Seiren scowled, readying to thrash whoever dared to interrupt her punishment of the Hannan rogue.

Why didn't you tell me there was another?

Were you even listening to me? No? Madeleine snorted.

Seiren ignored her and the Hannan's groans, which seemed to have stifled somewhat. Descending the steps was a short figure in state mage uniform: a midnight black cloak lined with a silky material that seemed to emulate all colours of the rainbow, supposedly to reflect the various colours magic took on when they activated. Behind him were two lackeys, not state mages, dressed in military uniform with stocky caps, a vomit-green shirt and trouser combination and black leather boots. A meagre few medals decorated their chests. A man and a woman, both at least a head taller than the mage. Probably security to protect the tiny state mage. Even she could probably outrun him. Heck, she could probably take him on in a fight.  

You do not want to be caught punching in the face of the bloody state mage, Seiren Harred.

"Don't—" Seiren bit out loud and then caught herself. Sucking in a heavy breath, she snapped at Madeleine, Don't call me by that name!

"Excuse me?" The state mage cocked his head. He sounded too young for someone in such a senior position. He stood across the cracked, runed floor from Seiren, watching her over the trembling Hannan man. The mage probably didn't even come up to Seiren's chin.

When she didn't answer, the mage pulled his hood back, revealing short black hair above a face that didn't look older than eighteen, but Seiren knew he must be older than that to be a fully qualified state mage. Curious, bright blue-green eyes met hers before taking in the surroundings: the grounded train, the trail of destruction from the summoning, the demon – now dead, the remnants of her runes, and the Hannan, who seemed to have quietened down, realising what a predicament he was in.

"You seem to have left quite a trail of destruction in your wake, lady," called the mage. Seiren's eyes flickered. She'd heard of this man before. The short mage who'd recently been allotted a seat in the city capital, a much sought-after role due to its proximity to the city central and involvement with the country's running. Many mages would have killed for his seat. "What's your name? I am—"

"Rowan Woodbead. I know who you are. You're the newly-appointed Benover state mage."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm surprised such a young girl knows of me."

"I'm surprised such a short guy could make it as state mage."

He flushed, his eyes flashing. His two subordinates jumped, looking horrified. Seiren kept an impassive face, observing him take several breaths before cracking out the most forced smile she'd ever seen, one which barely left his lips, never mind reaching his eyes. Behind him, one subordinate poked furiously at a communication device, a violet rune gleaming on its back. Beside her, the other subordinate, the male, cast curious glances at the machine before returning to the scene at hand.

"I wouldn't be so blasé about insulting state mages, little girl. We are the backbone of this country, after all, with important duties that keep everyone safe and the country functioning."

"I'm well aware of what state mages do, Rowan."

"That's Mage Woodbead to you."

Seiren pressed her lips shut. Rowan shook his head, pressing a hand to his temple, before brushing it over his head in a dramatic sweep.

"This man – did you inflict these injuries on him?"

"I wouldn't call them injuries."

"Oh? What would they be, then?"

"Justice."

Rowan cocked an eyebrow, taking in her shredded legs and burned face. Behind him, his female subordinate whispered to him, gesturing at her device. His eyes widened for a moment and he gave a genuine grin.

"Ah, you're that prodigy the dean was talking about, the one that graduated at the top of King's Academy. Seiren Nithercott, is that right?" When Seiren gave him nothing but a sardonic look in return, he sighed, shaking his head. "I had thought one of the most promising students of the year would be more than a sulky teenager, but I guess I was wrong."

"Just as the mageship doesn't appraise your mage skills by your height, the academy doesn't by my personality."

I think we should, uh, cut back on the height insults there, Seiren.

He pisses me off.

I can tell. But mageship is a small world. You don't want to upset someone you'll be crossing paths with in the future. Maybe just button it up a bit? He will be your senior of some sort soon.

Rowan made his way round the circle as people congregated around them. Some were spectators, attracted by curiosity now the threat of death was gone. A few were military, sectioning off the area to tidy up and collect evidence. Behind Rowan, the Hannan was hauled to his feet. He screamed afresh, his injuries buckling his legs. Rowan stopped in front of Seiren. He really did only come past her chin in height, but Seiren couldn't help but bite back another retort when she met his fiery blue-green eyes.

"You'll do well to learn to respect your seniors, no matter your personal vendetta, especially when you become a state mage, Seiren Nithercott."

I told you. Upsetting people like him could make your mageship very miserable.

"Upsetting people less accommodating than me can make your mageship very miserable."

You two should just bloody marry each other. Seiren fought not to roll her eyes. She inclined her head grudgingly. Rowan cast a critical eye over her cracked rune now the Hannan had been evacuated. The whole design was still visible. It no longer glowed as the lines were broken by two large cracks in the earth.

"Precisely what were you planning to do with this rune, Seiren?"

"Activate it."

He scoffed. "I mean, what is the meaning of this rune?"

"You're a mage; you should be able to tell. You were happy enough to destroy it with your burst magic."

I wonder if he doesn't know, though, Seiren. Your rune magic is pretty advanced and he's a burst magic user.

He must be pretty stupid if he doesn't.

Do you know what burst magic he used just now to break that rune?

One of the four elements. I don't really care. You know I don't do well with burst magic. I'm better off sticking with runes.

The two subordinates behind him glanced at each other, puzzled. The female whipped her head back, taking in the broken rune with fascination.

"It's a splintering rune. I merged a red and a violet to amplify the effect."

"And what is the intention of a splintering rune?"

Seiren shrugged. "Precisely that. It splinters the target. Usually upwards of a few thousand shards."

"But you intended to activate this beneath a living being." Rowan's eyes turned to lasers. "What would it have done to him?"

I'm sure he can imagine it.

Yes, but I don't think he wants to, Seiren.

She met his eyes dead on. "If you hadn't stopped me, we would have both found out together."

To her satisfaction, Rowan appeared unnerved.

"We do not condone – or even permit – vigilantes in Karma. You do realise this isn't a good idea?"

"You do realise I don't care?"

He carried on, unwavering. "The military presence and support is precisely for that. We also do not condone mages, registered or otherwise, to get involved in such matters. Consider this your first and only warning, Seiren Nithercott. The next will see you taken to Benover and trialled before the council before you even receive your registration – if you ever receive it."

If he's saying I'm not good enough—

He's not, Seiren. He's saying if you get yourself locked up in jail you'll never become a state mage.

Seiren scowled. Rowan gave her a curt nod and marched away, barking orders at the military personnel passing by. With his sweeping cloak and short stature, he resembled some sort of bug scuttling away. She might have an attitude problem, but at least she would never use her ranking, however high she got, to bully those beneath her like that.

He's not bullying you, Seiren. He's helping you. You know he could have easily arrested you for civil discord just now.

Seiren ignored her. She shook off the remnants of the summoner dust from her cloak and eased out the creases. Several military pawns scrubbed away her chalk rune on the ground. She eyed the deep crack Rowan Woodbead created, secretly in awe of the sheer power he had conjured in that one split moment without a rune. He might be short and he might be cocky, but he was also quite a powerful burst mage.

Let's go home, Madeleine.

Phew, I thought you were going to suggest taking on the militia next.

She gave the vomit-green-clad people a sideways glance before turning and marching up the winding stone steps up the hill again.

I considered it.

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