"Walter, I had a dream. The enemy turtle descended the stairs. The hero stomped on him, again and again, yet it did not die. The man stomped on it until he is resurrected one-hundred times, and he gains the power to overcome the hammer-throwing dragon."
Walter chuckled at Laira, "Well, that's a nice story."
She puffed up her cheeks, "It's not a story! It's a prophecy! Take it seriously!"
"It can't be a prophecy if I already did it."
"What? How can that be? When did you slay a dragon?"
Walter ruffled her hair. "Was there a bridge and an ax in your dream, and a talking mushroom?"
She smoothed it out, "Yes, now that you mention it. How did you know?"
"The turtle is called a 'Koopa Troopa,' and the dragon is named, 'Bowser.' I beat the game Super Mario Bros. when I was a kid.'
Laira's childlike-innocence peeled off her face, leaving behind a burned-out girl that grew up too fast, "If a prophecy is not about the future, then it is a message from the gods. You must decipher it."
"I already figured it out, though. No worries." Walter made a dramatic shrug.
Several seconds passed before Laira's adult composure, which belonged on no child's face in the first place, cracked, and her face twisted. "What? How? No fair! Tell me, tell me!"
Walter ruffled her hair again while she begged and clung to his leg.
Elin watched the pair and laughed when Walter tried to walk, and Laira continued to cling. He wobbled around.
"Hey!" he said, "Let go, you little brat!"
"Haha! Nope!"
"Somebody help! There's a munchkin chewing on my shin! Wait, don't actually bite me, you weirdo!"
When Walter previously helped Laira, Elin discovered herself irresponsibly jealous. The little girl suffered more than any paladin had, and Walter wanted to help, but Elin felt threatened. Now, she could find no hint of it. No matter how she viewed Walter and Laira's interactions, they seemed like distant siblings.
She did not want to share, nor be shared, and that's why she dragged Walter to a distant house on a derelict farm. When the word 'reverse-harem' dropped at the exhibition, Elin decided to scamper away. If her duty meant betraying Walter, then she abandoned it, and, more importantly, she wanted Walter free of the temptation. As a legitimate summoned hero, Walter could demand the right. Yes, she knew her actions were selfish. Humanity's survival required tracking and guiding the lineage of heroes. If accused, then she would shrug; Elin claimed Walter, and that was that.
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"Greetings, Lady Elin. I'm Prince Wilhelm II. I have been looking forward to this meeting. You look lovely."
"Yes, there is hardly a person in the kingdom who is unaware of your name," Lady Elin curtsied, "A pleasure."
Lord Remont watched the party from his vantage. It began with a 'procession,' a line of nobles and well-to-do bowed and curtseyed to Lady Elin, and she returned the favor. Organized meet-and-greets provided a guest of honor implicit support. If she did not insult the attendees, then her support would solidify. After a quick headcount, Lord Remont confirmed no one important in Letun snubbed the party.
Absenteeism equated to political suicide, considering Prince Wilhelm demanded the party and Lady Elin's future role in the kingdom. Furthermore, many entertained fantasies that Lady Elin might prompt a follow-up question, romantic or otherwise. So far, she did not.
Lord Remont's attention drifted from the pair of sharks, Prince Wilhelm and Lady Elin, to the Kraken hidden in the surrounding school of fish, Sir Walter. Chills froze Lord Remont's spine. Scholars believed the charisma of heroes originated not only from their natural beauty or personality but also from a sufficiently large mana shadow. The Archmage of the Mage's University enjoyed such a phenomenon.
This was an entirely different level. No one noticed Sir Walter, playing the role of an unassuming squire, in the crowd. Yet, like a lodestone attracting iron dust, they crowded near him. It reminded Lord Remont of a heroic legend, of a soldier lost in a cave only to discover it was a dragon's mouth all along. They remained unchewed so long as Sir Walter chose not to bite.
Such an individual would stand unassailable by any geas attempted, so Lord Remont abandoned reattempting his magic on Sir Walter. Lady Elin, perhaps, remained as the alternative, and his maid prepared for tonight's attempt.
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The procession ended. Lord Remont descended from the wings and mingled with the crowd.
Prince Wilhelm, Princess Roselynde, and Prince Peterby surrounded Lady Elin. Surprisingly, Prince Wilhelm and Lady Elin's chat sounded friendly, and they traded war stories. The royal siblings staked out their territory. Princess Roselynde, rumored to be aroused equally by man and woman, stared with dilated pupils.
"I'm disappointed you didn't wear something more... legendary," Princess Roselynde scooted closer to Lady Elin, "Your beauty would overwhelm all others."
Lady Elin returned a nervous smile, "My armor is sentimental. So, Prince Wilhelm, you were saying..."
Sir Walter, her squire, looked quite bored. With his lady sequestered off to the center of the room, he busied himself with a skewer of meat and a drink. People orbited him, oblivious to his draw, like the whirlpool of a passing sea monster.
The Archmage, his flowing beard swaying as he talked, stood before Sir Walter. "Sir Walter, I presume? My name is Lord Theobald, Archmage of the Letun Chapter. I challenge you to a duel."
The room quieted.
Sir Walter swallowed a morsel before saying, "What?"
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Wizard's duels did not operate under the same rules as a knight's duel. No honor could be gained or lost since no combat occurred, and, unless the wizard was careless with his own magic, no one's life was risked.
They were a technical exercise.
The crowd followed Lord Theobald, striding forth with excitement, and Sir Walter, shuffling behind under a weight of apprehension. Lord Remont prepared an area in the courtyard, at Lord Theobald's request, beforehand. Clearly, some interest in Sir Walter's magic circulated.
Two wooden targets, one for Lord Theobald and one for Sir Walter, waited for them. While subjective, the target's destruction, in a single spell, decided the winner of the wizard's duel.
After Lady Elin explained the rules to Sir Walter, he looked relieved. "That's it?" he mumbled.
Lord Theobald concentrated. When his mana coalesced, he pulled a heavy mitten over his hand, reared back, and incanted his magic.
,,¡uᴉlǝʌɐſ pᴉɔ∀,,
A spear of green liquid splashed the wooden mannequin. Moments later, the figure collapsed in upon itself, melted by the solvent. Lord Theobald ripped off the mitten, and tossed it aside, before splashing a healing potion across his skin.
A polite round of applause followed.
"Wish I knew that spell," Walter said, "Looks like it has more applications than fighting. Can you cast it and store it in a glass jar?"
Lord Theobald nodded, "Indeed, but the risks are too great to do so often. No stalling, young man. We're all curious to see your counterattack."
Walter sighed.
,,˙Λ ǝlᴉssᴉW ɔᴉƃɐW,,
His magic incanted immediately, and Lord Theobald's mouth dropped. Sir Walter showed no need to channel mana, or, if he did, it was effortless. Ten glowing orbs blinked into existence and, like birds snatching helpless fish from the lake, smashed into his target. Each successive hit chiseled away chunks. After the last orb exploded, the target splintered.
No one applauded. Everyone simply watched.
"Well, going by the rules, since you melted the target more thoroughly, I'd say you won--"
Lord Theobald interrupted Walter, "Nonsense. To cast magic that quickly, and with no risk, truly marvelous. This old man is jealous of your ability."
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Night fell, and the party dispersed.
Lord Remont invited Lady Elin and the squire to spend the night, and the princes and princess impressed upon her to accept his hospitality.
"Sir Walter? I tire. It is time to slumber," Lady Elin eyelids drooped after drinking the last glass of wine Lord Remont's maid offered her.
"Please, spend the night," Lord Remont said, "It is far to your land, and I would be remiss if our new heroine lost sleep because of my rudeness."
"Thank you for your kindness, I shall accept your offer."
The maid palmed a small empty vial. The chemical it once contained she bought from the Firewood District, at her master's orders. Its effects were subtle and hard to detect if not watched for. One who imbibed it would feel a desire to sleep, and, second, become somewhat suggestive. The effects built slowly to avoid suspicion.
The maid guided the two to their guest room. Lady Elin collapsed on the bed.
"You're staying in the room with her? That's quite inappropriate."
"Of course, my job is to watch over her," the useless squire who needed to disappear said.
As a man who schemed, her master prepared secret passageways between rooms. This was not the first woman he ordered to be drugged and readied, nor would she be the last, most likely. Hours later, the maid determined they would not awaken, so she sneaked in and plied more intoxicating drugs.
Both would not awaken now, even if struck.
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Lord Remont entered the guest room via a sliding bookshelf.
"I needed most of the bottle, my lord," his maid whispered, "and I'm not certain--"
"Shut the fuck up and use the rest."
Now he could finally drink in the sight of Lady Elin, the way he wanted. He grabbed her shoulder and rolled her on her back. The spider-silk tunic she changed into slid across her breasts as she breathed.
Lady Elin outclassed every woman Lord Remont ever lusted after. He found it strange that, until she lay helpless, his nervousness prevented that frame of mind. Now, he wanted to taste her. Undoubtedly, she could endure superhuman levels of punishment. No longer would he have to hold back his violent fantasies. He could treat her like Faux. No, she could survive more. He forced himself to remember his purpose, to obtain an agent for the Cult of the Circle.
Time enough later. First, business. Let's win the prize!
,,˙ᴉɔo˥ ɟo poɥʇǝW,,