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Chapter 1779: Unruly Ruffians

Quinlan brought his guests down through the canopy before anyone on the ground could notice.

Wind cushioned each guest onto the broad limbs of an ancient oak overlooking the clearing, steady enough to stand on, and he threaded a current between the leaves that carried every sound from below to their ears as clearly as if they were standing in it.

Jasmine settled beside him and rested her cheek against his shoulder, watching the scene.

Below them, the children were close enough now to pick out faces, and the first thing that registered was the sound of one adult losing a battle she had no chance of winning.

A young woman in white nun’s robes stood in the center of the clearing with her hands on her knees, bent double.

Her glasses had fogged and slipped halfway down her nose, freckles were flushed crimson across both cheeks, and her habit was streaked with so much dirt and grass that the white had become a suggestion.

"Come... back... here...!" she wheezed, reaching toward a dogkin girl who was already twenty meters away and accelerating.

"Catch me if you can, Sister Mira! The pack only follows the strong!" The girl’s ears flattened with glee as she looped the clearing in three seconds, came sprinting past the nun close enough to ruffle her robes, and called "I can’t bow to such a disappointment!" over her shoulder before she was gone again.

"You damned brat...!" Mira keeled over, nearly dying on the spot. "I don’t want you to bow, just listen to your damned caretaker! I’m the adult and you’re the child!"

"Such faulty logic won’t work on me!" distant giggling was the response her grunts received.

"Goddess have mercy..." She braced her hands on her knees and breathed like a woman contemplating a career change.

Then she straightened, pushed her glasses up with the back of her wrist, and turned toward the tree where the elf girl had been sitting a few seconds ago.

The branch was empty.

"...Where did she go?"

A voice drifted down from considerably higher. "You look tired, Sister Mira. You should sit down and drink water. Lots of it."

The elf girl was perched on a branch twenty meters up, bare legs swinging, perfectly at ease, stroking the bark the way someone would pet a cat.

"Wah!" The nun was on the verge of suffering a heart attack.

Sister Mira, the freckled, bespectacled nun Quinlan had snatched off a rooftop during the siege of Greyhaven and dragged across the kingdom to help evacuate orphanages, had been calling him a motherfucker ever since.

Now, as a woman who only ever took care of human children up until a certain overly arrogant and unfairly handsome primordial scumbag brought her over to this accursed town, dealing with non-human kids was a whole new world, a world in which she was stumbling around with great difficulty...

"Come down from there this instant, young lady!" she screamed, though it sounded more pleading than threatening.

"I like it up here." Her pointed ears twitched, listening to something only she could hear. "Also, please lower your voice. You’re disturbing mother nature."

The little girl began petting the tree as if consoling it. "Don’t worry, the loud lady means no harm... She’s just greatly misguided."

"I cannot believe this!" Mira muttered, fixing her glasses for what was clearly not the first time today, "Why won’t you sit lower? What if you break your neck?"

"???" Pure confusion replaced the elf’s expression, looking as if the mere idea of falling off a tree was alien to her.

"Haaah..." Mira gave up on the elf and spun around to find the dwarven boy, only to discover that the spot where he’d been standing was now an empty hole in the dirt.

"The depths are calling to me!" he shouted from below, his excited voice echoing.

"Oh no you don’t!"

She dropped to her knees and plunged both arms in up to her elbows.

Her fingers found a boot and she pulled.

The boot came.

The boy did not.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

She planted her feet and heaved, and the boy heaved right back.

"Unhand me, wench! I’m done living under the oppressive sun!"

The earth widened as he burrowed deeper with the stubborn efficiency of someone who was very good at this, and Mira’s arms sank to her shoulders.

"You are not... a mole...!" she grunted, cheek pressed to dirt. "You are a child! Children do not live underground!"

A muffled voice rose from below. "Dwarves do!"

"You’re SEVEN!"

The two human children sat on a log nearby, watching with the calm acceptance of being the only ones Sister Mira could actually catch.

"She’s gonna lose," the boy said.

"She always does," the girl confirmed.

"The fresh meat... they’re fun," the boy smirked, watching the nun’s futile efforts.

"Super fun!" the girl cheered, feet dangling even faster with excitement.

In the oak above, nobody spoke.

Myrasyn’s fingers had found Isveth’s at some point during the chase and were gripping hard enough to tremble.

Her eyes moved from the dogkin girl still sprinting laps to the elf in the branches to the dwarven boy’s hole, and each one pulled the same expression deeper across her face.

Alexios hadn’t blinked in a while.

"Holy Son..." Myrasyn whispered, and the question had nothing to do with the game. "What’s going on?"

"Absolute destruction," Quinlan grinned.

"That’s not what I meant!" Myrasyn hissed, pouting. "The races! They’re playing together!"

While ’playing together’ might’ve been a bit of a stretch from a certain point of view considering each kid was doing their own thing, to Myrasyn, it was anything but a stretch.

They were all working together to have fun at the expense of their caretaker.

Such a scene had never been witnessed before. It was world-shattering.

"They’re orphans of Miri Town, taken care of by the volunteer nuns and funded by us," Jasmine explained in Quinlan’s stead seeing how he was content to keep their shell-shocked guests guessing. "The cruel nature of slavery left the non-human kids without parents while the human kids lost theirs to war, slavery, and other misfortune."

"Here she is."

"Our screeching superstar."

Voices drifted from the far side of the clearing.

Two women emerged from the path leading toward the settlement walls, each trailed by a cluster of children who poured from the treeline behind them like a dam had burst.

The first was an elven nun with ears every bit as long as Myrasyn’s and a basket of bread on one hip.

Six children followed her in a loose pack: two elves, one dwarf, a human boy, and two beastkin who spotted the clearing’s dogkin girl and broke into a sprint to join her with matching shrieks.

The second was a wolfkin sister with gray ears pressed flat beneath her wimple, carrying a blanket under one arm and a sack of bottles over the other.

Her group was the largest of the three, a dozen children, mostly human, with two dwarves, two elves, and a bearkin boy mixed in. They marched behind her in a neat line and scattered the instant they reached the clearing.

"Mira, people can hear you from the other side of the continent," the elf sister sighed.

"They just won’t listen!" Mira shouted from the ground, still gripping the dwarf’s boot with both hands. "Help me!"

The elf sighed, set down her basket, and looked up at the elf girl perched twenty meters above with extended arms.

"Come down."

Comments 7

  1. Online Offline
    + 80 -
    1801 Arrogance

    Quinlan held the old king's stare across the frozen basement, Iris still gathered against his side, and neither man had moved since the words 'my duty as king' left Alexios's mouth.

    The frost held with them. It sat over the casks and the stone in a pale crust, the two lantern flames stayed drowned at their blue points, and beneath it all the sealed pillar kept its silence, forgotten by the very audience it had tried courting.

    "You know, Quinlan said at last, "we've spent most of a year trying to kill each other. And in all that time, I felt respect toward you."

    Quinlan's voice stayed level and conversational, which, against the pressure in the room, only made it heavier. "You hunted me with badly lacking information, yet you, proud king of humanity, still played every board to win."

    Alexios's eyes narrowed.

    "But that was when you didn't know what you were looking at. Now we're not talking about a primordial you have little information on, but one of your numerous corrupt vassals. Today, instead of a proud king, all I see is an arrogant man desperately clinging to power."

    '…’ Alexios remained silent for a long moment, then he laughed.

    It came out dry and low and entirely unafraid, rolling around the freezing cellar.

    "Arrogance." He turned the word over and shook his head slowly. "Far be it from me. I'm just a dying old man who wants to leave this world knowing his people are in a better place than where I found them."

    He said it without a drop of self-pity, in the same tone he might use to report troop numbers, a man stating his deadline.

    The winter eased.

    Warmth crept back across the stone, the lantern flames climbed up out of their blue and filled the cellar with moving yellow light, and the mass went out of the dark.

    Quinlan tilted his head, "Then talk."

    "Think past the blood for one moment." Alexios flexed his sword hand open and closed, working feeling back into the fingers. "Say I stand aside. Say I let the Primordial Villain roam my kingdom meting out personal justice on whichever noble house he judges filthy. Whatever control the crown still holds dies alongside them, and every house with the means starts preparing for the day you decide it's time to ‘judge them.’ And you.."

    He looked Quinlan right in the eyes.

    "You become the wrathful tyrant. Oh, the commoners will adore you. A monster who butchers nobles, justified or not, is a folk hero by dinnertime. But powerful men will fear you, and what powerful men fear, they scheme against, and they won't scheme with armies. Not against you who just eats them all up.”

    His voice dropped lower. "You heard the same testimony I did tonight. Somebody seems to have rented the Covenant's name for one night of cruelty, because nobody audits the Covenant and nobody avenges its victims. Make yourself the continent's dreaded executioner, and your name will be rented a hundred times over. Every lord who wants a rival's house burned will burn it himself and whisper 'the villain's justice' over the ashes."

    Against Quinlan's side, Iris went very still, her stare dropping to the chain doubled around her fist, split knuckles whitening over the iron.

    A rented name...

    In another world, where things played out differently, she could've been hunting him instead of the Covenant.

    "Let them hate me, or falsely accuse me." Quinlan waved it off.

    "They'll fall in line soon enough, or the world will leave them behind."

    "Leave them behind..." Alexios repeated the words the way he examined captured maps, from several angles, hunting the trap. "Tell me, Quinlan. When you imagine the world that comes after all of this, what does it look like?"

    "I'm not giving you a political speech in a basement at night."

    "Indulge a dying man."

    "Hah.. Quinlan exhaled through his nose, and a corner of his mouth admitted defeat. "Fine. One thing. The one thing this continent keeps teaching me no matter which corner of it Idig up. Power that gets handed down long enough stops being earned, and anything that stops being earned rots. When a man receives everything from birth, land, title, armies, without ever having to achieve a single thing in his life.."

    He glanced at the frozen undead.

    "…you get the kind of sick men who buy a child and let terrible things be done to them without blinking."

    Silence answered him for a while.

    Alexios stood with the lantern light moving on his face, and the pause ran one beat too long, then several more.

    Quinlan had aimed those words at nobles in general, but watching the old king's expression, he realized they'd struck his house perfectly as well.

    Alexios Valorian was a dying man with a crown that would pass the way crowns always passed, to children born holding one. Both princes were seen as pushovers, lacking the old king's charisma, intellect, strength - everything. They would not be able to fill the shoes he left behind, not one bit.

    The Princesses weren't much better either. One was wed to Duskmere Dukedom for political leverage, one belonged to the Goddess's church far more than to her father. The other had jumped through a portal and chosen the villain's family over her own palace.

    His own children were the one battlefield the old king was clearly going to lose.

    Quinlan could have pressed the wound. Instead, he let him have the silence. Kings were entitled to a few seconds of their own.

    "You're right, Alexios said at last, "You are more right than you know. I've sat above that rot for almost a thousand years. I've watched houses I knighted myself thicken into things their founders would have put to the sword.”

    His chin lifted. "You've diagnosed the disease correctly, but it's your medicine that kills the patient. Tear the pillars down with nothing built to replace them, and it won't be dukes starving in the rubble, it will be the millions of small people who plant and haul and pay taxes to whoever owns the road they walk on. Order is a poor, ugly, corrupt thing, and it is still gentler than its absence."

    He exhaled tiredly. "I don't have the years left to rebuild what you would raze in a weekend."

    "So what do you propose?" Quinlan asked coldly.
    Alexios squared himself. "A royal warrant. The crown opens the Ravenclaw investigation formally. My archives, their ledgers, every record they believe is buried, all of it under law and in the open. And if the trail truly ends where you believe it ends..."

    However, Quinlan wasn't in agreement. "I'm sorry, old friend, but I can't trust your men to investigate properly. These are the kind of people who'd call the nation just and prosperous when the lands fester with criminal syndicates powerful enough to rival ducal houses."

    "Are you two done?"

    Iris's voice cut through the cellar, scraped raw by screaming at a skull for a long time.

    She had pulled out of Quinlan's hold, and neither man had caught the moment she did it.

    "Kingdoms, tyrants, the future of the continent." Her hands tightened into trembling fists. "You've been posturing in a freezer carving up my revenge like it's loot. My family. My brother: My revenge. Neither of you gets to decide what happens to the scum who did this. Warrant or massacre, I don't give a shit what paper it's wrapped in."

    She looked them both in the eye, one after the other, for a long passing second.

    "They're mine and mine alone."

    Nobody spoke for a moment, then Quinlan's tension depleted from one second to the next, replaced by a big grin.

    "This old f#cker certainly knows how to rile me up. My apologies. I didn't mean to belittle you, Iris."

    "You're one to talk..." Alexios grumbled, but Iris didn't hear it.

    Her gaze remained on Quinlan, their eyes latched onto each other's, until Iris spoke again.
    "Quinlan... You've done so much for me I can't even put it into words-"

    She wasn't allowed to finish, for Quinlan interrupted, his amusement gone. "You're not about to apologize to me, are you? It's your revenge, your justice, no matter how emotionally invested I might be. I merely hope to be there to see the end of it."

    "..." It was Iris's turn to turn silent for a long second, mulling over his words. Then, a brilliantly unhinged, bewitchingly gorgeous, murderous smile greeted his words. "That... is my hope as well. Together..."

    "Together, Quinlan nodded, feeling an irresistible urge to hug this amazing woman. But Iris was already a step ahead, stepping into his embrace and looking up. "Thank you... for everything. Without you... I'd.."

    This time, Quinlan didn't chitchat, merely returning the hug with full force.

    Iris allowed herself a few seconds of it, fierce and wordless, her forehead pressed into his chest.

    Then she reached her limit and moved to pull back.

    She didn't move an inch.

    "Let go."

    "No." Quinlan's chin settled on top of her head.

    "The moment isn't over."

    "It's over. It's been over." Her palms pushed against his chest, the same palms that had cracked a frost monolith tonight. "You clingy bastard... Go hug the slit-eyed slut."

    "Khm..." Alexios coughed into his palm, and Quinlan's head turned toward the king, unimpressed.

    "Do you need a cough medicine, old man?"

    "What I need is for you to release her before she reaches for that chain.”

    Quinlan's arms loosened with zero remorse, and Iris tore herself free, planted a full step of distance between them, and glared at Quinlan with dangerous eyes.

    But she couldn't hold it any longer than a few seconds, and looked away.

    Alexios then turned to face Iris fully.
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  2. Online Offline
    + 50 -
    1799 Despair

    Quinlan led Alexios down the basement stairs, and the cold reached them before the light did.

    A short corridor waited at the bottom, plain oak doors on either side, storerooms and root cellars and an iron-banded pantry. Every door matched the stone, sturdy and unremarkable.

    Except one.

    It was lacquered a deep, glossy red, gilded vines curling up its frame, and Alexios could swear he saw the silhouette of three furry tails embedded into the red.

    Somebody had clearly loved decorating it.

    Alexios slowed. He looked at the door, then at Quinlan.

    "What do you keep in there?"

    "What do you think?"

    The king studied the crimson lacquer for a moment. A vault. A reliquary. Some indulgence of the ladies, jewelry, silks...

    "A treasury," he decided. "For the women's finery."

    "What an old-school romantic man you are. Morgana is truly wasted on you."

    "...told you many times to stop badmouthing-"

    "-your damned wife?" Quinlan finished for him.

    Alexios's eyes narrowed. He didn't like being quoted like this. "What is this room then?"

    "My sex dungeon."

    "..." Alexios walked faster.

    Then Iris's voice reached them from the cellar proper, and every trace of humor died where they stood.

    The cellar opened out past the corridor, long and low, older stone than the halls above, lit by two lanterns whose flames leaned with the draft.

    In the cleared space at the center, upright on its sled of packed earth, stood the monolith of layered frost that held the last lord of the Covenant of Eternity.

    And in front of it, dark iron chain wrapped twice around her fist, stood Iris.

    She'd been down here since before the rest of them visited Nyxara in the soul realm.

    Her voice had the fray to prove it.

    "Your lords are banished to true death, creature. Your armies are ash. There's nobody left to protect and nobody coming to dig you out, so say the name."

    Gorthrax's voice rolled out of the skull, warm and unhurried, still savoring the same conversation he'd been having with the red-eyed woman all evening.

    "Child. That makes eleven. One more and we reach a dozen, and I do love a round number, so by all means, ask again. The answer remains that I do not know. No agent of ours was ever sent, never to a barony. Truth be told, I started rooting for you somewhere around question eight. Imagine if all that swearing was for nothing. Tragic. Fascinating."

    The chain creaked in her grip.

    Quinlan stopped where the corridor met the cellar, leaned his shoulder against the cold stone, and said nothing. Beside him, the king went equally still.

    Of all the women at Quinlan's side, the black-haired swordswoman was the one Alexios knew best.

    Iris Ravenclaw. One thousand gold, alive only. He'd signed that bounty almost a year ago, after the Geim Roots went missing from the kingdom's outpost with her being suspected of foul play as the investigation found proof of her leaving the battlefield alive and healthy.

    All that was before the world ever heard the name Quinlan Elysiar, meaning he'd been hunting this girl longer than he'd been hunting the villain.

    Somewhere along the way, his wanted deserter had become the jailer of the oldest undead monster known in Iskaris.

    Neither man announced himself. Iris didn't turn. Every thread of her attention was nailed to the skull in the ice.

    Iris's voice came low and worn. "Then explain the collectors. They told my father his debt had been bought. They told him it belonged to the Covenant of Eternity now. He repeated those words until the day I killed him."

    "And that is the wall your ladder has been leaning against all these years, little girl.”

    The light in the sockets banked, patient.

    "We are researchers. We study the dark arts, we grow our hordes, and we think in spans your kind doesn't live long enough to imagine. A moneylender's ledger..." The rattle again, genuinely entertained. "I once misplaced an entire library for four hundred years, and noticed only when a wing of my crypt collapsed. Your family's debt wouldn't have bought its candles."

    "Many small lands together-"

    "Ah, you misunderstand me." The dry rattle that passed for his laugh scraped around the cellar. "I'm telling you there was nothing in that house we could have wanted. Land? We lived under it back then, it wasn't yet our time to surface, and even if it had been... why raise a ruckus over a patch so tiny it couldn't house half my horde standing shoulder to shoulder? Nonsense."

    Iris's stare didn't move off the skull.

    "Coin?" The glow in its sockets rolled, the closest a skull could come to waving a hand. "We dangle the Ritual of Immortality in front of dying old men and women with far more riches than your family ever saw, and they sign away everything they own for a chance at lichdom. And the boy. The brother you keep growling about..."

    The light didn't even flicker. That was the worst part. There was no cruelty in it at all, only the mild, bottomless indifference of a scholar doing arithmetic.

    "What would my kind possibly do with a little boy? I've raised a few, you know. Curiosity, mostly, and one lost wager. A child that small can't even hold a sword right once it rises. It shambles three steps, drops the blade, and rots. Worthless stock. If an agent of mine had spent gold on that, I'd have turned him into a thrall for the embarrassment alone."

    For one full breath, the cellar was silent.

    Then the image arrived, and Iris couldn't stop it.

    Damian. Small and grey and wrong, dragging a blade he couldn't lift through the dark of somebody's crypt, dropping it, picking it up. dropping it again, forever. Her brother, who had walked toward the men at the door so they wouldn't take her instead, shambling Rotting. A line item in a monster's arithmetic, appraised and priced and thrown away in the same sentence.
    The last thread of her control tore straight down the middle.

    "You..." The word came out broken. The next ones came out screaming. "You!"

    "Yes?" There was zero fear in Gorthrax's voice.

    The chain-wrapped fist hit the casing.

    *CRACK!*

    Frost shards sprayed, and the monolith rocked on its sled. She hit it again, and again, iron and knuckles and everything behind them.

    Each blow landed with the full weight of a class built from suffering.

    Her power ate pain and paid it back with interest, and she was feeding it with both hands.

    "He was a little baby, you rotten sack of bones! He couldn't hold a sword because he was a baby!"

    *CRACK!*

    "That's... exactly my point?" the undead asked, confused.

    "I butchered my way up to you!" Another blow. Blood from her split knuckles froze pink against the ice. "Every piece of scum I caught swore the next one up was Covenant, and now you tell me they were all lying?"

    After deserting from the royal army, Iris wandered, searching for clues in hiding, and even after she joined the Vesper Consortium, her quest of vengeance never stopped. Even when she recently left for an adventure with Feng, Felicity, and Lyra, she kept looking.

    The frost over Gorthrax's collarbones spiderwebbed, and the skull watched her split her own knuckles against his prison with open, glowing fascination.

    "Oh, marvelous. It's feeding, isn't it? I can hear it drinking. Your parents did a terrific job turning you into such a strong warrior. Then
    'he’ enhanced you even further, correct? I dissected many Child of Agony wielders in my time, yet none had abilities quite like yours. Tell me, child, does the pain pool at the core of your class, or does it-"

    "I hate this." She wasn't talking to him anymore.

    The blows kept falling, wilder now, ragged, her breath tearing in and out of her. "I hate you. I hate that you put him in my head like that, I hate my whole miserable life, I hate all of it..."

    A hand settled on her shoulder, steady and warm.

    Iris's head snapped around so fast her vision smeared.

    Quinlan stood there, close enough that she should have heard his heartbeat. Nobody had crossed a room like this without Iris noticing since she was thirteen, the one thing the cage had built into her that never switched off. Yet he had walked down a staircase and across half a cellar, and she'd registered none of it.

    Her chest heaved.

    Her fist stayed cocked in the air, trembling, blood sliding down the chain, and she stared at him with her eyes blown wide, somewhere between distraught and stunned.

    Quinlan didn't say anything. He just held her shoulder and let her find the floor of herself.

    Gorthrax's voice regathered its charm, reaching past her for the audience it actually wanted.

    "Young lord of the dead! There you are.
    Your jailer and I had quite exhausted each other, I'm afraid. We should speak as fellow students of the dead, I know things worth infinitely more than one little barony's..."

    Quinlan looked at him.

    That was all.

    He didn't speak, didn't raise a hand.

    But the look that crossed the cellar was the kind of thing that had no business in a living face.

    The oldest recorded monster on the continent stopped talking mid-sentence.

    In the sockets, the light shrank to almost nothing
    Then the frost answered its master. It climbed the monolith in silence, over the collarbones, up the vertebrae of the neck, across the jaw, and sealed shut over the skull, swallowing the ember light whole.
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    1. Online Offline
      + 60 -
      1800 Dead End

      What remained was a pillar of pale ice with a shadow at its core, and a quiet so complete they could hear the lanterns burn.

      Quinlan turned back to Iris as if nothing had happened at all.

      She was looking up at him. The fury had spent itself and left her hollowed out, and for a long, long moment she just looked, blood dripping off her chain onto the stone.

      Then she let him see it.

      The rage was armor, and everyone in this mansion had seen the armor. What she let surface now, only for Quinlan, was the real thing underneath: fear. Plain, bald, childlike fear, sitting naked on a face that never showed it.

      "He doesn't know." Her voice came out small and stripped. "Every rung said Covenant. I tried so hard, and there's." The words wobbled, and she forced them level. They wobbled anyway. "There's no f#cking name at the top. It's as if it never existed."

      Her fist finally came down. The chain sagged against her thigh.

      "So what do I kill?" she whispered. "How can I avenge Damian?"

      A whole life aimed like a blade at a single point, and the point had just been subtracted from the world.

      Quinlan felt the size of the hole through the mark on her spine, a cold, weightless lurch across the bond. She was despairing.

      He drew her in against his side, and the untouchable Iris, the feral one, the one who bared her teeth at kindness on principle, pressed her face into his shoulder and let him.

      Across the cellar, Alexios finally left the corridor's mouth.

      The king moved slowly, boots quiet on the stone, and stopped a respectful distance away.

      He looked at the sealed pillar, then at the ruined frost where her fists had landed. His gaze ended on the girl folded into the side of the - now clearly - most dangerous being on the continent. His face went grim, years of certainty rearranging themselves in silence.

      “...Will you tell me the real story?" Alexios asked quietly. "Please."

      Quinlan told him.

      He kept it level and spare. "Ravenclaw. A baron family on the Elvardian border, poor as dirt and proud anyway. Cadet cousins to their duke, for whatever that was ever worth."

      "Her father already owed one lender through proper channels, and repayment was looking grim. So he took a second loan, quietly, from the kind of men who exist for exactly that moment, and sank it into rebuilding the roads that linked his land to the nearest city. He gambled on trade coming and lost."

      Alexios's brow lowered by a degree. He said nothing yet.

      "Then one day new collectors came to the door, but they were not the lender's men. They said the debt had been bought, and they named the Covenant of Eternity, and they took surety for it."

      "Surety," Alexios repeated. The word already sat wrong in his mouth.

      "Her big brother" Quinlan's tone didn't move. "He was a toddler, yet he stepped in front of his little sister so they'd take him instead, and they did."

      Quinlan didn't need to add extra details, such as how what came back to the family afterward was buried in a box the size of a small dog.

      Iris's hand closed slowly around a fistful of his shirt. She didn't lift her face. She let every word pass without correction, and Alexios noticed that too, and did not ask the primordial how he came to know any of it. The answer was standing inside the man's arm.

      "The baron petitioned his duke for justice. Ravenshade told him they would look into it."

      A pause, thin as a knife.

      "Nobody looked into anything, After that the family came apart in ways I won't list."

      Alexios stood very still, extremely grim, before he nodded, accepting the brief explanation.

      The lantern light moved on his face while he paged backward through his own reign, and Quinlan watched the exact second the record surfaced, because the king's eyes went dark.

      "Ravenclaw." The word came out toneless. "The barony reverted to Ravenshade due to the dissolution of the line with owed debts cited as cause. This one I didn't even need to sign as my dukes do not require my permission to administer their vassals." The dejection in his eyes settled all the way down to the bone. "But I can tell you that nowhere in that paragraph was there a child."

      "With this foul thing's testimony, the only question left is what role Ravenshade played. Lucky outsiders who received a barony with freshly built roads, or.." Quinlan muttered, and his voice wasn't doubtful.

      The king took it standing, spine straight, one more potentially filthy deed in his kingdom settling onto the pile beside the rest of them.

      "Iris Ravenclaw." He addressed her directly, iron and ash in equal measure. "If the trail truly ends at Ravenshade, if that house bought your family's debt and sent those men and buried it, then the crown will give back every single thing it can reach. Pardon. The bounty burned. Your line restored, your barony returned, your brother's name entered in the record the kingdom keeps. Everything!"

      Iris lifted her face from Quinlan's shoulder.

      She looked at the King of Vraven with wet, red-rimmed eyes and an expression that didn't look relieved of even an iota of pain.

      It was Quinlan who answered, quietly, over the top of her head.

      "Keep your investigations and pardons, old friend."

      The temperature fell.

      The warmth left the cellar all at once, confiscated, and frost tore outward across the floor from where the primordial stood, white crystals unrolling over the stone faster than a man could sprint.

      The wine inside the nearest casks froze hard enough to split their oak with a crack like snapping bone, and Alexios's next breath crystallized before it cleared his lips, coming down as a small, private snowfall.

      "I’ll do the research myself, the Primordial Villain announced.”

      Both lantern flames shrank to drowning blue points. The dark that flooded in behind them had mass, a pressure that leaned on the eardrums and sat against the backs of the eyes, and every ounce of it was aimed at the king.

      The sealed pillar moaned as ice packed itself over the dead lord in layer after uninvited layer, compressing over and over again.

      Every battlefield instinct Alexios owned came back from the room with the same report: a terrible monster stood before him.

      But the old king did not buckle. A slow breath hissed out through his teeth as he held his ground.

      "And if it turns out Ravenshade was involved..."

      Quinlan watched the king over Iris's head, and the theater was gone, the grin, the jokes, the lazy shoulder propped against old stone, all of it folded away like a stage set between acts.

      What regarded Alexios out of that familiar face was the winter itself, and it was calm. Fury could have been waited out, fury burns through its fuel and gutters, but this calm had nothing to exhaust.

      And through the whole of it, the arm around Iris stayed warm. The frost had claimed every surface in the basement by now yet it stopped dead in a clean curved line a hand's width from her body.

      The rest arrived at a murmur, the buried shadow in the ice all straining toward the same few words.

      "I'll butcher them all."

      He was telling the King of Vraven, to his face, inside his own borders, that he would slaughter one of the crown's ducal houses, and it had come out as a forecast, winter naming its arrival date, with nothing required of anyone present but acceptance.

      What Alexios did not know was that Iris's tragedy was deeply, deeply personal to Quinlan. He had lived through it himself, seen what she saw, felt what she felt, and never forgotten the terror forced on such a young and innocent soul.

      Through it all, Alexios Valorian, to the eternal credit of whatever made him, did not step back even if the muscles of his neck stood like cables.

      The wry old man was gone. What stood in his place was the thing his soldiers followed into dead ends and darkness, the strongest living human on the continent, planted on his own two feet in a grave that hadn't closed, meeting the menace eye to eye because kings did not get to look away.

      "I won't allow you to massacre my dukes, even if they're the worst criminals in the world. That is my duty as king."
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  3. Online Offline
    + 50 -
    1797 Scattering Girls

    Quinlan stepped back into the moonlit room, and the seam of pale light sealed shut behind him.

    The mansion hadn't changed while they were gone. Puddles of melted ice still caught the light across the stone floor. Elder Chizuru slumped against the far wall, Hozumi still struggling for his life. Kaede remained in the corner, her breathing shallow, her eyes on nothing.

    "Quin!!" Jasmine bounced on her toes, far too dutiful.

    Quinlan smiled at her and let [Warp Gate] hum to life in his open palm. A vertical doorway of warped air stabilized in the center of the room.

    "Anyone heading to Miri Town, now's the time."

    "Love you!" Jasmine tip-toed, leaving a big smooch on his cheek, and was moving before the gate finished forming.

    Lucille followed close behind, catching his hand as she passed. "I’Il check on Mavena and spend some time with her. Don't get too carried away while I'm gone..." she mused with a big grin.

    "Carried away? Why would I do that?"

    "Oh, I don't know... Maybe we just learned some earth-shattering news and my primordial lover isn't one to sit still for long? Especially now that he has a friend. You boys behave, alright?" she kissed him and left before either man could even respond to her terribly inaccurate statements.

    Aurora walked in after them with no fantare, already pulling her hair up. "Guess I'll help you a bit, Jasmine."

    The gate winked shut.

    "Master, Blossom wants to see Rosie!!" Blossom's tail was already going.

    "She's probably still terrorizing the elves and the little ladies in the garden, though I imagine you already know perfectly well where they are." He scratched behind her ear as she nodded fervently. "Have fun."

    The blur of blonde hair and golden tail was out the door before the words finished leaving his mouth.

    "I'm taking the biggest bath in this mansion,” Kitsara announced to nobody in particular, stretching until her spine popped. Her tails swished behind her as she sauntered toward the corridor. "If anyone needs me in the meantime... Go talk to one of the more responsible girls."

    On her way out, she grabbed Vex by the hand and began dragging her away. "Come, Vexie. Us demon chicks need to have a strategy meeting."

    "What kind..?" Vex asked, already purring with a strong suspicion.

    "With our new bodies, a lot of possibilities opened up, right-?"

    A pair of red, yandere eyes lit up. "Hmm... Fine. Let's discuss. We have to ensure everything is perfect for the first time..."

    Myrasyn and Isveth were glancing at Quinlan with big, hopeful eyes..

    "I’Il need some time to get things in order before we head out," Quinlan muttered. "It'd be my honor to host you for the night."

    "!!" Both elves seemed exhilarated to hear that.
    Then, Myrasyn's gaze drifted to the tall windows. Outside, Rosie's tree rose massive and silver in the garden below, its branches sprawling wide enough to shade half the grounds, pale light pooling high in the canopy. Her eyes lit up.

    Isveth followed her queen's stare and clasped her hands together. "Is that where the little one plays?"

    "Yep. She has five elven handmaidens, they must have a lot of stories to tell you two." Quinlan grinned. "Also, don't let Rosie run all over
    you..."

    Just one look at the pair of turbo excited women was enough to tell Quinlan that they'd basically do whatever Rosie wanted them to.

    ‘She gets whatever she wants, huh…’

    Myrasyn's long ears were twitching helplessly.
    "Come, Isveth!"

    Isveth bowed to Quinlan and hurried after the queen, both elves disappearing down the hall, all thought of politics forgotten in favor of a little girl and a very large tree.

    Near the doorway, Kaelira and Seraphiel had drifted into the kind of animated whisper that only two elven women planning a trip could produce.

    Kaelira's violet eyes were sparkling. "The royal dwarven smithy... Their forges... If even half of what I've read about them is real..."

    "Mm, very practical.” Seraphiel nodded along, blonde hair swaying. "I want to see the boutiques. The elven capital is famous for their sense of fashion... And now that we have enough money laying around..." The bombshell elf's lips turned upwards. "It's finally time for me to go on a splurging spree~"

    Then she clasped her hands together with a dreamy exhale. "And the forests... they say the scenery is out of this world... Taking Quin on a walk there... And then~"

    "And then?"

    "Well..."

    They wandered off still detailing all they wanted to do.

    In the adjacent corridor, Serika's voice carried warm and effortless as she waved the Scarlet Lilies forward. "Come on, ladies. Let's get you settled in. I'm sure you're hungry after all that happened today."

    Scar walked beside her. “They're used to going without food after days of constant fighting."

    "Oi, little one" Bronnya wasn't of the same opinion. "Just because you don't need to eat doesn't mean you should punish the rest of us!"

    "What she said..." Void, for once, agreed with the tanker, pouting strong, "And while you're at it, redhead with mesmerizing green eyes and amazingly tanned skin I'm not one bit jealous of-"

    "My name is Serika"

    "Yes, you.. While you're feeding the ogres, you could tell me what happened in there..."

    "Nice try"

    "Please?"

    "No."

    "Tch... I'm no longer jealous of your skin."

    “Okay?" Serika chuckled, finding this unhinged bitch really amusing.

    Elisabeth had been edging toward the exit since before the gate opened. "I should return to the Church. There are duties that require my presence, and I cannot simply..."

    A soul soldier stepped in the doorway and bowed to the Dawn Breaker with practiced formality. "A room has been prepared on the second floor for you at Lady Lucille's request."

    Elisabeth stopped. Her expression carried every objection in the world, and the necromantic soldier's calm hospitality sank every last one.

    "No, I can't..."

    "I understand," the summon nodded.

    But then the woman's eyes found Quinlan, who was currently busy staring at his girls' retreating backs... and lower halves... with far too infuriating of a grin.

    "... I... Don't... Haaah... One night," she said stiffly, and followed the soldier without looking back.

    Two of the mansion's maids approached as the room thinned.

    "My lord, shall we prepare for dinner?"

    "I don't know how many will eat, but yes. Today was a big day, so please go all out. Everyone deserves to feast to their heart's content.
    And also warm the baths for anyone who wants them."

    Both women beamed, having been given the mission to not just take care of their victorious ladies who wrote history today, but also their Lord's first real guests. It was a task of paramount importance. Failure wasn't an option.

    They bowed to Quinlan and hurried off with the energy of people who'd been waiting all day for permission to work, despite having worked all day.

    The room settled.

    Quinlan leaned against the wall and let the sounds of his girls' happy chirping wash over him as they left one after the other.

    Ayame hadn't moved.

    Her eyes were on Kaede.

    The younger Fujimori looked up from the corner, and their gazes met.

    Ayame held it, steady and level, and the part of her that used to tremble at the sight of her sister didn't stir for the very first time.

    A big step forward.

    Kaede, however, was anything but steady.
    Read more
    1. Online Offline
      + 50 -
      1798 The Real Big Sis

      Kaede, however, was anything but steady. Her eyes were red, her fingers twisted in her lap, and everything about the way she sat said she was keeping herself upright through stubbornness alone.

      Ayame crossed the room and stopped in front of her. "How do you feel?"

      "…Terrible."

      Ayame's mouth stayed level. She nodded in understanding.

      Losing most of her stats, getting carved apart in the arena, then healed while everyone else interrogated the elders who, as she learned today, were using her as a pawn.

      The toll of all that would've put anyone on the floor. "I can imagine," Ayame nodded.

      Kaede's fingers tangled tighter at that. "Ayame.." She opened her mouth, closed it, and the guilt pressing behind her eyes stayed where it was.

      Ayame turned to the two healer souls stationed on either side of the frail oriental woman. "Take her to a room and put her to bed. Get her something easy to digest, and fresh water"

      They came forward, each taking one of Kade's arms, and the younger Fujimori let herself be hauled upright without resistance.

      But she looked back.

      "Sister.."

      Ayame didn't turn. Kaede waited, and when no answer came she lowered her head and let the healer souls guide her through the doorway.

      The footsteps faded down the hall.

      "You're strong"

      Black Fang's voice came from behind her, flat and unhurried.

      Ayame's hands curled together at her sides. "It's really hard. Even just looking at her without trembling takes all that I have."

      The hard line of Black Fang's mouth eased by a traction, and she stepped closer.

      Ayame didn't wait. She crossed the remaining distance on her own and pressed her face into Black Fang's neck, arms wrapping tight around her waist.

      Unlike the first time, the body she held didn't go rigid. The flinch was gone.

      Black Fang's arms came up and closed around Ayame's shoulders, less stiff than before. She was a fast learner.

      "Even being able to stay in the same room shows great fortitude."

      Black Fang's chin rested above Ayame's head. "If it were me, I would've killed her and moved on."

      Ayame giggled against her chest, and the sound was still a little wet around the edges. She tilted her face up, eyes red but bright. "That's why I'm the actual biggest sister."

      Black Fang raised an eyebrow.

      "You might be older by four hundred years-"

      "Three hundred and eighty; Black Fang corrected instantly.

      "Hehe-" Ayame's giggle deepened, the color coming back into her voice. "Fine, three hundred and eighty, but you didn't have the chance to mature the way people are supposed to. Growing up in terrible circumstances, killing creatures from the age of three, abandoned in a forest..."

      She looked up at the unamused face with warmth that didn't bother being subtle. "One could argue you're still a kid in a woman's body."
      The raised eyebrow flattened into narrowed eyes. Black Fang did not agree with this.

      Not one bit.

      But before she could voice the disagreement, Ayame reached up and placed her palm on top of Black Fang's head.

      "???" Black Fang looked more bewildered by this gesture than anything she'd learned today.

      Ayame, observing the perfect expression she'd not forget for a long time, finished her statement: "So naturally, the real big sister has to be the stronger one."
      Black Fang went still.

      Her gaze traveled upward to where Ayame's hand sat on her hair, then came back down, and the temperature in that stare dropped considerably.

      Ayame removed the hand with alarming speed and grinned wide enough to show teeth.

      Black Fang's expression eased, but barely. "Your logic is faulty. I've had plenty of time to mature despite the circumstances of my early life." The flatness in her tone sharpened. "And are you really the mature big sister if you keep hugging me so emotionally?"

      Ayame waved the observation away like a fly. "Irrelevant."

      "It's anything but."

      "Moving on." Ayame clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels. "How about you tell me some stories? There's so much! still don't know about you."

      Her gaze drifted downward to Black Fang's belly, where the Bloodfather mark lay beneath the fabric, dim and inactive.

      "Starting with."

      The ominous aura that followed was immediate.

      Black Fang's hand came down and caught Ayame under the chin with a single finger, tilting her face back up in a tap that carried more menace than most people could fit into a drawn weapon.

      Ayame met the unamused violet stare with the purest expression of cheek the Fujimori bloodline had ever produced.

      Then she grabbed Black Fang's hand, "Come. Let's talk in my room."

      Quinlan watched the two of them walk away, well, one walking and the other letting herselt be dragged by extreme reluctance, Black Fang's hand still caught in Ayame's grip.

      Watching the beautiful sisterly moment, warmth of fulfillment bloomed in his chest.

      What a gorgeous heart warming scene that was to witness.

      At the last moment, Ayame glanced over her shoulder and found his eyes.

      ‹Don't forget... we'll have to go to Silverwind soon too. We have a lot to do and...>

      A beat. Then, softer, with a bashfulness that crept through the bond like warmth through cold hands, she added:

      ‹You owe me a duel.>

      Quinlan's grin spread slow. He remembered exactly what she was referring to, an old desire of hers she once told him with gorgeous, flustered cheeks.

      <Enjoy bonding with your sister.>

      Her smile sharpened, pure Ayame, mischief and affection tangled past separating, and then the two sisters turned the corner and were gone.

      The corridor went still.

      Footsteps faded in every direction, laughter trailing behind some, comfortable silence behind others, until the only sound left was the faint hum of the mansion settling around the two men who hadn't moved.

      Quinlan turned to find Alexios exactly where he'd been since they stepped out of the soul realm.

      Standing, one hand loose on his sword hilt, staring through the floor.

      "You were rather quiet in there, old friend." He started toward the passage that led deeper into the mansion, and the old king fell into step beside him without protest, "My girls did all the detective work."

      "We're not friends. Banish the thought immediately," Alexios muttered. The objection was so automatic it barely qualified.

      "Eh. Are we not?"

      "No, we aren't. I'm not confident why your wives seem to believe otherwise."

      "Wait, are you a tsundere? At age one thousand? Come on.." Quinlan chuckled, shaking his head.

      "A what? Speak the language of Thalorind."

      "I’ll think about it."

      “..."

      They walked. Light from narrow windows striped the stone floor, and the banter drained away with every step.

      "They were on top of things." Alexios's voice came low, and the dry humor was gone from it.

      Quinlan glanced sideways. The old king's face had gone still in the way it did when everything behind it was running at full speed.

      "Yeah,” Quinlan said, letting the word carry. "My girls are far too amazing, as always. I often find myself wanting to blend into the background just so I can listen to them lead the conversation as I simply marvel at them all."

      "...Can't say I know the feeling," Alexios grumbled, and received a pat on the back.

      "Many lasses out there, old friend."

      "Alexios didn't respond.” His grip shifted on the hilt, and the two of them descended the stairs toward the basement where Iris and Gorthrax were waiting.
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  4. Online Offline
    + 60 -
    1795 Crushing Implications

    Quinlan watched the grey blade go dark in Nyxara's palm, and nobody in the soul realm spoke for a long time.

    Overhead, the stars burned in their uncharted patterns, dense and motionless.

    Pink light pulsed from the tree at the heart of the realm into roots that curled deeper into the soil, and even that faint glow seemed to have dimmed since the blade's last words. The air carried no wind, and the silence that settled over the clearing pressed down on everyone standing in it with a weight that had nothing to do with gravity.

    The implications of what was revealed felt...

    Crippling.

    Alexios's breathing had gone shallow. The old king stood with one hand white-knuckled on his sword hilt, staring at the grass.

    His kingdom, his throne, his wars and treaties and careful rule, all of it had existed inside a cage drawn by someone else's will.

    Ayame hadn't moved. Her composure held, but her gaze had gone distant, already parsing the blade's last words for a thread they could pull.
    The rest of them wore the weight just as heavily.

    Nobody in the clearing had shifted their stance since the blade went silent.

    But at the same time, nobody crumbled either.

    These were the continent's biggest risk-takers, and learning the continent was a cage didn't change what they were.

    But still... Dealing with the revelation that nearly every assumption they'd walked in with had just been unmade... The silence was crushing enough that even Quinlan let it sit longer than he should have.

    He stared at the dead blade in Nyxara's grip, and for a few seconds the sheer enormity of what the wretched thing had said pressed in from every direction: an entire continent under someone's will and a world that would treat the lot of them like insects.

    Then he shut it down.

    *Clap!*

    The sound cracked through the clearing, and every eye snapped to him.

    "Alright. We've learned some heavy information, but so what?" Quinlan smiled, confident, examining his girls one by one. "We've been underdogs all our lives. From the moment you met me, to this very point, there was never a time when we could declare ourselves supreme.”

    Kaelira, Kitsara, Lucille, all of them were listening to him speak with utmost focus. The way he spoke to them was an anchor, plain and simple.

    Quinlan's smile deepened. "We always knew that Iskaris was only the beginning, that there were much stronger beings out there. What we really need to discuss is how to proceed, how to maneuver so we go from 'insects' to beings that no outsider can squash."

    The tension in the clearing shifted, and the faces watching him had traded weight for focus.

    "The Restriction is somebody's will over the continent, and it can be challenged by a so-called ruler" He settled deeper into the throne, one arm still around Nyxara. "That's the part that matters. Everything else is just context."

    His gaze swept the clearing and landed on Alexios.

    "So let's figure out what 'ruler' means and how we proceed."

    "Hubby's right."

    Vex walked toward the throne without hurrying, red eyes sweeping the clearing.

    "The Heavenly Restriction has been sitting here for hundreds of thousands of years. If whoever drew it planned to come back and collect, they'd have done it already." She stopped in front of the throne, considered the lap situation, and chose Quinlan's unoccupied thigh.

    She sat down, shifted until she found a comfortable angle, and pulled Quinlan's free arm around her waist before he could object. Nyxara, nudged aside by the possessive motion, let out a quiet giggle that promised future consequences.

    "The chances of that changing while we're standing here are basically zero," Vex continued. "We have time to figure this out, so let's do exactly that."

    "Easy for you to say." Elisabeth's voice cut in from the side, her stare fixed on Quinlan. "We always knew Iskaris was just the beginning?' Speak for yourself. Some of us just learned the world we lived our entire lives in is a prison. We had no idea that there were stronger beings out there, save for the Goddess."

    Vex's red stare slid to the Dawn Breaker without her head moving.

    "And? Stop taking that tone with my husband, woman. He can't be blamed for your lack of information."

    ".."Elisabeth remained silent for a few seconds before she said, “I'm not blaming anyone, I'm just saying that moving on isn't so easy for everyone."

    "Oh, okay,”Vex nodded along, saintly. "Why don't you hold your father's hand for stability, then?"

    Elisabeth's eyes widened. "What did you just say?"

    “Vex." Quinlan chuckled, and his hand came up to rest on top of Vex's head. His fingers moved through her white hair once, and the Hexwitch's entire posture softened under the touch.

    "Sorry, Hubby." Vex's voice dropped, the edge gone as quickly as it had arrived. She glanced up at him. "I just hate it when these hypocrites keep speaking to you as if you were to blame for everything."

    Elisabeth stared at her, "…Why are you apologizing to him?"

    "I know, I know..." Quinlan sighed at his Hexwitch. "But now more than ever we should try to work together with even the church, no matter how bad they get on our nerves."

    "Hmph.." The Dawn Breaker seemed beyond dissatisfied.

    "Elisabeth Valorian." Quinlan spoke up, and the shift in his tone made the Arch Priestess straighten where she stood.

    "I know full well how you feel. Believe it or not, I was born with even less information and guidance than you were."

    Elisabeth frowned. "What about your mother, Luminara?"

    Quinlan reached up and grabbed his own ear, pulling. "She's my adoptive mother, and I didn't meet her until I reached the second bottleneck. When I first started out, I was a newborn primordial, alone, with zero information about how anything in this world worked. I didn't know what a level meant, or XP, or classes. Nothing."

    "Alone?!" Myrasyn's ears went rigid. Isveth's hand pressed to her chest as though she'd been struck.

    They knew he was an adoptive son as he'd already admitted that much, explaining why he didn't look elven despite being Luminara's child.

    What the elves did not know is how he started out, how Luminara wasn't there from the beginning. He'd found her on his own, after surviving a world that gave him nothing.

    'She must be so sad... Her poor child had to struggle alone without her being there to help him...’ Myrasyn whimpered inwardly, feeling terrible for the First Elf.

    "On day two of my journey, I met my stalwart samurai." Quinlan's gaze drifted to Ayame, warm.

    "Then my amazing dogkin." Blossom's tail wagged hard. "And then the rest, one by one. Together; we figured everything out, piece by piece."

    He observed Elisabeth with none of his usual arrogance or mockery shown toward believers of what he openly called the hypocrite Goddess.

    "Point is, we've all been in the dark at some point." A pause, and his voice lost its edge entirely. "I'm not your enemy, Elisabeth. None of us can afford that anymore. Let's get through this together, shall we?"

    Across the clearing, Lucille caught Jasmine's eye, and the look that passed between them was brief and knowing.

    Their husband was playing the role of a reasonable diplomat perfectly. He realized Elisabeth was struggling to come to terms with her new reality, finding its implications too crushing. Thus, he offered her a new set of information, high enough in its shock value to contend with everything else they learned, but not one bit as ominous.

    Learning this new information about him only served to help the clearing move on, less dreadful of the future.

    And just like that, the clearing shifted.

    Elisabeth's posture loosened by a fraction, and the combative set of her shoulders eased."..I forgive your foul-mouthed girlfriend for her naughty behavior."

    Quinlan grinned and petted Vex once more in response. "Much appreciated."

    "Hehe-" Vex leaned back against Quinlan's chest, tilted her head, and pressed a slow kiss to the side of his neck.

    Then her red stare found Nyxara's across his lap.

    The look that passed between the two women lasted less than a second, but it carried everything.

    Vex's pride was quiet and absolute. She'd played the room's villain on purpose and watched her man walk in as the hero, exactly the way she'd set it up.

    Nyxara's grin spread slow and warm, her ancient eyes dancing with amusement. She said nothing either, but the look she gave the Hexwitch was the closest thing to respect the Primordial Demon of Lust had ever offered her little leech.

    Vex curled into Quinlan's side, and the Hexwitch's work was done.

    "Shall we proceed, then?" Quinlan asked, and all of his guests looked ready to move on.

    "The blade said the domain can be challenged by a ruler's claim." Black Fang wasted no time.
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    1. Online Offline
      + 60 -
      1796 Claim to Rule

      "The blade said the domain can be challenged by a ruler's claim." Black Fang wasted no time.

      "Yes," Seraphiel nodded. "We need to understand what qualifies as such."

      "I'd think people who are on the path to becoming rulers would get notified of their progress," Serika said, looking at Alexios. "Like, you're one third of the way toward becoming the ruler of Iskaris. Do you know anything about that?"

      It wasn't just Quinlan who had a systemic interface in the world of Thalorind - they all had one. It kept note of their levels, XP gains, stats, classes, everything. Serika's point was that Alexios might've received a notification of his progress toward becoming a so-called ruler by being crowned the king of humanity.

      Alexios shook his head.

      "Ive been king of the Vraven Kingdom for almost a thousand years. For all intents and purposes, I am a ruler, yet I've never been told about domains, claims, or anything resembling what that blade described."

      His attention shifted to Myrasyn. "I assume it's the same for you?"

      "Yes. This is the first time I hear about these terms," Myrasyn nodded.

      "What if ruling one people isn't enough?" Ayame spoke up next, observing the elven queen. "Alexios rules humans, his race. You rule elves, your race. The blade said if a new ruler rises and the land answers' The land. Not a kingdom."

      Jasmine straightened, smiling. She was thinking the same thing. "If there should be a notification about progress toward earning the claim of a ruler, cross-racial sovereignty could be the key"

      "Hmm.." Kaelira pondered, stroking her chin. "A king who rules his own race isn't a real ruler?"

      "Possibly, Seraphiel nodded. "Legally, he is a king, a ruler. But we're not talking about manmade legality here, but what the system governing Thalorind would consider a ruler. Being born into the right family and inheriting your father's throne might not give you progression toward being a claimant."

      "For all intents and purposes," Lucille smiled at the king, "Alexios is just a tribal leader on a nice chair, claiming no non-human lands as his own, accepted by no non-humans as their sovereign."

      Alexios's eye twitched.

      "No offense, Your Majesty-" She didn't mean it at all.

      "Quinlan?" Black Fang only spoke his name, yet everyone understood what she meant.

      "That's right..." Serika straightened, brow furrowed. "If that's the bar, then Quin clears it. Myrasyn knelt to him. He rules the elves.
      Shouldn't he have this progress thing already?"

      Jasmine gently shook her head. "Not necessarily. He has elven people who love and embrace him, people who follow him, and people who'd die for him"

      She met Quinlan's stare, and the warmth coexisted with the assessment.

      "But he doesn't have a state. Myrasyn pledged 'our lands are your lands' on a battlefield, but nothing about elven governance actually changed. There's no formal treaty, no integrated administration, no law connecting him and the elves under one authority. Myrasyn offered her loyalty, but did she really speak for her people?"

      "Hmm.." Myrasyn's ears drooped. "I get where you're going with this... Depending on how you look at it, I wasn't a real queen when I made the pledge. The council ousted me and I haven't visited the capital yet to reinstate the council and myself. The last formal action by the elven council, the last thing ratified and entered into the governmental record, is their vote to declare me a traitor.”

      "Yes.." Jasmine reached out to pat the dejected Queen's shoulder, friendly enough to make the blonde elf have a little smile as she added, "Your word carries weight because people believe in you. But the machinery of state hasn't processed any of it."

      Myrasyn nodded. "So when I knelt and pledged the elven race to Quinlan.."

      "Not the land nor the people heard it," Seraphiel finished. "Because the authority behind the pledge wasn't there at the time you made it.
      Or so we theorize."

      Silence.

      Then Myrasyn straightened.

      The sadness lingered, but resolve rose through it, the resolve to truly and officially bend the knee to the Holy Son so that whatever this damned system was, it also recognized her and her decision.

      When she lifted her chin the queen was back with purpose in her expression.

      "Then we fix it."

      She turned to Quinlan fully. The smile that broke across her face was bright and genuine, the first real energy anyone in the clearing had shown since the blade went silent.

      "I might not technically be the queen of elves right now, but fa like to invite you, Quinlan Elysiar, Son of Luminara, to the elven capital. I reinstate myself and appoint a new council, then transter sovereignty to you from the throne room.." Her ears perked straight up.

      "Then we'll see if the land has something to say about it."

      Quinlan studied the elven queen with her bright eyes and perked ears, and the corner of his mouth lifted.

      "Sounds like a plan."

      Myrasyn's ears twitched with barely contained excitement, and beside her Isveth clasped her hands together with a brightness that had no business appearing on a woman who'd just learned her world was a cage.

      Across the clearing, Seraphiel nudged Kaelira with her elbow, and the smith's violet stare had gone wide. The elven capital... They were definitely going with him.

      Quinlan stood in one smooth motion, which began a small landslide made of two needy women.

      "Kya!" Vex and Nyxara both yelped as his arms caught them, one on each side, holding them until their feet found the grass. Vex landed first, her displeasure immediate. Nyxara took a beat longer, pressing herself into his chest one final time before her heels touched ground.

      Both women stood there pouting up at the man who'd just dumped them off his lap, and the visual was exactly as dignified as it sounded.

      "We have a lot on our agenda.' Quinlan surveyed the clearing, then grinned. "Let's begin."

      The grins that answered his came from every direction.

      He turned to Nyxara last. The shameless lover, the ancient demon, the woman who kept his soul realm alive and decorated the sky and painted Mimi's nails just so the place would feel like home when he visited.

      "Thank you for everything." He kissed her, warm and slow, and Nyxara sank into it with a sound that made Myrasyn turn pink and Isveth look away.

      When he pulled back, her composure was gone.

      "You're leaving again..." The devastation on her face was entirely genuine.

      "Yes."

      "So soon..." She pressed her forehead against his chest, and the words that followed came out small and bare, stripped of every layer of performance and ancient composure. "I'll be watching you.. Every step, every fight, every boring meeting you sit through..." A smile warm against his heart, "I’Il be right here, rooting for my beloved Ruin.."

      Quinlan's hand settled on the back of her head, gentle. He held her there for a moment, then pulled away.

      The assembled group watched the Primordial Demon of Lust reach after him with both hands, her ancient dignity forgotten entirely. The looks they wore ranged from wry familiarity to complete psychological recalibration of what they thought they knew about the peak of power.

      "Bye-bye, everyone!" Mimi cheerily waved at them as one by one, they filed through the seam of pale light that opened at Quinlan's gesture.

      Quinlan walked last.

      His mind was already moving, listing all that was on his agenda. 2

      Visit to the elven capital.

      Dealing with the Fujimori remnants and Silverwind, together with Ayame and Black Fang.

      Alexios, with whom he had a hundred unfinished conversations.

      Iris and the Covenant, the truth of what happened to her people still buried under layers of old cruelty.

      The beastkin and their growing hostility, a front he might not be able to ignore much longer.

      The dwarves, a conquered people with no king and no future unless someone gave them one.

      The Consortium and the question of what place the underworld held in whatever came next.

      Naturally, the never-ending grind for personal might would not stop either, instead only kick into the next gear.

      And there was still...

      So.

      Much.

      More.

      The Primordial Villain stepped through the seam, and the pale light sealed shut behind him.

      He was going to be one very busy man.



      Author: Volume 12, Ascension of the Primordial Villain, is over. Tomorrow, the final arc of the Iskaris Saga, Consolidation of Power begins.

      Thank you for all the support!
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