---

Dark thoughts on her mind, Elinor remained seated for a time after the hag made her exit.  All things considered, she’d come out of this encounter rather well; for reasons beyond her understanding, the Duskan corpse had been a far more valuable prize than she’d known.  The question was, why did Countess Autumn want it?

She should have known after the grand duke mentioned the feat of slaying the demon.  Apparently, it was previously thought to be unkillable due to it merely returning to its realm after being destroyed, and the fact the hag had made a grab for it told her there was something far more significant to the Duskan than any of them grasped.

All in all, I’m not upset that I lost the corpse, she reasoned, vision shifting to the trail of black blood splotches dotting the carpet.  No, something else is upsetting me…  I can’t see a win condition.

Her brooding gaze lifted to Tiffany, a tightness in her chest that surpassed even her encounter with Shade.  The formless entity was imprisoned and slow-acting, which she could play around; the hag didn’t have that limitation.

There has to be a win condition.

Her former mother collapsed onto one of the couches after staring into empty space for a while, suddenly not so chipper and entertained.  Tiffany had warned her that the hag would be powerful, but the finesse in how Autumn utilized every aspect of witchcraft to its extreme, in addition to the raw amount of mana the creature had access to, had utterly overwhelmed her unshakable ritualist.

The band winding around Elinor’s chest made another loop, her fingernails pressing into the leather material as her mind continued to spin, searching for a solution: only two names came to mind.

The king and grand duke…  They’re the only ones who would make the hag back down, which is why she hasn’t taken Heather… or maybe she could and needs her to continue to grow inside the kingdom.  She’s been groomed for a purpose.  What can I do?

No one else in the Nexus knew about the encounter, and Elinor was fine keeping it that way for now.  They were dealing with too many pieces as it stood; she needed more personnel, and her increased Death Pool capacity gave her more wiggle room to do that.  Now, the only issue was finding the right people to resurrect without causing an incident.

Rising to her feet, Elinor smoothly walked out of the waterfall room, mindful of the dark splotches across the polished stone and carpet.  The House of Alchemy was promoting new cosmetic products.  Without much study, it became apparent the crowd most wanted to hear about this new healing tonic the initiates had used in their fight against her, not that they knew much about it.

Autumn isn’t showing her face…  Did she leave?

Silky black dress pressed against her frame with the ever-swirling wind around the stadium, Elinor sat on the rails again, using the pillar to support her back.  Her gaze swept by the hag’s private viewing area; no one was watching the Alchemist’s presentation.

Her focus drifted to the crowds below, not truly seeing the masses, but it didn’t take long for her presence to be noticed by the throng, causing the Alchemy students to stammer over their words.  She’d made a big enough impression to achieve everything she wanted and to solidify her authority within the minds of this kingdom.

I’m winning…  Castria had a support group.  Lilya can direct our young, impressionable Tempest and keep her from falling into traps while expanding our influence.  There’s now a volatile cultural revolution within Kasper that will play out over the next few years…  Castria will be accepted into the kingdom in the next few days as word spreads, and the House of Ravens is solidified.

Her teeth latched together, fingers pressing against her nose, cheek, and chin as she scanned the expectant faces looking up at her, waiting for another twist.  None of them knew the true dangers that brewed behind closed doors or the creatures that hid within plain sight.

By virtually all these metrics, I’ve accomplished Roman’s Legend Quest objective.  My goals for coming into this Legend Quest had been realized.  I’ve achieved Level 20 and evolved—I’m near Level 21.  Now that I’m armed with my Warlord Feats and expansions, I can leave this place to push forward to my next objective…  I can officially form my empire among the ri’bot and seize the valley for my own to call home for my people….

Yet… there was a nervous spike sinking into her gut…  What are the long-term effects of releasing a hag this powerful into my new home?  Dammit.

Closing her eyes, she retreated into her internal world, hearing the rumble of thunder and the soothing rhythm of pattering rain against the manor she now occupied.  Her focus drifted to a seat she conjured next to her, where the subtle, sinister visage of the brown-skinned countess materialized.

Elinor studied every inch of the hag’s stolen body, looking for the creature that hid within, yet by all appearances, she was a country noble who was out of touch with the rest of the kingdom.  She carried herself like a woman of standing, and not even her spirit felt any different from the other powerful Tempest, yet that ability to mask herself was the truly frightening part of this monster.

The hag was more than strong enough to use force, but she savored the art of manipulation, causing tension and dread.  Perhaps that was the reason she felt so agitated.

I… can’t see victory against her… but I can’t back down; I refuse to feel helpless.  What can I do?

The moment she allowed the hag’s mask to slip ever-so-slightly, the pressure of her spiritual presence was like a mountain.  The yellowish glint of the fiend underneath, surrounded by an intense, fiery sclera, was like ice creeping into her veins.

Autumn was a creature that fed off the misery and suffering of others but also had a strict code of conduct that provided entertainment to her eternal life… the enjoyment of playing with her food.  And this monster wanted a ticket into her new home world.

“Tiffany…”  Her vision narrowed when she replaced the internal mirage of the hag with the witch, sensing a lot more emotional turmoil within the woman than there should be at this point.  “Yes, she is a very dangerous adversary.  That being said, I don’t see why we won’t be able to work out a deal that will benefit us both… a truce of sorts not to affect one another’s affairs.  Do you disagree?”

Fingers slowly locking in her lap, a lump dropped down Tiffany’s throat, and a quake ran down her spine.  Looking up, the witch released a long, stressful breath before saying, choosing her words carefully and making the hair on Elinor’s neck rise.

“Empress… she told me that there is still an uncorrupted part of your mother within me that… that can be used to bring her back.”

“…”  Silence ensued, bringing in the sound of the background music and storm as she processed the punch to her gut.  “When she said she’d be in touch with you…”  Swallowing, her nose twitched as another screw drilled into her side.  “So, that’s why you’ve been so shaken.”

Elinor drew in her lips, a chill passing through her spirit.  Fingernails sinking further into the armrests, she found it hard to breathe while staring at the flickering blue flames in the fireplace.  “Dammit…  Dammit.  She’s completely pinned me.  I don’t want her as an enemy… and she’s forcing me to realize how beneficial her support will be.  What can I do?”

Shifting to the side, she ran her fingers over her bound hair with a frustrated growl.  “Mmmm.  What can I do?  I now know why you haven’t advocated to bring my dad into this discussion.  Damn her.  She’s teasing me and applying pressure…

“Trapped divinity, divinity surrounds me, we’re bound to clash with her desire for Heather, and now she plays with the idea of my mother returning, which thereby threatens your very existence…  I have to help her escape.  I don’t have a choice.”

“Ahem.”  Tiffany took a second to calm herself before settling into the chair, following her gaze to the sapphire flames in the hearth.  “Not… entirely true.”

Her narrowed vision flicked to the dark-haired woman, agitation growing with her inability to shake the ominous feeling of a guillotine hanging over her neck.  “Go on…”

“First,” the witch gulped, arms folding tightly against her stomach, “allow me to reiterate that my only desire is to serve you, Empress, and I would gladly give… whatever I am for your happiness.  Now that has been said, I believe you have far more leverage in fulfilling Autumn’s desire than she is suggesting or guiding you to think.”

Tiffany shifted uncomfortably, unable to stop a quake from running through her bones as she carefully articulated her words.  “Wordplay and mind games are the bread and butter of hags.  She is painting it as things you want, Empress, such as not getting in conflict with her and turning her away from Princess Heather, but all of her goals are hiding a singular purpose—what she desires from you.”

“Hmm.  Creating another hag?”  Elinor mumbled, her attention shifting to her little sister’s glamorous, darkened side of the space.  “She wanted Butter to be with us and didn’t seem to know much else about her to pose an attack or levy anything about her issues into the bargain due to her being outside this universe…  She’s looking for leverage?”

“She is.”

Suddenly, a whole new angle opened up to her as she whispered, “If she has all the cards… why would she be looking for leverage?”

Tiffany crossed her legs and showed a renewed, confident smile.  “My guess is that Autumn cannot escape this dying universe on her own; she lacks the power, and so…”

“She needs to create a sister with a large amount of mana to support her,” Elinor finished, agitation lessening with a clearer understanding of the hag’s position.  “In short, Autumn will be indebted to me for life should I manage to help her escape, and she is trying to give me all of these potential gifts and information to subtly equal out the price.

“She wanted me to rush right into it without coming to any kind of deal so she could set the terms and continue feeding me hidden answers to larger questions I haven’t even asked yet to know what to look for.  That sly slug…”

A half-smile lifted her lips as she leaned against the back of her hand and made the wall in front of them invisible to study the massive jungle valley below.  “She doesn’t want to be one of my undead, which is another condition that gives me more power over the final price; it’s a higher bar.  So… now we need to negotiate terms that we can both agree on, or else she will turn it down and go with her original plan with Heather.”

A nervous chortle came from Tiffany as she fidgeted a little with her dress.  “She also gave us a timeline of when her plan was supposed to spring… further tilting the scale in her favor without explicitly telling us.  I have been carefully trying to dissect her words… and I believe her telling me about your mother was…”

Elinor nodded.  “Was to apply stress onto you to not look deeper into the contractual obligations and rules she plays by, derailing any strategy meetings after.  She underestimated your willingness to give everything you are for me… as my mother did.  A miscalculation since she doesn’t know what kind of a person you were before you were corrupted by Shade.”

Folding her hands in her lap, Elinor returned the wall to its proper visibility, gaze drifting to the hearth before creating another image of the hag.  Her perfect teeth gleamed in the firelight in a wicked grin, monstrous eyes illuminated beneath the facade.

“A Tempest reaches their prime at age 30, which is the height of where their mana matures, where she’d want Heather to become pregnant with a hag…  That is 13 years away, which is nothing to her, but how much longer does this universe or world truly have?  We do have angles of attack.  Hmm.”

“Not only that,” Tiffany added, “but she will need to raise and educate the hag in the right way to do a unified ritual.  Hags are also very… touchy, and easily offended—especially with one another—so she may need to kill her sister and start over again if she doesn’t play her part.  Or… as she’s concluded, you could bypass the whole ordeal by smuggling her out.”

“Good…  Good.  I’m seeing a win condition,” Elinor grinned.  “Okay, start coming up with a list of things we can put to paper and solidify something concrete.  I want to have a defined plan and method of moving forward before bringing this up to my dad to get his own opinion.  You can work with Lilya if she has any extra time but do not bring this topic anywhere near my dad or Castria until I give the green light.”

Tiffany bowed her head, emotions settling back into her typical witchy self.  “Understood.  Hehe.  I can’t help but feel the pressure of attempting to win a hag’s game.  I look forward to tipping the scales as much as possible in your favor, Empress.  I will start devising arguments to put forward.”

With a plan in motion, the tightness in her chest eased; yes, the hag was a major threat that they needed to play around, but Autumn needed something critical from her, and evidently, she couldn’t or wasn’t keen on using force, which gave them wiggle room.

Elinor exited her internal world to watch the next presentations, a curious smile lifting her moo.  The House of Conjuration was finishing up their presentation on a new world of water that they’d managed to form a stable gateway to in order to train Water Tempest and gather new resources.

Autumn didn’t want her to invest her attention in this presentation, though, and after Tiffany’s breakdown, there was something going to happen during the Magic Knights’ turn that she’d be invested in.  At the same time, the hag worked in many layers, which had her mind working on the angles.

Black…

The Horsewoman of Famine paused in her mission to track down the royal jewelry of Kaspir’s first matriarch.  “Yes, Empress?”

Pause your investigation.  I suspect the hag is attempting to keep me occupied here while she enacts another plot.  Find Countess Autumn, and be cautious and maintain your distance.  You know the criminal underground now; pay people to follow her and her associates from the fund Roman gave us.

A positive surge fed through their connection, the horsewoman “Understood.  It gives me an excuse to get close to a few targets.  They’ll tail the countess, and I’ll tail them.  There is a network that tracks all the nobles’ movements, as well, if you pay the right price.”

Excellent.  And, as a side note, there is the possibility that she bugged the Nexus.  In general, we’re pushing to get more data on the hag and her motives.  I’ll say it again, be on your guard.

“Orders received…  There’s a good food stand on the way out, as well.  I am going to miss this kingdom’s food.”

We’ll have to make a shopping list to bring back to share and grow ourselves.  Make a side-project out of collecting goods.  Ah…  Elinor sat straighter as the Magic Knights took the stage.  It looks like the show is about to start.

“Shame I’ll miss it.  Enjoy, Empress.”

Cutting the connection, she did a quick check on all of her units, suddenly conscious of the fact her thélméthra drone was vulnerable with a hag on the loose.  Black would deal with it if it came up and report back.

Grandmaster Holst R. Rosmar made a showy entrance, pulling her gaze; shrouded in a sapphire aura of magical force, he hovered into the middle of the arena, where four teens between the ages of 18 and 19 stood at attention, wearing the armband that indicated they were 2nd-year students in the academy.

Holst’s gruff, booming voice took all eyes as he addressed the crowd.  “Haha.  What a day this has been!  As is typical of this yearly ceremony, we will give murderers, traitors, and rapists a chance to fight for their freedom—not that any stand a chance,” he chuckled to the crowd’s soft laughter.  “Let’s not forget your entertainment and show the resolve of last year’s top four Magic Knights!”

Elinor sensed a thirst for blood in the air for these evils of society to meet their just end since Kaspir had no long-term prison system for such crimes; either you served a short sentence for petty crime, or you were executed.  Brutal but effective.

“However, as is custom, we open the way for all outside challengers who wish to test their merit against our students, and several have volunteered… haha, only to drop out when the famed Wandering Quiltra signed up this morning.  So, for all those who wanted to see a few rounds of swordplay between outlanders and the Magic Knights, I’m sorry to inform you, but we only have one challenger left!

“He will deliver his opening address and will duel our students in a trial of skill; for those visiting or unaccustomed to this ceremony, this is not to the death, and I will intervene if needed.  I am sure all of you are as curious as I am to hear if the rumors of this wanderer’s mastery over weapons are true or exaggerated!  Some of you may feel that his very presence in this kingdom is a taunt, but our rules are set in stone; anyone has a right to make this challenge.”

Murmurs flew through the stands, and Elinor’s curiosity grew with the throng’s excitement or anger.  Her dad and most of the High Nobility weren’t even paying attention at this point, going over battle plans and tactics that could be used against the Delva Empire’s invasion; her dad, being an architectural engineer, was providing his own expertise on the mobile fortresses they had.  Everyone else was centered on this wanderer that had shown up.

However, there was one exception.  Queen Alivau Alciel radiated a wispy white flame from inside her box, and Elinor could practically sense her hatred directed at the arena.  The foreign-born queen was having difficulty controlling her temper.

Lilya, she internally queried, what makes this Quiltra such an eye-sore for our abusive mother up in her ivory box?

The former queen released a somber sigh through the Nexus, maintaining her outward poise while responding.  “Queen Alivau hails from the Kingdom of Jesena, across the Jesna Desert’s Northern face, where they share a border with the many Beast Tribes of the Beneval Lands, which her kingdom conquered and enslaved.  Her culture practices slavery, and the Rule of Power equates to the right to do whatever one pleases.”

Well, that makes sense…  Elinor whispered as the grandmaster introduced his four best students from the 2nd-year roster.  So, your family was in conflict with the Jesena Kingdom because you operated through trade, and they preferred conquest.  What’s the story behind the Wandering Quiltra?

“Conflict between my extended family and Jesena is accurate, but it is less the fact we are their equals and more that our way of life in the desert is too harsh for them to attempt to conquer.  We refuse to trade with them because they do not pay but take what they want by force, which is why we send our trade routes through nations not affiliated with them.”

I see.  Elinor frowned while looking between the four students Astral was hyped up; none of them could compare to the boy who had supported Captain Flera against her.  The more I hear about Alivau’s nation, the more I understand her mind state.  And this Wandering Quiltra?

“Hmm.  I regret to say, I cannot provide you answers on that particular topic, Empress,” Lilya smoothly explained.  “I died before his legend spread, but I was aware of the Quiltra Genocide that the Jesena Kingdom perpetrated against the mountain race, and it was one that Jesena did not come out totally unscathed from, losing many powerful Tempests and soldiers.  Perhaps Castria will know more from traveling bards through her village.”

I’ll link her in, then…  Castria,” the girl jumped at the sudden mental tug into the conversation, I assume the nobles are in a craze over this Beastman…  Is that the right term?

“Oh, Empress!”  Castria excitedly chirped.  “Heather and Julian told me that the Wandering Quiltra doesn’t have a name because he never reached the age to receive one before all of his people were killed—apparently, they don’t get a name until ten.  Isn’t that crazy?!  I mean, even I had a name, and my parents abandoned me and my sister.”

“Tragic,” Lilya sighed.  “So, he is the last of his species.  That is… unfortunate.  The males were weapons masters, who trained their bodies with the same level of expertise.  The females were far more plentiful, which led to a polygamous lifestyle, and many were quite beautiful, which made for high-value slaves.  They were also vegetarians, which made for an easy diet—outside the desert, that is.

“In addition, the females had excellent physical aptitude, despite their culture having specified gender roles.  One problem I recall discussing with their chief and high priestess was their declining birth rates and gender ratio: a dangerous combination.  There were discussions taking place about introducing the strongest of the females into more military roles and away from farmwork or religious rites.

“Still, the females took extreme pride in their labor and were resistant to the idea.  To them, it felt like an attack against their very nature, making it a touchy subject.”

Castria hissed.  “Yeah, I’d rather plow fields than go to war with other nations, especially with how violent I heard some of the Beast Tribes could get before Jesena’s expansion.”

 A confused note touched Lilya’s deep, feminine voice.  “While true that there were carnivorous and hostile tribes, that is not the whole picture.  The Quiltra were quite isolationist and a very disciplined race.  Hehe.  Something you might find quite fascinating, Castria, is that the females often chose their partners based on how much abuse they could take; naturally, without leaving a scar or mark on the males, but a pain tolerance test, you could say.”

The teenage Tempest was eating up the information, telling the other salivating nobles around her about their culture and acting like she was super educated.  To be fair, Elinor also found it equally as enthralling, if sad, that their culture and people had been mostly wiped out.

The 17-year-old girl jumped in to nibble at that particular topic.  “Pain threshold, so… hehe, like, ahem, nuts shots?  Well, they wouldn’t want to damage the goods, though, right?  Hmm.  How strong of a hug they could receive?  Hehe.  Make them do push-ups with them on their back for as long as they could?  I’d like to do that to Julian since he thinks he’s super strong.  I want to see what this courting process was like!”

Lilya’s chest shook with silent laughter.  “Perhaps you will find out one day.  It is difficult to completely destroy a race of people.  I am sure there are some still…  Ah.  Hehe.  So that is why they are playing Quiltra instruments.  It seems my lessons in music bore fruit,” she commented with delight as the Japanese-style flutes filled the stadium.  “I would like to talk to him when this is over to learn what has become of the Beast Tribes.”

The Magic Knights finished their introductions, and all eyes went to one of the entrance tunnels, where competitors walked to reach the arena; soothing music played in the background, holding a somewhat tragic tune.

Tiffany cleared her throat to chime in for the first time after passively listening to the cultural lesson.  “Empress, I should be recovered enough to do a simple projection ritual while I work on the task you gave me.  Would you like me to project it for the crowd?  I am sure it will further increase your popularity.”

If it will help you gain levels while also increasing your Rank and Grade, then I don’t see why not.  You have leftover materials in the other room pre-prepared?

“Eh-hehe.  I over-prepared just in case.”

I should have expected it from you.  Send them out.

Elinor shifted her posture, and ravens swooped out of the waterfall room, gems attached to their necks as Tiffany summoned the familiars.  Flying down to circle the stadium, they caused a buzz when the hologram reappeared.  Cheers erupted throughout the stadium at the expanded view of the arena for all to see; she was becoming popular, it seemed.

However, her focus was on the tall, bare-chested bunny man who walked out of the tunnel.  This is a Quiltra?  Not at all what I pictured, but I’m not complaining.  By the thickening saliva in her throat, neither was Tiffany.

Large ears frayed, yet held high in the air, the man’s wild, alabaster white hair was held back into a ponytail that fell to his butt.  His visible skin displayed a lean, muscular build and an impressively defined 8-pack of toned abs.  A few nasty scars told a harsh story of past battles, and despite that, he wore a carefree, peaceful smile on his markless, chiseled face.

For his torso, his coverings were an unusual combination of a cloth-like neck and shoulder guard, while his somewhat tight pants left the impression of long, muscular legs.  Not what she’d expected from a Beastman, his bare feet were that of a normal, tall human, and thin gloves from his fingers up to his forearms left much unprotected.

However, perhaps the most puzzling addition was the chainless shackles over his form-fitting gloves and around his wrist.  To finish the swordsman vibes, strapped to his hip were two scabbards that looked impossible to draw, considering their curved shape.

Tiffany drooled the moment her birds caught sight of the hunky rabbit man, only to throw a curve ball at her.  “A Hare Beastman?!  Empress, he’s gorgeous!  That rugged, yet peaceful look—the fashion and bare chest, showing off the goodies to lay atop and be smothered by!  Ahh!  That golden tan skin…  Mmm.  And that hair—I want to run my fingers through it and braid it!  Does he have a tail?  He does!  Yes!  I’ll take him!”

Hehehe.  Don’t let my dad hear that.

“He’s my perfect type!  Those ears I can brush…  Haaa.  Calm down!  Control.  Sorry, Empress.”

Well, now I know why my mom went after my dad.  I’ve seen the pictures of him when they were in high school.  Huh…

The noble announcers above welcomed the challenger, quieting the throng; there was a grace and unbothered attitude in the vibe of the hare’s home country, playing in the background.  She suspected it must have been the Grand Duke’s doing.

“The Wandering Quiltra!”

“The Last Quiltra!”

“Without name or people, this Beastman won his freedom in the Jesena Pits by slaying 100 challengers and a nobleman Tempest in single combat at the age of ten!”

“A feat he claims is only possible due to his goddess!”

“Over the last fifteen years, he has wandered from kingdom to kingdom; this is his second trip to Kaspir and his first visit to our brightest gem, Lumina!  You can taste the pressure on our young Magic Knights!”

Grandmaster Astral Benka stepped forward to look up at the far younger and slightly taller hare—much taller if including the ears—yet the golden-skinned wanderer gave him a respectful bow, ears remaining straight.

Astral appraised him with a small smile.  “You claimed that you would compete without drawing your swords…  From what I’ve heard, you rarely, if ever, have drawn your own swords, but will often use anything else as your weapon, including a shoe in one tale.”

The hare’s frame shook as his tranquil, resonant voice and unbothered attitude, projected to the audience, totally unbothered by the world.  “Haha.  Yes, that was quite the battle, but I had to make an example out of the thirty bandits ganging up on farm women.”

“Haha!  I’m sure the United Roland States appreciated it since they hired you to handle the rest of that roaming desert band.”

“They did!  It was quite the distraction for a few weeks.  Also, excuse my impertinence, Grandmaster, but I am not here for the fame of competing within your arena or for the money.”

“Oh?”  Astral grinned and took a step back to better study the Beastman.  “Then what led you to stand in front of me…  Your goddess, that rumor says empowers you never to lose a battle?  I’ve heard you’ve gone toe to toe with quite a few notable factions in the last fifteen years since earning your freedom.  I’ll take a swing: what brought you here, Wanderer?”

The Beastman turned his clear silver eyes skyward, to her box.  “Empress Elinor, Nungal—The Chain, The Jailor, The Judge, The Keeper of Life—my goddess, instructed me in a dream five days ago to make haste to this place…  She has given me life and ordered me to serve you, as I serve her.  I await your response.”

Once again, all focus was thrown on her as one of the ravens flew up to project her image to the crowd, making her chuckle; however, this time, the Tempests were the ones to project her voice.  “Interesting…  You serve a goddess of chains and judgment, hmm?”

Her mind returned to the conversation she’d had with the hag about divinity trapped within her and divinity circling her.  Autumn knew this Quiltra was here to serve her, but the question was how far he would be willing to go.

“I have high standards.  Show me why you deserve a place by my side.”

He bowed his head, ears following his example and getting a girly squeal out of Tiffany.  “Wonderful.  I am honored for this chance to be given a place by your side.  Might I request one more thing from you, Empress?”

Elinor’s lips curled as she looked up at the royal box, spotting the white flames of the current queen growing, evaporating the nets that kept out the rain; once again, she was the center of attention and doing something that pissed the abuser off.  This ‘slave bunny’ had managed to kill a noble, potentially someone she knew, from home, embarrassing them.

His mere existence was likely the ire of her kingdom, and here he was, in her kingdom, asking to serve someone when the Quiltra refused to serve or be enslaved by her family.  It was honey on Elinor’s tongue and sparked her curiosity.

“Ask.”

Resting his arm against one of his sheathed swords, his soft voice projected to the whole stadium.  “Since as long as I can remember, I have gone nameless, and Nungal has told me to receive one from you, Empress.”

Shivers ran through the crowd, whispers following in a buzz at the shock and change she continued to make to this year’s ceremony.  In the calming Japanese rhythm and dampened overhead thunderstorm, Elinor smiled down at the waiting wanderer, now seeking a place by her side.  It was practically out of a fairytale.

Tiffany went through multiple names off the top of his head, but Elinor made her choice practically without thinking.

“Grace, The Wanderer.”

“As you wish, Empress.”

“Empress, no, please!”  Tiffany cried.  “You can’t give this juicy piece of tail… a woman’s name?!  Grace?!  T-That’s like calling someone Afro because they have an afro!  The kids will bully them!”

I think someone did that, Elinor mused, yet the crowd looked to be in awe at the name.  I think it fits him pretty well; I mean, wasn’t it you who was practically saying, ‘By Grace, do you see his abs’ or was I imagining you salivating over some tail?  Besides, we’re about to see how he’d handle bullies.

“I guess…”

“As a side note,” Lilya interjected, “the cloth he wears is due to his species getting cold in those particular areas and is also made of the silk from the desert spiders you were interested in, Queen Tiffany.”

“Oh?  That is interesting…  I still would rather have called him Zack.  Mmmgm.”

“Grace, hmm?” Grandmaster Benka commented, turning to study the hare.  “Well, I suppose we will see how graceful you are soon enough.  Who do you wish to battle?”

 

* — * — *

 

At peace with himself and the world, Grace shifted his tranquil smile to each of the four opponents offered to him.  “If you’d allow, Grandmaster, I would offer up a prayer to my goddess and meet all of them at once…  Would you mind holding my weapons?”

“Oh-hoh,” the man chortled as Grace unfastened his belt to hand the swords Nungal had blessed to the Magic Knight.  “Confident are we?  How are you even supposed to draw these?”

He handed the curved blades over and felt a sense of relief come over him as they left his fingers; there was a weight that came with the knowledge of what the swords could do and what it felt like when he was compelled to use them by his goddess.

“When they are drawn, Irkalla welcomes those that meet its edge; no mortal can pull them free.”

“Right…  Religious shit,” the man grunted with a wry shake of his head.  “Anyway, this should be a good benchmark to show these whelps that there are all sorts of styles and strong opponents in the world.  Don’t hold back, students.”

“Sir!”  they all mirrored in unison, making Grace smile; the devotion in their faces reminded him of the four years he had spent training under his father and mother before their people were attacked and scattered.  “We won’t fail to uphold the Pride of Kaspir!”

The grandmaster laughed and floated back to his chair, studying the rough and unadorned scabbards he’d been entrusted with.

The knights spread out as Grace took a deep breath and walked into the middle of the damaged stadium.  His wide field of vision scanned every inch, memorizing it with a glance before his gaze turned skyward, a smile lifting his face while spotting the shimmering colors of the water dome overhead, bathing them in radiant hues.

It brought back memories of his time in their tribe’s temple with all its shiny gems and precious stones that they dedicated to Nungal, how it looked during winter when the ceiling was opened to project a rainbow beam into the heavens while the blanket of sparkling snow fell around them.

Closing his eyes, he bridged his hands into a praying position, and knelt on the uneven arena, envisioning the teachings of his childhood at the feet of the elders and his parents.  Not a face, scene, or single memory was distorted by the passage of time, Quiltra’s experiences being imprinted on their brains for life to bring a vivid picture of deep pain and spiritual joy for all eternity.

The memory of his mother, acting as the High Priestess to their temple, passed out the single stick of carrot that they would eat in preparation for their yearly, month-long fast; an offering of thanksgiving to Nungal’s life-giving water that would be their only nourishment.

The weeks of harsh training and discipline with his father strengthened his mind, body, and spirit, something every Quiltra, male and female, went through, in order to handle the tortures the world would heap on him.

When he was eight and his entire clan was ravaged by the harsh Tempest elements, when a hail of projectiles blotted out the sky; the fates of his siblings, friends, and his parents.  His capture with many other female Quiltra that were bound in nets of wind, vines, and earth, followed by their time in the Jesena Kingdom’s coliseums since they were too wild to be broken.  The fate of many of the female Quiltra due to their lack of martial training, yet fierce determination to fight until the joyous end to be welcomed by Irkalla’s gates.

Breathing it all in and out, he let the torture and elation of his entire 25 years of life filter through his soul to cleanse himself of weakness and impurity, feeling sweat break out across his body before opening his eyes to his opponents.

“Nungal is just.  Irkalla welcomes all.  Do not fear death; for in death we are given new life.  I am Nungal’s hand and voice; I am Her judgment.”  A gentle smile lifted his eyes as he looked between his nervous opponents, taking a stance he’d seen his father take many times.  “Irkalla sings in our passing.”

The carnelian shackles on his wrists illuminated a deep maroon, unlocking the first seal on the power granted him by Nungal, causing a stir amongst the onlookers.

“I am ready.”

His ears twitched, hearing the muscle twitches and clinking noises of the girl behind him, launching forward to strike his unprotected back.  Having memorized the Magic Knight’s attack style, he knew where they’d strike, and in a flash of movement, he’d dodged and twisted around the girl’s secondary thrust from a pulled dagger.

A light squeeze of her wrist’s nerves in the right place made her drop the weapon and disrupt her defensive rush of mana that was far too slow to defend the girl, which was typical of their age and what he’d observed during their fight with Empress Elinor.

Snatching it out of the air, he more than tripled their speed, a red outline following his movements as he danced between their jabs and swipes.  In one fluid combination and less than five seconds, he’d landed what would have been deathblows against all four of the students, hardly giving them enough time to summon their mana shields.

His arm met an immovable force, the dagger centimeters away from the boy’s throat, still trying to process what had just happened; the Grandmaster had moved at blinding speed to stop his hand with one of his own scabbards, showing a wide grin as the 2nd-years all fell to their butts in the swirl of wind.

“So, you aren’t just talk…  I’d say Grace fits your style well.  I’ve never seen someone with strikes that fluid… not even The Empress.”

Grace dropped the dagger for Astral to catch, tossing him his scabbards, and they both turned to the sitting Raven Empress, showing a half-smile.

Laughter came from the grandmaster.  “Well, Empress, has he passed your test?  If not, I’d hire him for my House before Grandmaster Lilya sinks her claws into him.  Haha!  It’s a different vibe having to compete…  I actually kind of like it.”

The Empress’ emerald eyes narrowed, her posture telling Grace that she was intrigued but cautious.  After a few quiet seconds in the tranquil music of his people, his mistress opened her mouth.  “I’ll allow you to be by my side for now.  I hope you continue to prove your worth, Oracle of Nungal.  Join me.”

---