| | Next

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Hall of Champions. Victor’s Square. Local Time: 1245 Hours.

Thalmin

There was something behind that door that drew me forwards without hesitation — a power so tempting and an aura so intoxicating that I found myself hastening my stride — my hand reaching eagerly with an impatient grip.

CREEEAAAKKKKK! THOOM!

I was right.

I was… more than right.

“Oh. Oh wow…” I managed out under a stuttering breath. “She… she truly is a sight to behold.” I continued, awestricken and swept up by a wave of inexplicable infatuation.

“In all my years as a warrior, a commander, a… collector and appraiser of all matters exotic, striking, and exceptional… none could come close— nay. None can even compare with what lies before us today, Emma.” I beamed brightly, gesturing, smiling, practically pouring my heart over a sight so tantilizing… it rivaled any I’d ever laid my eyes or hands on.

It was in times such as this that I wished for the absence of Emma’s faceplate. As I yearned to see her expression, her first impressions of this spectacular sight.

“I have to say… I never thought you’d be drawn to something with so much heft, Thalmin.” She finally spoke but eventually shrugged. “Not judging, of course. You’re clearly strong enough to handle it. And I’d be lying if I didn’t agree with you. She truly is quite stunning.” Emma whistled out, reaching out to grab her by the hilt only for me to pull my new property away from her.

“Allow me to show you how it’s done…” I growled out in a playful display of dominance, reaching into the platform and grasping her thick hilt gently.

I could feel the surge of power the instant my fingertips graced the tightly wrapped leather, the beautifully bound lace, and the ribbon at its tip. My whole body bristled with a primal sort of excitement as my fur stood up on edge from tailtip to eartip.

I breathed in deeply, steadying myself.

It was almost like she was made for me.

And indeed, that was probably the intent behind this whole affair.

I grinned, eyeing the contraption beside her pedestal with a wild grin.

Then I turned to Emma, who simply shrugged in my direction.

“So are you going to do this or not?” She urged, testing my convictions and my physical fortitude.

“Yes.” I responded resolutely, lifting the hilt up high above my head before finally—

Thwwoooooooooooooooshhhhhhhh!

THWACK!

I brought the warhammer down.

The base of the structure practically caved in, its magical energy shooting towards the impossible weight lying in wait, propelling it directly up and towards the milestone bells.

DING DING DING

Each ring struck brought pulse after pulse of light as the sound of progress filled the air, each more bedazzling than the last. Conversely, the weight slowly lost its magical luster, slowing down with each bell rung.

I could tell at this rate where the weight would cease.

DING

But I tensed in close observation, willing the fates for the weight to fly just that little bit higher.

DING

Just a little bit further…

DING—KA-CHUNK!

The final bell was struck. Magical streaks exploded from this milestone as a small firespear show manifested immediately behind it; a sonorous ringing filled the Victor’s Square in the process.

“HAHA! YES! SEE?! I TOLD YOU I COULD MASTER ITS STRENGTH!” I claimed profoundly with a proud grin.

“Impressive.” Emma replied, her armor’s muted blank stare fixated still on the weight as it fell. “Though I still don’t buy its claims.”

“What?” As I said that, the impossible weight returned a quaking thud, blowing my cape over my face.

“Well… forgive me if I’m just a biiiit skeptical when an artifact claims to be, and I quote, ‘The Breaker of 40,000 Chains.’” She made an effort to kneel down to the plaque next to the pedestal, one of many flanking the red carpeted entrance into the Victor’s Square proper. 

“Oh, its raw potential has most certainly been muted for purposes of interaction and display, Emma.” I chuckled. “But suffice it to say, this warhammer is truly an artifact of legend. I have read as such in my forays into the subject! Some scholars even say that in the right hands, it has the power to crack open whole continents. And some would even claim that its title — the Breaker of 40,000 Chains — carries more weight than it does bluster.” 

“In the words of many of my superiors and professors back home, citation desperately needed.” The earthrealmer countered, garnering but a dismissive chuckle from me.

“I accept your challenge.” I grinned back cheekily, garnering a cock of Emma’s armored head. “Consider it an exchange of records. Your presentation on Earthrealm weaponry, for a sight-seer documenting the fullest potential of these legendary weapons!” 

“That… is certainly a fair trade. I accept the amended conditions.” Emma nodded, prompting me to quickly drag her to the next artifact on display.

“Then let us make haste! The professors have provided us with a veritable feast of artifacts with which to admire and test! Had I been informed earlier, I would have absconded breakfast, lunch, and even that debriefing!” I found myself speaking at an increasing pace, effortlessly taking the mantle of Emma’s overexcitable orations, as I raced around what amounted to a museum’s worth of wonders; a curated series of displays clustered around the entrance of the Victor’s Corner. 

I darted from pedestal to pedestal, plinth to plinth, my eyes only momentarily taking into account the rest of the room’s inhabitants in between each excitable sprint. They barely registered in the grand scheme of things, paling in comparison to the great many artifacts belonging to either former questors or brought back as spoils from the wilds.

My sights soon landed on one of the more unassuming weapons on display, my gaze bouncing between the legendary article in question and the inextricably linked shooting gallery next to it just begging to be used.

“A bow?” Emma questioned unenthusiastically.

“Not just any mere bow.” I countered, pointing at the plaque beneath the plinth. “This admittedly tempered artifact hails from a particularly fascinating lineage of weapons known as the HeartWroughts. Unlike most artificed or enchanted weapons, they draw both power and potential not from latent manastreams or internal manavials, but instead through the wielder themselves. But Thalmin, I hear you ask, why and how is this any different from the casting of a spell? Is this not simply a roundabout means of spellcasting? Why… yes, it is. But not quite. For you see, the enchantments within merely interpret the state of your aura, your emotional potential. Through carefully inlaid filigrees, chiseled, cast, and spun within the heart of the weapon, it simply uses your aura as a siphon, powering its own attacks through the will of the user.” I rattled on, going through what should have been fundamental principles but to most — and especially Emma — probably resembled the bookish esotericisms of a hermit scholar. 

“Fascinating.” Emma replied politely, as I felt at that moment, a complete reversal of roles spurred on by my proximity to these legendary articles,; these weapons once only accessible through the pages of a sight-seer. “Let’s see it then.” She continued, turning to me with an expectant cock of her hip. “Try it.”

Cynthis

…

A warhammer?

And a bejeweled bow?!

That’s what he was immediately drawn to?!!

THAT’S what he leaped to along with his… mutinous partner?!

No.

No no.

Calm down, Lady Cynthis.

He is a simple man after all.

An exquisite specimen by all measures, yes.

But that simple-mindedness had a tendency to both overrule and overpower his otherwise roguish and princely aura.

My smile returned as a barely perceptible breath left my lips.

Yes. This is a good sign. If the lupinor truly is that simple-minded, then he will be as clay is to a seasoned potter. This is excellent. This is ideal. This will come into play when the vows are exchanged and our hands are crossed in eternal matrimony.

But I couldn’t wait any longer.

There comes a time where patience becomes inaction, and that time is fast arriving.

So I moved to draw his attention, motioning for my attendants to fetch both perfume and refreshments to my palanquin and repositioning myself to lounge across it, causing the bells attached all along my tail to jingle with the call of a siren.

And it worked.

The lupinor’s gaze shifted to my presence, his eyes devouring my very being. Right before he let that arrow fly, the once fiery projectile quickly turned into this cold, brittle shaft that shattered on impact on the target it was aimed for.

I smiled.

Yes.

I’d managed to — if only momentarily — affect the prince’s inner desires.

I had curtailed his warrior’s fire, tempered it with a cooling gale, and soothed the savage wildman with nothing but the frigid look of a beauty unmatched.

I had, in no uncertain terms, caught his attention… and ensnared his wild heart.

Those awestruck eyes said it all.

Thalmin

I starred… blankly… frustratingly… at a target still standing unscathed, from a shot ruined by an unexpected distraction.

“Erm, Thalmin, you okay there?” Emma inquired just as I snapped out of that disappointing shot with a frustrated growl. “It really looked like you were gearing for a fiery shot there, why’d you shift to an ice one?” 

“Something sent chills up my spine Emma.” I answered plainly before gesturing at the offending party. “Or more specifically, someone managed to shake me to my core.”

“Ah.” Came Emma’s reply as she attempted to peer behind the row of artifacts towards the offending noble in question. “Yeah, I’d be distracted too given all that shiny jewelry. But hey! Think you can manage another one though?” She urged, prompting the bow within my hands to once more burn with the flames of a phoenix reborn. 

“Yes.” I nodded slowly, my confidence and resolve returning in short order. “I think that can be arranged.”

Cynthis

No.

Did that newrealmer just—

No, that’s impossible.

His flame returned.

His fire.

Had I misinterpreted his prior reactions?

Had I—

TWANG!

THWOOOOOSH!

FWWOOOOOOSHHHH!

…

The target in question erupted in a ball of flames.

A series of uproarious cheers erupted from between the pair… and of course… the busybody Viscount Gumigo.

“A brilliant show from Prince Thalmin! A round of applause, please!” He attempted to spur on.

Though to my satisfaction, nobody joined in.

Only the jeers, cheers, and hollers of the inane and backwards filled the open concourse.

What’s more, my attention was now firmly sequestered on the flame which lit the prince’s bow, and by extension, his heart.

…

One could, of course, interpret this whole affair in a far more favorable light.

Perhaps the fire and flames didn’t equate to the fires of passion stoked within his heart.

Perhaps it merely represented the unkempt heat of barbarism, spurred on by the agent of backwardness, as what better catalyst existed than the agent of primitivism herself — the newrealmer?

His arrow of ice was antithetical to this.

It represented a cooling of this unkempt fire, a tempering of his baser instincts, and a taming of the unruly beast within.

This…

This had to be the way of things.

For the only alternative, the only other explanation to the contrary… was unacceptable.

The newrealmer could not have had such an effect on him.

She wasn’t even nobility.

And for Prince Thalmin to have regarded my inviting gaze with ice and scorn? 

That…

That was simply impossible.

It was at the crux of these thoughts that I finally knew I had to make my second move.

I’d ensnared him with a simple gaze, yes.

But now I needed to ‘reel him in,’ as the commoners would say.

JINGLE!

I ordered my palanquin forward.

I adjusted my lean, my pose, and the position of all my jewels, such that there would be naught an item of wealth and status that remained hidden and unseen.

I made known my presence from a distance, even as the prince feigned ignorance in his incessant ramblings.

His words, his simple obsessions over these trifling and dusty artifacts, all blended into the background as I halted his advance through the gallery of forgettable trinkets. 

I had made my move.

Now was the prince’s turn to make his.

As I sat there, lazing on my throne of bedazzling cushions, I stared up at an armored lupinor like a damsel waiting for her prince.

Thalmin

…

I could go around.

This was an open space.

While she blocked the path ahead, there were empty spaces between each plinth and exhibit with which to navigate.

For a moment, however, I found myself unable to move, her perfumes overpowering my senses, prompting me to turn away just as she was attempting to draw my gaze with a flutter of those fake eyelashes.

With a nod to Emma, we started to move, darting left between two exhibits and then returning back to the red carpet behind the palanquin.

Cynthis

Ah.

This game.

The prince was more playful than I thought.

With a giggle and another snap of my fingers, I found my palanquin moving yet again. This time, matching the prince’s casual steps…

Then his pacing…

And eventually, his sprints as he moved away from the gallery and towards the Victor’s Arcade where everyone else was gathered.

It was entertaining at first.

But frustration soon grew as the prince continued to ignore eye contact until finally…

I had to make my third move.

“Oh Prince Havenbrock~” I said softly. “Might I interest you in an exchange of tales? I imagine you have quite a few stories to share from your adventures in the Nexian wilds, hmm?” 

“Not really, no.” He responded bluntly.

…

I felt my features stiffen.

My face, whilst retaining its smile and warmth, shattered behind that mask.

W-what did he mean by this?

Was this some other game? Some other attempt to— 

No. 

I had to do something!

“Oh! Humility! Why, Prince Havenbrock, there is no need for that!” I attempted to reclaim the momentum, clamoring up towards the peak of my summit. “After all, I would consider myself something of a raconteur myself — and, by extension, a gracious host! So please, rest easy… and maybe—” I paused, before moving gently into a cross-legged kneel, gesturing towards the now-empty patch of upholstery next to me. “—consider resting next to me?” 

I did everything mother and grandmother taught me.

I kept my smile strong.

I swayed my tail gracefully. The bells, ornaments, and various baubles attached to them forming a graceful lullaby which any male would find irresistible.

I even curated my gaze, fluttered my eyebrows, and committed to a song and dance of courtly measure that I’d spent an untold number of hours practicing, honing….

And it was clear it was working.

The prince’s eyes softened, his gaze shifted, and his head cocked every so slightly between my eyes and my hand gently caressing the open patch of velvet right next to me — still warm to the touch.

“I…”

“I think we’re good, Lady Cynthis! Thalmin and I were just on our way to Lord Qiv’Ratom’s bapycara exhibit!” 

!!!!

And with that… the spell was broken.

I watched in shock, in anger, in disbelief as victory was snatched away from me by this audacious, worthless newrealm tras—

I took my first breath.

My first real breath of the entire day.

The magic was broken.

The fantasy was ruined.

The carefully laid efforts of ceremony and tradition were shattered.

And all of this — I gripped my dress tightly — now lay in tatters.

I laid back on my palanquin once more, staring forlornly at the uneaten cakes and the tea set still waiting to be poured.

“ATTENTION ALL QUEST GOERS, PLEASE BE AWARE YOU HAVE LESS THAN ONE HOUR TO PREPARE FOR THE CLOSING CEREMONY!”

…

There was always another day.

And there would be… ways… to make this work.

I turned to Ping, if only momentarily.

Perhaps the newrealmer was more a nuisance than I’d initially considered.

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. Hall of Champions. Victor’s Square. Local Time: 1700 Hours.

Emma

There were times when I’d forgotten the false pretenses of this whole operation.

Even now, in the midst of celebrations reiterating the importance of our ‘quest,’ did I find myself unable to reconcile that gap between the supposed ‘questline’ we undertook and the more pressing developments we’d inevitably triggered. 

Foraging for flowers ended up giving off the same impression as a forgotten sidequest picked up at the tutorial of a game, and the way we managed to actually acquire them didn’t help with that notion either.

Regardless, the importance of this whole charade really started dawning on us once Belnor’s grand celebrations kicked into high gear.

It started simply enough. An opening speech by Belnor herself, then a standing ovation to all of the successful questors — surprise, surprise, everyone succeeded — with a particular round of applause reserved for the first five to arrive.

Then came the partying — feasts, drinks, and even more feasts — the likes of which were dominated by Ilunor and Rostario both attempting to out-orate each other in an epic sonnet battle that lasted for longer than my entire debrief…

All of this culminated in the most bizarre aspect of the whole thing — a musical performed by the top three questing groups, all regaling the crowd with their version of the original Everblooming Blossom Quest.

Yet as amusing as their game was to watch, I couldn’t help but to feel a cold chill crawling up my back, made worse by the suit’s panoramic vision giving me a clear view of the everpresent glare from a certain cheetah.

“I can only fathom her aims, Emma.” He began with a sullen sigh. “Though I cannot imagine that these outlandish courting rituals bode well for my prospects at discretion and any hopes at maintaining inconspicuousness.” The prince paused, an apologetic expression growing across his features.

“On one hand, it’s kinda creepy.” I began. “On the other hand, I can’t help but feel sorry for her. She looked so… desperate to get your approval. I can only imagine what’s driving her to do that.” I offered sympathetically.

“Some realms seem to place particular emphasis on lastborns, especially those furthest away from any lineal claim towards this path. Whilst others simply see this as an integral aspect of their duty. Either way, let us not dwell on her… peculiar form of the chase. She will tire eventually. There are far, far more appealing suitors for her to choose from within our ranks, after all.”

“I suppose.” I shrugged. “But don’t sell yourself short, Thalmin. You’re, you know, pretty high up there on the ‘suitor’ list yourself!” 

Thalmin narrowed his eyes at me at this comment, prompting me to just shrug. “It’s a compliment, I’m not here to take a jab at the annulled proposal or your preexisting relationship with Asva.” 

“I… appreciate the sentiments, Emma.” Thalmin finally responded, shrugging in confusion. 

A small lull in the conversation promptly followed, and despite the presence of the ongoing musical, Ilunor’s epic sonnet battle, and a whole host of carnival-esque rustic music playing in the background, a sense of unnerving silence finally descended on us that I couldn’t really shake.

“So… what now?” I asked Thalmin.

“At present? There’s the matter of the donation ceremonies. The Everblooming Blossoms will be donated to apothecaries and healers all across Transgracia. Following that, there’s going to be the typical Nexian song and dance of fealty, patronage, gratitude, and the like. After which? Well… That’s for you to determine, Emma.”