"People should either be caressed or crushed. If you do them minor damage they will get their revenge; but if you cripple them there is nothing they can do. If you need to injure someone, do it in such a way that you do not have to fear their vengeance."

― Niccolò Machiavelli

It was hard to breathe. Hard to think. Hadrian could barely see the book laid open in his lap. He swallowed against his dry throat and closed his eyes.

Immediately, magic entangled itself around his mind. The memory of someone long dead running her fingers along the books she'd managed to save flashed along the insides of his eyelids. Lila. The Witchking. The first Witchking. He'd only heard of her through old stories whispered to him in the dead of night, told in extinct languages to avoid detection. Witches locked up in his father's cells whispering to him when he snuck down.

Her fingerprint on the magic of the island felt fresh, almost as if her blood was still wet on the concrete. Lila, the gold dust sang. Our dear Lila.

Dear murdered Lila.

Hadrian opened his eyes, fighting the rage that shook his vision. The words of the book still didn't make sense. He snapped it shut.

The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu. Considered to be the first novel ever written. Not in its original Japanese, but a Spanish translation for some reason. Hadrian could read Spanish, but it had been a while. Even if he weren't distracted, there would have been unfamiliar words.

He needed to get off the island. The gold dust itched at his skin and mind, magic growing uncomfortably thick and pushing along his skin.

Hadrian stroked the slip of obsidian in his pocket. It was still strong. But if he had to stay in the Citadel for long, he'd need more stones to keep everything in check. At least two of the slivers sewn into his clothes were going brittle and forming dust against his skin.

The door slammed open, making him jump and drop the book. A tall, muscular woman stood at the entrance. Her shoulders heaved and glistened with gold, making him feel a little ill.

"Zeke!"

"What?" He had laid down a while ago, drifting to a nap as far as Hadrian could tell. His eyes were too clear, though, too prepared.

"Wilson's slaver. The big one. It's exposed, no support ships, and reports say they loaded up at a lesser yesterday. Come on, we need a second vanguard."

Zeke groaned, sinking against the cushions. "Shit. I've got to look after the kid, though."

The woman looked down and noticed Hadrian for the first time. Her dark eyes went wide and she pursed her lips.

It sounded like a trap. If Hadrian were in charge, he'd recommend further reconnaissance. Lin would too, he was sure. No, scratch that, she'd strike fast, violent, and alone and then kill everyone.

"I can go with," Hadrian said. He keyed his voice a little lower for that, aiming for a more mature impression on the woman. It felt strange. And good. "I'm a hunter in training."

Zeke hopped to his feet, clapping his hands together and throwing his gnawed apple core back into the fruit bowl. "That's that! Come on, kiddo, let's see how you are in a fight."

He probably shouldn't let them know how capable he was. Hadrian nodded and stood up, careful under the woman's scrutinizing stare. For a split second, he wondered if she was trans like he was. Magic duly informed him that no, she wasn't. Pity.

"Are we telling Her Majesty?" Zeke chirped.

The woman shook her head, turning on her heel to lead the way. "No. We don't need to."

Hadrian's brow furrowed as he trailed behind the duo.

The Citadel's chain of command was more flexible than he thought. The first impression had Shabina pegged as a monarch, but her proximity to Zeke and the woman's lack of care for reporting to her superiors skewed that.

"What's your name?" the woman asked.

"Hadrian. You?"

"Kiara. I didn't know the huntress had an apprentice." She muttered the last sentence, obviously meaning for him to hear it. The faintly bitter undertone made Hadrian smile.

"Lin's not transparent."

Her silence afterwards curdled his mood. If the residents of the Citadel didn't like Lin, he might have to choose between them.

Lin's knowledge and position were invaluable. Getting information from the hunters was next to impossible for witches.

But the Citadel seemed sympathetic enough. They were a previously unknown party in a small world. If he could convince them to be sympathetic to witches, they would be a formidable ally. He chewed his lip as he walked. Decisions, decisions.

He might just go with Lin because of the gold dust. The humans living at the Citadel deserved to burn for living where they did.

Witches respected and feared the dust. It was the brilliant colors of a venomous animal, the warning sign. It was powerful magic tied to a location.

The site of a slaughter.

He wasn't sure which slaughter, but he was fairly certain Greymark's hunters had done it. Several centuries ago by the look of the place. Lila herself might have had her last stand there.

The mirror room immediately turned into a war room in the small window since Zeke brought him up the stairs.

Ten humans strapped themselves with gear. Their loose but tough-looking clothes were worked through with gold dust, making his jaw tense painfully. Swords and knives slid into sheaths along backs and thighs.

Kiara claimed two scimitars off the table of weapons that hadn't been there before. Across from it, a beautiful garden Hadrian hadn't noticed before. Quite a bit of the Citadel seemed to be made of plants. New ones, by the lack of decaying leaves at their root.

Zeke shoved a heavy jacket into his arms. The sensation of wanting to peel his skin of was not unusual for Hadrian, but he immediately set the jacket down and swiped uselessly at the front of his sweater.

"It's armor." The older man swiveled a spear across the back of his neck, resting his wrists on it. "Protects you from witches and knives, two of the most dangerous things in the world."

"I'll take my chances."

Zeke shrugged, then gestured at the weapons. "Fine but take a weapon. The huntress'll skin me alive if she hears I let you go into a warzone without protection."

He could compromise on that. Hadrian eyed the impressive array of blades. "You don't use guns."

"Can't afford them. In any sense." Kiara sheathed her swords. "Pick something and let's go."

Hadrian eyed the Chinese ring daggers. They were a tad longer than the ones he was used to, and he'd deal considerable damage to his opponent. But they were obviously a skill-based tool. Skill he shouldn't have.

He picked up a smaller Bowie-style knife. Stab. Slash. Simple enough for a sheltered brat to know.

He waved it in front of Zeke's face. "Happy?"

"Delighted."

Kiara snorted, turning to address the humans. "Shabina's gonna be very sad if she notices any of you suckers died, so don't. Nobody wants our fearless leader to cry."

With that, she stepped through the mirror.

He'd nearly forgotten about the mirror. While it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as the gold dust was, it was certainly an exercise in the not-screaming department.

As he stepped through, he braced himself and held his breath. It stifled his magic, making him feel like he's been locked in a coffin and buried, but that wasn't a problem. It was the touch.

The mirror crawled across his skin, through his clothes, feeling everything. The fact that it stopped his connection to magic was a blessing, or else he might have blown up the first mirror he walked through.

Keeping his face serene, he blinked at the dark sea. Mirrors weren't really meant for travel. He stepped out of the way as Zeke and his spear came through.

They were on a ship's steel deck, in the middle of the ocean. The humans immediately began to gag and cover their faces. Red-brown water frothed behind the ship, stirring the reek of magic up to the deck.

Hadrian had to fight a smile as he faked a grimace. It smelled like home to him. Like his mother's late-night lessons and Ilse climbing through the window to play with him. That, and magic was strongest near its source. It wouldn't take more than a thought on his part to sink a ship. Everything was so free on the sea. He could do anything. All the tightness of being on land was gone. That and the coolness of night felt like sucking ice after days without water. He took a deep breath, only realizing his mistake when Zeke spoke.

"Damn, hunters have guts of steel." Zeke coughed behind Hadrian, making him turn around. The man's eyes were reddened and watering.

Hadrian smiled tightly, making sure to wrinkle his face at the same time to make it seem like the smell hurt him. He shrugged, a little smug.

"There's our target," Kiara said. She pointed towards the front of the boat, beyond which a massive tanker carved its way through the water. The bright full moon illuminated it perfectly among the clouds.

Hadrian could easily sink it. Not from that distance, but if he got around one hundred feet from the hull he could sink it. But since it was a slave ship he doubted that was the goal. The ship they were on accelerated.

His feet stuck firm to the ground for a split second before he remembered to be a weak little boy. His knees buckled and he lurched shoulder-first into Zeke's chest.

Zeke yelped and caught him, grabbing Hadrian's arm with his free hand. Hadrian's face burned as the soldier righted him.

"Sea legs could use some work, though." Zeke grinned, his face crinkling around it.

Hadrian nodded, his stance shifting to a blatantly more secure one.

"Harpoons!" Kiara's voice boomed.

So they weren't the subtle type.

The rattle of chains and steel doors opening in the hull of the ship made the deck shiver. Zeke's hand fluttered close to Hadrian, but that was as far as he went. Hadrian didn't intend to let on more weakness than necessary.

The harpoons erupted with a screaming burst of cannon fire, deeper and more bone-shaking than a gun. Then, Hadrian did flinch.

The sharp prongs slammed into the metal of the tanker with such a force that he was sure he saw the boat sway. Men yelled from the other ship, their silhouettes flitting along the deck. Hadrian could sense even more people within.

Kiara whistled, and the Citadel humans lined up to the edge of the ship. One by one, they clambered over the edge and onto the chain linking their ship to the harpoons.

He watched, brows raised, as they slung upside down and climbed the chains as easily as they breathed.

"You don't have to, you know?" Zeke grinned.

Hadrian just smirked in response. He allowed magic to stretch along his skin, like taking a breath of fresh air, and then slipped onto one of the chains. The icy iron bit into his fingers.

He climbed, magic helping him keep his grip on the chain. As soon as he got close enough to the ship, he heard the din of a fight. A good one by the sound of it. Ropes had been lowered over the edge so the Citadel humans - he had to stop calling them that - could climb up. He sighed and gripped the fibers with one hand. Magic lifted him as he switched grip and helped him ascend to the deck.

He hopped over with little trouble, then ducked beneath a sword strike.

Before he could counterattack, the long tip of a golden spear disappeared into his the man's chest. Hadrian blinked as he fell. Zeke huffed and puffed as he crawled over the edge and dropped to the deck. He glared at Hadrian. "Slow down next time, please?"

Hadrian shrugged in response, yanking the spear from his attacker's chest and tossing it back to Zeke.

Kiara's line of warriors - there, he didn't call them humans - carved a neat semi-circle for themselves, fighting to get the rest of the deck.

"Raina, Hadrian, Zeke! Get to the prisoners!" Kiara called out.

A young woman with black hair slicked into a long ponytail erupted from the fray. Her face was covered in gold piercings, chains glimmering across her olive skin. Thick iron vambraces decorated both arms, scratched and dented to all hell, and a short sword slicked with blood in her hand. Raina, he assumed.

Zeke jerked his head in her direction and Hadrian burst on Raina's heels. While he had been prepared to dispatch any soldiers that got in his way, Raina sliced a neat path for them. She vanished into a hatch.

Hadrian leapt down after her.

The metal interior of the ship felt crushing compared to the flowing magic above decks. Hadrian worked his jaw and came up behind Raina, stopping as she did.

She looked over her shoulder, eyeing Hadrian. She flicked her gaze around the hall and tightened her lips.

Hadrian lifted his eyebrows and waited.

"This isn't right," she whispered. The blood that had spattered across her face dripped down her chin. "There should be more guards."

Hadrian felt along the lines of magic. There was a cluster of people just below them, fear muddling any sense of number. He nodded and checked over his shoulder, Zeke blinked at them.

"Easy score?" he whispered.

"Trap," Hadrian said. He'd figured as much when Kiara burst into the library, but it was nice to have confirmation.

--

"Dulce bellum inexpertis" (; from Latin. "war is sweet to those who have never experienced it")

A quote from Pindar: Γλυκὺς ἀπείρῳ πόλεμος (Fragments 110,109), made famous by Erasmus  as the title for his meditation on the subject of war.