Yellow Jacket

Book 6 Chapter 30: The Long Way

The rest of the Kings looked at Fey with mixed emotions. The exhaustion showed first, in posture and breath, in the way armor seemed heavier than it had a moment ago. Some of them swayed before catching themselves, boots scraping against stone as balance returned by degrees rather than all at once. One by one, they pushed themselves to their feet, armor creaking as weight redistributed through joints and servos that had been locked far too long.When the nods came, they were slow and deliberate, carried by people who understood exactly what they were agreeing to.

Fey watched them carefully. Her eyes moved from face to face, lingering where doubt might have lived, measuring hesitation and finding none that mattered. When the last of them steadied, she spun on her heels and looked directly at Vaeliyan, the movement sharp enough to draw every remaining eye to her.

“They’re good,” she said. “You can do what you did with me. They’ll join.”

Vaeliyan studied her for a moment longer than necessary, as if weighing not just her words but the cost behind them. “What was that?” he asked.

She waved a hand, dismissive, almost embarrassed. “We have a stupid rule. If anyone says those lines, we follow. No arguing, no second-guessing. That’s what gets us through moments like this, even when we hate every part of it.”

She hesitated, brow furrowing as she searched her memory, then shrugged. “It’s an oath we took together back in… I don’t remember which mission it was.”

Her eyes moved across the group. “Eron, you remember?”

Eron met her gaze without blinking. “I think it was Manawa. The Manawa mission.”

“That sounds about right,” Fey said. “Good enough.”

She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “We only get one of those. One time to say it and mean it. I just used mine.”

She turned back to Vaeliyan, meeting his eyes without flinching, without bravado. “The Kings are on your side. If you fuck us over, they get to kill me first.”

Vaeliyan laughed once, sharp and unguarded. “Alright. Give me a second.”

His attention drifted. His eyes unfocused as his consciousness slid elsewhere, that distant stillness of someone interfacing with their AI. The silence that followed carried a familiar tension, the kind that came before something fundamental changed.

The pressure lifted.

It did not fade gradually. It was simply gone.

Skills snapped back into place. Systems reasserted themselves with a quiet certainty. Strength returned abruptly, forcing several of the Kings to shift their stance, knees bending and shoulders rolling as their bodies caught up with what they could suddenly do again.

A few exhaled in relief.

Tarrin rolled his shoulders once, testing range and weight, then looked up. “So, what do you need us to do?”

Fey did not answer immediately. She stood there, letting the moment settle, letting the return of power finish echoing through the group. When she nodded to herself, it was with quiet resolve rather than excitement.

“I need it to look like we’re still fighting,” she said.

She gestured upward, toward systems and sensors far beyond sight. “The siege stays active on record. On paper, on feed, in every log that matters. If Deck can help alter the footage so it reads as ongoing, that buys time.”

Her gaze moved between them, steady and intent. “It also aligns with whatever reports you’re sending back. The story has to match from every angle, or it falls apart.”

“You’ll need to coordinate with Deck, Theramoor, Isol, and Josaphine,” Fey added. “Find out what they expect you to send and shape it to fit what’s already in motion.”

Vorran tilted his head, considering. “So covert ops.”

“Spying,” he clarified. “Feeding information about both sides to high command.”

“Yeah,” Vaeliyan said. “That’s exactly what’s happening.”

Vaeliyan turned back to the Headmasters and said, “I need to go tell some people that I’m leaving, directly, and that I will be back. I owe them that much at least. How long do you think this will take, Grace?”

Grace tilted her head, considering. “Depends on Yuri. An hour, maybe. A week, if it feels like it.”

Vaeliyan stared at her. “An hour to a week is a terrible timescale.”

“Yeah,” she said easily. “But it’s about what Yuri deals in. He’s a little crazy.”

“I hear that a lot,” Vaeliyan said. “Even the people closest to him say he’s mad.”

“That’s because it’s true,” Grace replied. “But he’s not so dangerous when I’m around. Or when he’s having fun, which usually overlaps.”

Vaeliyan exhaled, the sound slow and measured, then glanced at the remaining Headmasters. “While you four are here, do you mind helping me out?”

They nodded almost immediately, assent given without ceremony.

“There’s a forest situation that needs to be handled,” Vaeliyan continued. “It can’t be left unattended.”

“Yes,” Imujin said, stepping forward. “That’s the next step. I’ll help Warren and Florence with the AI core. It should be very interesting to see what happens once it’s fully integrated. I’ve wanted to see this thing since you described it to me.”

Vaeliyan shifted his weight. “I’ll be heading out with Grace to meet the High Chancellor of the entire Green Zone at his estate.”

He grimaced as the words left his mouth.

“That’s for people he doesn’t like,” Grace said, almost cheerfully. “He wants to meet you at his lab instead.”

Vaeliyan paused, then smiled slightly despite himself. That, at least, was interesting. Seeing what a reputedly unhinged genius had actually produced might be worth the risk. He chose optimism over dwelling on the possibility that the man might try to end him outright. If anyone could do it, with the full weight and backing of the Green Zone, it would be the High Chancellor.

As they walked farther from the others, the distance between them and the gathered forces growing with every step, Vaeliyan asked, “So what is it that Gleck actually does?”

“Mostly his own things,” Grace said. “He likes to experiment with chaos. That’s the best way I can put it.”

She slowed slightly. “Apparently my aunt worked with him when…”

Vaeliyan stopped walking. “Wait. How much do you actually know about me?”

Grace met his gaze without hesitation. “As much as our mutual friend was willing to tell. Which was a lot. I’m still confused by the whole situation, but I know of the Veil, if that tells you enough without leaving anything for someone else to decrypt.”

Vaeliyan nodded once. “That’s fair. My aunt worked with him too, apparently. She said he was brilliant and insane. Mostly insane, but that was a long time ago.”

He frowned slightly. “I never actually asked how long ago.”

Grace opened her mouth to answer, then stopped herself. “Those questions can wait. Let’s make sure we’re in a secure area first. I’d rather not have anyone listening in on this.”

Vaeliyan blinked. “Oh. Did Imujin not tell you about the gray zone?”

“The what?” Grace asked.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Florence has been working on some old-ass EMP tech based on something a warlord once used. It’s a long story. I think Isol has most of it written down. He might even give you a book if you ask nicely.”

He gestured vaguely as they walked. “Anyway, she built dampeners. You saw what happened to the Kings earlier. That’s only part of what they do. They strip skills, cut off system access, and project a controlled screen over the city.”

Vaeliyan glanced around, more out of habit than fear. “Anyone watching sees exactly what we want them to see. Drones get the feed we supply before they record anything real. By the time their data catches up, it’s already too late.”

“Deck helped with the programming,” he added. “Florence was Florence and did Florence things. I still don’t fully understand exactly what she did, but her Soul Skill lets her talk to tech, so she can do things that normal people can’t.”

Vaeliyan smiled faintly. “A lot of the Legion engineers who were here helped build the actual devices we planted around the city. They never realized they were constructing their own prison.”

After a moment, he spoke again. “I can see why she and Yuri worked well together in the past. That’s diabolical, and exactly the kind of thing he would love. People never notice their own traps until they’re already standing inside them.”

He shook his head slightly. “You know, the more you talk about him, the less assured I become, not more.”

Grace smiled at that. “That’s fair. But honestly, there have only been six people he’s ever let into his lab. Every single one of them, he’s liked. Nothing too untoward has happened to any of them.”

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She glanced at him sideways as they continued walking. “Honestly Vaeliyan, I really don’t think you need to worry all that much.”

Vaeliyan and Grace made their way through the heart of Mara toward the building being used as City Hall. The streets between were busy in the quiet, practical way of a city that was already turning its attention back to survival rather than celebration. People moved with purpose, carrying supplies, arguing over routes, stopping to check on neighbors. Whatever else had happened today, Mara was still trying to take care of itself.

Inside City Hall, most of the tribal chieftains were gathered in council. They were deep in discussion about the day‑to‑day lives of the people of Mara, food distribution, housing repairs, patrol rotations, and what could be done immediately to make things better before winter came in full. At least, that was the sense Vaeliyan got as he crossed the threshold.

The conversation stopped the moment he entered. Voices cut off mid‑sentence. All eyes turned toward him, some curious, some wary, some openly tired.

“Ernala,” he said, keeping his voice even, “I think we need to talk.”

She nodded without hesitation. The other chieftains instinctively looked to the woman who had taken the position of her husband after his death. The loss still ached in Vaeliyan’s chest when he saw her sitting there, steady and composed despite everything. Ernala was a good leader. She had proven that already.

Nanuk was not ready for that role yet. He was a warrior. He might be chief in name and would one day lead his people in the fights to come as the successor of his father, but his mother was the one guiding the city where it needed to be while Nanuk grew into who he had to become.

“What is it, Tidelord?” Ernala asked.

“I don’t know if anyone has informed you about what happened with the Branthorn,” Vaeliyan said, “but you’re going to have a new council member shortly.”

He paused, then added, “Former princess of the Branthorn.”

Ernala nearly choked. “What?”

“Yeah. I bound her with a Bloodseal. She’s now my vassal, which means she’s part of my future world council,” Vaeliyan said. “Which you will also be a part of as Mara’s representative. And technically that means she’s part of this council as well for now.”

He lifted a hand before anyone could interrupt. “She probably won’t be here often. I just wanted you to know that I now, technically, own the Branthorn too. So, the princedoms holdings are going to need to be looked over.”

“Tidelord,” Ernala said after a long moment, “where you lead, we follow.”

The assembled chieftains echoed it in ritual response, voices overlapping but unified. “You lead; we follow.”

Ernala raised her hand and the chant stopped.

“This isn’t me disagreeing,” she said. “But are you mad, this is insane. We can barely run a city as small as Mara. How are we supposed to run an entire princedom?”

“You aren’t,” Vaeliyan replied. “Mara will be the future capital of the world. So, it’s going to be much bigger than this in the future. We’re rebuilding the Empire.”

“What?” Ernala stammered.

“Apparently that was always the plan according to Imujin,” he said. “We’re just moving faster now. Capturing the princess changed everything. We’re not really in a siege anymore, though you should probably talk to Elian about the actual details. He’ll have actual answers for you. You know I’m bad at explaining things like this.”

“Yes,” Ernala said dryly, “we all know you’re terrible at explaining things clearly.”

“Right. Anyway,” Vaeliyan said, “I’m about to go see what is probably the most powerful man in the world, and hopefully I don’t die.”

Ernala nodded and dismissed the council. She needed to find Elian before her head exploded from trying to come to terms with everything Vaeliyan had just told her.

Grace laughed softly at that. “So, you’re ready now?”

“I guess,” Vaeliyan said. “I don’t think I could be any more ready than I am.”

He paused, then felt a distinct tug at his bond, sharp enough to make him stop mid‑step. “Actually, give me a moment.”

He waited. Grace tapped her foot against the stone floor, impatience building by the second.

Then the doors opened.

A massive black‑scaled cat padded in, silent despite its size. A disc‑shaped bot floated alongside it, steady and alert, and a silver saber‑toothed ferret sat perched on the cat’s head like it belonged there.

Several chieftains stiffened.

Vaeliyan gestured toward them. “Do you mind if I bring them? This is security. Also, technically, two of them are part of me.” He pointed at the floating disc. “And I’m pretty sure he could kill everyone in the world if we didn’t let him come.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Sure. Why the hells not.”

“So,” Vaeliyan said, “are we taking a skycraft or something?”

Grace smiled, clearly pleased. “You’re going to like this.”

She clicked her heel against the floor. A shimmering vortex rose in front of them, light folding inward as space itself bent.

Vaeliyan stared at it. “A portal?”

“Portal‑scale,” Grace said. “That’s why I said an hour to a week. Sometimes it takes no time at all.”

“Just so you know,” Vaeliyan said, eyeing the vortex, “I may have to restrict that ability in the future. That’s terrifying.”

“I get that,” Grace replied. “But I’m not going to betray you. I’m pretty sure my ring would kill me if I did.”

“Really?” Vaeliyan asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “The old man was very clear about that.”

Vaeliyan and Grace stepped into… something.

Vaeliyan wasn’t entirely sure what he had stepped into, because it was just a room. Not a grand hall, not a laboratory humming with machinery, not anything that immediately announced importance. It was plain in shape and size, enclosed and unremarkable, the sort of place your eyes slid over without lingering.

And yet it wasn’t empty.

Mannequins stood in uneven rows, frozen mid-pose as if they had once been alive and had simply stopped moving. Their stances varied, some upright and formal, others caught in half-turned positions that suggested motion interrupted. Several wore half-assembled armor, plates missing or loosely attached, as if someone had walked away mid-construction. Others were dressed in tailored coats, ceremonial garments, or experimental looking outfits that didn’t quite fit any category Vaeliyan recognized.

Between them sat chairs. Expensive pieces, ornate and deliberate, crafted from polished metals and unfamiliar woods. One of them looked like it had been assembled entirely out of fucking swords, blades overlapping and interlocked into something that technically counted as seating. Who the fuck would sit on that, Vaeliyan thought. Some looked comfortable, others intimidating, as though they were designed to impress rather than be used. They were arranged without any obvious pattern, forming loose clusters that made the room feel staged and unfinished at the same time.

Vaeliyan slowly turned in place, wings brushing the air behind him. “Where the hells are we?” he asked.

Grace glanced around, entirely unfazed. “Storage room.”

Vaeliyan stopped turning. “Why are we in a storage room?”

She shrugged, the motion casual. “Because it’s easier to come and go through a storage room than it is to enter somewhere public. People don’t really question your comings and goings when you just… disappear like that.”

She gestured vaguely around them, sweeping her hand across the mannequins and furniture. “You go into a room nobody wants to go into, and you can move around without anyone paying attention. You come out of a closet somewhere, people might look at you a little weird, but they don’t usually ask questions out loud.”

Grace smiled faintly, a look of practiced familiarity. “I do it so often that nobody even notices anymore.”

She paused, then her eyes moved deliberately over Vaeliyan from head to toe.

“Although,” she added, “I haven’t brought anyone else through in a while. And you’re wearing full Legion armor.”

Her gaze lingered on his back. “With wings.”

Her mouth twitched. “You’re going to stand out.”

Vaeliyan stared at her blankly, then glanced at the mannequins as if they might offer an answer. “How exactly am I supposed to deal with that?”

Grace blinked once, then nodded to herself as if the problem had just resolved itself. “Right.”

She lifted a hand, fingers already moving with intent. “Wings it is.”

Vaeliyan stepped out of the storage room and stopped.

The space beyond opened into an impossible view, a sheer drop that looked out over clouds lit from below. For a heartbeat, his mind refused to reconcile what his eyes were seeing. The sensation was not vertigo, not quite awe either, but something suspended between the two. He moved closer, careful despite knowing there was solid ground beneath his feet, and looked down.

Below him stretched a city of dreams.

Skycraft buzzed through layered traffic lanes, their lights streaking like comets between towers at different elevations. Some lanes were tight and fast, others slow and wide, as if the city itself had learned how to breathe through motion. Drones moved in organized swarms, precise and tireless, weaving between structures with practiced efficiency. They did not hesitate, did not collide, did not slow for anything that did not matter.

A monorail threaded through everything.

It looped and curved around buildings in a vast, interlocking network, sometimes disappearing into structures only to reemerge several levels higher, sometimes crossing open air on slender tracks that looked far too delicate for their purpose. The city felt built around the rail rather than constrained by it, as though movement had been the first principle and architecture had followed afterward.

Every building seemed wrapped by the rail in some way, embraced by infrastructure that never slept, never paused, never waited.

Neon lights flooded the streets and climbed the sides of towers, colors stacked on colors until depth itself felt unreliable. Signage scrolled, shifted, and refreshed in endless patterns. It took Vaeliyan a long moment to understand what felt wrong about his sense of time.

It was night.

Not the false sky projected over other mega cities. This was real night, open to the sky, the darkness stretched wide above them. And yet the city below burned so brightly that it looked like day, a living mass of light powerful enough to challenge the stars themselves.

They were far from Mara.

Not exactly on the opposite side of the world, but close enough that the distance might as well have been absolute. The contrast hit him harder than he expected. Mara was survival, scarcity, and hard choices made with limited tools. This place was excess, momentum, and scale pushed far past necessity and into obsession.

“Is this real?” Vaeliyan asked quietly, as if raising his voice might disturb it.

Grace looked at him and smiled. “Yeah.”

She spread her arms slightly, a casual, practiced gesture, as if she were used to this reaction. “This is your first time in the capital of the world. Welcome to Kaarushkaa.”

Vaeliyan exhaled slowly, the breath leaving him without conscious thought. “I… I don’t have words for this place.”

“Busy,” Grace said, laughing. “Mostly busy. Everything here is always going somewhere.”

He forced himself to tear his eyes away from the view. The effort felt physical, like pulling his attention free from a current. “Where are we exactly? We’re clearly not in a storage room anymore. Can you please tell me where we are?”

She waved a hand dismissively, already moving. “Don’t worry about it. We’re going to take the train over to Yuri’s lab.”

“The train?” Vaeliyan asked, glancing back at the skycraft traffic slicing through the air in disciplined chaos. “Why not just take a pad?”

“Because Yuri doesn’t want his place connected to the pad network,” Grace said. “He’s paranoid. Also, he doesn’t like it when I portal in.”

She shrugged, as if that explained everything. “So, we take the long way.”

Vaeliyan nodded slowly, letting that settle. The idea of taking the long way felt almost grounding after everything that had happened.

“Alright,” he said at last. “I guess walking into the unknown is easier when it runs on tracks.”

Grace laughed again, but instead of heading for anything that looked like a platform, she walked straight toward a sheer glass wall that overlooked the city.

She placed her palm against the glass.

The surface rippled faintly under her hand, as if recognizing her presence rather than responding to a command. With a soft, seamless motion, the glass parted, folding away into itself. Outside, a section of track rose smoothly from below, lifting until it aligned perfectly with the opening, locking into place with a muted hum that resonated through the structure.

Vaeliyan stopped, eyes tracking the movement. The mechanism was elegant. Counterbalanced. Distributed load, modular segments adjusting in real time. He could see the logic in it immediately, and that realization sparked something familiar and warm in his chest.

“A moving access point,” he murmured, more to himself than to Grace. “No fixed platform. The city comes to you instead of making you come to it.”

Grace glanced back, amused. “You like it.”

He did not deny it. A giant machine like this, layered with redundancies and adaptive systems, felt honest in a way people rarely were. He found himself leaning forward slightly, studying how the track stabilized, how vibration was dampened before it could travel into the building. Whoever had designed it understood craft, not just scale.

They waited there in the open air, the city wind tugging at Vaeliyan’s armor. Far below, lights continued their endless motion. Then the monorail arrived.

It glided in, silent except for a low, controlled resonance, slowing as if time itself had softened around it. The cars were long and sleek, transparent enough to show empty seating and polished rails inside, opaque enough to feel safe. The train aligned perfectly with the raised track, doors opening in unison with the building’s threshold.

Vaeliyan felt an unexpected flicker of excitement. He had never taken a train before, not once in his life, and the realization surprised him more than it should have.

He glanced at Grace, brow furrowing as a practical thought finally surfaced. “I have to ask,” he said. “Why trains at all? When everyone here can just take a pad anywhere they want.”

Grace shrugged, utterly unconcerned. “Yuri likes trains,” she said. “He doesn’t trust pads.”

“Even if he is the one who designed the things in first place,” she added under her breath.