Magda was preparing to leave for open court with a fire in her belly and a foul taste in her mouth. More than anything she wished Rian were accompanying her. It had been some time since she’d tread the black sands of Nevermere, and even longer since she’d done so alone. She’d gotten rather used to the dry whisper of Coheed’s grasslands, and not considered them a sweeter lullaby than the waves that used to lull her.

Now, Magda was to return to her homeland as a stranger.

The arrangements she made now were for the restoration of the port. Magda was currently bent over a table with several builders around her, running her fingers over architectural lines and map contours. There was nothing coquettish or scintillating in her delivery: only command. A very different woman than had stepped into Coheed for the first time.

“Kaalim is here to see the governor.” Magda’s head turned to the guard who spoke. It was a Nevermerean, a guard that she was required to still keep. One that she intentionally stationed outside her home rather than within.

“Send him in.” Magda barked, waving the guard away with a hand. When she returned to the men around the table, her voice was softer, showing them the respect that had been denied the entering guard.

When Kaalim entered, the men would show him a warrior’s greeting before exiting. Magda stood there, waiting until they were gone.

“Kaalim.” Her voice was soft as she held out a hand to him. She cared about Kaalim still, even though the circumstances of their attachment had changed.

Magda showed no sign of upset when Kaalim refused her hand. She crossed her arms, assessing the man with a clinical eye. It wasn’t his words so much as his manner that interested her. Kaalim until very recently had been Coheed’s fearless leader, its mighty warrior. Why did he seem so defeated?

“I cannot speak to the gifted man’s fate,” Magda responded, her tone entirely neutral, “But if his wife would like me to pass a message along, I’ll try my best to do so. I’d say it's a good sign he was taken alive. If Cassian just wanted him dead, I doubt he would have caused such a fuss.”

The fuss, being the disaster at the docks.

Magda scoffed and raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps he’s milder than the man you first met,” She responded with a lazy brush of her hand, “But he was hardly a shrinking violent. He concealed his gift sloppily and did nothing to conceal his identity. Honestly, it’s a wonder he lasted this long without Nevermere knocking on his door.”

Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? Othello introduced himself as Othello. He lived and worked in Coheed, which for the last five years had been crawling with Nevermerean soldiers. He was a big, bawdy, loud-mouthed man that attracted attention. And Magda had no sympathy for his plight. She was all too aware that she was the one that had dropped the morsel of information at Cassian's feet, but she also had no reason to believe shew as the only one who did. Either way, she felt no guilt. No remorse. Nothing. It was in the past.

All that mattered to her was what came next.

The rage, which had been burning ever since the flames of the dock fire had died, sprung up as they were given fresh fuel. Nevermere. Magda didn’t try to hide her obvious frustration from Kaalim, which lived both in her expression and in her tone.

“I knew nothing of their plans, which either means Nevermere’s getting sloppy, or I am no longer to be trusted. Either way,” She tilted her head, “An interesting bit of information.” She gestured to Kaalim, “Come, let us go somewhere we can talk privately.”

If Kaalim followed, she’d go back into the quiet recesses of the hut. There was a room Magda had fashioned into a study of sorts. It was mostly for Rian, but she made good use of it as well.

Magda’s nose wrinkled at the clouds of smoke that wafted in her direction. She thought about asking him to extinguish his pipe, but she ultimately decided against it. Magda had been surprised by Kaalim’s resignation from his post, but even more surprised by his comportment following that transition. Kaalim, as far as she could discern, had given up. As for the present moment, Magda was unwilling to be a sympathetic ear.

“You invited them in, Kaalim,” Magda stated bluntly as she raised an eyebrow at him, “What did you expect? What you call paranoia feels more like common sense. In diplomacy there are always strings attached—surely you know that.”

“Good.”

Magda spat as she stepped forward, undeterred by the glowing runes on Kaalim’s skin. Kaalim was angry? Good. That’s how he should be. Coheed—and Magda—did not need the mourning father, smoking his pipe for a bit of peace. It needed a savage. A warrior. Magda looked down at the crushed pipe in his hand. If he didn’t pull away, she’d reach for it, and take his hand in her own. If he pulled away, she’d drop her hand without comment.

“There’s still much you can do for Coheed, Kaalim,” Magda said firmly, eyes blazing, “Rian is the face your kingdom needs right now, but it still needs a general to lead its army. What the time comes…”

For it would come. Magda was sure of it.

“He does,” Magda answered without hesitation, “And so do I.” She’d seen how powerful Kaalim could be. He was an asset to Coheed still; of that, there was no doubt. Kaalim still had the gravitas of a leader, but he was not the kind that they needed now.

They needed a schemer. A snake in the grass. Someone like Magda at Rian’s side/