Golos nullified the Quicksilver Fuda he had stolen from Ryxi once he was a safe distance away from the commotion, feeling a heady rush course through his demi-divine body.

Snatching the "Calamity" from certain doom without endangering his own life had been something he’d mulled about nightly, and now he had done it.

Wyverns weren't made for dancing, but Golos reflexively performed an aerial barrel-roll.

The only thing to dampen his spirit was that the meal he had earlier acquired disappeared in a burst of silver. It was the Human's Contingency Ring, he knew: all the big-wig humans had one, but a drake could only hope.

As for what came next, he should be free in no time at all! Unlike the bookworm Ryxi, Ruxin always made good on his promises!

“Never in my life,” Lutz von Schlabrendorff remarked to the proctors stationed in the village hall of Hpakan. “Have I ever seen someone disqualified via impromptu Wyvern.”

“Perhaps he's an agent of karma,” a second proctor noted. “Sometimes, the actions one takes are an affront to both heaven and earth.”

There was a brief flash of Conjuration.

“Talk about bad luck.” A third proctor observed the contingency trigger. “Who would believe us if we were to spin a tale? Thunder Wyverns don’t gro- Why's it doing a barrel roll? Is it circling back?”

"No, it's gone." A fourth fiddled with the rangefinder.

“Maybe the girl knows the wyvern?” A fifth raised a finger.

“You mean, like old chums?” the third snorted.

“If she could command a tier-ten draconic-class Magical Beast to initiate a surgical strike, why would she need to participate in something as pedestrian as the IIUC?" the fourth snorted. "Why not just apply herself to the Tower as the first acolyte in the history of Spellcraft to tame an adult Thunder Wyvern? I’ll put in a good word with Berlin. We’ll take her, no questions asked.”

The rest of the Magisters sipped their tea while von Schlabrendorff mulled over the aftermath.

“Regardless, Fudan and Kyoto remain,” he said at last. “Inform Magister Kim to collect his students. Explain to him for now, Seoul U forfeits, casus fortuitus. If Seoul plays it smart, we shall leave it at that. They act up, that's at their own peril. As for Jung-min, the committee demands an example is made. Remind Kim to tell his employers that participation in the IIUC, as it is with the Mageocracy, is a privilege, not a right.”

“Shouldn’t it be 'casus Draco?'" Another Magus burst into appreciative laughter.

“Let’s hope it's minus dracones from here on.” Von Schlabrendorff’s brow twitched. “I don’t envy anyone having to explain another incident to Brussels.”

“Ha, what are the chances of it happening again?”

The Chief Proctor grunted.

“Where's our team?”

“They should be arriving, sir...” Hass marked the map. “...right about now.”

"Good. Once Kim is gone, bring Magister Walken..."

Perhaps the most disturbing thought to come out of the whole ordeal, once Gwen forced herself to re-orientate her bearings, was Walken's displeasure. It was a sentiment as off-putting as it was disturbing, but she couldn't shake the fact that for her "own good", Eric had expressly forbidden acts of impulsive martyrdom.

It was just as well that there was a lot on her plate: Golos, Ayxin, the Yinglong, what she had told Uncle Jun, Mayuree's mind-fog, and the IIUC, but for now, there was a more pressing concern.

Nanmati was on fire.

When the great lava-thing lost its mana-link, it exploded in every which direction, erupting like a volcano, spraying ash and burning brimstone over the wooden village.

Meanwhile, her two simulacrums, each a modified Mirror Image, independently pantomimed, drawing the attention of precisely no one.

"I am over here! You'll never catch me!" one said.

"Over here, you big lug!" The other one winked.

Suddenly, without warning, they ran in opposite directions.

Before she could respond, her companions arrived.

“Gwen!” Mayuree’s voice came across their channel before Caliban’s half-baked form could be seen running across the hardening lava. Comically, Caliban had Mayuree strapped to its back like a spider with a bundle of eggs, so that when it ran, she added to the Void-beast's aberrant visage. “How could you! Why didn’t you save yourself!”

“I am fin- Oh God! Puahaha!” When Mayuree came closer, Gwen saw that her friend had received a perm from the flash-fire, spontaneously engendering a horrible afro.

“You could have died!” Mayuree burst into tears. “It’s not funny!”

“GWEN! HOW COULD YOU!”

Lulan Blinked into Gwen's vicinity, then gripped Gwen's collar with both hands balled and white-knuckled.

“Alright, alright.” Gwen pulled out her Amulet, noting that the Core had been spent. “Grill me later, Lulu, the bloody village is on fire.”

“What about him?” Lulan pointed to the floating Abjurer.

“Oi!” Gwen hollered at Yoon-Seok with a blare from Clarion Call. “Is your team forfeiting?”

It took the Abjurer a few seconds to reignite his cognitive functions.

“I need to find my brother!” he called back, drifting back and forth. “I request a ceasefire! Has anyone seen Sung? Or Jung-min?”

“Good enough.” Gwen turned back to the burning village. What she should be feeling was spine-tingling horror. Instead, she felt a light-headed chirpiness which she could only attribute to the thrill of surviving a near-death encounter. “Where’s Yuki and Ichi?”

“They left us!” Lulan hissed like a trodden cat.

“Don’t be an idiot.” Gwen patted down her friend's frizzled hair. “They did what they’re supposed to do and expected to do. You, me, and afro-Mia are the idiots. For the future, we need to work out a who-saves-who contingency plan.”

"A-Afro-Mia?"

WHOMP!

A Teleportation Circle manifested mid-air.

A party of proctors stepped through the Astral tear.

“Spread out and control the damage,” the leading Mage declared as he stepped through, speaking to his peers before turning to Gwen. “Contestant Jung-min and Sung Lee have been sent back to the CCP Tower at Dali. Additionally, in violation of article seven, section four, involving the malicious employment of sanctioned spells against Magical personnel, I declare that Seoul University’s IIUC credentials are suspended pending further review. Remaining members of Seoul University shall leave the competition area and return to Hpakan to report to Chief Proctor von Schlabrendorff.”

Above, as though suddenly recalling something of dire importance, Seoul's Abjurer made for the central hut.

"Fudan, Kyoto, you may return to your respective duties."

Gwen exhaled a breath of relief. Now, with Seoul U's rightful expulsion, only two teams remained. Insofar as she was concerned, Fudan had won.

“That leaves just Kyoto and us.” Lulan channelled her inner Richard before making a chopping motion with her hand. “Yuki and Ichiro are here. If they’re wounded, maybe we could…”

“Whoa, cool your jets.” Gwen reflexively checked for lumen-recorders before reminding herself that the Chief Proctor needed no such thing to craft compelling reality television. “Trust me. We'll do this fair and square. Whatever Kyoto thinks they’ve got, I’ve got better.”

Lulan nodded, caught between faith and instinct.

All around them, the Magisters from the IIUC committee moved about the village, quenching fires with magical items or spells and attending to the villagers who were burned or injured. At first, when a number of corpses were unearthed, Gwen bristled with injustice. But then the rescuers lifted Lulan’s hut, the hypocrisy of the carnage alone was enough to engender a minute of inconsolable oppression from the Fudan party.

“Mia, go with Lulu and offer them some compensation.” Gwen wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, or if it helped, but she couldn't just shrug and leave.

Her companions nodded, then went about their solemn duty.

“Gwen-san! Ariel-Sama!”

Behind her, both Yuki and Ichiro appeared. The two had returned earlier, though they had chosen to first help with the damage to the village.

“Hey. You’re safe.” Gwen exhaled. “Sorry for what happened.”

After doubly taxing herself, Yuki appeared paler than a snow-spirit. “Allow me to apologise for our retreat, Gwen-san. You stood to face that Molten Guardian while we showed our cowardice.”

“No worries,” Gwen dismissed their apology. “No need for drama. You did what’s right.”

“We are very shameful.” Ichiro bowed from the waist.

“Entirely forgiven.” Gwen felt that the Japanese habit of excessive piety was in itself a form of annoying passive-aggressiveness: like they were trying to guilt trip her anger. “I am not even upset.”

“We can pay for your item to be replaced,” Yuki suddenly announced. “Please, it’s the least we can do.”

“Alright, deal.” Gwen nodded quickly, her dour mood leaving scant room for kindness. “I’ll bill you the invoice.”

“This makes us feel less burdened, thank you.” Ichiro bowed again in return. “Was that a wyvern?”

“Who knows?” Gwen averted their imploring eyes. Instead, she looked toward the heavens. “What a magnificent occurrence that it came to our aid. How fortuitous, eh?”

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

The Japanese duo agreed.

“Well,” she smiled back. “I guess our alliance is at an end. Ichi, Yuki, may the best team win from here.”

The trio exchanged measured looks, followed by weighty handshakes.

"Indeed, Gwen-san.” Yuki's cheeks glowed with anticipation. “We shall put in the greatest effort.”

“Gwen, they came home with us,” Mayuree remarked to the scene below.

When the trio returned to La War, they were followed by a stream of monkeys swinging from tree to tree, forming a great expedition. After alighting at the village’s bramble barrier, the triumphant trio, together with the village's defence, were met by the Matriarch of the macaque, who had come to see Gwen.

“You brought back the troop." Richard emerged, together with Lea. “They’re friendly, I hope.”

“Friendly enough.” Gwen approached the Matriarch, flanked by Ariel and Caliban. “Matriarch?”

“Ook! Ook! Eek! EEEK!”

“EE! Ee? Eee!”

“She says she wants to thank you for delivering their enemy.” Lea appeared beside the Kirin, translating Kirin for Gwen even as Ariel passed on the Matriarch’s thoughts. “She wants to know if there’s anything else you want. A service of some sort.”

“We did?” Gwen glanced at Mayuree, who looked to Lulan, who shrugged. “How?"

“Ook! Ook, Eek!”

"You er... gave her a Mage? They did things- terrible, unspeakable things."

"What kind?" Gwen made a face.

"Unspeakable." Lea looked at Richard, then at Gwen. "As I am not familiar with the anatomy of humans or monkeys."

The party allowed that to sink in.

"So," Gwen changed the topic. "What can we do for them?"

“She wants to know what she can do for you,” Lea translated. "A monkey always pays her debts."

An idea came to Gwen's head.

Behind Richard, just beyond the bramble wall, she could see Shwe the alderman and the rest of the villagers holding staves and sticks, ready to defend their village against the Wildland macaques. Though Gwen knew the beasts preferred Wildland flora, magical creatures were infamously omnivorous.

“Lea.” Gwen’s expression took on a feeling of keen industry. “Ask if Mrs Boss is averse to lasting peace in the region. We’ll supply them with food, and I’ll be happy to offer another two bottles of Maotai. All they have to do is observe our workers, then you know; monkey sees, monkey do.”

From a grey, drizzling sky, the wet continued, bringing with it its usual assortment of problems. Though stung by the kinks in Fudan's teamwork and communication, Gwen resolved to leave them for the aftermath of the competition. Now, with external threats removed, her real work would begin, requiring every measure of her time and concentration.

First, she sent out Anita and Lulan with a team of villagers to repair the roads and bolster the stability of their transport infrastructure.

Then, she experimented with the monkeys. Though her macaque mercenaries were ill-suited for disciplined labour, they made for excellent patrollers. Roving as a hooting pack, the monkeys chased away Earthen Gobs, Snots and other Wildland fauna as they roved from camp to camp, having a great lark.

Gwen and Mayuree meanwhile, worked to put her plan into action.

Drifting south and swinging by Kamaing, she first attempted to convince Jiantong's village to find gainful employment through herself.

"We'll treat everyone the same, equal pay, equal benefits," Gwen appealed to the alderman. First, she would offer diplomacy. If that didn't work, she could be convincing in other ways. "It's an extra hour's trek, I know, but our Mages will open a new path through the macaque's territory. You'll be safe if you go through that."

"How can we trust you?" The Alderman understandably had his reservations, considering that the Chinese Mages that had come to help them had evaporated. According to his story, some liberties had been taken by Jiantong's Vice Captain with the local women as well. While consensual, the understanding had been one of quid pro quo; the problem was that having given many a tit, the chief's family had received no tat.

It was at this juncture that Gwen noticed the alderman, a middle-aged man, was eyeballing her tightly wound figure.

"Gwen." Mayuree, who had been quiet this whole while, interrupted their conversation before Gwen switched plans. "Didn't the alderman from the first village give you something of a token?"

"Oh?" Gwen recalled that indeed, she did have proof of her trustworthiness. With a flick of her wrist, she performed a quick sleight of hand, then produced a piece of jade. "I was given this by the alderman of a lowland village. He said to show it if we were to run into problems."

Kamaing's leader blinked. "You saved Takaung? We have one of our own in the monastery."

"With this, can you trust us?" she proposed with an edge to her voice.

"I need to verify this with the abbot." The sweating alderman quickly left. Meanwhile, after praising Mayuree, Gwen inspected the relatively prosperous township from the second floor of the hall. As she had observed on her last visit, Kamaing was the most populated of the four municipalities and would have afforded Jiantong a significant advantage.

After twenty minutes, the alderman returned with a dozen others.

"We will work." The man returned the mutton-jade solemnly, averting his eyes. "Please make it safe for us to travel."

"Wonderful!" the girls cooed. "I'll let the Boss know at once!"

"The... Boss?"

"Ah, yes." Gwen figured now was as good a time as any. "I'll introduce her. If you can keep your working relationship up, I dare say much of Kamaing's troubles will soon be over!"

After the successful recruitment of at three hundred able bodies, Gwen moved to execute the most pivotal part of her plan. With Mayuree cradled protectively in her barrier, she proceeded toward the jade mine to meet with Manager Mingyi Mok.

From the sky, the mine itself was typical; an open pit punctured into the Arakan basin were seams of jade ran rich through the metamorphic rock, compressed by aeons of seismic pressure into vivid veins of serpentine, quartz, nephrite and jadeite. It were small operations such as these that produced Khotan and Feicui, the basis of the House of M's northern expeditions. Originally, each of the villages had staked different sections of the dig, but Gwen saw no reason why many hands couldn't make light work.

As with third-world mines everywhere, the conditions were upsetting to anyone possessed of a social conscience, involving the sort of operational work and health that existed only in nightmares. From the stench of the place as soon she and Mayuree flew into the pit, she guessed that the dozen or so dredged pools of fetid water, tens of meters across and swarming with insects, were not only neglected but had been collating everything from human waste to local fauna to monsoonal run-off.

The roads moving into and out of the mine were likewise strewn with mud, with deep trenches carved from the wagons that came and went, immeasurably complicating future operations.

As for the jade mine itself, it seemed that magical means had been used to collapse entire walls into a canyon from which miners would then pick out by hand the shards and blocks of nephrite and jadeite. From the depth, workers then transported stones up a human chain to carriers, who then slogged their way from the interior of the mine up to a station, where the rocks were inspected, weighed and recorded until finally, they were transported down the main arterial highway down to Mandalay's regional headquarters.

On the northern cliff of the mine, overlooking the operation, was a series of huts made from galvanised iron and fibrous-concrete sheeting. Within the abode, cloistered in relative comfort, the girls found the Manager, a bulbous man thrice the circumference of a local, attended by two young women.

"Nagas below!"

Manager Mingyi visibly quaked when the two girls descended from the grey heavens without warning, spilling a bowl of piping hot pho in his haste to kowtow. After Gwen and Mayuree introduced themselves, he obediently gathered the dozen sub-managers and supervisors under his control, most of which were Southern Burmese loyalists to the House of M. A few, Gwen noticed, were Han Chinese.

“These are our jade inspectors.” Mingyi mopped the sweat from his quivering jowls. As the first obese individual Gwen had seen in Kachin, Mingyi grew fat not in the manner of portly western men but the rotund jackfruit.

“I’d like to see the accounts.”

“The… accounts?” The man's eyes widened, his belly quaking like a flan. "You don't want to see the jadeite?"

“No. I want historical statements.” Gwen turned her striking irises upon the line of pallid men stinking of sweat. “I will need to see paper records of how much jade is being produced historically over the last twenty-four months, as well as the mine's outgoings.”

“Ah…” Mingyi stammered. “Of course.”

The man wobbled across the office, its floorboards straining to hold his weight. “Right here, ma’am.”

“Manager Mingyi.” Mayuree added her scowl to Gwen's. “Are you forgetting who I am? I am a representative of the House itself. I have operational authority from here to Mandalay.”

Aww, Gwen gushed. Business Mayuree was adorable.

“I am not sure what you mean, Miss Mayuree.” The Manager pulled out stack after stack of half-rotten paper dank from the monsoonal air. It would appear the cupboard was not moisture sealed. “It’s all here… it’s…”

“MISTER MINGYI!” Gwen snapped her fingers. A stack of arm-thick reports fell onto the mahogany table in the centre of the man’s disgusting food-strewn desk. “These are district reports from Magus Maymaruya going back the last five years. I acquired them while in Yangon. Do I have a reason to be worried?”

In truth, her "reports" were the accounts for the Centurion Project, but the manager couldn't know that.

“Of course not.” To her astonishment, Mingyi attempted to straighten his spine. “But as you can see, with weather like ours, the records don’t keep too well. Still, I wish you the best of luck in matching them. Mister Wong, our accountant, will do his utmost to help.”

Lifting herself on her toes, Gwen walked toward the table, then sat with her legs crossed over to one side. Despite the unkind contour and practical nature of her skin-suit, the sight of a first-class woman from a first-world city titillated the line of men Mingyi had gathered for her pleasure.

Mayuree stood to her right, whispering of what her Scry had found in the mine, in between the walls of the building, and in hidden basements.

“Caliban!”

Gwen’s netherworld serpent slithered into being.

As one, the Manager and his men fell to their knees. The weaker of the bunch retched while the others whimpered.

“I am going to ask one more time.” Gwen crossed her legs. “Mr Wong. Step up.”

The man crawled forward.

“Have you ever stolen from the mine?”

“I-”

“SHAAA!” Caliban opened its carapace.

“Oo! Buddha have mercy!”

“One chance,” Gwen helpfully noted while Caliban crawled into her lap, drooling grey goo. “Now answer.”

“I have sinned!” The accountant quivered. “My men pilfered from pit 17 and 21 last year, and 14 the year before!”

“Lies. Grotesque and ugly lies. But even a little honesty is better than none. Maybe you’ll have a limb left when this is over. Go stand to the right.”

“No! I also stole from pit 2! And I took bribes from Mr Mok and Mr Gu!”
“Shut up!”
“Wong, how dare you!”
“Miss Song, he's delirious!”

Gwen leapt from the table.

“CONFESS!” she let loose a bark, smothering the men with Dragon-fear. “Your wives and your children are waiting for you. Your nice homes in Yangon, in Mandalay, your maids and servants, all waiting for the return of their master. But I am not here to play around, gentlemen. I am here on a mission. I am here from the House of M! I know you have stolen, I know how much you have stolen. The worm is Caliban, a Void Beast born from the righteous hunger of an Old One: when Caliban eats you from the inside out, there will no return to the eight-fold path. You won’t even wander the endless plains of Limbo. What awaits you will be oblivion. OBLIVION! YOU-you son of a hog, what’s your name?”

“Leo, Miss.”

“Money or mercy?”
“M-mercy!”
“Then go and stand to the right. You and I are going to go over the books, and if I don’t find the answers I am looking for..."

"ARIEL!"

Ka-BOOM!
A roll of thunder fulminated across the mine’s exterior.

"EEEEE!" Ariel passed by the window, glorious and awe-inspiring.

“...then our company will be trimming the fat.”

“D-Deva!”
“Mighty Buddha!”

“So.” Gwen walked a circle around the men, each cowed under her electric gaze, watching as Manager Mingyi’s face turned a shade of green. “To reiterate. I am here on a mission of mercy. If you chose oblivion, that’s your choice. If the little wealth you have collated is worth more than reincarnation, then so be it.”

She patted Caliban, who opened its carapace to unleash arm-thick tentacles of red and blue.

“The last man to confess gets eaten by Caliban.”

“And that’s how production will increase by fifty per cent, is it?” Richard, Anita and Lulan joined Gwen and Mayuree at the mine by the evening, having reached the entrance with La War's labourers. For the foreseeable future, the party was to be stationed in the managerial office to implement Gwen’s desired changes.

“Simple, isn’t it?” Gwen threw down the stack of rotten accounts. “When a NoM’s greed is enough to endure my Dragon-fear, you know they’re hiding a lot more than they let on. I am having them cough up what they ate as well, with any luck, anything between six-months to a year's supply may soon be 'uncovered'.”

“Money makes the world go round.” Richard sipped his beer, confiscated from the Manager's private larder. “Why am I not surprised.”

“Hopefully, once we implement hygiene protocols, safety measures, basic protective equipment and you guys complete the railway I asked for, efficiency will increase ten-fold. For now, I’ve allocated for a quarter of the funds we've recovered to pay for additional workers from Kamaing. With the monkeys acting as escort, the roads should be safe."

“How are you doing all this?” Anita sipped her porridge. Thanks to Ying’s quasi-magical pill, she was feeling much better and had been well enough to contribute to the excavations. “Are you an Economics Major? Are you studying to take on a Manufactorium?”

“Nothing of the sort.” Gwen awkwardly chuckled. “I read a lot in my spare time.”

“You know six Schools of Magic, and you have time left to read about governing NoMs?”

“Gwen’s going to be a Tower Master someday,” Lulan pointed out. “She needs to know all this.”

“Well, then Master Song,” Anita drily observed, smacking her lips. “I am glad to be on your team.”

“Thanks, Ann,” Gwen smirked somewhat stiffly. “I hope it’s enough to beat Kyoto.”

“I am sure it is,” Richard piped in with a voice full of confidence. “Walken said the quest is about improving the region’s production, stability, the lives of the people, and the amount of resource transported back to Yangon. I somehow doubt Kyoto’s priests and priestesses know accounting and work-health-safety! Ha! I doubt they’ve laboured with NoMs in their whole lives. Wondrous their craft may be, the laziness of labourers and the greed of administrators are beyond magic."

“Nicely put, Dick!” Gwen raised a stubby.

Bottles clinked. Their victory was at hand.

From here on, Fudan had just under a week to set things in order; then, they would push back toward Yangon, hopefully meeting Bai and his team halfway, signalling the culmination and conclusion of their first mission in the International Inter-University Competition.


Within Bogyoke Park, Yangon, sat Kandawgyi Lake, the largest man-made lagoon in the city. The opalescent body of water was first commissioned by King Thibaw, criticised by the British for his love of material excess and ceaseless warmongering, though during the occupation, it became a favourite hangout for expats.

Upon the lake, tethered to its centre by centrifugal currents of pure mana, gently rotating where the city's ley-lines met, was an enormous pleasure barge, the largest of its kind ever built. Named the Karaweik Palace, the ship was clad in foiled gold and studded with gems and jewels, with its interior floor plated with an interlocking herringbone pattern of nephrite and jadeite. On either side, two enormous statues of life-like Nagas, each twenty metres tall and two hundred long, formed the perimeter of the ship from the shore. From atop heads the width of two men, egg-sized ruby eyes watched over the tranquil lake, guarding its precious cargo: Matriarch Nanmadaw Me Nu, protector of Myăma and its Frontier provinces.

While the IIUC raged in Kachin, the Matriarch hid as she had always done for the last half-century, cocooned in luxury, lying on a divan of enormous length and girth, enfolded in silk, satin and chiffon, wary of the outside world, usually asleep to preserve her remaining life.

Within the high vaulted walls of the floating palace, three kept company; though only two engaged in conversation. The first was Me Nu, radiant on her divan, the second was Maymyint, prostrated on all fours, and the third was Marong, quiet as a whisper of smoke, blended into the ever-burning incense, no more obtrusive than the gentle scent of sandalwood.

Marong had never expected that he would venture this far.

The throne room usually fielded two Manipuri Shadowmen, his seniors by decades, standing in the antechamber, followed by four elite guards within the sanctum itself. Strangely, only an hour ago, an order had come from the Grandmaster to transfer every single member of the House of M's precious guards northward for a final confrontation with the Tyrant.

Marong was himself a member of the House of M's elite force, but as a scion, he also existed outside of the cult's organisation.

When the irrational command came, he felt the sea change in his smoke, swirling with hidden eddies clouded by conspiracy.

There was another reason for Marong's suspicion.

Usually, he opted to remain as far from their Mind Mage sister as possible. Maymyint was the eldest and the favourite of the Matriarch. Even when Marong was a child, Maymyint had remained exactly as she was now, aloof, beautiful, and cold-blooded. Thanks to her inherited Radiant Element; she commanded unquestionable loyalty from the House of M's caretakers, especially its troop of secretively trained mercenaries in the mountains of Manipur, including its Grandmaster, a powerful Vairagi and Marong's teacher.

After Me Nu had cheated Mayuree of her promised protection, he had found himself increasingly drawn to his eldest. And it was from the many incidences when Marong lurked to see what treacherous plots Maymyint trafficked, that he caught a whiff of the Tyrant. At first, it was faint, but as he followed Maymyint day after day, the musky scent clung to his nostrils like pork grease.

Was Maymyint in contact with the Tyrant then? Marong knew he had to find proof, though since Mayuree went away, he had found no evidence of collusion.

But then an order had come from the Grandmaster, and much to Marong's shock, the Shadowmen not only obeyed: they had left Me Nu unprotected. He was incredulous, for the contract between the Vairagi and Me Nu was etched out in dragon-tongue, in the writing of the Naga, and only Me Nu could revoke it. Not in all twenty-four years of Marong's life had he ever witnessed Me Nu not being protected by at least four of the Vairagi's elites, the only force she trusted, which was why he had slipped into the theatre to bear witness to the rare sight of a furious Matriarch.

"FOOL!"

Thwack!

An invisible lash snapped across Maymyint's body, sinking her into the floor.

Me Nu's wrath was terrible indeed, so much that Maymyint's pain, which should have delighted Marong, stirred even his smoky form. In Marong's eyes, Maymyint existed as a favourite of the Matriarch, unassailable in her superiority. Never had he seen her berated, much less whipped and beaten. Sometimes, he had thought the pair mind-linked, for they often finished each other's sentences.

"You dared to move my Shadowmen without my consent!" Me Nu snarled, baring pointed canines of flawless ivory.

"The decision is to the benefit of the House of M." Maymyint passively touched her head to the floor. "Matriarch, please understand."

"Benefit? By leaving me unprotected?" Me Nu spat, her ageless face growing grotesque with wrinkles. "Call our Mages back!"

"We need them in Nagaland if we are to retake our home!" Maymyint protested. "Mother, you have to listen!"

"Silence! Do you think I don't know you meddled with the tithing? Why is Mayuree with the foreigners? Why are the transports going out now?"

Thwack!

Another blow, harder this time, was enough to send Maymyint skittering across the polished jadeite floor, leaving a vivid streak of red. From the tiles, Marong could see that Maymyint was bleeding from her mouth.

She defiantly raised her head.

"YOU DARE?!" The Matriarch rose from her divan, revealing her scale-covered lower body. "You, who art the flesh of my flesh, how dare you utter such imprudence? Maymyint, you forget your duty."

"Imprudence?" Maymyint spat blood. "You, who stole life from my siblings, who fed your scions to the Tyrant, speak of duty?"

Like an agitated cobra, Maymyint suddenly stood. "You're past your prime, old bitch."

For a second, Marong thought the flow of time had ceased.

"You have grown cheeky." Me Nu regained her composure. "Tyrtrol!"

Maymyint prostrated by throwing herself on the floor with a violent snap.

Marong likewise felt the blood in his veins urging him to obey, though when it came to off-shoots like him and Mayuree, their genetic heirloom had thinned enough to gift them freedom.

"Confn trelkilt," Me Nu continued in the old draconic tongue, her expression demonstrating full confidence in her command over her children. "It seems the liberty I have gifted you has gone to your head, Maymyint. You believe yourself beyond your role as tithing for our little Tyrant up north. But some lessons, I see, mustn't be remiss. You, my child, are just as expendable as your brothers and sisters. You, arrogant whelp, are no more important than Mayuree, who you so eagerly volunteered."

At the sound of Me Nu's words, Marong tensed, relying on years of training to quieten his disquieted heart. Maymyint volunteered Mayuree? His complexion would have blanched but for his dissipated body. Then it wasn't the Matriarch?

Maymyint forced herself onto her knees.

"But why have you sent all our forces northward, leaving the city unprotected? Are you perhaps planning a coup?" Me Nu continued, growing more upset by the minute, feeling naked without her guards. "I sense something on you, dear child. What could it be?"

By the time Marong had calmed himself, the Matriarch had left her throne and was encircling Maymyint. As usual, their so-called mother's deathless face was something that made one's spine squirm. Said to be the descendant of a great Naga, Me Nu was the last remnant of the Royal Family deposed by the British, a surviving daughter of the Mon and the Pyu. The way she moved reminded him of a serpent, made more so vivid by the jewel-encrusted scales just below her neck, cupping her shrivelled breasts.

"Vataka!"

Maymyint knelt.

"Open your mouth."

Maymyint obeyed.

"Wider!"

Marong's sister stretched her blooded-lips so far that her jaws appeared unhinged.

The Matriarch reached out with fingers crusty with dull serpent scales, then drew out Maymyint's tongue. Quickly, like a dash, Me Nu's tongue flickered.

"Ho?" Me Nu dug a nail into Maymyint's pink appendage, daring the woman to bite. "What is this? Someone else has marked you in my stead. I can smell it on your breath and in your blood."

Marong meanwhile, was considering the possibility of getting the Matriarch to rescind her order for Mayuree. If he should approach their "Mother" with suspicions of Maymyint' treachery against Mayuree's contribution, could he bring his sister back?

"You always had a glib tongue." Me Nu relented her grasp, then patted Maymyint on the cheeks, wiping the frothy blood on her daughter's cheeks. "Tell me, child, how is it that you have met with the Tyrant without my knowledge? What is your purpose? Use the Void Sorceress to make the IIUC Mages join your fight? You know the proctors do not interfere, no matter the sacrifice made by the students. Are you truly hoping a group of children would defeat our enemy of three decades? Your plan appears to be full of holes, my dear. Tell Mother what it is that you have truly envisioned. I know you're smarter than that."

"I planned for your departure from this world," Maymyint spoke, her voice different somehow. "Are you so discontent with rotting away in your palace, Me Nu? You haven't left here, nor seen the sun for how long? What's the joy in life, when you live in a gilded cage?"

That last metaphor, Marong mulled. Was that for Me Nu, or was it for Maymyint herself? In a way, wasn't it the same for all their siblings? Cocks and hens locked in gilded cages, fattened up to be of use to the House of Mü, a house of nothing?

"Ssejinw!" Me Nu commanded, fuming at her daughter's insolence.

"No, I will not." To Marong's shock and surprise, Maymyint not only disobeyed their Matriarch's Draconic speech but rose to both feet. Instead, she opened her mouth, split her tongue in twain in the manner of a serpent's and delivered a power word of her own. "Vataka!"

Unbidden, surprised and caught utterly unprepared, Me Nu found herself hitting the floor on all fours, just as Maymyint had done so before.

"How does it feel?" Maymyint's trilling voice quivered with excitement. "Old whore! Now the shoe is on the other foot! HA!"

"YOU!" Me Nu's eyes rolled in all directions. "How?"

Marong knew that Me Nu's dragon-speech held her children in check. When she fully applied her will and her Mind Magic, it was almost impossible to resist her command. That Maymyint had found a way to combat their Matriarch's blood magic was an impossible thing. Distinctly, Marong recalled the Grandmaster warning him that any descendants not subject to Me Nu's control were sent to the Tyrant, that or fed to the pseudo-dragon-carp in the lake.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I have a new Master now!" Maymyint snarled. "I am free!"

Before Marong could rebuke the irony of what Maymyint had declared, his sister reached out with both hands and took Me Nu by the arms. "Hag! Your time is done! Progress waits for no one!"

Tzsss!

"ARRRRRGH!" Me Nu screamed as radiant energy seared her scales and melted the golden mounts upon which her jewels were clustered.

"Make me prostrate?" Maymyint exalted as she tore a chunk of charred flesh from the Matriarch's body. "That's the last time you threaten me!"

"Guards! GUARDS!" Me Nu cried out.

Marong's eyes, were he still in his physical form, would have bulged from their sockets. Maymyint, attacking the Matriarch! It was insanity; the world had gone topsy-turvy!

"You ingrate!" Me Nu struck out with a blow of her own, but her body, as Marong suspected, was old and frail, a scarecrow wearing a skin of youth the House of M had supplied for almost half a century. Beneath Maymyint, Me Nu's lower body suddenly fused, becoming the likeliness of a snake, but whatever Maymyint had done was keeping the Matriarch bound in her human form. With this final indignity, Me Nu grew desperate. "Are you working with Aung San?! Did he set you up for this? Do you hope to give up the House to those peasants?! To those rebels?!"

Maymyint didn't speak. Instead, she pushed Me Nu to the floor and began to choke the life out of their matron with a sadistic glee that bordered on orgiastic joy.

"Is it the B-British?" The Matriarch choked and howled, her face turning half-cobra before turning back again. "No-Tsss-M-Maymyint- Sss-spare-"

Mindful of his incorporeal heart pounding away somewhere in the Astral Realm, Marong descended into the throne room, slinking across the ground, mingling with the smoke from the sandalwood incense. He had no love for the Matriarch, but this was an opportunity.

An opportunity that would likely never come again in his life.

A chance to be free.

Maymyint was going to be another Me Nu. Nothing would change with her reign. Even so, their eldest had the right idea. If his sister could make the hard choice to fight for her future, then so could Marong.

"Garrr… Garrrrk… Fles… of mine..." Me Nu struggled for breath. Scales painted with golden flakes began to cascade from her body as her waning vitality began to shed what age should have taken long ago, filling the antechamber with a musical series of clinks and clangs.

"All shall end in Nagaland," Maymyint boasted even as the flesh of her mother began to soften. "When Mayuree and her friends clash with the Tyrant, when the Shadowmen stir up Aung San's nest, they will smash themselves against the fortress."

"F-fool…"

"Oh, I don't expect either side to succeed." Maymyint giggled, ratcheting up the pressure on her sizzling fingers. There was blood now; Marong could see broken skin on Me Nu's throat, affecting a great stink as the Matriarch's ancient plasma steamed and boiled. "All they, and Gwen, and the IIUC teams have to do is create a distraction and then… hahaha…"

Me Nu shrivelled, her clawed feet kicked, then all life departed.

Maymyint looked around, dazed by the blood and gore covering her from her throat to her thighs, baked into her dress.

With still shaking hands, she began to draw a communication glyph from the floor, using the Matriarchs blood as a convenient medium. Marong meanwhile, slipped just behind his Enchanter sister, mindful of her sensitivity to magic, keeping his magical signature at a minimum.

With a flourish, Maymyint completed the circle. "It's done!"

The glyphs activated, proving the potency of their Matriarch's demi-human serum. In the next instant, a sudden stink of draconic-essence permeated the room.

Marong knew by now his sister was in league with the Tyrant. If so, they were all in danger. Mayuree was in danger, Gwen was in danger, the House of M was in danger, and so was all of Myăma.

But not if he could get his way.

It was funny how when the Matriarch had sent him to Manipur for ten years of torturous training, he had sworn to kill her and free himself and Mayuree and that now, he was going to avenge the old bitch.

But first, Marong sought to know what his sister was trafficking.

"So you have chosen satisfaction after all," a deep and rumbling voice rolled across the throne room, eliciting a willing prostration from his proud sister. "Was diplomacy too difficult?"

Shit! His ghostly anatomy puckered. That's NOT the Tyrant!

With one hand, he worked the killing spell, with the other, he readied himself to activate the necrotic device tethered to his craft. Maymyint possessed a Contingency Ring, meaning he had to offset any healing she received when she reappeared in her contracted Tower.

Without warning, Maymyint grovelled so low that Marong found himself vis-a-vis with a glowing eye, electric-blue and golden-slitted, staring past the woman and toward his incorporeal visage.

Their eyes met.

Every cell in Marong's body, astral and solid, stood at a standstill.

"Humph," the voice hummed. "Tell me of events in Kachin."

"Gwen Song and her ilk are at each other's throats," Maymyint obediently replied from the floor. "They should be resolving their quest very soon. I have arranged for Mayuree's extradition to Nagaland once they reach Indaw."

"And the Tyrant?"

"Fuming."

"Delicious, and what of your promise to Marong?"

"Lord?"

At the mention of his name, Marong felt his magic begin to unravel.

"Did you not assert that young Mayuree will be safe?"

Maymyint appeared confused by the unexpected inquiry. "Forgive your servant for not understanding. The sorceress and my sister are bait."

"Indeed they are," the voice grew low. "You may proceed as planned."

"As per your will." Maymyint bowed, just stopping herself before she slammed her head on the jade carvings.

"Go now. I shall be in contact."

Without a word, Maymyint shuffled away, leaving the mangled, half-transmuted corpse of Me Nu, surrounded by precious jewels and gems, to decorate the otherwise spotless golden throne room.

Very slowly, mote by mote, Marong began his retreat.

"Marong." The eye abruptly refocused its attention, and now it addressed him directly. "Your foster mother and something of a matron is dead. Do you hold any affection for her, or is your allegiance akin to that of your surviving sister?"

Before Marong could answer or turn to flee, a dense coil of mana flooded the throne room, making the air as thick as molasses. Something incredibly dense was gathering at the centre, as though a cumulonimbus cloud had suddenly formed in the throne room's golden interior. In an instant, a dark fog, moist and wet like a monsoonal thunderstorm, filled the vacant space, painting the cold walls with moisture.

Marong had been through enough danger to know that nothing good would come of staying any longer.

"Blin—"

"Zexenuma!" the voice that now boomed across the room made Me Nu's earlier command sound gentler than the archery of rain on Kandawgyi. The weight of Maymyint's masters' words pressed in upon his skull with the force of a Stone Spear to his brain, seizing the entirety of his being. He understood the word; in the draconic-tongue, it was a simple command to "Stay" - as one would say to a dog.

With a crash, his physical form fell into the material world, striking the floor with a resounding thunk.

Now held hostage by rebellious limbs, Marong stood still as a statue while the cloud collated, growing solid, crackling with lightning and fulminating with low thunder until it took on the form of a man.

Slowly, as though with all the leisure in the world, his assailant stepped onto the jade-green tiles of the throne room.

Without regard for his captive audience, the monstrous existence exercised his humanoid form, flexing his fingers and extending his legs, craning his neck this way and that. When finally Marong gathered his wits, the Smoke Mage couldn't help but shudder; for he was staring at perfection.

Maymyint's master was tall, at least two meters, with strong jaws, broad shoulders, a compact torso and long limbs. Where Marong had dark hair, the man had a silver mane that sprouted just above his bushy, ash-white brows, tucked behind the ears and flowing till his waist.

The creature's physiognomy was majesty personified, his physique without earthly equal.

When Marong's gaze fell lower, his eyes involuntarily widened.

Abruptly, the man willed a black-silver longyi into existence, leaving his upper body exposed and glistening, rippling with vitality.

"Sva escho," the man intoned with ease, his open mouth hinting at the flickering, forked tongue hidden within.

Without warning, all the tension drained from Marong's body.

"Who are you?" Marong quaked. "You're not the Tyrant."

"Of course I am not the bastard," the man snickered. "You call me Ruxin, your new sovereign."

Marong sniffed the incensed air.
He finally recalled the origin of the nostalgic scent.
How could he have forgotten the stink that Gwen had brought into his home?

Who else could have easily dominated Me Nu?

"You… you're …from…" Marong felt his bones groan. A primal terror unlocked from somewhere deep within his marrows, flooding his spine with adrenaline he couldn't expend. The Yinglong? Was this the Yinglong itself?! A mythic class being, here?! What had Maymyint invited into their home? Was his eldest insane? More importantly, was the Yinglong interested in their country? Was one dragon now going to fight the other for territory? If so, what about Mayuree?

"I suppose I am." The dragon called "Ruxin" smiled gently. "I am but a vagabond prince looking for a home. In this, we are alike: two princelings of worth, seeking their fortune in a hostile world."

Marong felt sticky perspiration drenching his sneak-suit. Alike with a mythic being? To say he was tongue-tied was an understatement.

"Humph, I had thought you quick-witted like your sister," Ruxin observed. "Speaking of which, killing Maymyint there and then was a delicious display of good judgement. But did you think I could not detect your hostility? Had I less care for your sister, you would have delayed my plans..."

The dragon laughed. "How shall I deal with you, young Marong?"

Opposite, Marong's head was abuzz with chaos, though within that primordial chaos of dread and despair, survival and surprise, came a strange clarity.

First of all, he knew that there were two paths ahead. One in which he and Mayuree lived, and one in which he and his sister were dead. Either way, Ruxin would get his way. Maymyint was right in one aspect: that Yangon had survived this long without a Tower was an anomaly. The status quo Me Nu had maintained with bribes was untenable; the House of M's mercantile network would only last so long before external forces, and internal strife blew the lid.

Restoration of the Mon and Pyu bloodlines?
A return to the governorship of Myăma?
Marong could hardly relate to those ageing aspirations, for they were the dreams of an older generation, apparitions from the past.

Compared to old compatriots like Maymaruya, Marong was born in the mountains of Manipur, shipped to Shanghai for his education, then returned to Manipur to be trained as a tool for the Royal House's restoration. He had a dozen siblings then, Thint, Ne Win, Sein, Kwat, Un, Khun and others whose faces he could no longer recall, that and Mayuree, who had clung to his sleeves and cried at every turn, the youngest of their batch.

Now that Maymyint had sold their homeland, why should he remain loyal to a cause that had never been his own, now usurped by another for personal gain?

The words that came to his throat surrendered themselves with a fantastic satisfaction, "delicious" as the dragon would say, for it was Maymyint who had shown him the way.

"My Lord Ruxin, are you familiar with the Centurion Program?"

His unexpected meander must have surprised even Ruxin. Where the dragon had worn the contemplative boredom of a predator toying with his prey, there was now a slight rise to his brow.

"Maymyint had mentioned it." Ruxin nodded with pleasure. "Profitable, I believe."

"Did she inform you that Gwen Song was the progenitor of the program?"

"Not as such."

Marong observed he had been allowed to continue.

"Lord Ruxin, Gwen Song lies at the heart of the Centurion Program." Marong took a gamble. "Maymyint is a fool blinded by her lust for power, which is why she failed to have your interest as her core priority. I know she seeks to borrow your Lordship's terror to cow the House's foxes into submission, but please allow this one a moment to clarify her fault."

"Very well, you have it."

"My Lord." Marong wracked his brain for details, cursing that he had only read the reports in a cursory sense. "The Centurion Program is a credit system the likes of which we have never seen before, at least not in Asia. What Gwen had helped Manager Maymaruya set up in Shanghai is but the seed of something infinitely greater. With only one tier 1 city feeding into the program, the Shanghai division of the House of M has become the preeminent investment our operations now possess. The program, my Lord, is pure profit, not resources dug from the earth, but wealth from thin air, credit and interest, usury by design on an industrial scale. If the program could be successfully replicated in Tokyo, in Seoul, in Singapore, in Hong Kong and beyond, what it may well produce could be the equivalent of many a Myăma and all of its pits of nephrite and jadeite!"

"You had my curiosity." The dragon's eyes were burning holes into Marong's brain, branding him somehow in ways Marong could not begin to imagine. "But now you have my interest."

"Allow me to be your regent," Marong proposed, falling to both knees. "Maymyint has incurred Gwen Song's ire and can neither compel nor elicit her aid. Moreso, if and when Mayuree perishes, that will be the end of our cooperation. Your exalted expansion will be hundreds of times more arduous; our competitors will have us by the throat. For the Centurion Program to continue, and for you to reap its benefits, my Lord, Gwen must remain on our side. Mayuree must remain tethered to Gwen, and I: I shall be your regent where your Grace's presence is too precious."

Ruxin's grin grew until Marong thought for a moment he was going to be swallowed whole.

"You sister promises the loyalty of the Shadowmen of Manipur."

"The Grandmaster is my master, Lord," Marong's voice croaked. "I know him. He will follow you or I or Mayuree even, so long as our supply lines remain intact. His is a developing Frontier, and our alliance is one of mutual benefit, untethered to any one person."

"You lost something of a mother already." Ruxin clicked his tongue. "Now you trade a sister for a sister?"

"This one desires only to serve." Marong touched his head to the floor. "Mayuree is but an instrument which your Lordship must preserve, just as Maymyint is one my lord has expended."

"Raise your head."

When Marong looked up, he saw Ruxin's glowing, single-slit eyes staring back down.

"Allow me to clear a mild misunderstanding, young Marong." Ruxin appeared to mull over his next words. When he finally delivered them, Marong's whole world began to quake. "I shall accept your offer as my regent, your sister shall live, and I shall even allow you the liberty of exacting your human justice, as I had allowed Maymyint. But - let me elucidate on how the events shall now proceed."

In a moment, Marong's mind flooded with knowledge, bloating his brain against the confines of its mortal casing.

"You see, young Marong." Ruxin's voice filled every nook of his skull. "What you failed to understand is that the jade, the land, the people, Yangon, Mandalay, Kachin, Nagaland, the Tyrant, Aung San, your sister, yourself, the House of M and even the Calamity... ALL shall belong to me."


From day one in Mandalay, it was self-evident that there was insufficient food, medicine, machinery and materials for all four universities to attain a balanced ration of CCs. When inevitably, fights broke out, leading to impromptu duels all over the city, the teams convened to work out a formal system of splitting the resources without actually setting fire to the whole thing.

The resulting solution was a reasonable point-system where duels determined the amount of goods each team accumulated. The result was that having sent their ace members northward, Seoul and Jiantong staggered, while Fudan and Kyoto proved similarly matched. To further ensure fairness, a proctor was invited to supervise the duels, after which the assets were distributed accordingly.

"I wonder if the northern expedition teams are working as amicably as we are," remarked Anwei, a member of Jiantong's supporting team, much to the mirth of his peers.

"I believe Gwen would welcome something like this," Tei assured them, thinking of their selection trial. "Rest assured; she works very well with others."

On the fourth day, Jiantong received news that their Captain had forfeited the match. Embarrassed beyond measure, Tei supervised the splitting of their rival's loot between the Koreans, the Japanese, and Fudan.

"I heard your Ace was the one who forced Jiantong to capitulate," Chong Jei, a cautious member of Seoul U, observed as he received their surplus manifest. "I hope she's not thinking of challenging our Lee Sunbae-nim."

"Gwen is fully open to cooperation," Tei said to his Korean counterpart.

On the fifth day, Seoul received news that they were returning home. The girls cried while the young men fell into a disbelieving stupor. Kyoto and Fudan agreed to split the loot from Seoul U fifty-fifty.

"..." A Kyoto member held his tongue lest Tei unleashed another prophetic curse.

"That's our Gwen," Eunae declared proudly after returning from consoling her Korean compatriots. "I heard she took out Sung Lee, Si-Won and Jung-min. The three might already be back in Korea."

"Wocao, Gwen is a monster." Jiro whistled.

"Just Kyoto to go then." Rene waved at their final opponents. "I can't wait to hear it first hand. Gwen, taking out two teams back to back? I wonder if she bothered to take a breather in between the slaughter. Maybe in two days, we go home the victor."

The rest of Fudan's team members took a moment to imagine Caliban hunting down Kyoto's Mages one by one.

With thus a week to reorganise their northward expedition, Tei and Kyoto U's representative, an Onmyoji called Kyu Sakamoto, began to pressure the local government for logistical support. Unsurprisingly, they initially met with ceaseless stonewalling until, without any particular reason, the provincial governorship relented, gifting the teams with vehicles and materials galore.

"Unexpected boons," Jiro, always open to a good fight, suggested something was afoot. "Is never a good thing."

"It doesn't matter; we proceed as planned, we'll be fine as long as we're careful," Fudan's Captain assured his team.

So it was that on the tenth day since arriving in Mandalay, with little to no knowledge of events in Kachin, the teams set out, protecting a great train of supplies.

It was just as well that they now possessed military cargo trucks, not to mention NoM operators. Though their lumbering engines were decades old and likely from the last war, it would suffice for the journey north. Only a week ago, Tei was looking into buying buffalo and donkey carts. As for critical supplies such as potions and medicines, those remained in Tei's ring.

At the forefront of the convoy was Kyoto, clearing the landscape with their communally conjured Kami. For the journey ahead, the teams had agreed on cooperation over conflict. Rene worked on filling potholes and securing earthen banks with quickly solidifying pillars of Magma. Tei meanwhile, planted wards to keep away magically inclined fauna. As for their NoM labourers, the masses riding along within and atop the trucks were cared for by Kyoto's Abjurer, Yumi, who worked with Eunae in looking after the three-hundred NoMs who accompanied the convoy, dispensing minor fortifications of strength, spirit and stamina.

"If fighting starts…" Tei informed both parties, for it didn't take a veteran to taste the tension in the air. "Gather the NoMs between the first and last six vehicles. I have wards set up."

"As you will, Tei-san." Yumi and the others were happy to oblige. "If something terrible were to happen, do you think the examiners will intervene?"

"Not while the competition is ongoing," Tei dispensed his wisdom freely. "That's how it is, I am afraid. Our mission may prove no less complicated than that of our A Team in Kachin."

Gwen had never been to Indaw, a small township adjacent to a lake mid-way between Mandalay and Kachin. But as a fan-girl, she did know that it was the setting for Burmese Days, George Orwell's seminal novel and that the author's home sat in the next town, Katha, only five kilometres over.

But in this world, there was no Nineteen-Eighty-Four. Had there been someone of Orwell's talent, their worthiness in a colonial backwater like this would have manifested only in Spellcraft, meaning they would have fled Burma at the first sign of Aung San's independence movement.

What remained then, was a fishing township of ten thousand souls on the shores of Indaw lake, one of the smaller bodies of water to grace Kachin's northern catchment, fertile with loam and fecund with rice paddies, filled to the brim with mortal and magical flora and fauna.

As their half-kilometre troop of labourers made slow but steady progress down from Kachin through the main arterial highway, Gwen was beset by a new and unexpected problem, one that jolted her from the Zen of micromanagement.

Mayuree had come down with a fever.

That Mages had illnesses was only something she had experienced herself, though her episodes were usually Void-related. What troubled Gwen was the timing of the occurrence. Now that victory was at hand, and they were on their way to meet with Tei and the rest of the team, Mayuree suddenly fell ill?

It took a significant leap of faith to believe such a coincidence.

And yet, she couldn't discount the fact that Mayuree had flown with her through wind and rain. That the weather had been humid, hot and cold, and that they had both gone through an excess of stressful encounters of late in a tropical, insect-infested region.

If that wasn't enough to bring on a burning fever, then what was? God knew what pathogens lurked in the undergrowth or their drinking water.

First, she had attempted a Remove Disease injector. When that didn't work, she abducted the Abbott of the monastery at Kamaing to La War to check on her friend. When the well-respected healer couldn't diagnose Mayuree, Gwen felt at wit's end. Logic told her to leave Mayuree at La War while she brought over Eunae, but a growing sense of paranoia brought on by Mia's glamoured disposition made her risk aversive. Finally, she relented to bring over Kyoto's Captain and Vice Captain to examine Mayuree, hoping that perhaps, the Japanese had an idea.

After a suite of diagnostic magic, as well as a consultation with presumably a relevant Kami, Ichiro had this to say.

"She's not sick," the Shugenja informed her. "It's her Divination that's acting up."

"What?" Gwen and the others from Fudan looked from Mayuree to their Japanese counterparts.

"Mayuree-san, how do you feel? Have you seen any visions?"

"That can't be. I don't feel fearful or frightened," Mayuree protested feebly, her face unusually pallid and her brows covered with a snail-sheen of sweat. The Diviner had remained lucid, though she couldn't hold down food and she tossed and turned in her sleep with the vigour of one possessed.

"There's a charm suppressing your talent." Ichiro drew a line of pale Enchantment from Mayuree's forehead. "Your Sigil is alerting you, but an Enchantment in your mind is preventing you from acting on it. That is what is causing the fever."

"Can you do something, Ichi-san?" Gwen croaked, unused to seeing sickness and suffering in those to whom she had grown close. Before they left, Walken had advised that they should minimise disruption to the competition; now that Fudan had it in the bag, she was willing to expend certain certainties to repair Mayuree. "Name your price."

"We are happy to help." Yuki stopped Ichiro before the exchange grew uncomfortable. "A fellow Mage is ill. It is all of our duty to ensure she recovers."

"But she isn't sick, Yuki-sama," Ichiro pointed out. "I fear Gwen-san has problems of her own; ones we cannot help."

Which meant they should mind their own business, Gwen deciphered.

"Ichiro-kun." Yuki dialled her imploring eyes to eleven. "Please."

"I don't have access to a dispelling mandala," Ichiro confessed, red-faced and embarrassed. "It's not that I do not wish to help, Gwen-san, just that it isn't safe. Without a mandala to drain the embedded magic, the feedback could make Mayuree-san's condition worse."

Which ultimately led to their present condition involving a delirious Mayuree, bundled and strapped to Ariel's back, kept snug and warm and shielded from the rain by Lea. As an offering of compassion, Yuki, Masahiro and Hiroki cleared the road ahead with Dororo, working with Richard, Lulan and Anita to excavate the overgrown highway buried under rubble and ruin.

At night, Gwen slept with Mayuree in her Habitat, enduring the girl's feverish mumbling and muttering even when cradled against Gwen's cool dermis. Outside, her dogs patrolled their surroundings, protecting their troop of NoM labourers sleeping beside rows of carts, punctuated by the rare motor vehicle.

Two days later, from half a kilometre up in the air, Gwen caught sight of Indaw.

"There's Gwen!" Eunae waved as Gwen alighted among her fellow Mages from Fudan, a bundle strapped to her back.

"Eunae! Mayuree's sick!" Contrary to the Cleric's great expectations, Gwen landed with a stumble. "We need to do that thing. Are you good to go? Tei, how long are we resting in Indaw?"

"We planned to move tomorrow morning," Tei hailed his Vice Captain, who hastily bowed. "The NoMs need rest. What's wrong with Mayuree?"

"Ichiro says she's glamoured and her Divination is clogged," Gwen crudely explained. "Her brain is melting."

Before Tei could speak, a furious Kitty pushed past Fudan's Captain.

"How could you!" Kitty's crow-black scowl sliced at Gwen's conscience. "You liar! You said Mia would be safe!"

"Mia IS safe." Gwen fumbled for words, finding none that would suffice, serving only to infuriate a livid Kitty who saw evidence to the contrary.

"I don't believe you!" Kitty snarled. "Liar!"

"Kitty!"

"Get off me!"

"Kitty, calm yourself, Mayuree needs help," Tei intervened. "Gwen?"

"I need at least an hour with Eunae in the Portable Habitat," Gwen explained, too anxious to bother with Kitty's prodding, settling instead for eventual hindsight. "Tei, you'll have to trust me. Can you hold the fort?"

"Sure," Tei told the others to clear out and go find the incoming team and their labourers. "I'll take care of the rest. You take care of Mayuree."

"Eunae?"

"I am ready." Eunae nodded. "Master Walken gave me everything I needed."

"Gwen, please!" Kitty reached out to peel the groggy Mayuree from Gwen's back. "Where are you taking her? What are you doing?"

"KITTY! NOT NOW!" Gwen barked, striking the girl with dragon-fear, driving the pleading Ice Mage back. After three days of not sleeping, her patience was on a short fuse.

Kitty stumbled, dazed despite her best efforts.

"You may come in when I tell you." Gwen found a space between two trucks, canvased and well shielded from sight, then laid down the Habitat. "Tei, I am counting on you, let me know if anything's wrong. Eunae, let's go."

The Habitat opened its portal. Gwen authorised herself, Mayuree, Tei and Eunae, adding in Richard and Lulan just in case.

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

"STOP!" Kitty screeched. When she reached for the portal, she found its mirror-like surface incorporeal and intangible. "NO!"

"Miss Liang, compose yourself!" Tei glared. Kitty had been a perfect Captain's little helper the whole erstwhile in Mandalay, so it was off-putting to see the girl in such a wretched state. "Gwen knows what she's doing, and Mayuree will shortly return, so stop embarrassing us any further! You'll be on Vid-cast! Act professionally!"

When Kitty turned, her expression was such that he reflexively allowed a half-syllable of Dust Shield to touch the tip of his tongue. Thankfully, Ice Mages cooled rapidly.

"Sorry," Kitty mumbled, then stalked away, likely trying to find somewhere dark and cold to brood.

Tei shook his head, then met the gaze of Jiro and Rene, who had kept a safe distance as soon as Kitty began to act up.

"I told you she's in love," Rene remarked to Jiro. "The girl talks about nothing but Mayuree at night. Never had I thought an Ice Mage could be so fired up."

"But…" Jiro glanced at Kitty's retreating figure, then at the portal. "They're both girls?"

It took Eunae twenty minutes to set up the Dispelling Mandala Walken had taught.

"Magister Walken said that when dispelling persistent-effects like embedded Mind Magic, it's not the same as the disruption type Dispel," the girl explained as she drew lines onto the grey floor of the Habitat's interior space with a reagent dispenser. "The mandala's effects can be multiplied many times, depending on the type of material used. Right now, I am using a mithril and silver compound. The Magister couldn't find one in Yangon, so he took one from his private collection."

Wily old Eric seemed to have many things in his "private" collection, Gwen noticed. From marmalade to cigars to vintage wine to magical reagents.

"Is it going to work?"

"Seonsaeng-nim said it should dispel anything tier 6 and below without incident," Eunae returned her enquiry, evidently feeling impressed enough by Walken to use a culture-specific honorific. "We practised a few times. He's an excellent teacher."

"I suppose he's got his merits."

"You're so lucky," Eunae gushed.

Gwen felt conflicted. When they returned, there would be a tongue lashing from her excellent instructor, though for now, Eunae's worshipful tone made her skin crawl.

"I know Mayuree is important to you." Eunae seemed to enjoy their little role-reversal now that Gwen was the flustered one and she was the one helping. "But as long as we follow sir's instructions, Mayuree will be perfectly fine!"

"Magister, I think you should look at this." Evelyn Hass brought Chief Proctor von Schlabrendorff over to the Lumen-projector.

A day prior, half of the examiners' group had relocated to a mobile field base in Katha, from where they would witness the handover between the two convoys as the teams once again converged before moving up into Kachin. On the fourteenth day since commencement from Yangon, a declaration would announce that the first round of the qualifier was over, and contestants would then be sent home for a week of recuperation before embarking on the second round of the qualifiers.

"It better not be a dragon," von Schlabrendorff grumbled as he set down his coffee.

"I would prefer a dragon at this rate." Hass punched in a dozen glyphs in quick succession, zooming the map out. "A group of unregistered magic users just appeared in the lake's centre."

"What was there previously?"

"An old jetty sir, it wasn't anything suspicious…"

"None of our business, either way." Von Schlabrendorff motioned for the others to gather. "What's the House of M doing? Are they expecting our students to engage in extracurricular labour?"

"Looks like our hostiles numbers in the twenties." A third Magister operated his lumen-caster. "I am not seeing anyone with a significant mana signature but- WOA!"

"Is that a Swamp Hydra?" A fourth zoomed in on the shape that just appeared. "How are they transporting something that size through Teleportation Circles?"

"Two Hydras! Was there another force in Burma with so much resource?" The third wracked his brain for data. "Does a Frontier of this size even have that many mid-tier Mages?"

"I would presume the Rogue Mages are Aung San Yuzana's freedom fighters, from Nagaland," von Schlabrendorff remarked. "Pay them no heed. One assumes they're here to loot or destroy the supplies. Also, knowing where they're from, I don't think they're Hydras."

"Nagaland?" The fourth checked his notes. "Our Indian Protectorate?"

"Originally belonging to the Mon and the Pyu empires, then annexed to the Mageocracy, then lost in the Beast Tide," von Schlabrendorff reminded his Mages. "But yes. That's where the Tyrant is said to have originated."

"So the Tyrant is a..."
"And those are…"

"What else?" von Schlabrendorff scoffed. "Isn't it natural for Nagas to live in Nagaland?"

Yuki and her crew of Onmyoji were the first to notice the sudden change in the elemental composition of the air, sensing a wave of distress as the local Kami fled from the lake, dispersed by the disruption in the natural flow of the ley-lines' energy.

"Everyone!" Ichiro's voice boomed across the township, enhanced by his vocal prowess. "We're under attack! Monsters approach from the lake! Unidentified casters are moving into range!"

"Ichiro-san. We're here!"

"Captain Bai! Where is Gwen-san?"

"She's indisposed," Tei apologised. "We'll set up a perimeter for now."

"Then we'll do our part as well." Yuki joined the two men. "Dororo will shield the south entrance to the village, while Koishishi will guard the west. Are we moving the convoy out?"

"You'll have to go first." Tei nodded. "Gwen's immobile for the time being, and it's too dangerous to spread our forces along a battle line. We'll clean up the rear as soon as we're ready to mobilise."

Meanwhile, two to three hundred meters away, combat had been joined. A cacophony of elemental effects erupted where the lake met the village, sending up plumes of dark smoke where fire, earth and other volatile forces dismantled the old colonial dock. Towns with a population density like Indaw generally possessed a local militia involving a handful of low-tier Mages led by a Senior Mage, accompanied by able-bodied NoM soldiers.

"They're sacking the town!" Ichiro scowled. "Bastards!"

"Tei, are we withdrawing?" Jiro drifted overhead, nodding in passing at Ichiro. "Mao! Look at those Hydras! A big green bastard and a purple one! I haven't seen one since Yunnan!"

"Is this a part of the test?" Anita, Rene, and the others had by now also located their Captain.

"Tei, they're not here for the town." Richard had finished erecting Walls of Water in a wide perimetre in an effort to calm the labourers. "They've spotted us, and they're coming here. Ichiro, can you take care of the NoMs? When the fighting starts they're going to panic."

Ichiro nodded. The last thing they needed was bodies adding to the anarchy.

"O Kami of the land and water, humble this one. Calm our disquieted hearts! PEACE!"

The Kotodama user sent out a ripple of magic with a sudden eruption of his baritone voice. Where his power word resonated, Fudan and Kyoto's hired labourers, together with local villagers who had fled toward the trucks, ceased their terrified milling and instead looked to the student Mages.

"Great work." Richard gave the man a thumbs up. "Load the NoMs up so we can draw the fighting away from the village. Jiro, Rene, you guys fought Hydras before?"

"Twice." Jiro rose into the air beside Richard. "It's their unlucky day that I am here."

"First time." Rene joined them. "BUT, I am sure well-done Hydras don't regenerate."

"I'll cover them." Anita followed, buffing the duo mid-flight.

"Don't damage the supplies!" From a Storage Ring, Tei produced four yellow parchments scrawled with red glyphs. "Ichiro, these are for your trucks. They're single use, effective against tier 5 and below."

He then leapt from vehicle to vehicle, activating the wards drawn on the canvas.

"Thank you, Bai-san." Ichiro received the Fuda, then retreated to reconvene with his team.

"Tei! They're here!" Jiro's voice came through the Message device. "Engaging!"

"Keep the Hydra at a distance! Stone Vaults of Taishan!"

Two-dozen tombstone pillars erupted from the soft ground; forming an impromptu Stonehenge around their circled convoy.

"God, that's morbid." Richard winced. "I think a few of the NoMs fainted."

"It's the Negative Energy." Tei Bai ignored the Water Mage's good-natured jab at his Clan's secretive arts.

"Tei, Richard, you want me on offence or defence?" Lulan asked the two defenders.

"Lulan, check on Gwen," Tei said. Lulan functioned best in close quarters, but first, they needed an electrifying distraction.

The Sword Mage disappeared into the portal.

"Here it comes!" Jiro's voice came through. "HO! LOOK AT THAT!"

Across the village, where Kyoto University was encamped, a giant mud-man with two holes for eyes was wrestling a six-headed Hydra into the earth, pummelling the thing to the ground and wrangling its heads one by one.

"Mao that's impressive!" At Fudan's defence perimeter, Jiro's burning passion became inspirited by Kyoto. Droning with a low voice, the Fire Mage's incantation grew to a crescendo as he reached the climactic conclusion of his tier 6, wide-range AoE. "PHOENIX PINIONS!"

Though no actual sound echoed, the members of Fudan imagined a great caw as a burst of flames escaped from Jiro's Firebird Spirit, growing in length and girth like a peacock's blooming feathers. Once the plumes of vivid, multi-coloured fire fanned out against the sky, they burst into three-dozen flaming arrows, then descended upon the incoming wave of enemy Mages who had barrelled past the NoM militia's non-existent battle line, flanked by a Hydra on either side.

A multitude of defensive magicks activated at once.

"Show off!" Rene laughed, her cheeks warm in the glow of the firelight, delighting in the inundation of Elemental Fire left by Jiro's show of force. "Salamander Skin!"

Suddenly, the Magma Mage clad herself in shifting plates of molten earth. Without pause, drawing glyphs in the air, she then pulled at the Para-Elemental Plane of Magma for a signature spell named after the enemies they were now facing.

"MAGMA HYDRA!" A clump of liquified earth burst from the ground, sprouting no less than five heads, each three meters tall. It was a turret-type spell, one which allowed three consecutive micro-fireball blasts from each of the five Hydra heads. For a defensive battle, there could be no better offence than feeding enemies into a kill-zone established by an endless array of lava blasts.

From above Fudan's convoy, a hail of ice began to descend.

"Crystal Shell!" Anita was ready to cover her two damage dealers.

"Dust Haze!" Unlike Jiro's multi-coloured fire or the scintillating beauty of Anita's crystal, Tei's aesthetics were downright depressing. From erected pylons of condensed dust drawn from the dismal Plane of Dust, a miasma spread, deadening all elemental effects caught within its range, transforming attacks into black snow.

Half a kilometre away, one of Kyoto's twin giants affected a great howl, flaking stone and flinging mud to abruptly metamorph into a molten colossus. It was the elemental-shift for which the Onmyoji was famed, and when it swung its limb, a torrent of fire, thick as a two-lane street, caught the air, turning the lake into a great burst of superheated steam. Where the blast had passed, Tei caught the sight of an enemy Mage peeling from the pack, his shield suddenly exhausted. A second later, the man was aflame, a human torch stumbling across the scorched turf.

Meanwhile, Fudan's Mages flanked their attackers from the right, suppressing the second Hydra with fire and magma. Unfortunately, the Hydra's rubbery skin proved resistant to heat, for heedless of the barrage, its six cobra-heads snatched NoM militiamen from in-between buildings.

PSSSCH!

A jet of odiously corrosive fluid ejected from between the maw of a thrashing Hydra head, smothering an unsuspecting member of Kyoto's team with a generous coating of slime.

The acid-clad victim immediately teleported away, leaving his shield to corrode and collapse.

"Forked Blast!" came a mid-tier assault from Rene, cowing the Hydra momentarily. "You guys' alright?"

A gesture of thanks from their compatriots arrived in the form of a boulder that crashed into Fudan's Hydra, sending it careening into a building.

"Oi, these Hydras have no—!" Rene called out.

A Fireball enveloped the Magma Mage, sending her skittering across the oily-streaked sky but otherwise unharmed.

"Refreshing your Mage Armour!" Anita called out from below.

"No need!" Rene returned the favour with a self-seeking Magma Bolt, sending an enemy backwards with a violent snap. "Barely singed me!"

By now, about three parties of enemy casters had begun to converge. Curiously, they appeared to be seeking something, for though they attacked the students, they avoided damaging the convoy.

"Compress our battle-line!" Tei called out to his team. "Stay within range of the tombstones!"

Though Tei had seen many a time when Mages by the hundreds worked together, it was the first time he had experienced the real chaos of a Mage on Mage, open field melee. Unlike battles against the Undead, whose monstrous wave tactics brought the occasional Wight or Spectral Rider, a fight such as this was pure anarchy.

More disturbingly, he could see that the incoming force was professionally trained, for they moved in four groups of five Mages each, with a minimum of five or six dedicated Abjurers. If the hostiles were to launch an all-out attack heedless of losses, Tei had no confidence he could protect the convoy. What he needed was a force multiplier from their side, like Kyoto's Kami dolls.

Then, as though conjured by a Wish, the Habitat's portal shimmered, materialising the rest of Fudan's team.

When Lulan burst into the pocket dimension of the Habitat, she discovered Gwen and Eunae puzzling over Mayuree's belayed foretelling.

"It's a trap!" Mayuree was trying to inform the two that this whole ordeal of coming to Kachin for the IIUC was folly and that Maymyint and the Tyrant were involved somehow. "Maymyint had offered me to the Tyrant! Marong tried to stop her, but I-I think I am on its list! If today's the fourteenth, then I am supposed to be in Nagaland already!"

"Calm yourself, Mia." Gwen cradled the girl in her arms, unsure what else she could do. "No one is taking you anywhere. Tell me from the beginning. What happened after you spoke to Maymyint?"

"She struck me with something, an Enchantment." Mayuree touched a finger to her sweat-stained brow. "I can't remember anything after that. It was like my whole mind was stuck in wool."

Eunae checked the mandala to ensure that they had performed the procedure correctly.

"We've dispelled something between tier 5 and 6," the Cleric informed her Vice Captain, pointing to the part of the patterned array on the floor that had grown dark. "The mandala is mostly used up."

"A memory-binding spell?" Gwen wished she had as much access to Mind Magic as Walken so that she could tell what was wrong with Mayuree.

"It seems so." Eunae turned to Mayuree. "Mia, we're in Indaw right now, and er... it's August."

"A-August?! Are you saying we're in Kachin? Right now?" Mayuree gripped Gwen's arm like a startled koala to a gumtree. "We can't be in Kachin! I was- I thought it was July! Oh, my Goddess!"

"Mia, we've almost won the first round of the IIUC," Gwen calmly intoned. "We have legions of Magisters with us, eight of the best from Fudan, ten from Kyoto and Mages from the House of M. It'll be fine."

"But—" Mayuree coiled like a cooked prawn, then was suddenly sick.
Gwen didn't mind the stink, although seeing her chippy Diviner in this state made her heart ache. Agonisingly, she thought of Kitty, who even now was outside ready to point accusatory fingers, feeling both guilt and annoyance.

"GWEN!" Lulan chose this moment to burst through the tear between dimensions. "We're under attack by Mages from the mountains!"

"Right now?" Gwen gingerly lifted herself to avoid splashing Mayuree's sick back into her friend's hair. It hasn't even been ten minutes after they ran the mandala, and now some vagabonds from the mountain were attacking them? The timing was far too perfect. "How?"

"They came from the lake. I don't know if they're after us, or the convoy, or the town, it feels like spells are flying everywhere, and Hydras!"

"Hold up, start from the beginning." Gwen struggled with Lulan's incoherent spiel. "Why Hydras?"

"They're not Hydras," Mayuree moaned. "They're Nagas, from Nagaland! Gwen, leave me-"

"Shhhh..." Gwen wiped her Diviner's mouth with a handkerchief.

Lulan stared at the newly recovered but doubly frantic Mayuree.

"Is Mia okay?"

"No, she's not," Gwen assessed grimly.

"They're here for me! They're recovering their Master's lost tithe!" Mayuree moaned.

Gwen stroked the whimpering Mayuree. If what Mayuree said was true, then the Tyrant was supposed to take delivery of the House of M's tithing in July. If so, was Mayuree right? Moreover, was this a ploy of Maymyint's? Were they getting the Tyrant to butt heads with the IIUC proctors? Admittedly, the competition would be delayed while the Magisters dealt with the dragon; if that's the case, what victory or change could the House of M attain? Likewise, if she assumed Aung San was involved somehow, what manner of independence could be preserved when a Tower rakes over Arakan with spellfire?

Though her danger sense remained placid, Gwen could sense in her bones that a controlling force was driving these forces to clash, though a missing piece of the puzzle eluded her.

Who was the beneficiary of it all? She wondered. That was the answer she couldn't find. As for now, keeping Mayuree in the Habitat wasn't a possibility as magical disruptions to the device would send Mayuree spiralling into the material world. The best she could do was have someone like Tei, Anita or Richard take care of her while she and the others chased off their attackers.

"Let's get out there then." Gwen had Eunae make Mayuree comfortable by propping the girl against Luyi, the healer's fawn. They then took the opportunity to buff themselves with Enhanced Ability, Flight, and conjuring seven baying electric-deerhounds eager for action.

"Ariel! Caliban!"
"Eee!"
"Shaa! Shaa!"
"Eunnie, keep Mayuree close. Lulu, you're with me." She took a deep breath. "Let's make this quick."