Changeling Part 55 (Patreon)

Nestra’s parry flowed into a slice, then a thrust immediately after. Her footwork was a blur, each step preparing the next in a chain of mighty blows. She was on edge. A counter would come any time.

Shinran’s training facility had an uncanny ability to give her exactly what she asked for, and then make her regret every last second of it. The foe facing her was the defensive duelist she’d asked, yes, and he was technically C-rank yes, but he must have been some genius who’d undergone hellish training because by Riel she couldn’t crack the fucker’s guard open. Not without opening herself to a counter.

The creature was some sort of scaled creature who gave a ‘wise turtle mentor’ vibe that was starting to piss her off. He (presumably) fought with a huge cleaver he moved conservatively, but also had a quirk of physiology that allowed him to block with bone ridges protruding from his shoulders. She was far more dexterous and yet every attack was blocked. Sometimes, he would counter with a massive blow that had propelled her backwards the first time.

This was the training world. It was here to challenge her every time. 

“It’s ok,” she told the illusion. “I need to manage the Aszhii hubris anyway. I totally want to be humiliated on occasion.”

Another series of strikes. She narrowed her range of motions. Most of the time, her stupid strength allowed her to destabilize her foes but here the fucking turtle dude might as well have been made of condensed lead so fuck it. Speed it was. 

Using Precision, she attacked around the creature’s throat. It changed its guard slightly to offset her attacks. 

“It reminds me that I am not…”

She bluffed high and struck low, severing a finger. The creature flinched.

“... the best…”

It countered. This time, she had been expecting it. She moved into the blow, letting the blade whistle past her. Her own counter slammed into the creature’s face, just below a dark eye. Dark blood gushed from the wound.

“... yet.”

Recoil. The creature tried to push her away with a side blow. She blocked the first strike, then jumped over the next. A brown layer of mana suddenly covered her target. She assumed it was another defensive tool for when he needed a moment to recover. Unfortunately for him, she had just the answer.

Nestra slowed down. it was still taking her too long to call upon it in combat, so she needed an opening. That opening had come. Her mana saturated her blade, not just a sheath but an unstable potential begging to be unleashed. Nestra struck down.

Both spells exploded on impact. Her blade cleaved the turtle in a cataclysmic strike, cutting it in half.

“Hah!”

The world faded to gray nothingness around her. No energy came to fill her core. The battle was over though, and she’d won. Again.

It was a shame arcane strike needed so much of a wind up, at least for now. It was also unfortunate that all C-class warriors were told to interrupt or get out of the way of obviously telegraphed attacks. That was ok though, she’d just learnt the skill. And she’d been a gleam for a few months only. And she was already C-class. 

Patience, Nestra, patience. 

“But I want to kill stuff harder,” she groaned to herself.

That was why training in Shinran’s world was important. Nestra was still in the early stages of C-class with plenty of opportunities for progress and improved resistances, and she could already take on a B-class with some help. It made her feel superior and that was a deadly sin. Hubris was just too dangerous for her. She felt it cloud her judgment, like a couple of weeks before when she had dragged that punk newcomer by the neck. It whispered to her she was invincible, or rather, that she ought to aim for bigger prey, for better hunts. It wanted her to push herself to her limit, but it was a trap. It also made her want to rush in, to show her superiority by doing stupid shit like fighting with only one hand. This wasn’t the human way, or the MacSec way rather. A good hunt meant a successful one. A successful hunt meant preparation, thought, not a brazen display of ego. Hubris was not her friend.

It was just a damn shame it made her feel so damn good when she indulged in it. 

The training world directed her to the exit using that passive aggressive notification system it used to remind her she was a parasitic gnat tolerated because Shinran had ordered so. The weird monk was nowhere to be found in the deserted lobby. She wondered where he went when he wasn’t training. 

This place had many secrets.

Nestra approached a wall, only for something to scan her in a very obvious way. She suspected advanced, technologically inclined civilizations may have a way to track Aszhii intruders by searching for anomalies. The facility was clearly one such place. Sometimes, she felt like whatever governed this derelict was intelligent, somehow. 

Nestra quietly went to one of the side corridors. Usually, Shinran came from there. She stopped when she heard a distant hiss. A quarter of a second later, Shinran stood in front of her.

He looked embarrassed.

“Hah, you’re here, haha. Good. Shall we head back?”

“Yeees?” Nestra replied, frowning. 

He was already gone by the time she finished talking. It was, she found, both unsurprising and disappointing that he would smell strongly of arousal. If one had master access to all manners of simulations then she should have obviously expected him to be a bit of a pig about it. The curious thing was that he went to a remote part of the facility to do so. Maybe there was a special sex room or something? Was it normal? Maybe?

She shrugged. It wasn’t her business how he used his time. Maybe he really needed it to offset his celibate life back on earth? Whatever. 

Nestra lost interest. She took the portal back and ran away from Shinran’s home, refusing his polite offer for tea. Her car wasn’t parked far. She got in, but as soon as she turned back to her human form, her visor blared in alarm.

Message from her mom. Highest priority and it only said ‘call me back ASAP’. With dread settling in her stomach, she made the call. Her mom picked up instantly.

“Nestra, don’t be too alarmed, ok?”

No one had died yet. Huge relief.

“But Aunt Claire was stuck in a portal while it closed.”

“What?”

“Her beacon activated, ok? She’s safe. Well, no, but she’s alive, alright?”

“What? Aunt Claire? Aunt Claire?”

No, not her. It couldn’t be.

Raiders died every day. That was a fact of life. Some others were also caught in collapsing worlds if they didn’t reach the exit portal in time. It was much more common in larger, higher-level portals due to a combination of size and complexity. Some guardian battles required someone to stay behind to block reinforcements. Some even had several guardians. It was a bit of a mess, and so it wasn’t fairly unusual for someone to be left behind.

In the vast majority of the time, the person ended up dumped on earth at some distance from the portal, usually in a rather similar biome. There was little research on the subject given the lack of ways to gather data, but Nestra suspected that portal worlds were entangled with two different realities: her native one and the ‘invading’ one. When the world collapsed, foreign components were either dumped in either one of the realities. Most of the time, it was earth, but sometimes it was the other. Claire had been lucky this time.

Actually, the other reality might have been the lucky one. A mobile, offensive B-class with an attitude and a strong desire to return home didn’t sound like a good thing. Anyway, unt Clecle was fine and somewhere on earth.

Yeah, she was going to be ok.

Breathe. Everything would be fine. She was just lossssssss

“HSSSSSSS.”

“Nestra? I’m getting weird glitches.”

Nestra pulled her true self back, changing to her human form. It wasn’t like her to lose control like that. Aunt Clecle wouldn’t be rescued by some idiot rushing in. Nestra put the roadster on autopilot to home first. She needed to pack first. 

“Sorry I was under a tunnel. Anyway, I assume we’re going to get her back? Where’s the rescue signal coming from?”

“Your father and I discussed your involvement.”

“I will literally stinger your plane out of the sky.”

“And decided that you knew how to take care of yourself and that it would be much wiser for us to keep you near in case you took a plane on your own.”

“Very wise.”

“The good news is that the beacon is in Asia. The bad news is that it’s in China.”

Nestra held back a curse. They needed a plane, which was pretty much expected. They would also need diplomacy. That tended to be more complicated.

“Have you contacted the city yet?”

“We’re hammering out the details with the town. They are very keen on recovering lost raiders, so we’ll get help there. The team said Claire stayed behind to collect a specific core. I have no idea why this little idiot… uggh. Anyway, we know the biome is supposed to be a mountainous forest.”

“Super helpful.”

“Don’t be like that. Oh, wait a moment, I got a double call.”

Nestra sat back, resisting the urge to play with the wheel. Should she contact Ragnarok? Yeah of course, at least so the old hound would know Nestra would be out of town. She sent a quick message on her raider phone. The reply was instantaneous.

“I know. I assume you will go with them. Our best people are on the case. Rest assured that despite my annoyance at Claire, I will do everything in my power to get her home in one piece.”

That was reassuring. In Nestra’s mind, ‘everything possible’ meant the Threshold air force would drop Ragnarok herself on top of the area until Clecle was back home safe. Unfortunately, her boss was now considered a strategic asset, so that made unannounced visits paramount to a declaration of war. Unfortunately for Nestra, both of Threshold’s A-rank were of the opinion that things ought to be done according to the rule of law. 

Nestra’s visor beeped again. It was her mom. 

“Nestra, we’re meeting at home in 90 minutes. Can you be there?”

“I’ll swing by my place to grab some clothes and sundries. Meet you in 90.”

***

The receiving room had turned into an improvised headquarters. Clecle’s team was here alongside the Palladians. Nestra and Ulysses had ignored each other since the start, preferring to watch the army gleam set up. He was a short, unassuming anglo with short brown hair—the kind of guy even Nestra wouldn’t have paid attention to in the street. Even his eyes were gray and indistinct, shining just enough to show what he was.

“Thanks for having me,” he soon began. “My name is Major Winslow, with Threshold’s Recovery division.”

A spook. Nestra should have guessed.

“I will be acting as liaison for the Threshold government. Our primary goal is to bring Claire home without an international disaster. Due to past experiences, we have decided that clans would always be included in the rescue efforts but I want you to keep in mind that we can withdraw our support if you abuse it. We’re here to help. We’re not here to let you start a war.”

Pretty bold. As far as Nestra could tell, he was probably a C-class raider capable of hiding his aura. It was like a doberman telling an entire lion pride to behave. Her dad nodded though. He was also a stickler for order. Up to a point.

“Good. Now here is what we know. The beacon’s location was sent to us by a relay set in the Shanghai Fortress. It was faint, but we got a location to…. here.”

A map opened on Nestra’s visor, showing a red dot near the south-western most province of China, at the border with Laos and Myanmar. It looked like the place was pretty high up. She checked the elevation. Over 3000 meters.

Yeah that might affect her. Threshold was almost at sea-level.

“This region is officially named Shangri-La. Although nominally under Chinese control, it’s a remote region sporting few portals and a single enclave. None of the portals are higher than C-rank. The beacon moved there at a slow speed matching that of a motorized vehicle, then, twelve minutes later, the signal was switched off.”

There were a few gasps, including Nestra’s own. Her heart was trying to escape her ribs. 

“I want to insist that right until the beacon switched off, Claire’s vitals were stable. Concerning, but stable.”

“So someone deliberately turned it off?” her father asked.

His voice was dangerously low. He was quiet, tense. It made her want to behave.

“It would appear so. We are clearing an emergency flight with the Chinese government as we speak. We will most likely be joined by a representative who will… coordinate our efforts.”

“They’ll keep an eye on us, you mean,” Mom grumbled.

“Yes, of course, because you are a clan with several renowned B-class raiders. I expect your full cooperation in this matter. I expect the flight to be tomorrow at dawn. Your team must consist of eight people max. Gear is fifty kilograms per person, max.”

Dad cleared his throat.

“Unless the weight is somehow mitigated. Be sure to have your passport with you. We will take care of the rest.”

He nodded, then he was gone. Nestra felt a shimmer of strange mana that reminded her of darkness, but not quite. 

“I’m going,” she told the room.

“Deborah, Ulysses, Clytemnestra, myself. That’s four,” her father said in a tight voice. 

Nestra felt the urge to go clean up the room.

The door banged open. Helena was there, holding an axe. It looked sturdier than the ones she’d started with.

“I’m coming or there is no house when you return.”

“Helena…” her mom whispered.

“We were barely older when we started,” dad said. 

“But…”

“She can come. We will protect her, if needed. That’s five. Who else?”

A discussion began, weighing the pros and cons. Nestra noticed that there were a few raiders she didn’t know, possibly from the Century guild who were House Palladian’s current partners.

Nestra retreated to the entrance for a quick call. She returned five minutes later with an offer.

“May I suggest a drone expert?” she said, interrupting the unintelligible babble of B-class assholes talking at full speed.

“We already have enough scouting abilities,” her dad said.

“Can you run real time translations? Can you listen to a conversation in a house two kilometers away? Can you see in infrared?”

Her dad hesitated for all of one second.

“If the report is to be believed, we already have enough power. Alright. We will find someone.”

“I already got someone. Stibbs, my old teammate. She’ll have the drones ready in two hours.”

Her dad mulled the offer.

“She’s your responsibility then. Vassily, will you come as well?”

“Of course,” the veteran replied.

Vassily was high C-class, on the verge of ascending. His nature alignment and calm persona made him a perfect support caster despite his large size. Sanae was next, a loner pyromancer who brought ranged firepower to the team. Those were two of the House’s most respected retainers.

A part of Nestra reminded her that she would be taking Vadanak’s spot. The offensive fencer would have been more useful for the rescue but… maybe not. Maybe they needed some diversity.

It didn’t matter. She was going.

Nestra left the room for one last call. Gorge picked up after the second ring.

“Palladian, it’s been a while. Any reason why you’d call so late?”

“I need an anti-materiel rifle and I need it tonight.”

There was a short silence, then Gorge replied, and he sounded quite amazed.

“You know what I like about you, Palladian? You may be batshit but you’re never boring. Now stop pretending you’re some sort of vid action character spewing lame one liners and give me a proper report. Now.”

***

Nestra woke up with a jolt. She brushed tiredness away from her eyes and resisted the urge to swear. The interior of the small jet felt stuffy and crowded with the number of people present, not to mention her gear. Carrying all her gear through multiple security checkpoints had been a major pain, as tired as she’d been. Now she smelled faintly of sweat, and that embarrassed her. If she could smell it then the B-class could as well. Also, she wanted to pee. 

The B-class themselves lounged in the private jet seats like statues, lost in meditation, perhaps. Sanae was watching something on her visor. They all wore the bodysuits they’d keep under their armor, all fancy custom jobs that made them look like old school superheroes. 

Except for her little sister who wore travel clothes.

Helena smiled at Nestra. She returned that smile — the girl looked a bit worried. As for Stibbs, she was sleeping at the back of the plane. Nestra was pretty sure it was her first time flying. She didn’t look like she was enjoying it.

Nestra managed to clean up in the plane’s lavatories. She’d been up until 4AM practicing with her new rifle in a private range near the walls. As for how Gorge had managed to access the place, she still wasn’t sure. Helena welcomed her back by pouring coffee from a mug with religious care.

“I said, only one cup,” their mom warned from the front.

“It’s for Nestra!” Helena replied with outrage. “I heard you the first time, ok?”

“Alright, sweetie. I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm. Okay, sorry as well,” the teenager replied, her anger deflating.

She just returned to worry. Nestra wanted to hold her sister and tell her they’d find Clecle and bring her home but the girl would never believe her. Their parents had too many funny stories about people who hadn’t made it, who remained stiff smiles captured by cameras, memories, people who’d once been champions of humanity alongside her parents. And now, they were dead. There were no heroes here, no forces of fate that would save Clecle. She could be already dead.

But Nestra knew how to distract someone.

“Do you know what a spotter is?”

“Is it some sort of cricket player role?”

“No.”

“I’m shitting you Nestra, of course I know what a spotter is. I know you brought a rifle. I saw it on the X-ray.”

“Right, so mom and dad said you had to play it safe and behind with me, but that doesn’t mean we will be useless.”

“You are not useless,” her father said from the front. “Knowing you are here puts our heart at ease.”

He sounded very serious about it too.

“Alright. We can be more than just glorified mascots,” Nestra amended.

She sipped her coffee while a few teasing chuckles were aimed at her dad. To his credit, he turned from his seat to give them both a smile.

“So the role of a spotter is to find targets, give me info on the wind and whatnot, and also tell me if I hit the target. Now, I’m not a sniper so we won’t engage at ranges where it becomes important to know the coriolis effect, but I’ll still need quick eyes to find targets and for this, you’ll need this.”

Nestra brought up a special telescope, a gift from Gorge. It was a simplified version of what the army used, and basically was meant for hunting but that was ok.

“Very nice, Nes. Not like we’ll need it with drones and B-classes in the air.”

“You never know when other people will be busy doing important stuff so pay attention. Here is how you operate it…”

It took only a moment from Helena to go from nervous wreck under a layer of humor to fully focused. Nestra managed to distract her sister for a good twenty minutes, then Stibbs woke up, only to be officially named the team’s flanker. A good-natured Stibbs did a short presentation on what she could do and how. After that, Major Winslow dragged her to the back for a private conversation. Nestra was left stewing on her own anxiety. There was no more news on Clecle.

Why was she taking so many risks? Nestra remembered a time when the woman purposely opted out of raids so she could go surfing. What could be worth risking her life over like this, again and again? She was B-class. As far as she understood, raiders at her level didn’t really age, so there was no rush. This time, Nestra would get the truth out of her. This was getting ridiculous. Ridiculous!

“Have an orange,” a soft, deep voice said.

It was Vassily. Nestra took the orange with gratitude, relieved by the diversion. The raider’s massive mitt rested on her shoulder for a little while. Nestra didn’t mind. She’d known Vassily since they were pretty much children. 

Nestra sat back with her orange. Maybe she should just try and take another nap. 

***

The plane landed in Hongqiao airport without fanfare. From the air, it looked partly abandoned with entire buildings overgrown. Nestra wondered what it would have looked like in the golden ages of civil aviation, before scarcity and flying monsters struck. 

A stern woman in uniform welcomed them. Her black hair was pulled back in a tight bun. With the crimson eyes of a fire user, she had a sort of devilish appearance, not that of the playful temptress but the twisted bureaucrat. A good twenty armed soldiers accompanied her, though they were not in battle gear. As far as Nestra understood, it was less an actual security force and more a reminder the Palladian clan was here by grace of a bilateral agreement, and that grace could be withdrawn at any time. She made a beeline for Major Winslow, who was the first to disembark, though she waited until everyone had stepped down to talk.

“Hello, and welcome to Shanghai. I am Captain Tian. I will be your liaison for this rescue operation.”

Her voice was crisp and her English only had the slightest of accents. She frowned, surveying the mass of killers arrayed in front of her. Her eyes widened ever so slightly when she found Nestra. 

Yep, still a freak.

A light drizzle fell from the gray sky above. The captain waved at the terminal entrance.

“We will talk on the way.”

Nestra followed the group as they moved on. She couldn't really follow what was being said too well on account of her baseline hearing. Apparently, they were taking another plane to the local provincial capital. Nestra wasn’t surprised. Shanghai was only two thirds of tey way to their destination. 

What followed was a long list of rules and regulations the Palladians would have to follow. The short version was that they had to let Tian talk first and they were not allowed to use force unless specifically attacked. 

The group waited in a decrepit room for the cargo plane to get final approval. They were fed reheated meal sets and tea. The meal sucked ass, but at least it was hot and healthy.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked Major Winslow as he helped himself to some bananas (she pocketed one),

“Sure.”

He did something and the mana around her grew hazy. The sounds outside of the room came distorted. Nestra frowned.

“Smoke user. No, steam?”

“That is not a question,” Winslow replied with a smile.

He looked like some sort of middle school teacher playing a minor prank. It was uncanny.

“Ok, so why are we assigned only a C-class person to monitor us? Seems a bit light-handed.”

“October is a busy season for local gleams. Monsters load up on calories before winter, which makes them very aggressive. Especially the portal break ones. Shanghai isn’t like Threshold. The density of portals is much lower and they don’t have large walls outside of the very center, so they take a more proactive approach to hunting. Tian is with us because that is all they are willing to spare right now. We are low priority. Well, we were.”

“What do you mean?”

“I may have… omitted a few details from my report. Like the weapons we were bringing or the exact number of B-ranks.”

He smiled.

“Not that I don’t trust our Chinese partners, of course.”

He totally didn’t trust them.

“But wildlife rescue and hostage rescue are completely different things.”

“You think my aunt is being held hostage?”

“For ransom, yes, most likely. This is a typical money-making scheme for isolated enclaves. Your aunt must be weak and wounded from the portal dump — all those we recover are. She’s a very valuable and vulnerable individual right now.”

Nestra kind of hoped he was right because it meant Aunt Claire was alive. 

Winslow had a few more things to say about coordinating their efforts. Essentially, the rescue team was composed of two groups: the Palladian raiders on one side, and Nestra Helena Stibbs on the other. Nestra’s job was going to be to keep an eye out while the juggernauts went to town. Well, Winslow hadn’t phrased it that way but she knew what was what. 

Tian called for people to depart a few minutes later. Nestra eyed her gear.

Why did it have to be so damn heavy?

To her immense surprise, Ulysses detached from the group. He grabbed the rifle case — the heaviest one. His gunmetal eyes shone in the dim light. His expression was unreadable.

“Truce?” he asked.

“Truce?” she repeated, a bit hesitant.

“Yeah. I mean, you came. I got to respect that.”

His eyes narrowed as a warning that he still didn’t trust her, but Nestra would accept whatever she could get. And that case was really damn heavy.

They boarded the plane ten minutes later. It was an ancient military transport plane and so it was awfully uncomfortable, but every second counted and so she couldn’t complain.  Nestra’s ass was starting to hurt from all of the sitting though.

She slept some more, lulled by the low drones of the antique turbines.

***

The bus rambled alongside the mountain road. There was some traffic there, mostly diesel trucks loaded with mining equipment. A vertiginous cliff led to a river far below to Nestra’s right. Triangular flags attached to strings shook in the wind Nestra could feel from the half-open windows. It was a bit dark here, but that wasn’t the problem. Her breathing was faster than usual. Her lungs were grasping for oxygen.

She wouldn’t get the time to adapt either. Judging from Stibbs’ pale face, the drone operator was struggling as well.

“What the hell, I’m out of breath just existing,” she complained.

“Have courage. At least it’s not too hot,” Nestra replied, as someone who had a long experience of things getting worse. 

Tension was ramping up again for Nestra. Wasn’t Clecle supposed to be awake by now? There wasn’t anyone capable of holding her down, if the local enclaves really had only C-class gleams. Was she really badly hurt? 

Had someone killed her? They could have decided not to risk anything and killed her for her core. They could be harvesting it as… oh Riel. No, don’t think about it. Nestra breathed deeply, aware of the B-class combatants sharing her small bus. They were disturbingly unmoving but sometimes, she thought she could feel an undercurrent of mana waiting like stale air around her. Like the world was holding its breath. It made her shiver. 

She leaned towards a window, catching a breath of cold air. Stibbs grabbed her hand.

“I know you’re worried,” Stibbs said, “but I need you to focus on the operation. We’re almost there.”

The bus was going pretty fast, but not fast enough. Nestra knew her mom was dying to grab Captain Tian by the neck so she could fly them to their destination. It still took an hour of meandering swings through a tight mountain road to finalize their approach. Steep cliffs and deep ravines became narrower still. The constant wind shook the tall trees clinging to the mountainside. If this were a walled spot, Nestra could have relaxed and enjoyed the view, but this was the wilderness. There could be monsters anywhere. Her mind knew she was safe but her instincts screamed that this wasn’t right, that you never knew when a breach would occur. They really had to have a low concentration of portals and some decent patrolling for this to work. It made her a little pissed, somehow. 

The bus stopped near a bend in the road.

“We’re here,” Tian said. “I will ask for a little…”

Nestra was among the last to stand up.

“... restraint.”

The B-class were already halfway through their armor, except for Dad who just called it upon him. The pieces of his titanic plate armor just flew to him as if they were made of paper, encasing him in shiny gray. The last rivets fused together while Nestra was still putting on her Wellington. No one minded that she was in her underwear. Those were raiders. Sometimes, they even showered together.

Helena was the last to be ready. She needed help with her training armor, still. Nestra picked her weapon last. It was a Touhou Compact, one of the smallest AMRs on the market. It chambered 20mm rounds and was mostly designed to take down D-class beasts from very, very far away. Or armored cars sometimes. Nestra wasn’t much of a long distance shooter but that was fine. There was an integrated visor that would help her with calculations if it really came to that. She clicked the barrel on the bulky receiver and slotted a magazine of five general purpose bullets. They would punch through two walls clean.

When Nestra stood up, Winslow and Tian now waited in front of a group consisting of three B-class raiders, two C-class raiders, one D-class spotter, one sniper, and one drop operator. It was a force sufficient to take over a small city, guilds included, and that was without the Aszhii ace. Dad was now over two meters and a half tall with a giant hammer on his back. Mom hovered in a coat of ice while Ulysses looked like some broody prince charming with a long sword — the asshole. Nestra looked at his left glove where the threads he used would be stored. 

Vassily was wearing armor and a shield, but no visible weapons. Sanae was so unassuming in her black robes, one might have thought she was a dark user. 

Meanwhile, Nestra and company were the quiet operatives type. It was a nice mix. Winslow smiled faintly. As for Tien, she looked like she’d open her lunch box only to find a cobra inside.

“I must insist that you let me talk,” she finally said, and to her credit she was standing her ground.

“So go and talk,” Dad replied with a flat voice.

Tian turned, albeit reluctantly. They moved past the bend to find a small village, built vertically over terraced rice paddies. Pastures dotted in cow droppings extended past that, then it was a tiny forest and more mountains. Black, hairy pigs ran to and fro, without supervision. The village sported some rudimentary walls more designed to slow down than stop, though there was a guard tower manned by someone currently rolling a cigarette as far as Nestra could tell. The raiders moved at what must have felt like a slow walk to them but was actually closer to a jog. Nestra immediately ran out of breath.

“What the hell,” Helena rasped. “There is no air here or what?”

Nestra just focused on breathing. The guard finally spotted them. He rang a small bell with some hesitation, twice, which Nestra assumed was for visitors. The sound was discordant and a bit ridiculous.

The gates opened because Nestra’s dad pointed and there were metal parts in them. A villager in hot brown garb froze on the way to a nearby lever. Not literally, of course. Nestra’s mom was still calm. 

It took less than thirty seconds for a baseline village leader to come and Nestra had to admit his colorful hat was pretty cool. Alongside were a gleam woman with silvery eyes, low C-class and pretty old, and one of the largest, fluffiest dogs Nestra had ever seen. She wasn’t in any mood to admire it, however. By then, Stibbs was already half-lidded and quiet, a sign her drones were in the air.

Tian opened with a quick staccato of Mandarin. The leader answered with abject terror. And guilt. 

“How can we humbly help you?” the guy asked.

“Yesterday at 3 in the afternoon,” Tian started in a dry voice.

Nestra ignored her. Stibbs was just sending her a video feed of the inner courtyard behind the largest house. A large sheet had been hung to dry and on it were very obvious stretches of dry blood. Nestra’s belly turned to ice.

“Chemical composition matches blood,” Stibbs messaged.

“DNA?”

“You won’t get a match if this went through hot water. Not with the gear I have.”

It was enough. The patterns clearly matched a heavily wounded body. She started to walk.

“And… where are you going?” Tian asked, harshly.

“They know exactly why we’re here. They reek of guilt.”

The dogs barked but Nestra ignored it and the woman held it back. Everyone followed her to the backyard. Nestra studied the couple’s reactions in the drone feedback. They knew. They knew they were fucked.

“She was covered using this,” Nestra said, pointing at the sheet limply moving in the wind. 

“Enough bullshit,” her dad said.

His mask pulled back to reveal grim features, the kind that preceded violence.

Tian turned to the couple with fury.

“You are lying to me,” she barked in Mandarin.

“They will kill us if we talk,” the man whispered.

It was a very, very stupid thing to assume the Palladians wouldn’t. Nestra saw the exact moment her dad went cold. His head slowly swiveled to the still barking dog. 

“Enough,” the silver-eyed woman said. 

The village leader stood dejected. He didn’t move while she talked.

“There is a gang deeper in the valleys. We told them. They took her.”

“Was she still alive?” Nestra’s mom asked in a clipped Mandarin.

“Yes, yes! She was moving. Moaning. We gave her water. She was in a bad way, but she was not dying. Men came and took her.”

“Where?”

“Shangri-La. There is a market there.”

“A market?”

“A slave market. Soon.”

The sheet froze solid.