[I thought it important to let you know that I reached Multana City. I’m currently preparing for my trainee quest, which as it turns out, was changed to something else entirely. There’s a problem here at the Lord’s Castle, and I was asked to not blab about it. But here I am doing just that. Probably a good time to believe how much I love the two of you.

I jest. Or not. That’s for you to decide.

There’s a lot that’s changed since we parted ways. I raided a Natural Monarch. No, not alone. But I’ve let people mistakenly believe it. Just as you taught me, Rollo.

Ah, I think it’s about time I got to my point though. We promised to work on a collective quest through the last month of training. I believe there’s a real possibility of that happening here, in the Multana Earldom. Let’s stay in touch and hope that we’re able to meet when the time is right. I would love to hear the stories from your journeys as well.

Good luck!

Daiden Lost]

***

As an educated, Relictan Duke, Roland Lar Relicta understood Mioverold as a playground with toys. From humanoid monsters and hostiles, to the Natural Monarchs, nobility from across Empires manipulated those pieces as they would in a board game. The presence of Monarchs to build taxable roads, and the allowance of monstrous strongholds for a show of faith and strength. At an early age, the game bothered him. And with time, he accepted its use for the sake of his people.

As Rollo, Roland continued to witness palatable similarities between the Godvildian and Relictan Empires. His eyes settled onto an Orcish Stronghold now, fattened by the local lords for slaughter.

“I’ve seen the reports,” remembered Roland, casually. “The Lord from the nearest town could’ve stopped this, months in advance. And yet here we are, a punitive force…formed to protect the freedom of our people. Ugh. I should probably vomit.”

Returning to focus on the task at hand, Rollo side-stepped an attack, swung with rabid ferocity, but without technique. He watched the glaive plummet in a descent, shattering a rock instead. The sound of grunts and snarls followed, from a silhouette, hidden by the obscurity of the risen debris. Rollo used the time to retreat from the thickly muscled, short, brown orc. From a distance, he eyed the gnarly, misaligned teeth –fangs as well, in an overbite. He waited for the orc to emerge from the dust, and embraced the ensuing tension.

Short, but with a strong stature, the brown-skinned orc roared in frustration.

“You, fight!” the orc growled, pointing its glaive at the silver-haired trainee.

“If that’s what you want,” said Rollo, with a smile. “Wait right there.”

With a light hop, Rollo stepped into a dense aeter field. The silver fluttered to blur his existence from easy attention. In a sprint, he crouched, reaching the orc, and attacking its knees. As the latter buckled, Rollo slapped his hands in a clap against the creature’s face. He disarmed the disoriented orc, and used the glaive to stab at the creature without regret. His aeter swelled from the thrill. He slowly dragged the weapon from the body, blood-stained, and ran towards another.

“You, fight!” yelled Rollo, mimicking the orc. “Everyone, fight!”

A few of the younger soldiers slowed from the display. They swallowed a nervous lump in their throats, with a loud gulp, and stared at each other. Without words, they thought the same thing. “He’s a trainee?”

Rollo cleared another wave and gazed into the distance. The horns sounded from behind him, calling for a retreat. He dropped the glaive, wearing a tired expression, and eased from his aura. In a jog, he returned with the other soldiers.

“I should probably check my page for any messages,” thought Rollo. He raised an eyebrow and smiled at the sight of a familiar name. “Ah, here’s one from Daiden!”

***

At Mu Village, Laella rose from the earth and took flight. She stopped at the border near Multana Desert. With a deep breath, she directed the force of her aeter into her arms. In fumes, an aura crackled into shape – vague, from the fingertips at first, dousing the Nis almost entirely. She clasped her hands and pressured the formation of a compact flame.

Laella quietly wore a thin necklace, bejewelled with a clear, red orb. It shone, in resonance with the flame. She inhaled once more, a little nervous now. With a nudge, the flame moved into the orb and emerged from the other end at a larger size. Laella slowly gulped and released an attack this time. It passed through the orb without resistance, stronger than from its moment of origin and plummeted onto the dunes, tremoring the desert and its creatures in hiding.

“Roughly twenty percent?” calculated Laella, after some thought. “Not bad at all. Then again, the materials cost me a fortune. I can hear my parents complaining already.”

With clenched fists, and in a smile, Laella returned to the village. As she landed, she noticed her Mioveroldian Page buzz with activity. She swiped it open and read the message from Daiden. Her smile persisted, only wider now. “One fight, and he’s out claiming he loves me. Funny!” She walked towards her residence and changed into a clean set of clothes, tired from the day’s activities.

“I wonder what caused the change in his quest…” thought Laella, out loud. She fell onto her bed, and sighed into the pillows. “How adventurous, raiding the Sand King as well. He truly deserves his position as a High Ranker. But why didn’t Lord Zane advise him against raiding the Monarchs? What a strange relationship! Still, I’m sure there’s a lot more to hear from in person than what’s written here.

“Ah, I’m just about done with my training, anyway. Should I leave for Multana City tomorrow? I mean, why not? Yes. Why not?”

***

When the moon rose to its peak, Daiden stepped into his armour. Forged of white iron and the Sand King’s exoskeleton, the armour radiated a brilliant white colour, engraved with ornamental lines of jade as well. Underneath the equipment, Daiden wore a set tailored from the skin of a Luminescent Elk. He strapped the guards on his shoulders with a flowing cape, and finished by wearing his spatial ring.

Daiden quietly switched between weapons as a ritual. His grip tightened around a new sword, forged from an alloy of white iron and sand cores. In that moment, he journeyed to the memory of a gift from High Lord Bloodheart, rags mostly. He remembered witnessing the Lord of Fire forge a brilliant set from the Chrun’s Descendants’ exoskeletons as well, only to have it stripped as a reward for future accomplishments. But because of those very experiences, Daiden cherished his new equipment even more.

After a soft sigh, the Godvildian trainee noticed his aeter surge, now in a consistent, catalytic reaction with his armour.

“I’m a lot stronger with this…uh, let’s just call it my new fashion statement,” joked Daiden, in thought, with a smile. He gently touched his chest, feeling his heart thump through the armour with a nervous energy. It knocked on his ribs, with an irrational fear. His anxiety surfaced once more, in a panic attack this time. He continued to breathe at a cautious pace, waiting for the light from Ehedus. When it surfaced, he noticed his heart ease to a regular rhythm. “What doesn’t kill you…right?”

Daiden stretched a little and walked towards his assigned escort. “I’m ready.”