“Can I see your registration for this carriage?” The guard sat on a gorgeous blue roan horse, and his high saddle brought him almost even with the carriage driver’s seat. His tack displayed the blue and white colors of the Cersapillian Legion. Argin had warned me to look out for the orange-tasseled helmets of the road patrol.

  I wasn't sure what she'd expected me to do if I saw one. We were in a giant celestial carriage. It wasn't like we were going to duck into the woods and hide notice.

  His horse stamped its hoof impatiently, causing the man's decorative partial plate to jingle. The man wore a breastplate and full helmet. His arms and legs, however, were clad in leather and chain mail. The shiny chest piece, perfectly etched with a wolf motif, appeared untouched by a sword.

  I focused on the two glittering eyes in the dark slit of the helmet and plastered on my best grin.

  "We've lost it," I said, waving to the rest of the wagon. "As you can see, we've been through a beating. Ran into some trouble coming back from the Hunt."

  The guard lifted his visor, revealing a clean shave framed by a large mustache. His horse danced as he pulled tight on the reins, the ornate bit chewing deep into the horse's mouth. They moved down to the wagon. Reaching out with leather gloves, the guard fingered the tears in the fabric-covered sidewalls of the carriage. The magically tinted windows meant to block out the sun probably didn't help our cause.

  This guy loves wolves, huh? I absently nodded, noting a cruel silver bit etched expensively with yet another sharp toothed menacing wolf. I bet if you asked him, he'd tell you they're dire wolves.

  Ears aflame, I didn't bother responding to Richard's jab. He'd rolled over on the dash, giving an obscene fat belly view to the guard as the man came up to my side of the carriage. I was just glad my new leather armor wasn't etched with slugs.

  "This carriage certainly looks like trouble." He drew the word out, and I knew he intended to cause us some trouble. "These don't look like arrow strikes." His horse danced. The coat of the beast was beautiful with dark legs and a steely blue body. It looked at me with wide eyes, as though warning me about its master. "So what happened, your horse eat your registration?" He chuckled at his joke. Our magical constructs needed no sustenance, and we both knew it. "This is a Cersapil-registered carriage, isn't it?"

  Argin had warned us that this was a possibility. The Cersapil guards patrolled the main roads leading up to the city, and the carriage stood out. We thought about ditching it, but her crutches were unsuitable for cross-country travel.

  My mind raced for an appropriate strategy as I stared dumbly at the man. Try to intimidate him? Fist fight? Flirt? Act dumb?

  "Uh, that's a fine mustache you have," I stammered.

  You went for flirting? Richard's incredulous mental voice wasn't helping.

  Leather creaked as the guard sat back in his ornate saddle. I held my breath as he tugged a glove off. He raised his lily-white hand to his greased mustache, fingering it into a curl.

  Appeal to his vanity. He obviously put a lot of thought and effort into his appearance. I doubted the dire wolves were Legion-issued.

  "Do you, um." What was the name of the stuff Leo used? "Use LumberJack Stache Paste?" I brought my hand up to my scruff, deeply conscious of my lack of hygiene. At least the purple ink was fading.

  The man curled his upturned mustache along his index finger as he examined me. He was polished. Thin eyebrows framed sculpted cheekbones and a strong jaw. Leyla would have been all over this guy.

  "I use Argent Crusade; LumberJack rarely makes it this far west. What did you say your name was again?" Maybe this was working? He was warming to the conversation. What was Meredeath's strategy? Lean forward?

  I tilted forward, trying to give the man my best smile. My leather armor creaked.

  What are you doing? Richard murmured in the back of my head. I brushed his presence away, the slug was not going to interrupt my game. I'd never tried flirting with a man before. This was hard.

  "Would you like a candied ginger?" I reached into my treat pocket to fish one out. What were Meredeath's three F's of flirting? Flatter, flaunt and finish? "Hi, I'm Cole Thornfield, [Adventurer]. How are you doing?" He looked at the lint-covered candy held out between us. I needed to finish, so I went with a version of the truth. "I was hoping we'd run into one of the fine patrols of the Cersapillian Legion. We've been on the road for weeks, worried that any moment the monsters will find us."

  "Monsters?" A thin eyebrow rose. "We have had no reports." I flinched as his other glove was off in an instant. An official-looking notebook held in one hand. "What types of monsters did you encounter?"

  Finally, I'd made it through to him! "There was a giant Mosas, a Plesio, and pterror gulls." He scribbled on his notebook furiously.

  "Interesting." His pencil tapped the paper. "Tell me more about this Mosas. I don't remember seeing it in the registry."

  "It had an enormous mouth full of serrated teeth." The man's pencil scratched against the paper as my mind took me back to that first beast. "It could have bitten me in half. It was as big as the carriage, long, with wide strong fins." I could taste the salty brine of the water. Smell the blood. My gills clenched.

  "A water dragon? In the Fochloric Desert?" Too late, I realized what I'd said.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  The guard reached for his sword. I frantically tried to draw it back. "It was..."

  My mind raced for an explanation. Thankfully, my wolf-encrusted friend delivered it for me.

  "You're a member of the Sihd? A [Paladin of the Hunt]?" He bowed his head, hand on sword, as though he was offering respect to my station. I took it.

  "Thank you—" The words froze in my mouth as the carriage door popped open.

  "Legionnaire," Argin's face poked out of the carriage. "Thank you for your service. Sorry, my friend here is from the frontier. He doesn't understand the implications of impersonating the Sihd." She spoke more clearly than she had since the accident. Argin carried the weight of authority in her voice, even with matted, sweat-soaked hair.

  "Ma'am." The Legionnaire gave me a frown before, thankfully, turning towards Argin. "Your driver doesn't seem to have his papers."

  "Ah, yes. The lad is still a bit rattled from our journey. Our caravan was attacked..." she trailed off, leaving no doubt as to the state of the rest of the caravan. Lifting her teary eyes. "I'm sure you understand our need to escape."

  "And this, Mosas?" I knew what he was thinking. That we'd abandoned the caravan to its fate. It was the type of thing rich people did. The Mosas were just my lame attempt to cover our tracks.

  I almost opened my mouth to argue. We had abandoned no one. I'd tried to warn them. It wasn't our fault. We'd been overrun. Richard clamped down on my wrist, his teeth threatening to bite down.

  Shut up.

  “It was at an oasis. Struck in the middle of the night.” Argin imbued her voice with a quiver, as though the memory were one of the worst of her life. “Leyla was gone before we even knew what was going on.”

  "I'm sure. And your papers?" The man's voice had turned into steel. His hand was white-knuckled on the hilt of his sword. "I'm sure you understand the need for proper documentation in the Cersapil Empire."

  I could feel Richard's mental eye roll at declaring Cersapil an empire.

  Argin creaked forward, her bandaged foot slipping out of the cab with a wince. The man's eyes flitted to her leg, as though her missing foot lent more credibility than any story. His hand eased off of his hilt.

  "I could probably find it," Argin said, bringing out her crutch. It had a bit more blood splatter on it, or was that ketchup? I hid my grin as the Legionnaire blanched.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't know," he stumbled. His horse took a step back. The man did not want the injured noblewoman to look for transport papers. “Let me provide an escort through the Highgate.”

  “Thank you, kind sir.” She said as he silently watched Argin painfully scoot back into the carriage.

  “Just to make sure you reach the gate safely,” he added, glancing at me, the threat clear. There were going to be questions once we arrived.

  Argin paused, the door still ajar, eyeing the man like Leyla. She lifted her nose and nodded.

  "I know my grandfather would appreciate such an action, sir." Argin awkwardly shuffled backwards, pulling in her crutch. "It's been a long journey." The carriage door clicked shut with finality. The flustered Legionnaire looked at me, face pale.

  "Who?" he asked, his voice strung out. "Is her grandfather?"

  I leaned back, Richard releasing my hand. I looked down at the man in his shiny armor and toothy warhorse and saw through the illusion. He was just another grunt, an order taker. His mustache might be trimmed, and his tassel orange, but he was as fearful of the nobles as the next commoner.

  "Oh," I said with a devilish grin and a wink. "Just the [Archmage] of Cersapil."

  "Ah, I see." His horse pranced nervously to the side. "I'll just ride ahead and make sure no one interrupts our travels."

  I grinned, watching the sun shine off the white fur of the horse's rump. I couldn’t believe flirting worked! For the first time in my life, I’d flirted with a modicum of success. Too bad mustaches did nothing for me.

  “I need to practice my flirting,” I muttered.

  Not it. Richard’s body rippled, as though he were about to hork up lunch. With both tentacles shaking, he turned his attention to the road ahead, sunbathing in the sun.

  Six grueling hours later, we arrived at the Highgate.

  Cersapil sat nestled in the Ascension Range, tall gnarly mountains that looked like the hand of the Everbear had wrestled them from bedrock. The road to Cersapil followed a river valley into one crack in the mountains. The route was a well-maintained, three cart wide track through forests. Sturdy, utilitarian bridges spanned a few of the glacial-fed rivers.

  The road was impressive but nothing incredible. Nothing surpassed what we had on the frontier.

  "I don't see what's so impressive about the west," I said to Richard. It'd been a long couple of hours.

  Spoken like a world traveler. The sarcasm was thick in his voice. Give it a minute, and you’ll see.

  I rolled my eyes, popping a hard peppermint candy in my mouth as the trees parted. I choked on the candy as I got my first view of Cersapil.

  Intellectually, I knew the western cities were bigger. Huge by frontier standards. What I hadn't counted on was the opulence.

  The statues of two emperors towered before the gate, looming like embassies of judgment, three stories high, with gold-gilded beards and ruby eyes. Dual quartz-encrusted scepters sat crossed, forming the top of the wide gate. The gate itself was incredible, but the granite and marble city that spilled forth behind it rose like the snowcapped mountains.

  You’d better close your mouth or you're going to catch a fly.

  "I never dreamed..." My voice trailed off. Beyond the statues spanned a metropolis that mirrored the mountains. The buildings at the forefront were a mahogany brown with dark mossy thatch, giving the appearance of trees. As the elevation rose, the buildings were sturdy monoliths of granite and sandstone. Harsh walls rising to the sky, with snaking blue roads peeking through like mountain rivers.

  The tallest buildings mirrored the peaks above, clad in white marble, with threads of silver. It shimmered in defiance of the summer sun, like the icecaps.

  "It's incredible..." I didn't bother hiding my awe.

  Just wait until you see the petoskey stoned buildings of Traverse, or the gold-rimmed bowl of the Fild. He said it as though Cersapil was old news, but I noted that he, too, had rolled over to take in the view. His own tentacles stretched out in interest.

  "Have you been to Cersapil before?" I asked in a hushed tone, as though I could disturb the view with my voice.

  The wheels of our celestial wagon clacked as the dirt pack turned to stone. A cool breeze had kicked up as the trees had parted.

  Richard's tentacles stretched as though trying to take in the full weight of the city. Its entire breadth. No, I have not.

  I agree with your assessment. It is incredible.

  I knocked on the passthrough, “We're almost there.”

  The city drew closer. I was glad, for once, to be the driver with the view. Even with the judgy emperors looming, I wouldn't have traded the view for comfort any day.