Rieren wasn’t the first to get to Clanmistress Avathene’s tent. The new pavilions set up in the main tournament grounds were far more lavish than the quick, efficient constructions by Kerolast and his group.
The tent walls were richer and more brightly coloured. There were several tapestries hanging from the walls. A lush carpet covered the ground. Cushions rested upon chairs, tables were laden with fruits and other light snacks, pitchers filled with chilled wine and other drinks. This was comfort. As close to luxury as someone like the Clanmistress was likely to get around here.
Despite the obvious finery, Rieren’s attention was pulled to her fellow competitors for the time being, however. Both those who were present… and the conspicuous absences.
Oromin and his group looked unscathed. The powerful cultivators who had fought alongside Rieren had all thankfully survived too, though they sported various wounds and looked otherwise much as Rieren herself did. Or should have, considering the battles she had gone through. Mercion was missing entirely, Silomene the only one present from his team.
Most glaring of all was the omission of two teams. One was the team of Sect disciples who had come with them. The other was the representatives of the dissidents.
Neither of them had sent any representatives to the meeting. Rieren had at first thought they were simply late. But now that Avathene was about to begin her address, and there continued to be no sign of them, it left only one conclusion in Rieren’s mind.
“They’ve been eliminated,” Kalvia said, having noticed the same thing.
Rieren nodded in agreement. “I was going to say dead, but that might be a more polite way of saying it.”
Kalvia stared at her. “Sometimes, I forget you can be funny when you want to.”
“I was trying to be funny?”
Rieren’s return question never received an answer. Avathene cleared her throat as a call to attention.
Or, Rieren initially assumed that was the intention. It might even have been true. But the Clanmistress coughed into her hand and needed a few moments for her throat to return to normal after some clearing. Now that Rieren was paying more attention, it did look like Avathene was a bit more tired than normal. Paler and more drawn. Weaker.
She would have to ask Oromin if she was actually doing okay. It was doubtful she’d get a chance to enquire personally after this meeting.
“I understand that you all must have a lot of questions,” Avathene said, looking at them all in turn. “But the essentials are exactly as you heard them out in the field. The Aetherians and Abyssals will be allowed into the Trials of Ascendance. As such, the competition is being modified to include the new participants.”
“You agreed to this, Clanmistress?” Kalvia asked.
Normally, no one would have challenged Avathene on her decisions to accede to this strangeness. She was the Clanmistress after all. The ultimate leader of their contingent. But then, Kalvia stood above all that. As the Empress-to-be, she had the right to question calls that others couldn’t.
But Rieren did notice some of the looks Kalvia received in return. Not everyone here appreciated the Clanmistress being questioned, even by an Empress.
“Their proposal is difficult to trust at face value,” Avathene said. “But if it is indeed true, then the benefits outweigh the risks greatly.”
“What is this proposal of theirs?”
“That all the monsters have gathered here. That they will abide by more civilized rules and conduct themselves accordingly. That all these apocalyptic conflicts raging across the Elderlands can be settled here, once and for all.”
Rieren tried not to let her true thoughts about such a proposal show on her face. It was difficult. After all, as even the Clanmistress had said, having faith in the words of monsters was a difficult task indeed.
She could see why Avathene had been convinced to allow it, though. If all the monsters truly were here, if they had promised to abstain from their regular violence, then it suggested much of the rest of the Elderlands was free from their incursions. For now, at least, there would be far, far fewer monsters harassing the Shatterlands.
They would now have more space to rebuild, more freedom to expand outwards and recover the battle-torn lands that had been taken from them. No wonder Avathene wanted this to work.
Rieren just wasn’t certain how long this could ever last.
For, if the monsters began losing, would they simply abide by the competition’s outcome and return to wherever they came from? That felt… too convenient.
“Please, Clanmistress,” Oromin said. “I believe it will help us all to understand the exact wording of the new stipulations, especially those regarding the Abyssals and the Aetherians themselves.”
Avathene looked like she was resisting the impulse to drag a hand down her face. “Of course.” She took a deep, preparatory breath before diving into the particulars. “The monsters have promised that they will retreat to certain segregated areas, should they lose. If they are victorious however, they will be allowed to settle in deeper, more contested lands.”
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“So regardless of winning or losing, the monsters have secured themselves some land,” Kalvia said.
“Essentially, yes.”
“That sounds like defeat,” Mercion said.
Rieren jerked her head around. She hadn’t noticed when he had arrived. He looked even more beaten down than the other cultivators, though strangely, she would have expected him to be better off, considering how well Silomene appeared. But then again, Silomene had certain powers that made dealing damage to her quite difficult indeed.
She wished she could have talked to one or both of them, but that had proven to be difficult when the Clanmistress had been so eager to get the meeting going. Fair enough on her part.
The first round would be restarting soon.
“If we wish to avoid continuous fighting,” Avathene said. “Then we must make some compromises”.
“Compromises?” Mercion looked around at all of them as though he couldn’t believe his ears. “Cultivators don’t do compromises. This may sound hypocritical coming from me of all people, but we spent a great deal of blood, sweat, and tears driving those creatures out of our homeland. To simply surrender it back to them based on this faux tournament is preposterous.”
“I would agree with Lord Mercion, Clanmistress,” the large cultivator who used floating boulders to fight said. “We have worked a great deal to achieve our goals of securing the freedom and prosperity of the Shatterlands. Throwing it all away now would be a great insult to all our efforts.”
“Please, Marzdel,” Oromin said. “It is not that grave. We are throwing nothing away. Even after we maintain a proper ceasefire and allow the monsters to settle, so to speak, things will not always go smoothly. Nor will we allow monsters to take over the lands that we hold dearly.”
“There is a balance to such things, yes,” the Clanmistress said wearily, as though she was explaining something to schoolchildren for the hundredth time. “For us, we are used to settling our disputes absolutely, as is our way of doing things. However, that does not need to be the case any longer. We must not continue this cycle of violence and ceaseless bloodshed.”
“Yes. For all that we wish to have the Shatterlands entirely back under our control, in truth, we never controlled every single iota of it. There were large tracts where the wilderness grew as it sought fit, lands that went untilled because people already had enough, places that remained unsettled for people already had homes.”
“Correct. It is these fringe lands that we seek to banish the monsters to. If all goes well, we will not need to deal with the constant threat of monstrous incursions any longer.”
Mercion didn’t look fully mollified, but the large cultivator had achieved a thoughtful look on his face. Neither proposed any further arguments, however.
“Returning to the business at hand,” Avathene said. She looked like she was about to shuffle some papers on her desk, but then started as she found none, but quickly collected herself. Rieren frowned. The Clanmistress really was tired. “Essentially, the Aetherian’s challenge was the sum of things. You must retrieve your stolen tokens from the monsters.”
“Stolen… from those who submitted their tokens already, yes?” Rieren asked.
“Correct. An unfortunate turn of events, but it allows everyone to remain fairly in the competition.”
“How can it be fair when we have already qualified, only to be asked to qualify again?” Kalvia said. “If anything, this is providing an unfair second opportunity for all those who failed to qualify in the previous iteration.”
Oromin nodded. “You are not incorrect.” He spread out his hands. “However, there is a different catch to this, from a somewhat more overarching perspective. It represents another opportunity for all of us to qualify again.”
“Yes, exactly,” the Clanmistress said. “This time, we must work together, as one, to ensure that as many of us here qualify as possible. We must all cooperate.”
Rieren frowned. “I am not against a more concerted effort from all the Shatterlands’ teams, but why the sudden urgency behind needing more of us to qualify?”
“There is no urgency. It is simply a response to how events have changed. The competition’s makeup has changed. Instead of having the second round spread between three contingents, there are now four representatives challenging for advanced positions. So you see, statistically speaking, our potential representatives have decreased from before.”
“Ah, I understand. In working together more than before, we can rebalance the quotas and ensure as many of us qualify as would have had it not been for the monsters.”
“Yes. That is correct. We must all carry Comm Shells and configure them so that they are operatable in a group. That will allow you all to coordinate manoeuvres better.”
The large cultivator frowned. Rieren really needed to remember his name. Marzdel, or something along those lines. “Manoeuvres?”
Oromin cleared his throat. “We should cooperate more directly this time, to maximize all our chances of progression. As such, whatever strategy we enact will need to incorporate all of us to be the most efficient.”
“Oh, I see. Instead of acting as separate teams of three, we’ll be taking apart this reprise of the first round as a combined warband of twelve.”
“I… wouldn’t advertise it so boldly in that fashion, but yes.”
“So, what’s the plan, Oromin?” the green-robed woman asked. “I suppose you have already figured out what to do about the monsters.”
Oromin exchanged a quick glance with the Clanmistress, who nodded slightly. “The monsters can and will be dealt with. The real problem will be the other human competitors.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Mercion muttered.
“The point is that we must be quick about executing our plan,” Oromin said, looking at them all one by one. “The other contingents will no doubt have come up with similar ideas. In fact, I would hazard a guess that they will try to interfere with our group, perhaps even attempt to steal the few tokens we have instead of going after the monsters.”
“The other contingents are also significantly more numerous than we are,” Kalvia said. “If they all decided to work together like we’re supposed to, then they’ll naturally be more effective just because of greater numbers.”
“Which is why I reiterate the execution of our plan as efficiently as possible. Since we cannot match them in pure numbers, we must surpass them in guile and efficacy.”
Rieren had to wonder what exactly had gone on in that meeting between Avathene and the other dignitaries in the tent with the Aetherian. It sounded like they had all come out with similar ideas about how to grant their sides greater success. But through it all, the monsters had secured an entry into the Trials of Ascendance.
It almost sounded like there had been some subtle manipulation at work. If Rieren had to guess, she could let her wandering mind stray to a very logical conclusion—the Gravemark Puppeteer was behind this.
A wild conjecture, considering Rieren had no proof at all of that monster’s presence anywhere nearby. But then, she recalled well the conversations she’d had with it. That Abyssal did desire the same things the Aetherian had blathered on about. A home of sorts, much like what the mortals enjoyed, on the surface of the Mortal Realm.
“So what exactly is this plan of ours going to be?” Amalyse asked.
Oromin smiled, a sharp glint coming to life in his eyes. “Simple, really. We are going to take the fight to the monsters before they even know what’s going on.”
Rieren listened in on the explanation, and as the idea’s length and breadth was slowly revealed, she began smiling. Oromin was right. Those monsters would have no idea what hit them.