With demigods and dragons in mind, the rest of the training session was a bit of a blur for Amelia. Once she returned to the material realm, her wonderful, perceptive girlfriend must have recognised something was distracting her, for she soon ended the training session and sent the others away.

“What is it?” Serena asked once they were alone.

“Mmm.” It was all Amelia could come up with. How in the hell, or Hells, was she going to bring up her troubling thoughts? It was one thing to joke about being a demigod, but to state it as an absolute, logically deduced fact? As difficult as it might be, she knew she would have to tell Serena everything; it was just a matter of finding the right words.

“Need to tell you something,” Amelia said, biting her lip, “but I need to think about how to word it.”

“Oh?” Serena raised an eyebrow. “You, of all people, being cautious of words?” The demon folded her arms and frowned. “Who are you and what did you do with my Lia?” Without waiting for an answer, she reached forward and flicked Amelia’s forehead. “I’m hungry,” the demon said. “You have something planned, don’t you?”

“I booked us a place,” Amelia said, rubbing her head. She checked her pocketwatch, panicking briefly at the time before realising her watch, having been in the Shimmer, had experienced twice the time. After carefully resetting it, the pair of them cleaned up with Amelia’s magic, returned to the lift station, and took the next one to Ishaq’s upper tier.

“Just around here…” Amelia said, resisting the urge to drag Serena by the hand. She rounded a corner and spotted their destination. “Here we are! This is the place.”

And what a place it was—a grand restaurant, built at the base of one of Ishaq’s largest shale trees. The tree had been cultivated carefully for more than a century, with each outcropping’s growth controlled to create large, flat, petal-shaped dining platforms. From the crystal jewellery and silken clothes, it was clear that the average clientele of this establishment was beyond the average Ishaqian citizen. Perhaps half were native Arakian, while the remainder were tourists, with small, stubby Cerulean horns being the most common sight.

A waiter led them to the highest platform. The man looked like he might have wanted to say something about their casual clothing, but was biting his tongue. After he left, Amelia gave Serena a look and said, “Maybe we should have dressed up.”

“I think I’m suitably dressed for the occasion,” Serena said innocently, gesturing to her everyday, easy-to-move-in outfit. She picked up a menu and began reading.

“And the sword?”

“As I said. Suitably dressed.” Serena flicked her gaze to Amelia, her lip curling. “Who knows when I’m going to be attacked again. Ishaq, or rather, its council, have already insulted me once.” The demon's voice became quiet, and she muttered, “I hope they insult me again.”

“What was that?”

“Mmm?” Serena’s eyes widened in the picture of innocence. “I was just saying that I’m entitled to carry a weapon wherever I please, as an Officer and a Speaker. If that makes someone uncomfortable, then they’ll have to deal with it themselves.” The demon tapped the handle of her sword. “And I was thinking that I’m surprised you managed to book what I suspect is one of the finest locations in Ishaq. Who would have thought that Lia Liona would have so much sway?”

“Lia Liona may have had to name-drop a few of her acquaintances,” Amelia replied. “I’m not sure which one they feared more, Sayyid Bastet, or the Hellfire Captain.” Giving Serena a wink, she added, “Who knew the reason you maintain such a fearsome reputation was to ensure such preferential treatment in restaurants?”

Her girlfriend rolled her eyes. “My preferential treatment stems from my stellar service and recognition by Greatlord Oshiro and my communion with Narean.”

“Is that what you say before or after you stab them full of holes?”

“I’ll stab you full of holes in a minute, Miss Liona.”

Amelia giggled, feeling her concerns and worries slip away. Whether Serena knew it or not, she was Amelia’s rock. It wasn’t so much that Amelia depended on her, but rather their relationship was so frictionless and so concrete that it helped ground Amelia’s worries whenever they threatened to get out of control.

They began with a small serving of warak enab—a plate of stuffed grape leaves, filled with amberfig rice. The tightly wrapped food seemed to be designed to be eaten as finger food, but Serena stubbornly refused to use anything but a knife and fork.

“I can tolerate Menes and his skewers, in his home as his guest,” Serena said, neatly slicing a mouthful away. “But here, in public?” She placed the food in her mouth, politely chewing and swallowing soundlessly. “There is only so much I am willing to do. More than twenty years of Samino etiquette will not be undone by a short stay in Ishaq, even if…” The demon trailed off, finishing another mouthful. “Even if the food is exceptional.”

Amelia shrugged, delicately picking up one of the wrapped bundles and taking a small bite. “When in Rome,” she said. Swallowing, she looked up to see Serena looking surprised. “What is it?” she asked.

“Where did you learn that idiom?” Serena questioned.

“Ah,” Amelia said, nodding, realising she’d used another idiom from her world. “That’s right. I guess over here it would be something like, ‘When in Ishaq, do as the Ishaqians do.’”

“When in Rome,” Serena said, without missing a beat, “do as the Romans do.” She gave a small nod, adding, “We know of the ancient Roman Empire. The Humonic Testament talks of it. Haven’t you read it?”

“I’ve skimmed it,” Amelia admitted, tilting her head. “It’s quite… dry.”

“Some saint you are.”

Amelia kicked her girlfriend under the table.

“I only asked where you learned it,” Serena continued, “because it would mean the idiom persisted in both realms. Although I suppose the meaning behind it isn’t rare or unique.”

It felt strange to hear Serena talk of something so solidly linked to Amelia’s old world so casually, but it made sense. The Biblical stories of Rome and Christ formed just as much of the Demon Church’s Holy Text as they did the Human Church. In a comforting way, it was reassuring to have that link to her original world.

With those thoughts in mind, the next dish arrived. The waiter dramatically flipped it onto a platter, presenting what was called a maqluba, an upside-down layered rice dish, served alongside yoghurt and herbs.

“I wonder what historical documents the human nations have about the old world?” Amelia mused, picking at the meal. “How do they view this world in relation to it? Do they know humanity is still thriving back there?”

“Anathor has always said that realm-travel there wasn’t possible,” Serena said. “That’s in line with what I was told growing up, when my sisters and I were tutored on the history of humanity. They came here as colonists more than two thousand years ago. They came, and they couldn’t go back. If the human nations know of what method was used, they’ve kept it quite secret.”

“More than two thousand years ago,” Amelia echoed. “Something doesn’t add up.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s weird,” she said, tapping the table. “If they did come around two thousand years ago, then why are they the same level as demonkind?”

“Level?” Serena asked with a frown.

“Technologically speaking,” Amelia clarified. “In my world, two thousand years ago isn’t far off our first industrial revolution. They would have had firearms, even if they were simple. Tomes said demonkind wasn’t producing industrial amounts of steel when the Long Discordancy happened, and the human caravans arrived a thousand years before that. Before Cascadia was formed, humanity should have been exploring this solar system.”

“Those capabilities you’ve talked about, they run on electricity, don’t they?” Serena asked. When Amelia nodded, she continued, “I don’t think the thinking machines you’ve described are possible here.”

“But there are plenty of advanced inventions that don’t require electricity,” Amelia countered. “Steam engines. Skyscrapers. Trains. Maybe… Maybe you were building them, but the Long Discordancy destroyed them all?”

“Tomes was right. The old kingdoms didn’t have the capacity to make enough steel,” Serena said, shaking her head. “We lost a lot when the Malignant Darkness encroached upon our lands, and we live in the shadow of its heritage every day, but we didn’t lose everything. We have records of what life was like before. We’ve rediscovered ruins of the old cities, and there isn’t any sign of the levels of industry you’re thinking of. If I remember my history, there was mention of some kind of tribulation facing the initial human colonists. Perhaps that delayed their technological progress.”

“Tribulation? I’ll ask Tomes,” Amelia said. “He has loads of old history books. I bet he would know.” She leaned forward, feeling herself getting excited. “I feel like it’s all connected, don’t you? The Long Discordancy, the old world of humanity, the reason why realm-travel isn’t possible anymore. Why was it cut off from aether, anyway? Isn’t it all so…” Amelia let her voice drop into a dramatic whisper. “...Mysterious?”

Serena didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she smiled and used her fork to dig a perfect mouthful from the maqluba. Once she was finished, she opened her mouth and said, “The pirates and the infamous Blackhorn. The Crimson Reapers and their disgraced leader, Murakami Takeyoshi. Charles Hornford and the Andalus Fortress. Councillor Nasr and the black crystal. Rhaknam and the arcwhales.” Serena flourished her fork. “To me, all that feels connected, so believe me, I know how you feel. Although I suspect my mysteries are a little more… provincial than your realm-spanning intrigue.”

Amelia hummed, placing a finger under her chin. “Don’t forget the Needles of Nai, older than any records. Or the Arakian pyramids and the Dectus Lines. Maybe it’s all connected.” Amelia stretched her arms wide, almost knocking a pitcher of water over. “One long chain of events. Two sides of the same coin. Maybe—” Amelia paused, seeing Serena look at her with kind eyes. “What?” she asked.

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“You’ve cheered up,” her girlfriend answered. “I can tell. You’ve had a lot on your mind.”

Amelia scrunched her nose up. “I think I was worrying about nothing. Well, I was worrying about big things, but I’ve realised that big things only feel big if you keep worrying about them, so I’ve decided not to worry, and now it doesn’t seem like a big deal.” She finished her word salad and shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, really.”

“It’s not a big deal, really,” Serena echoed. “Sounds like exactly the kind of thing you would say before telling me our waiter is the Empress in disguise.”

Amelia lovingly kicked her girlfriend under the table. She even inflated her cheeks a bit and threw in a quick pout for good measure. “I’m banning you,” she said.

“Banning me?” Serena raised an eyebrow, an amused twinkle in her eye. “From what?”

“From overreacting when I tell you.”

“Now I’m really worried.”

“Don’t do that, or it’ll become a big deal.”

Serena laughed. “I’ve been around you long enough to know that the smallest ‘not a big deal’ thing from you is often something world-shattering to others, and the breadth and depth of your shenanigans means I cannot rule anything out. But…” Serena smiled, tapping the table slowly. “I’ll wait until you're ready. Choose your words carefully, Lia.”

“Until then,” Amelia replied, reaching out and ringing the waiter’s bell. “I’m in the mood to relax a little, and we don’t have any obligations until the end of the week, do we? In that case…” She perused the menu, settling on what was perhaps the single most expensive item. “One of these, please,” she said, showing the waiter the item on the menu.

The man blinked twice, looked as if he wanted to say something, then looked at Serena before adjusting his posture and nodding. “Yes, Miss Liona. Would you like it prepared hot or cold?”

“Hmm. Both.”

“Both?”

“I’ll order two,” Amelia clarified.

“...Yes, Miss Liona.” The waiter turned, nodding to Serena. “Speaker Halen,” he said politely before leaving them. Amelia was left with a demon that was looking at her with a sly, amused expression.

“I can’t believe you,” Serena said.

“What?”

“Don’t think that I don’t know what you ordered,” Serena said. “The waiter probably would have refused if you weren’t with me.”

“You’re not complaining?”

“Why would I?” Serena intoned.

“Considering what happened last time.” Amelia shrugged. “I still remember when I held your horns between my—” She was cut off as her shin was kicked. “You’ve gone red,” Amelia said, smirking at the fine blossom spreading across Serena’s cheeks.

“Shut up, idiot.”

“Shutting up,” Amelia said quickly as the waiter reappeared, placing down a series of glasses, followed by two bottles. One, steaming, and the other in an ice bucket. From the steaming bottle, a rich, tantalising fragrance filled the space. Spices floated and glistened in the pale red liquid.

It wouldn’t be a problem, would it?

They’d drunk far, far more in Kenhoro.

Two bottles would just be enough to settle their nerves.

After all, how strong could the famous Southern relik loqua be?

“Seven Hells,” Serena mumbled, exiting the restaurant. Her girlfriend took a deep breath, steadying herself on Amelia’s shoulder. “What did they put in that? I don’t remember red being that strong.”

“I feel like I want to run!” Amelia chirped, stretching her arms. The stifling Ishaqian heat, abated only slightly by the southerly wind, now felt like a warm hug. She felt happy, a full-bodied confidence bubbling up within her. She turned, looking at Serena.

It took perhaps every ounce of her willpower not to kiss her girlfriend right there and then. Somehow, with Serena’s hair slightly tousled, with a few errant strands falling in front of her face, and her cheeks reddened from the heat and the drink, the Hellfire Captain was even more sensationally attractive than ever before.

“I can’t look at you,” Amelia said, turning her head away. “You’re too good-looking.”

“Idiot,” was the only response.

Ishaq’s evening was just beginning, with the sun dipping low, throwing long shadows across the streets. Aetherlights were turned on, illuminating the market sellers as they swapped their daytime wares in preparation for the upcoming nightlife requirements: alcohol and snacks. Amelia considered buying more, but it felt wrong to spoil the rich warmth of the relik loqua with cheaper alcohol.

“This is nice,” Amelia said.

“What?”

“This. Walking. With you.” Amelia fell in with Serena, linking their arms. “Don’t worry,” she said in a quiet voice. “The local women walk together all the time. It’s normal here. No one’s going to get in a tizzy over two women linking arms.”

“They do more than link arms here,” Serena muttered.

It took a moment for Amelia to realise what her girlfriend was talking about. ‘Confidently shameless’ was how Serena described Nefertari’s casual nighttime activities with Ihra, the Bastet family friend and advertiser of the red aetherlight district’s adult entertainment establishment, Madam Sakina’s. While Amelia found Nefertari’s admission wonderfully brazen, it was clear Serena struggled to parse the knowledge through her Samino upbringing, with its heavier focus on propriety and subtleness.

“Should I stop?” Amelia asked, gently pulling Serena closer.

“Do as you please,” Serena said after a few seconds.

Amelia grinned. “You’re amenable today.”

The demon clicked her tongue. “Well, I have drunk an entire bottle of loqua.” Serena glanced at Amelia, asking, “Do you know where you’re going?”

“Mmm!” Amelia nodded. “It’s an hour outside the city, up in the mountains.”

“Lead the way.”

And so they began their slow walk to the hot springs. Perhaps it was because the loqua had given them outward confidence, or something in their presence had changed, but the local merchants didn’t jump in their way, advertising their wares to the foreign Eastern ladies. It was as if, for the evening at least, Ishaq had accepted their presence.

That wasn’t to say their walk wasn’t interrupted. It was, yet that interruption wasn’t provoked by Amelia or Serena. They were only witnesses to a silken blur of silver grey blitzing across the street in front of them. A feline figure, with a freshly caught fish in its mouth, chased by an angry-looking Ishaqian waving a broom.

“Was that… Romulus?” Serena mused, watching the demon vanish down an alleyway, a string of Hakian curses flowing from his mouth every bit as colourful as the arcwhale kites littering the sky.

“I think so,” Amelia said, grinning. “I guess I’m not the only one getting up to no good.”

“If only your shenanigans amounted to merely stealing fish from a fishmonger.”

“What was that?” Amelia poked her side with an elbow.

“Nothing.” Serena reached out and ruffled her hair. Her hand lingered for a moment, running Amelia’s hair through her fingers. Her hand then dropped, her fingers tracing Amelia’s ear. Serena’s gaze dropped to her lips before returning to her eyes.

“Can I help you?” Amelia teased.

Serena rolled her eyes, turning away. “I can’t look at you,” she said. Then, after a pause, she added in a quiet voice, “You’re too beautiful.” She coughed in her hand and pulled Amelia along. “Let’s go. We’ll be late for your booking.”

I should feed her a bottle of loqua more often, Amelia thought, skipping along. Although perhaps turning Serena into a loqua-in-compliments-out machine wasn’t the best path their relationship could take.

They left the urban limits of the city and took a mountain path to the hot springs. It was well-maintained, with frequent benches and shining bronze water fountains, an indicator of Ishaq’s developing wealth. The tropical wilderness was cut back, and every few hundred metres, there was a large sign with a printed graphic of a striped animal boasting two tails and a thick pair of horns. It was a warning, evidently written for tourists, given that the instructions were written in Imperial first and Hakian second.

“Shawa attacks are rare,” Amelia read. “They avoid urban areas and will only approach Ishaqian territory when hungry or lost. They stalk their prey, only attacking when they think they cannot be seen. Should you spot one, keep looking at it. Make yourself appear large and do not run or make a sudden movement, as this will trigger its hunting instincts.” Amelia looked again at the painted image. If the figure of a demon next to it was proportional, a fully grown shawa would reach her shoulders.

“Looks cute,” Amelia said. She tapped the sign and looked at Serena. “It’s Rommy’s grandfather!” She burst out laughing at her own joke, earning a well-deserved eye roll from Serena.

“At least your reading is more developed than your humour,” the demon said.

“Mmm!” Amelia hummed her agreement. After a bit more than half a year in the Known World, she’d become fluent in reading and writing Imperial faster than she’d expected. She’d heard that the best way to learn a language was to surround yourself with it, but hadn’t been aware of just how well it worked until coming here.

They continued walking, passing numerous demons heading back towards Ishaq. Most of them bore the stubby horns of Centralis, but there were a few Easterners amongst them, although none seemed to recognise Serena. In their passing comments, they spoke of the hot springs, only increasing the anticipation that Amelia felt.

The pair of them stopped just before their destination. Not from exhaustion, but for the view. Amelia couldn’t help but let out a low whistle.

“Now that’s a sight,” she said. “It’s worth coming up here for that alone.”

The tiered city of Ishaq, built like a great wedding cake that was thrust into the Salaban mountain range, stood as a monument to the South. Perhaps it was how the evening sun and warm moonlight of the Red Moon played with the city’s sandstone, but it seemed to shine golden for them, glistening as hundreds, if not thousands, of colourful kites danced in mid-sky. Dozens of small ships labouriously sailed to and from the many docks littering Ishaq’s sections. With her enhanced eyesight, she could make out the sailors prepping their fishing nets, some lighting lanterns on hooks for a night of nightfishing.

“The Golden City,” Serena said suddenly. When Amelia questioned her, she explained that Ishaq was Hakian for gold. “Menes talked about fields of golden wheat bestowing the city its namesake, but looking at it now…” Serena trailed off, taking a breath. “I can see why some people would choose to live here.”

“Starting to come around, are you?” Amelia asked. “Reckon you could live here?”

“No,” came the curt answer, “but I wouldn’t mind visiting in the future. For all its faults…” Serena took one last look at the city before turning her back to it and continuing up the mountain path. “It has its charms.”

“Well,” Amelia said, catching up just as the hot spring buildings came into view. “If the rest of the Empire’s cities are half as interesting as Ishaq, then I have a wonderful adventure ahead of me!” She bounced ahead just as they were approached by a Hakian attendant, with bronze skin and elegant horns reminiscent of Nefertari’s. It was the same woman Amelia had shamelessly hounded into the emergency booking. That was yesterday, and now the demon seemed to have recovered and wore an easy, strategic smile.

“Miss Liona,” the woman said, before turning and bowing to Serena. “Speaker Halen. It is an honour to host an Eastern Speaker. The South thanks you for your family’s patronage and your service in the recent conflict.” The demon bowed again before asking, “Would you please follow me?”

They followed the woman through the building, through corridors covered in vibrant frescos and geometric patterns. Attendants passed by, carrying towels and jugs of fragrant liquid. The woman stopped at a door. Turning, she asked, “Is this the first time you’ve attended a Southern hammam?”

“Yes,” Serena answered, “but I am familiar with the bathhouses of Nai.”

The woman nodded. “We have made the entire east wing available.” She tapped the door, saying, “Through here are the changing rooms. You will find our traditional bathing wraps, pestemals. Once dressed, we encourage you to spend time in the steam room to open your pores and acclimate to the heat before entering the bath. We have a whole range of attendants skilled in scrubbing, massaging, hair washing, and henna, should you call upon them. However…” The woman glanced at Amelia momentarily. “Your maid assured me that she would handle all of that, and you would desire the utmost privacy. Is that right?”

If the sharp intake of Serena’s breath wasn’t enough to clue Amelia that she was in for a wonderful night, the crimson glare and subtle lip bite confirmed it.

“My maid was right,” Serena replied. “I prefer privacy. Do not be alarmed when we erect privacy wards in the area. As an Imperial Officer and Speaker, I must take these precautions. I trust you understand?”

“Of course, Speaker Halen.” The demon bowed. “We shall not disturb you. There is a calling rope you can pull to alert us if you need anything.”

“Perfect,” Serena said, a mysterious tone layered into her voice.

She turned and looked at Amelia, her lip curling.

“Perfect,” she said again.

Amelia could only giggle nervously.