'ᴡᴇ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴇɴᴛɪᴍᴇɴᴛ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ʙᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴠᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ.'
Only one month has passed in Daliah Viper's life trying to reintegrate at court and follow the uneasy trails her eyes have caught.
One month filled with blood, tribulations, and l...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
While we wait and while more streams of commands and looks get exchanged, I slowly grasp the situation and fill the details in myself from the scarce sharpening sheet to the radio calls and my insects fluttering around the heads of some men patrolling down the road and up to Ocean Hill, where the command center stands.
Last time the tunnels were flooded by nymphs. This time, no water controller takes time to seal off the tunnels. Because smartly, either by his own idea of by some hint, the construction sites here in the city are cutting the underground escape off.
It is one less hassle and one less thing to worry about. Instead of drowning red rats in tunnels this time, the remaining nymphs are set beside everyone else, just to make sure that the other burner prince doesn't flash too much fire and breaks any kind of trap.
If you fight both the probability of a flame wall and a lightning strike at the same time, water is only so effective.
My hands clench around the weapon I hold. A dark, big instrument of terror with enough recoil to pull me off my feet if I don't stand safe. It is still easily beautiful, as most weaponized things are crafted for silvers.
There certainly is terror in the violence of the swarm. Not that I would know much about stunning beauty out of my own body experience. But I have eyes, and I was once younger.
Our dear new king believes that they will show up here with a bigger probability. He isn't even sure that they will, but it is his better bet, and no one dares to question him. It seems reasonable, with the evidence he presents to me. That evidence is the fact there are two anomalies in Harbor Bay.
When I quietly ask Ptolemus how he can be sure, I get no response. I will have to ask later again.
I catch a bit about red criminals worming through the city. Nothing new there, some organized bunch. I catch something about some of them in cells and something about cut off limbs and trigger fingers as a message and threat.
A cut off body part is a message. To be quiet. To comply. To come begging for mercy.
A cut off body part is a message. To be quiet. To comply. To come begging for mercy.
It depends on what part you cut off the person. I guess someone like Maven with a mother like he has and elaborate history of violent acts in his short reign would know about that. And so I do not comment on a cut off trigger finger.
The next hour is just me, crouching through the streets of Harbor Bay, and I could seemingly admire the old buildings the way I stare them down into the fundament that they were built on.
I don't fully agree with the way they want to carry out the plan. If I were in charge, I would hide even more forces at the control center. If someone is reckless enough to come into the city, with not only someone able to jump through space but also a clearly connected enough red rebel and a former silver prince, I would be sure they jump the gun and get there, because they feel too sure and safe.
