“A trap is only a trap if you don't know about it. If you know about it, it's a challenge.”

― China Miéville, King Rat

The encampment for the students and their teachers was at the eastern edge toward a steep rocky cliffside where some hardy trees clung to outcroppings and hung over a field of loose stone covered in ice and snow.

When they neared, several students that were aimlessly walking between the rows of tents spotted them, and three came over.

A girl in a thick-furred jacket with tousled dark hair grinned at Talbert, “Hey Tal! Good to see you. And in one piece too.”

“Jerica.” Talbert gave a half-smile. “How are things?”

The Lieutenant raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat. “Get settled in. There should be a teacher who could give you directions. I will have to inquire with the command here. If we don’t see each other again, be assured that I will send a written report to the academy.” The words were accompanied by a long look at Alyssa, who raised her head defiantly. “I wish you a safe return.” He tapped the brim of his cloak hood and turned toward the center of the camp.

Jerica grinned and waited a bit until Philias was some distance away before whispering, “Nice fellow! I don’t envy you tramping through the forest with his like.”

Jeremy shrugged, “He was nice enough. Knows where his bread is buttered too. Always a good thing.”

Roberta and Georgina giggled.

Mireille sighed deeply and looked at Alea, who was holding on to Butler One while catching her breath. The trek had been quite strenuous for the small girl even though she did not have to carry much.

Vivienne was gazing around the camp vigilantly and whispered something to her brother, who nodded in return.

A rotund man in the robes of a teacher with red hair and long sideburns walked in their direction.

“Newcomers? I’m Villier Gorms, in charge of registering and assigning new arrivals. That wasn’t how we hoped the Field Training would go, right?” He blotted some sweat from his forehead and looked at each of them, counting silently. “Mh. You four...ah five.” He nodded at Alea, “...are nobles. That complicates matters.”

Alea clenched and unclenched her hands and spoke up, “I would like to add that I would like a tent together with Alyssa and Mireille here.”

Vivienne gave her a mock-hurt look which the black-haired girl ignored.

“That would be fine, actually.” The teacher nodded, “Jerica. Good that you are here; bring those four to the upper section and see that they have a place. Marta should know if you are unsure. I will bring the others to the lower camp.”

“Fiiine.” Jerica heaved a deep sigh but grinned when Villier turned his head and waved for them to follow.

Soon they vanished between the tents.

Annabeth raised her head and said embarrassedly, “Do you have any objections to sharing a tent with me?”

“No.” Mireille smiled, “The more the warmer.”

“I don’t know what to say, and you even have the enchanted clothes!” Alyssa shook her head. “We need to get out of here. Let us try to get in touch with one of the teachers we know, like Reneus or Carmen.”

The teacher escorted them to a six-person tent situated at the beginning of the rock slide and took down their names, comparing them with a list, he nodded. “Nearly all of you are here. Soon we can leave this sorry place. Until then, make yourself at home.”

And then with hasty steps receding between another row of tents, he was gone.

Annabeth looked around and raised her head toward the hillside. “At least it looks like the cliff will give us a bit of shelter.”

“We have to get out of here as soon as possible. And keep on your guard. They could have simply sent us back. Why gather us so near to possible fighting?” Vivienne rubbed her fingers together and seemed restless.

“Let us see who else we know is here.” Mireille stood on tiptoes and tried to see above the low tents.

Wind battered the round tent, and the oil lamp hung from a hook overhead swung lazily casting dancing shadows over some maps strewn on a portable table set on some carpets thrown over the wet earth. Several men and one woman sat around the table some pondering seriously, some half-asleep. Two men conversed quietly while most of the others listened.

“Do we have enough magicians to overwhelm potential resistance?”

“The teachers in the academy are notoriously experienced and powerful, but they are not usually accustomed to combat. I think we can attack at night and get most of them before they are really awake.”

“Some are already suspicious maybe we should have let them communicate with the academy. What would have been the harm?”

“And risk someone like Illimen coming here? Do you value your life?”

“When do we begin?”

“I hear the negotiations with the Wolf-Tribes are planned to start tomorrow. I think it would be a good opportunity to start the play.”

“As you wish.”

The coast around this time was riven by storms, and the great sea-gates of the harbor were closed. Timber groaned as ships moored at the piers were battered by the winds coming in from the sea.

The militia commandant looked at the hooded form sitting opposite him in a small guardroom. The shutters were clattering with every gust of wind, and the candles flickered as the poor insulation let the wind blow coldly through the small chamber sitting high in a tower of the small castle guarding the harbor.

The commandant turned over the pouch and hefted it experimentally.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Enough for you to retire in the south. Your arthritis should thank you for that, as would your wife.” A young, male voice sounded. Settling deeper into the shadowed corner, a white toothy smile showed beneath the hood covering his head. “Ah, I forgot. You lack the funds to treat her, so she might not survive the journey. But with a bit extra money perhaps a famous healer might be found.”

Drawing a shuddering breath, the commandant drank deeply from a small flask he pulled from his jacket. He was an older, fit man with grey hair and beard, once reddish blonde.

“Deal.”

He reached into his shirt and pulled out a pendant inscribed with runes. Muttering a series of words, he pricked his finger and dropped blood on a ruby inset in the tip of the silver amulet hanging from the chain. A glimmer of green light flashed, and then the amulet turned dull.

“Drip your blood on the stone and recite the oath to Allisair in the old speech. That will do the trick.” He gulped down more of the spirits in the flask, staggered to his feet, and spat guiltily. “Do what you want with it.”

Lucce lifted his hood and gazed at the amulet before dripping a bit of blood on the ruby. Concentrating, he recalled the oath of Allisair and recited it flawlessly. Grinning mirthlessly, he recalled his dismissal from the academy, his enemy joking with his friends, the bribed professor, the humiliation. He tightly gripped the silver chain and walked toward the guardian's room, where all the castle's magical defenses were anchored.

Later in the city of Saltmouth on the coast of Margrinar.

Screams rent the night as flashes of brilliant energy illuminated the plaza in front of the castle. Soldiers were turned into short-lived torches as the large runed mirrors hung from the upper levels of the guard towers spat bolts of fire and lightning.

Soon the roar of a large crowd drowned out the commotion, and men and women armed with stones, cudgels, anything that might hurt when swung, stormed the citadel, and amid the fighting, several individuals among the mob unleashed spells of some sort or other drawing upon brands still fresh from their application.

The morning found Saltmouth firmly in the hand of the Republicans.

The next day Regent Heloise of Margrinar gave the order to gather the troops and mobilize the army.

Wandering through the camp, Mireille and Alyssa were greeted by some of their fellow students, They mostly greeted Mireille and ignored Alyssa. She tried to remember and felt that it had always been that way. Even in Firswending, the people were mostly glad to have her help, but when that was not needed, she was not needed. Was she that unfriendly a person?

“Mireille?”

“Mh.”

“Am I a particularly unlikable person?”

Mireille spat a bit of the water she was drinking at the moment and turned toward her friend, looking incredulous, “What are you talking about? I like you well enough, and Alea and Vanessa do too.”

“What about Vivienne and Valens?”

“They like you too. Can I ask what brought this on?”

Alyssa looked at several students that stood in one of the alleys between tents. They had been walking in their direction but stopped and began to turn as they saw the two friends.

“Mh. I must admit that I did not think too much about it, but it should still be the void-thing. It got better after the Arcane Exhibition, but you are not really low-key when using it, you know? And there is that cold feeling around you sometimes, and when you talk to Asandria, it can be a bit spooky. Even I found it peculiar when I did not know about her.”

“Is that really all? Even back in my hometown, I did not have any real friends. More like acquaintances.”

“Lucky me, I had a whole family that ignored me mostly. Thank Nirileth, my patron goddess, was always there for me. Have to really steal something for her one of these days.”

“What?”

“Just kidding...mostly. She is not only the goddess of thievery. She also likes curiosity and self-reliance.”

“Mh. Thievery seems to be the more active trait.”

Far in the distance, a patrol of scouts exited the forest and walked down into the dell. Alyssa focused on them and saw a man with an eyepatch carrying a large staff and wearing a trenchcoat made of leather accompanied by two younger girls.

“Look.” Alyssa pointed.

“Seems like a father with his two daughters. What are they doing bringing them here?”

“We should search for a teacher. We need to be gone from here sooner rather than later.”

After walking for a bit, they reached a tent that was a bit bigger and looked more elaborate. Lowering herself to look into the tent-flap, Mireille called, “Hello? Is there someone?”

“Yes? Who is there? Best come in before you let all the heat out.” An aged female voice answered.

The inside of the tent was lit by several light globes, and a floating ball of fire shed both light and heat. An older woman sat on a carpet covering the earthen floor and was eating an apple.

“Sarah!”

“Ah, Mireille and…Alyssa was it? Good to see you made it.”

The older healer smiled kindly at them.

“Madam, do you know if Reneus or assistant professor Carmen are around here somewhere?”

“As far as I know, they were still at the fortress. Carmen was still needed in the Academy, and Reneus is organizing the whole effort.”

“Why are we being kept here near possible hostilities?” Alyssa questioned.

“They say that being on the move would be more dangerous, the Wolf-Tribe know those woods best and all, but I have my doubts too. They did not even let us send a message, always saying they would take it with them on the next regular message run.”

“That sounds suspicious.” Mireille frowned.

“At the moment, it's only suspicious, but the reasons sound as if they could be true.” Sarah shifted her seat and gestured, “Do you want an apple too? It’s unhealthy to only eat dried bread and meat.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Mireille grabbed and bit into an apple.

Alyssa smiled and took another, polishing it on her robe, then became serious again, “Sarah, they killed the dryads of one of the groves of Irkonos.”

“What?! How come I did not hear about that? How could they? The wolf-kin will not let that go and as they will want the perpetrators punished I don’t really see how that can end peacefully.”

“With punished, you mean…?”

“Killed, yes. The Tribe believes in equal punishment, and excuses are not something they usually admit. Gold is not worth a life to them perhaps if there is some great deed to be done or a common danger to overcome but other than that- Nothing comes to mind.”

“I don’t trust the Nordmarks; they fought against Lieseleta and seemed pretty chummy with the undead if you ask me.” Mireille put down the hand with the apple long enough to say.

“There were a lot of people fighting for Carl that day. If all of them were still under suspicion because of that, more than half the kingdom would be a problem.” Sarah shook her head. “When the other teachers gather for the night, I will tell them your worries and the most unwelcome news of the murders.”

“It seems not everyone sees taking the life of a dryad as a crime.”

Sarah sighed, “That is an old argument. We kill magical creatures as a matter of course, most of the time it’s eat or be eaten, but there are notable exceptions- Dryads being among them. As far as I know, they never harmed anyone intentionally, and several kings of Margrinar made killing them a crime, if not on the same level as killing a human. But with time and distance, there has evolved the custom that what happens in some far corner of some woodland or other will not usually lead to punishment even with something like that. And the custom has become so ingrained that some would be amazed that there even is such a law.”

“It gives me a bit of hope that at least someone thought to make one. But that makes the killing no less atrocious.” Alyssa seemed to have lost her appetite and simply held the apple.

“I will talk about that with the others, and then we will plan what to do. If we combine our magic, we should be able to reach Reneus at minimum, perhaps even the academy and Illimen, and then we have to leave here. Some fighting will be nearly impossible to avoid now. You should go and rest. Eat something, and tomorrow I will know more.”

Alyssa nodded, “Thank you!” Grabbing the still-eating Mireille, she raised the apple. “And thanks for the food! Until tomorrow then.”

“Have a good night, children.”

In a fort beside the Sleepy Green inside a dark underground chamber.

The woman looked at the old man. “Are you sure that you can keep us safe?”

“It should not take much effort, the newly formed walking dead will be disoriented, and with a hand of glory shrouding us, they will not realize our presence.” The old man patted a waxed human hand hanging from his belt.

“Then we shouldn’t waste any more time.”

Nodding at each other, they left the vaulted cellar that had been their home for the last weeks. Walking up the ramp toward the courtyard, a cold wind blew down into their faces and their breath misted before their faces.

Reaching the yard, the old man stretched and promptly coughed.

“Father!”

“Don’t…” heavy coughing interrupted his words, “...don’t worry about me. I still have enough time for this.”

“Don’t say such things.” The woman patted his back worriedly. “Do you need another infusion of life essence?”

“The last prisoner died yesterday of the Blue Cough. I don’t think harvesting one of the soldiers would be a good idea. We will simply have to make do until we reach a village.” The old man smiled at his daughter benevolently.

“If you are sure?”

“I am.”

Turning toward the large magic circles, they began to prepare for nightfall. The old man looked up at the clouded sky and smiled.