There is a being, or perhaps two, but maybe three depending on who counts. She has one arm and one breast. She is standing atop a cliff in complete darkness. She is looking down on a homely stone cottage with an agonizing twist in her gut, a panging heart, and a longing emptiness.
Her irises are brown with a hint of green yet none could see them as her eyes are shining like the moon, like a wolf hunting in the night. She has two tattoos, a lance crest on her lower stomach and the name of her human fiancee on her lower back.
She bears dozens of scars from duels to prove her mettle, ambushes, battle, and skirmishes. Her ass hurts and her thigh muscles are tight, both from having been strained the night before. Those make her smile but they cause her panging heart to further hurt and the emptiness to feel even deeper.
A long line on her left cheek, a thick jagged hack on her right side, a precise cross on the flat left side of her chest, a crisscrossing mess on her belly, a dark-brown stiff pit in the middle of her back to the left of her spine, a faded wound on her right shoulder's muscles, a second cross on the round stump where a left shoulder should be.
There are many more injuries concealed under her warm wool clothes made of sturdy cloth that would suit an experienced traveler, soldier, or warrior. She could only be taken as the latter because of her hard leather armor, because of the riveted chain-mail covering it, because of the steel band cuirass protecting her torso and the stubbed leather strips forming a skirt and shoulder guards.
There is a hunting knife attached to the inside of her left calf over her shin pad, three daggers and three single-edged broadswords of different sizes at her waist.
In spite of her impressive gear, she left her best weapons in the house she is looking down upon. The being is in pain, though it scantly realizes it, from the half-healed burn on its back and older injuries that occasionally flare up, not to mention the ghostly pain in her left arm.
She carries only a pouch behind her back with clothes and supplies, given by her best friend when leaving in a hurry under the suffocation the building's walls made her feel.
Yet, despite the reality of the emotion, the being knows that it is but an excuse, a deflection originating from her fiancee's resentment towards her. It begun when she tried to retrieve her most powerful weapon, it ended when she stepped downstairs and her fiancee grasped her wrist to keep her as she yelled at her to leave so that she can be safe.
Their love is mad, but their madness isn't always love. One being, or three, stands on a hill with a steel helmet pressing down on her messy pitch-black hair. Her chest is heartache, melancholy, and woe for a mother-in-law that could have been so much more.
Her lamentation towards the death of a woman she did not like very much and entered in conflict with more often than they saw eye to eye is incomparable to her fiancee's who lost a mother this day, and so she foolishly dismisses it as empathy towards her lover's loss.
The being, or three, or two, stands on this hill, looking down at the homely stone cottage with rage that she cannot acknowledge boiling in her chest towards her grief-stricken fiancee's actions.
In spite of her delusions, denials, in spite of her anger, she remains on this hill exposed to the cold wind with shining eyes boring down as she awaits a funeral pyre without allowing herself to know why she would.
In the middle of the night, a fire erupts and a body is burnt. A tall lithe woman with a golden jay on her left shoulder and short white hair cries in the arms of another over the losses she experienced this day.
A being watches the blaze in a daze and, without truly knowing why, sends a breeze to stir the flames and embrace her weeping fiancee. Sobs recede and the woman opens her arms to embrace the hot wind.
With her fiancee comforted, she finds that she can now depart. She makes the decision oblivious to the need she had to say goodbye before seeking revenge for the death, slaughter to those who caused pain to her lovers.
--- --- ---
“I gave you no choice but to leave, that does not mean you should have left me.”
--- --- ---
Ka'osla rides her black warhorse ahead of her Red Fear Horde with a squad of young scouts from her Ka clan. Despite the Hersir's young age, and consequent short height, she has ten to twenty centimeters in height over these youths who have only recently left their native nests.
She taught them many things on the way and, to do so, it was best to both allow and encourage mistakes. But, at this moment, she exudes blood-thirst that disallows any mishap on their part and so the young Lisilese ride slanted on their Duarhs to reduce their profiles in her line of sight.
These Duarhs are reptilian mounts with tiny arms and two thick legs, their scales are supple and even thinner than a Lisilese's but the flesh underneath is thicker and less sensitive.
These sprinting animals are viable for young Lisilese to use in scouting because they do not weigh much and the reptiles can catch up to a horse on short distances but older, larger, Lisilese can only rely on strong horses.
Ka'osla's orange vertical irises are set on a line of large rock pillars visible on the horizon. She hates these things, these mounts of stone risen by the Empire using the blaze to serve as anchoring foundations for the temporary walls they build every year early in the Spring.
{Witness this, hatchlings, in any previous great hunt you would have ridden here only to encounter a wall rising from the ground to thick metal ropes drawn between these pillars of shame.} Ka'osla roars. {But, this year... this year we raze these abominations and reclaim the grasslands in full!}
{Won't we lose a month?} A young male asks, too impatient for the great hunt to hold his forked tongue.
{Six weeks. Two to dismantle these with our accumulated blaze, four to gather more embers as we travel to scorch their lands for your great-uncle's honor!} Ka'osla corrects.
{I heard these prey use metal to make cups to celebrate victories, but ropes?!} A young female questions.
{These humans are ingenious, do not underestimate them.} The Hersir berates. {They transport walls of hardwood reinforced with metal that can be disassembled and moved like tents or burnt on the retreat.}
{Cowards.} The female mutters under her breath.
{Have I not told you not to look down on those you seek to make prey, hatchling?!} Ka'osla erupts with a touch of anger so that they take her words more seriously. {If you lot do not correct this conceit, you will find yourselves facing humans as prey yourselves.}
{May you explain, Honored Hersir?} The young male asks while lowering his wide snout.
{You believe the walls and pillars as defensive structures when you should be perceiving them as the borders of a gigantic hunting camp erected so that the Empire can encroach on the grasslands as ambitious predators.} Ka'osla explains. {In the years past, they have held us here, forcing us to use water sources far behind our camp instead of the readily available river ahead. Is that not a trick worthy of a hunter? To exhaust your prey by forcing it to journey far away so as not to die of thirst?}
{It is.} The young male acknowledges.
{We have time to dismantle the pillars this year so we will, it will take decades for the Empire's plans for conquest to recover.} The Hersir explains. {But, that does not mean we can relax because, if we are repelled, they will rebuild these structures further south.}
{What are they made of?} The young female asks.
{Stone with a metal core, they aren't too difficult to destroy but there are many from east to west.} The Hersir replies.
Ka'osla pricks the flanks of her mount to send it forward. One of the Duarhs tries to bite her warhorse as it pounces ahead so she extends her right foot's three claws and kicks it away, almost piercing the reptile's left eye.
Her reaction is slightly inappropriate but she doesn't linger on it because her mind is filled with worry because half her Horde is made up of untested recruits that she and her officers have little time to train, and much less properly test their loyalty.
Yet, Ka'osla is confident. She knows that the destruction of the Empire's south-western pillars will bring much honor to her and the Red Fear, especially because the task is fruitless in terms of loot, exhausting for a Horde, and will make it easier for every Lisilese Horde to encroach on human lands for the years to come.
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The Hersir leads the Ka hatchlings to the base of one of these stone pillars and shows them the large steel rings wedged into the rock from which cables are hung as well as the half-filled trenches at the base where wall panels were stuck and wooden stakes planted.
She lectures them on the ways to deal with these while also cautioning these young aspiring hunters against using blaze when an axe would do the job. Then, they make camp by lighting up a fire.
Ka'osla lies down first on her belly with her back free to absorb the last of the sun's heat and the flames' warmth. The hatchlings gather around her one by one, the two who hunted their meal in the afternoon have the honor to nestle themselves alongside her warm body.
{When in battle, contract your blood-pockets from top to bottom.} Ka'osla advises almost like an afterthought because she's repeated this so often she barely has to think about it anymore. {It is essential to oxygenate your brain, more than it is to rid your muscles of fatigue, because only with a clear mind can one make decisions that first benefit our Ka clan, and then the Lisilese.}
{What does that mean?} The young female asks.
{It means that a true hunter must know when a hunt is a benefit or a hindrance for those that we go on hunts for. Sometimes, it is best to let a prey go so that future generations do not run out. Sometimes, it is best to kill a prey because it threatens future generations. Sometimes, it is best to spare a prey because honor must be paid to opponents that understand the cruelty of nature yet do not lose their cool in the face of that dreadful reality.} Ka'osla explains. {I bested a fierce grizzly not so long ago that had this understanding. I spared it so that it's cubs can grow and be tested by our hunters in their hunts.}
{Did it leave that scar on your left shoulder?} The young male asks excitedly.
{Yes.} The Hersir replies with a toothy smile.
The group of Ka clan younglings falls asleep side by side, enjoying others' warmth while sharing theirs.
--- --- ---
The being skirts past many patrols during the night and goes to sleep at dawn, hidden in a creak on the coast. A golden bird lands on her in the middle of the day and awakens her.
She first raises her guard and scouts the surroundings out of suspicion her fiancee decided to hunt her down but, finding no signs, settles to ponder why the jay showed up.
The being quickly concludes that it has been sent to protect her and lets out a wild furious cry in vexation under the insult. She lifts her hand and almost breaks the unstructured bird but stops at the last moment in fear of committing another mistake out of anger.
She forces herself to sit down and ponder. The being knows she would have noticed if her fiancee used a large quantity of flow so that means the jay broke a barrier construct made by Suxen with but a slight effort.
Considering the madwoman's genius, the only way the being thinks possible to defeat her construct is by using the absolute control sapient beings have over their bodies.
The jay is an unstructured construct, it has a personality and is 'alive' so it isn't impossible for it to have the same kind of control over the intangible flow that composes it.
Perhaps, it is considered by the Lake as an extension of her fiancee... or herself since it is based on her. But, the latter is doubtful considering she is not the one who created the bird.
The being, at this point, completely abandons the idea of shattering it because it may truly die if the one it is based on decides to destroy it. The Lake's blessing works through intent and will, who is to say what such a rejection could do to this unique creature?
She resolves to send the jay back, no matter how cute it tries to act by making loops around her head. The being grits her teeth. The crueler part of her, the one that will do all that is required, wraps a layer of flow around her hand and snags the bird out of the air.
“You will protect Lance from herself and any other threats because that is what that innocent girl would have done. I know it, she knows it, you know it.” The being utters and then flicks the bird away.
The jay flickers back to her with a series of clumsy barrel rolls and crash-lands on her half-shoulder. It struggles back on its tiny claws and rubs its soft feathers along her cheek.
The part of the being that seeks freedom above all gently supersedes the part that seeks strength above all which willingly backs down. She extends her index to tap the bird on its beak.
“Chirp.” The jay sadly cries out at the admonishment and spreads its wing to take off.
The being then departs to journey along the coast. She stops at every village but, unsurprisingly, finds no clues or even rumors indicating the killer passed through.
In her search, she meets Royalists, coins the term Elizabethan to tease one of her two personalities, slaps Nobles, punches peasants, kicks bourgeois in the crotch, witnesses swords be drawn because of her actions and then sheathed because of the name associated with her face.
The being hears of Huan Thrin's sudden brutal execution by Chief Justicier Grace Odo's own hammer after she personally rescinded the deal he made for not being entirely forthright, which no one other than Grace Odo counted on because that is not how things work... at least they didn't until now.
She meets many high and low born that the event rejoiced but also many that it shocked. After all, the Thrin's surrender was genuine from their perspective, he merely held back some secrets that his previous liege confided in him and refused to reveal them to the end.
The being, after spending a fruitless week, concludes her target crossed the Izla to the eastern coast to take a boat to the mainland or used a bark he hid in a creak. A larger ship wouldn't be possible to conceal and she would have heard of his passage if he went further north.
The reason is that strangers are always noticed by villagers and those also do not know how to keep their tongues tied so rumors always spread. With that in mind, she resolves to waste no more time.
There will be clues to find in Meiridin so the being heads back to Meria to cross over to the mainland. She could have asked a fishing ship but she does not trust these feeble embarkations with her wariness towards large expanses of water.
--- --- ---
Celyz of the Silver Hive steps inside a cave with a large wooden basin held in her tendrils. She walks past two carriages filled with books and exudes a few pheromones to call two workers to her.
Two drones trot over and extend their three-fingered hands out. The Princess carefully gives them the container and uses her pheromones to communicate to them that they need to pour the clear-brown resin it holds, which is a substance Queens and Princesses produce from their blood to heal their wounds.
She points at the stone mold she made during the Hive's travels and the workers obey, pouring the sticky thick liquid. The liquid fills the circlet-shaped cavity to the four-fifths and Celyz hurriedly adds a wet clay-like substance she prepared beforehand with many different sediments that weren't easy to acquire on the move.
Then, she hurriedly takes hold of two wooden sticks and starts stirring while using two other tendrils to carefully take off the crown of flowers on her ovaloid head.
She places it on the surface and very slowly makes it sink into the substance while still stirring at an angle. She stops before the symbol of her engagement has completely sunk out of fear to damage it.
She communicates to her helpers to start bringing the carriages holding the huge amount of sunlight she's gathered this past month to the cave and begins channeling the energy into the mold to make the two substances crystallize around the crown of flowers.
This initial process will take the entire day, at the very least, and then a few more months of carefully adjusting the construct's segments so that the substances turn into translucent black-gold Amber.
To finalize the item that will preserve the crown of flowers for tens of thousands of years, Celyz will engrave pictograms in red and silver lines to narrate the story of her encounter with her lover.
The other Princesses and her Queen, her sisters and mother, think her weird to do this but they haven't stopped her because they understand how important it is to her and it does not hurt the Hive.
--- --- ---
In the far east of the Empire lie the Rykz contested Highlands. The territory is expansive and the soil morbidly fertile because of all the combatants who fell for possession of it.
Yet, neither the Empire nor the Rykz Hives exploit these lands despite feeding it so much of their people's blood. The reason is simple, it is too dangerous to raise livestock or grow cultures when either species could start a prairie fire to cover the retreat of an army or attack a camp.
Not to mention that Lisilese Hordes frequently trail here to either prevent one or the other species from gaining an upper hand, or damage both for honor, or to ensure the safety of their nests in a year where plague strikes their chattels.
There is danger even during the rare years where peace reigns because there are always a few Lisilese packs scouring these lands for prey, sapient or sentient. Not to mention human bandits, mercenaries, and titled Nobles out for personal glory.
The Rykz themselves use these peaceful years to dig in secret, sending patrols of scouts to kill whatever draws near so as to conceal tunnels under rivers or cave networks under hills to further secure their control over these lands by providing protection to a Princess.
Scouts, both human and Lisilese, would argue that the Black Plague is an apt moniker for the Rykz. After all, at some point in their career, every scout happens to lay camp atop a perfectly mundane-looking small hill only to later find hundreds and hundreds of scouts pouring out from nearby or beneath to hunt them down in a seemingly endless black tide that covers the green highlands like a curtain.
Scanning constructs are only effective so far as one can fuel them with energy, and the Rykz can dig far, far deeper than even a Duke or Duchess could scan while retaining the ability to silently dig up within a single night with the support of a Princess.
Such events, at least when a scout survives, lead to the loss of one of these advance bases for the Rykz but it also causes both the Empire and the Lisilese to be more cautious, which is exactly why territory infiltrated by the Rykz is almost always considered theirs no matter how much effort the other two species put into contesting it.
Luckily, the Rykz are more frightening than capable. Not all battles can be won by numbers when armies cost far more than their weight in food. Fifty Queens could, without doubt, crush all opposition on the battlefield but every single one is an essential existence for their Hives that can hardly be replaced.
Were the Rykz to fight for a short-term victory, they could conquer the world within a decade only to then be crushed by sheer overextension. Not to mention that defeating the Lisilese in their native jungles where they hold as much of an advantage as the Rykz do underground is as difficult as it is to defeat a Phalanx in an urban environment.