It turned out the so-called "waiting area" was really just an interrogation room. I couldn't think of any other way to describe the cramped, claustrophobic space. Every detail screamed police procedural cliché: a one-way mirror taking up most of one wall, a camera Link glowing in the corner, and two uncomfortable chairs flanking a small metal table bolted to the floor.
As the minutes ticked by, my nerves ratcheted higher. I hadn't done anything illegal, and my paperwork was all in order. Of that I was certain. Materiel had driven that need into my thick skull with an object lesson I would never forget. An involuntary chill ran up my spine as I thought of that poor mouse.
In the world of Erda world, the notion of equal rights was shaky at best, but at least the Federation's guaranteed protections went farther than most places. It meant the Dragoons couldn't hold me indefinitely, but they could stall me long enough to miss the gala if they wanted. That spiteful goblin girl probably would, if she could justify it to her superiors.
So I waited, pacing around the small room, trying to ignore the tightening walls and the gurgle of water pipes. Dark memories threatened to surface, of another room just like this, of broken promises and hollow eyes, of the end of everything I'd once been. I fought the rising tide of panic by counting the seconds in my head, though that hardly helped. The time system here still threw me off: eighty-minute hours, eighty-second minutes, a quarter shorter than what I was used to. At least the day itself was still twenty-four hours long, even if it was a third longer by my old reckoning.
Finally, the door creaked open, admitting a shapely Kitsune officer. One white, bushy tail swayed hypnotically behind her, and her fox-like ears stood at attentive angles atop her head. I'd never actually seen a Kitsune before; they were one of the Beastkin lineages who kept to themselves, mainly in the old world's far eastern Nipponese Home Islands. But then again, if there was one city where you could find nearly any Kindred, it was New Londinium.
I wasn't well versed in Federation military insignia, but one look at the Kitsune officer's uniform told me she outranked anyone I'd expected to see. By my rough estimate, she was at least a Bannerlady of C-Rank Magical Ability, equivalent to an OF- 4 on a NATO scale. Something about the way she studied me set my nerves on edge, like I was a wounded rabbit sprawled out before a starving fox.
"Ara, ara, I have to say I'm pleasantly surprised," she purred, grinning so broadly I half-expected her to sprout fangs. "The girls weren't exaggerating. Aren't you just the juiciest morsel lucky enough to become our guest?"
"Is that what I am? A guest?" I countered, raising an eyebrow. "It's rather poor hospitality to keep your guest locked away in a cramped room with no refreshments, don't you think?"
She only smiled wider. "Now, we certainly can't have that. What would people say if they thought Her Majesty's Dragoons were terrible hosts?" She cast a meaningful glance at the one-way mirror. "Shieldbearer, be a dear and fetch our guest something to eat and drink from the mess."
She then turned back to me, her expression cooling. "As for whether you're truly our guest, that remains to be seen. Please, take a seat. We have plenty to discuss."
There was no point refusing, so I settled into the uncomfortable metal chair across from her. She followed suit, placing her hands neatly on the table.
"I'm Bannerlady Tomae, deputy in charge of this palace's Dragoon contingent," she announced, clearly proud of the title. "The chief officer on duty tonight for our little soiree."
"Shouldn't you be doing something more important than wasting your time on me?" I asked, trying not to sound as uneasy as I felt.
She shrugged, radiating cool confidence. "Normally, I'd delegate a chat like this to a subordinate. But riding a desk all day can get dreadfully dull, and when something—or someone—interesting lands in my lap, I can't resist. It keeps my people alert…and keeps my own talents from getting rusty."
"Surely I can't be that interesting," I protested. "I'm just a bartender."
She leaned forward, lips curving into a predatory smile. "My boy, you're the most intriguing puzzle I've come across since I was posted here."
With a graceful sweep of her hand, the lights shifted, and a projection flickered into view over the tabletop. It was my Link-verified identification, taken a few years back. Besides my hair having grown out, I didn't look much different. The Kitsune watched me intently, clearly pleased to show off her Kin's renowned illusion magic.
"John," she began, her tone now brisk and businesslike. "No registered family or chosen surname. Twenty-eight-year-old human male. Six-foot-six, iridescent eyes and hair, tanned skin, muscular build. No power level or mana profile on record. Resident of New Londinium's Sixth Borough for the past five years. Employed by S&K Limited for four of those. You were granted citizenship through the Anthos Mandate two years ago following a three-year residency, and granted emancipation at the same time. No known partners or children. No additional records on file."
She paused, letting the list of bullet points hang in the air like a challenge. I could sense the question hovering behind that smug gaze. How had someone with so little on paper become an object of such keen interest? But before she could ask, the Valkyrie who had escorted me entered the room. Two small mugs of steaming Kava in one hand and a bag of dried lentils in the other.
She set down two steaming mugs and a small plate of snacks. The drink, a caffeine stimulant was a military necessity, smelled strongly of anise, a flavor close to black licorice, definitely an acquired taste if there ever was one. The Valkyrie's gaze flicked to me, and her eyes reflected a rare empathy that could've melted stone.
"Very good. You have my permission to leave," Bannerlady Tomae ordered, her tone clipped and dismissive.
But the Valkyrie lingered, the tension between her and Tomae thick enough to taste. She stared at the Kitsune with a barely veiled hatred, as though she might leap over the table and throttle her.
"Are you deaf, Shieldbearer?" Tomae's voice hardened. "Leave now or do I need to add another reprimand to your file?"
For a moment, the Valkyrie seemed to wrestle with herself. Then she pounded her chest in a sharp salute and, with clear reluctance, marched to the door.
"Oh, and one more thing stand guard outside. See that we aren't disturbed," Tomae added, letting the edge in her voice sharpen further. "And to be crystal clear: that is an order."
The door slammed behind the departing Valkyrie, prompting Tomae to shake her head in exasperation.
"I swear the Dragoons' standards drop every year," she muttered. Then she turned back to me, gesturing at the mugs. "Please, drink. The Kava here is one of the few perks of being posted at the palace, it's grades above the swill they dole out to the rest of the rank and file."
She lifted one cup to her lips, inhaling the licorice-like aroma. I eyed the other mug but hesitated.
"I'll pass for now," I said softly, keeping my tone neutral.
"Suit yourself," the Kitsune said, tipping the mug to her lips, her fangs visible. She frowned slightly at the rising steam, breathed in the heat, letting it cool to her liking, and then took a deeper swallow.
"Now, where were we?" she continued, an air of smugness creeping into her voice. "Ah, yes, you were about to tell me why you're trying to infiltrate the palace." As she spoke, the hovering projection faded away, leaving no trace of the accusation but her piercing stare.
"I'm not infiltrating anything," I shot back. "I'm working a vendor stand tonight."
"Working a vendor stand," she echoed, her tone laced with disbelief. "How convenient for a saboteur. Did you really think the Dragoons wouldn't see through your little ploy? A spot just happens to open at the last minute when a vendor conveniently drops out. And that new vendor, blacklisted by two of this city's most 'upstanding' organizations, miraculously chooses you, one of the few emancipated men in the city and the only person I've ever encountered without a mana profile in their file. Your paperwork is so thin it could slip through a crack in the wall. And all this on the one night we're spread too thin to keep track of every corner."
She leaned forward, voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Too bad for you one of our most outstanding guards caught you with a stolen Link. So tell me, 'John' if that's even your real name. What exactly do you have to say for yourself?"
"That's the biggest load of half-baked reasoning I've ever heard," I shot back, careful to keep my irritation in check.
"There's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this," I continued, forcing my tone to remain calm despite the spike of annoyance building in my chest.
"Really?" the Kitsune asked, arching an eyebrow with skepticism. "I doubt that. But if you're willing to tell me the truth, I'll listen."
"I do have a mana signature. Check the file again," I said, gesturing at the floating display that reappeared when she swiped her hand.
She leaned in, enlarging a section of text with a frown. There, displayed for both of us to see, was the word NULL in the place where one's unique mana profile should have been.
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"See?" I pointed out. "It's right there: NULL. That's my mana profile, and it is listed."
"You're claiming you have no mana signature," she retorted. "I'm no fool. I can sense you have power."
"I do have mana," I corrected her. "It just doesn't differ from the ambient mana around us. It's neutral. That's why I struggle with most magical tools. Hence the custom-made Link, which, I assure you, wasn't stolen."
"That's impossible. Nobody has pure mana," she accused. "Stop lying to me and tell me the truth."
"I'm not lying. It's not pure mana; it's neutral, like the stuff in the air."
She narrowed her eyes. "How is that even possible?"
"If you check my file again, there should be a note directing you to the Anthos Order. My citizenship agreement came with a gag clause: I'm not allowed to talk about the details."
The truth was, now that I had my citizenship, I could speak freely if I wanted to. But I wasn't about to give this arrogant Kitsune more information than absolutely necessary.
She snorted. "How convenient."
I shrugged. "Don't blame me. Blame the Anthos Order. They are the reason my file is so bare. Speak to them if you want to know more."
"And your suspicious employment, on this particular night," she pressed, her voice laced with insinuation.
"You said it yourself," I countered, keeping my tone level. "I'm an emancipated man. I take whatever work I can find, and none of us invited ourselves here. If you're fishing for conspiracies, maybe start with your own people."
She paused, her penetrating gaze raking over me before a wicked grin claimed her lips. "I'm afraid I can't let you leave until the Athos Order confirms your story—far too many holes for comfort. However," she added, letting the word dangle like bait, "I could be convinced otherwise."
"How?" I asked, already suspecting the answer from the gleam in her eyes.
She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. "I have an…itch that needs scratching. Take care of it for me, and you'd be amazed at what I might overlook."
"Sorry," I said icily, "my scratching days are behind me."
A flicker of offense crossed her face as she drew herself up, eyes glinting with bruised pride. "Is that so? I'm the most beautiful woman you've ever laid eyes on. You should be on your knees, begging to please me," she said, her voice rolling like velvet—hypnotic, irresistible.
In that moment, I felt a queasy sense of vertigo, as though gravity had shifted. My mind blurred, teetering on the edge of submission, and I realized with a jolt that she'd been working a Kitsune enchantment on me all along subtle, insidious, unlike the brute-force tactics of the High Elves. Rage flared in my chest, obliterating the last threads of her hold.
Without thinking, I grabbed the untouched mug of steaming Kava and hurled it directly into her face. But the liquid failed to reach her. With a wave of her hand, it stoped mid-flight, and then was tossed harmlessly to the floor.
She let out a long, disappointed sigh. "You really should have drunk that Kava," she said, her voice low with regret. "It would've made everything so much simpler for you. Now I'm afraid we'll have to do this the hard way."
With a flick of her wrist, tendrils of unseen force snaked around my body, pinning me to the chair. I couldn't move a single muscle even my jaw refused to work, silencing any protest I might've tried to make.
"I'll give you this much," the Kitsune murmured, eyeing me with a mix of curiosity and reluctant admiration. "It's not often I meet a man who can shrug off my enchantments. A pity, really. You might've even enjoyed what came next if you hadn't fought back."
She rose from her chair and circled to my side, each step purposeful and poised, the predatory gleam in her eyes making it clear she was far from finished.
"The problem is men just don't know their place nowadays. They expect to be wined and dined, not servicing their mistress like they are meant to be. Back when I was young, I would steal any man I wanted. Make them mine for as long as they amused me, but no, the world had to go and get all modern," She complained.
I struggled in my seat, trying to break free, doing my best to scream out for help.
"Don't struggle; it will only make things harder for you. No one is going to see anything in this room that I don't want them to see, and when this is all over, you'll wake up with no memories, only the vague notion you had a nice dream." the Kitsune said, moving her face level to mine then giving me a deep and sensual kiss on the lips.
She pushed her mana into me, trying to start the process of exciting a man. It was more complicated than it had any right to be for men to get aroused in this life. The presence of a woman's man was needed in a man for him to get an erection, and once it was up, it wouldn't be going down until the pressure was released or several frustrating hours had passed. And every woman knew it wasn't rape if you gave the man his erection. Arousing the man was her job, and she deserved the reward.
The Bannerlady moved her hand to fondle my chest, making her way all the way down to my crotch. My body couldn't help itself as my groins began to steer. She moved her hand down my pants, grabbing my sizable shaft. A wild grin erupted on her face.
"Already so big, and you're not even at half mast yet. I'm going to have to speak to my mistress about keeping you all to myself after tonight's festivities really begin." She purred.
I didn't have time to process her words before the door exploded off its hinges, crashing into the opposite wall with enough force to crack the reinforced stone. The figure who stepped through looked like something out of legend: an orc woman towering over eight feet tall, every inch of her pure, unadulterated muscle. Her red hair fanned out in a wild halo around her green skin, which gleamed under the harsh lights. Blue-dyed engraved tusks jutted from her lower jaw, and her golden eyes blazed with a bloodlust so intense it made my heart hammer.
I felt a sudden pulse of mana radiate from her, and the world around me shattered—whatever illusion the Bannerlady had been maintaining was torn away in an instant. Before the Kitsune could so much as twitch, the unstoppable force of the orc's presence seemed to flicker across the room. In a blur of motion, she seized the Kitsune by the throat and slammed her face-first into the metal table, leaving a dent where her head struck.
The invisible restraints holding me vanished the moment the kitsune lost consciousness, freeing my limbs.
"I've been waiting a long time to catch you screwing up, you massive cunt," the orc growled, her voice a thunderous bass. "I'll see you hanged for this."
Only then did I register her insignia: Lotha Bluetusk, Commandant of the Dragoons , highest-ranking battle general in the Federation's military standing right before me like the wrath of the Aspects made flesh.
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Yuletide- article entry from Linkipedia.
Yuletide is a prominent winter solstice holiday celebrated across Erda. This festive period is rich in magical and cultural significance, marking the transition from the old year to the new with elaborate celebrations, gift-giving, mystical rituals, parties, and communal joy. Yuletide takes place on the last day of the year, on the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, the end of the Lunar cycle, and the day the world is closest to the spirit realms.
Yuletide is characterized by a rich tapestry of customs that blend the mystical with the celebratory. Homes and public spaces are adorned with wreaths and garlands made from evergreen, holly, and mistletoe, all plants that are considered magical for their ability to thrive in winter and for their protective properties. Lights, ranging from simple candles to enchanted glowing orbs, illuminate the long nights, symbolizing hope and the triumph of light.
Gift-giving during Yuletide is both a social and magical practice. It is believed that exchanging gifts bestows blessings and strengthens the bonds between individuals and the mystical forces of the realm. These gifts often include charms and talismans crafted to bring luck and protection in the coming year.
Feasting plays a central role in Yuletide celebrations, with traditional foods that include spiced meats, mulled cider, and sweet cakes baked in the shape of suns and stars, all of which are imbued with ingredients to enhance their magical properties. Songs and dances specific to Yuletide are performed, believed to please the spirits and ensure their favor for the community.
The climax of Yuletide is the Hours of Wonders, coinciding with the winter solstice itself. On this night, it is said that the veil between worlds is thinnest, allowing for the most potent magic. Spectacular displays of light and color fill the skies, created not only by the auroras natural to this time of year but also by the celebratory magical fireworks crafted by skilled magicians. People gather to tell stories of the past year ,and make resolutions for the new year.