The United States of America.
Though the match was set in Cuzco, it was the elephant in the room that Gwen wished to address. In this world where Russia was principally Black Zones, and China trafficked in dragons, could the US remain a global hegemon?

To find answers, she decided to trawl the bookshops, hoping to pick up a Lonely Planet or a Frommer's. Her knowledge of the States, assuming the United States existed in the form she knew, was woefully insufficient. As a Frontier bumpkin, her education provided no information on the American continents, and Henry had never prioritised the region in his lessons.

At Xinhua, the state-owned bookshop, she accosted a clerk about her enquiry. After becoming book-wrecked on an island of hypercritical propaganda, they arrived at the children's section.

"Perhaps you could try Fudan's library?" The clerk hid a smirk. "I've never heard of a traveller's guide. For a thrilling read, I do have some Dungeoneering autobiographies if you're interested."

In contrary to the clerk's oblivious advice, Gwen desired a lite account of American history, its customs and its people. She didn't need a four-hundred-page treaty on the "Post-War Impacts of US Intervention during the Sino Crisis, Volume II, The Journal of Asia-Pacific History, PRC Press, 1998" or "The Capitalist Incubi, by Lee Wang Suu."

Instead, she picked up "The Illustrated History of America".

"This will do, cheers." She smiled attractively. "May I have a browse?"

"Absolutely." The clerk beamed. "Take your time."

She took to a couch, then spread the book against her thighs. To her delight, it was relatively comprehensive. To her chagrin, the publisher was the National People's Press.

After the title page, she found a map of North America, just as she recollected. At its northernmost edge lay the Canadian border; opposite, at the southernmost tip was Meso-Amerca. Outside the chart, floating like two dislocated islands, were Alaska and Hawaii.

"The United States of America consist of the East and West Coasts. It is a nation of capitalists who built their homes on the backs of the proletariat."

Stunned, she checked the back page of the hardcover.

"Suitable for Ages 3 - 11."

She continued.

"The United States brought many things to the world: The Automobile. The Lumen Caster. The Ether Engine. The Mobile Message Device. Data Slates. It remains the global seat of entrepreneurship and free-market capitalism."

The accompanying image was low-key 90's Reader's Digest. It held a collage of disembodied faces such as Jonathan Gilt, Elric Edison, Henrik Kaiser, Henry Ford and George Eastman. Each of the inventors hovered next to their inventions: the Ether Engine, the mana-relay, the freight-ship, the personal automobile, and the lumen-recorder.

She turned the page.

"The USA began as thirteen colonies of pilgrims who escaped England's persecution. They set up their new home in a continent called the New World, inhabited by the Native Americans."

There was a picture of surprised Native Americans staring at a fleet of ships. Labels like the Cherokee, the Sioux, the Apache were attached to painted faces wearing feathered headdresses.

"Though the pilgrims escaped the greed of their King, they continued the colonial greed of the Mageocracy. They chased away the Native People with their faith-magic, and took the fertile earth as their own."

The accompanying image showed Pilgrims with bibles held high, calling upon spells of fire and light to hammer at the defenceless natives.

"A great plague, brought by the Pilgrims, soon ravaged the Native population."

"Wow." The gruesome vision of carrion was impressive; it was as if the state-sanctioned artist had been there. She turned the page.

"As the colonies grew into cities, they wanted all the wealth of the New World for themselves, so they rebelled against England with the help of France."

The next page was a fantastic double-page of total war, titled "They fought; many died". The image had English Red-coat soldiers fleeing from spellbook-wielding Americans chasing them into the ocean. In the distance, French frigates set English ships ablaze with Fireballs.

"No longer subject to the Mageocracy's Laws, the Americans colonists enslaved the Native workers. Dissatisfied with one race, they enslaved the working people of Meso America. When the people perished, they travelled across the ocean to enslaved more of the proletariat."

An image of sad-looking black and brown people crowded like sardines in ships, lead by a Caucasian captain in blue and red, spoke loudly of the plight of the Pan-African proletariat. Were the matter not so morbid, Gwen would have laughed out loud at the anachronism.

"Then, a civil war broke out."

There was no explanation for the war. The double-spread, however, showed religiously attired Confederate soldiers in dusters, carrying wands as tall as themselves, backed by spell-book wielding Mages. They fought against the navy Union army; only the Unionists had slaves fighting on their side, curiously without magical implements.

"The Union united America."

She saw a chiselled Abraham Lincoln with Renaissance proportions, raising a flag atop a hill of corpses.

"The American President was assassinated by a prole, a non-magical dissident."

The image, sickeningly, showed old Abe falling from the box of a theatre, while behind him, a white man held a wand in one hand. Below, women screamed, and other men pointed their wands upwards.

There's a lot of magical wands, Gwen gulped. She had only seen this many wands in one place while in Singapore.

"Then a long peace."

The next page consisted of rebuilding, containing fair-skinned blonde women holding bountiful harvests of wheat and corn, while women of colour were depicted with bent-backs in cotton fields.

The next few pages progressed rapidly.

"The unending wars in Europe brought millions of people to America."

"America sold itself as the land of invention and enterprise. The American Dream was the idea that anyone, even NoMs, could find happiness in the New World."

"Instead, workers became exploited by America's great inventors. Oligarchs like Jonathan Gilt and Henry Ford used government regulations to build personal empires of continent-spanning wealth. A few men grew rich. A million men and women died."

The colour palette, Gwen realised, was growing increasingly dark.

"The proletariat wanted to unionise. The workers cried out for socialism."

The next image had a red star in the sky, shedding light on the faces of workers whose profiles were filthy from mining mana crystals.

"The peaceful revolution failed. The Oligarchs had become too powerful. The government represented only the interests of the wealthy, and the labourers had become too dumb and deaf to know their plight."

Depressingly, the last page was of soaring cities in white and neon, below which were the limp bodies of workers toiling in the dark of the factories.

"Who will speak for the silenced?"

That was the final page, accompanied by an artistic silhouette of Mao's side profile.

"Holy shit." Gwen breathed out. That was a heavy as all hell picture book. Who the hell published this crap for kids?

"I brought you some tea." The clerk returned. "Would you like to purchase the book?"

"Yes, I think I will." She sipped the lukewarm water. "Thank you."

At the Handan Campus, Gwen looked about her fellow students. Fudan had plenty of Korean, Japanese and European expatriates, but she had never seen anyone from the American continents.

Near the gate, after a quick flirt with a few reporters who wanted to know about their plans for South America, she Messaged the Dean.

"Why?" Luo demanded, suddenly suspicious. "Need I remind you that Hawaii belongs to a sovereign nation? There'll be an uproar! A continental war!"

After calming the Dean, she explained that she wanted the knowledge to avoid stepping on toes.

"..." There was an uncomfortable silence. "Right. Talk to James. I'll let him know you're coming."

A quarter of an hour later, she found James Ma at the Social Studies quadrangle.

"Come in."

The NoM professor's private study was quaint and quiet compared to the generous laboratories of Fudan's resident Magisters.

"Sir." She bowed. Though she and Ma were now colleagues, she wanted to maintain a cordial student-professor relationship while at Fudan. "I would like to know about the Americas for my upcoming visit to the continent."

"Ah yes, the Dean said as much." Ma pulled out a chair for his student. "You have my gratitude for looking after Alan. He has been very much traumatised by Magus de Botton's visit."

"It was the least I could do." Gwen inclined her head, tucking her hair behind one ear.

"As it were, I possess a few books on South American History, particularly on the rise of Tawantinsuyu, the Inca Empire." Ma pulled out several volumes from his bookshelf. "Do not misplace them."

Stolen novel; please report.

"Thank you, sir." She stowed the texts in her ring.

"Just as well, since you're here, I'll answer any questions you might have. What do you want to know?"

"Politics and history of America; what to expect."

"North America, I hope, I know only as much about Cuzco as those books will tell you."

"That would be lovely. Hawaii is our first stop."

Ma retrieved a world-map from behind him, then opened the thick, note-bound volume until it reached North America.

"As with all history, context is everything." Ma paused to collect his thoughts. "To begin at the beginning, you must be aware that before the Beast Tide, our globe was a quieter place. The Mermen Kingdoms posed no threat to our shipping lanes. Magical beings, who had always existed, were largely dormant. Conversely, Human Spellcraft existed in its infancy. Men without magic were the standard. Mages were rare individuals, even if they occupied critical social niches, forming the upper political strata."

"Yes, I know."

"Good. America was, of course, a colony of the Imperial Britannic Mageocracy - not to be confused with the Commonwealth Mageocracy of today. During this colonial golden age, there was a tumultuous event that happened in Europe. Can you guess?"

"Oui! The French Revolution?"

"Yes. Well done." Ma seemed surprised. "Indeed, there was a revolution against the rule of Mages. Because NoMs so grossly outnumbered magic-users in Europe, the disparity culminated in the fall of the French Monarchy, ending with the execution of the French King and his family by NoM partisans. In response to dissent across the European continent, King George the Third declared the Equal Rights Concession in 1799. The law gave the right to life, liberty, property and employment to all non-Mage citizens. In 1801, the law became common."

Gwen nodded. She knew this, though not in so much detail.

"Myopically, the new rights did not apply to the Empire's Frontier citizens. The thirteen colonies thus declared independence from the Mageocracy in 1813, aided by the opportunistic French. After that, many long-suffering Europeans saw America as an opportunity to begin life anew in the New World. The Mages who left travelled via French and English frigates. NoMs travelled on desperate coffin ships."

"The next few decades saw an epoch of slavery, and after that, the Civil War. Internationally, however, until the late 1890s, the US remained dormant, quietly trading its surplus of food and magical materials. When the Spellcraft Revolution transpired between 1890 and 1910, the States tripled its production and trade capabilities. During this time, the USA exploded with entrepreneurship, lead by one Jonathan Gilt."

"Who is Jonathan Gilt?"

"An inventor, a philosopher, and a profiteer. Bit of an enigma, to be honest. He had no interest in government, thank Mao, though his invention, the Ether Engine, enabled a revolution in personal and public transportation, and he had many disciples. One of his protégés, Henry Ford, became the most influential Industrialist in the world. You could say that he even had a hand in the creation of Crystal Currency. Gilt was intensely opposed to any socialist intervention in the works of his fellow Industrialists. He famously stated that each man must live according to his means and that to provide for your fellow man is dishonest. He believed that humans were made unequal; therefore, the natural state of society was inequality. Curiously, he wasn't a warmonger. He believed that Man's purpose is to strive for rational progress. He extolled the virtue of the greatest profit for the greatest many; that the free market was democracy distilled."

Jonathan Gilt, Gwen whistled, committing the name to memory.

"Don't let the Party officials hear that." Ma laughed drily. "We're opposed to the Gilts and the Fords, at least officially. Now, to answer your question. In the 1920s, after the Great War against the Necromancers ended, America and its industries emerged the ultimate victor. You see, during the war, all the great names in Europe sent at least one branch family to the States to preserve the bloodline. In many cases, these scions never returned, having found success abroad while their siblings bled in the trenches. Like their predecessors, these new Mages broke free from the tradition thanks to the New World."

"Through to the 1930s, the restoration of Europe was another boon for the USA, showering its twin-coasts with skilled immigrants it unconditionally absorbed into its fold. The entrepreneurs who built its cities grew enormously wealthy during this time, riding on cheap labour and widespread exploitation of the starry-eyed proletariat."

"There was no progressive movement? No Great Depression? No Franklin D. Roosevelt?"

"Was he an Industrialist?" Her professor paused to collect his thoughts.

"Ah-" Gwen knew now where history had definitively diverged. How could there be a Great Depression without a stock market to crash? How could there be an economic crisis when currency grew in caves and on the plains? "I was confused. Please continue. What happened in the 1940s?"

"The 1940s saw the rise of two ideologies across Europe and Asia. Fascist-Imperialism and Communism. Conversely, the USA extolled the virtues of unfettered capitalism. When the USA joined the global conflict as a peace-keeper, it profited greatly on the Western Front, once again receiving an enormous wave of desperate and talented migrants."

"But it suffered against the Japanese in the Sino War. When the generals resorted to a costly war of attrition, the States infamously utilised the world's first Strategic-Class Spell of Mass-Destruction on Japanese soil, citing the preservation of human life and resource. After that, the USA secured its position as the world's foremost international power, at least until the Beast Tide."

"While reigning as a global hegemon, the US continued to garner power, drunk on the profits of human conflict." Ma scoffed. "The Pan-Pacific battle over Hawaii. The Meso-American Concession. The Massacre at Panama Canal. The Columbian Insurgency. American Banana Co. Its support of Japan and South Korea. Territorial disputes with the Mageocracy. Interventions in the Middle East on behalf of the Israelis. The persistent destabilisation of South America from the 1920s until 1971. It had a finger in every pot of rice."

"Finally, when the Tide occurred in 71, the USA suffered its first major set back."

Gwen accounted for the timeline in her head while Ma traced a finger around the entirety of the US continental map.

"After the Great Restoration, only the East and West Coast endured," Ma declared. "On the Pacific Coast, Seattle, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and San Diego remained firmly entrenched under human dominion. On the Atlantic Coast, Boston, New York, Philadelphia and Washington stemmed the Tide."

Ma drew a line across the middle with his finger.

"After the Reclamation, the damage remains. From Kootenai to Twin Falls - Orange Zone. From Reno to Black Rock - Black Zone. The entire Mississippi Delta - Black and Purple Zones. Of course, there exist Orange Zone enclaves like Oklahoma and New Orleans that thrived despite the uptick in Demi-humans and Magical Beasts. But, as with our fight against the Undead, much of Amerca's Frontiers remain generation-long struggles. The Mageocracy says that America may never be great again. The reasons are many. New Tenochtitlan is on the rise; the Native American Tribes are returning to their Spirit Lands; the Mageocracy is regaining its foothold. The rest of the world is no longer its Wild West."

"Still." Ma shrugged. "The USA remains absurdly wealthy. It may lack the history of China and Europe, but its primary industries are unrivalled. Likewise, I am sorry to say that they have no equal in Magi-tech."

"So, how wealthy are the States? Compared to say, China?"

Ma gave her an expectant look. "If you believe the tales, they tell us that every American Mage has a block of land to call his own and that even NoMs can own a two-bedroom house and an automobile."

"Ooo-" Gwen cooed. The American Dream, the flames may flicker, but it remains an immutable beacon. Even with dragons, the New World was a land of opportunities!

After a four-day media blitz, the team boarded a bus from Fudan and made for the superstructure at the heart of Shanghai.

The entrance, one of many, accessed an underground facility that processed the student's Multi-passes, after which an encircling tunnel led downwards. When finally the darkness cleared, the students found themselves travelling through a cavernous space lit-up to resemble the world outside.

A Geofront! Gwen plastered her face against the windowpane. A city-under-a-city!

She finally realised why the superstructure of the PLA Tower appeared so outlandish, like a distended, long-legged spider that brooded over a section of the city. As the surreal scene had established, the majority of its functional buildings remained buried underground.

"See that?" Petra pointed to a pool of light at the base of a pylon-like structure. From the cavern above, it stabbed into the earth like an obsidian sword. "That's the ley-line under Shanghai."

"Cool!" Gwen felt her understanding of Mage Towers renewed. Seeing was believing; though she had always known about ley-lines, Gwen had never expected to see one drawing mana from the earth in real-time.

At the end of the winding road, their coach was halted by NoM soldiers carrying powered shock-wands, dressed in the olive fatigue of the PLA. A Diviner ran a diagnostic device across the students as they disembarked to proceed on foot into the Tower's atrium.

From the front gate, the Tower appeared as an enormous stalactite connecting the ceiling and the central platform, making one wonder as to how the PLA Tower meant to translocate itself in an emergency. At the main entrance, a set of scissored barriers ten-meters in height and adorned at the centre by a glowing red star swallowed the visitors.

Within, the most salient sight in the enormous lobby was a benevolent statue of Mao Zedong. The Great Leader had one hand rested just behind his back, while the other waved in front of his body. His face was life-like, gazing down at the students while generously wrapped in a double-breasted commander's duster.

"We should bow." Walken's voice came through the communal Message earlier enabled by Mayuree. "There's a lot of guards watching us."

The group collectively capitulated, though some more purposefully than others.

Behind the statue was the service desk, a semi-circle of clerks was piled three-deep behind a marble counter hundreds of meters long.

There, the students presented their Multi-pass, logged their biometric-mana signatures, then followed a militant looking officer toward yet another set of too-tall double doors.

"Where are our proctors?" Gwen intoned as they passed the threshold.

"Patience." Walken carried on ahead. "The team was originally in Abu Dhabi. They will route through New Delphi, Lhasa, Chendu, and finally through to Shanghai. Once Yangon begins operation, European access to Indochina should be easier."

True to Walken's words, at the end of the stark concrete corridor was a group of Europeans looking distinctly out of place.

"Eric!" the leader called out, his voice booming across the cubist ceiling. "Thank God you're here. I was beginning to wonder if they had detained us, hahaha…"

A collective murmur of relief escaped from the examiners' lips. They were each powerful Magisters and Mages in their own right, but now they were stuck in the belly of the red beast.

"You're a household name, are you?" Gwen was impressed yet again.

"You jest," her instructor intoned modestly before leaving her side. Facing the newcomers, Walken opened his arms. "Auberon! My Baron of Shenfield! You're a sight for sore eyes!"

The contestants watched as the two men fiercely embraced, with "Auberon" planting a Sopranos hug-and-pat around Walken's shoulders.

"My God." Auberon pulled himself away. "Walken, when you disappeared, I feared for the worst. You know, I had imagined that our German friend had you gagged in a dungeon somewhere!"

"Ha! I am afraid to disappoint you." Walken shook his head. "I am safe, thanks to her."

"Ah." The Baron of Shenfield turned his studied gaze toward Gwen, who hastily curtsied. "The fabled liberator of Yangon? You gave von Schlabrendorff quite the scare, or so I've heard. Are you going to give me a run of the troubles as well, young lady? The Spaniards couldn't hold onto Cuzco for long, but maybe you..."

"Nothing of the sort, sir," Gwen simpered. There was nothing wrong with ingratiating oneself with the source of one's CCs.

Auberon laughed, then formally introduced himself as Baron Lucas of Shenfield. On the surface, their new Chief Proctor was the talkative type. With a head of pale blonde, he appeared younger than his professed age of five decades. Like a few of his peers, the Baron of Shenfield possessed the typical English ridge-line nose, paired with curly hair, fair complexion and grey-green eyes.

Behind him, he introduced his fellow proctors, a multi-national team of examiners assigned by the various universities.

"Magisters," the groups' round-robin greetings were disrupted by the PLA Magus who had escorted them, keeping a low conversation with Bai. "It's time."

The groups' attention turned toward the dais.

Upon the platform, Gwen spied the most complex Mandala she had ever seen. What had been inscribed into the baseplate of the superstructural Teleportation Circle stood at the apex of practical Spellcraft. Even a tiny corner of the elaborate setup was far beyond her ken, and when it fired up, the thrum of mana within the Mandala could be felt in their bones.

"Wow," Petra mumbled, taking notes with her eyes. "Just wow."

The proctors lead the way, stepping onto the dais before taking their place in the outer perimeter. As for the students, Walken invited them up one by one so that they stood at the circle's centre.

"Less spatial turbulence in the middle," Walken explained. "None of you wants to paint the floor in Honolulu, I imagine."

"I can't believe this is happening!" Eunae trembled as she held Anita's equally sweaty hand. "I am in a long-range teleportation circle. I am going to the other side of the world!"

"I am all tingly…" Jiro shook with excitement. "Please be gentle, Teleportation Circle."

"Other than Burma, I've never been outside of China," Rene confessed. "Can someone hold my hand..."

Nervous chuckles answered the Magma Mage. Gwen offered to hold Rene's hand. Mayuree and Eunae soon joined her.

"Injecting Mana," came a voice from above.
"Coolants at maximum."
"Activating the superstructural Mandala."
"Divination Locked-on."
"Destination in conference... Confirmed."
"Initiating Transfer..."

Below, the PLA Magus saluted. "Fudan. Make us proud."

Bai snapped back a crisp salute. "We shall return victorious!"

Blazing swirls of silvery-Conjuration enveloped the stage.

Fudan was away.


Cuzco.
The founders had named it Qusqu, from "quasqu wanka". In the tongue of the Amara who came before the Inca, it meant the rock of the owl.
In Quechua, it stood for the navel of the world.
After the Beast Tide, it stood fast as the centre of the Empire, Tawantinsuyu, made manifest on earth by the grace of Inti, the ever-burning sun, bringer of life. It was here, from the cyclopean fortress of Sacsahuamán that Inti, scion of the Yupanqui and the Capca lineage, received the benediction of his father and the paramount chieftains of each region.

With his tight, muscular body painted a thin layer of gold, Inti looked every inch the namesake of a sun-blessed being. At only twenty, his mastery of both the Mageocracy's magic and the craft of his people were well-lauded by his instructors at Cuzco National University.

Prominent with his ridge-line nose, deeply set almond eyes and a sensual mouth, Inti was told by the High Priestess that he resembled Manco Cápac, the splendid repeller of the Spanish and the saviour of the Empire. Inti didn't doubt it, considering the mana that burned in his blood, though he was much taller than his ancestor, standing as tall as the mountain-maize at harvest time. It was the Cloud Puma's milk, his mother had told him. When he was a babe, his father had received the benediction of the Sun God by wooing the legendary beast.

"My Son, Inti." His father, Achiq, paraded him across the spacious circle of the throne once more. The throne room of Sacsahuamán wasn't like that of western monarchs. It was a circular plateau where the Sapa Inca stood shoulder to shoulder with his companions.

The lords of the four Suyus each stood.

"Inti, make us proud." Caquingora, chief of the Qulla, Magister and Magistrate of the south-east, gave his blessings by anointing Inti with a spot of gold.

"Inti, may your warmth be eternal." Huaman of the western region, placed his hand on the young prince's chest in a similar manner.

"Inti, show the world that we are strong once again." Suyuntu, Magistrate of the north-west Chimú, gave his approval in gold.

"Inti, I wish for a team of grandchildren." Manco, Magistrate of the Antis tribes of Peruvian Amazonia, made his peers burst into heartfelt laughter as he dabbed at his son-in-law's torso.

"Yes, not a year longer, I too wish for grandchildren." Inti's father slapped his son's back. "Tica has waited for you for too long! When I was your age, the Mama Cuna forbade me from leaving the temple until we had an heir!"

"Please do not joke about that, esteemed father." Inti felt his golden skin burn with embarrassment as he slipped into his training tunic. He thought of Tica and acknowledged that there were few girls as beautiful as the daughter of Manco, nor as intelligent and magically-gifted. She would make a great Queen, easily better than him as the Sapa Inca. Still, he knew he was yet inexperienced, and the idea of being responsible for children of his own frightened Inti. What if he was to raise an ineffectual, lazy, or greedy king? What would happen to the four corners of the Empire? What of the threat from Amazonia?

"Until Tica is with child, our daughters cannot become concubines," Huaman complained. "Inti, have some consideration for this old man. My youngest is already older than you! She will be an old maid!"

Inti laughed drily, turning from the roaring of the older men. With great strides, he escaped from the Throne of the Sun.

"He's a good boy." Suyuntu of the Chimú nodded with approval. "We will be a proper Sapa in the future."

Achiq sighed. "Yes, but first comes the competition. Has the Committee approved of Amaru's proposal?"

"They have," Manco answered. "But to send Inti and Tica into that place. You are a braver king than I, Scion of the Sun."

"Ah, but Inti is the son of the Son of the Sun, hahaha." Achiq slapped his oiled thighs. "Like glittering gold, Inti will outshine all else!"

Cuzco was the bellybutton of the empire, and at the heart of Cuzco was the Plaza of the Sun. The original plaza was a part of the exhaustive temple complex leading toward Coricancha, the Grand Temple of Inti, but then the Spanish had converted it into a Weapon's Plaza where the colonists could gather in the event of an attack. For two centuries, the plaza had been full of Spanish buildings, but the Spaniards did not know that in the Andes, the great serpent yawned every other decade. When inevitably an earthquake occurred, all the Spanish buildings collapsed, while the Inca's so-called "primitive" masonry remained.

In the centuries since the Inca's return to the seat of Tawantinsuyu, the invader's buildings had been dismantled. What remained was only the square-shaped administrative district, which had been incorporated into the city's restored architecture.

Halfway to the plaza, Inti stopped to greet a pedlar selling achira, a roasted sweet-root. Inti refused the pedlar's offer of a free snack and paid the man a thin stick of crystal as compensation.

The pedlar kissed the prince's hand, then became instantly surrounded by citizens who wanted the same roots that the prince had bought. Inti may be dressed in his training attire, but his face was well known to the citizens living between the temple and its serpentine thoroughfare connecting Sacsahuamán with the city below.

When he passed a troupe of young girls, elaborate in their floral attire, they bowed their shoulders and giggled at the unadorned clothing of the prince. Behind the girls was a string of long-lashed llamas in ceremonial guises being taken up to the fortress. The Apu, the mountain Spirits, were kind of late, and Illapa, the god of seasons, was unusually generous with the rain.

A few of the girls wore their hair in new styles, Inti noticed, that and they wore the rubber and leather shoes popular in the northern continent. Inti would love a dozen pairs of these Nike and Adidas attires, but he was the prince of a country, and it would not do to demean his own country's craftsmen. All of Inti's clothing was hand-crafted by the Virgins of the Sun- girls elevated by the state religion.

Further down, passing a small square, he saw a group of boys in jeans and embroidered tee-shirts, listening to music from a quasi-magical device called a recorder which replayed sound. It was a European invention, though he could see that this particularly colourful model was a Japanese variation.

"Inti!" The boys stopped at once and bowed.

"Don't mind me." Inti ruffled the hair of the eldest. "I am just passing through."

"Inti, father managed to barter for books and lumen-recordings from America, through the Aztec Pocteca traders. Do you want to borrow some? I bet you haven't seen the new ones yet."

"I'll drop by if I have time, Palta," Inti promised, he indicated to the recorder and the thump of jazzy bass coming from the sound-emitting glyphs. "What does your father, the Magistrate, think about the music of the rocks?"

"Ah, he doesn't understand." Palta slicked back his hair with both hands. "Silas is the King of Cool! Baby!"

"Do you like our King best or the American King?"

"Can I like both?"

Inti burst into mirthful laughter.

"I suppose you can." He nodded to the bombastic beats coming from the device, so different to the court musician's lilting flutes. In the coming decades, the perils of keeping the Empire's culture balanced would be a task for his shoulders. For how long could their isolation keep his people innocent? Though Inti knew the tireless sun shone on the Andes his people, there were limits to what a nation of only twenty-million people could do against the ravenous hordes of Amazonia. Had the Spaniards not invaded and quashed their gods and temples, ravaged their population, perhaps their present condition wouldn't be so precarious, but alas, a dashed urn lost its milk forever.

"Inti! There you are!"

Down the hill, between rows of white-washed, mud-brick houses, the looming shape of an enormous young man approached.

"Tupac!"

"Sir Tupac." The boys bowed.

"Inti!" The man now arrived was enormously muscled, with legs like tree trunks, shoulders like that of a bear's, and a tapered waist like a puma. "There's trouble in the market; some foreign Magistrate is harassing Tica."

"Ha!" Inti snorted, not in the least worried. "We'd better hurry before she loses her temper."

"Coya Pasca will have my head if she gets into trouble again." Tupac parted the crowd like an ice-breaker. "By the Moon, these bumpkins who come into the city should be properly educated before they are set loose."

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"Ah." Inti patted his friend's back. "The Empire has yet to elevate all of its regions; we are as much to blame as they, no? Is it not our fault that they do not know the proper etiquette?"

In the north-western corner of the Plaza lay the Hall of the Healers. Unlike the grand wing of the same name that occupied Coricancha, the Healer's Hall was next to the market square and was a modest structure of four storeys. The upper level was the priestess' lodgings, while the lower level was devoted to the ailments of the ordinary citizens.

It was here that the candidates for the Aclla Cuna, the future Priestesses of the Sun Temple, plied their mystical craft. The majority of them were young women taken from the four corners of the empire, selected for magical talent, intelligence and beauty. At any given time, tens of thousands of them laboured in the many halls dotting the Empire's townships, providing mundane and magical care.

"Girl, what say you?" A man sat one-legged on a llama-wooled stool, the other perpendicular displaced to show off his swagger. "A commoner's life is too poor for a gem like you."

"Sir, I am dedicated to Inti," the girl replied demurely. "I am not for the likes of you."

"Then you'll be a virgin forever." The man smacked his lips, causing his followers to laugh. "I am a District Official of Chinchasuyu, do you know what that means? It means I control a whole town! A hundred thousand labourers work under me. Come with me, and I will make you my concubine. I'll treat you no worse than my first wife, better if you bear me a child."

A crowd had gathered by now, forming a semi-circle just outside the plaza area of the Healer's Hall.

"Master Kayara." One of the man's guards was growing more nervous by the minute. "The Temple of Inti is visible from here."

"Ah, Antay, why do you worry so?" The man called Kayara patted his knees. "This is a healer's hall. These girls are from common stock, don't you know? The daughters of the named Inca are all in the temple proper."

"Sir Kayara—"

"Antay, enough." Kayara raised a hand. "Tell me, girl, who is your father."

"A retired soldier…" The girl lowered her eyes. She had a button nose which made her appear younger than her years, and her llama's lashes were long enough to give him heartache. Even attired in the rough smock of the virgin's tunic, he could sense her ripening body beneath, guess at her pliant limbs, wide hips and full breasts. "He has grown too old and fat to fight."

"Hahaha…" Kayara laughed. "See? Antay, you worry for nothing."

"Still, I wish to be left to my duty, esteemed Sir."

"Girl." Kayara changed his tone, evidently growing impatient. "Is your father discharged?"

"Discharged, sir?"

"From the military."

"I don't think so." The girl looked up, and her obsidian orbs were like two pools of darkness refracting the noon-light from the windows. "He's been wounded, many times though."

"I see." Kayara clapped. "I can discharge your father if you come with me. I'll give him the title of a tiller, but he can retire in my estate, hmm? How's that?"

The girl looked around her. The other virgins were silent. A few of them were smiling strangely, which Kayara took to mean their jealous approval.

"Please allow me to decline."

"Oh, no, no, no." Kayara stood over the girl, resisting the urge to place his hands on her waist. If he left here and now, he was sure some other noblemen would take the girl by tomorrow. She was a fantastic treat, a thing of divinity, a fertility goddess. That she had remained undiscovered until he passed by was the will of Inti himself. "You see- the hand that gives also takes. If you refuse me, I will have to report your father for desertion. Your family will receive punishment for dereliction of state duty. Your father will have to make up for his time with hard labour, no? Could his old body take it?"

A foreboding silence fell over the temple.

Outside, the crowd collectively parted, though Kayara was well-absorbed in his theatrics.

"Do you not know of the Sapa's love for his people?" The girl challenged him. "Do you not know that Inti is fair?"

"Haha." Kayara shook his head. "But the Sapa is in his fortress, and Inti hangs high and far. I am and here and now."

"That's funny," a voice came from behind Kayara. "I was only six blocks away."

The District Official turned his head.

Something blotted out the sun.

Or rather, it was a caramel giant whose sleeveless tunic strained against his frame. He wore a breastplate of tanned llama hide, paired with gold-studded wrist-cuffs and military-style boots. Quickly, Kayara glanced at the man's mantle, noting the checkered patterns there that informed of his Qulla origins. From the blue dye, he could see the man's unimpressive rank.

"Warrior." Kayara kept his cool. "Is there a problem?"

"You need to apologise and present yourself to the temple," the giant intoned loudly. "Inti is forgiving, but not THAT forgiving. Repent while you can."

A murmur of agreement resounded from the crowd.

"Is wanting to give a young woman a better life a crime now? Are you a Temple Arbitrator?"

The question seemed to confuse the warrior.

"Tica?" The giant scratched his head, addressing the object of Kayara's affections. "What should I do?"

"Oh, so you know each other?" Kayara grew annoyed. "Is this what this is about? Antay! Get rid of him."

Against Kayara's expectations, his usually infallible guard captain had transformed into a golden statue, one that profusely perspired.

Kayara frowned.

"Sir." A young man not nearly as impressive as the giant dipped his head. "Can we talk outside? You're in the Healer's Hall; the girls need to attend to the citizens. While you debate with Tica, there's a line waiting outside."

"Who are you?" Kayara frowned. The young man was in a training uniform of white woven llama wool. It was good quality, but it was the sort one saw anywhere. In his eyes, this must be another young noble, at worst a high-ranking one. "No, we can talk here."

Someone sniggered from the crowd, followed by a dozen snorts.

Kayara felt the hair rise at the back of his head. He knew the citizens of Cuzco were haughty- but weren't they looking down on him too much? He was an administrator!

To his surprise, the young man stretched out a hand to the girl and pulled her away. Before he could violently object, she fell into his arms, and the two dashed for the plaza.

"After him!" Kayara was regretful that such a bounty would escape beneath his nose. Pushing his useless captain aside, he led his entourage outside, stepping into the sun.

"HALT!" came the sound of the giant from behind him. A terrible pressure emitted from behind Kayara, there was a growl like that of the puma. In the square, the crowd parted like mist cleaved in twain by the sun.

Kayara halted, not because of the beast behind him, but because of what now stood in front. The polite young man now stood with the sun above him, with the wide avenue toward the temple silhouetted against his body. Where the two-storey golden disc of Sun Gate refracted the light, Kayama saw for a moment, Inti himself.

The mana of radiance poured from the young man's body, filling the plaza with warmth, dispelling the cold air of the mountain valley. The girl in his arms giggled mischievously, her eyes bright with worship.

"You are—!" Kayama realised too late. The cleansing light filled his heart with clarity, and in its luminance, he cursed his weak desires.

All he could do was turn toward the temple, kneel, then place his head against the brickwork floor.

"Official Kayara Taruca, I will recommend you for two years of labour to temper your desires and learn the heart of the people. After that, you may return to your position, pending review from the Kuraka Bureaucratic Committee. For now, please report yourself to your Suyu's Kuraka."

"I. Kayama Taruca. Obey the will of Inti." Kayama trembled before the sun. "I will dedicate myself to the Empire and return to the land to learn its ways. You are merciful and wise, my prince. Please forgive this fool. Antay! You will be my guard. Take me back to the province!"

Without another word, Kayama removed the mantle from his shoulders, took the signet ring from his fingers, then unstrapped his official's wrist-band.

He then turned toward the palace, knelt once more, then rose to his feet. Turning about-face, Kayara then began the long trek back to the northern province. His guards followed, not knowing what else to do.

"Inti!" a voice cried out from the crowd.
"Good work, Inti!"
"Inti the wise!"
"Prince Inti!"

A plethora of raised caps and jubilant cries answered Inti as his giant companion rejoined the duo.

"Your father, the Magistrate Antis, is a retired soldier?" Inti asked the girl in his arms.

"He did retire from his position as the General, and he is growing bulbous like a yam. One wonders if he might run into the Pishtaco at this rate."

"Don't let him hear that... why didn't you introduce yourself properly," Inti whispered his fiancée through the Message bangle, a handy invention, one he had fashioned into the style of a traditional Quipu bracelet. "The Coya Pasca told you this would happen if you worked with the commoners. The nobles love to recruit concubines from the temple."

"Isn't that obvious?" Tica's smile was as brilliant as the noon-day sun. She kissed his hand as the people's cheers turned into sultry demands for royal grandchildren. "Everything I do, Inti. It's all for you."

In Hawaii, the Honolulu Tower sat beside the port authority, an extension of the Oahu naval base.

Its original name was the Inouye Tower, after its resident Tower Master. When Magister Inouye vacated due to health complications, the Tower's name was auctioned off to the highest bidder. Now, travellers floating past its concrete facade could not help but gaze at the enormous characters clinging to its sides in garish purple and orange, spelling out the letters "FDX".

"Can we go outside?" Gwen caught the clerk processing their passports. Unknown to most of her peers, she was already wearing a white halter-top two-piece underneath her dress.

"Ah…" The clerk began to sweat, feeling as though a man-eating Sphinx was proctoring his answer. "No… Ma'am."

"WE CAN'T go to the beach?" Gwen pointed to the floor to ceiling window panes, beyond which was the ultramarine ocean. "Its right there! How far is Waikiki from here? Ten, twenty minutes? I could fly there in five."

"Ma'am, your multi-pass isn't authorised to travel on U.S soil," the perspiring clerk explained. "You can't leave the Tower's transitory grounds."

"Ridiculous!" Gwen protested. She could smell the brine-scented sea outside. She leaned in close so that her face was a few inches away from the man's face. "Surely there's somewhere close within the Tower's domain we can dip our feet?"

"Er…" the clerk relented. "We have a rooftop pool in the VIP section, but—"

"How do we get there?"

"It's for VIPs…"

"How does one become a VIP?"

"You have to be an FDX premium member."

"What is that?"

"If you carry freight with us and spent over 20,000 HDMs, you'll receive a VIP membership for free. FDX provides the best global logistics for the transportation of maritime goods into and from America—"

"Hold the infomercial," she stopped the young man. "I thought this was the Honolulu Tower."

"It's the FDX Tower."

A few of the female clerks giggled behind the man talking to Gwen. Jiro wiggled his brows at them, eliciting another bout of laughter.

FDX? Gwen googled her memories. F for Federal—? Something clicked.

"Federal Express?"

"Yes, Ma'am, that's us."

"FedEx owns a Mage Tower?"

"We're just the sponsor, Ma'am. The state manages the military and the administrative wing. You're in the commercial wing. FDX is also an official sponsor of the IIUC…" The young man looked at the airhead sorceress with an expression of infinite kindness and patience. "Would you like to know more?"

"No…" Gwen sighed. "You're sure we can't just fly by Waikiki for half a day?"

"No."

"Not even for ready crystals?" She made the universal sign for "Ka-chin!".

"You have to apply for an upgraded transit-pass, it'll take forty-eight hours."

"Bah!"

She returned to the lounge, sat toward the sun, and faced the lulling sparkles reflecting from the ocean. Her mind, however, had drifted onto other matters.

So, a corporation may "own" a Tower?

America. She thought to herself. You big, bloody, beautiful ripper!


The bold font of the FDX logo shrunk in size as the freight-carrier FDX Carolina churned the bean-green Pacific a milky blue.

Not content with leaving Waikiki without so much as a dip in the water, Gwen stood by the rails in her halter top, watching the golden beach retreat into the distance.

"Kālua Pork! I'll be back!" Her crushing cry of defeat was accompanied by a spray of brine, not unlike a certain red-headed mermaid on the rocks.

Not far, Petra and Lulan paused to wonder what the hell Kālua pork signified before continuing their practice on the rear deck. Picking from the team's options for locomotion, Petra had settled on Gwen's offensive Dimension Door and Lulan's Misty Step. By alternating between the two, she possessed ample options for hopping about the battlefield.

The students were stuck on deck because the Carolina was a freight ship with limited space for passengers. The sixteen or so Magisters and Maguses, including Walken, had taken up the lion's share of the limited board. Fudan, therefore, had been given the rear castle and a generous cargo bay as living space for seven days, with a crew canteen and unisex bathrooms to share.

After a day of fruitless lounging, the team decided to get creative.

Richard and Bai took turns defending a fort of spare containers while Rene and Jiro worked on finesse. Petra meanwhile, siphoned Enuae's healing invocations for her cube collection while also helping Anita refine her element. In the make-shift cabin, Mayuree performed an elaborate Augury.

"Weal and woe in equal measure, danger, but also reward." She shuffled the bones back into her ring. "I suppose that's fair?"

In the morning, from the poop deck, Gwen watched from the rails, still thinking about the beach, the sand, the sun and the golden pork. Feeling cheated and yet determined to exercise her expectations, she materialised a deck chair from her ring. To Petra and Lulan's shock, she then set up an anchored umbrella, a wicker coffee table, and a jug of coconut juice. Gwen then patiently put down a beach towel before she casually proceeded to read Ma's volumes by the "seaside".

The sun glare from her porcelain skin was like a Flashbang, almost running a blinded Lulan into the bull.

Gwen grimaced. Ever since arriving in Shanghai, she had hardly had time to sun herself. Now, she had seven days to pick up some colour, and she was determined to do so.

Positioned to attain an even tan, she opened Ma's volume. It was entitled "The Empire Returns: A Case Study of Tawantinsuyu."

The collected journal was a combination of three history papers, a political dissertation, and a generous appendix, edited by Magister Joan M. Milford.

In the first entry, "An Oral History of the Spanish Usurpation", the author annotated that Spain penetrated South America around 1532. From Lima, they met great success by striking directly at Cuzco, capturing the Sapa Inca of the time, Atahualpa. In the power vacuum, the Inca's previously conquered provinces and allies reverted to their original tribal allegiances, preventing the Empire from repelling the Spanish. The tragedy was further compounded by the mass slaughter of temple maidens and the Inca's reliance on message-runners who became vectors for smallpox.

In 1534, the conquistadors beheaded the Sapa to show that the Sun King was a mortal man. To make ingots, they melted down the golden wards and idols that protected the city. Consequently, through ruin and rapine, the Castillian Crown cemented their rule from Lima to Cuzco for almost two centuries.

The second paper was centred on the emergence of an immensely powerful Radiant Mage by the name of Manco Cápac, the founder of Neo Tawantinsuyu.

In "The Return of the Sapa" the article detailed how the long-oppressed indigenous people of the Andes turned against their Spanish masters, throwing down churches and revolting in the boroughs. When the conquistadors responded with forced conscription, the natives chose to flee into the mountains rather than serve as fodder for the Spaniard's defence.

The "Peruvian Civil War" then quickly escalated until the Spanish conquistador-General, Sebastián Pizãrro, confronted the self-proclaimed Sapa Inca in the ruins of the once golden temple. If Gwen were to believe in the legend, Pizarro was first crucified, then made into a human candle. In the Plaza de Armas, he blazed from sunrise to sundown, halfway dying until the sooty end.

In the appendix, the paper noted that recent anthropology carried out on the Cult of Inti revealed traces of 17th-century spellcraft utilised by the Vatican. Indeed, it was far more reasonable that Cápac had learned how to tap into faith-based magic, as opposed to inventing his own. Though the Mage remained a mystery, it was speculated that he might have been a convert selected for Inquisitorial duty before awakening to his alter-ego.

"Aaah-" Gwen yawned, then turned her body like a side of fish, blinding Petra.

The death of Pizarro in 1718 was the first in a series of disasters that struck the Spanish colonies. With the Cult of Inti restored, it was no longer possible to sustain minority rule. It took only a decade for the Christian missions to fall into ruin and the colonists' government to fall into disarray. Haplessly, the Spanish were pushed back into the ocean. Archaeologically, half the fleeing fleet was set aflame, becoming the subject of many a treasure hunt off Lima's coast.

Of course, the Spanish did wish to return, but by then the emerging Mageocracy had exhausted the Castillian Crown's economic and political capital.

Conversely, in the Andes, Manco Cápac set about reestablishing the old kingdom and bringing allies into the fold. He rescued slaves from surviving outposts, punished local warlords, and reconstructed Cuzco, all in five decades. Most importantly, he cemented the worship of Inti as the state religion, using the power brought by the faith of the people to keep the monsters in the Amazon at bay.

By 1782, the new Sapa Inca had established an egalitarian dominion divorced from the Western notion of Monarchy. European Anthropologists invited into the Empire's domain recorded a chimeric form of theocratic-socialism. At the head of the state was the Sapa Inca, the monarch, whose family ruled by virtue. The Sapa was supplemented by four leaders holding equal political sway, each governing a corner of Tawantinsuyu, the corners of the "world". Under each leader's Suyu was a system of administrative officials called the Kuraka, learned men selected by merit. Each tier of the Kuraka oversaw a district, diminishing in size from city to county, to community.

Overall, the stratum of society began with the Sapa, then the royal household, the lord's houses, the bureaucrats of the Kuraka, then equally, the commoner-classes of the labourer, farmer, craftsman and warrior. According to service and merit, each caste furthermore possessed internal ranks.

What interested Gwen most of all was the Inca's disinterest in economics. As a group traumatised by Spain's boundless greed during their conquest, the new Empire heavily emphasised on agrarian self-sustainability. In place of currency, Coca, crystals and maize served as means of exchange for other tangible goods, supplemented by an abstract system of bartered labour. Precious metals and luxury goods held only abstract value.

According to the third dissertation, in place of taxes, the Inca revived a system called Mita, meaning 'taking turns'. In a western calendar year, a citizen was expected to provide one hundred days of labour. For the citizens, most of whom had spent two centuries being worked to death in gold mines, they embraced the new system with grace. The Mita system thus engendered enormous civil works on a scale the conquistadors could only dream of.

In unambitious prosperity, the Incas retreated into the mountains for another hundred years.

When in 1888 the British arrived at Lima, the seventh Sapa Inca, Huayna Cápac, whole-heartedly welcomed the Mageocracy's scholars into his city of gold. He embraced the spellcraft revolution, going so far as to build for the scholars a university in the heart of Cuzco.

Fortunately for the Incans, before the Mageocracy could bring its imperialist engine to bear, Necromancy erupted from Eastern Europe like a burst pustule. Cuzco lost all contact with London while the Undead hordes ravaged Europe. By the time the Commonwealth Mageocracy stumbled back into Lima in the mid-1920s, the Inca had already incorporated the Imperial Schools of Magic into their education system.

As the 40s rolled around, Cuzco was once again ready to join the globe; only they had one problem. The Europeans disappeared again! This time, the Mageocracy became embroiled in the Pan-European conflict. The Inca were left shaking their heads. Just how war-like were these Europeans?

When in the 1950s Cuzco welcomed their American neighbours into the fold, it came with a dire warning from their Aztec Theocracy neighbours. "These are wolves in sheep's clothing," their brothers in Meso America told them. Do not trust the men whose eyes glitter at the sight of gold, and whose prophets came bearing promises of profit.

The Sapa Inca took caution but was full of curiosity for the world beyond. The Americans were careful as well, tentatively maintaining neutrality as they warred with the Aztecan Theocracy.

Stolen novel; please report.

Then, a dragon happened.

This time, the Inca did not escape unscathed.
Like the Mermen of the sea, the denizens of Amazonia had awoken.

Amazonia! The very name invoked a vision of bronze-skinned, supermodel women wielding bows, shields and swords, lead by "Diana".

She turned to the accompanying volume of South American Bestiary.

She found trolls.

"The Amazonian Troll is a subspecies of sapient elementals. Due to Amazon's flora, this subspecies ranges from one to three meters. An apex predator, trolls are naturally predisposed to violence. These tusked individuals possess a vaguely humanoid profile while occupying a corporeal form of fungi-flesh, capable of rapid regeneration. All trolls are known to imbibe human tissue, which in Trollic society is considered a delicacy."

Furthermore, the Bestiary noted, certain Trolls possessed magic derived from non-human shamanism. Though their society was primitive compared to the Inca, the race as a whole was enormously overwhelming in the martial sense. An adult troll warrior could readily match a low-tier CQB Transmutater, while Troll Shamans were no worse than mid-tier Elementalists. An average human pitted against a troll was akin to a guinea pig pitted against a cat.

"Amazonian trolls are ruled by a matriarch, with many females serving as shamans. The principle female, a brood-matron, can spawn up to a hundred individuals a year."

Ouch, Gwen squirmed. A hundred? Viva la Regeneration.

"Local legend has it that male Trolls when in heat will copulate with humans. Though the victim usually perishes, females who survive the term will spawn a Hag. Should the victim be magically inclined, a Black Hag is born."

"What the fuck?" Gwen mouthed, shivering all over. Black Hags? Trollic sorcerers wielding hexes? She had read about them in the European Beastiary. According to those, Hags were intelligent-variants who had developed a knack for magic. They also cook children.

"Researcher's note: there is no credibility to the assertion that Hags are born from human females. It is safe to assume this is an old wive's tale to prevent young women from entering the jungle."

Thank god, Gwen breathed out. Half-trolls were bullshit for sure. How would the physiology work? Trolls are elementals. They're moving rocks, or fungi, or whatever.

Prior to the Beast Tide, Amazonia was a region so vast as to have never been mapped by human endeavours. During the Tide, Troll tribes emerged in force. After eating the Eastern garrison, they made a buffet out of the sheltered townships in the Antis region.

In the end, it was only after Sayri Inca Cápac sundered the eastern cliffs, collapsing a portion of the basin and sacrificing a dozen townships that the horde halted. Unfortunately, in the retaliation that followed, Sayri lost his life to a virulent, incurable curse.

When finally the Tide ceased, a slow reclamation revived the tribal home of the Antis. The new Sapa, Achiq, rebuilt the lost town and highways, eventually returning the region to a semblance of its past glory.

The last page noted the revision date as 1985.

Gwen replaced the book in her ring, then lied back as to digest the information. By now, she could feel the tan baking nicely.

"Cousin." Richard came upon her sunbathing on the deck. Warily, he regarded the plump spectacle with a critical eye. "You like lobsters?"

"Why?" She perked up. "Are we having lobsters for dinner? I could eat."

"No, but…" Richard pointed to her red and tingling protrusions. "You look like you're about to Polymorph into one."

"Restoration!" Eunae rubbed ointment onto her vice-captain while waiting for the spell to run its course. Luyi helped by spreading the salve with its tongue.

"I don't get it," their vice-captain groaned underneath her healer's appendages. For someone who had spent her twenties in enviable bronze, she was no stranger to tanning. "I took every precaution."

"What possible precaution can a half-vampire take against the sun?" Richard commented as Lea cooled his cousin's irradiated dermis. "There's wanting to look like hot stuff, and then there's medium-rare."

Gwen groaned. "Very funny. Is the ozone here depleted?"

"The what?" Richard pulled up his sleeves, showing a healthy tan. He also pointed to Lulan, who now appeared at least a shade darker after two days on the equatorial belt. Even Petra, who was a lab room beauty, had taken on a tinge of colour that played wonderfully against her vivid eyes.

"My beach!" Gwen bawled at the sight of her bronzing buddies. "Do I have to go in a burkini?"

Richard snorted at her Gwenism.

"Ooo, that smarts!" She drew in a breath of humid air as her skin began to moult. Beneath the shedding cells, the new surface emerged paled and translucent. Gwen cringed as Eunae picked at her peeling skin with sadistic pleasure.

"So, anything we should know?" Richard changed the topic to her books.

"We'll talk over dinner." Gwen regarded her healer apologetically before turning to her other companions. "Maybe then, Eric can advise the bloody team he's leading instead of dining with his fellow snobs…"

According to scripture, the world had three layers.
Amaru was the serpent, Apu of the "Ukhu Pacha", the land below the land. Puma was the Apu of the "Kay Pacha", the mountains upon which the Inca resided. Cuntur was the Apu of the "Hanan Pacha" in the sky, filled with magnificent condors.

To attain enlightenment, the citizens of Tawantinsuyu must strive toward the seven virtues- Courage, Restraint, Charity, Joy, Truthfulness, Pride, and Justice. Likewise, they must renounce the ill-humours of Avarice, Sloth, Vengefulness, Carnality and Jealousy. Each of the virtue and vices was indoctrined from childhood, first through limericks, then fables, then finally, chronicle of the conquistadors' boundless cruelty. According to the Mamaconas of the Temple, should a citizen exercise more virtue than vice, then all would be well. Those who were good went to Hanan Pachu when they died, while sinners fell into Ukhu Pacha to be punished by the demons, monsters kept at bay by the great serpent.

"Amaru" was also the given name of Amaru Paullu-Yupanqui, cousin to the Sapa Inca, uncle twice-removed to the young Inti, and brother to Manco, the overseer of the Suyu of Antis.

Amaru was aware that to outsiders, the state religion was called the Cult of Inti, and that the Cult had plagiarised Christian motifs where the original was lost. Amaru also knew that the Apu was in reality, Magical Beasts. Some were mindless predators, like the Titan Boas of the low-land, slinking up the cliffs in summer to eat the llama and the occasional misbehaving child. Others, like the Phuyupuma, the Cloud Puma, were wise and intelligent, but not a god.

Amaru had possessed many titles of renown in his forty-five years of service.
Priest Amaru.
Adjudicator Amaru.
Administrator Amaru.
Professor Amaru.
Chief of the Kuraka, Amaru.
Magus, then Magister Amaru.

Amaru, however, saw his life differently.
He was Amaru the fool.
Amaru the gullible.
Amaru the miserable.

For this, he blamed the Sapa Inca.

In the beginning, growing up in the cloud forests of the Antis; he, Manco and Uchu were instrumental in the Sapa's rise to power. Of Amaru's three companions, Achiq was a friend; Manco his brother; and Uchu was his everything.

Amaru and Uchu had been inseparable since they were apprentices. She had always favoured him more than Manco. That came as no surprise; whether in politics or magic, he had always outshone his good-natured brother.

After the Tide, Uchu's father chose Manco as a successor. This, Amaru did not care. But when Manco became the leader of his people, he picked Uchu for his wife. To Amaru's chagrin, before he could protest, the newly crowned Achiq gave his blessing to Manco, carving the union in stone. Heartbroken, Amaru begged Uchu to protest. Alas, Uchu could not refute the will of a god.

A GOD! Amaru felt sick. No, Achiq was just a man.

In Amaru's eyes, the Sapa was no Allah or Christ. He was an honest, kind-natured herder, the sort who could be lead by the lip like a llama.

Jaded and full of hidden venom, Amaru asked for a leave of absence from Cuzco to travel the Andes and beyond. When he returned, Uchu was gone.

"She died defending her child," his Sapa had said. "There was a skirmish, and they were caught by surprise." It was a story as common as maize, but Amaru felt on the verge of murderous madness.

"Uncle Amaru." Before the darkness could descend, a little girl tugged at his tunic. "Mama said I should look to you."

"Tica," Manco introduced his daughter. Her name meant the beautiful one.

Caught within the twin pools of Tica's grieving eyes, Amaru rediscovered his reason for being. He became Tica's teacher, keeping nothing from her: spellcraft, politics, arts, literature, history, the mythologies; he gave his all. Under his care, her talent blossomed. Amaru had no doubt she would shine brighter than the sun.

Then, on her sixteenth summer, Achiq bequeathed the girl to Inti.

The city rejoiced. All of Antis rejoiced. Tawantinsuyu rejoiced.

But for Amaru, when the blessing left Achiq's lips, something revolted.

A flower he had so tenderly raised, plucked, just like that? A sapling he had watered and weeded and kept sheltered from sleet and snow and now bearing fruit, was to be plundered by a meritless prince?

Amaru cautioned himself.

Did he desire Tica? He quashed the thought. What he felt for the girl wasn't lust, but love. His rage came not from envy, but injustice. Had he not made a promise to himself that none may take the daughter of his beloved Uchu? He had groomed Tica for the role of the Coya Pasca, the High Priestess, the most powerful woman in the Empire, unbeholden even to the Sapa Inca.

If he was to lose her now, why had Amaru remained alive? He could have joined Uchu in the underworld two decades ago.

"Lord Amaru?" came a gruff voice beside him.

Amaru's pale-yellow irises re-focused. Whenever he recalled that his jewel was wandering the city with her princeling, his mind wandered.

"Pray, continue." Amaru waved a hand to his companion. "I am listening."

Unlike the androgynous Amaru, his conversation partner was a picture of masculinity. Square-jawed, hawk-eyed and with a nose like a condor's beak, the man possessed three times the bulk of the light-framed Amaru.

The two men were meeting in Cuzco's Tower, a contrivance Amaru had necessarily introduced as a countermeasure against Amazonia. From the exterior, the Cuzco Tower was a modest administrative building crafted from reinforced glass and concrete. Conversely, its interior was deceptively large and furnished in the aesthetic of the colonists.

"Very well. The remuneration is 24,000 HDMs, assuming our agents can recover the Sun and Moon idols."

The man tapped on the data slate.

"Sans the idols, the total is 57,000 HDMs."

"Acceptable."

"I shall collect the collateral now." The mercenary grinned like a wolf, splitting his cracked lips from ear to ear. "Rest assured, our contractors are the definition of discretion."

"I trust you because I doubt you have the gall to double-cross me." Amaru tapped on his Message device. "Like you, I have friends in high places. Both in the Factions, and elsewhere..."

A door opened, followed by a laden trolley pushed by a girl-servant. The attendant bowed, then un-locked a compartment to reveal two-dozen golden statues, each an amalgamation of the snake, the condor and the puma.

"Your collector seems to know us well," Amaru remarked, running a finger over the two-dozen or so statues of the sacred trinity. "Very few of these pre-colonial icons have survived."

"May I?" the middle-aged Magus reached for the avatars.

Amaru watched as the man ran a score of diagnostic magics on his tablet device tied to a monocle. In regards to Magitech, he sorely envied the Americans. If Tawantinsuyu could possess the same tier of programmable spell-components, the nation's bureaucratic affairs could reach new heights of efficiency.

"Excellent." The Mercenary captain replaced the statue. "It's a pleasure doing business with you, Magister Yupanqui."

"I await your success." Amaru smiled at the grinning captain. "We will not meet again."

"No." The wolfish man moved his hand over the statues, stowing the lot with a glance. "We won't."


Stepping from the FDX Carolina after seven days of swaying at sea, the ground beneath the student's feet turned as they ambled onto the freight dock.

From the deck, they were soon joined by the proctors. Exchanging a few polite words, the group then crossed customs before travelling coach into Lima's cultural centre.

Unlike the Cuzco of Gwen's academic volumes, remnants of Castillian legacy remained in the coastal city. When she audibly questioned why so much of the trade-city retained its colonial influence, it was a voice from the front who answered the inquisitive vice-captain.

"Lima was our last domain," their driver struck up a conversation.

"Domain?"

"Yeah, of us Spaniards."

She implored the driver to continue.

"... and because we have Spanish blood, the Incas don't think very highly of us," their chauffeur snorted. "In Cuzco; those snobs wouldn't give us the time of day."

Their assigned guide, visibly more Spanish than native, grumbled bitterly.

_Ah,_ Gwen nodded at their driver's disdain. Trouble in paradise, that was more like it. Her anthropological records were far too kind in regards to the Inca's pristine cultural roots. As always, academia was a far cry from the vox populi.

"The real Inca; and I mean those born in Cuzco under the auspice of Inti…" their driver continued. "…they think that folks from Lima only go to Cuzco to steal and grovel. Sometimes I wonder if things could be better if we had remained an independent city, or if we never allowed the crown to be chased out..."

From behind the driver's seat, Gwen could see that much of Lima resembled Barcelona, with broad, tree-strewn avenues in stone. True to the driver's sentiments, its boulevards retained a Catalan-Gothic flavour.

"Thankfully, we're mostly left alone down here at the coast." The driver said. "The sun shines from Cuzco, but Lima is in the shade, eh? All that gold they've got up there, and mountains of Crystals! All they do is pile it up in that Temple of theirs and praise the sun. But we're citizens of the Empire too, aren't we? Lima needs new roads, new ports, new schools! We're the artery that connects Cuzco to the outside world!"

Perhaps it was because the girl had shaken his hand and asked for his name, or maybe it was exciting to have a Mage eating his words- the man's disclosure came on like a torrent.

So, strife does exist in the Empire, Gwen deduced. She could see it too.
It was only when their bus entered the central business district that the attires of the citizenry began to take on a distinct, local air. One by one, workwear turned into colourful caps; shawls stitched with chequered patters, long full body tunics, and leather sandals.

"Why do some people have similar mantles?"

"That's easy." The driver said as he pulled into the hotel's bay. "The squares on the mantle indicate their position and rank in their Suyu. Gold-Red-Blue-Green-Teal-Earth-Grey. The closer to red, the higher up they are. If you see someone with a gold mantle, they're a part of the royals. Grey means they are criminals."

He pointed to a square on his uniform. "Me? I am a Teal. A skilled labourer."

"Right, gotcha." Gwen thanked their accommodating NoM driver before producing an HDM. "Enrico, Can I gift you with this?"

"I won't say no, Miss Gwen." The man gulped. "Inti's blessing!"

Behind Gwen, Auberon, the Baron of Shenfield, turned to his old classmate with an enquiry. "She does that a lot?"

"All the time," Walken said. "Queer, hmm? Maybe it's her Frontier upbringing. She's got a knack for dealing with NoMs."

"You think an NoM would resist an Omni-mage?"

"Do you think you can get your NoMs to speak to you candidly?"

"Hee..."

Auberon Lucas watched Walken's prize stretch her pliant figure in a most unladylike manner. More and more, his alumnus' protégé was tickling his interest.

"Right!" in the lobby of the impressive colonial hotel, Fudan's instructor addressed his team. "We're up at 0400 sharp tomorrow for breakfast and final checks. At 0500, we take the ISTC to Cuzco. After that, we have been invited to attend the sunrise. There, you will meet with your opponents from Cuzco National University. Remember, Inti Yupanqui-Cápac is both heir and the future head of the Cult, handle with care."

"Yessir!" the team replied.

"Remember that as with the PLA Tower, Cuzco is independent. Not all of your Contingency Rings may function. I will check with Tower Master Yupanqui before we proceed with the quest. When you duel, shield-break only."

"Yessir!"

"Petra?"

"I am stocked up, sir."

"Gwen?"

"Nothing but Lightning!"

"Good." Walken turned to face the lobby. "This may be the last two days you'll remain in civilisation for the foreseeable future. Treasure it!"

True to Walken's proposed itinerary, the team arrived at the ISTC at the crack of dawn. An hour later, Fudan's team was treading on the sacred soil of Cuzco; the navel of the world, the centre of the Incan Empire.

As with Burma, an entourage awaited the students. This time, their hosts consisted of a dozen smiling men in conical flapper-hats, colourful tunics and scarlet shoulder-shawls, bowing their heads. After handshakes and greetings, the congregation made way for a trio of women, who introduced themselves as the Aclla Cuna.

"Sacred women," Gwen translated for the others, marvelling at the linguistic prowess of her new Ioun Stone. "Virgins of the Sun."

"Please follow us to the Temple," one of the girls implored amiably. Unlike the ceremoniously adorned men, the girls wore white tunics of fine linen, a sunburst-patterned shawl and llama-skin shoes.

Gwen enviously scrutinised their perfect, caramel skin.

"Cute…" Jiro followed without complaint.

The others formed a procession line. Unlike the enthralled Jiro, his companions arranged themselves in order of height so that Eunae and Lulan wouldn't have their first sight of Cuzco impeded.

Outside Cuzco's Tower, the still-dark city expanded from horizon to horizon, a tide of chalk-washed buildings with terracotta roofs. Unlike the "blocks" favoured by the developed nations, the city offered a unique take on urbanism, forming fissured avenues encircling administrative and religious centres.

To the city's north, the mighty fortress of Sacsahuamán cast its golden glow; its walls etched with lustrous wards and arcane symbols. From the hilly vantage, the puma-shaped city pulsed with the royal fortress at its head, and Coricancha at its heart. The team wondered at the breath-taking sight of seeing a foreign city whose ley-lines were imprinted in golden circles glowering with thrumming mana. Fed by capillaries of magic, Cuzco appeared as though it were alive.

Their destination, Coricancha, sat atop another hill, at the end of an elongated plaza shaped like a "T".

"And I thought our city used a lot of gold…" Mayuree inhaled Cuzco's rarified air. As a precaution, the students had imbibed potions for altitude sickness. Nonetheless, lightheadedness and mild nausea assailed those whose whole lives had been spent at sea-level.

Gwen meanwhile, struck up a conversation with the priestesses. First praising their elegance, their clothes, then steering the conversation toward the city itself, playing the ignorant yokel. In no time at all, the girls were giggling as though old friends.

"Where are the slums?" Gwen remarked. Even in the dim light, the urban silhouette was incredibly consistent. In Shanghai, she explained, it was self-evident where the Mage's city ceased, and the NoM's districts began.

"Cuzco doesn't discriminate," the priestess candidate, Lira, proudly proclaimed. "We don't have areas for the poor."

"Oh? How so?"

"All of the city's citizens are cared for by the Sapa," the Aclla Cuna replied with reverence. "So long as they or their families contribute, they won't starve, and they will always have a bed and a roof over their heads."

"And if they don't contribute?" Gwen arched a brow. Was modern-day Cuzco a socialist-theocracy like Bhutan? Or was it a cult of personality in the style of Dear Leader?

"Why would they not?" The girl furrowed her brows. "The city belongs to all of us. Inti shines on all equally, why should they not reciprocate? Who would wish to live in the darkness?"

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Gwen caught Richard smiling and showed her cousin the white of her eyes.

"You're right." She grinned back amicably. "What a wonderful city. Bless Inti!"

"Bless Inti!" the girl chirped.

"Do you mind if I ask some more questions?"

"Ask me anything!" The girls' eyes glinted. "I am the top-ranking student at the temple! What would you like to know?"

"How about…" Gwen made sure her friends were listening. "How about some valorous tales of your darling prince?"

0610.

Sunrise.

Hymns praising the risen sun rose to a crescendo, filling the golden air with the music of the spheres.

"How ecclesiastical," Richard relayed through a silent Message. "I know they're using mostly wind instruments, but there's a choir and everything. I am getting flashbacks of Sunday assembly at Prince's."

"Must be a post-colonial thing," Gwen returned as she looked about the temple. Indeed, as Richard had stated, they may as well be in an Incan variation of the Barcelona Cathedral. Above, where the sun had struck the central structure's arched dome, an incredible array of amber quartz formed an art-deco sun, bathing the faithful in awe.

The high priest, dressed in the garb of Inti with three condor feathers in a golden headband, a metallic shawl and a waist-skirt etched with saffron threads, lead the congregation in prayer.

When the music ebbed, an incense-smeared llama dressed in gold and scarlet threads made its way to the centre of the dais.

_Oh no,_ Gwen winced.

"I had expected a nubile virgin," Richard reminded her of Cuzco's past. That a llama was now a substitute spoke of the Cult's modernity. "Maybe it's a maiden llama?"

Without complaint, the animal knelt.

"Inti! Teach us!" The priest rose both hands toward the heavens. "Take this offering from your people!"

The congregation began to chant.

A disrobed young man joined the central dais. He was naked from the waist up and rouged in gold, reminding Gwen of a Grecian statue. As his footfalls filled the temple's vacant spaces with thudding echoes, she thought of Gunther.

So that's "Dear Prince", Gwen studied the lone figure as he approached the llama with a gleaming, golden blade. In one stroke, the Radiant Mage sunk the dagger into the creature's heart. The llama knelt, then the high priest collected the heart-blood in a jewelled goblet.

_Oh no._ Gwen realised where this was going.

"We invite our guests to partake in the gift of Inti," the priest declared.

Slick with gore from his square chest to chiselled abdominals, Inti raised the cup, then approached Fudan's assembly. From the left side of the aisle, the Cuzco team rose to their feet.

"I, Bai Tei, accept your generosity." Bai stepped forward, bowed to Inti, then again toward the Sapa Inca seated under the glimmering mural.

Inti took a sip.
Gwen felt her skin crawl.

"The flesh of my God, from me to you, brother under the sun," Inti intoned.

Tei received the goblet, then drank.

"Good!" Inti slapped Tei on the shoulder.

He then passed the goblet down the line so that it was in the hand of his vice-captain, a girl with deep, obsidian eyes. She introduced herself as Tica, a noblewoman and heir to the seat of Antis.

From the cup's rim, Tica dyed her lips, painting both petals carmine, making even Gwen gulp. When she relayed the goblet, the Void Mage could taste the fecundity radiating from Tica's body.

A Plant Mage! She wrinkled her nose at the nostalgic fragrance.

At the goblet's base, their fingers touched.

A mote of something passed between them. Their eyes met.

"The flesh of Inti, from me to you, sister under the sun," Tica parroted.

"Sister." Gwen raised the goblet, then took a mouthful.

The briny-blood was pungent but full of life. As a scalding line of raw vitality, it travelled down her gullet, flushing her body pink.

"Oh…" Gwen gasped, realising she had let loose an indiscreet moan.

"Inti appears to agree with you." Tica's smiling eyes formed two half-moons. "May we converse during the luncheon?"

Gwen nodded, then passed the goblet to a caramel giant taller than Richard and twice the bulk by the name of "Tupaq".

TUPAC?! Gwen almost regurgitated her plasma-de-llama. She regarded the rapper extraordinaire but was disappointed when the man spoke in Quechua.

The ritual continued.

Thanks to Mayuree running a discrete variation of Detect Magic, Fudan measured up their opponents.

The Incan team consisted of five men and five women.

Inti Yupanqui-Cápac, princeling and Radiant Mage, was Cuzco's captain.

Tica Chuquipoma-Yupanqui was their vice-captain, a Plant Mage. Her School of Magic was indeterminable, though Gwen did detect the familiar scent of a fellow Conjurer, one that had mastery over a sprite that smelled like Sufina.

Tupaq was a Mage with a hint of Abjuration. Likely a local specialist.

The other three men were not nearly as impressive as Inti and Tupaq, carrying the aura of casters at tier 5 or below. Uturunku was an Earthen Transmuter-Abjurer. Urqu, who wore a headdress of condor feathers, had the feel of an Air Mage with a mix of Transmutation and Divination. Qari appeared a Fire Evoker, though Jiro found the man's Affinity inferior by far.

Behind Tica were the female members of the Incan team. Sumatika was a water Mage of an indistinct school. Misi was a CQB Mage, evidenced by her dancer's figure and the obsidian daggers strapped to her thighs. Kusi, Misi's sister, was again a Mage of indistinct magic. Mallqu was the last member, one Mayuree determined to be a Support caster.

It was an imbalanced lineup, Gwen deduced. The sort Walken noted as a team held together by a few core members whose abilities were extraordinary.

"That makes sense, really," her teacher had wisely articulated. "In a society of enforced homogeny, mediocrity is celebrated. If individuals like Inti popped up all over, how would the Empire maintain itself?"

"One mountain does not brook two tigers." Bai nodded in agreement.

"Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere," Gwen added her piece.

"Not to mention we're talking dragons, condors, couatls, pumas…" Walken chuckled. "Harmony-over-competition isn't a bad thing. Until you realise there's a shortage of talent to repel the next Tide."

Ergo, to defeat Cuzco National, the easiest thing to do was to knock out Inti and Tica.

"Take care," Walken warned them. "From now until the finals, all your CCs will be accumulated. Through victory for each match, your scores will flow onto the next. In the event of a tie or total failure - the team with the higher CC total will emerge the victor. In that regard, prioritise your quest. Deal with Inti only if necessary."

"And the locals have home-ground trump cards," Richard said. "We have to tread lightly and carry a big wand."

Gwen's attention returned to the ceremony. The llama was now being carried out. Later it would be blessed with pepper and rock salt.

"Blessed Inti!" the high priest declared to the amber mural. "O radiant day-star that melts the snow and makes the maize rise."

"Inti!" The members of Cuzco National saluted the dais by crossing their wristbands across their chest. It was the customary greeting used by the Empire's elite.

"Inti!"
"Inti!"
"Inti!"

Prayers to the Sun God filled the cathedral.

From start to finish, the ceremony had taken two hours.

"We now invite Lord Auberon Lucas to speak." The high priest vacated for the chief proctor and his assistant.

The Baron of Shenfield took to the stage with effortless ease.

"Students, advisors, and guests- welcome to the international round of the 2004 IIUC. This morn, in beautiful Cuzco, we accept this invitation issued by the Royal House of Cápac."

"To our hosts! It is with great pleasure that the committee accepts your summon. In the coming days and beyond, may our friendship flourish, and our cooperation be fruitful!"

Applause.

"Fudan!" Auberon turned to the contestants. "You have travelled far, and I salute your ardour. Cuzco National! We thank your generosity and grace. To all of our contestants, I hope that you shall keep your heart firm, your valour strong and your honour immutable!"

His assistant Magister handed him a scroll.

"Your TASK!" Auberon unfurled the parchment with a dramatic flourish. "Shall take place beyond the edge of the Eastern Suyu."

A startled murmur spread through the Incan audience, including Cuzco's contestants. Inti and Tica swapped a knowing glance.

Fudan remained unmoved, vaguely aware that the Amazonian region was virginal Wildland but otherwise possessing no idea why the Inca grew agitated.

The chief proctor waited until the congregation quietened down.

"You have heard correctly. In preparation for this event, our joint-survey with the Cuzco Tower, under Magister Amaru Paullu-Yupanqui, has unveiled a Dungeon in the hitherto unmapped region of Divi-Loc 12.61 S: 70.40 W."

Another murmur broke out over the assembly.

"Of course, we use the term Dungeon empirically. As for what our students shall find, I now invite our host to explain."

A thunderous meeting of palms rang out as Achiq, the Sapa Inca of the Four Corners of the World, took to the platform. Betraying Gwen's expectations, the king was a homely man with a modest bearing that reminded her of a middle-aged CEO. He stood a head shorter than his son, Inti, and sunken eye-bags marred his serious face. The contrast was so stark that for a moment, Gwen found it difficult to believe that the dry-looking sovereign could have sired his golden boy. Indeed, even with his golden mantle and headdress, the king's aura remained demure.

"Contestants, guests and friends," the Sapa began. "During the Tide, we lost vast areas of the Antis region to the monsters of Amazonia. Though we have recovered much, many of our ancestor's teachings and relics remain displaced. In this hour of our need, what brother Amaru has uncovered for the contest is one such piece of our past - an ancient temple dedicated to Mama Killa, the Moon Mother and her husband, Inti. Potentially, within the ruin rests many treasures- from lost scripture noted in the annuls of Quipu tapestries, to relics and wards from a time of old magic."

"As such, upon the shoulders of these young people, I wish to place the burden of recovering these precious artefacts. With the anticipation and hope of the people of Cuzco behind them, these brave warriors will enter the shadow of Amazonia and return our idols to the light!"

Auberon waited for the clamour to finish before taking over.

"Thank you. Your Majesty." He bowed, then turned to face the contestants. "Students, the Dungeon shall be a trial of intelligence, wit, and mastery over magic! Heed the Sapa's call to arms! The Quest to which you have been given will consist of two components. There shall be two parties of five members. First is the Explorer Team. Your task is to proceed into the unmapped region of Amazonia and locate said temple at the crossroads where three waterways meet. You shall follow the footsteps of great adventurers like Magister Shackleton and Meister Elijah Mallory in mapping the region for your companions."

"Should you succeed in locating the temple. Your instructions will be given to the second group — the Dungeoneering Team. Following your companions' footsteps, you will arrive at the ruins, ready to delve into its depth. In keeping with the dungeoneering spirit, I wish to inform you that not even your proctors know what awaits. All we possess is a record of what the Temple is said to hold. As the mission stands, CCs are awarded for artefacts, crystals, relics, and magical ingredients recovered. For additional credit, extraordinary events, combat, cooperation and preservation of the historical site may apply."

Auberon paused to study the students.

"Naturally, risk of life and limb is part and parcel the life of an Adventurer. I know that some of you may be wondering if Contingency will function in an isolated Black Zone. Well, I have good news for you."

"As a precaution, a special Contingency Ring has been crafted for all contestants, courtesy of Magister Amaru. The IIUC is aware that the impenetrability of the Amazon basin's dense vegetation will negate all effects bar the highest-tier of items. These custom rings have been modified to take you to the Cuzco Tower, as they have been manually attuned with resonating quartz-crystals unique to each ring."

The students from Cuzco relaxed. From their expressions, Gwen noted that not many of them possessed Contingency Rings in the first place. Comparatively, Fudan's cohort was well-provisioned, though they grew glad that in the worst-case scenario, they would be spared the cost.

"What a generous Tower Master." Richard applauded the bald Magister standing behind the Sapa Inca. "Complimentary insurance. How thoughtful."

Listening to Richard's miserly delight, Gwen couldn't help but think of an old saying- _there's no such thing as a free lunch._ For sure, she noted, there was going to be mortal danger.

"Students, friends, good Masters of Cuzco! Welcome to the 2004 opening match of the International Inter-University Competition!" Auberon raised his voice expansively as the guests and audience rose to their feet. "Students, in the spirit of fairness and genuine adventure, your trial begins at 0900 tomorrow morning! Good luck!"