Jiro Finley Segawa, Legate of the Legion Vagaris, groaned as he got out of bed. The Season of Air had started and his bones didn’t appreciate the chill. That or he had been woken up just five minutes from his schedule by incessant knocking on the door.

For a moment, he wondered where in the Burning Moon he was, with an unfamiliar ceiling overhead and the absent swaying deck from when the Green Swan surfed the air currents. The room was spacious and had wall hangings, tapestries and oil paintings, and was quite welcoming.

“Oh, yeah. Watchtower,” he murmured.

“Legate!” Thud, thud, thud! “Please wake up!” Maruko Haru Manuella, his Tribunus, knocked and called out in a barely restrained shout.

“I’m awake, Chaos, Maruko, how early is it?”

“You asked to be called when we have news,” came the snippy reply.

“News from what?”

There was a pregnant pause. “Just open the Chaos burned door, old man!”

“Alright, alright, I’m awake.”

At least there was a rug on the floor so that his bare feet wouldn’t freeze. He put on a dressing robe, some nice rabbit fur slippers and trudged to the door, yanking it open just as Maruko was about to continue knocking.

“Can’t you get dressed first?” she whined.

“You woke me up,” he grunted back.

“Well, unless you fancy taking a walk around the Watchtower in your pyjamas then get dressed.”

“Are you going to watch me or are you going to give me some privacy?”

Maruko rolled her eyes.

“I’ll wait outside. At least you’re actually up this time.”

She slammed the door shut behind her and Jiro hurried to dress, the cogs in his mind beginning to turn. Maruko had standing orders to wake him only on certain circumstances, one of which was an imminent attack. That was the most unlikely as in that case, Maruko would have dragged him to the command chambers even if he wasn’t wearing anything.

The second would be news of their errant Inquisitor and the Watchtower commander that she had dragged along in her shenanigans. And the third was the Anima Telum in their custody. Civil unrest, an invasion from the north or south, or an Avos uprising would also be cause for waking him up.

Hmmm, that list was longer than he thought.

Maruko was tapping her foot impatiently when Jiro came out of the room. She led him wordlessly down a couple of flights and into the commander’s office. Deputy Commander Theo Rani Stuart hadn’t moved offices yet so the Legion occupied the Watchtower’s High Command quarters, from Jiro’s bedroom to the office and the conference rooms.

Once they were secure in the office, Jiro said, “So what is it? We’re not under attack, are we?”

Maruko shook her head, “Not on Rumiga. Our scouts have found increased activity from the Wyldlings. There have been traces of the Behemoth Decanus Killane’s team found but no sighting of the creature itself. No, well, I’ve other important news from the Spellweaver Cohort.”

She handed over a single leaf of paper, borders heavily etched with runescript.

Jiro recognized it as instructions keying the document to his Animus Signature. He let a bit of it seep out of his fingertip. It was only when he did that the text appeared on the page. He read a couple of lines, grunted in annoyance then sat behind the desk before he continued.

“You know what this is?”

“It’s keyed to you, how would I know?”

“Really?”

“Inquisitor Kinohara will arrive in the next few weeks, with instructions.”

Jiro raised an eyebrow. “Kinohara? What’s that old goat want now?”

Maruko covered her mouth and coughed but Jiro thought he heard her say, “Pot and kettle!”

“What?”

“Details are scarce but rumours say that there’s been a…well…a commotion with Fateweaver.”

“That can’t be good.”

The last time there was a commotion, a protectorate declared independence and the Empire had to put them in their place.

Bloody work, that, he thought. Jiro leaned on the desk with his elbows and glared down at the paper.

“No, sir. While I suggest waiting for the Inquisitor before we proceed with our next exploration, there’s no reason not to continue sending scouts into the Tidelands. However, may I request we create a special task force to go beyond the Tideland’s Depths and head into the Chaos Sea proper?”

“That would require a Knight-Captain, several Knights and a vessel capable of independent voyage.”

“I suggest a Cruiser-class vessel, a squad of Certus Colossi, and at least a cohort with a Sorcerer or a Spellweaver, ranked Jade tier Master or above.”

“That’s a lot of resources for a task force and you know as well as I do that no Sorcerer worth their salt would accept anything less than a full legion’s protection. Especially in the Chaos where any working of theirs would draw vengeful Unformed like bears to honey. Still,” Jiro drew a sharp breath, “we may need to deploy more than that.”

He shoved the paper over where Maruko took a long look before her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline.

“That bad?”

“Prophecies are inherently unreliable.” Jiro said drily, “but when every string on the Loom screams bloody murder and that the source was somewhere beyond Rumiga, well,” he shrugged, “maybe we’re better off spending more to ensure nothing’s wrong than understating things and getting caught with our pyjamas on.”

Maruko nodded. “I’ll write out your directives.”

“Ah, Maruko.” Jiro tapped his chin, “Draw some of the members from the militia. There are some pretty solid choices here.”

“Are we opening recruitment this early?”

“Special invitation only.”

“Very well. Now,” Maruko returned the paper, “for the second piece of news, we have to go into the secure chamber.”

Jiro nodded slowly. “The artefact?”

“Named Fri’Avgi by its bonded owner.”

“I thought Davar’s daughter…”

“Her brother, the militia squad leader, Marron Davar, had it brought to the Watchtower for safekeeping while she waits for the licenses that will allow her to carry it. A preliminary examination is required before the license can be released. Vice-Commander Stuart mentioned that Leader Davar had it kept near the Gemheart.”

“I see.”

“Well, Spellweaver Blodwen and his team have finished their preliminary investigation and are ready to report.”

Jiro nodded as he stood up and followed Maruko back out of the office. Of course, it meant they would have to walk all the way down to the secure chambers under the tower, and afterwards, come all the way back up here.

No wonder his knees were giving him trouble.

In the long weeks since the end of the Wyldling Wave, the Watchtower had been busy. The Wave had been short but brutal. Few lives had been lost amongst the militia here but it was devastating everywhere else. Jiro saw the telltale signs of survivor’s guilt and he couldn’t blame them. They had been safely ensconced in the most secure place in the western lands while the people they were supposed to protect died.

The fact that the tower had been besieged by a majority of the Wyldlings didn’t matter. What mattered were those who escaped. In the cold calculus of governance, it didn’t matter how hard they tried. What mattered was that they failed and hundreds...thousands...died.

The missing Commander Davar would face an inquest, except, well, he had been drafted by the Inquisitor and ultimately, blame fell on her. Davar’s previous record meant that he could have stopped the Wave much earlier, certainly before everything else happened but since he wasn’t here, the worst happened.

Somebody claimed the Anima Telum from the infamous Shillogu Sanctum though and maybe that would be enough. Still, Jiro wondered why Inquisitor Gorlyn insisted on heading into the Tidelands. Every event after indicated that they should have stayed on guard. What was so important?

“Probably had a hunch,” he grumbled.

“What was that?” Maruko gave him a sidelong glance.

“Just thinking of the ill-timed and ill-fated expedition to the Tidelands by the Inquisitor.”

“Ah, yes. I talked to young Davar and he said that the Inquisitor had approached his father who was given little time to prepare. As I understood it, Inquisitor Gorlyn arranged the expedition and left in less than a week.”

“That is ample time if they were only going for a patrol in the Shallows but to have strayed into the Depths and beyond? Dangerous. Dangerous three times over!”

“I don’t think they even planned to go beyond the Mid Marches,” Maruko replied. “Unusual Chaos Lord activity and bad luck led them astray. At least the Ritual determined that they were still alive.”

Either way, after weeks of recovery efforts, the villages that had been overrun had been restored, though there were new residents, new councils, and new fortifications. It was too expensive to lay down a runescript barrier for each town, so they made do with the easiest fix of building a wooden palisade around each village. Not the best solution as some Wyldlings could easily bypass such structures and then the villages would be trapped behind the walls with nowhere to run. But those kinds of Wanderers weren’t common so the risk was manageable. The members of the militia were in better spirits now, especially after a sizable bonus to their pay from all the dust and shards harvested.

After a lengthy walk down the spiralling staircases, Jiro and Maruko arrived below ground to the secure chambers. They came to an unmarked door and entered, revealing a bare room with a table in the middle. The artefact, Fri’Avgi, was in the middle, secured in place with wire and a runescript circle powered by jade cartridges frequently replaced by the Runescribes. A man in Vagaris’ uniform red and the insignia of the lidded eye with the crossed rifle and sabre pupil, stood observing at the side, tendrils of his Animus going through every inch of the weapon.

“Spellweaver Blodwen,” Jiro greeted, bringing the man out of his reverie.

“Ah, Legate.” Blodwen’s bright blue eyes had always unnerved Jiro. They were too intense and made him seem as if he could see through everything. “I’ve conducted the preliminary investigation on this curious weapon. It has one of the strongest bonds I’ve ever examined. It resisted all efforts to induce a transfer, even with the noted Bloodseep technique recently developed by the Imperial Anima Research Group.”

“You tried to usurp control?” Maruko asked with a scandalised voice.

“Of course. No need to hand a thirteen-year-old girl a weapon of mass destruction. Alas, not only did my efforts fail, the backlash was pretty heavy.”

He held out his left hand. There was a hole in it, right in the middle of his palm. Jiro could see the other man’s face through the hole and the edges looked like the flesh had been cauterised.

“You should get that looked a,.” Jiro remarked blandly.

“No matter, nothing a little regenerative spellweaving won’t fix,” Blodwen shrugged. “It burned off all the nerves and I shut the surrounding pain sensors off. And aside from the stiffness and the awkwardness when I use my fingers, it isn’t that much of a bother. Still, with the failure here, I’ve discontinued any other attempts and stopped my team from trying.”

“So it can only be used by the young scion of the Mishala Clan?”

“Ah, Mishala.” Blodwen sighed. “Sadeen’s daughter, I presume? Those feisty women have got their claws in every branch of her Imperial Majesty’s government.”

“And yet you’ve got the gumption to court a woman less than half your age,” Maruko said through gritted teeth.

“I’m afraid they’ve found me and my lineage wanting.” Blodwen sighed. “Davar’s a lucky man.”

“Or unlucky, if you look at it another way,” Jiro snorted. “Anyway, forget the gossip. What have you discovered?”

“Just the surface use. Well, as you know, this is a rather impractical sword.”

“Come off it, Bloody, everyone can tell it's practically useless as a sword,” Maruko snorted.

“Actually, it can be used as such by its bonded owner.” Blodwen glared at the Tribunus. “Anyway, that’s the simplest use. Another is it’s a way to access nearly obscene amounts of Chaos.”

“But that’s…”

“Yes, Sorcery without being a Sorcerer,” Blodwen muttered. “It is incredibly dangerous. Despite the incomplete reports of its use, I’ve seen the site of that battle. The surroundings were still littered with the detritus of the Flight of Obsidian Cranes Spell. None of the people there could have used that Spell yet here we are with a perfect manifestation.”

He pointed at a side table. A perfectly formed folded crane made of black volcanic rock was sitting at the centre.

“A normal casting would have seen this dissipate by now but nearly a season later, it's still in perfect shape. Only Sorcerers a tier higher than Jade, the Luminous, could have done something like this.”

“How many Luminous Sorcerers are there in the Empire?” Maruko gasped.

Blodwen lifted a hand, the one with the hole in it, and wiggled his fingers. “Probably less than this.”

Jiro nodded, deep in thought. After a long moment, he looked up and said, “What else?”

“Nothing much beyond that,” Blodwen admitted, “though there are many I suspect. Look at the shape of the blade. Notice how the edges, well the sides, of the blade have irregularities and notches? What does that remind you of?”

After staring at it for a while, Jiro and Maruko glanced at each other and shrugged. “What?”

Blodwen started muttering under his breath, “I’d expected the little girl not to get it, but you Jiro? Ancestors, you’re already an Ancestor!”

“What was that!” Maruko’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“Nothing.”

Jiro chuckled, though he coughed when Maruko glared at him.

“It looks like a key. To those old fashioned mechanical locks!” Blodwen yelled.

“A key?” Jiro exclaimed. “Er, what does it open?”

Blodwen shrugged. “If I knew that I’d be immortal already.”

“So what now?” Maruko asked. “You say it looks like a key but you don’t know what lock it could open?”

“I suggest you return it to its bonded owner. One way or another, the Threads of Fate does not provide a tool that would never be used. Just keep the wielder under watch and eventually, we’ll find out.”

Jiro groaned. “Ah that means more paperwork!”