The Chimeric Ascension of Lyudmila Springfield

Chapter Seventy-Eight: Atrixian Invasion

“Look at em…Seven ships? Don’t they have like 30? I wonder if they’re that sure of themselves that they foolishly believe they don’t need any more than this,” I said, standing on a building’s roof near the dockyard. Surtr sat beside me as we looked at the approaching vessels in a [Skyview] window. They were about 4 hours away.    

“I cannot think of anything better, Lord Springfield. Let us wipe them to the last pathetic life.” I hopped on Surtr’s back, and he jumped off the roof, landing with a silent step. Captain Caulk and his naval soldiers were rushing to get the ships loaded with supplies to meet them head-on.   

We had 72 hours of forewarning, and that time was devoted to readying the vessels.  

I spent two days indexing the path our enemies would likely take to have them on my map.    

But it wasn’t just here.   

After receiving the coded message, Gretchen dispatched a group of winged-wildkin scouts to investigate the detachment coming from Tiran’s Crest. They returned after two days with gruesome news. The villages located between the valley and Plymoise were ransacked for additional supplies. The men were killed, and the women and children were taken to Atrix as slaves.   

The scouts flew so hard they crippled their wings on the return trip and ran the remaining 12 hours home non-stop.   

Additionally, Atrix was invading with a force 10,000 strong, and they employed 5 drakes and 3 hippogriffs. 

“Move your asses! Get those cannons in place! Hurry up with the cannonballs! Mage unit, ensure you have your mana potions!” Captain Caulk barked orders.   

Captain Morgan—the ground commander—was doing much of the same for the 6,000 soldiers Plymoise had available after implementing a draft.   

They were amassing their forces near the entrance. Rather than bunkering down and turning this into a defensive siege battle, the plan was to meet the bastards head-on. They had the numbers and momentum…  

But I had a lion… A lion serving the most fearsome threat this world had ever seen… Captain Caulk had witnessed Surtr’s might for himself.  

“If only Sekh was here.”  

“Indeed. Our devilish Dark Lord of Tyranny lived for bloodshed and war. I wager she wants nothing more than to spread your infamy… Alas, I will fulfill the role in her stead.”  

“And this is good for us. I really couldn’t have asked for anything better.” I patted Surtr on the head and scratched his chin.    

Tris? A report? 

Your family has taken cover in the inn’s basement. The lions are on the roof, and they will report to Surtr if they see a ship approaching. I doubt they would sail around the coast. The path is too long. Additionally, most of the citizens have taken shelter. General Fruide is still preparing a plan.   

Okay. Let him know I’m sending Surtr to the front lines.   

Yes, my lord.   

“Surtr, I want you to give them hell.”   

“I wouldn’t give them anything less, my lord!” Surtr roared and took off. Meanwhile, I retrieved my flute, played a song, summoned my wings, and flew to the Mengoire’s crow’s nest. It wasn’t anywhere near ready to fight against seven Concordian-class battleships. However, there were three other ships in the dock getting stocked.   

Supplies were low. Honestly? I doubted the cannons could fire more than four or five times before ammunition became a dream. The cannonballs I supplied weren’t enough.    

I was here, though.   

I retrieved my rifle, checked it, and rested it in a low-ready position. 

It seems like life is throwing me excuses I didn't need. When this is over… I’ll have that talk with Irisa. I can’t keep putting it off.  

---

“The fighting has started,” I told Captain Caulk. We were out at sea. In just ten minutes, our battle would begin. However, we looked towards Plymoise and saw smoke drown the sky.    

To our left and right sat three more vessels. They were starving for supplies and operated by a skeleton crew.   

Captain Caulk said they didn’t have enough mages to fill the battalion designed to shield the ships from incoming damage. Gretchen had authorized him to offer mercenary contracts to anyone willing to fight in Plymoise’s name. People signed up after realizing the ‘crazy elf with the massive lion’ would be participating, knowing the chances of losing were extremely slim. And my hasty reputation at the Bloodhounds didn’t go unnoticed. I’d only been on two contracts, but I was starting to develop notoriety as someone who used a weird gun and rode a flaming-covered beast taller than an ashura.   

We had six mages per ship, not including the 12 on the Mengoire. He’d like to have at least two dozen per vessel, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.    

On the front line, it was better. About a hundred mercenaries from the adventurer’s guild and Bloodhounds had joined General Fruide and Captain Morgan.    

I opened a [Skyview] window and locked into Surtr to see the lion having the time of his life. Two drakes were dead on the ground, their corpses a burning reminder of the fate befalling every Atrixian soldier. Surtr dodged and dashed on flaming steps, keeping pace with his winged-opponent.    

The gray-scaled serpent roared and flapped its wings, summoning a cyclone of wind with it as the center. Surtr replied with a mighty roar, creating a pillar of flames that caught the gusts. Everything inside burned to a sizzling crisp, including his opponent. He lunged at the drake, clamping his teeth around its neck while falling to the ground.   

The monster softened Surtr’s fall, and he tore and bit, brutally ripping away its head. With one more roar, Surtr’s flames increased in tenacity, causing the fire trapped in the cyclone to break free. They were scattered all over the battlefield…  

Yet none hurt or burned a hair on Plymoise’s soldiers. Tris devoted all her resources to keeping track of our soldiers and relayed those coordinates to Surtr via waypoint messaging, telling him which flames to cancel and which ones to ignore.   

It was chaos. Pure and simple. War in the rawest sense.  

Surtr had purposely dove into the army's heart to fight without holding anything back. His harsh flames prevented mere iron weaponry from coming close to shedding his blood. And no pathetic arrow of stone or iron could hope to touch his fur before melting. The immense heat he emitted protected him against most elemental spells.  

He was a force of diabolical nature, sent to bare his bloody teeth and relish in spreading death.   

He was, for all intents and purposes, the perfect manifestation of the Dark Lord of Tyranny’s excessive mana.  

After roaring, he collected fire in his mouth and launched it into the sky. It formed into a ball, which exploded into flaming meteorites that continued to bombard the heart of our enemy. 

Atrixian morale?  

Nearly non-existent.    

Plymoise’s morale?  

It was higher than ever. General Fruide and Captain Morgan took Surtr’s power and spread word of our impending victory. The soldiers fighting against Atrix’s front line had the advantage. They pushed and fought, then synchronically raised their shields when the archers used [Arrow Storm] to flood the battlefield.   

From behind? They feared getting eaten by a monster with enough power to take out drakes like it was nothing.   

In front? They had to fight against an army that had an overwhelming morale boost. 

And I just smiled…  

“Lord Springfield?” Captain’s Caulk voice reached my ears. I canceled the [Skyview] window and looked at him.   

“Battle may begin at any moment,” he said. I looked at the crew. Some shivered. Others seemed excited because they saw smoke and fire from Surtr’s attacks fill the sky.   

“Might want to say something to your men. Or do you not care for big speeches? It could be the last thing they ever hear or see. I’ll help you out.” I retrieved my Susize’s flute, walked to the bow, and began to play.    

The haunting melody pierced through the air, carrying an ominous resonance. Each note was laced with an undeniable fury, a seething anger that resonated deep within the hearts of those who listened. The tune was a relentless cascade of piercing trills and discordant intervals, evoking a sense of chaos and unrest. It seemed to beckon the dormant rage within, stoking the flames of wrath with its relentless rhythm. As the song wove through the air, it left a trail of unease and discomfort, like a storm gathering on the horizon, promising a tempest of raw and untamed emotions.   

Everyone looked at the High Elf playing her heart out, then glanced to the captain when he raised his sword and shouted.    

"Today, we face the despicable Atrix scum who dared to ambush us and plotted against the honor of Plymoise. They aimed to spill the blood of our revered ruler and failed, but we won’t let their treachery go unanswered! Though outnumbered by their seven ships, we shall unleash righteous fury upon them! Prepare yourselves, my fearless crew! Plymoise shall emerge victorious, and the seas shall bear witness to the wreckage of our vanquished foes!"  

I reached the apex of my melody. My wings appeared on my back! Large and black, with red mana lines masqueraded as arteries.   

But then another me appeared. And another, and another, until there were four.   

Their body and hair were the color and texture of wood—matching the same hue as Primrose’s skin. 

Because this was her idea. Sure, she said I could explain my clones as a spell I used via my flute, but it was risky. But if they were products of [Wooden Puppetry]? That was a real spell, and I ‘added’ it to my front-facing Status Menu with [Status Cloak].   

Tris, thank Primrose again. Tell her I’m grateful for the advice.    

She’s embarrassed, my lord. Shall I tease her?  

Only a little, but don’t go overboard.    

The wooden puppets’ clothing matched mine because I recreated them with slime, mana, and biomass. The drain on both was substantial.    

Surtr's desire to fuel his flamboyant visual skills sucked away my mana like a hose pipe on full blast.   

But it was fine. [Photosynthesis] kicked in and helped mitigate some of the consumption, although I was below 10%. 

My clones and I pulled our rifles from our back. We aimed at the sky and used [Chimeric Armatization] to charge [Fire Rain]. The firearms became like living flames…  

And at once, we pulled the trigger, sending four thin beams of flames into the sky. They exploded and cast down a deadly downpour of pure fire to cover the four closest ships.    

The battle had started with my attack, and it was on. 

 

---

After launching the first blow, my clones and I flew from the Mengoire towards the closest ship, dodging sharp wind enchanted with lightning and hailstorms of flaming arrows. Tris identified the gaps, and we flew through them, avoiding everything. My Fragment of Wisdom also calculated the [Lightning Wind Blade] barrage and pinpointed the opportune time to take them out with a swift swipe from Kronto.   

It was...  

It was just so easy.   

Tris vowed that nothing would get past her sight. She edged closer towards her limit and fired on all cylinders to process everything happening on both battlefields.   

I left that to her and focused on reaching the ship. We flew low to avoid any more arrows, then suddenly soared high above, our rifles aimed at our enemies.   

Eight soldiers got shot, and eight perished. Armor, defensive gear, and enchantments couldn’t do much if you were hit in the eyes with multiple bullets simultaneously. The first victims were an orange Lizardfolk, an elf, a gnome, and a few others I didn’t care about. Their lifeless corpses hit the floor, and I was already turning out to shout orders to my clones.  

“Go and handle the other ships. Provide backup to Caulk if he needs it!” The three clones left, and I landed on the blackened deck. [Gunblade] switched my rifle to Kronto, and I had my Colt SAA in my other hand. Tilde wouldn’t need it, so I fought in sync, swinging my spear with one hand to keep the enemies at bay while shooting them through gaps in the armor.    

When I exhausted six rounds, I made two more arms and birthed a fifth clone without caring about masquerading it.    

Why?   

I had no reason to hide it because who would live and tell the truth?   

The clone transformed into that snake boss from the Hershire Valley dungeon and burrowed into the deck, where it emitted acid and devoured what it could. It assimilated whatever it ate, refilling my biomass and mana and added to my strength and life force.     

This technique allowed me to grow stronger in public...  

No one would know I was a chimera...  

“It’s a monster!! HELP—”   

Bang!   

“WHAT THE HELL—”   

Bang!   

“PLEASE, I DON’T—”   

Bang!   

“MOTH—”   

Bang!   

Those four shots didn’t kill them, but a swift thrust with my spear finished the job.   

Tris told me my clones had killed 26 enemies, but two perished from being overrun.     

Making clones splits my strength. I’ll get stronger when they perish.    

New Skill: [Soul Link]  

The Winchester Model 1887 is available to use!  

That earned me enough experience for a new gun! And I had [Soul Link]! Since I now had the skill, I could finally use [Soul Energy]—the crimson bar resting beneath my biomass gauge. I proceeded below deck and started kicking in doors, eventually finding a group of hunkering soldiers.     

The Clone!Snake boss burrowed deeper throughout the ship and broke through the bottom. Water rushed in, and this boat didn’t have long left.    

But these survivors…?   

I couldn’t have that.     

The revolver I held? It vanished, and something beautiful took its place.    

The stock was meticulously carved from walnut wood, displaying a rich, dark hue and showcasing the natural grain patterns. The wood was polished to a smooth finish, enhancing the shotgun’s overall aesthetics and providing a comfortable grip for the shooter. The receiver was solid steel-- robust and exhibited a blend of functionality and artistry. It bore ornate engravings, showcasing the craftsmanship and attention to detail of its era. These embellishments were intricate, depicting wildlife, floral motifs, or even scenes from the Old West, adding a touch of historical charm to the firearm.    

It was the goddamn Winchester Model 1887… One of the most famous lever-action shotguns…   

“JUST—JUST DIE! YOU MONSTER!!!!” One of the soldiers found some worthless courage and drew his sword when he stood. His teeth chattered. He shouted for his friends to run away while gripping his weapon.     

Tris said that Lizardfolk used some charisma or courage skill. Guess it wasn’t enough.  

I cocked the lever, aimed, and blasted his torso. My soul energy drained by a quarter, and I felt lethargic and weary.    

Okay, this isn't the end all be all if I can only fire it four times. Soul energy needs time to regenerate, so I still need to focus on making ammo.    

The soldier was knocked back against the wall, breaking it, but he was alive. The armor was durable, and my gun wasn’t strong enough to break through it. If I were using soul energy to fuel my rifle and revolver, they’d probably be a fair bit weaker since the bullets I made were stronger.    

But it wasn’t anything Kronto couldn’t handle. I flourished the spear and ended the cowering soldiers’ lives. I used the lighting spells enchanted onto it to send me up in the air, then dove through the deck and out the bottom.    

The snake clone slithered through the water, catching me in its mouth. It jerked its head and threw me out of the water, where my wings rejoined my back.    

Two ships were fucked, a third was on its last legs, and the last of my clones died after being skewered through the mouth with a trident.    

I told Tris to mark the stragglers trying to swim away, and I flew over to and sniped them from the air with my rifle. Without ammo, it took 16% of my soul energy, so I reloaded and landed on the third ship Tris had marked for me. Captain Caulk had the Mengoire locked in combat with the fourth and fifth, and the three other vessels took the sixth and seventh. Smoke and death filled the sky.    

Instantly, I took aim and snipped an invisible soldier attempting to sneak behind Captain Caulk. He blocked an incoming slice, kicked away the foe, and looked behind to see an orange-skinned ogre with a hole in her forehead. She wasn’t dead—far from it—but she perished when he severed her neck from her shoulders.    

Caulk took to the skies and resumed the fighting, and I did the same. The snake boss clone heeded my mental commands and burrowed through the bottom of the third ship, and I worked my way to the fifth to help.    

 

---

“There! That’s the last one!” said a soldier with bloodshot eyes. Six ships were burning piles of wreckage. Captain Caulk had caught a cannonball to his wing—a lucky shot—and he recovered below deck while the healers nursed him.  

The final ship had turned tail and tried to retreat, but it couldn’t get far with broken masts and torn sails.    

The fight had gone on for forty minutes or so, and there were a ton of dead to show for it. The ground battle near Plymoise was also wrapping up. Surtr did most of the heavy lifting, and my lion was chasing after the retreating soldiers. Waves of fire erupted from his mouth, burning them alive without any chance of ever hoping to survive.  

But it wasn’t all what it seemed. 1/3rd of Plymoise's 6,000 warriors had been lost in the chaos. The dead spewed over the battlefield like trees in a rainforest. Captain Morgan lost an eye from a thrown spear, and General Fruide broke his leg after a hippogriff attempted to take him out. Surtr came in time to save him, but he couldn’t stay on the field and lead his men.   

Atrix’s losses?  

A lot. Their drakes and hippogriffs were piles of burnt flesh. Surtr alone was responsible for taking out 900 soldiers. His strategy of attacking the heart of the army worked wonders. Tris had searched and found the highest-ranking soldiers, so Surtr killed them. He had such an impact that no small majority died from being trampled on by their allies after they decided running was better than fighting. Surtr was no ordinary spirit. Once that became clear...it was all but over, really.  

Jumping off the Mengoire, I flew to the escaping vessel and landed on the deck. The survivors from the seven ships stared me down. They looked at the revolver I held, staring at the crackling lightning dancing around the barrel.   

That was [Soul Weapon Enchant – Lightning]—a Soul Weapon skill I acquired in the battle. It used my soul energy to infuse my gun with electricity, so it didn’t need mana. It was efficient, too, using just 8% with each shot from my revolver. With the rifle? It drained 22%. The shotgun needed 44% but included soul energy for [Soul Link]. I didn’t have any shells to test the consumption without it.    

“Your shitty little ambush failed to take us out. And you’re going to die…”  

Six dead bodies later…I flew to Caulk’s ship, but the slime I dropped assimilated the corpses.   

All in all, I gained 13,361 SP—way, way, way more than I expected— and went up nine levels. Surtr didn’t gain experience from killing, so it didn’t go to me. But I had enough to upgrade [Mana Language] and purchase [Mana Perception], which marked off one of my goals.   

That’s not nearly enough life force. I need more.    

Caulk was there to meet me on the deck with a bandage wrapped around his muscled body. His bare elbows had green-tipped feathers.   

He remained silent and looked at the snake boss clone. “Your spirits never seem to surprise me." His voice was solemn for the losses. Two of our ships perished in the attack, and we couldn’t save the ones on board.   

“You should know I have far more up my sleeve.” My ‘spirit’ delved deep into the water and vanished.  

“Turn her around! We're returning to Plymoise!”  

“Aye aye, captain!” said the helmsmen.    

---

Once we returned, I rushed to the Waterdale Inn and hugged my family and friends. It was an emotional reunion, but I told them the battle was won. They didn’t have anything to fear. Erin didn’t want to let go of my waist. I patted her head and said she didn’t have to be scared.   

She’s been a nervous wreck these past three days…  

“I won’t let anything hurt you, okay? You’re my sister. I’m going to protect you.” She wanted to be strong, but sitting here…in the lobby… She outright declared she wanted to get stronger and grow independent.    

She was still a little girl. Adventuring with a lion, a fairy, and friends was one thing, but taking shelter in an active war was something else entirely.   

The one with the most reason was Tilde. She had experienced thousands of wars in her time. Not long after I arrived, a messenger said I was needed at the ministry. Surtr was still on the battlefield. I asked him to help recover the dead. I doubt I could sneak in and assimilate the corpses. I’d try, though. The dead benefited me more than anyone else.    

“I was still scared, Master,” Tilde said as she and Irisa walked with me to the inn’s entrance. “The inherent paradox of certainty lies in its elusive nature. The transformative power of chance can swiftly transmute into resolute assurance, akin to the fleeting nature of hope that metamorphoses into resounding triumph. This interplay between uncertainty and conviction underscores the intricate tapestry of life’s outcomes, demanding astute discernment and intellectual acuity to navigate its intricacies.”  

“… What does that even mean?”  

“It means you can still fear something failing when you have 100% of succeeding. Nothing in life is guaranteed. If someone says it is, it isn’t. And if something isn’t, it means you can make it guaranteed. It’s a paradoxical statement. One that might perfectly describe you, Master.”  

“Maybe you’re right. But I’ll be back. Irisa, take care, okay?”  

“Okay. Mila, I’m glad you didn’t get hurt. I’m so happy you’re safe.”  

“Me too,” I said, holding her hand. I ruffled Tilde’s hair and left.   

---

“My lord!” Tris skipped into my arms after I opened the meeting room's doors.   

During the battle, she maxed her processing power to handle the massive influx of information. However, she admitted she wasn’t satisfied with her performance when I walked over here. She identified forty dozen errors in her methods, but I told her she didn’t have to be hard on herself.   

Unfortunately, the cooldown period this time was a week. Tris couldn’t do anything other than talk and walk. Trying to mark stuff on the map or attempting to use [Artificer’s Arsenal] to manufacture bullets would fail. That contrasted with the naval ambush. At least then, she could use [Skyview] to keep a somewhat accurate overview. 

Well, she couldn’t this time.  

We were still telepathically connected.   

You did so good, Tris. I’m proud of you. I never had any positive reinforcement before coming here, so I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to lay the praise upon my cute Fragment of Wisdom when she absolutely deserved it.    

Gretchen, Captain Caulk, Verdant Sneakshadow, Vauche, and Captain Morgan, with a bloody patch over his missing eye, were there. General Fruide was still being looked at by medics.   

Suddenly, the people in the room began to applaud me.  

It felt… It felt nice, you know? Being…thanked…and appreciated. If I wasn’t here…if Mom had been born in Atrix or some other city-state…  

All these people would have died. And I wouldn’t have cared. Not a single bit. Even now…  

I still didn’t know if I cared enough. My only goal was to find Grandma and Grandpa. Once that was done, I had to find a way to heal Sekh. Then I needed enough life force to use [Conferment] to cast out the curse in her soul and stop any more from coming in. After that, it was to rid her soul of the curse itself, which… I didn’t know how to do that without an ungodly amount of life force. The curse was ever occurring—it always showed up. It forced her to be born for as long as she could remember. A thousand lifetimes of being involuntarily controlled to destroy the world.    

“Lord Springfield, Captain Caulk has briefed us on your accomplishments at sea! You’ll be handsomely rewarded! I can promise you that!” Gretchen was all smiles.  

“We’re not done yet, are we?” I asked while petting Tris’s head. Everyone in the room, except her, was taken aback. 

It’s time to press on.    

“What do you mean? We won the battle. Atrix’s military is in shambles. Their assault failed. Your spirit killed their drakes and hippogriffs, severely limiting their aerial capabilities. You destroyed seven ships, yes? Even if they have more in reserve, they cannot recuperate in a week or two.”   

“That doesn’t mean they won’t return. They’re on the run. They’re scared. Now is the chance to strike.”  

“But we don’t have the manpower to do that. Our soldiers are exhausted and hungry. It’s ludicrous to think we have the necessary strength and supplies to stage a siege. What if Atrix regroups and tries to launch another attack from the sea once they see an army approaching through Tiran’s Crest? They’d correctly assume most of our forces had left, leaving Plymoise undefended. Atrix’s ships are faster and tougher. It’s one thing if Surtr and yourself are here, Lord Springfield, but--”  

“That’s where you’re wrong, Captain Morgan. I didn’t say anything about staging a siege. Verdant, you have spies inside Atrix, yes?” I turned to the Forest Elf.  

I can still accomplish my goal from the inside.    

“I do... Lady Plymoise, Lord Springfield may be correct. Atrix is bound to be in panic. This chaos could be what we need.”  

“Exactly. How long will it take to send a message?”  

“It’s difficult to say. The routes I usually use will no doubt be delayed.”  

“Then why not go there directly?”  

“What?!” My ‘outrageous’ suggestion was something they weren’t prepared for. “You heard me. Verdant, we can sneak into the city and meet with your spies. There, we can finish it from the inside. I don’t mean wipe them out to the last soldier, but we need to make Atrix see the error of their ways. Imagine the mothers seeing their sons off to war, praying for their safe return, only to discover that he fell in battle. Wives and siblings unable to see their loved ones anymore. From my experience, that doesn’t just fade away so soon. It's a powder keg, and I think a few sparks are enough to explode it. Why not subtly spread word of a powerful lion that slaughtered their flying beasts without trouble? Have the fear infect them. Let Atrix’s citizens turn on their leader.” 

Rebellion. That’s the best option.    

“It’s still not without risk. Lady Plymoise?” Verdant turned to Gretchen. She asked Captain Caulk and Captain Morgan for advice. That sprouted into an hour-long discussion. The concerning factor was Verdant’s tattoos. They were proof of her connection to Plymoise-- just like the orange hair traits of the Atrixian soldiers I killed at sea. No one in Atrix had green. Or if they did, it was immigrants wanting to migrate to Atrix from Plymoise. You could be sure they were being watched under a heavy, non-blinking eye.  

They then asked me how I was going to enter the city. It was highly probable Atrix had spies. They probably left shortly before the attack, and since it happened not even seven days after I arrived…  

They probably knew about a High Elf with a lion spirit, but the organizers of the blitzkrieg didn’t. No—they’d know about me in a few days, if not a couple of hours.   

Maybe they already did, but that didn’t matter because I had a solution.    

Whipping my flute out, I played another tune. My ears became more similar to a common elf, and my hair turned orange, matching Atrix’s color scheme. “Unless they can see through my illusion, and I doubt it, they wouldn’t suspect me.”  

And no one can’t see through me literally changing myself… Chimerism is amazing.  

“And here I thought I couldn’t get any more surprised…” said Gretchen as I ‘dispelled’ the illusion. The topic turned to Verdant, and after some discussion, they decided on something…  

Drastic.   

They took a knife and carved out the tattoos.   

Yes.   

They pierced her flesh and removed proof of her connection to Plymoise’s Vestige, leaving her with bloody, gross holes.  

She sacrificed her body—all for the sake of Plymoise. That kind of nationalism couldn’t be bought. It had to be earned.   

“We cannot risk arriving by wagon or carriage, so we must walk,” Verdant said. Her eyes were unflinching. The light she harbored in them was determined. “Forgive me for this, Lord Springfield, but I cannot recommend Surtr coming alone. He is…far too noticeable.” She winched twice when a medic entered and sewed her wounds. I gave her a potion I had in storage to accelerate the healing and told her that was fine.  

“When are we departing?”  

“Nightfall. It’ll be safer if we stick to the moonlight and rest under the sun’s glory.”  

“That’s acceptable. I’ll meet you here later tonight. Tris, let’s head to the inn.”