Revol panted hard as he ran through the streets.

He had lived in Copius for the better part of almost two years, but this was his first time seeing it like that. The capital was completely different from good old Hayden, but nice in its own way. The bustling streets were the same, as were the myriad of merchants and vendors occupying each and every street corner. The main difference was the sheer quantity of people and their general quality of life, though there were proportionally more slums as well.

Now, however, in preparation for the upcoming attack, everyone had vacated these streets. the first, unexpected wave, the citizens had been under strict orders to hole up in their homes, block every entrance and even ready up some arms if they could.

A few shops even prepared makeshift shelters for those who needed them. The army would do their best to protect the capital, but they were already spread extremely thin as is. Not to mention the delegates sent to other towns and villages around the whole mountain and beyond.

Now Revol was running through this ghost town, making sure that no civilian strayed outside for any reason. He felt a shiver as he imagined this emptiness turning into reality if the wave wiped them all—no, it would actually be way worse. If that sort of thing occurred, the streets would be filled with corpses and blood.

He gritted his teeth. That wouldn’t happen, or at least not while Stard Molton was there, as that man would never lose. Revol himself of course also vowed to do the best he could.

All so there wouldn’t be other victims like his little brother.

Poor Genro. He’d always been rasher and more reckless than either of his brothers, and then there was that horrible incident that cost him his arm… yet the boy always persisted and never lost hope. He even dreamt of becoming a soldier just like his older brother. Even so, Revol felt that Gen had been much stronger than he himself was right now.

Revol had cried and cried and cried, but he knew that Molton was right. He couldn’t do anything for his brother anymore, so he worked for the future instead. He’d actually asked his superiors to send him back to Hayden, so he could unite and grieve with the family and fight to protect them directly, but he’d been refused. Since the second wave had been identified so quickly, he probably wouldn’t have been able to make the journey in time anyhow.

Not to mention that Revol barely even finished his training. He no longer shook while holding a weapon, but he’d also never been in an actual fight against someone trying to kill him.

He’d found out fairly recently he could actually channel a little—and had been excited for exchanging tips with Gen, which would now never come to pass—but that was also very new. He was not yet quite a frontline fighter, which was one of the reasons he’d been sent running around the city like that.

If the empty streets weren’t eerie enough, there was also the fact that the sky got darker and darker. Before long the city would be plunged into complete darkness. The previous wave had come around the same time, but it had been concluded not long after nightfall. This would probably turn out to be a difficult fight.

Revol found even this darkness almost comforting compared to the other thing visible in the sky—the serpentine shadows floating in the distance. He’d only glimpsed them for a few moments during the other wave before he and the rest of his troop had barricaded themselves, so it was even worse than he imagined. Even when he didn’t look up some of those cast their squirming shadows on the ground he was running on, causing him goosebumps.

The attack would surely begin any moment now. His orders were not to make a thorough search but simply sweep through a few main streets of his assigned sector. It was time to go back to his unit.

“Good luck, Stard,” mumbled Salom into a metallic rectangle.

Its surface was etched with many complex icons; even Salom needed a bit of time to be able to use it properly. But it worked. Salom almost couldn’t believe something so small could work. As proof, a voice came out of the rectangle a few moments later.

“Take care as well.” A bit distorted and muffled, but it was unmistakably Stard’s voice.

“This is revolutionary… I wish I was the one to think of that,” he said jokingly to Mallew with a wide smile.

“Haha, you’ll make me blush, Professor. I didn’t do this alone, obviously. Besides, some of the iconography here is your own work.”

It was a piece of art. The way the lines intersected one another and yet created meaning and function was truly astounding. If not for Mallew’s ideas the device would probably be several times larger and clumsier.

Despite being completely unrelated, it actually operated under similar principles to the telescope; the device could embed the “sounds” of anyone speaking into it, and then broadcast them into a paired device. They were essentially part of the same whole, connected by the channel of communication which largely ignored the limits of distance.

That was also how Stard had kept in contact with the Queen back when he’d visited Hayden, but Salom hadn’t had the opportunity to check this technological marvel firsthand until just now.

“Now we just sit back and let the fighters do their job,” said Salom.

He, Mallew, and about a dozen other people were all holed inside a sturdy structure located underneath the University. He felt bad for the normal civilians that had to hole up in their brittle houses made of wood, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Besides, even this shelter wasn’t even half as safe as the ones given to the nobles and of course to Levia.

“I wish I could help, though,” mumbled Mallew.

“What do you mean? You are helping. Well, this communication device is not yet widely used, but with all the weapons and other things we started developing…”

Yet Mallew shook her head. “No, I really wanted to fight.”

Salom furrowed his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Haha, not something you’d hear a lady say, right?” she asked with a wry smile.

“Well, there are a few female knights and more than a few channelers,” noted Salom, “but generally speaking, yes, it’s a bit odd. And forgive me for saying this, but you don’t look like the fighting type.”

“No, you’re right. It’s just a stupid dream… I should be satisfied with what I can do, I guess. The General didn’t even let me go through basic training.”

Well, that was obvious; there was need to waste that on such a talent as hers and risk her getting hurt. Salom could agree with Stard’s judgment, but he was polite enough not to say it to her face.

“We’d much rather have you here with us, Mallew,” said one of the nearby professors in an amiable tone. He was one of the faculty members and apparently knew her.

Soon, however, the shelter sank into tense silence. An air of dread drifted around while the second wave began.

Floating in the darkening sky, Stard could see everything. The almost empty city, the distant castle, the sun that nearly ceased its channeling—and most of all, the hundreds of tentacles squirming even higher.

His gaze was stern and calm. Even facing such abnormal monsters would not sway his heart and allow fear and anxiety to encroach it. He’d long gone past that, at least when so many people depended on him. Those dreadful days in the hospital… they were far worse than any war.

Stard floated downward, to where a great many people waited for him. He was one of the generals in command of the entire army, but this was his personal unit—the channeler corps. They were a strange bunch; it was not even twenty years ago when people like Stard would be scorned, let alone get anywhere near the army. But once his prowess, and that of others, had been proven, many such people ended up joining. Most of society referred to them as defects, but they simply thought themselves Special.

Of course, not everyone in the unit was Special, but each and every one of them looked up to Stard as a symbol of power and authority.

“I am not going to address you all with any grand speech,” bellowed Stard, straining his voice to be carried with the wind. “You all know what to do. We are simply going to fight. And I shall be the first to do so. That is all. For Rumdon!”

“For Rumdon!”

Stard was barely able to hear this uproar from the surface since he’d launched himself to the heavens immediately after his final word, his heavy body cutting through the wind. He gritted his teeth; the resulting speed shook his inner organs and his eardrums pounded. He even had to wear goggles to protect his eyes while flying like this. He pushed himself to the very limits of his safe speed, rushing toward the enemy.

As the lone flying soldier in the entire kingdom, and most likely in the whole world, Stard took on himself the responsibility of launching the preemptive strike. Last time they’d been caught by surprise, but now they knew about the incoming wave. And as long as they had Stard, they could start attacking before those monsters even landed.

The sky became a sea of tentacles. Every tentacle was about twice as thick as Stard and ten times longer than he was tall. Clinging to them were the somewhat blurry, dark beasts, about four or five per tentacle.

Hmm? They look somewhat different…

Stard had slain dozens of these monsters, so their form was already familiar to him; a horrific cross between some kinds of insects and lizards. However, it was not so this time—he could see that their forms were more varied.

He hesitated only for a moment. It was the second wave, after all, so it wasn’t strange for their enemies to try something new. This army was both more numerous and more varied. This didn’t change anything about his mission.

Giving himself one last push in the air, Stard drew a sword—one of three—from its scabbard. It slightly shone as it reflected the very last rays of the sun, enough to allow him to gaze at the icons on the blade’s surface before swinging it.

There was a simmer and the sword glowed red-hot, clad in an outline that expanded forward. The nearest tentacle was evaporated rather than cut, causing it and the monsters on board to simply fall down. Without missing a beat, Stard swung and burst ahead, slicing apart the bodies of two other monsters that tried leaping toward him, then finishing off the tentacle that they came from. It seemed that channeling really was especially effective against these monsters, and he was thankful for that.

Many of his soldiers called this weapon “Windburner”. Stard himself found that ridiculous and so never referred to it with any name at all. It was actually lackluster as a sword, on account of it being forged from a certain kind of metal inscribed with icons. Instead it was made to amplify and direct the generated heat for offensive purposes. It could even cut through steel as if it was flesh.

Normally, using this sword in the urban area was dangerous, but that didn’t apply to the skies where he didn’t have to worry as much about collateral damage and could focus on the incineration of his enemies. Well, there was the danger of the crashing monsters, but that couldn’t be helped and was still preferable to them reaching the ground unscathed.

Stard had the initiative, but perhaps the monsters were a little smarter than he’d given them credit for. Instead of simply attacking him, many tried to overwhelm him. Several even sacrificed themselves to let others assault him from behind. Even if he could kill every one of them with a single swing, he still had a limited range and was surrounded by enemies.

Even so he wasn’t about to go down so easily. Part of his fame came from being able to handle hordes of enemies even by his lonesome. He whirled through air, diving and rising up again to avoid the dark beasts. Some of them actually had wings and could fly toward him, but many had to rely on the tentacles, so it was easy to avoid them and let them fall down.

The only problem was his stamina; Stard was not quite in his peak anymore and he was fighting in the skies, where the air was very thin. He got a good number of the enemy forces, but had to take a short rest before he got overwhelmed.

He was lucky to have the mobility that allowed him this. He swiped at one last monster and then let himself fall to the ground, using his ability to slow down and float before impact.

“Get them!” he simply shouted, flying ahead. Beneath him erupted a cheer as the first monsters started to land and the soldiers spread and charged ahead, weapons raised.

While Stard had managed to dilute the wave before many of the monsters managed to land, there was still the vast majority left. These leapt off the tentacles, flew or floated or simply got down to the ground and spread around in all directions. The soldiers also ran in all directions to intercept them.

Soon everything fell to complete chaos.

Wooden stalls and barrels were crushed by the monsters’ weight as they leapt on anything around, living or not. Sword and spears slashed, arrows and stones flew around, but the monsters were mostly tougher or faster or stronger. It took no time for the streets to start filling with a few dark corpses that began melting into thin air and many human corpses that stayed there, bleeding on the ground.

Worst of all was the fact that the sun had already sunk, leaving only torches prepared beforehand as the sole illumination. The dark beasts, unfortunately, seemed unimpeded by the night now swallowing the world.

Among the fighting soldiers, there were also those who did not attempt to defeat their enemies—for their mission was not to slaughter the strange beasts, but to contain them.

“Maneuver A, keep going!” shouted one such soldier.

About three soldiers were engaged in careful combat against a beast that looked like a cross between a bat, a tiger and a boar. It thrust its tusks and slashed with its claws, but the soldiers employed quick footwork and well-timed jabs of their spears to avoid getting hit, keep the monster at bay and draw it toward them.

“Just a bit further!” called another one.

They were advancing to the very edge of the city, toward the main road that split and spiraled around the entire mountain region. Other soldiers already stood at the ready there, some of them keeping other monsters from approaching.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Now! Jump away!”

Hearing this order, the three soldiers leapt just as the monster followed them, stepping on a suspiciously roughened patch of grass—that proceeded to cave under its feet.

“Yes!”

The beast fell into a hole about twice its size that housed a metal-made container. Howling in anger, it attempted to jump out of the cage but another mechanism caused a heavy lid to slide over, trapping it inside.

The rest of the unit was still fighting a few other beasts nearby, but they were happy at having their mission accomplished. Now all they had to do was watch over the cage until the wave was over—it would obviously be foolish carrying that sort of thing through monster-infested streets and into the university’s laboratories right now. For now, it was going to stay safe inside both ground and metal.

Or so they thought.

There was a huge rattle and pieces of metal came flying out of the hole, accompanied by a ferocious shriek. The soldiers around all immediately flinched.

“Don’t let it get away!” shouted the commander. But by the time they began to move, the monster had already climbed out and charged into the nearest soldier, cracking a few of their bones in the process.

Everyone was in shock—the cage was built to be as sturdy as possible, even taking into account the strength of a large beast. How had it broken free so easily?

“Shit! Kill it! If we can't capture it then—AHHHH!!!”

They had been ordered to bring a live monster back, if possible, but also return alive themselves. Having no choice, the trap unit engaged the monster in battle.

Revol could only barely stop himself from shaking as he fought.

His hand on the weapon must be true and steady—this had been drilled into him countless times by his instructors. He also learned how to calm his heart and sharpen his nerves. He did quite well against human opponents, and could imagine himself fighting properly against actual enemies, too, instead of sparring partners.

But fighting these… monsters was another thing entirely. Another human you could understand. You could hate. You could swing your sword and watch their blood flow out, knowing that you help protect a life.

The monsters, however, looked like someone stitched together a few foul beasts and set them loose. They shed no blood and barely flinched at any damage they received. Even knowing these beings were responsible for the death of his little brother, he could feel no murderous impulse; only fear.

Their aura of wickedness was only increased by the darkness, which in turn increased the soldiers’ fear. They were difficult to handle even in daylight, so this was a problem, especially when the chaotic battles at times overturned their sources of light.

Right now, probably the only thing that kept Revol from losing heart and running away screaming was the fact that he was not fighting alone. There were many monsters, but there were more soldiers. He and some other people, many of whom he knew by name, were all sharing the burden together.

If he was alone then perhaps he would have given up and got eaten. But as long as he could join forces with others who wanted to protect the kingdom as much as he did—no, they surely weren’t thinking about that right now; they were just trying to kill their enemy while staying alive. Meaning, plain survival. And survival was often enough of a motivator to fight.

People around were shouting and swinging their weapons, but Revol couldn’t allow himself to lose focus. Swing, hit, parry, leap back, and attack again. Once or twice he saw another soldier getting bitten and trampled under a beast’s powerful legs, but he just screamed in horror and thrust his sword yet again. Finally, he and a few others managed to hurt the beast in front of him enough that it stopped moving, hacked it some more and caused it to slowly vaporize.

But Revol couldn’t even stop to catch his breath. Once they felled a monster, they had to move on to the next one. They were surprisingly coordinated, given the situation; the soldiers moved in a straight line to fill whatever vacancies they could find in the surrounding battles.

Revol felt they were winning. That the monsters weren’t unlimited and everlasting. Perhaps he only wanted to think so, or perhaps it was only true for their current battlefield, but he hung on to that belief for it brought him power.

Just one more swing. And then another. And another. He knew that every swing would lead to him surviving just a bit longer and bring the opposing creature just a bit closer to death. For now, that was enough.

Suddenly there were multiple loud crashes and despite it being a bad idea, Revol instinctively glanced in their direction. Objects were falling from the sky—no, they were further monsters. Even now the full “delivery” was not completed, yet the monsters weren’t landing, but falling; apparently Stard had flown up for a second round.

Revol had seen him from afar, the first time—that was before the battle started in full—and marveled at his distant form annihilating the countless dark worms and their minions. Even now he could barely see the orange flicker that came from the legendary Windburner.

He realized with a start that even an instant of looking away could be fatal, but something suddenly rammed into the beast and sent it flying. Literally.

It took him a few moments to realize he’d just seen one of the tentacles launch itself along with the beast at incredible speeds. He heard shouts and then something else crashed into the building right next to him.

—The predominant colors of this scene were red and black.

Revol put a hand over his mouth when he realized that he gazed at what used to be a human being. Their… remains were also entangled with those of a severed tentacle, which seemed much less hurt. In fact, it was not only still squirming, but even immediately zoomed out of sight.

How odd. He knew that these tentacles served as “vehicles”, so was it something that related to the channel of movement? He was not yet good enough of a channeler to know, but several others monsters, men and other things were thrown around, both hindering and helping their battle.

Revol gritted his teeth and stepped ahead to continue helping his comrades.

Being a shelter that had been made expressly for the possibility of having the University getting attacked by a foreign army, the underground space was built with sturdy walls and a thick door. For that reason, hearing that door rustle and being pounded was quite worrying.

“…What are they doing out there?” mumbled Salom, clicking his tongue.

The University had, of course, not remained unprotected. After all it was located in the very center of the town, almost directly below the slope that led up to the castle. So there should have been plenty of soldiers situated outside its gates—or was that the problem? Could some of the monsters have landed directly in the University, where they could head down to them?

It was more likely, or at least more optimistic, than thinking they were losing heavily right now. It was also extremely foolish of them to not have thought of this in advance. Either way, they were in trouble.

“I knew we should have brought a few soldiers inside…!” called an aged professor on the verge of panic.

“Don’t be silly, they all need to be fighting out there,” noted a woman researcher.

“Wait… you have a direct line with the military, don’t you?” a young man turned to Salom.

He did consider contacting them, but he couldn’t really bother Stard with such small matters. Or would danger to one of his closest friends (and the Queen’s trusty aide) consist as a huge matter? Still, he was surely busy fighting even as they spoke. Even the other few possessors of the communication device were probably occupied.

“I have an idea,” mumbled Mallew. Despite the situation, she actually looked determined. Her clenched fist was somewhat shaking, yes, but her expression was fierce. “Being closed here might actually be to our advantage. We could use metal icons on the door, but maybe we just need to—”

But then there was a loud crash and a beast came in through the door, causing a few horrified screams. Should they feel happy it was apparently only one monster, or be scared because none of them could fight back?

“Someone do something!” shouted Salom. “I’ll try to hold it back!”

Before he could explain himself any further the monster leapt further inside and he unleashed the channel of wind. He created a momentary fierce gale, most of it uncontrolled—even in the best conditions he wouldn’t be able to use an overly powerful iconless channeling, but that was enough to stop the black crocodile-bull-beetle for a moment or two.

“Shit!” called one of the younger men and threw a nearby chair at the beast. It barely even scratched it, but once again it managed to delay their deaths by a second.

“Everyone come here!” came a shout from an unexpected person—Mallew.

Most of those present were almost frozen in place, but Salom saw with a glance what she was attempting to do and hurried to take action. He rolled as quickly as he could—too quickly, in fact, causing him to lose control over the wheelchair and throw himself to the cold floor.

“P-Professor…!”

His body ached and he couldn’t get up, but that didn’t matter right now since the beast moved yet again, almost like it directly went to the most vulnerable of them, which was Salom.

However, Salom focused on the floor beneath the monster’s legs and there was suddenly a great conflagration. Moments before, Mallew had drawn a piece of chalk and scribbled a hasty icon on top of the floor. Salom didn’t even have enough time to marvel how precise and effective that icon was even when she had to draw it under duress and so quickly.

Even with its whole body burning, the monster wasn’t killed that easily, but it was incapacitated enough to let the other people around take action. One of the young men smashed a table on top of it and caused the monster to stumble, whereupon it finally began crumbling to ashes.

“That was… way too close,” mumbled Salom, breathing heavily. His face was flushed and sweaty. If he’d been late even slightly with the channeling it never would have worked and they all would have died.

“Thank the Gods… there doesn’t seem to be any other beasts,” said someone.

“Don’t thank the ones who sent them after us in the first place, idiot,” said another.

“It’s not over yet.” Mallew ran ahead, running her chalk on the floor near the door. “If one could go in, so can others. And since the door’s ruined, we can’t count on anyone else right now… so we’ll have to fortify the place. Like this.”

“I’ll try calling some help after all,” said Salom as he was being raised back to his wheelchair by two helpful people, his feet dragging on the ground.

“We can also barricade the entrance… yeah, that thing could tear a metal door, but surely it’s better than nothing.”

Only black ashes remained from what used to be such a fearsome beast. Salom noted that their current theory seemed to hold. He could only hope that they would manage to capture some of those beasts—and keep them safe and locked—and study them to find even further weaknesses, or some way of stopping this whole mess.

But first, he had to survive this current wave, which was far from over.

Stard soared through the cold air, heading to the edge of the mountain, not too far from the building that served as the Observatory. There were obviously no people inside right now, but the very edge of the mountain housed a small town that also included most of the Observatory’s workers. A unit had been stationed there to protect the area, but owing to the difficult landscape they’d found themselves in a pickle and so had called for Stard’s help. Judging it to be the currently weakest defensible area, he prioritized it.

He’d also received some brief contact from Salom, but told him to try and get hold of the city’s guardians. It might have seemed cold, treating his old friend like this, but both men knew that Stard wanted to act as efficiently as possible during war.

Battles around the edge of the mountain also presented the problem of potential avalanches that could affect many inhabitants all around, so they had to fight very prudently, limiting them further.

Closing in on a group fighting atop a wide cliff, Stard drew his second sword, the thin saber commonly called Windbreaker. A trite name, yet again, but Stard cared not how the people called it as long as the weapon could serve to protect them.

“Stand back!” he called to the soldiers, holding the sword under his body with both hands. They all sent final slashes or stabs at the enemies to keep them away, retreating to allow Stard to act.

He glanced at the body of the blade—obviously inscribed with a line of complex yet very tiny icons—for a brief moment, then swung it upwards and to the right.

What followed was a blast of wind so powerful it blew away the monster standing immediately in front of him in accordance with the movements of his blade, knocked off another one and momentarily stunned a third. The weapon named Windbreaker actually used the channel of movement—Stard’s specialty—more than the channel of wind, but it combined both of them for a powerful kinetic assault.

Such heavy targets wouldn’t be blown away in such an exaggerated manner, but this was once again an example of the monsters’ weakness. The one to have received the full brunt of the attack soared up and above, vanishing behind the other side of the mountain. It would probably be smashed at the bottom or fall into the sea below—which should be enough to kill it.

By the time the other beasts recovered for another attack Stard completed another swing. Windbreaker was powerful, but quite slow; he would have opted to use Windburner again if not for the presence of other soldiers and houses nearby.

Even so, with the help from the nation’s most powerful warrior, the unit finally managed to mostly repel and contain the current area safely. Receiving contact of another area in danger, Stard bid them farewell and yet again got into the sky.

He was growing tired, but Stard already knew—they were headed for victory.

Levia found herself extremely bored.

Sure, she knew she shouldn’t feel like that, but she couldn’t control it, either. It was hard enough acting emotions, so stopping those that actually existed? Thinking of it, though, boredom was less of an emotion and more a state of being… she was so bored she was even beginning to consider such philosophical arguments in her own mind.

As the one and only Queen, she was obviously housed in the best of shelters—the not-so-secret underground area beneath the castle that also led to the base of the mountain and contained a few heavily barred rooms. With three brawny soldiers inside and a dozen outside, there could be no safer place in the entire kingdom; not even the other nobles currently residing underground received this sort of protection for a single person, much to Lord Qumisson’s chagrin.

She wanted Saburn to also come to one of those shelters, but he’d refused. Apparently, he preferred going to the shelter in the University. Foolish man. He was a noble, so he was entitled to better protection, but oh well.

Anyway, this isolation also resulted in extreme boredom. She obviously couldn’t talk to her bodyguards and not even her Chamberlain was allowed in there. To say nothing of Salom and Stard, the only two people she could openly mess around with.

How childish I am, she mused. But she couldn’t help it. When she was an actual child, she acted rebelliously to elicit a response from her father and other people around her… and it became a habit. Of course, even by her teens she learned how to hide it, but people like her late husband had always been able to see through her, once they knew what to look for.

Almost all of the emotions from the people underground were anxiety and tension. Uninteresting and uninstructive, so this too got her bored. She almost wished she could be outside, watching the fighting, all those soldiers fighting for her sake—or for the kingdom’s sake. But, well, she couldn’t protect herself from anything. She was perhaps childish and indulgent, but not quite that stupid.

She would receive some reports from her communication device, from time to time, but that wasn’t the same at all. And they hadn’t told her anything interesting, either, simply announcing the situation of such and such sector. At the very least she was able to understand that things were going quite well.

Levia was almost about to drift off to sleep (it was nighttime, after all) when the rectangular piece of metal started glowing again. That was a sign that a message had been sent.

“Your Majesty,” said Stard’s voice, “we have won.”

Oh? She focused on the interweaved icons again, then spoke. “Is the wave truly over, Stard?”

It was actually much faster than expected—the evening of that first wave, when she’d been taken away to safety during supper, felt especially long, but the hourglass standing nearby in the room indicated that only a few hours passed into the night.

“More or less, Your Majesty,” said Stard’s voice after a short delay, “we contained the assault and most of the fighting ended.”

“Good work. Clean up everything and report to me as soon as you can,” Levia instructed.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The soldiers behind her had definitely heard this conversation; she could feel their relief clearly. However, she knew she wouldn’t be allowed out yet—they would wait for a messenger to confirm that the wave was over, then carefully check the area around the castle, then check the underground area, and only once everything had been deemed safe she would finally escape this boredom.

Being the one and only ruler of the state had many advantages, but it also had at least as many inconveniences.

After an hour or so, Levia was finally released. Still accompanied by many guards just in case, she made her way above ground. Of course, even though the wave was over there would be no rest for her just yet (ironically, now she really wanted to sleep); she would still need to hear the military reports, ascertain the damages and convey further orders. Meaning, a few more hours of a complete pain, but at least not spent in utter boredom.

“Your Majesty!”

Turning around, she saw Swen running toward her, panting. She could feel confusion and urgency from him.

“Have you been worried?” she asked him gently, smiling. “I have been completely safe, of course.”

“I…I was worried for you, Your Majesty, but I knew that you were fully protected.” He paused for second, catching his breath. “But there was an urgent message, directed for your ears only—”

Levia raised a brow. “What do you mean?” she asked. She glanced down at the communication device she was holding, just in case; if Stard wanted to send a message for her he would have used that. Saburn would, too. All others messages shouldn’t be urgent enough to reach her so quickly. Unless it was something to do with the nobles… some move of Lord Qumisson, perhaps?

But her guess proved to be dead wrong.

“It’s just that… Your Majesty, the…” Swen mumbled, but then looked around. The guards appeared nervous at his demeanor, standing near their queen. “This is important. I must speak to you alone.”

There were only two matters relating to the kingdom secretive enough to elicit such a response, and her Chamberlain knew about only one of them, but that one was… odd. She could understand his emotions, but not read his thoughts.

“Leave us for a bit,” she ordered the guards behind.

“But… Your Majesty, the time right after the attack is the most—”

“I trust Swen completely,” Levia barked. She was impatient, and that came out in a suitable tone of annoyance. “I just need you far enough to not hear us, do not worry. Get on with it, now.”

There was silence except for the clutter of the guards’ armor as they stepped ahead in the gloomy corridor. Still anxious, Swen pressed closer to her—he was a tall man, so he towered over her as he did so. Of course, he kept the proper, polite distance from her, but he needed to get close enough to speak.

“We have received a message,” he proclaimed very softly, “on the Heavenly Board.”

Her eyes widened. Even knowing it was the only possible subject he could have alluded to, it still came as a shock. Not even once during her reign as a Queen had such a thing happened; it was always there, active, and messages were periodically sent from it, though less in recent times, but never to it. It was sensational. Revolutionary, even. Possibly a historical moment.

For it meant that Plainland was, after all these years, once again in contact with the phantasmal and legendary Fairland.

Clouds spill the rain of wrath

A foul day to choose a path