[Galadriel]
[Veron]
The main hall was a vast, open space, its stone walls decorated with unique paintings. A fireplace crackled in the center, casting a warm glow over the room. Wooden tables and benches, polished to a smooth sheen, were scattered throughout the hall, each occupied by a motley crew of patrons.
Among them were humans, dwarves, and even a few halflings, their faces brightened by the fire of the fireplace. A bar, laden with tankards of ale and flagons of wine, stretched along one wall, manned by a burly half-wolf man with a welcoming grin. Behind the bar, shelves overflowed with bottles of spirits and exotic liqueurs, their labels foreign. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, savory stews, and freshly baked bread, emanating from the kitchen, where a team of cooks worked tirelessly. Musicians, perched on a raised platform, entertained the crowd with lively folk tunes, their music adding to the lively atmosphere of the inn. Though their group most likely stood out the most here.
Seated at a long table decorated with beverages, their unique presence turned a few heads. "I must say you two seem rather close," Guinevere could not help but note, her gaze lingering towards Mikoto and Astrid sitting side by side. Lukas sat to her right, Mai across from him, Adrian besides Guinevere and next to him, Fiona.
"What gave you that impression?" Mikoto questioned, leisurely placing his elbow on the table and leaning his head against his hand.
"I've never seen the princess beam like this," Guinevere mused with a ghost of a grin, "Honestly, it's nice to see. You're quite young, Astrid. It would do you no good to sulk."
The aforementioned princess could not help but slightly flush at the court mage's comment; she gave a sheepish chuckle. "Well, I do quite enjoy Mikoto's company, I admit. He is very...unique and blunt. It is quite refreshing."
"Princess, you should not let such a...brash boy influence you so much," Lukas urged, a frown on his lips as he gazed at Mikoto.
"Talk about me like I'm not here, why don't you," Mikoto scoffed, throwing a lazy stare at the young knight. "Honestly, what is your problem?"
"My problem lies with your brashness and blatant disrespect. I've heard word of how you spoke to the king, and now you presume yourself equal to Galadriel's future ruler," Lukas scowled as he glared at Mikoto.
"Lukas!" Astrid almost hissed out; the aforementioned knight slightly winced at her fierce glare.
"Conflict so soon?" Adrian mused, folding his arms and leaning back in his seat, almost enjoying what he was witnessing. Honestly, it was pointless; conflict as a whole seemed meaningless even with reason. Why go through the effort of presenting such hostility? He would rather let bygones be bygones and move on. But it seems not everyone is as pragmatic as he was; aloofness was quite useful.
Fiona frowned, her gaze narrowing at Lukas. "Both I and Lady Guinevere already explained Mikoto's...reasonings. He was well within his right to express his opinion, Lukas."
"I assume this has to do with when that brief meeting was called," Adrian recalled, tilting his head. "I am not sure what the issue there was, though."
"You and me both," Fiona sheepishly agreed. "Mikoto merely spoke his mind. He was hardly that offensive to the king; you make a big deal out of something insignificant, Lukas."
"Even so, as a sworn knight of House Stark, this is simply something I cannot ignore," he emphasized. "This disrespect is only the beginning; with the kind of power Mikoto Yukio apparently possesses, he might grow more bold..." He grimaced.
Astrid shot up from her chair, "That's enough, Lukas!" She bellowed; a few of the inn's patrons turned to see the source of the commotion, but she paid them no mind. "You're a friend, but so is Mikoto. I cannot merely keep quiet and watch you make baseless assumptions of him." She fiercely declared.
"Princess..." Lukas seemed taken aback; never before had he seen the princess quite this vexed. The only conclusion he could come to was that the normally sweet crown princess was influenced by another. Immediately his glare zeroed in on Mikoto.
("Geez, he's glaring at me like I punched Astrid or something,") Mikoto shook his head, weighing his options to put a stop to this meaningless conflict. ("Hell, I wasn't even that disrespectful, but I doubt an apology would work. This guy reminds me of those pompous rich pricks back in high school. An apology wouldn't be enough; he'd probably ask me to grovel in front of the king and beg for forgiveness.") Mikoto leaned back in his chair, folding his arms, ("Honestly, this is just a step down. I'm meant to be some great hero, now I'm stuck in a meaningless squabble. Maybe I should beat the shit out of him...nah, he's still Astrid's friend, and as annoying as he is, I can kinda see where he's coming from.") He glanced at Guinevere and Mai; the two invigilators were much too quiet considering they were supposed to oversee them. "You two gonna say something?"
"I was enjoying the show; my apologies," Guinevere snarked, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "This conflict simply won't do; we have three Astrothians remaining to hunt. So what to do, what to do.~" Her lilac eyes glanced at the uncharacteristically quiet Mai. "Thoughts on a possible solution, Mai?"
"Wha-Me?" She seemed caught off guard at being addressed; Guinevere raised a perfectly sculpted brow.
("How very odd; at this point, Mai would have long since mouthed off. She's unusually quiet; might this have something to do with the Astrothian they hunted?") Guinevere mulled as she awaited the general to regain her bearings.
"Well...." Mai started, her eyes roaming over Lukas, the fierce glare still on his face. Then towards Astrid, who seemed a tad annoyed, finally towards Mikoto, whose emotions she could not gauge. "Maybe they should let off some steam, a little duel maybe?"
"Damn, didn't know you hated this guy that much," Mikoto snorted, jabbing a thumb at Lukas.
The aforementioned young knight slammed his hands on the table hard enough to rattle the beverages littering them. "You dare underestimate me? I would be glad to challenge you, boy. Let us step outside."
"I ain't your entertainment; go by yourself," Mikoto retorted, leaning over the table. "Look, I'm sure you want to prove why you're a knight and all that. To retain your honor and whatnot, but throwing your life away is not the way," Mikoto advised sagely; the young knight's eye twitched in irritation.
"You presume I would die if I were to battle you?" Lukas scoffed. "Your hubris befits you; a ruffian like you has no right to stand beside Princess Astrid."
"Luk-" Astrid began, but Mikoto stopped her as he raised his hand; the boy stood up from his chair, it screeching against the wooden floor as he jabbed a thumb at the doorway.
"Fine, fine. I'll fight ya, happy?" Mikoto shook his head as he glanced at Mai and Guinevere. "So where's this little duel supposed to go down?"
Guinevere fully smirked, ("Good, Lukas is a fine test subject. With his physiology as a knight, he is physically mightier than most. Coupled with the knight's innate attunement of their mana, and then you get a truly ferocious physical beast. And a Divine Relic in his grasp; his potential is staggering. He could measure up to his aunt, or even Ysabel Lavinia with time. And this way I can see what Mikoto Yukio is capable of, although to a small degree. But this is needed; I have to know if he is powerful enough, powerful enough to kill that damn Ancestor.")
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[Galadriel]
[Capital City]
"Should we locate the spawn of Octavia, what shall our next course of action be?" The question flew from the mouth of Aerinon as he trailed behind Lyra in the busy marketplace of the capital.
"We'll combine our efforts to eradicate Aelfric," she stated bluntly, a blank glare directed forwards as she marched. "You alone would be enough to defeat him, but as I explained, he's dangerous not for his combat abilities but because of that twisted mind of his." She frowned as she continued, "That's not mentioning his regenerative abilities; in essence, Aelfric is...'immune' to death, thanks to his Ultra Vires."
"Your kind's unique abilities, no?" Aerionon remarked as the Ancestor woman nodded. "What exactly is his Vires?"
"[Seer's Sight.]" She spat the name out. "It's not a particularly destructive ability, but with it, he's dangerous all the same. It's magic counterpart would be clairvoyance; this is no mere clairvoyance, no simple glimpse into the future. He has a profound understanding of the underlying painting of existence, a perception that transcended the mundane. He is able to perceive the interconnectedness of all things, to see the subtle threads of fate that wove through the realm. He can discern the hidden patterns in the chaos, the subtle undercurrents that shaped the course of events. This profound understanding allows him to anticipate future events with uncanny accuracy, not as fixed prophecies, but as a spectrum of possibilities, each with its own weight and probability. It is not a passive observation, however. It is an active engagement with the realm itself. He could not only perceive the future but also influence it, subtly nudging events in a desired direction, not through manipulation or coercion, but through a deep understanding of the foreign underlying forces at play. Though the Divine Principals limit him, as does his ties to fate and destiny." She explained, her brows furrowed. "He no doubt already knows we're here; his presence here merely indicates he has plans in motion."
"I see, we'll be hard-pressed, I suppose," he remarked.
"An understatement; however, we'll have to be quick about it," Lyra urged. "What Dante relayed to you...despite my hatred of the parasite, I find myself more concerned with what he said."
"About a calamity?" Aerinon recalled. "What exactly is on the horizon?"
"Great destruction," The Ancestor informed gravely. "In the Age of Gods, Arcturus saw a premonition. Seven great calamities that would plague the realm; he could not discern when, however, the calamities are well known by most in my age. Not disasters but sentient beings, all with a reason to destroy this realm. Whether it be mindless destruction or a misbegotten goal."
Aerinon quirked up a brow at that, "Seven? What if merely one of these calamities succeeds?"
"Then for obvious reasons, the calamities will stop there; however, should one be halted, another will follow," Her rosy lips curled into a frown. "Aelfric will thrive in such chaos, more so than even Rhiannon."
("Destruction of our realm, huh? I don't want to play hero, but well, Ingrid would be involved. I have no choice but to play the irksome role.") Aerinon pocketed his hands, his single eye glancing at Lyra. "Then what is the first calamity?"
"The lost child," She recited the name as if reading from a script. "A cursed child, one who shall use her malevolent magic to taint the realm that shunned her. The God Arcturus' visions were vague at best, so defining the calamities is difficult. Though if he wanted to, Aelfric could discern each expertly, but with his demented mind, I'd wager he'd like the surprises to come."
Before Aerinon could question such odd behavior, his eye took note of something. Amidst the crowd of people, this individual certainly stood out. That head of lush white hair was unmistakable, as were those deep pools of red that were her eyes. The spawn of Octavia, along with her, was another girl draped in armor with wild long dark blue hair. There was a third as well, a girl with long grayish hair, lilac eyes dressed in a simple black dress decorated with patches of white and golden threads with a black bow atop the chest, finished with white leggings and black ballet slippers. Though what stood out most were the black horns atop her head.