Elly breathed out, feeling the last of the energy flowing through her veins, and finished her last set of forms with exceeding care. They didn't do much to improve her skills, not anymore, but it was a good warmup. Or cooldown, in this case.
She spotted Marcus watching her some time ago, an intent look giving depth to his otherwise ordinary brown eyes. If they hadn't had that lovely talk two weeks ago on that lone windmill she'd think he was checking her out. As it was, she was pretty sure he was either practicing magic or imagining how to use her skills in battle.
It was nice not to be objectified for her objectively above-average looks, it really was, but it turned out there was such a thing as going too far in the opposite direction.
Elly moved closer, watching him converse with a gaggle of her mages. Well, lecturing them. A conversation would imply there was a back and forth. It was mostly grown men and women, hardened veterans, hanging off his every word like children.
Mages. She wouldn't ever fully understand them.
The Prince moved on before she could decide whether to interrupt, the realization that he'd been staring all too visible on his face. She suppressed a grin at his abrupt turn, feeling it melt away when she found someone else still staring at her.
Vess.
The horrifically beautiful succubus strode over like nothing in the world could stand in her way, effortless grace and dignity combined to an almost impossible degree. It wasn't, of course, and it was just the effect of centuries of experience alongside an unaging body, but even so, Elly had to resist narrowing her eyes.
Magic was common here, she had to keep reminding herself, but few demons had the best interest of their summoner in mind. They had their own plans, their own desires and goals. If those aligned with the one they forged a contract with, huzza. If not, she hadn't seen one hesitate yet.
Perhaps she was being unfair. It wasn't like Vess had ever actually done something to harm her or her people. But the thought remained even as the succubus slowed, one perfectly manicured eyebrow raising.
"You dislike me."
Well, that was another reason to dislike the woman; her damned perception. Elly folded her arms, muscles coiling. "I don't like quite a few people, demon. Is it so odd that you would make that list?"
"No," Vess allowed, a perfectly bland smile on her lips. "But it is odd that you dislike me for no other reason than my close relationship with Marcus. Yet it is neither jealousy nor some misplaced competitive urge for his attention. So I find myself wondering why, Princess Elenoir. Why do you dislike me so?"
Elly breathed in, letting Life Enhancement energy wash through her. Letting it bring calm and objective reason, tranquility filling her mind. The succubus stiffened slightly, a minute reaction Elly could only catch thanks to her enhanced eyesight.
"He is a remarkable mage, so I do not doubt that your contract with him is extensive. But intent often matters more than rules, I know that much, so perhaps not. Perhaps he placed his trust in you, something which makes him vulnerable. And if he is vulnerable, then so am I."
"Is trust so bad?" Vess asked, tone so normal it might as well have been mocking. "I have been, and still am, aiding him. Helping him, busying myself with matters both critical and mundane. But you can't trust me because my words are honeyed lies, which is your prerogative. It leaves only my actions to speak for me, which cannot be judged until more time has passed."
Elly snorted. "Well, you have one thing right. Your words are honey. I'll work with you, demon, because refusing to do so out of pride and fear is unbecoming of me. Don't expect me to like you."
"Fear? Of me? I have seen your fight with Marcus, did I not? I am well aware you could banish me in moments."
"And I am well aware of what words can do, demon," Elly replied, tone going flat. "The right words spoken at the right time can bring more bloodshed than a thousand swords. Are you quite satisfied?"
Vess bowed her raven-haired head. "I am, Princess. I wish you a pleasant day."
Elly didn't reply, watching the demon stroll away. She let out a deep sigh when Vess was gone, letting the energy in her veins dissipate.
That one didn't mean Marcus harm, of that she was growing increasingly sure, but everyone else? Elly had no idea what the demon would do if her friend would be in true danger. If her investment in whatever she found so curious about her betrothed would be threatened.
It would have been so much easier if people didn't have their own past, motivations or agendas.
She shook her head, pushing down the urge to grow her hair out and casting the pointless complaint away. People had trauma, big and small, and people had ties. They were the two constants of anyone, anywhere, at any time. Without either, one might as well be dead.
Something nagged at her, briefly, and Elly sharpened her eyesight on instinct. Vess was well out of earshot by now, but the almost unfairly beautiful succubus hadn't returned to Marcus' side. Instead she was talking to someone who clearly had Dwarven blood in their ancestry, the stout man lighting up as Vess approached.
And as she did, Vess changed. Literally. Her height lowered, hair shortening and shoulders broadening. It was still unmistakably Vess, but now she looked Dwarven herself. Almost more so than the man she was speaking to.
Succubi can shapeshift, right.
Almost all demons could, she recalled, though not nearly as freely as shapeshifters. Vess could likely only change her race, which made sense for her nature. Succubi wouldn't be nearly as prevalent if they could only look human.
And then, because she just couldn't get a moment of peace, Marcus approached her anyway. Carrying his basket of space magic, which at least meant he'd brought food. She'd forgive his unbelievably irritating habit of trying to be her friend.
Elly shook her head, the sarcasm too thick even in her own mind. She attempted a laid-back smile, saw him shift a little as her mood was apparently obvious anyway, and sighed. "It's not you. Just had a busy morning, but I promise to be at least somewhat good company. You brought lunch?"
"I did," he replied, hefting the basket. His arms strained, and though they were showing an increasing amount of muscle, it meant he was tweaking the spatial seals again. He'd talked about it last time, she remembered. Something about weight equalizers causing more friction than they should. "The obviously bored cooks managed to restrain themselves and not fill it with half the pantry."
She shook her head as she glimpsed inside, seeing enough food for a dozen people. Varied, too. None went to waste, she'd confirmed that after last time, but still. It was excessive in a way she hadn't been accustomed to sinc- Since.
Elly cleared her throat. "The windmill?"
"Sure."
Marcus turned towards it, Elly following after a moment. It wasn't particularly far, and not all that private, but the roof did earn them some alone time. A place where their every interaction wasn't observed.
It was time, really. Time to talk about what happened. He deserved to know, and even if that wasn't good enough of a reason, he would learn about it soon enough anyway. Her mages seemed more enamored with him by the day, the army was mingling with the local population in Redwater and the first group of her people had already left to settle empty lands.
It would trickle back to him soon enough, and she'd rather that he heard it from her directly.
The mill came into view, and Elly jumped up while watching Marcus climb it as if invisible forces lifted him up. Which was exactly how he did it, apparently. Flight was ever so elusive, but movement techniques were quite common. Usually not so powerful as to allow someone to scale towers with this level of ease, though.
Elly watched him set down the basket and extract a flask of wine, resisting the urge to shake her head. It wasn't even past noon, though it was close, and it was already socially acceptable to drink. Not that the drink was strong, but the custom was foreign to her.
Alcohol was infrequently drunk back in Caldir. Even the masses preferred weak beer over something stronger, though they were less restrained than the nobility. Spirits, as she'd been taught, were a rare indulgence and reserved for private moments.
Then Marcus pulled out a flask of water, despite Elly never having brought it up, and she felt a small smile tug at her lips. "What have they prepared this time, then? I only saw the fruits and some soup."
"That, but also bread, cold sausage, four different kinds of cheese and what I can only call an 'attempted murder' amount of bacon. Food aside, I sense through mystic means—and definitely not through basic observation—that you have something to say."
Elly attempted a smile, the Prince's face growing more serious. She sighed. "My Kingdom is dead. Its murder caused scars, as you might be able to imagine. Some healed during the long voyage here, others did not."
She paused, not continuing immediately, and turned to watch the view. Marcus hummed. "I'm willing to listen if you're willing to talk."
"I watched it," she said after a moment, clutching the sword at her waist as her tone became soft. The Prince, her betrothed, didn't say anything further. Didn't nod or raise an eyebrow or react. "I watched my people be consumed by a living plague. Corpses shambling through forests and over mountains, disobeying all rules of decay and rot. Third born, I was. Third in line, two older brothers ahead of me in the Royal Line of Succession. A sister younger than me, another brother not even out of infancy. After a year I was the Queen.
Not even my most hated political enemies suggested he lead us instead of me. Not with an undead army at the gates. Complete annihilation has a way of uniting people, I suppose.
I was trained to fight since I could walk. Forms and steps and drills sticking to me like glue and ink. Every weapon I wielded was mastered in months, and that was before they found I held an affinity for Life Enhancement. That, too, I wielded with natural born skill, as if I'd long mastered the art and was just remembering it. So I was trained to fight, to kill and lead.
"Knights flocked to my service before I was ever named general, guards valuing my opinion over even that of my Royal Mother. My older brothers envied the power I wielded, the respect I garnered, but they could do nothing. Not even Albert, the Royal Mage." She grinned half-heartedly, waving her hand towards Marcus. "Oh, nothing like you. A normal mage, learning at a normal pace. Mother paraded him around like a prized horse, so proud to have a mage in the family. It would change the people's one-minded stubbornness to only practise Life Enhancement, she said."
Elly sighed. "The Crown Prince was raised to rule, Albert trained to advise him. Me? No one really cared. Sure, I had followers. A growing popularity in the army. But I was the backup's backup, even if I was a Royal Member of the Crown. I would do my duty, though, of that there was no question. So I put my talents to work.
I trained and trained until I could train no more, then took my retinue to cleanse the Kingdom of filth. Of hardened bandits and roving pirates, rowdy mercenaries and arrogant hedge mages. And I got better. Learned how to fight everything from beasts to men to elementals. To command and lead, encourage and discipline. Yet I never craved the crown.
So when the undead came, I did my duty. My Mother was ill by then, abdicating and naming the Crown Prince as the new King, and I went to war alongside him. Swallowed my objections when he mismanaged the campaign, not wishing to undermine him in front of the troops. He listened to my advice in private, thank the Gods, but it wasn't enough.
"One glorious charge later and Albert the Mage was named the new King," Elly continued, draining her cup of water. "He tried to solve with magic where steel had failed, unifying the scattered magical potential of our people. Firestorms felled entire hordes, elementals tearing through the undead. We didn't know. I didn't know. Didn't know they adapted with each loss, numbers regrowing from the spores they left behind and animating those that were long dead. Soon fire did little but blacken their skin, a strange magical field dispelling elementals. I never understood it, and I don't think Albert did either."
"Then Albert was dead too, throwing himself off his tower after consulting with a demon. I had his mages summon it, confronting the thing. It laughed, saying it had told nothing but the truth. That our kingdom was doomed, his unborn child never to see the light of the sun. Having faced the undead myself, I believed him, just like my brother clearly had. His wife killed herself an hour later."
"So I ordered my people to build a fleet, to tear apart the capital for wood, and they did. But it would take months where we had only weeks, so I set out to delay our enemy. To confuse and trap, distract and kite. I succeeded, some even calling me the Conqueror of the Seven Fields. But my siblings paid the price of my absence." Steel whined as she gripped her cup tighter still, wrath overcoming grief. "Greenstalk, one of our noble houses, was convinced all the undead needed was a sacrifice. Royal Blood to sate their endless hunger. They didn't seem to care that two of my brothers had already paid that price. So they took my little baby brother, my sweet sister, and they fed them to the horde. I had taken all my best warriors, you see, and those left behind to guard them weren't numerous enough to prevent their insanity."
Elly barked out a humorless laugh. "When I returned I did as I had done in my younger years, cleansing the capital of the filth. Five houses I hanged, three I spared. Not a soldier disobeyed me, not after our campaign against the undead. The army was mine, the mages were mine. Now, with the ships completed, the people's loyalty was mine. So I took them, setting sail to lands unknown and beginning the Long Night on the Sea. Your father found me in a dream, offered me safe harbor and a possible home. You know the rest."
Marcus said nothing for a long moment, seemingly digesting that recounting, before sighing deeply. Elly wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, really. Not an emotion filled oath of vengeance, though that would have been nice. Not even empty platitudes.
Instead he spoke. "Months ago, before you arrived, I was young. Intelligent but immature, powerful but narrow-minded. I was planning to run away, joining the Empire and its famous magical academy. It was a child's dream, but unlike most children I had the skills and means to attempt it. I'd probably fail, but it would be my failure, you know? Probably with horrific consequences, but I'll never know."
"For all that my father was distant and our relationship tenuous, I never imagined he'd hurt me. I'd never imagined he'd try to do me harm, believing as only a child could that their parents wish them nothing but the best. Then he tricked me into activating an artifact known as the School of Life, and more than a year passed in two days. I'm older than I look, I think the joke goes."
He sighed, Elly seeing something dark pass over his eyes. "Three 'scenarios', as I've taken to calling them. The siege, the hunt, the school. Generated based on my memories, based on what skill sets the artifact determined I should improve. All to become an apprentice to Archmage Balthazar, who I know frustratingly little about even now."
He took a breath, shaking his head. "Have you ever been dreading something, then, just when it's finally supposed to happen, for one reason or another it gets pushed back? Delayed as if time was rewound, the only thing you could do being to pretend it didn't bother you? That was the siege for me. Endless dread with sprinklings of dark humor and satisfaction. Then again, and again, until I felt myself going just a little crazy."
"The worst part? Or the best, I suppose, but either way, I couldn't die. Not truly. Yet I did die in everyone else's mind, loneliness so complete it didn't matter I was surrounded by hundreds. I couldn't use magic, either. Just me, my squad and what little I knew of fighting. I died. A lot. I've been burned, stabbed, frozen, had my throat cut and stomach pierced. You don't ever really get used to dying, but I suppose I never really did die. It wasn't something I've really noticed until now, but it always reset the scenario just before actual death. Not quickly enough to spare me any of the pain, but yeah."
Marcus tapped his fingers against one another, Elly's eyes having grown wide. That- That was a nightmare. He sighed. "I learned how to fight dirty. To acquire power within an army where I was a nobody and had only a handful of days to prepare. But I did it. I learned to act like a soldier, memorized their chain of command, and I took that damned castle. I climbed that Godless ladder over and over until I knew my enemies' every position, every strategy and reaction, every contingency."
"Six months it took me to 'win'. Then I woke up in a mining town, hunting a six hundred year old shapeshifter. I could use magic, that time, but only if none of the town's people found out. So I searched. I even discovered that the artifact was degrading, which undercut my efforts of relaxation after the ceaseless sieges significantly. The shapeshifter ended up killing them all, and I, no longer having to fear discovery, burned everything to ashes. I'm sure there's a lesson in there somewhere."
"School was last. It was set a little after the Empire's founding, though I'm not sure if the artifact messed with the timelines. It was kill or be killed as they tried to turn magically gifted children into Archmages. Met an Elf, swore an oath to help her people, kept looking for the win condition. I figured out there wasn't one, eventually, and found the heart of the artifact instead. Studied it for a long time, finally triggering an emergency release. Probably just in time, too. Who knows what it would have done to my mind had it malfunctioned completely?"
"I spent over a year there, all told. Killing and dying and learning. Woke up determined, empowered and scarred. All but demanded that my Father hand over the Throne, which in hindsight, everyone went along with a little too smoothly."
Elly raised an eyebrow, half smiling. "Was it because your eyes lit up and there was a general feeling of power in the air? Because that might have had something to do with it."
"Maybe," Marcus replied, snorting. "I'm glad that's all you took away from that. Not like this was the first time I confided that to anyone, or something."
She let her half smile drop. "Sorry. I can't even imagine going through that much pain. I have my own battle scars, my own hard stories, but storming a castle for six months straight? It's a testament to your willpower that you're still sane."
"I think I prefer you sarcastic," he replied. Elly shoved him while letting out a surprised laugh, the grin on his face suiting him much better than the thousand yard stare from before. He shook his head. "I won't congratulate myself on my perseverance, but pain and I are old friends. Not good friends, but we're well acquainted. I hate him, but we know one another quite well? I'm not sure how to make that saying work."
Elly shrugged, picking up her dented cup after refilling it. "No clue, but I appreciate you confiding in me. To mutual understanding?"
"To mutual understanding," he replied, raising his goblet. "And to survival."
"To survival, no matter the cost."