Gasps, laughter, and applause rang out around her. Myell's proposal was expected; this one was not. Rosa herself was still too shocked to reply. His face already in close proximity, Rory managed to whisper to her. "Just leave it to me. I've done too much of nothing recently. They’ll rescind my hero credentials," he joked. She didn't even notice Aria scuttling over, grabbing her by the shoulders and drawing her back away from her two suitors in the center.

"My, my, you truly are a popular one," Aria sighed.

She was safely out of the way now, though not too far that she couldn't watch the proceedings.

"Rory Abex Vyncis," Myell spat, emphasizing each word, "what is the meaning of this?"

Rory just smirked. "What, I am simply declaring my love."

"I have permission—!"

"Permission, permission," Rory mocked, "what, are you some kind of five year old? Boo hoo, daddy gave me permission."

"The laws state—!"

"Just so you know, I also have permission. From her true father." He looked towards Pier, who, after getting over his shock, gave a kindly nod. This only served to further enrage Myell.

"Do you understand what you've done, Abex?" he sneered.

"Yes. Since we have equal claims, the winner shall be decided by combat."

Myell tossed back his cloak, revealing his sword. "Do you have some sort of mental issue, invalid?"

"Perhaps I do. My parents always told me not to bully the weak, but here I am. Alas," he sighed in mock regret.

"I am going to fucking kill you."

"Does the fucking come before or after?”

"Are you ready, Abex?"

"When am I not?"

Rosa pushed herself towards the front. "Stop, stop, he's not even armed!" she screamed, but to no avail. Everyone was too busy watching.

Myell drew his blade, a long, slender piece of steel, weighted equally on both sides, just as he had always preferred. He dashed forward, his sword glittering from the lights. Rory simple stood there, one hand on his cane, watching with an amused smile. The result seemed clear to everyone, but just before his sword managed to reach Rory's flesh, something strange happened. Everyone felt a chill, their vision hazy as if the world itself had stuttered.

Rory was still standing there, but he held in his other hand Myell's sword, and Myell himself was laid flat on the ground, blood beginning to drip from his forehead. What in the world happened? In the blink of an eye, Myell was disarmed and dispatched.

Rory started to walk forward towards Myell. When he had reached him, he looked down with a satisfied face, and began to shove his wounded foot, still encased in a make-shift cast, at Myell's face.

"Do you think this leg would keep me pussyfooting around forever?"

Myell groaned, trying to turn his face away.

"I don’t need money, and I don’t need influence to kick your sorry ass."

At this point, Myell gave up, simply waiting for the ordeal to be over.

"I don’t give two shits about who you’re friends with," he announced with a final kick. He impaled Myell’s sword into the ground a hair’s width away from his nose. "Bother me again and I shall kill you, invalid.”

Someone came running from the crowds with a cry of, “My lord Tydyll!”. He didn’t make it far, however, before he was toppled from a strike of Rory’s cane.

“Don’t. Let him feel what true pain feels like.”

The crowd parted away from him as he proceeded, partly out of fear and partly out of respect. He saw Pier nod towards him.

"I seems I was wrong, Rory. May there be hope for the Vyncis at last," he said with a chuckle.

"The King must despise us now."

"To hell with the King."

The next one was Aria. "Your magic has truly surprised me this time."

"Oh, what did you expect?"

"I expected him to randomly explode or catch alight. But this is far more elegant. Good luck!" she said, parting with a wink.

Illan walked up.

"I don't even know what you are; friend or foe?"

Illan smiled. "Why not both?"

Finally, the one this had all been orchestrated for: Rosa, who was standing at the back, arm's crossed, head turned away. Rory knelt in front of her.

"I've won."

"So I've heard," she said, her head still turned away. "And now I am to marry you."

"So it goes."

"The King will be displeased."

"Who cares."

"Am I not too small?"

"No smaller than I."

"Too childish?"

"No younger than I, either."

"My hand is forced, then," she said with a sigh.

Rory shook his head. "No, no it' s not. A simple betrothal will do, for protection. You can cancel it later, if you wish."

She turned her head now. "What? But you—"

"No one should dare ask for your hand if you are betrothed to me. A betrothal is, however, easily rescinded. I know you don't like the idea of marriage. Important decisions should not be made hastily."

"...time wears all things. You don't win against time," she mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Do I have to repeat myself? You don't win against time," she yelled, indignant.

"Did... did I do something wrong," he asked, perplexed.

"You idiot! I accept, damn it," she said, blushing. "I-if we wait... then things could change. There's no telling of what will happen in the future."

There was a pause, and then then the space was filled with thunderous applause, which only caused Rosa to blush further. The crowd was ecstatic: David had beaten Goliath, and the Knight has rescued the Princess. It was a romantic's dream come true, and there was no lack of romantic's among the nobles.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Aria announced, having somehow climbed atop the speaking platform in the chaos, "we shall conclude this party with a demonstration created by our very own new, fully fledged Vyncis!" She motioned towards some people in the back.

Rosa turned curiously towards Rory. "A demonstration?"

"Remember when you asked If I could create stars?" he asked, standing up and staring into the night sky.

"Yes?"

He turned towards her, waiting for cracking sound that would signal the start of the show. "I do not lie."

Behind him, dozens of streaks of light raced their way up the sky, reaching their apex with a dazzling blast, releasing brilliant remnants, far brighter than any star. The crowd was too awestruck to react; they had never seen anything of the sort, before.

"We use to call them fireworks," he said, turning to look at his handiwork. Even if they’re not real stars, the concept behind fireworks was what let us truly make stars.

"Rory?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

He smiled a smile that had not appeared on his face for a long time; a genuine smile, with no malice, no hidden meanings. A smile that only held happiness. He sighed. "Just one last loose end."

Hours later, in a sector of town far, far away from the dazzling fireworks, two lordlings were taking a night stroll, a small squadron of city guards behind them.

"You are sure it was over here?"

"Of course, Rory. Should not you remember the best?"

Rory sighed. "I wasn't very particularly lucid after that ordeal."

"It's that one," Illan said, pointing at a vaguely familiar building.

"It seems to ring a bell."

They approached the building, their cloaks fluttering in the chilly night wind, causing most of the locals to scatter away in fear. Illan reached for the door.

"Stop," Rory ordered, taking a deep breath. "It is my duty, not yours."

"As you say," Ilan said, backing off.

Rory knew it would do no good to wait, so he quickly opened the door. Light shone through the door, along with the smell of alcohol, urine, and blood. It was a bit too familiar to Rory, though he forged through none the less. A man was slumped over his desk, lightly swinging a bottle of wine. Noticing his guests, he grumbled out a, "Who the hell are you?" before taking a better look. "O-oh, my lords, what gives me the pleasure of—"

Rory walked over, putting on his most insidious smile. "You're arrested."

"Huh?"

"Imprisonment and abuse of minors."

"Huh?"

"Are there any other exits?"

"N-no, my lord. What did you say about arresting me, again?"

Rory ignored him. "Leave someone to guard the door. Sweep the complex. Let no one escape," he ordered, motioning towards the squadron of guards. "Oh yes, if you see a stocky man, brown hair, stupid mustache, bring him to me."

A few dozen minutes later, a small parade of drunken men were being escorted out the door and to another, adult jail. Rory watched intently, looking for one man in particular, while Illan stood next him, looking a bit exasperated. Finally, Rory motioned towards one of them, and the guard brought him forward.

"Do you recognize me?"

"Of course not, my lord. How could I, a mere—"

"Look at my leg," Rory interrupted. "Look at it. Ring a bell."

The man's face changed at once, from fearful to abject horror. "No, n-no way. But, but—"

"Who's the one being arrested now, huh?"

"Mercy, please. I didn't mean to, I was drunk—"

"Yeah, suck it," Rory said, sticking out his tongue, growing more and more juvenile. "Get REKT'D by karma. GG no re. 1v1 me, bitch. Oh wait, you're in jail. Too bad." Rory took a deep breath after that. "Man, it was good to get that out. You all speak like a bunch of wannabe posh assholes. Take him away," he said with a wave. The man was marched out, his fate unknown.

"So, what shall you do with all of the children in here?"

"Release them. If they need financial or medical assistance, I'll provide it. If they want to go back to their friends and families, they can feel free to."

Illan chuckled. "No more hesitation, huh?"

"No, no more of that. It feels like I'm finally free."

"A free Rory? My, the world trembles."

"Very funny."

Illan looked around for a bit. "You should go back now, Rory. The men can handle all of that."

"I suppose," he answered.

"You are a newly-wed, after all. Shouldn't keep her waiting all night."

"Illan, the actual wedding won't be for a bit."

"You can still keep her company. Non-sexually."

Rory laughed. "Well, it's not a bad idea. Are you not leaving?"

Illan shook his head. "A carriage is coming in a bit. Just leave me here."

"Sure," Rory said, turning to leave.

When Illan was sure he was alone, he sighed. "Well, he most certainly was rekt'd. You could even say he was tyrannosaurus rekt'd," he commented with a sad chuckle. We don't have much time, Rory. Sorry. He reached into his tunic, carrying out a bag of gold. He motioned towards one of the guards. "Say, let my men handle the children, and I'll throw in a little bonus." He shook the bag a little, causing the coins to clink and clang. He could see the gears turning in the guard's head.

An hour later at the Tykis residents, nearly twenty little heads looked up at Illan, dressed in rags and mostly covered in dried blood.

"Do you know who saved you? Me? No, it was not me. Remember his name well: it was Rory Vyncis, heir to the Vyncis estate. You all wish to repay your debt, yes? Yes? Good, good. Don't worry, I'm uncle Illan, and I'll train you all to be absolutely perfect. Just listen to your big brother and sister over there..."

--

This marks the end of the backlog, and therefore the end of daily updates as well. The next section will feature war, because what better to spark creativity than the mass extinction of human life?