Zelzad’s spectral blade flashed in the dark as she sliced through the oncoming horde of demonic automata. A wave of energy erupted from the sword, launching several of the war machines away.

She whipped around just in time to block a sword and flame strike from a new foe. Arenya had heard of models that could cast magic unaided, but she’d never seen one before. The six-meter machine was the color of rust, with two bright yellow balls of light forming eyes. The creature’s useless mouth was shaped in a permanent sneer, showing sharpened yellowed metal instead of teeth - automata couldn’t talk, or at least these ones couldn’t.

At such size, staying too close to it would be asking for death. Zelzad took a few tentative steps backward after a glance behind to ensure no others approached too closely, only to notice Drav being pushed back by two more automata behind her. She dashed in, sword held high, and -

“So how many more times are we gonna rehearse this tonight? I’m tired.”

The automata froze around Zelzad and Drav, battlefield growing transparent to show the true shape of the practice room. The one who had spoken was another of Drav and Zelzad’s bandmates Arenya had seen a few times.

Cartalis rubbed her eyes. “I concur with Ya’el. These illusion machines are impressively automated, and keeping them active is possible without focusing too terribly much on them, but even that much mana is becoming a challenge at this time of night.”

How the school had set up the enchantments to have such impressive practice arenas, complete with opponents, and yet not kill their students, Arenya had had no idea. Their time spent here lately had shown her, though: the automata weren’t even real for the most part, instead primarily illusory and given a temporary illusion of life by someone else. Their blades hurt, but they weren’t real, and couldn’t cut.

Ya’el had short hair, like Cartalis, and skin the color of untanned leather. Her hair was mostly brown, but Arenya noticed the slightest tinge of deep green - a hint, alongside her traditional Follower name, that one of her ancestors may have been a dragon.

Of course, the incredibly short skirt and loose shirt, with sleeves that ended barely past her shoulders, proved she wasn’t a Follower now. When Arenya had asked earlier that day, the answer had been rather dismissive, not to mention her having called Arenya a drake at their first meeting. She was a very enthusiastic drummer, but Arenya couldn’t help but feel that Drav and Zelzad had kept them from meeting too much on purpose.

“I still can’t believe you want to do a choreographed fight scene during the concert, said Ya’el.”How are we gonna have time to play music and do our wacky stuff when we keep interrupting it for all the fighting?"

“We’ve been over this, Ya’el.” Drav arose from the ground and wiped off some dust from the automata off his pants. “We’re not just musicians, we’re performers, and that means we need to do a performance. We wanna get more serious now.”

Arenya stayed quiet as the two began to argue - not just because she had seen them argue this countless times by now, and not just because she too was extremely sleepy. She couldn’t stop thinking about Professor Kazurist’s words the day before.

“So we’ll still have plenty of time for that awesome drum solo you cooked up…”

What would her parents think? She wasn’t sure, but that she’d felt a need to tell Daniel not to say anything meant she was nervous. But about what?

“You said I could wear any kind of outfit I wanted, but then you insisted it had to ‘fit the theme’…”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Would they get angry at her? They’d all known that the city would have an impact on her, though perhaps not quite like this. It’s not like they’d threaten to disown her, though.

“I know you want a role that lets you go wild, but those days are behind us now. It doesn’t mean we can’t have fun…”

They were friendly with Daniel and she’d never heard them say too much negative about demons. And anyway, they wouldn’t even know what metal was, so how could they judge her for it?

“I just don’t want to be uptight royalty or an honor-bound warrior - screw rigid roles, do something bonkers…”

Despite all those logical arguments, Arenya could feel her heart pound harder at the thought of explaining it to them in the half-written letter in her room. Hello, Mom, Dad. My new friends play metal music!

“I preferred the old days, when you let me strip on stage…”

But at the end of the day, what is the worst that could happen? Professor Kazurist was surely exaggerating the danger. Sure, Drav and Zelzad could be unpredictable at times, but they were kind in their way and never went that far into depravi…

Wait.

What did Ya’el just say?

“Ya’el, come on! It’s not that much to ask that you don’t flash the audience between songs anymore.”

Cartalis, now sitting on the floor next to the automaton control cubes, turned to Arenya with a look of sheer mortification. “Pray tell, when you… ahem… what was - how long ago - how far - You know what? Don’t even attempt to answer. Ignorance seems preferable.”

Arenya, for her part, found herself with nothing to say again, though not for the same reason as before. Suddenly the song about the woman doing depraved acts to her male victims made a bit more sense.

Zelzad turned to them, an expression halfway between apology and trying not to laugh. “We liked to get drunk and do dumb stuff on stage. Ya’el would, uh, go a bit further than the rest of us. We got away with it until the school found out.”

Arenya started to wonder at that whether Professor Kazurist had a point after all. Surely she’d never stoop so low as to… They would never… they left that behind. Of course they had.

Right?

“Do you promise,” asked Arenya, “and I mean promise, that you won’t pull that kind of thing anymore?”

“No,” said Ya’el.

“Yes,” said Drav.

They stopped and glared at each other.

As Arenya sat in awkward silence, an idea struck her. A terrible, terrible, terrible idea. One she should just forget about and never, ever share.

She shared it.

“What if you played the daughter of the Hashess? If we say that Hardal forced you into an outfit he chose, then we can justify it as part of the show.”

Drav and Ya’el both looked at her, then back at each other.

“She’s the one who jumps off the-”

“Yes.”

“And she’s the one who Hardal-”

“Yes.”

Ya’el’s face remaind blank for a moment, before splitting into a wide grin, her exhaustion forgotten. “Oh, yes. Now that is an idea. It’s so disgusting! Now that is a performance I can get behind. Drav, why didn’t you come up with that?”

Drav hrmmed. “I didn’t think we were gonna show the princess… Didn’t think Arenya would like that. Just, please don’t go too overboard?”

“Fine.” Ya’el sighed and muttered something about not being able to have any fun these days. “Carta, we gotta choreograph this!”

“Don’t… call me that, please,” muttered Cartalis from her position on the floor. She lay half-asleep now, using one of the automaton control cubes as a pillow. “Let’s… handle it tomorrow?”

“No, there’s no time to waste! I gotta figure out how to look the most…”

Again, Arenya found herself rather struck. Maybe she really was going too far on some things, if even Drav found them questionable. Ya’el did seem like she was missing the point of the daughter of the Hashess - she was abused by Hardal, not supposed to be enjoying the idea of being forced to dress and dance to his whims. But then again, it was Arenya’s idea!

What would Professor Kazurist say to this. Probably that she’d gone too far. She needn’t abandon Drav and Zelzad or all these wild ideas, nor did she think she could bring herself to, but perhaps they could scale it back just a little?

Perhaps…

Or perhaps not, she admitted to herself as she smiled. She was having so much fun, after all.

But despite all that, it truly was quite late. Arenya stood and stretched. Deciding what to do seemed like it would be best as tomorrow’s problem. “Good night, everyone. Cartalis, can you get home yourself or do you need me to walk you?”

But of course, Cartalis was now thoroughly awake as well, as they discussed in vivid detail what the color of the smoke would be as the daughter of the Hashess cried out her lament and flung herself off the roof of Hardel’s palace.

What a strange world she’d found herself in… All that remained was determining whether it was a good one.