UL1 - Book 11 - Chapter 100

Miranna sighed as the last of the petitions moved across the panel. She flicked her finger to read what felt like the tenth one. The request wasn’t that big and yet it needed her attention.

***** 

[ Move the spring festival one week earlier for better moonlight? ]

[ Petition: Starhaven Festival Adjustment — Approved ]

*****

She approved it like the rest, content that today was as boring as the rest.

Another day where no one tried to kill someone. How did Dad and Mom manage not to go stir crazy?

The request vanished, and she looked up. Outside, the green roofs of the Terraced Quarter were laid out in a clean and orderly pattern. A quilt someone had finally finished hung on a line, gently moving in the wind. The quiet should have been peaceful. Yet if she was honest, it wasn’t.

“You’re smiling,” Sabon said as he sat beside her. “That a dangerous sign?”

“It’s the other way around,” Miranna replied. “If I start scowling at all these requests, someone will think I have a problem with a city that isn’t in trouble.”

A dozen small metal plates rustled as their helper climbed onto the table. Tockra clicked once, then twice; the gears in his chest spun in a tidy circle and stopped without a squeak. The clockwork pangolin stood silently for a moment, his mechanical lips forming a frown. “For the record, that request moved fifty‑three trader itineraries and six barge charters,” he said. “Do not blame the moon for being how it is. All you can do is help make life easier on your people.”

“I’m not blaming the moon,” Miranna said. “Just the boredom of having to approve things.”

“The sooner you choose a king or queen, the easier it will be,” their helper replied.

Shale Spark’s shadow moved over the balcony before the red dragon descended from the sky and transformed as she hit the ground. She took the seat opposite Miranna, her eyes already looking at the tray of fig tarts. “I flew along the southern border,” she said between bites. “Two dragons were arguing, trying to claim the same cliff. I might have carefully informed them that I was going to smash their heads together if they didn’t find a solution that didn’t involve blood. Somehow, that worked better than I expected. It was very exciting.” She licked sugar from her thumb. “For about five minutes, and then I was bored again.”

“Thrilling,” Agluur stated. The demon mage slid into a chair beside the dragon. “My greatest challenge today was whether we use lattice wards for village wells or let the apprentices improvise. This whole godhood thing seemed way better when we didn’t have to do it.”

Kurrar arrived last, the dwarven healer smiling from ear to ear. He didn’t sit. Instead, he leaned against the rail next to Sabon’s and watched the river as he always did, before he spoke. “I’m content,” he said. “Some of you forget that not all of us like the thrill of death.”

“Content?” Shale Spark asked, flicking a crumb at him. “With what? Rain schedules and well wards?”

“Aye,” he said, not flinching as her attack bounced off the blue‑and‑white stripes of his robe. “You lot can keep your beast fights for the songs. Healers don’t get to be bored in battle. Someone always bleeds. Someone always calls out for a heal. These days, my hardest choice is whether to train another class of village healers or check the clinics I’ve set up. I’ll gladly take that job.” He tapped the rail once. “Well, for a while longer at least.”

Miranna didn’t argue. Kurrar’s hands had been steady when hers had been covered in blood. A memory came as she thought about their last fight. The clone of her towering over them, the ugly leather spike jutting from its shoulder. Unable to help herself, she chuckled, hating and loving her father’s terrible idea that was somehow the perfect tool. The battle had gone so well. Agluur’s spear slipping in from behind Shale Spark’s body, Sabon’s shield blocking a killing strike. But it was  Kurrar’s green rain falling over them all that had kept them alive.

She could still hear the line the last words of their opponent: I… was… promised. Still unsure of what that had meant, she remembered driving her sword, Truth, through its eye.

Sabon bumped her shoulder with his. “You’ve got that faraway look.”

“Just… remembering stuff.” She motioned toward the river. “The day Jazzjak filled the sky with our names. The roar that didn’t stop.” The memory carried warmth and a twinge of sadness. The vorpal rabbit had a showman’s ability when he was allowed to show off. Yet there had been a moment when all of their names sparkled one after another. “Remember when Shale Spark, chosen of Rakonath, was displayed before the city. And how about the way the dragons answered from above?”

Shale Spark sat up a little straighter at that. “That was a good day. Better than being called a red elephant in the street.” She gave Kurrar a look.

He lifted both hands. “I never said elephant. Those children did. I merely repeated what I heard.” A grin grew as he spoke.

Miranna could hear the crowd again, the cheers, the long walk from the city gates, and Shale’s smoky snort as a dozen little voices begged to ride the big red something with the long tail.

“Fowl’s hat,” Agluur said suddenly. “Do you remember that ridiculous thing? Two gold mugs on a silver crown. He looked so proud, as if the System had rewarded him for winning a bad dressing contest.”

Sabon laughed. “Proud? I think he looks at thing with more love than he does Batrire.”

Miranna and the rest all enjoyed a moment of laughter. “We picked names,” she said, poking Tockra’s ledger with a finger. “Let’s make the charter official before Sabon finds a reason to change his mind again.”

The pangolin summoned a pen and paper. “Please proceed.”

“Embercoast Aerie for the dragons,” Miranna said.

“I will insist the coastal region learn to smoke fish properly,” Shale Spark said. “Especially if I am to be called ‘red elephant,’ I will at least be a well‑fed one.”

“Obsidian Reach for the demons,” Agluur said before Miranna could. “We will shape the black glass and guard our homes.”

“Redshield Marches,” Sabon said. “Kind of like Max always said. I’ll keep it simple. The humans will farm, fight when needed, pay their debts, and keep the roads intact. We’ll bring honor to the blood we come from.”

Miranna smiled.  “And Starhaven for the half‑elves,” she said. The name felt good in her chest. She didn’t say her father’s pet name for her out loud. The city would be the reminder of what he and her mother called her by in those special moments.

Tockra wrote with quick, precise strokes, his gears ticking softly. “Noted,” he said. “One last question: the Dwarven kingdom?”

Kurrar shook his head. “I don’t need some special name for me. Stoneward Hospitaller will do. Clinics in every kingdom. We’ll build halls for healing. Eventually, I’ll find someone worth wearing a crown who feels the same way that I do.”

“Then I have all that I need,” Tockra replied.

“Is it wrong,” Sabon said after a long stretch, “to wish something would just try us? Not a god. Not a world‑eater. Just a big thing strong enough to make my shield arm burn and the legs remember why I trained them so hard?”

Shale Spark hummed. “You want the rush of it all. You miss it. We all do.”

“I miss the moment the battle started,” he admitted. “The way I’d set stance, knowing it was just right.”

Agluur blew out a breath, shaking her head. “I miss figuring out the puzzle while the puzzle tries to kill us.”

Miranna cleared her throat. “We promised we’d build the world we wanted to come home to,” she said. “That hasn’t changed.”

Tockra tilted his head. “Dreams, then. I am still impressed with the knowledge you five possess. I shall do what I can to help bring it about.”

The five of them traded glances. It was easy, after all these years.

“I’m pretty sure we were all warned,” Kurrar said. “We all know what we need to do to be ready for what happens when our period of time runs out. Besides, someone has been using the communication ring more than they admit.”

Miranna’s cheeks gained the slightest shade of red as everyone looked at her. “What?! I promised my mom I would talk.”

The other four laughed as Miranna gave them all the middle finger.

Be safe, Mom and Dad… Soon. Soon I’ll be able to see you again.