Realm of Monsters

“My lady, is there anything else I may help you with?” the messenger asked politely.

Ismene finished reading the report and shook her head, “No, that’ll be all. You may go.” 

“My lady,” he bowed and left quietly.

Ismene folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket. She surveyed the Katag mansion’s large lawn. Gone were the dead bodies and fires. If she ignored the bloodstains on the grass then it was almost as if the attack last night hadn’t happened.

The countless soldiers, servants, and tribesmen who had fallen last night had already been moved. The enemy corpses had been carted away to be burned in a collective pile with the other tribesmen who had been slain throughout the city.

Those who had fallen in the service of the Great House of Katag had been moved by the surviving soldiers to the back of the mansion where their bodies were being buried. Lord Krall Katag himself was leading the funeral rites.

The remaining servants had been ordered to take care of House Katag’s guests. The servants needed no more instruction, they worked quickly and efficiently without a hint of complaint, a testament to House Katag’s training.

The servants had brought out a couple of tables from the ransacked mansion and placed them on the front lawn where they then served a simple but hot meal to the guests.

Ismene watched over her students eating peacefully under the morning sun and smiled to herself. They had fought for their lives last night and every single one had managed to survive. She silently thanked her patron god Stjerne for not abandoning them and she thanked the goddess of war Bellum for protecting them.

Yet all was not well. 

Ismene gripped the slip of paper in her pocket. The report had confirmed her fears. Ophelia Thorn’s army had managed to drive away the invaders, but her armies had not stopped there. As of this morning, all of Undergrowth’s armies had begun to mobilize under the direct order of Ophelia. Worse, Ophelia had ordered martial law, for “the safety of the people,” or so she said.

Undergrowth had fallen into lockdown with several regiments of troops patrolling every single street at all hours.

The threats to our people have grown while our list of allies has fallen slim, Ismene thought grimly. Our situation has become very precarious.

“Excuse me, Professor Ismene?” 

Freya’s voice broke her from her thoughts.

“Hm?” Ismene blinked, “What is it, child?”

“Are you going to join us?” Freya asked.

“I seem to have lost my appetite. I’ll have something to eat later, thank you though,” Ismene smiled.

“Um…” Freya glanced at the stone pillar in the distance, “What about Stryg? Feli tells me he hasn’t had a single bite yet. As team captain, it’s my duty to make sure my team is healthy, and in this case, well-fed.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him.” 

“Thank you, professor,” Freya bowed.

Ismene nodded and looked over at Tauri who was eating with her sister and the other students, “Tauri! With me!”

“Yes, Lady Ismene!” Tauri pushed her plate away and jumped to her feet.

“Ready and willing as always,” Ismene smiled lopsidedly.

She appreciated the soldier-like attitude of the Katags.

Tauri jogged over to Ismene and fell in behind her as the old woman hobbled her way to the pillar that stood in the middle of the lawn. A little over an hour ago Stryg had erected the 10 ft stone pillar by casting a Green stone spell and hadn’t come down ever since.

Ismene walked up next to the pillar and looked up. She could see Stryg's legs dangling off the pillar’s edge. She clicked her tongue and tapped the pillar with her cane, “Enough with the sightseeing, time to get down.”

There was no response.

“Hmm,” Ismene narrowed her eyes and her lips formed a tight line.

“Oi! Respond when the Tempest Archmage is talking to you, spoiled brat!” Tauri yelled and kicked the pillar. “What are you even looking at!?”

“...Things left unfinished,” came Stryg’s voice from above.

“What sort of bullshit?” Tauri frowned.

“Hey Tauri…?” Stryg called out.

“Yeah? What is it?” she crossed her arms.

“You once told me that your father had an aurum aegis. But last night he wasn’t using it. Why not?”

“If you’re gonna be asking people questions, at least have the common decency to show your damn face!” Tauri yelled. She glanced at Ismene and shook her head, “This is why I hated having him in my class you know. Disrespectful as ever.”

“Technically speaking, Stryg was never a good student in the traditional sense,” Ismene sighed. “The boy always struggled listening to orders.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Tauri nodded wholeheartedly. “Oi! Stryg! If I answer your question will you come down from there?”

“...”

“You better,” Tauri muttered. “My mother carries the aurum aegis. She is the only one who can reach my father when he loses himself in his berserker magic. The aegis is just in case he attacks her. Now, will you come down?”

“...”

Tauri’s eye twitched with anger. She laughed maliciously and channeled brown mana into her arms. “I’m gonna fucking send this pillar tumbling down and that stupid goblin with it!”

“Wait,” Ismene raised her hand. “Stryg, despite the attack last night, Ophelia is pushing for the tournament to continue without a break. Your match versus Kalliste is set to begin in an hour.”

“What!? Are you serious?!” Tauri yelled incredulously. “But Stryg’s hasn’t seen a healer yet! He hasn’t even seen a white mage to assess the full extent of his wounds! An hour won’t be enough to heal him! And he’s lost so much blood, healing spells can’t replenish that–!”

“I’ll do it,” Stryg said quietly. “My injuries have already begun to heal.”

“Is that so? Very well, I’ll still bring a white mage to see you just in case,” Ismene stared up at the pillar thoughtfully, “One more thing. The arch-mage I faced last night told me to give you a message. ‘Nokti, the vampiress whose throat you tore apart, still lives.’ He said you would understand.”

Stryg jumped down from the pillar and landed on all fours. He slowly looked up at Ismene, eyes wide, slit pupils as thin as blades. “What did you say?” he whispered hollowly.

“Nokti still lives,” Ismene said steadily. “Who is she?”

“A thing left unfinished,” Stryg hissed through clenched teeth.

~~~

Mark Stemme looked down from the Herald’s Tower at the crowds in the coliseum below.

“There are less people,” he muttered glumly.

“What did you expect? I heard we lost over two thousand civilians last night to the barbarians and the fires,” his sister Jane sighed. “A lot of families are mourning right now.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this. The tournament can wait. We should be holding funerals for all of them!” Mark gnashed his teeth.

“As if Lady Thorn would let us,” Jane laughed weakly. “Our queen gets what she wants, always. There is a reason there are still thousands of people lining those stands today. They’re scared of her as much as we are.”

“Might as well get this over with then,” he sighed.

“Yeah… might as well.”

Mark took a deep breath and walked over to the giant enchanted trumpet that curled around the top of the tower. 

He forced himself to smile wide and he shouted into the trumpet, “WELCOME TO THE 11TH MATCH OF THE CHALLENGE OF SPELL & STEEL!”

“OUR CITY MAY HAVE BEEN BESIEGED BY SAVAGES LAST NIGHT, BUT WILL WE BOW TO THEM IN FEAR!?” Jane yelled next to him.

“NO!” came the collective scream from the crowds.

“THAT’S DAMN RIGHT! WE WILL NOT BOW DOWN TO SAVAGES NOR FEAR-MONGERING! WE ARE THE CITY OF THORNS! WE FEAR NO ONE!”

The crowd's cheers grew even louder.

“TODAY’S TWO MATCHES WILL BE DEDICATED TO LAST NIGHT’S FALLEN. LET THEIR SOULS REST IN PEACE KNOWING OUR CITY HELD STRONG AMIDST THE WRECKAGE!”

“FROM THE NORTHERN GATE WE HAVE THE ICY BEAUTY FROM THE GREAT CITY OF FROST RIM, THE BELOVED VAMPIRESS ~KALLISTE LILIIIITH!!!~”

The northern gate rose to the cries and cheers of thousands. Kalliste stepped out from the shadows and walked proudly onto the sands. Her silky black hair shined brilliantly in the sunlight, though she did her best to hide her sensitive pale skin beneath her thick blue cloak.

“AND FROM THE WESTERN GATE,” Jane yelled, “ IT IS MY GREAT PLEASURE TO INTRODUCE THE MOST UNEXPECTED CONTESTANT THE TOURNEY HAS EVER HAD! YOU KNOW WHOM I SPEAK OF!”

The crowds screamed in agreement.

“HE CARRIES THE DEADLY SWORD NAMELESS, A BLADE SAID TO HAVE BEEN FORGED BY THE LEGENDARY ARCH-SMITHS OF THE BRONZE REALM!” Mark yelled.

“HE FIGHTS WITH THE ANCIENT STYLES OF THE SYLVAN, WHOSE TECHNIQUES HAVE BEEN HONED TO THE GREATEST DEGREE IN THE MONSTROUS SCARLET FOREST OF VULTURE WOODS!”

“HE CASTS SPELLS OF LOST MAGIC THAT WE ALL BELIEVED LOST IN THE SCHISM. HIS ARRAY OF MAGICAL POWERS EXTENDS BEYOND ANYTHING OUR MAGIC SCHOLARS THOUGHT POSSIBLE!”

Jane threw her hands into the air and screamed from the top of her lungs, “HE IS THE ONE AND ONLY EBON ASPIRANT OF OUR REALM! THE DROW-GOBLIN OF EBON HOLLOW! I GIVE YOU ~STRYYYYYYGG!!!!~”

The arena’s sands shook as the western gate rose. The crowd's voices echoed off the coliseum’s walls in a boom. Stryg stepped out from the tunnel and covered his ears with a wince. 

He briefly wondered why the heralds had insisted on an interview with him and yet they lied about almost everything. Nameless was forged right in Hollow Shade a year ago. While he did know Sylvan fighting styles, he mainly relied on Gale swordsmanship when he fought with Nameless. And last he checked, he didn’t know any kind of lost magical spells.

Stryg wanted to speak up but the cheers were too loud. Then he heard it. Finally understood it. The word they kept chanting again and again.

STRYG, STRYG, STRYG! the crowds chanted.

Stryg slowly dropped his arms and looked around, amazed. They were all cheering his name, his name. The small goblin of the Blood Fang Tribe. The weak goblin who had gotten lost in Hollow Shade. The blue goblin who had never quite fit in among his classmates.

If only his old tribe could see him now. What would they say? How would they feel? Would they reject him? Or would they…

As Stryg stood in the eye of thousands, their voices cheering his name, he couldn’t help but laugh and smile warmly, tears at the corners of his eyes. It was as if the world itself was saying he was enough.

“You seem happy,” Kalliste’s nonchalant voice cut deep.

Stryg’s smile disappeared and his lilac eyes grew cold. “You…”

“Me?” she batted her eyelashes.

“You’re the one who hurt Callum,” he snarled.

“Please, that idiot hurt himself,” Kalliste rolled her eyes.

“Even still…”

“You act as if I killed him,” she chuckled. “Very well, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Stryg glared at her. He gripped Nameless’ handle and crouched low.

“MAY THE 11TH MATCH OF THE CHALLENGE OF SPELL & STEEL… BEGIN!”

Kalliste immediately threw her hands up in the air, “I surrender!”

Stryg stumbled a step forward, “Huh!?”