Epilogue B5

Ko’tar sat across from the human man dressed in red armour. He wanted to hate him, having been at war against these creatures all his life, but he had to respect that this single man entered the rift to discuss diplomacy alone.

That was even before finding out this man was the King of the human kingdom they had been fighting for generations.

Ko’tar was incredibly conflicted. On one hand, his instincts were screaming he could kill this man right now, and the human war would be over; they’d win. But there were two main things stopping him. The first was honour: this human arrived to seek diplomacy; he had not even killed the watchers standing outside, they had all been knocked out.

The other was respect. For all Ko’tar’s strength, he could not honestly say to himself that he’d walk alone into the human kingdom to talk.

So he did as he was supposed to and immediately requested the attendance of the great Archons and his Eminence himself, who all should be arriving today.

Outside the tent, his troops were building a location for the discussion to occur, and although the human king was invited to bring others along if he chose to, he instead calmly informed them he would be more than willing to speak with them on his own.

Ko’tar wanted to ask for a spar, and perhaps if peace is ever achieved he may get it, to settle his curiosity.

“Were you able to get in contact with the other clan?” the human king asked.

Ko’tar bowed his head as was proper. “Archons representing all the clans are on their way along with his Eminence.”

The man sipped on his tea. From here it smelt strange to Ko’tar, almost like citrus fruit.

“Would you like to try some?” the human king asked.

Immediately, before an answer arrived, he pulled out a small cup from storage along with a pot and began to pour.

“It’s a rather new tea to my kingdom; a special chef had just recently perfected it,” the man smiled as he slid over the cup.

Ko’tar was sceptical receiving a drink from the enemy, but he watched as the man refilled his own cup before taking a sip.

It was as it smelt: warm with a hint of citrus, and a tingling sensation as he swallowed. He felt energised.

“Good, right?” the king said with a smile.

Ko’tar had to agree, nodding as he took another sip.

Outside, horns were blown, which was followed by the unmistakable sound of a thousand soldiers falling to their knees.

Ko’tar himself knelt on one knee, facing towards the door while the human king quietly sipped his tea.

The flap of the tent opened, as a giant of a demon entered, dressed head to tail in vivid deep blue armour, his eyes burning lilac as he looked around, his vision falling onto the king.

“My name is Archon Zev’Tor. You are currently at my clan’s rift. It’s a pleasure to speak with you?” Zev left the question hanging, finding this whole situation amusing.

“King Marcus Ashivar. It’s a pleasure to speak with you. It was my understanding there would be others?” Marcus asked, storing away his tea and standing.

The smile on Zev’s face was large, showing a row of sharp teeth.

“Yes, I’ve come to personally escort you. His Eminence has decided this would be worth his time and has come for the talks,” Zev’Tor said.

He turned around, leading the way out of the tent, never even acknowledging Ko’tar, holding the flap open for Marcus to walk out.

As Ko’tar stood, he could only mutter one word.

“Monsters.”

And he meant it too. The human king, no, Marcus was unimaginably calm even in the face of such power. Ko’tar unthinkingly took the tea that was sitting on the table that he’d been drinking out of, taking a sip.

It only dawned on him that Marcus had forgotten this cup.

Huling had spent the last three days running across the continent. Trevor’s food had done something new; that in itself fell into what she expected from him. He was always full of surprises; it’s why she had been enjoying shadowing him. He was amazing at causing chaos in his wake.

Something she only wished she could achieve so effortlessly.

But the latest event had rattled her, shown a flaw of hers she didn’t even know she had, and she needed advice.

Advice from beings far smarter than her, which only left a few on this continent, so right now she was making her way to the Capital to find Sylverith, who she expected to still be at Trevor’s manor. If not, perhaps that old man Morlin or Alira would still be there.

Not even she could reach Sylverith’s real body right now; the barriers and wards were beyond anyone on this continent.

Huling had waited until night before entering the capital. She wasn’t worried about the humans, but she didn’t want to cause unnecessary panic either, so after sneaking over the walls and not triggering any of the weak wards here, she made her way to the only familiar manor she knew.

Smiling as she wandered past the fire tree that young Crisplet had made, she was sure he’d need to add more figures to it soon.

Huling was surprised to see the doors open as she approached the stairs as an older man stood there, someone she’d seen before, but forgotten the name of.

He bowed, “Huling, welcome to Lord Ashmoon’s manor. I’m afraid he is not at home at the moment.”

It struck her then, Archie was his name!

“Sorry to disturb you, Archie. I was not here to see Trevor. I actually just came from him. I was hoping that Sylverith was still staying here?”

There was a voice that went straight to her mind, and likely Archie’s too, going by the reaction.

“Yes, dear, we’re in the library, please do come in.”

Huling didn’t enter right away, just looking at Archie; she might have been an old monster, but she wasn’t rude; this wasn’t her home.

Archie bowed, “Please, you’re more than welcome here.”

“Thank you,” Huling said as she passed, noting the man felt stronger now somehow, not in power, but his aura felt more fortified, solid even.

Entering the house, the first thing that stood out to Huling and made her chuckle was the burnt footprints in the very stone on the ground, as well as the once burnt wood around the door that was leading to the library.

The next thing that made her stop dead in her tracks however, was a painting on the wall of the hallway leading into the library. She was sure it wasn’t there before; how could it have been? There was a picture of her, Lily and Sylverith.

It was beautiful.

Huling didn’t have the same skills as Sylverith to make the perfect humanoid-looking form, and yet despite that, this picture had captured both her silhouette, but importantly in the dark grey shape was the unmistakable form of a fox.

Huling had never seen a piece of art depicting her as anything other than a vicious killer before today.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

She noted the signature in the corner; it was not one she was familiar with, but she certainly would be soon: V.Mason.

Tearing herself away from it, she entered the library. She saw Sylverith sitting on the chair by the window with a book in her lap, smiling towards her, while she saw Alira in the corner, all books moved away from her at this point where she appeared to be asleep or meditating.

“Huling dear, did something happen? I would have expected you to be with my daughter by now.” Sylverith began.

Huling jumped into one of the other seats, launching into the explanation about Trevor’s food nourishing her, as well as the main topic of discussion: it made her stronger, and affected her soul.

“Young Trevor can affect the soul?” Sylverith repeated, her eyes wide.

“Truthfully, I wasn’t even aware my soul was damaged or in need of nourishment, but it only affected myself and not Lily; I can feel the power.” Huling explained.

“How curious, I think we should pay him a quick visit then, where was he last?” Sylverith asked.

“He’d probably be arriving in Elarith Vale soon,” Huling answered.

“I see, well Alira will be asleep for another couple of weeks while she recovers, so let’s go visit him.” Sylverith said, putting the book down.

Sylverith insisted on taking her carriage, which would slow them down, but she didn’t have the mana to travel fast. It did leave plenty of time for conversation, which reminded Huling as they were leaving Trevor’s manor.

“Who painted the picture of us?” Huling asked.

“Oh that thing? The wife of Crisplet’s sculptor friend, it’s quite good, isn’t it? Archie has been putting them up around the house, said it makes it feel more homely, and I do have to agree.” Sylverith smiled.

As her carriage came around, Huling immediately got the impression it wouldn’t take as long as she expected, as there were four powerful Drakhal’s pulling it, and no driver to be seen.

Rhyn was going through the paperwork, and there was a lot of it. She’d been moved into a real office after the teams the Lord procured didn’t just fix the place, but added a fairly large extension, and they worked so fast as well, adding an entire third floor which now held all the children’s dormitories.

The middle level had been converted into her office along with three large classrooms.

The bottom floor had the classroom converted into a mini shrine to the goddess of fate, and god of life, along with a couple of desks and several beds to be used for healing, while the training yard outside was improved significantly.

That all paled in comparison to the changes to the kitchen.

She had a full-size oven with a fire rune, a sink that likewise had its own water rune, and probably the most remarkable thing, below the floorboards sat a small box with an ice rune that could keep food chilled and preserved for a long time.

Then there were the new staff. She expected to butt heads with them, that they’d come in and bully the orphans, in particular the mage, who just had an aura of superiority about him, especially when it came to magic, but for whatever reason, as soon as he started to teach the children the theory, that attitude was dropped, and there was a pure passion for magic that shone through, it was infectious.

Via was still here teaching the children basic drills, but she now had someone to help her constantly with an incredibly experienced adventurer named Ratae. Once an orphan himself, he saw the job and jumped on it immediately.

He’d been especially focusing on survival training, ensuring the kids were ready for what awaited them.

They had their own healer and scholar now too, Margaret Rivers. She was a well-experienced old lady who was apparently a master healer in her youth, by her own words.

She moved to a village nearby in her retirement, until word reached her about teaching orphans in the hope to actually acquire the healing classes, and that was a worthy goal to end her legacy on apparently, even choosing to do it for free.

Rhyn’s only job now was to actually look after the children, which was a strange thing after having to do pretty much everything. There was also still so much money left over, which she had the mage Altin create a secure box for.

Though something told her no one would try to steal it, just knowing that the cat would be back to check on things, “I’d hate to see someone actually anger Lord Ashmoon.”

Ultimately though, she was proud finally to be the first Matron of the very first Ashmoon Orphanage. She really hoped and believed that this would be the catalyst for change.

Crisplet had been trying his hardest. His new sister, Clacks, had a lot to catch up on, and she seemed to sleep so much. Best friend Lily said this was normal.

He chose a new skill to help with teaching his new sister. It was called Elemental Scholar. It appeared after Crisplet attempted to teach Clacks how to catch bugs on the river sand. Apparently, it would allow him to use mana to share history and knowledge. He had not figured out how it worked yet, but it sounded very useful, and anything that would let him get his little sister stronger faster.

He’d have her as one of the most powerful defenders, like he was.

Every night between naps he would try and teach her how to use her magic, and she was getting much better. Not as strong as he was, but she could kill one of those evil bugs now. Best friend Lily said she’d get a really strong evolution when she grows up, but she also said that about him, and that level was coming up fast.

Aunty Lira said level forty was when he’d get his own evolution, and he was feeling nervous about it. He didn’t want to be someone else.

Crisplet started working on a new statue, something to keep his mind off that worry while everyone slept. He’d been working on something new, attempting to have a blue flame for Clacks. He’d just not got it yet, but he was close.

Lord Kron Granel had been anxious about the arrival of this new high noble, Lord Trevor Ashmoon. He’d collected as much information as he could find, even listening to all the rumours, right up until the moment it happened.

He got word that he was in a pinch, and that fool Frederick was not prepared. The moment he learned that Lord Ashmoon had been an orphan only a year before, he knew that the orphanages would be one of the first things he’d check.

Which is why he immediately implemented all suggested changes that came from the crown, and even went above and beyond by giving the orphanage an extra twenty-five silver per month. He knew that Lord Ashmoon would approve.

And now was his time to show it, though he’d heard from multiple sources now that he didn’t like to be ambushed and tries to avoid political meetings where possible.

This was all fine as he had prepared for it. He’d prepared the best manor in town for Trevor, paying the family that lived there handsomely to use it for a week as he had it richly appointed and a full team of staff hired to look after them no matter how long they stayed.

Hearing that Trevor had a love of food, he had also prepared an incredible feast for them, hiring some of the best chefs he could on short notice.

And it was all for now. Lord Ashmoon had arrived. He had his best man pass on the message, making sure to not draw any attention and offer them the manor to stay in. Despite desperately wanting to join him for the feast and discuss the town, he’d resist the urge to show up. Surely after experiencing his hospitality Lord Ashmoon would want to thank him personally.

That was only natural after all.

When the next morning came, his guard informed him they had left Granel.

“Please summon Bohmer for me,” Kron requested.

Panic was building inside. What went wrong? The Lord had already left the town? It didn’t make any sense, but Bohmer was his butler at the manor; he’d know what happened.

“Of course, my Lord, he is already waiting. I’ll send him in.” The guard bowed.

It was only a short wait before Bohmer entered the room and bowed deeply.

Kron didn’t wait, asking immediately, “What happened in the manor last night?”

Bohmer seemed nervous. “Well, uh, Lord Ashmoon didn’t stay there last night, just the merchants he was travelling with.”

“The merchants?” Kron asked, confused.

“Yes, they, from what I could tell, were just average merchants who have been on the road since the capital, and they were the only ones who stayed at the manor.” Bohmer replied.

“So where did Lord Ashmoon go?” Kron asked, puzzled.

“From what I’ve heard, he and his party went to the Inn and stayed the night there,” Bohmer said, clearly nervous now.

Kron sat there stunned, unable to process what he was hearing.

“The inn? Why would he stay at the inn?” Kron muttered, unable to wrap his head around the situation.

What Lord would stay at the inn over a manor?

He must have had an ulterior motive; yes, that had to be it. It was a test.

A smile came over his face. He had worked it out; it was all a test, and surely he passed if the Lord didn’t visit. “You’re dismissed, Bohmer. Excellent work.”

Bohmer looked confused but bowed deeply again and left the room.

Micca’s business had exploded in popularity. Her jerky and candy had already completely sold out, except for a very, very small private supply she had in reserve for extra special occasions.

She barely knew what had happened, but after Queen Amber and Princess Kathrine came, the shop became the fashionable place to be seen. Every noble in the capital decided this was the location to have tea and a cake.

As a result, she’d already had to hire extra staff. Getting Raymond had been a blessing; he knew how to cook! His own parents being bakers, so he was taken from guard duty and given to the kitchen where he’s now one of the strongest chefs on staff, despite not having a class for it.

Sylverith believes if he continues, the System will recognise that shift and offer him an evolution. Micca certainly hoped so. If he was this strong without a class, she could only imagine how much of an asset he’d be with one.

Another drastic change she needed to make was turning the second floor of the shop into a makeshift bedroom to house herself, Raymond, George, and Darren.

She was more than welcome to live at Trevor’s house, but getting to and from the manor every day was nearly impossible for several weeks as pilgrims and worshippers crowded around the entry, trying to get a glimpse of Alira.

Most of that had cleared off now, at least, but she was too busy to go back most nights.

Archie had been amazing; he’d been the voice of reason on more than one occasion and had practically dragged them back to the house for a big dinner insisting they were required.

He claimed it was because he wanted something for the house staff to do, but she knew he was really just trying to give them a break from the shop, and she appreciated it.

Tonight was one of those nights, as she was on her way to have dinner with Clifford, Valorie, and Archie, joined by George and Darren.

It was nice to have some normalcy in all the chaos.