Oliviala Le'Cruex

“Make sure you organize the bricks and logs in this pattern, the less variance, the less mana wasted.” Olive directed a group of three engineers while pointing to a diagram she had drawn for them. The men nodded confidently. Being tier five and having worked in the Engineer Corps for several years, their understanding of the subject was adequate to easily understand her directions. As one, they took their copies of the diagrams and leaped into the air, each going in a different direction toward groups waiting with the resources that had been carted in throughout the night.

Olive didn’t watch them go. She turned to meet the new arrivals whose auras were stifling everyone else present atop the high city walls. They were from a well-known tier eight party: the Unifiers of Freidmar.

The second she met their gazes, the leader stepped forward, bowing and kissing the back of her hand, “Greetings, Princess Oliviala. Your beauty is a match only to your mother's. Pity, this is the last time I'll have the pleasure of seeing it.”

“I have no intention of dying today, Lord Gehena, and neither should you. The upper-tiers are meeting in the Duchess's Manor and I still have several matters that require my immediate attention.”

“Message received, Commander. We’ll not waste any more of your time. I must say, your confidence in our survival lifts my heart. When this is over, perhaps there will be a moment for us to dine together?” Gehena’s fist clanked against his armor as he saluted while shooting her a wink.

“If that’s what it takes to encourage you to survive, then I would be willing to make such a sacrifice, Lord Gehena,” Olive’s expression was completely blank, revealing none of her annoyance at the man. After all, she would be needing every political ally she could muster in the days ahead. There was no way she would be able to clean up all of Jiran’s messes without significant support from the nobility.

“You wound me, my dear. Luckily, I’m quite tough,” He chuckled while turning to leave.

“Oh, one thing before you go,” Olive’s smooth voice caused him to turn back, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes, ”Could you please relay my desire for Lostrifar to find me when she arrives? The information I have for her will determine the survival of us all.”

Gehena’s brows furrowed as he met her eyes for a long second before nodding, “As you command,” He bowed again, which she mirrored with a deep nod of her head before he flew away with his party.

Olive released a weary sigh before resuming her mad scribbling. There were far too many orders to issue and if she didn’t finish in time, she wouldn’t be able to personally oversee the most pivotal piece of their survival.

image [https://i.imgur.com/LlXURdW.png]

“Out with it, I haven't got all day.” A petulant voice from directly behind Olive caused her to lurch out of her seat. The fact she hadn't detected even a whiff of aura only added to her surprise.

She spun around, her eyes widening, “Master!” Olive swept into a deep bow upon seeing the person who could have easily been mistaken for a girl of thirteen seasons. She stood with her hands behind her back and wore a tight-lipped, intense expression that promised swift punishment if her patience was stretched an iota further.

image [https://i.imgur.com/T65PcJb.jpg]

Knowing how much Lostrifar—the inventor of current-day formation design—despised repeating herself, Olive answered her question without wasting any more time on superfluous greetings, “Master, my Molding has reached sixty-two and I have several secre—”

Olive jerked back in surprise when she suddenly found herself in a small room with smooth white walls and a low ceiling. The only decorations were a few chairs and a small table with a tea set. Several pairs of aged eyes swiveled in her direction, each containing immeasurably vast wisdom and power. The auras clogging the room were so overbearing that sweat sprouted from her shoulders and back, uncomfortably sticking her suit to her skin.

She recognized each of the legendary figures in the suffocating room. The most prominent and famous were the three known across the lands. At tier ten, they had thousands of accomplishments under their incredibly long lives dedicated to the defense of the empire: Lostrifar the Wise, Pierro the Magnificent, and Sagrinar the Final Bastion.

They were not the only ones in the room. Two tier nines who were just as renowned sat beside them: Lenton Filibree the Sage of Salandor and Forellis Karsheef the Indomitable. Not only did these legends represent nearly every tier nine and ten ascender in the empire, but also the majority of the fighting force beyond the emperors themselves. Despite Lenton’s and Pierro's unwillingness to ascend due to willpower, they each managed two of the three active tier nine parties. The only missing representative within tier nine was her eldest brother, Ardon.

This is… the real war council. My little gathering atop the city walls might as well be a child playing with sticks and dolls.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Masters! It is my honor to address you.” Olive bowed deeply, far more than socially required considering her birth. Amongst these heroes, she wouldn’t dream of displaying anything less than her complete sincerity. After all, without the powerhouses in this very room, there would not be an empire for her to fight for.

“Relax, child,” Pierro's voice was smooth yet commanding as his aura lifted her until she was standing upright. “What news have you from the front?”

“Shut it, pee-hero! I didn’t bring her here for another report,” Lostrifar’s childlike voice, filled with contempt, cut the stifling atmosphere.

Pierro’s face turned red and his eyes bulged, “How dare you call me that in front of royalty, you little pocket-slate!”

Lostrifar’s aura exploded, devouring Olive’s in an instant. Time seemed to stand still as her eyes turned pure white, “Did you… just call me a flat rock?”

Pierro turned away from the extremely youthful-appearing tier ten. If he was bothered by the impossible power being released in his direction, he didn’t show it, “Don’t be petty, you started it.”

Lostrifar’s anger simmered for a long second before her aura cooled and her eyes returned to their usual vibrant lavender, “Oliviala, you said your molding has reached sixty-two, congratulations.”

If a bug had landed on the floor, it would have been easily heard in the deathly silence that enveloped the room. A moment later, the creaking of Pierro’s leather coat tore through the air as he slightly adjusted his position.

Pierro opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Lenton’s sudden outburst, “I knew it! That damn ungrateful brat taught you his method. So he is the mysterious Mortemer, isn’t he? I told you that he was alive. Teaches you to ignore me,” Lenton folded his arms across his chest, leaning back into his plush chair with a smug grin.

Lostrifar tapped her nose gently as she mused aloud, “Damn brat? You’re talking about Jiran of Feylon and the princess's newest party leader, Mortemer the Fireling. So, they’re the same person, interesting. Then, the density claiming method you taught us has begun to spread again? Well, if ever there was a time for it, I suppose it’s now.”

Father already told me they knew about Jiran’s method, so that’s not a surprise, but to so quickly deduce his identity, Master Filibree’s title of sage certainly isn’t for show.

Olive didn’t move a muscle, she could barely even breathe as she desperately prayed they wouldn’t ask her a question that wasn’t rhetorical. If given a choice between losing her arm fighting Graymin or being in this room with these choking auras, she would pick the battlefield any day.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Lostrifar’s eyes swiveled to her, piercing her to the core and causing her heart to cease its beating, “Oliviala, you mentioned secrets. Am I assuming you were referring to that child's supposed mastery of the elements? We’ve all heard Lenty’s wild exaggerations. Since he’s the leader of your party, surely you can refute these claims.”

First Mother’s shadow! How am I supposed to answer that?!

Olive opened her mouth but the words wouldn’t form. She squeezed her fists so hard her arms shook before finally squeaking out a response, “H-his talent with the elements is far beyond what can be described with words. After only a few tips that scratched the surface of his understanding, the power of my fire tripled. I don’t know the extent of what he is capable of, but fighting up a tier is child's-play to him.”

That should be enough, I would rather die than reveal Jiran’s secrets. When he vanished a year ago, Lenton had already revealed he could fight up a tier so hopefully this is just confirmation that he should be taken seriously when they inevitably meet him. Oh, there’s one other detail that Jiran’s already disclosed which will certainly cause these old monsters to want to protect him. I berated him for revealing it at the time, but right now, he needs these people on his side more than anything.

“In addition, shortly after I met him, he revealed that his molding had exceeded one hundred. I saw him go through the evolution myself so there can be no doubt he was being honest.”

Again, the room fell into an all-consuming silence as five pairs of eyes met, speaking volumes through a mere glance. As one, they nodded, the movement so imperceptible that Olive doubted she had seen it.

Lostrifar looked through Olive again and a terrific weight seemed to press down on her shoulders while simultaneously making her chest feel like it was going to burst. Somehow, both sensations happened while Lostrifar’s aura was only the lightest, feathery touch on her own, “Out with it then, child. Word for word, what guidance did Jiran give you in regards to your fire that improved it so quantitatively?”

This is it, our survival rests on how I answer this question. I can’t mess this up!

“There isn’t time! The first three waves of Graymin are almost here and they’re all below tier five. My forces will begin to fight much sooner than the higher-tiers and our defenses aren’t prepared. I-if Master Lostrifar is willing to construct the formations that we’ve arranged all the materials for… then that would certainly give me the time to relay everything I’ve learned from Jiran. Of course, all the mana would be supplied by my troops, so it would only take a bit of your time. Please, Master!” Olive bowed until her chest was parallel to the floor, holding her position without twitching.

“The gall! How dare you attempt to extort us!” Pierro’s aura was nothing like Lostrifars as it slammed into Olive, bringing her to her knees.

“Come now, surely if we’re asking our juniors for help, we can’t turn a blind eye to their plight when the cost is only a bit of time,” Sagrinar’s rumbling baritone interceded Pierro’s outburst and his aura was like a soothing balm as it pushed back the fuming tier ten. As the champion of the empire who claimed to have the highest skill in molding, it was no surprise to Olive that he would do whatever was necessary to learn Jiran’s secrets. “If Lostrifar is unwilling, then I’ll do it myself. Though, don’t expect me to share the spoils after the toils!” He grinned triumphantly as Lostrifar clicked her tongue.

A predatory grin flashed across Lostrifar’s face for a split second before she schooled her expression once more, “Very well, I’ll construct the formations. Oliviala, considering your confidence before usurping the position of commander, I assume you have a particular strategy in mind for them. Why don’t you enlighten us?”

Why does she sound so happy?

“Of course, it’s a modification of a typical city defensive ward I devised after watching Jiran fight,” Olive stuttered to a stop as Lostrifar leaned forward, that same devilish grin spread across her petite lips, and this time it was there to stay.

Wait, with their attributes, everything they did and said was slowed down for my benefit alone… Was it all just an act? Every move, every word spoken… Did I just get played?