Negotiations

Jarathia | Jarathia City | City Hall | A Few Days Later

Papers crowd the long table, the scent of ink and charcoal clings to the curtains. Chisa stands stiffly at the window, Jerome at the head of the table, nobles surrounding it in guarded silence. Rizario lounges opposite, his smile thin as wire.

“So.” Rizario says, tapping a ledger. “You agree to the points.”

“We agree.” Jerome answers. “You’ll take the children into protective care.”

“We already have. We won’t force them to be workers anymore!” Rizario goes on. “As long as you’ll raise the mining output on demand—and keep the wyverns out of our routes.”

Chisa’s knuckles whiten. “You ass—”

“We will.” Jerome cuts in before the spark can catch. “But we have permission to sell stones to the merchants here. Distribution is ours. You may only sell overseas.”

Rizario inclines his head. “Agreed.”

Several nobles trade looks of naked disgust.

“No attacks.” Rizario adds, gaze sweeping the room. “From either side. I’ll accept lower tax rates for the Forest and the Outskirts.”

“We’ll allow nobles and their workers to be a part of everything.” Jerome says, jaw tight, “and get a say in the transactions.”

“Agreed.” Rizario pauses. “One last point, or we know this would all collapse.”

The door opens. Jule slips in with a new set of golden teeth, taking a seat as if he belongs there. Jerome’s fist tightens until the tendons stand out.

“Mersa stays in prison.” Rizario says, unable to hide his fear. “Any attempt to free him breaches the contract. Any aid breaches the contract. That maddened beast will never again step outside.”

Chisa flinches, glancing at Jerome.

“Then our last term,” Jerome says, “is that you will never sell our people to another Domain. Jarathia stays independent. Bandits and our troops can enter the City—and anywhere else—without persecution.”

Rizario stands, hand extended. “Done.”

Jerome shakes his hand with a glare.

Chisa’s lip curls downward, but the deal is made. The meeting dissolves with the scrape of chairs and the rustle of cloaks.

Jarathia | Jarathia City| City Hall | Outside the Office

Light pools into the blackwood corridors. Chisa’s voice cracks. “Mersa could—”

“We only meant to buy time.” Jerome says. “And we lost.”

“But… no one—”

“Everything is on him now. Everything.” Jerome says with determination.

“The wyverns will kill so many…”

“Then we will play the villains.” Jerome answers, eyes dull. “We ARE the villains—for now. But a seed has been planted. The people saw Rizario’s true face. It’s a chance. Mersa’s actions have opened a few eyes.”

“I can’t endure it, these foreign forces are all scum. Everything is scum here. I don’t want any more killing…” Chisa whispers. “It’s—”

“We need to get comfortable with it.” Jerome says, bleak but steady. “Until an outsider saves us. Pathetic, I know. But we’re too weak. And even if we’d rebel and win somehow, that would eliminate every defense Jarathia currently has…”

“Too weak.” she echoes, tears building.

“I don’t want him to hate me, to see me as the villain.” She adds, almost inaudible.

Jerome has no answer.

Jarathia | Jarathia City | Docks | Three Years Later

Fog clings to the pylons. A lone ship is tied to the docks—a man in a weathered black coat steps onto the boards, eyes empty.

He looks across the harbor at the city’s black spires and broken banners.

“What happened here…?” Nine wonders.

Jarathia | City Outskirts | Eat And Smith | Current Time

“So Mersa started a revolution five years ago.” Hanla says, piecing threads together aloud. “That’s why the children can move freely now. The bandits act as a counterforce. I didn’t think about that—but hearing it now, it’s really smart.”

Tyreese shrugs. “I won’t judge his methods. He was fed up. If he hadn’t fought, we might’ve all died.”

Hanla runs a hand through Sunthia’s hair. “And he’s in prison now, right?”

Jenna nods. “Underground. Was built for him—and for other rebels."

“Then the answer is obvious.” Hanla says. “We stage a prison break.”

Jenna blinks. “You mean—”

“Maybe with Nine.” Hanla says. “Together we can definitely free him.”

Tyreese’s brows lift at her boldness. “You WANT to free him? It’s hard to say how… The prison’s been sealed since the Miasma Calamity.”

“Miasma Calamity?” Hanla echoes.

Sunthia jerks awake and lurches upright. “I fell asleep on you again—I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Hanla smiles.

Sunthia fidgets with a strand of hair, then nods. Tyreese and Jenna exchange a laugh.

“Ironically enough, it was Nine who dealt with the Calamity.” Tyreese says.

Sunthia goes pale, hand clasped to her arm. “He was near death…”

“Wait.” Hanla says. “You’re telling me something out there almost killed an A-rank adventurer? In your stories HE sounds like a calamity!”

“Because he is a creator.” Jenna answers, quiet and sure. “And he fights alone. Without him… everything ends. That’s the truth.”

Hanla exhales and lets the room hush around her.

Two problems. Even if I can nudge this island onto the right path, I’m an outsider—no one will listen. Mersa would have—he kept casualties low, stayed open to talk… Is he even still alive? Maybe… maybe he is. Maybe he’s waiting for someone to crack his hell wide open. The Miasma won’t stay contained. Sooner or later it consumes everything. Now I see why they call it a hellhole: a divide between rich and poor, the mines as the only leverage, but long-term the mines will kill everyone. High rates pump mana into the land and fire wyverns are born. There’s no future in that. Can I blame the mayor for clinging to the hope of higher output and new dependencies? But that poisons the world too. I have an idea—a bit of luck and lots of madness—but if I can be like Raven… either way, I have to try.

She looks up at the three of them, eyes steady. “Sunthia, take me to Nine. You know where he lives, right?”

“No…” Sunthia hesitates. “He told me if I ever showed someone, he’d never speak to me again. Even Jenna and Tyreese don’t know.”

“Please.” Hanla simply says.

Jenna studies Hanla’s face, then nods. “I rarely say this, but… she’s different. She listens. If this is our only chance…”

“And if Nine tries the silent treatment,” Tyreese adds, “we’ll be here to lecture him.”

Sunthia swallows. “It’ll take time to reach him. The wyverns…“

“You said wyverns attack the mana network, spreading the red dust syndrome further.” Hanla says. “If I don’t have one, would they still target me?”

“Maybe, but to you…” Sunthia admits, “they'd just be monsters as any other.”

“Good. Then we take the fastest path.”

Sunthia blinks. “Nine always clears a passage for me. Are you sure? You want a straight path to him?”

Jenna frowns. “No. It’s impossible Without a mana network NO ONE can survive.”

Jenna lifts a hand—mana kindles in her eyes. Red currents shimmer in Sunthia, blue veins glow in Tyreese—nothing in Hanla. Goosebumps rise on Jenna’s arms.

“How?” Jenna whispers.

“I had a network from birth.” Hanla says. “One day I fell from a tree and… I don’t have one anymore.”

Maybe my soul took over this body. Maybe that’s why I don’t have one. No proof—no clues—not yet.

“Does healing magic still work on you?” Jenna asks.

“Yes.”

Jenna just stands there. “A woman with no mana network—who can still receive heals?”

“Yes,” Hanla says again.

Sunthia weakly smiles. “You’re full of surprises.”

Jenna stares, malfunctioning. “Woman… no mana network… living… healthy… and can be healed…”

Tyreese claps Hanla’s shoulder. “We’ll see you after you smash the newest calamity. Don’t mind Jenna—she’s just trying to figure you out.”

Hanla and Sunthia trade a quick wink. Tyreese winks back.