Hope

Once Ezax’s speech ended, the anthem sounded again to accompany his and Avys’ departure. When they were gone the others upon the stage soon followed, leaving one level at a time. All in all though, the whole procession was over relatively quickly. By the time Irwyn and Elizabeth stood up to leave, a servant was already awaiting them outside their booth, guiding them towards the Voidways afterwards.

There were a lot more people present along the way. More aware of that, Irwyn made sure to walk half a step behind Elizabeth as they remained relatively quiet across the short journey. By the time they arrived at their destination, there was a line rather full of important-looking people as well. Instead of waiting though, Elizabeth simply strode past them in which Irwyn followed. Judging by the fact no one so much as muttered a protest she knew what she was doing. When they arrived before the door Irwyn also found out why there was a line at all: Apologetically, the servants told them that all the guides were already occupied with perhaps a few minutes until one returned.

“I am more than qualified to navigate myself,” Elizabeth smiled, then walked past them before they could protest. She pushed open the gate, which closed behind them once they entered.

“Do even nobility require guides?” Irwyn asked as soon as they were alone.

“Not necessarily require, but most don’t have the confidence to risk walking here unguarded,” Elizabeth smiled. “High nobility might, as a point of Pride and a show of competence, but we were seated far from the most prestigious sections.”

“Is there a reason for that I should read into?” Irwyn inclined his head.

“To make people believe I have fallen out of favor due to the matter with you,” she hummed. “But just enough to make it seem like temporary frustration on my father’s part rather than withdrawal of support or a serious divide. It also indicates that I have already been ‘punished’ in some way and therefore it is futile to try and argue what repercussions I should face.”

“I was under the impression you have not done anything wrong, at least in the eyes of the law,” Irwyn raised an eyebrow.

“When has that ever mattered in politics?” she sighed. “House Fathomsight has a grudge and won’t forget it. It’s just that they are restrained by tradition when it comes to dealing with these things as much as my family... and also the general dislike for complex schemes. The more justifications they have for direct action, the further they feel like they can push.”

“I suppose I can find some solace in knowing that not only the people at the bottom can get shafted over a poor excuse,” Irwyn sighed. “Though there is something else that struck me.”

“Ask away,” she invited, glancing over.

“Your father, he mentioned slaying an Archlich,” Irwyn nodded. “What does that actually mean? How powerful would such a thing be?”

“That highly depends,” she gathered her thoughts for a split second. “An Archlich is more of a title of authority rather than raw magical might. It is what we call the singular undead who commands the enemy during a Lich War.”

“But they could be anything from Named to just Raveners, right?” Irwyn said.

“It is extremely uncommon for a mere Ravener to lead something that could be called a proper ‘Lich War’,” Elizabeth shook her head. “Though it has happened on a few occasions in the past. There is not always an Archlich - often times it might be a council of sorts. It is honestly more of a title created so that powerful mages can lay claim to the accolade of slaying them. Even if the leaders of a Lich War are slain the undead barely suffer any problems in coordination on a tactical level and quickly find a replacement if the War isn’t over at that point. They only require a central intelect to direct how and what strategic objectives they pursue on a wider scale.”

“So a leader but not necessarily the greatest fighter or an irreplaceable head,” Irwyn summarized.

“Basically. Also, we have arrived,” she nodded, choosing a door to the right. Except it wouldn't budge. Elizabeth did not have a change of expression though and merely waited for a few seconds before it finally opened after a second push. "Someone was using it before us."

Then they stepped into the parlor. It was a surprisingly bright place with only some of the decorations being pitch black. That wasn't to say it didn't show extreme wealth. The room was massive, enough to comfortably fit thousands of people, though rather than hosting so many, much of the space was occupied with catered buffet tables as well as what seemed like many semi-private booths on the sides of the room. And in the center stood a large ring, metal boundaries surrounding a patch of sand that could have only been built for duels.

There were also people. Basically all of them around their age - 16 to 20 as Elizabeth had said. The only exception Irwyn could see - besides the servants of various ages in their distinct uniform clothes - was a single older man sitting on a chair by the edge of the dueling ring. Everyone else wore black but individually distinct attire.

Irwyn realized that the actual nobility was blatantly distinct from their followers. Just like Elizabeth, the children of mighty Houses were bejeweled almost beyond reason, covered in gems, artisan decorations and insignias on top of their regular clothes. Meanwhile, the less well-positioned were clothed not unlike Irwyn: In well-made and lightly enchanted suits and dresses but not engulfed in luxury. The most the followers had were a single ring or perhaps an amulet.

He supposed it was a good thing that he knew who he would be considered on similar footing with. All he had to do was not provoke those who were blatantly of high noble birth as he had been warned not to and the rest would hopefully sort itself out. He did not understand the exact pecking order but it was a safe bet Elizabeth would rank close to the top just by the virtue of birth. While he mused such things, Elizabeth had also done her own analysis and moved forward. He followed, once again making sure to be half a step behind. It was one of the few things of etiquette he had confidence in. A position of trust but not an outright claim to equality - too many people would take exception to that in public.

It took only a moment for them to be noticed and the room full of murmurs and conversations became silent in just a few breaths of time before whispers erupted again at twice the intensity. Everyone stared as he and Elizabeth trod to one side and their gazes were not looking all that friendly as far as Irwyn could read. No one dared stop them as they headed for one of the side booths though. There were plenty of those and many people seemed to not be present so they claimed an empty one without issue.

“A little further from me,” Elizabeth whispered as they were taking a seat and Irwyn did follow the suggestion, moving a bit away. They took up less than a third of the large circular sofa that surrounded the mahogany table - a lot of those in City Black, Irwyn noted.

“So… do we just sit now?” Irwyn asked in a hushed voice.

“People are still arriving,” Elizabeth said. “And I intend to look aloof and disinterested. Let us be the ones approached, not the other way around.”

“Fair enough,” Irwyn nodded. “Anything or anyone interesting I have missed so far?”

“A lot of familiar faces,” she shrugged. “High nobility is not exactly an expanding circle.”

“I meant someone I should be wary of,” Irwyn elaborated. “Perhaps House Fathomsight.”

“Probably not tonight,” she shook her head. “Alira is supposedly still recovering from her encounter and her brother is too young to be in this group. There will be people sucking up to them but most will hesitate to approach us.”

“I will be prepared for a long wait then,” Irwyn nodded, looking up… just in time to see someone actually already approaching them. “Someone is…”

“Friendly, relatively,” Elizabeth interrupted his disclaimer, watching the same slightly older woman, perhaps already 20, approach. She was dressed… similarly to Elizabeth: Black dress, black jewelry and such - though many Young Ladyships were. What surprised Irwyn was that she actually wore the same insignia of House Blackburg that, as far as Irwyn understood implied the main House when worn among other nobility.

That, of course, made his mind run a few laps. He presumed that although the branch families had some claim to the name, they would not use the heraldry - at least not on an occasion like this. That led to an obvious conclusion: Elizabeth was the sixth child of the ruling pair. It only made sense she would have siblings… Except the newcomer did not look too much alike Elizabeth or even Avys. There was perhaps the slightest resemblance though that could merely be the flawless and symmetrical facial features.

“Elenoir,” Elizabeth greeted with a nod. “Take a seat if you wish. What brings you to me so early?”

“Thank you,” she nodded and sat down directly opposite to Elizabeth, staring. “I have been sent by my father to give you a warning.”

“I don’t believe I have stepped over any lines established between us,” Elizabeth frowned ever so slightly. “In fact, I have been careful not to.”

“A warning, not a threat,” Elenoir shook her head. “There have been… last minute unannounced guests that could not be refused. Father is worried you may react… negatively to them.”

“I am not a rampant child, Elenoir,” Elizabeth’s expression only soured further. “I am quite capable of maintaining my cool in unpleasant company, as you should know. You give me insult.”

“If you will not hear me out, I can also just leave, aunt,” the other woman scoffed with a hint of hostility while Irwyn tried hard to not let his expression crumble. Aunt??? Elenoir had to be several years older than him and Elizabeth.

“You will be heard out,” Elizabeth did not seem to be given even the slightest pause by that. “But do not hide behind Ezaxiel. My brother would not imply me so incompetent even if those were his real thoughts. You twist meaning with conjecture to express your dislike, such incompetent low scheming is unbecoming of House Blackburg. Or perhaps I should ask your father for his exact words on the morrow?”

“I do not like your tone,” Elenoir visibly grit her teeth. “Perhaps you might not get your ‘warning’ in time.”

“I am sure Ezaxiel will be quite interested in hearing that his low expectation of merely delivering a message were somehow still too overwhelming to accomplish,” Elizabeth’s unhappy expression turned into a mocking grin instead. “Thought I assure you, it would be well within my assumptions.”

“Fuck you,” Elenoir spat.

“The message?” Elizabeth ignored the curse and calmly inclined her head.

“You can enjoy when it comes to ram you in the ass,” Elenoir stood up and left, only turning out for a last word ‘bitch’.

“Bad blood?” Irwyn carefully inquired, glancing at Elizabeth. She looked calm.

“We have a mutual dislike,” she shrugged, seemingly not too bothered by just how hostile that had been.

“She called you ‘aunt’,” Irwyn changed direction. “Is that actually true?”

“Yes, she is indeed my niece,” Elizabeth shrugged as if it wasn’t strange.

“She looks older than you,” he pointed out. “Significantly.”

“Yes, my eldest brother married young,” she raised an eyebrow. “And he is over twice my age.”

“Is that… normal?” Irwyn had to ask.

“I know of several great grandaunts younger than the children of the children of the children of their siblings,” she explained as if it were only natural. “It is quite common actually. There can be large age gaps between the progeny of a mage well over 200 years old. I guess it makes sense it would give you a pause, but it seems quite obvious to me.”

“Logically, maybe,” Irwyn begrudgingly admitted. Just because it made intellectual sense didn’t mean it didn’t feel damn weird to him. So, he changed the topic again. “Though that was still very hostile, from both sides.”

“She is a spoiled, lazy, talentless cur,” Elizabeth scoffed harshly. “It is only because Ezexiel dotes on her that she can even be called nobility for she lacks any merit whatsoever besides those of her parents.”

And if you are so open with such opinions, I can see why she is hostile right back, Irwyn thought though outwardly he only nodded. “We ended up not getting this ‘warning’ though.”

“If it was something genuinely important, it would have reached us,” Elizabeth shrugged. “There are only so many ‘unexpected visitors’ that would come here. Perhaps House Fathomsight has come up with something.”

“She seemed quite sure it would be targeted at you,” Irwyn pointed out.

“Or she was just failing to taunt me,” Elizabeth shrugged. “I will keep an eye out and be prepared for an unwelcome surprise, Irwyn, but this is just a social occasion I am not particularly invested in. Not enough to give that wench an inch. Even if I end up embarrassing myself it doesn’t matter. It might actually help in getting underestimated.”

“Fair enough,” Irwyn said though internally he was unsure that was the right choice. Surely it would have been better to offer token politeness to receive the information. “So now we wait, I suppose.”

“No, the hypothetical ice has been broken,” Elizabeth shook her head with a sigh. “No one wants to be the first to approach with hostility. The second though?”

“Your Ladyship,” and as if on cue, someone had approached from Irwyn’s dead angle. He turned his head to see an 18ish old man with an overabundance of jewelry that marked his as one of high nobility as well as unfamiliar insignia depicting a bird – raven, crow, or something close enough - with a shawl.

“Lordship,” Elizabeth nodded back politely. “What brings you to my table?”

“I couldn’t have helped but notice, Elizabeth,” the man said, and Irwyn noted he only used the title for the greeting. “That you have finally taken someone into your entourage.”

“Indeed I have, Emerlain,” she nodded with familiarity. “And I suppose you do not speak of it without reason.”

“Of course,” the other noble nodded. “It wouldn’t do for any rumors about lacking battle prowess to spread.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth played along.

“Then perhaps it wouldn’t be amiss if he was challenged,” Emerlain continued. “I just so happen to have taken in a pretty little thing of similar age as him recently. It would be a suitable debut for both.”

“Hmmm,” Elizabeth hummed, then turned to Irwyn. “Why not? It would be a suitable first match for the day.”

“Then I shall strive to not disappoint,” Irwyn nodded, standing up. Hopefully he was not missing anything from between the lines.

“Wonderful!” Emerlain smiled, then beckoned to the side. A young woman indeed around Irwyn’s age approached. The dress she wore was shorter, more outwardly practical for exercise - though enchantments rendered that pointless beyond appearances anyway. Irwyn also noted she wore a singular silver ring with another unfamiliar insignia and no other jewelry. Perhaps a lesser noble then? Irwyn was not quite certain of the ranks. “Come, come, let’s arrange it right away.”

“Yes, Your Lordship,” the upcoming duelist, bowed to Emerlain, then they both quickly left and Irwyn followed them.

“Irwyn!” Elizabeth raised her voice just as they took the first few steps, causing all of them to turn back to her. “Bring back something to drink when you are done,” she smiled. “To celebrate your victory.”

“As you say, Your Ladyship,” Irwyn returned the smile as well as a small bow. He wasn’t sure why they were taunting but it was fun. And novel. Ultimately, all of it was bickering between children of pedigree… but there was something about being challenged and knowing you had what it took to make the issuer eat their words, especially if they were covered in literal layers of jewelry.

When they got to the ring, Emerlain was no longer quite smiling. Neither was the mage girl from his entourage. Irwyn was. People gathered around, though many remained seated in whatever booths they have claimed. The dedicated dueling grounds were not nearly as advanced as the facilities he had visited with Elizabeth - though it had just a barrier rather than a whole scenery. The protective array itself was still very much active, as the old mage overlooking their battle - their concept felt like impossibly fast movement - reassured them.

“A challenge has been issued,” their arbiter announced, loud enough for everyone caring to listen to hear. “Over no matter in particular. On one side stands Octavia von Bitterheart, representing His Young Lordship Emerlain von Ravencloth. On the other stands Irwyn of no House, representing Her Young Ladyship Elizabeth von Blackburg. They shall battle to first direct strike. On my mark, begin!”

“Hither,

Black bitter”

Octavia - while Irwyn still remembered the name - immediately cast a spell. It looked like a fog, though there was more to it. It roiled out from every spot of her body as far as Irwyn could see and he sensed two intentions within the spell: Bitterness and erosion. Rather… esoteric. Irwyn had no idea what bitterness would even do, though in its own way it was also eye-opening that such emotions could be used productively. He had an impulse to let it play out to see exactly what the effects were, though ultimately decided it would be too counterproductive.

“Lightspear swarm”

Irwyn waited a few seconds for the smoke to start approaching him before improvising a spell name. They had been advised to hold back by Avys herself… but a single three-intention magic should be just what he could afford according to the Duchess’ estimation. A prodigy, but not an incomprehensibly ridiculous one. As for his waiting and the decision to immediately open with somewhere close to his artificial upper limit?

Irwyn was not keen on being challenged by every other hopeful mage follower in the room who thought they had a shot at him. No. Instead, he would disillusion them in the fastest way possible. The spell called for a swarm and that was what manifested right behind Irwyn. He beckoned them forward with his hand and they shot into the mist, seemingly at random… though Irwyn made sure several would directly hit his opponent. The other mage was nowhere near as good at hiding as Elizabeth.

“Winner, Irwyn of no House,” the judge declared a moment later. Most of the Void fog has been dispersed by the spears though much of it still obscured vision. The spell had, however, been broken and quickly dispersing. In fact, the result has been called before Irwyn even visually registered his opponent again.

Not that he cared too much. Irwyn dismissed the spell and made sure to slightly stagger and take a few very deep breaths, as if such magic as he had performed was straining rather than second nature. There was no cheering from the audience, perhaps because the fight had been too short to get invested or because that was simply not their way. Irwyn left the arena without a second look. He detoured to one of the many buffet tables with a plentiful spread of food and beverages, getting two large glasses of something green that a butler had reassured him was both sweet and refreshing.

“Quite one-sided,” Elizabeth welcomed him back with a smile. At some point during his relatively short absence someone had delivered a plate of what appeared to be prawns Elizabeth had alreay liberally indulged in.

“Did you expect anything less?” Irwyn also grinned.

“You could have dragged it out,” she said. “Made it a show as you cut apart poor Octavia’s spell. Slowly cornered her until there was not a single step she could take without walking right into your own magic. It would have won you much more favor with the crowd.”

“I opted for brutally efficient,” Irwyn defended. “It sounded best at reducing how many people would bother us tonight.”

“The show would have done the same,” Elizabeth shrugged. “And with how you had ended it… we might have quite a few people finding trouble out of principle.”

“Ended it?” Irwyn raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, this is my fault,” she sighed. “Or rather, of the missed etiquette lessons. I should have mentioned it but it just didn’t occur to me until you were already on the sand.”

“A faux pas on my part of some sort then,” Irwyn guessed.

“After a duel, you shake hands with your opponents,” Elizabeth nodded.

“Oh,” Irwyn grimaced. “Is it bad?”

“Well, you basically told the poor girl that she was so beneath you that her very existence is not worth acknowledging,” she explained. “Now, if I had done that that might have been fine. But from you, it looks far too arrogant as someone with no House to their name.”

“And that might graze some Prides,” Irwyn sighed with realization.

“We will have to play it off as if I told you to act that way. Better than acknowledging a mistake,” she nodded. “If we do it right, it will look like you are arrogant on my behalf and that will make it fine in their eyes.”

“And how do we do that?”

“Quite simple, really,” Elizabeth grinned again. “You just have to do everything exactly the same way you just have. For every upcoming duel while I cheer on with approval.”