Laurel paced back and forth like a caged animal. Being the serene sectmaster for so long was still difficult. More so when every instinct said to attack and annihilate the threat.

"Our best option is still to advance the Core. If we win the race, the setbacks don't matter."

"True," Martin answered. He'd hurried back but didn't arrive until late into the evening, when he got the full story from Laurel. After which he'd gone back out for an hour to break some rocks on the ocean floor to work out the stress.

"But we can't let this stand. If we do nothing they'll get even bolder."

"Also true."

Moonlight streamed through the open window. On every circuit of the room, Laurel stopped and looked out, as though she would see the next group already sneaking closer.

"You and I can't just go gallivanting off. It would be too obvious. They'd hit back at the sect while we were gone. Or they'd gang up on us. I'm confident in the two of us against any three or four of them, but more than that and we might be in trouble."

"I'm glad we're spending this time recapping."

"Fuck off, Martin," she hissed.

He raised his hands as if warding her off. "Sorry L. But we're going in circles. You and I can't act directly. And we can't just fling Leander off to war, as much as he would do it. He's still a fifteen year old initiate. Edging towards adept but not there yet."

"We can't send him off to war. But we aren't the only cultivators around anymore. We'll hear from the council about this tomorrow morning. I expect them to do something about it."

There would be no sleep for either of them that night. Instead Laurel danced across the rooftops in a series of sword forms adapted from styles she'd picked up around the world and throughout history. Each slash was perfect, each step taking her exactly where she needed to be.

With every repetition she carved away flaws in her form and in her thoughts. There was no more room for mistakes. Her family hung in the balance. When her rage was quieted enough to function, she made straight for the archive. Only to find Adam already firmly ensconced. She pulled up a chair and joined him. There was research to do if they wanted to fight back.

She was proved a prophet the next morning when a polite request arrived to meet with the Royal council at ninth bell. Laurel was out of the door before the messenger finished speaking. And at the palace before anyone could waylay her with any other questions.

The tale didn't change for the third telling, but the Council picked up on what the sect members had ignored.

"What did they actually do to the village?" Ridge asked, leaning forward. He and Teresa were back living in Verilia permanently, another local cultivator having been vetted and trained enough to take over for the Core in Lanport.

"They fractured the Core. Its a difficult and fucking stupid way to attack. Almost impossible on anything more advanced than a Village. But you force the mana flows away from the Core, removing any fuel. No mana means a weak Core, which means a strong enough cultivator can reach out and shatter it. Eventually it will re-form, but until then…"

"So now it's another thing we have to guard against? Someone sabotaging the Cores we've spent years building up?" Mansfeln looked like he was one more setback away from ripping his own beard out.

"It's a possibility," Laurel conceded. "But not likely. I found the remnants of some sort of device left at the location where the Core was anchored. I think that's how they did it so quickly."

"We'll send that to Master Devon for review," the King said. "If they created one such device, they can likely create more."

"Maybe. But it was destroyed. And that was for a small Core. Snuffing a candle is one thing. Dousing a wildfire quite another."

"What of the rest of the village?" Theresa asked.

"Intact. The explosion was minor. The only people that got hurt were the Laskarians."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Explosion?!" Mansfeln choked out.

"A baby one. Barely counts." They were missing the important pieces here. Crushing their enemies so it wouldn't happen again.

"Madam Stormblade. If a larger Core were to suffer the same fate. What would the result be to the surrounding population?" The King apparently didn't mind lingering on worst-case scenarios this morning.

"It's not like this is a common thing. Bigger explosions. Most likely."

There was another round of questions. It wasn't until they'd gone over every detail with a fine-toothed comb, then rechecked their work, that the council discussion moved on.

"The question remains, of course, what we do now." Madam Curson was cool as ever, taking meticulous notes and flipping through a half dozen references while still keeping up with the flow of conversation.

"We do the same thing. But we do it better." Laurel said. Now they could get to the important things. This was the whole reason she'd been eager for the meeting in the first place. "Send some cultivators. The Laskarians are stretched thin. Too much territory and not enough people to hold it. Last month the reports made that clear. Whole battalions getting lost in the jungles or the mountains. It's taking their whole army just to keep the beasts back."

"And what do you think our army is doing? Sitting around braiding each other's hair? If we escalate we're asking for further attacks. And who would we send? You?" Mansfeln holding out wasn't a surprise. But the fact he wasn't shouting about what a bad idea attacking would be was disappointing.

"Well you need to do more. Time to stop pretending we aren't already in the fight."

"You are suggesting we organize an attack on civilian infrastructure. If we take that step, we open ourselves to more of the same." The King wasn't outright saying no either.

"They already started! I'm not saying we slaughter the mortals. I'm saying we force them to stretch. Slow them down when they have to put out smaller fires."

"What do you suggest?" Ridge leaned forward, looking eager to get started. Laurel recalled he made his name on the same kind of mission. Not sabotage but going into strange territory and investigating magic, shutting down plots, and coming home with a powerful wife.

"Destroying the Cores will be difficult. Almost impossible without special equipment. You shouldn't even try. But that's not the only way to sabotage their efforts."

Laurel produced a list she and Adam had compiled. Every instance of a damaged Core they could find, from intentional sabotage, to natural death, and everything in between. They spent hours going over the options.

Slowly, so slowly that it would have been easy for someone with less experience to miss, the room shifted. They stopped talking about whether or not retaliation was appropriate, and they shifted into arguing over methods.

At that point Laurel had won. Not that anyone had fought too hard. Everyone who cared to pay attention knew war was coming. The Council was willing to take some risks to choose the arena it would be fought in.

"The best option will be one of these." Laurel tapped the four ideas she was championing. "They're the most common ways to mess up a City Core while cultivating it. At least that we've got records of."

"It says here they're also the most dangerous." Mansfeln was holding his own copy up to his face.

"Yes. More dangerous for the cultivators. But it doesn't require engineering a refugee crisis to force the populations to change unnaturally."

"The kids can handle it," Ridge said. "Besides, it's probably safer than some other options. I bet the really dangerous ones didn't leave anyone to write it down."

It was late and no firm plans had been made when it was time for Laurel to leave. The only thing everyone agreed on was that they had to act, and fast, if they wanted to control what happened next.

On her way out of the palace, she found a surprise waiting at the gate.

"We taking the fight to Laskar or what?" Maria was shadowboxing next to the wall, where Kat was leaning like her legs couldn't hold her up themselves.

"Word got out that quickly?" Laurel asked, joining the duo as they turned and walked towards a nearby entertainment district.

Verilia was not a place that let something like frigid temperatures or a brief round of sleet keep people from having fun. Bars and other amusements lined the street, raucous laughter spilling out along with a respectable number of people. They lingered on street corners, rosy-cheeked and unwilling to let the night end.

"You know how it goes," Kat drawled. "Something big happens one night and everyone has an opinion by breakfast. Word got out that Laskar attacked the sect. Doesn't take a genius to figure out the king might not take too kindly to that."

"You're right," Laurel said. "But if you go it will be without me."

"Aww," Maria whined.

Kat took the more practical approach. As usual. "Makes sense. You're the best defense we have. Can't send you off."

"I know. The problem is, the other guys have people like me to play defense, and enough to send out at the same time."

"Anyone that might give you trouble?" Maria asked.

"Not at all," Laurel lied. Maybe one or two but in a straight fight, she had ways to win.

While they walked, Kat steered them around a series of turns until they appeared at a square Laurel was sure she'd never seen before. Somehow. Or maybe during the times she flew over the city, the food carts gathered elsewhere. A half dozen of the miniature steam carts ringed the square, the aromas of fried food and roasting meat filling the air.

Without hesitating, Kat led them towards the furthest cart, where a squat man with a brilliant smile was handing out fried fish as fast as his hands could move.

"Kat Donahue! What a treat for this old man."

"Every time. Every time someone knows her," Laurel muttered to Maria.

"And it's always worth it."

Tonight was no exception. The fish was the last of that day's catch, fried to perfection in a thick batter made from a local ale. Laurel scarfed it down with the others before heading back home.

She only realized halfway back that they had come there to see her, the pair didn't need her confirmation that there would be fighting. They were both too experienced for that. But they had figured out Laurel needed some uncomplicated friendship and shown up to provide that. It was just as humbling as the reaction from her sect. Laurel had put down roots in every sense. She had family here. Friends. And it would be defended.

********

Laurel's eyes snapped open, but nothing else changed. Her breathing stayed steady, her limbs didn't flail around. But she wouldn't be getting any more sleep that night. With a groan she got up and walked barefoot to her office. The duo from her guilt dreams about Farin and Imelda had made a reappearance. This time, they weren't running from the apocalypse, just trapped and waiting for her to come rescue them.

Whatever threshold she'd passed to become an old woman who had meaningful dreams was one she'd missed at the time. But she would happily go back. Maybe it was a Core cultivation thing? Nothing in any of the other Sectmaster's journals had indicated such, but maybe no one felt it was worth writing down. It didn't matter. That was so low on her priority list that she couldn't even see it from where she was standing.

Laurel opened her desk and pulled out some paperwork. If she was going to be up, might as well do something useful.

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