It had been two months since the expedition returned and preparations for the ritual were in full swing. A large ballroom had already been cleared out and a complicated series of runic inscriptions were chiseled into the floor. Circles within circles, and all kinds of symbols strewn in between.

Perceval watched from the door as an artisan placed his tools down and stretched, the cracks that came from his spine resonated around the room. It was arduous work and many people were bent over on the ground going about their jobs.

Closing the door behind him, he left them to it and sought out his wife. She was in a different wing of the palace with priests and mages going over the text of the tome they brought back. Likewise, all these people also had a bend in their backs as they pointed to their notes and compared them with various books and scrolls.

Helena noticed him and approached. “How is it going? I was just at the ballroom and they seemed to be finishing up. What about here?” The paladin asked.

She wiggled her hand from side to side in a so-so gesture. “Could be better. Old Merenese is one tough nut to crack and the way they ciphered the whole thing isn’t helping.” The priest complained.

“For the thousandth time, it is not a cipher!” sounded from behind Percy, who spun around and came face to face with the prelate. He bowed hurriedly and gave a proper greeting to the man of the cloth.

Said man waved all his concerns aside and squeezed past him into the room. “It is written in such a way because they believed that recording the direct words of gods was blasphemous. So, they muddled it a little.” At that, Helena scowled his way. “Ok, a lot. But back to the point. We are having a problem with some of the passages, they are translated but we cannot discern their meaning. Feel free to help us.” Terrence offered.

“I’ll give it a look but I do not think I’ll be of any assistance, your eminence.”

His wife punched his shoulder. “Don’t be a grouch, uncle means well.” Then she gave him a hug and went back to work on some scroll or other.

“Sorry, the King requested a report by the morn and Father Superior of the Order is putting pressure on me to move things along. Gods only know why they chose me to pick on.” A loud sigh escaped his lips.

“That’s because you were the one in charge of things during the expedition and because I recommended you. It's going to do your reputation a wonder for not much effort.” The prelate smiled.

“Thanks very much,” Perceval replied sarcastically. The other man was right, and did do him a service, but what was a man to do if he couldn’t even complain about his lot in life?

He was led to the same table Helena worked at and she thrust a scroll into his hands. It was covered with notes and suggestions, different translations and interpretations, but at the top was circled a single phrase in thick lettering. Those who cometh over be wary, for here is a hostile place. Here and there is different and here cannot sustain there. There shall be empty of all or here shall come suffering.

“We do understand it is some kind of a warning, but what it is warning of, we have no idea.” His wife explained and replaced the item in Perceval’s hands. This one was similarly covered and at the top was a similarly highlighted phrase. There be human, so shall here be as well. As is here needs be there, as one does, do all, as do all must do one. Forget not the common.

“Huh, that is just a convoluted way of saying that you have to eat, sleep, and shit, isn’t it?” He scratched the back of his head and when he looked up, his wife was staring a hole into him.

She smacked her head and turned to the other man. “Could it just be a reminder to not forget the necessities?”

“Could be, we are about to bring people over after all. They might be willing and prepared for it but it would be up to us to provide lodging and sustenance.” Terrence mused.

“And it looks like the warning was justified. None of that has been prepared, or even mentioned by anyone. I’ll make sure to have someone make a feast on the day of the ritual and prepare rooms. How many will be needed?” The paladin asked.

“We can’t be sure. That is one part of the ritual we have been unable to decipher.”

“But we are getting there, some of the things needed are rather niche though, it will take more time to gather everything.” Helena chimed in.

Percy pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache was forming from just thinking about dealing with all the potentates. “How much longer until we’re ready, I’m sure His Majesty will want to know.”

The other two shared a look before his wife spoke. “A few weeks? A month tops, we hope. There’s a specific arcane material needed to fill in the inscriptions you saw in the ballroom. We need a lot of it and it is proving rather hard to source.”

They discussed several more things after that, every subsequent one increasingly unrelated to the matter at hand. It took a nervous young mage requiring the prelate’s assistance for them to break up. A few more words and the man left.

“Ok, I’ll let the king and nobles know,” Percy said, kissed his wife and turned to leave as well.

He was making his way across the palace when he heard shouting coming from a side room. It was tucked away and partially hidden behind some boxes. The paladin wouldn’t have found if not for the angry voice within.

To his surprise, he recognized it as the king’s. Moving carefully forward, he took a peek inside, it would not do to be caught spying on royalty. The room was small and threadbare, stone walls without any tapestries nor windows. The floor was left uncovered and the wooden paneling had tracks worn through it. Someone frequently paced inside.

And that someone appeared to be the king. He was pacing back and forth inside gesticulating wildly and talking angrily. What confused Perceval was the fact that he wasn’t talking to anyone, he was alone.

“I can’t believe it, we need them now, it’s not like you’ll have any use for them soon, they say. They can go and stab themselves. I need, we need, the mages.” The king spat.

“And they are even reducing the material they send in aid, aren’t we the ones on the frontline? Aren’t we holding the gods’ damned beast at bay for all of them? Oh, and apparently, they all started building a wall of their own. They are encircling Meren! Three centuries we fight for them and then they write us off the moment something inconvenient happens. They can go screw themselves. We’ll do without them! What choice do we have, lie down and die? Turn around and let the demons prevail? Never, not while I yet live!”

The king didn’t show any signs of stopping and Percy decided to take his leave. He skirted around the boxes but nearly jumped from his skin when he spotted a figure sitting around the corner. I’m done for, he thought.

It was the queen. She wore a long, green gown with light blue embroidery, a flowered pattern adorned her shoulders and small animals were spread all the way to the hem. A simple golden chainlet hung from her neck and she had her black hair hidden beneath a lace veil. A sad expression on her face was punctuated by tired brown eyes.

“Please, do not hold it against him,” she said in a tired voice.

“Your majesty?” Perceval asked, bewildered that he was still in possession of his head.

“There is so much stacked on his shoulders, I do what I can to alleviate some of it, but I am but one woman. The pressure is, oh so great and there’s not a peer here to hear him out. So, he comes here to vent. Talk to himself or to the gods. It was his father’s habit and that of his father’s father. The room may be empty of others, but it always listened to their ails. Please, do not hold it against your king that he is but a man.” The queen explained before getting up and heading in the direction of the hidden alcove Percy just left behind.

***

Summer holidays were not as joyful as they could have been this year. Ixalia was in a constant state of nervous anticipation as she was searching around every bend in the road for something terrible to happen.

Ever since the mass, she couldn’t get what she was told out of her head. How could she, when a god told her something was up? She took the job at the school’s hospital to try to drown her thoughts in work to no avail.

She tried talking with people about it, her parents were as supportive as ever but couldn’t do anything. The awe and slight jealousy at her being spoken to by Asha she saw in their eyes did not help. The priests she approached were even worse.

Only Sidy’s mother and her friend proved to be able to just listen, no strings attached, but neither of them could help her either. Sidy took it upon herself to stay close to Ixa whenever neither of them was busy with something else. They grew even closer together than ever before and as the holidays were approaching their end and the girls had a lot of free time, they were practically inseparable.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

One of those days, they were hanging around Ixa’s house when a package arrived for her.

“What is it?” Sidy asked.

“Nothing.” The other girl tried to stave her friend’s inquisitive nature off and hid the box inside a closet.

“Come oooon, Ixa, you know you can’t hide it from me. I’ll sneak in one night and raid your mighty abode just to learn the answer to the question humanity asked since before they knew what a question was. What’s in the box?!” The girl exclaimed in a loud theatrical voice.

“Just some things I ordered.”

“What things?”

“Things.”

“What kind?”

“Thingy things.”

“You are aware that I can do this all day, right?” Sidy laughed.

“I know, Sid. It’s just, I don’t want to trouble you with my problems.” Ixa relented.

“And you know that’s bullshit, your ladyship Moore.” Her friend chastised, and she had to laugh. “Now, git!”

The box that was hastily hidden was brought out and Ixalia started unpacking. “It’s just some things, yes yes I know, I bought just in case.” She pulled out a tablet and Sidy immediately snatched it away from her.

“Oohh, fancy.” She cooed as she examined it. Not finding anything unusual, she turned back to its owner. “What does it do?”

“It’s one of the newer models of the mage’s series. You know, the ones that have a mana reservoir instead of a battery that you can refill. It will basically never run out of juice as long as you have a mage around. And as you know I have one just handy.” The young woman patted her own back as she said the last sentence.

“As I said… Oohh, fancy. But why do you need it? Or all that other crap.” She pointed to the rest of the things hiding in the box. A multifunction knife was to one side, a flashlight to the other once again a mana version. Various bits and bobs of gear were spread inside with a bag underneath to store it all. “You’ve all this here and I know you started packing a veritable pharmacy with yourself, are you going native?” Sidy asked.

“Just my paranoia at work, I guess. Things I thought might come in handy, when something finally happens.” Ixalia replied in a subdued tone.

“You still hung up on that?”

“Can you blame me?”

“What for? For heeding a divine warning? Pfff, of course, I can just push that aside and call you a nutcrack, you nutcrack. Come here.” Her friend quickly pulled her into a hug when she saw Ixa’s shoulders starting to tremble.

Her mother called it a blessing, but Sidy was starting to think whether it wasn’t a curse. Her friend was figuratively fraying at the edges. It was in this close proximity that she noticed for the first time.

“Hey, did you have your hair dyed again?” she asked.

“No, not since last month, why?”

“Your roots are blue.”

“What, how?” Ixa got up in search of a mirror. When she found it, she discovered that her friend was right. “The priests I spoke to did say something about a Mark of the Divine, but I thought it was a figure of speech, not that I would have my hair change color. Not that I am complaining.”

Ixa scooped up her hair to inspect it closer and her friend gasped. “Your ears!” she pointed animatedly at her head. Grabbing the reflective item once more, Ixa examined her head again. True enough, her ears had a slight point to them. She didn’t even notice before.

“What is happening to me?” Ixalia asked worriedly.

Sidy made a religious gesture out of instinct, one she saw her own mother do often. “I think that’s what Asha was talking about.”

“No, I don’t believe so, there was too much sorrow carried in those words to be about simply my appearance changing. It’s not even bad, the ears are weird, sure, but the hair is my favorite color, and no one will even notice it’s not dyed.” She exclaimed, all thoughts careening back towards her impending doom. Ears and hair soon forgotten, somehow.

Sidy noticed Ixa’s lack of concern and worried for a bit but chose not to mention it any further. “So, the things?”

“YES! The things!” Ixa darted back to the package and began unpacking everything and stuffing them into the backpack. She had the placement of everything thought out beforehand. It was only a matter of placing the items where they belonged, next she fetched the first aid kit she put together and attached it to the bag. “I need to get the files in,” she said and ran to her computer.

“Ixa, slow down, talk to me. What files? What’s happening, calm down!” She had to catch Ixalia by the shoulders and force her to sit down and explain. “You’re scaring me, you know?”

Properly chastised, the whirlwind of a girl looked to her feet. “Sorry, I just… I’m scared, Sid… always looking over my shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. This is something I got to hopefully find some peace of mind.” She said and when her friend released her, got back to what she was doing.

“And the files?”

“Right, I got a bunch of articles and books and whatnot on all kinds of subjects that I found interesting or even remotely useful. That’s what the tablet is for, whatever happens, I’ll have somewhere to look for help wherever I go, whatever happens.” She replied cheerfully.

“You really thought this out, huh?”

“Yup! One more thing, I was thinking of attending a course on self-defense up in the Protectorate. It has great reviews and it’s some fancy combination of martial arts and magic and the online peoples praise it to high heavens.” Ixalia said and at Sidy’s look quickly added “No blasphemy intended. Will you go with me?”

“I don’t think I could afford it if it’s in the Protectorate. I don’t mean the course itself, but everything together, food, a place to stay, the whole shebang.” Sidy wilted a little. It was obvious she wanted to go with her friend.

“I’ll be paying,” Ixa said like it was obvious.

“No, you can’t. That’s too much.”

“I mean, I got the money after playing Kert’s assistant and everything I saved up through the years and I want you with me, so why not? It’s my money.”

It took some convincing, but she managed to make Sidy accept. Now to just convince her parents. And her friend’s parents. Surprisingly it did not take a lot of persuasion. Ixa’s parents were always in on everything she did, and spending time in the Protectorate was everything needed to be mentioned to get Sidy’s mother on their side. Her father stood no chance after that.

***

They paid for the course, found a place to stay, and were headed for the city in three days. The apartment they rented for the month was a small three-room flat with a bathroom and a kitchen. A hallway connected them to the common room and the two bedrooms.

Having a day free before the course started, they unpacked and then toured the city. The girls visited a few shops and got some souvenirs for friends and family. Nothing major. The day soon came to an end and their first lesson arrived.

Located in the inner part of town was an imposing building. It was old but well-maintained. Big double doors twice the size of the average man stood open at the front and a well-trodden red carpet was rolled out.

A gate-guard sat in a small booth to the side, feet on a table he was reading a book. He looked them over as they approached and asked for directions. He scanned their documents and showed them inside, directing them to the second floor into a spacious room.

It was tiled in intricate patterns with a high ceiling and big windows. The floor was adorned with a beautiful mosaic of the night sky, with lines of metal tracing complex patterns.

“Is that magemetal?” Ixa asked as she pointed to the floor.

“It is, indeed,” a voice sounded from behind them. A tall man stood in the door. He was wearing a tracksuit and held what looked like training aids. “You’re here for the class, I presume?”

“Yes.” The girls said in tandem.

“Good to meet you, you’re a bit early, but that’s no problem, better early than late, I always say. Ingrem Firvioris, at your service. Or maybe it’s you who's at my mercy? Anyway, I’ll be the coach for the duration.” He held out a hand towards them and several items fell from his grasp, which he ignored.

They both shook it one after the other and introduced themselves.

“Since, you’re already here, mind helping me for a bit?” Asked Ingrem. His stature was imposing but well-mannered. He stood at more than two meters tall and muscles bulged all over his body, traced out under his training attire. Short blond hair supplemented his blue eyes, and his nose had a bend to it, starting at a faded scar. A break that never healed properly. His mouth was pressed into a thin line.

They helped him carry things from a closet across the hall into the training room. When they were done, he sat them down and they chatted about anything and everything. Ingrem was extremely easygoing but joked that it would change once the course actually started. As other people started filing in, they were absorbed into the small group.

The variation in personage was interesting, not two people were the same or from remotely the same area, except for the two girls and another duo of friends, or more if their held hands were indicating correctly.

There was a simple farmer who had his house robbed and wanted to learn to protect his family, a cook who was too bored and wanted to try out something different. Even a professional soldier, here to further his skills.

“Alright, it looks like this is everyone. Stand and line up, let me see what I have to work with.” Ingrem slapped his hands and was the first to stand up. “Time to pound some knowledge into you pansies. Yes, even you, Liman.” He said with a nod to the soldier.

***

Both girls were dead tired come evening. The man was indeed not so friendly when he’d don his coach persona. He had them running in circles around the room for at least an hour before he made them do various other exercises. It wasn’t until near the end of the lesson that he started to go over something other than physical strengthening.

“In healthy body, healthy spirit.” He said every time someone asked if all the running and jumping was necessary. “If you want to be able to protect yourselves, which I think you are here to learn, you need to be fit.”

It hurt to admit, but he was right. His first serious lesson made everyone laugh. “What will you do, when someone pulls a knife at you in an alley?” He asked and when no answer was forthcoming, he told them.

“You run. Yes, laugh it off, but everything I had you do today was for a reason. It does not matter if you are skilled in some martial arts, or are a battlemage. If you have nothing to gain from fighting and everything to lose, you run. It's the most basic and easiest thing you can do, just turn tail and leg it. Not if there’s a little kid behind you. If that’s the case, you scoop the kiddo up and then you run.

“You might think I am joking but I am not. It is the first and most important thing for you to learn. Everything else comes later. Yes, there might be situations when you can’t run, when there’s a burglar in your home, or some such. You might think that running is dishonorable,” he threw a look at the cook. “But more often than not, it will save your life. And that is what should be important to you.

"Why else would you pick this course? It is meant for self-defense, I will not be teaching you how to hurt others, for that go elsewhere. I will be teaching you how to survive.”

He left them with those words as he let them go.

When the girls finally arrived home, Sidy collapsed into a chair. “What have you gotten me into, you fiend? I might be too tired right now to properly hate you, but just you wait for the morning. You’re in for a world of hurt.”

“Yeah, from more running,” Ixa replied and they both groaned. “Dibs on the bath,” she shouted and disappeared into the bathroom, insults flying her way from behind as her friend tried to scramble over the chair she was sitting on to catch her and failed miserably.

Sidy lay sprawled out on the floor of the common room, panting. “Need eat. You make.” But her only reply was the sound of water rushing from a spout.