Despite her sister's resolution to fight alongside her, Annora couldn't shake a feeling of deep unease.
They had all as children received training from some of the best instructors the Mountain Home had to offer. Even still, Annora could still remember the first time she was forced to put her life on the line for real. It'd been a complete disaster where she almost got herself and her husbands killed. So she knew firsthand that training alone did not fully prepare you for combat.
Still, she had to admit Andora was holding her own against the blood mage despite the difficulty of the situation. It really did seem as though they were dancing to some twisted tune on a tightrope suspended just outside her Area. Even so, she knew her sister wasn't well versed in battle, and the longer this dragged out the more likely it became she would make a mistake.
Another wooden structure smashed in Annora, and again she shrugged it off. The mage she pursued was a far more pressing concern.
She'd lived on the battlefield for years by now, and the instincts she'd accumulated in that time all told her one thing; the beastkin mage was exceptionally dangerous.
So far all he'd done was throw rubble at her, but the way he went about it set off alarms in her mind. First was the domain projection he employed, Through the Looking Glass. Judging by the way the man waved his staff with a hunk of embedded crystal around, she guessed that spells that targeted whatever he saw through the crystal were altered somehow. Her best guess was that the mana efficiency skyrocketed.
Truly great combat mages prioritized mana efficiency over any other aspect of their magic. The less mana you had to put into a spell for a given effect meant better sustainability, meaning if you could boost efficiency by half or even double you could launch back to back attacks that would normally leave you drained.
This was the reason nobody in Zeph's company considered Albatos a good combatant. His domain, Amp, multiplied mana expenditure instead of reducing it. The result was a style that allowed him to create devastating attacks that could break him out of most situations, but almost immediately emptied his reserves.
Most likely the blood mage worked on a similar concept. Annora imagined her projection was along the lines of using her own blood as the target allowed her to increase the efficiency. It was a style of fighting only people with a screw loose would consider using, as the cons likely outweighed the efficiency benefit by a great deal. Reverie's followers tended to be slaves to appearance.
Annora could also tell just how much experience the man had by the way he moved and acted. Most mages would panic or lose their composure with Annora barreling down upon them, but this beastkin seemed about as concerned as he would be if he were a couple of minutes late to an appointment.
Not only that, but the man made no attempt to actually kill her. Mages, when they wanted to, could impart absurd amounts of force on objects and launch them at break-neck velocities. With an increase in efficiency this man should also be quite capable of doing so, but he doesn't.
It's almost as though he doesn't really care. He throws whatever is present in the environment at me, but it feels more like he's taunting me. He knows I'm capable of dodging or shrugging off almost everything he throws at me, but he keeps leisurely sending more my way. He's stalling for time.
Time was, after all, Annora's least abundant commodity. The longer the man wrought out their contest of attrition the more pressure it put her under to return to her allies. Most likely, this man had been hired for the express purpose of drawing her away from Stein, their true objective.
However, Annora felt a far greater pressure for time than they had likely expected. She had faith that her allies were strong enough to weather difficult battles, they were all hardened veterans. It was the ally at her side that concerned her. The longer Andora fought the more likely she would make a mistake.
At that moment Annora heard a sharp crack and saw her sister throw something at the beastkin instead of continuing to target the blood mage.
Shit.
Annora could do nothing but watch as her sister was dragged into her Area along with a sizable section of building. She saw out of the corner of her eye that the blood mage was readying another projectile, intending to take advantage of the moment of weakness.
Her body acted on instinct, the simple need to protect her sister. The blood bullet dug into her heavily reinforced arm, the concentrated mass failing to fully pierce her flesh. She knew what she was about to do was incredibly stupid, but she didn't have time to weigh the options. Her sister was in the line of fire, defenseless.
"Move, Burst."
The beastkin, cool eye staring at her through the staff, vanished. And then she felt the impact of what seemed like a million hammer blows across her entire being.
She didn't even have time to register the brief sensation of flight before she collided with something. She tumbled through open space for a moment before collapsing in a heap on solid wood floor.
Her consciousness wavered on the brink of oblivion, and a familiar scene came to her mind. It always did when she felt weak, powerless. It came to her as a reminder of her goal, her purpose.
Fight.
***
"Good!" Hop, the instructor yelled as Annora pressed the attack with her practice sword.
As a human, Hop had a height advantage over her, and Annora found it difficult to take the advantage in these duels. Yet through brute force she gradually started to make progress.
She'd long since tossed out the idea of mastering any of the sword forms Hop had tried to teach her. She simply had no talent for memorizing flowery motions. She swung her sword with all the might she could muster, and with every blow Hop blocked she could feel the reverberations of the study material.
Why is this sword so damn short? Gah.
She'd leaned in too far forward with uneven footing and Hop had stuck a leg out as she tried to step back, tripping her up so she landed on her ass. "Hm. Not good enough, unfortunately," he said with a wry smirk on his face.
For a human, Hop was about average height with a slim build. His facial features were sharp, and they complimented his braided goatee, which was the only hair on his otherwise bald head.
She got up and brushed off the gritty sand before she started to stomp off the training ground, eyes trained on the weapon rack along the outer perimeter.
"And where do you think you're going?" A gnarled old dwarf sitting on the sidelines asked with a voice like sandpaper. Annora hated her.
"To find a bigger sword," Annora said as she continued toward the weapon rack.
"Stop."
Annora kept moving.
"I said stop, girl."
Annora's face contorted in an expression of anger, but she obeyed the command and halted in her tracks. As much as she hated it, she knew disobeying one of the royal advisors would result in nothing but trouble later.
The advisor, 12th seat, the third oldest of the bunch, walked over to her with a limp. The wrinkled old man looked down at the practice blade she still held in her hand and said, "That length of blade has been fitted for you specifically. It is the same length as the blade you may one day be entrusted with when you stand before us as queen."
Her grip on the handle tightened, "I can't win with this."
"You do not need to win. You need to familiarize yourself with that blade so you may show our people you are proficient with it. Yours is not the blade that will strike down our foes. Yours is that hand that is meant to guide our people, the voice to give hope and inspire faith. Let the guard and our armies handle our enemies."
When Annora said nothing in response the advisor told her, "Now, go back and continue."
She begrudgingly turned and walked back to Hop, who had a sympathetic look on his face but said nothing. They once again squared off, for what was probably the 20th time that day. Before either of them moved an inch Hop gave a wry smile.
Annora moved first, as she always did. Practice blades clashed, and she once more threw as much weight as she could in every strike. When she felt Hop's attention was fully drawn into her swordplay she struck.
"Anti-Magic Area!" She shouted, a hint of joyful triumph in her voice.
Hop's prosthetic leg, ordinarily given life and motion by magic, fell apart within his trousers. The weight he'd placed on it caused him to lose balance, and Annora saw her chance to finally get a good hit in.
Even as she swung her sword Hop seemed to regain his balance in an instant, and before she could react he sprung off his one good leg, straight at her. He sailed over her head in a flip, completely avoiding her attack. Before his form went behind her he reached out a hand and grabbed the hem of her training tunic.
Annora's balance was thrown way off as her upper body was tugged backward, and as she heard the impact of Hop's foot touch the ground behind her she felt that backwards tug turn into an upwards pull.
She was lifted off her feet as Hop threw her over his shoulder before slamming her into the ground. She felt the air get knocked out of her from the impact, and as she breathed in the lingering cloud of sand she felt the grains of earth get stuck in her throat, resulting in a hacking cough.
"You… knew…?" She managed to squeeze out.
"I knew you would try something, wasn't sure what though. We've done this enough by now I can tell when you're about to snap. I'll admit this was a much better attempt than the time you tried to throw sand in my face at least," Hop said as he hopped back over to his fallen prosthesis.
"And just what the fuck was that?" The raspy voice of the advisor sounded like it was being stretched to its limit as it tried to express the woman's rage while not being able to go up to a full shout. Annora had seen the old bat get mad enough to yell before. It didn't have much of an effect, as she and her sisters could barely hold in their laughter listening to the high-pitched squeak of worn out vocal cords.
"Uh, training?" Hop replied as he sat in the dust and rolled his trousers up to reconnect his artificial leg to where his real leg ended in a stump.
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"Training? You are not teaching some street urchin how to fend for themselves, you are meant to be instructing royalty! I swear, I'll never know what possessed us to hire you, but…"
Annora finally got to her feet, a lung full of fresh air after the coughing abated. She had to hold back a snicker as she saw Hop making hand motions behind his back, silently mocking the ancient crone while he kept an impassive face.
"And what are you smiling at?" The advisor's attention swung to her, "Just what the bloody hell was that supposed to be anyway? This is not magic practice, so exactly what did you think you were doing?"
"Trying to win."
The resulting lecture lasted half an hour.
***
"Well, at least she didn't give you a thrashing this time," Sora said as she and her sisters walked through the stone halls.
"It's cause they know in a year's time we'll be able to pay it all back," Kora said, making a fist.
That's right, in only a year one of us will be chosen as queen.
The thought filled her with dread.
"Hey Dora," Sora said, "You still seeing that boy you thought you liked?"
"Meh, I don't think it'll work out. When he found out I'm one of the 'chosen ones' given a Seed he freaked out."
"Damn, that sucks," Kora said.
"Yeah, especially 'cause it's not like it'll matter anyway. We all know Nora will be propped up as queen, so who cares?"
Annora felt a knot develop in her stomach, "You don't know that."
Kora scoffed, "Yeah, right. Sorry sister, but everyone knows the advisors put strength as the most important qualification."
"Yeah, why do they do that anyway? Shouldn't our test scores be more important? Or maybe our charisma? No offense Nora, but I don't think you'll be winning any awards in that category," Dora said, with an apologetic smile at Annora.
Annora simply nodded back with a smile.
"You know why," Dora said, "They're trying to regain the glory of old. They want someone strong enough that they can truly hold up high and show the world. They want to make illusion reality."
An illusion…
Dora was right, but nobody wanted to continue the subject further. They all knew the lie that had been perpetuated for longer than any of the advisors would admit. Dwarven queens were given a boon by the Core, and that boon was enough to boost them into ascendancy.
Only it wasn't. The Core hadn't given any true boons in centuries. The title of ascendancy was hollow, a masquerade meant to keep any potential enemies at bay. A stark contrast to the country of demons, and the demon lord that zipped across every corner of the world, flagrantly showing off their unquestionable military might.
"Yeah, it's stupid. You know, I heard that the potential queens in ancient times used to be the ones who decided among themselves who was appointed. Apparently that changed some time after The Summoning. Wonder if there was some political shift back then. Kora?" Sora asked, looking at the biggest bookworm among them.
"Hm, I haven't found anything like that, but I can look. Books going back that far are kinda sparse, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to find anything. But it would be nice if we were the ones to decide."
"Maybe there were blood feuds or something," Sora said, "Maybe they all fought each other over it and there were big civil wars and whatnot."
"I dunno, something doesn't sound right about that," Kora said, "I feel like if that was an issue I'd have read something about it by now."
"It would be interesting if-" Sora's thought was cut off by Dora's smack to the back of the head.
Ahead of them was the 5th seat advisor, a much younger woman than the 12th. In general, she was much more relaxed than most of the others as well, but that didn't matter. If the sisters were seen acting anything less than perfectly formal all of the advisors would hear about it, and it'd mean trouble for all of them.
The advisor nodded to them as they passed by, going the opposite direction. They walked in tense silence for another minute until they were sure they were out of range of the advisor's hearing. Even then, the conversation didn't resume. The mood was dead, and they were almost at their destination.
"I hate this," Annora said.
"It is our duty. Our seeds are a responsibility, as well as a gift to all the people who rely on us. On what we will someday be." Dora said stiffly but with a hint of subtle passion.
Her sisters accepted what they were meant to be, and Annora hated that most of all. It left her feeling isolated, alone even among the people she loved. It felt as though the more they repeated that mantra the more assured of its validity they became, and the more Annora was left behind.
The doors to the dinner hall opened before them, and she was forced to put the mask back on.
***
Annora walked across rooftops and leapt over the expanses between them, relying on the darkness above to mask her passing. She always snuck out after dinner, it allowed her to explore freely. And it gave her a chance to see all the people she was meant to serve.
For the most part, they were a harmonious people. Markets and trade abounded, and most places she observed were full of laughter and light. Families wandered the street, shopping for dinner or recreational supplies.
The Mountain Home was primarily composed of dwarves due to extremely strict immigration laws, but she occasionally saw the odd human, elf, or demon. Just about the only ones who weren't allowed inside the city were tinks. With their incredibly long lifespans it would be near impossible to humanely tie them down if they happened to learn about the Core.
The few outsiders from other races who knew their secret were generally happy to remain within the bustling metropolis. Even if that residency came with strict supervision and the occasional search.
Still, not every corner of the Mountain Home was as well lit as the others, and she knew darkness left alone tended to brew deeper and darker.
As she passed over an alley she looked down and saw a human being harassed by a couple of thugs. She couldn't make out what their dispute was about, but she knew better than to try to intervene. Even if she did, there'd be hell to pay later for both her and the human.
Well advisor, where are the guards that are meant to handle our enemies? Surely you cannot expect me to believe we have none even within this bastion of stone and flame? So where are they? Why does this human suffer alone, when the one person who can help them has their hands tied?
Eventually, the thugs grew tired of harassing the human, and with a devasting blow to the stomach, the figure was reduced to a quivering ball on the ground. The thug who looked to be the boss snapped his fingers and his lackeys threw the pitiful human into a pile of garbage before the group entered a door beneath Annora.
Annora turned away from the scene and continued on. She wondered for a moment if leaving the poor sod there on his own was a choice she would have still made had her hands not been tied. She couldn't answer that question.
If my problems are my own to solve then maybe other's are also their own to solve.
She finally made it to the place she'd been aiming for. It was a part of town on the edge of what used to be known as the great mine, a hollowed out part of the earth that went wide and deep. From what she understood there had once been plans to expand the city outwards into that great chasm, but they'd realized with a population that was simply unable to grow such an expansion would be a waste of effort. These days people called it the pit.
She sat down on a block of masonry atop a roof. This part of town was half abandoned, but some people still chose to live here. Or perhaps they chose to live here because it was half abandoned. She didn't know. Part of her wished she could live that life so she could know the answers to all the questions she had for ordinary people.
She gazed off into the darkness of the pit and listened to the rhythmic clash of metal on metal. She assumed there must be a blacksmith below, as the sound was consistent every time she visited. It was why she repeatedly chose this spot. She felt as though that consistent din of sound allowed her mind to drift away.
She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, but her peace was eventually broken.
A startled, "Ah," broke her silence.
She whipped around to see a man ascending the stairs alongside the abode. He almost looked to be a youth if not for the moderate tuft of hair adorning his face.
Annora shot up from her seat and dashed back the way she came.
Damn it, now I'll have to find a new spot.
However, she was stopped in her tracks by a word she didn't expect.
"Sorry," The man said from the same spot he'd been before. She figured he would've moved to scare her off or maybe try to attack her, but he just scratched the back of his head with an annoyed expression.
Sorry? Why? Why would he be sorry about finding me on top of his roof?
Her footsteps slowed before she reached the edge. The man looked at her with a puzzled expression, but she could have sworn she saw something similar to hope in his eye, though she could not possibly understand why.
She waited a moment, then two, to see if the man would do anything. He didn't. His puzzlement turned to confusion, but he still made no indication of doing the things she'd expected him to.
"Why?" She asked. She wanted to know. Of all the questions she held for the outside world, at this moment this was the one she wanted the answer to the most.
The man cocked his head, "Why what?"
"Why… are you sorry?"
"Oh, I didn't mean to disturb you. Came up here for firewood not realizing you were here."
Annora's brows furrowed in confusion. That didn't answer her real question, "Isn't this place yours?"
"Well, yeah. More or less. Why?"
Annora felt a spike of anger.
Is he trying to piss me off? Answer the damn question already.
"Why aren't you angry or upset?"
"Why would I be?" His expression, one of being completely lost, was the thing that really set her off.
She marched up to him and assumed her most commanding pose, "Why aren't you angry that I, someone who isn't supposed to be here, sitting on your roof?" Her voice was almost a shout, and in the open space it carried for a distance.
The man simply looked at her for a moment before he burst out laughing, "Miss, if I was gonna get angry at you for trespassing I'd have chased you off a long time ago."
"...What?"
"Well, I mean yeah. You've been hanging out here for… what, several months now? Did you think we wouldn't notice?"
"I…" Her cheeks flushed red. She was so sure she'd been stealthy, that nobody had seen her nightly excursions.
Once he finished laughing the man said, "Excuse me," and walked over to a stack of wood she hadn't even noticed was firewood. She'd figured everything up he was just refuse, trash that was discarded and worthless.
"You're welcome to come inside if you like," The man said, heading back down the stairs, "Be warned though, it's pretty much always hot and stuffy." And then the man was gone.
Everything Annora had ever been taught screamed at her to leave. When she thought about it, she really had no logical reason to stay. There were other spots, other places she could sit alone in silence.
But this was a chance to actually learn something about the world outside the palace walls. A chance to talk to someone who wouldn't constantly remind her about etiquette and responsibilities. Her inner nature fought against years of training.
With a sense of apprehension, Annora followed the young man down the stairs.
Once inside Annora couldn't help but notice the place wasn't as filthy as she'd expected it to be. She followed the man into a room where the source of the banging came from and saw another man toiling away at an anvil, surrounded by weapons and hunks of discarded scrap metal.
"Well I'll be damned. You actually managed to talk to the lass," The man at the anvil said, wiping his brow.
"I told you it'd happen eventually, brother of mine."
"And how was it? Speaking to a woman for the very first time that is."
"Well she tried to run off at the slightest noise, and she made quite the odd pose when asking a simple question, but-" He didn't get to finish that statement, as Annora clocked him in the back of the head before he could continue to disgrace her image.
The young dwarf went sprawling, spilling firewood everywhere. The hammering stopped and the brother turned to look at his fallen brother, then at her. The man she'd hit slowly got back to his feet, rubbing the back of his head.
Ah, crap.
And then the brother with the hammer burst out laughing, "Damn brother, she's got a temper, don't she? Haha!"
"Wouldn't have known it to look at her…" Grumbled the one gathering up the spilled firewood.
"Well miss, welcome to our home, as it were. I'm Bodelee, and if my dense brother ain't gotten around to it yet, he's Bodelin."
"Who're you calling dense, you hammering oaf?"
"Oh I dunno, the guy who spent several months working up the courage to talk to the gal he can't shut up about and then goes and gets put on his ass the first time he manages to talk to 'er? Yeah, I think I'm talkin' about that guy."
Bodelin scowls but does not comment on the matter.
"So now you know our names, mind if we know yours as well?"
"...Annora."
"Well then, Annora, welcome to our humble abode. It ain't much, but it's home."
Annora's peace, the one place she felt she could go to truly be alone had been ruined. And yet for some reason, she didn't feel like she minded that much.