“Fine. The answer is destiny.”

The room remains silents besides Allen’s giggles as Alyssa bounces him on a leg, waiting for Aurelius to elaborate. When he refuses to speak after several long moments, I jab him in the side. He grunts but reluctantly continues his story. “My family, the Silvari—"

“I thought your last name was Errent,” Alyssa interrupts.

Aurelius sneers. “The true name of my family, my clan, is Silvari. And we have been prominent members of the magic community for generations, each of us having an exceptional talent for spellcasting. We are often born with powerful affinities, either greater ones or dual affinities. I was only blessed with the wind affinity but my talent for building my core rivals any of my ancestors.” He straightens up, chest puffing with pride. “Something that is evident enough. I am a master caster at the young age of thirty-seven.”

“Is that impressive?”

He looks scandalized by my question. “Impressive? It can take an entire lifetime to become a master. I did it in three decades! Every one of my tutors considered me a prodigy! Dunwayne himself took an interest in my progress.”

“Oh, saints’ blessed asses!” Alyssa groans. “You never shut up about that. He advised you for a couple of months. When he realized that you had no aptitude for combat, he dropped you like a bag of shit.”

“He did not drop me. He was interested in my research in wide-range communication magic. We had a productive intellectual exchange before—"

The redhead scoffs. “Oh, come off it. The grandmaster heard about a talented young air caster and checked you out, hoping to find his heir, but you don’t have the stones to fight the way he does. Does everyone know how the great Dunwayne fights? No? Well, that old bastard is almost as insane as the rest of you.

“You see, he didn’t learn to fight in a fancy school. He learned in a time when a student only learned what their master could teach them. Let me tell you, a highly accomplished master of magic doesn’t take an interest in a poor and scrawny youth. The grandmaster only learned a handful of spells, including the two that define his style. His master’s two signature spells, Monstrous Force and Force Transfer.

“They were his signature spells, but they weren’t unique. Once the Grand Hall was up and running, Dunwayne found out that a lot of air casters had similar spells, passed down from their own masters. Monstrous Force increases the speed of an object. Force Transfer does exactly what it says, transferring the speed of one thing to another, bringing the first to a complete stop. Normally, those spells are used by drivers on long and dangerous roads. Dunwayne’s master used them in battle, especially duels. Good way to throw an opponent off-guard. But his student took it a step further.

“Crazy fuck took Flip, a joke spell that uses a burst of wind to flip an object and started wrestling monsters. See, he uses Monstrous Force on himself and runs at them full speed. Then he slams into them with Force Transfer and hits them with a couple delayed Flips. The monster is thrown backward, spinning ass over end before hitting something extremely hard. If their head isn’t cracked open, they’re left completely disorientated. Probably puking up their breakfast too. Leaving them completely vulnerable for when he does it again. And again. Before he was known as the Harvest Hero, the old fighters called him Bucking Dunn, because fighting him was like being thrown off a bucking stallion.”

She pauses, noting the many curious gazes around the table. I grin as she flushes slightly. “What? I research famous fighters. It’s a hobby, okay?”

“A respectable pastime,” Kierra assures her.

“I have an ice garden,” Yulia adds in an attempt to reassure her that her interest isn’t the oddest one around.

“I’ve discovered a growing passion for accessorizing,” Talia finishes, being the supportive flower she is.

Alyssa huffs, mollified by their words. “Yeah, well, Dunn’s style of fighting takes a lot of skill and a lot of balls. Plate-head over there has the skill but not the guts. The style requires getting up close and personal to minimize mana costs. Fuck up a variable and the monster is crushing you, not the other way around.”

“Up close is an understatement,” Aurelius grumbles. “You practically have to have a beast’s jaws wrapped around you for the spells to have any efficiency. There are too many things that can go wrong and a lot better ways to fight.”

“Yeah, like that metal toothpick at your side? That sure did a lot to save you from her, didn’t it?” She inclines her head toward me. “If that was Dunwayne, he would have flipped her on her ass and threw her through a wall…maybe. She’s damn fast.”

“And a lot heavier than I look,” I add. “Not so easy to throw me around.”

“I am a perfectly adequate fighter, despite it not being my area of expertise. Dunwayne agreed. That’s why I was never taken on as his disciple and no other reason.”

“Sure. You didn’t apprentice to the most famous caster in the kingdom because of mutual respect. We all believe you.” If my sarcastic tone didn’t give away how much I don’t believe him, the looks he’s getting from the room would have. “But let’s not linger on this. We were talking about your obsession with my wife. Something about destiny.” I wave for him to continue.

He sighs. “As I was saying, the Silvari family has been magically talented for generations. The secret to that talent lies in our ancestor. Long ago, before the lands of Harvest were tamed, my ancestor, a knight, was grievously injured and forced to retire. That didn’t stop him from serving the people. He took to the road, doing what he could to help the unfortunates of the kingdom. Peasants on the frontiers struggling against vicious beasts. Other injured warriors struggling for purpose.”

“Practically a saint,” I say with only a little sarcasm.

Aurelius picks up on it anyway. “He was a great man. And his generous spirit was rewarded, for one day he stopped to help the woman that would change his destiny.”

He pauses, finally pouring himself a cup of tea. A pity, as it’s lukewarm at best and I don’t like him enough to have Geneva reheat it. After a long drink, he continues his story. “He found her on the side of the road, holding onto life by a thread. She hadn’t eaten in many days and couldn’t walk another step, the pain from her twisted limbs too great to bear. His men, those inspired by his generous spirit, thought she was an ill omen and wanted to abandon the woman to her fate. My ancestor wasn’t put off. He picked the woman up and carried her home. His servants cared for her day and night until she was well enough to speak. And she told him her story.”

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His eyes move to Kierra. “She was not human at all, but an elf from the Twilight Province. After losing a battle of inheritance, she was cast from her home, her form twisted and a poison preventing anyone from healing her. She was ready to die but my ancestor refused to give up on her.”

A muffled sound makes me look up. Kierra has her head bowed and her shoulders hunched. I almost ask what’s wrong, but Aurelius draws my attention as he continues his story.

“As he nursed her, the two became close. He sat by her bedside when she was in pain and took her into the city when she felt well, educating her on humans and the kingdom. He gave her hope. Eventually, she cleansed the poison in her body and healed her injuries. Only then, when she was whole and healthy, free to do as she pleased, did my ancestor ask for her hand in marriage. They did, secretly, as the old nobles, still sore from the Great War, wouldn’t have thought kindly of a union with another race. Despite that, their love—"

“Bwahahahahahaha!”

The room turns to Kierra as she explodes with laughter. She presses her lips together in an effort to control herself but one look at Aurelius’ confused expression sets her off again, this time laughing harder.

“What’s so funny?” Yulia asks with a smile, the elf’s humor contagious.

Kierra’s shoulders shake as she forces out her words. “Him. His story.” That’s all she can get out before laughing again.

“What?” Aurelius snaps. “Do you not believe me? I assure you, every word is true. I am descended from Olma Silvari—"

Kierra bursts into laughter again and for the first time, Aurelius looks at her with frustration. “What is it?!”

“Olma!” The elf fails to contain herself and pitches sideways. She would have fallen if Alana wasn’t quick to support her. Kierra pats her shoulder as she straightens up, wiping an errant tear from the corner of her eye. “Spirit, that explains all.”

“Care to share with the rest of us?” I ask my wife.

“Of course, my love.” She rests her chin in her hand and smiles at a visibly upset Aurelius. “I have told you of the Twilight Province, hm? They are those who seek strength through breeding. The clans are normally divided by those they mate with.” She has our complete attention. Especially Aurelius’, who leans forward, hung on her every word. “Their breeding practices are, hm. Your kingdom would not approve. The whole of the province has a reputation for being amoral, perverted bastards.”

“Surely, you exaggerate,” the snow bunny questions.

“Some would say that Victory is full of suicidal war fanatics. How much of an exaggeration is that?” Kierra chuckles as Yulia winces. “There is no act of depravity that the Twilight clans have not indulged in but there are things that even they have forbidden. Those who break the few rules they have are exiled, their limbs twisted and their bodies poisoned so they will never heal.”

“What are you saying?” Aurelius asks. “That my ancestor was some…some…criminal?”

“Criminal?” Kierra chuckles but manages to keep from going into another laughing fit. “No, no. A mere criminal is not enough to be exiled from the clans. There is only one kind that Twilight cannot accept. The sick. Those with defects of the mind that lend them to disturbing insanity. The melders of the clans can bend flesh in fantastical ways but the mind is beyond their reach. The only solution is to remove the bad flesh so it will not contaminate the rest of the group. Your ancestor was a madwoman, one so, hm—"

“Unhinged?” I supply, also having to stop myself from laughing.

“Yes. One so unhinged, those who pride themselves on being the worst degenerates in the world would not accept her.”

I finally give into the urge to laugh. “That does explain a lot!”

“Ridiculous!” Aurelius shouts, jumping to his feet. I grab his wrist as his eyes begin to glow, yanking him back down into his seat. A little too hard going by his grunt of pain but all he can do is glare at me. “She was no madwoman. Otherwise, her husband would never have married her.”

“Being mad does not preclude her from being clever. She certainly had a sense of humor. I do not recognize the name Silvari but Olam is quite familiar.” She chuckles. “It is the name of a woman in a famous story.”

“Ooo!” Rolly appears over the table in a flash of color, yellow as the sun. “Storytime!”

“A short one.” Kierra clears her throat. “Olam was a maiden like the full moon. Beautiful and bewitching, but aloof to all her admirers. Many breeders sought her for a partner and she entertained hundreds of advances but none could sway her heart. The succubus clan tried to steal her mind, the wyvern clan cared too much for fighting, and so on. The true story has a hundred lines for each of the clans. Olam could only stand the company of one creature. Her dog.

“It was a simple creature. Weaker than a child, dumb as a rock, and completely unremarkable. But she liked it because it asked nothing of her and showered her with adoration every moment of the day. In the end, she forsook all her many lovers and married her dog. On the day of her union, she proclaimed to the crowd of disbelieving onlookers that since the world had was filled with flies attracted to hot-smelling shit, she would rather spend her life with the beast that loved her.”

Kierra chuckled. “The moral of the story is that sometimes we must choose the best choice from a sea of bad choices. Your ancestor was this Silvari’s dog. The idiotic beast that loved her without a thought in its head.”

Aurelius’ face is red with indignation. “You know nothing. They loved each other. Even though they had to hide their marriage—"

“Did that not strike you as odd?” Kierra interrupts. “This woman is skilled enough to purge the poison from her body and heal her mangled limbs, but she cannot doctor her ears to make them more round? It is much more likely that she pretended she could not and insisted on privacy to hide her activities.”

“That’s…”

“That is not the only thing I question in your tale. Is it not interesting that this Silvari collapsed on a road that your ancestor, a man with a growing reputation for being a rampant do-gooder, just the kind of person who would take her in and care for her until she could heal herself, is passing by? Despite making it through the Enchanted Forest in one piece?” Kierra laughs and I join her.

“It was a coincidence! Destiny!”

Saints.

“Does your family have an ancestral home? If so, I can guarantee you that there is a hidden space somewhere on your property that will reveal the true nature of your beloved ancestor.”

“No. You don’t know what you’re talking about. My ancestor wrote journals about their time together. They were in love. They were perfect.”

Wait a minute. “Is that why you’re so obsessed with Kierra? Because you want the same perfect relationship?” The pieces come together in my mind. “And you can only have that perfect relationship with another elf. And the only elf in the kingdom is Kierra.” He doesn’t say anything, which may as well be an admission. “Saints’ blessed asses, you absolute idiot. If you can only get off to elven women, why don’t you go to the continent full of them?”

“How many could compare to Kierra?” He looks at my wife with a fervent gaze. “She is smart, beautiful, and incomparably talented. The men of my family have fathered fewer and fewer children. I am the last hope of continuing the Silvari line but taking a common bride will spell our ruin. Then I meet an elven woman who possesses a pure physical affinity. The perfect answer. You came to me. Just like my ancestors. Don’t you see? It’s destiny! I don’t understand why you can’t see it!”

“Fucking Abyss,” Alyssa mutters. “He’s actually crazy.”

“Do not think too badly of him.” Kierra stares at him piteously. “He cannot help himself. There is a reason the Silvari woman was cast out. Madness can be inherited.”

“I am not mad!”

Moving quickly, I put an arm around his throat, pulling him to his feet. He slaps at my arm ineffectually as I squeeze just hard enough to stop him from breathing but not hard enough to break his neck. It’s a delicate distinction. One I manage, dropping him to the ground after he eventually stills. “He’s completely mad,” I tell the room.

“Irredeemably insane,” Yulia agrees with a nod. “I hope it’s not catching.”

“Definitely deranged,” Alyssa adds.

“Unspeakably unhinged.” The other two give Kierra a look that she responds to with raised brows.

“…ridiculously raving.” Yulia smiles at Alana while Alyssa inclines her head in acknowledgment.

“Uncomfortably unsound indeed,” Earl contributes in a rare show of joining in on the fun. Glad to see he’s been taking his studies seriously. Bonus points for the nod to Aurelius’ sound attack.

“Disagreeably delirious!” Rolly adds with a melodious giggle.

“Lasciviously loony,” Geneva throws in.

“Coo coo!” [Annoyingly aberrant.]

All eyes turn to me. “Ah, come on. You all already took the easy ones. Uh…oh! Utterly unstable! Ha!” We all have a good laugh over Aurelius unconscious form, without a care in the world for a few moments longer.