Unlike many, I love Act 3. But it's clear that, at some point, the Upper City was removed. It was probably important to rescale Act 3, but I think it hurt the last act and the end of the game: the city seems less coherent, some places don't make sense, some quests seem almost incomplete and, above all, it made the Lower City huge and perhaps caused that feeling of being overwhelmed for some players. A smaller district, even if limited for one reason or another (Gortash's coronation?), could have solved a lot of problems.
Personally, I think those places or events were supposed to be in the Upper City:

• Gortash probably shouldn't have been crowned, with his entire court, in a barracks... The throne room there really makes no sense. And that the final fight is taking place in a small room (with decorations that don't belong in a fortress) is even stranger. I think it was originally supposed to take place in the ducal palace we see destroyed at the very end;
  
• Cazador Palace is disappointing enough in itself (we've been told about parties for 3 acts -we even have a guest in the sewers- and there's nothing there, and we're not supposed to infiltrate in disguise?), but the entrance really doesn't make any sense. Some sort of aqueduct connects it to the lower city, and it is guarded???? The guardhouse location makes no sense. Technically, the palace is in the upper city, but the entrance we're using really does seem like a way to get in without having to create the the Upper City;
  
• The House of Grief is oddly located. It must clearly have been on the other side of the ramparts, given that it caters to a rich people. There's even a patriars in front of it;
  
• Lady Jannath Manor is out of place in the lower city, next to a factory.... When the quest was created in Act 1, I'm sure it was intended for the upper city...
  

There may be others (Figaro shop seems to be for rich people; the Society of Brilliance seems to belong in the upper city...).
What locations, dialogues, quests or characters do you think were planned (or even already created) for the Upper City and have been moved to the Lower City?

Chapter 117
Four green-scaled Skeeths pulled our carriage through the market. We weren’t cramped in the back of a shabby cart but comfortably accommodated in the padded seats of a luxurious carriage with bronze guardrails and an upholstered interior. In our blue uniforms, we looked like nobility.
The start of the tournament had taken the city by surprise, and hundreds of people slowly walked to the Great Hall. Prince Adrien went all in with the event. Hundreds of flags hung over the market streets, and town criers announced the dozens of teams that would participate. I wondered where the tournament would take place. Farcrest didn’t have an arena, and the grounds of the Great Hall weren’t big enough to house such an event, even with all the wooden stands magical woodworkers could raise.
The people on the street quickly moved to the side as the coach approached. Despite the muzzles and straps, Skeeths were naturally aggressive, and their long claws could rip open the sturdiest monsters. The royal army used them in areas where horses would be easy prey.
The Skeeths hissed at each other but continued moving in a straight line. Elincia laughed as she watched the beasts and squeezed my arm. The passersby looked at us, trying to guess what noble house we represented in the tournament. I wondered how many knew we were from the poor orphanage in the Northern district. They looked at us with reverence. Little did they know we were nothing but a wild gamble by the crown prince.
“Four Skeeths, no less,” Elincia giggled under her veil. “People will think we are part of the royal family.”
Firana waved at the crowd. I made [Awareness] take a ‘screenshot’ of her smile; there were no traces of the old, distrustful Firana I had met when I started working at the orphanage. Firana encouraged the crowd. Getting the Wind Fencer class had boosted her self-esteem to perilous heights, but I decided to save the humbling lectures for later.
In the opposite seat, the story was completely different. Zaon leaned forward, shielding his head between his legs, his skin almost as green as Wolf's. I left my spot and sat next to him.
“Remember what Captain Kiln said?” I asked, putting my arm around Zaon’s shoulders. He raised his head.
“Eh… that she will go to the orphanage for a celebratory drink?” Zaon asked.
Izabeka had said that, but that wasn’t what I wanted Zaon to remember.
“Captain Kiln said that a Lv.2 in Longsword Mastery is way above average for a classless person,” I said. “Most of the opponents you will face didn’t touch a sword until after they got their classes. Even if they have Classes and levels above you, the time they have been training is the same as ours. They train for power; we train for skill.”
Zaon nodded.
“I know,” he muttered.
“Nervous is good, Zaon. Accept the feeling; don’t fight it,” I said reassuringly.
Zaon took a deep breath. “Nervous is good. Nervous is good. Nervous is good,” he repeated like a mantra.
“You have fought real foes before, Zaon. Your opponents today are kids just like you.” I said. “Just remember the secret technique, and you’ll be good.”
Firana seemed to hear our hushed conversation because she promptly pounced over my shoulder.
“What secret technique?” She asked.
“It’s a boy thing. You wouldn’t get it,” Zaon replied with a mocking half-smile.
Firana climbed over me and dove on Zaon, trying to immobilize him. The elven boy fought back, his skin turning a healthier hue as he struggled against Firana. I returned to Elincia’s side, giving them space to brawl in peace.
“Shouldn’t you stop them?” Ilya asked, her feet hanging a couple centimeters over the carriage’s floor.
“They are warming up for the tournament,” I replied. “In the meantime, you can brawl with Wolf.”
Ilya raised an eyebrow.
“I’d rather not,” she replied with a sulking expression. “I don’t understand why Wolf hasn’t gotten his class yet. We are handicapping ourselves without a good reason.”
Wolf opened an eye, interrupting his meditation.
“I can win without a Class. In fact, I could probably squash a Lv.2 gnome with an arm tied behind my back,” he replied.
“Want to try, Big Snot?” Ilya replied, channeling mana to her hands.
I laughed. It was good to see everyone in such a good mood. After months of hard work, we had the opportunity to show everyone the real capabilities of a bunch of orphans. Mister Lowell might not have been happy with the circumstances; he was a pacifist, after all, but his dream of seeing the line between nobility and commoners erased was a step closer.
I stretched my back and looked at the crowd.
“Come on, kids! We are representing Farcrest in this tournament. Act accordingly,” I said as we crossed the main gate.
The inner gates were crowded, and the guardsmen had to open a path for the carriage to enter. It seemed the tournament was going to be in the Great Hall. A double line of soldiers guarded the Great Hall entrance, funneling the spectators around the main building and into the gardens. I expected the most influential citizens of Farcrest to be there, but I underestimated the number of people invited.
The carriage reached the stairs and stopped. The Skeeth hissed at the soldiers in full armor. The coachman fastened the reins and opened the small door for us. Then, with all the deference in the world, he helped us climb down. Firana enjoyed the regal treatment.
Once we descended from the carriage, I offered Elincia my arm, and we climbed the stairs. The spectators looked at us from the sidelines, probably assuming we were guests from far away. Ilya got some quizzical looks. Gnomes were already rare in this part of the kingdom, and she seemed out of place between Firana and Wolf. The soldiers let us through, and we entered the Great Hall. Just beyond the doorway, Captain Kiln was waiting for us.
“Any suspicious activity around the orphanage?” She whispered as soon as we met.
I shook my head. Since the attack, things had been calm.
Captain Kiln turned around, and we walked into the Great Hall. The vestibule seemed empty without the dozens of courtiers whispering in the corners. I guessed they might already be in the tournament.
“Any leads regarding our troubles at the feast?” I asked. The poisoning attempt against Captain Kiln had flown under the radar, and no further clues had been found.
“Vedras agreed to help us test the poison used on Raudhan, but the shards of the glass disappeared. They were locked inside a secure room,” Captain Kiln replied, leaning towards me and whispering. “Whoever is trying to mess with us is either a ghost or a high-level assassin with the skill of traversing closed doors.”
A ghost with ties to organized crime.
“What are you talking about?” Firana interrupted our conversation.
“We are talking about the tournament brackets,” Captain Kiln said, patting my back. It seems someone wants your head really bad, boy. Rumor has it that the Osgiarian dogs are on the hunt for a certain Scholar.”
“Aren’t the matches randomly chosen?” Elincia asked.
Captain Kiln gave us one of her usual disappointed glances.
“Do you really think the noble houses would leave the matches to luck?” She said, “Osgirians got the memo. They know you are part of the royal faction and think you are the weakest link.”
“Are we facing the Osgirian team in the first round?” I asked.
“No, one of his lackeys,” Captain Kiln replied, guiding us through a long corridor I had never been before.
I let out a massive sigh of relief. As much as I trusted my process and the kids' skills, fighting in front of an audience was completely different from sparring in the backyard of the manor with the younger orphans running around. A small foe was perfect to test the waters. It was also an excellent opportunity to show Prince Adrien we were a valuable asset to his cause.
“Are you even allowed to tell me this?” I asked.
Captain Kiln sighed. “No. Anyway, you are fighting against Lord Nara, a wealthy merchant who bought his way into nobility. A noble of the robe, not the sword, if you may. That’s all I know; I have been too busy to do a background check of his team.”
Elincia put her hand on Captain Kiln’s shoulder. “If you are tired, you can always crash at the orphanage for the weekend. Despite the rabble currently crashing at the orphanage, there are plenty of free rooms.”
“Thanks, Elincia, but I need to stay by Tauron’s side,” Captain Kiln replied as she opened a lateral door. “We are here.”
The door led us to the inner gardens. Hundreds of spectators waited on the sidelines, sitting in stone benches around fountains or walking among the flowerbeds and low vegetal mazes. Other than the small gravel path between the Great Hall and the gardens, there wasn’t a place to properly call the arena.
“A thousand more are heading to the Great Hall right now,” I mentioned.
Captain Kiln shrugged it off and guided us into a red and black pavilion attached to the Great Hall’s exterior wall. More than twenty teams were already inside, waiting for the start of the tournament. I examined the room. Near the entrance, Lord Gairon and a group of six tall young boys and girls dressed in blue and gold watched the crowd. By his side, House Herran’s team played a board game with dice and tokens. They wore green uniforms with a gray hammer printed on their chests. In the corner of the room, Lord Osgiria instructed his team with a severe expression. They wore black uniforms with a white tower embroidered on the shoulder.
I recognized the House Vedras team, dressed in green and violet, and the House Jorn team, dressed in silver with the crest of the red falcon catching a fish. For an instant, I thought the Jorn team was composed solely of elves, but a quick glance at their ears told me they were just tall, pale, and blonde, almost Nordic-looking. I recognized Duke Jorn standing silently in the corner, accompanied by Lyra Jorn.
A wave of murmurs rose as we entered the pavilion. I could feel their eyes following us, trying to place us among the sea of nobility. The feast guests already knew who we were, but the ones who arrived afterward could only guess. The great ducal houses ignored us. However, Lord Osgiria gave us a hostile glance before focusing on his team.
We walked to the corner of the tent, where a small pennant with a white rose over a blue field signaled our place. I looked around. There were still several empty spaces inside the pavilion.
“See? They are kids like you,” I said, patting Zaon’s back.
“The members of the House Herran team look strong, though,” Firana pointed out.
Captain Kiln joked, “They are thrown into a mine as soon as they can walk.”
“People who live between a mountain range and the Farlands are bound to be strong,” Lyra Jorn said out of nowhere. Good afternoon, Master Clarke. I received your message. I’m sorry for my late arrival, but I had matters to attend to.”
The girl caught me by surprise; she was just as stealthy as her father. I remember being unable to detect him approaching even with [Awareness] working at full steam. I wondered if that was a trait of the Jorn family.
“Good afternoon, Lyra. Don’t worry about it; we are always ready to receive you,” I replied.
Lyra let out a sigh of relief.
“What a relief! I am so excited to study under your guidance. I have even dreamt about you… I mean about the things you have to teach and the machines from your land,” Lyra quickly corrected herself as she felt Elincia’s green eyes.
“That’s good to hear, but…” I said. “What kept you so busy?”
Or rather, what prevented you from being at the orphanage during the assassin’s attack?
“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Lady Jorn said. “Preceptor Holst asked my help to reorganize the Farcrest library.”
I froze for a moment. There were two possibilities: Holst delayed Lyra’s departure to create a free window of time for the assassins to attack, or he did it because he knew of the attack and wanted to keep Lyra safe. The second option wasn’t very compelling, but Holst had implied his attack on the orphanage was a one-time thing due to a favor he owed.
“You are welcome as soon as you are available,” I said, my jaw suddenly stiff.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, I will do my best. I promise. I have even convinced my father this is a good idea. The Jorn Duchy is far from commercial centers. We would benefit greatly from any development in transport technologies,” Lyra Jorn said, but I wasn’t listening anymore.
Holst might be the only link between us and the culprit behind the attacks.
“Is there any way of going around a Silence Hex?” I asked.
“Is this a test?” Lady Jorn said, embarrassed. “Oh! House Jorn is more than willing to pay for your inventions. We wouldn’t dream of enriching ourselves at the expense of other people’s work.”
“We are not going to put a Silence Hex on you, Lyra,” Elincia sighed. “Rob is probably thinking about something else. He does this all the time. It might feel like he’s talking to you, but he is actually thinking about two or three different things.”
Lyra let out an awkward laugh, “I understand. People say that about me sometimes.”
“What’s this about a Silence Hex, then? That’s not an amateur spell,” Captain Kiln asked.
“You should check Holst’s tongue,” I said.
Captain Kiln grinned. “I know Darius can be harsh. At times, I want to cast a Silence Hex on him…”
Then, the realization hit her, but before she could reply, the sound of a horn filled the pavilion.
Outside, a small army of men and women dressed in green and beige robes and headbands with antlers fixed to the sides entered the garden. They lined up in the gravel path and raised their hands over their heads. For a moment, I thought they would perform a musical number. Instead, a sudden mana discharge made the ground tremble. An area spell? Out of nowhere, the trees and bushes uprooted themselves and walked through the crowd to the outskirts, leaving a vast empty area in the middle of the Great Hall grounds.
The performance didn’t stop there. A second group dressed in terracotta-colored robes appeared from around the corner. With a movement of their arms, stands made of sandstone emerged from the ground and raised several meters over the ground. A myriad of different enchanted banners and flags flew from the Great Hall’s windows, perching in the newly created masts. I couldn’t help but laugh, amazed by the scene. Where there was a well-kept garden, now was a dueling arena with stands for thousands of spectators. There was even a roofed area for the VIPs.
The spectators started to flood the stands. Prince Adrien waved at the crowd from the royal booth, accompanied by an attractive woman in a luxurious purple dress. The whole city was there: members from the Alchemists Guild, the Sentinels, high-ranking officers of the Guard, nobles from all around the kingdom, and wealthy merchants. On the plain stands, several thousand commoners were gathering together.
A small man dressed in a ceremonial robe stood in the middle of the arena. For a moment, I thought his voice would get drowned by the crowd, but, to my surprise, it came out amplified with a spell. After a quick introduction to the event, he presented the teams.
The Marquis was the first to enter the arena, followed by Istvan Kiln and the rest of his team. Shortly after, Captain Kiln, with a team of young Guard cadets, joined him. The audience went wild, cheering for the city teams.
“Are you ready, team?” I asked, turning around.
Zaon smiled, Ilya gave me the thumbs up, Wolf nodded, and Firana raised her fist in defiance.
“And the third team and last team representing Farcrest,” the master of ceremonies stuttered as he examined the fixture. “Lowell’s Orphanage.”
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“Where did he get a core?”
There was no preamble as the Blackstone matriarch appeared within the crystalline confines of the communication orb Tala was stood in front of.
Truth be told, that didn’t surprise the Blackstone heir.
Given just how many Instructors, students and other assorted ‘sources’ sent reports to the duchess, the notion that one of them had managed to get to a communication orb and relay the day’s events before Tala herself could wasn’t too surprising.
With that said, apparently even she didn’t know where Tala’s fiancé had apparently sourced this ‘mystery core’ from either.
“I don’t know, mother.” Tala struggled to keep hold of her emotions as she spoke. “His family perhaps?”
Her mother shook her head, the thick scar that cut across her chin flexing in conjunction with the deep scowl that slid across her otherwise fair features. “The Ashfields have exactly one airship, the Indomitable. And as far as my sources can tell, it’s still flight capable, so unless the Ashfields have found some way to make a ship fly without a mithril core, we can safely assume that your wayward fiancée didn’t source his core from there.”
Tala frowned. “That does not preclude the possibility of him sourcing said core from some ‘hidden vault’ on the Ashfield estate.”
Certainly, there were laws against countships owning more than a single mithril core, but she knew for a fact that most ‘low houses’ paid little more than lip service to them. To the extent that it was a fairly common joke that the chances of a house ‘stumbling upon a lost core’ directly correlated to just how depleted their coffers became.
Or the status of their airship.
A state of affairs that the Crown was willing to let lie fallow just so long as the houses in question ensured they kept said reserves circumspect. For as common as the joke was, the fact was that few low houses genuinely retained more than one core. More to the point, said rule existed more to limit the amount of airships a low house could field – and thus use to threaten their liege lords.
An airship was many things, but subtle was not one of them. Any countship attempting to construct a fresh hull so as to make use of a hypothetical second mithril core would quickly find any attempts at secrecy futile.
Likewise, any attempts at sourcing a ‘second hand hull’ off the open market would be stymied by the Crown’s iron grip on that particular market.
“Possible, but unlikely,” Eleanor Blackstone shook her head. “Assuming they had such an asset, they would have revealed it by now to better capitalize on future opportunities.”
Tala creased her brow for a second, before she cottoned onto what her mother was both saying – and not saying where unfriendly ears might hear.
If the Ashfields had any cores beyond the one used to power the Indomitable, they’d have unveiled them at the onset of their joint conspiracy with House Blackstone to seize the Summerfield ducal seat.
House Blackstone could have in turn constructed a hull in the intervening years on behalf of the Ashfield countship. Sure, it would have needed to fly the Blackstone colours so as to avoid drawing the ire of the Summerfields or the Crown, but once the Ashfields moved to press their ducal claim, said ship could have revealed its true allegiances.
Admittedly, such an endeavor would require Janet Ashfield extend her nominal allies some degree of trust that they wouldn’t just… steal said core, but given both families were embroiled in a conspiracy to commit high treason, that was hardly worth mentioning.
No, Tala’s mother was correct; if the Ashfields did have a core ‘spare’ they would have unveiled it long ago.
“Of course, mother.” Tala said, bowing to her wisdom. “A rival then?”
The Crown were the most obvious candidates for such a move, though even as she had the thought, she found it rang false in her mind.
“To what end?” Eleanor pointed out. “Driving a wedge between a ducal house and an otherwise inconsequential countship? Over some ore and wheat?”
Because outwardly that was all her engagement was. The seal on a trade deal.
…Not the lynchpin on a continent spanning conspiracy.
Eleanor continued. “Even then, assuming some third party saw… more to this arrangement than there truly is, the risk is enormous.”
Tala nodded. At the levels her family operated at, the loss of a single core was hardly the end of the world – but it was hardly insignificant either.
The loss of the Overseer last summer had hurt – and not just because it meant that the damn ‘free orcs’ now had access to three cores and their respective airships.
Even if they’re more likely to melt both down to build more damnable shards, Tala thought.
Which was just typical of the mangey beasts. Unwilling to engage in a straight fight like real women, they’d sooner continue to engage in their damnable ambush swarm tactics.
Only now they’ll have even more shards to supplement their damned flying lizards.
The only balm to the situation was that the partially finished Eternal Dawn would even the playing field on that front.
The thought of the world’s first dedicated Shard carrier finally taking to the skies filled her with an almost giddy sensation.
Let’s see how the greenskins enjoy being the ones getting swarmed for a change, she thought.
She was jolted from her thoughts as her mother continued. “Unless you think the man stands a chance against you in the arena?”
It was all Tala could do not to scoff. “No. It’ll be a slaughter.”
In the crystalline features of the orb, her mother cocked an eyebrow, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. It was an expression Tala was well familiar with as she knew the woman wanted her heir to explain her reasoning.
“He’s talented,” Tala admitted. “To the extent that he’s winning more often than not against second year teams these days.”
Indeed, in retrospect his sudden drive to improve made some sense – even if it irritated her.
Once upon a time she’d thought it a drive simply for self-improvement after a lifetime of lackadaisical rebelliousness. One hopefully brought about by the academy providing him a reality check.
Instead, she now realized that this was yet another example of his rebellious nature, albeit, a bit more directed and focused.
“Being able to triumph over teams with four times his experience speaks to a little more than just talent,” Eleanor said. “That requires effort. Focus.”
“Luck,” Tala grunted. “Or at least the illusion of it. His team is good. Damned good. Even the orc.”
Especially the orc, her mind unhelpfully supplied.
“Hmm,” Eleanor nodded. “It seems that our attempts to garner your fiancé some prestige have backfired in that regard.”
Tala nodded regretfully. In retrospect they should have pushed harder for him to be placed onto a Blackstone vassal team from the outset.
“A mistake, but a reasonable one,” Tala opined. “His mother said that pushing too hard would only make him dig in more. Perhaps deliberately seek to embarrass me by… acting out. A few bribes to place him onto a talented team while giving him the illusion of freedom was a decent compromise.”
“At the time.”
Tala nodded. “At the time. And while it’s unfortunate that he’s used said opportunity to form an unexpectedly dangerous weapon against us, it won’t be enough.”
The gulf in personal combat ability between a third year team and a second year team wasn’t quite as wide as that of a first year team and a second, but said gulf did exist.
And her team wasn’t just any third year team.
Certainly, some compromises on personal ability had been made in the name of political considerations, but all of them were talented in their own right.
“Well, if you’re sure of your success I’ll leave it at that.” Eleanor said dismissively. “Instead we’ll focus on who attempted to throw a hammer into our compressor with this clumsy attack.”
Tala nodded. “Do we have any suspects beyond the obvious?”
Her mother’s features went studiously blank and it was all the young woman could do not to flinch.
“I would have thought you’d have more idea than myself.” The Blackstone matriarch said slowly. “After all, he is your fiancée. Surely you have more people watching him than myself.”
Cursing herself for not showing enough initiative, Tala nodded even as she attempted to reframe her earlier laxness. “I do, which is why I asked, as I have little idea myself given how few acquaintances he has beyond his immediate teammates. And his house Instructor.”
Admittedly, even without her betrothed’s tales, she’d have known about the latter relationship given the ongoing rumours that the pair were sleeping together.
Something that might have annoyed her more if it weren’t for the fact that similar rumours existed for just about every man in the academy who spent more than five seconds behind closed doors with a woman.
Hell, a man who spent more than five seconds alone with a dusty bookcase risked giving rise to rumors that he was sleeping with it.
…Of course, that didn’t preclude said rumors about her fiancée and the dark elf being true.
They’d hardly be the first to cross that line after all.
Though even Tala could admit that it would be out of character for Instructor Griffith. The woman had a stick up her ass large enough to be used as a flotation device if needed.
The thought annoyed her, but that was all.
She wasn’t marrying William out of love after all. She was marrying him because, without a marriage contract, the Blackstone alliance with the Ashfields was dead in the water.
At least in a legal sense – and that was what they needed.
The veneer of legitimacy.
Without it, the Blackstones had no legal reason to interfere in the Ashfield bid for the Summerfield dukedom.
To that end, the notion that her fiancé was fucking another woman was hardly worth mentioning. Hell, even in a normal arrangement, such things were expected of men – though they were expected to be kept circumspect.
Like her own… liaisons on the side.
She was the heir to House Blackstone after all. Where other women needed to beg and wheedle amidst a press of a hundred other suitors to draw a man’s eye, she simply needed to lie back and wait for them to throw themselves at her.
Social climbers one and all, hoping to snag the position of Lord Blackstone, but they were useful in their own way.
In some ways she was actually a little thankful for her fiancés disinterest. It made those seeking to replace him try all the harder to earn her favour.
They’d never get it of course, but she enjoyed their… spirited attempts all the same.
“Fortunately for you my daughter, my sources are in agreement with your own,” Eleanor grunted reluctantly.
Personally, Tala didn’t find that too surprising given that she was reasonably sure most of her sources were her mother’s as well.
“With that said,” the older Blackstone continued. “Said sources agree that the woman seemed as surprised as everyone else when your boy unveiled his core. Which would be a little peculiar if she were the source.”
“She could be acting.”
“Perhaps.” Eleanor nodded. “But my source with her benefactors suggest our most likely candidates were as surprised by this move as we are.”
Tala was a little surprised by the rather oblique reference to her mother’s spy in the palace – the identity of which not even Tala knew. What she did know was that they tended to be uncannily accurate – which suggested they were highly positioned.
“So it’s unlikely to be them?” Tala frowned.
“At this point it would be wise to consider other avenues for how your boy acquired this core,” Eleanor said.
What other avenues were there though? What other power could afford this kind… of almost random swipe at them?
“I… don’t…. who?” Tala said finally.
Eleanor’s frown deepened, her scar flexing. “Think girl. What recent event might have given rise to an opportunity for an otherwise powerless young man to attain a mithril core without anyone – even his family, us, and the crown – finding out about it until now?
Recent events… the only thing she could think of was…
She paled. “No, you can’t be serious…”
Her mother looked little happier, though she bore it better. “Discount the impossible my daughter, and if the incredibly unlikely remains the only possible answer…”
Tala couldn’t believe it.
Wouldn’t believe it.
“You can’t mean to tell me you think Willaim Ashfield somehow…”
-------------------
“…Killed Al’Hundra?”
“Yes.”
It was actually amusing how little Griffith reacted to his admittance.
Perhaps she’d simply become numb to being surprised after dragging him to her office – Mithril Core with him.
His team however had been sent back to their dorm. Under protest. And with an escort.
Though how much of that was out of protectiveness and how much was out of a desire to see him answer a hundred and one questions remained to be seen.
After all, he’d promised answers after his climactic confrontation with his fiancée.
And his team naturally had a lot of questions themselves. Though it spoke well of them that they’d been willing to accompany him to the dining hall before they got them.
He could only imagine the intervening hour – in which he’d been locked in Griffith’s office alone – had only heightened his teammates’ desires for answers.
As had Griffith’s, given that she’d asked her question within moments of striding into the room, having finished with whatever it was she’d spent the intervening time doing.
Personally, he’d have bet it was a tie between placing a protective detail on this room and his team, while also giving reports to her superiors.
To that end, the fact that she’d left the door open when she burst in was a little surprising.
“How?” Griffith asked.
“I’d rather not say,” he said, leaning back into the chair he’d been rather forcefully shoved into.
Griffith was not amused. “This is no time for jokes, cadet! If what you say is true and you genuinely do have the means to kill a kraken in deep water…”
It could change the balance of power across the continent. Ignoring Al’Hundra’s nest, there were other minor nests scattered about the place, each containing cores of their own.
To that end, he didn’t smirk this time. “Which is why I’m not joking. I’d genuinely rather not say.”
Griffith slumped tiredly onto her desk, before leaning over to belatedly close the door. “That won’t matter. People – powerful people – have already put together your most likely source for that core. They aren’t going to just accept you saying ‘no’.”
“At which point the hot pokers and pliers come out?” he asked, determinedly nonplussed.
Something that couldn’t be saidof Griffith, as she winced. “As much as I hate to say it, that’s not an unlikely outcome.”
William smirked. “Well, they might want to hold off. Given the last two hours, I imagine my name is a rather hot topic right now, and people might notice if I disappeared off into some torture chamber for the next few… forevers.”
Griffith cocked her head, clearly slightly put off by his nonchalance. “You’re holding onto techniques that might be vital to the survival of the kingdom at large.”
He shrugged. “Yep, and while that might unofficially be a fairly decent reason to torture me into confessing them, it’s not strictly… legal is it.”
Again, Griffith winced.
“To that end, would the Blackstones accept that? The fiancée of their heir getting dragged off in the night? Somehow, I doubt they’d take that lying down. Hell, I don’t think they could afford to. It’d make them look… weak.” He paused. “And that’s ignoring that they’ll also be interested in what’s in my noggin.”
Griffith opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.
“Hell, beyond that, if things did get violent, the fact that the crown abducted a young man from the academy – where just about everyone’s children go - might make people who might otherwise be leaning south twitch a little more north.” He smiled. “So no, I don’t think anyone will be taking me anywhere to ask me anything without a lot of people getting very upset.”
Admittedly, there was the chance of someone deciding to risk it all by doing something foolish – but he had one final ace up his sleeve if that happened.
“I…” Griffith started to say, clearly lost for words as her eyes darted to the other end of the room… for some reason?
Though it didn’t take long for that reason to reveal itself.
Quite literally.
“Enough,” a woman said as she literally appeared from thin air.
Or rather, the shadows seemed to… untangle themselves to reveal the Queen of Lindholm.
He knew it was her. He’d seen her portraits.
With that said, he’d be the first to admit they didn’t quite do the woman justice. For one thing, they utterly failed to convey the sheer… MILF appeal the woman exuded in the flesh.
Pitch black high elven eyes creased with amusement, lips upturned into a slight smile. The crown on her head gleamed amidst a halo of platinum gold hair that came down to perfectly frame her angelic features.
Of course, that wasn’t why he wanted to call her a MILF. Gorgeous ethereal features were pretty much the par for the course where elves were concerned.
No, the reason for the MILF comparison came in how her fur-lined black dress hugged her figure. A figure that showed that if nothing else, the Lindholm royal family had some human in their bloodline.
Elves tended to be svelte rather than curvy.
Queen Yelena Lindholm was curvy.
Very curvy, William thought even as both he and Griffith shot up to bow.
“Your majesty, what an unexpected pleasure,” he said just a moment before his Instructor could, ignoring the not so subtle glare she sent his way from her own bowed position.
And he wasn’t lying. On either account. It was nice to know his little stunt had gotten the attention he wanted.
Plus, elf MILF.
“At ease,” the woman said, voice tinkling, as she sat behind the desk.
Unable to resist, William couldn’t help but speak even as he pulled up his chair. “Fancy spell.”
And he wasn’t lying about that either. He wasn’t aware Fae magic allowed for invisibility. He’d certainly attempted it on at least one occasion. Along with a lot of other things. Alas, Fae magic seemed irrevocably tied to simple elemental or alchemical manipulation rather than more esoteric phenomena.
Certainly, he’d had little to no luck bending light – which was the only way he could think of to attain invisibility like he’d just seen.
Apparently, someone within the royal family had seen more success.
…Though the fact that that wasn’t common knowledge – and that she’d just revealed it to him – was a little alarming.
“As precocious as I’ve heard,” Queen Yelena said, a motherly smile on her features as she observed him from across the desk.
Meanwhile, Griffith’s glare redoubled.
“I’m flattered you’ve heard of me,” Willaim said, a little surprised even if he fought to hide it.
Mostly he was trying to get a gauge on the woman’s personality.
“It’s hard not to, what with the way Griffith goes on about you.” Her smile faded as she leaned forward. “Of course, that was in a private capacity. I was more than a little surprised when your name started showing up on my desk in an official capacity.”
Despite himself, William’s eyes flitted toward a flushed looking Griffith. He hadn’t been aware she knew the queen personally? How had that come about?
“Your desk?” He returned his attention to the monarch – and now that he thought about it, wasn’t it a little strange she’d come here alone? Even with that ‘invisibility’ spell?
Though in retrospect, he now knew why Griffith chose to leave the door open when she’d walked in. Indeed, that knowledge was why he wasn’t currently trying to guess between invisibility and teleportation.
He continued. “I wasn’t aware my little innovation would draw that much attention.”
The woman raised an eyebrow, her motherly demeanour fading for a moment. “A potentially lethal spell that can punch through armor at three times the range of any other spell? Make no mistake, that’s very much something of interest to the crown, especially with the threat of war looming.”
Griffith’s gaze shot to the woman at those words, though William chuckled. “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting you to just come out and say it. Sure, everyone knows it’s coming, but no one seems willing to say it aloud.”
“Well, I’m sorry that you don’t have a monopoly on audacity, William.” Once more a twinkle of amusement appeared in the woman’s eyes. “Turnabout is fair play after all.”
“Well, I can’t argue that.” He shrugged, wondering for just a moment just how real the personality of the woman across from him was, and how much was an attempt to ingratiate herself with a man who’d swiftly become a national asset. “Though even then, I’m surprised to see you of all people here.”
That was certainly audacious. Especially on such short notice. And alone.
“You shouldn’t be. My family has always preferred to be ‘hands on’. Comes from originally being Military Governors.”
“And yet you’re the first royal I’m meeting? Even after my Spell-Bolt piqued your interest.”
“Oh that?” She waved a hand dismissively. “One might say that was an unfortunate side effect of the family being too hands on. Indeed, there’s been something of a small civil war within the palace over which of my daughters would get to take charge of implementing your idea. They’re all quite interested.”
That was… unexpected. He’d thought that his innovation was considered too ‘small beans’ for even a cousin to be sent out.
Instead, it had been effectively deadlocked at the highest levels.
“Unfortunately,” the Queen continued. “Recent events required me to take unilateral action. Fortunately the Palace isn’t so far away.”
She leaned in to whisper conspiratory at that last part.
“Still,” he asked. “No guards?
This time, when the woman smiled, it seemed to show a lot more teeth.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
She clicked her fingers and where once the office had contained but three people, there were now seven.
One on each side of the Queen.
One behind both William and Griffith.
Indeed, William felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he realized that if they’d intended to harm him, he’d never have seen them coming.
“My mistake,” he said, trying to appear unphased. “It heartens me to know our Queen is so well protected.”
“And the well wishes of a loyal subject always warm my heart,” the woman responded. “Though that does make me wonder why said subject seems so… reluctant to share his latest and most brilliant innovation with said queen?”
She leaned forward, and there was no mistaking the hunger in her eyes.
“Why, a spell that allowed an Academy student to kill a kraken? I could think of all sorts of uses for that?”
William simply smiled back. “I imagine you could. I also imagine that a lot of other people could too.”
He ignored the tensing of the guardswoman behind him.
“Those other people aren’t your queen,” the elf in front of him said slowly.
“No, I suppose they aren’t,” he acknowledged. “But in the interest of being candid, I think we can both agree that that might change in the coming years.”
It was almost amusing how synchronised the palace guards were as their hands all moved to the hilts of their swords in unison – with only the upraised turn of their queen’s hands stopping the drawing of their blades.
“Dangerous words,” the Queen said.
He shrugged, before repeating her earlier words back to her. “What can I say? I’m precocious.”
He also thought it was more dangerous to have the woman across from him forget that a counterweight to her authority existed.
“I suppose you are.” She paused, as a thought occurred. “Still, given, as you said, that your fiancée might be sitting in my seat one day, you seem quite eager to get in her bad books.”
She eyed him.
“Why?”
Finally, they were getting around to the part of the meeting he cared about.
His motivations.
“Well, that’s easy. I don’t like slavery. To that end, I’m giving you the first and best opportunity to ‘wow’ me into giving my idea to you.”
If Griffith had the ability to shoot lasers from her eyes, William was pretty sure he’d be dead a thousand times over.
Yelena though?
The Queen laughed.
Deep and hearty enough that by the end she was wiping tears from her eyes.
“Precocious indeed,” she finally said. “You know, I think my daughter would like you.”
“Which one?”
“Any and all of them,” she said, deadly serious once more.
The ‘wowing’ had begun.
And it was a strong opening bid.
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William struggled not to wince as the door to his alchemical storage room slowly cracked partially open.
“Goddesses’ mercy,” Marline hissed from behind him. “How is it worse the second time?”
“Because we added a few things the last time we were here?” William said as he unhooked the tripwire attached to the door before pulling it fully open.
“The potatoes are what’s making that smell!?” Marline hissed as she stepped inside.
“Yep. Never underestimate the power of potatoes and a few warm summer days. Plus there’s a few other things in here,” William tried not to breathe through his nose as he closed the door behind him after stepping inside himself. “Light. One charge. Instant activation. Right hand.”
At his words, the room lit up as his right hand started to glow with an ethereal light. One that revealed… three barrels and a crate.
Glancing over, he noticed Marline staring at his hand.
“What?” he asked.
The dark elf shrugged. “Just seems a bit wasteful is all. Day’s not over yet and now you’re down a spell charge.”
William shrugged. “Better that than bringing a candle in here.”
“Why?”
William’s gaze flicked over to a nearby – sealed – barrel. “Just take my word for it.”
“Well that’s not ominous at all,” the girl muttered as she walked over to the nearby crate.
William smirked as he followed after her. She didn’t know the half of it.
Which was probably for the best. Given how she’d responded to the whole ‘Al’hundra situation’ he doubted she’d take well to learning that the entire room could theoretically go up if an errant spark happened to get inside one of the nearby barrels.
Admittedly, a single candle was unlikely to achieve that, given the barrels had lids on them, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Given just how dangerous just opening the door to this room could be given the booby trap on the door, he felt it was perfectly reasonable to err on the side of caution by not adding any more danger to what was already a fairly volatile environment.
On the bright side, if I ever do fuck opening the door up, I probably won’t have more than half a second to regret it, he thought.
So no, he didn’t feel even a smidgen of regret in making use of a precious spell slot to light the way while they were in here.
Fishing a second key out of his shirt, he ignored his companion’s gags as he unlocked the chest to reveal the collection of mouldy looking vegetables within. Squishing his discomfort, he reached through it to unhook the crate’s false bottom.
Admittedly, said false bottom wasn’t particularly good given that it was trying to mask a space large enough to fit two orbs the size of bowling balls – that glowed – but that was fine. It was simply the last line of defence. One that would only come into play in the event some ne’er-do-well chose to break into an alchemical storage room, get past his booby trap, fail to ignite the contents of the barrels by looking into them, before finally digging through a crate full of rotten potatoes.
Mostly it was there to keep the glow of the orbs from being spotted while they sat at the bottom of the pile.
“Like I told you, safe and sound.” William said as he pulled out one of the mithril cores before tossing it to Marline.
“Ugh!” The girl yelped as she caught the thing. “I wish you wouldn’t do that!”
He smirked, resisting the urge to point out that the orb she was holding had spent about a decade at the bottom of the ocean being used as a scratching post by a ship-sized squid before they recovered it. A little rough handling wasn’t about to damage it.
No, that would require specialized tools of the kind that could only be found in a shard-workshop.
“Are your folks ready to collect yet?” he asked, gesturing to the second orb.
Marline’s scowl turned into a pensive expression as she shook her head. “Not yet. When we spoke, she implied she’d be sending my aunts to collect it in person, but I’ve not heard anything since.”
William nodded. That wasn’t too unexpected. What was, was that Marline had apparently chosen to communicate her ‘acquisition of a mithril core’ over orb.”
Unless…
“You spoke in code, right?”
Given the silver color of her iris, it wasn’t hard to miss the way his teammate rolled her eyes at his question. “Of course.”
The ‘I’m not an idiot’ went unspoken. Because while no one was foolish enough to state aloud that the Crown monitored Orb communications, it was common knowledge that they did.
And while the law around ‘scavenged cores’ was explicit enough that William nor Marline had any reason to fear censure for how they’d acquired their cores, the Crown would definitely have questions.
Questions William – and by extension, Marline – had no interest in answering for a little longer yet.
“Out of curiosity, what’s the cover story for your aunts coming to visit?” he asked.
Marline chuckled lowly. “Apparently I’m madly in love with a boy on my team.”
“Me?” he asked, trying not to laugh.
Once more, the dark elf rolled her eyes. “Yep. And given just how out of character thoughts of romance of any kind would be for me, you could say it caught my mother’s attention. Enough that it wasn’t hard to clue her in on everything else while still speaking in code.”
Yeah, William could see the dark elf’s mother being surprised by her daughter’s sudden infatuation with a boy. Never mind the fact that he was very publicly betrothed to a very powerful family, he was also pretty certain Marline was gay.
Oh, she’d hidden it well enough, but over the last few months he’d managed to catch her gaze lingering just a little longer than strictly necessary here or there. Not on him. Never on him.
But on the other members of the team to be sure.
Honestly, in retrospect he actually felt a little foolish for not figuring it out sooner.
It neatly explained her discomfort at being forced to share his bed for the geass, as well as her general antipathy towards him when they’d met. Even her refusal to shower with the team could be explained away as some kind of… outmoded idea of chivalry on her part.
And as much as he hated to give any legitimacy to the idea of the ‘man hating lesbian trope’, the fact was, there did exist people who preferred the same sex who also tended to have little patience for the opposite sex.
It was an over inflated stereotype, but it did exist.
With that in mind, he was actually happy that Marline had so quickly managed to overcome her internal misandrist mindset after meeting him.
Actually, with that in mind, perhaps it was more a result of lack of exposure to men than anything else?
In his experience, that tended to be the root cause of most kinds of bigotry. A lack of experience and understanding combined with some other factor.
So yes, if Marline’s mother knew of her daughter’s – likely hidden - orientation, she’d definitely start to pay attention if said daughter developed an interest in a man.
Again, an engaged man.
To a family powerful enough to crush the diminished Greygrass Household without so much as breaking stride.
“Does she… believe you? That you have a core?” he asked.
It certainly didn’t sound believable. Hell, he’d needed to swear a geass with Marline before she’d come around to believing he could acquire one. And even then he was certain she’d held doubts.
“Who knows?” She said. “We certainly couldn’t talk freely. Still, she knows I’m not the kind for idle flights of fancy, even if our conversation implied as much to any third parties that might be listening.”
Her hands slid over across the smooth glowing surface of the core she was holding. “To that end, in addition to sending my aunts to meet the man I was apparently so interested in, she also said she’d be ‘getting the house ready’, in the event you wanted to visit our estate.”
In other words, they’d be getting the ship ready to accept a core.
The dark elf’s expression turned ruthful. “Though make no mistake. She will want to thank you at some point. Needs to, even, given the service you’ve done for us.”
William was about to say something, but his teammate cut him off. “I’m serious. What you’ve done for us… it’s beyond words. And I’m aware that I’ve not been as vocal in my thanks as I could have been. Especially for a boon of this size.”
William shrugged. “We had a deal.”
She laughed. “I think we both know that you didn’t actually need me that night. You could easily have accomplished it all yourself.”
Perhaps, but it would have been riskier than it might have been otherwise. The boat might have drifted or his decompression spell might have failed, leaving him to surface fully suffering from the bends.
Admittedly, the latter was something he might have been able to work around by controlling his ascent speed, but given just how fast a curious kraken might have been encroaching on the deceased Al’Hundra’s territory, time had been of the essence.
No, Marline’s presence had ultimately been superfluous, but that’s true for most redundancies.
They were useless right up until they weren’t.
…Still, he knew just looking at Marline that she wasn’t about to accept that.
As far as she was concerned he’d done her and her family an incredible favour while asking for little to nothing in return.
“To that end, while I may not be our House Matriarch, I know in my heart that I speak for her now, so listen to me when I say that whatever you need, the House of Greygrass is in your debt. From now until the time our children’s children take their last breath in this world, our swords are yours,” she said solemnly.
Part of him wanted to dismiss her words out of hand. To say she owed him nothing beyond her friendship. But that was the old him. The one who’d been born in a different world under different stars.
The him of here and now was different.
“I accept,” he said. “And though it pains my heart to do so, I will tell you now that I’ll likely have to hold you to that oath before long.”
The dark elf grinned, white teeth glinting in the gloom of the old storage room – as peculiar a place for such a solemn declaration as any William could think of.
“I never would have guessed,” she snarked as her eyes flitted toward the barrels behind him and the nearby crate.
William rolled his eyes as he conceded the point. Marline, more than most, had seen enough of his secrets to guess that his future plans weren’t likely to stop at just breaking off an unwanted betrothal.
Even if doing so without sparking off a civil war is probably the single most complicated part of my immediate ambitions, he thought.
Because it was a difficult problem.
Were this all just about breaking off his upcoming engagement, it would be too easy. All he’d have to do was provide the Crown with something valuable enough for them to consider war with the Blackstones worth the cost of securing it.
A few mithril cores would probably do it, he thought. I wouldn’t even have to part with any of my tech.
And they’d go for it. They couldn't afford not to, given that the alternative would mean those cores would end up in the hands of their political enemies.
The problem was that the current administration would probably lose that fight – even without the duchy of Summerfield switching sides.
Though I suppose they could just kill me and take said cores on the sly, he thought.
That would actually be a pretty neat solution to the problem if the Crown could get away with it.
The problem was that then he’d be dead – and he had far too much he still needed to get done before he allowed himself to die now.
So instead he had to take a different route and tackle a much more difficult problem.
…The problem of making an entire duchy back down from their chance at ascendancy, without so much as a single shot being fired or a drop of blood being spilled.
At least outside of a practice arena, he thought grimly.
All while his family tried to stab him in the back… oh, and without him giving away too much of the technology locked away inside his brain.
Because that’d start off a civil war just as surely as the crown interfering in his upcoming nuptials. The possibility of either side gaining too large an advantage would start off a conflict just as surely as him walking up to Tala and shooting her in the face – as the the side that didn’t receive said technology would move to attack before said tech could become widespread enough that the the tides turned against them.
It was an awful tangled mess.
With all that in mind, was it any wonder that his plans to do just that felt more like walking a tightrope over a pond of hungry piranha than anything even remotely approaching sanity?
“You ok?” Marline asked gently.
“Just thinking about how much of a pain in the ass the next few… decades are likely to be,” William muttered, mostly to himself.
“Wow,” the dark elf chuckled. “Really making me feel great about the fact that my family is now tied to you for the foreseeable future.”
It was actually rather touching that despite saying the words, he didn’t hear even a hint of regret in her tone.
She’d meant what she said. Truly. Deeply. And he didn’t doubt her family would be the same.
“Is your skyship flight capable?” he asked, changing the subject.
To his relief, the dark elf accepted it without issue. “She’ll need a little work, but nothing more than a metaphorical spring clean. Something our people will have done before my aunts arrive.”
That made sense. Even if it didn’t have a mithril core, the hull of a skyship was still a massive investment of money, time and resources. If it was seen to be rusting or falling into disrepair, the Greygrass’s ran the risk of either the Crown or a ducal family claiming the ship ‘for the good of the realm’.
Oh, said parties would pay Marline’s family for it, but William doubted it would be a particularly good deal.
Though it did make him wonder just how many skyship hulls were sitting dormant in warehouses across the kingdom? He couldn’t imagine too many given the sheer cost of maintaining turning them into little more than a money-sink, but he had to imagine there were at least a few more families like Marline’s who were desperately paying said costs in hopes of reclaiming their former noble status.
Other than that, he imagined the Crown might have one or two hulls in storage, ready to be put back into service in the event of a new mithril core discovery.
“Do you think they’ll have any trouble getting here and extracting the core unseen?” he asked.
Otherwise they ran the risk of being intercepted by ‘bandits’ if it was known they were carrying an unprotected core.
Because anything less than being surrounded by a few thousand tons of ship-grade warship armour was considered ‘unprotected’ in this world.
“As things are now, definitely.” Marline said, before gesturing to the orb in his hands. “After you unveil this thing to all and sundry? Less so.”
She eyed him. “It wouldn’t take a genius to connect you unveiling a previously unknown mithril core and Al’Hundra washing up a few weeks ago. The ‘how’ will definitely have them scratching their heads, but the connection will remain.”
Oh, William didn’t doubt it. Just as he knew he’d be fending off some awkward questions in the next few days.
Fortunately, the fact that he’d be in the public spotlight would keep any parties from just dragging him off into a backroom to pry said answers out of him with a set of pliers.
Neither the Blackstones or the Crown could make that kind of move without being blocked by the other.
After the duel though… well, he’d deal with that problem when he got to it.
“There’s no chance you could delay this for a few more days?” Marline asked plaintively. “At least until my aunts arrived.”
He winced. “Would that I could. Unfortunately, I can’t run the risk. Griffith got back to me a few hours ago about my spell-bolt being tentatively approved for use on the Floats.”
The rubber bullets he’d shown off had tipped things in his favour for now.
Unfortunately, the moment he’d handed said weapon over for testing, a countdown on how long it would be until the Blackstones were made aware of it began.
If he wanted his little trick to remain a surprise for the upcoming bout – a bout he needed every advantage he could get in – he needed to kick off the duel as soon as possible.
He explained as much before continuing. “I’m also worried about my mother throwing more wrenches into the works.” He shook his head. “If this is going to happen, it needs to happen now.”
Marline frowned, before nodding understandably. “If you say so. We’ll just have to hope that my aunts arrive soon and they leave before too many people draw a connection between you and Al’Hunda, and them arriving and going.”
He shrugged. “With any luck, your little ‘romantic liaison’ smokescreen will throw things off.”
She nodded, though it wasn’t particularly enthusiastic. Still, Marline’s aunts were veterans, and if they were anything like the girl herself, they’d be very capable.
…Even if technically they’d been part of the generation that had lost the previous mithril core.
He shook his head. He had little doubt they’d spent the last twenty years preparing to make up for that failure.
“Alright,” she muttered. “What will be will be.”
She delicately passed the mithril core back to him, though he was amused to see her almost physical reluctance to do so.
She sighed. “Let’s go see your fiancée and get ready to lose this thing on an incredibly stupid bet.”
He smiled, patting her on the shoulder as he walked past.
“That’s the spirit!”
---------------------------------
The dining hall was never quiet around dinner time.
Unlike breakfast and lunch, which was eaten as quickly as the average cadet could shovel it into their mouths, the evening meal was a much more relaxed affair. One that allowed cadets to unwind a little after a long day.
It even came with dessert options.
Certainly, there was still an evening inspection yet to come, along with a myriad other chores that the average cadet needed to get done, but ultimately dinner represented the end of the service day.
So it was that William wasn’t too surprised by the veritable wall of noise that slammed into him as he stepped into the massive room, long tables filled with cadets of all sorts chattering loudly away to each other.
Naturally, it was strictly divided by colour, with each house sticking to their own. From there it was divided by year group.
The only exceptions being a small back table occupied by a small smattering of instructors whose role it was to ensure that some small smattering of discipline was maintained, if only by dint of them being present.
William was pretty sure said duty took place on a rotation, as he knew for a fact that the rest of the staff ate elsewhere, though he’d naturally never had reason to enter the staff cafeteria.
Still, all that noise fell away remarkably quickly as he stepped into the room. In clumps at first, but it spread like a wildfire as people noticed their neighbours falling silent and turned to see what had caused it. In turn, others looked up as the ambient noise of the room fell away.
In moments, the final voice was silent as the last few cadets finished what they were saying and looked up to see William standing there, his team around him.
But they weren’t looking at him.
They were looking at what he was holding.
A Mithril Core.
And as generally unflappable as William liked to consider himself, he could resist the small animal part of his brain that tried to squawk in panic as he beheld the myriad emotions flashing across the faces that were all now staring in his direction.
Disbelief. Shock. Greed. Lust. Amusement. Curiosity. Anger.
Even the Instructors were no exception, as they seemed stunned in place by what he’d just walked into the room with.
He could all-but feel his team shuffling uncomfortably behind him.
But just as all eyes were on him, he had eyes for only one person present. Ignoring all of them, he strode through the aisles of tables towards the end of the room where the third years sat.
His target hadn’t been hard to find, despite the myriad similarly dressed people around her.
Because the crowd was positioned around her. She was not within the crowd.
It was a subtle difference to see, but it existed.
Tala Blackstone of House Blackstone sat at the head of the Blackstone table in pride of place. A position even more vaunted in some ways than that of an Instructor.
Certainly Willaim didn’t doubt that in many ways the Instructors of House Blackstone did actually answer to the heir. Especially now, in her third year. But one from graduation.
“Tala,” he said as he came to stop in front of her table, his voice all but echoing in the silence.
Credit where credit was due, the expression of surprise on his fiancées face had faded before he even reached the table. Now it looked studiously blank as she gazed into his eyes.
“William,” her voice was as hard as iron. “…What do you think you’re doing?”
He actually smiled at that, not least of all because he had genuinely no idea how to answer her question.
At least, not in a manner that would satisfy the girl.
Because it was a question that could have so many meanings.
Still, he had but one answer.
“Challenging you, my dear fiancée. To a duel.” His grin only grew as her eyebrow quirked inquisitively. “Tomorrow. On the Floats. With the rising of the sun. I, William Ashfield challenge you, Tala Blackstone to a team duel. For my right to break off our betrothal once and for all.”
He saw the flicker of realization in her eyes as she heard his words and her gaze flickered down to the core in his hands. But there was nothing she could do as he continued.
“You needed to go this far?” she asked quietly, though it carried quite far across the cafeteria.
He shrugged. “I did. I am well aware of how often my lamentations about our upcoming nuptials seem as nothing to your ears.” He raised the orb up in one hand. “So this time I have brought something that might make them more receptive to my words.”
He glanced around. “And I also made sure to pick a suitably… impactful venue for my throwing of the gauntlet.”
He could tell she wanted to know where he’d gotten the core. How he’d gotten it. Because the notion that he had one strained belief.
But he did have one and anyone with even a hint of magical ability could sense it as he channelled just a hint of his aether into the device – which in turn started to churn out masses of blue green smoke.
More than any mage could produce, for if the average mage’s raw aether output was akin to a kitchen tap, then a mithril core’s was a roaring river.
Not the kind of thing that could be faked as a veritable stream of lighter than air smoke flew up into the air to waft around the rafters before filtering through the open windows outside.
That, more than anything else, was proof that what he was holding was real.
“Well, you have my attention,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Good, because I wager this core entirely and without reservation, my peers as witness.”
He luxuriated in the horrified gasps that spread through the room at his words as he soldier on.
“A mithril core for a mere chance to escape the stigma of being tied to a family of slavers. Because I’ll have no part of it. Not now. Not ever. So, one match. Your team against mine. On the Floats. With our ancestors and the gods themselves as witness.”
As well as half the kingdom, because the viewing orbs would definitely be booked to capacity for a scandal of this size. Even at such short notice, the news would spread and no one would want to miss this match.
It was like something out of a story book, after all.
All that was missing was finding out that he’d been supplied the core by his ‘real true love’.
Still, storybook setup or not, he could see others around him smirking or wincing at his words.
Because to them it didn’t sound like a match. It sounded like an execution.
A team of first years going up against a third year team wasn’t a match. It was a slaughter.
Which was why Tala was stuck.
She didn’t want to accept. He could see it. Sure, she wanted the mithril core – who wouldn’t? - but not so much as to jeopardize her family’s alliance with his.
Because a single core was not worth risking losing access to the combined might of the Summerfield dukedom.
…The problem was that no one but her knew that.
All they saw was a moronic young male from a tiny countship practically serving up a core on a silver platter to her. All she had to do was risk losing a fairly unappealing betrothal. Hell, even if she won, no one would bat an eye if she broke off the betrothal anyway after a stunt like this, taking the core and moving onto a more compliant and appealing match.
No, there was no way for her to refuse this duel. Not without being labelled a coward of the highest order.
A death sentence at her level of politics.
He saw the rage in her eyes as she reached that realization.
“I accept, William Ashfield. And know that for all that I will enjoy acquiring another core for the House of Blackstone, that enjoyment will pale in comparison to the joy I will receive from heaping upon you a much needed dose of reality.”
William just grinned, even as the Instructors finally managed to shake off the shock that had overcome them and started marching as one towards him and his team.
“I look forward to it, Tala. From the bottom of my heart.”
If only because this entire farce would finally be over with…
He had much more important things to do than indulge in childish schoolyard squabbles after all.
No matter how difficult they may well turn out to be, he thought grimly.
Because the dice had now been rolled and he was far from certain as to whether they’d land in his favor.
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Another three chapters are also available on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/bluefishcake
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William smiled broadly as he watched his team whooping and hollering with delight as they made their way back to the dorms.
Though there was no missing the slight… gingerness of their movements.
Nor the smell, he thought with some amusement, thankful that he wasn’t downwind of the small collection of young women.
Anyone that believed a girls’ locker-room smelled any better than a mens’ after a hard workout had clearly not spent much time in one. To that end, he didn’t doubt that all of them were eager to hit the showers. Both to get clean – and to soothe the many aches and pains they’d amassed over the last half hour.
Victorious or not, any time spent on the Floats invariably resulted in strained muscles and large bruises.
Something the healers could easily fix if they were so inclined - but wouldn’t. Partially because doing so would be a waste of their time and talents, but mostly because doing so would only serve to undo any gains in physicality his team might have garnered over the last half-hour.
Those who overindulge in healing magic after a workout certainly wouldn’t suffer the backlash that resulted from pushing their body to the limits, but neither would they see the benefits. That was common knowledge.
Though why that was the case was as of yet unknown to the world at large.
Nor why exercising helps build said fitness, he thought. Just that it does.
Theories abound of course, but his readings indicated that as many of those dealt with magic as much as flesh and blood.
That’s the problem with so many things around here fucking with the laws physics on a whim, he thought. It makes it hard to know what those laws actually are.
With that in mind, the somewhat lopsided technological development of this world only continued to make more sense.
Still, ultimately his musings on the collective technological advancement of the world at large was less important than the young woman who was even now awkwardly walking up to him.
“I guess we’ll not be seeing each other tomorrow after all,” he said, enjoying the way the older girl flinched at his words.
“I guess we won’t,” the dark elf responded through gritted teeth, her blue New Haven uniform marred by a dark brown splotch across the shoulder where harpy venom had soaked in.
Dry and flaky now, the substance had long since lost its paralytic features after being exposed to air, it would nevertheless be a pain to wash out.
Something William couldn’t take too much pleasure in, given that he had a similar splotch around his right thigh – with an accompanying bruise to match.
With that said, he could at least take some solace in knowing that Royal black was significantly easier to clean than his opposite number’s New Haven blue.
“To that end, will I be seeing the dividends of our little bet now or shall I expect them to be delivered to my dorm room later tonight?” he asked.
The second-year’s scowl deepened. “The latter.”
“Excellent.” he grinned.
Certainly, he didn’t need more coin per se, but after being cut off from his family’s finances, any influx of wealth to the team’s communal coffers was still welcome.
Better yet, all that the girl had asked for in return was a ‘date’ if they won.
His smile stilled slightly.
Or at least, she’d phrased it as a ‘date’. Given her tone and the snickering sounds her teammates had been making when he approached their table, the implication had been that the date would have merely been a prelude to something more intimate later in the evening.
A risk, given who his fiancée was, but a minor one. They weren’t married yet and given the dearth of men compared to women in this world, a little adventure on the part of a man wasn’t unexpected while he was young.
It was even welcomed in a way, all the better to increase the number of mages in the next generation.
Still, he’d certainly not been the one to suggest the bet.
Nor the date.
Oh, he’d certainly offered one or two up to other second year teams early on in the year as an incentive to humour his requests for practice bouts on the floats, but those had been… different.
Training by any other name really, he thought.
He’d effectively offered himself up as a practice dummy for those young women to practice their courting skills with a member of the opposite sex in return for an opportunity for his team to practice their combat skills.
Oh, he had no doubt that those young women would hardly have been opposed if said practice date led to something more but none of them had been expecting it.
…Apparently the rumours that he’d effectively been cut off from his family’s wealth had changed that dynamic.
To the extent that some people felt they could suggest things they wouldn’t have dared to even think but a few weeks ago.
Opportunists by any other name.
Which was a large part of the reason he couldn’t resist the small vindictive thrill that ran through him as he watched the second-year storm away.
Because, unfortunately for the New Haven cadet whose team his had just trounced, he was no different from her in at least one regard.
He was an opportunist too.
And the opportunity for a fat payday had been one he couldn’t pass up. Not least of all because it had come from a slaver’s pockets.
“Cadet Saltmire?” he called after the other woman’s retreating back.
The girl paused mid-step, before slowly turning to look at him, eyes cautious. “Yes?”
“Same time next week?” he asked as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
He could see her considering it, before her eyes flitted over to the viewing stands, where a few a few dozen bored-looking cadets were chatting amongst themselves in small groups.
The stands were far from full, but it was an unexpectedly large turnout for what was essentially just a practice match – especially on a weekend – but his team was slowly developing something of a celebrity status.
Entirely contained to the academy of course; the greater world was still buzzing about Al’Hundra’s death weeks after the fact, but in many ways the academy could be a small world unto itself.
And a first-year team capable of going up and against second-years – and lately winning more often than not – was not to be ignored.
Glancing across the crowds, Willim imagined that some would be here because they were simply curious, while others would be hoping to decipher their tactics so as to better improve their own teams. Others still would be… fans was too strong a word, but the fact that he was both a man and the head of a very successful team had caused more people to be interested in Team Seven than they might otherwise have been.
Novelty counted for a lot amongst the nobility, and men were pretty rare in the academy to begin with.
Which was only to be expected given that most of the time men attended, it was as a part of their betrothed’s retinue. Sure, there were men from plebeian backgrounds slated for House Royal, but they had an unfortunate tendency to be snapped-up by young women from other houses hoping to snag a husband and secure their family line.
To that end, ‘free agents’ like himself were pretty much unheard of. Indeed, William didn’t think there were any male team leaders in the Academy at all beside himself.
And I won’t be team leader either in a few weeks, he thought.
The end of the semester was looming fast. Which meant either a transfer to Tala’s team or – more likely – his withdrawal from the Academy entirely followed by a shotgun wedding.
With that in mind, he was actually a little disappointed when the New Haven girl shook her head.
Scum-sucking slaver or not, her team had been good. As evidenced by the fact that he’d been limping back to the showers.
“It’s not worth it,” she grunted before she continued walking away.
William smirked, well aware that the woman’s words could be construed in a number of ways.
His team might not be worth her time, never mind the fact that they’d beaten hers with only a single casualty. Or the risk of drawing his fiancee’s ire might not be worth it, which was bullshit because she’d clearly been happy to risk it the first time. To that end, perhaps the possibility of a date with him wasn’t worth the gold she’d lose if she lost again?
Personally, he thought she was thinking about the cost to her team’s reputation as he saw a number of people jeering at the New Haven cadets as they limped back to their dorms.
That was fine though, that just made it easier to pick his next partners for next week’s practice session.
He just had to pick them from amongst his previous foe’s largest and loudest detractors.
Smiling, he walked over to a particularly tall human woman in Summerfield white, a woman whose jeering shouts morphed into a wide grin as he started talking.
After all, all those previous teams had to be chumps if they were beaten by a first year team led by a male.
Her team would do much better.
And she’d bet money on it.
Though I should probably bet money in return this time, he thought. The team’s doing better, but we’re still only winning most of the time these days.
Against second-year teams.
Against their fellow first-years, it wasn’t even a fight.
Which wasn’t too surprising, given that in combination with his teammates just plain being abnormally talented, absurdly well-equipped, and the fact that his family hadn’t proliferated the Flashbang that far, his wheeling and dealing meant they had roughly double the practice time of their nominal peers.
Time they’d used.
Sure, there’d been a few exceptions, but while his fellow first-years were out on the town each weekend, his team was practicing.
Every evening and every morning too. Above and beyond what the Academy required of them.
It wasn’t sustainable, not even close, but it didn’t have to be.
They just needed to remain… sane until the end of the semester. Until that point, he’d push them to the very limit.
Will that be enough to beat Tala though? He thought even as he absently haggled with the Summerfield girl.
Not even close.
Not without some kind of tech advantage.
-------------
“You wanted to see me, ma’am?” William asked politely as he stepped into Instructor Griffith’s office.
The woman looked tired, even as she absently gestured him over to a seat opposite her desk.
“I do.” She reached under her desk and pulled out his Spell-Bolt before placing it onto the desk. “Mostly because of this.”
He nodded absently.
“Do you require further clarifications as to how it functions?” he asked politely. “Or proof that I was the sole developer?”
She shook her head. “No, your earlier explanation was more than adequate on that front. As far as the Crown is concerned, the Spell-Bolt currently belongs to you and you alone.”
William nodded, even as he absently noted that the latter item was likely only the case because it benefited the Crown for him to be the sole owner given his plans to sell the design to them.
Indeed, if he suddenly decided to develop cold-feet on the subject for some inane reason, he had little to no expectation that he’d be able to back out at this juncture. If he did, he had little doubt that some ‘Royal Engineers workshop’ would ‘miraculously’ invent something remarkably similar to the Spell-Bolt completely independently of his design.
Indeed, the only real question was whether the Royal Family considered the design valuable enough to ‘disappear’ him and risk angering both the Blackstones and the Ashfields in the name of maintaining a monopoly over the design.
His gut said no.
The Spell-Bolt was an interesting lateral innovation in spell combat with a single distinct range advantage over other spells, which was enough to make it valuable, but not so valuable that the Crown might risk kicking off a civil war early just to maintain a monopoly on it.
The fact that his request to debut it in an Academy practice match was being humoured was proof enough of that.
The operative word in that sentence was ‘humoured’ though. As this meeting was likely to prove.
“To that end,” Griffith continued. “The Crown is more than happy to remunerate you for the cost of buying the design. Quite generously at that, given the strife it has placed on your relationship with your household. Such loyalty shouldn’t go unrewarded after all.”
It was actually a little amusing to hear his Instructor repeating words that had clearly come from another’s lips. The phrasing just… wasn’t her.
Now, admittedly it was an incredibly small sample size to go off, but between Marline and Griffith, it made him wonder if dark elves had a cultural compulsion toward bluntness.
“Of course.” He smiled. “I am nothing if not a patriot and a loyalist.”
Griffith nodded quickly. “Yes, one supposes you are. Your outspoken support for some of our Queen’s more… controversial reforms is definitely worthy of praise.”
Again, the words couldn’t have been less ‘Griffith’ if she tried. With that in mind, it actually made him slightly curious as to why Griffith was still acting as his liaison with the crown?
Sure, at first it had made sense, but by this juncture he would have expected her to be replaced by… someone. It had been weeks since he’d unveiled the device to her, which was more than enough time for someone from the Royal Family to make a trip down to the Academy to speak to him in person.
Or just talk to him through orb.
Perhaps they’re trying to lower the value of my innovation in my mind by refusing to show too much interest?
A move that might have been effective against a normal Cadet, but he was far from normal. Not least of all because he didn’t really care what he ‘paid’ for selling the spell.
It was simply a means to an end after all. Hell, the only reason he wasn’t giving it away was because that would be more suspicious and likely time consuming than ‘selling it’.
The issue was that his end goal for the spell was likely going to be the sticking point of these negotiations.
Griffith licked her lips. “With that said, the Crown is still ultimately beholden to the Blicland Administration where changes to allowed weaponry are concerned. It can’t simply… force things through, not if doing so would endanger students. Which is what many of my fellow Instructors believe this weapon would do.”
William resisted the urge to laugh. The Crown had limits, but this wasn’t one of them. They just weren’t pushing very hard, or at all if he were to guess.
Because they didn’t want one of their new weapons unveiled in a children’s fight. They wanted to keep it hidden away as a nasty surprise in the event of hostilities breaking out with the North.
“Danger?” he asked innocently. “It’s basically just a bolt-bow, isn’t it?”
He could almost see the relief in Griffith’s eyes as they turned toward a topic she was more familiar with. “In function perhaps. In capability, I think we both know that your newest creation has more in common with a combat spell. Bolt-bows certainly can’t blow a hole clean through steel plate armour.”
She tapped her desk in thought. “You need spells for that. And unfortunately, it’s hard to simulate that kind of destructive power effectively in a safe manner.”
William resisted the urge to frown. He knew that was horseshit. Could the Floats simulate every combat spell under the sun? No, not even close.
But some could.
Fireballs and flame-streams leapt to mind. Just use water instead. Sure, a water orb wouldn’t have quite the same range as a real fireball, but it would be non-lethal and ‘splash’ in much the same way. Ipso Facto, one could assume that any cadet who was soaked to the bone had at some point been ‘lit on fire’.
A clod of loose dirt could likewise imitate an earth-spike or ice-shard quite effectively.
Indeed, the only really common combat spell he couldn’t see an easy way to simulate was the lightning bolt.
And because of that, no one got to use offensive spells on the Floats.
Because the Floats were ‘serious business’ where prestige was concerned – and certain houses had a… predilection toward certain elements. Their refined aether being particularly appealing to certain types of elemental fae.
The Ashfields weren’t one of them. The bloodline wasn’t old enough or… specialized enough. Nor were the Blackstones, despite their name. As a human house, they were just too ‘young’.
No, normally specialties came about through the selective breeding of very old family lines. Elvish lines. Like most of the current ducal houses of Lindholm. Be it fire, ice, water, earth, air or lightning, each house typically had a specialty.
So, the fact remained that certain houses could be said to have an advantage where certain types of magic were concerned.
Thus, in order to avoid claims of certain houses being given an advantage because only certain elements were allowed they banned them all.
It was stupidity of the highest order to William’s mind, which was perhaps why they didn’t go out of their way to advertise it.
Instead they just claimed the issue was a safety concern.
Which is why I suppose it’s fortunate that my new spell doesn’t have an elemental designation.
Air. Fire. Lightning. Even water. Any of them could be used as the ‘propellant’ for it.
“So they think it’s too dangerous?” he asked. “And the Crown can’t just… push it through anyway?”
Griffith nodded reluctantly. “The Crown has some sway, but all of the Great Houses contribute to the upkeep of the Academy. And without some kind of guarantee that your new weapon could be employed safely, they can’t convince the other instructors.”
He smiled. There was an alternative here. One that was blatantly obvious. Indeed, it was so obvious he didn’t doubt it had been left open to him.
‘Why not just let us use a bolt bow with tips with painted bolts? Have a strike on the armour count as an elimination? Give us each ten shots to account for two charges?’
Simple. Elegant. Safe. It even kept his newest innovation away from prying eyes. People would simply be informed that he was using a secret weapon that had the ability to penetrate armour. One that was being kept secret.
Unacceptable, he thought.
His victory could not be seen to come from a weapon that only might exist. If he did that the Blackstones could call the result into question. Claim they’d been forced to dance around a farcical rule.
Never mind that the Floats were made almost entirely of farcical rules.
No, when he won, he needed to do so in a truly convincing manner. One that left no doubt as to how legitimate it was.
Plus, using a bolt-bow would mean I’d lose out on the extra range provided by the spell-bolt, he thought.
That kind of thing could lose him the match.
“So as I understand it,” he said slowly. “The issue is that I need to make this new weapon safe. But it can’t be made safe. Because like a spell, it’s too dangerous in its base form for a simulated variant to be anything less than lethal.”
Griffith nodded slowly. “It’s as you say. A shot of any kind propelled by a spell… it’s too dangerous. A cloth head would just throw off the shot.”
William grinned as he reached into his pocket.
“I don’t know about that.” His instructor’s eyes widened as her eyes alighted on the object he’d just unveiled. “Tell me, ma’am; are you at all familiar with a substance called ‘rubber’?”
The woman cocked her head as she took in the bullet shaped object. “Rubber? Isn’t that used for Shard wheels? And insulating pipes?”
William smiled.
“Amongst other things.”
Such was the beauty of this world. So many paths untaken. So many applications overlooked, all because magic did it better.
Not always though, he thought. Not always.
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Another three chapters are also available on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/bluefishcake
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“Are you insane!?”
All movement in the hallway paused at the sudden outburst, before rapidly recommencing as the cadets present saw from whom said outburst had originated.
“Ah Tala,” William smiled as he regarded the rapidly retreating backs of his fellow marine-knight cadets. In no time at all the only ones that remained were himself, his team and Tala’s team. “So nice to see you. How are your studies coming along? I hope you’ve not been overstressing yourself, I know exam season is coming up.”
Behind him he could almost feel the rest of his team shuffling back as the irate third year marched up to them – not that she had eyes for anyone but him.
Which might have been a romantic thought, in different circumstances, though somewhat undercut in this case by the almost murderous gleam in the older girl’s eyes.
“My only stressor is you! You… overgrown child!”
Ha, ‘overgrown child’. That was amusing for a few reasons.
“Stop smiling!” his Fiancee shouted.
He did not. Though he did take a moment to ruminate on just how fast his little disagreement with his mother had spread to their nominal allies. Honestly, he didn’t even want to imagine just how awkward that conversation was.
Sure, technically the Ashfields owed no real allegiance to House Blackstone, but given the sheer power disparity between the two houses, it wasn’t hard to guess who wore the metaphorical pants in their little conspiracy.
I suppose that my mother’s only saving grace in that particular conversation is that the need to talk in code would make her ass chewing more oblique, he thought.
…Still, the way-keepers were likely earning a small fortune off his family and the Blackstones. Which was a little amusing in that his family was paying the Crown for the opportunity to scheme against them.
Across from him, Tala finally seemed to be pulling herself together, albeit with great effort. Finally, she sighed, before running a hand through her hair. “William, do you truly understand what you’ve done? Being unhappy with our match is one thing, but to go so far as to betray your family in… some infantile tantrum?”
William ignored the alarmed glances from his own team as he ruminated on the fact that his mother had clearly understated his resolve in relaying his actions to her allies.
“Do you even know what my act of betrayal was?” he asked slowly.
Tala frowned, discomfort flitting across her features. “Some ridiculousness about you stealing and withholding some spell from your family. Likely from the same annal you got that ‘flashbang’ spell.”
He cocked his head. “How could I withhold a spell if I stole it from a book that belongs to my family?”
Tala’s expression turned grim. “I imagine it would be quite easy if one tore out the page it was listed on.”
Ah, that was his mother’s approach. As things went, it wasn’t a bad justification for why he’d have access to a spell that had been created by his family, but they didn’t.
…Though it actually made him look even worse to an outside observer than the truth that he’d invented the spell and was keeping it from his family.
In a way, William was actually a little impressed at the ruthlessness of it. His dear old mom hadn’t been lying when she’d all-but said she’d pull no punches.
“If that were true, don’t you find it a little strange that not a single other member of my family would be aware of this spell I stole? Not one?” He shrugged. “I don’t know how it is with you Blackstones, but our family doesn’t invent new spells every other week. Or even every other generation. Yet not only did my family invent two new spells, they chose to keep them secret for so long that no one currently alive is apparently aware of their purpose, let alone the methodology behind them. Instead, those secrets were left to languish in the family grimoire. To be completely ignored by everyone but me in a book that sees regular use and updates.”
Those updates came in the form of the family’s observations of other house’s exclusive magics – though it wasn’t kosher to come out and say as much.
Still, he could see it. The doubt in his fiancee’s eyes as the gears in her mind whirred around.
Before, inevitably, she decided that it didn’t matter.
“Return the spell William,” she said. “Before things get worse for you.”
He could almost hear the stifled breaths of both teams as they waited for his response.
“…Worse how?”
He was, after all, genuinely curious.
“Your stipend for one,” Tala grunted. “It’s cut off.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. It just slipped out.
Because she said it so gravely… when it was so very much not a problem.
Well, I suppose it might be a problem for a ‘normal’ noble, he thought after a moment’s consideration.
Because life in the academy was both free and incredibly expensive.
Food was a prime example of that given that the cafeteria was tiered. One could choose to subsist on the freely provided meals the academy made en-masse for the menial staff or one could choose to ‘pay’ a bit more for food that was a bit higher in quality.
Naturally, the only ones who chose the former option came from House Royal – and not even all of House Royal at that. Mostly it was just those cadets who came from a menial background.
…William could admit that he was no exception to the rule.
In his defense, it wasn’t like the menial offering was bad per se. Far from it. It was mostly just… bland.
Filling, but bland.
By contrast, the premium alternative was usually the same base ingredients, but with the addition of spices, salts and a medley of other items required to impart what the layman might have described as ‘flavour’.
Even if the need to wolf it all down as fast as possible did often mean said flavour sometimes went to waste.
“I think I’ll survive,” he said. “A little less red meat in my diet and a few more potatoes will hardly kill me.”
Though he did wince a little at the barely audible whimper that originated from team seven’s resident orc at his words. After all, he’d been paying for her too and she’d also come to guiltily enjoy… flavour. Plus, he was at least partially sure that she was bagging leftovers to send home. Either that, or she was snacking on them in the dorm.
Beyond that… well, to be honest, he didn’t really need his stipend for much else. Perhaps if this had happened a few weeks ago being cut off would be a problem, but most of the components he’d need for his future inventions were already bought and in storage.
“I suppose you would be shameless enough to partake of the Crown’s charity where meals are concerned,” Tala sighed. “But what of your armour? I’ve been led to understand you’ve also been caring for one of your… teammate’s equipment too.”
Behind him, Verity flinched as Tala’s eyes flashed over her.
There was no love lost there.
Still, William shrugged. The team’s armour – which unlike academy supplied equipment came with a repair cost – was within his means to repair himself. It’d eat up a little more time than he’d like, but it was doable.
And that assumes I can’t just cut a deal with the Crown as part of the spell exchange, he said.
Honestly, such a caveat would barely even amount to a footnote.
Before he could say as much though, he was cut off.
“I think my family can cover the cost of keeping a teammate or two’s equipment in good condition,” Bonnlyn spoke up, drawing Tala’s furious gaze. “I’ll just have to phrase it as an investment in my future.”
“The same for me and mine,” Marline said.
Beyond them, Olzenya hesitated a second before nodding. “Mine too.”
Despite himself, William actually felt a little touched at the gesture. Not least of all because, in doing so, his friends were risking the ire of a very powerful house.
Admittedly, both the elves were from Crownlander houses, so they already were enemies in a way, but there was a world of difference between being someone’s nebulous political foe and directly drawing their ire.
Though poor Verity looked both guilty and poleaxed as she looked like she wanted to say something too, but naturally had nothing to offer on that front.
Which was why he shot her a wink after sending the other girls a thankful smile.
“Well, as you can see, that’s not likely to be an issue,” he said, turning back to his fuming fiancée. “What’s next?”
“Lady Ashfield is considering pulling you from the Academy,” she said.
Once more he ignored the stiffening of his friends, because honestly, as if he hadn’t been expecting that.
Honestly, he’d thought Tala would lead with that rather than attempting the stipend softball.
“Well, I suppose I’ll have to worry about that come the end of the semester. After a review process.”
A frown creased the girl’s features. “End of the semester?”
“Yes, the only time a cadet deemed vital to the defense of the capital can be pulled from their academic contract.”
“Pulled from their… you can’t be serious,” Tala spat. “That ruling is only for if the capital is under imminent threat. And it’s for fourth year cadets!”
William shrugged. “It’s for everyone, it’s only normally applied to fourth year cadets.”
Specifically, it was a rule that allowed the academy to basically draft academy cadets into an impromptu militia to supplement the city guard in the event of… well, basically anything that might threaten the capital – and by extension – the royal palace.
“What threat!?” Tala shouted.
William shrugged. “I don’t know. I understand some kind of super-kraken died recently. I figure that counts.”
Tala seethed. “That is little more than blatant exploitation of an outdated and defunct law. My family will not stand for it.”
He didn’t imagine they would. And they had the political power to get such a law overturned.
Not quickly though. Nothing was quick in politics – especially where the law was concerned.
“Well, good luck getting that done before the end of the semester.”
By which point it would be moot. For better or worse.
Conversation complete, he turned to leave, his team falling in behind him.
And behind them, Tala continued to seethe. “This isn’t over yet, William! Your actions will have consequences!”
He waved over his shoulder. “Right back at you, Tala. I’m not marrying you. Because slavery is bad. The sooner you get that, the sooner the pain stops.”
With that he walked away.
--------------------------
It was morning PT and William felt great.
Ok, that was a lie, he felt like he was about to cough up a lung, but on the inside – deep inside – he felt great. Which was why he was utterly unbothered by the two pairs of narrowed eyes boring into his back.
“All is going according to plan,” he gasped finally.
“Your plan is insane,” Marline responded, not even having the decency to sound winded.
Though as she spoke, she did glance over to the sidelines where a PT Instructor was standing idly, her breath misting in the cool morning air.
She wasn’t Griffith, the Dark Elf happened to be elsewhere this morning. Which was hardly unusual, yet William couldn’t help but think that this particular absence likely related to his own actions.
Still, when the woman’s replacement for the morning didn’t start yelling at them for chatting during PT, Marline continued on.
“And needlessly convoluted,” she continued on as if the momentary pause didn’t happen.
“Yes and yes,” he admitted freely.
Because it was definitely true that his scheme was desperately in need of a little KISS – ‘keep it simple stupid’ – but in his defense, he’d been placed into a very messy political entanglement.
One that if handled poorly could kickstart a civil war. One that was far from guaranteed to end with the side he – nominally – wanted to win on top.
Sure, without the Summerfield ducal throne on their side, the Blackstones were outnumbered two to five by the other duchies, but said duchies were… well, ‘soft’ was a decent word for it.
The militaries of House New Haven and Blackstone had been honed to a razor’s edge by their constant ongoing war with the orcs in the north. And during the Solite and Lunite invasions it had been they who’d lead the charge.
Indeed, to hear it spoken, it had been the current sitting Lady Blackstone herself who’d come up with the ‘insane’ strategy of meeting the continental powers over open water – a move that had all-but won the two ‘disparate’ wars before they truly began.
No, William wouldn’t allow his distaste for them morally to take away from his opinion of their competence. And neither would the Crown given just how cautious the current Queen was being regarding the two duchies’ continued resistance to her desired reforms.
…So, complicated was the name of the day.
A complicated problem required a complicated solution.
With that in mind, he liked to think his plan was flexible. If something went wrong, he’d improvise. Hell, he’d been improvising.
Because I certainly didn’t intend to confront Tala at the end of the first semester, he thought. Nor with a team with two barely magic literate menials on it.
Admittedly he’d lucked out on that front with getting both Verity and Marline on his team, but he’d certainly not planned for it.
And other things he’d not planned for would no doubt occur down the line. Things he’d adapt to.
“I just… I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with this,” Olzenya muttered. “Is she truly that bad?”
Ah, it seemed his team had also finally realizied just how serious his plans were. Prior to this he wouldn’t be too surprised if everyone but Marline was humouring him because… well, his plans made the team better because he pushed so hard.
“Slavery is bad. I don’t like it. I’ll have nothing to do with it,” he said, words only slightly undercut by his occasional gasps. “The Queen has the right of that much at least and on that topic I’ll back her to the hilt.”
“As do I, of course,” Olzenya said hurriedly.
And he believed her. At least that she was loyal to the Queen, coming from a Crownland house. He just didn’t think she cared much for the woman’s planned reforms. She certainly hadn’t been a fan of Verity when she’d shown up.
Because as much as the South was moving away from orcish slaves being in vogue – in no small part due to the opinions of the crown – racism in its base form was still alive and well.
Then again, Olzenya’s antipathy might have been more a result of the implication of how far she’d fallen for a baseborn orc to be her ‘peer’.
As for Marline… he still didn’t know what the dark elf’s issue with him was when they’d met, even if it had cleared up remarkably quickly.
Glancing forward, he looked toward where Verity was encouraging a flagging Bonnlyn.
“Bonnlyn?”
Gasping, the dwarf didn’t even turn as she responded. “Don’t like it. Orcs today. Dwarfs tomorrow. Plus, not economically sound.”
“Ok,” he said quickly, saving her from having to give a thesis on the topic and in turn risking having her pass out in front of them. “Verity?”
“I agree. The Queen wants to end slavery. I agree.”
Her words were almost snappish. Which wasn’t unexpected. She tended to clam up tight around politics.
It also wasn’t lost on him that she was pretty uncomfortable with his plans. Honestly, it was almost ironic that the team’s orc was the one who had the least to say about slavery despite being a former slave herself.
It made sense though. At least to him. Verity wasn’t a rebel. She was just… getting by. More to the point, the current system had done well by her in her opinion.
Her family was free and she was set to become a Marine-Knight. Something she owed to the current administration.
Beyond that, she had other problems on her plate. More immediate problems.
Because while the circle of favours meant the others had adapted to cleaning clothes and bedding pretty quick, one could hardly pick up an entire magical education in the same time period.
To that end, Verity was still being tutored by the others, even though she had nothing to ‘offer’ in return.
Something he knew weighed on her, even if the notion was ridiculous. The whole point of the circle of favours was to get the team to think as a team. Olzenya, Marline and him tutoring her wasn’t barter based anymore. They did it because she was a teammate.
In short, Verity had more basic issues on her mind than the fate of her people.
Some would call her a traitor for that. William simply thought of it as normal.
One problem at a time and all that, he thought. Hell, that’s why I’m tackling the slavery issue first - before I even think about the current race based class system.
Did he like the current elven monopoly on power?
Fuck no.
He scowled.
In another life the Blackstones could have been his greatest ally. They were the only house that had negotiated their absorption into the nascent Empire rather than be outright conquered.
And it was doubly ironic that the same mountainous guerilla tactics their ancestors had used against the invading elves were now being used against them by the free orcs.
Nothing can ever be simple, he muttered as he continued jogging.
The only bright side was that the biggest snag in his plans was going to be untangled in the next few weeks.
All they needed was the go-ahead from the Academy administration.
-----------------------
Silence rang out across the testing range as the sound of the Spell-Bolt’s firing finally stopped echoing off the walls.
Lowering the weapon, Griffith watched the many faces of her fellow instructors as they regarded the perforated dummy at the end of the range.
Each of them had been sworn to secrecy on what they’d witnessed here today. With luck, some of them might even keep it secret.
Unfortunately, in order to fulfill William’s conditions, Griffith needed the approval of both the Principal and five other Instructors in order to clear his new weapon for use in the Floats.
Nominally, those five instructors would each come from different Houses. In practice, there was not a hint of either Red or Blue in the uniforms of the instructors arrayed before her. Not a single representative from either House Blackstone or New Haven was present for the demonstration.
And there’d be grumbling about that, to be sure, claims of gerrymandering and bias, but the Crown considered the added secrecy worth it even if it cast a shadow on the impartiality of the Academy.
…Honestly, Griffith knew her contact in the Palace would rather have skipped this step entirely in the name of keeping the new weapon hidden - but it had been part of William’s conditions for sale.
Conditions they’d been forced to bow to for fear of the boy rescinding his offer and selling his invention – and it was his in truth – back to his own family.
That fact alone was what allowed a single cadet to all-but blackmail the ruling monarchy into following his whims.
As insane and inane as they were.
Honestly, a weapon capable of changing warfare across the continent, and he wants to use it in a child’s training match, she thought.
Proof positive that for all his genius, William Ashfield was still little more than a young man with no greater grasp of the world.
All he saw was the academy.
“As you can see,” she raised the spell-bolt. “This new weapon, while making use of magic, at no point touches its intended target with magic. By most considerations, it can be seen as simply an extension of the principles behind our already used Bolt-Bows. With that in mind, I would like to put forward a request for its simulated implementation in future training scenarios making use of both the Floats and Skeleton.”
She waited for a response.
Though she didn’t have to wait long.
“Absolutely not!” One woman clamored, followed by a dozen more shouts both for and against her proposal.
Yeah, she’d expected that.
So much so that the testing range was booked for the next six hours.
And it would be a long six hours.
Sighing, she placed the wonder weapon on a nearby bench and pulled over a chair.
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Another three chapters are also available on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/bluefishcake
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And today's lack of feature is: Nations being able to become republics randomly, for no reason at all, Without having any sort of drawback.
Now, this feature does exist. I love how as afrance, when they decide to become a republic, you ACTUALLY get a casus beli to PU them. There is also a reasonalbe explanation of a civil war taking place and overthrowing the monarchy.
And then, aragon and ducal prussai come.. Maybe something else but i only had 2 runs ruined for these 2 reasons.
First, Aragon can become a republic I assume there is an explanation. But therre was really no reason for the aragonian crown, or heir, or literally commoners to somehow overthrow and destroy the monarchy. Aragonese would be better off both if they are hostile to castile and friendly.
That is the reason perspective. Now, When aragon becomes a republic. Poof! Cant "easy spain" now. You dont get a "PU them anyway" casus beli too; Maximum you can do is one/few wars to slowly annex them and them wait to form the spanish nation militarily, all of which turns a great run. or at least a decent one, into you annihilating this game; IDK other's opinion, but this happening both removes any wish of continuing that game for fun, and to give self a challenge.
Secondly. Ducal prussia.
I dont know if its an event, but ducal prussia (danzige confidiration aka) can somehow become a republic. Imagine this. You overthrow a military order as a monarch; All thanks to poland, yes, But still.. Is there any reason to give up power when you dont know whats coming? Quick snap to me, brandenburg, not strong enough to beat up poland and their allies + being allied to poland, Not being able to get koningsberg from ducals, as there is no "buy land" mechanic (And i cant just migrate to new world and then charter company in poland within 20 years), and you cant get the PU event when ducals are a republic. I GUESS ITS TIME TO WAIT WHILE POLAND IS INTEGRATING DUCALS AND BECOMING STRONGER WHILE I'M NEVER ABLE TO FORM PRUSSIA !!
And yes, there is still solution; Drawing austria into the war (we have roughly 20k more men than polish alliance). Hovewer my lands are right here, near poland, and ai tends to be kind of dumb when it comes to warfare tactics. But i guess war, here i come!

So, a little while back, I did a very quick and dirty character design game with a few friends of mine using some OI tropes as the baseline, and we came up with:

• Northern Duke type with dark hair and red eyes, but female and the nation is in the southern hemisphere, so her whole family is deeply tanned by nature.
  
• The northern march(the family is marquisate, not ducal) is still absolutely covered in monsters, but it's also covered in tropical forest instead of snow and ice.
  
• The main perspective character, our 'northern duke' here, is not the isekai'd individual, nor is she the isekai'd individuals love interest. The isekai'd individual is half her age, in fact, the Lord Marshal being in her late thirties, and the isekai'd character being late teens.
  
• This 'northern duke' is not the head of the family, and, if all goes well, will never be. Instead, she's the marshal/commander of the marcher troops.
  
• Her family is very large, very loving, and overall very warm and good people. Like 30+ individuals as parents, aunts and uncles, siblings, and cousins big.
  
• She has inhuman abilities, but it's not a curse, nor is it a part of her bloodline. Rather, it's because her himbo-ass uncle left some magical war-trophies out on his desk while babysitting her one day, including the shattered pieces of a liches phylactery he was using as paperweights. And she ate one. Because she was two, and babies just stick everything they can get their hands on in their mouths. He didn't even notice because right after, she knocked over a bunch of inkpots and ruined three plus days of paperwork, so he was too busy watching his soul leave his body.
  

As for the premise of the story, the isekai'd character actually was just going to let the main plot happen, because the noble house she was reborn into never got involved in the events of the story, and, really, who the hell actually wants to get between the Crown, a couple ducal families, a few marquisates, and a literal horde of otherworldly demons, all shivving each other? That's terrifying, no way.
Sadly, in the game(an RPG-RTS focused on politics and other such shenanigans), 'thralls' were never really brought up much in the story, and our isekai'd character just thought of them as basic worker units for a faction, but then she starts to realize the horrible reality of there being thralls now that she's actually living in the world, and thinks 'okay, I'm a noble. I'm in a position of power and privilege. Maybe I can get the ball rolling on abolishing slavery or something, because that's fucked up.'
Unfortunately, sweeping societal change is extremely complicated, and, after several months of legal and economic study, she realizes that she desperately needs outside help to even start, and a lot of it.
In the game, the tutorial/prologue was playing as the Lord Marshal of House Raithe(our 'northern duke') on campaign to retake the northern coast from the demons, which, in the end, succeeds, and reopens contact and trade with the other two continents. However, political enemies use the opportunity to fuck around and fight out while the Lord Marshal and most of the marches soldiers are away. And fight out they do, but only after causing an extreme amount of damage to the march, essentially removing them from the later power struggle that makes up the main story. Like, 'the Lord Marshal becomes head of the house, despite being ~9th in succession or so' kind of damage.
Our isekai'd character choose House Raithe, and, more specifically, the Lord Marshal, as her 'outside help', because their problem is an immediate pressing issue she has foreknowledge of, and, thanks to her cramming national law, knows House Raithe has been a proponent of abolishing slavery for quite some time now, so she actually has a chance of convincing them to put a little more oomf into their efforts.
I don't know if I want to give the Lord Marshal a love interest, but if I do, it's absolutely going to be extremely, triple-rainbow gay. I can't help it, I don't make these choices, I simply put my stylus to my tablet, and handsome gay women flood out from it.
If anyone has any ideas for tropes to twist, subvert, take to their logical extremes, or play ridiculously straight, I'm all ears. That sorta thing is my jam, and I love it almost as much as I love Pellus and Lithera.

Lyra Jorn’s serene smile faded as soon as his eyes fell on Sir Enric.
Ashroot poison turned their victim’s skin black like frostbite while the muscle was drained of all liquid, leaving behind a dried, unrecognizable carcass. Yet, I could detect a hint of curiosity in the eyes of the girl. The man who walked before Lyra didn’t react to the gruesome scene. Holst.
Darius Holst was a man well in his forties, with the proud presence of someone raised in a noble household. His facial complexion was eerily similar to the Marquis. However, unlike the Marquis, Holst was slender as a whip, almost like an Olympic fencer. I could tell the same blood flowed within their veins, but what caught my attention was his eyes. Sharp. Attentive. Cunning.
I noticed it too late. My support request didn’t just include Lyra Jorn but all the Scholars at the party. I swore under my breath and gave a quick look at Elincia. Her eyes burn with anger.
“This is Preceptor Holst. My old mentor at the Imperial Library,” Lyra stuttered, trying her best to ignore Sir Enric’s corpse.
“My pleasure,” Lord Vedras replied.
“What is the situation?” Holst asked, looking over Lord Vedras’ shoulder at where Raudhan lay.
My father’s voice echoed in my mind. Courtesy does not diminish bravery.
“Here, we are treating Raudhan right now,” I said, inviting Holst to check on the young man. I couldn’t prevent a man from checking his sick relative, not even Holst.
“Thanks,” Holst succinctly said as he knelt by Raudhan’s side just before Elincia.
[Awareness] warned from impending danger. Holst didn’t recognize her, but Elincia clenched her fist around the empty potion vial. The traitor who had brought the orphanage to the brink of destruction was within Elincia’s reach, but she remained still. I thanked her silently.
Holst lit the tip of his finger using mana and opened Raudhan’s eyelids to examine the area. I leaned forward to observe the procedure. [Awareness] informed me that the sclera and the mucous membrane were healthy. Then, Holst continued by examining Raudhan’s mouth, inner cheeks, and under his tongue. Finally, he checked the neck and the tips of his hands.
I couldn’t notice any trace of damage caused by the Ashroot poison. There was no gangrene nor any sign of strange coloration that could give away the poison’s presence in his organism. Other than the weak breathing, Raudhan’s body seemed to be healthy. [Identify] didn’t show me more than what was already apparent.
“The poison was stopped before extending through his body,” Holst said without a hint of emotion in his voice. [Awareness] detected a hint of anger, but he did his best to keep it under wraps.
“We were using high-quality potions, but with Ashroot poison, one never knows,” Lord Vedras asked.
“I didn’t notice any lingering symptoms, and his Personal Sheet says the poison is receding,” Holst said just to turn to face Elincia. “Thank you for saving my nephew. I’m in your debt. Anything you want, just ask me.”
Elincia opened her mouth, but I stepped forward before she could ask Holst to end his own life. I read it in her eyes. Elincia was reaching her limit, and as much as I wanted justice for the orphanage, I couldn’t have those two destroying my crime scene.
“We will remember that. For now, let’s focus on the investigation,” I said, giving Elincia a pleading glance.
“For now,” Elincia replied, not in the slightest happy.
Cooperating with Holst rubbed me the wrong way, but I was ready to put my grudges away for my kids. Momentarily. If half of what Abei had told me about Holst was true, the man was a top-notch Scholar. I could use him.
We needed to get down to work. We had until the barrier fell to solve the crime.
“Did you notice anything important?” I asked.
Holst nodded.
“Raudhan’s body shows no after-effects of the poisoning, so I can’t tell what poison was used on him. It’s safe to say he was poisoned with the same Ashroot poison that killed Sir Enric,” Holst said, focusing on the facts. “I noticed Izabeka and Raudhan exchanging seats before the banquet. It’s reasonable to think the original target might have been her. Unless she is the perpetrator.”
Holst’s theory caught me off-guard.
“Raudhan is Captain Kiln’s nephew. She had no motive to kill him,” I said.
Holst raised an eyebrow.
“Raudhan had been hanging out with the wrong people, and the Guard isn’t as tight-knit as it used to be. It’s only logical to say that Raudhan has a strong case for being Izabeka’s successor if something happens to her,” Holst said.
“Captain Kiln is like a mother to–.”
I couldn’t finish the sentence because Holst interrupted me. “If you will lead this investigation, Robert Clarke, you better shed all preconceptions and focus only on the truth. The fact is, there have been political assassinations over a lot less.”
I bit my thumbnail. Holst didn’t know that Raudhan was a double agent working for Captain Kiln to unveil the dissident faction among the Guard. I dismissed those ideas and focused on the present.
“Captain Kiln poisoning Raudhan doesn’t account for Sir Enric getting poisoned. She wasn’t close enough to poison Sir Enric’s cup,” I finally said.
“You might be right. My theory, although plausible, doesn’t account for Sir Enric,” Holst said. I expected him to be more defensive of his theory. “ To solve the crime, we must first figure out what the victims have in common and how the poison was introduced to the party.”
Holst was right. We needed a theory.
“Can you take Raudhan to a safe room to rest properly?” I asked, looking at Lord Vedras and Elincia. It felt strange to boss a duke around, but keeping him on the floor wouldn’t be good for anyone. They both nodded and grabbed Raudhan by the arms and legs.
I followed them with my eyes until they left the room.
“Maybe Captain Kiln and Sir Enric weren’t the only targets. There can be other poisoned cups that didn’t get to be consumed,” Lyra said as soon as we were left alone.
Holst nodded approvingly with a proud teacher's expression.
“I already checked everything. There’s no other poisoned cups, plates, or cutlery,” I replied. “Captain Kiln and Sir Enric are the only targets.”
“That’s weird,” Lyra said.
Weird was an understatement. The crime scene didn’t make sense.
I use [Identify] on Sir Enric.
Enric Osgiria’s corpse. [Identify] The withered body of a victim of Ashroot poison.
Not much more than we already knew. I looked at the ballroom. The food was still hot on the table while the chairs had been haphazardly strewn around. I felt the scene was trying to tell me a story, but I couldn’t guess where to start reading. Then, my eyes fell on the chair Prince Adrien had kicked across the room. Wasn’t it strange that a man as calm and pragmatic as the Prince would suddenly rage? It was almost as if he was destroying a clue.
Before Lyra could voice her theory, I walked through the room and knelt by the chair’s remains. Good, varnished wood. High-quality dyed fabric. Spongy cotton. I activated my mana sense, trying to catch anything my eyes couldn’t notice. I fed [Awareness] with Fountain Mana, and the skill filled my brain with information. Materials, craftsmanship, the position of the splinters, old hits and nicks, but ultimately nothing of use.
It was just a broken chair.
“Suspecting the Prince?” Holst’s voice came from behind me. There was no trace of accusation in his tone. “Good. I underestimated you, Robert Clarke, but now I know you are a true Scholar at heart. Tell me. What’s going through your mind?”
Our logic was failing because of our preconceptions. We were trying to find something that wasn’t there. Captain Kiln and Sir Enric had nothing in common.
“This isn’t one crime scene. This is two different crime scenes in the same room. One is the true victim. The other is a misdirection attempt,” I muttered.
Holst followed my eyes toward the table.
“I was thinking the same,” he replied without abandoning his emotionless expression. “But that idea is a preconception on its own. We have no clues to back it up. To test our theory, we need a brain that hasn’t been poisoned by it.”
Lyra approached us, walking as fast as her dress allowed her.
“A clue?” She asked, examining the chair with mana in her eyes.
“No. Focus. Who could’ve wanted Sir Enric and Captain Kiln killed?” Holst asked. He wasn’t just asking Lyra for information but using her as a tool to check his own line of thought.
The girl toyed with her necklace as a mindful expression was drawn on her face.
“A foreign power trying to weaken our defense capabilities. Sir Enric was the general of the second-largest army in the kingdom. Captain Kiln might be a small name, but having the Farlands under control is also important for a country’s stability,” Lyra replied without skipping a beat.
“And yet, the attack came from within the party. We are all subjects to the crown,” Holst pointed out.
“Someone betrayed us, maybe?” Lyra replied just to stop mid-sentence. “No. Sir Enric and Captain Kiln are easily replaceable. To truly cause inner turmoil, foreign powers must create division between or within houses. A more proper target would’ve been a duke or their successor. Something that could ignite infighting.”
Holst nodded.
“Neither is it an attempt to make houses fight each other. Otherwise, the culprit would’ve framed someone else,” Lyra added, her face suddenly illuminating.
“So, no external power and no attempt to destabilize the kingdom,” Holst smiled for the first time in the night. He looked like a hungry jackal. “Any other thoughts, Miss Jorn?”
Lyra looked around, panicking like only a student being questioned by a strict teacher could.
“Misdirection? One was the actual target of the assassination attempt. The other one is an innocent passerby,” Lyra said, her eyebrows almost meeting in the middle of her face. “Sir Enric has to be the real target, while Captain Kiln is a red herring! You don’t kill the General of the most important ducal house just to cover the assassination of a Captain!”
Holst clapped.
“Correct, Miss Jorn. It’s a shame you had to leave the Imperial Library so early,” he said.
I could tell those words meant the world to Lyra.
“If we work under the assumption that the target was Sir Enric, who would benefit the most from his death?” I asked.
The first suspect to come to my mind was Prince Adrien. A newly appointed general would want to show its prowess despite House Osgiria’s reluctance to put all their power into the Farlands campaign. A new Osgirian General would help the royalist faction.
“The man who would benefit the most is Lord Victor Osgiria,” Lyra said. “The previous Duke appointed Sir Enric as general. Sir Enric also was dangerously close to the top of the succession line for Lord Osgiria to be comfortable with him having control of the army.”
“Yes. Sir Enric was gathering too much power within House Osgiria. It wouldn’t be hard to imagine Victor killing him despite being a high-level warrior,” Holst said.
I nodded in silence. Calling Lyra to help had been the right decision.
“Who else?” I asked. Centering our efforts on a single suspect at this point of the investigation might lead us to a dead end. I would rather see the whole picture first.
“Prince Adrien,” Holst said without missing a beat.
“P-Prince Adrien?” Lyra stuttered as she looked around to make sure we were alone.
“Don’t fear the truth, Miss Jorn,” Holst replied. “Sir Enric was an anti-loyalist just like Victor Osgiria, despite the friction between them. The royalist faction would benefit from his death.”
A bitter smile appeared on my face as I realized both factions could’ve killed Sir Enric, the one he was against and the one he swore to defend. Court intrigue was a cold game without a final whistle, and I had agreed to play. I hoped I was a better player than Sir Enric and luckier than Raudhan.
“What about us?” Lyra suddenly asked. “Aren’t we suspects like everyone else at the party?”
“Have something to admit, Miss Jorn?” Holst asked with a disappointed teacher’s voice.
“N-no! Why would I?” Lyra stuttered.
“We are Scholars, Lyra. I’m certain we don’t have the skill to smuggle poison through five Sniffers even if we had a strong reason to kill Sir Enric,” I said, prompting a pleased smile from Holst. I hadn’t realized it, but he was putting me to a test.
“Shouldn’t we share our Personal Sheets nonetheless? I mean. Just in case?” Lyra said, giving me a meaningful look.
I understood her hidden message instantly. We had shared Character Sheets not a couple of hours earlier. Lyra was suspecting Holst.
“You have yet to trick me, Miss Jorn,” Holst broke the silence. He looked at us with an amused expression. “I don’t mind showing you if that eases your suspicion. Use [Identify] if you believe I’m hiding something.”
Holst summoned his Character Sheet with a controlled hand movement and turned it around.
Name: Darius Holst, Human. (Keen) Class: Scholar Lv. 43 Titles: Silver Scholar, Master Investigator, Expert Historian, Expert Orator, Adept Strategist, Classroom Fiend, Favorite Teacher (3), Cunning, Gem Polisher. Passive: Lv.4 Swordsmanship, Lv.3 Riding, Mana Mastery, Awareness. Skills: Identify, Magical Ink, Ward, Mana Blade, Nimble Step, Puncture, Mirage.
“No need to show me yours. I know you two are innocent. Not even the Headmaster of the Imperial Library knows how to smuggle poison through a wall of Sniffers,” Holst said.
What Holst didn’t know was that Sniffers weren’t omniscient or flawless. When they ‘sniffed’ me, they were confused by my smell. They could tell I had traveled far away, but they couldn’t pinpoint the fact that I came from another world. Or maybe they could tell, but they didn’t know another world actually existed, which narrowed their understanding of what was dangerous and what was not.
“We can’t ignore the fact that new Skills appear every year, and that goes for everyone, not only us,” Lyra said. “It doesn’t matter if we find our perfect suspect unless we can prove they were the ones who smuggled the poison into the party.”
“Nobles will not consent to showing their Personal Sheets, even with the Prince pressuring them,” Holst replied, mindlessly tapping his lips.
I sighed. Solving the riddle wouldn’t be as easy as identifying a random Baron just to find they had the hidden ‘Wormhole’ skill.
“Let’s follow the action, step by step, one last time. Lord Osgiria and Prince Adrien had the motivation and the opportunity to conduct the crime. However, I feel we still are overlooking something,” I said, using [Minor Illusion] and [Awareness] to create a copy of the banquet table.
Tables, plates, cups, and cutlery had flown into place in an apparent disarray from the gilded drawers lined along the wall. Holst and Lyra looked at it in awe, if only for an instant. We crossed the room and opened the drawers. Thousands of plates and cups were still stored inside. There was no way the assassin would’ve poisoned them before they reached the table. It was impossible to tell what plate would end up in front of each guest, plus the Sniffers would’ve detected the poison just like they detected Elincia’s potions.
We returned to the illusion.
After the banquet table rearranged itself, the guests slowly walked to their seats. It had been the perfect moment to spike the glasses, but too many people approached the table, searching for their seats to pinpoint the culprit. Then, the Marquis's speech, toast, and poisoning happened in quick succession.
“It must’ve been someone near the victims,” Lyra said.
The Prince and Lord Osgiria fit the description; Prince Adrien was one seat away from Raudhan and Sir Enric, while Lord Osgiria was two seats away from Raudhan and just next to Sir Enric. Both of them could’ve approached the glasses without arousing suspicion.
“We are still missing something,” Holst said, just as Lord Vedras entered the ballroom.
“Can I help with something else?” Lord Vedras asked.
“Yes,” Holst instantly raised his head, his predatory eyes shining with bloodlust. “Can you show us the antidote vial you used with Sir Enric?”
“Excuse me?” Lord Vedras stuttered.
“The empty antidote vial, show it to us,” Holst said.
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“Every member of the Rosebud Fencing Academy is an orphan from the city; we don’t carry out any kind of selection process,” Elincia said, her voice carrying over the music and the guests' chatter.
Lord Osgiria’s expression remained unchanged, but thanks to [Awareness], I noticed the hints of an arrogant smirk tugging his mouth.
The nobles joined heads, murmuring and exchanging furtive looks, but I pretended not to notice. We were in trouble. The revelation might have come too early. The humble origin of the Rosebud Fencing Academy wasn’t a secret, but I wanted the nobles to have a general idea of my kids' competence before the big reveal. Without having anything to show in terms of achievements, Prince Adrien’s patronage was our only lifeline.
“A team of orphans… how picturesque. Just make sure the Aias kid doesn’t turn them into little thieves,” Lord Osgiria said as he stood and elegantly put the chair aside. Without saying a word, he turned around and left our group. That was enough for half of the nobles to leave us.
My blood froze.
Lord Osgiria was an intelligent man, tortuous but intelligent. Without resorting to violence, he had managed to undermine my character. I memorized the faces of the nobles who abandoned our group. If anything, I knew those under the influence of the Osgirian faction.
I turned around to face those who had stayed: high-rank soldiers, wealthy merchants, and members of the low nobility. Most of them seemed unsure if they should stay or follow Lord Osgiria.
“So, Prince Adrien is interested in a team of orphans. Quite intriguing if you think about it more than a second,” Lord Vedras said as he glared at Lord Osgiria’s back. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better, Robert Clarke.”
I silently thanked him. No one in the party would risk their reputation for a no-name Scholar like me. However, Lord Vedras’s presence seemed to reassure my audience.
“Sorry, I got caught up,” Elincia whispered under her veil.
“Don’t worry about it. They weren’t our target audience in the first place,” I replied, putting my hand on hers. There was nothing we could’ve done. Lord Osgiria was out of our weight class. He was Prince Adrien’s problem.
I fixed my jacket and focused on Lord Vedras across the table.
The duke was the real question mark at the party. I wondered if he was on board with Prince Adrien's plan or just interested in what I had to say; the new trade route would greatly favor Vedras dukedom. I looked around, searching for Sir Janus, but the man was nowhere to be found. If I had to guess, he should be hiding from his old classmates in one of the rooms annexed to the ballroom.
“Now that Negative Nancy is gone, I would like to know more about the Kingdom of Connecticut,” Lord Vedras said, summoning the flying tray for the sixth time that night and grabbing a glass of amber-colored hard liquor.
Unlike Prince Adrien, Lord Vedras seemed utterly out of his element at the party. He was drinking too fast and seemed to be counting the seconds for the party to finish. If I had to guess, Lord Vedras was an outlier. All important nobles were combatants while he was a crafting class.
“Show them the cars!” Elincia said, interrupting my thoughts.
“We’d love to hear about cars,” a young woman sitting a couple meters from us cheered. She wore a white and red dress with a necklace of the red falcon catching a fish—the symbol of Ducal House Jorn, the northmost territory of the kingdom. Her skin was pale, and a hastily made hair bum held together by a wooden stylus crowned her head.
Compared to the rest of the nobles, her outfit was sloppy, as if she had put it together in a rush.
“So, cars…” I said as I channeled my mana.
Without realizing it, Elincia had put me in a tight spot.
Despite the Silence Pact between the System and me being erased, that didn’t mean telling the whole truth would be safe. Any sane noble would want to replicate the technology of my world to have an edge over the competition, and I wanted to avoid any forceful attempts to get that knowledge from me. I decided to go vintage.
“Cars are interesting but not as useful as a cart with a good horse,” I replied, summoning the illusion of one of the early cars constructed, a little more than a tricycle with a small engine strapped to the back.
With a hand movement, I expanded the illusion to match the actual size of the antique car. As clunky as I tried to make the movement look, it still surprised the nobles. Elincia seemed bored, which wasn’t a surprise, considering she was used to another level of speed. I gave her an apologetic look.
“Do you mind if I draw a sketch?” The young woman from House Jorn asked.
“Please, be my guest, Lady…” I replied. Then, I realized I didn’t know her name. I hoped my words didn’t come out offensive. After Lord Osgiria’s demonstration of contempt toward the orphanage, I had to be careful not to jeopardize the opinion of the other nobles.
“Jorn, Lady Jorn,” she casually replied, pointing at the necklace.
I couldn’t tell if she was making fun of me. Like Prince Adrien, her expression was indecipherable. [Awareness] couldn’t tell me if she was playing or being serious.
“Silly me,” I replied, trying to play it cool.
Lady Jorn pulled out a sketchbook and a charcoal pencil and started drawing with a fast and steady hand. I couldn’t tell if she was letting the System assist her, but I could tell she was good. The car seemed to come to life on the yellowy page. Soon enough, Lady Jorn was wholly absorbed in the activity.
Crisis averted.
Elincia elbowed my shoulder, not subtly enough for the nobles not to realize and just violently enough to prompt a few laughs.
“We are waiting,” Elincia said.
“Right, let’s continue with the lesson,” I replied without skipping a beat. “Next slide. Wright Brothers’ first glider. Probably the most important thing that has ever come out from Ohio.”
I looked across the room at the nobles fluttering around Lord Osgiria. If he wanted to compete for attention, I was down for a fight. I shrunk the car and left it near Lady Jorn so she could finish her sketch in peace. Then, I made the glider grow until it was half the size of the original. Several guests turned their heads around to watch the mysterious contraption.
“This is one of the first versions of the Wright Brother’s glider. Who can guess what this hulk does?” I asked with my best teacher's voice.
“Glide, evidently. Nomads of the Sahnar Kingdom have similar vehicles they use to glide through salt flats,” Lady Jorn replied without raising her head from her sketchbook. I had taught enough know-it-all kids to recognize one. I wondered if she was a Scholar.
“Good instinct,” I replied, making the glider take off and fly over the heads of the dancers towards Lord Osgiria’s group. Then, the glider turned around and returned to our table, catching the attention of most of the nobles.
“It glides through the air!” an old, bald Baron said. “These would’ve been useful during the Sky Pirate era.”
“And without any mana involved,” I replied to everyone’s surprise.
Lady Jorn gave me a suspicious look before resuming her scribbling. She hurried to finish with the car to start the sketch of the glider. After the initial reluctance to engage with my demonstration, the nobles slowly put their reservations aside and started asking questions. I tried to dance around hard physics, claiming that all the gadgets I had shown them were mere experiments of famous Tinkerers without real use in everyday life.
Other than Lady Jorn, the audience seemed to buy my lies.
Elincia raised her eyebrows, judging me for the river of blatant lies that was coming out of my mouth. It was better to keep it that way; just entertaining enough to keep them focused on my illusions but not enough to leave nobles wanting to develop aeronautic warfare.
Lord Osgiria and his clique watched my illusions across the ballroom, but as curious as they were, none dared come near to examine them more thoroughly. I lost the notion of time as I amazed the guests with my illusions. I felt like a fair charlatan showing eye-catching yet useless gadgets to the unsuspecting bystanders. Gradually, as the night progressed, my audience thinned. As interesting as my illusions were, nobles had much more to do.
[Awareness] fed me with snips of conversation at the nearby tables. Trade agreements, exchanges of favors, marriage lobbying, promises of military aid, and much more were happening around my humble illusion. A kingdom was moving, alliances changed, and I was trapped as a circus monkey.
After several hours of illusions and dozens of invitations to have dinner during the week, I was left alone with Lord Vedras, Lady Jorn, and Elincia.
“It is surprising you kept their attention for so long,” Lord Vedras said as he sipped from the umpteenth glass of wine of the night. I would’ve expected the man to be more inebriated, but I noticed he took sips from one of his potions occasionally.
An anti-drunkenness potion sounded pretty handy.
“Aren’t you going to join them, My Lord?” I asked, hoping for the wine to have loosened his tongue.
“Let’s say that after months in the front line, I’m glad to be among fellow non-combatants,” he replied, lost in his drink.
Lady Jorn left her sketchbook for the first time in the night. She had moved to our table at Lord Vedras' request, so I assumed she was highly positioned in the kingdom’s politics. She had to be closely related to Duke Jorn.
“For combatants, war is a sport. The more you kill, the more you improve, the more powerful you become. That only serves to make combatants vacuous, murderous muscle-heads,” Lady Jorn complained, seemingly ignoring that ninety percent of the party and most of the high nobility were combatants. “If support classes ruled, the kingdom would be in a way better standing.”
Lord Vedras raised an eyebrow, and I refrained from making any comments.
“Are you an Alchemist too, Lady Jorn?” Elincia broke the awkward silence.
The young woman shook her head. “I’m a Scholar… and I don’t want to bring Victor Osgiria back to the conversation, but I also find it hard to believe that someone who became a Scholar at twenty-two is better than someone with seven years of experience. Even with all your previous instruction, there are things you can only accomplish with a Class.”
My hunch was correct. Lady Jorn was a Scholar, which was fairly obvious in hindsight, considering she was omnivorous and insatiable for knowledge. No matter what I showed them, she sketched, took notes, and asked dozens of questions. Everything while maintaining her smarty-pants aura.
“It’s rude to force others to show their Personal Sheets, Lyra,” Lord Vedras scolded her. “Even more if you are a noble putting pressure on commoners.”
The girl wasn’t having any of it.
“Personal Sheets are something to be studied, not hidden away. You, as an Alchemist, might want to keep your recipes hidden, but we Scholars wear our titles like badges of honor,” she replied, unapologetic.
Then, with a gesture of her charcoal pencil, a System prompt appeared from thin air.
Name: Lyra Jorn, Human. (Bright) Class: Scholar Lv.28 Titles: Insufferable, Jorn Heir, Crush on Mentor, Copper Scholar, Adept Orator, Adept Investigator, Journeyman Mathematician, Novice Ecologist. Passive: Riding Lv.3, Eidetic Memory, Mana Manipulation, Awareness. Skills: Identify, Magical Ink, Minor Illusion, Ward, Silence Dome, Invigoration.
I felt like I was seeing something I shouldn’t. Lady Jorn, however, was unfazed, at least on the surface. Her titles weren’t half bad for someone as young as her.
“I have nothing to hide. If the System decided to put all of that into my Personal Sheet, then I shall not be embarrassed,” she said, despite her cheeks catching a slight shade of red.
Considering Lord Vedras and Elincia’s expression, the girl was totally making a fool of herself. I took a long sip from my glass of wine. The secondhand embarrassment was getting to me, but she remained stalwart, showing her Character Sheet to everyone who turned their heads to our table.
“I have nothing to be ashamed of,” she muttered, turning redder by the second.
I fought not to hide my face beneath my hands as I wondered why people suddenly decided to put themselves in that situation. Lady Jorn’s chances to save face were almost nonexistent unless any of us reciprocated. I sighed and summoned my own Character Sheet.
Name: Robert Clarke, Human. Class: Scholar Lv.15 Titles: Out of your League, Hot for Teacher, Confidant, Classroom Fiend, Researcher of the Hidden, Favorite Teacher (97), Father Figure (2), Master Tutor, Headmaster, Silver Scholar, Delinquent Reformer (5), Stalwart Mentor (7), Making the Difference, Role Model, Expert Mathematician, Expert Physicist, Adept Historian, Adept Linguist, Journeyman Biologist, Novice Chemist, Novice Orator. Passive: Lv.5 Swordsmanship, Mana Mastery, Awareness, Master of Languages. Skills: Identify, Stun Gaze, Intimidate, Minor Illusion.
Lady Jorn gawked at my Character Sheet with wide-open eyes.
“Curious. Both of you—” Lord Vedras said.
“It’s a Scholar thing. Everyone knows it,” Lady Jorn quickly replied.
“Right…”.
The table fell into an awkward silence. Despite Lord Vedras and Lady Jorn being part of important ducal families, they had little to no chemistry. They exchanged brief news from their relatives –Lady Jorn’s father was serving in the army, and she hadn’t seen him in a couple of years- but the conversation died out before I could learn anything about the high spheres of the kingdom.
“You should be teaching at the Imperial Library,” Lady Jorn said.
“Are you attending classes there?” I replied, but my question seemed to put her in a difficult position. Lady Jorn’s mask showed a slim crack for the second time in the night. My teacher’s intuition told me Lady Jorn was hiding something.
“Something like that,” she sparsely replied, grabbing her sketchbook and shielding herself from further questioning.
For an instant, she looked as young as Firana.
People of this world took around three years to hit level twenty and the first ‘softcap’. Lady Jorn was Lv.28, which meant she should be in her early or mid-twenties. On the other hand, the [Bright] trait might have significantly boosted her progress. At least in appearance, Lady Jorn didn’t seem to have reached drinking age yet.
Asking Lady Jorn about her academic problems might have been overstepping the boundaries of our non-existent relationship, but I couldn’t help but feel worried. If anything, Lord Vedras was the one who should be asking. If I had followed the conversation correctly, they were distant relatives. The man, however, was more interested in Elincia’s explanation about the local alchemy ingredients.
Suddenly, Lady Jorn’s eyes shot wide open, and her face became paler than usual. A shiver ran down my spine. Standing beside me was a massive man with blonde, almost white hair. His coal-black eyes stood out against his red and white silk surcoat with a red falcon catching a fish embroidered on his chest. The bird was so realistic that it seemed about to flutter off the fabric. He had made no sound, nor had my [Awareness] detected a single mana particle coming from his direction.
The charcoal pencil fell from Lady Jorn’s stained hand and broke over the table.
“Hello, father. It’s been a while, uh? Two years? I’m a Scholar now,” she said with a trembling voice. Her whole body trembled.
“I just had a conversation with Preceptor Holst about your third year at the Imperial Library,” Lord Jorn said softly. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on its ends. I had never heard such a calm yet menacing voice. “He told me you were expelled during the first semester.”
“I swear to the System it wasn’t my fault,” Lady Jorn said, her expression overrun by panic.
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I saw Existing_Afternoon21 and auditoryeden's discussion on hierarchy in the Li Empire (world of AP) so I'd thought being the Chinese history nerd that I am I'd wade in as well. Take it with a grain of salt however.
I'll try to keep it light but I'm going to assume some spoilers up to Volume 10 so be warned. It was getting pretty long so I'd thought I'd make a new post for better visibility.
First point: who is above or below who depends on context. Are we talking about government ranks, lineage, wealth or reputation? Each has its own separate hierarchy and interacts with each other in non-obvious ways. For example, Lakan is a very high rank in government but the La Clan seems to be mid-ranking nobles. So does he rank higher than someone with a lower government rank but better lineage? Depends on the context. This gets more complicated when its women interacting with men. Is a lady from a powerful family above a mid ranking government official? Who knows. Depends on context. If you live in an Asian country you probably know how situation dependent this is.
Now the setting of Apothecary Diaries is a mixture of various Chinese (and Japanese) eras. In early eras its your lineage/peerage that matters most since you can control your own land and troops in a feudal system. In later eras its your rank in the central government that matters most as countries become more centralized.
From what I've seen the social aspect seems to be a mixture of the Tang/Ming dynasty whilst the structure of government seems to be semi feudal and based on the Han dynasty. If I had to guess, in the world of AP the thing that matters most would be your rank in government although lineage (and thus control of land) is still very close behind.
Now I'll break down the various hierarchies. The Emperor is at the very top in all hierarchies so let's get rid of him for all discussions.
Let's start with the central government. It's not explained in detail in the LN, but I'm guessing it's based on the Han dynasty from the various clues given. Directly below the Emperor are the san gong. This is most likely referring to this: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_Ducal_Ministers. If we assume this equivalence then at the early stages of the story, the san gong are Lakan (Grand Commandant), Shishou (Prime Minister) and the Imperial Counselor who is yet to be introduced. If we follow the Han system then below them should be the Nine Ministers and then lower ranked officials like Lihaku.
Then you have the various noble clans. It seems like they come in all shapes and sizes. You have your poor provincial nobles all the way to clans like the Shi Clan (Consort Loulan's clan) which have hereditary rule over major provinces. So it would seem that away from the capital your lineage matters a lot more as its directly tied to control over land and resources. In a social setting (say a party) your lineage will probability be taken more into account as well. There does seem to be your usual snobbery coming from old clans as well. For instance, Gyokuyou's clan rules over the western province and have massive political and military power but are seen as 'lesser' to Lihua's clan since they are new nobility.
And of course you have the rest of the people. Society in AP doesn't seem to be strictly nobility based, at least in the capital, so you have all sorts of educated people filling up positions in the central government. Most of these will be from wealthy merchant and professional middle class families. In the context of the central government, I would say that a someone from a wealthy merchant family would have more sway and opportunities than someone from a poor noble family.
EDIT: I forgot to discuss the poor people. Oops. At the bottom of the totem pole you have the uneducated peasantry of largely farmers. Lower than that you have slaves. Li abolished slavery during the previous reign but imported state-owned slaves are still allowed IIRC.
EDIT: There's also the eunuchs which seem to be discriminated against in the world of AP. In practice, it seems that you have a large range when it comes to eunuchs. From the uneducated peasant to people from noble clans such as Luomen so it seems that family background still play a large role here. Eunuchs in AP don't seem to be politically influential however.
EDIT: Then there's the role of the extended family. In Confucian ideology you should obey your elders, especially your parents. So you have a situation like with Lakan and Luomen. Lakan outranks Luomen is most aspects but is still expected to give him respect as a elder clansmen. In that aspect Luomen 'outranks' Lakan in a private setting.
Now let's talk about the women.
We'll start of with the Imperial Harem. Historical Chinese harems have a complex system but most historians simplify to down to Consort > Concubines > Ladies. The AP harem seems to be based on the Tang dynasty's harem. At the top you have the Empress Dowager (yes even Emperors are expected to obey their mothers), then the Empress, then the Four Consorts, then mid and low ranking concubines and ladies. Your rank in the harem solely depends on the Emperor's favor though he'll probably take various factors into account: family background, whether you've given birth to a son, whether he actually likes you, etc. Technically high ranking consorts outrank most people but their political power is more derived from their own clans as well as children. There also seems to be some snobbery going from the Li nobility as well: Fuyou is a princess from a vassal state and seem to be treated as lower than Linese nobles.
Aside from that, for both nobles and commoners, a woman's position is largely tied to their family (usually father or husband). There's very little avenue for pursuing an independent career. Even Maomao is seen as a nepo baby when she starts working in the medical offices (which she kinda is but in this context women need all the help they can get).
Oh and we should probably discuss the role of the Imperial family. What role do Imperial princes play in all this? In most dynasties this is largely up to the Emperor. Princes, even crown princes, have no official power unless appointed. High-ranking members of the imperial clan (including women) do have a lot of social capital however and can often build factions of officials around them. In history, low ranking members aren't all that different from someone from a normal noble family however i.e. a low ranking prince would be expected to pay respect to a high ranking official.
So that was a doozy. As you can see its all very complicated and context dependent.
Writing this whole thing made me realize something. Whether you're a royal or a commoner a large part of what determines your social standing is the power of your family and where you rank within it.

Hey everyone! I was going to wait until tomorrow, but who says you can't post twice in one day? Only a little late, but today let’s take a look at the changes brought to the Italian Republic in 1.0.3. This may look familiar as it is my original post from a couple years ago edited to include the changes. So it's not a complete guide like my more recent ones per se, just the politics of the country. This time around I also included a little on Lombardy and Venice too.
Starting Situation
Angry at the Kingdom of Italy’s peace treaty with the Austrians in the Weltkrieg, nationalists and republicans alike rose up against the Kingdom. After routing monarchist forces, the rebels soon turned on each other. The republican faction was saved thanks to the intervention of neighboring Austria, offering it’s help in exchange for the new Republic joining the Italian Federation. The Federation, under Austria Protection was an association of the non-socialist areas of the old Kingdom, including now monarchist forces in the south and on Sardinia. The Prime Minister of the Republic was allowed to become the Federation’s interim head, and the Republic has been under Austria’s thumb since. The Federation lasted until 1930 when its term was not renewed. The Federation had existed only on paper at the time; Sardinia and the Two Sicilies, having had Austrian defense guarantees pulled in 1926, had terminated their memberships at that time.
Political Focus Trees
Current Prime Minister Ivanoe Bonomi (of the social liberal Partito Liberale Democratico (PLD, Democratic Liberal Party)), has been in power since 1927. Though not in office when the Federation de facto collapsed, he did oversee it’s de jure termination in 1930.
Having won the election the following year, he is preparing to hold another one in May of 1937. The advent of Black Monday throws the election cycle for a loop and Bonomi will bring the election forward to November 1936.

1936 Elections

1936 Elections
Bonomi currently leads a center-left coalition with the social democrat Lega Democratica Riformista (LDR, Democratic Reformist League) led by Giacomo Matteotti. As the junior partner, the LDR will run with, not against, the PLD. In all four parties will compete in the election:

• The social liberal Partito Liberale Democratico (PLD, Democratic Liberal Party) led by current PM Ivanoe Bonomi.
• The market liberal Partito Liberale Italiano (PLI, Italian Liberal Party) led by Luigi Einaudi.
• The social conservative Partito Popolare Italiano (PPI, Italian People’s Party) led by Giovanni Gronchi.
• The national populist Associazione Nazionalista Italiana (ANI, Italian Nationalist Association) led by Costanzo Ciano. If elected Ciano will transform the Italian Republic into the Italian State.

Austria will get an option to support either the PLD or the PPI during the election campaign if it chooses. Party popularity will rise for the chosen party, and also the ANI, but does not have any further effect on a player. It will factor into which party is elected by the AI, barring any game rules.

The ANI in Opposition

ANI Opposition Event Chain
If any of the democratic parties win in the election, the ANI will cry foul, accusing the new government of rigging the elections with Austrian help. The government can shut the ANI down by banning it, or keeping a close eye on it.
Banning it will only embolden the ANI, leading to more provocation, with a fed-up electorate taking to the streets to protest what it sees as government in-action. Ciano will use this opportunity to March on Milan, hoping to coup the government. Security services will beat the March back, and it will fail. Though the March failed, opposition parties in Parliament will use it as an excuse to call a motion of no confidence in the government.
Simply keeping a watch on the ANI will see its popularity grow, especially in military circles. The government, fearful that too much ANI support in the military could lead to a coup, will either ban them (see above) or promote democratic ideals to servicemen instead. Simply promoting democratic ideals will see, embolden by the ANI’s new popularity increasingly violent riots across the country. A fed-up electorate will take to the streets demanding the government do something about it. Ciano will use this opportunity to March on Milan, hoping to coup the government. With military support on his side, the coup can be a success, ushering him into power, or will fail. If the March failed, opposition parties in Parliament will use it as an excuse to call a motion of no confidence in the government.
If a motion of no confidence in the government was called, the government can either narrowly survive it and the Republic endure, or lose it and fall.
If the government falls, there will be calls to recreate the old Italian Federation, being led by either the Grand Duke of Tuscany Pietro Ferdinando, or Count Adriano Visconti of Lombardy. Or, the Italian Republic can be disbanded completely, with Lombardy and Venice becoming independent states.
The leader of Lombardy will be whoever was PM of the Republic at the time: Ivanoe Bonomi or Luigi Einaudi, but not Gronchi; he will be replaced by Giovanni Battista Migliori. All three men will lead their respective parties or its local affiliation. (More on an independent Lombardy below)
Venice will be led by a Doge, and the interim leader of the resurrected office will be Giuseppe Volpi of the market liberal Partito Repubblicano Veneto (PRV, Republican Party of Venice). (More on an independent Vencie below)

--The ANI in Power--

Venetian Revolt

Venetian Revolt
If the ANI are in power, either through winning the snap elections, or after a successful March on Milan, Ciano will eventually push for the reorganization of the Italian government. No longer giving special rights and autonomy to states like Venice and Lombardy, Italy will be turned into a unitary government. Angry Venetians led by Volpi will take to the streets to protest the move, and the Venetian state legislature will vote to ceded from Italy until such time its autonomous rights are restored. By event Venice can be tag switched to, or stay as the Italian State.
The war, which starts shortly after the revolt begins, can go a few different ways. The Austrians have the ability to help Venice if Italy cannot defeat the revolt in 150 days, and at that time even the Socialist Republic of Italy can join the fray too. If Ciano can not defeat Venice within a year, the ANI government will fall.
There is a growing call to restore the old Federation, giving its member states broad autonomous powers. It can be restored with Grand Duke of Tuscany Pietro Ferdinando, Count Adriano Visconti of Lombardy, or leader of Venice, Giuseppe Volpi. Like with the fall of the Italian government, there is also the option to just stay as Venice and release Lombardy, or play as an independent Lombardy.
But, if Austria volunteered its help and Venice accepted, they will only be allowed the re-creation of the Federation under the Grand Duke, not Visconti or Volpi, and Lombardy and Venice will not be allowed to become independent.

ANI Leaders

ANI Leaders and Possible Kingdom
Having won the vote or successfully marched on Milan, and defeated Venice, Ciano will pass away in office in the first half of 1939. While initial not in the running to succeed his father, son Gian Galeazzao Ciano will be selected as a compromise candidate to become the new Il Duce.
Both Cianos are known monarchists, and the monarchy can be restored in a few ways, under two branches of the House of Savoy.

• First, by completing the focus tree, specifically, Italy is Reborn: if Sardinia no longer exists and Italy is at peace with the Entente, the son of the King during the Weltkrieg can be invited to take the throne. Crown Prince Umberto, who with his father had abdicated in 1919, can be installed as Umberto II.
• The second involves joining the Entente, but the new King will depend on if Sardinia exists:
  • If it does, and Sardinia/the Entente accepts, Italy will get the King in Sardinia, Amadeo, as King of Italy. He will be known as Amadeo I and Italy will join the Entente.
  • If it does not, and the Entente accepts, Umberto will be installed as Umberto II and Italy will join the Entente.
• A third way involves requesting Sardinia to submit and be annexed (rather than specifically asking for Entente membership). If Sardinia is a dictatorship (Pat Aut), the ANI can request it and if Sardinia accepts, Amadeo I will become King of (but it will join the Entente if Sardinia is in it).

Post 1936 Elections

Post 1936 Elections
If the Republic managed to survive, it will hold elections every five years starting from the latest in 1936, the next being 1941.
In total, four parties will compete. The LDR will field candidates, and the ANI, broken after it’s failed March on Milan, will not:

• The social liberal Partito Liberale Democratico (PLD, Democratic Liberal Party)) led by Ivanoe Bonomi.
• The market liberal Partito Liberale Italiano (PLI, Italian Liberal Party) led by Luigi Einaudi.
• The social conservative Partito Popolare Italiano (PPI, Italian People’s Party) led by Giovanni Gronchi.
• The social dem Lega Democratica Riformista (LDR, Democratic Reformist League) led by Giacomo Matteotti.

In 1942 the PLD and the PLI will hold party conferences to choose new leaders, or see the current ones stay in office. If the party is in power, changing the party leader will also change the PM.

• The PLD will decide between Ivanoe Bonomi or Ferruccio Parri.
• The PLI will decide between Luigi Einaudi or Marcello Soleri.

--Lombardy--

Political Focus Tree
Lombardia's Future
Politically Lombardy has two paths, being a Monarchy or a Republic. When the first focus in the political tree, Re-Establishing the Rule of Law, is completed the new country will choose which path it takes.

• If it is a monarchy (with Visconti as the Duke), he can be kept in power, or a Republic proclaimed under Giovanni Battista Migliori.
• If it is a Republic, the current republican leader (Ivanoe Bonomi, Luigi Einaudi, or Giovanni Battista Migliori) can be kept in office, or the dukedom restored under now Duke Adriano Visconti.

Visconti can keep democracy and later hold elections (see below) or go autocratic.
In either case, if Milan is able to secure the Iron Crown of Lombardy, used to crown Holy Roman Emperors, from Austria, Viscounti can crown himself King of Italy (as King of the Lombards) by focus. The crown is asked for by focus, with diplomats heading to Vienna, Austria for it. If Vienna had fallen and Austria was defeated, it will be moved to Naples under the protection of the Two Sicilies. If Naples had fallen too (not to Lombardy) it will go back to Vienna, and whoever owns Vienna will be asked for its return.

Elections

Elections
Under a monarchy, three parties will be electable:

• the social liberal PLD.
• the market liberal PLL ((the Partito Liberale Italiano (PLI, Italian Liberal Party) becoming the Partito Liberale Lombardo (PLL, Lombard Liberal Party)).
• the social conservative PPL (the Partito Popolare Italiano (PPI, Italian People’s Party) becoming the Partito Popolare Lombardo (PPL, Lombard People’s Party)).

Under a republic, before elections are held the new country must decide if radicals (the national populists) will be allowed to run or not. If allowed they will be electable, and if not the social democrats will run instead.

• the social liberal PLD, under Ivanoe Bonomi
• the market liberal PLL under Luigi Einaudi
• the social conservative PPI under Giovanni Battista Migliori
• either the national populist Lega Longobarda (LL, Lombard League) under Giacomo Acerba OR the social democrat Lega Democratica Riformista (LDR, Democratic Reformist League) led by Ludovico d’Aragona.

Venice

Political Focus Tree
Open the Great Council
Much like Lombardy, Venice will get to decide almost immediately what its political path will be. Once the revolt has ended, the Great Council will once again convene, the first time since the city lost its independence. With the old institutions of the Serene Republic re-established, the election of the Doge (the leader, or duke, from the Latin Dux), specifically how it will happen, will take center stage.
Elections and 'Elections'
If the office is to be elected by popular vote every four years, Venice will declare a ‘new republic’, and in three months hold elections to select the Doge:

• Giuseppe Volpi of the Partito Repubblicano Veneto (PRV, Republican Party of Venice).
• Umberto Merlin of the Partito Cristiano Liberale (PCL, Christian Liberal Party)
• Giovanni Ponti of the social conservative Lega Cattolica (Catholic League, LC)
• Giovanni Battista Gianquinto of the social democrat Partito Popolare Veneto (PPV, Popular Party of Venice)

If the office is to be elected the way it used to be, and for life, Venice will cement the ‘old republic’. The Doge will be selected in two weeks:

• Giuseppe Volpi of the authoritarian democrat Consiglio Ducale (or Ducal Council)
• Giovanni Ponti of the paternal autocrat Maggior Consiglio (Greater Council)

Foreign Policy Paths

For any country to join a faction, the 2WK must have started, or the balance of power in Italy breaks (like when Italy is unified).
The Italian Republic:

• To join Austria (the Donau-Adriabund or if Austria had joined it, the Reichspakt) it only needs to have a democratic government (so not the ANI).
• To join the Reichspakt, it also needs to be democratic, but Austria either can’t exist, must be a puppet, or have signed the Treaty of Budapest.
• To join the Entente, as shown in the ANI Leaders image above, both the Entente and an ANI Italian State have to be at war with the Internationale. If Sardinia exists, it must be a dictatorship (Pat Aut or Nat Pop).
• To join the Moscow Accord, Italy must have an ANI government (Nat Pop).
• An ANI Italian State can form the Pact of Blood faction with Romania. Romania must have completed the focus ‘Renew Pride’, but not Second Legionary Victory (so they must not have fallen from power previously and won the later elections) and the Italian State the focus ‘Eliminate Anti-Italian Institutions’, and Serbia must own states claimed by both Italy and Romania. Romania will get a decision to offer the alliance.

Lombardy:
Lombardy can join a faction only after completing either the foci ‘The Duchy's Constitution’ or ‘Our Place in the World’ (from the Monarchy, and Republic branches, respectively).

• To join either the Austrians or Germans, the focus ‘The Golden Ambrosia Idea’ must NOT have been completed.
• To join Serbia and the Belgrade Pact, the focus ‘The Republican Cause’ must be completed, Trentino owned by German or Austria (or an ally of theirs), and Russia must be socialist.
• To join Russia and the Moscow Accord, the focus ‘The Republican Cause’ must be completed.

Venice:
Venice can join a faction only after completing either the foci ‘Foreign Policy’ or ‘Stato da Mar’ (from the New Republic, and Old Republic branches, respectively).

• It can join the Reichspakt or the Entente, and can join Austria (Donau-Adriabund or Reichspakt) only if it completed ‘Foreign Policy’ (so the New Republic branch).

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As always any questions, comments, concerns, but more importantly corrections and suggestions, are always welcome and encouraged!
Thank you!
Edit: Added in Foreign Policy Paths

“He rejected me!?” Tala definitely didn’t screech.
That would be beneath her.
There was definitely a certain amount of… frustration present in her voice as she stared down her teammate.
Cherie shifted uneasily under her friend’s gaze. As did the rest of the team as their leader paced back and forth.
“Does he truly hate me so? That he’d sabotage himself just to escape my presence? Does he know the favors I burned to make that opening?”
Cherie did. Sure, said arrangement had been with a vassal house of Blackstone, which was what allowed Tala to unilaterally dictate terms to their once practice partners, but in many ways that made the situation worse.
Tala had effectively soured relations with a chunk of her own support-base for no real benefit.
And it’s not like we could just say ‘oops’ do you want to start practicing with us again? Cherie thought.
That kind of backpedalling would only damage Tala’s reputation more. Speaking as a member of a vassal house herself, she knew that a predictable, if cold liege, was preferable in the eyes of most to a warm but mercurial one.
Pragmatism could be planned around. Erraticism could not.
Behind her, Sandra coughed. “Well, uh, respectfully Tala, I don’t think that’d be anything new. In regards to the self-sabotage thing.”
While there were certainly spells that allowed one to make their eyes glow, Cherie was pretty sure Tala wasn’t invoking them as she turned to glare at her other teammate.
Nope, that’s just natural talent, the girl thought uncomfortably.
“Explain.” The girl’s words were not a request.
Sandra looked momentarily like she regretted speaking, before bravely moving forward. “Well, I mean, I don’t think it’s just you he does it to. He got sent to the Academy because he was acting out right? Fucking around. Messing shit up. Dragging his own name through the mud. Yet the second he arrives he gets his entire team wrapped around his pinkie and starts acing every other team in his year?”
The girl shook her head. “Either your boy got swapped for a body double on the trip over – which I think we can rule out after his most recent stunts - or he was deliberately being a brat to get away from his family.”
Tala paused. “And you think he might be trying to use the same tactic on me?”
The other girl shrugged. “It worked for him once. I can’t think of any other reason for him to suddenly reverse course the second you poke your nose into his business.”
Tala sighed, dropping into a chair. “What kind of madman am I set to marry? One who’d gladly wound himself if only to ruin his foe’s clothes with his lifeblood?”
Once more, Sandra just shrugged uncomfortably.
Sighing, Tala ran a hand through her hair. “Unfortunately, madness or not, this means my plan to take credit for his ‘reform’ is stillborn.” She froze. “You don’t think he saw through my scheme do you?”
A few weeks ago Cherie would say there was no chance of that. The guy might have been someone Tala seemed weirdly set on marrying, but to Cherie he just seemed like another spoiled guy.
Sure, the fact that he got bounced out of the position of heir by a bastard would definitely have sucked – but that was life. And he’d been set to marry into the most powerful ducal house in Lindholm as a consolation prize.
Rather than settle for that though he’d chosen to drag his family’s name through the mud so badly they’d been forced to ship him off to the academy in the hopes that’d straighten him out.
Now though? She shook her head. Between killing the squid attacking the ship he was traveling on, creating an entirely new type of spell, and blitzing every other team in his year group?
Now she didn’t know whether it was more likely that he’d dismissed Tala’s offer because he was a petulant spiteful child… or because he’d seen it as a means through which Tala could further ‘rein’ him in.
And glancing around the room, she could see she wasn’t the only one who lacked an answer to that question.
-----------
“Alright, that’s enough of that.” William said finally as he turned back to the two members of their party who were lagging behind. “It’s done. We’re here. Quit moping already.”
With the bustling streets of the capital as a backdrop, a pair of silver and black eyes glared back at him mulishly as the team’s two elves frowned.
“The best,” Olzenya finally muttered, finally breaking her streak of uncharacteristic silence. “That was your promise.”
“Yet we’re out here,” Marline continued mulishly. “’Sightseeing’. Instead of working to maintain the lead we’ve developed against the other teams in our year.”
“Or!” Olzenya shouted. “Trying to shorten the gap between us and the second years. Who I’d remind you we almost beat two weeks ago.”
And got pasted by one week ago when they took off the kids gloves, William resisted the urge to say aloud.
Still, it said a lot about both women’s work ethic that they were grumpy over the fact that he’d forced the team to take a break.
“You didn’t have to come,” Bonnlyn pointed out from where she’d been skipping ahead of the group. “You could have stayed at the academy while we took the weekend off.”
Olzenya’s glare switched targets. “And done what? He already bargained our time on the floats away to another team.”
“And our Skeleton time,” Marline once more continued. “Something we could have done as individuals while the rest of you wasted time.”
William just shrugged. It had been a package deal.
“What did you get for that anyway?” The dark elf asked.
Reaching to his side, William casually unhooked the rather large coin purse that had been jingling there. “Cash.”
A lot of it.
And it said a lot about the patrons of the academy that the team he’d traded their slots to hadn’t even hesitated to agree to his price.
Rich kids, he thought as both elves scoffed at the obscene amount of wealth jiggling around in the sack – even while Verity looked a little faint as she stared at it.
“That’s it?” Olzenya asked predictably. “You might have sabotaged our future careers – and your own plans for freedom – in return for a little coin?”
It was not a little coin. Even for the likes of them.
Because for all that William had just judged his peers for being rich kids, he was ultimately little different. He received a weekly stipend from his house just as they did. And while it was hardly a small amount, it didn’t come close to the amount he’d managed to get from selling this week’s practice slots.
Of course, the reason for that was that said practice slots were in a very real way priceless. Under normal circumstances they couldn’t be bought with coin, only favours – and rarely even then.
He had a feeling that once news that he’d sold a weekend’s worth of practice slots got around the academy – if it did – he’d soon be receiving a lot of offers for similar exchanges.
And let’s not forget the rumours that the Ashfields are broke, he thought. Or I did something to piss them off enough to deny me my stipend. Or I’m spending said stipend on something shameful. Or just plain gambling it away.
Though whether said rumours would exist alongside the tale of the Kraken Slayer – which had seen a resurgence after his team’s victory streak – or be eclipsed, it remained to be seen.
“Even Airships need downtime,” he said. “Time to repair and retrofit. We’re no different. So relax. Unwind. The academy will still be there on Molday.”
He was actually a little offended at how relieved Bonnlyn looked at his words. Was she worried he’d out her as the reason for their sudden break?
Marline just scowled unhappily while Olzenya seemed to at least be considering his words.
Though she still had at least one gripe. “Still… gold? Couldn’t you have traded the slots for something with a little more class?”
It said a lot about how distracted Bonnlyn was in that the former merchant didn’t rise to what could have been seen as an unconscious dig at her family’s vocation.
William shrugged. “Maybe. Anything else would have been less useful though.”
“Why?”
He smiled. “Well, because we’re going shopping today. For a number of things. Some of which will definitely improve our performance in our next bout. Perhaps even more than extra training would.”
Because, while it was still early enough into their training that each session saw a marked increase, that would taper off with time as their competency grew.
That fact alone was likely a big reason for their early success against their peers. As it stood, their team had spent nearly twice as much time together against real opponents as anyone else.
Combined with the fact that at least three of them could be called ‘prodigies’ it was only natural that they were top of the academy’s first year scoreboards.
Still, he was glad to see some interest in the faces of the rest of the team at his words – even from Marline.
“How?” Verity asked quietly.
“Why, by improving our equipment.” He grinned back at her.
Looks of realization – and some excitement – blossomed across the group as they realized what he was talking about.
-----------------------
There was nothing that could be said to be strictly ‘wrong’ with the academy’s practice equipment. It was neither exceptional nor unexceptional. The worst that could be said of it was that it was both a little worn and a little outdated.
Unfortunately, given the origins of a good majority of the academy’s cadets, that meant it was woefully outclassed by the equipment worn by most of the houses outside of House Royal.
Hell, even within Team Seven the divide between what was worn by their noble members and their ‘common’ members was obvious.
With that said, given the surfeit of coin that was now available to them, even the nobles could see areas where their family’s provided equipment could be improved.
Theoretically.
“It’s lighter,” William pointed out. “Speed is life.”
“Life is life,” Marline shot back. “And said life tends to run short when it’s perforated by bolts. If I show up with something this thin, the Instructors will have me stripped out of it and into a sog-suit before you can blink.”
There was no missing the dark elf’s disgust at the idea of being forced to wear the infamous sog-suit.
Little more than cardboard cut into a breastplate-like shape, the sog-suit was designed to replicate armour that academy testing proved would not actually hold up to bolt-bow fire.
And, though the cardboard was more effective at keeping out venom-splatters than pure fabric, the sog-suit would still fail under repeated or just plain unlucky impacts.
Still, infamy aside, it was a pretty effective way of replicating lighter armor variants cheaply and quickly. As an example, if a cadet’s actual suit had thinner armour in the back, the cardboard used for their sog-suit would have less layers in the back. Likewise, the heft of the original suit would be replicated through the use of strategically placed metal-weights.
All in all it was a fairly effective system for recreating armour that wasn’t entirely proofed against bolt-bows - with the name being a result of the tendency of said armour to be reduced to little more than a soggy mess after being used in a bout.
Simple. Cheap. Fast.
…Naturally, it was both mocked and hated by the academy at large, given that wearing a sog-suit was seen as less of an acknowledgement of the value of lighter armour and more a sign that the wearer’s ‘real’ armour was so cheap that it couldn’t even perform properly.
“Even if they did, it’d be like… triple layered all over,” William tried to argue. “It’s almost twice as light as a regular suit, but you’d have to be damn unlucky for a bolt to penetrate it in one hit.”
“Then why don’t you wear it,” she grunted.
Willaim opened his mouth to argue that he didn’t wear a breastplate when he paused. “Huh…”
Marline’s face morphed into an expression of smugness for just a second before twisting back into muted horror. “Oh gods, you’re actually considering.”
He was. He hadn’t been lying. This was a damn good piece of lightweight armour made with a new kind of aluminium alloy composite. And weight was a big factor where a maneuver-suit was concerned.
But so is not being filled with tiny holes, William admitted.
Now normally he was of the opinion that said fate could be avoided by just not being shot in the first place, hence why he’d opted for an ultra-light suit. The gambeson was still quite capable of blocking a shot or two, so a metal plate over the top had seemed like overkill.
But this breastplate really is light, he thought checking its heft in his hands. Perhaps I should…
“No!” Olzenya butted in, moving over from where she’d been helping Verity pick out her own suit. “I can accept many things from this team in the name of winning, but our team leader wearing a sog-suit is a step too far.”
As if to punctuate her words, she grabbed the breastplate from his hands, and not ungently, placed it back onto the shelf he’d grabbed it from.
A shelf that was lined with similar, if ultimately different bits of armour. Indeed, nothing he’d seen since walking in was exactly the same. Which he supposed was to be expected given when everything was made by hand.
Shields. Swords. Hammers. Bolt-bows. Thruster-belts.
The place had a bit of everything, which spoke either to the skill of the creator – or the number of apprentices they employed.
Or perhaps a bit of both given the price-tags I’m not seeing, William thought.
This was the kind of place that assumed that if you could shop there money was not a factor for you.
Which he was thankful for because Verity didn’t know that, and he had a feeling she’d be too terrified to actually give her real opinion on anything – or even go near it – if she knew just how expensive the equipment she was mulling over actually was.
Sighing, he turned back to his two elven companions. “I’d argue that victory earns one more prestige than the clothes they win it in, but I’m willing to concede on this.”
For now.
He’d definitely be revisiting the topic if he started to feel their team’s growth was stagnating.
Ultimately though they were here to upgrade both Verity and Bonnlyn’s gear over anyone else’s. Sure, Marline had picked out a new bolt-bow and Olzenya had a new helmet slung under her arm, but the benefits they’d receive from said equipment was marginal at best.
William glanced over to see the pair discussing the finer points of a large suit of plate. Though the dwarf didn’t seem entirely happy about it.
Both were going to be defenders going forward, with William transitioning into an attacker role along with Marline. It was a move that would make the most use of his relative experience with flight while simultaneously allowing Bonnlyn to benefit from a little more… protection.
Because as much as one might think that her smaller size would both make her lighter and a smaller target… well if it did, they saw precious little evidence of it during their practice bouts.
Thus, armour. And a volley-bow.
“It looks heavy,” the dwarf was quietly stating as he walked over to the pair.
“I thought so too when I first saw mine, but it’s actually a lot less than you’d think,” Verity said as she glanced up at the suit that clearly hadn’t been made with anyone of her size in mind. “Olzenya said it’s because it’s spread across your entire body. A bit like hefting a hay bale over your shoulder rather than carrying it in your arms. I-”
Whatever else the orc might have been about to say was cut short as someone finally appeared from the back rooms.
“Ah, customers,” the sharply dressed elven man said as he stepped out. “My apologies for not greeting you sooner, it’s just that- my word, is that an orc?”
A sudden sinking feeling appeared in William’s gut. However, he was a little surprised to be beaten to the punch in regards to responding.
“She is,” Olzenya of all people said, her most imperious of expressions on full display as she gazed up at the moustachioed shop clerk. “Is that a problem?”
“I would say it is.” The man shot back, looking genuinely offended. “This establishment has a strict policy against having orcs on the premises. Ignoring the possibility of theft, the presence of their ilk threatens to drive down the prestige of our establishment and in turn drive away paying customers.”
“She is a paying customer,” Bonnyln shot back – even as Verity cringed.
The man pressed an embroidered handkerchief to his face as he turned to regard the dwarf. “Whatever gifts you may choose to bestow upon her, you may do so once she has vacated the premises.”
“It’s fine,” Verity whispered. “I’ll just step out and you can-”
“Not going to happen.” Olzenya spat. “We’re leaving. I’ve lost any desire to spend my coin here. I’d sooner not risk the chance that the wares are as poor as the customer service.”
Beside her, Marline nodded as both elves all but bustled the apologetic looking Verity out the door. Bonnlyn remained just long enough to add a parting shot.
“Well, I hope you don’t have any dealings with the Mecant Trade Group, because you won’t be tomorrow.” The dwarf smirked before she stepped out the door.
The man’s crimson flush paled quickly at those words, which suggested that the store just might, before he recovered as he turned to William. “Would it be too much to hope that the young master is of a sounder mind than those women? Because you can rest assured that the academy shall be receiving a report about this most poor behaviour.”
William just shrugged. “Feel free.”
Then he left.
Because what else was there to say?
You picked your battles. Won where you could. Retreated where you couldn’t.
Hell, that was one of the reasons why he was so focused on the slavery issue over something like the ending of the feudal system, the institution of democracy or even the current existence of the elven masterclass.
He had advantages, yes, but he wasn’t a god.
Just a guy with a few chemical formulas in his head.
So I’ll solve one problem at a time, he thought.
And if solving those problems helped make headway into solving another?
Well, the more the better.
Either way, rather than waste words with a toad like that, he’d rather overturn the laws that allowed his bigotry to flourish.
With that in mind, I better get back to my team, he thought.
----------------------
“Sorry,” Verity was saying as he caught up to the group.
“Don’t worry about it,” Olzenya was actually patting the much bigger orc on the back. “It’s hardly your fault. No, the problem lies with that plebeian if he thinks his little shack is too good for our coin.”
“That’s a bit of a turn around from two months ago,” William laughed as he pulled up beside the two.
The high elf actually flushed a bit at his words, before coughing. “Well, I’ll admit that when I was placed on this team, I might have been a little quick to judge.” She straightened up after a second. “However, in the time I’ve known her, Verity has proven that she more than deserves to be here.”
Then she flushed once more as she muttered. “Besides, she is a teammate.”
William nodded along, even as he noted that there was nothing in there about the shop owner or Olzenya being wrong for judging Verity for being an orc.
Merely an acknowledgement that Verity herself was exceptional.
Bigotry didn’t just disappear overnight after all, even if Olzenya was making an effort. He didn’t doubt that she – and perhaps Marline – probably thought that Verity was an exception to the rule rather than just… orcs being capable of as much as humans, dwarves or elves when provided the same opportunities.
Which wasn’t too surprising, given that Olzenya likely hadn’t even met an orc that wasn’t in chains prior to attending the academy.
From what his small amount of research on his teammate’s house had uncovered, she was actually from Southshore – which was ironically on Lindholm’s Northwest coast.
And the main supplier of slaves to the Western Continent, William thought.
Oh, the Blackstones in the North-East certainly caught them, but they were then sold on through Southshore overseas or down south. Hence why Southshore was a firm part of the Traditionalist movement.
Truth be told, there weren’t actually all that many slaves in the North. It was considered too much of a risk to the houses there.
“Well, it’s good to know you have the team’s back.” He smiled.
Beyond the elf, he actually saw Verity smile as Olzenya huffed offendedly. “Of course! Whenever would I have given you the idea that I’m anything but loyal to my compatriots?”
“The fact that you spent the first month trying to switch teams might.” Marline smirked.
“I knew it!” Bonnlyn laughed, even as the high elf whirled on her compatriot, a betrayed expression on her face.
“I told you that in confidence!” She shouted, before trailing off sheepishly. “And I’m not trying to do that anymore. Even though I’ve received offers since.”
Ironically, William didn’t doubt that the reason Olzenya had received offers from other teams came down to the same reason why she’d elected to stay.
The fact that they were on a winning streak.
It made any member of his team a hot prospect for a noble’s retinue.
“Well, I can’t speak for the entire team, but I’m glad you’ve decided to stick with us,” William said as they continued walking down the road.
And he meant it.
Was Olzenya perfect? No.
But who was?
Certainly not him.
…Maybe Verity?
---------------------------
“Interested in sailing?”
William damn near jumped out of his skin.
Whirling around, he found himself glaring at an unrepentant Marline, her white hair, teeth and reflective silver eyes standing out against her dark skin in the sun’s dying rays.
“Nearly gave me a heart attack.” He grunted. “I thought you’d gone with the others?”
The docks were relatively quiet at this time. He’d just been in the process of looking over the posting board for boats for rent, deciphering the lettering as best he could in the feeble light of a nearby pixy-lamp.
“I was going to, but I thought I’d make sure you made it safely to your room at the tavern before I caught back up with them.” Marline shrugged, utterly unrepentant over scaring him half to death. “So imagine my surprise to find you heading to the docks instead.”
He shrugged. He hadn’t been lying. As much as he loved his team… he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been wanting a little alone time. Not for anything uncouth – though that too – but just because one didn’t truly value the ability to spend a moment alone until it wasn’t an option.
To that end, he’d rented a room for the night in a nearby tavern earlier in the day despite Bonnlyn’s standing offer to join her at her family’s home.
One of several that the Marcets held across the country, given that they also doubled as branch offices for the trade group.’
When it came to dwarves, there was no difference between personal lives and business lives.
Ironically though, only Olzenya and Marline had taken her up on the offer.
Verity had chosen to travel out to her family’s small property just beyond the walls of the capital. It was a bit of a trip even with a river boat, but she'd make it by traveling through the evening and into some of the night.
Sure, that would mean she’d only get to spend a chunk of the next day with them before catching a ride back upstream, but clearly the orc considered that worth it.
It was a sentiment William didn’t find hard to understand – even if he might not have made the same effort with his ‘current’ family.
Either way, Bonnlyn had ironically ended up saddled with the two people she got on with the least.
It almost made William sad he wasn’t there to witness it.
“How heroic,” he muttered in response to Marline’s words. “If I’d known I had company I might have been a bit hastier to make my way back. As it was, I didn’t see much harm in checking out the signage. My family’s estate is on the coast and these last two months I’ve found myself missing the occasional opportunity to take a boat out.”
That was a lie. He most assuredly did not love boats. To him they were just the subpar caveman-like ancestor to planes.
Still, as close as they’d become – he’d only known his team for two months. And what he was planning would rock the entire kingdom.
Twice over.
So no, he was going to keep his real naval plans as close to his chest as humanly possible for as long as humanly possible.
In all likelihood, his team wouldn’t actually know what he was planning until he had them out on the boat with him.
“And here I thought you might be out here in an area of ill-repute looking for some ‘fun’ given you stopped at the apothecary a few minutes ago,” Marline said teasingly.
He gave her a deadpan look. “An alchemist.”
Where he’d made a lot of purchases that would be delivered to the academy on Molday – eighty percent of which were useless.
Given what was to come, someone would eventually backtrack his actions and purchases prior. So he intended to make the ingredients he’d purchased as difficult to figure out as possible.
Hence why he’d be getting an order of salamander bones, pig tallow and bat shit along with a half dozen other things.
“Meh, same thing,” the girl shrugged.
She wasn’t entirely wrong. The line between an apothecary and alchemist usually just came down to specialization. Both made use of homeopathic magic. Not the bullshit kind, but actual homeopathic magic, both to cure ills and make magical items.
And the only reason the practice wasn’t more popular than it was, was because the ingredients for anything of ‘worth’ tended to be prohibitively expensive.
Kraken scales from a creature that was seven years old and born on the seventh day of the seventh month under a full moon being a little harder to source than bog-weed, he thought.
And that the kind of specificity one needed to make even one part of a truly ‘magical’ weapon.
“Did you choose to pop out for something? Or was it just to tell me to hurry up and get back to my room?” He’d definitely be unimpressed if it was the latter.
He didn’t need a protector given that he had magic on-tap and a sword at his waist. Even as a man in a ‘rougher’ part of town like this, any casual ne’er-do-well would see that he was more trouble than he was worth.
Even if men were rarer than on Earth, they weren’t exactly uncommon. To that end, there were easier targets roaming around.
The elf actually looked a little uncomfortable at that. “Well actually, I thought it might be a good opportunity to ask you something.”
He paused, waiting for what it was.
A question that was not forthcoming.
“Well?” he asked finally.
For just a moment longer, the elf continued to hesitate before spitting it out in one long sentence.
“Did your family develop the flashbang spell or did you?”
He cocked his head. “What makes you ask that?”
“The fact that you’ve received at least three letters from the head of your family and ignored all of them.”
Ignored was a strong word. He’d placed them politely to the side. To better drive up his bargaining power.
Because to be honest, it wasn’t like he’d expected the spell to draw the clamour it was. Oh, he’d expected something, new spells were usually of some interest, but not this much.
With that in mind, he wasn’t above somewhat sadistically enjoying his mother’s desperate attempts to contact him regarding the spell – given that she’d agreed to switch his team on the say-so of his fiancé without so much as asking him.
And refused to undo that deal upon his request.
And if I wait long enough, it might make her desperate enough to take back her request to have me switch teams at the end of the semester, he thought.
It was unlikely, but honestly he lost nothing by sitting on it. The longer he waited, the more desperate his mother would become as the Crown’s request for answers on the topic grew louder and the more socially acceptable it became for another family to ‘invent’ a markedly similar but ‘entirely different’ variant of the spell.
A family might profit off the invention of a new spell after all, but in Lindholm – given the threat from the Elven homeland – it was understood that said spell would be proliferated for the good of the country as a whole.
Even if that only meant ‘selling’ it to the family’s closest allies.
To the Elven mind, once it was out there it would inevitably spread – even if it took a generation or two.
What mattered was that the spell wasn’t hoarded by just one family.
“I did.” He said finally. “Invent the spell that is.”
The dark elf’s silver eyes widened, before she took a deep breath.
“Can you sell it to me? Or rather, to my family.”
William’s first thought was no.
His second was hell no.
His third was…
Actually, maybe I could use this, he thought as he glanced at the nearby boat rental board.
Trust was all well and good, but binding contracts were so much better.
“Let’s talk.” He smiled.
And though he might have imagined it, it almost looked like his teammate flinched.
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A cold silence replaced the music.
“The Marquis is expecting you in the Great Hall, Master Clarke. He expects you to bring your team,” Corin said. “I’d recommend promptness. The Marquis looked restless when the message was relayed to me.”
All eyes fell on me, even Elincia’s.
“You heard Corin, class. Get ready.” I said, and without a second of delay, Firana, Zaon, Ilya, and Wolf rushed through the kitchen door. For some reason, Ginz followed them.
“Are you going to be okay?” Elincia asked.
“It’s probably a strategy meeting. Remember the official invitation? Each noble family can present up to three teams. We aren’t representing the orphanage alone but the whole city. The Marquis probably wants to see us with his own eyes before any public appearance,” I said, hoping I was correct.
We were more than ready if the Marquis wanted to test our skills. It was a shame he had chosen Ilya’s birthday to summon us, but there was little we could do. It was the price of dealing with nobility.
“Alright, everyone. The older kids and I will be gone for a couple of hours. In the meantime, I want everyone to help Miss Elincia and Mister Ginz. Don’t think about cutting the cake without us!” I said with a cheerful tone.
The younger kids gave me their best innocent smiles, but I knew they weren’t entirely true. I knew most of them were little devils disguised as cute kids. Smiling, I left the kitchen to equip myself.
Once inside my bedroom, I put the blue uniform with the rose-and-sword sigil on the shoulder and the new flexible boots Ginz had prepared for us. I strapped the belt around my waist and secured the sheath of my longsword to my left. I also tied the coif to my right, although I doubted I was the one doing the fight today. The uniform made me feel more confident, as dumb as it sounded.
When I left my bedroom, I found Ginz waiting for me in the corridor.
“Use this,” he said, handing me a copper bracelet embedded in the center with the blue light stone I had made the night before. “Copper is a humble metal, but the stone has a mysterious aura. Appearances are important for the nobility. It will serve you well.”
“Thanks, Ginz,” I replied, examining the piece. The bracelet had a knot pattern all over the surface. It was elegant but not luxurious, perfect for my position as a commoner.
“Don’t mention it. The steam lumberjack toy gave me two levels and improved my skill to work metals,” the craftsman said, giving me a slightly manic smile. “I’m the one who owes you. Good luck.”
I patted his shoulder and continued my way. The kids were already waiting for me in the vestibule—Ilya, Wolf, and Zaon with their longswords in their sheaths, while Firana had the Aias Sword on one side and the longsword on the other. Everyone looked at me with a decisive expression. Elincia fluttered around the kids, fixing wrinkles and combing eyebrows.
“Showing the Aias Sword in public will be a strong statement,” I whispered near Firana’s ear.
“I know, but I’m the last Aias, whether I like it or not. The orphanage is my home, and you are all my family. That’s my decision,” Firana said. “If you want me to leave the sword here, I’ll obey.”
“It’s your decision, Firana, and I’ll support you,” I replied. One way or another, she was the legitimate heir of the Aias family. If she wanted to announce she wished to continue with their legacy, so be it. I wasn’t the one to dissuade her.
“The Potato Warriors are ready to go,” she said, trying to hide her worries.
I grabbed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“The guard at the door should be enough to protect the orphanage, but have the shotgun in hand, just in case,” I said, but I knew Elincia well enough to know she wasn’t worried about herself. “Don’t worry about us. We will be alright. The kids are great fencers, and you taught them how to behave in front of nobility. We did everything we could; now we must advance confidently.”
We kissed.
“Please, not in front of us. That’s gross,” Ilya said, interrupting our ‘moment’.
“I’ll remind you of those words when you get a boyfriend,” I replied, prompting a round of laughter from the rest of the kids.
With the tension defused, Elincia kissed each of us on the forehead before we departed. That little gesture filled me with confidence, and the kids seemed to feel the same. I sneaked a peek into Zaon’s face just in case, and it surprised me to see him completely relaxed. That was a good sign.
It didn’t take us long to reach the city center. Guardsmen and royal patrols guarded the main streets. They looked at us with questioning eyes, but no one stopped us. We must’ve seemed important because people opened space for us to cruise through the sea of merchants and shoppers in the market.
“Winter shouldn’t have treated the royal army particularly well if they had to retreat to Farcrest,” Wolf pointed out. “I arrived in Farcrest the same year the Farlands campaign was declared, and this is the first time the royal army has sought refuge here.”
“Maybe they stumbled upon a monster from the Deep Farlands,” Ilya said as a shiver ran through her body.
“Do you think that’s real?” Zaon asked.
“The deeper you enter the Farlands, the more dangerous it gets. It’s only logical to think that huge monsters exist somewhere out there,” Firana added. “I wonder if royal soldiers will tell us if we ask.”
“Don’t go asking reckless questions. Focus on the tournament,” I said.
In all my trips to the market, I hadn’t heard anything solid about why the royal army decided to retreat for the first time in seven years. Not even Risha had said something about it. There were two possibilities: there was no hidden reason, and the crown prince was just bored and wanted to spend the winter in a city instead of the wilderness, or the information was being suppressed.
Even if we were dipping our toes into court intrigue just by participating in the tournament, I would rather remain as far as possible from any dangerous conspiracy.
I heard a familiar voice over the sound of the market.
“Scholar!”
Raudhan Kiln’s mocking voice caught my attention. He was standing by the side of the road with two bodyguards dressed in full guardsmen armor. As expected, he wasn’t thrilled to see me. I wasn’t thrilled either, but he seemed to be waiting for us.
“Raudhan,” I greeted with a slight bow, following Elincia’s etiquette lessons. Even if the Kiln were related to the Marquis family, they weren’t high-level nobles but an old founding family with traces of noble blood running through their veins.
The kids greeted him accordingly, without engaging in the conversation.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to participate in the tournament, Scholar,” Raudhan said.
“At the Rosebud Fencing Academy, we pride ourselves on turning every recruit into a skilled fencer,” I replied.
Raudhan Kiln turned around and signaled us to follow him through the main gate.
“My friends told me about this ‘Rosebud Academy’ thingy you have going on. I think you met them last night,” he said with a mocking voice. “I think it’s a cute name.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” I replied, clenching my teeth.
Suddenly, the realization hit me.
Raudhan Kiln was so young and his level so low that he had flown under my radar. A young, promising Fencer with an inflated ego was the right profile to try to overthrow his own aunt for the position of Captain of the Guard. I chastised myself for being so blind. Due to our prior experiences together, I knew Captain Kiln trusted Raudhan. Bringing my suspicions to the woman could feel like a personal attack on the whole family if not done right.
He must’ve wanted to take the kids to ingratiate himself with the Marquis.
Raudhan guided us into the Great Hall through the main entrance.
The vestibule was a vast room with tall stone columns made of the same black, mana-charged stone as the inner wall. Despite the dark colors, the room was well-illuminated. White linens hung along the walls, the fabric enchanted with the same runes as the light stones at the orphanage. However, instead of pure white light, the linens emitted a warm ivory light that gave the Great Hall a cozy, whimsical feeling.
Among the walls, the banners of the noble families hung in order of importance, with the royal stag just in front of the entrance and the Farcrest wolf at its right. From the second floor, a small army of courtiers dressed in the colors of a dozen noble houses cast curious glances at us. The Great Hall had quickly turned into a nest of intrigue if it wasn’t already.
“If someone asks questions, let me speak,” I said.
“Good call, Scholar. Associating with the wrong person can be dangerous in the long run,” Raudhan said over his shoulder. I wondered if his words had a hidden meaning. Was he talking about Janus or the new arrivals?
We advanced unimpeded to the audience chamber, maybe because nobody recognized our colors or because Raudhan and his thugs were closely escorting us. The room was just as I remembered it. Naked stone on the left, tall windows on the right, and a wooden throne at the top of a set of stairs at the end of the hall. Whoever had been decorating the Great Hall hadn’t dared touch this room.
Unlike the first time I put a foot here, the chamber was empty. No courtiers, no servants, no guards. Our steps echoed over the stone floor as Raudhan guided us to the end of the hall. We passed by the throne and reached a concealed wooden door that exuded magic. Raudhan dug into his pockets until he found a round wooden medallion with an impaled wolf drawn in red. He raised the medallion, and the door was unlocked.
Raudhan's companions stayed in the throne room while he escorted us inside. We followed the narrow corridor in a straight line until we reached a stone arc. We emerged into a large room with a wooden floor and a low ceiling. Along the walls hung all kinds of weapons, most of them made of wood. There were chairs and benches grouped to the side, but the center of the room was cleared of any furniture. I recognized it immediately. It was a training room.
Two kids, a boy and a girl dressed in the colors of the Marquis, were fencing in the center. It surprised me they weren’t using any protective gear, but at a second glance, I noticed the mana shield around their bodies. On the opposite wall, the Marquis, Captain Kiln, and a young man dressed like a Scholar were overseeing the match. A Fortifier, maybe. Next to them, a group of young kids were practicing with all kinds of weapons.
“Auntie, Uncle, I brought the Scholar,” Raudhan said jovially.
“You should refer to me as ‘Marquis’, ‘My Lord’, –or ‘My Lord Marquis’, if you feel fancy–, during official meetings, Raudhan,” The Marquis grunted. Then, he focused on me. My mouth became dry, and my confidence faltered as I remembered our first meeting.
“I believe we haven’t met in person yet. I’m the Marquis Tauron of Farcrest. Izabeka and Janus have talked wonders about you,” The Marquis said with his deep and rich voice. Despite his stern behavior, his words came out almost friendly.
My mind suddenly became blank. I didn't know what I expected from this reunion, but a friendly reception wasn’t it. At best, I expected the Marquis to ignore us for the length of the tournament. Wasn’t the Marquis plotting against the orphanage to send the kids to the royal army? Why the sudden change of heart?
“I’m Robert Clarke, Scholar,” I said, nearly forgetting all the etiquette training Elincia had drilled into my brain. “I’m sorry, My Lord, but I think we met once before, during the audience, to request a traveling permit.”
Telling the truth from the beginning seemed to be the best approach. At least Captain Kiln was present in case things turned sour. I didn’t expect the Marquis's reaction.
“I’m afraid I don’t remember you, Robert Clarke. Don’t take it as a personal affront. I dispense dozens of permits daily and meet hundreds of people every month,” The Marquis said with a tired voice. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, although disguised by his naturally tanned skin and a layer of make-up.
I didn't need to think about my following words.
“He’s the Scholar with a hundred titles who refused your invitation to the Imperial Library. You were grumpy for the rest of the day,” Captain Kiln came to my ‘aid’.
My blood froze.
The Marquis raised an eyebrow as he examined my face for a trace of familiarity. Then his eyes fell upon my uniform’s crest. “Well, I can respect a man who would rather be a big fish in a small pond than a nobody in the big city, and I truly respect a man who can impress Izabeka. Let’s call that a false start.”
The picture of the Marquis as a mustache-twisting villain slowly started to crumble. Being complimented by the same person I had been blaming for the state of the orphanage felt strange. Almost conciliatory. I tried to focus on the facts. The Marquis hasn’t moved a finger to help the orphanage. Was he actively seeking its demise, though?
I bit my tongue. Despite being one of the primary beneficiaries of the kids getting conscripted, the Marquis might not be the mastermind behind the hostilities against the orphanage. Captain Kiln believed so, and my suspicions had moved towards Raudhan and Kellaren. Both had a lot to gain by winning the Marquis's trust.
I wondered if befriending the Marquis was the best solution to solve the orphanage’s security issues. It would be hard to tell right from wrong without knowing the mastermind behind the attacks. It wasn’t the moment to talk to Captain Kiln either.
“May I ask why I was summoned, My Lord?” I asked.
“Yes. As you know, the tournament isn’t a small festivity to raise the city's morale anymore. Nobles around the kingdom will bring their most talented youth to gain prestige before the crowned prince and the three big ducal families. And so do we,” The Marquis said. “Your team is registered as a guest, but Izabeka and Sir Janus told me you should participate as part of the Farcrest team.”
“Is this an order, My Lord?” I asked, looking at Captain Kiln for support.
She ignored me.
“By royal edict, you are a free man, Robert Clarke—one of the perks of being involved in a teleportation incident. Technically, I can’t order you anything. Instead, I want to offer you an accord,” the Marquis replied.
Not an order, a deal.
“If you represent Farcrest, and perform well in the tournament, I’ll prevent your kids from getting conscripted by the royal army,” the Marquis said with a confident tone, as if someone had informed him of my intention of partaking in the exam for the Imperial Academy.
I looked at the man, searching for any sign of deceit, but I could not read him. Was he setting me up?
“Can I ask why the sudden change of heart, My Lord?” I cautiously asked.
The Marquis massaged his temples like the answer was obvious. “Don’t get me wrong, Robert Clarke, I don’t care about your kids on an individual level. If you ran a city of thousands, you would understand that the well-being of the majority is more important than the individual's,” he said, looking over my shoulder and examining my kids. “If your students show me they are useful here, I will not allow their talent to be wasted in the royal army.”
I nodded in silence. The Marquis’ words were soothing, actually. For him, this situation wasn’t anything else but a resource allocation problem. The rules were plain and simple. Be useful here in Farcrest, or be useful in the army. Despite my hatred for people who instrumentalized kids, there was a logic to the Marquis's actions I could understand. A game with clear rules was easier to play.
“What if we win the tournament?” I asked, suddenly emboldened. If we were going to play, I wanted to know the rewards.
“I remember you now, Scholar. A reckless one,” the Marquis replied. He was smiling. “If you win the tournament for me, I’ll grant you a title and a fief. That will give you and your progeny, even the adopted ones, a certain level of political immunity, although with obligations towards me and the royal family. Taxes, mostly.”
The Marquis knew what kind of bait to use against me. Even if I was a free man, my kids weren’t. I sighed. It seemed I would be playing the game I had avoided since arriving at Farcrest.
“I have one more request before sealing any agreement,” the Marquis said, detecting my imminent capitulation. “You managed to impress Izabeka and Sir Janus, but you haven't surprised me yet. I hope you understand I can’t have subpar performers using my banner.”
“My students are ready, My Lord,” I replied with my best confident tone.
“I would like to see one of your team members against one of mine,” the Marquis said. “Istvan! Come here! I want you to show us your skills.”
A younger version of Raudhan quickly crossed the room and stood by the Marquis's side.
“Don’t tell me I will have to fight the Microscopic Gnome,” the kid said mockingly.
The Marquis clearly wanted to test the weakest link of my team. I hid a smile. It was the perfect time to show them that my team, in fact, didn’t have any weak links.
“Ilya, you are the team’s captain. You are in,” I said.
Everyone was surprised.
Except for Ilya.
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Discord Royal Road Patreon

Hi, so a little background info, I'm (25F) the eldest daughter of a doting ducal family. Mom and Dad and my big brothers and little sisters are all just the best, I couldn't ask for a better family if I wanted. Anyways, so I was betrothed to the crown prince (24M) of the empire I live in. And well, I regressed after he cheated on me and had me framed as a villainess in my first life, which lead to me being executed along with my family. Anyways, I came back and now I'm in the process of breaking off my betrothal to him, and treating him, essentially the opposite of how I treated him in my first life. And well, I think that it had the opposite effect on him; He's now trying to win my love, with gifts, declarations of love, and other such things. He even told me his sad history, and well, he's nice now and no longer cheating on me, so I can forgive him right? But that's not the only thing, because the strangest thing happened, his older sister (26F), who I was friends with in my first life has suddenly started acting life an entirely different person, she's more forward, irresistibly charming, and well lets just say that wherever she goes, she creates a lot of flushed faces; My own included; The strangest thing about it is, she's not only contesting her right to the throne, but she's begun trying to make me fall in love with her. I don't know what to do, I need help. Who do I choose?
TLDR: I'm a regressor, Crown Prince is now after my attention and love after being cold towards him, older sister is now acting like a different person all together and is trying to make me fall in love with her while contesting her own claim to the throne. Who do I choose?

“She’s staring at you.”
At Bonnlyn’s words, William glanced across the training fields to see that the green-clad half-elf from yesterday had arrived with her team. And sure enough, she was eying him.
Which was a little amusing, given that a maneuver-suit was hardly a revealing piece of attire – despite what all the leather might suggest. Just like on Earth though, Lindholm had a certain cultural appreciation for the notion of a man or woman in uniform.
William knew that because he’d once come across a maneuver suit in his father’s old things that was most assuredly not fit for any kind of actual flying.
At least, not without the wearer suffering some serious wind-chill to some very unfortunate bits of anatomy, he thought grimly.
So no, he wasn’t too surprised to see the opposing team leader and much of her team blatantly checking him out as they walked towards the training field that hosted the floats.
“She thinks we’re going on a date after this,” he admitted.
Four sets of eyes sharply turned towards him.
“Are you?” Bonnlyn asked with feigned casualness.
“We are,” he said as they continued walking towards a series of massive hangars. “But nothing’s going to come of it.”
He’d made that clear from the outset. But the girl from House Southshore had insisted on some form of payment and that was the only one he’d had to give.
Otherwise she’d planned to offer her training slot to another member of her own house.
Which was admittedly not a bad move, given the labyrinthine system of favours noble society operated on.
By contrast, offering their training slot to his team benefited hers nothing – beyond the fact that it would keep the secret opportunities for said training slots secret a little longer.
So he’d agreed. It wasn’t like he had much recourse.
Admittedly, it wasn’t a serious thing. The date was an opportunity for her to woo him and maybe receive a little ‘affection’ in return for her efforts. That she had less than no chance of success wasn’t William’s problem. He had paid attention to his tutors’ lessons on the subject of unwanted suitors and he knew how to put out all the classic lines that would be expected from a man that was politely disinterested.
All in all, it promised to be a thoroughly uninteresting evening.
For him at least.
“Brave, given who your fiancée is,” Bonnlyn commented dryly as she regarded the other woman from behind. “Do you think she doesn’t know?”
Olzenya scoffed at the dwarf. “Not likely. His fiancée is probably half the reason she’s doing it. Southshore and Blackstone aren’t exactly rivals, but Southshore is a royalist house. Our green friend likely wants to score points with her ducal house by snubbing one of their competitors.”
William hummed absently. He’d long since come to the same conclusion. Fortunately, the fact that his coming liaison might irritate his fiancé was a non-factor for him.
Oh, he didn’t enjoy it, but he’d made peace with it.
Because honestly, he’d say she’d made herself his enemy when she’d totally ignored his autonomy by going over his mother’s head to get his team changed, but that would be incredibly hypocritical.
The truth was, he’d made himself her enemy by ignoring her for years.
…It was a move he still didn’t regret.
Because so long as she chose to go forward with the marriage against his wishes, she was his enemy.
Everything else was a non-factor.
The right to choose was… well, he didn’t want to say sacred to him, but the word was close.
“Uh, did I do my clasp wrong?” Verity asked quietly as she fidgeted with her helmet’s neck strap.
William coughed, quickly turning his gaze to the side. “No, it’s fine. I was just double checking.”
He did feel a little guilty when the orc flared with pride at his white lie. It was better than the alternative though. Verity didn’t like people looking at her neck tattoo.
Even if it’s covered right now, he thought absently as he regarded the orc.
Where the rest of the team were equipped with little more than a helmet, saber, breastplate and - in Marline’s case – shoulder pads, Verity looked like a fully armoured knight.
And while the armor in question looked just a little dented and battered, it would still have been an obscenely expensive bit of kit back on Earth during roughly the same time period.
Here though? It was almost negligible.
Which made some sense, given the existence of airships and shards. Magic wasn’t just useful for combat after all. There was a reason the crown only recruited the most talented plebeian mages into the military.
The rest were needed to become mage-smiths and druids. The industrial backbone of the nation and a group that outnumbered ‘combat mages’ by a ratio of something like eight to one.
It was by dint of their efforts that most of the nation’s engineering marvels existed – including, but not limited to, the two massive faux-airships that revealed themselves as the two teams stepped through up to a hangar’s hulking doors.
Absently showing his credentials and booking form to the sergeants manning the entrance, William knew he wasn’t alone in staring at the two ships inside.
Held up by massive struts, the two vessels seemed to loom larger than life inside the giant hangar structure. About hundred and twenty meters in length, each one would have a crew of about three hundred.
Though there were plenty more people than that milling about beneath the massive ships. Healers, servants and soldiers strode about the place, the latter armed and armoured for combat – clad in the colours of varying academy houses.
Just from the way they walked and the comfort with which they held their padded weaponry, it was clear these were no actors or stand-ins. No, these were genuine combat personnel.
“House Royal Team Seven and House Southshore Team Three?” A slightly harried looking instructor in House New Haven Blue asked as she walked over to them.
“That’s us, ma’am,” William answered, while the other team leader simply nodded.
The human woman nodded, before striding off without preamble, gesturing for them to follow.
“Good. I’m Instructor Halfin and I’m the field master for today. And as far as you’re all concerned, that makes me judge, jury and executioner. My word is law in this arena. Should I tell you to leave, you will leave. I don’t care what favours you traded to get this time slot, if I feel you’re a danger to yourself, a fellow cadet, or my staff, you’ll be out of here before you can blink. With a tanned hide for good measure.”
The crowds parted around the woman as she led the cadets over to a nearby counter with a mesh barrier over top.
“Practice fights in here are dangerous. Cadets can and have died before. Hell, I’ve seen it happen more times than I care to remember. There’ve been idiots who took their goggles off at the wrong moment because they were ‘fogging up’ and took a practice bolt through the eye. There’ve also been morons who took their helmet off to ‘lose weight’ only to splatter their brains over the nearest bulkhead with a poorly timed aether-jump.”
She paused, something like regret passing over her features. “And there’s been at least one poor soul who perished because a pressure-valve malfunctioned in one of the practice cannons.”
She eyed them all. “Know this, healing magic has limits. The academy’s rich enough to have a healer on every deck of the ships behind you, but there’s nothing they can do to help a corpse.”
Without so much as a glance at the hard-bitten looking orc who’d moved to man the counter behind the mesh, the instructor looked down at the entry forms William and the Southshore leader had submitted.
“Five short-bolts, four rifle-bolts, one volley-bow and…” She frowned before turning to the half-elven leader of team three. “No. Not going to happen. Nail-grenades can only be distributed to cadets who have completed the required competencies. That’s a fifth week subject.”
The girl paled and nodded. “Of course, ma’am. My mistake.”
“Strike one, kid.” The human grunted. “There won’t be a second.”
She stepped aside as the orc slid the requested weapons through the slot on her counter, along with a collection of spring-loaded magazines with vivid orange paint on the bottom.
“Collect your weapons and magazines.” The human gestured to the counter. “Confirm the former are empty and the latter are in fact loaded with dummy bolts. Only after you have confirmed that may you begin refilling the aether-tanks.”
It said a lot about how routine that particular instruction had become by now that not even Bonnlyn made a noise of complaint as both teams set about doing as they’d been instructed.
Sure enough though, each weapon was empty, and the witness holes in the magazines all showed orange fabric-tipped bolts inside.
“Confirmed.” William said about a half-second before his opposite team leader did.
“Good,” the human woman said, before scooping up a spare magazine and fishing out a bolt from inside. “These are practice bolts. They’re roughly the same weight as a real bolt, but they have fabric heads that have been dipped in a mixture of orange ink and harpy venom. The ink stains fabric easily and the venom has a paralysing effect when applied to skin. A direct hit from one of those bolts will splatter about a thimble full of both across whatever surface it hits.”
For just a moment, her dour expression receded, eyes lighting up as they landed on a nearby guardswoman who happened to be passing by. “Smith, good timing. Get over here. We’ve got a bunch of newbies who need an example to learn from.”
The now named Smith, clad in Southshore green, sagged visibly at the words, but nonetheless strode over. “Again, ma’am?”
The instructor woman just grinned, before turning her attention back to the cadets. “Now, a hit from one of these bolts can be safely ignored if the impact site is steel.”
The instructor put words to action by tapping her unwilling volunteers breast plate, leaving a small orange splatter there, but achieving little else.
“But an impact can be less easily ignored if it lands on something more absorbent, like a linen gambeson.” Pulling out a fresh bolt, the Instructor tapped it against the fabric covering of her test subject’s arm.
“Ugh, I hate the way it tingles,” Smith muttered quietly as the orange substance soaked into her gambeson.
The instructor ignored her. “As we all know, Harpies need their prey alive. To that end, while a smattering of this substance may make a man or woman go weak in the knees when applied to skin, it won’t affect their breathing or heart. Despite that, as you can see, it’s very fast acting.”
As William watched, the soldier’s limb started to droop, before going entirely limp.
“Effective, no?” The Instructor said. “The effect lasts for about thirty minutes give or take.” She eyed Verity. “Though I imagine big girl over there will be up and about before the rest of you.”
Verity flushed a little at that, but kept a firm grip on the oversized cannon in her arms.
“Also.” The human woman tapped a third bolt against the soldier’s neck.
“Shit,” the guardswoman managed to slur out, just before she dropped like a stack of potatoes.
Though, to her tormentor’s credit, the Instructor did catch her before she hit the deck.
“As you can see,” she said as she lowered the guardswoman to the ground with surprising gentleness. “The paralytic effect is significantly faster acting and effective when applied to areas with high blood flow. Not unlike a real wound.”
Standing up, she brushed down her pants. “Now, onto scoring. Your team can win by either eliminating mages on the other team, capturing and returning the enemy core, eliminating enough of the plebeian crew to render the ship inoperable, or doing enough damage to the structure that it ‘sinks’ - with bonus points for taking out propellers, steerage and/or aether-piping.”
William raised a hand. “Are spells allowed for this exercise, ma’am?”
A frown stole over the Instructor’s face. “No. There’ll be no invoking of offensive contracts on my field. I don’t care how specific you think your terms are, the fulfillment of them ultimately comes down to your contractor. And I don’t need one of my people roasted because your fae thought that your daddy issues deserved a fireball with a little extra umph.”
“So how do we damage ship components?” His opposite number asked.
“While you aren’t allowed to make use of offensive contracts on the training field, you wouldn’t suffer that limitation in a real combat environment. To that end, once you are within five feet of the piece of equipment you intend to damage, you may say, loudly and clearly, ‘Equipment Damaged’. A servant placed in each room will note it down and relay the results to me.” She eyed them. “Is that clear?”
All of them nodded, even if some people – Olzenya included – didn’t look too happy about being handicapped in such a way. After all, while a mage’s first line of offense was generally their bolt-bow, that didn’t mean their spells were useless.
Far from it, they were an incredibly powerful ace in the hole.
For his part, William was a little annoyed that he hadn’t told his people to prep defensive spells in preparation.
The Instructor cleared her throat. “On the defensive side, stone skin, water shields, and ice armour are all fine.”
Of those, William had water shield prepped. As for his other two spells. Well, one was utterly useless given the lack of ‘offensive’ magic, but the other…
Well, it wouldn’t touch the person he used it on, so he supposed it was still legal.
Theoretically.
“Any further questions?” The Instructor asked, only to receive a series of headshakes. “Good, then follow the red or white painted lines on the floor. The ships should have been re-crewed by now.”
As William and his team started following a white line towards the entrance ramp to the further mock-airship, he idly heard the woman calling out behind them. “Sergeant, get someone over here to drag sleeping beauty back to her cot.”
Turning, he favored Olzenya with a smile. “So, about our disposition for the coming fight. How would you feel about being captain?”
He almost felt guilty about the way the elf’s face lit up at the thought of being given the most ‘important role’ on the team.
-------------------------
“So you’re all here as part of a rotation?” Olzenya asked, trying to tamp down on her excitement as the rest of the bridge crew barked out orders and received reports from down the bridge’s many speaking tubes.
“Yep.” Float Two’s first officer smiled between giving orders of her own, revealing a gap in the human woman’s teeth. “S’part of why Lindholm has the best navy in the world, Captain.”
Olzenya shivered a little in delight at the last word.
Sure, she was only superficially acting the part of ‘captain’ for the fight – as in reality she would actually be acting as a third mage-knight defender – but it still felt nice to hear.
Unfortunately, she wouldn’t get the opportunity to actually play the role in full until their second year. As she was rapidly learning, their first year was going to predominantly focus on their personal combat ability.
To that end, the job of directing the crew fell to the woman across from her. The First Mate was the highest ranking non-noble role on a ship, one that required years of experience to attain. And the woman certainly looked the part.
While hardly disfigured or old, the large number of scars stretched across the human’s face gave her a decidedly weathered look.
At least, I don’t think she’s old, Olzenya pondered.
She’d never been too good at judging human ages. Unlike elves who reached their prime and then maintained that for a decent number of decades, humans and orcs just… kept aging.
It was odd. And impractical.
“So does that mean our opponent’s crew will be from Southshore like them?” The elf asked as she peered out a distant porthole to the other airship.
Even from this distance, she could see a few crew members clad in the green of Southshore moving about the foredeck.
Beneath that, she could also see the gun ports of the other ship slowly opening as the cannons inside were pushed out.
Despite knowing the things would only be firing weighted linen spheres rather than actual cannon-shot, she couldn’t help but swallow down a bit of nervousness at the sight.
“Nah,” the crew-woman behind her said. “Those bilge-rats might be running the colors of Southshore, but they’re Royal Navy women, tested and true. Just like us.”
“Just like us, huh.” Olzenya’s hand went down to touch the Royal black fabric of her under-armor.
She’d never really thought about it before. That she wasn’t just a part of House Sumond now. By swearing her Oath of Service, she was now part of the Royal Navy. Just like the woman behind her. And the hundreds below deck.
For some reason, that thought was… nice. To know she wasn’t alone. That she was part of something.
It made for a nice contrast from the constant one-upmanship of her House… or her own recent fight for team leadership with William.
Shaking her head, she banished that thought by instead focusing on something slightly more pertinent.
I don’t even know where the staff of my own family’s airship are trained, she realized.
She should. The Labyrinthine Gem was the most important item the family owned. Yet despite being a scion of the family, Olzenya had no idea what qualifications its plebeian caretakers held.
Ignorant of her understudy’s thoughts, the first officer continued.
“Stuff like this.” She gestured around. “It’s damn good practice. Nothing beats the real thing of course, but plebs like us don’t get many opportunities to drill against actual mages.”
Olzenya listened as the speaking tubes continued receiving reports from across ship as crews reported readiness for battle and aether-cannons were loaded.
She could hear a hum moving through the ship as the mithril core beneath the arena came to life and readouts across the bridge began to report rising pressure. Of course, a single aether core wouldn’t have been enough to provide lift for two ships at once, but it was more than enough to provide pressure for their guns.
The packed linen shots they’d be firing wouldn’t damage either vessel – though they might break the bones of any crew-woman or marine-knight unlucky enough to be hit by them. Instead, blows against each ship would be tallied as part of each team’s score. Which was why it was advantageous for marine-saboteurs to take out gunnery crews.
That was the purpose of the target emblazoned across both ships’ sides. Given neither ship could move, different color groups would be called out and only hits against them would be counted.
It was a complex system, and further proof of just how much the Crown had invested in Blicland. It was also more of what she’d had in mind when she first entered the academy.
Certainly more than a trip to the nearest beach, she thought glumly.
She also saw why there was so much competition to make use of the Float’s limited time slots.
William came through for us by thinking to grab weekend slots, the high elf thought. Between them and our guaranteed weekday slot, we’ll be getting at least twice the practice time of any other first year cadet for the next semester.
On some weeks, like this one, even three times – given the man had somehow wrangled a second training session after their current one.
She preferred not to think of how a young man might have organized that.
Perhaps some people might not appreciate what those extra sessions represented – like that layabout of a dwarf – but Olzenya did.
She wanted to be the best.
And that meant training.
---------------------------
“A first year, eh?” An orcish guardswoman asked – her neck noticeably bereft of slave marks.
A free-born.
“Yeah.” Verity said a little nervously as she fiddled with the many barrels of her volley-bow.
As she did, she glanced around the room she’d been placed in. Given that they were simulating two ships that had somehow stumbled across each other in the clouds, she’d been made to ‘start’ in the cafeteria.
Fortunately, the ships had been searching for one another and as such, the crew had been battle-ready.
In the future though, there was every chance she’d be starting in her quarters and be forced to get into her armour as fast as she could before she was allowed to sally forth.
A task that would have been difficult enough in a regular maneuver suit – let alone all the additional armour she had on top.
“An orc mage-knight.” The woman’s partner said – a human woman with brown hair. “I can still remember a time when we only saw one of them once in a blue moon. Now it seems like there’s dozen of you each year.”
“Time’s are changing.” The orc grinned. “Makes me wish I was still a nipper.”
Her partner laughed. “Ha! Even if you did have magic, you’d be a mage-smith for sure! Or a druid.”
The orc just shrugged. “Either’d suit me just fine. Good pay. Solid work. And they deal with nobles a lot less. I’d say that’s a decent trade off for not being one myself. I’d suffer a lot less sneers.”
At the last word, the woman sent Verity a commiserating look.
“It’s not that bad,” Verity responded, and to her surprise found she actually meant it. “I mean, some people are mean, but my team’s nice!”
Even Olzenya seemed to be warming up to her.
“Nice, eh?” The human laughed. “How about that guy? Is he nice?”
The cadet flushed a little. “He is.”
Her mind flashed back to that morning’s shower – and how she’d once again shamed her pa by staring!
Fortunately, William either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
It said a bit about him that either could have been true.
He was nice, but there was a certain… distance there. They’d all noticed it. The boy was always inside his own head, scheming up something or other.
The fact that they were here now, despite the fact that their first intro to the Floats was supposed to be next week, was proof enough of that.
Still, it would be nice to be relied on a little. They were a team after all, even if he was team leader now.
“I hear teams share a room,” the other orc practically whispered.
Verity’s eyes widened and that was all the confirmation the guardswomen needed.
“You do!” The orc chuckled. “Lucky dog. Man, the things I’d do if I…”
“And that’s another reason why you’d never make it as a marine-knight,” her friend pointed out. “A total inability to keep your legs closed.”
The orc shrugged. “I don’t deny it.” She looked at Verity. “With that said kid, be better than me. If we got orc marine-knights running around, we might have orc nobility one day.”
The human shook her head. “Marine-knights are nobility.”
“Proper nobility! With land and heirs and shit.” The woman stiffened slightly. “Uh, no offense kid.”
Verity hadn’t even thought to be offended. She was aware that in theory she outranked the two women – but it didn’t really feel real. As a cadet she was at the bottom of the academy totem pole. Actually, as an orcish cadet sometimes she felt she ranked somewhere a little beneath it.
“Ha, never going to happen.” The human continued before Verity could say anything one way or another. “Not while they’re terrified of one of you lot running off to join the Sunland War.”
The orc shook her head. “Fuckin’ rebels. Ruining it for the rest of us.”
On that matter, Verity deliberately kept her mouth shut. It didn’t matter if you believed in the Cause or hated it, just talking about Orcish independence was dangerous.
That had been true for her as a slave and it wasn’t something she expected to be different now.
William could afford to be seen refusing to marry his fiancée over his issues with slavery. He was a human and a guy. Not a real threat.
Her though?
No, she’d not soon make that mistake. She’d keep her head down and her mouth shut.
Either the woman across from her hadn’t learned that lesson or she trusted the other woman implicitly.
“Heard they brought down the Implacable Arrogance. That means they’ve got three airships now. And who knows how many shards,” the orc muttered.
“Horse shit.”
“It’s true, I-” the woman started to say, only to be interrupted by the sound of a deafening horn.
The match had started – and Verity couldn’t be more thankful for it.
Grabbing her weapon, she dashed from the room and out into the hall, leaving the two guardswomen behind.
As she ran, she struggled to recall her activation phrase. Which was a little ridiculous, given that she only had one contract. She wasn’t like William or Olzenya who could subdivide theirs at will, turning three spells into six or nine smaller ones if needed.
Hell, her capacity meant she was supposed to have three, but apparently she’d messed up in her dream because she’d woken with just the one drifting around in her core.
Still, in theory, that meant it would be three times as strong.
…In theory.
“By the power of my covenant, I invoke our pact. Grant me the resilience of stone,” she shouted as she charged through the halls, passing hurrying crew members as she made her way to the upper deck.
Still, she saw the way their eyes widened as what few bits of exposed skin she had turned grey and craggily like stone itself.
It wasn’t like that everywhere of course. Her joints remained quite mercifully free of stone – and in places her new skin had cracks that allowed some level of flexibility and movement of the flesh below.
But for the most part, she genuinely did have stone skin.
And she could only hope that protection proved adequate as she burst up the gangway and onto the deck.
----------------------
William watched Marline and Bonnlyn shoot off towards the other ship on trails of aether. Originally, he’d been set to join them, but had informed them he’d hang back for the opening fight.
Ideally, between the crew’s marine defenders, Olzenya, him and Verity, they’d be able to knock out the incoming attackers quickly – at which point he and Olzenya could boost over to the other ship to make short work of their defenders.
A defeat in detail, he thought.
It wasn’t a new move. Even without lessons on the subject, he was quite sure of that. The enemy would in theory notice that only two attackers were incoming and their saboteurs would linger in the air for as long as they could to let their defenders wipe out the attackers or head back themselves to turn the ‘trap’ in on itself by wiping out the attacking complement while he and the rest of his team watched on helplessly.
But he doubted they’d do that. This was the enemy’s first session as much as it was his. Their blood would be up and they’d get tunnel vision.
Indeed, even as he watched, the enemy were making a bee-line for him.
And from behind, he heard as much as saw as both Verity and Olzenya appeared on the deck.
The two couldn’t have made for a more powerful contrast if they tried. Olzenya looked like a World War two pilot who’d decided to strap a gas tank to her back before putting on a metal breastplate and picking up a slightly odd looking machine gun.
By contrast, Verity looked like a medieval knight who’d also strapped on a similar gas tank and somehow laid her hands on a set of goggles and a Napoleonic era volley gun.
The picture of the two of them was almost as anachronistic as the ironclad-esque airship they were standing on, cannons letting out spouts of aether as the gas-powered weapons launched their payloads towards the other ship.
But that’s the world I’ve found myself in, William thought as he sighted in on the two figures who were burning towards his ship with all the haste they could muster.
Neither were trying to dodge. Apparently, they’d forgotten to in all the excitement. Oh, they’d exchanged a bit of fire with Bonnlyn and Marline as they went past each other, but they’d be more opportunistic potshots than genuine attempts to down them.
No, their focus was clearly on reaching his ship.
It likely helped that the crew members lining the rails hadn’t fired yet, their crossbows not quite in range yet.
The same could not be said about William’s bolt-bow. Poor as the weapon was, it did have a range advantage over its spring-powered cousins.
If only barely.
Though as he pulled the weapon up to his shoulder, he couldn’t help but think one thing:
What do you call a soldier with a jetpack?
His finger tensed slightly against the trigger.
Skeet.
…The incoming saboteur really should have remembered to zig-zag.
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The bolt-bow was, by any and all metrics that mattered, little more than an oversized nailgun. Oh, it had certainly been beefed up – the ‘nails’ it fired had more in common with crossbow bolts than anything else and the energetic properties of aether gave it significantly more power than air might have – but at the end of the day, it was still effectively a nailgun.
Unlike the close-quarters variant he’d borrowed from his aunt nearly three weeks ago, the one in his hands now had an elongated barrel, complete with internal rifling. Which he supposed technically made it an oversized and overpowered air-rifle.
If one was feeling generous.
William was not feeling particularly generous as he sank another bolt into the burlap target at the end of the range.
“Another bullseye, Cadet Ashford.” Instructor Highsmith observed from somewhere behind him, the rabbit-eared woman having to pitch her voice to be heard over the constant ‘thwip’ of discharging bolt-bows. “One day you’ll have to teach me where you learned to shoot like that.”
It said a lot about the weapon he was using when said target was at a distance more suitable to a pistol in his old world.
He deliberately didn’t turn or shift his shooting stance as he responded. “Small game, ma’am. Family wouldn’t let me hunt anything larger than a squirrel-bat.”
He could almost hear the wood-elf cocking her head in thought. “Squirrel-bats, huh. Yeah, you’d need to be a real markswoman – or man, I guess – to hit one of those twitchy suckers.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Olzenya twitch in irritation as her latest shot landed just outside the bullseye ring. Which wasn’t bad, her grouping was actually pretty good, but he knew that wasn’t what she cared about.
No, what she really cared about was beating him.
Ignoring her, William continued aiming down the sights, aware of the minute rise and fall of the barrel as his breathing slowed.
Slowly, he pulled back on the trigger.
William felt the gun in his hand push back into his shoulder, a blue-green plume of aether leaping from the barrel just before another bolt sank into the target – just off center of the first.
Even over the noise of the other cadets firing, he heard an actual whine of frustration slip from the lips of his teammate.
“Damn, if hunting squirrel-bats over deer or boar leads to cadets that can shoot like you, I might have to have a word with the principal.” The wood-elf’s almost southern tang continued. “See if we can’t rustle up a change of targets for our next third year outing.”
William didn’t respond. He knew the woman wasn’t really talking to him at this point, she was merely thinking aloud.
Unlike his ability to shoot – which had been honed over two lifetimes – the ability to keep his mouth shut was a skillset he’d picked up over the last fortnight. And it was a valuable skill indeed.
A successful cadet was an unremarkable cadet. Because if an instructor noticed you, it was almost invariably for fucking up.
Usually, he thought as the wood-elf behind him moved away to lambast one of the other shooters on the line for ‘squeezing the trigger like it owed her money’.
Sometimes the opposite held true, like just now. This was a school for ‘officers’ after all, not enlisted troops, the academy held no real interest in completely quashing their student’s creative instincts.
At least where tactics and strategy were concerned. Technology, less so. A consequence he imagined of the long-lived nature of the country’s ruling class. Two hundred years was a long time. More than long enough for leaders both military and civilian to become set in their ways.
The relatively slow roll out of dedicated carriers for shards over conventional ironclads was proof enough of that.
…Still, could he not say the same was true for himself?
It had been three weeks now that he’d spent with his new team and he’d still yet to reveal his end goal for his time at the academy.
Or in general.
A delay that might have been perfectly acceptable back when he’d had an entire year to prepare for his coming confrontation with his fiancée. Said delay was significantly less forgivable when that timetable had been reduced to just six months. Six months before that same fiancée ‘forced’ his mother to request that he be transferred to a new team. One that would undoubtedly be loyal to his fiancée first.
Which meant he had but six months to get his team ready to take on a team that had been training for two and a half years.
No small feat.
Doable though. Eminently doable, he thought. Even ignoring the tech advantage we’ll have when the duel rolls around, team seven is… surprisingly competent.
He ignored another nearby hiss of frustration as he sank yet another bolt into his target’s bullseye.
On that front, the end of this week is also team leader selection time, he thought, giving voice to the reason for his neighbor’s increased feelings of rivalry. So, I figure now’s a pretty good time to start laying out what I would hope to achieve as team leader.
Fortunately, he knew those ‘campaign promises’ would appeal to at least three quarters of his team – even if one them was currently vying for the same position as him. They were all hungry for success in their own way. The issue was that final quarter.
If I alienate her with my plans, I’ll have lost my biggest supporter, he thought as he glanced over to where Bonnlyn was enthusiastically, if not terribly accurately, sinking shots into her own target.
--------------------
“Woo,” Bonnyln shouted as the team stepped back into their room. “Free at last!”
William actually winced guiltily a little as the dwarf practically danced around the room as she ‘threw’ her jacket off.
It wasn’t really a throw, given that she’d have to iron out wrinkles if the thing got crumpled. Instead it was an enthusiastic placing onto the backrest of a nearby chair – the sentiment was there though as she danced a little dwarven jig.
Or at least, he assumed it was some kind of dwarven jig. It was also entirely possible she was having a seizure. Classically trained dancer, the former merchant was not.
And it said a lot about how good a mood the team in general was that even Olzenya contended herself with a mere roll of her eyes at the dwarf’s antics as she sank into her own chair. Though even as she did, William noted how her black shark-like eyes flitted to him for just a moment.
It wasn’t lost on either of them that this would theoretically be their last chance to talk to the team as a whole before the vote for team-leader was cast on Monday.
Theoretically, because it all-but a given that outside the most dysfunctional of teams – of which their year had a few – most of their year mates would be going out on leave together.
Which was a little amusing, given that after three weeks of being stuck together, one would think they’d be gagging for a chance to be free of one another.
That’s not the case though, is it, William thought with just a little wonderment.
Indeed, as Verity laughed at Bonnlyn’s ongoing dance number slash seizure, while Marline and Olzenya smirked along in their distinctly elvish fashion, William found that he was… fond of the collection of weirdos he’d been saddled with.
It wasn’t romantic. He wasn’t that far gone. It was… camaraderie. The kind that could only have been borne from shared suffering.
It said a lot about how insidiously effective the Academy’s methods were that despite the fact that some days he just wanted to grab both Olzenya and Bonnlyn – and occasionally Marline – and shake them… he’d still have their back against just about anything the world might throw at them.
And he implicitly trusted that they’d do the same for him.
Which sounds like insanity given that we’ve known each other for less than a month, he thought.
He knew on some level that trust was artificial. The suspension bridge effect writ large. But it was a solid basis for actual trust.
Which brought him right back around to why he felt just a little uncomfortable as Bonnlyn loudly celebrated their upcoming leave – the first they’d been given since arriving at the academy, and the unofficial end of the Instructor ‘babysitting’ period.
Come the end of the weekend and the start of the fourth week, the instructors would be a lot more hands off and cadets would have a lot more free time.
With the hope that after the last three weeks of having absolutely none to spare, cadets will use that newfound time intelligently, William thought.
Some would. Some wouldn’t.
He intended to be amongst those that would.
Rather, I need to be, he thought. Otherwise I’ll be looking at an entirely different set of faces sat around the team’s common area next semester. And they won’t be wearing House Royal colors either.
Which was why he was about to rain on his current team’s parade – even if he felt like crap for doing so.
“I intend to challenge my fiancée to a team based duel at the end of the semester. With the terms of the duel being the continuation of our betrothal. Should I win, she’ll break it off – something she has the means to do. In doing so, she’ll also recant her request that I be moved off our team and onto one aligned with hers.”
A sudden silence fell over the room as every eye flitted over to him in surprise, with Bonnyln stopping midway through a particularly interesting dance move.
Eventually, it was Marline who spoke.
“And why would she agree to that?” One silver eyebrow was raised as she regarded him, neither approving nor condemning. “She’s from a ducal house and you’re from a countship. With hundreds of miles separating you.”
“With totally different political allegiances as well,” Olzenya pointed out. “They’re staunch traditionalists while Will’s house are abolitionists.”
“Right,” Marline acknowledged. “The fact that your families entered into a pact in the first place means they want something from one another. Enough to tie you both into a marriage to make it as binding as they could. And even when a ducal house is asking, nobles don’t trade a guy off cheap.”
The girl actually sounded a little bitter about that last bit.
“Steel.” Will said. “That’s what my family is getting. The Blackstones are getting grain. Plus some other foodstuffs. With the contract to be renewed every fifty years.”
“Just that?” Bonnlyn asked. “Seems… small.”
William smiled humourlessly. “Well, that and I imagine my house wants the support of the Blackstone fleet should they make a bid for our province’s ducal seat at some point in the future. Old lady Summerfield still doesn’t have an heir, so a succession crisis is likely inevitable when she finally croaks.”
There were a few small intakes of breath throughout the room at that. What he’d just described could be considered treason if one squinted a bit. Fortunately for his mother, the law tended to get a little… open to interpretation where messy successions happened.
Their house would hardly be the first to press a claim through force when diplomacy failed. And given who he suspected his younger sister’s father was… well, House Ashfield likely did have a claim. It was a little weak, given that it was coming through the patrilineal line, but there was precedent.
“Though that’s supposition on my part.” He shrugged. “I certainly couldn’t find it in the fine print of my upcoming nuptials.”
Again, his mother wasn’t that foolish. Just ambitious.
…Which he could hardly judge her for, given that he was plotting to eventually blackmail the crown into doing what he wanted. In terms of treasonous activity, he felt his own triumphed over hers by a fairly decent margin.
“And House Blackstone gets an ally in the south for the traditionalist movement,” Olzenya stated with a tone of realization. “One perfectly positioned to become a ducal power in the future.”
William reclined against the cool stone of a nearby pillar. “Again, supposition. It’s entirely possible I really am just a seal on a very lucrative trade agreement.”
The elf made an acknowledging sound at that, but it sounded as skeptical as he felt.
Bonnlyn spoke up next, her expression a little annoyed. “Ok, as great as all this noble political horseshit is, you still didn’t answer Marline’s question.” She eyed him. “If all that is on the line, with your betrothal to miss stuckup as a the clincher, why in the everloving fuck would she agree to your suggestion of a duel that might ruin all of it?”
“Because I’ll have something that would make risking it all worth it.”
Marline scowled. “Are you going to tell us what that is?”
He smiled. “Not yet. You’ll find out soon enough.”
Mostly because he didn’t actually have the item he planned to lay on the line yet. For the moment, it was still sitting at the bottom of the Eastern Ocean – which was ironically West of Lindholm.
“Why tell us now?”
Every eye in the room flitted over to Verity, who slunk back a little at all the attention on her. She’d come a long way in the past three weeks in terms of being confident around the team, but the ex-slave still didn’t like to be the center of attention.
It hadn’t been lost on him that she’d spent most of the conversation since he spoke up looking a little lost – the ongoing discussion about the geopolitics of Lindholm mostly flying over the orc’s head.
Yet that hadn’t stopped her from asking a pretty important question.
“Because I like this team,” he admitted freely. “And, to be frank, I’m not entirely sure my plan would work without you.”
Olzenya cocked her head. “What, because you couldn’t take her in a solo duel you think she’ll be easier to take in a team-on-team fight?”
“No.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how good her magic is, I’m pretty sure I could take her in a one on one.”
One on one duels were performed in arenas after all. With two cadets stood facing one another. In that environment, it didn’t matter how good her magic was.
He’d win.
Just so long as he had the right tools.
Because his fingers were faster than her tongue.
Still, only he knew that for now, so he ignored his teammates’ blatant disbelief – Olzenya was actively rolling her eyes - and continued. “A duel would be fine in a pinch, but I’d prefer this thing be a spectacle. Dramatic. With enough high-profile viewers that she can’t easily welch on her end of the deal.”
And a one-on-one fight would have none of those things. It’d be over in seconds. Provided he won. If he lost, it’d probably take about half a minute. Or less.
Bonnlyn scoffed. “A pair of fiancés dueling – with some big mysterious prize on the line – is already pretty compelling. You’d have a plenty big audience for that. Half the academy would show up.”
He shook his head. “Plenty big isn’t big enough. I need huge. The Blackstones are a house name for the academy. They have a lot of pull here. If the only witnesses are cadets and instructors, her family might be able to quash the outcome of the duel.”
It wouldn’t be easy by any stretch, and rumours would persist, but if anyone could do it, the Blackstones could.
So, he needed to make sure the results of his little competition were shown beyond the walls of the academy.
“You want to duel on the Floats,” Olzenya realized. “Because the recording crystals there are attached to communication orbs.”
He smiled. “That’s the idea.”
The floats were a pair of mock airships that were used for everything from end of year exams to hosting foreign tournaments. More to the point, the communication orbs were almost always live.
It was a guaranteed that at pretty much any given moment there was at least someone watching. Curious family members. Other cadets. Maneuver-suit tournament enthusiasts. Hell, some of the country’s wealthier taverns kept low-mages on retainer just so they could operate their own communication orbs.
If he won there, people would see. Possibly powerful people, if the rumor of the fight spread far enough. Which was a pretty safe bet given just how fast his ‘nickname’ had spread.
Yeah, a story like this, the local rumor-mongers will be on it like flies on shit, he thought.
A fact he’d rely on to keep his fiancé honest if and when he beat her.
“But why now?” Verity prompted, eyes focused.
He sighed. “Because now’s our best opportunity to improve. With just about everyone going on leave for the weekend certain options which wouldn’t otherwise be available are now free and open.”
He could see Bonnlyn’s eyes widening with horror as she caught on to what he was saying – even as Marline’s widened with excitement.
“There’ll be opening for sessions on the Skeleton and Floats!” The dark elf exclaimed with more energy than he’d ever seen from her.
Slightly bewildered, he nonetheless nodded.
Normally the skeleton and the floats were constantly booked by teams looking to get in some extra practice time in their maneuver suits.
Not on the weekends though, he thought. Oh, they’re still busy, but there are openings.
“You want to use our first leave to stay here.” Bonnlyn didn’t quite accuse. “Practicing.”
He gave her a sympathetic glance. “As much as we can. And not just this weekend. Just about every weekend until the end of the semester.”
The dwarf made a sound that might have been a whimper.
“All so you can break off your betrothal,” Olzenya said neutrally.
“Well, that, and so we can be the best team we can be,” he admitted. “Plus, if I’m going to be team leader, I figured I should be open about my plans.”
Or at least, some of them. The whole anti-slavery spiel could wait for a bit.
And the blackmailing of the crown, he thought. That can wait too.
“Sounds like a lot of suffering,” the high elf huffed.
She wasn’t disagreeing though. She agreed with the plan in theory. She wanted to excel as much as he did. Her issue was with him being the one in charge while they did.
“And glory,” he pointed out.
“…I’m in,” a small voice added.
To the surprise of no one…
“Thanks Verity,” he said, sending the orc an entirely genuine smile – which naturally had her green skin flushing a few shades darker.
“Ugh.” The dark elf rolled her eyes at the byplay, before spearing him with a gaze. “I’m in too. On the leader thing too. Unfortunately.”
“Marline!?” Olzenya shot the dark elf a betrayed look.
Marline sighed as she eyed her elven friend. “Look, Olzenya, I like you. And you’ve got the skills when it comes to organization and the like… but you’re terrible with people.”
“And he isn’t!?”
The dark elf laughed. “I don’t know if I’d trust him in a ballroom, but with the team? Yeah. Sure, he does that weird old man thing sometimes - which is a little condescending – but he actually cares about us beyond what we can do for him.”
What? He had a weird old man thing? Since when? Hell, what did that even mean?
“I… care,” Olzenya muttered, for just a moment looking the mere eighteen years she was.
It almost made him want to give the poor girl a hug.
Even Marline’s eyes softened. “Then you’re hiding it very well.”
The high elf frowned, but didn’t argue.
Coughing a little to break the tension, William slapped his hands together as he grinned. “Well, with you two, it seems I have the majority vote.”
He very deliberately didn’t make note of the fact that Bonnlyn had said nothing. Which was unusual for the typically outspoken dwarf. She’d simply watched the proceedings with a slightly unreadable expression.
“With that in mind, I take it no one has issue with me heading down to Griffith’s office to book us in for the weekend?”
No one did.
Or at least, no one vocalized that they did.
At least one person looked like they wanted to though. Bonnlyn didn’t look happy. And that was a firm reminder that for all that she was keeping up a chipper attitude… she hadn’t grown up expecting to be a soldier.
This… everything was likely more than a little overwhelming.
She was probably looking forward to this weekend a lot, he thought. I’ll… need to do something about that.
After all, just because they’d be stuck at the academy didn’t mean they couldn't unwind a bit.
You just have to get creative, he thought with one some might have described as a slightly sinister grin.
—-----------------------
“So, you figured it out?” Griffith murmured as she jotted down his requested times into her notebook.
Part of him had hoped that he’d be able to schedule both events on the same day – thus providing his team with an opportunity for at least one day away from the academy.
Alas, that wasn’t to be.
“Ma’am?” he asked, stood at attention before the woman’s desk.
The dark elf’s glasses glinted as she eyed him over the rim. “Usually it takes a few weeks for first years to realize that leave periods represent an opening for extra practice with some of the academy’s more sought after equipment. Something other years will do nothing to discourage, given that bookings are divided by year group.”
He nodded. “If the first years don’t fill those slots, they’d be available to the other years.”
“Just so.” The woman nodded. “With that said, bookings for the Floats require two teams.”
Ah, he hadn’t thought of that. “Do I have time now to go and acquire a second team to act as our practice partners, ma’am?”
She nodded. “You do. Provided another, more prepared team doesn’t enter my office between now and your return.”
Though there was a certain… expectedness in her eyes as she regarded him. It was enough for a thought to occur.
He coughed. “With that said, may I ask if I alone made the mistake of trying to book time on the Floats without an opposing team?”
She smiled, as if he’d passed some sort of test. “You are not. Another prospective team leader was here just a few minutes ago. If you hurry, you may catch her before she makes it to the cafeteria.”
And if he did, he’d be able effectively double book. Spend twice amount of time on the Floats. More to the point, the ‘secret’ would remain so for just a bit longer.
He paused. “Before I go, may I ask how far in advance bookings may be made?”
Once more, Griffith smiled. “One standard month.”
He smiled too. “Excellent. Thank you for your time, ma’am. I’ll be right back.”
She watched him leave. For his part, he was thinking about another opportunity. Timeslots were set aside for first years, but the ‘competing’ team could be anyone.
Which made him wonder what favors he might be able to wrangle out of a third or fourth year team in return for more practice time on the Floats.
Sure, his team would be slaughtered, but one learned more from defeat than victory.
Still smiling, he called out to the green-clad cadet who was just about to step into the cafeteria.
It was time for a little wheeling and dealing with a healthy number of flirtatious not-quite promises.
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I began working on a Dune tarot several years ago, with the intention of creating a full 78 card deck. Like most people who take on this endeavor, I started with the Dune Encyclopedia tarot descriptions. I got pretty far before I abandoned this approach. I simply felt that the descriptions in the Dune Encyclopedia stray too far both from the tarot we know today, and from the Dune mythos itself, to be useful.
After a few more false starts, I had an epiphany: There are 22 “chapters” in the first act of Dune... Book One: Dune. And each chapter has an epigraph heading that reads like the passage of a Wisdom book… like the Azhar Book, in the Dune parlance. And those 22 epigraphs map surprisingly well to the 22 cards of the Major Arcana in tarot. After some more counting I found that if I included the Appendices, Dune Messiah, and it’s Epilogue, I could get to 78 epigraphs for the 78 cards of a complete tarot deck. And from Dune Messiah, we get the mention of four Dune Tarot cards by name, some hints about interpretations and a mention of a "fire-eddy" card spread for giving readings (page numbers from the Berkley imprints):
Dune Messiah p79:

She glanced at the cards. They spoke of the powerful turning their backs on supplicants. The card of the Great Worm lay beneath the Desolate Sand. Patience was counseled.

Dune Messiah p86:

When she had gone, the Reverend Mother returned to her tarot cards, laying them out in the fire-eddy pattern. Immediately, she got the Kwistz Haderach of the Major Arcana and the card lay coupled with the Eight of Ships: the sibyl hoodwinked and betrayed.

So all of that together gave me a starting point… an underlying logic. Then I found a single word or a short phrase that summed up the meaning of each epigraph, and made those the new names of each card. From there I had to match each epigraph to a card. I found that each suit seemed to mostly align with a certain section of the books, and that each suit also aligned with a planet as well as the family or faction which rules that planet. I will get into that in a later post, but for now I present my concepts for the Major Arcana of a Dune Tarot:

DUNE TAROT: MAJOR ARCANA

22 Cards:
0 THE FOOL: TAKE CARE
EPIGRAPH: Dune:1 - p3:

A beginning is the time for taking the most delicate care that the balances are correct. This every sister of the Bene Gesserit knows. To begin your study of the life of Muad'Dib, then, take care that you first place him in his time: born in the 57th year of the Padishah Emperor, Shaddam IV. And take the most special care that you locate Muad'Dib in his place: the planet Arrakis. Do not be deceived by the fact that he was born on Caladan and lived his first fifteen years there. Arrakis, the planet known as Dune, is forever his place. --from "Manual of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan.

RATIONALE: The epigraph gives us several admonishments to “take care” and to not be deceived. The Fool of tarot does not know how to take care, he is the essence of carelessness, folly, recklessness, and madness. It also gives us the setting of the desert. The epigraph opens with “A beginning”; an appropriate start for the first card, and for the Fool beginning his journey.
IMAGE: A foolish, careless, and untested youth (possibly Siona) wanders out into the open desert without proper protection; face mask open and no head covering. They carry an open survival pack (Fremkit), but pay no heed to a wise jumping mouse nor to the dangers (a giant worm) breaching in the distance.
I THE MAGICIAN/JUGGLER: COMPANION-TEACHER
EPIGRAPH: Dune:4 - p28:

You have read that Muad'Dib had no playmates his own age on Caladan. The dangers were too great. But Muad'Dib did have wonderful companion-teachers. There was Gurney Halleck, the troubadour-warrior. You will sing some of Gurney's songs as you read along in this book. There was Thufir Hawat, the old Mentat Master of Assassins, who struck fear even into the heart of the Padishah Emperor. There were Duncan Idaho, the Swordmaster of the Ginaz; Dr. Wellington Yueh, a name black in treachery but bright in knowledge; the Lady Jessica, who guided her son in the Bene Gesserit Way, and--of course--the Duke Leto, whose qualities as a father have long been overlooked. --from "A Child's History of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan.

RATIONALE: This epigraph lists several companion-teachers, but first and foremost is Gurney Halleck. The Magician card in tarot can represent a teacher, mentor, or skilled professional. And in older tarot traditions, the card was called “The Juggler”, a lowly slight-of-hand street performer. Gurney is a teacher, but also a skilled tactician, as well as a troubadour performer. He is introduced in the first book by dumping weapons onto a practice table not unlike the table seen on The Magician/Juggler card. The flower represents his dead sister.
IMAGE: The valorous Warmaster (Gurney) juggles his duties as court troubadour, trusted advisor, teacher, and companion. He plays his nine-string zithra over a table of implements representing the four minor suits and the four major factions. A daisy blooms below.
II THE POPESS/HIGH PRIESTESS: THE LADY/WISDOM
EPIGRAPH: Dune:7 - p47:

With the Lady Jessica and Arrakis, the Bene Gesserit system of sowing implant-legends through the Missionaria Protectiva came to its full fruition. The wisdom of seeding the known universe with a prophecy pattern for the protection of B.G. personnel has long been appreciated, but never have we seen a condition-ut-extremis with more ideal mating of person and preparation. The prophetic legends had taken on Arrakis even to the extent of adopted labels (including Reverend Mother, canto and respondu, and most of the Shari-a panoplia propheticus). And it is generally accepted now that the Lady Jessica's latent abilities were grossly underestimated. --from "Analysis: The Arrakeen Crisis" by the Princess Irulan [private circulation: B.G. file number AR-81088587]

RATIONALE: The card of the Popess or High Priestess represents Occult science and wisdom, secrecy and hidden motives, patience, fidelity, and purity: the spiritual Mother or Bride. No character in Dune fits this image better than the Lady Jessica, who is both mother of Paul and Alia, but also the spiritual mother of his Empire. As the highest Fremen Reverend Mother, she is truly a spiritual leader and holder of great mysteries. The epigraph concludes that she has been underestimated and is more powerful than anyone had previously imagined.
IMAGE: The Mother Goddess (Jessica) sits upon an ovoid pillar base surrounded by sand. She wears the black veils of a desert priestess and holds a water bag in her lap, covering her belly. Two motes swirl on the bag. She wears no jewelry, only a three-tiered tiara over her bronze hair, representing her station. Behind her, contrasting colored columns shaped like female faces recede into the past.
III THE EMPRESS: PRINCESS-DAUGHTER
EPIGRAPH: Dune:15 - p105:

My father, the Padishah Emperor, took me by the hand one day and I sensed in the ways my mother had taught me that he was disturbed. He led me down the Hall of Portraits to the ego-likeness of the Duke Leto Atreides. I marked the strong resemblance between them--my father and this man in the portrait--both with thin, elegant faces and sharp features dominated by cold eyes. "Princess-daughter," my father said, "I would that you'd been older when it came time for this man to choose a woman." My father was 71 at the time and looking no older than the man in the portrait, and I was but 14, yet I remember deducing in that instant that my father secretly wished the Duke had been his son, and disliked the political necessities that made them enemies. --"In My Father's House" by the Princess Irulan.

RATIONALE: The Empress card is creativity, seduction, desire, expression, youthful beauty, action, and marriage. She represents the physical and the exoteric compared to the Popess's spiritual and esoteric nature. She can also represent clandestine actions and a feminine violence, a character who knows what she wants and takes action to get it. Some interpretations note that while she is seductive, she has no children of her own. Putting this all together, there is no better character in Dune than the wife of the Emperor Paul herself, Princess Irulan. The author of Paul's history books, but also a conspirator in his downfall, she is both creative and dangerous. The epigraph describes a young lady who other people attempted to craft a future for, but who ultimately carved her own path.
IMAGE: A beautiful but haughty figure, the Princess and wife of the Prophet (Irulan) sits upon a crystal throne in blue finery within a palace. A blue hat rests on lovely blonde locks. She writes in a book displaying the (hawk) sigil with a stylus like a great Scepter.
IIII THE EMPEROR: THE DUKE
EPIGRAPH: Dune:11 - p77:

It is said that the Duke Leto blinded himself to the perils of Arrakis, that he walked heedlessly into the pit. Would it not be more likely to suggest he had lived so long in the presence of extreme danger he misjudged a change in its intensity? Or is it possible he deliberately sacrificed himself that his son might find a better life? All evidence indicates the Duke was a man not easily hoodwinked. --from "Muad'Dib: Family Commentaries" by the Princess Irulan

RATIONALE: The Emperor is the divine Father figure and master of Will. He is stoic, protective, authoritative, just, noble, unyielding and logical. The epigraph describes a man who is neither a coward, nor a fool who has made the ultimate sacrifice for his family. The Duke Leto's famous phrase, "Here I am and here I remain" really sums up the card.
IMAGE: The just, noble, stoic and brave Patriarch (Leto) broods on his stone throne pondering the probabilities of success. This popular man wears a sheathed sword, and beside him lay a discarded shield displaying his (hawk) sigil.
V THE POPE/HIEROPHANT: THE LEARNED
EPIGRAPH: Dune:9 - p65:

Many have marked the speed with which Muad'Dib learned the necessities of Arrakis. The Bene Gesserit, of course, know the basis of this speed. For the others, we can say that Muad'Dib learned rapidly because his first training was in how to learn. And the first lesson of all was the basic trust that he could learn. It's shocking to find how many people do not believe they can learn, and how many more believe learning to be difficult. Muad'Dib knew that every experience carries its lesson. --from "The Humanity of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan.

RATIONALE: The Pope is Religion compared to the Popess who is Spirituality. He represents the merger of Religion and Law. He is Righteousness and Salvation. He is considered the greatest Teacher of the cards... the Magician is a teacher, but the Pope is the Teacher. While the epigraph describes a young Paul as an avid learner, we can derive from this that the greatest teacher must by necessity also be the greatest learner.
IMAGE: The Prophet (Paul Muad’dib) stretches atop an emerald throne on a stepped-pyramid dias. He wears the golden robes and multi-tiered crown of his station, while making a sign of peaceable blessing with blue hands. Two sacred palms flank him as supplicants petition from below.
VI THE LOVERS/TWO PATHS: ABIDING LOVE
EPIGRAPH: Dune:6 - p41:

How do we approach the study of Muad'Dib's father? A man of surpassing warmth and surprising coldness was the Duke Leto Atreides. Yet, many facts open the way to this Duke: his abiding love for his Bene Gesserit lady; the dreams he held for his son; the devotion with which men served him. You see him there--a man snared by Destiny, a lonely figure with his light dimmed behind the glory of his son. Still, one must ask: What is the son but an extension of the father? --from "Muad'Dib, Family Commentaries" by the Princess Irulan

RATIONALE: The Lovers card obviously deals with issues of love, romance, union, the trials of love, and marriage. But in some systems it is called "The Two Paths" representing choices, temptation, discipline, and careful decisions. The epigraph describes a man torn between Duty and Family, capable of both warmth and coldness. For this card I decided to illustrate the Duke as dutiful Joseph in a nativity scene with Madonna and child.
IMAGE: An intimate scene of the Holy Family embracing one another with the surpassing warmth of abiding love. Under the watch of winged Destiny- who aims his bow at the infant child bound for Glory, the father is cloaked in the stark uniform of Duty, the mother in an opulent dress of Passion.
VII THE CHARIOT: THE WAY
EPIGRAPH: Dune:13 - p97:

On that first day when Muad'Dib rode through the streets of Arrakeen with his family, some of the people along the way recalled the legends and the prophecy and they ventured to shout: "Mahdi!" But their shout was more a question than a statement, for as yet they could only hope he was the one foretold as the Lisan al-Gaib, the Voice from the Outer World. Their attention was focused, too, on the mother, because they had heard she was a Bene Gesserit and it was obvious to them that she was like the other Lisan al-Gaib. --from "Manual of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan

RATIONALE: The image of Paul in the parade in Arrakeen clearly evokes the image of The Chariot in a victory parade. Leto and Jessica represent Politics and Religion as in the quote:

When religion and politics travel in the same cart, the riders believe nothing can stand in their way. Their movements become headlong - faster and faster and faster. They put aside all thoughts of obstacles and forget the precipice does not show itself to the man in a blind rush until it's too late.

IMAGE: The triumphal Holy Family ride headlong through dusty streets astride a racing groundcar. The father wrapped in white diplomatic attire, and the mother in sanctified black veils both steer, while the young master in his grandfather’s armor waves just as the fluttering familial pennants of Victory along the way.
VIII JUSTICE/BALANCE: PRICE OF VIOLENCE
EPIGRAPH: Dune:17 - p146:

"There is no escape–we pay for the violence of our ancestors." --from "The Collected Sayings of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan.

RATIONALE: The tarot card depicts Justice as the victory of Law over chaos. The sword she holds is Reason cutting through nonsense or poor arguments, or the cutting away of the unnecessary. Unlike some images of Justice, she is not blindfolded, but staring at us in challenge. In some traditions this card is known as "The Balance" representing equilibrium, moderation, and action and reaction.
The epigraph alludes to the idea of ancestral fault, or generational sin, "the sins of the father revisited upon the sons"... a major theme of Dune. It is most obviously present in the Curse of the House of Atreus, aka the Atreides Curse, but also in the feud between Atreides and Harkonnen, as well as the idea of Abomination, and in the folly that is the Kwisatz Haderach breeding program. The idea of ancestral sin is a kind of karmic justice. I have chosen the moment when Reverend Mother Giaus Helen Mohiam administers the Gom Jabbar test to Paul to represent these ideas for two reasons: Most obviously because she represents the idea of judgement: filtering between logical humans and violent animals with finality. But also because this moment is the fulcrum point, the tipping point where the the Price of all of these ancestral sins: the Atreides curse, the Atreides/Harkonnen feud, the Kwisatz Haderach breeding program, are all about to come to fruition.
IMAGE: Her Reverence– that ancient crone, that ancient fount of wisdom, (Reverend Mother Mohiam) ensconced in robes of black spider’s lace, the unadorned square upon her mantle, brandishes her implements of Justice and Brutal Necessity– the high-handed poisoned Needle and the Box of Pain.
VIIII THE HERMIT/TIME: ENLIGHTENMENT
EPIGRAPH: Dune:14 - p102:

"There is probably no more terrible instant of enlightenment than the one in which you discover your father is a man--with human flesh." --from "Collected Sayings of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan.

RATIONALE: The epigraph discusses the kind of wisdom or enlightenment gained by the knowledge of Mortality. The Hermit card can hold either the lamp of enlightenment, or the hourglass of Father Time, a symbol of mortality, a reminder that all things must die. While the epigraph specifically refers to Paul and his father the Duke Leto, we can also extend it to Chani and her father Liet. The Hermit card is also sometimes said to represent treason, corruption, or deception... traits that also apply to Leit Kynes. Some versions of the card show a serpent at his feet, which I have replaced with a sandtrout... foreshadowing his death.
IMAGE: One of the brotherhood of the learned, the self-reliant Scientist (Kynes) steps timorously over white sands in long robes. He is armed with the blades of his two masters, Prudence and Truth. Like an ancient genius, he holds aloft a great seed and carries the pole and ring, implements of his planteological pilgrimage. A glowing light hovers above his sandy head enlightening the path, whilst a thirsty creature (sandtrout) emerges from the sand near his feet.
X THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE: TO REPEAT
EPIGRAPH: Dune:12 - p82:

Over the exit of the Arrakeen landing field, crudely carved as though with a poor instrument, there was an inscription that Muad'Dib was to repeat many times. He saw it that first night on Arrakis, having been brought to the ducal command post to participate in his father's first full staff conference. The words of the inscription were a plea to those leaving Arrakis, but they fell with dark import on the eyes of a boy who had just escaped a close brush with death. They said: "O you who know what we suffer here, do not forget us in your prayers." --from "Manual of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan.

RATIONALE: The image on tarot cards is the Wheel of "Fortuna", the Roman goddess. It is both the wheel of the Zodiac (and thus the fortunes the signs represent) and a wheel that she spins as a kind of game of chance with people’s lives. Cosmic roulette. The wheel can bring the mighty down low, and the meek up high. It is a reminder that even kings and emperors fall. The Dune epigraph reminds us that the wealth of the Empire is built upon ignoring the suffering of those who maintain that wealth. That inscription from the landing field exit is a counterpoint to the favorite maxim of the Faufreluches; “Business makes progress. Fortune passes everywhere!” As we have already established… fortune can be both wealth and ruin. Both the epigraph and the image of the Wheel of Fortune remind me of the Buddhist/Hindu concept of the Wheel of Samsara… the endless cycle of existence, suffering, karma and reincarnation. In that case, the goal of Enlightenment is to break the cycle of Samsara.
IMAGE: An inscription in the semi-circular exitway of a dusty landing-field reminds us of how Fortunes can change– a thing written in salt. To one side a rabbit cowers and digs, to the other a desert fox leaps, both trapped in the endless cycle of Fate. An aircraft like a winged scarab rises over the arch, and the jets cast its shadow onto the ground completing the circle, even as it attempts to escape the cycle.
XI STRENGTH/FORCE: TIME OF TRIAL
EPIGRAPH: Dune:10 - p69:

What had the Lady Jessica to sustain her in her time of trial? Think you carefully on this Bene Gesserit proverb and perhaps you will see: "Any road followed precisely to its end leads precisely nowhere. Climb the mountain just a little to test that it's a mountain. From the top of the mountain, you cannot see the mountain." --from "Muad'Dib: Family Commentaries" by the Princess Irulan.

RATIONALE: This epigraph describes the qualities of Fortitude and Perseverance, both types of Strength commonly associated with this tarot card. It also describes a mountain like the one which appears in the distance of the Waite Rider Smith Strength card. The ultimate Trial of Jessica is obviously the spice ordeal. And the Sayyadina drowning the stunted worm to obtain the Water of Life and oversee the ritual will need strength as well.
IMAGE: Before a distant steep mountain peak– a young woman of surprising strength wrestles two great black beasties (worms) enbowed– sparkling violet bile oozing from their mouths into a basin. A master of animals– she is sustained in these trials by Fortitude and Perseverance.
XII THE HANGED MAN/TRAITOR: THE BETRAYAL
EPIGRAPH: Dune:5 - p37:

YUEH (yu'e), Wellington (weling-tun), Stdrd 10,082-10,191; medical doctor of the Suk School (grd Stdrd 10,112); md: Wanna Marcus, B.G. (Stdrd 10,092-10,186?); chiefly noted as betrayer of Duke Leto Atreides. (Cf: Bibliography, Appendix VII [Imperial conditioning] and Betrayal, The.) --from "Dictionary of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan

RATIONALE: In older tarot traditions, the Hanged Man is sometimes known as “The Traitor”. Supposedly traitors in medieval Italy were hung from one foot, from the beam of a gallows; as depicted in tarot cards. From Epigraph 4 we get this about him: “Dr. Wellington Yueh, a name black in treachery but bright in knowledge”.
IMAGE: The treacherous traitor (Dr. Yueh) with purple lips, hangs inverted by one foot from the Tripod of Executions. From his pocket drops a small book of knowledge, a token of his devotion to causes he deems worthy of Betrayal.
XIII DEATH: A MILLION DEATHS
EPIGRAPH: Dune:8 - p57:

"Yueh! Yueh! Yueh!" goes the refrain. "A million deaths were not enough for Yueh!" --from "A Child's History of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan

RATIONALE: The tarot card image of Death is typically of a skeletal figure with a scythe, tilling a field of human remains. Often a hand is seen rising in the field. It represents transformation, change, revolution, and the promise of life after death. For this image I have chosen a dessicated hand like the one The Prophet carries around in his pocket. Could this be the hand of Dr. Yueh? The hand that delivered Paul at birth, the hand that delivered Leto to his doom, and the hand that delivered Paul and Jessica to the desert? Poetically, this card follows his appearance as The Traitor in the previous card. I am equating this card to the Desolate Sand card mentioned in Dune Messiah.
IMAGE: A dessicated twisted hand missing the ring finger rises from a dune against a foreboding sky like a cultic Icon from antiquity. A bone and a skull are half-buried in the Desolate Sand below.
XIIII TEMPERANCE/ART: IN TENSION
EPIGRAPH: Dune:3 - p21:

Thus spoke St. Alia-of-the-Knife: "The Reverend Mother must combine the seductive wiles of a courtesan with the untouchable majesty of a virgin goddess, holding these attributes in tension so long as the powers of her youth endure. For when youth and beauty have gone, she will find that the place-between, once occupied by tension, has become a wellspring of cunning and resourcefulness." --from "Muad'Dib, Family Commentaries" by the Princess Irulan.

RATIONALE: This epigraph describes Alia at a balance point between purity and profanity, between temperance and temptation. She is in a state of tension and restraint, just as in the tarot card Temperance. This card is also known as "Art" and can represent the skills of an alchemist in transmuting metals. In this capacity, Alia transmutes the deadly poisonous sandworm bile into the harmless narcotic of the tao orgy. She is also constantly balancing her own self against the voices within to try to prevent Abomination. The image on tarot cards is traditionally a "spirit" or angel with wings. I am hiding her wings in the shape of two arched windows as foreshadowing to her eventual demise.
IMAGE: The Saint (Alia) stands on her balcony in braids and yellow robes. She pours the transmuted blue-violet Catalyst from a silver chalice into a golden one containing the Water of Life. She wears a fish symbol as well as a curved knife. The arches of two stained-glass windows behind her resemble folded wings.
XV THE DEVIL: MORTAL ENEMY
EPIGRAPH: Dune:2 - p13:

To attempt an understanding of Muad'Dib without understanding his mortal enemies, the Harkonnens, is to attempt seeing Truth without knowing Falsehood. It is the attempt to see the Light without knowing Darkness. It cannot be. --from "Manual of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan

RATIONALE: The Devil of tarot represents his role as the Great Tempter, the Prince of Lies. Passions, taboos, darkness, obscene wealth, pride, and obsession. No character in Dune better represents these ideas than the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, a man who had completely succumbed to temptation, consumed by his own appetites, obsessed with sadistic pleasures, and who was constantly plotting deceptions and intrigues. Gurney compares him to one of the Beasts of the Orange Catholic Bible, "And I stood upon the sand of the sea and saw a beast rise up out of the sea . . . and upon his heads the name of blasphemy." There is also a very nice symmetry in having the Baron paired with Alia. In the book, we are introduced to the Baron gloating behind a jeweled globe of Arrakis.
IMAGE: A Blasphemous figure (Baron Harkonnen) in gemstone studded robes, floats on suspensors, swinging a mace. Two captives; one a woman covered in Bene Gesserit robes, the other an almost naked slave boy are bound by vines (krimskell fibers) to a pedestal supporting the bejeweled globe of a planet (Arrakis). He is protected by a glowing pentagonal shield.
XVI THE TOWEHOUSE OF GOD: CITADEL EPIGRAPH: Dune:22 - p187:

O Seas of Caladan, O people of Duke Leto-- Citadel of Leto fallen, Fallen forever… --from "Songs of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan

RATIONALE: The image in the epigraph of a falling Citadel has obvious parallels with the image on The Tower card. In Tarot de Marseilles the card is sometimes known as The House of God, and indeed the Atreides citadel on Caladan was the literal house where Paul Muad’dib was born and grew up, but it also represents the fall of his familial House; his royal heritage and peerage.
IMAGE: The Ancestral Palace (Castle Caladan) is struck by energy beams from above. People fall with the stones and embers. Below, a raging river floods its banks.
XVII THE STAHOPE: A METEOR
EPIGRAPH: Dune:21 - p175:

There is a legend that the instant the Duke Leto Atreides died a meteor streaked across the skies above his ancestral palace on Caladan. --the Princess Irulan: "Introduction to A Child's History of Muad'Dib"

RATIONALE: The meteor over Caladan is a sign of hope tinged with deep sorrow. The Star tarot card is also sometimes known as Hope… but not just any hope, the hope experienced after great pain, loss and sorrow. It is the glimmer of brightness after the dark downfall of The Tower. The meteor over fallen Castle Caladan is a perfect parallel to The Star following The Tower. And Chani is Paul’s ‘desert spring’, his hope after the fall of his House and the death of his father. Likewise, Paul is Chani’s hope after the death of her father.
IMAGE: A bright Meteor streaks across the sky over the ruins of a stone palace. A desert bride (Chani) in lavish blue-green robes and water rings kneels at the shore of a calm sea with water bags. An owl watches in a flowering garden.
XVIII THE MOON: WITH DREAMS
EPIGRAPH: Dune:18 - p158

Do you wrestle with dreams? Do you contend with shadows? Do you move in a kind of sleep? Time has slipped away. Your life is stolen. You tarried with trifles, Victim of your folly. --Dirge for Jamis on the Funeral Plain, from "Songs of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan

RATIONALE: The Moon card in tarot represents the moon and its cycles, but also the night, the realm of dreams, intuition, attraction, as well as deceptions and delusions. We see all of those alluded to the epigraph. I've kept the imagery of the card traditional to the tarot except for the bat and the coffee pot which alludes to Jamis's funeral.
IMAGE: Two moons hang in the night sky over a qanat. The larger one shines silver like a coin embossed with the image of a human fist, while the smaller one glows dusky red with the image of a mouse. A predator fish surfaces from rippling water. Two steep cliffs rise on either side, one with a window, the other with steps. A ceilago bat calls out near a silver coffee pot with an emerald knob.
XVIIII THE SUN: GREATNESS
EPIGRAPH: Dune:16 - p126:

Greatness is a transitory experience. It is never consistent. It depends in part upon the myth-making imagination of humankind. The person who experiences greatness must have a feeling for the myth he is in. He must reflect what is projected upon him. And he must have a strong sense of the sardonic. This is what uncouples him from belief in his own pretensions. The sardonic is all that permits him to move within himself. Without this quality, even occasional greatness will destroy a man. --from "Collected Sayings of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan

RATIONALE: The Sun card is happiness, optimism, success and mastery. In other words: greatness. And the greatest of all creatures is the giant sandworm of Arrakis! I am equating this card to the Great Worm card from Dune Messiah. This card also reminds us of the transitory nature of those things… just as the sun rises, it must also set…. only to rise again. In Marseilles tarot cards, below the sun two youths dance in a circle and the card is said to represent marriage.
IMAGE: A Great Worm rises like a stone wall under a radiant solar disk. Twins in desert robes (possibly Leto II and Ghanima) smile and dance in a circle around a single solar ray like a May Pole.
XX JUDGEMENT: THE ATTITUDE OF THE KNIFE
EPIGRAPH: Dune:20 - p172:

Arrakis teaches the attitude of the knife--chopping off what's incomplete and saying: "Now, it's complete because it's ended here." --from "Collected Sayings of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan

RATIONALE: We have already established that blades can represent judgement and a cutting intellect. But this epigraph also shows us that they also represent finality and the resolution of outcomes. The image of the tarot card Judgement is that of Final Judgement, The Day of Judgement, the end-of-the-world when the dead rise from their graves at the trumpeting of the angels in the clouds, before they are Judged by God. The most obvious parallel in Dune are the end-of-the-world scenarios of Kralizec, "the Typhoon Struggle" which appears to be Herbert's version of Armageddon, "the War in Heaven"... and Arafel "the Cloud Darkness of Holy Judgement" which is clearly his Day of Judgement. Children of Dune mentions both Arafel and the City of Tombs, and this passage from the epigraph on p320 ties Kralizec to the "knife-edged approach":

... They say: 'We know there is no summa of all attainable knowledge; that is the preserve of God. But whatever men can learn, men can contain.' Out of this knife-edged approach to the universe they carve a fantastic belief in signs and omens and in their own destiny. This is an origin of their Kralizec legend: the war at the end of the universe." --Bene Gesserit Private Reports/folio 800881.

IMAGE: A typhoon spiral (Kralizec) of ships emerge from dark clouds (Arafel) over the City of Tombs (Thatta). A chorus of the dead cry out.
XXI THE WORLD/UNIVERSE: A PSYCHIC SCIENCE
EPIGRAPH: Dune:19 - p162:

There should be a science of discontent. People need hard times and oppression to develop psychic muscles. --from "Collected Sayings of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan

RATIONALE: The World card represents completion, accomplishment, the end of a cycle, or travel. The epigraph quote is a prescription for both the coming Jihad, and for Leto II’s reign. The Kwisatz Haderach(es) bring this completion. And the term translates literally as "the shortening of the Way". The imagery of my card recalls the inner chorus, the time nexus, the nets of prescience, the alam al mithal, the Bene Gesserit breeding program, and the ecological transformation of Arrakis.
IMAGE: The face of the sibyl, the Kwisatz Haderach, composed of many faces, all with the blue within blue eyes. Patterns of male and female faces recede in both directions. A green planet with a patch of desert (Rakis) forms the third eye between a mandorla shape within the faces. Nets sweep across the rivers of Time. A hawk, griffon, lion, and worm reside in each corner representing the four planets and the four factions.
END
That is the gist of it. I have also developed concepts for the Minor Arcana cards based on further epigraphs. While I have gotten really far in developing this tarot and have worked on many illustrations, I am not sure about publishing them or sharing them. Even without using the names of any characters from Dune, it would be impossible to argue against copyright infringement. I am also not sure where I would even begin in pursuing rights to license such a deck. So I am presenting my work to the community in good faith. If you happen to know Denis… pass it on! ;)
Part 2 can be found here: Creating a Dune Tarot part 2 Court cards
Part 3 can be found here: Creating a Dune Tarot part 3 Pips
Dune Tarot part 4 Card Spreads

1. Patrick J. Dempsey

Hello, all Crusader King 3 players!! I´m a CK3 player with more than 1,000 hours played and counting. My favorite geographical location to play with is England, especially in the Wiliam The Conqueror start. I´ve played a lot with him but also with some custom characters in this start and location. Today I want to show you guys my favorite custom character and my historically accurate project for my new campaign. I modified a lot of things in the game but haven't started playing yet, only have passed a few in-game weeks to make some things happen before my actual gameplay start. These modifications are to make the campaign as historically accurate as I can to my knowledge and enjoyment and were made using default mode and the console command and many mods. Please know that I´m no historian, not even an amateur, just an enthusiast, and most of my knowledge of the details comes from Wikipedia. I know it's not a reputable source but I won't be citing anything in APA for this post and most details are from minor historical characters from a thousand years ago and sources for this are hard to come by. However, I would appreciate any correction of anything mentioned here. I hope you enjoy reading this post as I made it for my enjoyment but thought some of you may enjoy it as well. This is Part 1 as Reddit only lets me post so much. I will post a second part right after posting this and if the community likes it, I will continue documenting the campaign once I started until finished.
The Ruler & Dynasty: William Peverel - For those who don´t know. For some time, it has been said that William Peverel ´the elder´ was a possible illegitimate son of William the Conqueror. However, its really not probable that this was the case but in my mind it is a very interesting alternative history to play as in Crusader Kings, especially as a different dynasty of the Normandies´ - The Peverel Dynasty. I´ve played many times as him where I created him in the ruler designer and placed him in Eu, Normandy, and started playing immediately. This time, I took two days to do some light research, added some mods, and modified the game to make this campaign start as historically as possible to place William Peverel in his historical fief in Nottingham and Derby. But it became much more than that and decided to go even one step further as I didn´t find the game historically accurate. Initially, I will play as King William I, until after the rebellion of Edwin and Morcar that I will force in 1068 or 1069. I will do this to forge the historical foundations I want before starting to play as Willliam Peverel.
Prelude:

• Before pressing play, I made Harold Godwinson kill his brother Tostig and Harald Hardrada in a duel (I know Harold didn´t personally kill them in Stamford Bridge but thought it best for the game lore) and forced demands on Harald´s son with yesmen console command to win that war.
• Switched to Duke William the Bastard and similarly forced demands on Harold and killed him and his brothers Gyrth and Leofwine in a duel.
• William is Crowned King of England and passed the Limited Crown Authority.
• Changed some relevant characters' birth dates to more historical ones (from William himself to his half-brothers and companions)
• Granted the Norman lords their historical earldoms in the south (below the Midlands). I´m aware that most, if not all, weren´t given actual Earldoms (at least not immediately) but were given huge land grants or became tenants-in-chief or feudal barons for those counties so gave the counties to the people whom I considered the most relevant to match the game mechanics and real-life history.
• Most of these characters were proven companions of William I according to the Bayeux Tapestry and thus gave the most proven loyal supporters the Loyal trait and made most of them friends with William.

Character changes:
King William ´The Conqueror´ I of England:
https://preview.redd.it/euqf5nask89c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=d136bd545795740d36f4ab1c15b0a9382e8f973c

• Changed his hair to medium long with wavy ends (community flavor pack, I think)
• Gave him the Exalted Warlord trait (martial education level 5) which I believe he deserves it after the conquest.
• Gave him the Arbitraty trait - as I do believe he was. Considered giving him the Callous trait but thought Arbitrary more appropriate considering the whole invasion and the harrying of the north.
• Gave him Rouen - I do not believe Richard (and later William) of Evreux had that land instead of William, as it was the capital of his duchy.

William Peverel:
https://preview.redd.it/bdihskwroa9c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=fbef8568352a65889a66cc399e00b98f499c3850

• Initially made him a Bastard in the Create-a-ruler designer and made him count of Eu and when starting gave the title back to William d´Eu and added him to William I´s court like nothing ever happened. Then with the Be Someone´s Child mod (by DeltaCortis) made him William´s son and then removed the bastard trait and gave him the Bastard Founder trait for the Peverel Dynasty.
• While growing up as a recognized albeit illegitimate bastard of William, he grew up in the same conditions as his father and developed a very similar personality given his arbitrary nature. Hence, the Ambitious (he wants to show his father and the world that he is not a simple bastard and can grow up into someone even greater than The Conqueror), Arbitrary (he has no regard for others if it means getting what he wants), Diligent, and Brave traits. For the childhood personality trait, decided to go for the Rowdy trait as I thought Bossy isn´t as compatible as Rowdy for an arbitrary person. Additionally, gave him the Aspiring Blademaster and Athletic traits (had a lot of points available in the ruler designer due to his age). I would like to believe he squired for his father in the Battle of Hastings and saw some real action, which forged a path to becoming a legendary warrior
• As he is described as a boy in history during the conquest, I decided to make him 13 years old, old enough to have developed a full personality but not 16 yet to give me time for the Northern rebellion on William I, and then give him his respective counties (Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire) and then finally switch characters once and for all.

William, Count of Evreux:
https://preview.redd.it/k0ks5faot89c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=74fa46082936cef7cceb56f3f21e08f62a4d9a4f

• It is believed William was already ruling Evreux by 1066 so killed (no killer) his father, Richard, to make him Count. I regret not just removing the title and granting it to William instead of killing him as it was not confirmed Wiliam was actually dead by this time but had already saved the game and made many changes.
• Made him more warrior-like and made him a loyal friend to William I.
• As said before, removed the Rouen title from him and ceded it to the king. Additionally, also removed Lisieux as it wasn´t his to begin with.
• Considered giving him Berkshire and Oxfordshire as well as it is proven in the Domesday book he was granted major land holdings in these counties but still modest and even minor tenancies compared to another companion who I believe deserved the earldom more.

Hugh, Count-Bishop of Lisieux:
https://preview.redd.it/1y1ygqfcv89c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=8bc528c51fe4c2b61fcfa25a517c50f8f8a08697

• William d´Eu´s brother, Hugh, is proven to have been the count-bishop of Lisieux during this time.
• Gave him the earning education level 3 trait, some lore-friendly traits, and the monk trait as I couldn´t make him an actual bishop as there is no bishopric in the game´s province.

Odo of Bayeux:
https://preview.redd.it/htptofpzw89c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=cb2e639c48569189332a8298a39a2c51d11f52ae

• Similarly to Hugh of Lisieux, there is no in-game mechanic that would let me make him Bishop of Bayeux so I just gave him the Monk trait and gave him more lore-friendly traits (some to show why would he defraud the crown and the archdiocese later) including the administrator and organizer traits as he was known to be regent and general for his brother many times.
• Made him the Earl of Kent.
• Made him a friend of the king
• Not sure why the game insists of always making him William´s spymaster but decided to leave him with the position as he was most certainly a councilor of William.

Roger de Montgomery, Earl of Sussex:
https://preview.redd.it/mfmh34j3z89c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=567569f6353ff17d6f88dde71706b0a208fdf8c8

• There isn´t much lore on Roger and it's not confirmed if he went with William I in the invasion but it is confirmed he was a major Norman lord and William untrusted him with crucial land for the protection of England so I made them friends and gave him the county of Sussex as it recorded he was granted most of the whole county.
• Also gave him the administrator and gallant traits, as it´s recorded he was a major commander and entrusted to administer many holdings for William.
• Will give him the earldom of Shropshire (Shrewsbury) once the northern rebellion takes place and revoked from Earl Edwin of Mercia.

​
William de Warenne, Earl of Surrey
https://preview.redd.it/6xs5besk099c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=892c8d41aa2914258fd6d84c36bd6adb5abba668

• I think he is one of the few who was actually made Earl, so naturally gave him the earldom of Surrey.
• Gave him lore-friendly traits and made him a friend of William I.
• Made him a bit younger and betrothed him to Gerbod ´The Flemish´s sister, Gundred, as they got married later.

​
William FitzOsbern, Earl of Hereford:
https://preview.redd.it/9ejycru6599c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=9f33476e8748ac5a7966d459861e80d2453bacfb

• Another of the only few characters who were actually made Earls post-conquest.
• As Hereford is still the property of the Earl of Mercia, once it's revoked after the rebellion, will be given to William and made its primary title.
• Gave him the Isle of Wight as his primary residence was Carisbrooke Castle IRL.
• Also gave him Gloucestershire and Oxfordshire as it's recorded he was given major land holdings in these counties.
• Gave him the architect trait as he is mentioned to have been a major castle builder in England, especially in Gloucestershire, Hereford, and Wight.
• Not only was he granted charters to build castles, but he was also ordered to oversee peace in rebellious parts of England and fought in the battle of Hasting so gave the Overseer trait as well.
• Made him friends with William I and the loyal trait.
• As his father before him, he was a ducal steward of Normandy and made him Steward of England as well as giving him the Golden Sovereign trait - stewardship education level 5 and the Renowned Steward trait from Councillor experience traits mod by slaneche. Also, gave him high prowess and martial traits and skill as he was a proven warrior as well.
• Not only was he granted charters to build castles, but he was also ordered to oversee peace in rebellious parts of England and fought in the battle of Hastings so gave the Overseer trait as well.
• Couldn´t find him in the game so took a random Norman low-born and briefly granted him a barony to elevate him and changed his dynasty name, age, and traits to match history.

​
Hugh de Montfort, Earl of Hampshire (Winchester)
https://preview.redd.it/h04ucsim599c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=f30fc6a742b516f334e562bfde5a576958466aa9

• Hugh was not actually made earl but it's said he was installed at Winchester so decided to grant him this title.
• Made him friends with William I and the loyal trait, as he was a confirmed companion of The Conqueror
• Gave him the Marshal trait from the aforementioned trait as he is said to be the constable of Normandy and thus made him Marshal of England as well.
• Gave him the Marshal trait with the councillor experience trait mod.
• Not much is known about him but from what I mentioned, gave him personality traits and skills to match what we do know.

​
Henry de Ferrers, Earl of Wiltshire and Berkshire:
https://preview.redd.it/qtnsinek799c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=42aff85d5a36196e1710c7e7af1ff322e357eaa9

• The game gave him automatically the Barony of Totnes after the conquest was won but found no record of this. Instead found that he was granted the extensive lands of the former sheriff of Berkshire and Wiltshire, thus I gave him those counties. Also found he was later granted lands in Stafford and built a castle there but decided there was another character worthy of that county (and it´s still the property of the Earl of Mercia).
• Gave him the administrator and diligent traits as he was known for his administrative capacities and being a magnate of the time.

​
William de Mohun, Earl of Somerset and Devon:
https://preview.redd.it/447ctb60899c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=d8886ba65049b463a4ca870853edf756077ace88

• He was made 1st feudal baron of Somerset and later his son became the first actual Earl of Somerset, thus naturally gave him the county. Additionally found that most of his land holdings were in Dorset so gave him that county as well.
• Couldn´t find the character in the game so did the same as William FitzOsbern
• Not much is known of him so didn't change anything of the traits and skill the character had.

​
William (FitzGilbert) de Brionne, Earl of Devon:
https://preview.redd.it/xvzaaldq899c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=c75b9a7c181672824738c4c8b94db6456f8ba5e8

• William wasn´t made Earl of Devon but he was granted the largest fiefdom in Devon and the tenant-in-chief of the county, thus gave him the earldom.
• Not much is known of him, so left his personality traits and skills like the character in the game.

​
Cadoc of Cornwall:
https://preview.redd.it/cearr5hnf99c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=2ab659fa03650ce794e62d8b9df253e8f318b854

• The game gives William I the county after the conquest but it is said that Cadoc was the holder of the county pre-conquest and paid homage to keep it. Thus gave him the earldom and sent him to pay homage bestowing gifts to the king.
• Similarly to other characters, not much is known about him so left him as Paradoz created him but added the ambitious trait as he revolted against the king in 1068.
• Not completely accurate but for gameplay reasons, added Harold Godwinson´s mother and three sons and started a claimant faction for Godwin Haroldson's claim on England by Cadoc. This revolt actually happened in Exeter, Devon but since the Earl of Devon is William de Brionne, a loyal supporter of William, and Cadoc does join the siege, I will make him the leader of the faction.

Brian of Brittany:
https://preview.redd.it/2jwn8vjko99c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=cbb11c7c8eecdcf8b7d48c42ab7b9fcbbb511b02

• As mentioned, in 1068, it's said that Cadoc of Cornwall joined the Siege of Exeter in revolt against Norman rule and then was revoked the earldom of Cornwall and then given to Brian, son of the Count of Penthievre and brother of Alan the Red and the Black.
• Changed his stewardship education to the same level of the martial education trait, and added a bit of prowess as it's said he fought in the service with William I.
• Not sure if this is the same Brian as this one is a Bastard called Briac and was about 20 years older than the Brian in the records. Thus, reduced his age but left the bastard trait.
• After the revolt in 1068 happened, I will revoke Cornwall to Cadoc and give it to Brian.

​
Waltheof, Earl of Northampton and Huntingdon:
https://preview.redd.it/yfxf792nc99c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=4726f51ff5747b4254a240e220df626ee3ddbded

• Very similarly to Cadoc, he paid homage to King William to keep his governing lands in Northampton and Huntingdon thus I sent him to bestow gifts to William I. However, unlike Cadoc, Paradox did actually let him keep his titles after the conquest and a direct vassal of the king.
• He was known to have had a learning education and was devoted and generous, thus gave him the Astute Intellectual trait- learning education level 3, and the zealous and generous traits. He had the ambitious and deceitful trait at the game start, which I´m not sure is historical but decided to keep it as he did revolted twice against the King.
• Betrothed him to Judith, King William´s niece by his sister Adelaide, as they married later.

​
Ralf de Gael, Earl of East Anglia:
https://preview.redd.it/cmusset4g99c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=a64f60549b8f600d02d69367a1048fa67e7a442c

• Granted him the duchy of east anglia as those lands were his by inheritance and granted by William after the conquest.
• Used the Custom Title Form of Address mod by TerraPass to change the title from Duke to Earl as there were no Dukes in England yet.
• He is said to have fought bravely in the battle of Hastings so gave him the brave traits, martial education level 3, and good prowess. Left the rest of these traits and skills as the game intended.
• Betrothed him to Emma, the daughter of William FitzOsbern as they married later, and was a very controversial marriage of the time.

​
Raoul of Tosny:
https://preview.redd.it/3ljzd76rba9c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=04158e623f755e8650c5268ad14f6e03d74f9b70

• Raoul is one of the confirmed companions who fought with Wiliam I in the invasion thus made him friends with him and gave him good prowess and average martial as there is not much information regarding him.
• He was far from being an Earl but he was granted many holdings in Hertfordshire and had his seat there so I decided to make him the Earl of Hertford.
• Aged him 11 years to make it more historically accurate and betrothed him to Isabel, Simon de Montfort´s daughter as they actually married later.

Geoffrey de Mandeville:
https://preview.redd.it/a3nn32hfda9c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=efb831c24e31b21320cbb0f4b626e675a75e54ae

• There is not much about his person so I left him as the game created him.
• Since he was one of the largest tenants-in-chief in England post-conquest and most of his estates were in Essex and his descendants became the Earls of Essex, naturally I gave the Earldom.

​
Walter Giffard:
https://preview.redd.it/igkfxw3jea9c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=04fc886fffee75663000f7da34eafad3238316ee

• There isn´t much information either about him other than he was an old but mighty Christian warrior that fought in the Iberian reconquista and later a companion of King William, thus made him his friend
• Remove level 1 stewardship and gave him level 3 martial education, full legendary blademaster, loyal and brave traits.
• He was not made Earl but was made a feudal baron of extensive holdings in Buckinghamshire and his son was later made Earl, historically. Naturally, I gave him the earldom.

Robert de Beaumont, Earl of Leicester:
https://preview.redd.it/tff3od55sa9c1.png?width=1920&format=png&auto=webp&s=813df61db549254257787da61645d9b554e00e12

• Since Leicestershire and most of the Midlands are still the property of Edwin of Mercia, I can´t give Robert any counties there but once the rebellion is done and revoked all those counties. I will give him the Earldom of Leicester and probably Warwick, and Worcester as well unless I find there were any other rulers for this lands.
• Roger is stated to be the wisest man of his age thus I decided to give him the learning education level 5 trait, shrewd, intelligent, and wise-man traits (with no xp as he still young).
• Additionally, gave him the loyal trait and made him friends with the king as he is known to be one of his most loyal supporters since the invasion.
• There is no record of him actually being Chancellor of William but it's said that he was a valued councillor so I decided to make him the king´s Chancellor.

That´s it for Part 1 as Reddit only lets me have 20 images in one post.
​

You died and was given a choice by a higher being to be reborn to a world of combination of fantasy and sci-fi in which magic is based on 7 elements (Fire, Earth, Water, Wind, Light, Dark, Lightning and derivatives like ice, wood, metal, etc.) and Non-elemental ones (like body and mind buff, superhuman strength, but no mind control or reading and immortality nor cloning magic, creation magic) which uses the scattered psions around the air and concentration of psionic energy in certain locations like volcanoes, springs, ancient ruins, forests etc.).
In terms of technology, it is futuristic in which there are nanobots used in medicine, military and self-healing, advanced cell regeneration, robotics and weaponry such as lasers, plasma, rail and coil guns, AI and man working together, fusion power plants, exo-skeleton suits.
In utilizing magic, mages must have a catalyst to unleash their power like a staff, ring, bracelet, gauntlet, sword, gun etc. Magic is mostly learned in High schools ,Military Academies and Universities that offered degrees and specializations.
Any learner of magic will be examined by their psionic potential in special laboratories like checking their psionic capacity ,magic specialty etc. and once qualified, instructors will taught them how to manifest it through the use of mediums (without a medium, magic will be slower to manifest) with set of programs of spells in which it includes learning an Ancient Human language similar to Classical Chinese (humans developed magic in this world) that requires memorizations of thousands of characters and magical circles. 1 in 100 people can have a magic potential.
Magicians can be ranked in ascending Order as: Student Mage-Apprentice Mage-Novice Mage-Assistant Mage-Full Mage-Veteran Mage-Elite Mage-Archmage-Supreme Archmage.
Level of magic spells have 8 levels in which there are only few who can use level 8 (strategic class magic) magic.
In military, the world used both magic and tech. and there are creatures such as dragons (fire and ice), gryphons, pegasus, unicorn, manticores and chimera. In vechicles, there are floating large fortresses, mechs. (bulky, sleek and organic design like in Red Alert 3, Supreme Commander, Iron Harvest and Civilization Beyond Earth), walking churches (like the Imperator Titan in 40k,lol), literally stealth fightebombers.
Most of the world's affairs is concentrated to the Supercontinent of Sancta Terra (which is shaped like an irregular diamond with some large islands adjacent to it), the largest and richest continent with diverse flora and fauna and sentient species composed of Humanity, Elves, and beast people (more human like in appearance: there are cat, dog, wolf, fox, lion, tiger people). Humanity leads in terms of science and technology, but while they are the ones of discovered and developed magic, the elves made greater advancements to it due to their higher psionic capacity and longer life (mostly 1.8 to 2.5 times that of human lifespan of 120 years).
Now as someone will be reborn, here are the 5 major nations that the being wants you to choose:

1. The Military Republic of the United Socialist States of Mars: A military dictatorship in which is one of the great powers in the continent, located to the North section of the continent (with temperate to polar climate). It is one of the most industrialized and the most militarized country with high output in heavy industries, minerals and fuel resources. Its way of life is mostly militaristic in which people from age 10 to 80 are required for military training, its magic is specialized only for military use and it uses military vehicle designs of bulky and heavily armored appearance. While a republic with socialism in theory, in reality it is jointly ruled by the Grand Marshal of the Army and Supreme Fleet Admiral of the navy and the military is above all else aside from liberation of the proletariat. It's a human supremacist country with military doctrine of mostly human wave tactics (as they have a population of 200 million) and has the most nukes, mostly used projectile weapons (easy to use but bulky). If chosen, you will be reborn as a son/daughter of a retired colonel from his concubine, will face initially discrimination sent to the gulag coal mine, but you will have a high potential in superhuman strength with minimal elemental magical power.
2. Holy Church of Saint Aetheria. a Theocratic nation headed by the Supreme Archpriest as its spiritual leader and Supreme Judge while other aspects like civil affairs is delegated to a chosen "King" (like the Prime Minister in our world). Its a multispecies nation located at the southeast of the continent (with mostly temperate climate). The nation is home of some of the most powerful magicians and Holy Knights in the continent, enforcing the faith called Aetherian church that believes in equality to all. The church is mostly tolerant in scientific and magical studies in contrast to typical fanatical and close minded church of other nations. Its military is composed of the Holy Knights (the most elite and well trained troops) and Holy Army and Pontifical Navy (regular forces), the standard weapon is a plasma rifle (slow but powerful) but it does not have nukes (as the people and the church don't like it), instead it have its large mechs called "Itinerant Cathedrals" armed with various weapons . If chosen, you will be reborn as a son/daughter of a fallen Cardinal Priest due to corruption and as a family member, forced to serve as a cleric assistant in the countryside of only 100 people, you will have magic but it will be of average. The nation is mostly agricultural with few industrial and scientific centers.
3. Schwarzritter Empire: Located at the central part of the Continent, a landlocked Feudal Nation in which nobles have more power than the Imperial Family with granted semi-autonomy. Its an empire in which all elves with magical power (as well as strong beast people) have no choice but to serve the military. The Imperial family's power was mostly confined at the capital, Imperial cities and Provinces. There are 5 ducal families that are the de-facto rulers of the empire and the ones who created policies for it without consultation to the people. The Parliament is mostly rubber stamp. While feudal and agricultural, the empire is surprisingly has a high standard of living thanks to the Imperial Universities and Imperial Cities of Magic and Technologies that created inventions, discoveries for the empire which it used for export, but with growing corruption and pressures from other nations, it will be a matter of time when will the empire collapse. The empire's military is composed of the Imperial Army and the respective feudal armies of lords (mostly used laser rifles) and it also have a decent amount of nukes but the empire created the floating fortresses and castles to defend itself. It also emphasized the use of mechs over wheeled vehicles in military and commercial aspects due to aesthetic reasons and the Empire's borders are mostly rocky mountains and rugged terrain. If chosen, you will be reborn as the son/daughter of the emperor who is chosen as the Crown Prince/Princess with high magical power (mostly ice and water magic) and average physical power but with good rizz.
4. Shogunate of the Moon: A militaristic nation located at the Island of Tsuki, east of the continent, its an export driven nation of high technologies and magical tools. Its a human majority nation (except neko, kitsune, tora, shishi, inu and okami islands in its south and the elf tribes at the north of nation). Its national power is emphasized through its naval might of its battleships, submarines and creatures such as the Kraken and the Yamata no Orochi (an eight headed dragon monster) and mechs capable of transforming into other vehicles. It possessed some of the best electronics, robotics and computer technologies in the world. In this nation, the people have a high standard of living but with required conscription of 3 years, don't have nukes but possessed some of the most dangerous magicians and machines that can cause havoc as powerful as a nuke. Military composed of Army and Navy in which the navy is prioritized and most servicemen used standard plasma rifles. If chosen, you will be reborn as an orphan with potential in fire magic but currently working as a salaryman/woman in a black company.
5. Kingdom of the Holy tree: An elven Kingdom of mostly forested area but its location has most of the sacred springs (100) of high magical power in any nation in the world. Its located west of the continent bordering the Schwarzritter empire. With high concentration of magic in hand, the elves used it to search any new kinds of magic, create magical golems that can match those of humans. Majority of the people here are elves with minor humans and beastmen people. The government is a Monarchy in which females dominated the government and military command while males dominated the Clergy and regular workforce. In essence, elven females usually have more powerful offensive magic than their male counterparts who in turn mostly possessed healing, defensive and practical magic uses. The elves used magical bows and crossbows instead of rifles. The elves developed their magical golems with shapes of treants and of their knights that can be used in siege of towns, cities etc. If chosen, you will be reborn as the son/daughter of an elf knight with excellent skills in archery and decent magical power.

Here are the others if random:

1. Minor Kingdoms, republics, nations: If you choose random, like you will have OP powers but you will only live for 20 years or have incurable disease. If born a King, you will be just an average person but loved by the people. A slave or gladiator slave with powerful elemental magic but can't use it due to magic tools that hinder it, but can potentially do a Spartacus revolt if carefully planned (but if not, you will be just crucified by Crassus).