The Scythe and the Seer, Book 3 of the Enchanter's Cycle

Koukatsuna sipped tea with his ward as the sun rose. Well, she sipped it at least. He took heavy quaffs as if it were quality liquor.

She’d slept fitfully for a few hours, and he was grateful for that, but she still seemed a little drowsy, and she was fast developing a migraine.

“I could fetch some peppermint oil.” he noted between steaming hot gulps, “Applied to the forehead, it’s supposed to help with that.”

“No thank you.” Rinshi replied, taking a bite of some steamed rice cake, “I’ll be fine once I get moving. The servants will help me dress soon...and I want to finish breakfast.”

Nodding, he returned to his drink, albeit a non-alcoholic one for once, then chortled.

“What’s so funny?” Rinshi asked, smiling, and he laughed harder, “I just thought it was ironic, is all. I began that conversation with your father and finished it with you. Odd fate, huh?”

She frowned at the mention of her father, but waved off his stammered apology, “Yes, it is. It’s alright. I just...miss him, is all. We never spoke all that much, but he was kind and affectionate when we did.”

“He had much on his plate, that one.” Koukatsuna noted, and she nodded, “He always took the pains of the world and made them his own. It made him a grim man...but I think I prefer him like that; it meant he had empathy for his people. He cared.”

“Hai.” Koukatsuna replied, “He certainly didn’t have to be so understanding of me, ungrateful little shit that I was. But he was. And he did much to help my people. I miss him too.”

Thoughtful, Koukatsuna scratched his chin, “You will do him proud. I know you will.”

“Thank you.” Rinshi replied with open honesty, and he smiled, “Chin up, milady. Today will be a big day, after all.”

She groaned at that, “Do not remind me, my friend. It’s bad enough as is.”

“Yes, milady” he replied, exaggeratedly contrite.

Atsushi was to pamper her today, since they’d consummated their marriage vows. He still wanted to punch the arrogant twit right in the nose for that, but abstained for fear of shaming his ward. Nobody else could’ve kept him from doing that...other than Minamoto of course.

Shrugging, he took a bite of his own rice cake and enjoyed the sunrise.

It was time. Blood magicka burning through her veins, Kaileena activated her teleportation, expanding the borders of the effect to encompass Arteth.

There was a muffled yelp as the world disappeared in a burst of light, giving way to the darkness of empty space, but she ignored it. She would be combating the combined might of several Old Ones...at least until Arteth could claim Surthath and return the three of them to the tower fortress beside the villa.

There...she would seep her blood into the Old One’s veins and immobilize him with blood magicka, replicating her cells among his in a similar manner that had fatally drained Byo’Ku’s life energy.

But as her vision cleared, perceiving sensory information even in the complete darkness of her surroundings, Kaileena hissed as she found herself in some manner of pocket dimension filled with roaming spatial anomalies.

Arteth realized their peril, and drew Verlangen with a snarl. Shinabi, for the pup had somehow been included in her teleportation, yelped and bolted.

“Shinabi, heel!” she hissed, about to pin him to the ground, as something strange occurred. The dog stumbled, his legs on his right side giving way just as he brushed against the edges of one of the many floating transparent distortions.

A flash of light blinded her sensitive eyes, and as she dragged him back with telekinesis and a vile obscenity, Kaileena gaped in astonishment.

Standing in the pup’s place, right before her regenerating eyes, was a fearsome beast. In the color of its shaggy coat and bone structure it was identical to Shinabi...but his eyes, formerly blue, were now a pair of burning white lights. As an adult husky would have been nearly level with her chest, small as she was, this new creature was almost level with Arteth’s, towering over her small frame. His massive limbs were heavily muscled, but lean, like those of a hunting cat, tipped with sharp, hooked claws. His body was long and narrow, with a small belly and large chest.

The hound stumbled, trying and failing to regain his footing as he attempted to control his altered body.

“That was unfortunate. I apologize.” a voice said behind them, and hissing, a lethal imprecation already primed, Kaileena stared daggers into the approaching woman; Human, albeit with unusually blue eyes.

“What was unfortunate?” she asked sarcastically, more than ready to turn them into a steaming and still quite alive lump of gore.

“I had to teleport you to the first place I could think of. You cast very quickly, Honored Second, and I had to prevent your ill-fated attempt to free Surthath.”

“I did not attempt to free him.” Kaileena replied, “What happened to my dog?”

The woman glanced at Shinabi, perplexed, then, “Well, that is rare. Usually the things that touch that anomaly are left...far less living. It appears to have matured him, as well as infused him with some manner of magicka I am unfamiliar with.”

Looking back, Kaileena saw a peculiar and disturbing glint of confused intelligence in Shinabi’s expression; like a sleepwalker just come awake.

“Explain to me why I should not cause you untold suffering.” Kaileena said bluntly, and while Arteth grimaced the Human merely smiled, bowing low, “I am your humble servant, Honored Second, devoted to your well-being. As for your pet, I apologize. But he would have likely died had you arrived in Veln Rh’k. Surely you can appreciate that.”

Shrugging, Kaileena dismissed her offensive spell, “If you will excuse me, I have an appointment to keep. Surthath and I need to...reacquaint ourselves.”

“If you go to Veln Rh’k now.” the woman cautioned, “You will be captured. You are not yet ready to engage an Old One, any Old One, let alone three, and Dur’Artoth would immediately intervene.”

“You speak much of me...” Kaileena replied with restored hostility, “Who are you? How did you know where I was, and where I was going? Speak quickly.”

Again the woman bowed, and the gesture made Kaileena hate her all the more, “I am Tenri, a Seer devoted to Surthath’s prophecy and the well being of all in the Veil. I would prevent you from experiencing more pain as the Dread Hammer’s prisoner, alongside your husband, who would not remain as such for long.”

Tenri? Vala’s daughter?

“He seeks to absorb me?” Arteth asked, blanching, “Why?”

“You carry a fragment of his being, which renders both of you nearly invisible to fate’s eyes. His first order of business had been the Scythe’s capture, which he would have then utilized to slay Surthath and absorb his power. No longer needing this defense against Fate, for his allies have left Surthath unable to act, he would immediately seek to reintegrate your essence with his. It is...dangerous, you see, to exist as two beings for long.”

“Why?” Kaileena asked, ignoring for now the Human’s revealed identity, and Tenri shrugged, “I cannot explain. Not yet. Just know that the longer this war rages on, the more likely a certain...someone, may resurface. That would be bad, very bad, though it does sadly coincide with the prophecy. That one...that one will return eventually, but Dur’Artoth must be defeated before that happens. If not, all will be lost.”

“Lovely.” Kaileena noted, studying Shinabi, who wobbled unsteadily to her side, whining, “You are Vala’s daughter? The resemblance is...nonexistent.”

Tenri smiled sadly, “Yes, I hardly look the same as the Skraul fetus buried on a world to which I do not remember. It is complicated so I will explain; souls, once removed from their bodies, usually dissipate into one of Argosaxx’s relics. Once, that had been exclusively the Heart of Darkness, his heart, poisoned by Morag Toth, but now with it gone any of the other artifacts forged from his body are potential vessels.”

“-Wait...” Kaileena interrupted, “You are speaking of the afterlife, yes? Souls travel to...Argosaxx’s artifacts? Why?”

Tenri frowned, “We, as mortals, were created from Argosaxx’s body; the Veil. We are his bastard offspring. His mortal Djinn. As I said, it’s complicated. The rest, I am sorry to say, is my story, to be told when I am ready.”

“You still haven’t explained why I should not attack you.” Kaileena noted, to which she frowned, “You have changed indeed, Honored Second. I am sorry to see it.”

Hissing, Kaileena lashed out with her power, spraying the ground before the woman with blood. It should have hit her as well, whereupon it would’ve converted into an organic acid...but Tenri was suddenly several paces back.

“I have changed?” Kaileena screamed in frustration, “As if I was ever given a choice in my actions!!”

Shinabi snarled, and crouched, ready to pounce. With his new size there was little question as to the potential lethality of the gesture.

Tenri sighed tiredly, “So be it, Honored Second. I acquiesce to your claim. I will leave you for now, but do not seek out Surthath. Not yet. Much must occur before you can claim him; if you charge in with haste you will lose your hard-fought freedom and the very life of your husband. Farewell.”

With that, Tenri simply...ceased to be there, as if erased from reality.

Still seething, Kaileena noticed a statue of a six armed elven woman at the opposite end of the hall. Anima?

“Again my goddess has appeared in our journey.” she noted distantly, her anger cooling, “I do not find that to be a coincidence. Do you?”

“No.” Arteth replied, eyeing her strangely, “I do not. What should we do? Continue with our chase?”

She frowned, shaking her head, “Not yet. I will locate the Scythe first, and perhaps clean up the mess on Carthspire. Surthath can wait. He isn’t going anywhere.”

Petting Shinabi, who panted loudly, his massive tongue drooping down his chin, she frowned, “I will also have to study our pup and see what Tenri’s actions have done to him. Now that I have seen Tenri it should be easy enough to locate her at a later time, should I desire to repay her for this.”

Yamato already knew the response that his weakling brother would deliver, and thus was already mobilizing his forces under General Nobuyuki’s banner when it arrived.

His crest was returned to him, stained with blood, and was the messenger, his sword hand severed and bound in gauze. The youth had gone to Hitorigami City, knowing his likely fate, and had not complained. Having acquitted himself with honor, the youth was discharged and offered a minor station in Yamato’s prospective court.

With Nobuyuki rallying the senior members of the military under his traditionalist banner, the Central District’s hold on its territory was already weakening.

With Commodore Atsushi to marry the second princess of the region, an assault on Fusestu would leave the man with the right of lordship after he slew the first daughter of Lord Minamoto and his sons, should they emerge from hiding.

Since assassinating Shirudo, Yamato had sent his warriors all across the North and West Districts, conscripting healthy men into service. Augmented by the enchantments of the Renmei Kisai, who had meekly accepted his rule or perished, his army was growing considerably.

As he figured; nearly half of the established soldiers were already under his banner, especially those in Shimobashira, who were by now hardened warriors by the months-long siege. He lacked a navy, which didn’t upset him overmuch; all he needed to do was seize Hitorigami City and kill Suizei, and Teikoku would be his.

His brother’s unnatural allies would lose interest in the region, and he would expel the Silkrit peacefully or put Karyu to torch. All was going according to plan.

The only wild card worth noting was Kiromichi; the bastard had excused himself from politics lately. It was even rumored that his fleet had returned to the Isles and not emerged since. Was he declaring neutrality?

No matter. With the full backing of Teikoku he would rout the pirates once and for all, and steal their technology. With it, policing the land and subjugating all dissenting elements would be a simple matter. The peasants and nobility would bow to him or die, as was proper.

Returning his attention to the plans detailed atop his desk, Yamato studied them, seeking any weakness in the tactics. Finding none, he raised his hand, summoning another messenger, to whom he said, “Bring these to General Nobuyuki. If he should skirt Fusestu’s borders in daylight, wait at a distance of no less than four miles, with plenty of cover. I do not intend to suffer a week’s-long siege.”

Nodding, the youth gathered the orders and was off without a word.

Already plotting his next moves, Yamato traced a narrow line across the map; a ridge along the edges of the Central District, south and east of Fusestu, that would bring him within thirty miles of Hitorigami City.

It was risky; the low elevation would make his forces vulnerable to calvary...but if he could lead a small detachment of the main force to the capital he could infiltrate it even as he attacked Fusestu!

“Yes.” he decided, smiling at the prospect, “I will let the general take Fusestu while my brother still drafts his plans and marshals his armies. I will be at his throat before he can respond to my attack.”

It would be as it would be. A second civil war was at hand, and it was his to win.

Narthutet readied the reverse summoning circle, setting its focal point to the audience hall in the South District. Four dozen trackers, the elite warrior class of the El’Dari, circled the edges of his magickal apparatus, unwilling to touch anything until it was complete.

His apprentice busied himself by chastising a Human novitiate for spilling reagents. Taking the full brunt of the Ogre’s guttural but surprisingly eloquent and vividly descriptive verbal lashing, the youth dashed away, pale and wide-eyed, when dismissed.

“Was that necessary?” Narthutet asked him, and Dral’rrche grunted, “It be hard to ferment sap like that without make into amber. He needed.”

Sighing, the magister double-checked his engravings, similar to his apprentice’s rune magicka in form and function but decidedly elven in nature.

Finding them to be satisfactory, he began the opening ritual that would activate the reverse summoning. Teleportation was by no means a precise art, so he’d instead opted to summon all those within the circle’s borders into a second device he’d scried in a peculiar manor in the South District. With his translation spells and cursory divination of the area he was relatively certain he would be able to make contact with whoever their leader was and offer military aid.

The Skraul seemed less active from what he could tell, but he knew the aid would be appreciated, might even provoke the beginning stages of trade with Teikoku. It could be a lucrative relationship, provided they remembered and properly appreciated the tributes of food and cloth his people had been supplying!

During the final stages of his activation, the circle wavered, the air about it distorting.

“Stand back!” Narthutet shouted, backing away, “Something is coming from the other side!”

Linked to her clay constructs scattered throughout the villa, Kaileena had detected the breach in her palace’s magickal defenses and instantly reacted by dispelling the link being made between her summoning circle...and...

“I cannot detect who is on the other end of the summoning.” she observed, confused. With her power, any barriers protecting the perpetrator should have been dispelled, offering a clear image of whatever or whoever was tampering with the circle.

Snarling, Kaileena flexed her claws, “I will take us there. Now. Whoever has attacked my property in this manner has much to answer for!”

A thought and the consummation of a portion of her blood was sufficient to teleport them. That same inexplicable barrier threatened the teleportation, but Kaileena was ready for it this time.

Directly pitting her willpower against whoever was maintaining the barrier, she found a large number of mighty practitioners warring back. She brushed them aside like so much debris, so great was her mental acuity, and completed the spell, finding herself...

...In a great forest under a cloud-dappled sky, the great branches of oak and redwood obscuring it somewhat. Standing before her, startled, was Narthutet, Dral’rrche, and a large number of Elves.

“Kaileena?!” the magister gasped, “...how...-”

“Why are you seeking entry to my villa?” she interrupted him, her frustration towards Tenri and Shinabi’s transformation making her words more hostile than intended. Her mastiff caught the ire in her tone, and snarled, hackles raised.

Narthutet paled, visibly confused, before acquiescing, “Sending myself and these soldiers as aid to the campaign against the Skraul. You were named Lord of the South District?”

Calming her hound through telepathic suggestion, Kaileena nodded, “Ah, yes. I’d completely forgotten. A Carthspirian wizard and his Kamiyonanayo ally had appealed to me on this matter. The Skraul are on the world of Carthspire. Perhaps you can assist me in routing them.”

Relaying her commands to one of her clay constructs, ordering her “guests” to congregate in the main hall, she eyed Narthutet critically, who returned the gesture with equal intensity.

“What happen to you?” Dral’rrche asked, troubled, “You speak with different air about you. You succeed in stopping magicka sickness?”

“In a way.” she replied honestly, “The details are irrelevant, however.”

Narthutet finally took his eyes off her, then blanched, horrified, as he looked upon Arteth.

“You...” he gasped, eyes immediately locking upon Verlangen, his sword, the sword that Dur’Artoth had used in the Dreadborne War.

The other elves reacted expectantly, drawing weapons, mostly short bows. A swarm of elves also materialized from thin air, more magisters, chanting in the Codex of Power.

Kaileena had no time for this. Irises spreading wide, she took in every movement in the congregation, selected each person in order as they were about to cast a spell or fire an arrow, and nullified their efforts with a burst of telekinetic force that struck from all angles, disorienting and disarming them accordingly.

The attack died stillborn. Neither Narthutet or Dral’rrche had thought to move.

“Gods...” he breathed, waving those still conscious away, “Such power... But I must ask what you are doing...with...”

“Me?” Arteth asked, shrugging, “I am not the being you combated during the Dreadborne War, if that is your query. I am the Dur’Arteth that had once been; the loyal Firstborn of Surthath. Or...perhaps, I am the Dur’Arteth that should have been.”

Hardly convinced, Narthutet’s resolve hardened, and he scowled, “True or not, I will not fight alongside the likes of you. Kaileena...I am thankful to see you well, but I cannot send any aid to Teikoku so long as he is present there.”

“I am not well.” she clarified, “But so be it. You were kind and helpful to me without hesitation when I needed both help and kindness. That was a rare thing in my life, and now it is rarer still. I will respect your decision.”

“But, master...” Dral’rrche stated, watching the downed elves collect themselves, “We-”

“Can do nothing.” Narthutet interrupted, stopping his arguments with a scowl, “The El’Dari would not approve of sending assets that we may very well need later into uncertain peril. This complicates things; I cannot be certain if this new Dur’Arteth would betray us.”

“I am no ally to the Dread Hammer.” Arteth said, growling, and he waved his hand dismissively, “I cannot trust that, not even from a Djinn. I am sorry...but nobody in this forest can or will help.”

“I can.” Dral’rrche cursed, “I will.”

“I am sure a use could be found for one of your varied talents.” Kaileena noted, already calculating what, if any, effect the Ogre might have on the eventual assault on Carthspire.

Narthutet scowled, but held his tongue. A good thing, too; she was about ready to test the fruits of her latest experiment...

“If he dies, Kaileena...” Narthutet breathed with a deadly calm, “I will seek you out, for recompense.”

“I could care less what you would do.” she replied, stunning him, “Death or life...it matters little to me.”

“You have changed.” he replied blankly, and she shrugged, “Do what you will, El’Dari. But be careful what you choose; the Dread Hammer will not be content with your abstinence when he eventually returns, nor will I. When next we speak it will in no way be a casual exchange.”

Iki-o-Korosu knew well the location that the R’yzthaek had described. She was eager to reach it, and he...well...he was eager to get this over with.

There would be a specific time that the Scythe would be vulnerable. Ryū knew this, and indeed, knew that very moment was fast approaching. He sat in silence in the shade of a tree, watching the land and admiring its beauty. He wondered if he would see it the same way again.

“Never mind that.” he chided himself, “I am at the proper spot. I need only wait.”

Vala wasn’t willing to leave Kuri alone after all that had happened, and as of late the girl didn’t want to leave their room at the hostel. So she’d called for one of Kaileena’s soldiers and “persuaded” him to go out and bring back food, mainly sweets.

She found herself increasingly intrigued by the many treats the natives could fashion from rice and red bean and sugar, a growing passion that Kuri didn’t in any way object to...so long as Vala shared. It was a great way to get her to relax, and forget about everything that had befallen her. She still found the girl crying from time to time, but she would adapt. Vala had faith in her.

Did she really? It seemed odd, trusting another person. Hitomi and his clan had shown her it was possible, and she found herself growing increasingly fond of Kuri. She knew, however, that it couldn’t last.

“When the time comes...” she said idly, feet propped against the windowsill, hands interlocked behind her head, “...and I am convinced you are safe and not wrapped up in this mess, I know a place with good people, kind people. I know they would welcome you there.”

She watched Kuri’s expression, searching for either hopefulness or displeasure, “It cannot replace... Well, it might not be perfect, but they would be willing to manage. After this war is over, I can join the lot of you and settle down.”

Kuri said nothing, and Vala didn’t push her. The girl had been through enough. Finally, she looked back, “I want to stay with you.”

Vala smiled, “And I wouldn’t mind that at all. But you know what I do; I am a warrior, at a time when warriors are sorely needed. I can go into danger with a smile on my face...but I cannot bear the thought of bringing you with me into that. It wouldn’t be fair.”

She didn’t seem convinced by that, and Vala sighed, sitting up straight, “I just want what is best for you. It would kill me if you got hurt.”

Kuri got up, walked over to her, and hugged her waist, “I don’t want to leave you...Mother.”

Gods damn it all...

“Right where it strikes deepest.” Vala mused, “Choose the key point for maximum damage and strike with absolute precision. Yes, you are mine, I think. Come here.”

Embracing this girl, this Human girl, Vala decided she wouldn’t question fate. Let things sort themselves out for once...

Aika kept her face steady and expressionless as the surviving Te Fukushu hunters delivered their report, though her hands shook with the strength of her fury and grief. Shirudo...dead?!

“There will be a reckoning for this...” she hissed, wishing she’d donned her armor, wanting above all else at that moment to look fierce, “Document my reply and send it to Itaku and the Hitorigami. Immediately, am I clear?”

Her attendants nodded, and set themselves to work, and Aika, the new leader of the Te Fukushu, felt a hundred years older as the weight of it settled on her, the gravity forcing her back into her seat in what had just become her permanent office.

She’d known the grief of lost friends, family; her entire life as a slave had revolved around it...but to lose Shirudo, the stable presence that glued together the disparate elements of the Te Fukushu...

For him to die now, when peace was nearly at hand...and by the efforts of Humans...

“We will send a message.” she said to her fellow hunters, “A message that will be heard in every street and every house in Teikoku’s four districts. It will be heard by every fool who ever thought to draw a blade upon us, every family that supports this rebel. This murderer. We will remind them that while we are friends to Humans, we will not tolerate betrayal, in any capacity.”

“...We will remind them of our strength, of the death we deal in the shadows. We will remind them why they should never dare to attack us! Why we are a force to be reckoned, and feared!”

Unable to sit, she lurched out of her chair, pacing her office, thoughtfully palming one of the throwing daggers in her fur-lined bracers hidden under the heavy sleeves of her black kimono.

“Yamato will be at the rear of his revolution, protected by many soldiers and powerful enchantments. We cannot touch him...yet. But Nobuyuki is a man who will be on the frontline. Have every skilled infiltrator seek his whereabouts, every assassin waiting in the shadows for his scent. We will observe in silence, and slay in silence; his lieutenants, his messengers, his confidants, his friends, his associates, those who tend his horses, cook his meals, guard his possessions. This will be a return to the Te Fukushu’s original creed; search and destroy.”

She eyed each of the returning hunters, and each advisor and lesser officer in the room.

“Search and Destroy!” she snapped, hurling her dagger into the wall, “Returning party, you are dismissed.”

Her body shivering with the strength of her anger, Aika faced the window, staring out at the village of Karyu; her home and now protectorate. It was up to her now; Ryū would be finishing the war, and Koukatsuna was still recovering in Fusestu. Their group had been splintered irreparably, and she was once more alone, forced to rely on her own cunning to survive.

Feeling her strength being sapped away, the Silkrit sighed, counting the shingles on the rooftops outside. It was a calming exercise she’d recently invented, and gods knew she needed it now!

“Milady...” said Naoaki, her High Captain of the Guard, “I am impressed.”

Turning and finding the young male bowing low, his armor clinking, Aika tilted her head, her forked tongue tasting the air, “What do you mean?”

He rose with a smile, “You will be a good leader of the Te Fukushu. I have been a member for most of my life, and am used to tragedy. Those hunters who returned from Mount Renmei...they looked like the epitome of hopelessness. But you, milady? You riled them back up with naught but a few choice words and your passion; I admire that. It is no small feat to look threatening in a room of armed and armored soldiers while wearing a dress and sitting at a desk.”

Nodding, though she was irritated that he’d brought that up, Aika was able to again find her seat, “I would be there to cut Nobuyuki’s throat. Shirudo was a close friend, and a valued member of the Te Fukushu. We will recover his body from Mount Renmei when this is over and the threats, Human and otherwise, are swept from this land...if those traitorous bastards haven’t destroyed or disgraced it while it was in their possession.”

Naoaki nodded grimly, “I agree to your right, but it is your place to lead the Te Fukushu and safeguard Karyu. I implore you; allow us to fight in your stead, milady. We will do you proud, this I swear.”

Having a speech comparable to the one she’d used against Shirudo years ago, this time directed at her...was a moment of haunting sobriety.

Aika blanched, then nodded, “So be it. But that man, Yamato, must die. Nobuyuki, must die. This Human rebellion which threatens our people and our dear friends, must die. See it done. By any means, even if it imperils our friendship with the Hitorigami and our alliances with this world, see it done.”

“As you wish, milady.”

Atsushi assumed a false persona, that of a doting if slightly pompous husband, before making his way onto the large patio of his villa.

Situated upon a large hill, the house itself was famed for its view of the wide, sandy plains of the West District. While marred by the residual scars of Dekeshi’s advance, the sun shone brightly, and the few trees swayed in the gentle breeze.

Rinshi was waiting there, sipping cold green tea and seated at one of the tables. She wore a patterned mint green kimono, with a darker forest green obi.

Her “champion”, Koukatsuna, stood to the side of her, thumb pressed against the pointed pommel of his sword. He was dressed in a tunic and legging set, brown with gold trim, with a brown outer cloak. Just peeking from the short sleeves of the tunic were the edges of his chromatic Dragon tattoos.

“Good morning, milady.” Atsushi said jovially, bowing gently, “I’m truly sorry that I could not be here more often, but pressing matters in regards to the war continue to distract me. I have been a poor husband to you.”

Rinshi blinked, confused by his sudden politeness, then nodded, inclining her head, “No, it’s alright. Some matters must take precedence, even during courtship. I hold nothing against you for making this land safer.”

Smiling falsely, Atsushi sat beside her, Koukatsuna begrudgingly edging away so he could wrap an arm around her shoulder, “Nonetheless, it pains me that you haven’t seen your share of my attention, and today I will have the time to make up for it. With your leave I would take us for a tour of the countryside; there is a small trading post to the north, at which I’ve set up a grand welcome fit for you, as both an heir to one of the four lords and as a woman of exceptional beauty and grace.”

It was true, he supposed, that no woman was truly immune to flattery. Rinshi’s expression softened even further. In time, she could be as putty in his hands.

He’d chosen well; vying for her favor over that of her older sister, Uzuki, to position himself as the next Lord of the Central District. Uzuki was rightfully the first heir of Minamoto’s estate, and a viable mate to another prospective candidate should Itaku...happen to experience misfortune during his rule.

But she was a willful, cunning woman, and Atsushi was nothing if not one who sought the easiest conquests.

With Nobuyuki as Lord of the West, Yamato as Lord of the North, and himself as Lord of Central, they could force what they would from the Hitorigami with near impunity.

The lizard harlot Kaileena was too powerful to engage directly, but that mattered little. With three against four they could force any edict upon her until they finally devised some excuse to be rid of her. A pure Teikoku was nearly at hand; his performance would determine its success.

“I would enjoy that, At-...” she paused, considering, “...Husband.”

Savoring one’s small victories, Atsushi smiled again, this time with genuine motivation, “It pleases me greatly to hear you say that, dearest.”

Leaning in, he appreciated Koukatsuna’s visible discomfort as he planted a short but tender kiss, tasting a hint of the herbal tea Rinshi had been drinking.

Disengaging, Atsushi offered his hand as he rose, and helped the girl out of her chair, “I’ve prepared my finer, showier carriage to take us. It, and the four purebred stallions leading it, are my first of many gifts to you. We will be off at once.”

Yokai sat in Kaileena’s hall, cross-legged atop one of the seats ringing the table. Vala...apparently no longer a vampyre, sat opposing, fussing over a small Human child, her attention far removed from everything else.

The Gnome wizard, Larlax, and his Kamiyonanayo ally, Nu, were also seated, as was another pair of Kamiyonanayo females he recognized from the battle of Shimobashira Inaka. They had arrived late last night, at the behest of the Lord of the South District.

A lumbering beast, who identified himself as an Ogre, also sat at the table, toying with a large crystal sword with burning golden runes. A thumb-sized sphere of energy orbited his head, which he claimed to translate his language into something everyone could understand.

And at the foot of the table sat Kaileena herself, flanked as always by Arteth, who eyed the proceedings with detachment. His hand rested atop Kaileena’s shoulder, but she didn’t respond to it, didn’t even seem to notice him. Standing at her opposing flank was a massive dire wolf, eyes glowing pale white.

“Now that we are gathered...” Kaileena mused, her fearsome, calculating demeanor more than incongruous coming from such a small, frail looking vessel, “I’m confident that this force will be sufficient to defeat Don’Yoku and the final matriarch. I will transport each of us to Carthspire, in a location recently destroyed by the Skraul.”

“About time.” Larlax snapped, twining his long, frizzy beard about his forefinger and thumb, “Who knows what damage has been done in my absence.”

“Will Tengu accompany us?” she asked him directly, and Yokai heard the implied threat.

“Yes.” he replied, “She is coiled around your tower as we speak.”

“Splendid.” Kaileena said without mirth, locating and including the Dragon in the spell she intended to cast, for her attention was now split between a dozen clay constructs and she was still coping with the exhaustion that such intense concentration brought, “I will keep this simple. For those of you who don’t know our enemy...-”

She telepathically imprinted the face of Don’Yoku onto each of those gathered, both as a Human and as the peculiar iron golem Nu had observed.

“Likewise, our second enemy is the last remaining matriarch, who has displayed-”

She imprinted Larlax’s memories of the peculiar magickal thread effect as well.

“...these abilities. Assume she has many others that she hasn’t deigned to show us. Vala...” she added, eyeing the Orc female, “As the being who was once Kogoeji-ni, Matriarch of the Skraul, I was hoping you could provide insight into this final Matriarch’s abilities.”

Vala nodded, idly twirling Kuri’s hair as the child sat on her lap, “We matriarchs were a brood of sixty, at first. Father tasked us with rooting out our weak. We dropped to eight by my tenth nameday. Senbotsu is the only one not of that original brood, between Dur’Artoth and...another. I don’t think Mother is still alive anymore, so worry not. Senbotsu was likely a Broodlord who rose above the rabble, in part by helping Dekeshi capture and depose me.”

“...Understand that we kept many secrets from each other, so my understanding of her abilities is imprecise, especially because she rose to power after most of my resources were stripped away or destroyed. In any case I have seen her possess bodies with those strands while I served as assassin to the Royal Line. I think she weaves them with Blood Magicka, mimicking the Fifth Element of Life, but I cannot say for sure.”

Then, “When she deigns to appear she will be protected by many possessed thralls, manipulating them like puppets. She can operate each one individually. I’ve never once seen her face; she uses that cocoon as her spell focus, and it likewise protects her like a shield. I don’t know how to pierce this defense, but her weakness is obvious.”

“Yes...?” Kaileena prodded, to which Vala replied with a mischievous grin, “Most Skraul are prideful, especially Highborn Skraul. If she uses a defense like that, hiding behind an outer shell, it’s because her body underneath is frail, and a direct physical confrontation would be to her detriment. Get her out of that cocoon and you should have a good chance of killing her.”

Agreeing with that line of thought, Kaileena planned several techniques that might be effective in just that, continuing, “While we seek and engage Senbotsu and Don’Yoku, seven of my twelve clay constructs will be assessing and analyzing the situation through divination. With luck, my segmented consciousness will detect the nature of our enemy’s enchantments, and how to bypass them. As I have not yet perfected this method, all I can give you is an eighty-two percent chance of success.”

“You can do dat?” Dral’rrche said in his gravelly voice, scratching his head, and Kaileena smiled, amused despite herself.

“Indeed. I have grown considerably in power since my time in the Outer Coast. In any case, I will determine if a viable attack can succeed should Dur’Artoth or his R’yzthaek appear. I have some experience in his style of attack; like Arteth he uses illusions and mental attacks to distort one’s perceptions. As a being that is no longer a singular consciousness; who sees multiple variations of the same images when all of my pairs of eyes are linked...I will be less susceptible to this, and thus I should combat him should he appear.”

Arteth shifted, but she silenced his inevitable protests with a glare, “...As I was about to say, husband; as you are immune to mental attacks you will assist me. Nu, Illuthien, Farcia.” she continued, naming the other three Kamiyonanayo, “If he is alone, you will assist me as well. If the R’yzthaek appear, combat them as you see fit, and stay out of it.”

“I am hardly one to take orders in this manner.” Illuthien growled, but Nu giggled, “Elurra told you what to do as well. You are slipping, eldest. Eagle can see it.”

Kaileena shrugged, “...no matter. I will tell you this now, Illuthien; as a Kamiyonanayo you are free to act as you see fit in order to gain victory. Even as I am, you have far more experience than I, as does Arteth. But I warn you...if your pride becomes an issue and you endanger this operation, I will kill you without hesitation, as swiftly and effortlessly as I did Armathras.”

The supreme lack of concern on Kaileena’s part kept her silent, and Farcia placed a hand on her mistress’ shoulder, whispering words in her ear.

Arteth would have heard them, but Kaileena could care less of their import, though she smirked, again amused, as Illuthien glared, noticing she was looking at her handmaiden, and locked lips with Farcia, more to obviously mark her territory than any gesture of affection, her burning red eye locked with Kaileena’s own as she did so.

Having no desire to indulge such foolishness, Kaileena continued, “Don’Yoku is the priority target. It was he who transported an entire city into the Faded Veil. You will disable him with this. Am I understood?”

A length of iron, identical to the one she’d menaced Yokai with, emerged from her hand. One for each of her allies followed it.

“What that do?” Dral’rrche asked, to which she considered, “It will override and then separate the frontal lobe of those pierced with it, as a start. It would be distressing to know the rest, suffice to say it will render Don’Yoku, and preferably the matriarch as well, more receptive to revealing their secrets. Knowing the specifics of their techniques, as well as anything their master saw fit to share of his ultimate designs would be quite useful. Of course, they will be mine to use against him, the more the benefit to us.”

Tentative nods greeted her, clearly unsettled by her new ability, and Kaileena sighed, “When both are defeated, and hopefully turned...we will be one step closer to ending this pointless war. I am nearly upon a method that will deal with the lesser purebloods and slaves, but in the meantime we must do what we can to curb Dur’Artoth’s immediate underlings.”

Waiting for each of her selected constructs to link their efforts, Kaileena rose, “We will go now. Prepare yourselves.”

With that, the table sprang into motion; Yokai flexed his limbs, his hands and feet shifting into Draconic form, covered to the joints in dark violet scales and talons sharper than any blade. His horns and wings, another byproduct of his continued mutation, gave him a vaguely Kamiyonanayo-like appearance.

Dral’rrche tested the heft of a massive crystal sword that pulsed with magicka she was unfamiliar with, Illuthien clanged her chitin wrist plate against the double-head of her axe, and Farcia reviewed her extensive list of wands, a few of which offered her an idea or two for future enchantments.

Nu balanced a staff in her hands, and Larlax flexed his nimble, dexterous fingers, before clutching a pair of small rosewood wands, their garnet tips flaring brightly. Arteth unsheathed Verlangen, twirling the double-sword’s tip on the floor, drilling ever smaller circles.

Vala dismissed Kuri, tears in both of their eyes, and drew her strange blue katana. A nimbus of faint blue light emanated from her forehead, its center point a dot over and between her eyes, a curious marking which Kaileena noticed was an elven chakra point. The coincidence was unlikely.

And each belted on an iron rod, hopefully to see use when a foe was incapacitated. For her part, no preparation as necessary; any of her blood magicka spells and enchantments could activate instantly...and she favored no weapon at all, for her claws would draw blood to cast through.

Although the lack of her old staff did trouble her in some distant corner of her mind, as a part of her acknowledged the comfortable heft of a weapon in one’s hands. She might not have been able to face the Colossus without it.

Perhaps she would find a replacement. Then again...her body was itself a weapon now; a resource whose sum parts could be converted into spells. She also had one remaining item that could be considered a weapon...

“We go.” she said, activating her new teleportation spell.

General Nobuyuki crept into the city limits of Fusestu, followed by twenty elite warriors. Unarmored and garbed as peasants, each of them carried swords disguised as lengths of bamboo, which they carried in bundles wrapped across their backs.

He’d explained to the guards that his group consisted of laborers, which were delivering a purchase of exotic wood to a local artisan.

His army was stationed no more than two hours away, half of the distance Yamato had ordered. He regretted that disobedience, but knew it to be necessary if his ruse was to be effective. His cadre was tasked with sabotaging the city’s defenses; its gates, and the several chain guns and black powder cannons. Crippled, the city would be unable to commit to a siege. His army would occupy it by nightfall.

Making a show of travelling to the noble’s quarter, he sent four of his men away from the group, abandoning their bundles as they did. As they passed into a narrow side-street each of them altered their disguises, taking the blanket wrapping each bundle and wearing it like a cloak, using the bamboo length that concealed a sword as a walking stick.

Shifting their walking patterns to a shambling gait, they departed back to the poor quarter and the gates, appearing as crones.

For his part, he’d previously secured a guard barracks, inside of which were spare uniforms and proper weapons. As they arrived, he had each of his men abandon their hidden weapons, intended only for a swift escape had one been needed before this point.

But the General didn’t discard his own bundle, not yet. Inside his bundle and two others were sets of tools they would use to disable the chain guns. The simplest way to do so would be to detach a certain rivet, which functioned as the link between the trigger and a pivot which activated the primer.

He would use a small metal saw, diamond-hardened, to separate the rivet, then a hammer to extract each half. But first, to access the rivet he needed to detach the outer metal plating, and for that a chisel would suffice in breaking the bolts which secured it. He’d practiced this process, and demanded the same of his men, for hours. He was convinced he could do it in three minutes flat.

Fusestu was more heavily armed and fortified since the initial Skraul invasion; it now boasted eight chain gun turrets, and each one could be led by railing to any section of the walls. His team could dismantle them within an hour.

By the time the enemy realized that their weapons were damaged it would be too late to repair them; he specified that each soldier must re-attach the outer plates, hence the final part of each tool set, the new bolts, which would be hammered in.

The noise made this task dangerous...but for each one they ruined stealthily, the lower the probability that anyone would notice its defects at all.

The barracks, as promised, were empty, and there they deposited the bamboo bundles. Donning the armor of the Hitorigami’s army infantrymen, Nobuyuki felt at home with its comfortable heft, forsaking the peasant clothes. The tools he subdivided to each group of four or five men, with explicit instructions as to when to strike. He wanted each team working simultaneously, maximizing the potential damage.

When their tasks were complete they would flee the city in whatever manner appropriate, ideally returning to the barracks and abandoning their armor in favor of peasant clothing once more. If not, he knew a more dramatic exit could be possible...at least if his men succeeded in jamming the gates.

Arteth exhaled as the temperature dropped radically, then wheezed at the lack of air.

As he watched, willing his magicka to life, he saw each of the others, Kaileena excluded, wince at their inability to breathe. Vala seemed more confused by the sensation than alarmed, though her unease increased over the next moments.

As his spell took effect and filtered in oxygen in a compressed sphere around them, Arteth gasped, looking dazedly at his surroundings. They resided within a great sphere, its stone walls gouged and pitted, barely containing Tengu’s massive bulk. It was a hole; a void, defined only by the gaping chasm in its apex, revealing a great black sky above.

“Sector Fourteen...” Larlax sighed wearily, “The Magia Cluster. Population; 12,338. Third largest on the planet.”

“Dur’Artoth has scrubbed it clean.” Kaileena noted distantly, “Why? to what purpose?”

Her eyes losing their focus, she paused, then added, “My constructs have located four other cities, each one destroyed, each one likewise emptied.”

“Four.” the Carthspirian groaned, his eyes moistening, “We have to stop them. Find them, please.”

Nodding even as Kaileena did, Arteth wove his own augury, searching for traces of the unique shadowy energy used by the Dread Hammer’s Faithful. Now that he was actually on the planet, the distance to the target severely reduced, his spells would be far more effective.

“I have them.” he said grimly, tightening his hold on Verlangen’s hilt...

Nobuyuki continued, armed and armored, to the stairways and through another set of barracks which led to the battlements, beside four of his soldiers.

He maintained an air of confidence; most would never look beyond the first glance if everything appeared normal. He greeted the enemy men jovially, his armor’s chevrons declaring him a petty officer. Thus, seeing him lead four others seemed normal, and he passed through without incident.

Quelling the uneasiness he felt, Nobuyuki ascended a second flight of stairs up to an elevator. Reaching the battlements from there, he breathed easy in the crisp pre-morning air. The first chain gun was twenty paces to the left, and was being watched by only one guard.

Striding forward with confidence, he hailed the guard, “Ho, friend; we are here to relieve you.”

The man shrugged, for Nobuyuki had secured the official schedule and knew that by the timing of the infiltration he would appear roughly sixteen hours after the current shifts began. By this, it would coincide with the period in which soldiers and petty officers would end their shifts.

“Orders from the commander. He wants more men watching this shooter. Go, have a drink on me.”

Tossing the man a coin, enough for half a bottle of sake, Nobuyuki shared grins as the soldier pocketed the currency and was on his way without a word.

His smile dying the moment the man passed out of sight, Nobuyuki immediately set to work, his men forming a phalanx to hide him from sight. Setting the chisel after wrapping it in cloth to muffle its impact, the general began hammering away, wincing at each dull thunk.

After twelve seconds the first bolt snapped, and he fished it out with the hooked end of the hammer. Used to the motions, Nobuyuki extracted the next three in a total of twenty-three seconds, and pulled off the plate with a grin. Locating the rivet, he swapped the hammer and chisel for the saw, and began slicing through the heavy brass ore.

He severed the rivet in forty seconds flat, with almost no noise, and then he pulled the halves out with the hammer, then put the plate back on, hammering in its bolts in under twenty. Roughly two-minutes-thirty-five-seconds, and the first chain gun was useless to the enemy.

“Alright.” he said, pointing to one soldier, “You stay here to maintain appearances. Wait a six-hundred count, then head back to the barracks. If the alarm is raised, just head for the gates. Horses will be readied there.”

Nodding, loyal even in the face of daring Fusestu alone, the soldier put on a show of pacing about the defective chain gun. Walking beyond him, he targeted the next turret on the wall...

Don’Yoku gaped at the menagerie before him, standing in the amphitheater of their necropolis. An Ogre, an Orc, an El’Dari, a Dragon, a Carthspirian wizard, four Kamiyonanayo, including the one from the forest, and none other than Kaileena herself.

“Welcome!” he said, elated, “Welcome, welcome, welcome. One and all! This is such a wondrous surprise.”

Kaileena’s oddly shifting eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Take him down.” she said without compunction, and in an instant each of her disparate allies readied their spells. The Ogre drew a claw across the air in a mystic pass, the Kamiyonanayo cast their spells, and Kaileena simply stood, her veins searing with heat and light.

Not a single one of their magickal abilities took effect, to which he grinned savagely at their frustration, before the Dragon, the El’Dari, and the Orc rushed into the fray, forcing him to retreat...

“Now, now.” Don’Yoku chided, sprinting away as over a dozen small bodies winked into existence all about them, all the wizards transformed by God Death, all channeling a very powerful aegis.

“No magicka, no magicka. At least not for you. How are we ever to fight on equal grounds?”

Kaileena heard those words in some distant corner of her mind, but was unable to process them through her body’s sudden paralysis. She stumbled, then collapsed to her knees, her heart’s palpitations turbulent, her vision blurry, and she looked without comprehension at a pair of translucent hemispheres lowered onto them, the inner one red, the outer one clear.

She called upon her power to mend whatever was affecting her, but as if stricken with the loss of one of her senses, she could no longer access the Phoenix Stone in her chest. Her connections to her clay constructs likewise atrophied.

Trying to breathe in, she found that all she could do was drool, as if her throat was closed. In truth, she guessed that it was because her lungs no longer functioned.

“Kaileena!” Arteth gasped, but she waved him off, gurgling, “Kill...him...”

Hissing with frustration, gasping as the energies of the Phoenix Stone refused to obey her or maintain her body’s natural processes, Kaileena was left to blankly observe as Arteth and all others with melee capabilities charged or flew in pursuit. Shinabi paced around her, shielding her body with his bulk, hackles raised.

“Tengu!” she commanded with as much volume as she could muster, critically eyeing the ashen skinned, dead-eyed Gnomes orbiting her position outside the hemispheres, “Kill the wizards.”

Roaring, her voice shaking the ground itself, Tengu climbed onto the empty buildings, unable to truly fly in the lack of thermal-carrying air. Her claws digging deeply, her serpentine body winding into a coil, she lashed like a serpent, escaping the inner, red hemisphere, but collided with a solid barrier and floundered in the air, trailing spit and teeth fragments.

Yokai groaned, falling to his knees, as his flesh began to...change. Arteth and the Kamiyonanayo cleared the red barrier, but were stopped before fully escaping it by the clear barrier.

The rest of the ordeal was lost as Kaileena beckoned to Shinabi, and, using his bulk, lifted herself up, using his matted fur like a grip.

Kaileena hissed with rage as she formulated a coherent thought, in spite of her failing body. Of course; Don’Yoku was utilizing a field of anti-magicka, powerful enough to inhibit the Phoenix Stone.

The Wizards were probably channeling the outer barrier; a shielding ward. It was a trap, and a good one, too. Her allies would be unable to escape or attack with spells. Don’Yoku would be able to call his god at any time, and she would continue to be disabled as her body disintegrated...

Unable to help the others, Vala slid away from the range of effect of the anti-magicka barrier, surreptitiously escaping the trap thanks to Fuyuzora’s energy manipulation capabilities.

For some reason the spell didn’t affect her sword’s powers, perhaps because they were still vampyric in origin. Unfortunately, she could do little to help the others with it.

She likewise knew of no mindbreaking technique that could cancel a person’s spell without first dominating their minds...and she had no wish to test her willpower against a fabled wizard, even one already under the effects of telepathic or magickal control, let alone several of them. The old stories had to count for something.

Channeling Fuyuzora’s magickal potency, Vala spread her telepathic awareness outward, seeking the presence of her last living “sister”. With the matriarch dead Don’Yoku would be that much easier to slay.

Besides...this was a sensitive matter for her, and had to be finished before she could live in peace. She didn’t have to search for long.

Threads of crimson power wound around her legs, up to knee level, before constricting painfully. Vala gritted her teeth, but watched blankly as the cocoon descended by a thread from the darkness above.

“Kogoeji-ni...” a voice echoed from inside it, and she scowled, “Senbotsu. How is mother?”

“Your mother? Quite well. Thank you for asking. Perhaps I will feed you to her after I claim your head.”

Nobuyuki disabled two more chain guns successfully, all without drawing any attention to himself.

The alarm hadn’t been raised and by the time that came to pass his soldiers should have succeeded in disabling the other turrets. If the gate was sabotaged as well, Fusestu would be utterly defenseless against the oncoming host. His retribution against the false Hitorigami and the return to ancient traditionalism was at hand!

With the Central District’s capital under his control, he could press into any city in the Central and South District with little to no resistance. He could even follow his Hitorigami to the nation’s capital, further entrapping its false leaders.

Then, when the capital was theirs, they would seek Karyu. Yamato would try to oust the Silkrit peacefully, but Nobuyuki knew the Silkrit had to be disposed off, all of them, to prevent future interference.

He doubled back down into another barracks, then into the street, heading back to his other disguise. Nearly done, nearly done...

He passed unnoticed through half of Fusestu’s breadth, and re-entered the barracks. The doors slammed shut behind him, locking him inside. He heard them being boarded up even then.

“Greetings, General Nobuyuki.” a man echoed from the rafters above, and he didn’t wait to look up, turning and driving his tanto into the locking mechanism, twisting and breaking it, then braced himself to ram the door.

Something bit into his calf, and swearing, Nobuyuki turned and drew his officer’s katana, pulling a slim dart from his leg.

“Now, now.” they chided, “Don’t be rude. I wasn’t able to introduce us.”

Silkrit, four of them, stood near the top of the stairs. Now that he had a better vantage he could see the blood dripping down the steps.

“My men?” he asked, unnecessarily, and one of the Silkrit, who wore stylized black and gold armor similar to his own, smiled, “Dead. You are among the last to arrive. The rest, I think, I can allow the city guard to handle, since they are alerted.”

At that, alarm bells rang from many directions, muffled by the walls of the barracks. The Silkrit’s smile widened, “We discovered your infiltration mere hours before you enacted it, but that was far more time than we needed. You should know better, Human, than to cross the Te Fukushu so carelessly, and to camp an army mere miles from a capital city to which we are allied.”

“Why allow me to sabotage the guns?” General Nobuyuki asked, feeling lightheaded. A sharp, stinging sensation spread throughout his leg.

“You were accompanied by over thirty men, Nobuyuki. I couldn’t allow you any chance at evading us. You...or your men. We waited until you were properly separated from one another before picking you off individually. The men at the gates, I’m sad to say, have been dead since they arrived there. Not a soul saw them depart this world, lest the alarm be raised prematurely.”

Cursing again, Nobuyuki eyed the Silkrit captain, “I didn’t hear your name, beast. I would hear it now so I could know what I will kill ere I pass into shadow.”

The Silkrit nodded disdainfully, ” Naoaki, Captain of the Guard of Karyu. And that won’t be as easy as you might think.”

Naoaki drew his own sword, one of such unusual shape he was unable to identify its origins. Similar to an extent to a Jian shortsword, with a narrow, double-edged blade, a medium-sized wooden handle, and a ring pommel with a tassel bound to its tip, the sword was nonetheless possessed of seven angular protrusions which ran along the length of the blade and pointed towards the tip, appearing somewhat like the branches of a tree.

“Do you like my weapon.” Naoaki asked the Human, turning it sideways to reflect the faint torchlight, “Her name is Nanatsusaya no Tachi, The Seven-Branched Sword, and she is a treasured relic of my people. In the earliest days of our race, to which few remember, a sword like this was created for our first king who untied the many tribes for the purpose of war against the Karu’s barbarian hordes.”

He chortled, “Forged of steel folded one hundred times, my blade is an exact replica of the original piece, which was, sadly, lost to history. I made her myself, from the carbon-rich ore of this land, and the wood of its hearty trees. It is the land’s gift to me, to my people. It is the symbol I will drive through your heart, to proclaim our allegiance to the land and to its people.”

Advancing, his footsteps silent due to the cloth padding his boots, Naoaki assumed his combat stance, blade leading forward and tilted downward, right foot leading and the other bent for leverage.

General Nobuyuki, using his standard kendo stance; both hands on the handle, blade leading and facing diagonally and up, seemed uncertain how to proceed against such an unconventional weapon.

Naoaki, to his lasting pride, had duplicated his style from an ancient detailing of their first king. No Human had ever seen it, though he was training several hunters in its complexities, hoping to establish a weapon school utilizing the Nanatsusaya no Tachi.

With his weapon, his pride, and the rage of his murdered kin, Naoaki bellowed and charged the human, thrusting Nanatsusaya no Tachi forward.

General Nobuyuki miraculously parried properly on the first attempt, striking the blade from the side, on the edge of one of the branches, which forced Naoaki to backpedal and dash along the Human’s flank, thrusting at his leg. The poison from the dart was working; Nobuyuki could barely manage to evade the attack, so sluggish were his limbs.

Disengaging, Naoaki smiled, “My general, I commend you. You already figured out how my sword works, and how to repel it.”

The Human grunted, his balance flagging, “The purpose of the branches is to hook a blade and displace its momentum, leaving the enemy exposed. That thing must be heavy and unwieldy, but I cannot dispute the threat it poses to anyone wielding a sword or spear; with those branches it can attack and defend at the same time.”

“However...” Nobuyuki continued, his breathing heavy as the poison spread through his body, “Its weakness is its strength; by targeting the branches, the sword’s own momentum can be used against its wielder, altering its course. Since you are amused, I trust you will be polite enough to tell me what was in that dart.”

Nodding, Naoaki angled the Human towards the corner, “A potent paralytic. Slow to take effect, but it will completely inhibit your movement, disabling you for several hours. Not that...” he clarified, “...I intend for you to spend that much time paralyzed before I kill you.”

Nobuyuki snarled, swinging, and Naoaki parried, shoulder-butting him back. The Human calmed, then blanched, “You fight honorably...with the exception of this. What sport is there to killing someone in this manner, when a proper duel is possible?”

The Silkrit laughed, inching forward, trying to tease the Human into a spot where he couldn’t easily maneuver, “You misunderstand. We are assassins, General Nobuyuki, not warriors. Fairness is not a word to which we are familiar. I will kill you, that is true, either before or after the poison disables you, and I promise it will be no pleasant end.”

His laughter hardening, becoming more threatening, Naoaki inched forward, ever forward, increasing the tension, “Not that a traitor like you knows or is owed honor. You murdered our leader, our fellow hunters, when their only goal was to serve and protect your people, including those that are and yet you do not consider your people.”

He scowled, “For that I will kill you slowly, painfully. Then I will cut off your head and present it to Lady Aika. I will then cut off your fingers, your toes, your genitals, and drape your headless, fingerless, toeless, dickless body by its bowels from this battlement as a message to all who follow your ideals. That, General Nobuyuki, Lord of the West District, is the consequence of enraging a beast, as you have called me. That, General Nobuyuki, Lord of the West District, is my justice.”

His flesh paling, his teeth gritted, Nobuyuki’s movements became slower, clumsier, as his heartbeat increased, as the poison pumped through his veins at an increased rate.

But still Naoaki did not attack; he knew the folly of recklessly pursuing a wounded and cornered beast,

“Better hurry, general. You don’t have long before the poison takes hold fully. Did you still want to kill me before you die?”

“It doesn’t matter if I die.” General Nobuyuki snapped, his eyes furious, “Even if the walls are intact, Fusestu’s defenses are crippled. My army will take this city and my field commanders will occupy it until they are ready to march on Hitorigami City. You’ve still lost, you filthy creature! Even if you have your revenge your cause has failed! Yamato Takeru will burn Karyu to the ground!”

Naoaki didn’t take the bait, instead, he laughed harder; “Idiot. Because I didn’t alert the city guard doesn’t mean Itaku isn’t aware of your efforts.”

He smiled with satisfaction as a seed of sheer horror germinated in the Human’s expression, “Oh yes; the thing about having enchanters as allies, not slaves, is that they’re much more keen on doing their duties. Itaku’s enchanters located your army days ago on its march here, and in turn alerted us. How do you think we were able to get here so quickly after learning of your treachery?”

He chortled, “The army in this city couldn’t be marshaled. It would’ve tipped you off to our duplicity...but Hitorigami City has nearly emptied itself to get a shot at your forces. We knew someone like you doesn’t trust your underlings; we knew you would personally oversee the dismantling of Fusestu, and we just couldn’t ignore the opportunity to swiftly avenge our leader. As we speak, Itaku, backed by the royal army, is engaging your host, backed by Te Fukushu hunters, who beforehand would likely have poisoned your soldier’s food and water, fed hallucinogenic substances to your officers, and slain your messengers and banner-bearers. Oh, have no doubt, my friend, that your army is in dire straits indeed.”

The pre-dawn sky was overcast, befitting a day of battle.

Itaku rode upon a steel-clad charger, a naginata in his hand and his sword, Mujihi, at his side. Beside him two hundred of the Hitorigami’s Army of one thousand strong cut into the ranks of Yamato’s rebellion, striking at its exposed flank as the distant archers harried the enemy from the front and the bulk of his army was closing the distance.

With their shields and steel fans needed to keep away the projectiles, his cavalry plowed into the distracted enemy formation, their naginata ramming soldiers into the ground with the force of their impacts.

Yamato hadn’t yet taken the field, but that was to be expected. For all his postulating as a noble warrior, the man was a coward, murdering Shirudo in cold blood and hiding behind his men.

The army itself was daunting, massive and well-organized. He’d cornered them between a narrow ridge and a narrow river north and west of Fusestu, when they’d been in marching formation, with the six battle formations of around five hundred marching one in front of the other.

At the first sign of his army’s presence they’d reorganized; with spear and naginata wielders on the flanks, and shield and fan bearers primarily in front, with archers spread near the center and riflemen near the flanks.

Troops ideally placed, they formed a wedge arrangement, with one formation in front, three behind in a horizontal line, and two behind that as rearguard, properly using the terrain to make a harrying run by cavalry difficult.

Difficult, he had proven, but not impossible. But inexplicably, there were also gaps in their aegis; no doubt brought about by Te Fukushu meddling, and the army, while still formidable, was sluggish, as if the officers were having difficulty communicating from one end of the army to the other.

The enemy army would not reach Fusestu any time soon; that he was to ensure. He held little hope of fully routing them; against over three thousand the odds were against him. The idea was to delay them, causing maximum casualties, before retreating to Fusestu and forcing a siege.

The army wouldn’t be able to last more than a few weeks at its current strength, should the chain guns be repaired...and what he now did served the purpose of reducing their capabilities even further.

Screaming the name of Teikoku, his ancestral home, Itaku drove his naginata into the breastplate of a banner-bearer, running him through. Something stuck his abdomen, but glanced off his breastplate.

His foot was hit by something hard, probably a kanabo or the butt of a rifle, and he groaned. He stabbed a second time with his naginata, and felt it glance off a buckler, sending a vibrating numbness up his hand and forearm.

Enemy archers and riflemen peppered his ranks as they breached the other end of the formation, and many loyal servants of the Hitorigami perished in that dreadful charge.

A stray bullet rebounded off his closed-faced helm, and an arrow pierced his armor at the thigh. The Lord of the Central District gasped as its tip grated against bone, but recovered quickly.

“Turn right!” he commanded, his voice amplified and reverberated by latent enchantment, which likewise made it more difficult for the enemy to single him out, “Three paces from the man to your left. Strike again at their rear!”

Kicking his horse onward, Itaku led the cavalry around the bulk of the army, allowing his men to recover and prepare for the next blow. Those who lost their naginata in the first charge drew katanas or odachi, or split off from the main force, aiming bows or flintlock rifles.

This time the enemy was prepared, with the half facing his ranged soldiers protecting their fellows on the opposite flank; the one he now faced.

“Rifles!” he roared, drawing a fine two-shot pistol, “Skirt their edges. Stay as one; loose spacing.”

As the enemy soldiers scrambled to throw down their own swords and spears and again hide under the protection of shields and steel fans, Itaku smiled as his cavalry aimed and took fire, launching a full volley before the shields raised.

Arrows sank into flesh silently, and bullets announced themselves with thunderous retort, sending up clouds of blood and shattered armor fragments. Two full lines of men fifteen wide collapsed or doubled over, and for three lines behind them men showed signs of grievous injury.

His main task done, for it would be perilous to try his luck any further, Itaku signaled the main bulk of his army with a second gun that fired a white phosphorous shell, launching the round into the air where it detonated into a descending sphere of blinding light.

“Regroup!” he shouted, holstering his flare pistol with a grimace. As they increased their distance from the enemy lines, looping around back to his infantry, Itaku grimaced as a volley of arrows bombarded the rear of his mounted soldiers. Seven fell from the saddle, and four clutched dire wounds.

He mourned their passing as best he could by increasing the pace, prodding his poor horse to his limits and demanding the same from the rest. He angled his troops to circle the front of his army’s advance, taking a flank as his infantry closed the distance and met the other, like a pair of fingers closing on the point of the wedge.

The men screamed with fervor, line upon line of sword and spearmen meeting the rebel army he and his cavalry had just bloodied and left in disarray.

The next moments were horrible, frantic, interminable periods of time, horses colliding with men. He was nearly thrown from his perch, swinging his naginata with abandon. His mount faltered four lines in. The two masses of soldiers became a blur of clashing swords and bodies.

Men screamed in pain and anger, and their screams were drowned out by a cacophony of steel and gunfire, obscured by smoke and blood...

Arteth looked back as Kaileena collapsed into a heap, her flesh flaking off in patches.

Before his horrified eyes, the Phoenix Stone fell from her body, and she scattered like ashes in the wind, leaving only her core intact.

“Shinabi!” he bellowed, watching the hound whine over the remains, “Bring Kaileena, now.”

Grunting, his expression displaying unnatural intelligence, the hound obeyed, scooping up the stone with his mouth and trotting forward.

Eyeing the Dragon, Tengu, as she rammed into the barrier a second time, a simple but potentially effective idea blossomed.

“Everyone!” he railed, “Strike the barrier in synchrony. Even Carthspirian Wizards have limitations.”

“Yokai!” he snapped at the El’Dar..., “What is... What are...”

Yokai screamed in pain as his skin molted off in sheets, revealing the coat of dark scales beneath as his bones expanded and lengthened.

His voice grew deeper, as if emerging from the bottom of a well. Agony, cartilage popping, fraying, into new arrangements. His jagged teeth sliced into his tongue, which lengthened and forked. His Draconic limbs darkened to match the color of his coat of scales.

Yokai called upon the final stages of Tengu’s gift, based not in magicka but their shared life energies; shared since the moment he’d been reborn of her womb.

His life had begun from hers, and he had carried her remains in the hollow in his chest, birthing her in similar fashion, and now, she had again given him rebirth, but not in a manner the previous Yokai had imagined.

He shed his mortal flesh, the expended black gem tumbling free from his chest cavity, and embraced his true form, for his heart and mind was not that of a Human or an El’Dari.

His sphere was pride and arrogance and might. His was selfish cruelty, and remorseless ambition. No wonder he’d found no kinship with his people. How appropriate the feeling was, for his was the heart of a Dragon.

Taking wing, his talons gouging the floor as his obsidian-scaled body began to dwarf even the Kamiyonanayo, Yokai joined Tengu as she struck the barrier, along with the swords, staves, and fangs of the others. The second barrier wavered for just a moment, and with his coiling body Yokai reached a clawed arm outside of its boundaries before it closed.

The pain was excruciating, but the scales of a Dragon were rightfully fabled as nigh-indestructible. His arm was constricted to the extent that his bones broke, but his natural armor held true, holding the barrier open.

Tengu joined him, still considerably larger, her eyes wide with shock and something else he couldn’t identify as she studied him, her tail’s tip wagging uncertainly.

“Don’t mind the arm.” he said, his voice deeply resonating in his throat, which was itself the size of his body before his transformation, “Widen the gap.”

As Don’Yoku chanted in a strange language, three of the wizards ceased their invocation and began a new spell, no doubt aimed his way.

Tengu’s throat burned with the gathering energy of her breath weapon, and trying and failing to find that power within him Yokai could only watch as she bathed his dark scales in plasma, the heat causing them to stimulate, much like pores opening to release sweat.

The scales, normally an ultimate defense, became an unstoppable offense as they pressed against the edges of the barrier, widening it. Forcing his arm through to his bicep, Tengu repeated the process, his immolated, stimulated scales allowing him to maneuver his arm further and further out of the anti-magicka sphere.

A moment, just a moment, and enough of him was outside of the field of anti-magicka to cast a true spell. It was all he needed.

He snapped a hasty epithet, teleporting not himself but the barrier inward and into the anti-magicka field, and with a rush of displaced air the barrier collapsed, dispersed.

Lunging forward, his new body twisting against gravity, Yokai caught a wizard in his mouth and bit down hard, feeling flesh and bone give way with a wet crunch, even as his tail swung down in a devastating swipe that toppled a stone pillar the size of a large house...

The moment the field was interrupted Arteth leaped from its perimeter, wings spread, holding the precious Phoenix Stone and charging it with his magicka.

Dozens of destructive evocations greeted him, but passed through his flesh as he transformed himself into a living illusion, impervious to physical attack.

Creating three doppelgangers, the Djinn arcanist exchanged places with the one that passed unmolested the furthest from the wizards’ proximity, returning to physical form.

He likewise animated his doppelgangers, transmuting illusion into reality with a small, hastily worded chant of High Magicka, which fed on his immortal vital essence and warped reality to suit his needs.

The others escaped as well, unhindered thanks to his unintended distraction, and attacked the Renmei Keiji cultist.

At that moment, Don’Yoku finished his first spell and transmuted his flesh into living titanium. Illuthien’s gout of magma broke upon his body and melted the ground beneath him, the carnivorous insect swarm summoned by Nu splattered against his metal skin, Dral’rrche’s sword cracked as it struck him, and the twin lightning bolts created by Larlax rebounded harmlessly.

Don’Yoku’s next spell began in earnest; which would no doubt shift the entire city into the Faded Veil. Shadows lengthened... Color faded...

“Kaileena!” Arteth gasped, feeling his grasp weaken as flesh began to congeal on the stone’s surface, “Come back. Hurry.”

As he watched, stricken, he was also aware of events as they unfolded, and began his next spells in earnest.

Dral’rrche, snarling with anger as his attack failed, seemed to expand in size as his people’s berserker frenzy overcame him and charged a low flying wizard, was struck by a prismatic pulse of energy, and resisted the effect, whatever it had been, one of the runes marking his chest flaring and sputtering out in a burst of sparks.

Rocketing himself upward with a pillar of flame, the Ogre swung his great crystal sword, only to have it rebound off a powerful barrier.

As this occurred, he saw Illuthien, Farcia, and Nu surround Don’Yoku, each of their hands waving in mystic passes, The Human, protected by a shifting aura of shadow magicka, seemed untroubled by their efforts.

Yokai and Tengu circled overhead, bombarding the orbiting wizards with bursts of plasma breath and their whipping tails, each strike shaking the ground with its impact.

Arteth snarled, completing his next evocation and calling forth twelve illusionary duplicates to augment his three tangible ones, which either guarded him or flew off to harry the wizards, hopefully distracting them. He could swap places with each as needed.

His second spell, his aura of fire, he placed on Don’Yoku before inverting it, the heat breaking upon the Human’s defenses. The flames manifested as silver, hot enough to turn earth to glass. His physical doppelgangers struck with their swords, a reflection of his own Verlangen, in both its heft and enchantment potency.

Nothing seemed to reach its target. Hundreds of crimson threads surrounded the Human, fortifying his defenses and snapping at those nearby with bursts of shadowy magicka, which flayed the skin of his doppelgangers like scourges, and the three Djinn females nearby were forced to retreat, Illuthien drawing her twin headed axe and swinging at the irritants with vile curses on her lips, all the while a pair of crystals orbited her head, launching constant streams of crackling electricity.

The two Dragons, he noticed, still occupied much of the wizards’ attentions, allowing him to cast a second aura of flame on one and burn it to cinders while they tried to contain the beasts. It was not enough...not enough...

There was pain, and then light...

Kaileena felt her body regenerate far sooner than it should have, and in mere moments she stood naked, shivering, beside Arteth as a battle raged about them.

The dampener rods and subcutaneous rig materialized in her flesh, as did the star sapphires in her palms, and she screamed, doubled over in pain her body should not have registered.

Snarling, eyeing the Gnome wizards floating in the skyline of the ruined spherical city, Kaileena instantly rent the Veil with a powerful conjuration and summoned a pair of Medusian Basilisk. Three of the wizards were caught in her minion’s enchanting gaze, then grimaced as their bodies transmuted from flesh to stone. Their levitation spells lost, their bodies plummeted before striking the floor and breaking apart on impact.

Reassembling them as she could constructs, if not living bodies, she commanded them to attack their fellows. The gratification was short lived, as she saw tendrils of blood red energy insert into the remains and pump new life into them, restoring them in a similar manner to her body’s regeneration.

As they again became living things, a hastily manifested trio of iron rods thrust by telekinesis overrode whatever control the matriarch had, again twisting them to her will. The tendrils retreated, disappearing into the darkness.

“Not tendrils...” she realized, seeing that they were in fact thicker variations of the thread effect Larlax had observed previously. Quickly tracing the strands to their source, Kaileena made the split second decision to attack the matriarch.

“Arteth!” she snapped, “Shinabi! To me.”

Not waiting to ensure that her husband and mastiff were following her, Kaileena reviewed events as they unfolded through her multiple clay constructs.

Holding her personal effects in one hand while her clothing animated by telekinesis and covered her, Kaileena grimaced at the touch of telepathic contact not dissimilar to Arteth’s, but allowed the connection when she identified the sender.

“Leave Senbotsu to me.” Vala projected telepathically, “Deal with the Human, then the wizards if you can.”

“Are you certain you are capable?” she asked, and sensed the former Skraul’s mental affirmative.

Knowing the nature of the spell that Senbotsu was casting, Vala made no effort to interfere.

Stepping from one space to another as the teleportation carried her to the chosen place for their duel, Vala looked down with a grimace to find her feet free of webbing, instead perched upon panes of stained glass, part of a larger structure reinforced by thin metal supports.

Beneath the floor’s opaque ruby, sapphire, and emerald-tinted murals, she perceived a great empty space, with walls of grey stone and nets of energy strands that formed a complex web. Above her, similar webs illuminated the area.

“Your nest, I presume?” Vala asked with haughty disdain, and the cocoon offered no telling expression. Instead, dozens of smaller cocoons descended from thin strands that should not have supported such disproportionate weight.

“You look mortal now, Kogoeiji-ni...” Senbotsu noted idly, and she nodded, “I am mortal, and quite pleased by it. Kogoeji-ni is dead. I am her benefactor, and her legacy.”

The secondary cocoons stopped several paces from the glass floor, wriggling, their thick membranes expanding. With a hundred wet, gushing bursts, the cocoons broke, releasing their contents.

Vala wrinkled her nose at the smell of bodily waste, corrosive chemicals, and rot, at the sight of pale, lumpy mounds of flesh with deformed, ghastly faces.

Some of Senbotsu’s thralls looked nearly Human, others like parts of many disparate races clumped together. The cocoons nearest to Senbotsu contained fully armored Skraul, their eyes waxy and unfocused, their darksteel weapons gripped in gnarled hands. They looked eerily familiar, as did their weapons...

“Ashes...” Senbotsu mused, “Taken from your Broodlords. Each slain by your hand and re-purposed for my pleasure. Will you say hello?”

Vala snarled, releasing her weapon’s Soul-Forged Enchantment...

Shielding her allies against the destructive spells of the wizards, Kaileena grimaced at the rapid loss of her Phoenix Stone’s potency. Don’Yoku had to die...and quickly.

Arteth hammered away at the Human’s shield and energy tendrils with his sword and evocations, as did Illuthien with her axe, which burned white hot and crackled with electricity and compressed telekinetic force, as did Nu with her stave, while Farcia kept the wizards away with her assortment of wands.

Shinabi she dared not risk, for he had to fight with tooth and claw, so she kept him by her side, and he paced about her impatiently. Kaileena, for her part, set to dispelling the last of the Human’s defenses with a series of abjurations using one of the sapphires in her hand as a focal point.

All the while, Don’Yoku chanted, his eyes wild and triumphant. While the spell itself, based off of Larlax’s report, was activated with only a trigger phrase, the matter of drawing enough energy to shift an entire city took a considerable amount of time and words of power.

Still, they didn’t have long; his reserves of magicka were most...unnatural. Considering things more carefully, she knew a direct approach wouldn’t work, so Kaileena instead ordered her clay constructs to cast various auguries to locate any blood the Human might have spilled in Teikoku.

All she needed was a drop, even dried, to connect their bodies with blood magicka. Just...one...drop...

Dral’rrche hurled his spear-with-short-handle into the little-pale-skin, only to have the weapon deflect off magicka ward.

Snarling, the rune-magi cast from one of the runes inked upon his flesh, and with a roar of superheated air his spell manifested as a whip of concentrated plasma. Cracking the whip against its barrier, he again found himself frustrated by failure as it deflected harmlessly.

Conceding his efforts as pointless, he considered the giant-sky-serpents overhead, the purple one breathing fire, and the black one that had been a knife-ear. There was something important about the legends of those creatures...

“Maybe you come out quicker in lightning rain!” Dral’rrche said with satisfaction at his hypothesis, calling upon a complex invocation. Drawing with the forefingers of both hands dipped to the knuckle in his signature ink, the he quickly traced a series of overlapping symbols and patterns in glowing energy, the threads of his spell shaping with them as a focus.

The wizards caught on to what he was doing, and as one began offensive spells directed solely at him. His chanting didn’t waver as his body was illuminated by countless searing, altering, and dazzling effects, all of which were absorbed by his chromatic mirror, a powerful reflective ward that redirected all hostile magicka towards their original sources for a short time.

Not a single rebounded spell injured its caster, and the shattered glass grinding against his thigh told him he wasn’t going to get another chance. Completing his spatial distortion spell, Dral’rrche altered the atmosphere in the upper levels of the city to resemble the open sky of Aurora. Ozone and moisture gathered, creating a thick fog.

“Big scaly friends!” he shouted, taking an honest assessment of his situation and fleeing, “Make storm now!”

Senbotsu didn’t explicitly “see” her sister’s transformation. Her senses were in fact the result of agitation of her shadow threads, akin to a dull echo.

Curious, the matriarch directly tapped into the perceptions of one of her corpse puppets to observe her foe more clearly.

Similar to her original true form, Vala was resplendent in an armor of purest ice. A great billowing cloak of cold mist draped from her shoulders. Bladed pauldrons crowned her shoulders, atop a shimmering breastplate. Gauntlets and shin-plates covered her hands and legs. A circlet of ice crowned her head with ornamented bladed wings up-swept above her ears.

In her right hand was a kite shield, wrought of the same material as her armor, and in the other was a great thrusting lance, its head a great double-edged point, its handle a spine-shaped length of ice.

However, though she was still the image of fierce beauty, her skin wasn’t ebony, but alabaster, with a pale blue in irregular patches. More orcen then elven.

“I have shown you my true face.” Vala replied in a light, musical voice, though her eyes were genuinely imposing, “Will you not?”

Senbotsu writhed in her protective cocoon, “Kill her. Kill her now.”

Vala lunged forward with her ever-piercing lance; the physical embodiment of Fuyuzora’s released power, and felt it plunge into the soft material of the massive cocoon.

It seeped puss and deflated, otherwise empty. A ruse...of course. She’d come to expect that much of Senbotsu.

The armored purebloods reached her first. She lifted her shield and felt no less than three weapons rebound off it. Thrusting her lance forward, its point rammed through the armor of a thrall, impaled them, and pulling it free Vala clubbed another with the butt of the lance, all the while using the length of her weapon as a second aegis, protecting her left flank even as the shield protected her right.

And then, each of the Blood-Forged enchantments of her Broodlords activated at once; her senses distorted, directions became skewed. Where she thought she was lifting her shield for a parry, it was actually her lance that she was moving.

A darksteel sword glanced off her pauldrons, digging into the material. At the same moment she was illuminated by shifting chromatic lights, detectable even during greater invisibility. Stealth was no longer an option. Likewise, distorting prisms directly interfered with her vision, dazzling and disorienting her.

“Of course I sought out Broodlords with illusionary abilities...” Vala groaned as she acquainted herself with reversed anatomy, “They are very effective combined against a single, powerful opponent. Just like I wanted them to be.”

That was fine. As Kogoeji-ni, Vala, as every high ranking Skraul, had been constantly prepared for betrayal from her underlings. Thus, she had devised means to defeat illusion-based attacks.

Calling upon her activated powers, she conjured a winding pillar of ice around her body, serving as a protective shield for all angles. Augmenting her mental acuity to pierce illusions, Vala studied the assorted Broodlords.

The one wielding the cleaver was Sachio, her consort. Tenri’s father. The sight of him brought fresh pangs of remorse that threatened to undo her even as she charged forward to strike him down. His ability was the perception inversion, which had inspired her own attack against Furin.

The rapier wielder was Nagaharu, which created the disorienting beams of light. The light and color preventing her from slipping into the shadows, if ever she could have, was due to the broadsword wielded by Baku, her former spymaster. That ability, while seemingly feeble, was most useful in chasing down and eliminating targets.

Each of her champions, plus a few more with weapons she didn’t recognize, none of which seemed to possess any higher function, charged her at once.

“Idiot...” Vala snarled, “You erred badly in forcing me to relive this painful memory, Senbotsu.”

Lashing out with her loosed telepathic fury, Vala sought to locate the Matriarch through her puppets, tracing her through the threads animating their bodies. They had to have a source...she only needed a few moments to find it.

Vala ducked, in the limited space afforded by her ice pillar, as a thrall stepped right through the ice and thrust at her with his weapon. The weapon punctured her armor and flesh without sensation, in fact, the weapon wasn’t even tangible.

Thinking quickly, Vala released her spell and backpedaled just as the Vampyre shifted back into physical form.

“Intangibility.” Vala grimaced, before retreating from another that had quadrupled his size, standing as twice the height of a Djinn.

Calling upon her magicka, Vala rained shards of ice upon her attackers, transforming her flesh into a cloud of mist that only tangibly existed in the Aether.

She nearly had her...

She floated upward, then moaned as the vampyre from earlier became intangible once more, leaped, and thrust his weapon into her body. As mist, she had no locational damage, but the pain nearly drew her back into the physical realm.

Bastard; as an intangible being it could manipulate other intangible objects, but not physical ones. That was something to remember...

Calling upon her burning blood, Tengu roared her defiance and summoned the thunderhead. The misty interior darkened with monstrous clouds backlit by streaks of pure blinding white.

Her bony spines flaring, the fire in her blood bubbling from her mouth, the Dragon breathed death upon the lowly mortal vampyres, feeling one implode inside its own protective spell. The deflection of heat and matter was one thing...but were they protected against bone-crushing pressure that the plasma generated? It seemed not.

She grinned in satisfaction, then snarled as she saw red threads of magicka latch on to the plummeting corpse and revive it.

“That is fine.” Kaileena projected telepathically, “Keep them occupied. Don’Yoku’s defenses are weakening. All we need is for Vala to kill the Matriarch.”

Vala thrust, parried, retreated, and thrust once more, finding a spot between the plates of the reanimated Nagaharu’s armor.

Venting subzero pulses of cold, his body instantly became brittle, but it was his sword she was targeting. Before backpedaling from the other Broodlords and the mass of lesser thralls that were closing on her, she shattered his rapier with the butt of her awakened Fuyuzora, ending the threat he posed to her with his Blood-Forged Enchantment.

Distorting her position via an aura of mist lest she be cornered again, Vala retreated, studying the deep gash on her shoulder as best she could. The wound was deep, and bleeding heavily, but it was difficult to tell under the pauldron.

Freezing the blood around it into a rudimentary clot, Vala breathed easier as her body stabilized.

She had an inkling as to where Senbotsu might be, but with her focus divided between the search and surviving her sister’s defenses...

Mindbreaking wouldn’t help her; Senbotsu was directly controlling her thralls, which were dead. Either condition prevented her from taking control of them like she had with Furin’s slaves.

Fully mitigating the confusion of Sachio’s sensory inversion through sheer discipline, Vala correctly parried his cleaver all the while positioning herself against her ice pillar, which still stood near the center of the battle. Leaping to the right, she found just the right combination of metal supports on the floor, as she’d identified while fleeing from the thrall with the intangibility enchantment, and smiled mischievously.

“A poor battlefield, sister!” she yelled mockingly, calling upon the full fury of her magicka, “Fielding so many on a floor of glass!”

Invoking her mastery over ice, Vala froze the air into solid crystals of nitrogen, separating the oxygen molecules, which required lower temperatures and thus more effort.

The room clouded with vapor as the crystals immediately began to deteriorate, their tiny, twinkling bodies like raindrops suspended in time. That served her purpose as well, for the glass would become increasingly brittle in the lowered temperature, as would the metal supporting it...

Controlling each of the thousand raindrop-sized shards of dry ice, concentrating on holding her breath lest the super-cooled air damage her lungs, Vala hurled them downward through the stained glass panels, leaving outlines of hoarfrost.

Thousands of minute rents marring their surfaces, the glass fractured, and as one the chamber groaned in protest as the pressure of their weight was fully placed upon the elegant but flimsy metal support system.

The floor buckled, the metal supports collapsing inward towards the interior point; her ice pillar from earlier. Forced to support themselves, the metal supports twisted and broke apart.

The thralls surrounding her, and the Broodlords harrying her, fell through the cracks or tumbled down when the metal they tried to hold onto broke away from that interior point, plummeting to their doom.

And once more, she was alone, standing upon a small island of intact glass and metal, so close to a corner the stress was evenly distributed among what remained. The center and reaches beyond were a great black abyss, lined from below with glowing red strands.

“You planned that!” Senbotsu gasped, horrified, and Vala smiled, breathing heavily at the sudden loss of power, “I placed the ice pillar on the strongest support for the floor. Took me a little while to figure it out, so elaborate were the irregular patterns of the metal between each pane. I also determined that if the panels were so thick and dense as to support the weight of so many treading upon them, they would have been strong enough to resist complete shattering. Likewise, your thralls would have been able to save themselves by clutching onto the metal supports if I simply removed the glass paneling; so to be rid of them I had to destroy both.”

Then, “...Now, Sister, it is time I properly greeted you; by solidifying the air as I had before, I am sure I can make a movable platform to ascend to the proper cocoon...”

She never got her blood sample in time.

Don’Yoku completed his invocation just as she located a viable source of his organic matter and retrieved it via construct. Shadows fell upon her, upon all of them. The battle ceased; all those involved stared breathlessly, even the two Dragon, who by now had accumulated such gruesome wounds she distantly wondered how they remained conscious.

“Hello, little girl...” the Dread Hammer cooed, brushing her cheek, “All grown up, I see.”

Staring at a hideous four-horned head crowned by ebony, Kaileena stared daggers into the source of her pain, and felt greater depths of hatred abolish her fear.

“And you, Dur’Artoth...” she replied with venom, “Are still a vile, petulant child. Does your heart allow nothing less than the suffering of countless others for it to be content?”

“Not at all. Personally, I find happiness in the company of my family. Come, children, let us greet our guests.”

“So let us see it, Human!” Naoaki teased, waving Nanatsusaya no Tachi with lazy abandon, “Let us see the glorious last stand of General Nobuyuki.”

“Or...” he mused, becoming serious once more, “Are you a coward, unable to face your end with dignity? Will you weep as I watch, Nobuyuki? Will you?”

He cackled, and was rewarded by a look of sheer fury from his opponent. General Nobuyuki charged in with sudden agility and ferocity, roaring, and Naoaki ducked, then leaped up with his knee, doubling the Human over with the wet pop of a ruptured solar plexus.

Following up with a pommel bash to the back of the head, the Silkrit slid back, lowered himself, and uppercut the Human with Nanatsusaya no Tachi’s short guard.

Hooking the man’s katana with one of his sword’s branches, Naoaki hurled the weapon aside, then gasped as Nobuyuki rammed a tanto into his thigh with the opening provided.

The pain was nothing; he kicked the Human in his kneecap, collapsing him, and, with his sword angled pommel-up, forced Nanatsusaya no Tachi’s tip down with both hands into the General’s chest, between the clavicle and the ribcage, piercing a lung.

Growling, Naoaki drove it in deeper, until the closest branch to the hilt deeply punctured the skin and muscle...until the hilt itself nearly touched the wound.

“For Shirudo...” he snarled into the Human’s wide eyes, watching as the light faded from them, “For Karyu, and for the Silkrit, and for the Hitorigami.”

“For Fusestu, and for the sovereign people of Teikoku, and for the Hitorigami!” Itaku cried, firing the second shot in his pistol, his naginata lost.

His aim was true, and the archer who turned to fire collapsed, his head rocked back as the shell pierced his eye and burst from the back of his skull.

Drawing Mujihi from its scabbard at his belt, the Lord of the Central District hacked and hewed as he stood in a high position in the saddle, cleaving helms and slicing the heads off of spears and naginata.

Activating Mujihi’s enchantments, Itaku spread the effect to his horse, and like a wraith he descended upon the enemy unseen, so swift were his movements.

He struck three times for every one that his subordinates could manage, and with the world seemingly in a frozen limbo, every hit struck a vital spot, for he could aim with precision and confidence. There was no defense against his ferocity; dozens perished before the enchantment wore off.

Bodies piled the field, dead or nearly so. Enemies pressed from all sides, seeking to unbalance him, but Itaku held his legs firm against his horse’s saddle, adding to the honored dead.

The horse grunted as she crushed a fallen soldier under-hoof. His ears rang from a rifle that had gone off too close to his head, so he couldn’t hear himself order his men to from an arrow arrangement and vivisect the engaged formation, further behind the formation’s flank.

His main force; two formations of three hundred, were still exchanging blows with the enemy army, while his force of two hundred archers and riflemen angled to its opposite flank.

His mounted cavalry, entangled with the main force, he ordered to disengage and join the archers, the better to harry the rearguard which was even then positioning to flank.

Three times enemy archers bombarded his force, and three times over a dozen fell. A stray arrow embedded into his pauldron, and another had pierced his armor and lodged in his abdomen, which sent sharp spikes of pain whenever he twisted in the saddle.

But he didn’t let his men see his distress; he roared and cursed and lashed again and again whoever he saw a helmet worn by an enemy soldier.

Using Mujihi once more, Itaku leaped from his horse, crossed twelve paces with an arrow in his gut, and ran an officer through the chest, his rank marked by the quality of his armor and the ornamentation on his closed-faced helm, before pulling the blade free and beheading him.

As if some unspoken consent had been reached when this man’s death occurred, the enemy lines crumbled, archers and riflemen laying down cover fire.

“Archers!” he snapped, “Fire at will!”

Under the barrage that would come, both from the dedicated archers and his cavalry emptying their stores of ammunition, the rebel army splintered, with several units breaking off from the main force.

Knowing the folly of chasing down a larger force, Itaku ordered his infantry and cavalry to push the force back rather than encircle them. He was still too outnumbered to dare taking them all today, for cornered men fought beyond their limits.

With luck he could engage them again when they were inevitably spotted in neighboring settlements, forced to pillage small estates and trading posts to sustain themselves.

In any case, they wouldn’t be taking Fusestu now. Yamato Takeru’s first assault was crippled. He would take Nobuyuki’s holdings, reclaiming the West District with a dual assault from Central and South. Reunified, with a rearguard to protect Fusestu, it would serve as a marshalling point to march north, to Yamato and Mount Renmei.

Then all that remained to endanger Teikoku was the vestiges of the Skraul empire, and, if the Te Fukushu’s report was accurate, Jhihro and his band of half-breed vampyres.

He watched with grim satisfaction as his men did their duty, and cursed Yamato a thousand times for staining the land red with blood when it had so little left to spend...

Rinshi was forced to reassess her opinion of her husband. This morning he had been both kind and generous. Perhaps he was simply trying to placate her...but that made no sense; they were already married. Charming her now would serve no political purpose.

Maybe he’d just been overly stressed all this time; the war and everything else might have made him short-tempered. If nothing else, he seemed genuinely interested in her words now; the first hours of their trip had been quiet, but after approaching him with broad, general subjects, she found that he listened to her and was of similar disposition on several matters.

Perhaps she could manage here. Perhaps all Atsushi needed was something to sooth his volatile temper and elevated pride, just like most hardened warriors in their country. Someone, maybe.

Now felling better than she had for some time, Rinshi allowed herself to relax, watching the countryside as Atsushi told her of its histories and practices, though she knew most of both already.

Koukatsuna seemed ill at ease over their newfound candor, but he was her champion and she knew he meant her well. It was good that he was suspicious; she still was at this sudden lapse of kindness, just less so.

For now she would enjoy the day and see what it brought...