"The concept of honor duels existed in most cultures, but few took them as seriously as the elves did. To challenge someone to a duel was generally only done under extreme circumstances, or when the parties involved were mortal enemies. Most of these duels were also fought to the death, a result participants cannot complain about. They knew the risks when they picked up the gauntlet." - Desiree Qastrafia, Elven sociologist

"How could you do this, Unitia? How could you smile so while proof of his infidelity stood right beside you!?" Said an old male elf with a tone of accusation. The old elf had barged in front of them shortly after they left the eatery, and the loud voice he used attracted most nearby elves' attention.

Cal had not failed to notice that most of the older ones amongst the elves that noticed just shook their heads sadly at the spectacle.

"What I choose to do is my business, Bastille. Who do you think you are to meddle with my family issues?" Replied Idania's mother with a voice as cold as ice. She confronted the old elf and stared him down while he also stared at her eyes in seething silence.

"Who is that, and what's his issue?" Cal asked to Idania during the staredown in a voice so low that not even the children near Idania caught wind of it.

"That's Bastille Orendia, former leader of the defense force, and also that other suitor of mom's I once told you about," Idania replied in an equally low whisper. "He always bitched about dad when I joined the force and he was still there, but it was never this loud back then. Or this public."

"I guess I might be the one to blame for this," Cal said after she digested Idania's words.

"Or he's just being a cranky old mean bastard like he is wont to be-"

"Why won't you see! That son of a whore Calais just toyed with you and left you for others! Look at that mongrel he spawned!" Yelled the old elf suddenly, as apparently he and Unitia had held their own private conversation, which clearly had not ended well.

"Hey! Cease that insult on my father, or-" said Idania in anger when she heard those words.

"Or what, brat!? Do you dare step into the fields of honor with me as your opponent!?" Yelled the old man back before Idania finished her words.

Cal saw that her sister actually shirked a bit at the question. More importantly, she saw small pieces of metal appear out of thin air behind the old man - a magical phenomena usually seen when a competent mage lost control over their emotions -, which was all the assurance she needed to make her decision.

"Yes, I do." Cal stated very bluntly, in an irritated tone. The way that old elf acted got on her nerves, especially the way he treated her sister and mother. "Where and when?"

Everyone went silent all at once upon hearing her words. Her nieces looked at her with awe, while Idania and Unitia looked at Cal with wide eyes full of surprise and worry both.

Even Bastille stared and gawked at her at a moment with disbelief, before he schooled his face into a cruel sneer, and looked at Cal as if she was his prey. His tone was mocking as he answered her. "Tomorrow at noon, at the central dueling fields. I am at least merciful enough to let you make your peace on this last night of yours."

Then the old elf turned around and left while he laughed out loud mockingly until he left their range of hearing.

-------------------------------

"Sister, do you know what you just did!?" Idania asked with worry when they returned home after the episode. Sadness and trepidation both evident on her face, while her mother walked absentmindedly, as she still had a hard time processing everything that had just transpired.

"Challenged him to an honor duel, yes," Cal replied all too nonchalantly. "If I remember my elven customs right, they are usually fought to the death."

"Sister, Bastille is the former leader of the defense force because he is one of our best warriors!" Shouted Idania with some exasperation at Cal's nonchalance. "He is even a war archmagus to boot! Why would you do such a foolhardy thing as to challenge him to a duel!?"

"A war archmagus of the metal element," Cal simply stated in a very matter of fact way. "Death-Metal if I see it right, isn't that so?"

"He is, yes. How are you so calm about this!? This is your life you just peddled away!"

"No, it is his life he might squander tomorrow," stated Cal with confidence. Before Idania said anything else, she raised one hand and offered it to her half-sister. "Probe me. That will answer the question you likely have now."

Idania did as she was told, and so did Unitia, who snapped out of her daze. Cal allowed their mana to probe around, and noticed how both of them gasped when they felt her mana reservoir.

Unitia was a middling mage of the wind element, while Idania had little talent with magic - the trick she did where she teleported her weapon a few centimeters to the side about the most she could do - which was why she focused on swordplay instead.

When both of them felt her massive mana reservoir - many, many times the size of their own - and the element that flowed through it, both elven women came to a sudden realization at the same time.

"Celeysria, child," started Unitia carefully, her hand still on Cal's wrist. "You're an archmagus!?"

"I am," replied Cal simply.

"Water and life… Blood affinity?" Asked Idania with some wonderment in her voice.

"Indeed," said Cal with a nod. "I haven't had the chance to tell you of my past before I went on my travels, but it had not been entirely peaceful."

"How much must you have suffered, for your power to grow to such an extent at your age, child?" Asked Unitia sadly. Unlike her daughter - who had accepted her limited magical capabilities and had no longer pursued it -, she was more familiar with the theory behind blood mages.

The one thing most of those agreed on, was that pain and suffering were often the greatest catalyst of growth for them. The saying about blood mages went: "Whatever does not kill them, makes them stronger in the end."

And for Cal to have reached archmagus at a hundred and twenty five, meant that she had likely gone through her share of pain and suffering.