As it turned out, Thomaz had been so eager by Isana’s suggestion, he’d set up for their breakfast placing in the common dining room rather than their private one. Isana sighed lightly once she found out, but what was done, was done.
She couldn’t be bothered – not when Ophelia showed up practically at the same time she and mother did, entering from the other side. Isana smile widened into a grin, and she practically skipped up to her sister. “Ophelia! Hi.” With light, gentle movements, she set a hand on her little sister’s head, and brushed through her hair. “Glad you could make it,” she whispered. Her tone was heavy with implication, somber yet wistful. “I hope Estelle can join, too.”
Their mother watched on, bemused. As she passed by on her way to her seat, though, she put a hand on each of her daughter’s shoulders, and squeezed reassuringly. “If she doesn’t, I’ll go see how she is.”
However, that wasn’t necessary. Estelle’s maid Edith deposited her in the breakfast room before unceremoniously leaving her to the company of her family. “Estelle…” They’d only ever managed to see each other at that final battle, ever so briefly. As if in a dream, she stood up, and slowly walked to her. “Hi.” She barely managed to brush her shoulder when a whimper alerted them all that something was wrong.
Estelle was the first to approach the person in distress. Isana peered at the girl, and after a moment to place the face to a name, realized with a start that was Sherry. To think that she’d not noticed such a flashy girl before now. Just what had happened to the usual haughty Kaides that she was crying?
Perplexed, Isana joined Ophelia’s side once again. “That’s weird, right?” she whispered to her sister. Shaking her head, she sat down for breakfast – she was hungry, and besides, Estelle was handling whatever was going on with Sherry.
Their mother watched on with clear pride in her eyes at Estelle's kindness. "Giles, please bring something calming for the young lady. A glass of cool water or a cup of chamomile tea might hit the spot. Inform the physician just in case," she called out to one of the servants.
Attire:Banquet fit, a simple princely crown Date and Time: Sola 28th, 6pm Location: The Castle Mention(s): Kilian, Alibeth Interaction(s):@princess Anastasia, @Lava Alckon Farim
The moment Wulfric's hand touched the handle of the beige drawing room, hairs rose on his nape, stopping him mid-motion. It was one of those there-and-gone feelings. A premonition of danger. It was an instinct he knew better than to ignore.
With one hand, he creaked the door open, while his other reached for a hidden dagger.
Nothing.
No one.
It was empty.
Wulfric frowned. He had spent time talking to the servants, yet Anastasia and Farim had not arrived yet. Certainly, they might have lingered in the hall to talk, but…there was that niggling suspicion.
Don’t tell me something happened the moment I stepped foot outside. It was irksome, but just in case, he strolled back to the hall. Before he reached it, he spotted a harried servant departing from that very direction. He stopped the man, who was thin as a reed, pale as a ghost, sandy hair framing wide brown-green eyes. Upon the prince’s prompt, he introduced himself as Andreas.
“What is going on in there?”
“Y-your Highness,” Andreas bowed. “Uh…I’m not sure. Some man brought in a chained woman. I think he spoke to the queen?” He scratched his head. “I didn’t really…khm, I figured maybe it was time to summon back the other guests.” His eyes shifted sideways, and Wulfric guessed he used the opportunity to flee the unknown.
The prince smiled thinly. “Oh, I expect it might be. Before that, however: is there a place I might see what is going on without being spotted?”
“Er-well, if Your Highness doesn’t mind the servants’ passageway…”
“Perfect.”
That said, the prince followed the servant to a seemingly solid part of the wall. At a press of Andreas’ palm upon a part of a pillar’s relief, a soft click echoed. The man slid a panel aside, and led him into a well-lit corridor wide enough for food trolleys to pass through uninhibited.
“Here, Your Highness.” At an intersection, they began to ascend. At the top, the man fiddling with something produced another click, and they emerged behind an archway on the second floor. There wasn’t anything so grand as a balcony, merely a narrow ledge leading to the high windows lining the banquet hall.
So, they were on a cleaning accessway? Fascinating.
From where he was, he had a decent view of the hallway when he peeked from beyond the archway. At the same time, thick curtains obscured him from the view of those below – if anyone even thought to crane their necks that far up.
Wulfric saw the black-coated, white-haired man. The stranger practically oozed killing intent. A bound, gagged, barefoot woman was dragged behind him, leashed on a chain. Like a dog. Or a slave.
The unknown man watched the queen. The queen watched him in turn, calm and expectant.
He recognized this scene, had witnessed it many times before. It was a show being set up. A stage play sprung upon them, trying to force every single person into a predetermined role.
Wulfric exhaled, nostrils flaring. He’d seen enough.
He turned on his heel, and returned through the servants’ corridor to the hallway proper. The sandy-haired servant followed him quietly. “I have one more request, Andreas…” Wulfric beckoned him closer, and imparted his instructions.
“Understood, Your Highness.” The man did not seem particularly enthused about returning to the banquet hall. But then, all he had to do was pass an order to another servant, after which he was free to leave.
The royal strolled to the designated meeting point, an alcove on a hallway leading to the kitchen, and waited. His servant-spy was cautious enough that it took a few minutes for him to arrive. Without a word, the agent in the guise of a middle-aged employee handed him a scrap of parchment. The two new arrivals’ magicae were noted. Too, the servant relayed in whispers what he’d witnessed. Wulfric nodded, and said, “Keep watching. If anything else is needed…you will know.”
The spy bowed, then they went on their ways without another word.
By the time he returned to the beige drawing room, Anastasia had arrived, leading Farim.
“Ah, it seems I am just in time,” he smiled, entering after the two did. He waited until the door was closed before posing his question. “You wished to discuss Callum?” He looked towards his sister and the shahzade, eyebrow arching.
Location: Kaides Estate, 1st floor -> Training hall -> Ground floor Mentions: @Rune_Alchemist@OwO
A dream could not survive for long on a battlefield.
Was it just because she wanted it so badly that the mirage of a happy reunion appeared before her eyes?
It looked as if her sisters were hugging peacefully, smiling –
The vision shattered.
A sword was embedded in Ophelia’s chest.
Her worst nightmare was playing right in front of her eyes. Again.
“NO!”
She sped up her limp, running despite the injured ankle. She threw herself at both sisters, as if her love could somehow aid the dying Ophelia. She sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks, no more words forming. Estelle’s warmth was still there, trying to protect them both.
Alas, it was not to be.
“Isana!” She turned, looking back through tear-soaked eyes. Eustace had half his torso missing. She’d not even got to introduce him to her sisters…
Black and gold intertwined, blinding everything. A blast hit them. It was a force so overwhelming one could not even feel dying. Aura pierced her chest, the chests of her siblings.
Ah…
Would be reuinited in death?
Isana woke up with a start.
Huh.
She wasn’t supposed to be able to wake up. What with being dead and all.
Except she wasn’t.
Her heart was beating, her chest rising with each breath, each exhale brushing her skin. Hey gaze roamed around, taking in the room. Grounding earthen tones with accents of warm beige and forest green, pine furniture, a plush rug, throws and pillows on her bed and couch, materials for study, drawing, and painting stacked on the writing desk, white curtains half-obscuring a view of the gardens, a mirror standing between a dresser and a bookshelf–
She stopped at the sight of herself. It finally hit her, shocking her out of her reverie.
She was back in the Kaides estate. Her past home. She was younger. In her past body.
How?
Why?
Was it real?
As if in a trance, she stood up, approaching the reflective surface. Her fingers trailed across the cool glass. Her hair was longer, a touch more vibrant. Her skin supple and soft, nary an injury in sight. No dirt, no exhaustion, no marks of war and battle.
Nothing.
She closed her eyes, seeking inward. Instead of a coil of Auric power, a single thread lay dormant.
Practically no Aura either, only a sign of what could be.
Then what of her memories? With how crystal clear they were, it had to have happened.
Was this reincarnation? She didn’t think this was how it was supposed to happen, but either way…she was in the past.
The past. In the Kaides estate.
That meant-?!
She burst out of her door, and ran down the hallway.
“My lady!” A butler stopped her. Curly haired with a warm olive complexion and green speckled hazel eyes, Thomaz was an affable sort. Now, he stood there aghast, gaping at Isana, who had rushed out of her room in her night gown. Uncaring of her state of undress, she marched up to him.
“Where – where is everyone?”
“Eh-mm,” he smiled awkwardly. “Your sisters are still in their rooms, far as I know. Lady Crescence is in the training hall,” he recited. “I do not know Lord Kaides’ business,” he shrugged, a hint of amusement creeping in. Who ever knew where her father was at any given moment, really? “I imagine everyone will be getting ready for the Collegem orientation. So should you, my lady,” he quirked an eyebrow. A spark of mischief danced in his eyes, and Isana couldn’t help but smile, struck by familiarity and affection.
“Ah…I will. I just–” she sighed. “I need to clear my head first. I want to see everyone. Can you arrange breakfast for us all, and call when it’s ready? I don’t want to bother my sisters if they’re sleeping, but...I do need to see them. To make sure–” she swallowed, “that they’re really here.”
Concern shone in those multi-coloured irises of his. “Bad dream, my lady?”
Isana nodded. “I thought…we were all gone.”
She stared off into the distance as memories assaulted her.
They had died. Her family, her friends, all of humanity.
Gone.
. . .
Never again.
Expression sobering, she squared her shoulders, cold resolve ingrained in each fiber of her being. “I’m glad,” she said, but it wasn’t soft. It was fierce and sure. A promise.
Because Thomaz was giving her such a strange look, she waved a hand as if to allay his worries, and darted back to her room. “I’m fetching mother,” she called over her shoulder.
She dressed herself in a simple tunic and leggings. She didn’t mind putting on something more formal later, but for now, this would suffice.
Smiling faintly, she strolled to the window. One of the interesting facts about the estate’s design was that her window was right above the training hall’s. In her youth, she’d often go out here, using the ledges to descend to the garden. This time, she dropped a floor down, and knocked on the glass while clinging to the ground floor window of the training hall.
Her mother noticed – how could she not? She rushed over, and opened the window. “Isana!” she greeted her, a surprised laugh escaping her. “What are you doing?” Isana found herself held around the waist, pulled indoors, and twirled around. “You haven’t done this since you were ten.” Crescence ruffled her hair affectionally, and Isana soaked in the love, clinging onto her living mother.
“Just here for a quick spar. Let’s go eat right after!”
Her mother huffed. “Alright, alright,” she shook her head. Isana could see she was perplexed, but she knew her mother was too happy to see her act more openly to question anything.
Half an hour passed quickly: stretching, sparring, wiping down sweat, and they were already on their way to the breakfast room. Isana was practically pulling her mother by her hand on their way back upstairs. Her sisters had to be awake by now, surely!
Attire:Banquet fit, a simple princely crown Date and Time: Sola 28th, 6pm Location: Castle dining hall Mention(s): Cassius, Charlotte, Violet, Liliane, Calbert, Fritz, Mina, Morrigan, Hala & Nadim, Nahir, Kira, Stratya, Farim Interaction(s):@princess Alibeth, Edin, Anastasia, @ReusableSword Roman, @FunnyGuy Lorenzo, Alexander @Helo Callum
Unfortunately, his idea of a duel did not bear fruit. Cassius left to check up on Charlotte, while Ravenwood claimed he was no proficient with a blade. Wulfric scoffed lightly. “I know you are a warrior as well, Lord Ravenwood, though whether you ever choose to duel or not is up to you.”
More and more nobles were leaving, like animals fleeing when sensing impending disaster. Was it just the tension from all the arguments, or was there something more…?
His gaze scanned the ballroom, cool and assessing.
Violet and her mother were next to leave, though that was solely due to Ravenwood’s actions. Meanwhile, Calbert had that trademark all-knowing, smug smirk of his. The kind he tended to wear when he thought he’d already figured everything out, and believed all would go according to his plans.
Ah, well. Calbert and Ravenwood would hopefully sort it out without need of his intervention.
Deacon finally showed a hint of his true self with that denigrating look of his. Oh, he'd pay for it. He'd timed his words and demeanor well; just in time for Lorenzo's outburst continued, who he dared to speak up against him. “You forget yourself, Duke.” The blue-gray of his eyes were like a flash of lightning striking Lorenzo’s. Wulfric was so, so very close to calling the guards on him, but…He was curious to learn what he wanted with Alexander. A helpful servant could fill him in later on, perhaps.
“I suppose you can be thankful cutting out tongues is considered passé.” His gaze firmly settled back on Alexander, his tone was casual as ever. He flicked his hand, effectively dismissing both men.
Soon after their departure, Charlotte followed, then Fritz as well as Cassius. Meanwhile, Mina was urging Roman to accompany her for a private conversation.
Callum too informed him of his intention to depart. “You might as well. It is not as if there are many people left to make conversation with.” He tracked his brother’s figure even as he left. His gaze landed on Morrigan. Who are you? she had asked her brother. Not what is going on or what had happened. Wulfric had only considered the latter, but now new possibilities bloomed in his mind. Could it be an impersonator? A body double? Magical manipulation? Possession? There were so many options…
The queen’s gaze betrayed her, if only to someone who knew her as well as he did – she was picking out the witch hunters she’d hired. He suspected they both sensed the strangeness in the air, and were readying for potential trouble. Too, she had agreed Kalliope must be spoken to, to which all he said was, “Indeed.”
Edin contributed to the conversation with a most insensible suggestion. “I believe they left for their own reasons.”
CRASH!
Wulfric blinked slowly as he observed Hala’s dog charging onto the table, then running straight at Nahir. He hid a tiny flicker of amusement behind his wine-glass; it was a bit funny, he had to admit. Even so, he was aware the gentlemanly thing to do was to offer assistance. Since Kira and Stratya appeared to have it in hand, he merely beckoned a servant. He directed the employee to inquire with the Shehzadi and Lady Kira if they wished guidance to a room or help with freshening up.
Anastasia stood up abruptly. Peripherally, he noticed she was staring at Callum’s departing figure. He raised a brow as she slid into their brother’s empty seat. “I was observing the most recent highlight of this banquet,” he stated with a pointed glance to where a dog had run over all over a table. He leaned next to Anastasia’s ear, and whispered with a smirk, “Do you think his owner did it on purpose?”
He leaned back, taking a look at her suitor. “You did not abandon Shahzade Farim just to ask me how I am, did you?” The man seemed expectant, as if he wished to join them. “Since so many people have taken their leave, why do we not find a room for our conversation, as well?” He suggested. “If you agree, feel free to lead Shahzade Farim to the beige drawing room. I will join you in a moment.”
He stood up, and bowed to his parents. “Your Majesties. I will be available if you have need of me.”
That said, he approached a few servants and guards who stood at the sidelines of the hall. He tasked them with watching out for those within the hall as well as those who had wandered elsewhere. Whether the guests would need to be ushered back to the hall, protected and evacuated, or dismissed at the conclusion of the banquet, it would all be taken care of. As he made his rounds, one of the servants – a spy he had tasked with observing the invitees’ magicae – covertly handed him a scroll with his notes. Wulfric did not so much as react, merely put the message aside. On his way out of the hall, another servant approached him with a different missive, one from Ravenwood.
It was not until he withdrew into a private room that he unrolled the spy’s sheet of parchment, and scanned the names with their recorded auras.
Callum…
Something truly was wrong with him. Exhaling, he secreted the list away, and departed for the beige drawing room, where he expected to find Anastasia and Farim.
Now more bloodied, more banged up, but still willing to fight.
At least, until…
“THE SHIPS!”
It spread like wildfire, no one the wiser where the first spark had been ignited.
The adventuring party watched in confusion as one of the main paths whose flank they’d been protecting turned into a mess. A retreat was called, but it was a chaos of bodies turning, limbs squeezing, not in sync at all. The frontline was the rear-line, and nothing made sense anymore.
“What–” Eustace swallowed.
“the hell,” Isana filled in, full of disbelief.
“FUCK!” A thud from a fist punching a wall cracked through the air. Raoul’s outburst was enough to snap them out of their daze.
Mary’s nostrils flared as she glared at the monsters and demons who were gleefully taking advantage of their disordered troops. “Let's cut them down.”
The four looked at each other, agreeing on their course of action with a single glance.
They advanced into the rear: Eustace and Raoul headed right into the thick of it. Mary, the precise slayer even with how worn out she was. And Isana? She weaved in and out of alleys to strike when least expected, then back out to recover as well as confuse the enemy.
It was grueling, never-ending, and pointless. What to fight for now that the ships were gone?
Yet fight they did.
Martenos Kaides’s appearance revitalized some.
All she could think was, Father…just what happened out there?
Out of nowhere, the force of a dying star appeared, rending all in its wake.
“Isa!” She was pushed into the alley by Eustace. The only reason she survived, she was sure.
Colours and shapes blurred, her heart hammered irregularly, painful intermittent clenches sending fresh spikes of agony throughout her even as her whole body seized up in shock.
“Isana!”
She felt cool touch on her cheeks. Leaned into it, opened her eyes, Eustace’s face in front of her.
“Ye-yeah…I-I’m…” she stood up, pupils blown wide, gaze darting around wildly. She forced herself to breathe.
This wasn’t the time. She could get them killed, damn it!
Hands trembling, she nonetheless slashed through an advancing goblin who’d thought it could strike them down.
“Okay now,” she said, tremors almost gone. She met his gaze. “Thanks.”
SCREEEEE-EEE!
Birds monsters and wyverns circled the skies. With the ships gone, they’d migrated here.
“Strike them down fast!” Isana gnashed her teeth. Her heart rate was still abnormal, but if she ignored the overwhelming demonic presence, surely it would ignore her too. Surely.
The flying enemies swooped down, clawing at the main force, sending fire at them, and otherwise being a menace.
She scaled a roof, saw that several others had had the same idea, silhouettes outlining rooves across the main street. If only they had time enough to set up traps–!
Alas.
A rock would have to do. Isana picked up a crumbling brick. A violet haze suffused her body, aura fueling her strike as she shot down one of them.
In the distance, she spotted Raoul clinging to a wyvern’s neck, stabbing at it furiously. Mary stood her ground down below, slashing at any who dared approach with her katana. Eustace had found a spear to launch.
Their snaking line of soldiers was being culled nonetheless. Goblins scampered through the alleyways, adding pressure to their flanks.
She had no idea when or how, only that she’d been chasing some of the nasty buggers down with Eustace when she spotted a hint of flowing white hair. Heart stuttering, she veered off course.
“Isana?” Eustace questioned.
“It’s them!” She stumbled towards them, those precious treasures she’d thought lost to her. The alleys were charred, smog clogged the air, fires raged, but those two stood out with with the radiance of twin suns. “Ophelia! Estelle!” She wanted to run, but all she could do was limp. When had her ankle been pierced?
Ah, who cared. She made it there. Unbeknownst to her, tears were slowly trailing down her cheeks as she reached out for a group hug.
Her sisters were there. Eustace wasn’t far behind. Even Raoul and Mary were out there somewhere.
Their light had nary an effect on the flying beast. They frowned at it, almost pouting when it remained unfazed. The black-striped orange beast clung onto it with its claws and teeth, and the two spearmen felled the creature in the end. However, it had managed something strange before it was killed. A bright beam shot from its eye, blinding all in its wake. Yet, that wasn’t all. The force was so strong, it tore off chunks of earth, and pulled them towards it.
“Hey!” Futile, their hand extended towards it. A person had been right there, in the beam. Were they…dead now? Wide-eyed, their arm slowly dropped. Humans were such fragile creatures. Yet, even they, in all their past glory, had been unable to do a single thing of real consequences. Hadn’t been able to help, for there was no helping the natural cycle. Death came for all mortals, sooner or later. They had no memories, yet these impressions lingered, ingrained into their soul.
The bird was slain then, but it was too late for one person.
A death for a death. Maybe it was fair? They weren’t sure.
Even as one fell, more arose. As they had suspected, the corpses were being brought back to a false life. Their light had not worked on the bird, but perhaps the corpses were different?
There was only one way to find out.
Specks of light blinked into existence around them, not unlike a group of fireflies. By their thought alone, it gathered, and swarmed the nearest dead-walker.
In case this did not work, they began to search for a weapon. “Mister – those swords! Mind using them? Or lend one to me?” They called out to the blind man. Maybe it was a principle of his not to draw a weapon…? If both magic and borrowing was futile, then in this instance, they would take advice from the flame-headed man. Not to grab a spear, but there were still pieces of debris around.
One of the so-called Malachim took advantage of their distraction, and attempted to tackle them. With a, “Hwua-h?” they spun around, tripped it by pure chance, and sent an instinctive blast of light straight into its face.
Attire:Banquet fit, a simple princely crown Date and Time: Sola 28th, 6pm Location: Castle dining hall Mention(s): Kalliope, Anastasia, Calbert, Mina, "Callum", Charlotte Interaction(s): Alibeth, Edin, @Tpartywithzombi Violet, @Oso Cassius, @FunnyGuy Alexander, Lorenzo
Alibeth argued for Kalliope’s suitability as a spy, speaking of her fall as if it had been part of a grand strategy. “That is as ludicrous an argument as claiming Anastasia's flair for dramatics is a cunning tactic”, Wulfric countered quietly. Why defend the servant for the very flaw she so often chastised her daughter for? Did she not see the lovesick glances Arden exchanged with that foreign captain? Having a spy fall in love was as disastrous as having one turn traitor. The queen had a bad habit of turning a blind eye to the faults of their women employees. He imagined she might have borrowed Arden for certain missions, but he had to wonder how fruitful those had been. He did not doubt she was useful, but dismissing her unpredictability was too dangerous for his liking.
To his father’s so-called joke, he offered only, “It is a pity that inflicting violence on a person does not reliably instill them with sense.” If it did, they could have made a fun communal game of ‘slapping sense’ into Edin years ago, resolving oh so many issues.
Roman went on to laughingly boast about how he had, in fact, slapped Lady Violet. The prince’s brow crept up in disbelief. “How unusual that you admit to misconduct so readily, and with so little care, Lord Ravenwood. If your demeanour persists to your trial, it may very well conclude with unprecedented swiftness,” he drawled. The Varian lord tried to redirect the negative attention to Deacon, but it was a feeble attempt.
Neither Count Damien nor his daughter took kindly to Roman’s words. The lord had been offered a chance to explain or better still, to apologize. Instead, he turned to humour, and offended the person he had wronged. It was…a choice, to be sure.
Wulfric raised his wine glass to Violet. “Indeed, you are not obliged to choose either,” he agreed. He did not show it, but her words puzzled him. They were the cries of a child, demanding to know why she had been deceived, when it was her own folly that had blinded her to the manipulations of others. Moreover, she spoke of choosing between men when all she had been asked was to illuminate the truth. If the weight of expectation pressured her, she needn’t yield to it.
In the end, Lady Damien firmly denounced Lord Ravenwhood, and confirmed that he had struck her. She said nothing of or against Deacon, however. The prince had a niggling suspicion she had warmed up to her employer. As Lady Blackwood had noted, a person’s silence could speak volumes.
He turned his attention to Callum when his brother decided to speak against Count Damien in defense of Lord Ravenwood. Wulfric studied him silently. It was no longer only a question of what kind of magical effect he was under, but why, and by whom. Delronzo? But then, here Callum was, going against two of Marek’s allies; Damien and Deacon. Perhaps, sowing chaos was the intent…?
Yet it was strange, for his brother ought to know how much Edin favoured Calbert. It was as if certain key facts eluded him. Was the curse affecting not only his personality, but his memories as well?
Circumstances did not permit his thoughts to wander. He would have to conduct research at a later date, both on the nature of his brother’s affliction as well as a way to cure it.
Cassius strolled in, freshly irate, spewing vitriol and tossing about threats as if he had every right to. He took his tongue far too much for granted. Even so, Wulfric recognized Damien Jr. was returning like with like. Callum had started the quarrel, but it remained to be seen whether he could finish it. “Yet he is the one wearing a crown, so do mind your tongue.” His did not need to be a particularly sharp warning when the queen was already standing up in outrage. The faint sound of a dagger being unsheathed out of view did not escape his notice.
Since it was clear those gathered were forgetting a rather simple solution, Wulfric provided a reminder. “There is no need for threats, Lord Damien. If you seek to defend your sister’s honour, you are free to challenge Lord Ravenwood to a duel. Provided that both parties agree, you may go at each other’s throats to your heart's content. With proper witnesses, seconds, and the like, of course. You may even request Their Majesties’ blessing. A most exclusive opportunity, is it not?” He cocked his head to the side, wondering if either of the lords would issue a challenge and if the other party would accept.
“However, if you dispensed with law and honour alike, you would be liable to become intimately acquainted with a cell,” he locked gazes with Cassius, composed and cool. “For your sake, I advise that you remember yourself.”
He did not bother to hide his distaste when Alexander cut in. “Ah, yes, the instigator lying through his teeth, offering false apologies and feigning regret, even as you revel in the havoc you have wrought. Do you believe yourself subtle, Mr. Deacon?” He watched silently as Alexander touched Cassius to pacify him. Would the enraged lord really take that, just like that?
His sister shouted across the room, filling those arguing with so much confusion that tensions stilled, if only for a moment.
Then, out of the blue, Lady Charlotte wandered to their table, and hugged the younger Damien.
Wulfric blinked, perplexed. Is she drunk?
At around the same time, Lorenzo shouted from the other side of the table. “Duke Vikena, we have no need of your intervention. Please return to your seat,” Wulfric firmly echoed his mother’s command. The last thing they needed was further escalation.
Isana had a companion by her side, and that made all the difference.
Two of her friends lied dead already, buried two years ago. Another had split from her group at the beginning of the counter-attack. All archers, whether soldiers, mercenaries or adventurers had been stationed at cliffsides, the rooftops, the towers. Any and all vantage points had been claimed. Long ranged personnel were their most reliable means of felling the damned flying monsters. Without their support, the ships and the main army would be torn apart from above.
When they had said their farewells, they knew it would be for the last time.
“Dead or alive,” Vivian had pulled her into a tight hug. A forced grin stretched her features, a hint of bloodthirstiness in her gaze. A common expression since Amy had been slain.
“See you on the other side,” "See you on the other side."
Isana and Eustace had echoed the greeting. Morbid, sure, but it suited wartime.
How many hours had passed since then?
Her throat was scraped raw, her lungs chock-full of smog, it felt as if she had been forced to inhale a volcano’s belching breath. She was tired to the marrow, but she had to keep squeezing her body for those last few drops of energy. Her muscles were strained beyond their limits, but she had to keep pushing.
Night had fallen, a veil over the ever-burning, sullen glow of the unquenchable fires. Isana flitted across the rooftops, scanning the alleyways for stray monsters. Three others patrolled beneath, Eustace one of them. They were one of the parties assigned to secure the pathways branching off from the main streets. They were to cull the straggles as much as they were to bite at the monster army’s flank. To protect their Royal Guards while thinning enemy lines from the sides.
At the approach of a group of orcs, she whistled to signal her allies, who were not far behind. An enemy’s beady eyes peered up in her direction, but she had already hidden behind a chimney. Quick and silent as a spider, she scuttered down the shingles. Upon reaching the gutter, she swung over, fingers grasping at the metal edge before she soundlessly dropped to the ground, breaking her fall with a roll. She dashed towards the enemy’s unprotected back, the clang of metal on metal so loud they did not hear her approach.
She aimed fast and true, stabbed an orc between two ribs. Her short sword pierced straight through its heart, felling the foe before it could as much as wheeze. She withdrew her blade, pivoting in time to deflect another orc’s club. With her free hand, she unsheathed a dagger. She stepped in, cut open its belly, and yanked out its guts. It roared, yet she danced away from its raging strikes, nimbly outmaneuvering the injured enemy. A slash at its ankle tripped it, and a final stab to its neck put it out of its misery.
When she looked up, her allies had already taken care of the others. A total of six orcs lay dead at the party’s feet.
Good.
Another monster unit down. Who knew how many more to go?
“HAhahaha! That’s how it’s done!” That was Raoul, a boisterous youth who couldn’t count more than twenty years. He was almost as lightly armoured as Isana, but wielded a huge jagged cleaver. She guessed he had lifted the weapon right off a monster’s corpse.
Was it because of his youth that he was so spirited? Or was he forcing it, as desperate to cling to hope as Isana was?
Mary rolled her eyes. She was the other adventurer who had joined up with her and Eustace when those unaffiliated with the military were reshuffled according to the battle plan. She must have looted her weapon too, for it was one of those ‘katanas’ Isa had heard of. Her metal armour was as dented as Eustace’s. If she wasn’t much mistaken, this was the woman who Miles had started getting close to before he had died.
“HEY! There’s more down there! Blocked by a corpse! Easy prey,” Raoul crowed as he discovered a new group of enemies down another sidestreet.
This was no time to reminisce, clearly. She met Eustace’s gaze, a tired smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, though his lips couldn’t manage a proper one. Isana returned the gesture with a knowing nod.
Then, they were off. Onwards and onwards, for there was no turning back.
They were on the edge of a precipice. They all knew it, even if no one said it. Because the moment they looked back, the moment they gave in to fear and despair, it would be all over. So, they would push.
Push. Kill. Advance.
For every inch gained, they shed gallons of blood. Yet if they lost so much as one, they might all perish.
Her earliest memories of happiness are so faint, she sometimes doubts they were real at all. A strong, loving mother. An incredible older sister. A precious baby sister. Those halcyon days when they could still laugh together, unaware of one fundamental truth:
The world was a cruel place.
It first bared its fangs when Ophelia was nearly assassinated at three. The attempt left her a wreck. A young life, irrevocably altered. Forever.
How? That was her first question. How could it have happened? Her mother was the strongest woman she knew; her father the strongest man. With all their power, how could anyone attack their family – and succeed?
What was the point of all that power, if it couldn’t protect their loved ones?
Why? That was the second question. Why would anyone want to hurt sweet, innocent little Fi?
That answer came far too soon.
The whispers. The stares. The judgement.
“Well, that one was born a country hick, after all…”
“Serves them right.”
“The tallest fall the hardest.”
Envy. Pity. Hatred. False sympathy.
“Oh, it’s a shame the youngest was crippled. At least the older two–”
There it was. The expectation that they would excel.
Estelle did. A prodigal huntress born to a genius swordswoman. Blood had bred true, they said.
But Isana?
She couldn’t muster the same resolve. Her body was whole, but her soul wasn’t. Her spirit was weak. Damaged.
How often did she wake to Ophelia’s cries? Her sister’s harrowing wails as she was plagued by nightmares?
How often was Isa the one beset by nightly terrors? But she hated the worry in her family’s eyes. She didn’t deserve it, not when Ophelia suffered the most. So, she learned to keep quiet. She stifled the screams, hid the fear, buried the pain.
For a time, she managed to pretend she was fine. She wasn’t, but she was supposed to be. She was a Kaides, after all.
For a time, Isana convinced herself that she was okay. At home, surrounded by her family, she thought that, just maybe, they could be alright again.
That illusion shattered at twelve, during an in-house Kaides tournament. She entered the stadium, alone. She felt their eyes. Saw them staring. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, and refused to settle.
Thump.
THUMP.
THUMP.
She gasped. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Shaking like a leaf, she forced herself step by step until she stood in the centre of the arena.
They were cheering, but for what? To see her win? To see her fail?
She never found out. Mid-match, she was knocked out. They claimed she’d fallen ill. But Isana knew the truth. Something was wrong with her. She failed, and there was no explanation for it.
She turned to the only solution she could think of. She trained harder. Studied more. Yet, at the Collegem, she ran into the same problem once again. In some exercises, she performed adequately. In others, it was as if she forgot everything she knew.
Ultimately, the verdict came: She was a disappointment.
She lived like a shadow, avoiding the spotlight. She did alright when working solo or supporting others. But alright wasn’t enough. Not for a Kaides.
Then, without warning, her worst nightmare returned.
Estelle was attacked, nearly killed.
Isana’s mind blanked. Static filled her head. For days, she drifted. Until one day, she found herself holding a knife to the neck of one of Estelle’s so-called teammates. She didn’t know how it had come to that. Didn’t know what she would have done had she not been stopped.
They called her mad. She thought the world was.
After that, people left her alone. The exceptions were those few who tried to corner her. But she followed Ophelia’s example, learned how to make them pay.
Estelle fled home at 20. Isana wasn’t surprised. Why would anyone stay in such a hostile environment?
She consoled Ophelia. “She will be back, you’ll see.” Months passed without a sign. “I’m sure she’ll visit.” A year went by. Still nothing. At 21, she gently patted Fi’s head, and said, “I will find her, alright?” It never occurred to her that Ophelia might want to join her.
But the truth was, Isana had another reason for leaving. She had come to a terrible conclusion: someone within the Kaides family must have orchestrated the attack on Estelle. Nothing else made sense. She wouldn’t serve a house where monsters hid in plain sight and rot festered deep beneath the gilded surface.
She traveled far enough that no one recognized her as a Kaides. She signed up at a local Adventurer’s guild, taking on solo missions. Pursuing rumours of a giant, one-eyed bowwoman - Estelle. She never found her.
But she did find something else: friends.
They met by chance. She was clearing out goblins in a ruined settlement, picking them off one by one. A commotion disturbed her. A hobgoblin leapt from a crumbling rooftop toward a quartet of adventurers. Another emerged from inside. Curiosity drew her in. She watched them fight. They lacked experience and stamina, but they were determined. Goblins from vicinity began swarming them. A single misstep, and their leader faced certain death. Isana moved on instinct. Her blade plunged through the hobgoblin’s neck, striking from behind. “MOVE!” she barked, and the four listened. Though strangers, they fought with surprising unity. Isa filled their gaps with her skill. Together, they cleared out the nest of goblins.
That night, they celebrated with drinks and laughter. Afterwards, Isa simply…stayed. At times, she worked alone, but more and more, they took missions as a team. They trained together. Ate together. Lived together.
For the first time, someone outside her sisters and mother valued her for who she was.
She never revealed her last name, but told them about her sisters. They helped her gather leads. Encouraged her to visit home.
After a year, she did.
But standing before Ophelia, she didn’t know what to say. Her sister seemed so distant now. Instead of trying to talk it out, she left gifts from her travels, then left. The next visits were the same.
Then the war began. Battle became her life. Desperation coloured her world. Respite came only in brief, broken moments. So many strangers died, their lives became mere numbers. When a friend fell, there was no time to grieve. When she awakened her Aura, she didn’t rejoice – it was just another weapon to use in humanity’s last stand.
At Hadrum, she finally reunited with both sisters. But their mother was gone. Only two of her friends remained. Then, they all were killed. A bitter end.
Biggest Failure: She gave up on herself before trying. She ran from her pain, her family, and her name, and thus, left behind people who needed her. She turned her back on House Kaides, and by the time she wanted to help, it had been too late.
Biggest Regret: Besides the war itself? She wishes she’d been able to share what little happiness she found with her sisters.
Biggest Obstacle: For most of her life, she was hounded by anxiety, mistrust, and social judgement. Later, as she learned to overcome her fear, she discovered a deep-seated grudge. She came to hate the whole damned ‘Kaides equals greatness’ mentality. It was flawed, it was hurtful, and ultimately, she was sure it was the cause of their downfall. She will need them, but hell, can the Kaides and their worshippers be a gut-curdling lot.
Greatest Achievement: She and her adventuring friends had many small victories Though insignificant in the grand scheme of things, yet precious to them. Isana's last happy memory came during the war, when her friends were all still alive. In 1014, they reclaimed an occupied bridge and freed nearby settlements. That night's celebration felt like the old times; laughter, warmth, and the faint illusion of peace.
Driving Hope: Her friends and her family. The people she loved were her true treasure. In the end, desperation kindled a new idea. The faintest, impossible hope that if they succeeded, they might once again experience peace.
Equipment
Shortsword & daggers
Leather armour, a hooded cape
Alchemical solutions: poisons, 'smoke bombs'
Slingshot and ammo
Misc tools (wire...)
Abilities
Physical Strength: 1st Rate
Aura: 2nd Rate
Magic: 0th Circle
Skills:
Blindside - In a moment of enemy’s inattention, she delivers an incapacitating strike. Exploits blind spots, targets least defended areas.
Sub-Sub-List for Upgrades.
Eustace "Ace" . . . . . . . .
Charismatic, kind, private. A lord of a Noxicana-Vassal family. Disillusioned with politics, he left. He set out to see the world, and gathered trustworthy allies. Isana saved him in 1009. He died in 1017 at Hadrum. . .
Mace and shield warrior Leader, tank, support 2nd Circle mage Light spells to distract enemies . . . . .
Miles
Born to a militant family. Dismissed as dim-witted in his youth. Taken advantage of, he was robbed blind. Not knowing what to do, he joined Eustace. He died in 1015, defending the capital.
Sword and shield warrior Tank and DSP Notable skill: Cleave
Vivian "Vivi"
Abandoned as a baby for unknown reasons. Adopted by elves. She became a wanderer, sightseeing. Joined up with Eustace on a whim. She stayed for the friendship and fun. She died in 1017 at Hadrum.
Clever but deemed strange since childhood. A bookworm and aspirant academic. Studied at an Arkivum affiliated academy. Seeking rare spells, interested in 'dark' magic, she became an adventurer. Eustace and Vivian convinced her to join. She died in 1015, defending the capital.
4th Circle Mage Support Spells to bind, daze, confuse Notable: Shadow bind, Smoke cloud
@SilverPaw The adventurers are fine, but I wasn't sure if I'd mentioned it to you---Arkivum is the House that's focused on scholarly stuff and Magic, Noxicana's focus is on legislative and judicial stuff. House Arkivum has a Collegem Arkanus that's the equivalent of Kaides's Collegem but for wizards, but I haven't established a college or other training institute for Noxicana yet. There can BE one, and it would probably have at least a little magic education like the Kaides do, it's just no lore's been established about it yet. It's up to you if that changes anything for your NPCs, just thought I'd mention it!
Nah, just forgot the other name lmao, will fix that.
BurnDaWitch
Kaithe Dame
Yanadere
Morgana
Spyce
Stryder BC
Citrus
Xaltwind
Space Core
