Cataclysm War | Chapter 59: A Terse Invitation (First Draft)

Thursday, August 4, 4 S.E.

Kairi was, for the first time in a long while, faintly nervous.

She stood with her arms folded and the itch to rest her hands on her shortswords prevailing over all else, gaze locked on the approaching convoy as it crested the nearby hill. She’d chosen the location for the rendezvous carefully, situated at almost the exact midpoint between what had been Michigan and New York State, intersecting in the middle of what been Ontario, Canada.

One day and night of travel, buoyed by the speed of Cultivators all at Adept rank or Contender, had made the journey relatively painless. They could cross overland with a speed and consistency that made horses look slow by comparison, when truly required, and Kairi had worked them almost to exhaustion. Her Vanguards, by that point largely resigned to their new lot in life, had become some manner of personal guard—though she was sure Ceruviel’s enthusiasm for Terran company had played its own part.

Larissa stood beside her on her left, with the black-haired, green-eyed Lance-Master of the Royal Army, Tyros Varen, at her right. The armored Haelfar was large for his species and looked relatively sturdy in the steel armor and black-clothed adornments of his warplate. Behind her, meanwhile, stood Parnym—no longer just a member of Ceruviel’s Duskguard, but instead the unofficial Mender of the Queen-Potentiate, and a recognized [Kingdom Founder] in Dawnhaven.

In addition to that, he was also Kairi’s latest crush.

Something about the shy, reedy Haelfar had appealed to her tastes, and Kairi had found him delightful to tease—especially with the power dynamic between them. Parnym held his own well enough, but his obvious returned attraction mixed with borderline terror of Leonidas discovering them only made things vaguely more enjoyable for Kairi herself.

She’d always liked going after things that weren’t strictly allowed.

Her [Nightreaper Core] accelerated faintly on instinct as her attention drifted from Parnym and her enjoyable chase of the shy Mender directly toward the steadily approaching, mismatched convoy of humanoids and carriages, and she pursed her lips. The flag of the Unity Coalition flew from the lead unit: a golden wreath embracing six stars, rampant on a field of sky blue. Her parents had always had interesting notions of declaration, even in the earliest days of the Incursion.

“I have instructed the Lance to secure the area within half a mile in every direction,” Tyros informed her, shifting his head to look down at her directly. He never bent when he did that, which Kairi found refreshing. She’d originally thought it was disrespect until Parnym had quietly explained that Alterans did not bend before those they found to be worthy of proper posture, barring bows or formal offerings.

“The Vanguards are at overwatch points,” Larissa added idly, her plated arms folded over the new mobile warplate that Ceruviel had given the entire Squad, after extracting oaths they’d return every piece before they departed Dawnhaven. Smart woman. “If something goes wrong, they’re ready to cover a retreat.”

“We’re meeting my parents, not doomsday cultists,” Kairi said mildly, her gaze focused on the train of arrivals as they began to spread out in a meeting formation. After a moment of thought, she sighed and shook her head.

“Though, given how mental their company probably is to side with them,” she said in a tone that demonstrated her deep-set disapproval, “I suppose we can’t be too careful.”

That earned a quiet chuckle from Larissa, and a rumble of consideration from Tyros, but Kairi ignored both of them. Her Mother and Father were both high-ranked Contenders, close to their Elite Tempering, but she knew she didn’t have anything to fear from them—it was their mad coalition of hyper-xenophiles that she found unnerving. Her parents… well, her issues with them were based on politics and agency, not a fear of betrayal.

When the Unity Coalition convoy finally came to a halt, Kairi straightened her shoulders and nodded to her trio of accompaniment, settling her hands at her sides—avoiding the pommels of her shortswords—and striding out to greet the new arrivals. They’d planned this already, and the Army’s cordon would be positioned to account for it, as well as the Vanguard overwatch.

As the four of them walked forward, a similar party departed the ranks of the Coalition, led by two people she knew almost as well as she knew her own hands.

Reginald Artur Paendrag, and Maryanne Helena Paendrag.

Her Mom and Dad, in the flesh, and looking unbearably happy.

When the two groups finally intersected, it was with a ten-foot buffer between them, pre-drawn by Kairi herself with a pointed, blatant cut using a blade to create the dividing lines where each party was to halt. Her parents hesitated at theirs, glancing down at it, but seemed to realize crossing would be a mistake as they directed their gazes to her properly. At a glance, she saw they were accompanied by what looked like some sort of burly, brown-eyed, green-skinned Orc, and a white-robed, pink-haired, pink-eyed Haelfar woman who could have been any noble from Dawnhaven.

Naturally, it was her Mother who spoke first.

“Kairi, baby, I couldn’t believe it when we got your message! It was, um, a little terse, but your Dad and I were so pleased that you—”

“Cut the shit, Mom,” Kairi interrupted flatly, her voice cold to her own ears. How many times had her mother tried that same, exhaustive line? Cajoling her like she were a child, still? When she’d argued for independence, argued against leaving, argued against abandoning the only home she’d ever truly been happy in—Maryanne hadn’t listened, she’d left Kairi with her grandparents and gallivanted off with Reginald to fuck knows where.

She still hadn’t forgiven them for that, ‘saving lives’ or not.

“Kairi,” her Dad said instead, his face more measured, his features so much like his son’s, and yet lacking that imperious, austere air that Ace had inherited from their Grandfather, Artur; Reginald’s own father. The presence of the bloodline had definitely skipped a generation, in that sense, Archmage or not. “You called us here to discuss something of grave importance, so you said. What is it you need from us?”

Good old Dad, straight to business.

That was probably unfair, a small part of her knew; she could see the way he looked at her, with love, with regret, with a little trepidation. Part of her craved to be held by her parents again, and she suspected part of her always would, but she’d grown past that little girl a long time ago. Pain, war, and nightmares had seen to that years ago.

“It concerns my brother,” Kairi said curtly, intentionally saying ‘my brother’ instead of ‘your son’, just to really drive in the knife with that little bit of extra bite. “Ace is alive, he’s healthy, and he’s safe. Most importantly, he’s getting married. He wants you both to come.”

Kairi delivered the news as directly and bluntly as she could, not bothering to wax poetic about family bonds or love conquering all. Ace could deal with that mess. She knew her brother would probably try to fix things, and there was a small part of her that traitorously hoped he could, but whether he succeeded or not was on him—she wasn’t about to go so far as to lay the groundwork. It wasn’t him that their parents had tried to coerce into ditching a perfectly safe life.

It wasn’t him that their parents had abandoned.

“M-married?” her mother asked in shock, reaching out to grip her husband’s arm hard enough that Kairi saw her father wince, but bear it stoically. “Leonidas is getting married? What—how? To whom?!”

Kairi eyed her mother at the question, and then just looked at Tyros.

The Haelfar woman narrowed her eyes when she did, the Orc rumbled something unintelligible, and both her father and mother exchanged a glance before looking at Tyros as he stepped forward, stopping just at the edge of the line.

“Greetings to you, Archmage, and Sword of Manhattan,” he said to them both in his gravelly boom of a voice, then looked at the Orc and Haelfar respectively. “Greetings to you as well, Bulwark of Unity, and Light of Truth.”

The Orc and Haelfar seemed to narrow their eyes at the monikers, but offered terse nods, while her parents simply stared in anticipation.

“I am Tyros Varen, Contender rank, Second Lance-Master of the Third Cohort, of the Fourth Banner, of the First Legion of the Royal Army of Dawnhaven, under the authority and auspices of Her Majesty, Queen-Potentiate Aylar Taleria Lux Fortuna Eldormer, formerly of the Kingdom of Eldormer, of Altera.”

That seemed to spark something within the Haelfar, and she stiffened faintly, while the Orc folded his arms in disapproval. Her parents, however, only watched Tyros intently, and it was her mother who spoke again.

“Well met, Lance-Master Varen,” she said politely, clearly more than familiar with the cultural norms. “I take it you have more information on our son’s situation? Is he… that is, is this marriage a matter of honor, or—”

Kairi snorted at that, realizing immediately she thought that Ace had banged some random noble and pissed someone off, and shook her head.

“It is and is not, Lady Paendrag,” Tyros replied in an unruffled tone, already used to Kairi’s outbursts—the spoilsport. “In Dawnhaven, your son is known as Earl Leonidas Achilles Romulus Paendrag, the Black Knight of Dawnhaven, First Archon of Terran Blood, Untempered Slayer of the Nine-Headed Hydra, Defier of the Heavens, Kingdom Founder, Arena Champion, Royal Champion, and Legal Heir to Ducal House Latherian.”

Kairi watched in satisfaction as her parents’ eyes widened with each title, and her father muttered ‘Archon’ and ‘Earl’ under his breath in baffled incredulity, while both the Haelfar and Orc exchanged looks, and the former’s jaw tightened in a mix of consternation and—unless Kairi missed her mark, which she rarely did—thinly veiled trepidation.

“You spoke of House Latherian,” the Haelfar woman said finally, her voice musical without being melodic. “I take it, then, that Duchess Ceruviel Latherian is in this ‘Dawnhaven’?”

“She is, my lady,” Tyros said formally. “The Last Archon is Earl Leonidas’ mentor, and one of the two Venerates that safeguard our Colony.”

That bomb had been Kairi’s idea to drop, and she saw the effect it had immediately. The very word ‘Venerate’ seemed to freeze both the Orc and Haelfar in place, and the trepidation morphed into overt fear.

“A Venerate?” Maryanne asked faintly. “As in, sixth Tier?”

“The very same, my lady,” Tyros confirmed calmly.

“O-oh…” her mother said, blinking rapidly. “I—I didn’t know there were any Venerate ranks around, let alone two of them. How… how wonderful for your Colony, to be so thoroughly defended.”

Tyros inclined his head again, and Kairi heard Larissa chuckle in amusement beside her.

“You are kind to say so, Lady Paendrag, but I will refer back to your prior question. As I stated, the wedding is both a matter of honor and not one of the traditional type. Your son has not committed an act that would demand his union with a Lath-Var—a Highborn woman.”

“Oh,” Reginald said with naked relief, “well, that’s terrific. Who’s he marrying, then? Is she from Michigan?”

Tyros paused and glanced at Kairi, who just gestured for him to continue, loving every second of the interaction.

With a deferring dip of the head—one that neither her parents nor their companions missed, based on the glance between her and the Lance-Master—the towering Haelfar turned back to the quartet to continue.

“She is not, my lady. The Black Knight is, as per custom of the Right of Representation and by his own commitment of healthy-minded choice, engaged to be married to Her Majesty, Queen-Potentiate Aylar Taleria Lux Fortuna Eldormer.”

Kairi watched her parents absorb that, and her mother braced a hand on her father’s shoulder, looking faintly pale when the words were delivered, while Reginald himself stood with his mouth agape at the news. The Orc and Haelfar glanced at their human companions and then affixed tense stares on Kairi and her own company, looking less than pleased by the revelations.

“And when is this to take place?” Reginald asked in a surprisingly steady voice a moment later. “Just so we can make plans to—”

“Three days,” Kairi interjected coldly, her smile absolutely vicious when she made it. “So if you want to attend, Dad, Mom, you need to return with us, because the ceremony can’t wait—they’ve decided to do it right before the coronation. The city will be in lockdown day after tomorrow, and it’s a one-day journey back there from here.”

“That’s impossible,” the Haelfar said abruptly, her face taut with frustration. “You can’t just expect us to go with you! We’re the leaders of the Coalition, how do we know this isn’t a trick to assassinate us?!”

“This is no trick, my lady,” Tyros said gravely. “I swear that on my honor as a Lance-Master.”

The Orc grunted at that.

“Pretty words, small impact, shiny Haelfar,” the man rumbled in a masculine growl. “We’ve heard the same from others, and they were lies as often as not.”

“Quite so,” the Haelfar added firmly. “I will not so easily hand over our lives to—”

“If I wanted to kill you, bitch, I wouldn’t need a trick to do it,” Kairi interjected in a voice as cold and uncaring as her nonexistent patience, already irritated by the pair of Fantasies. Both of them looked at her in outrage as her parents winced, but Kairi pressed on mercilessly.

“I brought thirty-seven Adepts, ten Contenders, and my perfectly lethal Elite rank self here,” she stated ruthlessly. “I could mulch your fucking clown-show caravan faster than you could scream ‘Oppression!’ with those bitchy lips of yours—and if you think my dear old parents are going to help you stop me, you’re as stupid as you are cowardly.”

Parnym exhaled shakily behind her, and Larissa laughed when she finished.

Tyros, for his part, remained decidedly silent—keeping his militant posture.

He really is unruffleable, this one. I like him.

The Haelfar woman swallowed back a curse at Kairi’s words and turned to Reginald and Maryanne, who met her gaze, and then looked at the Orc.

In the end, it was Kairi’s father who spoke.

“Our daughter is—she’s many things, my friends, but she’s not a liar. If Kairi says our son wants us at his wedding, she’s telling the truth… and if she says she could destroy us at a whim, I’m inclined to believe she’s telling the truth about that, as well.”

Both the Orc and Elf darted a look back at Kairi and then turned to the Archmage again. “Reginald,” the Haelfar began, “this is too great a risk. The Quest is in the same sector as Dawnhaven, we can’t take the risk!”

“I know what you’re saying, Lykinea,” Kairi’s father said with a faint smile, “and I love you for it, we both do, but Maryanne and I only just found out our son was alive a month ago. If, by whatever circumstance, he has gotten himself into a marriage arrangement—well, we just won’t be able to live with ourselves if we miss it.”

Maryanne nodded to Reginald’s words and turned to the Orc.

“It’s alright, Brutus. You and Lykinea can lead the Coalition until we return. We won’t be gone very long. Once the wedding is over, we can leave before the Coronation, and—”

“Yeah, I doubt you’re gonna wanna do that, Mom,” Kairi cut in with another mirthless smile, drawing her parents’ and their companions’ eyes to her.

“Why’s that, dear?” Maryanne asked, smiling as though nothing were amiss.

“Is there a ceremony for a Prince-Consort as well?” Reginald asked with a genuine echo of excitement that almost, almost thawed Kairi’s icy heart.

Almost, but not quite.

“Oh, didn’t I mention it?” Kairi asked with feigned forgetfulness, wrapping her knuckles against her head. “Oops, silly me. Yeah, my bad: Ace isn’t going to be Prince-Consort, Dad.”

Reginald blinked and then frowned.

“So he’ll stay an Earl?”

Kairi laughed and shook her head.

“No, Dad,” she said with ruthless amusement, “Leonidas is going to be crowned King.”