For all that Limsa Lominsa was a beautiful city, Blake had never felt quite so on edge.

She sat alone at a table in the Drowning Wench, a tavern on the 'Upper Decks' of the cities wood and stone walkways. Salt water seemed to run through every vein of this place- it was, after all, a nation of pirates.

How exactly that was even possible was something she was still trying to wrap her head around, and the reason for her twitchiness. The bar was filled with patrons, engaged in your typical tavern fare- drinking, laughing, boisterously swapping stories with one another, and making passes at the serving girls. That, you could have found probably anywhere.

Said sweet-faced and doe-eyed serving girl pulling a dagger from where it had been strapped to her thigh and roughly threatening to permanently render her assailant unable to sire children, not so much.

Blake watched the cat-eared and tailed waitress saunter away after that as if nothing had happened. While it was satisfying to know that creeps like that were met with resistance here, the sheer casualness of the interaction was disturbing. The man did not look angry or scared- just minorly irritated, as his friends jeered at his expense before returning to their drinks. That entire table of patrons was armed to the teeth, a massive double-headed axe resting against the chair of the culprit. Had he decided to push the matter further, the tavern could have erupted into a very bloody fight.

Almost the whole city was like this – a powder keg of violent criminals all interacting under the thin veneer of civilisation. And that was just out in the open- Blake dreaded to think what went on in the dark corners and back alleys.

"Alright lass, you're a fully registered adventurer now. Congratulations." Baderon, the bars owner and head of the local Adventurer's Guild office said as walked back up to the counter. He spoke with a thick accent that Blake was unfamiliar with, as most people in this city seemed to. His eyebrow raised as he looked at her. "Somethin' troublin' ye?"

She turned to look at him, fighting back the instinctual movement of her ears underneath the bow. "Just…not exactly my first choice of company." She said as diplomatically as she could.

Baderon snorted even as he began pouring himself another ale. "Believe it or not lass, it could be worse. A lot worse." He glanced between his mug and Blake. "Sure I can't tempt ye?"

Blake eyed the frothy alcohol suspiciously. "I'm good, thanks." She didn't have any particularly strong feelings on alcohol, and she had even tried some on cold nights around the campfire during her time with the White Fang. But it was probably best to stay as lucid as possible while stranded in an unknown and alien location.

"Suit yerself." The proprietor said with a shrug.

Blake tapped a finger absently on the bar counter as she pondered what to say next. Right now she needed as much information as she could possibly get. "You said it could be worse." She finally spoke, causing Baderon to glance over at her. "Admittedly, for a city of pirates, it seems more…orderly than I would have expected." And it was true. For all the rowdiness and shady characters skulking around, much of the city seemed…normal. The markets and harbour docks were noisy and busy, but they seemed to run legitimate business – at least, as far as she could tell.

Here on the Upper Decks in particular things seemed a little more 'refined'- a large set of forges in the south was apparently home to the Blacksmith and Armorer's Guilds, and there was even a gourmet restaurant known as 'The Bismarck' on the north end which apparently was considered very classy.

Blake wasn't sure what qualified as 'classy' for a pirate- or even a regular sailor for that matter- but she was curious to see what their seafood menu looked like.

"Well, one thing ye should understand is 'xactly what we mean by 'pirate'." Balderon began to explain. "'Privateer' would be the more fittin' term, these days at least. After the signin' of the Galadion Accord, 'tis against Lominsan law to commit acts of piracy 'cept on those that are formal enemies of the state, such as the Garlean Empire."

Blake blinked in surprise. "And that's actually enforced?"

"Aye. It certainly weren't no popular decision, but the three Pirate Powers- them bein' the biggest and strongest crews- eventually fell in line under Admiral Merlwyb. Any crew that breaks the code answers to the Yellowjackets- them bein' the guards walkin' around in…well, yellow jackets."

"So…what, after that everyone just learned how to get along?" Blake said sceptically.

Baderon smiled wryly. "'Course not. For better or worse, piracy's in our blood lass, and just because somethin's law 'ardly stops it from 'appenin', does it?"

That was certainly true. As a former criminal herself, Blake wondered how much room she had to judge these people for trying to live their lives.

'It's not the same.' She scolded herself mentally almost immediately after thinking that. 'You were trying to fight for a better world, even if the method was misguided. You still are. Not just…taking something for your own profit.'

She shook her head free of the intrusive thoughts. If Baderon noticed her distress at all, he didn't comment. "What about the rest of the island? It seemed quite large, coming in from the ship."

"Oh, aye, there's more on Vylbrand than just Limsa, that's for sure." Baderon said, then downed the rest of his drink, smacking his lips. "By the gods, that tastes like piss. Anyways…piracy doesn't run in all of our blood, it seems. Lots of folk traded in their cutlass for a plow and set up farmin' communities further inland. Somethin' about volcanic soil bein' more fertile, or so I'm told."

So the island was volcanic- sadly, while a lot of things here reminded her of Menagerie, that was one aspect Blake couldn't say she was familiar with. Her homeland might have been significantly better off if the place wasn't mostly unusable desert.

She leaned back from the bar, trying to organise her thoughts. "Well…thank you. For the history lesson, I mean." Her cheeks flushed slightly in awkwardness. "But I should probably focus on more immediate problems."

"No worries, lass." Baderon said, then paused as the serving girl from earlier came up to the bar.

"Alright, Tenfingers? Chattin' up another girl- should I be jealous?" She said coyly, azure blue tail curling reflexively behind her as she bent over slightly. Blake found herself eyeing the woman up and down- not because she was attractive- though she was- but because Blake still wasn't entirely sure what she was, the race of mysterious cat-people being both familiar and alien to the Faunus girl.

Outright asking that was probably pushing her luck when it came to gathering information, however.

"Not at all." She answered for Baderon. "He's been entirely professional."

The waitress giggled at that. "Tenfingers? Professional? Sign of another Calamity, that is."

"Oi oi, I'm right 'ere ye know." Baderon protested, though his small smile indicated it was all in good fun. "And she's right, it ain't like that. Just signin' her on as a new adventurer."

"That so?" Now Blake was on the receiving end of being glanced over. "She don't even got a weapon that I can see."

She was right, but Blake wasn't going to advertise that fact. "That you can see." She said with a shrug, trying to come across as aloof. Not particularly difficultly considering she normally was aloof.

Thankfully, her time at Beacon had made her somewhat more sociable.

"Come on Blake, it's a beautiful day outside! Enjoy it with us!" Yang called out from the doorframe.

Blake lowered her book slightly, peering at her blonde partner. "A picnic? How old are we again?"

Yang simply grinned in response. "Never too old for picnics! Uh…" The brawler crossed her arms and furrowed her brow. "How does the quote go…? Um…'When I became a man, I put away childish things…'"

"'…including the fear of childishness, and the desire to be very grown up.'" Blake quietly finished. "I'm…surprised you knew that."

"I grew up reading stories to Ruby almost every night." Yang smiled softly as she headed over to the window, looking outside at the sky, deep and blue. "So, yeah, not a total airhead."

Blake felt a small pang of guilt. They hadn't been partners for very long, but she had written off Yang at first in that regard. Didn't she want to make a world where people weren't judged based on their appearance?

She turned her head to look at her partner. "…Can I still bring my book?"

"Of course! It'll be great just to have you there. No pressure to be chatty." Yang said cheerfully, giving her a thumbs up.

Blake sighed and rolled her eyes…but couldn't help but smile.

"…Arcanist's Guild, maybe?"

Blake blinked as she re-focussed on her surroundings, the recalled memory fading from her mind. "…Arcanist?"

The serving girl nodded, apparently not having noticed Blake's inattention. "Aye, you have the look of a magic wieldin' type to me. Certainly a better fit than luggin' round an axe."

Magic…like something straight out of a fantasy novel. Blake was about to make a sarcastic comment, but the sheer casualness with which the girl mentioned it made her pause. Like it was common knowledge.

In the distant past, Aura and Semblances likely were perceived as 'magic' to the average person. Blake couldn't apply the standards of her own culture here. And…well, she'd already been mysteriously teleported to an unknown land filled with entire new races of people. The fantasy elements had begun some time ago, so it was probably best to try and roll with it.

"…I'll check it out, then." She nodded at the girl, who gave her a grin that revealed notably sharp canines, before receiving a tray of drinks from Baderon and heading back to her job.

"Ye can kill two fishbacks with one stone with that one, lass." Baderon 'Tenfingers' – Blake wasn't sure she wanted to know the story behind that nickname- remarked as he wiped his grubby hands on his tunic. "Arcanist's Guild 'ave a decently sized library- If ye want to know more of Limsa's history- or just to learn in general- I'm sure they'll 'ave somethin' for ye to look at."

Blake tried to not look overly excited at that prospect of an actual book.

The path to the Arcanist's guild, as it turned out, required Blake to retrace her steps almost entirely- take the stairs back down to the Lower Decks, through the Aetheryte Plaza, the markets, and finally to the building that housed both the Guild and the Census Office. Blake had in fact already been inside, though she was unaware of it's true purpose at the time. Fortunately, aside from providing her name and her occupation as 'traveller', the Census Office didn't seem interested in pressing matters.

Travelling through Limsa Lominsa meant you were never far from water, the entire city basically being half fortress, half a series of stone and wood walkways over the ocean. Blake was in no particular hurry as she strolled to her destination, taking the opportunity to people watch.

One of the things that stuck out was the complete lack of electronic devices of any kind. In Vale or Atlas you were rarely far at all from some kind of digital screen or powered light. The closest thing this place had was the 'Aetheryte' dust crystal in front of the markets, emitting a soft blue glow. There was no machinery either; at the Vale docks there were forklifts and cranes to load cargo onto the ships. Here, it was all done by hand, primarily by the particularly burly race whose skin tended towards a seafoam green hue, hauling it on or off wooden vessels that definitely looked like they relied solely on sails and oars, not engines.

The variety of races was another major thing. Blake's head spun as everywhere she looked contained someone or something unfamiliar. In addition to regular humans, the tall and muscular humans, or the cat-folk, there were other, less common varieties. Tall and slender people with pointed ears, and even more absurdly, miniscule people who barely reached up to Blake's thigh, with squashed proportions like a cartoon character. She had thought them to be children at first, but passing by one with a full beard and moustache that looked anything but fake put that idea to rest.

And those were the normal ones, that tended to walk in the streets openly. In the darker corners of the streets, Blake caught glimpses of people that looked considerably less…humanoid. No one seemed openly alarmed or hostile at their presence, but Blake noticed the occasional dirty look being sent their way.

Blake felt an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu.

A sense that was soon justified. Passing through the main market – 'Hawker's Alley' as it was called- Blake felt herself slowing down to watch the scene in front of her.

A customer was standing in front of a butcher's stall, but it was no ordinary customer. One of the stranger races, stepping out of the shadows and finally allowing Blake a decent look. It was large- not quite as tall as the green-skinned folk- but a solid two or even three heads taller than Blake herself- and its skin was thick and leathery, mostly dark brown but speckled with lighter patches, particularly on the exposed chest. It was shirtless save for some leather straps, acting as braces holding up a pair of baggy pants that looked like they could be the canvas on a ship's sails. The legs were digitigrade, ending in birdlike talons; the hands too were grasping claws, and most alien of all was the head- smooth, reptilian, with beady little eyes and a mouth filled with sharp teeth. A long horn rose up from the crown of the head, curving towards the creature's back near the tip. It walked with a hunched gait, balanced out by a thick, dinosaur-esque tail as it peered intently at the rows of meat on display.

Blake felt herself freeze up, hand twitching for a Gambol Shroud that was not there. Every instinct in her body screamed 'Monster!' – that this was some kind of strange looking Grimm or otherwise dangerous animal. The logical part of her brain took a few minutes to catch up. No one around was acting like they were in danger. The creature was a customer. A person.

Blake exhaled softly, feeling the tension leave her body. Don't judge by appearances. You wouldn't want it done to you. Was this how humanity felt, seeing Faunus for the first time? Revulsion rose up within her at the thought of enacting similarly ignorant behaviour.

Shamefaced, Blake made to keep walking, and would have left it at that, passing by the man (Or was it a woman? She wasn't sure) and leaving him to his business. Until she caught wind of its conversation with the merchant.

"Two hundred gil per blood sssaussage?" The creature hissed angrily, glaring at the merchant- a male catfolk- with beady eyes. "Outrageous. Lasst week it wass one and fifty."

"Well, ye know how it is. Have to raise prices to make ends meet, ye know." The merchant responded, but by the hard look on his face Blake could tell the real reason for the price change. "Now either ye pay what's due, or get lost."

"I ssaw a Lalafell pay one hundred for them just minutess ago!" The creature was getting very agitated now, flexing it's claws instinctually.

"Don't make me call the Yellowjackets, beastman."

"Excuse me." Both of them paused as they finally noticed Blake's approach.

"Oh, a customer!" The man's demeanour changed instantly, smiling brightly as his feline ears perked up. "I'll be with ye in just a moment, I do apologise for this lil'…mess."

"Ssserioussly?!"

"You are going to serve this man-" She took a gamble and assumed the lizard like being was a man. "With your normal prices. Or else we're going to have a problem."

The merchant's jaw hung upon in shock for a moment. "Wh- how dare ye! I am- this is a perfectly legitimate stall here missie, and I don't appreciate-"

"If it's legitimate, then there isn't a problem with him paying the standard price." As she spoke, Blakes eyes drifted to the sausages themselves.

"Of course." The man said through gritted teeth. "And the standard price be two hundred gil."

"Not according to this." Blake snatched up the little piece of black stone- likely slate- with '100 gil' written on it in chalk, serving as the price label.

"What?!" The lizard squawked behind her. "What doess that ssay? Mamool Ja cannot read Eorzean…"

The merchant was sweating profusely as Blake's glare intensified. "Alright alright, ye caught me! Take the bleddy sausages, and I hope ye choke on them!"

The creature- Mamool Ja? Was that its name or its species? – did so with a wordless grunt, grabbing a fistful of meat and stuffing them into the deep pockets of its canvas pants, tossing an array of gold coins onto the counter. Then it turned and stormed off back down the alley.

"Wait!" Blake called out, leaving the bigoted merchant behind as she tried to follow, but it was too late. The Mamool Ja had already been lost in the crowd.

With a sigh, she continuing heading toward the Guild and Census Office. 'New world, same old problems…'

She felt the hair prick on the back of her neck slightly for a moment. Whirling around, her eyes scanned the crowd. Nothing seemed off- just the hustle and bustle of a busy port city. But she could have sworn she felt someone's eyes on her specifically…

It was probably just the merchant she'd just pissed off. She didn't want to waste any more time on him than necessary.

And so she left, unaware of the curious eyes watching her from the shadows.

"Hmm…so you want to learn how do to be an arcanist, do you? Yet you say you have no prior experience with magic?" The acting guild master of the Arcanist's Guild, Thubyrgeim, asked as she peered down at Blake through a tiny monocle that looked a little ridiculous on her frame.

Attending a Hunter academy, Blake was no stranger to rather tall and muscular women, but this individual took the cake. Nearly twice as tall as Blake herself, the fact she could probably break the Faunus in half over her knee was belied by her scholarly demeanour- she wore a long, flared coat and carried a rather heavy looking tome at her hip.

"That's correct." Blake replied, trying not to look rude with how much she had to crane up her neck to meet Thubyrgeim's eyes. Eventually she decided it was a fools errand, and instead cast her sight around the room there we in. She had been led down a set of stone stairs from the Census Office into a large open chamber- two walls had rows of high bookshelves, whereas the others were blank. The centre of the room had a slightly lowered floor in a square shape, with a few wood and straw training dummies inside.

"Let's start you out with something basic. There are many ways to cast magic; ultimately, they all boil down to the same basic principle- the manipulation of aether, either your own, or that of your surroundings." Thubyrgeim began to explain.

"Aether?" Blake questioned, unable to stop her ears from perking up in interest underneath her bow.

"I would hope you would be aware of that much." Thubyrgeim said slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Everything in this world- and even beyond- is comprised of Aether. It is the energy that suffuses everything, be it stone, air, plant, animal, man, or even a soul."

"Soul? You mean…like Aura?"

"Hm." The guildmaster adjusted her monocle. "I am unfamiliar with the term 'Aura' in this context. Perhaps your homeland simply knows Aether by a different name."

That made the most sense to Blake, as well. She had definitely felt a tingle in her Aura when she had attuned to the Aetheryte, as well. What was surprising was the claim that Aura suffused everything. Everyone on Remnant knew that only living things contained Aura: Humans and Faunus chief among them. Animals had aura as well, in lesser amounts, and some Huntsmen had been known to unlock it in dogs to create battle-hounds, but that was an old and uncommon practice. Plants had trace amounts of Aura, but nothing significant enough to be of any use, not to mention plants were not a conscious form of life and could not utilise Aura even if they had more of it.

There had been debate in academic circles for years over whether plant life actually had souls or not. But there was one thing all the experts agreed on: If it had no aura, it was not alive. This is why the Grimm were referred to as soul-less.

But this woman, who certainly carried herself with an air of knowledge, claiming that even rocks and air had Aura- or rather Aether- in them. Was that actually true? Did Remnant just not have the means to detect that, somehow?

Blake was bought out of her musings as Thubyrgeim continued her introductory spiel.

"As Arcanists, we study and craft formulas that correspond to specific spells. Consider them to be a form of shorthand- a technique for quickly shaping your Aether – or 'Aura' if you prefer- into the desired pattern. The number of potential patterns is vast, likely infinite, so there is always room for new discoveries."

"So the books on your hips aren't just for show?" Blake asked curiously.

"Indeed. An Arcanist's tome contains all of their cumulative magical knowledge, effectively acting as a grimoire from which to pluck the desired effect." Thubyrgeim removed her own tome from her belt, flipping it open to show Blake. The pages were filled with all sorts of complicated looking symbols and diagrams. "Particularly well-crafted ones are made with components that aid in the channelling of aether- enchanted ink and the like. In our hands, these books are as deadly as any blade."

A book as a weapon? It was almost too perfect. Blake could already hear the jokes rolling off of Yang's tongue. A part of her still suspected this was all a bit too fantastical to be true…but another, more childlike part of Blake desperately wanted to try it out, just to see if magic really was possible.

Wordlessly, Thubyrgeim skimmed back through the pages of her tome until she reached the very first page, whose shapes seemed rather simple- a handful of interlocking circles and triangles. Then, she held out the book to Blake.

"This is…?" Blake gingerly took the book. It was just as heavy as it looked, but years of Huntress training allowed Blake to easily grip it in one hand by the base of the spine.

"The 'Ruin' spell- about as basic as it gets, a small burst of energy fired at a target. I would like you to attempt it on this dummy here." Thubyrgeim said, pointing across the room to the nearest one.

"Uh…okay…" Blake turned to face her opponent, glancing between it and the pattern on the page. "So I have to just…shape my Aura into this?"

Her teacher simply nodded, which Blake found frustrating. How exactly was she supposed to do that? Aura wasn't putty or clay that you pushed around at your leisure- it was a resource that you 'spent' on your semblance in most cases.

Although, thinking on it…the sensation when Blake used her semblance was hard to describe. After so many years she could do it without even thinking, but in essence she 'focussed' her aura from a passive state into an active one. If she wanted to create a clone at a particular location or give it a specific command, she focussed in a different 'direction' inside herself. Was that the same as 'shaping'?

Taking a breath, Blake tried to work through the process of activating her semblance extremely slowly, far slower than she would ever consider in an actual combat situation. Activate the Aura by focussing your mind. Then she had to 'instruct' her Aura on what to do. She felt her Semblance almost automatically begin to assert itself- she stopped it, putting in on 'pause' in a half-formed state.

It was a bizarre state of limbo. To an outsider, Blake probably looked quite silly, simply standing there with her eyes closed. Blake could 'feel' her Aura but not with any of her five senses. Tt was a nebulous and vague sensation - if there was a specific 'shape' to her Aura, it wasn't one that she could make out beyond a fuzzy outline.

Blake cracked one eye open to once again look at the formula on the page. She had to make her Aura match that. Right. Easy.

Tentatively, Blake 'prodded' at her half-formed Aura. She was surprised when she actually felt it give; bending 'away' from her 'touch'. With slight excitement, she started poking and prodding at it from various points, trying to hammer it into something resembling the pattern she needed to match.

But for every point she moved, a previous point seemed to reassert itself, returning to its position in the 'pattern' that was her semblance. Frustrated, Blake began to feel sweat bead down her face as she played whack-a-mole with her own soul.

"Hn…" She grunted in frustration, feeling things start to become unstable as her semblance desperately sought to stop being held in place.

"Don't strain yourself if it's too difficult." Thubyrgeim finally spoke up. "Not everyone has a knack for aethereal skills- there is no shame in-"

With a loud yell, Blake could no longer hold on, releasing the pent-up Aura in a concentrated burst. Rather than the quiet whisper that her semblance normally was, this was like a torrent of water, as around eight shadow clones burst into existence around her. Instantly each of them began to act- some ran in random directions, some began to punch at the air in front of them, others simply collapsed on the ground.

"My word! However did you do that?" Thubyrgeim cried out in shock, her monocle popping out of its position as she looked around the room with wide eyes.

Blake looked around sheepishly and she panted hard. "Sorry..." Already the clones were beginning to fade, with no specific instructions to guide them.

"Sorry? That was an advanced technique you just pulled…not one typically by used by our particular art, but impressive nonetheless." Thubyrgeim practically gushed, striding up to Blake to inspect her. "Though I am confused as to why you did that rather than cast Ruin."

"It's an…ability I've known how to use for many years." Blake said carefully, feeling a little antsy under Thubyrgeim's intense stare. "But it's also the only ability I can use. I tried to shape my Aura like in the pattern, but it kept…'snapping back' to that one, for lack of a better phase."

"Fascinating. In all my years, I've never seen anything like this. It's almost as if your aether is hard-wired to only form that one pattern." Thubyrgeim mused, looking Blake's entire body up and down before sighing. "Which I'm afraid means that the path of an Arcanist is not available to you, unless a way to solve that little issue is found. And that is beyond my knowledge- a Conjurer may be of some assistance, focussed as they are on healing, but even that is typically mending of the flesh, not the soul. Soul magic is dangerous, and not exactly something that is taught."

'So, no flinging spells for me anytime soon.' Blake was surprised at how disappointed she felt as she handed the grimoire back to the Thubyrgeim. 'But there was definitely something to that. Does this mean that everyone on Remnant has this 'block' on their Aura? Is that why everyone has only one Semblance? What happens if you can remove that block?'

The implications were fascinating, and also rather terrifying. And also way above Blake's priorities right now.

"So…I may not be able to join you, but would it be okay if I borrowed some books?" Blake asked, trying not to look too desperate as she glanced over at the shelves.

A half-hour later, Blake was sitting on the edge of a wall near the docks, legs swinging over the open water as she hungrily devoured a thick and heavy book. The Encyclopaedia Eorzea was almost exactly what she needed, seeming to serve as a reference guide for a variety of important topics, collated from the writings of various authors. It was very long and a bit muddled in it's structure, seemingly to jump from one subject to the next at random, and not delving particularly deep into said subjects past a surface level summary. But that was more than sufficient for a stranger to this world like Blake.

Almost suspiciously sufficient, in fact. She couldn't really see the average citizen having much use for a book like this, as it contained mostly information they already know. Maybe it was designed to be read by people visiting from other continents?

So far she had gotten a general overview of what exactly 'Eorzea' was- a geographical region comprising of the continent Aldenard and its surrounding islands- the largest of which was the isle of Vylbrand, which is where Limsa Lominsa was. Similar to Remnant, the seats of power were city-states, with the regions between the territories being mostly wilderness. There were five city-states in total- Limsa Lominsa, where Blake currently was. Ul'dah, the capitalistic 'Jewel of the Desert' in the south. Gridania, the serene city in the forests to the east.

Northeast of that was Ala Mhigo, nestled in the craggy region of Gyr Abania. Apparently, Ala Mhigo had lost its independence some years ago, and was currently under the control of the Garlean Empire, in turn causing a mass influx of Ala Mhigan refugees to the other city states, with the typical…mixed reception that awaited downtrodden immigrants. The final city-state in Eorzea was Ishgard, far to the north amidst the mountains and snow. Deeply religious and paranoid, their gates had been closed to any non-Ishgardian for many years.

Blake sighed heavily as she turned the page. Would it be too much to ask that, when being whisked away to a magical fantasy land, you got to go to the one where everything was sunshine and rainbows? Maybe with musical numbers, too.

Ridiculous as it may seem, Blake thought to herself that she may have gotten the best of a bad bunch. Limsa may have been a hive of scum and villainy with a thin mask of professionalism, but at least they didn't have corrupt corporations that puppeteered a figurehead monarch, a dogmatic Inquisition that sounded like a full-on police-state, or outright living under the yoke of recent imperial conquest. Gridania sounded fairly nice, but then it was also right next to Ala Mhigo and thus the first target if the Empire decided to take another shot at expansion.

'Then again, I have to account for the possible bias in the writing here.' Blake chided herself as she continued to browse the pages. 'And you haven't actually been to those places yourself to know for sure. Not to mention the horrible way that man was treated…'

Just as she was angrily thinking about that merchant again, Blake felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She had heard no noise aside from the faint din of the dock workers and the swell of the sea, but she knew instinctually that someone was right behind her.

She sprang to her fit and spun around, brandishing the encyclopaedia in one hand as her eyes darted around. She might not be able to cast any spells, but a heavy book was still a good source of blunt force trauma.

The area in front of her was empty, however. The nearest dock worker was some thirty feet away, carrying a large crate and not so much as glancing in her direction. Blake continued to inspect everything nearby closely anyway, her yellow eyes narrowed in suspicion. Someone with an invisibility semblance, possibly?

After a full five minutes of looking around, Blake reluctantly accepted that she wasn't under attack- yet. She cautiously sat back down, throwing a glance over her shoulder every couple of seconds.

She opened her book, and a slip of paper slid out from the pages she'd just been reading. One that hadn't been there before.

Glancing around a final time to make sure none of the dock workers were looking, Blake carefully unfolded the note. It read: 'YOUR ACTIONS HAVE NOT GONE UNNOTICED. A LITTLE SPLASH CAN BE USED TO MAKE BIG WAVES. IF YOU'RE INTERESTED, SEEK THE DUTIFUL SISTERS.'

Well. Rather than needing to go looking for a lead, one had come looking for her. The only question was- were they friend, or foe?