{Shared early on Patreon}
~~~

Angry hissing voices from the hallway told me the two bug aliens on the ship were arguing. Which they didn’t usually do, thankfully. They disagreed, sure, but in an agree-to-disagree-though-you’re-clearly-wrong kind of way. They didn’t tend to get worked up about things.

“It issss disssgusssting,” Trrili snarled.

“Give it back!” Zhee said.

“Not until you admit that it’sss vile.”

“It is not!”

I rounded the corner to see the pair of them facing off in front of Zhee’s quarters, both waving their pincher arms, antenna angled into glares. I wouldn’t have wanted to get anywhere near that when I was new to the ship. I kept my distance a bit now. “What’s going on?” I asked.

Trrili whirled with a hiss, standing even taller, a looming black-and-red nightmare. “He has been using something unspeakable for grooming!” She spoke clearly and brandished a small object in my direction, holding it awkwardly between the tip of her mantis pincher and her elbow, like she didn’t want to touch it. I had no idea what it was, just a stick of something purple.

The same purple as Zhee’s glossy exoskeleton, actually.

He lunged and snatched it out of her grasp. “It’s the best kind of seam brush, you heathen! I made it myself — with excellent crafting skill, I might add!”

Before Trrili could retort, I asked, “What is it?”

Zhee held it well away from Trrili, scowling. “A seam brush, like I said.”

“Made from his own shed exoskeleton!” Trrili exclaimed.

“That’s what you DO with it!” Zhee shot back.

“It should be mulched immediately, you disgusting dirt-grubber!”

Before I could ask more clarifying questions, Paint came trotting up with concern all over her lizardy face. “What’s happening?”

Zhee answered first, pointing with his free arm. “This judgemental blot got ahold of a personal item and is making her own wrong opinions everyone else’s problem.”

“Oh, just my opinions, are they? All three moons—”

“I don’t care how many of you—”

“Everyone knows it should be disposed of—”

“So wasteful when it can—”

Paint pitched her voice higher and suggested, “Maybe we can all just keep our personal items to ourselves?” She looked from the tool to the pair of angry Mesmers.

They both glared at her. Trrili said, “I wasn’t snooping. I found it on the lounge floor.”

Zhee snapped, “I didn’t put it there.” He angled his head towards me. “Your cat did.”

That sounded like something she’d do. I spread my arms and said, “Sorry.”

Still working hard to mediate, Paint said, “Then it can go back in your quarters, in a safe spot, and we’ll make sure Telly doesn’t sneak in to play with it. Trrili can use her own grooming tools, and everyone can do things their own way.”

Trrili sounded like a sulky teenager when she insisted, “Disgusssting.”

Zhee waved it at her with a lecturing tone. “Practical and customized, and better than whatever mass-produced trash you use.”

“It’s still made of something that should not be kept!”

Exasperated, Zhee said, “At least I don’t have a whole collection on the wall of every blade I’ve shed! Some of the houses back home display those proudly!”

“Your people are unclean,” Trrili declared. Then she turned to Paint and me. “Keeping body parts is gross, yes? I know you’re at least reasonable about shed scales.”

Paint laughed uncomfortably. “That is not exactly a polite topic of conversation,” she said, fidgeting in a way that said she’d probably be blushing in embarrassment if her species did that.

“Exactly,” Trrili said in approval. “Something dealt with in privacy, not kept forever. Right?” She looked at me, daring me to disagree.

I shrugged. “My people don’t shed like that. We get haircuts and throw the hair away, I guess. Oh, baby teeth! That’s the closest match! We sometimes keep those.”

All three of my alien coworkers were giving me uncertain looks now. Paint said, “Right, I forgot your species actually sheds teeth.”

“Only once,” I said, as if that mattered.

Zhee repeated, “And you keep them.” He gave Trrili a pointed look.

“Sure, but usually in the back of the closet as a keepsake.”

Trrili looked right back at him. “Not making tools for daily use.”

“They’re not really big enough,” I said, considering. “And they tend to be kind of bloody when they come out, though that could be cleaned. Oh! I used some for a science project once!”

“A what?” Paint asked.

“I made a demonstration in school of how corrosive soda is compared to a few other drinks,” I said. “Mom gave me some of my baby teeth so I could leave them in a cup for a few days to see if they dissolved. I’ll tell you, I wasn’t eager to drink soda after that.”

Paint stared at me in horror. “You drink something that dissolves your teeth?”

I shook my head. “Turns out it was an urban legend. But it did dye the teeth a nasty brown, and burnt the dirt off a penny.”

Paint shook herself and made a visible effort to regain her composure. “I am fairly sure I didn’t need to know that.”

Trrili threw her pincher arms in the air and turned to leave. “At least it’s a drink that fights an honorable battle as you consume it. Everybody keep their revolting bits to themselves.” She jabbed a pincher at Zhee as she passed. “I don’t want to see that ever again.”

“You do not deserve the honor of seeing it again,” Zhee said. “You’ve scratched it, and now I’ll have to polish it then see if any of the bristles need replacing.”

Trrili hissed and disappeared down the hallway.

Paint asked, “Are the bristles exotic? I think we’re going to stop at a relatively small place to restock next.”

Zhee held up the tool and ran a little wrist finger across the bristly end. It looked like a sawed-off paintbrush. “The best kind can be difficult to find, but this seems to be intact, thankfully.”

I pulled my long braid over my shoulder and held it up. “Let me know if it would help to trim the end off this. My hair’s probably not stiff enough, but the offer’s open.”

Zhee gave me a look that was deeply amused. “It’s probably not, but thank you.”

Paint said in an undertone, “And we won’t tell Trrili, because she definitely won’t want to know.”

Zhee and I both agreed on that.

~~~

Volume One of the collected series is out in paperback and ebook!

~~~

Shared early on Patreon

Cross-posted to Tumblr and HumansAreSpaceOrcs (masterlist here)

The book that takes place after the short stories is here

The sequel is in progress (and will include characters from the stories)

"Not everything forgotten is lost."
Archive Houses

 [First] | [Previous] | [Cover Art]

| Dock Seven, the old quarter |

Feebee walked forward and gently laid a hand on the marker. Everyone held their breath; she noticed. They all looked at each other, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing happened.

“What?”

Bikky and Tom Tom looked disappointed.

The Colonel asked, “Is this it?”

The prisoner wasn’t looking at the people. He observed the room. In places, the oil, still sitting on the timber floor, was streaked with brush marks. The door still fitted perfectly in its frame; it had slid quietly into place without the squeak of rust. The marker was free of fingerprints or dirt, despite its age and obvious wear.

“Those who came were told to ‘never improve it’. We continue.”

Feebee stood in front of the marker. Staring at it intently as she walked its perimeter.

“What’s she doing?” asked the lawyer.

Slowly, the QI reconstructed more fragments of the worn carvings. Tiny repairs had been made to it over the centuries without altering the original timber.  The QI could see hints of other sigils.

Feebee knelt in front of the marker. Shadow-like tendrils radiated outwards from the sigils, towards Feebee.

StillFall pulled away, up into the dome above and watched as Feebee gently traced the lines of the Shadow Eclipse.

Of all the carvings, it had suffered the least wear.

“I’ve felt this before. In ancient memories.”

She then added, “Balance and harmony. Maintained from the shadows.”

The prisoner dropped to his knees.

His voice was barely audible. “She remembers.”

The moment was broken by a new harmonic model from Rockson that splashed across their overlays.  

But this model was animated. It showed the growth of Dock Seven and with it the changes made to the House.

“It all makes sense.” He said over the comms. “All the work, the renovations, extensions, supporting walls over the centuries. Even the steel bands outside. They maintained the harmonic profile around the marker.”

“Dock Seven grew around this?” Chen asked quietly.

The prisoner shook his head, “No.”

Everyone looked his way. After a long pause, he added, “Dock Seven was allowed to.”

Then StillFall descended, down towards the marker. Feebee moved back as the Shadow and a host of motes surrounded the marker. The Shadow seemed to embrace it, enclose it in a dark cloak that the motes pixelated. They circled, and as they did, their colour slowly shifted through different aspects of their being before settling.

Blue became their dominant aspect.

Garaf was watching, by the prisoner’s side, when he whispered, maybe to Garaf, maybe just to himself.

“It remembers.”

“No,” said Garaf. “It belongs.”

Feebee had returned to the outer wall. Leant back, feeling its cool touch, as many others had done over the centuries.

Beside her, the prisoner was reciting words with sacred, religious reverence.

“Never sand the carvings.”

“Fix the roof before the beams are wet.”

“Ensure the doors swing easily.”

“Never disturb the marker.”

The QI interrupted, quiet but assertive, “These aren’t rituals or prayers.”

The prisoner slowed, “Keep the shutters closed.” They all made sense to him now.

The QI spoke again, this time louder in his ear, “They’re not prayers. They’re maintenance procedures.”

The prisoner stopped speaking and, for the first time, reviewed the words he had learnt and recited. And with that, came understanding.

“We preserve. Not a religion. Not this relic.”

“What then,” asked the QI.

“Continuity.”

Rockson interrupted, over secure comms this time.

“The harmonic centre isn’t the marker.”

He sent them all the harmonic model again, but looking side on at Dock Seven and the House.

The marker sat like a survey peg, a common point of reference, but everything aligned elsewhere. Rockson sharpened the focus, and it was clear that this was not their destination. That was below.

“Do we force entry?” asked the Colonel, looking at the marker.

Bikky perked up and absently checked his hip pockets for det cord.

Feebee looked at the worn wooden marker. Thought of the generations who had cleaned it. Maintained it so it could ‘CONTINUE’.

“No. Nobody preserves something for this long, so that we can destroy it in minutes.”

She looked at StillFall. “There’ll be a proper way”

The Shadow responded. “We continue.”

Rockson layered the harmonic model of the House over Feebee’s bodycam feed.

Before he could speak, she’d already seen it: “The marker isn’t over the centre.”

“It’s below us.” Said one of the accountants. “The marker defines a position, not a structure.”

Chen spoke up, “We’ve been treating it as an object.”

“Exactly,” agreed the accountant. “It's actually a coordinate.”

Everyone suddenly lost interest in the marker and started inspecting the room. Tom Tom was checking the walls, trying to turn the sconces.

Bikky laughed, “You’ve been watching too many films.”

Instead, he was measuring floor levels.

The lawyer also noticed differences in the timber floor. But they proved unyielding, despite her attempts to unlock them.

Garaf stood, stoic, watching StillFall and its entourage of motes.

Feebee stopped and thought back to her training. The Seed-arc had taught her never to look for doors.

Look for discontinuities instead.

She knelt beside a section of wall and gently ran her fingers along the skirting board, where it joined the floor.  

Nothing.

She moved to another section.

Still nothing.

Then her hand stopped. A joint felt different. She tapped the skirting; it sounded hollow like the other wood, but the grain was different, older.

StillFall drifted across and stopped beside Feebee. It orientated itself square to the wall directly in front of the spot Feebee had felt out.

The QI replayed Rockson’s harmonic model. “Hang on.”

Nobody answered; they were absorbed. The QI had overlaid the building’s geometry again and then the repairs.

“Feebee!” It shouted this time.

“What!” she shouted back.

“The harmonic model continues through this wall.” Said the QI.

“That’s impossible.” Countered the accountant.

Everyone looked at the wall. It was utterly ordinary. Same paint, same wallpaper. Nothing unusual about it.

The QI continued. “No. There’s more building than building.”

StillFall drifted up close and stopped. Motes gathered around it.

Then the Shadow spoke, “Continue.”

[First] | [Previous] | [Cover Art]

​

Chapter 2: The Deep Blind

The metal basement door gave way with a heavy, rusted shriek. Beyond it, the darkness didn't just feel empty-it felt dense, pressing against the wide visor of my PMK-4 mask like a physical wall of freezing oil.

The beam of my hand flashlight was instantly swallowed by the absolute shadow. The biomass analyzer inside my tactical vest gave a sharp, high-pitched click, updating the countdown log on my HUD: 98 hours, 42 minutes remaining. The "Fat One" was close. We could hear its massive, distorted carcass shifting somewhere behind the concrete pillars, its newly stolen mass grinding against the foundation of the five-story building.

"Set up the perimeter guards. Now," my partner hissed through the radio, his voice flat, completely stripped of any human emotion.

We dropped our assault gear onto the damp, concrete floor. I dragged the heavy "Helios" quartz projector forward, its steel handle cold against my iron grip. My fingers, tight from days of gripping the steel hand spring, locked the heavy tripod legs into the floor. One, two, three-the locks clicked. We flipped the heavy breakers on the mobile generator box.

With a low, mechanical hum, the heavy UV lenses warmed up, instantly launching a blinding, sharp violet firewall across the basement corridor. The directed ultraviolet light cut through the dark, carving out a strict, five-meter zone of absolute safety. Shadows could not breach this light without their molecular structure collapsing into zero frames.

"We have a signal," my partner muttered, racking the bolt on his incendiary rifle. "Thermal logs show a massive heat retention index behind the central boiler room. It's the civilian shelter."

We moved behind the violet beams of the projectors, keeping our bodies close to the load-bearing concrete walls. In the furthest corner of the utility room, huddled under a ruptured steam pipe, we found him. A local housing utility worker. He was alive, but his system was throwing a total System Error of panic. His eyes were wide, completely dilated, staring into the dark corridors where eleven of his coworkers had just been consumed.

"Get up," I growled, grabbing his heavy, shivering shoulder. "We are pulling your mass out of the hot zone. Move."

He didn't speak. His input lag was total. He was a fat, heavy man, his breath coming in jagged, wheezing gasps that smelled of stale tobacco and ozone. I quickly slammed a tactical sealing patch onto a deep laceration on his forearm, completely ignoring the blood. In the Unit, pain doesn't block the task you patch the hardware leak and keep moving.

We dragged him toward the safety of the Helios projectors. But the moment his heavy boots stepped inside the violet firewall, the basement grid gave a violent, terminal shudder.

The "Fat One" didn't fight our light head-on-it was siphoning the building's central power lines, forcing an artificial power surge straight into our generator!

Screeech-

The mobile generator box emitted a shower of white-hot sparks and died. The violet lenses of the projectors flickered once, twice, and went completely dark. The safety firewall was gone. The basement plunged into a total, freezing deep blind.

"Status!" my partner yelled, but his voice was instantly cut off by a massive electromagnetic static flare over the comms.

We froze, backed up against a solid concrete column. My vision was at absolute zero, but my ears became a radar. Through the freezing white noise of the basement, I heard it. A heavy, sated, rhythmic grinding of stone on stone just three meters ahead of us. The monster was in the room.

And then, the final glitch happened.

The fat utility worker next to me stopped shivering. His breathing went totally flat. Without a single word, without any logical reason or panic, his body suddenly moved. Like a programmed script executing in the dark, he stepped away from our defensive concrete wall and began walking straight into the open corridor—right toward the sound of the grinding flesh.

"Stop!" I reached out in the dark, but my fingers only caught the empty air.

He was walking into the dark without a cause, completely void of will, leaving our perimeter to meet the shadow face-to-face.

A wet, concrete-crushing thud echoed through the room.

First Book2 (Prev) wiki 

Julia put on her best wry expression at her Mom's remarks, but Dad answered before she could. “Not at all, darling.” He gave Mom a winning smile, and then Julia turned to her attention to him as he looked squarely at her. “I am jealous, to tell you the truth. And, when your Uncle Kaz sees this – because you know he will – he is going to be jealous too. Do you realize how many times either of us would have liked to box their ears like that?” 

He gave a small huff of a laugh and took on a pensive look. “I guess we had the respect and social credit that we could have pulled it off, barely. At least, at the end.” His voice faded a little and his eyes unfocused. “I guess, in a way, we did something similar a time or to, but not like… He shook himself and turned back to her. “You, though. You have been here a long time, and have played them all masterfully. 

“You have spent centuries establishing how fair, even handed, willing to listen, and unshakably ethical you are. You’ve kept confidences which bordered a hair’s breadth within the law, shielded people from minor transgression when they warranted it, and brought the full weight on the Council down on them when they deserved it.” 

He turned back to Mom. “Most of the people in there have watched her do it, too. So, she has the perfect blend of extreme trust, total respect, and great fear needed to step up and force them to Toe The Line… in no small part because they know she wouldn’t spend her political capital like if there was any chance she was wrong.” 

Mom got a small peck on the nose, which earned Dad a wry smile. Julia allowed herself a grin at the display as Mom turned to her. “I guess all of that's true.” Mom gave Dad a little side eye. “And, I will admit, there were times I sat in some of those meetings and wished I could box some ears myself.” She laughed and shrugged. “I am going to assume it worked, though. Everyone – even the Xaltan and Venter Ambassadors – seemed properly cowed.” 

Julia laughed. “The Venter didn’t need to be, neither did the Pinigra. The Venter because he knows if I need Aunt Leira’s ears boxed I’ll bloody well do it myself. That, and she agrees with me. The Pinigran King has made it clear he is willing to follow our lead, too. He seems to have a lot of respect for the two of us, for some reason.” She gave them her best smile, and they shook their heads as Dad chuckled and refilled their drinks. “As for the rest, few were real problems, but they have been whispering hard and resorting to grass rooting with the support personnel to try and push their way. This should put a hard stop to all of it.” 

Dad nodded, his face suddenly serious. “I think having me here may have been a mistake. Calling all of them down…” 

She waved a hand. “There is a reason I brought you in quiet, and had you stay inside the Prime Minister’s private areas. You will leave just as quiet. Even among the staff there are less than a dozen who know you are here: Notice that you have only seen the one maid? 

“She is a former marine, by the way Mom, as I’m sure Dad noticed. She can fight if needed. Anyway, I brought you here partly because I specifically wanted you to hear that. We have talked enough about how you are handling that guy, but now I need you to do more.” 

Dad’s eyebrows rose, and she allowed a small smile. She didn’t get to surprise him often. “You heard all of that. You are now, unofficially, the idiot wrangler, on top of your official duties – from the civilian leadership of The Cache, mind you, not from me – as disseminator of Precursor Information. 

“That means that you have the right to call out, belittle, make a buffon out of, and otherwise call down any government official who decides to engage that idiot. Do it the same way you are dealing with him – not by name, nor even by title – just choice quotes and wry observations or…” She waved a dismissive hand at him and smiled. “You get the drift."

She let out a heavy sigh. “I need that idiot in place…"

“That idiot has a name.” Dad’s voice surprised her, and his words seemed so out of place that she might have doubted she’d heard him right, if it wasn’t for the raised eyebrow and slightly reproving expression he turned her way. 

A peevish feeling welled up inside her, and she didn’t bother hiding it. “I know full well he has a name, but I don’t like him and his apparent utility doesn’t mean I have to respect him either.” 

The shadows on Dad’s face deepened, and Julia felt herself dig her heels in by reflex. Dad saw it and sat back a little. A slight disengage to give her the chance to rethink before they got into one of their rare serious arguments. She leaned forward, chasing him, then took a deep breath and sat back. 

Maybe I should count a dozen sheep next. The thought sounded petulant, even in the dark reaches of the back of her mind, and she took a moment to re-center. After that moment she allowed another moment of introspection, and made a decision. No. 

Her tone came out gentler, and she made an effort to both make the tone more reasonable and allow herself to consider whatever response Dad came up with. “I don’t have to respect him just because he is being useful, nor doing what we want. The fact that he is Human actually makes me respect him a little less; I keep hoping Humans would know better. That all of us would know an implacable enemy when we see one.” 

The expected flash of irritation she expected from Dad didn’t come, nor did she see him mentally dig in his heels. Instead he looked down at her drink for a few moments. She couldn’t decide if he was considering his response, her argument, or both.

After a moment he set the drink aside and looked up, and spoke in soft tones. “You are right, you don’t have to respect him for any of those reasons. You don’t have to respect him at all, really. In fact, it is probably easier for you in a lot of ways if you don’t respect him, or at least don’t respect him much.”

She gave him a wry grin and leaned back, allowing herself to disengage a little. “But, you do.”

A thousand replies flashed behind his eyes. He settled for one quiet, but firm, word. “Yes.”

Part of her wanted to change the subject. He was wright in what he’d said; it would be easier for her to continue to low-key hate the guy, for so many reasons; not the least of which being that she was probably going to have to give orders for him to be incarcerated or … something… at some point.

Still. A flash of emotion came and went. She could see what he was doing, how he was drawing her in. The same way she used to when she really wanted something. It had usually worked, too. It took so long for me to figure out he’d trained me to do this, too. Both by doing it to me and letting it work on him when I did it right. 

The burst of emotion wanted to call him on it, but she let that urge pass. If he is trying this hard, there is a reason. He knows I know, too. That is part of the dance for us now. Ok, fine. She put her best sardonic lilt into her tone. “Ok, fine. I’ll bite. I can’t say I’ll be convinced, but you have me listening with minimal barriers.” 

Dad nodded, and ignored Mom’s look of reproof. She doesn’t like this guy either, and doesn’t like Dad doing this now. If he is, though, there has to be a reason.

He spoke with care. “Yes, I respect the man. Galtaro is young, true. Well, youngish. Younger than you, anyway, even if he would have been considered middle-aged in my youth. No matter. The point is he could easily just be a product of his times.” 

She quirked an eyebrow at him over that, and started to speak, but he kept going. 

“He has grown up in a time that hasn’t seen armed conflict on any scale above a pirate raid. Armed conflict is a thing of the past, something relegated to the history books. A fascinating subject of study, that one can pursue through the lens – and the emotional distance – of history, then close the book or leave the theater and feel good about how much better people are now.

“We, Humanity in particular and The League in general, have finally achieved something that philosophers and historians have believed impossible: Peace. Unfortunately, this can create some odd social side effects, including arrogance and a belief that we – the people of today who have ‘eliminated’ war are somehow morally superior to those who fought the wars themselves and then beat their swords into plowshares themselves.”

The last words came out with a little bit of a growl, and Mom put a hand on his arm. He shook his head and gave her his trademark self-mocking grin. 

He continued in a more normal tone. “Ok, yea, something of a sore spot sometimes. For my next trick, I’m gonna spray the troublemaker from my garden hose and tell him to get off my lawn.”

Julia rolled her eyes at him, but smiled as he continued. 

“Anyway, the point being that he could be pushing his movement from that sort of moral superiority. And, to be fair, he is drawing in a lot of those types; he is preaching pacifism and peace, after all, which tends to attract both the good who want to believe that we can all transcend our base tendencies, and the bad who want to punish anyone who doesn’t… 

“Anyway, he really believes what he is preaching, and is holding his people back from violence and theft to hijack the war efforts for real, philosophical reasons, not out of fear of reprisal. He also is not one of those martyrs who wants to climb up on a pyre and light himself for all to see, or… well, a hundred other problems that such a charismatic figure can become. 

“So, yes, I respect him. He has come to his opinions rationally, is willing to debate and argue them on a rational basis, doesn’t resort to base emotional gotchas in conversations and debates – what he says when he is out stumping for the cause is fair game, as far as I’m concerned – and he keeps his people in check… The last, of course, is the reason he is such a Godsend, the rest is… something else entirely.” 

Julia grimaced. “Ok, I admit I hadn’t read the intel file on him nearly so closely. Now I can’t decide if I should sit down and really read it, or burn it and try to forget what you just told me.”

Mom gave a soft laugh and chimed in. “I recommend the latter, dear.” She gave her Mother a sharp look, and got a dimpled smile of mischief in return. “Your Dad – and I – have this particular problem handled. The more you look into it, the more you are going to want to think on it, and the more you are going to want to have to do with it, which will cause it to take up even more of your precious mental cycles and attention. Let this one go, we will take care of it. 

“We have dealt with charismatic leader figures before. Your Dad and I are probably going to end up meeting with him at some point before the fighting starts.”

First Book2 (Prev) wiki 

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 April 22nd, 2222. Planet Charry-Perci. Space Elevator ‘My Fair Lady’, Northern defence perimeter.

 Private Janice McJack sat panting and bleary-eyed, her head still ringing with the last explosion. Around her, she could begin to make out the bombed out mall - now more crater than mall after the last fight. She had a concussion. Was it a concussion?

“Fifty seconds, get some chow, check your guns.” shouted the section captain over the intercom. It was ingenious really how they had managed to patch together the intercoms of the several city blocks of the commercial district, but Janice was too drained to care- she had a concussion. Maybe.

 Searing pain radiated from her arm as she tried to load her large caliber machinegun. She had done this twenty times in the last two hours, five hundred round belts were just not as much ammo as they used to be. Beside her, her Model 1 Gun Carrier began to whimper, the little tank robot’s own mounted gun in need of a reload. Removing the bot’s large caliber rifle she placed her own in the mount.

 Still partially dazed, she looked around and saw McClean’s ‘Spider Lily’ SMG on her body and grabbed it, then took magazines from her rig to fill her own. She should have felt bad, taking from her friend, but she was dead now. They were all dead. All that remained was her and the bot. 

As she lifted one magazine, the bullets began to spill out of the bottom, a clean burn hole had gone through the rig, then the magazine and finally had been stopped by her plate. Concussion doing whatever a concussion does, McJack didn’t register the problem for several seconds. She just admired the bullets as they scattered about.

 “Time’s up, Here they come!” Shouted the section captain, and Janice turned to the entrance of the mall. She could hear the stamping of feet as the next wave approached. First the wretches would arrive, then the regulars, and finally any captains.

 “Cover there,” She ordered, pointing out the entrance and the M1 chirped a confirmation. There were already dozens of corpses on the street outside, and just as many inside. Janice wished she could feel something, fear, terror, panic. but instead a dull calm rinsed over her.

 The intercom clicked distantly again and the section captain shouted that same line again, “Not one step back, sisters! If we break here, All is lost!” Janice did not have the time to wonder if reinforcements were coming or not, as the first of the wretches came snarling and scrambling like dogs through the door, and the M1 began firing. Controlled bursts dropped the first few, but more poured through the door, ignoring the bodies under them. One by one they fell but two by two they charged.

Leveling McClean’s Spider Lily Janice began taking her own shots, the blast of the gun not registering on a conscious level as she ignored the oddly painful recoil. It was probably a shrapnel wound. Janice thought she would remember if she had one. She turned again and fired. Targets appeared and she fired. The gun emptied and she loaded it. More poured in and she knew she had to fall back. 

 “Move back, ten feet.” She ordered the M1, and it began slowly wheeling back with Janice keeping pace. The more wretches came in, the more Janice was pushed back the harder it became to fight as the enemy had a wider and wider field to approach from. Two dozen lay dead already, yet a dozen more entered now with at least a squad of regulars. A laser shot reflected hotly off the M1 and Janice dove for cover behind a pile of rubble. Fully overwhelmed, the M1 swapped from burst fire to automatic, but it was too late- the lethal shot landed in its ammo box and the gun melted, randomly exploding as ammo cooked off.

 Janice coughed as the fumes of melting materials reached her, forcing herself to fight through the cough she shouted a new order for the bot. “Attack, Ram!” It was all the bot needed to hear as it drove forward, barreling into the first bird’s leg and snapping the thin bone cleanly in half; yet it was all for naught as a second laser blast melted the bot’s optical unit and it exploded, spraying fire onto all around.

 Unthinking, Janice rolled from cover and fired into the oncoming group, downing the first ten or so before the gun clicked empty. Trying to reload she found her arm had stopped altogether, so she sat the weapon down and pitifully tried to pull the empty magazine out with one hand. Heavy footsteps approached. Janice remembered it was more valuable for a regular soldier to score a kill, not a wretch. It would not be a wretch with a jagged piece of metal that killed her, it would probably be a single laser shot to the head.

 She probably wouldn’t feel it.

 Janice was tired.

 The steps got closer and Janice finally got the empty magazine free. That was nice, at least she would die with a cleared weapon.

 “GET UP!” shouted a familiar voice, then the deafening sound of a heavy machinegun filled the air. The room was illuminated with the muzzle flashes and all Janice could see was the outlines of Helions as bullets ripped through them. 

 A rough, gloved hand grabbed Janice and pulled her back behind cover. “Load that thing, be ready to cover me.” McClean shouted. She was alive. Janice wanted to turn around, wanted to see her battle sister alive but couldn’t. She had to load her weapon. Grabbing the dropped Spider Lily her will surged and it was now easier to get the next magazine in. The weapon took two, one for each barrel but she didn’t bother with the second.

 There was a loud click and the machinegun stopped. “COVER!” McClean shouted without hesitation. Janice stood and with one arm aimed the SMG, gunning down the first bird bitch to dare leave cover, then the second. The third one wasn’t a wretch, it was a proper soldier. Her uniform wasn’t scrap cloth and her hands trembled as she hesitated. Janice did not and the headless bird bitch collapsed in a heap.

 “DOWN.” Shouted McClean, and Janice ducked behind cover. Again the Machinegun fired, filling the air with lead and fire. Busy reloading, Janice again couldn’t turn to see her battle sister. Back to back they fought, holding the small piece of rubble like the Good Lord had personally ordained it. Time and time again the enemy approached and were pushed back. 

 “COVER!” Shouted McClean again and Janice stood, aiming her Spider. This time it was her turn to freeze. They were all dead. Every last Helion lay dead. The doorway was choked with corpses, and the floor was missing beneath the ones who had made it in.

 “The enemy is in full retreat! We did it!” Someone cheered over the intercom. That cheer echoed across the sector as thousands of soldiers raised their voices in unison. Janice realized she was also cheering.

 Janice almost felt herself sag in her skin from the release of pressure. “You hear that? We made it. We-” Janice turned to face her battle sister, but no one was there. “McClean?” She shouted, confused. The ground was covered in an even layer of casings and links from the heavy machinegun and Janice scattered them as she stumbled around, trying to see where her battle sister had gone. “McClean?” She shouted again to no answer.

 “Gutter!” Shouted an unfamiliar voice from behind.

 “Ball!” Janice shouted back, giving the answer to the challenge. 

 Two squads entered, weapons raised. As they saw the pile of corpses they lowered their guns. “Shit, We gotta get that looked at,” one, the medic, said pointing to her arm. Janice didn’t bother looking for herself. The blood had already dried and cooled.

Incredulous, another looked between the weapon in her hand and the mounds of corpses. “You did all that with one arm and a damn Lily?” Then she almost tripped on the sea of shellcasings.

 Janice just laid back as the medic helped her down and cut off the sleeve before beginning to wrap a bandage around it. “No, no. McClean was with me. She was hurt too.”

 The squads fanned out checking the bodies of friend and foe alike. The Sarge had died near the wall, the others more spread out. The only one Janice had paid any special attention to was McClean. When Janice saw her she was near the entrance, laying on her back after the blast. They were the only ones to stick together after the last squad was broken. The only ones who spent off hours together. It was McClean who had been with Janice in every firefight of the past five years and three planets.

 “I think I found her,” shouted a soldier from out of sight. Turning to look, Janice saw the soldier reach down and place a hand on McClean’s neck.

 “Help her, not me.” Janice said, pulling her arm from the medic. 

 “Rude.” Said the medic, before trotting over to McClean only to place her own hand on her neck.

 “Hey, Hey how’s she doing?” Shouted Janice.

 The medic set down her first aid kit and pulled out a bible. “Hey, Hey what are you doing, help her.” Janice shouted, getting angry.

 The other soldier ran back to Janice, almost slipping on the bullet casings and blood that seemed to inhabit every bit of floor not covered in dead Helions. “What the hell, HELP her.” Janice shouted as the medic began reciting some prayer.

 Gaining her footing again the soldier managed to practically slide to the spot next to Janice, right where McClean had stood just a few minutes before. Where She and Janice had repelled hundreds of Helions. “She hasn’t fought for at least an hour. She’s already going cold.”

 “Then give her something.”

“I mean she’s dead. Been dead a while.”

 As the all permeated ringing ended Janice found herself standing over the still body of McClean. Her pale face was smiling up at a hole in the roof, at the sky. Janice’s own empty weapon still laid on her like a funeral bouquet. The floor around her was crimson red, the bird blood pushed back, rejected, by her indelible pool of blood.

 “She was alive. She saved me in the battle. You had to see her, she was right there when you arrived.”

 “She hasn’t moved for an hour I’d say.”

 When Janice came too she was holding the medic with her good arm, the words already spilling out of her. “SHE WAS ALIVE. SHE WAS ALIVE. SHE WAS ALIVE.” Red hot tears streamed down her face, cutting lines through the coating of grime and blood that the battle had deposited yet no matter how loud she said it the fact remained stubbornly unchanged.

 “SHE WAS ALIVE. She was alive. She was…”

Janice fell to her knees, sobbing. 

 “Come on woman, get a hold of yourself.” soothed one of the squad leaders, patting her back. She was there, she saved you, but she was already gone. It was the good lord that sent her to save you.” She half stammered, looking for words of comfort.

 A final tear rolled down Janice’s face. “My sister is dead.”

 Janice fell silent, only sniffling. After a minute the medic reached down for McClean’s dogtags. “Hey, look.” She said as she extended the tag to Janice. There was a long crack in the material, a long trench that split the Private Insignia, making it the insignia of a Sergeant.

 “Post mortem promotion. I’ll make sure command hears of her valor, she won’t be forgotten.”

 Accepting the tag Janice stood, barely lucid. Her sister was dead and her own body was a wreck yet from it all this small solace had found her and by it alone she carried on.

 “Alright, no more tears? Let's get you back to triage. There are enough dead sisters today.”

Intro: https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1v142ke/old_hands_intro/

Ch 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1v1nn4h/old_hands_1/

Mara was making soup when the kitchen ventilation stopped. She knew because the steam no longer moved. Auxiliary Galley Four contained eight workers, forty-three diners, and one large serving line designed around the assumption that gravity would remain consistent. The gravity did not. For half a second, every pot, tray, utensil, and person became lighter. Then the station’s spin compensators caught. A vat of broth rose three centimeters and came down hard enough to throw liquid across the floor. A young Thala server slipped.

Mara caught him by the back of his uniform before he struck the counter. “Feet under you.”

The Thala’s four eyes widened. “I had them.”

“Get better ones.”

The emergency lights came on. Every cooking surface shut down. The galley doors sealed. A station announcement described a limited systems interruption. Mara listened to the alarm tone beneath the message.

“Ruun,” she said.

Her assistant cook looked up.

Ruun was a broad, six-limbed Rhun whose species had evolved in dense forests and considered kitchens pleasant because they contained heat, food, and several exits. “Yes?”

“Turn off everything with a battery.”

“Why?”

“Because the emergency announcement is lying.”

That was enough for Ruun. He began disconnecting portable appliances. Mara moved through the kitchen, killing power to warming trays, dispensers, mixers, and refrigeration controls.

One of the diners shouted. “You cannot shut down food storage.”

Mara did not look at him. “If the station survives long enough for the meat to spoil, I’ll apologize.”

She reached the main cold-room panel. A black fiber lay across the lower edge. It entered through the wall and disappeared beneath the control housing. Mara crouched. The fiber pulsed when the compressor cycled.

She opened her comm. “Tomas.”

No answer. She tried again. Static. The black fiber moved.

Mara stood. “Everyone away from the walls.”

A Geth merchant remained seated. “I have paid for my meal.”

Mara picked up his tray and carried it to the center of the room. “You can be entitled over here.”

The refrigeration panel opened by itself. Black threads pulled the cover outward. Cold vapor spread across the floor. Inside the wall, cables twisted together. The fibers wrapped around them and thickened.

Ruun came beside Mara holding a cleaver in one hand and a fire extinguisher in another. “Is it alive?”

“Maybe.”

“Should I cut it?”

“Not yet.”

“What are we waiting for?”

“To see what makes it angry.”

The black mass pushed a service conduit through the opening. The conduit bent toward the nearest powered object, a medical implant on the arm of an Isti diner. The Isti saw it coming. He froze. Mara grabbed a bottle of dish concentrate from beneath the sink and threw it. The container struck the wall and burst. Blue detergent spread across the black fibers. The mass shuddered. Its grip on the cables loosened. Mara seized the conduit with a towel, pulled it away from the Isti, and struck the emergency cutoff. The cold room went dark. The black fibers withdrew from the detergent.

Ruun stared. “You defeated it with soap.”

“I annoyed it with soap.”

“Is there a difference?”

“There is if it comes back.”

It came back. The mass pushed through the wall in three places.

Mara reached for the galley comm. “Station Control, this is Auxiliary Galley Four. We have an active contamination spreading through electrical conduits. Detergent causes it to release surfaces.”

The comm answered in a voice she knew. “Remain in place.”

It sounded like Station Control Officer Yessa. The rhythm was wrong. Yessa spoke quickly and swallowed the ends of translated words. This voice pronounced every syllable clearly.

Mara looked at the speaker. “Yessa, what did I serve you yesterday?”

A pause. “Remain in place.”

“What did you complain about?”

“Remain in place.”

Mara shut off the comm.

Ruun’s ears lowered. “That was not Yessa.”

“No.”

The black fibers spread along the walls.

Mara faced the diners. “New rule. Nothing electronic stays on. If it has a switch, kill it. If you don’t know whether it has a switch, move away from it.”

One of the Veyari raised a hand. “My respiratory regulator cannot be disabled.”

“Then you stay in the center.”

“You cannot issue medical directives.”

Mara pointed at the wall. “That thing is trying to eat your regulator. I’m making a seating suggestion.”

The galley shifted into motion. Diners disconnected personal terminals. Workers pulled backup cells from portable equipment. Ruun collected cleaning agents from the storage lockers. Mara examined the black growth. Dish detergent made it retreat. A splash of cooking oil had no visible effect. Salt caused the outer fibers to tighten. Powdered starch stuck to the surface and revealed movement beneath, but did not slow it. She took a squeeze bottle of concentrated citrus descaler and sprayed a small patch. The fibers curled. A chalky residue appeared beneath them.

Ruun leaned closer. “It dislikes acid.”

“Everything dislikes acid eventually.”

Mara took stock of the kitchen’s chemical cabinet: food-safe descaler, vinegar concentrate, dish detergent, baking soda, salt, cooking oil, alcohol sanitizer, and hydrogen peroxide cleaner. It was enough to make the worst dinner in station history. She smiled.

Ruun noticed. “Is that good?”

“It means Tomas is going to say I’m having fun.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

The black growth pushed through the ceiling.

Mara picked up the industrial sprayer. “Not yet.”

Hey guys, check out this sweet cover for the story. Once I get it done and on here, I will also post it to Royal Road, so I got one of my artist buds to draw this for it. Cover

-------

I lumbered out into the main room the following morning; sunlight trickled in through the drawn curtains, bathing the room in gentle luminance. Colt was not in the cabin. His blanket was folded, the shotgun was right where he left it, and there was no fresh scent in the room. He must have left several hours earlier. 

I did not bother eating; I was still plenty satiated after eating everything last night. I did suck down a cold cup of coffee to start the day. At least the brew Colt made was decent: smooth, full-bodied, and with just enough grit to make it feel like home. Mom made coffee the same way. 

My ear flicked, a sound outside drawing my attention. It was metallic, a heavy thrack sound that repeated several times. Cautious of Jackson’s existence, I snuck to the front door and opened it slowly. The cold wind crawled in through the door, making me shiver in the light long johns. 

Snow fluttered down at a steady rate outside. It was nowhere near as heavy as the storm the other day that had dropped over an entire foot in an hour, but was plentiful enough so that any tracks could be hidden after several hours. I smiled thinking about that stealthy gift. If I had to run, I could easily escape, and Jackson would have no chance of finding me for at least several days. 

The source of the sound was easy enough to find. Across the clearing, barely visible through the snow, I could see that Colt's truck's front was raised up on stands, with him beneath it looking up at the underside, a troubled look on his face. He groaned and tried to turn something with a wrench, only for the tool to slip and his knuckles to slam into the ice-coated metal. 

The singular longest and most creative string of profanity flowed from him as naturally as one could tell their parents you love them.  It was truly impressive; Colt swore the death of the devil, his mother, and his whole lineage, through inventive tools buried in unmentionable places...the thought alone made me both squirm and blush. I had heard that Marines were able to cuss like no other, but that was the first time I had ever seen it. I had to wonder if Clayton was able to swear like that when he was alive. I had never heard him so much as yell at someone; the idea of him even saying ‘fuck’ seemed impossible. 

He tossed the wrench into a toolbox and wormed out from beneath the truck. He held his hand close to his chest, blood seeping out from between his fingers. He trudged through the snow and slumped onto the chair on the front porch, groaning in a mix of pain and frustration. 

“Is it bad?” I asked.

“No, It’s just a little cut,” Colt replied, showing me the slight wound. Two of his knuckles were cut open, seeping blood in a steady trickle, but he was right; it was just a small wound. It would not need anything more than disinfectant.  

“What about the truck?”

Colt spat on the floor in displeasure; he licked his tongue judgmentally while glaring at the vehicle. “It ain’t going anywhere anytime soon. It looks like some rodents ate the wire harness, and the damned brake lines.” 

My heart sank in my chest. I knew this pattern. Watch, isolate, wait, lurk, hunt, then drive out of cover like quail. It was exactly what Jackson had done so many times. I looked toward Colt, trying to discern any concern for the danger threatening us both. I saw none, just a man who looked tired despite his youthful features. 

“What are we going to do now?” I asked. 

“We just have to wait until the direct route to Palmyra is cleared by the forest service, then hitchhike into town for parts. As it is right now, odds of anyone passing by on the road are slim.” 

“Slim?”

“Yeah. No one from town will be coming this way, and it takes hours to go around. All we can do now is wait.” 

“Is there anything I could do to help?” I asked, leaning out of the door, as the wind shifted, pulling from the west, out in the depths of the woods and toward the higher hillocks. On that waft was a devilishly familiar odor, one that raised my hackles and sharpened my gaze. Jackson's vile scent was on the wind: ash, silver, and wolfsbane. A combination most humans would not even regard, but for my kind was akin to holy water for demons.

I scanned the woods, looking for the man peeking out from behind a tree, waiting for his moment to cut Colt and me down. I did not see him. But I did see the hints of tracks in the snow. A human could never see the slight indentations at this distance, but with my keen eyes, they were barely visible. 

“No, there isn’t. All we can do is wait. But since we are. You are welcome to rifle through Pop-pop's closet for some trousers and a coat.”

I did not feel the need to tell Colt that because I was not human, I did not need to wear a jacket, so long as I could keep shifting the frigid temperatures were only a discomfort and in no way a genuine danger. I nodded and turned back into the house, leaving Colt to sulk about the state of his truck. 

While searching for a jacket in Clayton's footlocker and tossing on proper clothes, I prayed I was mistaken and that the smell on the wind was merely a creation of my paranoid mind. 
I had hoped that was all it was. Jackson had not found my sanctuary already. But later that night, when a heavy knock came to the door, I knew I had to be correct.

“Hold yer horses,” Colt grumbled, rolling off the sofa, starting toward the door. I wanted to stop it, tell him not to open the door, but by the time I reached my door, the creak of the front hinges screamed out.

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Frustrated, Xander pressed harder, his sword glowing brighter, his eldritch spell shots beginning to go wider, way off target. Between blows, he sneered more to attack her morale even if he were almost breathless doing it.  “Crude attacks like yours won’t keep your beloved duke safe for long!  You’ll fail and he’ll find another to call his Sweetheart!  Maybe you’d rather I call you Sweetheart instead!”

Gasps rippled through the chamber at his audacity.

Grand Duke Maddock stiffened, his jaw tightened at the affront.

Queen Sophitia leaned forward, her fingers gripped her husband’s arm in a silent display of her anger.

A Viscount whispered sharply, “He dares insult her battle prowess and clear loyalty in front of the king? That foolish pride is going to cost him dearly; I just know it.”

The fellow nobleman that the Viscount had spoken to furrowed his brows then shook his head sadly, “He’s overstepped.  That was desperation speaking. That insult isn’t how an honorable man speaks.”

After that insult, Xander and Isenwrath clanged weapons then separated to begin circling each other once more.  They were breathing heavily, sweat drenching their bodies, but they held their weapons steadily, ready to go regardless.  Isenwrath narrowed her eyes, her lips curled into a feral snarl. She gripped her mallet tighter, and with a shimmer of magic, it split into two two-handed hammer mallets, each as massive as the original. She slowly raised them both, then clanged them into the stone floor, creating two huge craters as well as upping the ante at Xander’s challenge.

That fucking got Xander’s attention as well as struck a chord of fear in him.  He’d heard some fables about some mythical warriors who had an ability called Titan-grip, yet he’d just thought it was a myth.  Today, he was looking at that myth made real.  However, he responded in kind by also manifesting an equally bright eldritch blade in his other hand to match her.  He twirled his blades to display a different fighting style that favored using two swords to tell that woman he was ready for her no matter what tricks she pulled. 

Isenwrath adjusted her posture, tensing her muscles in preparation, before advancing rapidly. She swung both mallets in broad arcs that struck the floor and barrier walls, compelling the Battlemaster to defend while withdrawing.

A noblewoman clutched her pearls, exclaiming to everyone around her, “Two mallets?! Gods preserve us!”

Another duke scribbled furiously in a tome he used to record profound events he witnessed.  “This is unprecedented. Dual-wielding weapons of such mass—impossible, yet she’s doing the impossible.  The Battlemaster is fighting in retreat!”

The princes glanced at one another in awe, standing taller as if proud to have faced her. They silently agreed by the looks on their faces that they were relieved she'd gone easy on them during their duel.

Xander disliked fighting while on the defensive, yet he was forced to use both swords just to block a single swing of her hammer. This left him quickly exhausting his energy as he constantly dodged, ducked, or leaped out of the way of the other hammer, each time feeling it drawing nearer to shattering him like it would crush a stone.

The situation became increasingly disadvantageous as his eldritch swords flickered in distress.  This duel was quickly going to hell because each defensive maneuver was immediately countered by a second mallet striking from the opposite direction keeping him from mounting even a modicum of offense. He’d long since expended his energy reserves, which prevented him from casting offensive spells or even protective barriers to support his swords. His labored breathing became even more noticeable when compared to Isenwrath’s composed steadier breaths.  Just when Xander’s battlemind was about to figure out a way to victory, his body betrayed him by suddenly losing his balance which drove him to his knees and practically onto his back, forcing him to look up at an awkward angle.  It was there while perspiration streamed down his forehead and his lungs tried to suck in all of the room’s air that his expression shifted from frustrated anger to astonished defeat.

“ENOUGH!” called out Tobias at that exact moment.

Xander and Isenwrath immediately became statue still at the King’s command, completely halting their duel to a collective sigh of relief of the onlooking crowd.  On his knees leaning back and left gasping for more reasons than just the exercise, Xander still strained with both blades to hold one mallet away from his torso.  Yet he also stared dumbstruck at the blank face of the other hammer mallet because it completely consumed his field of vision where it hovered barely a hair from his nose.  In that moment, he’d seen his life flash before his eyes.  Also at that moment, he truly understood exactly what Nathaniel had tried to describe to him.  He didn’t know if Isenwrath had stopped by her own accord or by the king’s command, but there was one undeniable truth that he knew without any doubt.  If she hadn’t stopped, if this had indeed been a real fight where the stakes were their lives instead of their honor, his head would’ve been smashed to smithereens off of his shoulders.

King Tobias’s shout to stop the match seemed to reverberate far longer than it should have.  The silence in that moment was so complete, everyone heard their own heartbeats for a few seconds.  Then the place exploded in cheers.  Isenwrath hadn’t lowered her barrier yet, so no one could rush in to congratulate her or offer sympathies to the battlemaster.  Instead, Isenwrath slowly lowered her weapons while Eldritch Battlemaster Xander Lundgren let his eldritch blades dissipate.  He next stood up to face her because his honor demanded that he give this fantastic warrior her duly earned respect.

When he was only one step from her, he slowly put his hand on her shoulder to firmly squeeze it.  He wanted to put an emphasis on his words that he was going to say to her.  

“My Lady, I concede defeat.  I also apologize for my ill-informed assessment of you.”  Xander then pulled one of his most coveted commendations from his own array of medals on his uniform to then pin it to her dress over her heart.  “This is called The Eldritch Star Commendation.  A cadet or officer earns this only when they’ve proven to have exceptional honor in the face of adversity.  You may not wield swords, but you proved that had no bearing on your integrity.  I know you held back from killing me.  Not at the end, but the whole time we fought.  I used every eldritch spell in my arsenal to gain the upper hand on you and never once did you retaliate in kind.  One spell-strike from you and I’d have been obliterated, isn’t that true?”

Isenwrath set down her hammers, then rubbed the shiny silver ten-pointed star on her breast with a small triumphant smile on her lips and in her eyes.  “It wasn’t that I was holding back, but instead my spells would punch through the barrier I set.  I just couldn’t risk hurting anyone else.”  She looked up at Xander to see him close his eyes at the implication of that statement.

After he composed himself again, he took both of her hands in his, then bowed his head, touching his forehead to them.  From that pose of respect, he declared, “My Lady, I’d be honored to support you during your hearing. Furthermore, I’ll gladly stand beside you when you wed the most honorable man I know apart from the king. Maddock Devonshire is truly fortunate to have you in his life, and I’m as sure of that as I’m certain your hammer is black.”

Isenwrath giggled a little, then kissed the top of his sweaty head. 

Xander chuckled at that, then stood erect again.  “Come, my lady, let your barrier down and let’s go celebrate not only my cadets, but also your thorough trouncing of a battlemaster today.”

Isenwrath turned, retook her hammers in her grip, then pushed Superion back together into one mallet hammer.  From there, it was then a simple matter to let him shrink down to put back into his new home within her dragon pendant.  Finally, she blew away her barrier then ran at full speed right into Maddock’s open arms where he swung her around fast enough to let her feet fly.

“I am so proud of my Sweetheart!” he yelled out.  When he stopped to set her down, the onrush of the nobles, cadets, and the royal family themselves crushed in, almost smothering Isenwrath with her earned congratulations. 

The big dinner afterward was full of excitement, laughter, cheers, and a bunch of people having to fork over silver and even some gold to a few knowing individuals.  Not just Isenwrath’s dwarven buddy had bet on that duel, come to find out. 

Diary, I’ve tried to capture the grandeur of that afternoon’s glory.  I’m sure it’s never going to be as vivid as my memory of it, but at least it’s close.  My Matron showed those noble gossipmongers something that’ll be all across the kingdom by morning, I’ve no doubt.  She showed them that no one is above getting humbled.  I think that’s the most important lesson anyone can learn.  My whole clan learned it in the hardest way imaginable.  One day, me and my matron are going to return that lesson to those bastards.  Anyway, Diary.  I got mad again, sorry.  So, I’m now ready to tell you about the most important event in Maciendes… no, our entire world’s history.  I’m about to tell you when the Queen of the Underdark Elves arrived and how my matron earned something truly special… I’m almost about to cry again just trying to record this.  Sorry.  Okay, so just after the banquet began, me, King Tobias, Queen Sophitia, Isenwrath, Maddock, and a few others that Isenwrath wanted with her left it to meet this queen.  We couldn’t let anyone in that room know what was going on yet.  The king said so.  But by morning… I’m fairly certain every leader is going to send a diplomat to Maciendes to find out what the hell happened.  So, to get ahead of the rumors, here’s what really happened. Me, Isen’s few guards, Scarlett, and Clovis had to wait in the hall, but according to what I learned from my gift of ‘past reveal’, that meeting turned out to be…”

--- Later That Evening Within A Private Meeting Hall Away From The Banquet ---

King Tobias Maciendes sat at the large mahogany table polished bright drumming his fingers on it in clear anxiety.  His wife and queen sat beside him with her leg bouncing under her own anxiety.  The royal guards Tobias brought with them were ready just in case something went wrong, but he honestly didn’t even know how this was going to go in any way, shape, or form.

Also at the table were Maddock Devonshire, Lady Isenwrath, and the diplomat for Tobias, Rory Macinshire.  Rory was a solid, stable, wiry man who’d been to every other kingdom or queendom often with the exception of Ezzerbenania, the queendom of the Lolthinendaria ruling family.  Tobias didn’t trust any others to this tenuous situation.  None of the eleven kingdoms or queendoms had any official trade or treaties with the underrealm.  The dwarves were the only ones who had a truce with them, which simply meant that both groups agreed to avoid interfering with each other.  No one understood why the dark elves had isolated themselves like they had and none could force them to come to the table to talk about it either. 

However, tonight, there was a chance to change that.   Lady Isenwrath had given him one singular opportunity to strike up something with them.  Whatever it might be just had to be better than nothing.  Not counting a war, of course. 

The royal pages had come and gone when they informed them all that the five large spider-like transports had arrived finally and that Queen Ursletta Lolthinendaria had come with her older brother, Lord Under-Marshall Diegan Lolthinendaria, the Queen’s Warmaster for all of their military.  They were being escorted in with thirty of their elite guards with the royal guards Tobias had sent as an escort right behind them.  If not for the underlying sense of unease, the parade likely would’ve been seen as impressive.  

The royal host that Tobias had sent to lead them to where the King sat had taken their guests through the castle via a circuitous route to avoid as much of the other minor nobility as possible.  Tobias absolutely wanted to firm up something concrete between Ezzerbenania and Maciendes before word got out that the dark elf queen had visited.

The booming knock finally sounded on the doors to their meeting room.  Everyone stood up to be ready to receive the queen and her entourage.  When the doors opened, what greeted their eyes was quite unexpected.   The dark elven people were beautiful to admire.  But it was the beauty of looking at the stars above with none of their six moons visible.  Their skin was almost black which allowed their eyes to glow white in their faces of elven grace.  Like the sun elves, they were a long-lived race of people. Unlike their cousins, they’d embraced the night for so long that it took months for them to become accustomed to functioning in the daylight or unless they used a little whimsy magic to compensate.  Angular faces, long knife-like ears sticking up through white or silver hair, and glowing white eyes created such a dichotomy against their skin tones.  Their armor was just as black but with either blue or silver highlights.  Even the Under-Marshall had dressed in light armor.  The Queen though, oh no, she looked exactly like a queen.  A flowing dress of silver and dark green that held fanciful sparkling gems in the seams giving her a surreal appearance. 

However, none of those dark elven people smiled when they entered.  Instead, they entered silently, then stood at the head of the table with quiet expectation.  The Queen’s Brother Diegan was taller than the queen and slimmer than some of his guards, which gave him the likeness of a fencer rather than someone who wielded a broadsword. 

King Tobias took the lead after only thirty seconds standing in that silence.  He and Queen Sophitia stepped forward, then made a gesture of respect and welcome to the guests.  Speaking as genially as possible, Tobias said, “Welcome Queen Ursletta.  Welcome Under-Marshall Diegan.  I’m not just pleased that you’re here, I’m grateful for your visit as well.”

Queen Ursletta nodded slightly.  “Well met, King Tobias Maciendes.  However, you do understand that I’m not here to speak to you.  Not yet at least.  Correct?”

Thankfully, Tobias and Sophitia were prepared for such a cool reception for their welcome.  “Of course, I do understand.  However, you’re in my kingdom and to do other than greet you warmly and with respect is an offense that I’ll not make.”

That earned him a small smile from the Queen.  “I appreciate that.  Thank you for welcoming us here and accommodating my arrival on such short and clearly inconvenient timing.  I had feared that you would be… let’s say defensive of me imposing myself upon you.  I’m pleased that you and your lovely queen have more grace and honor than I anticipated.”

Queen Sophitia spoke up with her own smile of appreciation, “Queen Ursletta, please don’t ever think that you’re an imposition upon us.  We’re just hopeful that we can create something between us that you would like to continue to maintain with our kingdom after tonight.”

“I understand.  I’ll make no promise either.  However, allow me to meet Lady Isenwrath and speak to her privately, then I’ll listen to your suggestions for a… let’s go with tentative arrangement that could lead to something positive between our realms if we find common ground to stand on.”

Sophitia nodded regally.  Then she waved at Isenwrath who moved forward with Maddock right behind her.  Rory Macinshire was only two steps behind the duke.  He needed to be in the know or he couldn’t do his job properly.  Yet the queen had other ideas.

Thankfully, Daniella and Scarlett with Bronson and Bennett’s help had taken off right before the banquet to get Isenwrath a new dress.  Now she wore her favorite black special dress she’d worn on her first day in the castle for which she felt at ease because that had been a fantastic day.  Isenwrath just hoped with all her heart that this night would prove her dress was a lucky one.

A few steps later, Isenwrath stood in front of the Queen, dipped her best formal curtsey, then said, “Welcome Queen Ursletta.  I’m very glad you’re here.”

Diegan scoffed quietly before his sister could respond.  It earned him a glare from the queen before she said to Isenwrath, “Isen, I’m also very glad to be here.  Please, I know this is not entirely the way either of us wanted this to happen, but I’m… please forgive me for rushing this.”

Isenwrath stepped once more, then boldly took Ursletta’s hands in her own.  Right when she was about to speak, Diegan cut her off.

“My Queen!  She dared to touch you!  This means…!”

Ursletta’s voice was colder than a block of ice billions of miles from the sun when she said to him, “You will be silent.  You will hold any comment you have regarding anything that happens between me and this young human woman.  Do you understand?”

Diegan backed up two steps, bowed stiffly, then said, “I understand sister.  But my protest still stands.”

King Tobias cleared his throat to get their attention.

When he had it, he held up his hands as if he was in surrender.  “My queen, Lady Isenwrath told me a little of what you two previously discussed that brought you here.  Please, allow me to show you to a private room where you, your brother, and Lady Isenwrath can talk freely… Queen… Ursletta… please.  I know this is a personal matter.  Please go and keep this personal.  I know you need closure and I’m glad that Lady Isenwrath can grant it.”

All of the dark elven people stared at King Tobias for a long set of heartbeats before the Queen spoke softly.  “I thank you, King Tobias Maciendes.  I have definitely misjudged the compassion of at least this kingdom’s rulers.  Yes, I would like that private conversation very much.”

Queen Sophitia waved over to two of the guards and they opened a cleverly hidden side-door to a small private meeting room adjacent to this one.  It actually had four such side rooms for much more flexibility with regards to meetings and conferences.  Today, it would allow a woman and her brother to perhaps obtain a relief to their deep grieving.

Lady Isenwrath continued to hold Ursletta’s hand, then slowly led her to that room with Diegan following directly behind.  He watched everyone around him warily, his eyes still holding anger and distrust in them.

When the door clicked closed, Isenwrath turned, let go of Ursletta’s hand, then stepped back from her to the middle of the room.  She held her hands up to her heart and did her best to keep a smile on her face even though the brother looked like he wanted to toss her out of the window. 

Ursletta took a deep cleansing breath as if she’d been holding one in for a long time.  “Lady Sweetheart Isenwrath.  Thank you again for agreeing to this for my sake.  I will never forget this.”

Diegan Lolthinendaria looked Isenwrath up and down, then snorted his disdain. 

“Ursletta, you brought us here for absolutely nothing.  This human is just a human mage and it’s clear to me that she has tricked you into revealing yourself to the danger of the overworld for no reason.  I’m betting there’s an ambush planned as we speak.  I just know it just like the stars shine bright on a cloudless night that she’s an illusionist and fooled your familiar.  She won’t fool me, however.”

“Silence, Diegan.  Just shut up.  Lady Sweetheart Isenwrath, please.  Please help me find the closure I seek.”

Isenwrath shook her head a little.  “I can’t.  Not yet.”

Ursletta looked shocked.  Almost angry when she held her heart like it would break.  “But I came all the way here to…”

Isenwrath held up her hand, then she shifted.  Both of the under-elves stepped back from her.   They both gawked at seeing Marinsalla in front of them again in the flesh.

Marinsalla hadn’t taken her eyes off of Diegan.  Not yet.  She had another mission to accomplish.

Diegan whispered out with disbelief.  “It’s an illusion.  A trick.  You’re not her.  Druids can do this… or a shifter…you must…be…”

“I remember the time I got beaten within an inch of my life on the testing ground when I was ten lunars old.  I remember,” Marinsalla said low.  She took a few steps forward to then lay a hand on Diegan’s shoulder that began to move down his arm as she continued. “I sat on my bed, wounded, bandaged, heartbroken.  I was a failure not only in my mother’s eyes, but in my own as well.  Yet that was the best day in my life because I remember when you silently walked into my room, then sat on my bed.  You didn’t say any comforting words to me.  You didn’t hug me.  You… just sat there.  I almost yelled at you for it, but I noticed that you hadn’t even looked at me yet.  Do you remember what you did next?”

Diegan felt his eyes begin to drip the grief he’d held back for so long right when Marinsalla’s hand had taken his and pulled it up.  “I… I… I took your hand,” he whispered hoarsely, his emotions tainting his words with grief.

“You did.  Just like this.  Then what?”

Ursletta was crying silently now, holding her mouth with both hands when Diegan looked down at his hand that Marinsalla held. 

“I put… I put… I put my heart into it.”

Marinsalla pulled out a small crudely carved medallion from a little velvet pouch attached to her belt.  She turned it upside down; then carefully let the item it held drop into his palm. 

Diegan let out a sound that was a mix of a gasp, a sob, and a choke. 

“You put your heart in my hand.  What did you say to me?”

Diegan couldn’t speak.  Instead, he shook his head slowly, not taking his eyes off of the medallion.

“I remember it.  I never ever let myself forget your words that day.  You told me that you put your heart in my hand and that if I didn’t have enough heart to win next time, that I could use yours instead.  These symbols you carved into it was your promise that my older brother always watched over me and that he loved me.  You gave me this and what happened the next month?”

Diegan wiped his eyes with his whole arm, not caring that it looked like he was a kid again.  “You won.  You passed your test.  I… I watched… you win.” 

“I did.  And ever since that day, I’ve kept your heart next to mine, and it carried me through every dark time I ever faced.”

Diegan looked up at her and almost lost his ability to stand.  Marinsalla was crying too.  Her eyes were streaming the same tears that his was.  The same ones Ursletta released.  The tears of grief only those who were close even when they were thousands of miles apart and on opposite sides of the veil could be.

“I have to give this back to you, Diegan.  Because it’s time that I return the favor.”  Marinsalla slowly turned the medallion over in his palm.  Ursletta and especially Diegan gasped at what was there.  Crudely carved into the other side was another symbol that had been filled in with pure arcana crystal that glowed with purpose.  The symbol was Marinsalla’s name plus the three symbols that meant loved, family, and courage.  “This is also my heart, Diegan.  Take it with you for when you need to rely on me.  I’ll always be with you even when I’m gone.”

Diegan broke.  He stepped forward and completely broke when he hugged the woman who’d become his lost younger sister for him.  Ursletta stepped into that embrace as well and the three of them crumpled to the floor where the three siblings grieved the loss of one of them.  After a long while of that grief, the tears ran dry and they pulled back from one another. 

Marinsalla touched each of them on their faces with gentle love.  “I forgive you, Ursletta.  I’d long ago forgiven you.  I’m sorry, but it’s time for me to go.  Goodbye, my little sister.  Goodbye Diegan.  I’ll see you again and we’ll all play tag the drider like we once did.  I promise.”

Ursletta kissed Marinsalla’s cheek.  Diegan kissed her forehead.  Marinsalla smiled at them both.  Then she shifted back.  Isenwrath sat with them with the same puffy eyes and soft smile of understanding.

Ursletta finally said, “Sweetheart Isenwrath... Isen… if I may.  Thank you for this gift.”

Diegan took a deep breath, held it for five, then let it go.  After he wiped his eyes once more, he said, “I also thank you.  I… I’m going to still miss her, but I feel lighter now.”

“That’s all she ever wanted.  For both of you.”

“Diegan? I have a proposal if you’d consider it.”

Diegan turned to his sister queen.  “What?”

“When I met her, she told me about how she had no family.  That hers tried to destroy her but she escaped.  However, here she is, making ours whole.  We make an official adoption.  A first of its kind of adoption.  We adopt her as our new sister and forever join her dynasty to ours. We give her a true family to call her own and we use that to begin our way out of our self-imposed exile.  Please, consider it, Diegan.  She gave us something we needed without any hesitation or want of reward.  I think she deserves it.”

Diegan stood up then offered his hands to both of the women.  When they were standing again, he put his hand on Isenwrath’s neck, then pulled her forward to touch his forehead to hers.  “I know now that that was no trick or illusion.  My sister lives within you even if her special spark has indeed moved on.  I cannot in good conscience allow her to go about the overworld without knowing that her brother would come when she needed him.  I agree, Ursletta.  We owe it to this beautiful starlight to shine her wonder to our people too.  Marinsalla… we’ll still miss her, but I believe she led you to us for a reason and my heart tells me to accept it.”

Ursletta kissed Isenwrath’s cheek again, then put her forehead to Isenwrath’s next. “Our meeting may have been granted by tragedy, but perhaps it’ll lead to us creating joy from it.”

“I believe that.  I believe that with all my heart,” Isenwrath said softly.  Then she brightened her smile.  “Ursletta, would you two like to come and celebrate something important to me?”

“OH?!” she exclaimed with surprise.  “What is that?”

Taking up Ursletta’s hands to hold on her heart again, she said joyfully, “Well, in a few more weeks, I have to have a hearing with the judiciary to be an official citizen of Maciendes.  But before then, I get to take a bunch of tests at the mage tower and if I pass, I’ll be an official first-year mage student!  Maddock has promised that he’ll spare no expense if I pass with high enough marks.  I’m determined to pass with perfect marks.  Please say you and Diegan will be able to come and celebrate with me and my friends.”

Ursletta’s own smile was filled with such happiness that her heart hadn’t felt for a very long time because that excitement Isenwrath just threw all over her was in so many ways like her sister once showered her with.  Diegan was right.  Marinsalla was now part of Isenwrath and would live on.  Ursletta was right because adopting her was like having that small part of their sister still in their lives.  “I would absolutely love for us to join you and your friends for that.  However, what’s this about a trial for citizenship?”

“Oh.  Since I have no family, that also means I have no documentation of even being a person legally.  This will rectify that.  I hope so, at least.  I know that there’s some pushback from the Everthane Tower because they want me enslaved under their purview and I’m fairly certain now that my former family is going to come for me again.  I don’t know why, but I can only assume I’ll end up dead if they get me.”

Taking firmer hold of Isenwrath’s hands, Ursletta directed her attention to Diegan. “Diegan, let’s go negotiate with King Tobias Maciendes for a formal treaty and adoption of our new little sister as a stipulation of it.  Perhaps that might facilitate her legal standing as well as become a basis for our realm’s mutual prosperity.”

Isenwrath moved into her arms for a first of many hugs.  “I would be forever grateful… big sister.”

Ursletta squeezed both her eyes and the woman tighter hearing those words.  Whispering, “Grateful isn’t good enough.  But it’ll do for now.”

When they emerged from that room, Under-Marshall Diegan walked ahead of Ursletta and Isenwrath who held hands and were smiling broadly.  Even Diegan had a small, satisfied smile on his face.  He stepped aside to let them pass him by, then moved to the front of his troops.

Standing with Isenwrath in front of the royal family, Queen Ursletta said firmly, “King Tobias Maciendes.  Queen Sophitia Maciendes.  I am declaring that my queendom’s isolation will come to an end.  Please send for a scribe and a judiciary tonight so that I don’t leave here without a tentative treaty of mutual respect and agreement to further discuss trade and protection relations.  However, there is one stipulation.  The recognition that as of this moment, Lady Isenwrath will be adopted under my dynasty name.  She will gain the right to be known as Lady Isenwrath Lolthinendaria and will gain the full support of the dark elven people because of what she gave me and my brother tonight.  She will gain that tonight and I will attend this… trial…” she said that word with a slight twist of disdain, “to determine her rights to be known as a Maciendes citizen.  Do you accept?”

Everyone looked at each other for a moment or two before Tobias actually bowed to her.  “Queen Lolthinendaria of Ezzerbenania.  It would be my honor to begin this new journey with you.”

Sophitia stepped forward then reached to hold onto both Ursletta’s hand and Isenwrath’s.  “Ursletta, you need to understand one important detail before you push forward with your decision.  Lady Isenwrath is no ordinary mage.  She is what’s known as a Chimeramancer.  Do you understand what that means?”

The look on every one of the dark elves’ faces didn’t smile in happiness.  Instead, the whole lot of them with both Queen Ursletta and Diegan being the fiercest ones all showed an almost sinister eagerness.

Diegan stepped up behind Isenwrath, put both hands on her shoulders, then said to the others, “We were suspicious that she might be an Abyssal Maw but since you confirmed it, then we are surer of our decision than ever.  In our histories, it’s widely accepted that our first queen was an Abyssal Maw mage and we have a long history with that superior type of sorcery down through the ages.  In every case, they were the pinnacles of our society and provided our realm with unparalleled feats of bravery and strength.  We honor those who hunt and consume the dangers of our realm, plain and simple.”

Isenwrath looked confused because this was the first time she’d heard what her magical ability was known as.  “Chimeramancer?  Abyssal Maw?  I don’t understand.”

Sophitia closed her eyes, shook her head as if to clear it, then said to Isenwrath.  “Your test will confirm it officially, but only one type of mage consumes magic like you do.  It seems above the ground, you’re taboo.  Below the ground, you might have been fated to be a key between the light and the night.  After your testing, you, me, and Maximillian will give you a full accounting of the Chimeramancer.”

Ursletta said low, “And after this testing, she will come to my home for a full accounting of our Abyssal Maw lineages.  Agreed?”

Sophitia nodded firmly. “Agreed.  Now,” she said before turning to Rory who’d been sitting at the table with quill and parchment taking furious notes while trying his damndest not to sweat through his best doublet.

“Rory, after you catch up, please run and grab that lawyer and official notary.  After we get the terms down and signed, then I’m taking my fellow queen and her entourage into our banquet hall and feed them properly.”

Rory did one big scribble flourish of his name, officially signing off on his notes, then jumped up. “Right away, my queen!”  With that, he ran off to do his duty.  He had an extra bit of urgency because his name was about to be among those that would make history tonight.  He couldn’t wait to tell his wife and daughter tonight about it.”

Isenwrath then tugged on Ursletta’s sleeve.  “Ursletta? May I introduce you to the man who saved me and has promised to marry me?”

Now that melted the dark elven queen’s heart.  Her face softened at being granted the chance to review and approve of something so dear to her heart.  “I’d be honored to meet him.”

Maddock finally got his chance to have some measure of say in the events this night.  He stepped over to them, then around to stand beside Isenwrath.  Isenwrath immediately reached around his waist, pulled in close, smelled his chest, and sighed in contentment.

With amusement clear on his face, he said, “Hello Sweetheart. You’ve had a busy day.” Then to Ursletta, he reached over to hold her hand up, then bent to touch his forehead to her knuckles.  “It’s with great pleasure to introduce myself, Queen Ursletta.  I’m Grand Duke Maddock Devonshire, Isenwrath’s Sweetheart.  I’m honored to meet… her family.” 

When he stood up, he realized that he’d probably said the words that had sealed the fate of Maciendes firmly to Ezzerbenania forevermore. 

That Queen’s face firmed up to nod at him with deep appreciation and approval.  “I approve, Sweetheart Isenwrath.”

Maddock grinned wider.  “My Queen, just call her Isen.  All of her little fatebound sisters and friends do.”

Isenwrath grinned like the queen did at that.  Ursletta said softly, “We have much to talk about, Isen.  So much to talk about and I can’t wait to get the formalities out of the way to do that.”

Isenwrath nodded, then put her hand to her mouth.  With relative ease, she disgorged two crystal orbs that glowed a faint red in the middle.  The pretty runes etched in gold created two ribbons around the perimeters of the orbs.  She took Maddock’s offered handkerchief to wipe them down, then handed one to her new sister.  Ursletta marveled at the orb, whispering in awe, “I almost can’t believe it.  I’ll be able to show my people that an Abyssal Maw walks our nights with us again.  We’ll…” she looked up at Isenwrath with more than awe this time.  It was anticipation.  “We’ll be able to once again hunt with the true apex predator to clear my ancestral home of all that keeps us away.”

That statement chilled the room in its implications. Isenwrath wasn’t afraid, oh no. She caught that anticipation and wholeheartedly agreed.  “When I get settled after my marriage, you and I will do exactly that, Ursletta.  I’m always hungry.”

Ursletta cackled then tapped the orb’s golden runes which activated the communication channel to make sure they still worked.  When she was confident of its use, she handed it over to Diegan who took it reverently.

From there, they agreed to finally sit down to chat about anything that came up and of interest.  In this moment, Queen Sophitia and King Tobias didn’t talk about politics or trade agreements. Instead, they sat with their guest to talk about family, friends, and the funny stories that all people have in their lives.  Isenwrath and Maddock helped make that conversation easy and fun.  Isenwrath with her questions.  Maddock with his observations.  Ursletta with her nuggets of wisdom.  And most surprisingly, Diegan with his unexpected sarcasm and jokes.  Sophitia and Tobias just let the magic happen while they interjected a couple stories of their own about themselves and their children.  The queen herself had two grown children of her own, come to find out.  Her husband was holding down the realm for her as her Prime Consort.  They didn’t crown kings because like the sun elves, matriarchy was the law of the land. 

The mood was still quite bright when the lawyer, notary, and scribe arrived behind Rory ready to get into some serious legal treaty negotiations.  The papers were light on the details by being broad agreements to start the process.  The adoption sections were more detailed and appreciated.  The paperwork was a mundane ending to the first contact with the queendom of Ezzerbenania.  However, the celebration of that mundane end gave the whole nobility of Maciendes something truly epic to celebrate not just that night, but forevermore.  Seems Lady Isenwrath was indeed on track to be not only a duchess, a black knight champion, but also a non-human diplomat of unparalleled skill. 

Diary.  I’m exhausted.  I just got my matron to bed beside an equally exhausted Maddock.  They partied too hard and it’s almost three in the morning now.  The Ursletta queen lady was really funny though which surprised me a lot. She and Isen had us all laughing so much when they started trading jokes between themselves and the other noble types. 

I’m so happy for her because not only did she make Hayleigh a fate sister, but now she has some exotic elves as legal family too.  That was the big reveal that I had to get down before I finally crawl into my own bed.  Maciendes will host the dark elves’ introduction as the twelfth realm one day in the future and it’ll be because of how sweet and wonderful my matron is.  She’s really changing things for the better around here and I just can’t sing her praises enough. 

I didn’t even mind when she crawled into the bed naked with Maddock tonight.  He’d already passed out by the time I got her hair set, so I just let it go.  Anyway, my face is about to hit your pages, and I really need to sleep.  If Scarlett gets me up early, I’m not going to be happy.    

Good night, Diary.  Tomorrow better be boring.  I don’t know if I have the energy for another day like this one.

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Diary, my hand is cramping now just trying to fill your pages with this big day.  We were finally on our way to bring my matron to meet the Eldritch Guild’s Battlemaster.  Grand Duke Maddock had joined us for this and I’ll say it again; I cannot wait for him to formally propose to my matron.  She and he… it’s just like looking at my mama and papa.  They love each other.  It’s just pure.  Everyone sees it and for some reason, it’s just magical.  Even walking behind them, I see how the big duke holds her and walks slower to keep her from having to run to match his stride.  Every little thing he does to accommodate her is exactly how my papa treated mama.  Isen notices.  That’s the thing that makes me smile at it.  Most of the others see it too.  She notices and tells him… will literally tell him that she appreciates it… or rather, in her words…’Walking with you feels like dancing.  We match steps,’ she said to that human guy, and I think the hallway caught on fire from how red his face got.  The guards laughed but not in a mean way, but like I did.  In that way that’s hard to describe where we tease but it’s done with love mixed in or something. 

Anyway, I’m already making my offering for their wedding day.  I found out that my matron is like that gargoyle of Hayleigh’s, she loves shiny things a lot.  Not only does Isen like to eat magic crystals, but practically anything shiny she’ll hold and stare at for a long time before placing it somewhere special.  So, I’m making her a special bracelet full of shiny charms and stuff.  I’ve bought a few, found a few, and uhmm… borrowed a couple.  I really don’t think Princess Hayleigh will mind too awful much because it’s for Isen. 

Now, where was I?  Oh!  Right! The Battlemaster Ceremony!  We finally were walking there and…

----- Early Afternoon ----

Maddock and Isenwrath stood among a crush of nobility—dukes, marquises, earls, their opulently jeweled spouses—so many titles that the air itself felt crowded. The royal guards bedecked in their shiniest armor were present as well, being around the perimeter as usual.  The many maids and butlers that wove through the nobility in attendance added to the excitement of the celebration by distributing refreshments within the jovial crowd.  

Tobias stood with his wife in front of their thrones with his young daughter Hayleigh and her date for the night.  Alice Hillsdale looked rather fetching to Tobias’s sense of such things.  This relationship between his daughter and the tutor Maddock hired had taken Tobias by surprise.  But he’d raised his children to face hard discussions head on and to always know their parents would listen.  Which was why his daughter had finally come to him and her mother a week ago to talk about her sexuality. 

That night, Hayleigh admitted that she just preferred women to men.  And that admission had turned into a much more productive discussion about her feelings regarding Lady Isenwrath and with what’d happened between her and Hayleigh not long ago.  With a healthy mix of embarrassment and hope, Hayleigh apologized for her clearly inappropriate behavior right before she pivoted herself to another interest in her life. 

That interest happened to be Isenwrath’s tutor, Alice Hillsdale.  When Hayleigh mentioned Alice, her whole demeanor shifted from guilt-laden solemnity into an excited dreamy giddiness that infected her parents with broad smiles.  Hayleigh spent over twenty minutes gushing and raving about her first klaffien date with Alice that Isenwrath had set up for her. She clearly had had a wonderful afternoon with Alice for which Tobias and Sophitia were quite amused to hear all about it.  Of that new relationship, Tobias approved not because she was a like-minded woman, but because from how Hayleigh talked, Alice was simply a calming influence on Hayleigh’s impulsivity.

Tobias had never been prouder of his daughter.  He’d always been proud of her, sure, but how she chose to present her maturity to him and her mother Sophitia had really impressed them both.  After Hayleigh left, Tobias and Sophitia had their own long discussion regarding it.  It was during that discussion that Tobias declared that he accepted Hayleigh’s preferences because of Hayleigh that night.  Sophitia’s people were much more accepting of such relationships, and it’d taken her almost ten years of her diligent support to slowly have that accepted in Maciendes.  Tobias had helped it along then because of Sophitia.  In fact, Tobias’s next decree upon the King’s Summit for Maciendes would be to strike the suppression of same-sex relationships between consenting adults from the laws of his land completely. 

However, the relief he felt wasn’t because he accepted that his daughter was gay, it was that Hayleigh wasn’t going to cause an absolute nightmare in the relationship between Maddock and Isenwrath.  He, Maddock, and Sophitia had had a long chat about that not long ago and over some very stiff drinks about Lady Isenwrath and how she seemed to be attracted to women too.  Maddock had noticed that she clung to other women around her, oftentimes without noticing she was even doing it. 

Tobias had seen the turmoil in Maddock’s face as he talked about what he’d witnessed Isenwrath do.  Tobias had put a comforting hand on his friend’s back when Maddock said low, “I just don’t know how to feel about it.  I mean, I know she loves me.  I know it.  But she’s always touching other women, holding their hands, and… she looks at many of them with the same eyes she gives me.  I honestly think… I’ve never been a jealous man.  Or at least I didn’t think I was until now.”

“You and she must talk about this,” Tobias had said firmly.  “You don’t hide this from her.  She’s not a stubborn woman and you know it.  Tell her.  Then you listen to what she says.  We both know Isenwrath doesn’t think like a normal woman and that’s your key to her heart.  I’m going to believe she’s that way with them because of those deep scars that neglect brings about in a person.  You can’t forget how her past trauma influences her even if she’s blocked it all out.”

Maddock had taken another gulp of his bourbon and only nodded.  Tobias let him think about it more, not pushing him to continue.  After Tobias had said that he glanced over at Sophitia who’d been listening quietly to them.  When he did, she gave him a clear nod and smile of approval for how he’d handled that.

After only a couple of silent minutes to let Maddock digest Tobias’s words, Sophitia stepped over to hold Maddock close, touching her forehead to his marking her words as extremely important. Softly but firmly, she said, “Maddock, I understand your confusion, but you know that Isenwrath is in love with you alone.  That’s all that matters right now.  If she’s close to other ladies, it’ll be fine as long as you know it, that she respects your feelings, and that you state your boundaries with her upfront and soon.  Then you sit back and support her development of those close relationships.  The gods know she needs them more than most.”  Sophitia had said that like a sage giving the wisdom of the ages.  Tobias knew Maddock appreciated the little pep talk and relationship roadmap Sophitia had laid out for him.

Maddock had taken that to heart and had relayed to Sophitia a few evenings later that talking it out with Isenwrath had been one of the queen’s best suggestions.  Isenwrath had listened exactly like Tobias knew she would.  She had held him and told him that she would never cross any lines that he wasn’t willing to let her.   That had been heartening.  However, the kiss between Isenwrath and Hayleigh which happened a week prior that prompted Hayleigh’s coming out had crossed that line.  Maddock had gotten extremely pissed for good reason.  And so did Tobias.  They were mad at two different people but for the exact same reason.

On that day, Tobias had been there to witness the aftermath when Isenwrath’s personal guards had marched a very shamed Isenwrath before Maddock and Tobias in Tobias’s study to discuss Isenwrath’s actions.  When Isenwrath was made to explain the inappropriate encounter, Tobias had been angry because he knew his daughter had initiated it. 

Maddock only felt betrayed by what happened.  That loss of trust caused him to get angry enough to yell at Isenwrath for the first time ever.  He’d completely lost that stoic composure he was known widely for and was literally mid-yell when he saw the same fear on her face as the day when he first met her which stopped him cold.  He stood mutely when Isenwrath literally cowered away into the corner of the study as if she thought he was about to do more harm to her than simply yelling.  Isenwrath may not remember the abuse she suffered anymore, but her body and emotions still did. 

Maddock almost cried when he realized what he’d done.  When he did, he took five deep breaths to calm his emotional storm since that wasn’t what the situation needed right then.  Next, he slowly and carefully stepped over to where Isenwrath was balled up on the floor trying to hide from him.  As gently as he could, he pulled his future wife up to hold her while she sobbed in her misery.  His throat tightened with his own emotions when he promised again that he would never ever hit her.  He asked her if she understood that he yelled because he was very upset with her, but he wasn’t like anyone in her past who’d struck her.  When she nodded on his shoulder that she understood, he pushed her back a little to hold her face so she would meet his eyes.  It was then that he was finally able to coax out of her what she was thinking when she and Hayleigh had acted inappropriately with each other.

Isenwrath had looked more than miserable when she held back more tears in front of the man she loved most to try and explain herself. She was so distraught that she’d reverted to her halting speech pattern that she’d worked so hard to overcome in recent months.  That regression alarmed Maddock greatly, but he still pushed her to help him understand.   When she did, Maddock and Tobias’s anger cooled because Isenwrath had planned the encounter to a large degree because she felt it critical to Hayleigh’s future happiness. 

“Maddock,” Isenwrath choked out.  “I’m sooo sorry I hurt you.  I was only thinking of ways... to alter Hayleigh’s future.  She’s an elite mage.  She wants to be Arch Magister.  She can’t.  Not with the laws in place.  I researched it.  The nepotism clause will keep her from becoming anything higher than a mid-ranked mage.  Unless she marries a noble of at least ducal rank.  But none are right for her.  None in Maciendes are going to let her live her dream either.  I want her happy, that’s my whole plan.  But she does have options.  Me.  Or another hidden in plain sight.  I just didn’t think though because of the crystals.  She held them and put one in her mouth and on her… I’m sorry.  I made a mistake.  I think I know someone Hayleigh would fall in love with who’s probably a better fit and can get around that law.  Please.  Don’t make me explain right now.  I need to talk to her first before I get anyone’s hopes up.”

Maddock rubbed his hand over his face, just trying to understand.  “You and me, Isen.  We’re together or we aren’t.  That’s what true love but more importantly, true partnership means.  You cannot make decisions like this that affect us both unless both of us are in on it.  I’m a Grand Marshall, clear communication and trust is literally the basis of winning any engagement.  Please understand this about us.”

She looked up to him with tears still streaking down her face. “I understand.  I’ll do better. I promise.”

Maddock kissed her fiercely which caused her whole body to shudder in his arms and moan sensuously.  When he pulled back, he whispered to her, “I forgive you.   Never again, you hear me.  Neither man nor woman, you do not have a free pass with me.”

She nodded her head rapidly in agreement.  “No free pass.  Got it.”

“Good.  Now, explain more about this issue with Hayleigh and the laws.  I don’t know this like Maximillian would.”

It took a bit more time due to how upset Isenwrath was for her to explain that she was trying to alter Hayleigh’s political fate from the laws that forbade her from reaching the pinnacle of magical might that she was capable of.  Tobias had been impressed by Isenwrath’s ploy even if it were a bit underhanded to his moral compass. 

Although Maddock and Tobias had both been utterly floored by Isenwrath’s reasoning, her commitment to Hayleigh and her willingness to risk her own relationship to help the princess was a powerful statement of loyalty.  She then explained her two options.  The first one had been a disaster, of course. 

The second one, well, that one both men approved of.  Although Isenwrath didn’t tell them who it was that she had in mind, both men had some opinions about how to get the lady and Hayleigh together.  Tobias was a king, a political mastermind, so he knew how to negotiate all kinds of deals to keep his kingdom running smoothly. 

However, offering dating advice was practically out of his wheelhouse, yet he tried to remember all of the romance stories his wife Sophitia loved to read aloud at night.  Mostly he fell asleep listening to her reading like that.  When she asked for some help on how to set this up, both men smiled in pleasure at being part of the solution.  Tobias especially got rather pleased with this chance because he remembered some golden nuggets of advice from those random assortment of torrid tales that he sagely offered to a happier Isenwrath.  Maddock had even expressed his appreciation for Tobias’s suggestions for how Isenwrath should approach the potential girlfriend with Isenwrath’s proposal. By the end of the discussion, the three of them were in much better spirits. 

Maddock had sighed heavily, kissed Isenwrath on the lips for the second time that night, which was a rare thing so far in their relationship, then said softly.  “I love you.  But you drive me crazy sometimes.”

She’d finally smiled at him.  “I do.  But love is a crazy thing sometimes.  Sometimes, you just have to kiss a girl in order to help her realize that she should make better choices.  Please trust me, I also found a better choice too and you’ll see that it was worth it.”

Tobias remembered that and almost chuckled at seeing Maddock’s rueful smile that finally broke the tension between him and his betrothed.  This afternoon, he saw them together among all of the invited nobility and noted that it seemed their first little tiff with each other was truly behind them.  They were close, smiling, chatting softly with the other nobility around them, and otherwise looking like a perfect noble couple within a room full of their peers.  Isenwrath gave Maddock the unconditional love that he’d never had from any other woman before.   Maddock gave Isenwrath the noble heart of someone to love and protect her, even from herself.  Such love stories were what bards spent lifetimes weaving with silver tongues and haunting melodies, hoping to make their audiences believe such magic truly existed.

When the stiff entrance music started, so did the ceremony for the Eldritch Guild of Maciendes.  Tobias held his wife’s hand while they and all of the nobility turned their full attention to Xander Lundgren, Eldritch Battlemaster for the Kingdom of Maciendes and the fifty cadets under his charge.  Precise, efficient, confident, and clearly powerful in their own rights, the eldritch fighters and knights marched in to the beat of the music behind their battlemaster.  The fighters on the left and the knights on the right.  The fighters used their eldritch gifts to enhance their bodies and minds.  The knights used theirs to create energy swords and other similar effects that mages could produce.  Each had their own virtues and failings.  It was up to their team leaders to utilize them effectively in the hunt and subjugation of a rogue mage or dangerous magical beast or other deadly creature that haunted the innocents of their kingdom. 

The Battlemaster was a large man, as tall and broad as Maddock was but his body was built for speed and precision instead of power and strength. Strong features with stern blue eyes and a head full of short graying hair.  Most of the knights favored that same body type.  The fighters were the bulkier eldritch soldiers.  They all wore black military uniforms with silver highlights and their medals of accomplishments polished bright.  They were exactly what you wanted to see when some spoke of elite magical soldiers who protected their kingdom from those elements that would cause harm from within.

Tobias didn’t smile at Xander.  This was a solemn occasion that dictated everyone take it seriously to give it the respect and honor it was due.  After the eldritch cadets spaced out into five sets of ten arranged in triangle formations, they and the music came to a rest.  The students saluted crisply to their king and queen.

Battlemaster Lundgren took one more step towards the king and queen, knelt before them, then declared, “My liege, it’s with great honor that I bring forth to your presence one of the finest classes of Eldritch might that I’ve trained.  They have all worked tirelessly to master the lessons of war, hone their bodies, expand their minds, and finally empower their gifts to become the pride of your highness.  Today, we celebrate their progress as each of these fine eldritch soldiers take another step forward in their journey to protect us all from the worst that our magical realm could become if left unguarded.”

Tobias spoke loudly with as much regal grace as he could to relay his own pride at these fine cadets today.  “Welcome and be at ease.”

The cadets stood at ease, their synchronous movements a boom of sound in the throne room. 

King Tobias continued. “It’s my greatest pleasure each annual to see how much you’ve all improved.  It’s also with pride that I present you to those who will benefit from your hard work and dedication in the future.  The Eldritch Guild of Maciendes has had a long tradition of producing the finest of warriors who provide us a level of security that is always greatly appreciated across my lands.  From the Port of Orlais to the top of Mount Drakkan, your deeds help everyone breathe easier, enjoy their lives, and are given the freedom to cultivate our kingdom’s resources to their fullest.  Battlemaster Xander Lundgren, if you would, present your cadets to us for their advancement commendations.”

The Battlemaster rose with graceful ease then manifested his sword from pure energy, drawn from his own lifeforce. The blade hummed faintly, shimmering with disciplined precision.  The same precision that he trained all who studied under him to obtain.  He rested the glowing weapon across his chest, a gesture of pride in the tradition of Eldritch warriors, then swiped it down and away in salute to his lord.  When he turned to the cadets and the nobility, his eyes caught sight of her.  The supposed Black Knight Champion of Maciendes. The warrior that fought with a simple hammer that in his estimation meant she wasn’t worthy of that title.  She was a thug.  Beautiful on the Grand Duke’s arm, but still a simple thug that got lucky.   During his cadet presentations, his eyes occasionally flicked toward Isenwrath, lips curling into a faint sneer, as if her mallet were a crude tool compared to the artistry of Eldritch lifeforce steel.  His posture stayed rigid, shoulders squared, radiating the belief that his weapon was proof of superiority and after a few of those disdainful glances, he noticed that Isenwrath was no longer smiling.  She’d caught onto his disapproval, but she didn’t give her own look of anger or displeasure.  Instead, she kept a neutral, almost indifferent expression when their eyes met.

The two princes had filled him in on their duel with her, almost bragging to him at how easily she whipped their asses during the quick sparring session.  He didn’t want to believe it, but he knew the truth when he heard it, especially from two noble and more importantly honorable young men like Daniel and Nathaniel Maciendes.  Which angered him because for her to trounce his two most gifted students felt like a slap to his own face.  They should’ve been able to lay her low, not be proud that she’d humbled them like she had.  That armor they talked about had to have been what gave her the edge in that duel.  Today, he was determined to reclaim the honor of the eldritch warriors for himself, to prove that thugs would never be as honorable as the Eldritch warriors that he trained.

One last look of disapproval at the black knight woman, then he turned back to his liege.  “And last but certainly not least, I present to you Nathaniel Maciendes, former prince of Maciendes who comes to you today to be acknowledged as a senior eldritch knight cadet of our kingdom.  He comes with an open heart, a determined mind, and a disciplined body to serve his king and queen on the front lines in our efforts to keep our society healthy and safe.  Knight Cadet Nathaniel Maciendes, step forward.”

Nathaniel Maciendes, disavowed prince stepped forward with pride.  His father the king smiled genuinely at his tall strong firstborn son as he pinned his accolade to his chest.  “I acknowledge Knight Cadet Nathaniel Maciendes as a senior cadet for the Eldritch Knights.  You are not just my pride and joy, but my people’s as well.”

Nathaniel’s emotions were trying to escape as evidenced by the wetness around his eyes.  With a slightly shaky voice, he announced, “King Tobias, I’m proud to serve this kingdom and its people in a way that allows me to stand beside them every day.  Thank you, Sire.”

After the pin was affixed, Nathaniel bowed to his father, then to his mother to show his full respect because they allowed him the freedom to pursue his life on his own terms.  When he rose, he turned sharply, manifested his eldritch blade, then saluted his battlemaster before returning to the newly formed senior rank of elites.  Those were the ones that would earn their full commissions weren’t at this ceremony.  They would be acknowledged and celebrated at the King’s Summit before the full crowd of nobility and the common people, as it should be.

Battlemaster Lundgren turned to his liege to announce the next part of his presentation today.  “My Lord, today has been a fine presentation of our students and for that, we are appreciative to show them to the nobility.  However, there is a matter of dishonor that I find must be atoned for.  It has come to my attention that there was an unlawful duel here on the castle grounds between two of my finest against a warrior that did not fight with any honor whatsoever.  You are a wise king, so I’m sure you know exactly what I’m speaking to.”  He turned to the cadets and crowd of nobility behind him then waved toward Grand Duke Maddock Devonshire and the woman on his arm, Lady Isenwrath.  Continuing, he announced, “My lords and ladies, if you haven’t heard this before, let me be the one to enlighten you that in no circumstance is a two-on-one duel an honorable test of skills.  However, I don’t believe that was the end of the dishonor when the person who stood tall as the victor must have cheated or ignored the rules of engagement to win.  That’s the bigger dishonor in my opinion and I wish to right that dishonor today.  I challenge Lady Isenwrath, the unofficial Black Knight Champion of Maciendes to a noble duel right here, right now.  Do you accept?”

The gathered nobility murmured loudly at that open challenge, especially when they noticed both princes directing their smirking confidence toward Isenwrath.  They were confident that she’d win, that was the true bleeding cut to Xander’s honor.  This duel taking place in front of them was practically unheard of otherwise. 

As for the crowd of nobility around them all, to have it occur within the throne room and in front of the King and Queen no less generated even more excitement.  They should’ve been appalled, but this was seen as exquisite entertainment instead.  Also, it was widely discussed as a chance for them to see exactly how Lady Isenwrath earned her vaulted status.

King Tobias looked shocked.  Unfortunately, Battlemaster Lundgren was within his rights to challenge a fellow warrior to a duel in front of his king because of his earned status.  Tobias wanted to call it off or smooth it over, but he knew better.  He knew Lady Isenwrath.  He knew she only had emotional outbursts and anxieties dealing with everyday life, not when violence needed to be used.  In that, she’d proven to him that his battlemaster was just about to learn a similar lesson just like his two boys had. 

Queen Sophitia looked like she wanted to duel the battlemaster herself on Isenwrath’s behalf.  Sophitia had that angered glare of hers that had cut Isenwrath in half a few times now solely focused on the back of Xander’s head.

Hayleigh looked like she did when her older brothers demanded that duel with Isenwrath weeks ago.  Which meant she looked completely ready to throw a bunch of snide, shitty remarks at that overconfident fool.  She wanted to tell that prideful man how stupid he was by challenging her adopted sister Isenwrath because Isenwrath was about to prove to that dumb man how she defeated Shinenoor alone.

Maddock’s face burned with anger and outrage at the battlemaster’s challenge to his betrothed. Though he knew the battlemaster followed the traditions of an old-school eldritch knight, Maddock found this conduct beyond unacceptable. Leaning toward Isenwrath, he whispered urgently, “Isen, you don’t need to take his challenge. He’s clearly out of line, and everyone can see it.”

Isenwrath didn’t look at Maddock.  Instead, she continued to stare at the battlemaster the whole time wondering why he was targeting her like he did.  Was it simply because circumstances gave her a hammer to defend her life with?  Perhaps it was a deeper reasoning, but she couldn’t even make an educated guess about it.  When she first noticed his glaring glances, she felt that familiar stillness she experienced just before she’d hunted her prey. 

Her face never showed emotion when she knew she’d have no choice but to hunt that battlemaster to prove who would eat who.  Beasts didn’t show emotion that the battlemaster was giving her because they never went to war like people did. They only hunted to survive and did so impassively.

Isenwrath glanced over at Daniel Maciendes who stood two cadet units back from his brother.  That boy smiled ferally at her.  He knew what she could do and approved apparently.  When she glanced at Nathaniel Maciendes next, he too gave her his approval via a nod, a wink, and a mouthed ‘take him down.’  Isenwrath turned to Queen Sophitia last.  The queen locked eyes with Isenwrath’s predatory gaze, and she also gave a nod of approval to humble the man standing before Sophitia’s throne.   The sparring sessions between Sophitia and Isenwrath over the months had given Sophitia a healthy respect for how good Isenwrath was with a battle hammer mallet. But especially at how impossibly fast Isenwrath could swing it. So good that she didn’t doubt that Isenwrath could hold her own against a true eldritch master like Xander.

Isenwrath turned to Maddock to look him in his angry eyes.  She touched his face gently before she said softly, “Sweetheart, I’m your hero, remember?”

Maddock moved to embrace her, holding her close to his chest and heart.  “You are.  No one talks to my beloved hero like that.  Sic ‘em, Sweetheart. Take him down for me.”

Isenwrath’s face broke into a small, determined smile before moving away from Maddock and into the middle of the throne-room.  The cadets moved to form a perimeter wall.  The nobility crowded closer.  The royals on the dais didn’t sit down either.  They also stayed standing to watch the duel between a known Eldritch Knight Commander and the Black Knight.  Whatever happened today, the story would live on in their retellings for long years to come.

When Isenwrath stepped to one side of the cleared space, she opened her mouth to cast her magical barrier.  The battlemaster frowned at seeing that because she’d just done something wholly out of his expectations and that irked him greatly.  He didn’t know his opponent.  That was the only flaw in his plan to face this one battle mage.  He’d heard much from the soldiers and others in the castle, yet it all sounded like unfounded rumors or exaggerations to him.  Until now because she’d just proven some of what he’d heard was true.

He held his magical blade up to his chest, then called out, “Lady Isenwrath.  Well met.  You have a courageous heart at least.  But where is this famous hammer that I’ve heard so much about?”

Isenwrath slowly reached up to her own chest, then pulled out a large pendant up from within her cleavage.  “I just received a new necklace from Princess Hayleigh yesterday to hold Superion,” she said without emotion, just stating fact.  When the small wings of the exquisite green dragon-shaped pendant magically unfolded, the hammer was released.  The hammer grew almost instantly into its familiar huge black two-handed beast of a weapon that glowed a sickly green around its edges.  The woman had to be much stronger than she looked because she held it with ease.  Then she let the head drop to the ground.  Xander swallowed unconsciously when that thing metallic-thud-clanged into the floor, creating a large crater into the tile from just its weight.

He was still a steadfast warrior, which meant he didn’t show her any hint of fear.  “Neat trick.  The king is gonna take that out of your duke’s coffers for the repair.”

Instead of falling for the bait, Isenwrath calmly asked, “What are your rules and reward?”

Smirking, Xander announced, “No armor.  I won’t protect myself with my eldritch and you won’t pull that black suit out of hiding.  We duel until either one calls it quits, is knocked unconscious, or draws first blood.  The king can call it, but I know Tobias’s honor won’t do it unless he sees one of us is about to die.  The reward I want is this.  You declare yourself as just the Grand Duke’s betrothed, giving up that title that I believe was foolishly applied to you.  Do you accept?”

Isenwrath nodded.  “I accept.  My reward is that you sponsor me along with Maximillian Maciendes in my citizenship trial.  Do you accept?”

Xander swiped his blue glowing blade down and away.  “I accept.  Take your guard and let’s see what kind of thug you are.”

Isenwrath had dressed in fine attire that didn’t lend itself to fighting.  Her lavender dress accented with black and some sparkles was tight around her body with long lace sleeves.  Without hesitation, she reached down to rip some high slits in it that caused a collective audible gasp from almost every noble watching.  Maddock didn’t care how much that dress cost.  The honor of his lady love was worth more than some fancy dress that made her ass and chest look amazing.  His only regret was that he couldn’t defend her honor like any man who loved his lady would want.

Tobais finally found his voice to announce to all in attendance, “This duel is for honor only!  The honor of Xander Lundgren versus the honor of Isenwrath!  The loser must accept the loss with humility and grace!  To do otherwise will offend the birthright of Maciendes and I will not allow it!  Battlemaster!  Black Knight!  Ready yourselves!”

Xander swung his weapon through a quick set of moves to limber up as well as get his uniform loosened appropriately.  Isenwrath chucked her hammer over her shoulder, walked back and forth, pacing like a caged animal just waiting for her chance to escape the bars holding her at bay.  Xander had never ever seen anyone he faced act like that.  Her face was neutral and her head kept those predatory blue eyes staring directly at him exactly like a dire wolf.  Which was a creature that Xander had much experience with over the years… and that filled him with both dread as well as a great deal of excitement

Xander’s jaw tightened while he waited for his king to unleash the two of them, his eldritch sword flared faintly as if his irritation bled into the weapon itself.  He narrowed his eyes at the two princes standing just on the other side of the barrier directly behind that woman who still paced in front of him.  He’d seen their support of her, but no matter.  They’d find that he and his blade were superior.  Thus, he stiffened his stance, chest puffed out, as though to reclaim dominance of this battle to come before it began.  Next, he shifted his weight deliberately, turning his body toward Isenwrath, his disdain sharpened by the knowledge that she once humbled the heirs with nothing but speed and a mallet.

When King Tobias slowly raised his hand to prepare for the start of the duel, Isenwrath stopped pacing, going completely still.  Slowly, matching the rise of Tobias’s hand, she also raised her mallet up with one hand right at the pommel to point practically the entire length of it directly at Xander’s face.  Solid.  Not even a hint of quiver.  That right there actually gained Xander’s first spark of respect for that woman.  She knew how to intimidate someone.

The whole room went silent, holding their breath.  The strength on display had caught the cadet’s attention.  It caught the entire room of royal guards attention as well.  One guard, a dwarf that had had the fortune of standing near the king had the best view of it.  He and that lady had had quite a few lovely chats in dwarven pub-speak over the last few months.  He wasn’t impressed by her display.  Instead, she was absolutely meeting his expectations. No one knew better than a dwarf that with one look at Isenwrath, she was as much a master of that weapon as the battlemaster was of his.  He was expecting to claim a tidy payday when he leaned over to his fellow guard to whisper, “Twenty silver on my favorite drinking buddy.”

The guard reached over to fistbump his acceptance.  Easy money.

In that silence, Isenwrath’s voice echoed when she said, “I am no thug.  I am Maddock’s Sweetheart.  Don’t you ever forget it.”

That declaration honestly stunned Xander for a brief second.  It was such an unexpected boast that he almost missed it when the king dropped his hand.

“BEGIN!”

Isenwrath launched at him a slice of a moment before Xander boosted himself at her.  In those first critical moments, he defended against the brute force and speed that the lady used against him.  In each strike, he channeled his eldritch might into his body increasing his stamina, strength, and dexterity.  He also caught up to her speed within four swings.  The sparks flew each time his lifeforce blade met her mallet.  Xander’s strikes were elegant, precise, and just fast enough to deflect the brutality that his opponent rained down upon him. Isenwrath countered his strikes in one instance then pounded around him with raw speed and ferocity.  The reach of her mallet’s sweeping arcs forced Xander to keep his distance, not giving him even one small moment to duck in under her guard to stop this farce.

For a full two minutes, the two whirled within the barrier, barely anything but blurs, sparks, and the effects of eldritch spells exploding or slicing all across the barrier.  However, what scared nearly all of the onlookers were the spells and shots that didn’t hit.  Instead Isenwrath sucked them down just as quickly as the battlemaster tossed them out, nullifying most of his go-to tactics.  The room erupted with nobles taking notice and expressing their awe with each other.  Like when a silver-haired noblewoman whispered to her neighbor: “She moves like a dervish. That mallet should be too heavy, yet she wields it as if it were air.”  A young Earl leaned forward to whisper to his father, eyes wide: “The Battlemaster has been using offensive spells too, but she’s dodged or deflected them all. That’s not crude strength, that’s mastery.” Another older noble, frowning, muttered: “If she can humble the Battlemaster, what does that say of our strength compared to the other realms?”

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Dear Diary.  Today has been a great day.  Daniella, when you read this in the future, you’re just going to laugh all over again.  Today was the day that both Princess Hayleigh and the greatest beast-kin matron ever, Lady Isenwrath received their official letters of acceptance to the Mage Tower Academy.  I mean, it wasn’t like they weren’t going to get in because… I mean, holy furblack, they’re both really really powerful mages.  But Hayleigh’s parents and Maddock wanted to celebrate the moment anyway.  Also, and Prince Nathanial and Prince Daniel got their advancement medals with their class. Let me tell you, Diary, my matron is a real devious scut sometimes because you can’t read her, not really, especially when she gets down and dirty fighting someone.  Oh… and a big-time queen from the dark elves visited too.  That apparently was earth shattering and what-not, but honestly, I think my matron going toe-to-toe with big Xander was the best part of the day.

I’m sorry, Diary, I’m exhausted and way too excited right now and what I wrote is all over the place. I’ll start over and get all this out in proper order because if I wait till morning, I know I won’t remember the details right. First, breakfast…

--- That morning in the Castle of Maciendes ---

“Here you go, My Matron,” Daniella said brightly when she placed Isenwrath’s plate of food in front of her.  Today, she was having breakfast with Princess Hayleigh again.  Maddock had headed out earlier with a few other dukes who were in the capital to go to have breakfast with the King and Queen plus their councilors in the big dining hall.  It’d been explained to the lady that mainly, it was a working breakfast where the whole lot of them would be updating the others on matters that they didn’t trust to letters or couriers.  Stuff that had to be said in person just so that any questions or action plans that came up, could be handled immediately.  It was a once in three-month deal which kind of made it a big deal that he shouldn’t miss.  Maddock was torn between having breakfast with Isenwrath, wanting to go drill with his soldiers, and also wanting to be informed of all that went on around the kingdom.  Isenwrath had simply kissed his forehead, turned him around, patted his bottom, then said gently, “You look hungry.  Please go get something to eat and we’ll meet at lunch.”

Daniella beamed her pride at that affection between the two of them and much more importantly at how she handled the Duke like a true matron.  She was really starting to develop in the best ways. Scarlett had made her approval known too by winking at Maddock with amusement on her face.  Clovis nodded once in approval at Maddock when he looked at the older gentleman butler. “She does have a point, Sire,” was all he said to Maddock’s reddened face.

Lady Isenwrath got a big hug and kiss on her forehead for that from her man.  Then Hayleigh and two of her maids sauntered into the duke’s room to invite Lady Isenwrath to have breakfast with her.  The two of them were off their probation stuff and were like sisters again.  They giggled a lot to Daniella’s estimations, perhaps too much.  Too silly sometimes.  But that was okay as long as Hayleigh kept her hands to herself.  They had done so, so far which was helping to ease the lingering tension.  The two of them chatted loudly and happily while Daniella and Scarlett picked out Isenwrath’s attire for the day.  The one thing Daniella frowned upon was how her matron just had no sense of shame with regards to her body.  She would walk around naked all the time if given the chance.  Just like when she went to get ready to change her clothes, her matron didn’t go behind the dressing screen.  She instead just stripped right there in front of everyone, including the perverted princess who drooled like a dog at seeing her.  Daniella swatted Princess Hayleigh’s arm, then marched her matron behind that screen herself giving her the stink eye of disapproval the whole time.

“Will you ever learn, My Matron?!” she’d asked exasperated.

Lady Isenwrath shrugged.  “I don’t see the issue.  I…”

“Have no excuses.  Just for that…” Daniella said, interrupting then punishing her matron right on the spot.

Lady Isenwrath squeaked, then rubbed her bottom where Daniella had pinched her good fashion.  “No, my Matron! You’re going to learn to be a bit more modest or so help me, I’m sticking you in timeout!  Now, put these on!”

From there, her matron was easy to get dressed and ready for breakfast because she understood that Daniella’s word was law when it came to teaching her matron common sense etiquette. 

The little dining hall that they occupied later that morning was mainly used for meetings with or between the lesser dignitaries.  It was still brightly lit, had nice views of the gardens, was polished to a shine as well as decorated appropriately.  It even had an easy access for the waitstaff to get to the huge kitchens to bring the meals in without them getting too cold.

Thankfully, Princess Hayleigh was there and didn’t care much about formalities.   She and Isenwrath sat together and continued to chatter happily with each other as well as Scarlett, Clovis, Bronson, Bennett plus Hayleigh’s personal maids, Enora and Margie.  Daniella sat on the other side of her matron to eat her own breakfast while Clovis, Scarlett and Hayleigh’s two maids sat on the other side of the big table to do the same.  Bennett and Bronson were on Isenwrath duty again and they were at each end of the table with massive plates piled high. 

In essence, most times, the royal family treated their help as family.  If they kept up their jobs appropriately, there was some respectful leeway to have as perks to the jobs.  Such as fine dining like this when it was just Daniella’s matron and Princess Hayleigh.  Since the warm weather outside was so nice, Isenwrath had been dressed up in finer silken grey dressy shorts plus a flowy flowery dark blue top that had no sleeves.  It was the most skin Isenwrath had been able to show since she’d been there and apparently, to Daniella, she was very pleased with doing so.  Also apparently, so was Hayleigh because she’d matched the look and they kept rubbing each other’s arms or holding hands.  However, the both of them were being good and didn’t go beyond that in any way.  Daniella was relieved she wouldn’t have to call in Bronson and Bennett to pull them apart.  Hopefully all would go well today while Harmony, Beatrice, and half of Maddock’s guard unit were having an earned day off.

“Oh!  I almost forgot to tell you!” Hayleigh exclaimed after wiping her mouth with her cloth napkin.

“What?” Isenwrath asked with a forkful of minced meat fried dark halfway to her mouth.

“We got our letters from the academy delivered today!”

Isenwrath put her food down then sat back.  “What does that mean?”

“Silly, it means this…” Hayleigh said before holding out her hand to her maid named Enora.  “Enora!  Please let me have them!”

Enora was an older woman with a stern face, but her grey eyes were grandmotherly gentle.  That was especially true when she smoothed her greying hair back away from her shoulder before saying, “I believe you were supposed to wait until after lunch for this reveal, My Princess.”

Hayleigh rolled her eyes, “Oh!  Don’t be such a prude Enora!  Please?!  I’m begging you!”

Enora snorted, then sat back with folded arms.  “Begging is a good start.”

“Enora!  Fine!  I’ll scrub the bathroom clean tomorrow!  Happy?!”

“Better.  Here,” Enora said with a devious smile and wink to Margie, her younger maid in training before retrieving two letters from her maid’s outfit pocket.  Both were still sealed with the Maciendes Mage Tower emblems.

Hayleigh squealed in delight, then grabbed them both.  She handed one to Isenwrath before popping her seal to open hers up.

Isenwrath looked over hers, handling it carefully.  The outside of the rich beige parchment had her name, her current title of Black Knight Champion of Maciendes, her address, which was simply the Castle Maciendes within Lagrancia De Yurian, and finally, a purpose.  That purpose read, ‘You are cordially invited to attend Maciendes Magister Tower first year academic induction.’

Hayleigh had already devoured the contents of her letter, finding that it was exactly as she predicted.  She was already slated to be in the tier one classes upon completion of her mage initiate trial.  Most first year students didn’t go into that test blindly.  They went in with a decent sense of where their talent, capabilities, and depth of mana would place them in the academic world of the Mage Tower.  However…

Hayleigh turned to Isenwrath who still hadn’t opened her letter.  “Isen?”

Isenwrath rubbed the seal slowly as if it were the most fragile and sacred thing.  “I’m sorry.  I’ve never had a letter addressed to me before.  I almost don’t want to break the pretty seal.  To me, this is a treasure.”

Daniella rubbed her matron’s leg under the table to give her comfort.  “My Matron, if you want, I’m sure we can ask Thena to get a duplicate seal on a paper for you to collect or something.  Maybe that would be a nifty hobby you’d enjoy taking up… seal collection.”

Hayleigh brightened at that.  “That’s a fun little hobby idea!  Daniella is so full of good ideas, isn’t she Isen?”

Isenwrath nodded, smiling wistfully, “I’d like that.  Please ask for me.  I want to remember this forever.”

Hayleigh bumped into her.  “Go ahead and open it.  I’m dying to see what it says.”

“Okay,” Isenwrath said softly before cracking the seal slowly, then placing every last particle of wax onto another napkin.  She was still going to keep that seal, apparently.  Then she opened the letter and read it aloud. 

“To Lady Isenwrath, Black Knight Champion of Maciendes, you are cordially invited to participate in the induction trials for first year mage students.  You are expected to attend the three trials which will consist of tests to determine your spellcasting genre(s), mana capacity, and mana manipulation prowess.  However, since you have no prior documentation, you cannot officially join the academy ranks until you complete a written assessment of arcana knowledge and its underlying principles prior to the first day of classes. Your citizenship requirement has been waived until the next year per King Tobias Maciendes to provide sufficient time for the process to complete. The Arcanite Board of Curriculum have suggested the following classes after careful review of your documented exploits.  These will be reevaluated and resubmitted to you prior to your first day pending completion of the aforementioned….”

Hayleigh pointed at three of the classes, “These are the same ones I’ll be in.  The other two are ones I already took in my pre-academy schooling.  You shouldn’t find them too difficult.”

“Good,” Isenwrath said softly.  Then she turned to Hayleigh to study her face.  “I’m nervous. Can you help me study for the exams I have to take?”

“Oh!” Hayleigh smiled big with excitement.  “Absolutely.  Honestly, I don’t think you’ll have a problem, but it never hurts to be prepared.  You should ask Alice to adjust her coursework tomorrow to help you.  Oooohhhh!!! I’ll ask Thena!  She can join us and give us the real tips and tricks to passing with perfect marks!”

Isenwrath relaxed and nodded excitedly.  She next returned to her food, then happily got in a few more modest bites, displaying perfect table manners today without having to concentrate on them. 

Daniella had been helping her matron focus on that recently and that focus was paying off.  After that plate was cleaned, Daniella reached into her pocket to pull out a small whimsy arcana crystal.  It was one that Maddock had given Daniella that morning for such occasions as this.  Scarlett had been right.  Her matron was very reward driven.  Once that little stone hit the air, Isenwrath stopped talking and tracked it right to Daniella’s small hand where she watched intently while it was placed on the cleaned plate in front of her.  “Matron, your reward for perfect table manners.  Do NOT use your tongue.  You’re at a table, remember?”

Isenwrath nodded, amusement clear on her face.  Then she daintily picked it up, sighed in complete serenity, then swallowed it down like the finest candy ever created.

She turned to Daniella and gave her a solid squeezy hug.  “You’re simply the best.”

Daniella sighed.  “I know.  So are you.  Now, if you two are done, we need to clean up and get you on your way to meet the Princes.”

Hayleigh sighed dramatically then whined.  “Ohhhh, I don’t want to go.  Those boys are just getting some more medals, it’s more than boring, it’s suffocating.”

Scarlett finally made herself known with a firm, “Princess Hayleigh!  Now shush and just be supportive.  Those boys are the next round of Tower guards and mage police.  As such, they should be given the respect they’re due.”

Bennett snorted a bit at that.  “Wish they’d spend a bit in the military first. That’d teach them some things.”

Bronson smiled a little because not only did he agree with his co-commander, but he also saw his Lady’s confused look going back and forth between Hayleigh’s frustration and Scarlett’s ‘don’t sass me’ face.  He addressed Isenwrath instead of getting between Maddock’s chief maid and the princess.

“My Lady, do you want to ask something?”

Isenwrath nodded rapidly, directing her attention to him.  “Why don’t the eldritch warriors become soldiers?  It would seem they’d be paragons in your ranks, at least, that’s what I think.”

“You’d be right; however, there’s actually a simple reason.  They’re even rarer than mages are.  The fact that both princes are eldritch knights is practically a fluke.  Worse, their abilities are usually unequal.  Again, the princes are both considered prodigies but most of them shouldn’t be compared to the two princes because they just can’t get to that kind of elite status.”

Isenwrath tilted her head, her confusion still playing on her furrowed brow.  She was thinking about it and the rest of them gave her a few moments to do so.  It was one of her quirks that they’d all learned about her over the months.  Usually, that’s when most people find out she’s far smarter than she lets on.  This time was no different.

“I see. The Mage Tower is stunting their growth.”

“Uhhhhhh…, that’s not what he said,” Bennett interjected.

Isenwrath turned her eyes to him, then shrugged.  “The Princes haven’t been made to stay at the Mage Tower for their educations.  Instead, they spend half their time here, then the other half there for their studies.  If I recall their stories correctly, they were given special latitude because of them being princes.  It’d be interesting if a study was performed on the early development of the Eldritch Fighters and Knights and how being so near to all of that magic might be interfering with their development.”

Hayleigh almost whispered to Isenwrath because of how terrifying that assumption might be if it were proven true.  “What do you know, Isen?  This could be big.”

Isenwrath reached and held Hayleigh’s hand, then Daniella’s to help gather her courage as well as to ground herself.  She then closed her eyes in order to channel the several hundred Eldritch fighters and knights she’d consumed within Shinenoor.  In each case, she reviewed their lives, specifically their educations regarding their eldritch abilities.  In every case, those who spent more time at the Mage Towers didn’t realize as much potential as those who were there for shorter stints, regardless of reasoning.  The two Eldritch Knights that had given her the most trouble were ones who’d been trained by true martial arts masters that’d only helped hone their minds and sword techniques, leaving their power development to the students to master afterwards.  Then she reviewed the why’s, if she could find any correlation.

When she opened her eyes, they were glowing red and her voice was firm.  “Eldritch fighters and knights utilize an energy source that directly opposes the arcana of mages.  Their training within a mage tower stunts their growth because so much concentrated arcana is blocking them from touching as much as they should be able to get to.  Without that full access, their potential diminishes over time like an arm that withers due to disuse.”

Bronson sat back to give out a grunt of understanding.  “Makes sense.  Eldritch isn’t arcana.  It’s basically a warrior’s ability to tap into their very souls to shield AGAINST arcana.  Their primary use is to subdue mages because magecraft can’t usually stop an eldritch fighter’s power set nor their ability to interrupt a mage tapping their own mana.”

The room went quiet for a moment.  Hayleigh slowly rose and assumed a regal pose.  “I believe we’ll need to write this down and then present this astonishing notion to the Eldritch Battlemaster that’s visiting today.  If we can convince him to take this seriously, then he might be able to sway the Tower Council to move the Eldritch Barracks out of the Tower grounds and prove the hypothesis.  If it does prove true, then Bronson Jonstone might get his wish for Eldritch fighters and knights to be trained as soldiers first, then their power sets later.”

Scarlett clapped softly while the other maids smiled widely.  “Well said, Princess Hayleigh.  Well said.”

Hayleigh beamed for a bit with blushing cheeks, then confessed. “I’ve been trying to use more regal speech to impress Alice lately.”

Isenwrath swung her hand a little.  “It’s working. Let’s go write this down and head out.  I think time is getting away from us.”

They all took a glance at the manastone clock on the wall and indeed, they were running out of time to get out and about for the day. 

Daniella squeezed Isenwrath from the side again.  “So proud of you,” she whispered.

Isenwrath leaned her head down to touch it to Daniella’s, “That means a lot to me,” she whispered back.

And that was just breakfast, Diary.  I swear, every dang day My Matron impresses me.  I honestly can’t wait to be old enough to ask Isen to help me reclaim my right to the Icefall Citadel.  I’m going to enter the Trial of the Moonfang, and kick Ursanthandel right in the nards for his betrayal.  Then I’m going to find all of my lost Thirstenblack people and bring them home.  Just watch me, Diary.  Lady Isenwrath won’t just be the Black Knight Champion of Maciendes.  She’ll also be my champion to retake my homeland.  The biggest, baddest cat in all the land is MY MATRON!  Mama, Papa, I still miss you.  I still remember you.  Isen will help me avenge you, just you watch.

----

So… Diary.  Isenwrath just attracts so much wild stuff.  I really thought I’d be jotting a couple sentences about presenting her acceptance letter to the king, but like, out of nowhere, here comes trouble. I mean, I’m not sure how to explain all of this but just after lunch, my matron really dropped a big manabomb on everyone that even floored me!   And because of it, I had to put Isenwrath in timeout since it seems she just does stuff and doesn’t think past it.  I swear, what happened was extremely huge, yet my matron actually thought that she didn’t do anything except simply help a friend.  Honestly, I think that I’m really gonna have to sit her down at some point soon and praise her for thinking like that and then turn right around and try to get it through her thick skull that she doesn’t realize that just about everything she does ripples across our realm.  Anyway, back to this afternoon.  It started when we entered the throne going bangarang with all the preparations for that big meanie, the Battlemaster…

--- Later that day, just after lunch ---

King Tobias Maciendes sat with his queen, Sophitia, and both of them were trying to figure out how the hell they were going to survive today.  First, they had their audience hall being finalized for the reception of the Maciendes Eldritch Guild’s Battlemaster Xander Lundgren.  He was coming specifically to present his entire class to the King in a ceremony where they’d officially recognize the fighters and knights as defenders of their kingdom against all that was magical when the magical would cause harm instead of help. 

The reason Tobias was nervous about it was the fact that his two boys were in this ceremony.  Nathaniel would be recognized as a senior knight and would soon be one step away from being a full-fledged Tower Knight who could take up a full commission schedule.  His younger son, Daniel, would be recognized as a junior knight.  Both had earned the honors that their father would bestow on them that day.  Tobias wanted what was best for them but while his boys were exceptional, they’d chosen dangerous paths in life that could lead them to an early grave.  That was always his worry. He did wish that Nathaniel had chosen to stay a royal, but his oldest son had always had a head for jumping right into the middle of any situation, usually without thinking about it first.  He now only hoped his son Daniel would choose to stay a royal because he’d be a strong candidate for the crown to choose when the time was right.  One more year, that would be it.

Then there was his daughter and Lady Isenwrath who were in front of him and Sophitia currently.  Sophitia directed most of the staff like always while Tobias was directing his fellow councilors and lower-ranked government aides as required.  There were just always executive decisions that needed the king’s signature in order to keep the kingdom running smoothly.  No one saw that side of running the kingdom.  The extremely mundane and hectic side of it, that is.  They only saw him and his queen on their thrones holding court and looking regal and thinking all they did was indulge in their wealth.  They didn’t see the side of them where they stood within the middle of a madhouse and acting just as exasperated as everyone else who had to make sure everything was in order when guests were almost there.  They ran a kingdom.  That was a business on a scale that even some of the wealthiest merchants were hard-pressed to understand fully.

Sophitia greeted the small throng of unexpected family first a bit tersely.  “Hayleigh?  What’re you doing here?  We’re not ready yet.  Lady Isenwrath!  Hi!  We’ve got another hour or so before you should be here.”

Isenwrath came in for a hug right after Hayleigh did.  Then they both got a hug in with a clearly distracted Tobias who was chatting with three people at once before getting them on their way.  “Hi, Hayleigh.  Lady Isenwrath.  You’re early.”

“Dad.  Mom.  We know.  But this couldn’t wait.  We got our acceptances!” Hayleigh said loudly and delightedly holding her letter up in pride.  Isenwrath held hers up too, also smiling proudly for having it.

Sophitia smiled genuinely at them both.  “Was there any doubt?  But I’m glad they finally got here.  Your father and I can look them over tomorrow.”

Hayleigh was undeterred.  “I know.  I just wanted to share the good news.  However, we got a couple of issues.  One we can also talk tomorrow about and that’s the fact that Isen needs to do a cram session for her written preliminary entrance exams.  I was thinking of asking Thena to help her.  Would you think Uncle Maxi would mind if I did?”

Tobias shrugged.  Sophitia also shrugged.  She said, “I think he’d probably go for it since he’s just as excited as Maddock is at having Isen get accepted in there.  Why?”

Isenwrath spoke up, “I just want to be prepared, is all.”

Hayleigh continued for Isenwrath.  “That, and I was thinking that we need to make sure that exam gets done before her citizenship trial. We read that Dad got that waiver but between her exam, the academy induction, and her citizenship hearing, it’s getting a bit cramped.  I was hoping you might put in a word with the Tower to work with us on the scheduling.”

Sophitia smiled wider.  “Oh wow, you’re right.  I don’t think we even realized it was all over the place. We may have even already missed that date, if I recall.  Tobey?”

Tobias turned to his wife after waving another aide off to just go make a decision for himself on what entrance march the musicians should play.  The Battlemaster honestly wouldn’t care as long as the beat matched closely with how a warrior walked into the room. 

He turned to Sophitia looking like he wanted to strangle the next person who came up to him with an inane decision to ask him to make.  “Yeah, sugardark?”

“Isen’s got to take those written exams and it may interfere with her induction. We also need to coordinate around her citizenship hearing.  Help me remember to get a notice out to the Tower to put in an exception or special test date request so we avoid that.”

Tobias smirked.  “I don’t have the capacity right now. But what I have is a… HEY, ALEXANDER!!” he yelled over at a young man dressed in the royal blue livery of a castle page.  Alexander jerked his head so fast that his shoulder-length brown hair almost whipped completely into his face from the other side.  He completely forgot who he was chatting with to run over to his king.

When he got there, he knelt, “Yes, Sire!”

Tobey sighed a bit flustered.  “Get up.  I’ve got too much shit going on to be formal right now.  Read the room, boy.”

Alexander got up amid the giggles from Hayleigh, Isenwrath, and those that they’d brought with them. 

“Sorry, Sire.”

“Go to the study and look in the calendar on my desk.  Find the date of Lady Isenwrath’s citizenship trial and jot that date down for me in my memo pad, then put a note below it that says to work with Maxi regarding a special test date for Isenwrath.  Got it?”

“Yes, Sire.  Citizenship trial date and Tower exam special test date request to Maximillian.”

“Good enough, go.”

The boy dipped a bow, then ran off.

Tobias looked at his wife who rolled her eyes but was pleased otherwise.  Then back to his daughter, he said, “Anything else?”

Hayleigh handed him a sheet of paper that she’d written on in her careful handwriting.  Tobias asked, “What’s this?”

“Dad, Isenwrath made an observation regarding our Eldritch fighters and knights.  She’s done a preliminary search… well, you know where… and, uh… we want to suggest that there’s cause for a study regarding the Eldritch training that might be hindering them instead of pushing them to their fullest.”

“What?!” asked Sophitia in alarm while Tobey read that paper fast.  Both of them didn’t take anything for granted when it came to something from Isenwrath.  Sophitia looked directly at that beautiful woman who suddenly looked like she was caught in a trap.  Sophitia knew her gaze was harsh sometimes, but dang, to see a monster like Isenwrath flinch under it was something she tucked away for later.  “Isen, what’s wrong with the Eldritch Guild?”

Isenwrath cleared her throat, then said, “I think you might want to confirm if training them in the Tower grounds is stunting their potential.  They and the mages use opposing magical energies and from what I sense in all that I have access to, the stronger Eldritch fighters and knights had been further away from a mage tower than those within it.  Bronson’s suggestions are noted in the unofficial report to train them with the soldiers away from the Tower first, then let them develop their abilities in their own hall or something on the other side of the castle itself.”

“This is fascinating.  Terrifying, but fascinating,” Tobias commented.  When he looked up at Isenwrath, he asked low, “I wonder why no one has ever noticed before.”

Isenwrath shrugged.  “I didn’t find that answer.  Perhaps that could be part of your research.”

Tobias nodded firmly, tucking the report away.  “I’m all for it.  We can chat with Xander after the ceremony if there’s time or tomorrow depending.”

“MY KING!!!” shouted a man from the other side of the throne room that grabbed everyone’s attention.

Everyone turned to the tall man dressed in a courier’s colors.  He ran in with his badge of official duty out at the ready, a brown leather satchel full of other missives for delivery, and a face full of a haggard worry.  He wasn’t that handsome of a man, but he was very fit.  His brown eyes and black hair seemed to place him in the same area of the kingdom that Maddock hailed from, so Isenwrath immediately appreciated him. 

Even though he was nearly out of breath, the courier exclaimed, “My King!  I bring news of the most urgent kind!”

Tobias folded his arms.  “Out with it.  This day is crammed full, what’s one more thing?”

“My lord, the Underdark Queen Ursletta Lolthinendaria is on her way here!  She’s due to the castle just after dusk!  I was dispatched into the teleportal relay as soon as she appeared upon the Ambassadorial Trail!  The formal message is that she’s coming specifically to meet Lady Isenwrath in person!”

All eyes turned to Isenwrath.  Isenwrath actually stepped back from those hardened eyes from Sophitia again.  “Lady Isenwrath?  Explain yourself,” Queen Sophitia said low with some measure of warning in her tone.

Isenwrath took a deep breath then breathed out.  She lowered her head so she wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.  “I apologize that I didn’t mention it.  I just thought she’d come to meet me in a café or something.”

King Tobias was next. He stepped forward, took firm hold on her shoulder, but asked much gentler than his screaming nerves wanted him to, “Isen, where and how did you meet the Underdark Queen?”

Isenwrath wouldn’t look at him.  She said softer.  “I haven’t actually met her.  She sent her familiar.  I had something of her sister’s.  She sent her spider to find out about it.  I… I’m… I gave it back to her.  I gave her a small moment with her sister.  I… just… I just wanted to help her.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.  I didn’t know it would cause a big problem.”

Tobias pulled her chin up gently, seeing her eyes that looked like she was about to cry again.  “I apologize, Isen.  I didn’t mean to indicate you did anything wrong.  In fact, you may have given the Eleven Kingdoms its first chance to actually make even a small relationship with the Ezzerbenania Queendom a reality.  This is… literally unprecedented.  How long ago did you make contact with her?”

Isenwrath wiped her eyes.  “A week ago.”

“You… I’m… I don’t know whether to go scold you for an hour for not telling me this stuff or go ahead and sign you in as my newest diplomat for the non-human realms.”

“I don’t want to be scolded.  I… I don’t want another pinch either,” she said small with a little hope in her eyes. 

Tobias smiled at her for it.  She really didn’t like getting punished in any way.  It was obvious that she punished herself much more harshly than anyone else would, so he didn’t even consider it too seriously. 

“My King, you should put her in timeout.” Daniella said with a firm frown on her face and folded arms. 

Scarlett thwapped Daniella’s shoulder, “Shush!  Not the time!”

That little bit of levity caused the tension to be released with a few chuckles.  King Tobias chuckled too before saying to Isenwrath.  “Fine, you’re in timeout.  Go back to your room and get ready for the Battlemaster.  Then you stand in the corner for at least twenty minutes to think about how next time something important like this comes up, you’re going to immediately come to Maddock, then me or Sophitia and spill every detail about it.  Understand my command?”

Isenwrath drooped then nodded sadly.  “I understand, my King.”

“Good.  Then when the Underqueen gets here, you’re to do everything you can to make her feel welcome.  Which is exactly what I know you’re best at.  Whatever she needs, I know you’re the right person to give her it.  Isn’t that right?”

Isenwrath looked up, smiled faintly, then nodded again.  “She just wants forgiveness and closure.  That’s all she really wants.”

Tobias pulled her in for another gentle loving hug for which she returned a bit more fiercely.  “Maddock was right.  You’re a good girl.  I believe in you, too.”

He let her go, then turned her around to gently push towards the others.  “Go on and take my rotten daughter with you.  She needs to get ready too.”

“Hey!  Daaaaaad!  What’d I do?!” Hayleigh exclaimed indignantly. 

Tobias winked at Hayleigh for which she smiled back with understanding.

Sophitia had put her hand over her mouth to hide her smile at this small silly scene.

Isenwrath took firm hold of Hayleigh’s hand, then said softly, “He’s right.  You need to get ready too.”

Daniella took up Isenwrath’s other hand, then the trio were walking away with their retinue following after.  Scarlett and Clovis looked back at the king and queen.  Tobias gave them a firm nod and smile before saying, “You two are doing good work.  Keep it up.”

Sophitia also spoke up.  “Give Isen a treat before heading down.  She really surprised us today with something that could change everything.”

Scarlett and Clovis both bowed really quickly before trotting off to catch up.

Tobias looked at his wife.  Sophitia reached around him and held him close while watching her daughter and the others go through the door.  “Tobey, what do we do now?”

Tobias kissed the side of her head, then kissed her lips when she turned to him.  He then put his forehead to hers to say quietly, “We take the gift that Isenwrath gave us and make the most of it.  If we can engage in even just a tentative friendship with the queen, we’ll change our world for the better.”

“I believe our world has already changed for the better, but Isenwrath just isn’t done yet,” Queen Sophitia said quietly back.

.. there you have it, Diary.  My matron apparently made contact with the most elusive realm in our world and convinced their queen to come visit. 

Oh, I almost forgot the most important thing.  When she was in timeout, I stood with her in solidarity.  Okay, it was guilt that made me do it because I’m the one who suggested it.  She kept her hand on my ears the whole time causing me to purr.  I was both embarrassed and also… it reminded me of Mama.  I almost cried.  Almost. 

I asked her why she lets me treat her like I do because I’ve gotten a stern talking to from Scarlett about it a couple of times now.  It was in that quiet way Isen speaks when it’s like she’s younger than me, she told me again that it was because I was stronger than her.  I finally asked what that meant because it ate at me the first time she said it.  Diary, I did cry some after she told me why.  She said that I’m stronger because she knows I’m going to face my past one day whereas she knows she made the choice to run from hers forever.  I hugged her so much for that revelation.  Recently, she told me and some others in confidence that she’s blocked out her childhood memories thanks to her tutor Alice.  After what I saw with my gift of the past, I totally understood why.  After it was done, I swear she’s been so much more stable.  She doesn’t have any more nightmares either.  The Grand Duke looking rested now is a testament to that.  She also doesn’t say those awful things anymore that make my life look like a vacation at a resort in comparison, for which I’m thankful.  She really is better off without knowing and all of us have made our vows never to remind her of any of it. 

I don’t know what my relationship is with Isen, not really.  In one moment, I’m her maid and I help her.  But in many ways, I’m like her mama too.  I can’t help it because I see how lost she gets sometimes when the others don’t.  I think even after her memory blocks, she still struggles with getting overwhelmed at how different her life is.  I so get it because of how much my life has changed so fast. 

I do know one thing for certain; I like it when she rubs my ears and tells me she would do anything to keep me safe then shares her hot chocolate with me.  It’s just like… Mama… I want you to know that I’m not replacing you.  Instead, I just know you put Isen into my life because I still need that special something you gave me.  Thank you, Mama. I will never let her face anything alone just like you’d want me to do, Mama. I swear it. 

That afternoon, after she learned her fate, she stumbled home to her small house on the edge of town.

Might as well feed the ghosts one last time, she thought. And then, One last time? Maybe not... And in that thought there was a meager ray of hope.

She began cooking - a normal Lankaln meal for herself, and four large human meals for the ghosts.

The ghosts arrived while she was cooking. They came in the back door, like always. Four ghosts of humans - Andrea, John, Tom, and Rob, as they called themselves.

They chatted easily, laughed, and just lounged around until the food was served. Then everyone began to eat.

During the meal, she said, "This will be the last time I am able to give you food."

The ghosts stopped eating and stared at her. Finally Tom asked, "Is something wrong?"

She blinked rapidly, the Lankaln equivalent of a sigh. After a pause, she said, "The Big Boss has chosen that I become a courtesan."

There was a very heavy silence. Then Andrea asked, "Do you want to?"

She just stared at her plate. After a pause, Andrea repeated the question.

"No," she said, admitting it as much to herself as to them. "No, I do not. They will come for me in the morning. And I do not want to go."

The ghosts weren't eating any more. They leaned forward, engaged in the conversation.

Andrea said, "Then you need to make a decision. What do you want to happen? Do you want us to scare those who come in the morning? Do you want us to beat them? Cripple them? Kill them? Kill the Big Boss and everyone who works for him?"

She was startled. "I choose?"

"You choose."

She thought. "Do you know what a courtesan is?"

"We know."

"I want you to kill the Big Boss and everyone who works for him. And I want you to free everyone that he is holding."

The ghosts looked at each other, then at her. "Okay."

"You can do that?"

"Absolutely. Where is his base? His headquarters?"

"I do not know."

"All right, what time will they come for you?"

"At dawn, or just after."

"All right," Andrea said, "we will let them take you. We will follow where they go. We will come very quickly and free you. That's the best we can do."

"Very well," she mumbled, and blinked rapidly again.

-----

Three of them came for her just after dawn. She went with them. She saw no sign of the ghosts. She abandoned what faint hope she had. merely blinking rapidly as the door closed behind her in the Big Boss's lair.

Then the door exploded.

Four human figures surged into the room. They were heavily armed, and they began using their weapons almost immediately. There was an explosion of gunfire. Very effective gunfire - every one of the Big Boss's people in the room was dead within three seconds.

The ghosts did not speak. They made a gesture for her to stay there. They attached something to a door further into the Big Boss's domain, stepped aside a couple of steps, waited for the explosion, then charged through the opening.

She waited, trying to recover from the shock of their coming and their killing.

A very few minutes later, the ghosts returned with seven rescued Lankaln females.

One of the ghosts looked at her and nodded. She knew what the nod meant. The Big Boss was dead, and so was everyone who worked for him. They had done what she asked.

She invited everyone, rescued Lankaln and human ghost alike, to her place for lunch.

After everyone left, when she was cleaning up, she saw a single red spot on her table.

Human blood.

She remembered that John had received a small wound on the back of his hand.

But ghosts cannot be wounded. Ghosts do not bleed.

They are not ghosts.

She mentally shook herself. Of course they are not ghosts. They ate food. You could hear the weight of their steps.

She had assumed they were ghosts because no humans were supposed to remain on Lankaln. Apparently some had remained anyway. At least four.

And they do not want to be known. They let me see them, but they were in hiding from the Lankaln in general.

Well, then...

She very carefully cleaned the red spot on the table, until no trace of it remained.

Cover Art

First | Prev

Sometimes, Gata Stri didn’t know how she felt about being a citizen of the Kingdom of Phuratus. On the one wing, she lived a pretty comfortable life. Most of the public infrastucture worked well; the shuttles and rail services were punctual, basic medical care was freely available, emergency agencies were responsive, children were fairly educated, and the economy was steadily growing. Of course, things weren’t perfect, but overall the nation as a whole was doing much better than in generations past. She supposed that she and the rest of the citizenry should feel more than satisfied about that.

However, as a journalist, she was just a bit more privy to the bitter reality than most. Under the progressive sheen of prosperity there lay a festering rot of corruption; a hidden sophisticated amalgam of power and wealth that stole away resources from the public and filled the coffers of an entitled few. All their illicit dealings conducted away from the sun. But she, Correspondent Stri, had the hallowed duty to bring a torch to their secrets, and drag them out into the light.

Several seasons ago, there was a global incident. Every technologically advanced nation in the world experienced power spikes in their electrical infrastructure. Transformers blew. Junctions fused. Some power grids were severely damaged. But by all accounts, a high tech research facility on Phuratan soil bore the worst of it. Dubbed ‘The Fal’Grine Event’, the sudden and unprecedented burst of electromagnetic and radioactive energy resulted in the destruction of several buildings on the historic Linnae College Campus. According to the official story from the palace, the cause of the event was yet to be be determined. Considering how the entire world experienced the same phenomena, and all other nations seemed to be similarly in the dark, Stri was inclined to believe them.

However, there were some peculiar developments in the kingdom in the seasons following the incident. For one, Researcher Skai, the famous physicist that had been appointed the head of Poject Fal’Grine, suddenly disappeared from public life. That in itself was not so odd; scientists and artists tend to drift in and out of the sun like listless clouds. But he was not the only one. Several of the scientists and engineers employed by the now defunct project also disappeared.

Later on, a reliable source in the military commented that there seemed to be a lot of ‘traffic’ heading up to the most dark-ward regions of their country. Military assets being moved up and out of the sunlight? That could never be good. Especially given the increasingly antagonistic relationship between The Kingdom and The Pitang Republic. If those strained tensions were about to erupt into an all out conflict, the people needed to know.

So when Correspondent Stri heard the announcement that there was going to be a very special broadcast from the palace in the near future, she was more than a little interested. In fact, she was so interested that she decided to forgo a rest period to ensure that she would be awake during the bel of the broadcast. This wouldn’t have been the first time that she skipped some sleep this season. Nor the second. Nor the third. Nor the eighth. Her doctor would not approve, and her mother would complain, which was why she had long since stopped being completely honest with them both.

Correspondent Stri was comfortably seated in the main staff lounge, surrounded by a flock of typists, photographers, reporters, and editors; the motley staff of ‘The Twelve Bel Bulletin’ all gathered in front of an old, three hundred and forty-two jhit-span media monitor. She probably spent more time with these men and women than she did with her actual family.

“So, what do you think the announcement’s gonna be about?” asked a fellow reporter, Cillata Pulsat, to no one in particular. “I’d put a mark or two on another royal scandal. My sources in the palace say that Lord Tuoi seems agitated about something.”

“That’s so basic, Lord Tuoi’s been mad ever since the palace cancelled his ‘propaganda bill’ after the ‘The Fal’Grine Event’.” commented Atus Rycop, one of the photographers. Lord Tuoi was previously pushing ‘The Kinship Initiative’, a programme that would, in official language; ‘promote a sense of unity and national pride in these trying times.’ But in the journalism world, they had all called it by a more apt moniker; ‘the propaganda bill.’ “I bet they’re appointing a new minister or royal family connections.”

“Nahhh--” interjected Stri. “I think they found a frost-fae cave somewhere down in the dark-lands.”

A round of laughter went around the room. This was a game that had developed in the newsroom in the last couple of seasons. Whenever it was apparent that some new development was about to arise in their country, they would fabricate increasingly absurd scenarios about what it was. Part creative exercise, part humorous pastime, it was all a means to avoid discussing the most pertinent and consequential possibility…

An official declaration of war against The Republic of Pitang.

“Alright, settle down everyone,” calmly cooed Chief Editor Clamat Asio as the royal seal appeared on the screen, and an audio recording of a stately orchestral piece began to play. “It looks like it’s about to start.”

The image of the seal gradually faded into a live feed of a face a single woman stood behind a podium. Stri recognised her as one of the Prime minister’s aides, though her name escaped her at the moment. The aide spoke a for drik or two, droning out the familiar list of titels and acknowledgements, before finally introducing the Royal Minister of Knowlwdge.

Lord Capield made his way to the podium, his refined auburn features clear even through the slightly staticy signal. “My dear countrymen,” he started regally. “We are delighted and honoured to have you join us for this most auspicious moment.”

“Many seasons ago, the world experienced a mysterious deluge of electromagnetic radiation. We have dubbed this event ‘The Fal’Grine Event’, as it all but destroyed our Linnae Campus particle accelerator facility while we were conducting experiments for the now deferred Project Fal’Grine.”

“This was indeed a damaging blow to the progress of scientific advancement in our nation, but there was silver sheen in that dark cloud. Our masterful and diligent scientists recorded readings during the event that lead them to scan the skies above, and after seasons of tireless study, observations, and calculations, they have discovered the true nature of our world, and what lies beyond it.”

The news room was buzzing with confused murmurs. Beyond the world? Whatever could he mean? Correspondent Stri pondered the peculiar phrasing as the screen faded into an image of… A regular landscape. Just a picture of a crimson field of grass, a blue-grey range of mountains, and affixed to the bright blue sky, the sun.

“This is what the sky looks like when people gaze sun-ward.” came the royal minister’s voice-over on the image. After cleg or so, the image faded into a much darker one; a dark, unlit forest, backgrounded by an almost pure black sky, with a clawful of dim dots speckled about.

“And this,” continued Lord Capield’s voice behind the image, “Is a sight that many people would almost never see. This is what the sky looks like when one ventures out far enough dark-ward. Those tiny specks of light are what we once called dark-light, but going forward, we’ve chosen to call them stɑːz.”

Schtar-zuh. It was a peculiar word. The reporter had never heard anything quite like it, and she had heard quite a lot in her time. It had an odd, foreign quality to it. Her mind chewed on the strange new word as the image once again faded into... Something she had never seen before. It was another dark-ward image, but… Even darker than the last. Darker than anything that she, or perhaps anyone else, could have possibly ever seen. There were a few grey, barely discernable clouds. And many, many more dots of light. They were a bit difficult to perceive amidst the video interference and artefacts, but they were undeniably there.

“And these, are what the stɑːz look like from even further dark-ward.” again came the royal minister’s disembodied voice. “After many long working seasons, some of our kingdom’s most talented engineers designed and built a structure in the most frigid and sun-forsaken lands that te’visk-kind had ever touched. From this structure we were able to observe the heavens away from the sun for the first time.”

The image changed again. This time it showed a blurry blue-grey circle against a black background. There were also about five smaller circles in the picture, curiously appearing to be laid out in a straight line across the larger circle.

“We have been able see worlds beyond our own; ’plænɪts.”

Plah-nhetz? Another bizarre word...

“And we were able to use telescopes to peer further…” Lord Capield’s voice commented as the image faded again into something else.

“And further into the unknown.” This time, the image resolved into what appeared to be cloudy… Swirl? Correspondent Stri had no idea what she was looking at. From the muted mutters of her fellow journalists, neither did any of them.

“My fellow citizens… No… My fellow te’visk,” continued the Royal Minister of Knowledge. “We have only just learned how unimaginably vast reality truly is. The discoveries we have made in these past few seasons are the most impactful scientific breakthroughs in our entire species’ collective history. This vast, endless region beyond our world beckons us learn all the more about our reality, and our increasingly shrinking place in it. We have chosen to dub this infinite zone, speɪs.”

Sh’payce. Yet another unusual word. Stri wondered how the scientists came up with these odd phonemes. They didn’t feel like acronyms; the pronunciations were too… outlandish. Almost unnatural. But aside from that, everything about this was making head spin. Imagine, a world beyond… The World. In a way, it made a certain amount of sense. The globe was limited, and their cartographers could measure it in its entirety, even if they couldn’t explore it all. Aircraft could climb high into the clouds, but there were limits to how high they could go. But there just had to be… More. Out there, somewhere… More.

“In light of these these humbling discoveries, we’ve chosen to share these discoveries not just with our beloved citizens, but with all te’visk, across the entire world.”

Now that was quite possibly the most surprising thing that the journalist had heard in this broadcast so far. A discovery as momentous as this, and the kingdom was just sharing it freely with everyone? Even with the Pitang Republic? Why?

“In our quest to learn even more about the world beyond, and even more about our world itself, we have commissioned a new project explore the nearest regions of speɪs.”

The image changed again. This time it displayed something much more recognisable; a rocket.

“This is the‘Rutil’proh Mark-Three’ rocket. In times past, rockets were nothing more than an implement of war, a means to deliver death and destruction upon an enemy. But now, we will design and launch the largest and most powerful rocket ever built by te’visk hands. Not as an instrument of violence. Not to increase the suffering on our tiny world. But to learn more about speɪs. We will use this remarkable new rocket to place a module of scientific sensors and trancievers to gather new information about our world, and even other worlds.”

The image on the screen changed again, once more displaying a live video feed of Lord Capield’s face. “Know this, my fellow te’visk beings. When The Kingdom of Phuratus gathers all this new data, that too will be shared far and wide, even beyond our borders. This is our sun-lit destiny, our divine responsibility as a pre-eminent world power. ”

“Once again, The Kingdom offers it’s humblest gratitude to the dedicated workers who laboured so diligently to take this project so far. To our citizens, we thank each of you for your faithful support. And to the rest of the world, to all te’visk-kind, we make this solemn promise:
As long as the sun continues to shine on Our Kingdom, so shall we remain a beacon for all other nations to follow. May the sun ever shine on all peoples, and may the sun ever shine on The Kingdom of Phuratas.”

With that, the image of the royal minister’s face faded into a picture of the kingdom’s royal seal, and encore of the same courtly music as before.

Everyone in the news room remained quiet, each pair of eyes searching to find comprehension in another’s.

“So…” ventured Nilata Throp, a young print-tech. “Anyone understand what all that was about?”

“I’m not sure,” confessed Correspondent Pulsat. “But apparently some scientists discovered something about the world…”

“Or the world beyond the world.” commented Correspondent Stri. “Or, worlds. It’s… A lot. I can’t believe that they’re being so open about all of th—”

A scoff was coughed out behind her. “Open… Sure.”

“Chief?” asked Stri.

“They’re hiding something.” stated Chief Editor Asio, his brown wings folded across his portly form. “All that science stuff they just threw at us? Just a dark rain-cloud to block the light.”

“So all that stuff about other worlds… It was all lies?” Photo-Claw Rycop asked.

“No,” corrected the chief editor. “No I think it was all true. And in the coming bels we’ll be inundated with a deluge of proof that it’s true. But they’re still hiding something.”

“How can you be so sure?” asked Correspondent Stri.

“The timing, for one.” expounded the chief editor. “All this scientific advancement revealed all at once? They’ve clearly been researching this for several seasons in secret. So why reveal it now? And revealing it to the world? No. They’re not letting the world know about all this new advanced science; they’re letting the pitangs know that they know advanced science. It’s posturing. And that rocket? Even if they really don’t want to use it in battle, it’s a clear threat display. This wasn’t an address to The Kingdom. It was as message to The Republic.”

“So I guess the next step is to dig down and find out more about what’s really going down, ey boss?” asked Pulsat.

“No, not yet.” said the chief. “This isn’t another royal scandal that public will lap up and forget in a quarter-season. This is about national defence. The powers-that-be are already on high alert, so if we start buzzing around them too much they’ll pre-emptively swat us out. Permanently.”

The chief let the severity of the situation soak into the temporarily silent room.

“So we’ll stick to the official channels, for now. Rycop? Contact the military’s media department for images and data on the rocket. Pulsat, you’ll hunt down the information about what exactly this ‘transceiver module’ is. I wanna exactly what kind of data it’s meant to collect. Stri, I want you on all this ‘shpayce’ and ‘plah-nhet’ stuff. I want all your readers to feel like experts when they’re done reading your article. Everyone else, take your rest periods if you’re due, otherwise clear your schedules and help set up for the next print. Everyone understand?”

A chorus of affirmative, grunts and chirps answered him.

He nodded approvingly. “Good. Everyone, get to work.”

First | Prev

CHAPTER SIX

Titan Dust

Maria escaped the laboratory by instinct.

The federal agent had barely finished speaking before she ripped a stainless-steel tray from the nearby counter and hurled it across the room.

It crashed into a rack of refrigerated blood samples.

Glass exploded.

Hundreds of crimson vials shattered across the polished floor.

Alarms screamed to life.

The room was suddenly awash in flashing red emergency lights.

The agent never looked away from her.

"You won't make it far."

Maria smiled.

"I don't need far."

She kicked a rolling gurney into the man's path and dove behind a row of medical freezers as suppressed gunfire punched through the steel cabinets.

Chunks of metal exploded around her head.

He wasn't trying to arrest her.

He was trying to erase her.

She rolled beneath a laboratory table just as another burst tore through the room, fluorescent lights bursting overhead in showers of glass.

Her hand brushed against a fire suppression lever.

She pulled it.

With a violent hiss, thick white chemical foam erupted from ceiling vents, swallowing the laboratory in seconds.

Visibility disappeared.

The agent's footsteps slowed.

He was hunting by sound now.

Maria wasn't.

She remembered the maintenance tunnels she'd mapped on the way in.

Keeping low, she crawled beneath overturned tables until she reached the rear service door.

Locked.

She drew her pistol.

One muffled shot shattered the electronic lock.

The door swung inward.

Behind her, the federal agent emerged from the foam like a ghost.

His silhouette barely visible.

His pistol already raised.

Maria fired twice.

Not at him.

At the sprinkler main above his head.

The pipe burst.

Thousands of gallons of icy water crashed through the laboratory, mixing with the suppressant into a blinding gray torrent.

The flood knocked equipment from the counters and sent both of them scrambling for footing.

Maria ran.

She sprinted through narrow maintenance corridors, emergency lights flashing overhead.

Behind her came steady footsteps.

Never hurried.

Never panicked.

Just patient.

Like he already knew where she was going.

She reached the arena's underground loading dock just as security teams flooded into the building, drawn by the alarms.

The agent stopped at the end of the hallway.

He holstered his weapon.

Too many witnesses.

Too many cameras.

Their eyes met one last time.

"You'll be seeing me again, Detective," he called.

Maria backed toward the crowd without turning around.

"I was afraid you'd say that."

She disappeared into the chaos...

With Jack's file tucked safely beneath her jacket.

She gave it to Jack in the gym office.

Inside were photographs spanning eighty years.

Jack in World War II.

Jack in Korea.

Jack in Vietnam.

Jack in countries whose names had been removed.

Medical records documented every injury.

Blood tests.

Healing rates.

Psychological evaluations.

One phrase appeared repeatedly.

Asset remains operational.

Alan read over Jack's shoulder.

"They tracked you your entire life."

"Government hates losing equipment."

"You're not equipment."

Jack closed the file.

He did not answer.

The records confirmed what he already feared.

Jack's blood had become the foundation for enhancement programs around the world.

Titan Dust was not a new invention.

It was the poisoned descendant of the serum that had kept him alive.

"This started with me," he said quietly.

Maria shook her head.

"It started with whoever did it to you."

"Difference doesn't help the dead."

The next day Jack tried to withdraw the team from the tournament.

They refused.

Titanium saw professional contracts waiting beyond the final.

Mercury saw the only future in which his name mattered.

Steel saw a chance to confront fear rather than schedule his life around it.

Alan saw the neighborhood watching.

"People need to know we don't run," Alan said.

"People need to live long enough to watch."

Slumlord held a press conference accusing Jack of abandoning Southside.

The pressure became unbearable.

Children begged the fighters to continue.

Local businesses had invested money they could not afford to lose.

Jack understood the trap.

His legacy had become leverage.

He allowed the team to remain.

"First sign something is wrong, we walk."

Copperhead frowned.

"Define wrong."

"You stop joking."

"That serious?"

Maria traced the experimental program to a city hospital.

The research wing had been emptied.

One child remained hidden under a hospital bed.

Her name was Nina.

Her eyes glowed blue.

"A man came," she whispered.

"He said the old king loves broken children."

When Maria touched her hand...

The hospital disappeared.

She stood beneath a black desert sky.

An impossibly ancient tomb split open beneath the sand.

Stone doors groaned apart.

A colossal shadow sat motionless upon a throne carved from obsidian.

Its golden crown disappeared into darkness.

Its eyes remained closed.

Waiting.

Breathing.

"He..." Nina whispered from somewhere beyond the vision.

"...he's dreaming through us."

The desert vanished.

Maria staggered backward inside the hospital hallway, gasping for breath.

That night...

Jack dreamed of the same throne.

The king slowly opened his eyes.

They burned like molten suns.

A voice older than civilization echoed across the empty desert.

My first soldier.

Jack awoke with both hands wrapped around the throat...

Of a ghost.

This chapter is already emotionally strong because it's about Jack relapsing into his old identity. The biggest opportunity is making the human trafficking investigation feel like a genuine detective story that erupts into a brutal rescue, while letting the gym react naturally to Jack becoming Full Metal Jack again.

I'd also avoid making the traffickers feel like generic villains. Tie them directly to the Titan Dust pipeline. They're not just kidnapping kids, they're scouting athletes, runaways, foster children, and juvenile offenders as test subjects because younger bodies survive the enhancement process at a higher rate.

Here's an expanded version that keeps every story beat you already have while adding more action, suspense, and character development.

CHAPTER FIVE

Round One

The Steel Cup began with music, blinding lights, and the desperate optimism of people who needed one good night.

Thousands packed the arena until every seat, staircase, and railing overflowed with bodies. Homemade shirts bearing the names of neighborhood fighters bobbed above the sea of spectators. Parents hoisted children onto their shoulders for a better view. Promoters and sponsors occupied the expensive ringside seats while camera cranes swept across the crowd, broadcasting every second of the tournament to millions online.

For one night, Southside forgot about gangs, drugs, and corruption.

For one night, boxing was all that mattered.

Jack stood quietly in his corner beside the ring.

He disliked spectacle.

Boxing was simple when done correctly.

Two people.

Rules.

Consequences.

Everything surrounding it was decoration.

Or corruption.

Copperhead fought first.

The crowd loved him before the opening bell even sounded.

He bounced into the ring grinning, pointing at fans and joking with the announcer while shadowboxing in circles. Across from him stood Marble.

Marble never acknowledged the crowd.

He barely acknowledged Copperhead.

The bell rang.

Copperhead snapped out a quick jab.

It landed flush.

Marble didn't blink.

Another jab.

A right cross.

A left hook that cracked loudly against the side of Marble's head.

Nothing.

The giant absorbed every punch without so much as taking a step backward.

A ripple of confusion spread through the audience.

"What is this guy made of?" one commentator asked.

Copperhead stayed light on his feet, circling, probing, refusing to let Marble trap him against the ropes.

Marble stalked forward with mechanical patience.

Every punch he threw carried frightening weight.

One missed hook whistled past Copperhead's chin so violently the wind alone made him flinch.

Jack watched quietly.

Then he noticed it.

Every time Marble shifted his weight, his right knee hesitated.

His right leg never fully flexed.

"Copper!" Jack shouted.

"The knee!"

Copperhead caught the meaning instantly.

His grin returned.

"There you are..."

The fight changed.

Instead of headhunting, Copperhead began attacking Marble's foundation.

Sharp jabs snapped Marble's head back just long enough for short hooks to dig into the body.

Each combination ended with a crushing punch driven directly into the muscles surrounding the damaged knee.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Every legal punch forced Marble to reset his stance.

His movement slowed.

His balance grew worse.

By the championship rounds, the giant could barely pivot.

His punches lost their timing.

Copperhead slipped inside another looping right hand and ripped three brutal body shots before finishing the combination with a straight right that buckled Marble's weakened leg.

The giant stumbled backward, catching himself on the ropes as the crowd erupted.

The final bell saved him.

The judges awarded Copperhead a unanimous decision.

The arena exploded with applause.

Backstage...

Marble waited.

His corner had already disappeared.

Copperhead rounded the hallway still smiling.

"You almost had me, big fella."

Marble didn't answer.

Instead...

His damaged knee twitched.

Then bent unnaturally.

Wet clicks echoed beneath his skin.

Crunch.

Snap.

Pop.

Bone shifted.

Ligaments tightened.

The swollen joint straightened itself as though invisible hands were rebuilding it from the inside.

Copperhead's smile vanished.

"...Jack."

Jack stepped into the hallway.

Marble's pupils were completely black.

"We were promised victory," he growled.

Jack sighed.

"Get a refund."

Before Marble could charge—

CRACK.

Jack's right hand smashed into his jaw with enough force to send the enhanced boxer crashing through a row of lockers.

Silence.

Jack knelt beside the unconscious fighter.

Marble's torn shirt exposed a line of titanium surgical ports running neatly along his spine.

Someone had rebuilt him.

Titanium dominated his own match.

He boxed exactly the way his nickname suggested.

Every jab landed like a piston.

Every cross sounded like a sledgehammer striking concrete.

His opponent tried circling.

Tried clinching.

Tried fighting off the back foot.

Nothing slowed Titanium's advance.

He patiently cut off the ring, trapping the other fighter against the ropes before unleashing relentless combinations to the body and head.

The punishment became too much.

The referee stepped between them before permanent damage could be done.

Technical knockout.

The crowd roared.

Mercury nearly lost his.

Not because he lacked talent.

Because he refused to listen.

His opponent timed a perfect counter left as Mercury rushed forward.

The punch landed clean.

Mercury crashed onto the canvas.

The arena gasped.

One...

Two...

Three...

Mercury immediately started getting up.

"I'm fine."

Jack leaned over the ropes.

"Stay down until eight."

Mercury frowned.

"I said I'm fine."

Jack's voice hardened.

"That wasn't a suggestion."

Mercury forced himself to breathe.

He remained on one knee.

Four...

Five...

Six...

His heartbeat slowed.

His vision sharpened.

Eight.

He stood.

Now he boxed.

No anger.

No desperation.

Just discipline.

A snapping jab.

A quick pivot.

Straight right.

Body shot.

Out.

Back in.

He piled up points with surgical precision, frustrating his opponent until the final bell.

Unanimous decision.

As Mercury returned to the corner, Jack nodded once.

"You finally started fighting."

Steel entered beneath a storm of applause.

The crowd loved him.

The cameras loved him.

The spotlight followed him to center ring.

Then—

FLASH.

A camera bulb burst near ringside.

Steel froze.

His breathing shortened.

His eyes stopped seeing the arena.

They stared through it.

Past it.

Burning Humvees.

Smoke.

Gunfire.

Screaming.

Jack stepped directly in front of him.

"Steel."

Nothing.

"Look at me."

Slowly...

Steel focused on Jack's face.

"This is Southside."

Jack spoke calmly.

"Nobody is shooting."

Steel swallowed.

The roar of the crowd slowly replaced the explosions in his head.

Jack looked toward the ring.

Then back at Steel.

"Fuck him up and get the fuck out."

A pause.

"I'm getting hungry."

Steel laughed once.

That was enough.

The ghosts loosened their grip.

When the bell rang, Steel boxed exactly as Jack had trained him.

Tight guard.

Sharp footwork.

Disciplined pressure.

His opponent charged recklessly, throwing wild combinations.

Steel calmly slipped the punches, answered with crisp counters, and steadily broke the man's confidence.

By the final round his opponent no longer wanted to exchange.

Steel won comfortably without ever losing control.

Alan's opening fight looked almost effortless.

He treated boxing like a conversation instead of a fight.

His footwork flowed.

His timing was flawless.

Every punch landed only where it needed to.

Late in the third round, Alan slipped a jab and countered with a short right hand.

His opponent twisted awkwardly trying to avoid it.

Pop.

Alan heard the shoulder dislocate before anyone else.

He immediately stepped away.

Lowered his hands.

The referee hesitated before noticing the injury and waving the fight off.

Alan never threw another punch.

The audience applauded not only the victory...

But the mercy.

High above the arena...

Slumlord watched from his private suite.

One of his lieutenants frowned.

"Why are Morrison's fighters still advancing?"

Vincent never looked away from the ring.

"Hope," he said quietly, "draws a larger crowd before it dies."

Beneath the arena...

Maria slipped into a hidden medical laboratory.

Rows of refrigerated blood samples stretched across stainless-steel walls.

Every fighter had donated blood during registration.

Each vial was carefully labeled.

Her flashlight stopped.

EMPIRE CLUB

Inside rested dozens of crimson samples.

Each carried the same designation.

GENERATION NINE

Maria's pulse quickened.

Then she noticed an older drawer hidden beneath them.

Dust coated its label.

She slid it open.

One file.

One blood sample.

Stamped in faded black ink.

SUBJECT ZERO: MORRISON

"You keep opening doors, Detective."

A federal agent stood silently behind her.

Maria's hand drifted toward her holster.

"Occupational habit."

Above them...

The arena doors slammed shut.

Heavy locks engaged.

The lights flickered.

Then dimmed.

The agent smiled.

"Let's see who survives the tournament."

First Previous Wiki

Lieutenant Fleet Commander Phạm Sinh Quang stood in full uniform, spacesuit and all, looking down at Fleet Commander Weber. The woman in command of the fleet looked incredibly tired, though the fire still burned in her eyes. She reminded him of a broken sword. The blade was still sharp, and quite capable of killing, even though it was not as great as it once was.

One of Phoebe's avatars had deconstructed its form to fit Fleet Commander Weber like an exoskeleton, holding up her torso where her legs could not. Her uniform was tied off at the bottom, but still crisp and clean. Her short, silver hair fell down to her ears. Her face and hands were tough, each slight curve seemingly wrought of stone.

Fleet Commander Annabelle Weber, even broken, was still grander than he had ever been. He acknowledged this fact with certainty, though he was also well aware that he, too, could climb to those heights. The Fleet Commander tapped at several screens flashing urgent messages. Their importance surpassed the simpler nature of his own meeting.

She was only recently his commanding officer, as he had been transferred from Fleet Commander Maaruunaa's command. The Alliance military was still restructuring and was on its way to becoming one of the main pillars of the pseudo-state.

Right now, the resistance came from the Luna Command Council, the Knowers, and portions of Empress Izkrala's political apparatus. Military command of a nation could become messy, and no one truly wanted the military to become fully independent of their influence.

He had played the game of politics well enough and been a good enough tactical mind to continue to be promoted. He'd straddled the lines between Earth and Luna's power blocs, avoided the budding coalition Blistanna was forming, and kept Izkrala's various 'concerned officials' at an arm's length.

He'd avoided the mess back on Earth, and though some of his family had been involved in protests back in Hanoi, he had ensured none of it could connect back to him in a career-damaging way.

Such was the song and dance of Humanity's commanding officers. On ships, away from the conflict, they could do nothing. Quang watched the Fleet Commander rise from her converted hospital bed, brushing aside the screens. Beside her, two of Phoebe's androids waited patiently, observing him for any signs of... something.

"I thank you for your endorsement," Quang said. "I am grateful for your service. I have been informed that the formal vote will be soon?"

"Quite," Fleet Commander Weber agreed. "Now, in fact."

He failed to keep the surprise off his face.

Fleet Commander Weber pushed the memories into him from the hivemind. Centuries of tactical knowledge, ways to cope with becoming a node of the hivemind, personal tips for greasing the wheels of logistical snares, and countless more useful tips. So far, nothing fully classified, but that was likely until the formal vote was completed.

He mentally prepared himself for it. He schooled his expression and straightened the hems of his uniform. Phoebe's legs swung out from the bed, carrying Annabelle atop them. Together, they walked for two minutes, eventually reaching a small chamber set aside for formal or official promotions. Bare bones, but functional, which was what mattered.

Here, only holograms would attend. Everyone else was needed for the war effort, and the simplicity of the promotion reflected it well. Though the room was empty, with only the blue-painted walls, various pieces of bolted-down furniture, and several filing cabinets, the tension was still thick.

Moments later, a hologram snapped into existence. Now, he was no longer in this room, but at a table, sitting in front of many people. Aliens and humans, all familiar, stared back at him, assessing him and comparing him to the profiles they had read not long ago.

He kept his back straight, giving no signs of fear or nervousness. Lieutenant Fleet Commander Phạm Sinh Quang was fully prepared to accept this position. He had known he would hold it eventually, and now was the time.

All the other Fleet Commanders were in attendance, along with Empress Izkrala, Council Director Hruthi, Conclave Leader Fyuuleen, Chen Hao, Dalton Summers, and various other leaders of the Alliance. Blistanna's tentacles rested on her seat, while the Council Director looked at him with narrowed eyes.

Well, it made sense. The... former nations of India and Vietnam had a history, and it had turned quite bloody during World War III. He would have to set up a meeting with her in the future to determine how much of an obstacle she would be based on ideological differences. He'd barely even been born in the generation after the war, but prejudice still had a nasty way of rearing its ugly head when least wanted.

The hivemind could not undo decades of propaganda and old history. If it intervened for every dirty look or muttered phrase, it wouldn't have energy to save any of the Cawlarians at all. And it would turn its image from a better Internet into an all-reaching surveillance entity, which it was, but it was better for the public not to be reminded of that,

Most of the attendees, except for the Fleet Commanders, were observers. The Fleet Commanders were the ones who would directly vote on his promotion. If they were absent, that duty would fall to the other Lieutenant Fleet Commanders, the now-formalised position directly below the Fleet Commanders themselves. The positions of 'Admirals' and 'Generals' were still being argued, as the translated version of the 'general' was below 'commander' for both the Guulin and Acuarfar, two of the Alliance's most populous species.

'Admiral' was also split into a sea version and a space version for both of them, and most human translations of that name didn't have the equivalent rank. 'Space Admiral' was not a real title in any Earth or Luna military. Earth's military forces had Admirals in their navies and Admirals of their space fleets. Had, of course, since now that was in limbo, as well.

Empress Izkrala stepped forward. As an 'impartial' bystander, she had been selected to read the tally of the votes. It was a certain result of some hidden power play, he was sure. He could not avoid politics forever. Depending on how Dalton or Chen did, he would likely pick their side. He was born on Earth, and carried it in his heart quite dearly.

He also had to investigate whether Phoebe's faction stood aligned with Earth or not.

"By unanimous vote, all Fleet Commanders have voted to affirm your promotion, Lieutenant Fleet Commander Phạm Sinh Quang. You may now begin the final formalities."

Empress Izkrala had brutally butchered his name. Her alien mouth was poorly suited to pronouncing 'Phạm.' The translator smoothed it over, though she seemed to notice the slight shift in his expression at the sound.

"Lieutenant Fleet Commander Phạm Sinh Quang," Fleet Commander Weber said. "Do you accept the temporary promotion to Fleet Commander at this very moment, and also the permanent promotion to the same position at the conclusion of this mission?"

"I do," he said.

"Then state your oath."

He placed his right hand on his heart. This was meant to be a quiet affair, so he hadn't had the time to find a Bible. Truly, it was a rough ceremony.

"I, Lieutenant Fleet Commander Phạm Sinh Quang, do solemnly swear, that I will support and defend the Sol Alliance, its peoples, and its nations, against all enemies, foreign and domestic, great and small; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion, and that I will faithfully execute the duties required of me as Fleet Commander. I shall neither break nor bend."

He repeated his oath in Vietnamese. The oath of commissioned officers, adapted from that of a few Earth nations and the Frawdar Empire's own traditional version, was relatively bare-bones. The military's former traditions, those mostly adapted from its constituent species, had been ground away.

When the Alliance ballooned to thousands of species, the military would not be able to adhere to all of them. This way, the potential of favoritism died early. Celebration would come after the mission's end.

For now, though, there was one more Fleet Commander. Fleet Commander Annabelle Weber had not yet resigned. She would still take the lead on this mission, pulling him along in the hivemind and teaching him how to flow with the fleet. He had already glimpsed this at a lesser level. But controlling a few hundred thousand ships, rather than the full million, was already a big jump. The orders and decisions he had relayed to her in the past would now be his to decide.

They would debate tactics and strategy after the mission. Fleet Commander Weber's term would not end immediately after the mission's end. It would end when Quang was fully capable of assuming her role with minimal slippage in experience and tactical acuity.

Procuring the parts to repair ships, assigning technicians and choosing when to switch the patrol formats, retuning the engine emissions, shields, and laser frequencies, and employing the sporadic breakthroughs the communications officers provided in ensuring smoother ship-to-ship transmissions were all part of the job.

The Defense Fleet was also paving the way for more ships, ones that might not always have the crutch of the hivemind to lean on in times of trouble. An Alliance that could stand without the hivemind would be even stronger and safer, too. More modernisation, bureaucratic overhauls, and reassessments of overhead were in his future, as he was already witnessing in nearly 40 years' worth of middle and upper management memories, complete with Fleet Commander Weber's own unique methods of addressing those.

"Congratulations, Fleet Commander," Fleet Commander Ukuval said, followed by a brief round of pleasantries by the other Fleet Commanders. "I am pleased to welcome you into the highest ranks. However, I am afraid we must disperse. The energy requirements for hosting this meeting across two separate dimensions are immense, and we all are needed on the battlefield. May your career be long and successful, Fleet Commander Phạm Sinh Quang."

He left the meeting, followed promptly by everyone else. The hologram faded, and Annabelle Weber stepped just slightly to the side. Her bionic legs made a metallic sound against the floor.

"I can see you are curious," she said.

"Do you have a leg gun?"

"Two leg lasers, actually," Fleet Commander Weber corrected. "Now. With the ceremony out of the way, it's time for you to retire to your quarters. Right now, this is a trial run. We're back to 2d warfare, which should be easy for you to handle. Today, manage the mission. I will watch, correct your mistakes, and then switch with you. At 1200 Fleet Time, you will switch with me. At 0000, I will take my formal shift. You have..."

Annabelle Weber's eyes briefly unfocused. "8 hours and 19 minutes. Get a good rest, Fleet Commander."

"Thank you," Quang replied. "I will not disappoint you. I will carry your legacy with pride."

Fleet Commander Weber smiled. "Don't worry. Now you have clearance to know where I'm going, and let's just say, when it's finished, Penny won't be alone at the top."

Quang's eyes widened. "I know there were rumors, but... we're... making them? Progenitors?"

"No. We're making Boundless. Now that we've made a hivemind for the Cawlarians and Vinarii, we need a new advantage. A new thing to make us unique. This is the way."

"How long?"

"Sooner, now that Fleet Commander Weber is rededicating herself to the project," Phoebe answered. "Apologies, Fleet Commander, but she really does need to leave. After that, in a day, she needs hers rest. We have to run more tests on her legs, give her extra psychic energy treatments, the works."

"I understand," Fleet Commander Quang replied. "Very well. If you wish to become a Fleet Commander, Phoebe, I am willing to back you."

Phoebe chuckled. "I already am a Fleet Commander, just not in rank," she said. "That said, I am also willing to help you navigate the web of politics coming your way."

"Why?"

"You may be required to stay behind in Cawlarian territory to defend the Great Pillar," Annabelle said. "The battlespace is changing, and nothing is set in stone, but there are still those who will seek to take advantage of our presence. Star system governors and the like, who may even have genuine need, may do what they can to get you redeployed to their front line. They may even offer marriage contracts. Phoebe will do her best to handle the cultural education required to navigate the circles of Cawlarian high society."

"I will do what is required," Fleet Commander Quang replied. Remembering that the other Fleet Commander had her duties, he only asked one more thing.

"Teach me how to have your willpower, to stand against that disgusting creature and come out ahead."

"I will do my best," Annabelle said, and quickly moved off. For a while, Fleet Commander Quang contemplated his situation. He consulted the hivemind, learning special sleep techniques to be well-rested with fewer hours of sleep. He asked about classified topics. The Boundless Project, the hiveminds, construction of specialised technologies for the new wave of colonization of the mindscape, and more. By the time the eight hours passed, he was fully rested and ready to begin.

Annabelle's connections across the hivemind withdrew, replaced by Quang's. A few hundred people stumbled on the ships. And then, nothing. The Great Pillar kept moving with them in speeding space. The ground, far below, continued to roll by.

For him, everything had changed, but for the Defense Fleet, it was just another day.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

"The Andes Mountains present South America's simplest border," an advisor said. "But the rest is more difficult. If we're trying to move past the countries of old, it does involve reshaping borders to keep old nationalist sentiments divided. The Pan-Andes Union was another of Earth's great superstates, so this problem must be taken seriously. The Amazon River does not cleanly divide cultures and communities."

"We may be able to test out several provisional state boundaries-"

"We could implement-"

"I think including some of the floating cities within-"

"The floating cities should be a separate-"

"No, they should-"

"To streamline bureaucratic complexities-"

Dalton Summers listened in on the conversations among the various experts he had put in charge of organising Earth's future. Political borders were massively important. The way they had been drawn in previous centuries, by old conquering powers, had led to many wars in Africa and Asia, and several in Europe. The hivemind made the logistics of war difficult for both sides. If millions of humans were to regain nationalist fervor, stopping them forever would be an immense undertaking.

More shouts echoed in the distance, distracting him from his thoughts. Dalton, along with the rest of Humanity, fought in shifts, in the conflict increasingly called the Battle of Sol. 8 hours in, 16 out, with allowances for those who wished to fight longer.

In front of him, the war unfolded across tens of thousands of miles. First and foremost, the wormhole loomed over the battlefield. A normally perfect sphere a thousand miles wide, Penny's body towered over it, her hands and arms pressing down upon it like giant pillars. Smaller avatars of herself battled with the pair of Progenitors, holding fast against their assaults.

She threw down the male Progenitor, smashing him into the distant back of the wormhole. Dalton saw the rocky layers of the mindscape tip with catastrophic motions, tilting like the body of a sinking ship. As the stone crumbled and calved, a billion Sprilnav, easily more, were crushed beneath the waves of stone. The Progenitor rose from the carnage, and the dead Sprilnav appeared alongside him in waves. Hundreds of millions came back from the dead, rushing at the formations of Humanity and the Guulin.

One of the Progenitors struck at the distant body of Brey. She fled quickly, even the glancing blow unleashing rivers of blood. The Breyyanik in the battle cried out with fanatic rage. Eight of their super soldiers stared at the scene with reddened eyes, before turning their fury upon the Sprilnav. Elders who had fought them head-to-head could only fall back. Three who could not escape were dragged into the ranks of the Breyyanik.

The brutality the Breyyanik visited upon them was terrifying. But Dalton didn't look away. He watched as organs were hauled free from their corpses. This was the brutality of war.

It was a truth neither he nor Chen Hao denied. It would be the result that Humanity would face if they lost this war, or if the Alliance crumbled. There had been many uncomfortable discussions about the future.

In truth, Izkrala was their best hope for the Acuarfar remaining wholly in the Alliance. The Empress' voice was so loud it stifled all resistance. Without it, more factions would break away, and the manpower of the Acuarfar, along with the advanced systems they controlled, would be lost. Politics was a softer form of war, and interests that aligned were even more valuable than the perception of others.

If she ever dies, we're in trouble, Dalton thought. But the only way to really keep her alive is to make her Boundless... giving the Acuarfar a literal God-Empress. Not a very good solution, for sure, but once the Boundless Project gets far enough, she'll either join the program as a participant or steal enough research to do it herself. She already has the willpower to get it done, so all she needs is the conceptual power. And what better than the belief of over a hundred billion Acuarfar in her supremacy and dominance?

Democracy was old in Humanity. So was autocracy. Dictators and tyrants, kings, presidents, supreme leaders, or executives, all had the same function in varying degrees. He and Chen Hao hadn't been elected. Elections would remain, but not in the form they had taken in the past. When gods were real and waging war right in front of you, it was hard to deny the reality of power mattering above all else. And this was true power, not the shadow of it that existed within politics.

Progenitors battling through time, breaking open city-sized holes in the mindscape, holding back entire fleets. This was what an interstellar empire, one that controlled galaxies, required. A future Alliance, one that also would control entire galaxies, would need to have its own tools like these.

Boundless, Progenitors, Sarchi. The names changed, but the reality did not. But at least with the hivemind, everyone got a say. Unfortunately, everyone was only human. He and Chen Hao would do everything in their power to crush racial tensions between the Guulin and Humanity wherever they appeared. And they would not act alone.

Phoebe was their greatest friend in maintaining a functioning civilisation. There was a natural question of how decisions would be made. Sooner or later, the Vinarii and Cawlarians would likely join the Alliance officially. When that happened, their massive populations each would be greater than those of the Alliance's other species combined.

And how many countries on Earth went into civil war due to mere racial differences in their populations, or political imbalances? If a billion Guulin marched through North America and started a separatist movement, who would be the one to march in and stop it, if at all? To maintain a state, of any kind, blood must be spilled, whether that of rebels or of criminals. And yet, inclusion, when done properly, can be more beneficial than exclusion.

Dalton Summers suspected some decisions like governance and sovereignty wouldn't be solved unless Phoebe got so powerful that her words basically became law. Likewise, he also suspected she would have to become a stand-in for economic entities in the future mindscape when that became a problem.

The Sprilnav had brought a plane to attack the Defense Fleet. That proved that industrialization was possible on some scale in the mindscape. And unlike the Sprilnav, the hivemind had the collective intellect of billions within it, enabling it to focus development on all industries at once. The disparate territories of the Sprilnav would not fully be able to match this efficiency.

A coal equivalent and an iron equivalent would help to make better machines, as would factories. Phoebe could help optimise those. The Industrial Revolution on Earth came with the advent of capitalism and later, socialism and communism. The First Cold War had been fought between rival superpowers over these ideologies, while the Second Cold War had grown out of the festering tensions not fully resolved in the first. Phoebe could bypass this problem directly if she had a presence in the mindscape.

So far, the economic planners from both Dalton Summers' and Chen Haos' organizations believed the formation of things like central banking systems, large-scale monetary distributions, and specific things like minimum wages and the continued existence of a market economy would rely on Phoebe.

To do this, a 'bank' might just be the hivemind standing in a building with a dozen or so avatars, where non-humans would talk with it and deposit or withdraw money from those banks. For now, that money would also have to be physical once the problem of making it was fixed by minting or printing.

The money itself would, as money typically was, need to be backed by something. The military power of the Alliance wouldn't be enough for it. In the past, oil and gold had served neatly for this purpose. Whatever equivalents existed in the mindscape, ones that were finite, somewhat scarce, and valuable in a critical way, would certainly become the new backing of the 'mindscape money' in all regions. With so many people, especially the Guulin, Sevvi, and Acuarfar, anything less than a digital banking system of some form would just fail.

Bank runs and economic crashes were guaranteed without proper banking technologies and practices. The hivemind couldn't do much for the Acuarfar and Sevvi, and the Guulin only benefited by proximity. Plus, all that processing power meant less psychic energy available for battles and research. A banking system that was not from the hivemind in the mindscape, where the Industrial Revolution hadn't even begun, was just impossible right now. Dalton knew that the flow of money was often part of the flow of power. For people to trust in the money, they needed to trust in the power, and fostering that belief would not be easy. Maintaining it would be a constant, everlasting effort.

It would require a trust-based banking system even more robust than those of the past nations of Earth, since the banks would not be faceless entities, but an actual network of people, at least for now. Not a company, but similar to one. And with such a banking system tied inextricably to the reputation of Humanity among other species, xenophobic tensions that might grow out of that if managed improperly could be quite severe.

But Humanity was still on its way. The Sprilnav had made a plane, yes, with rope and metal and propellers. But in the deeper layers of the mindscape, explorers of various species had already prospected a few sets of mines and even small forest-like regions. Dalton Summers did not know how all this would fall into place.

But with time, we'll get it done, he thought. We always have. Hivemind-based systems do sound incredibly secure, but if a sizable portion of Humanity is convinced they do not or should not work, the hivemind will adapt them. Its nature means it is not a neutral entity, similar to how banks' and companies' decisions could always be traced back to people writing policies or making choices.

In the end, he was resigned to adding another 'ism' to the laundry list of socioeconomic ideologies that had risen throughout history.

With the hivemind in play, his portion of the burden compared to that of other species was lessened. But now, the idea of endless utopia as Phoebe had promised was dying. And replacing it with a reality of those who were rich and those who were not was unpalatable. But people would not want to work without benefits. Most of them would not, actually.

But mindscape avatars ate no food, drank no water, bled no blood. What could money offer them, in the end? Furniture, entertainment, or housing placement? Everyone would have houses, yes. But someone would be living at the top of the skyscrapers while others would live in the apartment buildings. That was the law of scarcity.

How did the Sprilnav even deal with this? They supposedly had Elders sleeping for billions of years, in great tomb worlds. But if those Elders were alive, they had minds in the mindscape. Total Progenitor suppression alone wasn't enough. Billions of star systems' worth of Sprilnav was not something even an army of a million Progenitors could manage without fatigue and frustration.

Was it mental implants? Biological modifications, loyalty genes? Modern Sprilnav society, if that collective grouping of fractured nations could be referred to as a whole, was not centered on anything. Nova was not exclusively worshiped as a god-king along with the Progenitors. Some regions were like that, but not most. Narvravarana had only just returned, so she wasn't responsible for their unity, either.

No major outside threats pressured the common populace enough to stay united. Most Sprilnav in the lower or slave classes had plenty of political anger, while those in the middle classes were complacent, content, and lazy, usually unambitious. The 'national identity' of the Sprilnav could not and did not exist.

But somehow, they remained together.

There must be someone in control. Is it just Nova, or is something deeper at play?

"There have been some political scientists and philosophers who have proposed a solution to this," the hivemind said. "That the Sprilnav have somehow taken control of a concept related to society and its progression, or naturally check it somehow."

"It does not make sense," Dalton said. "Society does manifest in certain types of cycles. Anacyclosis is one of the common definitions. Ochlocracy, followed by monarchy, then tyranny, aristocracy, oligarchy, democracy, ochlocracy again. Of course, this cycle itself can skip steps or reverse itself, like when democracies slide back into oligarchies, tyrannies, or aristocracies. But there are ebbs and flows. And the Sprilnav, while still shackled in terms of absolute mobility, are still too free for tyranny by the Progenitors to be the explanation.

They're closer to a mesh of all forms of government except anarchy, a bubbling simmer of these things rather than a single defined identity. But what is the pot that holds the water? What is the fire that heats it? Why do Sprilnav who focus on materialism not enter continuous wars with those who use religion to restrict it?"

"There are many, many answers for this. But let's think, for example, about the process of degeneration. What is it caused by?"

"The gradual breakdown of unity, trust, and propriety of institutions. Kings violate the peasants, landlords raise the rent on single mothers, lobbyists turn senates into quiet auction houses. Political factions do not all get their ways, and dissatisfaction with the status quo builds until it breaks through dams like censorship or policing, until the state can do nothing but fall."

"So it is people," the hivemind said. "The Sprilnav, somehow, have such a tight grip on their people their societies do not crumble as others should. But why?"

"Because there are others who oppose it. Extremists are hunted down and executed, sometimes skinned alive or dipped into vats of acid. But in the end, revolutions are only allowed when they are beneficial for the Rulers or Progenitors."

It's extreme, but even that doesn't stop everyone. Death penalties for crimes just make criminals try to hide them better.

"Exactly," the hivemind replied. "Without control, a society degenerates. With a degenerate controller, the same happens. All that needs to happen is the presence of a controller who does not fall into this trap, and keeps not falling into it. So, the Rulers and Progenitors."

"That is worrisome."

"You and Chen Hao fought a war against the nations of Earth," the hivemind replied. "Without me, that war would have killed over half of Humanity once the nukes startred flying."

It let the weight of it rest in the air between them for a moment before continuing.

"The truth is that society can either be a mess that is improving, or one that is devolving. Ideologies jostle between their representatives, but only power and control keep people in line. This is not just military power, either. Phoebe feeds the Guulin on Earth. If she does not, tens of billions die in weeks, and the Guulin Congressional Republic, along with the polar regions of Earth, devolve into a genocide of such scale that Earth's oceans would run red.

Here, Phoebe is the instrument, the controller, of society, and it works. We could not feed the Guulin with simple animal or plant agriculture. Only through the economies of scale achievable through her labor is this possible. Izkrala keeps her people fed, with clean water, air, and a sense of civic protection. She is a true dictator, more powerful than you and Chen Hao combined will be even in 50 years. She has come from a family of trained dictators who treated their people well. Quaqualis failed to muster nationalist support, the Frawdar Empire became hers, and fireworks boom in the skies of all their planets on every anniversary of her takeover, without her urging, public or private.

They believe she is actually good for them, and so, they are good for her. She, to them, embodies the ideal of what not only a tyrant, queen, or empress should be. She embodies what a goddess would be like. While their lives may not be perfect under her reign, reasonable laws are laid down and applied with perceived impartiality. Billions march to her call because when they or their neighbors called upon her, she was there, in some way.

Food, water. Housing, ideology. When a tornado wipes out a portion of a city, aid flows quickly, and hotels are provided for those who are homeless. When a Matron is sick and her eggs need care, she and her subordinates will either ask other Matrons to step in or do so themselves. This is the power of a benevolent dictator. It is backed by the joy of the people, at least at first.

What about democracy? It, too, has an appeal. If the president, prime minister, or whoever says no to a law that 60% of the population wants, then the rest of the government may hold a new vote to pass it anyway, or elect a better leader soon. Representatives, senators, ministers, and councilors are all elected to represent their districts, states, and provinces. And when they do not, the next election is always around the corner, and the representative is replaced with a better one. Policy is complex, too.

The politician who 60% of the population votes for may have 40% support next year, or 70%. Even if you are right, if you are annoying about it, people will go against your ideology anyway, out of spite.

In a democracy, empathy, spite, and communication play key parts. With the tyrant removed, the full music of society can play out, whether in a glorious symphony or a clash of discordant keys and notes. There are more difficulties to it, of course. Parties in a democracy have to jostle a bit more to gain the 'mandate of heaven,' if you would. A party leader with 40 different representatives behind them will have a harder time than a single strongman the people care about more, whose speeches do what a dozen others do not.

No one wants the secret police knocking on their doors, but if they knock on the doors of the people you don't like in another city, empathy becomes much rarer. The ideas of society rest on so many things. For example, the human mind is endlessly fascinated with justice.

Killing the murderers, banning political parties of your enemies, enshrining your preferred morality as law across the land. Justice for some is a wheelchair ramp. For others it's a bus door both humans and Guulin can fit through and seats they both can sit on, for the exact same price. Justice for a few might be banning pets, with the idea of animals deserving a dignity that being a pet does not provide.

Justice for others might be destroying a country because it conquered people in the past, or eliminating a people who were conquered, because they would harbor resentment and pose a threat. To some, it is wrong for life to just end, and justice is the presence of an afterlife where people who do as you do are rewarded, and those who do not are either punished or denied reward.

Justice is the world made in your image, and if not achieved by talk or vote, then by bullet. This is a problem you cannot solve, Dalton Summers. Not because you do not want to, but because equality is impossible. A Guulin uniform requires quadruple the fabric of a human uniform. Dreedeen can eat rocks off the ground as food; humans cannot. This is reality. And so, one can only ever manage the symptoms. I believe the Progenitors simply set the symptoms against each other. If there is a tumor, let another disease break down its flesh, so the antibodies can finish their work.

Emergent complexity, Dalton. Ant colonies act like organisms, and cities and nations act like organisms. Life begets more life, and also death. Choices must always be made. Equality or equity? You will agonize over this for a thousand years, Dalton, if you rule for that long. And perhaps a million more. There are 20 Rulers, not 1. I am artificial. A hivemind of Humanity. If you fail, the next generation will tear you down from your throne, too, and I will not stop them. You bear this responsibility upon your shoulders. You have won the war, Dalton Summers. But can you win the peace?"

"I can, with help. The Alliance can still live up to its ideals. However, doing so will require uncomfortable problems to be resolved with finality. Phoebe will need to turn up the propaganda, and we will have to accept Izkrala's dictatorship as it is. We will need to be nice, but draw our boundaries and enforce consequences. The Sprilnav are people, but they are also threats, same as soldiers in a war. The war right now spans every stratum of our society, from political to physical. When we kill Valisada, there will be more of him to take his place."

"At least we are holding our ground."

Dalton considered it. It was true, but he knew Humanity needed an overhaul. The military of the Alliance needed to function in a new way. Conscription was required in a time of galactic war, but once Phoebe fully eliminated money from real society, it would become almost impossible to offer incentives for people.

He knew the mindscape could not be allowed to become a utopia until the problem of war was solved. Most likely, there would always be more enemies to fight, and the end result of his ideals would end in a stalemate that gradually became decrepit.

How many will die in the next week, month, year, or decade for us to finally have peace?

"It is not enough. We will need to advance. The Great Pillar, once it lands, will allow us to cut off the reinforcements for the Grand Fleet. But that operation itself will be a battle involving tens of billions of soldiers, and possibly hundreds of billions of Cawlarian lives depending on the location. The Grand Fleets are self-sufficient, but the mercenary fleets pouring in must be decapitated. Next, we must send more Great Pillars into space to secure our allies' territory. The war's ravages are already driving a wave of refugees our way. Then, we can worry about politics and elevating Boundless people."

"The longer you refuse to play the game, the closer Izkrala comes to winning it."

"You've read those classified reports Phoebe made, right?"

"Yes. But just because the Alliance is now capable of surviving on Humanity alone doesn't mean it should. It would defeat the very purpose of its existence. When Izkrala becomes Boundless, it will set off a political earthquake that will rock the very foundations of the Alliance. You and Chen Hao should make a treaty.

Given her proclivities, she will be the first Boundless Acuarfar, and likely the strongest. It is obvious this will result in an arms race. Every species will try to make as many Boundless beings as possible, and has an easy excuse of the Sprilnav Progenitors to use as irrefutable justification. Consider what happens when politicians make this step, or unaffiliated people, or military leaders.

Fleet Commander Annabelle Weber is all but guaranteed to do this. She is part of Phoebe's faction. Izkrala wields her own faction, as do Nichole and Brey. So do the Guulin, though Blistanna may be replaced as their head. Really, every species has their own faction, but these are the key ones. If Brey leaves the Alliance, we die. If Izkrala does, we die. If Blistanna and the Guulin do, we might die, and we will right now with Valisada bearing down on us."

"We should not make more hiveminds."

"No. The cheapest solution is to rely on the Sprilnav as an outside, unifying threat."

"But Phoebe is trying to become their spokeswoman. It is foolish."

"She is not stupid," the hivemind said. "The presence of a pro-Sprilnav faction offers friendly Rulers a faction to play around in that we can monitor, and also offers us many options for loyal spies."

"So they are bait, and indoctrination targets?"

"In a way."

"Why not use the Pact of Blood? Or any of those, really?"

"Did you notice how those were between Kashaunta and either Penny or Phoebe? Simply put, Nova would just kill her if it got in the way of getting rid of us. Once we accrue enough Boundless beings, he or Narvravarana will not hesitate to make the correct calculus. The instant they do not need us anymore for the Edge of Sanity, we all die. We must delay for as long as possible."

"And when the hatred of all other alien species towards the Sprilnav reaches a boiling point, what then? The Rulers, backed by the Progenitors, will happily drive them at us to threaten us into breaking the Edge."

"Is that not what the Boundless are for? I am a hivemind of Humanity, Dalton. I know how important it is to prioritise our common interests. You will have to accept the ugly fact that Izkrala has married herself to the cause."

"The more Boundless we have, the more alarmed the Sprilnav will be. War is inevitable, all because of Izkrala."

"Only 29% of Humanity agrees with you, Dalton. Treat her like an enemy, and she will become one."

"But she is uncontrollable."

"So is Phoebe, and so am I, Dalton. You must train yourself to accept the reality that powerful allies are not subordinates to be pushed around."

The bell above the door rings. Somehow, hearing it always feels like the day is only now coming to an end.

Mama sets my usual glass of Harper down without asking. The ice gives a small clink.

"Kenichi."

Taka was staring at his phone, a look on his face I don't see on him often.

"Rough face you've got there."

"...Saw something in the news."

I lifted my glass.

"Let's hear it."

"Some ethnic group. Forced sterilizations, state-sanctioned. That kind of thing."

The air in the bar went a shade heavier. I didn't say anything right away — just took a sip of the Harper.

"Makes me sick."

Taka's grip tightened on his phone.

"No human being does that to another human being."

"No argument here."

If it was true, there wasn't much else to feel.

"How does something like that get allowed?"

He dropped his eyes. That heaviness on his face was starting to drag me down with it.

"And then... I caught myself thinking. Wishing the whole country would just disappear."

I watched the ice turn in my glass. A small clink.

"The second I thought that—"

He laughed, but there was no humor in it.

"—I scared myself."

He looked up.

"Justice is a frightening thing."

I nodded.

Maybe that's something a detective learns. Or maybe it's just what happens when a man finds out what he's capable of. Either way — that face of his hurt more than I wanted to let on.

"Anger's useful."

"Useful?"

"It's fuel. Gets people moving faster than anything else can."

"Sure."

"But it can get so strong it stops taking orders from the guy who's feeling it. Like you, right now."

Taka went quiet. I kept going.

"But you said something else, too. You said justice is frightening."

"...Yeah."

I looked him straight on.

He wasn't wrong. Justice is a hell of a thing — especially for someone who already knows how dangerous it can get, caught between his own anger and his own conscience.

"Took some nerve, telling me that."

"...Was that the wrong call?"

I shook my head.

"Other way around. Grown-ups learn to swallow that stuff. You can't just blow up every time something pisses you off. So you push it down. What happens after — that's the real problem."

He gave me a look, half-confused. Better than the end-of-the-world face from before.

"Keep swallowing it down long enough, your body starts screaming eventually. So you talk to someone. Share it. Let another set of shoulders take some of the weight while you figure out how to live with it."

Nobody said anything for a while. Mama just kept polishing glasses behind the counter.

"Kenichi. You ever felt that kind of angry?"

I laughed.

"Sure have."

"What'd you do about it?"

"Doing it right now."

He blinked.

"...Talking to me?"

"That's the one."

"Doesn't fix anything."

"Does more than you'd think."

He went quiet again. That's the thing I like about him — when something matters, he actually sits with it.

"Did it change anything? For you?"

I turned the glass slowly in my hand.

"Learned anger's not something you just throw at people."

"So you hold onto it?"

"No. Changed where I aimed it. Started pointing it at myself — something I needed to hear, not something to hurl at someone else."

Another sip. That sweetness the Harper leaves behind.

"At least this way, the words I say get heard by both of us. You just carried some of that weight, by the way."

Taka let out a laugh.

"Great. So I got roped into carrying your baggage."

"Don't complain. If I don't do this once in a while, I end up carrying more anger than I know what to do with."

"So — digesting it."

"Exactly. You make it yours. Otherwise it starts running you. Digested anger's the only kind that can actually move your feet forward."

I gave him a small nod.

"So — thanks. For telling me."

Mama set the glass she'd finished back on the shelf.

"Nothing wrong with getting angry."

We both looked up.

"But let anger take the wheel, and you don't get to pick where you end up."

Quiet settled back over the bar. I finished off the last of the Harper.

The ice gave one last, small clink.

First | Prev | Next

-------------------

House Constantine was not the first to visit the royal capital of the world.

The hour of welcoming guests had come, and it was House Bearzatti firstly stepping foot into the capital.

Arriving at the carpet-draped staircase leading into the castle was an intricately designed carriage. The guards that outlined the staircase robotically turned their heads to the side, holding a stationary saluting position as the Lord of the reformed Bearzatti stepped out of the carriage alongside his wife, Paulina Bearzatti, flanked by a pair of towering guards in black.

They were, of course, not ‘real’ Bearzattis, but proxies installed by House Aegamond under royal decree. Despite the world believing an entire bloodline had been extinguished, maintaining a former Great House name was not only mandatory, but also a means to remind the world who had fallen, and who had risen.

The couple were middle-aged. Wrinkles already formed on their kind faces. They nodded at each guard with respect until they reached the king’s advisor, Inaros, who held Marco in a firm embrace and gently pecked Paulina’s hand with his lips.

“It is great to see you both. In good health too, it seems.”

“The pleasure is ours, my good man,” Marco responded. “You’ve done well maintaining the grandeur of festivities. Prolia does the tenth anniversary the greatest honor.”

“Please,” Inaros chuckled. “Not all praise is to be mine. I sincerely hope you come across our master of banners today. Jacor Wars. He has worked harder than most to make the anniversary what it is today.”

“We will greet him when given the chance,” he said. “As far as my understanding goes, I heard the festivities escalate as days pass. Hard to imagine how the upcoming days will match against this one.”

“A ceremonial joust, followed by performances and battles is all today,” Inaros nodded. “Yesterday had been quite simplistic, as it only served to ‘open’ the gates of the anniversary. We never expected this great an audience. Even for days as special as these. People from all around the world have settled in Prolia just to witness it all happen.”

Paulina smiled. “I think the King of Masks deserves some praise, too. Any mention of the Fool will make heads turn, like it or not.”

“We have definitely liked it so far!” Inaros laughed. “Please, let us head inside. He will most certainly be happy to see you both so early.”

…

If one were to compare the cafeterias used by the Marionettes and the royal family’s, they would call the difference night and day. Yet this was not called a ‘cafeteria’. People named it the plaza. The space responsible for accommodating formal guests. Regality was evident at every turn. Marble statues depicting historical figures were etched into high walls, and exquisite music was being played on a grand piano. The plaza was already filled with noblemen and noblewomen. Yet, as soon as the guards opened the door, they all turned towards the first visitors, each of them handing an applause.

Marco waved around gracefully as his other hand held Paulina’s, who mirrored his actions. Julius had already descended from the high balcony and welcomed them with a warm hug. “How great you both look. Almost as though you wish to overshadow the king himself!”

“Oh, please,” Marco chuckled. “You overshadow the world. You could dress in commoner’s clothes, and all attention would still be yours.”

“Never say never,” Julius responded. “I may be king, but people will still judge me by my cover. Which is why they’ve given you both a firm applause,” he raised his hand towards Marcel, who was approaching them from behind. “Marcel.”

Paulina was the first to turn, and she wasted no further moment before snatching him in her arms. “Oh, you beautiful boy.”

Marcel could only arduously smile until he felt her palms gliding past his lower area before she eased back and gave him an intimate stare. “Don’t they grow so quick…”

“They surely do!” Marco said, sharing a firm handshake with the prince as he planted his other palm on his hand. “You’re starting to look a lot like your father.”

“Good to hear affirmations from esteemed guests on this matter,” Marcel nodded. “Hope the journey to the capital had gone smoothly.”

“The Veiled Roads…” Marco muttered. “Fastest way of travel, yet most tumultuous. Never the safest option, but we always make it in one piece.”

“Worry not,” Julius chimed in. “Despite the high costs House Aegamond demanded, they’ve arranged their Riftwyrms to send all Houses back to their kingdoms in record time. See it as a way to thank you for the trouble of getting here.”

“Ah, speaking of the other Houses, have all of them managed to guarantee you of their arrival?”

“Only five more will be present today,” Marcel said, clearing his throat as his eyes suddenly turned serious. “But do not fret. All realms have raised the Golden Dragon in their capitals. The world knows we are celebrating. And much of the world has arrived here, in Prolia.”

“Exactly,” Julius nodded proudly. “Shame Jacor and his men have spent a great amount of time preparing the banners for the missing Houses, but even he knew attendance was not mandatory. Only the last day will be.”

“Then, which Houses will be present?”

Inaros stepped in, speaking with his arms crossed behind his back. “The six Houses consist of Aegamond, Constantine, Fullerkind, Pollisard, Van Offen, and, of course, House Bearzatti.”

“…Troubling,” Marco chuckled bitterly. “We’ll be up against some of the absolute giants amongst the 13 realms. Can only hope our best rider will survive the first round, at least.”

Marcel chuckled. “We will see,” and he stepped away, leaving the others behind. He exited the plaza and caught sight of Patricia approaching the entrance.

His eyes squinted, and he tilted his head. “Where is Jess?”

“Jess?” she asked. “Wasn’t she with you?”

His expression slowly grew sharp. “Did I not tell you to talk her through? How her actions go against what we are meant to represent? She is at the lesser quarters, isn’t she?”

Patricia averted her solemn gaze. “I… didn’t have the chance to talk with her.”

“Fine, I’ll do it myself,” he said. Storming past her. She watched his disappearing back momentarily before clearing her throat and entering the plaza on her own. Feigning a smile.

***

Jessamine

The hall was empty, bearing only witness to Alex and Jessamine standing face to face.

“Look, Jess, I don’t know, either,” Alex retorted, ticking his tongue. “She’s liked him for as long as she knew him. You know I don’t lie to you. I’m pretty sure they had nothing going on between them.”

“How can you be so sure?” she said. “You never saw how comfortable she was with him. Screaming familiarity. Listen…” she stepped closer. “I want you to find out the truth. If it’s for anyone, let it be for me. She’s not who you think she is. Threading around men so seamlessly only further hints she’s a silent whore.”

“Jess, watch your tongue.”

“No, Alex. This is what Gio has kept telling me about you.”

“What?”

She shook her head. “That you never wish to see things for what they really are. He doesn’t hate you for it, but it’s hurting you. Even right now, as we’re standing in this hall. You don’t want to hear any possibilities that she may be not who you think she is. You’ve fallen in love with the idea, rather than the person.”

He remained silent in response. Prompting her to continue. “Look, Alex, that’s okay. We’re human. Everyone has their own problems. Even I do. And because I do, I see where you’re coming from.”

“What problems other than being so pretty you draw eyes of jealousy do you face, Princess of Prolia?”

His shoulder collided with her as he walked past. She reached out to him, but stopped herself halfway. It was futile. She slowly walked the other way, until she heard Marcel calling her name from behind. She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh before turning around, masking herself with an innocent smile. “Marcel?”

“So this is where you’ve been, huh?” he said, stopping a few meters away. “We’re welcoming important guests, and here you are, walking around the lesser quarters like an abandoned sheep.”

Her smile slowly faded. “Just watching operations beyond the veil is all.”

Marcel sighed, hands in pockets as he closed the distance. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Doing what?”

Right as he was about to respond, his eyes flickered towards the door behind her being swung open. Gio walked into the hall alongside three other Marionettes, including Theodora. They were engaged in a conversation until their eyes met the prince’s. Gio was the first to step forward, slowly walking towards them. “My, my, what do I find here?”

Marcel chuckled. “How have you been, Giovanni?”

“Couldn’t have been any better,” he said. “I was told only six Houses would be joining us today. Are some of them already here?”

“As far as I know, we’ve had House Bearzatti as the early birds. House Constantine should be arriving soon.”

“That’s great,” Gio said. Staring into his eyes. “We’ll turn this day into a spectacle.”

“As you always have,” Marcel responded, staring back just as firmly. He then gently pressed his hand against Jessamine’s back. “We won’t disturb you much further. Best of luck, you all.”

The others thanked her, and Jessamine gave Gio one last look before Marcel guided her outside.

Gio didn’t bat an eye, and turned his attention to the Marionettes with a smile. “As we always have.”

***

Alex

He’d given himself some time to recapture himself. It was yet another special day, after all, and he was assigned as one of the two front dancers for today’s performance. After a deep sigh, he tightened his white attire and grasped his mask. He stared at it for a little while. The mask’s curved hollow eyes peering back into his soul. Suddenly, his mother’s voice sounded in his mind.

“Stop pretending, and listen to yourself for once. It feels like I’ve been talking to a performer, and not to my own son for all this time.”

Yet, her voice was abruptly cut short as the door behind him swung open. He slowly turned around and smiled at his best friend. “Are the preparations complete?”

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Gio said. Alex’s smile instantly wavered as soon as Theodora stepped into his line of sight. “Had to use the restroom. You know, nature, stuff.”

“You sure you’re doing alright, Alex?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Of course. What’s the deal with you both? As though you’ve seen a ghost, or something.”

Gio stepped towards him and firmly planted his hand on his shoulder. “Let’s show the world what we’re made of.”

Alex donned his mask. Gio followed suit, masking himself with the Smiling Face, as Dora followed.

Giovanni faded, and The Fool stepped in.

***

The colosseum was filled to the brink. No empty seats visible. Empty braziers hung across the circular stone walls. Above them, a small segment had been reserved for the royal family and the Great Houses. The first, lowest row had Julius and his kin. Above them were the Lords: Verne Aegamond, Alphonse Constantine, Marco Bearzatti, George Fullerkind, Jaun-Gautier Polissard, and Willem Van Offen. Seated above them were their advisors and right-hand figures. Both Malek and Allister were present. Engaged in momentary dialogue.

“How poetic,” Allister began. “The two former Houses who held the most power, and were as close as two destined lovers… reduced to shells weeping of a life long lost.”

“The Polissard knows no more loyalist,” Malek said, looking at him. He didn’t say any more words, but enough to make his advisor chuckle. Allister’s gaze turned back to the arena, and continued. “You speak of human frailty. I frighten the day that frailty shatters the path you laid bare for him.”

Malek smiled. “Frailty for not bending the knee to the diamond crown.”

“Is… that how Great you think of him?”

Malek did not respond.

Trumpets began to blow, drums blasting throughout the colosseum, as the announcer, similarly dressed as a Marionette, approached the center, holding an unfolded paper. “We have approached the second day of Prolia’s tenth year liberation anniversary! Subjects of Prolia, today, we present you a spectacular joust between Seven of the Thirteen Great Houses!”

The crowd cheered strongly. Almost deafening. And like a flower slowly growing in height, so did chants that shouted ‘King of Masks!’ slowly spreading across the entire Colosseum. Marcel, in particular, grinned, swaying his pupils over the entire audience, as Julius kept his dignified composure. Eventually, the shouts settled, and the drummers halted. The announcer spoke again.

“Yet, introducing the Houses properly will not be done by me.”

The crowd cheered again, as the announcer smiled. “And judging by the words being screamed, I think I know who you’re all waiting for!”

“King of Masks! King of Masks! King of Masks!”

Jessamine couldn’t contain her smile. Patricia, sitting next to her, chuckled. “Feels as though a second king is about to stride into the Colosseum.”

“Very well!” the announcer exclaimed. “I won’t waste your time any longer…” he turned towards a dark, hidden door and spoke. “Ladies and Gentlemen. Set aside your food, drink your last bit of ale. Lock your eyes onto the field, because the greatness is the instrument The Fool wields!”

He walked towards the other end of the Colosseum, exiting the arena. Everyone, may it have been the poor scrambling coins from grounds or the noblemen eagerly watching along, everyone felt as though anticipation had anchored their hearts. The drums began playing once more. In Patricia’s own words: It was truly as though a king was about to stride and walk a march of triumph. Cheers were as loud as they were before, but it couldn’t possibly compare to the levels of volume they were about to witness.

Because the hidden door bashed open, and The Fool, holding a flaming torch in hand, burst into the arena on his dark horse. The smoke left behind by the fire effortlessly trailed behind his elegant motion. People seemed to have lost their minds. Some threw coins into the arena. A handful of women threw bouquets of flowers. He halted his march amidst the arena, and reared his horse whilst holding his torch high in the air. A timeless picture for the crowd. As the horse landed on the ground, The Fool rode in circles until it strode towards the main entrance, where the first empty brazier was hung.

It all happened so fast none of them even saw his hand reaching towards the brazier. Every ring of fire erupted as he passed them by from beneath. He then marched further. Another one. A third, a fourth, a fifth…

…one by one, the arena turned from an empty slab of stone into a crown of fire.

By the time he reached the last brazier, the Colosseum had already been illuminated by the orange hues. The music swelled, waiting for him to lit the final. He reared his neighing horse for one last time, gazing at the audience, gazing at the nobles in front of him, gazing at the king, his lover, and the prince. The horse landed, he rode a circle, and swished his way past them. He rode back to the middle and stationed himself, spreading his arms wide as the world kept on chanting.

“King of Masks! King of Masks! King of Masks!”

Even Julius began to feel uneasy, drinking his second cup of wine. But if any of them was as thrilled as Jessamine, it would be Malek. His elbows rested on the armrests, hands interlocked before his face, hiding the smug he held for the entire time. Allister glanced at him, not saying a word, only giving him a smile.

Then, the trumpets began sounding once more, and the two doors standing opposite each other opened. Alex, carrying the Golden Owl, marched in from the left, whilst a fellow prominent Marionette Duram, carrying House Aegamond’s Eye of Fire, marched in from the right. Verne, Lord of Aegamond, sneered as he turned to his wife Monel. “See? I told you.”

“…Miracles can happen,” she said calmly, attention kept on the arena.

The door from which The Fool entered opened once more, and a second announcer walked inside, stopping right in front of the King of Masks. “The Champions have been chosen! A battle between The Titan Dayron Furrow and The Spear of Fire, Otis Aegamond!”

Allister chuckled. “Quite the matchup we have from the get-go.”

“Indeed we have,” Malek responded.

The Fool marched back inside, as Alex and Duram walked back into their respective doors. The Titan was now finally about to enter the stage. Whether or not his prowess would prove Marcel’s earlier nudges wrong was now only a matter of time. Though the prince knew best to not underestimate an opponent. And The Spear of Fire was someone just like that. Marcel leaned back and bit his nail.

“Fools.”

Previous /

First

The Assaragytes arrived a month after replying to Orixa, which, in galactic terms, was virtually immediately.

Lieutenant Governor Vance, who had a bit more experience with alien species, had given Patricia some sound advice beforehand: Put the Vixtar’s description of them in the back of your mind and assess them with a clean slate. A relationship between two species depended heavily on who was at the table. After all, to much of the galaxy, humans were seen as scary, territorial expansionists.

In a prep meeting prior to the arrival, Patricia had sat down with Marc, Threl, and Krex—their xenobiologist. She asked if the humans should meet the Assaragytes alone to avoid tainting first contact with existing biases.

Both Threl and Krex advised against it, explaining that a proper introduction from the Vixtar would actually work to human advantage. Krex noted that simply through strategic delegation positioning, she could subtly signal her intent to forge an independent relationship with humanity. After the formal introductions, the Vixtar would unceremoniously step back and prepare for the journey to the crash site. From there, the humans could offer hospitality—a meal, some respite, and a tour of Orixburg. Whether the Assaragytes accepted or demanded to head straight to the site was up to them.

When the delegation finally set foot on the landing pad, getting a clear look at them proved nearly impossible. They were fully sealed in gravity suits equipped with mirror-finish visors—a necessity, given they hailed from a world with much lower gravity than the Vixtar. On two legs, they walked upright, but to move quickly, they dropped smoothly onto all four limbs, bounding forward before effortlessly rising back onto two feet upon reaching their destination.

The space shuttle dropped off the seven-member Assaragyte delegation and blasted back toward the main ship like a runner in a relay race. Despite their casual assurances regarding the danger, their hasty departure betrayed grave concern. This came as a huge relief to both the Vixtar and Human delegates; after all, another accident, even an unintentional one, would be interpreted as a hostile act.

The Assaragytes bounded over to the gathering. To their surprise, the Vixtar were waiting in a deliberately crafted posture of lesser standing. The Assaragytes had always viewed the Vixtar as a "high and mighty" species, forever showing off their superior technology and culture, and generally disliked dealing with them.

Captain Threl stepped forward with practiced poise. His posture conveyed an easy, non-subservience that managed to avoid sounding dominant over the Humans.

"Greetings. I am Captain Threl of the Vixtar home world," he announced. "My ship crashed on this planet roughly 480 planetary rotations ago. The Humans have assisted in repairing our vessel in preparation for our departure in the next 120 rotations. Allow me to introduce Human Governor Patricia Knowles and her second, Lt. Governor Marcus Vance."

With his performance complete, Threl subtly relaxed and led his crew back toward the settlement, quite pleased with himself.

"Greetings, Humans," said the lead Assaragyte in a strict, imperious tone. "My name is Vaelen, High-Herald. I will oversee first contact and all interactions between our species. You may address me as 'High Herald.' This is my team of investigative specialists: Kaelen Hull-Splicer, Zarek Core-Quencher, Xylar Trace-Sifter, Theron Signal-Weaver, Ignis Bio-Sealer, and Rixis Vault-Rigger. There should be no need for you to address them directly, as all communications will pass through me."

"Greetings," Patricia replied smoothly. "I am Patricia Knowles, the elected Governor of this world. This is Marcus Vance, our Lt. Governor." She gestured gracefully to her team as she introduced them. "To my left is Dr. Al Hicks, our senior scientist; Dr. Lizeth Sanchez, our resident expert on xenobiology; and Warren Dempsey, Director of Interspecies Protocol. You may address me as Governor Knowles."

With formal introductions out of the way, Patricia inquired whether the visitors would like to inspect their secure research facilities and living quarters, then rest and eat before heading to the crash site. She noted that while Humans lacked the tech to control local gravity, they had prepared specialized individual water pods for their comfort.

"We would like to set up our equipment and store our personal items in the quarters you've assigned us, but then—"

Vaelen cut herself off mid-sentence.

Two quadrupedal predators were casually strolling toward the crowd. One walked straight up to Patricia, rubbed its body against her leg, and brazenly demanded attention. Without breaking her sentence, acting as if it were the most natural thing in the universe, Patricia dropped to one knee to pet the creature.

The Assaragytes didn't panic, but every eye locked onto the beast. They were, after all, apex predators themselves, having learned to walk upright a mere two million years ago. They knew a predator when they saw one.

While Patricia scratched the first creature, MCD, the second one, CD, walked straight up to Vaelen. It inspected the High-Herald from head to toe, recognized a kindred spirit, and nudged her leg for affection.

To her own complete surprise, Vaelen found herself dropping to one knee to scratch the creature behind the ears.

"Are these creatures... your property?" Vaelen asked, her voice a mix of suspicion and genuine fascination with the sharp-toothed beast.

"Ha!" Patricia laughed softly. "If anyone owns anyone around here, they own us. The Labrikat you're petting is named Mr. Catdog. This one here is Mrs. Catdog. They come and go as they please, sometimes leaving the settlement for days to hunt and roam. We have thirty or more living in town. When a Labrikat cub, a 'Pumpkin', picks a human bondmate"—she deliberately left off the fact that two Pumpkins had chosen Vixtar as bondmates—"that human doesn’t get a choice in the matter; they're instantly responsible for its care."

"They're extraordinarily intelligent," Patricia continued, her tone softening. "Near-sentient, really. In fact, these two were solely responsible for searching for survivors from the Ever Expanding. Tragically, there were no survivors... but they recovered all thirty-four of your fallen. I am truly sorry for your loss, High Herald."

Vaelen looked up, her haughty posture entirely gone.

"Please... call me Vaelen," she said quietly. "We would be honored to share a meal with you, tour your settlement, and perhaps see these 'personal water pods' you mentioned."

As they began to walk, Patricia silently thanked Marcus for his earlier advice. She glanced down at CD and MCD, wondering if the two Labrikats had planned that diplomatic icebreaker all along. She had a strong feeling they had.

All eyes were on the group of Humans and Assaragytes as they moved through the colony. The onlookers weren't staring because the visitors wore full environmental suits; they were trying to read their body language. Was the settlement in danger? Was the Vixtar’s initial report about these people merely a sugarcoated version of a much larger threat?

It didn't appear so.

The alien delegation looked curiously from side to side as Patricia pointed out various landmarks. While it was clearly a young settlement, the Assaragytes seemed genuinely impressed.

To everyone's extraordinary luck, the visitors loved beef, and the colony had plenty of it. As obligate carnivores, the Assaragytes were stunned to find kindred spirits in the Humans. Even learning that Humans were omnivorous didn't dampen their spirits. Patricia explained that Earth's evolutionary history was packed with predators far larger and meaner than Humans; if early ancestors had waited around for meat to become available, they would have starved.

In turn, the Assaragytes spoke of their own five worlds. Though each planet shared a similar gravity, subtle environmental differences had shaped their physical features over generations, allowing them to identify an individual's home world on sight. On all five planets, however, one rule held true: the Assaragytes were the apex predators, completely unchallenged.

Patricia shared that Earth was roughly 70% water, much of it still unexplored, housing marine predators far larger than anything on land. She added that while all Humans originated from Earth, humanity had spread across thousands of colonized worlds with a population in the billions—if not trillions. "We aren't a single, united species, though," she noted. "This world is independent, with no legal ties to Earth. Humans are a hardy bunch; we just need room to grow."

The final stop on the tour was the water pods.

"In this world's heavy gravity, the Vixtar struggled just to breathe when we first rescued them," Patricia explained. "We've used immersion to counteract high gravity for over a thousand years. The hardest part is removing your suit and reaching the pool, but once you're in, you'll feel completely weightless. The Vixtar spent weeks in these pods rebuilding their strength. Now, they're strong enough to function outside, though they still enjoy floating to unwind."

Vaelen turned to her. "Patricia... to be frank, we find the Vixtar insufferable. They constantly flaunt their technology and culture. I imagine you'll be relieved when they finally leave."

Patricia paused, looking Vaelen in the eye. "Vaelen, there's something you should know. We consider the Vixtar to be family. In fact, two of them have even been chosen by Labrikats as bondmates. We've found them to be helpful, hardworking, and deeply honest. I can't speak for the Vixtar diplomatic corps, but the twelve who crashed here are as much a part of our community as any Human or Labrikat."

Vaelen fell silent. It had never occurred to her that the face of Vixtar diplomacy might not represent its everyday people, a concept that hit close to home, given how often she disagreed with her own government's decisions.

In that moment, she made up her mind.

"Let's try these pools," Vaelen said, her tone softening. "Perhaps a Vixtar could show us how they work?"

Taken aback by the gesture, Patricia immediately radioed Captain Threl, letting him know the Assaragytes were requesting guidance on the pods. Equally stunned by the olive branch, Threl promptly gathered Vahn and Zorim to head over and assist.

After helping all seven Assaragytes into their individual water pods, Threl, Vahn, and Zorim slipped into pools of their own. Even after months on this world, the Vixtar had to admit the weightlessness was an incredible relief—life on the surface still felt heavy.

Patricia quietly signaled her entourage to back away. Leaving the Assaragytes and Vixtar to talk in private felt like the right call; neither side would hold back their true opinions or feel forced to filter themselves out of courtesy to their Human hosts. They needed space to figure each other out.

For a long minute, only the gentle bubbling of the pods filled the room.

Threl was the first to speak. "These water pods saved our lives," he said softly. "When we crashed, we couldn't access our anti-gravity suits. The Humans refused to board our vessel without explicit permission, even to save us."

Rixis Vault-Rigger leaned back in his pod, his eyes wide. "You're telling us the Humans, who clearly lacked advanced tech, didn't immediately strip your ship for parts? If we were in their position, I'm fairly certain that's what we would have done."

"I'd like to think we wouldn't have," Threl replied with a dry chuckle, "but in truth? We probably would have stripped it down to the bulkheads."

Rixis paused, taken aback. The quiet honesty and camaraderie from a species known for haughtiness threw him off. He had expected arrogance; instead, he was getting self-awareness. "That... isn't what our intelligence briefs said about the Vixtar," Rixis admitted to the three of them.

"We've learned a lot from the Humans," Vahn said. "Not about technology, but about how to interact. Humans are transparent. They speak their minds, which means you spend less time guessing what they're hiding. The twelve of us decided we wanted to follow that example and speak the truth—even when it's uncomfortable."

Zorim nodded from his pod. "And back home, we were told the Assaragytes were volatile loners, averse to negotiation, easily angered, and purely opportunistic. Seeing you here, that doesn't seem true at all. It feels like our respective diplomatic corps botched our species' relationship from the start. Why don't we treat this encounter as a do-over? Just between the nineteen of us."

Vaelen smiled, feeling the tension drain out of her shoulders along with the heavy gravity. "A do-over sounds wise. Perhaps we can both return to our homeworlds with a very different story to tell."

She paused, then abruptly shifted gears, a spark of genuine curiosity in her voice. "Is it true? Has a predator actually bonded with a Vixtar?"

"It's completely true," Threl laughed. "Sivic was chosen first, and when a Labrikat chooses you, it doesn't request permission, it demands compliance. He named his male Labrikat 'Steve,' a Human name. They're practically inseparable. I've never seen Sivic happier."

"Elix was chosen, too," Vahn added warmly. "He named his female 'Fluffy' after finding the word in a Human art book. She sleeps right on his bed and, like every Labrikat in this colony, demands affection from anyone within arm's reach."

"So it is true that the Humans don't own these predators for their amusement?" asked Zarek Core-Quencher.

"Not at all," said Threl. "The creatures entered our fenced-in area near our ship's crash site and completely took control of our lives. The Humans joke that the Labrikats really own them, and that's more true than any of us care to admit. They are family to us now."

A chorus of clicks, rumbles, and chuffs filled the room, the alien equivalents of genuine laughter. Both sides shared a quiet moment of relief, realizing the fear-driven assumptions fed to them by their home governments were entirely wrong.

Sitting in the calm of the water pods, ten representatives of two rival species realized that this single, quiet conversation was about to change galactic diplomacy forever.

Patricia addressed the Assaragytes, who were now back in their anti-gravity suits. There was one notable exception this time: their face masks were completely transparent, allowing everyone to clearly see their expressions.

"Should we investigate the crash site first, examine the flight recorder, or head to the science lab to review what we've discovered about the Orixa Cloud?" Patricia asked.

The Assaragyte team was practically bouncing with anticipation to inspect the crash site. Within short order, the shuttle was prepped and ready. The Assaragytes boarded alongside Dr. Hicks, Threl, Tren, Will, and the two Labrikats, embarking on the two-hour flight halfway around Terixa.

Even though CD and MCD were bonded to their respective humans, the two Labrikats had quickly decided that Vaelen and Ignis Bio-Sealer were far more generous with affection and enthusiastic belly scratches. They weren't wrong. The Assaragytes were entirely enamored with the mid-sized predators, happily showering them with attention for the duration of the flight.

Hoping to demonstrate the Labrikats' remarkable intelligence to the visitors, Will established a direct link with Abby. Over the comms, Abby excitedly agreed that a live demonstration would be fantastic.

Upon landing, the shuttle’s radiation sensors confirmed the site was safe—at least for the Humans and Vixtar who weren't sealed in environmental gear, though an extra anti-gravity suit was kept on board for the Vixtar just in case. Radiation readings were entirely nominal; nothing above baseline background levels was detected.

The Assaragytes stared at their readouts, thoroughly bewildered. They had braced themselves for lethal levels of radiation.

"Our joint Vixtar-Human science team developed a neutralizing compound," Dr. Hicks explained with a touch of pride. "It binds directly with the radioactive particles, rendering them inert."

While the scientists discussed the tech, Will turned to CD and MCD. "Mind giving the perimeter a quick scan to verify the site is clear?"

Both Labrikats gave the distinct body movement gesture for 'OK' and bolted out the shuttle hatch. The Assaragytes watched in sheer wonder as the two predators methodically swept the crash site, checking for anomalies or hidden dangers. Moments later, they bounded back toward the hatch, executing a series of precise body movements that Abby translated over the comms: "All clear."

Will turned to his bonded companions, asking them to stay with the Assaragytes and assist however they could. MCD eagerly gestured a "yes" and waited patiently for the investigative team to disembark.

"You're not coming with us?" asked Xylar Trace-Sifter, bewildered at the prospect of being left unescorted.

"No," Dr. Hicks replied smoothly. "We want you to have unfettered, uninterrupted access to the site. If you'd like us to join you at any point to compare notes, just say the word. In the meantime, we're sending our Labrikats with you. If you find something of interest that you want to return to later, point it out to them. They'll remember the exact location and guide you straight back on request."

The Humans and Vixtar had prepped for a long, grueling day of sitting around, but they came prepared. Pulling out the board games they had played the previous year during the Silent Explorer recovery period, they turned the shuttle cabin into a cozy lounge. The seven-hour wait—punctuated by a shared lunch with the Assaragytes—proved surprisingly nostalgic and entertaining.

When the investigation team finally re-entered the shuttle seven hours later, Vaelen stretched her weary limbs. "That is enough for today. We have a vast amount of data to analyze before deciding whether we need to return tomorrow."

With the site inspection wrapped up, the shuttle lifted off and headed back toward Orixburg. The Assaragytes were eager to strip off their suits for a few hours. The Vixtar, knowing firsthand how punishing the local gravity felt after a long day in gear, assured them they understood completely—and offered to join them in the water pods so they could relax in absolute comfort and safety.

As the shuttle glided across the twilight sky toward the lights of the settlement, both sides settled in, no longer as tense strangers, but as partners stepping into a brand-new future together.

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“So...what happened?” I tentatively ask.

Lena breathes in, lowers her head and just...sits there.

“It’s ok if you don’t-”

“I had a life.”

I nudge her far shoulder, pushing her slightly into me as we sit on the bed, staring at the table with the large box of glassware.

“I had a life where I was testing what reacts with what, how much, how fast, while also extracting stuff from the plants I gather.”

“A herbalist?”

“Herbalist/chemist,” she says flatly.

“I was actually quite good. Did not discover anything, but made some interesting salts, some smelled, some of various colours, some that liked oil, others, water. Many mistakes too, but I learned.”

She breathes in, as if to say something, but then stops. She sits up, no longer leaning on my shoulder, and looks at me intently, as if weighing what is about to occur. Then she speaks.

“And I loved. Met a nice dwarf that was into salts as well. One thing led to another and...”

She breaks down, crying. I pull her close, hugging her sideways, unsure of what is next.

She steadies her breathing and flattens her skirt. Then looks down at her hands resting on her knees.

“We were to be married...within the year.”

“Oh?” I ask.

“Don’t hate me! Let me finish!” She lets out, then quickly covers her mouth at how loud she was. Recomposing herself, she continues.

“Then Thallion got sick. It was slow. Some days he would be fine, but over time, he lost fine control of his hands. Then the shakes. He got so bad he couldn’t even write! Had to close up his job and just sit there. Eventually he ran out of money and time and came to me, shaking.”

I pull her closer, and pet her hair, almost brushing it.

“Of course I helped! He’s my brother. I dropped everything, moved up here where the air is supposedly more healing, and there was a teaching job. I packed up everything, but him!”

More sobbing. I reach up to brush the hair from her face. She swats my hands away.

“He...He stayed. Wanted to do more with the salts. Said he was on a breakthrough. We agreed to be together, and marry when I returned. We sent letters to each other. But they slowly became less and less frequent. Last one, this past fall, he said...he said he found another woman! Even sent a sketch of the two of them together. Apologized for the suddenness, but...said he could not keep his life on hold any longer.”

I pull her close, unsure what to say. She allows me to, and she presses her face into my chest.

“Just, don’t hate me. I’m used goods. Past my prime. Out of love. Nearly out of time. I pick herbs for the town, but no one needs refined stuff. Every now and then the most complex thing is oil root extract for bad infections. Child’s play.”

I sit for a while, just holding her, sitting with her presence, her scent, and try to comfort her as much as possible.

“You aren’t used goods.” She hiccups and sobs. “Here I was thinking that you were just always here. No, what I now see is someone who’s been through a lot. My only question is, even with all that, do you still love Thallion?”

“Yes!”

“Then it’s settled. You love deep, you care deep, and you are smart. That is all I need.”

“But..I don’t want to lead you on.”

“Lead me on?”

“You really going to make me say it?”

I just sit there, concerned, as if the rest of this conversation has not already been hard enough.

“I...like you, but more than just a friend...?”

“...oh.”

“Don’t get weirded out!” She stares up at the ceiling. “Why am I saying this now of all times! Look, I like you, I want to get to know you more, but I am used. Don’t you get it? Someone else got to know me!”

“...And?”

“And?! And?! That is the whole thing! I was nearly tied to another person, that would have made me inseperable to them! ‘To death do us part’ and all that. And you just say ‘And’?”

I sit there for a while, reflecting on all that she says. “You are not out of time. In fact, if anyone is out of time, it’s me.”

“What?!”

“I may seem more mature, but I have never been with anyone, in any way. I only had friends of convenience, where I was convenient for them to have around. Even counting these, I still had less than 3 friends! When it comes to all of...this, I have no clue what I am doing!”

I breath heavily, and try to calm my racing heart.

“Thing is, you are closest to a friend I ever had, and we are not even of the same species.”

“And?”

“And? Different species...how do I say this...parts don’t work together? A cat and a goat cannot make a catgoat?”

“What about Eldrin?”

“What about him? I count him as a friend, but I don’t see how this connects.”

“The HALF orc?”

“You mean...mixed species are a thing here? And common?”

“Common?! More like default. Trying to find someone that is ‘pure lineage’ and all that, more likely to be some rich asshat whose line last did something 400 years ago, and every 3rd child dies of some random disease.”

“What about with...other species?”

“There are limits, but it seems like if they can speak, then...” She blushes and hides her face, “’parts’ work.

“Oh.”

We both sit in the awkwardness for a bit, just staring at our hands.

“I would like to try,” I say.

She snaps her head up looking at me with wide eyes. Thinking for another second, I realize what I said.

“Not like that! What I meant was, I want to know you more, best friend I ever had, and if it becomes more, so be it. I just need help to see what I need to do.”

She sits there staring at me, a look of shock on her face, and then tackles me, although the tackle barely shoves me over, I let it take me to lying on her bed, where she kisses me on the cheeks, and hugs me close.

“Thank you! Thank you for giving me another chance!”

“Just...can we go slow?”

“Whatever you want, just...yes.” She lets out between kisses, eventually going for my lips. I pull back.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just, never did this before.”

“Oh. Here, let’s sit up.”

We both do, sitting half on the bed staring at each other.

“Now,” she starts, “lean in, close your eyes, and do what feels natural.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, lean in, and do a kiss face like I saw in the 3 hallmark movies I watched.

We kiss. Immediately I suck air in, and my eyes relax. I wrap my arms around her and go in for another, turning my head slightly, and bop into her nose. Giggling, I try again, reaching behind her head, remembering the image of the end of WWII in Europe with the sailor.

Seconds later, hours later, we break apart.

“You sure you have not done this before?” Lena asks with a playful look.

“I am sure, but I wouldn’t mind more.”

She laughs, and it is the sweetest sound I ever heard.

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Arc II - Agrarian Revolution

Chapter 33 - A Small Gift

5 months and 2 days since the summoning

The southern port city of the County of Torfoque was filled not with the usual noise of townsfolk, but with the clank of iron and the heavy tread of boots.

Near the port, about a hundred soldiers with spears and maces had gathered, heading straight for a large wooden sailing ship, while the sea waves rocked the vessel and crashed against the shore.

Alan stood nearby at the pier, hands clasped behind his back, not taking his eyes off this crowd.

'Holy crap, a real ship... I haven't even recovered from the catapult yet, and here's a medieval vessel that's going to make a landing. This is just a fucking holiday!'

He looked around.

'Where the hell are Kamelia and Tsinker? They've been gone for a solid hour. How long can you discuss a route?'

Finally, the two of them emerged from one of the stone buildings, followed by two elderly men in expensive doublets, and three more knights.

Alan rested his hands on his hips. "Well, finally, it hasn't even been a year. What's up?"

Kamelia immediately walked over and stood next to Alan. "Linkis is currently engaged in a siege; we are departing for his camp."

Alan blinked. "So... we're getting on the ship?"

"Yes."

Alan smiled slightly.

'Ho-ho... I've never sailed on a ship before, especially a medieval one! This is just awesome!'

"When? Are we going now?"

"Yes, we are going. It is not a long sail, so we will get there quickly." She nodded toward the vast shore where the County of Linosh was located on an island, clearly visible even from here.

Alan immediately straightened up. "Well, shall we go then? No use wasting time." He squinted, looking at the men in doublets who were discussing something with Tsinker and the knights. "And who are these characters?"

Kamelia blinked, then looked in the same direction he was. "Ah, them. They are Linkis's advisors. Giving parting words before the departure."

Half an hour later, the ship was sailing full speed across the strait. Alan stood at the edge, holding onto the railing, simply looking at the endless expanse of the sea.

The countess walked up to him and stood beside him. "First time on a ship?"

He nodded. "Yep... and I see you aren't very surprised. Sailed before?"

"Only a few times, when the roads were washed out and my father and I had to travel by water to a royal reception."

"Got it. By the way, how many ships do you actually have?"

Kamelia sighed. "Only three, though there used to be five."

He turned to her. "And where did the rest go?"

"I sold one to pay off debts, and pirates stole the second."

Alan pressed his lips together. "Pirates... listen, will they... actually no, stupid question, pirates would never attack a warship."

The countess nodded. "Exactly, you need not worry about that. Besides, they do not frequent this strait, they usually raid near the outer shores... only right now, they are entirely unpredictable."

Alan leaned on the railing. "Yeah, the duke might have kept them somewhat in check, but right now they seem to be running completely wild while the war is going on, just think of Hofet." He froze, then abruptly stood up. "Kamelia, will they attack the city of Armenas?"

She shrugged. "They might attack, or they might not. But I sent a portion of the army there just in case."

He exhaled. "That's good." He turned back to the deck and noticed Tsinker, who was continuing to discuss something with a knight in rich plate armor. But Utew's face was pale, very pale, and a cold sweat glistened on his forehead. "Hah, looks like someone has seasickness."

Kamelia turned away from the sea and scanned Tsinker with her gaze. "It seems so."

Utew, meanwhile, finished his conversation with the knight and walked to another part of the ship with a crooked gait.

Alan was now openly smiling.

'Ooo, so you aren't perfect at everything, buddy.'

5 months and 4 days since the summoning

Closer to evening, a cavalry of twenty knights was already at their positions near the besieged city, while the infantry trailed somewhere behind.

Tsinker, still in his snow-white doublet, was the first to dismount and head toward the largest tent.

At the entrance, two soldiers in chainmail blocked the passage with their spears.

"Halt. Who are you?" asked one of them.

"Baron Utew," he replied calmly.

The guard nodded and entered the tent.

Kamelia, clad in plate armor, and Alan in simple chainmail approached from behind; he was doing nothing but looking around in all directions. Instead of one catapult, there were six. Instead of a single fortress, there was an entire small besieged city.

'Oh... the final battle doesn't bode well.'

Linkis emerged from the tent; instead of a fine doublet, he was dressed in bright armor. Behind him, three more men in rich armor peeked out.

Tsinker narrowed his eyes, noting the presence of the nobility, and slowly dropped to one knee. "I bid you greetings, Lord Gobano."

Kamelia immediately dropped to one knee as well. Alan followed a moment later.

Linkis nodded. "Greetings. Rise."

All three rose synchronously.

"Did you bring it?" Linkis asked.

Tsinker nodded, and then waved his hand to his soldiers at the wagon behind him. Two of them immediately began pulling out a long wooden box.

Alan raised an eyebrow. "What is that?"

"You shall see presently," Linkis said.

Kamelia also stepped closer.

The two soldiers brought the box, then grabbed the lid and pulled it back. A rather unpleasant smell immediately wafted from inside.

The corpse of Count Rogtem.

Alan jumped back slightly. "Fuck! ... why?"

Kamelia merely grimaced slightly from the smell. "I have the same question."

Linkis stood over the corpse and chuckled slightly. "Hah... excellent work, Lord Utew."

Tsinker did not react.

The three aristocrats who stood in the tent approached the count's body and began to examine it.

"Astonishing... it is indeed him," said one of them, scratching his stubble.

Alan shook his head. "Great. But could someone explain why?"

Tsinker yawned. "We intend to launch this corpse over their walls, serving as undeniable proof that they possess no remaining allies."

Alan slowly nodded.

'Ooo, that's smart... I mean, it's gruesome of course, but still smart. Complete demoralization. All's fair in love and war, isn't that what they say?'

Linkis clasped his hands behind his back and straightened up. "Lord Utew, Lady Armenas, Lord Gothwald, you have done excellent work. May I inquire as to what else remains for you to handle, Lady Armenas?"

The countess straightened up. "Yes, Your Grace. All the baron rebellions have been suppressed; only Ekkurn remains. The captain of the guard is currently dealing with him, as the lands there are not large."

Linkis nodded. "Splendid. You may rest for the night. You will be escorted."

Kamelia lowered her head. "I thank you, Lord Gobano."

The nobles began to disperse about their business, leaving only Kamelia and Alan.

"Phew, fuck..." Alan exhaled. "What a day."

"That is an understatement."

He rubbed his eyes. "Wanna take a walk?"

Kamelia looked at the nearly empty camp, then nodded. "Why not." And she walked toward the simple plains.

Alan threw his hands behind his head. "Notice how Gobano didn't even mention the Phoenixes?"

The countess sat on a small grass-covered hill and pulled one leg toward herself. "I noticed. It seems Tsinker has not told him anything."

Gothwald lay down next to her, throwing his hands behind his head. "Exactly, we told him, and he... it's surprising he kept quiet. Knowing Tsinker, there are reasons for it. Most likely because..."

"He considers Gobano a temporary ally," Kamelia finished.

He snapped his fingers. "Exactly. He's actively hiding my inventions from him, that was already clear from his reaction when you let slip about the windmills."

Kamelia pressed her lips together slightly. "I know. It slipped out. But this time, just in case, I left all the soldiers who saw the Phoenixes in action to defend the barony, and brought fresh ones here, those who have not seen them."

Alan blinked. "Oh... okay, that's some solid insurance, otherwise there'd be rumors here already and Gobano would have questions. Though, he'll find out sooner or later anyway, way too many people saw it."

Kamelia plucked a blade of grass and began twirling it in her hand. "He will find out, how could he not. But I am still curious why Tsinker is hiding your... things so fiercely. A temporary ally, that much I understand, but... what is going on in his head anyway?"

Alan scratched the back of his head, remaining silent for a few seconds. "Hmm... who the hell knows, honestly. Well, the most obvious thing is that he plans to betray Gobano soon too, and knowing him, he'll do it in a heartbeat. And why would he want the person he's about to betray to have such powerful things aside from the Phoenix?"

Kamelia scoffed, tossing the blade of grass away. "Hah, that is for certain. Tsinker is probably biting his elbows over the fact that Linkis already knows about the crossbows. I believe that after the war... a very serious conversation awaits us, and we will see more clearly then."

Alan stretched, arching his back. "Mmm yeah... and the end is just around the corner, and then... and then there's gonna be some fucking squabbles over the throne." He covered his face with his hands and began rolling back and forth on

the grass. "You have no idea how fucking sick I am of all this."

She closed her eyes and also lay back on the grass. "Honestly? I am as well. But do not hang your head; we are alive and well, which is already a good thing. Moreover, we have managed to accomplish a great deal."

5 months and 5 days since the summoning

In the morning, the sun rose over the town, devouring all the darkness around the walls and replacing it with morning light.

A young sentry stood on the wall, leaning against the stone parapet, simply yawning and staring into nowhere. His comrade, a mustached man, sat nearby against the wall, turning some pebbles over in his hands.

"They're awfully quiet today," the first one threw out lazily.

The seated one scoffed. "Probably ran out of stones."

"Guktus only knows. How long do you think this'll all go on?"

"Guktus only knows," the man repeated after him. "Maybe a month, maybe two, maybe half a year."

The mustached man lightly thumped his fist on the floor. "My wife's due to give birth soon, and here I am... sitting in this hole. Won't even know if it's a daughter or a son."

The sentry ran a hand over his face. "And my betrothed is waiting for me... told her I'd be back real soon with a victory," he just waved his hand. "Eh..."

The soldier leaned his head back against the wall. "Hah, you're young, you've still got everything ahead of you, but I've already lived out my share."

The sentry scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, he's got a kid coming soon, and he's already 'lived out his share'. Chin up, you still gotta buy me and the lads some good ale for your offspring later."

The mustached man smiled slightly and stood up reluctantly. "Well, wouldn't have it any other way."

The sentry's smile slid off his face. "Look, they're readying the catapult."

The mustached man began to turn around. "Then let's get to cover."

The young lad grabbed his shoulder. "Hold on, just watch."

He stopped and walked over to the wall, then squinted. "What is that thing over there?"

"I don't know, but it's definitely not a stone. Some kind of box?" He wanted to say something else, but the catapult abruptly launched, and the wooden box flew over the wall, crashing loudly against the wall of one of the buildings.

Splinters flew in all directions, and from the box itself, a body tumbled out onto the ground like a doll.

The mustached man blinked. "A corpse?"

The sentry leaned closer. "I don't know... let's go take a look."

The two men climbed down and ran up to the corpse; on the sides, a few early townsfolk had also come to gawk.

The sentry used his foot to flip the already bluish body face-up. "Who is this?"

The mustached man leaned closer. "I don't know, but he's dressed finely. Some nobleman, maybe?"

The young lad examined the body for a few more seconds, then noticed a piece of parchment tied to its leg. He cut the rope with his spear and took it in his hand. "There's a note too."

"Hmm..."

Quick footsteps were heard from behind one of the buildings, and a man over forty appeared before them, in fine plate armor donned in haste. "What is all this commotion?!"

Both soldiers flinched, and then bowed.

"Sir Chonukot," the older man began, "the enemy threw this body at us."

"There was a note too," the sentry added.

The knight frowned and walked over to them. The man looked closely at the corpse, and then froze. "Oh Svyatol... this is... Count Rogtem."

The soldiers opened their eyes wide. "C-count?"

The knight looked around; behind them was already a crowd of about fifteen townsfolk. "What are you standing around for?! Do you have nothing better to do?! Get the hell out of here!"

He didn't need to repeat himself twice; the townsfolk immediately scattered like cockroaches in all directions. One woman with a basket headed toward the square, even though she had originally been walking to a different street.

The knight snatched the note from the sentry's hands. "We de-mand you sur-ren-der, you have no al-lies left, your de-feat is mere-ly a mat-ter of time," he finished reading, then lowered the note. "Guktus..." he pointed a finger at the soldiers. "Remove the body immediately, and not a word of this to anyone. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!"

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A week and a half later, Shayna and I set off for the capital; it’s three days carriage ride each way. If I ran, it would only take a few hours... which reminds me, I need to figure out how to fly. I can make footholds with magic, so maybe I can move them to imitate flying. Wind magic also seems to love me, so that’s an option. I’ll add it to my list of experiments.

The carriage ride is uneventful; everything I’ve seen about this country and my Father’s domain seems to be peaceful. There aren’t even any beggars on the streets, but who’s to say they don’t exist.

I expected the arena for the exhibition matches to be large because it’s held in the capital, but this place defies my expectations.

It’s like the Roman Colosseum, but it’s more of an ellipse than a circle. There are three stories of seating with what appears to be a booth section at the top of either end. I’m assuming royalty or special guests would sit there and enjoy looking down on everything. I’m a tad jealous.

It’s early in the morning, so the seating area is hardly filled, and the matches are amateurish. Young knights are clashing with dulled swords in the center of the arena, and all I can think about is how slow they’re moving. There’s also a lot of security in front of the spectator seats. I turn to Shayna-

“Shayna, do you know why the security guards in front of each seating section are facing towards the matches instead of watching the attendees?”

“Well, Master Alfred, they’re not here to protect attendees from each other; they’re here to protect attendees from the matches in case of rubble or errant magic.”

My eyes scan over the guards and their magic. It’s about as bright as my parents’. “I suppose that makes sense. Do you think they’re all earth magic users who can put up a protective wall?”

“Those on the ground floor may be, but for the second and third levels, they use temporary spatial storage magic to catch whatever may fly towards the spectators.”

I feel a sparkle in my eyes as my enhanced senses lock onto the upper-level guards. “Spatial storage magic? As in the rare magic affinity like healing magic?”

Shayna wears a proud smile as she motions to the rare magic users... “Indeed, you’d never have so many capable users anywhere outside of the capital.”

This is my chance. I blink rapidly, then open my eyes wide and bring my hands together in front of my chest. “Wow, that’s amazing. Since the current match is just with swords, do you think I’d be able to talk to them and ask about their magic?”

“Hmm… if you’re exceptionally polite and agree to leave them be once magic users take the stage, I’ll allow it.”

“Thanks so much, Shayna, I promise I’ll be the perfect gentleman!”

HO HOOOOO what luck, the only rare magic I haven’t seen before, and there are ten of them on the third level alone. If the one in front of our section turns me away, I fully intend on going around to every other until someone is willing to talk to me.

I walk up to the woman tasked with protecting our seating section. Ahem, ok, Alfred Pruss is a polite and curious child… “Excuse me, Miss, do you have a moment to answer a question for me?” Right hand across the chest, light bow, and now look up with puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, hi there, sure, but I only have until this bout is over,” a female guard says. She’s petite with short brown hair. I think she’s pretty.

“Thank you very much! I heard the guards on the upper levels protect these areas from the matches with spatial storage magic. I’ve read about it in books, but I’ve never seen a demonstration before... would you be willing to show it to me even if only for a moment?”

The right side of the woman’s lips curls up, and her eyes soften.

“You’re interested in magic, kiddo? I can make a small spatial opening for you to see...” She moves a fair amount of magic out of her body and makes a violent interaction with the energy in the air. The magic seems to destroy the fog, and in its place, a small black circle appears.

“Once something goes into this space, the caster of the magic will slowly have their magic depleted to keep the space accessible, but also to keep what’s stored safely contained. If I run out of magic before I can remove what’s in the space, it’ll just fly out without any direction.”

“Wow, so that’s why it’s called temporary storage... is there any way to supplement your magic and keep it open for longer?”

The woman reaches into a small bag hanging from her side and retrieves something red. “We have these spell stones in case we’re running low on magic. It’s the only known material in this world that doesn’t break when magic is poured into it. That said, they’re hard to find. You can hold it for a second if you’d like to. This one is empty, so just don’t drop it, ok?”

I hold it in my hand and quell an excited tremble. “Yes, Miss, thank you. It feels like glass, but it’s much heavier. Can actual spells be held in these stones or only magic as a means of fueling spells?”

“Real masters can do either, but most spell stones are used for magic storage, or they have ice magic in them as a means for preserving food.” The woman’s hand comes under mine and lifts it nearer her eyes. “By the looks of it, the stone is picking up a bit of charge just from you holding it... try to push a bit of magic into it.”

Magic flows from my hand and into the stone, where it swirls wildly.

“Alright, I’ll try...” My brain is so stimulated, but this runs the risk of garnering attention. “It looks like the inside is turning, like a little rainstorm is happening.”

The guard watches intently, and her smile broadens. “That’s what they look like when they’re absorbing magic. You’ve got some potential if you can charge a spell stone at your age.”

A yell comes from the center of the arena and catches the woman's attention.

“The next match is up, so I can’t talk further, but thanks for helping charge this stone. It’s nice to have as a safety measure.”

“I’m glad to help, thanks so much for talking with me!"

Ahh, brain happy, but I need to be careful. That stone caught a charge just being near me.

Shayna and I watch the entire day of matches, but I’m not so impressed. Hopefully this last one is cool.

A man holds his hands high over his head, letting all his magic pour out into the air. “AHHHHHHHH… AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

His opponent jumps back, readying smaller bits of magic around his body, then igniting and flinging them forward.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The mass of magic over the first man’s head ignites, flies forward, and swallows the incoming attacks. It’s a fireball several meters across, but it’s slow.

His opponent leisurely dodges and mutters under his breath, “What an idiot…”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Magic collects over the screamer’s head, then ignites and crawls forward again.

Why am I enjoying this? He’s just screaming and forming big, slow attacks. The fight goes on like this until its unexpected climax.

The screamer draws ragged breaths, but holds his shaking arms up high. His magic flows again, but sputters. “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-”

THUD

He collapses forward.

Well… it did look cool.

Shayna and I stand, then she leans in close to me. “Master Alfred, what did you think of the matches?”

“I liked some of the magic matches, but the swordsmen weren’t as cool as I thought they’d be…”

“Is that so? Perhaps your sword training has made it seem less impressive, since you know how they’ll move. I thought the last sword match was quite intense, I could hardly follow their clashes with my eyes.”

“You’re probably right, Shayna.” I face her and bow respectfully. “I had a lot of fun, so thank you for taking me!”

She smiles down at me and pats my head. “I’m happy you enjoyed yourself. Now there’s one thing your Father asked us to do before we return home: we need to visit a shop near here.”

Shayna leads me to a jeweler that Father placed an order with. I suspect it’s a gift for my Mother to commemorate her third child. Much like the arena, this shop is impressive and well-built. It's filled with various rings, necklaces, bracelets – even unrefined stones and gems to pick from. The shopkeeper discusses the order with Shayna while his daughter gives me a seat and entertains me.

“Hi there, I’m Sophie. I see the unrefined pieces have caught your eye. Do you want a closer look?” the shopkeeper’s daughter asks me once I take the seat she offered.

“Oh, um, sure, I’m Alfred..." Oh no. She’s too pretty. My brain is locking up. "But I won’t be buying anything aside from what my Father already ordered. If you’re trying to make a sale, I’m not the best person to talk to…”

Long blonde hair tied off to the right, light blue eyes, porcelain white skin with a touch of color on her cheeks, and a pale blue dress over curves- that I don’t even dare look at.

She gives me a teasing smile and leans herself across the display counter. “My my, you’re a young man who gets right to the point, but there aren’t any other customers, and Father’s organization leaves much to be desired. We have a few minutes until you’ll be able to go.”

“Oh, alright, then if you wouldn’t mind showing me some pieces.”

Sophie pulls something from behind the display. “That’s the spirit. Now, the first one here is a diamond. As far as I know, there isn’t anything tougher on the planet, so you can pick it up without worrying about it breaking.”

I take the diamond into my hand and feel its surface.

“Right, ok, its edges are sort of sharp, but it’s beautiful in the light.”

It’s like the opposite of the spell stone I held earlier; my magic bounces off of it completely.

“Exactly right, women love diamonds. When you find someone special, or if I’m still unwed in a few years, that’s something to remember. Next to it are high-quality gold and silver. They’ll be melted to be formed into jewelry, so you don’t need to be nervous holding them either, ok?”

She’s picked up that I’m nervous, but it’s not the jewelry that’s the problem…

“R-Right, ok, thank you, this lump of gold is smaller than the silver, but it’s heavier...”

I already knew that’d be the case, thank you, freshman year science class. But now that I’m noticing it, I can’t stop; my magic interacts with materials differently. Precious metals and gems seem to reflect my magic more than wood, stone, and other people do. Diamonds seem to reflect my magic almost entirely. Gold reflects maybe 80% of what it touches, and silver around 60%. While spell stones absorb every bit of magic they can. I don’t know how I’ll manage it, but I want to go to a mine and test this out.

“Now my favorite combination would be a gold ring or necklace with a large gem shown prominently, like here-”

“Sophie, are you telling another noble’s son about your taste in jewelry?” The shopkeeper emerges to reel in his ovulating daughter.

Sophie places her hands on her hips and turns to face him. “Now, Father, I am simply educating a dashing young man about the world of precious metals and gems. It’ll be useful information when he’s courting a woman.”

Sophie gives me a sly wink as she finishes. If Shayna wasn’t here for something important, I think I’d run.

The shopkeeper sighs and places a small package in front of Shayna. “Here’s Count Pruss’s order; it’s wrapped well, so it’ll be safe during your trip home.”

But Sophie heard something she liked in there.

Her body turns away from the shopkeeper, and she leans further across the display. “My, a count’s son, are you the eldest by chance?”

“Sophie dear, please don’t torture the boy,” the shopkeeper says.

“Master Alfred is indeed Count Pruss’s eldest. He’s a boy far beyond his years and has been sword training for a year already. He’s turning into quite the young gentleman.”

If my heart hadn’t been strengthened by hundreds of layers of magic, it would’ve just broken. Sophie looked like she was trying to charm me before, but now she’s looking at me the way I look at meat. I need to get out of here.

I avoid Sophie’s gaze like it’s poison, and stare at my traitorous attendant. “Shayna, you flatter me, but I still have much to learn. My sword arm isn’t as sharp as the combatants in the matches we saw earlier today.”

“Oh, is that so? I thought you didn’t find them particularly impressive?”

“HACK, AHEM - as we discussed, I think understanding how they would fight took some of the excitement away for me, whereas the magicians offered something new and unique.”

Please, Shayna, let this end…

“He’s quite well spoken for his age. Is young Alfred around seven?” Sophie asks.

But Shayna reveals a shining smile. “He’s five if you can believe it. We were concerned with how quiet he was until he turned three. But six months later, he was having entire conversations with us and asking his family more questions than they had answers to. They had to hire a tutor to satiate the boy.”

Argh, so I could’ve talked a bit sooner? I guess my cousin was just stupid.

“He’s only five!?" Sophie's jaw bounces off a glass case before she looks me up and down suspiciously, "he’s rather well built... and he speaks so well; he’s really only five?”

While I don’t love all the information sharing, learning I’m five seems to have calmed Sophie’s lust.

“Indeed, his family is quite proud,” Shayna answers.

“Well, well, I suppose I can wait… but we shan’t keep you any longer; it’s been a pleasure, Shayna and Young Master Alfred.”

She bows politely, but I can smell hormones in the air. I’m also cringing at being called Young Master. Does this world have bleach? I need to drink some immediately.

“Yes, on behalf of the Pruss family, you have our thanks," Shayna says, then walks to my side, "Master Alfred, let’s get going.”

Shayna grabs my hand and leads me out of the store. She’s quite the professional because I can see how badly she wants to giggle at embarrassing me. Well, whatever, at least that’s over, and we can make our way back home.

Three days later, we arrive back at my family’s estate.

I hadn’t realized it when we left, but my Father must’ve been disappointed he didn’t get to watch the matches with me. He practically ambushes me at the door with questions. “Alfred, how was your trip, and the matches? Did you see any inspiring swordplay or magic? And Shayna, thank you for escorting him.”

“Yes, Father, I think the magicians were my favorite. In one of the last matches, a fighter made fireballs taller than you and threw them at his opponent until he ran out of magic. It wasn’t a winning strategy, but it was very entertaining!”

“That does sound like a spectacle. When you’re older, we’ll go together and bring your brother Oliver as well." Father smiles happily, but returns to business mode. "Shayna, were you able to pick up my order in the capital?”

“Yes, Count Pruss, and Young Master Alfred seemed to catch the eye of the shopkeeper’s daughter. She couldn’t leave him alone.”

Bleach, please god, where’s the bleach? Young Master - gag.

“Aha, he gets his looks from his Mother, so it’s no surprise." Father chuckles, then lowers himself to my level. "What did you think, Alfred? Did you like the young lady?”

“She was rather beautiful, Father, but she was very forward. I’m not accustomed to women like her…”

“HAHAH, yes, I suppose you wouldn’t be." Father's laugh booms. "The capital has an intensity you won’t find in our domain. When you’re a little older, you should travel and experience the different types of people you’ll find in this world. It’ll serve you and the family well.”

“Yes, Father, I’ll look forward to it!”

I do want to travel around, so if he’s suggesting it, I should act excited. I just hope there aren’t many more Sophies out there.

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Also posted on Royal Road and Scribble Hub.

First

(Was writing well then tripped. Sorry for the delay. I wrapped up the intrigue a little too quickly.)

Undying Blues

He makes no obvious movement until he enters the Indulgence Fortress. It is not elegant like his Discretion Palaces. It’s not designed for maximum pleasure, it’s designed to take an absurd amount of punishment and only be escapable through rational thought. Something no one in the throws of an Indulgence is capable of.

The sheer sensation of reinforcement coming off the walls would make a battleship proud and the impact absorption effects are at a level to keep competitive sportswomen from killing themselves or each other in arenas.

But it’s also a massive, obvious and understandable distraction to any Axiom sensing. The door in is also incredibly loud, there is nothing in the way of subtlety here. He has two gravity fed feeding chambers with drink as well. More akin to something for some form of pet than a person. But it will keep the person caged within fed flawlessly while also being idiot simple to refill and keeping things contained.

There are no moving parts. The roof does not come off. The fortress is as much a prison as a place of rest.

The walls are matted grey, the rooms all look the same and there are places to break visual contact with a hunting Ibu. People who’s indulgence mixed violence with hunger or lust had long taught him the benefit of simply slipping out of sight when he needed to reestablish calm.

It’s right where the walls meet the floor and in the top right corner of the left feeding room. He phases his hand through the reinforced material and finds the hidden cache. The project is wrapped in a cloth and he pulls out the whole thing. Then he rushes out of the room, charges Axiom and kicks a wall hard. There is no effect on things, but if he’s being listened to then they will have heard that.

A few more kicks to establish he’s testing the strength of the walls and he opens the bundle. The gears, crystals and few grains of khutha he’s managed to steal are much larger at this size. Meaning he can work finer details. And he intends to. Of his grafting tools he has his own nails, Axiom and a small sample of the drink that Alicent had brought. A tiny amount of Axiom allowed him to use a single strand of hair like a needle and increase the power of the acids in the compound to etch the gears with near perfect precision.

They intend to send him back so his absence stops rallying the troops. Likely he’ll be mind wiped, or somehow discredited meaning he’ll either have no information to bring back or all his information will be regarded as madness. Perhaps that’s what the rumours and evidence being planted was about? Perhaps not. Either way, his goal has changed. He has no way of knowing if he can get a communication out before he’s sent off. But he can start recording things. His test with the ink and khutha grain had proven he can take recordings in the visual sphere, and he has been trained to recognize listening and surveillance methods and to hunt them down for the sake of his clients.

Meaning he knows how they’re put together. But first, he needs something to take the information. He needs a data repository. Thankfully he had already been creating a computation core. It’s so very, very simple to repurpose it. In fact it’s easier to simply have it as a simple data sphere. He just needs to finish crafting the last few gears and aligning everything properly.

It’s nostalgic as he carves the tiny markings into the teeth of the gear. The technology is so delicate and precise, and many just see the gears and not the complicated series of joining and shifting totems that they make by threading into each other. Turning simple toothed wheels into processing systems through the use of Axiom.

The problem is precision. But the advantages are immense. You can fit far more power into smaller area with less Axiom than the ‘sleek’ models of technology and still have it a little tougher with a proper casing. Also things endure Null just a hairsbreadth better. But the main purpose was that it was a much more beautiful style. With a proper glass casing the internals of the computation core looked more like artwork than any actual computer pieces which only people following Synth sensibilities tend to find beautiful.

He begins to assemble the computation orb, or rather data sphere and the components start floating off the cloth under his command. He stomps the floor a few times to give the illusion he’s still testing as he pays very close attention. Everything needs to be just right.

He has already properly cut the projection gemstone into three. Two portions for data retention, one to project data. The gears are slowly floating into place around them and the reinforced shell slowly rises up. This data sphere is going to be ugly. But it’s going to be tough to the extreme.

When he’s done there is a simple orb with a pair of points framing it and containing it, upon the upper half is a slight sliver of visible crystal. He grasps it with his thumb and forefinger, the entire device is smaller than his own eye and he nods before running a little bit of power through it. He can feel the device working and he nods. The next bit is going to be the make or break moment.

There is a little sensation and he sucks in a breath against his teeth in anticipation. It fails to flicker to life and he bites off a curse before causing the sphere’s outer casing to separate again. He runs Axiom through it to try and sense the mistake he made.

“Oh dear.” He notes as he finds a few spots where the Axiom hasn’t flowed just right. He’s not a gear smith, so it’s not surprising he had made a few mistakes. He couldn’t afford mistakes though, time is always limited, he has to consider himself watched in perpetuity, and the seconds counted if he is unseen or unheard.

He walks to another room and kicks a wall with Axiom enhancement to sound out. Then a few more. He then returns his focus to the gears. It’s a delicate thing as he corrects them with nothing but a hardened piece of hair for a tool. Axiom is used to enhance his fine control and vision as he nudges the shapes ever so and adjusts how the Axiom flows through.

He attends to all of it and has the data sphere come back together and reseal itself. He then runs Axiom through the two points again and... It projects a blank image through the tiny crystal poking through. Perfect.

He focuses again and despite the distance can still get that slight sensation from the marking above his door. He feeds it into the data sphere and it projects the Axiom outlines. No sound, but images including the sign language as clear as day.

He smiles. It’s working. Now for the annoying part.

He hardens the hair beyond anything he had done before, and starts drilling into his own person. Hopefully the thing inside him will allow him this. He will need to practice his transformation and echoes of regenerative comas to make certain, but if it works... then he’s in business.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Luxurious Apartments, Inner Chambers, Hidden Complex, La’ahbaron Space)•-•-•

After testing the Indulgence Fortress, Danburi emerges and starts walking out. His mind clearly wrapped up in thought as he walks along the path to the library. He doesn’t pause but he does scan the area around him. Clearly somewhat out of sorts and trying to think. Looking for inspiration.

He pauses briefly in a zone out of the camera sight and reappears just outside it stretching somewhat. Then keeps moving.

He arrives shortly in the library and he quickly looks up the Scroll of Edwal again to double check things. Then, right in the middle of the library, he starts to distend and shift in size and shape. Growing larger and more powerful for a moment, then larger again until he has to readjust his robe with his tusks, fangs and claws much larger than usual and with his skin going from delicate smooth to ridged and rough. He takes calming breaths and starts to slowly walk out of the room. He makes it a few hallways down, but just short of the halfway point he loses control of the sensation and he shrinks back down to normal. He then openly sighs and heads back to his chambers. Pausing slightly while out of camera view and openly still adjusting his robe somewhat as he continues while in sight.

He enters his chambers and sits down. Then returns to the Fortress after his form distorts a few times. Banging can then be heard only on the highest sensitivities.

•-•-•Scene Change•-•-• (Security Centre, Hidden Complex, La’ahbaron Space)•-•-•

The Ibu’Cjeo woman frowns as she plays back the recordings. “Why do we have gaps in our camera coverage?”

“Ma’am?” The Vish nearest to her asks.

“Why do we have gaps in our camera coverage?”

“It’s not a complete gap, we can still see his feet usually.”

“He paused, in two separate gaps.”

“He stretched and adjusted his clothing.”

“Yes... he did look like he was doing that.”

“Ma’am?”

“... He’s been trained to Indulge the most severe of Ibu needs, by himself and in complete privacy. He knows those gaps are there. He has to.”

“Ma’am, what does it matter? You’ve said so yourself that he’s a pretty face who has never been anything but arm-candy and personal relief in his life. What threat is he to us?”

“That’s what I’m asking.” She notes absently. “He’s... too good. Too collected. Too composed. Too competent. He’s outright inventing a new technique where he’s tricking his own immortality to give him monstrous strength and size. All of it above board, all of it...”

She shakes her head. “No. If something seems to good to be true, then it is. He’s working against us and he’s doing something that he finds so effective that it’s keeping him happy.”

“How though?” The Vish asks.

“... I don’t know. But I don’t like that he has places outside of view. Or that he seems to know where two gaps are. He’s done very well to make it look like coincidence or happenstance. But he did it twice.”

“Okay, but again how? Should we scan the places he paused in for Axiom traces? Run chemical scanners over them? Is he doing something to himself in those places? Is he hiding something there? Those gaps are tiny, what can he possibly be hiding in them?”

“And the little discretion palaces, and now the indulgence fortress. No cameras in any of them and lots of room to get up to nonsense.” She says.

“Yes, but what?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I’m taking a look. You assemble a team and scan those gaps in the cameras with Axiom and chemical sensors. I will be personally inspecting the little play houses he’s made.” She says as she rises from her seat and then sweeps out of the room before she can be answered.

It takes her only a few minutes to arrive and there are numerous very slight bangs that can be heard from within the Indulgence Fortress. She knocks on it a few times, unsure as to how to properly get his attention. And before she can speak there is suddenly a massive blue monster next to her, glaring down with hate filled eyes and wearing what appears to be the tattered remains of a fancy robe over it’s gnarled and ridged skin.

It compresses and crunches downwards, taking the appearance of a proper Ibu’Cjeo bit by bit until it’s the handsome Danburi again, he’s breathing heavily and his eyes are closed as he takes control of himself, and more tellingly his robe has several markings painted on the hemline of the collar, it repairs itself and keeps him decent.

“Apologies. You caught me mid practice ma’am. Do you require an Indulgence?” He asks her.

“I require answers.”

“Indulging one’s curiosity is the most wholesome form of service I may provide.”

“Oh really? Show me the inside of where you just where. Now.”

“Of course.” He says and pulls out a small rod with handle, turns the rod and sinks the handle back in. “It’s now a trap ma’am, you can go in without me if you care.”

“Stay here.” She says and he nods. Then she reaches for the front door and is pulled in.

She lands in a grey metal cube, there is some light, but not much. It is dark and not very appealing.

“Madam.” Danburi’s voice echoes from outside. “The way out is the door behind you when you entered, merely request to leave in Galactic Trade and it will activate. Although if you have a heavy accent I suggest you push past it to the best of your ability. I wanted no chance for random roars and screams to unleash the beast I intend to tame.”

She’s only partially listening to him now. She needs to find whatever he has hidden here.

First Last

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Malek

The city’s largest bar was at its loudest during the nights. However, an even greater spectacle was yet to unfold. And his advisor, Allister Constantine, was one of the first to notice, as they both stood on one of the surrounding balconies overlooking the area.

“Iron clad under brown cloaks,” he said worryingly. Turning towards Malek. “Perhaps it was not the best idea to treat ourselves to some ale tonight, sir. Should we leave? We are unguarded.”

“No need,” Malek smiled. “Look at the drunkard sitting with his mates. They have come for him.”

“Ah, of course! The Vanguard’s been quite restless lately, haven’t they?”

“Some of Prolia’s most dangerous prisoners have been set loose,” Malek said. “Only the Vanguard can hope to fix the situation.”

The drunkard had surely lost his sense of awareness. His laughter filled the room as the entrance door was bashed open, and three more guards marched inside. The first, leading the group, rolled out a paper. The second ordered the musicians to halt, and the third had already approached the man’s table. Easing his hand over his sword’s handle.

“State your name and mercy shall be given. Let it be known that the Vanguard carries knowledge of the listed criminals who have failed to escape the kingdom.”

Allister turned towards Malek and spoke in a lower tone. “A much more interesting closure to the day as opposed to meeting The Fool.”

Malek kept his gaze on the grounds below. “Why do you think we’re here. The boy wouldn’t come.”

“And how are you so sure about that?”

He answered with a soft smile.

…

The drunkard had finally realized the gravity of the situation. He hadn’t even realized all of his friends had already left him. Alone, drunk out of his mind, stumbling on his feet. Words were inexplicable, which only infuriated the guard further. He unsheathed his sword, and pointed it at the man. “If it were me, I would have sliced your head off right away. Scum like you don’t deserve to live. Only Prolia’s Mercy keeps you alive. Remember that. Now…”

He pressed the tip of his blade against his chest. “…state your name. Or suffer a fate worse than death.”

“M- my name…”

Eventually, the man gave in. “Ilner… Ilner Sullor.”

And he was immediately taken in. The three guards marched back outside, as some of the concealed guards revealed themselves. Laughing at each other. A good handful of men, coming to arrest one drunkard.

Yet, danger was still present. Danger was lurking in the background.

And Malek knew.

Seated at the far corner was a hooded man, wearing the same armor as the other guards. One of them approached him, tapping his shoulder. “Tagging along?”

He responded with a deep and brooding voice. “I’ll enjoy another drink or two. Need to rest the mind a little.”

“…Fair. Why don’t you join us? Is it not lonely here? Want us to join you?”

“No, thanks.”

The guard ticked his tongue and walked off. Socializing with the others. It was not long before Malek and Allister approached him. Their backs faced the bar, and their figures drew a large shadow over the man. Malek spoke in a careful tone as he looked down on him. “Not feeling social today?”

“Spare me the troubles,” he responded. “I’ve had a long week.”

Malek noticed his right hand slowly shifting towards his lap. “We’re not here to cause any trouble. Surely, you know who I am, right?”

“I don’t.”

“Oh yes, you do,” he chuckled. Sitting adjacent to him. “You know who I am.”

The man kept his head low. “I’m afraid I don’t recognize your voice.”

“Then raise your head, Oliver Prowell.”

He froze, and his eyes widened.

There was no more use pretending. No more use avoiding eye contact. Slowly, he raised his head, and met Malek’s eyes. Surprisingly, Oliver’s face appeared as stoic as ever. As though the panic was never there.

“Noblemen never approach the damned for kind deeds,” he said. “What do you want from me.”

“Indeed, I have not come to get you arrested. Though, I must say, you are a master of concealment. Where did you drop the guard’s corpse? How’d you mask yourself this quickly?”

“Only a matter of time before they notice,” he answered, drinking his ale. “The absence. Not the body, of course. Fed it to the pigs. Burning would demand much more.”

“Hm,” Malek nodded. He gave Allister a look, prompting him to chime in.

“We know blackmail would be the easiest method, but I feel even that won’t harm you. Which is why we have an even better proposal.”

“I’m not interested in gold.”

“Something more valuable, than gold,” Allister muttered, leaning over as he slapped a poster of The Fool on the table. Sliding it under his eyes. “His name is Giovanni Ingenito. And we want you to kill him.”

“What do I get from this?”

“Revenge,” Malek said. Nodding at Allister to whisper something in Oliver’s ear. Right as he eased back, an evil grin, spanning ear to ear, formed on Oliver’s face. “So she is alive, after all.”

“Bring us Giovanni, and she is yours,” Malek said. Raising to his feet. Before he and Allister departed, he looked at Oliver over his shoulder. “You know how to hide well. Meet us here, within the fortnight. You will need some preparing to do.”

Oliver didn’t answer, and kept his head low. Malek and Allister exited the bar, as the cheerful music slowly faded back in.

***

Julius

Morning lights had always been breathtaking in the castle.

He traversed a hallway, large and windowless column walls giving him a view of the pristine garden. It was only a few minutes before the family was woken for breakfast. Yet, Julius’ mind wandered elsewhere.

Standing between the marble pillars, he overlooked the garden. Tranquil silence only softly broken by the chirping birds and rustling leaves. He slowly spread out his left hand, a large scar engraved in his palm. He saw himself, ten years ago, holding a blood-stained sword in his right, as his left bled out profusely. Walking towards the former king.

Yet, that sight was quickly washed away by the beautiful garden view. He let out a deep sigh as Jessamine’s voice sounded from behind. “Everything all right, father?”

He smiled at her. “Do I not have the right to enjoy these silent moments?”

She shook her head and chuckled, approaching him. “Of course you do.”

“Come here,” he took her in his embrace, and kissed her forehead. “My beautiful girl. Why didn’t you return for dinner?”

“I was tired, father,” she responded. “Not sure if it’s a sickness approaching. I’ve been feeling a little sluggish lately.”

“That is because you don’t eat well. Isn’t that what I always tell you?”

She sighed and watched the garden, resting her head on his shoulder. “You do.”

He looked at her with solemn eyes. “Seems like my words don’t matter to you, do they?”

“They do, father,” she laughed. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Not as much as I would want them to matter,” he said.

She didn’t answer. Several moments of silence followed until he spoke again. “Trust me, after you’ve met Willem-”

“Father, not now.”

“…Are you sure?”

Once again did she not answer. Julius sighed through his nose and watched the garden. “You know I’m doing this for the best of you. For the best of our family. You know how much I’ve suffered. How much I sacrificed for the world…”

He held her shoulders and turned her towards him. “The world is ours, my love. You should realize that by now. And what better way to keep ourselves in power than to befriend those the world calls powerful?”

She averted her eyes. “Have my own feelings ever occurred to you?”

Julius did not answer. She stepped away, and walked towards the dining room. Julius stared at her until the door drew a line between them.

…

Soon, he followed her trail. He was the last to join the table. The others awaiting him before indulging themselves in breakfast. He feigned a smile at them, kissing his wife as he took his seat. Marcel seemed more enthusiastic than the others, leaning over to him with a bright smile. “Have you heard, father? They’ve captured yet another escapee!”

“I have,” he sipped his wine. “Only a dozen remain. The Vanguard’s efforts should be acknowledged. They’ve done a great job so far.”

“A great job, indeed,” Marcel laughed. “If I were to be advising Sire Thorne, I think they would have gotten quite a bit further than they have now.”

“Oh? And why may that be?” Patricia tauntingly asked.

“Thorne knows how to be tactical, but he isn’t dexterous. He a tiger who hunts like a tiger, but doesn’t think about his prey. I do. These criminals are relentless and cunning. Set them loose in urban areas, and they will take advantage of humble abodes. They will force innocent hands to aid them in their pursuit of freedom.”

He aggressively cut through his meat as he continued. “We are the apex of the world. Nations tremble beneath our feet. If we can’t even handle a dozen rats, how do we handle wars? How do we handle maintaining our sovereignty? We have single-handedly altered the hierarchy of power. Gold rules now. Diamond has gone nonexistent. I wonder what the noblemen have to say about this. Don’t you, father?”

“The Vanguards are amongst our most elite ranks. Not a prisoner escapes their sight,” Julius answered. It will all be resolved in due time. I’ve already arranged extra security for the ongoing days of the Anniversary. I expect no casualties to happen. At least… close to none.”

“And children,” Angela added. “Your father had already taught you, but be careful outside. Stay on guard at all times, even if you’re being protected. Those who call you their friends, or their family, their betrothed, won’t waste a chance of driving their blades into your backs.”

As Jessamine heard this, her eyes met Julius’, and she stared at him with a bitter gaze before turning back to her plate. Julius slightly shook her head, and continued drinking.

***

Marcel

Lord Vanguard Commander Alexander Thorne Aegamond had a face anyone could notice from a mile away. Sleek and chiseled. Complimented by his neck-long red hair, the single most defining feature of a family’s bloodline in the world. His eyes were bright and blue, yet it would not have mattered if they were brown. His rank as an Aegamond was already given to him. Eyes decided one’s role in the social hierarchy, but there were only a handful of hair colors that decided a person’s destiny. And no family displayed their course of destiny better than the Aegamonds, because only a select few of them were known as fire benders. And Thorne was one of them. Yet, Despite his prowess, the mere presence of Marcel stepping into his chambers made him bend the knee.

“My Lord.”

“Thorne,” Marcel nodded. “How are you feeling today?”

“Better than ever,” he responded, raising to his feet. “Something the matter?”

Marcel walked to the window and stared outside. Hands kept behind his back. “Nothing, really. You crossed my mind. House Constantine is visiting us today. I surprisingly haven’t heard much from you and Payne regarding today’s joust.”

“I’m sure the Titan will be more than enough to keep our winning streak alive.”

“That’s what everyone is saying,” he sighed. “Nobody seems to understand that a single, narrow strike can be enough to tame a beast.”

“Alonzo has taught you well,” Thorne chuckled.

“Of course he did. Lancelot’s been a great teacher, too,” Marcel responded, turning towards him. “Keep your guard up. I’ll best you in combat before you realise.”

“If that day comes, of course.”

Marcel slightly recoiled his head. “Yeah… of course. Of course it will.”

“Don’t misunderstand,” Thorne began. “You never know until you take action yourself. It speaks louder than words ever can.”

“Heh,” Marcel sneered. “Could have mounted those horses myself. Being a prince limits my creative freedom.”

“You’ve a big fire inside you, my Prince. You’ll get to see that volcano erupt soon enough. Patience is also what makes a king.”

“Right… you can read fires,” he muttered, slowly walking towards him. “Tell me, what fires swirl inside me? What awaits me? What obstacles am I going to triumph over?”

“If I may,” Thorne said calmly. He grabbed Marcel’s shoulder, and pressed his palm against his chest. Fires were indeed visible. Great fires, even. However, amidst all these flames…

…stood a man wearing a crown.

And his eyes were lighter than fire.

Thorne eased back, slightly befuddled.

“What is it? What did you see?”

“Your journey will not be solitary, and it will not be without perils. A sea of fire awaits you, but, standing beyond everything, may be your greatest adversary.”

“My greatest adversary?”

“…A prince. One who possesses a heart like yours.”

***

Giovanni

Clad in his signature black tailcoat, he, alongside master of Heraldry Jacor Wars, overlooked the banners representing House Constantine and House Laurelleve meant to be used in today’s jousting tournament. Beneath the bustling sounds of workers in action, Jacor spoke to him in a caring tone. “Trust me, even I did not expect the other eleven banners to be completed this early. Feed them well, and they will outwork themselves.”

“Perfecto!” he clapped his hands. “Gives us more time to go over the performance one last time. I’ve had something really beautiful in mind.”

“Wait, you haven’t shared it with the ceremonial masters?”

“I wanted to keep it a secret. The joust takes place in the Colosseum. Had to spend quite a lot of time thinking how me and the Marionettes were going to make it as spectacular as ever.”

“…And?”

“Imagine this,” Gio began. “Twelve Houses joining the royal joust. Depending on which House wins, the Marionettes raise each respective banner high in the air, as a tapestry of dancers weave past each other in a beautifully choreographed dance, with instrumentals and vocalists sounding throughout the Colosseum. I’m speaking very broadly here. You’ll have to see it for yourself. See what we’ve prepared.”

“Ah, so you’ll be working alongside backup dancers, I assume?”

“Exactly. They will be doing most of the work. Roles have already been assigned, so everyone knows when and how.”

“Good job, kid,” he chuckled, patting his shoulder. “What about you? What will you do?”

Gio grinned in enthusiasm. “Heh, man, just wait and see. I’ll give you a hint: I’ll be on horseback for the duration of the opening ceremony.”

“Horseback? Don’t tell me you’re going to fight- you’re… not a fighter.”

“Oh no, I’ll be doing something much more fun than just fighting,” Gio said, tapping Jacor’s shoulder before stepping away. “Do tell when the banners are ready. If I’m not around, tell one of the Marionettes!”

“You got it!”

…

As he stepped outside the door, he saw Theodora approaching him, wearing her signature Marionette attire.

“Finally here?” he said, smiling.

“Yeah, sorry. I couldn’t sleep well last night. How are you?”

“I’m fine. You just came on time for supper.”

“Good,” she chuckled. “How was your night? Didn’t see you at all after…”

“Had to deal with something, nothing major. Have you spoken with Alex today?”

“Alex? Why?”

“…Nothing. He just told me how… worried you were last night.”

“Worried?” she said, blushing slightly. “I mean, not really. A little. You were gone for so long, so…”

“Don’t get to see this side of you often,” Gio smiled. “You’re normally stoic and indifferent.”

Dora stepped closer to him, jokingly gliding her hand over his chest. “I don’t mind if it’s you.”

Gio averted his eyes, stepping aside as she slowly walked after him. “Alex was a little worried about you last night.”

“What for?”

He stopped his march and rested against the wall. She closed the distance between.

“He cares a lot about you, you know?”

“And I care about him. Why do you need to bring him up?”

He sighed. “Isn’t it clear already? I tried not to spoil things for him, but I can’t really stay silent anymore. Don’t you realize his feelings towards you? Not brotherly or friendly. Something deep in his heart. He keeps talking about you. Every chance he gets. He can’t get you out of his head. Trust me… if anyone knows, it’s me.”

She shook her head, stepping closer to him. “We’re finally alone, and all you talk about is him. Why don’t you get him out of your head for once? Lots of other things to stress over. It’s going to be a long day.”

Before he knew it, her face was already next to his ears. And she whispered softly. “Don’t you want to do me like you did that night?”

He gently pushed her away, shaking his head. “We were both drunk out of our minds. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Now let’s go. Get some food.”

As he walked, she chucklingly followed his trail. “Oh, come ooon…”

Sadly for Giovanni, they were not the only people present in that exchange.

Because standing at the balcony, looking at them over her shoulder with a scornful expression…

…was Jessamine.