Acalla turned away, hoping to find something to get her out of this situation. A few Initiates walked around, pulling corpses from smashed stalls. Some bodies were so mangled they were more impressions of a person than the real thing. Did the Initiates need some guidance? An inspiring speech or two might not go amiss—not that she had one in the quiver. But improvising was a skill.

No, I would probably do more harm than good. The last thing I need right now is Initiates falling over themselves to impress me.

Simon spoke to a few of the Initiates that had been around the beast. His gaze flickered to her now and then, making her skin crawl. The man was probably thinking of some way to embarrass her. She wasn’t a Glademoor—not in name—anymore. Instead, taking up the last name Green, like all those who had abandoned the Glademoor family before her.

But Simon, the arse, still thought it prudent to embarrass her as if they were somehow in competition. Was he not receiving enough love at home? She bit into her bottom lip and continued scanning the area. A light smile came to her face. Over by what remained of a softberry stand stood John—Simon’s cousin—one of the more reasonable Flamelights.

Thank the heavens. Hopefully, if that nuisance comes over, he’ll show some restraint in front of his cousin.

John’s actions in the fight earlier flowed through her mind as she stepped over to the man. Groups of Initiates would fall silent as she passed, their chatter dying like snuffed candles. She inwardly sighed. It was something she’d wanted to avoid—drawing too much attention could be bad when in such a disastrous situation.

She nodded her head as John spotted her. Her fellow cultivator nodded, back turning to his second—a person who filled the same role Silkmon did for her—to say something. She came to a stop before him as he was finishing. “That’s not good. The High Nest is going to throw a fit,” He said, pinching his nose and resting one hand on his hip.

Acalla’s gaze flickered to the scroll clutched in the second’s hand. Was that the casualty report? She kissed her teeth. She hadn’t read it before sending Silkmon off. A minor error on her part. “How bad is it?” Acalla asked, pointing her chin at the scroll.

John’s fiery red hair shimmered in the soft wind, each strand licking through the air like a flame. Practically alive. What aspected fire mana did to the hair of a mana cultivator was interesting, to say the least. “Depends on your perspective,” John said. “A few dead mortals—at least three hundred so far. And some annoying losses for the city guard, about twenty of them.”

Is that it? I’d thought it would be much worse by the look on his face. Since when did John care so much for the mortals? They’d have those numbers again in twenty to thirty years.

She raised a questioning brow, causing John to shake his head. “The deaths aren’t the problem. It’s the disappearances.”

“Disappearances?” Acalla asked.

“It seems we know now why they would want us here in force. And we arrogantly accepted, not even questioning their motives.”

“Are you suggesting that we were the targets?” Acalla asked, her brow creasing. Around the clearing, the Initiates continued their grisly duty. Had there been more of them? She couldn’t say—the life of an Initiate was hardly her priority.

“Us, the guards and the civilians. I wouldn’t be surprised if those bastards took the street cats.” John let out a breath. Wisps of fire mana flickered through the air as they left his mouth. “It was a trap. One we thought we needn’t worry about. But it cost us.”

“The losses?” Acalla asked, directing her attention to John’s second. The man fidgeted under her gaze and patted down his dark red robes as he looked at John—she may be a Core Formation cultivator, but protocol still mattered.

“Tell her,” John said, looking off to the side. Acalla followed his gaze. She frowned and rolled her eyes. Walking directly towards them, Simon had a carefree smile on his face and looked as if the sun was shining out of his backside. Typical.

“Ahem. We estimate that at least four hundred mortals were taken,” said the second, “as well as roughly forty guards and about fifty Initiates.”

“What!” Acalla’s eyes went wide. “Fifty. How in the heavens did they take fifty of our people without us noticing?”

The second gulped as he stepped back under the pressure of her gaze. “That’s still being investigated, ma’am. Though we hope to have leads by the end of the day.”

“It’s a headache, I know,” John said, crossing his arms. A group of Initiates hurried by, carrying several bodies on a stretcher. Several of the corpses’ limbs were smashed and faces ruined. John stared at them. What was he thinking? They’d both been mortals once—over 60 years ago, in her case—but that didn’t mean they couldn’t still die. “This was all so senseless,” John sighed, “how could High Nest not see this coming?”

I mean, we hardly did. But those old men should know better by now.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

John stood in silence for a moment. Acalla, not wanting to disturb his thoughts, said nothing. Eventually—as Simon stopped just next to them—he looked up. “Thanks for the save, cousin,” John said, reaching for a handshake.

Simon accepted. Smiling at the man before turning to her. “Acalla, weren’t you lucky I was in the area when I was?”

In the area. You were supposed to be guarding it. What are you talking about?

“Yes, Simon. We were lucky to have you nearby,” Acalla said, looking at John. The man shook his head in dismay as he released his cousin’s hand. Acalla took a breath and regarded Simon. He, unlike them, had lively red robes, distinguishing him as the commander—He was in charge of all four High captains in the third company. “Have you heard the report?”

“No, not as of yet. I was hoping you two would fill me in.” He said, raising his nose. He wanted to look down at her, and Acalla wasn’t about to be offended. How had he even gotten the position? A yes, connection, as well as cultivating prowess. The lucky fool had made it to Core Formation six already.

“Right,” Acalla said, gesturing to John’s second. “He was just filling us in. Apparently, we’ve lost fifty Initiates.” The words hurt, coming out of her mouth like spitting up glass. How had they lost so many?

Simon let out a sigh. “That is a shame. Seems we will have to up the recruitment drive later this year.”

Acalla frowned, looking at him in confusion. John did the same. She looked from him to the ruins of the festival beyond. Crows hawking and hungry circled overhead. Did this man not see what had happened?

They never change, do they?

“Though we will need someone to blame this on,” Simon said. The man’s eyes sparkled as he spotted something behind her. “Here comes a suitable scapegoat. Captain Kain!”

Acalla frowned and followed his gaze. Dark red robes swaying in the wind, Captain Kain trailed behind Silkmon. His eyes seemed to become darker with each step as he approached, and Acalla’s chest tightened. This was not a good way to meet an old student.

“Ma’am. I have brought Kain but could not find Asomond.” Silkmon said, coming to a stop at Acalla’s side.

“High captains, Commander,” Kain said, the scar that ran under his left eye twitching as he spoke. “The situation is not good.”

“We’re aware. Young Kain,” Simon said lazily, waving a hand dismissively at Kain’s words. “But what’s done is done. Now is the time for smoothing things over.”

“Yes sir,” Kain said, “But before that. I bring troubling news. I hope you can listen.”

Acalla raised an eyebrow. What had gotten him so worked up? Aside from the fact he seemed to be aware that he’d be sacrificed to the city council. She crossed her arms, focusing on Kain as his gaze flickered between them.

“Asomond was taken.”

Well, heavens.

----------------------------------------

Emela sighed as she and Nyx walked through the Halls of the Frostkeep manor, heading towards the study of Instructor Shallowcold. They had got back to the manor earlier enough. Not needing to explain where they had been to the guards—if you were late, the family needed to know why. It is not like that really increased security. Was the night more conducive to a successful plot?

Emela, turning her head to Nyx, regarded the girl as they walked down the soft Ice blue rug that ran throughout the manor—Emela couldn’t imagine how none cultivators even cleaned something like this. Nyx walked in silence, as usual. What was she thinking about?

I wonder if Nyx is concerned with our talk yesterday and today with that Glademoor—well, ex-Glademoor woman’s offer.

Emela reached for one of the two blond ponytails resting on her chest and fiddled with its end as she walked. She rubbed the strands between her fingers as images of those creatures played in her mind. What were they? They stunk when they were killed, that was for sure. She’d learnt a lot over her seventeen years. But she’d never seen or heard about a beast matching that description. What had the Glademoor woman called it? She couldn’t remember.

The torches hanging on the wall glowed with warm blue light—the aspected mana stones would keep them burning for quite some time. The light sparks of blue flame flickered through the air, dancing with each other before petering out. Emela let out a breath. “Do you think the others made it back home alright, Nyx?”

Nyx’s short black bob swayed as she nodded. “I don’t see why they wouldn’t. The Phoenix company killed all of those creatures, and the City Guard no doubt increased its presence on the street to keep the slum dwellers in check.”

“That doesn’t mean they are safe, though, does it?” Emela said, pulling at a loose strand of split blond hair. “But you’re right. There is no reason to believe anything has gone wrong with them. I think—”

“Oh, if it isn’t the family failure, Emela,” an annoying voice Emela could not mistake said.

By the Great Lake. Why did you have to appear now? I’m already having a rough enough day as is.

Noella strode down the hallway. Her blond hair, now in obnoxiously large curls, swayed as she walked. A cruel smile hung on her crooked, thin lips. She had something she wanted to show off. Her whole character said that much. Was it her hair? No, it looked tasteless at best, and that was Emela being generous.

Behind her annoying little half-sister walked the equally annoying maid, Matilda. The pair looked like two fools marching to show off some of their hapless ideas. Emela came to a stop and crossed her arms. Nyx stopped at her side.

“What do you want now, Noella? I don’t have time for this. I need to go see the instructor,” Emela said, running her eyes up and down Noella as she came to a stop before her.

“Why would you do that? It would just be wasting the instructor’s time.” Noella chuckled, her hair bouncing at each shake of her body. “No. You should be off in the kitchen learning how to be a good wife for your—” She stifled back another laugh. “Your Muddust husband.”

We aren’t married yet. You damn toad.

“What do you want, Mirae?” Emela asked. A group of lower-ranking housemaids scuttled past, whispering to each other as they walked. A few lowered their eyes, faces reddening with unconcealed shame. Were they talking about her? “You’re causing a scene. Noella, get to your point or leave me be.”

“Now, now, dear sister. You should really pay more attention to your betters.” Noella shook her head in faux dismay and let out an exasperated sigh. “I didn’t intend to show you, but you were lucky enough to cross my path. So I might as well grace you with its sight.”

“With what?”

“This,” she said, beckoning Matilda forward. In the girl’s hands rested an exquisitely designed sword. Its beautiful gold hilt sparkled in the blue hallway light, encrusted with an assortment of jewels. It gave off a certain charm. The blade, its edges humming with a blue light, sat and dared you to look at it. Why did she have such a fine work of craftsmanship?

Noella turned, plucking the beautiful sword from Matilda’s hand and raised her arm, pointing the sword to the sky. “Father gave me a Mana Armament.”