128 – Twilight

Princess Embralyne de Caldaros sat, fidgeting, inside the nondescript room of the guardhouse she’d been led to. As she awaited the Guard Captain’s arrival, she desperately tried to organize the events of the past hour in such a way that she didn’t see herself at fault. Well before she could achieve that monumental feat, though, the door swung open, and an armored man stepped through. The way he carried himself would’ve given away his position if his regalia hadn’t.

“It wasn’t my fault, Guard Captain,” Ember announced, standing.

The man faltered a step before recovering. He made his way around his desk and sat, then gestured at Ember’s own chair. She reluctantly lowered herself.

“Lady Ember Caldwell, I believe?” he asked politely. “Your name has crossed my desk before. I’m glad we can finally meet.”

She winced. It probably wasn’t a compliment that the Guard Captain had heard her name before. “Events might have escalated more than I anticipated,” she insisted, “but I didn’t act inappropriately for the circumstances, nor can I be fully blamed for what happened.”

Indeed, every single action that had led her here had surely been justified beyond refutation. She just hadn’t figured out how. The implication otherwise was unthinkable—as if a princess of the de Caldaros family would ever behave in a disreputable manner!

Perhaps she could have chosen to deescalate at certain opportunities, and one particular aspect of the incident was undeniably her fault. But the brawl, at least, had been out of her hands. Honor had demanded that she return violence with violence. She could have left those two silver-ranks in far worse shape, but she had been merciful.

The Guard Captain folded his hands together. Ember struggled to tell what he thought of the situation, or her words. “I will hear your story, Lady Caldwell, and I will even set aside the reports given to me by my subordinates. I always seek to understand the complete picture before I make judgments. That said, the facts beyond contention are these: two silver-rank adventurers were injured in a street brawl, several stands and stalls in the market district were”—he paused briefly—“pulverized, as the reports put it, and there was a fire.”

“A small one,” she hurried to assure the Guard Captain. “A small fire. I put it out as soon as I saw it.”

Which had admittedly taken much longer than it should’ve. She had been so occupied with tossing around those two disrespectful men that she had only become aware of the inferno when it had grown large enough that she couldn’t not sense it in her periphery.

The Guard Captain’s expression was one Ember had seen on the faces of her tutors many times in her life. Long-suffering. “Nevertheless,” he said, voice calm, “there was a fire in the market district, created by you.” He waited for a reluctant nod. “And significant property damage, also by you—or at least predominantly so.”

“I wouldn’t call it significant damage,” she hedged. “Between twelve and sixteen stalls at most.”

Belatedly, she realized she wasn’t helping her case.

The Guard Captain leveled a serious gaze at her, not hostile but not yielding either. “Your conflict with Mister Alberts and Mister Reid could be set aside as an argument between adventurers, which the city guard normally lets the Guild mediate. The other matters, however, involve the city and its civilians. Hence my involvement.” A small frown. “Though make no mistake: the guard does not approve of open brawls between adventurers, even should they be contained. We simply… choose our battles.”

Ember looked shiftily away. “I just threw them around a bit. They’re not actually hurt.” No more than a rough sparring session, at any rate. She knew how fragile mortals were. And while these lands might not be those her family ruled, she treated the obligations that came with power seriously. Her father wouldn’t allow anything else.

And that said, those obligations didn’t include suffering rudeness and aggression. She could return such treatment in kind, so long as her responses were measured. Which they had been.

“They started it,” she pointed out defensively. “He threw the first blow. I simply retaliated.”

A sigh escaped the Guard Captain. “Indeed,” he said, “and I do wonder what led Mister Alberts into such a misguided course of action as to brawl with a…” A pause. “…a gold-rank adventurer.”

If Ember hadn’t been so confident in her subterfuge these past few days, she might have narrowed her eyes at the dubious tone the Guard Captain had used. She set that suspicion aside, because the man had asked an implicit question. She shifted in her seat.

“There was… a thief,” she admitted. “Who I caught! In the process, however, there was some minor damage to a nearby stall, which Alberts saw and took offense at.” She winced. “I believe it belonged to a family member of his. We were already on mutually unfriendly terms, so he escalated.” She stiffened in annoyance. “He enjoys calling me a liar at the Guild, and I’ve shown great restraint in tolerating his slander to begin with. Thus, I met his actions in kind.”

The Guard Captain showed no particular emotion on his face—deliberately blank, like before. “I see. And the thief?”

“…she escaped in the ensuing conflict. That, Alberts is solely responsible for.” She lifted her chin. “As for his grandmother’s stall, I obviously would’ve paid for the damages and offered my aid in repairing it. I’m not a barbarian.”

He seemed pleased by that response, which Ember only found herself miffed by. Again—she was no barbarian. Of course she would’ve taken responsibility for that regrettable outcome.

“And the fire,” he prompted.

She deflated and glanced away. “Yes. The fire.” Her cheeks dusted pink in embarrassment. But perfection couldn’t be expected from anyone. Not even Cinereus de Caldaros himself—King of Dragons—had gone his whole life without erring. “It was… an accident,” she admitted.

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“Why summon fire magic at all inside the market district?” he asked mildly. “Bringing weapons—magical or otherwise—into a street brawl drastically raises the gravity of the offense.”

She shifted uncomfortably. She couldn’t answer the question honestly. Dragons didn’t ‘use magic’ in the same sense mortals did. Dragons were magic. Mortals needed to fashion weapons and armor to act as their scales and teeth, and that extended to magic too; they needed spell circles and other formal structures to wield that primordial force. Dragons did not. Magic obeyed her desires no differently than her limbs did. Not an extension of herself, as a sword to a human’s arm, but the arm itself.

So she hadn’t drawn magic into the fight. She was always suppressing it, and had apparently failed to for a fraction of a second, agitated as she’d been. A spark had flown off, and she hadn’t noticed. A lack of finesse she found truly mortifying.

“It’s a skill,” Ember finally said. “Not one I can completely control. As soon as I noticed there was a fire, I put it out.” She’d been, as she’d said earlier, too distracted by the hooligans she’d been tossing around. “Nobody was hurt, yes?” She knew the answer, but asked anyway.

He inclined his head. “Only Mister Alberts and Mister Reid, and from what I understand, not seriously. This discussion would not be so… informal otherwise, Lady Caldwell.”

Ember bristled at the implication that some humans from the mortal lands would try to throw her in a jail cell, but only because of how ignominious such a fate would be. Despite her attempts at justifying herself, she knew she was likely more at fault than anybody else. And she wasn’t above the law. Father had made it exceedingly clear that no one was above the law; that concept was a cornerstone of his rule. He would rip off the heads of his own council if he found them abusing their position.