Sinestro.
***
I expected some of them to be present. But nearly every student of the Bodhi Tree was here, in the Purple Leopard.
The ones who cared not for society had left to wherever they came from- the kobold and lizardfolk. Lance Morningstar returned to Polaris. Zeke Silva left for Maru.
A pity, for all of them.
But, truth be told, they weren’t in the limelight.
No one was when the Nox was around.
Not even Sinestro’s Quartet.
It was my hope that after this concert, our name would become Sinestro’s Quintet, or if my ambitions were higher, Sinestro’s Sextet. But who would join us, when a famed child of the Nox was present, I both rhetorically ask the reader of this journal and answer within its pages.
No one.
Some of those devils were praised as the greats of their times for their accomplishments across the realms, both explored and not. Others were infamous- feared as plague-spreading tyrants.
Rightfully so, in either case.
No matter if they were great or horrific, every member of the Nox Clan- the House of Cole- deserved every bit of their fame and infamy and then some.
Cole Nox was infamous for forming Crater Lake, wreaking so much havoc on this side of the peninsula that it was reduced in altitude to near-sea level. That was after he mortally wounded, then cursed the Headmaster.
Not a graduate of the Bodhi Tree, Betelle Cole traveled here nonetheless to spread her merchant guild to Nonus. Being 39th in the Optimus Regni to date, it went without saying that Betelle Mercantile prospered to this day, with members operating in Maru, Nonus, and perhaps beyond.
Of course, none but those with the most obscure connections knew such things. Indeed, I doubted even Corvus Cole knew of her great-great grandmother's exploits. The Raven Reaper was another tyrant. A necrotic druid who protected nature as fiercely as she sought those who cheated death.
Those like the headmaster.
But cursing Zorrenor Knagh wasn’t enough. The Raven Reaper went on to spread blights wherever she went. And her marks on the land remained for centuries after her departure.
Her son was no different- another Cole who didn’t attend the Bodhi Tree, but whose life of piracy brought him to these very waters. And every stretch of water in the World Sea, some claimed, for the entirety of the ocean deep was the domain of Captain Henry 'Darkblood' Cole.
And then there was the infamous Necro King. Razer of nations in more ways than one. King in more ways than one. An emperor who left a scar of death on the Mortal Plane. Then absolved his sins by blessing us Nonusian peasants with the elven gifts of yore.
Azrael Cole was another tyrant. A plague that spread his dark beasts across the Peninsula. Yet, his son remained in obscurity. Hidden in the shadows, where he stayed in a good light amongst all who knew him.
Including me.
Perhaps that was why I was shocked once I learned that the humble Emeric Cole sired a child with a drow- one of the fiercely cold and incredibly dangerous dark elves. Perhaps that was why I was horrified upon seeing the Elven Devil in the grandiose halls of the Purple Leopard, dressed in the very robes described to be worn by the Mad Void Monk.
They were here with him- if not for him, I realized. The students and hundreds more readily surged toward the entrance to greet him- him and the half-orc he arrived with, giving a few bystanders enough courage to wave from a distance or outright approach him, despite them seeing the horrors he invoked just six months prior.
“Get on his good side so he doesn’t ruin the realm, huh?” I chortled weakly. Regretfully, it came out weaker than expected. Never, in all my years of performance, have I ever seen the Purple Leopard filled to maximum capacity. Beyond, even. Packed with dwarves, orcs, goblins, and… pirates.
I saw the half-drow exchange words with a beautiful half-elf woman and chortled dryly. “Even the infamous Captain Vexx is here.”
“Maybe he’s just a nice guy.” Morkai shrugged, nearly impaling his shoulders on his horns in the process. “Everyone seems to like him.”
“You say that only because of your blood.” I huffed knowingly. “You saw how he treated the Emperor. And Titus.”
“Both individuals just named are assholes though.” Radis countered with a sort of condescending kindness that only an elf could produce. “ I saw your smile, Sin. It was coming to them.”
“And now, Titus has gone off the deep end.” Robin sighed heavily. “You think he can take him?”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
She caught herself immediately and started to look around for any eavesdroppers.
“Lucky you we’re not in the empire," I warned her sternly. “Now, let’s start the show.”
A nod sent the host into a tirade, capturing the audience's attention within seconds and building the hype, only to lose it with the final words. “Starting with. Rickley Ravenbrook.”
A roar of exacerbation erupted in the halls as she took the stage with the confidence of the greatest bards. Though, she at least looked the part, somehow coming to acquire some stylish attire from somewhere.
Or someone, most likely.
“I knew a guy who could talk to plants once.” She began, spreading a tentative silence through the crowd. “He told me of a time when he befriended a grape that had a liking for pain. A masochist, the grape called itself. He said it asked him to step on it. And he did. Readily. Expecting a dying groan or, I daresay a pleasurable moan beneath his boot. But all he was given for his efforts was a little whine.”
Predictably, a roar of groans, jeers, and curses descended on her from all angles.
Unpredictably, though, a mad cackling laugh persisted long after she left the stage.
I needn’t even look to see that the sole pair of lungs heaving in raucous laughter belonged to Amun of the Nox. Even at the Bodhi Tree, he was perpetually higher than the Second Sun he raised above the land. And so, he was said to be affable, magnanimous, and facetious unless provoked. Thus it was almost no surprise that he found Rickley’s terrible puns humorous- though the halfling in his company held a noticeable glare at Rickley as she took a seat not too far from them.
“On the bright side, with a soured mood, I’ll appreciate good music all the more.” I sighed, attempting to turn my thoughts away from the implications of their camaraderie.
The performances continued with no noteworthy performances, save the halfling and a human from the Bodhi Tree who, together, preluded their performance with an ear-catching and humorous description of the newest guild to be found in these lands. The Legio Noctis, commanded by the infamous Elven Devil himself. Now open for recruiting.
Then came their performance. A simple act wherein the human male, Willard Rowe, stroked an odd harpsichord whilst the halfling, Ritrix Mildbluff, told a grimly humorous tale of an angry gray dwarf collapsing a tunnel onto himself.
“They’re good.” Morkai grinned. But I had little mirth.
“And taken, sadly,” I remarked. “Which means we have competition. So, let’s give them a proper show, shall we?”
***
Amun.
***
“Man, I fell flat again. I’m a total failure.”
After almost an hour and a half of performances, including an enchantingly soothing set from Sinestro’s Quartet that made the perfect environment for dinner, those were the first words said by the likes of Rickley Ravenbrook.
Even after I treated her to the best meal of her life.
There was sorrow in her words, I could hear, simple and short though they were. Such sorrow, signifying a recognition of the truth she shut her eyes away from for years. And therein lied beauty.
“There is no such thing.”
Pale-faced, she jumped in place as if she was as unknowing of my presence as the Shadow of Death at her feet.
"Failure, I mean.” I quickly raised my palm in a calming gesture. “There is no such thing. There are only lessons. Even in victory, there are lessons. But more so in defeat. The lessons of life never cease. Not even when we take our last breath.
“Take heart to these lessons, Rickley Ravenbrook. Never turn a blind eye to them. Learn from them. That is how one becomes wise.”
“Lessons.” She tutted. “How about advice?”
“Don’t be afraid to try a different style.” I smiled. “And don’t be afraid to keep trying until you find what works best for you. Everyone has their niche.”
A stubborn grumble was her only response. But that was preferable.
“Welp. I have school tomorrow. I’ll see you later. Good luck!” In a flash of light that probably blinded the Purple Leopard, me and mine returned to Eotrom to promptly scatter in preparation for the after-party.
The Commanders- some with their subordinates in tow, made pit stops to their worlds before they made their way to mine. But I was heading to the Jovian-sized world of violent tempests and floating islands with my knight in tow.
We landed on the largest of those islands. Toril’s home. A cabin of wood and stone floating within the eye of the storm, surrounded by an electrically charged mist and a whirlwind of metallic boulders.
“I was surprised to see you take blessings from all my domains,” I said after a few moments of admiration. “Though, I should have expected nothing less from my knight.”
“It’s as you say.” Toril planted himself atop a stump and chortled. “I am your knight, who wields the Storm Thief. Have been since a child. Now, I am your paladin. The wielder of the Storm Thief still, oathed to the Undying Tempest.”
“It’s as you say!” I laughed boisterously. “You are my paladin. Thus you are deserving of a companion that befits your station. One that can keep up with you in both strength and speed.” Saying nothing more, I spawned the egg and held it out in both hands. An arduous task, as the thing was as large as a grown corgi.
“Twilight claims both owls and felines. Now,” I snorted, shaking my head. “I’d normally have reservations about mixing owls with anything else. But for you, Toril, an exception will be made. The common eagle’s head and lion’s body isn’t the only configuration griffons claim.” I attempted to hide my smile at his widening eyes. “I’ve learned that griffons with the head of an owl exist. And it’s my hope that this war griffon becomes much the same. Only, imbued with the power of the undying tempest. A Tempest Griffon."
With the egg floating between us, I held out my hand beneath it, palm up, and instructed him to hold his hand above mine.
Mostly raw divine energy was added to my arcane electromagnetism and mixed with a bit of twilight before it swirled with Toril’s potent lightning, gas, weight, and combustion magics.
“Are you sure this will work?” He tentatively asked, despite the energy flowing smoothly into the shell.
“I have faith,” I said. “And should it not, I’m sure I can get another one.”
A nod was his only response. With that, he remained silent and intently watched the egg shift from an off-white color to a cobalt-blue hue. Then he lifted his similarly colored eyes to me.
“You’ll return to see it hatch. Otherwise, your Doppelganger will be staying here to raise it until it matures. Once you take your oath at the third step of your path, you’ll learn the ritual to summon a divine familiar. When you do that, this griffon will appear on the Mortal Plane and your bond will be made whole. You will then be able to summon it as you please. And should it die, it will return here.”
Upon Toril’s affirmatory nod, he handed the egg of too his clone, then I Bamfed us to my world to be immediately taken aback by the most alluring voice rippling from the stage.
I followed the words of a song I knew not towards the source and found myself half-surprised to see Zakira bathed in a violet light that accented her features divinely. Despite my immunity to being charmed, I became enamored with her... everything. I found myself staring like a dumb high schooler. Infatuated by her appearance and our memories of the past year together.
Unlike a dumb high schooler, I soon found myself leading her by the hand to the deeper parts of Mani.
Into my domain. Our home.