The meeting location had been prepared with haste. It was the same pavilion they had used to discuss matters after the battle with the Dreadflood had ended.

Rieren didn’t know what trick the Avatar had pulled to ensure that Avathene granted him audience, but the Clanmistress clearly intended to hear out what he had to say. Though, maybe it was less the Avatar’s move and more the imperial court’s. The bastards there had many wily tricks up their sleeve.

It wasn’t surprising to see Kalvia attend the meeting as well. A careful mask of neutrality was in place. Rieren couldn’t tell what her thoughts were, hadn’t even had the time to talk with her in private about the Masked Avatar’s presence.

Avathene had also called in some of the more important members from the Stannerig and Ordorian clans. They had all gathered with no small amount of trepidation.

“You will excuse me for taking a seat while everyone else stands,” Avathene said. She was indeed seated on the only chair in the tent. Oromin and Gorint Malloh were on either side of her. “I am afraid the day’s events have left me rather weary.”

“An… intriguing state for the ruler of an entire region of the Elderlands,” the Avatar said. “But I do not mind.”

His words made the others bristle. Rieren heard the hesitation at intriguing too, and that was insulting on its own.

Avathene was well practiced at keeping the peace, however. “To what pleasure do I owe the visit from a Masked Avatar of the imperial court, Attester?”

The Avatar might have a ceramic mask covering up his face, but his smile was evident in his words. “I see we both have little links of information into our respective sides.”

“Please answer my question. I am afraid I do not have a legion of Avatars to carry out my region-running for me.”

Rieren held back her smile. It seemed if the Avatar was intent on throwing barbs, Avathene was going to return them in kind.

That only made Attester more amused. “Allow me to first congratulate you on the Shatterlands’ survival and successful victory over the dreaded… Dreadflood.” He paused at the uninspiring name. “The imperial court wishes to formally hear what the Clanmistress’s intentions are now that the immediate threat of extinction has been staved off.”

Avathene raised her chin with an imperious look. “I am beholden to answer a court that sends little to no help when we most need it?”

“We are both aware that there were Avatars present. They—”

“They were only present to help in so far as they could perform their true duties under the imperial court’s guidance, which was assassinating the various targets set by the court. Targets who are under my protection, now. The Clanmistress wishes to know what the court’s intention is.”

“The court’s intentions are still the same. There are certain undesirables who will go on to grievously harm the empire in time, and it is in all our best interests to remove them before any such irreparable harm occurs. If you intend to harbour these criminals, then the court will be forced to take action.”

“I see. I will warn you, we have gotten adept at rooting out infiltrators.”

The Avatar shook his head just a bit. “Nothing so crude, Clanmistress. We are in conflict, and as befits those whose ultimate goals are the same, we will seek a reasonable answer.”

Rieren wasn’t the only one who frowned. She was expecting this Avatar to end up revealing a declaration of war, but this… this was different. Unexpected.

“A reasonable answer?” Avathene asked. “What do you mean, Attester?”

Whatever the case was, Rieren could appreciate that the Clanmistress had dispensed with honorifics. Calling him Honoured Avatar would clash wildly with all the dishonourable actions his brethren had taken.

“I imagine you were expecting this conversation to turn unto an entreaty to not stand against the imperial court lest we be forced to meet upon the martial field next time,” the Avtar said. “However, the court recognizes that a conflict is unavoidable, and not only with you. Our various differences run too deep. At the same time, an outright war would be devastating.”

“On you,” Oromin said. His voice rose in volume with surprising ferocity. “The court cannot stand alone against all those it has wronged. The Forborne Emperor must answer for the state of the Elderlands.”

The Avatar waved it off. “Yes, yes. We all have our various grievances. That is not the point. The point is that even if a war was to proceed, it would not turn out well for any of us. Surely, I do not have to spell the fallout for anyone present here?”

Rieren tried not to let herself react but it took some effort not to bite her cheek. No, the Avatar wouldn’t need to explain himself. They were all well aware what a war would mean in terms of cost for anyone who partook in it.

“You disregard the fact that we are prepared to pay that price,” Oromin said. “Do you think our decision was light? That we didn’t put enough thought behind the matter?”

“Again, not the point. Why would any of us wish to pay such a steep price for resolving our conflicts when there is a more humane method that we can utilize?”

For the first time, Kalvia let her stony mask fall. She snorted. “Humane, he says.”

Attester ignored it. “Heed the Forborne Emperor’s own words. You, the members of the Stannerig clan, and you, the members of the Ordorian clan, and all else who would ally themselves with you.” The Avatar paused, letting the suspense build. “You are all invited to an imperial tournament. To the Trials of Ascendancy.”

Shock ruled the day. Rieren, never the overly expressive sort, simply stared. Her companions had wildly different reactions. While Avathene remained motionless as a statue, Oromin visibly started in surprise while Gorint Malloh’s eyes had gone wide. Kalvia simply gaped at the Avatar. Aside from them, the various Elders and dignitaries had frozen as well.

“Are you serious?” Kalvia asked, breaking the ice.

Avathene cleared her throat, obviously trying to modulate her disbelief. “Come again?”

“I will repeat myself. Heed the words of the Forborne Emperor. You are all invited to the Trials of Ascendancy, a tournament that will decide the future of the Elderlands. A gathering of the most powerful and accomplished warriors in the entire emperor, where the fate of our home will be up for grabs.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“That. Is. Insane.” Kalvia shook her head. Now she looked plain angry. “You expect us to agree to this madness? A tournament? In the middle of a war? Of an apocalypse? Is this what the Emperor spends his time doing? Making cruel jokes at the expense of his subjects?”

“This message comes with the utmost sincerity. Once again, the Emperor recognizes that we have our differences, that we all have positions we are unwilling to budge from. The only way to honourably settle these differences is through tests of true strength, as cultivators.”

Kalvia didn’t accept that answer. She grunted instead, looking down and rubbing her forehead as though words failed her.

Avathene came to her rescue, voicing all of their concerns with her practiced eloquence. “You must see how such a proposal sounds so implausible, yes?”

Attester nodded. “I do. There are many, many details that need to be set forth and clarified, many things we are yet to finalize. However, the first step is acceptance. Without the cooperation of all involved parties, this endeavour will not work.”

“Other parties?” Avathene was smart, needing only a moment to latch onto what the Avatar meant. “You’re inviting the northerners as well, then, I presume?”

“Of course. We seek to prevent all war that would harm the Elderlands. This includes the eastern region and the northern region.”

Rieren’s mind hurtled back to that moment in the dungeon beneath Lionshard mountain, where her secret identity had finally come to light thanks to the Gravemark Puppeteer. Where it had finally been revealed in a public fashion that the imperial court had become compromised due to the gods’ meddling.

To the moment when Essalina Arteroth had decided that the north would no longer be a part of the empire.

Rieren had to wonder how the Arteroth scion felt about this invitation. Would she burn it and continue her march towards Vanharron, dragging the coalition of clans she had constructed along the way? Or would she see this as an opportunity to achieve her true goal?

It occurred to Rieren that she didn’t know Essalina’s ultimate intentions. Back in Lionshard Sect, it had felt as though all the woman had wanted was revenge against Rieren.

After all, Rieren had ended up killing her in the last timeline.

Now, she couldn’t be sure. It didn’t feel like Essalina was so shallow as to let thoughts of vengeance claim her very being. Though, perhaps shallowness wasn’t the right word. Hadn’t Rieren herself decided the world itself was her target of vengeance in the last timeline? Did that make her shallow too? She couldn’t tell. One was rarely a great judge of oneself without bias.

“It will depend on these details, wouldn’t it?” Avathene said eventually now that the shocking news was finally settling into the proper places in their minds. “There are so many unaccounted variables that we need to ascertain…”

“Exactly.” Kalvia stepped forward. Her fists were balled as though she would like nothing better than to punch Attester in his ceramic-masked face. “Where exactly is this tournament supposed to happen? Gods forbid it’s Vanharron.”

“That is something we must come together and decide,” the Avatar said. “We would require neutral ground.”

“And what exactly would be the prize for this tournament? Would the winner be crowned the new Emperor? Is that also something we would need to negotiate?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Most details would need to be finalized via conversation and negotiation. We all likely have different ideas for what the tournament’s prize, location, attendance, criteria, contents, and everything else ought to be. The Emperor knows that we must all come to a compromise but one that will make the tournament worth it in the end.”

“Then we must think on it, yes?” Avathene said. “Do you have any further messages to impart, Attester?”

“I do not. This was the only missive the Emperor assigned me.”

“Then I will bid you farewell. One of my trusted accomplices to escort you out of the Shatterlands. We must confer amongst ourselves first, and then we shall send a response.”

The Avatar’s posture was a little tense. But he didn’t argue the Clanmistress’s decision. “Do not take too long. We will need to conduct further correspondence as soon as possible.”

“We will inform you of our decision as soon as we have reached one,” Avathene said. “Oromin, if you would be so kind.”

Oromin Tarciel graced them with a brief bow before leading the Avatar away. Rieren wondered if he was really going to personally lead the Avatar out of the Shatterlands. It wasn’t the act itself that made her thoughts pause so much as the implication.

After all, the Avatar could only have made it this far because he had sent advance notice. The Clanmistress had to have allowed him in.

The silence was brittle for a good while after Attester had departed. But it didn’t last long, thanks to the dignitaries and other Elders. Their questions and conversation came bursting out as though they’d been damming them up but they had finally broken free to come tumbling loose.

Avathene answered them with as much patience as she could muster. No, they weren’t going to accede to this ridiculous idea of a tournament immediately. Yes, she was aware this could be a trap. No, they ought not to trust the compromised imperial court. Yes, they all needed some time to think about all the details that the Avatar had mentioned and more that he hadn’t.

“I propose we adjourn and take some time to think about it all,” the Clanmistress said. “There is a lot for us to consider. At our next meeting tomorrow, I hope that you all will have a concrete list of things we must come to an agreement on.”

The dignitaries and Elders looked a little displeased at the dismissal, but no one could argue against the Clanmistress, especially not with Gorint Malloh glaring at them all. Soon enough, they had all filed out. The pavilion turned quite empty once it was devoid of them all.

“This is…” Kalvia shook her head. Her fists shook too, as though she wanted to hit something.

“We must consider the proposal carefully, Your Majesty,” the Clanmistress said.

“Of course. Outright refusing it if the Arteroth coalition agrees to it would put us in a bad position. As such, we need to talk with the Arteroth first and determine their intentions. Now that the Dreadflood has left, we should have an easier time of getting messages through to them, yes?”

“I will send missives yes.”

“A war would be simpler than this tournament,” Gorint Malloh said.

“Perhaps. But simple isn’t always correct.”

A war being simple? Hardly. “We also need to consider the apocalypse,” Rieren said. “How there could be a tournament of all things when the land is ravaged by roving Abyssals and meteoric Aetherians is… difficult to fathom.”

Kalvia looked out through the tent as though she could see the monsters in the distance. “Especially with the Dreadflood bearing down upon Vanharron.”

Rieren frowned. Maybe that was it. Maybe they had realized the Dreadflood was now aligned, such as an Abyssal could be, with a certain group. Namely, Rieren and her allies. A tournament at Vanharron would prevent the monster from attacking.

Avathene was right in that they could try to talk and discuss and possibly even argue about all the things that this new development had thrown at them. But without proper consideration first, they weren’t likely to come to an ideal agreement. So first, they really did need to meet again after they’d thought about it all.

When Rieren left, Kalvia accompanied her for a short while.

“You were quiet back there,” the future Empress said. “But you looked like you had far too many thoughts going on in that head of yours.”

Rieren frowned. “Less thoughts and more questions.”

“Probably ones I don’t have answers to.”

“Probably. But I do have one question you might be able to answer.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

Rieren glanced at her. “You have been busy being the Empress recently. Possibly too busy.”

Kalvia nudged her elbow against Rieren’s upper arm. “Missing me already? It’s only been about a month, dear.”

Rieren tried not to gag. “Dear?”

“You’re right, that does sound too archaic. How about heart-swindler?”

“What I mean is that you should strive for balance in all things. I realize establishing yourself as the Empress-to-be is an important task, but do not forget to pay attention to yourself as an individual, not as a servant to this empire you wish to rule.”

“How so?”

“Well, a very basic need you can address is your cultivation. I recall how focused you were about it before. You were almost on par with me. Yet now, you are languishing.”

Kalvia looked offended, though it was hard to tell how genuine she was. “I am not languishing. I’ll have you know I’m well ahead of most of the other disciples in this region. You get some interesting statistics as the Empress.”

“Be that as it may. Prioritize yourself. And by yourself, I do not mean Empress Kalvia, May She Reign Eternal, and all that Abyss-crap. I mean Kalvia, the girl who is yet to grow up.”

“I am perfectly grown up, thank you very much.”

Rieren grinned. “I will see you later, then.”

Kalvia didn’t join her, of course. But she did get the last word in. “As will I. As Kalvia.”