51

I am an Idiot.

Iris said to herself, which was not at all wrong after she took Hecate as a guide to reach Lancaster’s estate. But anyone with a single functioning brain cell would know the result of such a decision. She pointed in the wrong direction—Iris astray in the joy of the game, tilted a little more, and now, they arrived at the grand destination—a lost nation beneath the Er see. They just needed to show the gut and take the plunge, and every riches of that civilization was theirs to hold.

In summary, they crossed Gracia, and now, floating above the Er sea, which was the mighty deep abyss. Iris felt like she saw a slumbering lord stare at her, which wouldn’t be outrageous. She had two mindsets, one that would’ve felt her pride puncture if she did not slay the slumbering ancient and the other that was worried about the safety of Hecate, Ianthe, and Winny.

Iris dashed her orbs full-speed inland, and a few cards scattered on the floor flew away. Hecate jumped to grab them, “IANTHA, HOLD HER!” Iris screamed. She was too focused on escaping. She knew something was in the ocean, and just like her, it too would feel tempted to flair its ego. Hecate and Ianthe were not ready to meet that thing.

Ianthe tackled Hecate onto the soft platform, “Are you an Idiot!!” She screamed, making Hecate small. Hecate turned her eyes away. Ianthe sighed as she let go, realised what she did, and looked at her sheepishly, “I am sorry…” She said, shifting awkwardly

Iris chuckled when they were above the land again. “Well, now we know, Ianthe can scream…” She said to lift the awkward tension. Her head turned in the direction of the ancient lord. She was oh so tempted to jump in and meet the slumbering ancient beneath. “Anyways, where should we go from here?” She wanted to say—they should stay here, and take care of Winny while she met the monster.

Another awkward silence. Iris sighed. “Can you summon a spirit, Ianthe?”

“I can… but they are not habitant of this place—they are from Rena.”

Isolde kept Ianthe as a slave in Rena? That conjured a less than pleasing picture of Roundtable or Rena. Iris, of course, was unaware that was the norm. What she was seeing here was an anomaly. A paradise that shouldn’t exist in this world. And it wouldn’t if not for a certain duchess.

“What about you, Hecate?”

“I can!” Hecate muttered a prayer under her breath and clasped her hands—they glowed—red. When she opened it again, a fly came out, and their body expanded. It took a distinctly humanoid shape, “Hey, Iri,” Hecate waved her hand, along with her whole body.

“Hecate…” It muttered, as if three voices in three different languages spoken at once, “You’ve finally accepted your fate. I’m glad.”

Hecate did not say anything and looked at her.

“Fire spirit… I’m Iris. I was the one to summon you. Can you point us in the direction of Lancaster’s estate?” Iris said. The courtesy of spirits was that no one addressed them by their name unless the Spirit allowed them.

“Call us, Iri. That way,” Spirit pointed to the west. “Is the destined eye of the storm. A calm that may not waver, for the blood as its foundation shall swallow the eternity.” Spirit paused, “Greetings, Little Lightning Lord—It is an honour to meet an elemental Lord and the youngest one in recorded eternity.”

“I am no lord,”

“After the death of the previous Lightning Lord, you’re by virtue of being the closest Lightning user, in mastery, the Heir to the Seat of Lightning Lord. But, the Seat can never be empty, even if you wish to vacate it, you’ll have to wait for the next worthy appears.”

“I fail to grasp half of what you speak.”

“I see… forget that this conversation ever took place, I shall not weigh you with the knowledge that may yet be irrelevant to you. Farewell, lightning Lord.”

Spirit vanished. Both Iantha and Hecate stared at her as if waiting for an explanation. She had no impression of what the Seat or the heir thing was. She always believed it was just a blown-out-of-proportion complement to her mastery of lightning.

“I have no clue what it was speaking of…”

“I think! There is a castle for you,” Hecate interjected, excited, her black eyes glimmering with passion.

“And cute maids, maybe even dragon maids, to tend to your needs…” Ianthe added, a smirk on her lips. Iris, of course, did not understand the implied meaning, innocent as she was.

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“I wonder if there is a butler like Viktor,” Iris liked his manners and way of speaking. He seemed competent enough to maintain a colossal mansion that a Lightning Lord-like being would have.

“Ohh… Iris has a crush on Viktor,” Hecate said. Iris was glad to see her excited and back to her cheerful self, but what was crush? Iris tilted her head.

“Lady Diantha would be heartbroken,” Ianthe said—she looked awkward and unsure of what she should feel.

“Lady Diantha? Why?” Hecate turned to Ianthe, confused.

“Iris is sleeping with her, isn’t she?” Ianthe said, her face taking a shade of crimson.

“Sleeping?” Hecate brows furrowed as she put a strain on her simple mind to understand the profound.

“Sleeping? Grand Duchess is like a mechanical construct—she never sleeps. Even I, a level 6 mage, find myself tired because of her,” by tired, Iris was talking about using the Lullaby to put her to sleep, which was the longest Lullaby she had ever sung.

“Shameful!” Ianthe turned to the side, steam coming off her head.

“AH!” Hecate’s eye widened as she came to the realisation, “You… and Lady Diantha…?” She paused as she tried not to burst from things that bounced and humped in her vulgar mind, “I never paid any attention...” her voice tinged with horror.

Iris was unprepared for the tackle that came after and hurtled both of them to the edge. Iris sucked in a breath. “H…Hecate, I’m dying.”

It did not have any effect. Hecate’s squeeze tightened, “Congrajulatioon! I am so happy for you and Lady Diantha.” Hecate screamed in joy.

Iris was oblivious to the thoughts of Hecate and Ianthe, and she couldn’t bring herself to dampen their joyous mood. She decided to ask Diantha later.

…

The sky was red, covered under the dark storm cloud, by the time they reached the city. It was not as grand or magnificent as she had expected. It was simple—aligned houses, clean streets, and parks thronging with happy people. But, it was different than Sangfroid. It was Clean, absurdly so. Iris couldn’t spot a single piece of discarded trash. And It was warm.

Other than those things, it was a standard city, much like Sangfroid. Diantha’s mansion was on the opposite end of the town. The mansion stood out revoltingly compared to the humble city. It was as big as the castle she saw in the Center sangfroid. Not only that, it was far more grandiose compared to the castle. From its striking colours to the high tower that glimmered with gem engravings. Yet they were a sideshow to the main and unadulterated art of Enchantment and the eternal spell. Blue spheres hovering over the Castle. Six rings of Rocky sphere glimmering in a blue hue.

“That is….”

“The spell of Grace Lancaster, before she died. To save the castle from ever being seized by the outsiders.”

“It’s a…” Iris couldn’t find the right word.

“Masterpiece.” Ianthe completed her left off sentence. It was more than just a spell. It was a painting, a performance of Mana, and a capacity of what Humans could achieve in the realm of spellcasting.

“What’s it called?”

“Eternal Spell: My Love, Grace Lancaster created this spell to save every child of hers who took shelter in the castle. Lady Diantha said her love for her people created this spell that otherwise would never be feasible.”

“It makes sense—no theory and skill within the system makes sense before its existence,” Iris said. She was in awe. Every part of spellcasting Iris prided herself in, her mastery of creating spells, this piece of art before her, threw her understanding of spell casting out of the window. She was reading a jibberish, incomprehensible words, hurriedly laid stroke on a piece of paper, yet it existed, it could exist. A self-sustaining spell that a non-mage could control. It was the same as if she could make her weaver’s orb eternal and, at the same time, give Diantha the power to command it without expending any effort. Weaver’s orb would reform after every use, self-sustain, and, in time of need, protect Diantha without anyone’s input. It was impossible. Should be. Yet, she would achieve it. It was possible. She needed to do it within one year.

They flew toward the Castle and landed in front of the entrance.

“Hey! Open!” Hecate called. “Now, we wait for them to open.”

“What if they ignore you?” Iris asked. It was likely, even if it was a rude thing to say.

“Naah, you’re here with me. They will not be rude to guests.”

“That means if we were not here, they would ignore you?”

“...” Hecate remained indifferent to that question.

“I am curious still, why is the city so… humble compared to this castle,” Iris asked, turning to Hecate.

“Hmm… ask Lady Diantha, I am not the right person for this job,”

Iris nodded. She heard—a disturbing, nightmarish noise—the footsteps of the horse as they pulled the carriage. “Somehow, we barely reached the city before the slowest things in the world. I feel humbled.” Iris, then, remembered they left sangfroid way before carriage, and that humbleness was pulverized—by shame. No, we travelled the Gracia twice, it's now our fault. It’s only Hecate’s fault.

“We won!!” Hecate shouted.

Iris had an urge to smack Hecate on the head. She was lightning—barely winning against a horse was more shameful than if she failed in casting a simple tier 5 spell. Tier 5 spell was what most mages never see in their life or see only once as it brings about their demise.

“We left before carriage by hours, so technically we lost.”

Hecate deflated at Ianthe’s words, turned at her, her eyes filled with rage, “We are here before the carriage, so we won. That’s It!!.”

“Okay…” Ianthe took a step back, raising her hand to surrender.

Hecate rushed toward the carriage after that. The carriage stopped, Hecate jumped in, and she did not slip. No, she slipped but somehow balanced. Her new class would not allow her to slip anymore.

The carriage approached the entrance as the giant metallic door opened behind her. The carriage stopped in front of them. “Come in,” Diantha called.

Iris reluctantly climbed in and took a seat beside Diantha. Iantha sat opposite, beside Hecate, whispered something in her ears, and both looked at them and giggled. Iris felt left out. She wanted to know. Betrayers!!

The carriage started again, and they went into the Mansion.

Badump!

Iris’s expression tightened. She did not show the pain, but her heart was stuck. She needed to go, breathe, or scream. Where? She looked at Diantha. She could not let Hecate and Ianthe know about her condition.

She called Diantha down because, even sitting, she dwarfed her. “I need an isolated place.” She whispered in her ears.

“I’ll get it arranged—wait a moment.”

A little, she could wait. Of course, she could. Iris whispered in her mind. Her heart was tightened. Her skin started to turn ghostly pale. Diantha noticed her condition,

“Hella, take Ianthe and go show her the castle. I need to talk with Iris.”

Hecate nodded, a face-splitting smile on her face, as she took Ianthe’s hand and rushed out.

“I will have an episode right now. I need a room.”

“Harry,” Diantha called the carriage driver, “inform Viktor to empty the top floor. I don’t want anyone there.”

An Affirmation. Carriage stopped. “Can you make it to the top floor?”

“I can…” Iris barely whispered. She was a level 6 caster, titled Lightning Lord—of course, I can.

….