Amidst the absolute chaos unfolding before me, I remaily where I was—leaning zily against one of the tent’s sturdy support poles, arms crossed, silently .

  It was glorious. And most importantly?

  Not. My. Fault.

  “Pretender, I o… sleep,” prinnounced, before his ring goi again.

  “Fine,” I whispered and allowed myself a smirk as the bureaucrats and mages spiraled into panic, their carefully structured world colpsing like a gss pyramid during rush hour. Lo scurried closer, pressing herself partially behind me as if I could shield her from whatever nonsense was happening. She peeked around my shoulder, still blinking in fusion.

  “Lady,” she whispered urgently, her fingers gripping the fabriy sleeve, “do you actually know what’s going on?”

  I hummed, tilting my head as I took in the spectacle. “Yes. Don’t worry. Everything is the same,” I said, pletely rexed. “They’re just freaking out.” I fshed her a grin. “Let’s just sit back, enjoy the show, a back to work ter.”

  It didn’t st.

  Because the moment the imperial attaoticed me, his rea was immediate—

  “You!”

  His sharp voice sounded over the tent, and suddenly, the barely-trolled mess of an argument froze as dozens of heads turoward me.

  I waved zily, making a point of my unbothered demeanood afternoon, everyone.” I let my grin widen as I swept a hand over the gathered crowd, watg as their fusion deepened. “I’m Princess Charlie.”

  The attaché, already red in the face, scoffed. “Baroess.”

  He roper imperial dog. In his eyes, I was no princess—just some minor noble, barely worthy nition. “This is eous!” he barked, st forward, his long imperial robes billowing slightly as he pushed past the still-stunned mages. “You will pay for this!”

  “It’s her fault?” one of the mages blurted, his exhausted eyes now fully locked onto me. The rest of them—who had previously been losing their minds over the impossibility of what had happened—suddenly found a focal point for their fusion.

  Me.

  “But… how?” another muttered, clearly spiraliween panid intrigue.

  By the time the attaché reached me, his previous bureaucratiposure was pletely shattered.

  The mask of polite, measured trol? Gone.

  Instead, his expression twisted into somethied—anger, frustration, accusation. He was furious at me, his face dark with emotion. He exhaled sharply, f himself into a sembnce of calm, though his fists remained ched at his sides.

  With slow, measured words, he asked, “How did you prevent t Itzel from taking over the defense?”

  Ah.

  So that was what this was about.

  I pushed off the pole, straightening as I posed myself.

  “Who is t Itzel, and why would he be taking over the defense?” I asked, my tone even and measured. It would’ve been too easy to provoke the attaché—to push him into a fit of bureaucratic rage just to watch him sputter. But that would be childish.

  And I wasn’t a child anymore.

  … Most of the time.

  Still, his question was weird. I had never heard of a t Itzel before. But that wasly shog—there were so many lower nobles littering the empire’s hierarchy that not even I, a tester who had dedicated more time to this world than most, could remember all of them.

  The attaché snorted, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t py i. It won’t work on me.”

  I gnced around the room, searg for anyone who might share my fusion, but all I saw were wary, expet faces. The tension in the air was thick, and for the first time siepping into this tent, I wasn’t sure whether the crowd was on my side—or if they were about to turn on me.

  Still, I blinked, letting my genuine fusion slip into my voice. “I really don’t know who he is.”

  There was a beat of silence.

  Then—

  “How did you break the fabric?” one of the mages blurted out. And that was all it took. The floodgates burst open.

  Dozens of voices overpped, mages hurling rapid-fire questions filled with teical magical terms I had zero hope of deciphering. Some of them sounded vaguely familiar—like pieces of patotes I had skimmed and immediately ignored—but most of them?

  pletely meanio me. A headache was f.

  “Silehe attaché barked, his fury surging back to the surface like an overfilled bottle spilling over. The force of his voice overpowered the noise.

  His gre swung bae, burning with accusation. “I am the one questioning her!” he snapped, his voice low. “Baroess, answer.” I stared at him. Fought the urge to facepalm with every fiber of my being.

  I lost.

  My hand spped against my face before I could stop myself. “Are you stupid or what?” The words slipped out before my brain could even attempt to filter them. A horrified siletled over the room.

  I inhaled sharply. Then exhaled. Deep, slow. posed.

  “I have no idea who that man is,” I said, intoning each word carefully, as if expining something very, very simple to someone who had been dropped on their head as a child.

  “There is no plot, no ulterior motive. Irwen summoned demons and broke the world.”

  The words settled like a heavy stone in the room.

  “It was your mother?” The first mage to speak was standing slightly apart from the others, his posture rigid with disbelief. There was something about him—the way the others instinctively gave him space, the way they turned subtly toward him as if waiting for his lead—that made it clear. He was the most important mage here.

  I g him, my curiosity piqued. “What’s your name?”

  “Master Mage Maara, Lady.” His voice held the heavy weight of exhaustion, the kind nation that only came from having everything you uood about your craft ripped away ht. “I’m an expert in teleportation… at least, I was until retly.” His eyes flickered toward the massive, pletely useless portal behind us. “I led the stru of this teleport.”

  Ah.

  That expihe utter devastation in his tone.

  Before I could respond, the attaché begged for attention in with an impatient scoff. “That is not important.” He waved a dismissive hand, stepping forward, his gaze log onto me. “You just admitted it was your mother who did this, on your behalf, so you could—”

  So that’s what this was. He art of whatever plot was meant to keep me from taking power.

  An enemy, then.

  A slow smile curled at my lips. “It’s in your head, old man,” I said, my voice full with mog amusement. “Your head is broken now that your friend ’t e, isn’t it?” I tilted my head, watg him carefully, reveling in the way his eye twitched. “You just ’t take the loss, you?”

  The attaché froze, his mouth parting slightly, but no words came out. Bingo.

  “So shut up while adults are talking,” I tinued smoothly. “I don’t have time for your nonsense—we have a battle to fight.” I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “Talk with Lo.”

  Lo, who had been attempting to blend into the background, jumped slightly at the sudden attention.

  “She’s my assistant,” I tinued, my tone all casual fidence as if I hadn’t just shattered the attaché’s already fragile grasp oy. “Report me to the Empire, pin all you want. I don’t care.”

  The attaché’s face went a shade paler. His world, which had already been crumbling, had just colpsed entirely.

  Good.

  With that handled, I turned baaara, who had been watg the exge with a calg gaze, his fiapping absently against his sleeve as if running through theories in his head.

  “So, Master Maara,” I said, my voice slipping baething closer to business-like. “As far as I know, my mother—back when she inally created the spell—used the fabric of reality itself to weave it together.”

  There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation. The gathered mages nodded. As if that was… normal.

  Oh, well.

  “She somehow, details shaky at best, mao strike a bargain with a demon,” I tinued, pag slightly as I thought it through. “What we… I mean what I suspect is that in exge for power, she paid the price of l our realm’s defeo a demon invasion.” I gestured toward the very far away but extremely rge proof of that happening.

  “It kinda makes sense, right?” I shrugged. “Without l defenses, she wouldn’t have been able to summo all.”

  Maara let out a slow, almost reverent breath.

  “A mythic spell powered by reality,” he murmured, almost dreamily, his eyes taking on the distant look of a man who had just stumbled upon forbidden knowledge. Then, so softly, I almost missed it. “I wish I could talk to her about it.”

  Behind me, I could hear the attaché, very angry, his words clipped and sharply enunciated as he all but ered Lo into versation. I turned slightly, catg a glimpse of her—holding her papers to her chest like a shield, her entire posture tense as she nodded along meically to whatever bureaucratisense he ewing.

  I caught her eye and mouthed, “Sorry.”

  With a small smirk, I turned baaara, who was still standily where he had been—slightly apart from the es, his arms now crossed ihought. “Well,” I said, tilting my head, “if you join the civilians instead of the defenders, you may have a ce to talk to her.”

  His lips parted slightly, but I didn’t give him time to follow that train of thought. “But right now,” I tinued, “I need you to report what has been doh the teleport.”

  Maara straightened, nodding once before slipping effortlessly into mage mode.

  “Lady, we figured the parameters to align with the ethereal resonance grid, stabilizing the pnar interference by recalibrating the are dampening thresholds and fiuning the mana ttice harmonics.” He gestured toward the massive, still-failing teleportation arch. “We even attempted to reinforce the rift anchors with sigil-based astral pression, but—”

  I raised a hand, firmly. “No. Stop.” He blinked. “Were you able to unicate before it all went down?” I asked, cutting straight to what actually mattered.

  “Yes.” He nodded, his expression turning slightly grim. “The attaché was impatient, and they were sending imperial messages through the work. The st message was that the t will reinforce the army in the evening in two days.” A pause. Then, softer, more hesitant—“Lady… what happens now? Is our craft… gone?”

  His voice carried weight. I gnced around, realizing—really realizing—that every mage in the room was watg me. Not as a ruler. Not as an enemy. But as someone who might actually have an answer. And for the first time, something cold and heavy settled in my gut.

  Until now, I hadn’t even sidered what this would do to the mages—to their livelihoods. Teleportation wasn’t just some ve fast-travel button. It was the pinnaagical achievement for so many of them. A craft they had dedicated their lives to mastering. And in an instant?

  Gone.

  Was I too self-tered? Too focused on my own battles to see what this meant for them? I ihen exhaled. “I’m afraid that le teleportation is unavaible now.” My voice was even. “But very she teleportation—within a mile or so—should still work.”

  A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd. “Maybe the Empire will ission the stru of short-term rey stations?” I offered, thinking aloud. “Or—”

  “Yes!”

  I had already lost him. Not just him—all of them. Maara turned instantly to the es, his defeated expression now repced with something fiercely focused, intensely alive. Within seds, they had unched into rapid discussioedly boung theories and possible alternatives off each other, sketg sigils in the air with quick, practiced gestures.

  Their world had colpsed—but instead of m it, they were already rebuilding it. It was exactly the kind of moment that demanded a dramatitrance.

  And Imperial Doan-ander Mi, in all of his serious, no-nonsense glory, stormed into the tent like a man on a mission. The air shifted instantly. versation died.

  Mages, soldiers, eveaché—all instinctively parted, clearing a direct path through the sea of bodies as Mi’s sharp gaze swept the room, searg.

  It took him less than two seds to spot me. And then, without hesitatiorode forward.

  He moved with the deliberate fidence of a man who had no time for obstacles—every step smooth, purposeful. The crowd adjusted automatically to his approach, the weight of his presendeniable. He stopped before me, a precise salute before dipping into a slight bow.

  “Lady,” he said, his voice a perfect blend of authority and urgency. “Our scouts have calcuted the enemy army’s preliminary strength and speed. They are marg directly toward us and will reach East Klippe around noon—in two days.”

  I exhaled slowly, rubbing my temple. “So…” I mused, my voice casual—too casual—as I thought aloud. “… The reinforts will arrive four hours after that?”

  No one answered. They didn’t o.

  Because of course they would.