of Ariel?

Spirits did not ‘add’ tiers of affinity in a linear sense. As denizens of their respective elemental Planes, they allowed for greater efficacy in energy transfer, spell manifestation, and of course, provided IFF.

“6.35,” Petra announced once Ariel’s portion was read out.

“A low-tier Spirit.” Wen touched a finger to her data-slate, seemingly relieved. “Ladies, we are in rare company.”

Though both Klavidya and Petra had already known Gwen’s abilities, they nonetheless gaped with awe. Wen’s semi-sardonic remark was no joke. How many Mages could arguably boost a natural affinity over 6? How many Mages could look forward to their Spirit Familiar ultimately reaching a tier capable of adding a multiplier that could push it to 8 or 9? Would there come a day when Gwen’s tier 3 Lightning bolts possessed double the damage and range while necessitating a negligible volume of mana? Her tiers of Conjurations could be kept active almost forever. Her Dimension Door could range hundreds of meters while requiring a fraction of the cost.

Gwen squirmed, unused to the feeling of familiar face gazing upon her as though they had spotted a tap dancing panda bear.

“I wouldn’t celebrate yet.” Wen coughed, interrupting the moment of revelry. “Affinity doesn’t come free, you should know. Gwen is going to see some interesting mental and physiological changes too.”

The coldness of Wen’s pragmatic advocacy doused Gwen’s affirming flame. It was true. She had already felt the influence of her prideful Element driving her onward even when the best course of action was to reverse course. Likewise, thinking of her uncle Jun, it was evident that without the Kirin Amulet, he would have become an apathetic cadaver incapable of caring for his most basic needs, kept alive only by servants and a team of attentive physicians. As for Hai, Gwen had no idea what the effects of Salt were. Despite being a quasi-element, it held only trace volumes of Negative Energy, making the Element more akin to Water.

The next indexing machine wasn’t nearly as taxing on the women’s suspension of belief.

“Evocation 4.69.”
“Conjuration 5.22.”
“Transmutation 2.75.”
“Abjuration 2.01.”
“Divination 1.35.”
“Illusion 1.96.”

“There’s significant growth on both your Primary schools,” Wen noted. “Did a lot of fighting, did you?”

Gwen nodded.
A lot of fighting was an understatement.
She fought Merfolk, Draconic-fish, Draconic-deer, a Thunder Wyvern, then a whole fruit salad of Mages and even a Magus.

“VMI 234.”

An increase of 4, Gwen wondered if it was because of her extended bout against Golos, or if there was some mana floating around all those creatures she had gleefully Consumed.

“Petra.” Klavdiya turned to her grandniece. “How’s Gwen’s theory-work?”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Passable,” Petra noted. “Unless you're thinking of having Gwen take the Magus examination. Then no. She’s not even a second year.”

Klavdiya turned to regard Gwen’s confused face.
The girl was oblivious! It was adorable.

“Mao’s ghost.” Her grandmother grimaced mirthfully. “I hope they won’t disqualify you for misrepresenting yourself. I don’t think there’s a Mage in all of Shanghai who can take down an actual Combat Magus in a one on one duel.”

“Puahaha.” Gwen chuckled, pulling Petra close to her. “That’s the plan! Let em underestimate me, and then BAM! Crystals!”

Behind the trio, Wen watched; her irises two pools of sterile, distilled water. If Gwen and her family had been more conscious, they would have noted the Magister's fingers trembling as her paper-thin lips formed an upward curl.

As it was already noon, Gwen and Petra farewelled their babulya, then took lunch at a local deli selling Hongkong style bbq pheasants.

“Far too greasy for me.” Petra polished off a leg, leaving the rest of the carcass to the ravenous Gwen.

“Food in Hangzhou tasted so light.” Gwen swallowed, ignoring the usual stares from pedestrians and patrons. “Salt, sugar, and saturated fat, that’s Shanghainese food in a nutshell, haha.”

“Well, don’t forget the soup.” Petra pointed at the extra bowls that came with the meal. “What say we check out Fudan T2? I am interested to see if your contribution to Morden’s Hound sold well.”

“Oh yeah~!” Gwen quickly spooned down the sauce-soaked rice. She had forgotten all about Morden's Hound because Gunther had said he would take care of it.

“Let’s go!”

With both semesters over, the Tower was on half-staff roster.

When a young man took their petition ticket, his eyes widened.

“You’re Miss Petra Kuznetsova! And you’re Miss Gwen Song!”

Ooo, Gwen mused. Are we famous? Or rather, am I infamous?

“No Mongolian Death worm today, Ma'am?"

“Caliban is taking a break.” Gwen reminded herself to let her Familiars 'air out' as soon as they got back to the apartment. Both at Mayuree’s place and with her hospital visit, she had put off re-summoning Caliban.

"!"

At the mention of its name, her Void-Familiar’s pocket dimension became agitated, indicating its desire to be out and about.

“So, how can I be of service?” The young man’s eyes glowed, feverishly taking in the splendour of the Flower of Fudan and her cousin, The Worm Handler. He could hardly wait to tell his friends. He had met and served THE Worm Handler, in person! Too bad she didn't have her worm with her.

“Checking on my CCs,” Gwen smiled and pushed over a signed slip.

“Of course, Ma'am. It’ll only take a moment.”

The young man returned a minute later with Gwen's data-slate.
Gwen tapped through her profile.

203 CCs.

HOLY corn-chips!

There was a note attached as well:

'Gwen, the Tower has granted you access to Morden's Blood Hound and Hound Pack. In exchange, get Magister Wen or someone to help you with a report on how Master's Signature magic interacts with the spells. The Pudong Tower has been advised and should provide you with the scrolls - Gunther.'

“Petra, I’ve got…” Gwen passed on the number discretely.

Her cousin’s husky-blue eyes widened.

“We’re going to need a private office,” Petra informed the helpful clerk. “And bring us the Spell Catalogue. Oh, can you check if Gwen has any items from Pudong?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” For some reason, the young man saluted.

The clerk escorted the two of them to a private chamber with opaque glass walls, then returned to deliver the thick volume of spells-for-sale. Under his other arm, the young man carried two scroll-cases reverently.

"These are keyed to you mana signature, Ma'am."

"Thank you."

Petra gave the young man a dazzling smile, then clicked the doors shut, blocking out his stupidly grinning face.

She materialised her tablet, several notepads, and pens.

“Alright, sit down.”

Gwen obediently followed her cousin's orders.

“Write down your Spell list,” Petra commanded her. “Let’s see what we can do in the next ten months!”

The girls spent the next few hours drawing up a chart of Spells Gwen may very well benefit from if she were to become a one-woman-party.

Her Evocation was steadily working its way toward tier 5. Her acquisition of Ariel as a Lightning Spirit meant that with IFF, she could now be far more liberal with her range of Incantations.

For tier 4, Evocation staples such as Ice Storm and Wall of Fire, which both had Elemental-shift variations, would both up Gwen’s combat utility as well as her AOE potential.

Likewise, for tier 5, she had the incredibly useful Evocation-cum-Conjuration incantation ‘Bilby’s Hand’, a spell made famous by Magister Bilby Bigglesworth, the youngest disciple of Magister Morden. It was also a spell her Master had once shown her, though back then the possibility of her using the spell seemed so far away.

**Bilby’s Hand**
Conjuration (5)
Casting Time: 41 Major, 40 Minor Incantation
Range: 1 - 20M
Components: Somatic, Verbal
Duration: Persistent

_A Signature Spell of Magister Bigglesworth adapted for modern Spellcraft. It is said that the Late Magister wished to improve on his favourite spell as an acolyte - ‘Mage Hand’. This variation of the Magister’s famous telekinetic incantation may be used by both Conjurers and Evokers, though knowledge in both schools is necessary to maximise the spell’s efficacy. Upon manifestation, a prehensile human hand between 1 to 2 meters in height appears. The Mage may control the manifestation as Mage Hand, commanding at will the phantom appendage to grasp, manipulate, push, pull or attack the target. The Elemental-shifted variation is intended for Mages with material elements such as prime, quasi, and para-elemental variations of Earth and Water._

“I am not so sure.” Gwen mulled over the possibility of ‘grabbing’ her opponents. What kind of Magister specialised in groping their targets? Did he grab a Dragon by the... neck? Perhaps a Centaur by the... mane? Or maybe a Lamassu by the... paws. With a famous spell like this, the Magister could grab whatever he wanted.

“Its absurdly useful,” Petra corrected her cousin. “You could retrieve things from afar, save people from torrents, push back boulders; it’s one of the most versatile spells anyone could have. Not to mention the non-Elementally shifted variety is usually used for pacification. You’re still into that sort of thing, aren’t you?”

“I’d say so.” Gwen sniggered. “Okay, I’ll keep it in mind. Still, 53 CCs!”

“You won’t regret it,” Petra assured her. “Let’s keep going.”

Cone of Cold, a spell firing away a blast of Lightning or Void Matter in a 90-degree cone extending up to 15 Meters, was another impressive AOE Gwen could now utilise at tier 5.

As for the future, Petra pointed out that tier 6 brought the most potent spells a Magus could arguably employ without the need for mandalas. Maelstrom, Chain Lightning, Blade Barrier, all three were tried and true damage-dealers capable of changing the tide of a small battle.

At the mention of Maelstrom, Gwen’s lip stiffened.

She recalled the story of Elizabeth Sobel when the woman had first awakened to the Void. Her Master’s wife had then opened up a vortex which turned the Battle of the Brisbane Line, culminating in Sobel’s descent on to a dark and insane path of endless hunger.

Would the same happen to her if an endlessly consuming miniaturised black hole opened up atop thousands of enemies?

Gwen dispelled her doubt with annoyance.

She was better than Elizabeth. She had the wisdom of Sobel's failure to guide her. She had Henry’s instruction. Moreover, she had her friends and family, she had her Almudj’s Essence. And unlike Sobel, her powers were gained through Caliban indirectly.

“Now, about Conjuration…”

So far, Gwen had only a single tier 5 Conjuration spell - Conjure Elemental Swarm.

“I’d say pick up some of Morden’s spells, especially since you’re able to get a discount since you’re the originator of the new Elementally-shifted incantations.”

"Got em right here!" Gwen announced proudly. "Freebies!"

She opened the scroll-cases.

At tier 5, there was Revised Morden’s Bloodhound.
At tier 6, there was Revised Morden’s Bloodhound Pack.

Once she could push into tier 6, with her VMI and her control over her Familiars, she could summon Caliban, Ariel, a single bloodhound, and a pack of up to a dozen dogs. She would indeed be a one-woman army! She could harass her enemies with her hounds, then let loose either an AOE or single-target assaults with Evocation, or even supplement the ‘swarm’ with Conjure Elemental. Just thinking about the glory of a pack of Lightning-dogs or Void-mongrels had her proverbial tail wagging!

Going beyond the Hound-based options were other Conjuration staples such as Cloud-Kill, which filled an area with motes of Lightning or Void, perfect for dispersing mass-troop movements.

Additionally, tier 6 in Conjuration marked the entry point for higher-order spells such as Planar Ally, a spell which bound a semi-intelligent tier 6-8 creature temporarily to the caster’s service. Likewise, Arcane Gate was the precursor to Teleportation at tier 7, allowing long-range, non-instantaneous transfer of the caster across vast distances.

“Arcane Gate and Teleportation are Tower-only spells,” Petra pointed out helpfully, observing her cousin’s eyes aglow with passion. “You need to be a registered Sanctioned Magus to submit the applications for learning them. Anyone caught breaking the rules: be it Clan, House, Magus or Magister, is going to have to answer to the full force of the Council. Usually, a Mind Wipe would be the kindest punishment. In the worst case scenario, you could get iced. That’s why its easier to give one’s followers Teleportation Scrolls.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Gwen thumbed the pages. A state can’t allow folks to come and go nilly-willy. It would make the idea of border security a joke. “What else we got?”

“Here, I’ve outlined my suggestions. These are all utilitarian spells, by the way. Some of them you can’t use without theory. Next semester, you can pick up some Utility-courses to up your WAM, or take Secondary-Magic classes for things like Divination.”

“Hmm…”

Gwen browsed through Petra’s notes, one hand on the spell-list and the other on the Spellbook.

Only one spell was highlighted for Transmutation - Flight, arguably the most important spell to master, and one that paired with every other School of Magic. But it was also the most time-consuming. She wasn’t just getting her metaphorical Provisional Driver’s licence; what she needed to acquire was the ability to circumnavigate like a boss while slinging spells, like Frank Martin in the Transporter, or Dom in the Fast and the Furious movies.

As for Abjuration, Petra recommended against taking advanced courses that required extensive specialisation. Her Spell-list thus included only the staples.

Tier 1 - Resistance, Endurance, Mage Armour, Alarm
Tier 2 - Obscure Divination, Static Shield, Repulsion Shield
Tier 3 - Ward, Explosive Glyph, Barrier

“Bloody oath, that’s a lot of spells!” Gwen blurted out.

“All practical.” Petra nudged her. “They’re not difficult to learn. I’ve neglected Dispel Magic, Dispel Curse and Negate Ward. Those are far too specialised, you’re not going to be working at a Shielding Station, so there’s no point wasting time on theory. Even if you did, there's a snowball in the Elemental Plane of Fire's chance you of all people would be called upon in a time of need.”

“I am barely tier 2!” Gwen protested. "No way I am getting Abjuration to tier 3 in 10 months in addition to everything else."

“Well, work on it. You could also pay CCs to study advancing Shielding theory with one of the Magisters. Where did you get your Signature Shield from again?”

“Gunther.”

“Well, I don’t know if there’s going to be someone like the Morning Star in Fudan.”

The girls continued down the list.

“Divination is going to be problematic,” Petra confessed. “You can ask Mayuree about it as well, but insofar as I know, if you want to serve as the Party’s Message relay, you won’t be able to cast high-tier spells yourself."

“Too much static in the brain?”

“More like you’ll be maintaining a Message mandala,” Petra sketched out the ‘problem’ for Gwen on a piece of scrap paper. “As you can see, the more ‘people’ you support, the more likely you’ll be inundated by their thoughts. There’s a reason Diviners are trained from the age of ten. Neither you nor I can handle it. Personally, I never Spell-cube Divination spells other than Detection Magic. If you want to play that role, get a Magic Item for it.”

“Hmm…” Gwen touched the list with her index finger. As before, it was an impressive list:

Tier 1 - Detect Traps, True Strike, Hunter’s Mark
Tier 2 - Arcane Sight, Aura Sight, See Invisibility.
Tier 3 - Link Familiar

“That’s the one that allows you to look through your Familiar’s eyes,” Petra pointed out. “It’s going to be a chore to train up your Divination, but with a flying Familiar, I’d say it’s one of the most useful spells a Mage could have.”

Ariel Surveillance? YES PLEASE.

“I can imagine,” Gwen mused, giggling to herself.

“Finally.” Petra moved her finger to the bottom of the Page. “I don’t recommend learning Illusion at all, but if you must - here’s a list of helpful spells for the IIUC. Keep in mind that like Abjuration, you’re going to have to attend beginner, intermediate, then specialist classes if you want to use the School in Combat.”

“What’s wrong with Illusion?”

“One, it’s useless against golems and the undead. Two, most of it requires so much concentration you need to be standing still while casting. Rare is the day that you see a flying Illusionist, but then again, you’ll be competing in the IIUC, so who knows? Illusion is big business in the States and Europe. Here? Not so much.”

Gwen took note of Petra’s recommendations.

Tier 1 - Auditory Hallucination
Tier 2 - Haunting Mists, Mirror Image, Minor Image, Magic Mouth
Tier 3 - Hypnotic Pattern, Haunting Vision, Lingering Image

The list appeared as though she was going to operate a Rocky Horror House at a freakish carnival. What if she learned to summon visions of Lovecraftian Transvestites from Transylvania? After all, she had the entire 20th century’s horror genre to plagiarise. What if she paired Caliban and her Void-hounds with yet MORE gut-churning terrors?

Gwen shuddered.
There's potential there.
What the hell would they call her after that?

“You’ve got so many options that it’s become a burden.” Petra patted her cousin's head, hoping she hadn't burnt Gwen's brain. “Take your time. For now, work on your two main Primary Schools of Magic and get used to the Lightning. Didn't you say Caliban has a new form too?”

Gwen nodded.

"I can't test Caliban without live targets. Richard mentioned a dungeon, didn't he? Can you make it?"

"I'll see," Petra answered. "It'll depend on duration, and my Master's schedule."

Gwen nodded.

She collated her notes, then closed the Spellbook. It would take time and advice to ruminate over her Spell-list. Maybe she could get a second opinion? Perhaps one of her lecturers was willing to give her some of their time?


The girls’ quiet dinner at home was joined by Richard and Lulan, both taking a few days off from adventuring. Kusu forbade Lulan from ‘being a bother’ to their saviour, but the ex-Clanner couldn’t care less about her brother’s idiosyncratic politeness, coming and going as she pleased.

Conversely, Petra had taken a liking to the girl and didn’t mind Lulan at all. Perhaps it was because of Lulan’s ability, though more likely, Gwen guessed, it was because Lulan was what they called a ‘straight shooter’. The girl didn’t have a deceitful bone in her body. Whether because of her Iron affinity in Earthen magic or merely that she was raised to be simple, Lulan meshed well with the Russian beauty whose formative years were spent amongst Factional politics and intrigue.

“So, what do you think about bringing Percy as a lucky charm?” Richard began after dinner was done and dusted.

“It should be fine, though I’d have to confirm with Grandfather. I'll say its a bonding exercise.”

Gwen wiped her hands on a napkin, then reached for the rice pudding. Now that she had a few days to settle down, her metabolism was giving her hell. Although her draconic essence suppressed her Void-induced hunger, it was no better in its relentless demand for snacking.

“That would be best.” Richard leaned back. “Training with Lea is costing me an arm and a leg! We could all do with a boost to our extracurricular budget.”

Upon hearing her name, Lea looked up from the living room, where she had been playing with Gwen’s familiars. Though sapient, the Undine felt more at home conversing with its fellow elementals, even if one of them was Void-serpent with endless hunger, and the other was a worshipful Kirin.

When the trio had met the other night, Lea had been intimidated by Ariel’s draconic-demeanour, so much that she quivered behind Richard. It took a drop of her emerald-essence and several minutes of coaxing to finally convince Lea that Ariel was indeed its marten self and not some predatory Dragon looking to eat or mate. 'Look!' Gwen had pointed out. 'Ariel has no ding-a-ling!'

“Where are you thinking of taking us?” Gwen spoke between mouthfuls of rice custard.

“A Dungeon - well, a Monster Lair.” Richard produced a Lumen-caster from his ring, and projected images of what looked like a hole dug into the side of an escarpment, surrounded by dense shrubbery. “We were clearing the Tonglv canal when we discovered it.”

“What’s in it?”

“Water Monkey's Den.”

"WOA~!"

Gwen briefly envisioned ten billion Sea Monkeys swarming forth from the cavern’s mouth in a white-pink devouring wave, their little shrimpy claws snipping away at every inch of organic matter in their krill-path.

“He means Watery Ghosts,” Petra pointed out, sensing Gwen’s remarkable confusion.

But her cousin appeared taken yet again, now imagining ten billion undead, incorporeal Sea Monkeys rushing forth like that scene from Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King, only the spectral millions were starved Sea Monkeys out for vengeance against their neglectful teenage owners, lead by Krillagon, last of the Heir of Krillisildur.

“They look like bedraggled Jueyuan.” Lulan decided to lend a helping hand. “Only with giant bulging eyes, sharp claws and teeth capable of chipping my iron sword. They’re also cannibalistic, though they prefer other meat. The locals say they're single-sex beings that rape human women, though I am sure that's made up. We saw females while we were in the den.”

“Holy hell.” Gwen grimaced. “That sounds nasty as anything.”

“Yep.” Richard observed the Familiars mucking about as he spoke. “Bloody good cores though, they’re semi-sapient and so make great material for mid-tier magical items. Especially for imbuing water-based Enchantments.”

“Well, what’re we looking at?” Gwen, the capitalist entrepreneur, raised a critical, snobbish brow.

“About 50 to 300 HDMs, pending on the tier,” Richard sagely advised. “There’s A LOT of the buggers in that cave though. We got through about three dozen of the little nippers before we had to retreat.”

“How come?” Gwen glanced toward Lulan, the last persons she would have associated with the term 'retreat'.

“They had the home ground, and they’re ambush predators, and they have low cunning, and they run away,” Lulan grumbled, puffing out her cheeks. “If it weren’t for Richard and Lea, some of us could have died.”

“Their claws and teeth are poisonous as well,” Richard added. “At least these buggers are. Your wound festers if left unchecked, starts oozing pus after about an hour, then there's the fever.”

“Sounds like an infection.” Gwen was reminded of a National Geographic episode she saw about Komodo Dragons.

“Well, 'disease' then.” Richard shrugged. “We pushed about a kilometre before the caverns widened. Crevices and cross-tunnels all over the joint. I figured it would be best to get you in on the action, maybe invite Mina as well.”

“Team cousin?” Gwen laughed. "Round two, monkey boogaloo?"

“Possibly, unless Petra wants to come? We’re in it for the money after all. I doubt Tao and Mina would care for HDMs.”

“I am always on the lookout for more HDMs.” Petra raised her hand. “Research, training, luncheons, rent, clothes, power, extra-curriculum - everything costs HDMs. Shanghai is an expensive city.”

“Bloody oath, ain’t that the truth,” Richard laughed.

“YES! Shanghai is VERY expensive! Kusu and I pay almost a hundred HDMs per month!” Lulan replied with a shell-shocked expression. When she had received her first paycheck of 300 HDMs, she had thought herself the wealthiest she had ever been. A few weeks later, 80 HDMs went to training, 55 went to rent, 25 went to food, and 75 went to tuition. Since then, Lulan had become budget-conscious, ever paranoid that a single mishap would wipe her out. Her immediate goal, though laughably insignificant, was to be as well provisioned as Gwen, casually spending 1 to 2 HDMs on high-class meals in fancy restaurants with 5-star reviews. She also had her eyes on some clothes which Kusu disapproved of; cementing her opinion of him as a dried up, scrotal prude.

“The PLA ain’t taking care of it?”

“Naw.” Richard shook his head. “There’s a Dungeon-Clear bounty though. I am betting there’s a bigger monster inside controlling these fish-faced monkeys. They’re staying put for now, but once their numbers swell…”

“They’ll be out in force,” Petra agreed. “The Construction Bureau's cleared the land, right? It's aquaculture from the Yangtze to the coast.”

"So what?" Lulan asked. "That's how it is in Hangzhou and Suzhou."

“That means no more food for the Water Ghosts,” Gwen expanded on Petra’s conjecture, a simple enough ecological deduction. The destruction of hunting habitats meant apex fauna had to forage for food elsewhere. As for the Water Ghosts of Tonglv Canal, it just so happened that there were 7 million odd meals in Nantong within half a day’s travel. Of course, Shield Stations sheltered the city, but there were tens of thousands of labourers working outside here and there on the canal, enlarging the city’s transportation infrastructure.

“Which is why we should take advantage of the bounty before the local authorities are forced to act,” Richard declared. “I am sure the locals are keen to be not torn apart in their sleep either.”

“Why does Nantong sound so familiar?” Gwen cocked their head. “I've got it on the tip of my tongue.”

“I worked there a few months ago,” Richard reminded her.

“NO WAIT!” Gwen felt a bulb ignite briefly through the air. “Nantong! The Nantong Fungs! Dai’s Clan!”

“You know the Fungs?” Lulan’s mouth grew sulky. “They’re incredibly uppity! Think they’re better than us just because Nantong's been rezoned to be a part of Shanghai. They're a boat clan, you know.”

“Lulu means the deep-water port,” Richard added helpfully. “The Tonglv Canal offers access to the South China Sea and has trade routes running up to Korea, Japan and the north-east coast of China.”

“Right, thanks, Dick. Lulu, if you meant Dai, we're acquaintances.” Gwen determined that after fighting off Wonsoo and Golos, her instigated duel with Dai’s bodyguard was child’s play. She wondered if it was possible that she could K.O the guy with a single Elemental Sphere. To think that she’d struggled six months ago! Caliban’s Consumption truly was a cheat-like ability. “The Young Master owes me a favour.”

Gwen watched as Lulu's thin, petal-pink lips made an adorable ‘O’. Ever since Lulan’s restoration, she not only looked younger, but more refined as well. Not having to deal with damaged mana channels and a faulty implant that polluted one’s Astral Body could do wonders for a girl's complexion.

“So, interested?” Richard implored his cousin. “We haven’t done anything together since Hengsha.”

“Of course! Sign me up!” Gwen clenched her hand for a fist-bump, which Richard smoothly addressed with one of his own.

“Me too!” Lulan raised her fist as well.

Gwen met her halfway.

“Pats?” Gwen floated a fist toward their femme fatale.

Petra rolled her eyes.
Then met Gwen halfway.

“FOR HDMS!”
“FOR CORES!”
“FOR CCs!”
“…”

Petra refrained from joining the cringeworthy battle cry.
If anything, she whispered, 'For dignity!'

“I’ll let you know by the end of the week.” Richard packed his bowl and chopsticks. “You do your best with our lucky charm.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Back at the apartment, Gwen took it upon herself to ask Gunther and Alesia for advice regarding her Spell-list. They had been discussing the virtues of Creature Mage combat versus aerial casting when Gunther dropped a bomb on her.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?" Gwen shrieked, her startled voice rattling the panes.

"Absolutely." Gunther laughed. "Ariel can direct Morden's Hound Pack. The Arch-Mage's Familiar, Milo, was a Church Grim. It was said to be his Pack's Alpha."

Gwen saw sparks.
Ariel, leading a pack of Lightning Dogs?!
Could anything in this world be more perfect?

“Ugh, I can’t believe you’ve almost caught up,” Alesia's voice uttered from somewhere beside Gunther. “I am… bloody hell, I am thirty-four! Twice your age! What the hell am I doing?!”

“Don’t dwell on it.” Gunther brought Alesia into view, giving her a peck on the forehead even as he wiggled his brow conspiratorially at Gwen to keep from pushing the matter. “More importantly, I am pleased that Ariel mutated into a spirit, and a pseudo-Kirin no less. I dare say it's going to bring you fame and trouble in equal measure.”

“Ah~, about that.” Gwen sat back down on the living room couch. “I was hoping you could tell me more. Did Master ever mention anything about Signature Conjure Familiar rituals?”

Gunther shook his head.

“Not to me. At least not for Conjuration. My Schools are all over the place. I Majored in Evocation. Additionally, Master and I developed an Illusion-Conjuration secondary school to amplify my Radiant powers. Master Henry was an outstanding theorist. Alesia’s Spellbook is likewise chock-full of Signature spells.”

“I wish I could have known him for longer,” Gwen lamented sadly. The loss of her mentor had come so suddenly that even now she felt as though she could return to Sydney and see Sufina and Henry sitting in the Grot, sipping on a cuppa of Golden Mead.

“More than a teacher, Master was like a father to us.” Gunther echoed Gwen's grievance, sympathising with the dour atmosphere. “He had a lot of secrets though. He once told me that he hoarded Signature Spells because Elizabeth Sobel could utilise every School of Magic.”

Gwen nodded. That made sense.
To think that if Henry had remained alive, she would have inherited a treasure trove of Signature Spells from around the world.

“Did Master leave behind any clues for something like a Grimoire collection? Scrolls?”

“No,” Gunther refuted her hopeful fancy. “If anything, Sufina would have a copy, but you were the last one to see her.”

“She didn’t mention anything,” Gwen recalled her last meeting with Sufina. “She had already grown distant by then; I think she’ll revert to her baser instincts after another decade. I hope she’ll at least remember us.”

“I hope so too.” Gunther’s face took on a grim cast. “It’s too bad you couldn’t assume Master’s talent for the Prime Element; else you could have inherited Sufina. I am sure she would have liked you. Remember how you used to feed her that viridescent mana of yours?”

“Oh~, about that…”

Gwen explained the ordeal with her Druidic Essence, with their serpent friend ‘Al’, and her recent acquisition of Draconic Essence.

Her Brother-in-craft took on a thoughtful expression.

“Maybe you should pay Sufina a visit in the near future, anytime within the next five years,” Gunther suggested. “As for Alesia and I, we’ll join you as soon as we’re able to bring back Sobel’s head.”

“On a silver platter,” Gwen added helpfully. "Don't forget, I am a part of this as well. I am coming too."

“Of course.” A smile touched Gunther’s lips, his pupils glowing like two embers in the ambient light of Alesia's apartment. “It haunts me, you know.”

“What does?”

“My failure.” Gunther’s chiselled jaws clenched. “Being unable to prevent Sobel's ploy. Being baited to fight the Leviathan. Given the same choice, I would have gladly allowed the numberless millions to die if it meant Master could be here with us today.”

“Would Master have wanted that though?” Gwen caught the flash of pain as it crossed Gunther's laconic face. Her chest grew constricted; the rare display of raw emotion made it all the more powerful. “Master would have wanted you to help the city.”

“I know.” Gunther sighed. Gwen wondered if Gunther would have liked to be 'Alesia' once in a while and just let loose. “They sentenced Walken, you know. Stripped him of his titles. He’s retired now. Gone to a teaching job. His Faction fell apart. Magister Ferris is the head of the Grey Market now. They’re fully compliant with the rebuilding of the city.”

“That’s good to hear.” Gwen could feel Gunther’s frustration. Her Brother-in-craft would have coveted nothing more than to annihilate Walken, whose misunderstanding had expelled Gunther from the Tower at a critical junction. It was unfortunate that the Radiant Mage's sense of justice did not allow him the satisfaction, knowing that Walken was as much a victim of Sobel’s conspiracy as anyone else.

“Gunther, are you done?” Alesia’s voice came through the LRM Device. “I want to speak to Gwen.”

“She’s all yours.” Gunther retreated from the projected image. “And Gwen, enjoy those CCs. Master might not have left you a Spell Book, but he certainly left you an inheritance.”

“Thanks, Gunther.” Gwen blinked away a few drops of wayward moisture.

“Gwen!”

“Alesia!” Gwen watched as Alesia’s face drifted closer. Her Sister-in-craft had regained her lost vivacity; she appeared far healthier than when they’d last spoken; her complexion once again had that glow atypical of Australian women.

“Bring out Ariel again! I want to see Caliban too!”

Gwen obliged.

“Awww, how wonderful!” Alesia cooed. “I could snuggle Ariel all day, and maybe Caliban, just for a little bit.”

“Ha.” Gwen snickered, wondering how Alesia would feel if she could see Caliban in its Horror Stag Form.

The two women then discoursed regarding Gwen’s future Spellcraft training. Gwen reiterated her proposed Spell-list, asking Alesia for a second opinion.

“I wouldn’t bother with Illusion or Abjuration, to be honest,” Alesia pointed out. “I would focus on Divination, empower my Evocation and Conjuration, master Flight, and specialise as a Hunter-Killer. With Void and tier 6 Lightning, you could be peerless. Get Morden's Dogs up, and you'll be a bonafide living nightmare. Between Dimension Door and Flight, you should be perfectly safe. Don’t you have Gunther’s Shield as well?”

“Hmm…” Gwen weighed Alesia’s advise. It was certainly true that she was a glutton for spells. “Thanks, Sis. I’ll consider your input.”

“Don't over-generalise, but don't over specialise. Too much specialisation and you breed in weakness. You’re going to have teammates. No matter how many spells you know, you're one woman. As a single Mage, you can’t multi-cast anyway,” Alesia advised. “Don't pussyfoot around when you can lay down the Wrath of God. Let’s see some sucker try to attack when they're one Lightning bolt away from electrocution.”

"Well spoken." Gwen snorted.

“Good.” Alesia beamed. “Now tell me again about how you thrashed this Golos feller, in the ass, you say?”

Gwen wanted to call Elvia as well, but it was getting late. 8 PM in Shanghai meant noon in London. There was no way that on a Tuesday, at midday, Elvia would be in the dorm with nothing to do. She would have to wait for a more convenient time or wait for Elvia to call her back.

“Done?” Petra always secluded herself in her bedroom whenever Gwen called her companions overseas. Her cousin’s self-imposed discipline made Gwen feel glad, grateful, and guilty.

“Sorry.” Gwen dipped her head. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us? Alesia seems quite taken with you.”

Petra shook her head.

“Divided loyalties are never a good thing.” The Russian smiled, her luscious lips forming a rouged crescent. “As long as my studies under Master continues, I am bound to her for the duration of our relationship.”

Gwen inclined her head.

She had raised the matter of Petra’s apprenticeship with their babulya. Klavdiya had assured Gwen that Petra wasn’t an ‘inheriting disciple’ but rather an 'apprentice' in a mutually beneficial relationship. It was akin to the ‘Apprenticeship’ that Alesia had offered Gwen at her uncle’s house; in the parlance of Gwen’s old world vernacular, Petra would be a PhD student, and Wen her Supervising Professor.

Other than guidance, knowledge and a co-authorship, Petra stood to inherit nothing from Wen, and so was bound to the Magister only for the duration of their Thesis on Spell-Cubes. Once released from Wen’s studies after another year or two, Petra would be able to apply for tenure at an institution, join either of the Towers or failing that, become a private consultant.

“Feel like a snack?”

Petra shook her head.

More than a snack, it was more accurate to say that Gwen took meals just before she slept. Once, Gwen had fallen asleep while cooking instant noodles and had almost pulled a Marong, clearing out the whole apartment with the smoke from her flaming ramen.

“G’nite, Pats.”

“Nite, let me know what you end up picking.”

"Will do!"

‘Ding!’

Bleary-eyed, Gwen reached for her Messenger Device.

“Gwen!” Mayuree’s voice came across the vox-glyph. "Can you come up?"

Naturally, Gwen was still in bed.

“Why… something important?”

“I’ve got Enchanter Maymaruya here to talk to you, can you come up?”

“Sure, let me get ready!”

“Dress up!”

“Alright, alright,” Gwen buzzed back. “Give me twenty.”

“TEN!”

Gwen rolled out of bed.

A quick circulation of her Draconic Essence was enough to chase away her physical fatigue, though her increased metabolism was giving her an unexpected bane - insomnia. She either woke up hungry, experienced hyper-arousal for no discernible reason, or laid back in bed with her eyes wide open.

She retrieved her matt-navy mini dress from her Storage Ring. Its flared sleeves were formal enough, while its modest hem gave her a dangerous and titillating edge. For shoes, Gwen stuck to her Hermès; she had worn it daily since Hangzhou, savouring the afterglow.

A quick over-the-shoulder ponytail and a pair of cat-eyes later, she was up and over.

“Good morning!” Gwen greeted Mayuree and the old gent seated in the lower living room. Hastily, she scanned the room for Mayuree’s erstwhile shadow, Kitty, but the girl was nowhere in sight. “I am sorry for being late.”

“Miss Song.” The Magus dipped his chin respectfully. “I am Magus Maymaruya, serving under the House of M.”

“Sir, Mia said that you have business with me?”

“Miss Song.” The Magus remained standing while Gwen sat, making her a little uncomfortable. “I would like the pleasure of purchasing and inscribing the Earth Dragon Core you have provided.”

Gwen turned to Mayuree.

“He means the pangolin.”

“Ah.” Gwen nodded. “I would not mind. It’s not mine though, or rather, half of it is mine. How may I repay my benefactor if I were to allow this favour?”

“In currency, favour, or service,” the Magus immediately addressed her concern. “Mayuree’s elder sister, Miss Maymyint, has dire need of it.”

“What do you wish to do with the Core?”

“A gift,” Haymaruya declared. “For the Tyrant of our conquered homeland.”

Gwen raised an exquisite brow.

She and Mayuree had an unspoken pact. She would not unduly expose Mayuree’s history or family, and Mayuree steered clear of hers. They were friends and allies, and it was best to remain as such on the best of terms. Should they unduly gain too much knowledge of one another, it would likely impact the path upon which Mayuree’s prophesy lay.

Beside Gwen, Mayuree remained as quiet as a sleeping lamb.
If knowledge were to be passed under innocuous circumstances, who was she to put a stop to what came naturally?

“Where are you from, Magus Maymaruya?”

“Please, just Maymaruya.”

“Maymaruya.” Gwen squared her shoulders. "Please call me Gwen."

“From a Frontier south of China.” The Magus’ face grew nostalgic. “A place rich in jade and gems and the bounties of nature. A fallen kingdom once called Myăma.”

“BURMA?” Gwen blurted out. “Mayuree, you’re from Burma?!”

“Please do not use that name.” Maymaruya spoked with quiet dignity. “That is the name of a colonised country. We are the people of Myăma.”

“Right, sorry.” With the aid of her clarifying Ioun Stone, Gwen tried to reconstruct as much of her twin-world reconstruction of Myăma as possible. All she recalled was that the place was a constant hotbed of human rights disputes - that and Aung San Suu Kyi was one of its heroes, suffering house arrest until finally bringing a semblance of democracy to the country in 2015. If this is the year 2003, it could only mean that the Junta was well in control of the state and that in four years, there may very well be a violent but futile uprising. “Say, I might be completely wrong, but how’s Miss Aung San Suu Kyi these days?”

“The daughter of General Aung San?” Maymaruya’s face grew stern. “Her name is Aung San Yuzana. She is unfortunately imprisoned in our captive nation, kept as a prize by the tyrant. Who is this Miss Suu Kyi?”

Gwen quickly glanced toward Mayuree, who sipped her tea gingerly.

“No one. How’s the situation with the Military Junta?”

Maymaruya appeared confused.

“What is… this Junta?”

“Sorry.” Gwen coughed. “I am not well-informed regarding Myăma. Who is keeping General Aung San’s daughter captive?”

“A name that shall not pass our lips, for its gaze sees far, and its ears hear all.”

Gwen’s mind furiously connected the dots presented to her.

Mayuree’s family owned and operated a Mercantile House called the House of M.
She came from a ‘conquered land’ called Myăma.
A ‘beast’ ruled the fallen Frontier, a place famous for gems, jade, and jewels.
It kept the famous daughter of the nation’s founder captive.

A beast that hoarded gems, coveted jewels, and kept a girl captive after taking a kingdom hostage?

RIGHT.

“So.” Gwen smiled delicately for the Enchanter. “Tell me about this Dragon. It's not called... Smaug... is it?”


“The Tyrant came upon Myăma some two decades ago,” Maymaruya began, his countenance the manner of one delivering a eulogy. “At first, like the fabled Yinglong, it desired only a mountain upon which to nest. As a remote Frontier city in the 1980s, Yangon did not possess a Tower capable of defeating the tyrant without crippling our city-state. We asked for help from the British Mageocracy, though as expected, no help came; the newly formed Commonwealth was too busy establishing its Towers all over the world to oversee the problems of a deserted colony.”

“Not Smaug then. Still, I am guessing it came…” Gwen dug through her long-term memory for what she could recall of Burma. “For the Jade, and the gold?”

“Yes.” Maymaruya nodded. “It came for the jadeite, the gems and the gold.”

Gwen was happy to know that at least some of her old world knowledge still held up. British Imperial Burma, now officially known as Myăma, had once been a thriving kingdom. Like all medieval kingdoms, it fell to decay and internal strife and was conquered by the British Empire during its Pax Britannica days.

Despite its infamy for poverty, Burma was in fact, one of the wealthiest regions in the world when it came to natural resources. The struggling nation possessed an untapped trove of exotic animals, lumber, natural gas, oil reserves and native fisheries. Most notably, however, British controlled Burma was infamous for its blood-jade and gem trade. No other place on earth could produce jadeite with the clarity and hardness of Kachin’s excavated stones. It was no wonder then that a Dragon had taken an interest. In a world of Arcana, Jadeite could substitute for Creature Cores, being itself a form of congealed mana formed of the Quasi-elemental Plane of Minerals. Though Gwen herself had little longing for jade, she had seen the Chinese Mages donning their jade pendants, earrings, thumb rings, belt buckles and waist-danglers.

“The House of M was called by another name then,” Maymaruya continued. “We were the lords of Tawmao and Khansee, the heartland of Myăma’s jade trade, inheritors of the old kingdom.”

“I see.” Gwen paused. "Did you dig too deep looking for the wonders of Myăma and then awoke a nameless evil?"

"You are too perceptive, Gwen. Yes. It was in 76' that we unearthed the Jade Pillar, an enormous lode of Jadeite of the highest purity, possessing an incredibly dense core capable of serving as the basis of a Tower’s nucleus.”

“So, a Dungeon Core?” Gwen wasn’t up to date on the matter.

“Indeed, that would be the name for such a thing in today’s parlance,” Maymaruya affirmed her suspicions. “A Tower needs to tap into geo-dynamic Ley-lines, and only a Dungeon Core possesses the density and size necessary for channelling the earth’s natural energies.”

“What IS a Dungeon Core, if you don’t mind me asking,” Gwen implored. “I am only a student, Magus Maymaruya. Please excuse my ignorance.”

“I take no offence,” the Magus replied. “Mayuree, are you listening?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mayuree battered a hand.

Gwen gave Mia a comforting smile, which she returned warily, unsure of where this was all going and fighting the urge to find out.

“You must know about Creature Cores.” Maymaruya raised the Pangolin core.

“Yes.”

“Good. A Dungeon Core is not so dissimilar; it is a solidified mass of condensed elemental material, buried deep down in the earth where subterranean Ley-lines meet. Did you know that the PLA Superstructural Tower has at its heart the King-Stone of the Huang River? I was a part of the team that excavated it.”

Magus Maymaruya mimed his incredulity with animated glee.

“Three storeys high it was, big as a skyscraper, entirely consisting of condensed Earthen mana. It took the team six months to move it to the construction site, and another two years to carve the glyphs necessary to channel its latent energies.”

Gwen made an ‘O’ with her lips.

“But I digress. As I was saying, having found the Jade Pillar, our city-state was readying itself for building our Tower. We had even invited the Mageocracy’s Magisters to aid us in our endeavour.”

“But the Dragon had other ideas.”

“Indeed. The 70s was a time when unified magic was young, Miss Song. You must understand that our nation struggled with Western Spellcraft, possessing only six Magisters and no more than three dozen Maguses. There was no way we could have fought the Tyrant to a standstill. Even if we had won, there wasn’t enough of us left to rebuild Yangon.”

“We attempted to placate it at first. The Tyrant had remained on Mount Arakan, in the Golden Valley, minding the territory and warding off lesser beasts. It had even made the region safe for human habitation. We were wary, and so was the Tyrant. But of course, human nature prevailed. A few of the local Lords thought the creature Divine, though I could hardly blame them. After all, our Goddess is a Naga, a form of Dragon-kin. They approached the Tyrant with carts of polished jadeite and nephrite, stoking the creature’s insatiable greed. Over time, the Tyrant grew more and more voracious until it caught news of what we had unearthed in Tawmao.”

With a greedy ear, Gwen eagerly consumed every word.
The Enchanter’s alternative-history of a colonised nation was music to her ears!

“That was the beginning of the end for our city-state.” Maymaruya shook his head wistfully. “Arriving at our capital, the Tyrant destroyed the construction site, chased off the Mages, then carried away the Jade Pillar, calling it the cornerstone of its unholy palace. Surprised and beaten, we desperately attempted to retrieve the Pillar. Without it, we could not construct our Tower. We asked for help, but once more we were outdone by human nature. Factions within the Mageocracy took advantage of our weakness. Old allies and new enemies from China, India, Japan and Britain flooded the country under the guise of ‘aiding’ our city, only to pillage Tawmao of its jade, leaving our people to rot.”

“After that, those of us who survived fled the country. We smuggled out what we could and established a trade consortium with our shamefully gotten gains, amassing wealth and waiting for the day when we could raise an army, gaining enough influence as to invite a tier 1 city’s leadership into helping us reclaim Yangon.”

“What’s happening with Yangon now, as we speak?” Gwen enquired.

“It survives, barely. Until the Tyrant is removed, I fear, we will never have our Tower. Without a Tower, we are cut off, unable to join the ranks of even minor Frontiers like Chittagong, or compete with our neighbours in Bangkok.

Gwen turned to Mayuree, who’d been silent the whole time.

“Was I supposed to hear that?”

“Was Miss Song not in the know?” Magus Maymaruya coughed gingerly. “At all? You had spoken of her so dearly that I’d thought…”

“It’s fine.” Mayuree visibly relaxed, as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “The Goddess willed it. I was no more than her instrument. Well, Gwen, now you know about the House of M!”

“So the M stands for Myăma?”

“Close enough.” Mayuree smiled. “It stands for our country, of course, but also for our displaced House and home. There’s a symbolic significance as well. The M stands for Mü, nothing. Until we recover Tawmao and restore Yangon, we are the house of ‘Nothing’.”

“The House of Moo…” Gwen rolled the words across her tongue. “Yes, the House of M is definitely what I would have stuck with as well.”

Mayuree, who must have been well versed in English, wouldn’t have it.
The two girls had a pleasant chuckle, offsetting the heavy atmosphere.

“So, what can I do to help?”

“Nothing.” Mayuree rested her hands on her honeyed thighs. “It’s not your problem.”

“But?”

“There is no but,” Mayuree insisted. “Come back when you’re a Tower Master. We can pay to fly your Tower over and fight this dragon, haha.”

“Alright, I’ll keep foreign aid as a top priority.” Gwen grinned. “So, tell me about this gift. Why are you giving this ‘tyrant’ of yours Magical Items?”

“It’s a Trojan gambit,” Mayuree divulged readily. “Maymaruya says that the Pangolin Core contains traces of the Yinglong’s essence. Dragons are extremely territorial. Mixing items like this into the jade we send it will make it think that another Dragon is encroaching on its territory. If nothing else, it’ll be losing sleep - and Dragons love to sleep.”

“What if you well and truly piss it off?”

Mayuree tilted her head.
Maymaruya explained for his young mistress.

“Not even the Tyrant can detect the whereabouts of a thing like this if we embed it into a procession of jadeite Bodhisattva. It would have to destroy the visage of the Naga Goddess to get at the Core, and the Tyrant is too superstitious a being to do that and too greedy a drake to relent a priceless carving of Imperial grade jadeite.”

“Eek, the woes of being a Dragon,” Gwen mused. Like a starving man eating raw turnip; the stinging acridness of the bitter flesh made one vomit, but the hunger disallowed such a meal to be forsaken.

“There are worse things.” Mayuree stretched. The girl was impressively flexible, reminding Gwen of her cat. "As the Tyrant's essence pervades these statues, they will subsume and 'erase' the essence of the Earthen drake. A land God as powerful as the Yinglong would certainly sense such a thing. Maybe it'll stir the pot for us, dislodge the Tyrant?"

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

Gwen wondered if she should say something like they were playing with Dragon-fire, but she was too uninvolved to start telling people how to recover their long-lost homelands. If Thorin could have been persuaded, the book would have ended differently.

“So, the House of M will pay in currency, favour, or service; up to you. What do you say?”

“I am fine with it,” Gwen conceded. She wouldn’t know the first thing about hawking the Core of a Sapient Earthen Dragon-kin, but she could trust Mayuree on offering a fair price. “Myăma, huh? A House of Nothing. I am so sorry, Mia.”

“It’s been like that since I was born, so I don’t feel the loss, not like Maymaruya here.”

“You would have loved Yangon, young Mistress.” the Magus' voice was pregnant with nostalgia. “It would warm my old heart if you could see it one day, the city that is - the avenues abloom with Dendrobium, Frangipani and Cherry Blossoms; the Sule Pagoda resplendent in gold and ivory, the saffron-clad monk boys, walking to morning prayer beside the cafes of the Yangon Riviera. We had all of that before the Tyrant usurped the city’s jade, gems, ivory and gold.”

“That sounds nice.” Mayuree closed her eyes. Imagining the serene scenes of the Riviera.

“One day.” The Magus sighed. The Enchanter then turned to Gwen. “Miss Song, are there any items you wish to craft right now?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.” Gwen smiled politely. “Mayuree, any suggestions?”

“Not unless you want to disclose your spell-list and talents.” Mayuree put up her hands before Gwen could respond. “No, no, don’t do that. Trust me. Just tell us what you need.”

“I don’t know what I need.” Gwen faced the dilemma of a high-maintenance girlfriend being asked what she wanted for dinner.

“Our in-house Crafters specialise in Ioun Stones, pendants, rings, earrings, precious stone bracelets,” Mayuree informed her friend expertly. “Maymaruya, can you give Gwen a few recommendations.”

“Our most popular products are Contingency Rings.” The Magus smiled. "But I can see you have one already."

Mayuree glanced at Gwen’s fingers.

“An exceptionally master-crafted device.” The Magus begged for her permission. “May I take a closer look?”

Gwen extended her lithe fingers, fancying herself performing the mafioso gesture of one looking to have a signet ring kissed.

A brief glow flashed across the Magus’ eyes.

“From the Royal House of Asscher!” The Magus snapped back, punctuated by a sharp intake of breath. “Mistress Mayuree! Is your friend of noble lineage? Are we in the company of a noblewoman?”

“No, no!” Gwen withdrew her hand quickly. “I am just a nobody from Sydney’s redneck south coast!”

“Impossible! You are too modest.” Magus Maymaruya was shaking with excitement. “The Royal House of Asscher are jewellers given the title by the Dynasty of Queen Juliana herself! They were and continue to be the foremost Enchanters in the field of Gemmology! They pioneered the Spellcraft behind Contingency Magic, the basis of which is the Royal Asscher 17-facet algorithm! Yours is an incredible collector's item. From the cut, the clarity of the Core, and the glamour applied to it, Goddess, it could be worth a hundred thousand, without question!”

OH FUCK. Gwen felt her hand immediately grow sweaty, as though the ring might slip from her fingers at any moment. GUNTHER gave her a ring worth enough currency to buy… God knows, a lot of things! Hadn’t Jonas and Paul, Alesia’s crew, joked that Gunther’s ring was like 15,000 HDMs? Why is it worth ten times the amount now?!

“Maymaruya…” Mayuree coughed.

“Of course, you may trust my discretion - on my life,” the Magus announced, placing a hand to his chest. “By the Naga Goddess, I will keep your heritage a secret, Mistress Song.”

There’s a terrible misunderstanding, Gwen wanted to say. Having the Magus in awe, however, wasn't a bad thing. She had told the truth - the man's opinion was his own business.

“Thank you, Maymaruya.” Gwen smiled regally. “Now, your suggestions?”

“We possess several useful patents,” the Magus continued. Swiping his hand across the table, the Magus produced four intricate jewellery boxes.

“Oo~.” Gwen’s eyes sparkled.

“The first is a Band of the Lamassu.” Maymaruya opened one of the boxes, revealing a ring in the form of a lion biting its tail. “It performs several auditory functions. The first is the ability to project your voice, which can be used at will. The second is the ability to generate a tier 3 shatter effect against hard-Shields, three times per day. Finally, once per day, it can be used to project a sonic Cone at tier 5, as per Cone of Cold. Used with Lightning, I would mark the Shatter at tier 4.”

“How useful is it?” Gwen turned to Mayuree.

“There’s no casting cost, no need for incantation, and the effects happen at-will,” Mayuree advised her friend. “It’s for use in one-two combos, for example, a shield-shatter effect, followed immediately by one of your Void-Bolts.”

“Oh, ouch.” Gwen made a face. “That’s a little lethal for my taste. Are there items made for Monster hunting?”

The Magus chuckled, then opened the second box.

“A Dungeon Earring,” he announced quickly.

Gwen burst into snorting laughter at the 'pun-ishment’.
Who’d thought the Magus was into fatherly humour?

“Great for dungeoneering, I bet.”

“Yes, indeed.” The Magus laughed. “These come in sets of five, a Master and four Slaves. The Master, when attuned to a Diviner, boosts the Diviner’s Message Range. When used by a non-Diviner, it generates a Message Relay at tier 1, with an effective range of twenty meters without LOS and up to two hundred meters with LOS. It allows free communication between the master and the slave units.”

“VERY USEFUL!” Gwen picked up the scintillating, ruby-like Creature Core, mounted atop a sterling silver setting.

“Indeed. Here-“ The Magister opened the third box. “A staple - A Ring of Mind Shielding, with Mind Lock, Resist Glamour and Resist Illusion. It will vastly improve your resistance to Mind Magic, Suggestion and external Glamour. Works against both human and non-human phenomena.”

“I could use one of those.” Gwen pinned the tear-drop crystal against her ear. “Mia, how does it look?”

“Beautiful.” Mayuree beamed. “It brings out your eyes.”

“Aww, thanks.” Gwen gushed. Who’d knew having a family jeweller was so awesome?

“And the big one.” The magus opened the final box. It was a necklace pendant with a thumb-sized opal.

“Oh…” Gwen’s eyes sparkled. The stone was breathtakingly beautiful.

“Crafted from the Core of an elder Foglet.” Maymaruya allowed the light to play through the stone, showing off every facet of its scintillating beauty. “A Ghosting Amulet - it's a contingency item. Should you suffer a catastrophic Shield Break or become injured, you will be Dimension Doored to a safe location. At the same time, if you are an Illusionist, it will further draw upon your Sigils to create two mirages per tier of illusory simulacrums who will ‘fight’ your opponents while you escape to safety.”

“WOW!” What else could Gwen say other than being awed? She was a simple country girl. The Ghost Amulet was the Mercedes S-Class of Magic Items.

“The rarity of Foglet Cores aside, that one consists of Maymaruya’s blood and tears. Took him close to three months to craft,” Mayuree added. “Also, it’s mine…”

“Oh?”

“He asked for to to be used as a sample.”

“Ah~.” Gwen returned it to Mayuree awkwardly.

The Magus as well, seem embarrassed.

“Those cores you brought can be used to make the Earrings, the Lamassu Ring, and the Mind Shield. If you want an Amulet, we’ll have to barter for one from the Eastern European Foglands.”

Gwen ruminated her options.
The Shatter-shield ring was useful, but she could manage without it.
The dungeon-earrings were very useful, but she had so far managed without them.
The Mind Shield was a godsend. She never wanted to be Dominated or have her mind invaded again, ever, by anyone.
As for the Ghosting Amulet, Gwen felt very much tempted. In addition to her Contingency Ring, it could serve as another buffer. If her ill-gotten wealth can save her from expending Gunther’s Ring, it could be well worth it.

“I want the Mind-Shield and the Ghosting Amulet,” Gwen declared.

“Would you accept two tier 3 Draconic-deer cores for the Mind-Shield? As for the Ghosting Amulet, I knew you were going to want one, so how about a one to one trade with the Earthen Core from the young drake?”

“Sure?” Gwen did a few quick calculations in her head. She was trading away about 30,000 HDMs worth of Cores for a 'rare' and a 'near unique' magical item that could save her life. Money was a priority - but one had to be alive to spend it! She was also glad that Lulan wasn’t here to witness her spendthrift. The price of these rarified items alone would drive the girl into a berserker frenzy.

“Deal.” Mayuree struck out a palm.

Gwen offered her companion a low-five, then the two shook on the deal.

“I'll leave the rest up to you,” Gwen suggested. “Sell it or make items with it. I'll trust your best judgement.”

“The two draconic-carp cores should sell well,” Mayuree noted with a smile. “If you need currency. Deductions will be taken from your account with the House of M, where all your future proceeds will be deposited.”

“Future proceeds, huh?” Gwen mused. "Am I a part of your elite Clientelle yet? Do I get a black card?"

“Of course!” Mayuree hugged her friend by the waist. “As someone in our 20,000 HDM Club, you’re now a VIP! What's a black card?”

It was now Gwen who tilted her head.

“The House of M has spending strata for clients but no executive service branch?”

“Well, not formally.” Mayuree laughed. “We can do front-row seating at auctions, priority bidding and all that, as well as offer advice on items and ingredients. What else do you want?”

Gwen blinked.

She knew that this world’s financial practices were well repressed. The methods of her old world had yet to penetrate the virginal econonics of Shanghai. To Gwen, it was the symptom of a market where inter-continential economic imperialism never quite took hold. There was no stock market for her to navigate per se, but surely she could make a few dollars elsewhere, such as HR and Business Structuring.

“Mayuree, I wouldn’t normally ask this. But how big is your organisation? What’s your turnover? Do you have lots of clients who break 10,000, 50,000 and 100,000 HDM strata?”

Mayuree turned to regard Maymaruya.

“I cannot provide an exact figure, Miss Song.” The Magus cleared his throat. “Our clearance from our auction division alone is almost a quarter of a million HDMs, last financial quarter.”

“Who are your largest competitors?”

“That would be the Hong Kong Shanghai British Corporation, the Dai Nippon Trade Consortium, and the state-sponsored Shanghai Wildland Auction Commission.”

“Is there a… Citibank? American Express?”

“The Americans do not operate within our sphere,” the Magus replied. “Too far, not to mention they have their hands full. Last I heard, the Mayans of Chichen Itza are not taking the American's Southern expeditions lying down.”

Oh yes, of course, Gwen reminded herself. Thanks to limited communication and the fragmentation of human city-states by Frontier zones, globalised banking had been stunted. The lack of a Cold War, deferred by the common threat of Magical Beasts, prevented a global dissemination of Social Democracy, Laissez-faire Capitalism and Communism. Had the Tower System not been established, there would have been no coalition of humanity.

Gingerly, Gwen stood from her chair, pried Mayuree from her waist, then squared her shoulders. Her expression grew severe and serious.

“Is the House of M looking for a Business Consultant, by any chance?”

Mayuree and Maymaruya looked upon Gwen as though she had suddenly gone off the deep end.

“Don’t answer yet. Just give me five minutes. Promise me that whatever I tell you won’t leave this room - and if you choose to take on my advice, I would like a stipend, assuming my proposal is successful, which I am confident it will be.”

“Okay, sure.” Mayuree gazed upon her friend with as much perplexion as admiration. More often than not, Gwen said the strangest things. But then again, anyone who liked Gwen's company would soon grow accustomed to her 'Gwenisms'.

“Miss Song. I am listening.” Maymaruya played along out of curiosity if nothing else.

“Thank you.” Gwen took a deep breath. She channelled a little Draconic Essence into her presence.

Her two captive audience members inclined backwards as though Gwen had suddenly grown in stature.

Then she began, her voice commanding and assured. The young woman in the navy blue dress moved with such conviction that Mayuree and her Enchanter felt compelled to listen.

“Mia, Magus Maymaurya. I want you to imagine yourselves attending an auction organised by the House of M. It’s 7 PM on a Saturday, and we're deep inside the historic Waldorf Astoria. Tonight is going to be an amazing night. Rumour has it that there are Draconic-cores for sale."

"The rich and the famous are gathered to see who’s who and what they’re willing to pay. They turn to see you, a vaguely familiar face. You know of them, and they know of you. For now, you're just one of the many faces here.”

“…”
“…”

“That is - until you reach into your breast pocket. Slowly, meticulously, without excessive endearment, you produce an I.D card, it's 'invite only' and made from anodised Orichalcum, darker than black, so dark that it sucks in all light. A single imprint, briefly visible, displays your personal Glyph.”

Mayuree and Maymaruya regarded one another.

Gwen opened her hands, as though unleashing an unholy power.

"But that's okay, because after tonight, everyone will know your name - and the fact that you're a rare member of the Centurion Club."


It was 8 PM before Magus Maymaruya left the apartment with a ring chocked full of loose notes and a data-slate pregnant with the future of the House of M’s Centurion Customer Service Division.

“Oof- I'm going to sleep.” Mayuree yawned. “I can’t believe the two of you went at it for six hours!”

“Well, when you’ve got the working bug, time just flies!” Gwen chuckled. She was still flushed with vigour, the complexion of her face pink with excitement. Her eyes were swollen, her lips were cracked, and her throat was parched, but watching Maymaruya falling over himself had been orgasmic. How long had it been since she had a ‘sit’ with a client? For the better half of the day, it had felt as though she was back in the old world.

“How do you even know this stuff?” her friend queried.

The 'stuff' had given Mayuree a headache.

Silver, Gold, Jadeite, Mithril and Centurion-Orichalcum membership.
Annual Fees.
Minimum Spending.
Cash flow Period.
Privileged Point-Exchange programs.
Personal Assistants.
Reserved Travel at ISTC Stations.
Priority reservation of rare ingredients.

Words stranger than eldritch Magic kept pouring from Gwen's lips.

"The more they spend with the House of M, the more selective the reward. Trust me when I say that it's not the value of the service or the money they save that will distinguish the House of M's branding. It's the fact that you care. To you, the client is a valued family member. To make their life infinitesimally easier is the existential creed of the Centurion Executive Service."

Maymaurya had nodded like an acolyte at his first meeting with a Magister.

“Why do I know? My family grew up poor,” Gwen confessed, hugging Mayuree close to her chest conspiratorially. “You see, I promised myself once when I was young…”

She stretched out her right arm in a grand gesture toward the magnificent view of Fudan below.

“As God is my witness - I'll never be hungry again!”

“Aww.” Mayuree slipped from Gwen’s overstimulated intimacy. Gwen's draconically-imbued embrace possessed a crushing, suffocating grip. “Poor you. Well, I am glad Maymaruya liked your ideas.”

“I am up for salary negotiations anytime.” Gwen grinned.

“Ha!” Mayuree chuckled. “What makes you so confident it’ll work.”

“Oh, you’ll see.” Gwen left her companion lounging on the sofa. “Alright, I better head down as well. It’s going to take a few months, but keep me updated on the Cores! And the CCS Division proposal! Likewise, I’ll let you know if I need a currency-advance.”

Mayuree laughed heartily.

“Say, where’s Kitty? Or Marong?” Gwen looked around, begging the question that had been on the tip of her tongue.

“Brother’s still got problems back home - well, in Yangon, since now you know. We’ve got constant problems with border disputes, poachers, and the occasional Rogue Mage out in the Orange Zone. Kitty's away questing; she’ll be back in a few weeks.”

“I see, here’s hoping they’re both safe, eh? I better go. Petra’s feeling lonely, I’ll bet.”

“Good night Gwen.”

“Ciao!”

Gwen reappeared a few seconds later.

“Mia, can you give me a doggy bag of the leftovers?”

By 4 AM, Gwen still couldn’t sleep.

Wide awake from the excitement of having her new items made and having her proposal heard, she slinked into the living room to call Elvia.

“BEEEEEP-Bo-kEEEE…”

Elvia's Dorm Matron answered the LR Communication Device. After a quick exchange, the kind woman relayed the Message.

Five minutes later, Elvia appeared standing before Gwen in a nightdress.

“OH MY GOD!” Gwen gushed, her eyes bulging. “LACED VICTORIAN NIGHTIE!”

Gwen was of course, on Silent, but still, she managed to kick up a fuss. Quickly, she calmed herself. Earlier, she had told Petra all about her arrangement with the Magus, repeating herself until her cousin escaped into her bedroom to sleep off the Gwenism induced headache.

Elvia twirled.

“Hi, Gwen! Do you like it? It's from Bluebirds!”

“Ernngh~ I love it! So lacey!”

“Hahaha, so, what’s happening?”

“Oh, TONS of things. Things you cannot begin to imagine. Do we have privacy?”

“Yep, but let me switch to Silent.” Elvia returned a few seconds later.

Her angelic little Evee had grown her hair out, falling about her slim shoulders like a golden waterfall. Elvia must have made good progress in her Biomancy, Gwen remarked. Her erstwhile companion appeared younger, despite being nine months older. Whatever they were feeding the girl, the Nightingale School had done Elvia right.

“Wow, I haven’t talked to you in a month! How’re your funds? I've recently acquired a windfall."

“Me too! I worked tons!” Elvia pouted. “Five days a week, and I am volunteering as well.”

“That’s wonderful! How’s work at Ormond Street?”

“It’s going well.” Elvia’s voice took on an ambivalent hollowness. It was something she did whenever she either tried to mask her discomfort with a white-lie or tried to avoid a particular topic of conversation.

“Evee.” Gwen leaned in. “You can tell me. If you do, I’ll show you Ariel’s super adorable new form.”

Elvia stared at Gwen critically.

Gwen shirked back, wounded. Had Elvia grown up!? Was she immune to Ariel’s charms?

“Okay…” Elvia moped.

Gwen mentally punched the air.

As it turned out, Elvia had been bullied.

Gwen’s mood grew increasingly more dangerous as her friend’s account continued. The basic gist of it was that Elvia was interning at the Great Ormond Street Hospital for Children when they received a young Mage from a prominent family who had been severely burned, suffering both internal and external injuries. Elvia’s mentor, Lady Astor, was assigned to the case, and things had initially gone as well as expected. A day later, Elvia had the night shift. She attended to the young man, struck up a conversation, and even convinced him to take a sponge bath to discard the peeling, old skin that had fallen off after the treatment.

HOWEVER, Elvia’s popularity at GOS, especially pertaining to Lady Astor's intimate interest, had also brought ire and envy. A few of the younger nurses and even one of the ward's physicians accused Elvia of inappropriate behaviour with Lord Allen of Liverpool, attempting to ‘social climb’. Lady Astor was alerted when Elvia's accusers cornered the blonde healer in the staff’s break room, at which point Elvia had become hysterical.

The no-nonsense Director stood her ground and informed Elvia’s accusers that they had five seconds to confess the truth and retain their jobs with a pay cut - or hold their peace. One of the nurses cracked, while the others held their ground.

“Elvia, will you subject yourself to a Truth Geas?”

Of course, there was no need for such a ruse. Lady Astor's word was law, not to mention one of the nurses had snitched on her co-conspirators as soon as Elvia agreed. Her accusers were caught out, and even the young Lord Allen put in his two cents. The nurses lost their positions, and the young physician disappeared from GOS. After that, Elvia had thought her troubles over, but not so. Three weeks later, she ‘screwed up’ the medication for another patient. When she adamantly refused to confess that she had made a mistake, Lady Astor again stood up for Elvia. At the Lady’s behest, yet another investigation took place. She called in the hospital’s Master of Medicine, who testified in Elvia’s favour. This revelation then led the staff to suspect malicious action or even assassination, even though the ‘victim’ was a young girl from a regular Mage household. In the end, Scotland Yard arrived. Their swift deployment of Forensic Diviners revealed that one of the staff had ‘accidentally’ taken Elvia’s cart and had been too afraid to fess up once Lady Astor was involved.

Another public firing later, the junior staff had a new name for Elvia - The Trouble Maker.

Of course, it wasn’t Elvia’s fault. Though grievous mistakes rarely happened at GOS Children’s Hospital, the culture was to let bygones be bygones. Conversely, Lady Astor had torn a scabby gauze from a bloody wound, revealing to the world that even the best support staff at the best medical institution were only human in their pettiness.

“I’ll come over there and fucken rip em a new one!” Gwen shouted at the Projection Crystal. “How do I get to London? Caliban’s got a brand new form and it sure as fuck can do with some Christmas baubles! Ever since that wyvern, it's got a real hankering for assholes, let me tell ya...”

Gwen’s vitriolic passion made Elvia reel with fright.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“No! Stay in Shanghai!” The petite blonde girl shook her head and waved her hands. “I’ve got it sorted; it’s no big deal!”

“You can’t take this shit lying down!” Gwen fumed, the amber of her eyes glowing with Draconic-presence. “I am calling Alesia! She’ll send that guy, what’s his name again? Dominic Lorenzo? He’ll take care of it!”

“But it’s taken care of,” Elvia pleaded with her. “I don’t want more trouble, please, Gwen?”

Gwen growled, her frustration low and rumbling.
A continent away, Elvia visibly shivered.

“Show me Ariel!” Elvia attempted to change the subject. “Kiki! Look! It’s aunty Gwen!”

“Sister Gwen!” Gwen snapped.

“Sister Gwen,” Elvia corrected herself. For whatever reason, Gwen always felt much older.

“Kiii? Kii-kiii!” A bauble-head appeared.

Gwen felt her ire drain away.

Kiki had grown since she’d last seen it.
Where the creature was a little weed-like seedling a few months ago, it was now evidently humanoid, with well-formed limbs and a bulbous head like a large chestnut. Its hair, like Sufina’s, was a tangle of trellises filled with little white flowers.

“WOW,” Gwen spluttered. “Put it closer! Ariel!”

She likewise presented her pseudo-Kirin.

“OH MY GOD!” Elvia gasped. “Ariel’s got horns!”

The two girls gushed over their mutual Show and Tell.
Caliban made the rounds as well, but there was no way Gwen could show Elvia its Stag-form.

"Kikiki!" Kiki put a little dance routine.

Unlike Gwen’s Conjured Familiars, Elvia’s Spirit existed not as a part of a complex spell, but as a part of an agreement between Dryad and Mage. Even empowered, Kiki merely looked a little larger, growing from a bauble-headed doll to that of a somewhat better proportioned Barbie. In so far as Dryads went, Kiki had a long way before it could even begin to mimic Sufina’s grandeur. Gwen’s Familiars, however, had their full complement of forms: from docile marten-plushy to its pseudo-Kirin guise, to its full-fledged draconic-chimaera likeness.

"Wow!" Elvia marvelled. "That may not even be Ariel’s final form!"

After the exchange, Gwen told her own story: her father, Hangzhou, Uncle Jun, and Percy, omitting only what was necessary; bound by the No.1 and No.2 rules of the Per-secrecy club.

“I am so sorry.” Elvia fought back her tears of sympathy. “Mr Song is a terrible man.”

“I feel sorry for their new kid.” Gwen sighed. “But making up with Percy was pretty good.”

“I spoke to Yue last week!” Feeling self-conscious, Elvia changed the subject again. “She’s up in Queensland at the moment.”

“Covered in fish-guts and lizard spawn, I’ll bet.” Gwen chuckled.

“Yeah, she and Paul and Taj and Jonas. BIlly is there too; you remember Billy?”

Gwen recalled the stuttering Diviner. It was cute that he was the youngest of the original group, fresh out of university and already assigned to Alesia. That had to be a nightmare.

“They got a whole party going!”

“I know, right? Alesia is staying and helping Gunther with his work in Sydney now, so Yue’s inherited her old Adventuring party. She says she’s getting a promotion at the end of the year as well.”

“Oh?”

“She’s going to be Warrant Officer Class 2.”

“We’ll have to salute her the next time we see her then.” Gwen made a mock salute with her hand, which was returned by Elvia. Seeing their Masters performing the salute, Kiki and Ariel did the same; Caliban had no arms and so could only wistfully watch.

By now it was almost 6 AM. Gwen was finally feeling the desire to sleep.

She technically had nothing planned for the day, though there was arguably a lot on her plate. There were new Hound spells she had to learn, inscriptions to copy and incantations to practice. Then there was the matter of her end of semester marks which had been given out in her absence.

“Alright, Evee, it was lovely talking to you.”

“Likewise, Gwennie. We’ll catch up later. What are your plans for Christmas and New Years?”

“Honestly?” Gwen bit her lips. “I have no idea. Maybe something with the family? I don’t know if they celebrate Xmas here in China. As for New Years, maybe a dinner or something.”

“Okay! For Xmas, I’ll be volunteering with Emily, our Student Council President, and Sylvie, my roommate, at the refugee shelters. Lady Astor has invited me to a ball on New Years, Emily and Sylvie are going as well, so don't worry. Emily will be attended to by her Knight; it's all perfectly safe.”

“That’s alright.” Gwen gave Elvia a phantom hug. “We’ll talk beforehand anyway. I want to see Lumen-pics! Don’t pick your dress without showing me first!”

“Hahaha, alright.”

After a few more XXes and OOes, Elvia hung up.

Gwen closed her eyes to rest for a moment.

And woke up with Petra standing over her.

“Oh God, you gave me a fright!” Gwen spluttered. Petra’s husky-blue orbs had a predatory quality, particularly when she was upset or unhappy.

“I know you can’t catch the Flu.” Her cousin tsked disapprovingly. “But that doesn’t mean you sit out here comatose with your buttocks in the cold.”

“I had insomnia,” Gwen confessed, tucking her legs under said buttocks. “So I talked to Elvia for a bit.”

“Go back to bed,” Petra advised. “When did you sleep? I heard commotions at like 5 AM.”

“Sorry,” Gwen apologised.

“Off you go then.” Petra pulled her from the couch.

Heeding her cousin’s advice, Gwen went back to bed.

‘Ding!’

‘DING!’

‘Ding!’

‘DING!’

Gwen shot awake.

She pawed the bedsheets for her Device.

“Yes? Gwen here?”

"EEE!"

In her haste, she had kicked Ariel.

"Shit! Sorry," Gwen murmured.

"SHAAA!"

"Arrgh! You drooled on me! Sleep in your own bed!"

“Gwen!” A stranger’s voice came across the Message. “It's me, the Dean. Can you see me in my office this afternoon?”

“Yesssser.” Gwen attempted to make herself as alert as possible, but her sleep-deprived tongue refused to cooperate.

“Young lady - it’s 11 AM.”

“Yer ser!”

The Dean sighed.

“… Your appointment is at 1300. I know you’re young - but have some discretion. Remember, always use protection, and go see the Medical Mages if you have to.”

“Sir?”

The Message clicked shut.

FUUUUU~ Gwen kicked herself.

After five minutes of self-loathing, she forcibly circulated her Draconic-essence until the desire to go back to bed was kept at bay.

“Alright! I am up!” Gwen slapped her cheeks.

She struggled out of her beckoning silk sheets, throwing on a blue silk buttonless-blouse from Hangzhou and a four-button high-waisted pencil skirt. She brushed out her hair, cleaned up her face, then stepped back into the Hermès.

Along the way, she picked up two Taiwanese crepes from a local vendor for brunch, as well as a taro milk tea. At ten to one, Gwen arrived at the Dean’s Office, once again marvelling at the intricate beauty of the Zibinyuan, the sole colonial building in Fudan’s old Handan campus to have escaped the Purge unscathed.

“Ellen?”

Dean Luo Jiang’s ‘secretary’ met her at the door. The Air Sprite wore a business getup, or more accurately, she was garbed by Luo’s Illusion in a bell-skirt and a frilly avocado blouse. The garb wasn’t very creative, but it suited the pale-faced Spirit. From afar, Ellen perfectly resembled a regular human female. Curiously, Gwen wondered if Luo had a specific spell for attiring his Spirit Familiar.

“Gwen! Come in!” The Dean's voice summoned her.

Gwen noticed Ellen hadn’t greeted her.
The Sprite was keeping her distance, looking wary and apprehensive.

Given more time, Gwen would have tempted Ellen with a mote of her emerald essence, though now she had to wait before ensnaring the Dean’s Familiar.

Inside the office, the Dean sat at his table, inundated by paperwork as usual.

“Sit! Sit!” a voice called out from behind the pile. “No wait, I’ll come out.”

The friendly face of the middle-aged Dean appeared from behind the table.

His eyes swept over her new attire.

“Hmm.” The Dean’s expression took on a contemplative mood. “Lovely shoes.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Gwen curtseyed. "I can dress Ellen for you if you like."

“... I spoke to the Secretary-General this morning." Luo cut to the chase, coughing to hide his awkwardness. “As well as Magister Wen.”

Gwen stiffened, her remaining fatigue dispelled by a sudden surge of adrenaline. After a dignified recovery, she gave the Dean a bright and dazzling smile, flashing the man with her pearly whites.

“Draconic-essence, huh?” The Dean walked a circuit about her person. “Ellen- the door.”

The door shut of its own accord.

“A demonstration, if you could? My room is heavily warded.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Gwen understood that this was a chance to appeal to the Dean directly. If she could receive a personal commendation from the man, her position in the IICU team was well-assured. Compared to what she stood to gain, the indignity of putting on an Ariel and Caliban show was of little importance.

"Ariel!"

First came Ariel’s many forms.

"Caliban!"

Then it was Caliban's turn.

The Dean was suitably impressed and commended her on her supernatural growth. Ellen as well was supremely delighted with Ariel’s Kirin form. Gwen supposed that it was because of their mutual affinity for Air, which induced a certain sense of kinship. As for Caliban, the Sprite kept her distance.

“Caliban’s got a new form-factor, Sir,” Gwen explained. “It’ll cost a significant volume of vitality, however. Additionally, Caliban's new combat form may prove to be extremely taxing on the er… psyche.”

“You've piqued my curiosity, good girl!" Luo chuckled. "Are you suitably provisioned to demonstrate the creature’s prowess? Shall I call for Magus Kumiko?”

“I should be, Sir. Though I would propose we push Caliban’s feeding schedule from Saturday to later today or maybe tomorrow.”

“Of course.” The Dean straightened his vest. “Let’s see it.”

“Please step back, Sir.”

The Dean took half a step back.

“Caliban!” Gwen commanded her Familiar. “Stag form!”

A torrent of obsidian mana pumped into Caliban even as her creature tapped into its internal stores. Gwen's face paled, her veins filling with ice as Caliban took the bare-necessity of vitality required to trigger the transformation.

"SHAAAAA!"

Caliban's serpentine torso extended, its carapace ripped and torn. Pink and purple tendrils joined the sound of snapping bone and mangling flesh as Caliban polymorphed into its three-meter, X-rated visage.

“Mao’s GHOST!” Dean Luo stumbled back, taken by the aura of vertigo and the inexplicable existential terror emanating from Gwen's Familiar.

“Master! Watch out!” Ellen teleported right beside her Master and took up a defensive stance. Looking at her discarded pile of clothes, it would seem that only parts of her attire were illusory. Now in its elemental-form, Ellen reminded Gwen of Lea, a humanoid female silhouette filled with just enough condensed mana to manifest a physical body. “Gwen! What is this thing?!”

“It’s Caliban,” Gwen pointed out.

“It’s a roving mass of hunger!” Ellen pushed Luo backwards. “It desires only to consume!”

“Yes,” Gwen nodded confidently. To her, that was indeed Caliban. “Void’s got a bit of Air in it, right? Caliban’s a good sort, think of it as Ariel, but hungrier.”

“Abomination!” Ellen frowned, forming a wall of shimmering air between Caliban and her Master. “This thing should not be!”

“You got that right.” Gwen admired her sweet old Caliban. It was a bloody terror alright. In its Stag-form, Cali was an absolute unit.

“Ellen, it’s perfectly safe.” Dean Luo patted his Familiar’s shoulders.

“Luo, this thing has taken the form of our Kin into itself!”

“Ellen, stand down.” Luo’s voice was a gentle lull. “Gwen is in control - are you in control, Gwen?”

“Caliban, sit!” Gwen ran through her routine.

They were lucky that the Dean’s office was one of those generous Victorian studies and not, alas, Fudan’s modernised glass and concrete cubicles. Caliban carelessly swung its faceless mien to and fro, dangerously swinging its sixteen-pointers. Its needle-point front legs dug into the floor, cracking the herringbone inlay. Then, as promised, it sat.

“Shaaa!” The smooth facial carapace emitted a muffled cry more akin to a strangled babe than any sound that should exist in the material realm.

“Hand!”

Caliban raised a meter-long length of limb-cum-lance.

Gwen took the ‘hoof’ by the ankle, where the girth was just right for her hand to envelop. The chitin was smooth obsidian, seamless and polished, as though machined into existence by some old, tenebrous power with an eye for minimalism.

“Excellent, Miss Song.” Dean Lou dismissed his Familiar, commanding her to stand down. “Have you tested Caliban in combat?”

“Not yet, Sir.”

“I see. I would do so at the first opportunity.” The Dean took a step forward, then placed his hand against Caliban’s face. Gwen took in a nervous breath, hoping that unlike Carp-liban, Stag-liban didn’t secrete Void-ooze.

“Sir…” Gwen began.

“I would have thought the carapace oily, or at least wet,” the Dean replied, his voice filled with profound wonder and genuine interest. “It's dry! A little cold to the touch, but quite pleasant. I am touched, young lady. Quite touched!”

“Yessir. Cali's a cutie, Sir.” Gwen breathed out.

Ellen moved closer, her ethereal form flickering in and out of vision. The Sprite likewise reached out with her arm.

Caliban turned to regard the Air Sprite.

Gwen felt a surge of excitement and interest passing through her empathic link.

Oh shit! Gwen suppressed Caliban’s curiosity, but it was too late.

As Ellen placed one hand on Caliban’s faceless head, one of its sixteen horns lost its rigid form and attempted to give Ellen a lick with its pink, barbed tentacle tongue, tipped with a lamprey’s maw.

Ellen froze as an arm-thick rosy tentacle slapped her wetly across the forehead.

Dean Lou froze, evidently stricken by the torrent of emotions ravaging his Empathic Link.

Ellen’s lips parted.

“AEEEEEEEEeeeeeeEAAAA!"

A Sonic Blast issued forth from a Master Conjurer’s mid-tier Spirit enveloped the Dean’s chamber.