“Gods,” Shaya said, “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

The group was at their fifth tavern of the evening, their numbers dwindled down to Oraeus, Apricot, Ren, Samorn, and Bri. They remained in the fourth layer, finding yet another up-scale tavern that catered to the stressed, anxious, and wealthy students of the Academy. The bard on stage finished his slow, seductive tune and the couples left the dimly lit dance floor, returning to their cushioned booths or leaving the establishment entirely.

Shaya and Bri sat at the group’s booth, enjoying the spacious setup that let even their giant-blooded limbs stretch out. They eyed the returning dancers with envy, watching as Oraeus and Apricot whispered to each other, giggling; Samorn politely turning down further dance partners after her stunning display of grace on the dance floor; and Ren focusing his flirtatious efforts on a single silver-haired woman.

“Disgusting,” Bri said, shaking her head.

“Right?” Shaya agreed, “Why are we even here? We can’t even afford to get drunk with our constitutions!”

“Well...” Bri drawled, “I have heard of a hard liquor that might do the trick: Vincasan Brandy. Apparently their golkah troops are bred for war, so they needed to brew some extra hard stuff to manage to get drunk. Because they’re, uh,” she hesitated, wanting to avoid using the derogative term for the golkah – and by extension, demigol like Shaya, but failed as she continued, “...flesh eaters... apparently all of their soldiers take after predatory animals, like tigers and stuff.”

“That’s how it works, supposedly,” Shaya shrugged, “it’s why we’re called beastkin by some: we’re able to absorb the power of what we eat, gaining their features – even spiritual or magical ones, I’m told. It’s a generational process for the most part though, which is why I inherited feline features from my mother,” she said, waggling her clawed fingers, “whereas Bari sports some deer-like features. There’s a physical component to the spirituality, which is also why the tribes of Sillanir tend to favour sky burials for their dead – and why Bari was quietly furious when I told her of how the Titan cult bastardized the ritual by feeding their dead to the Titan spawn.”

“Hmm,” Bri said, tapping her lip, “Isn’t that also how dragons work?”

“Those things are on a whole other level with their ability to absorb spirits and adopt their power,” Shaya shrugged, “but you seem to know a lot about hard liquor. What kind of ‘monastery’ did you grow up in?”

Bri rolled her eyes, “It’s called ‘rebellion’, Shay, you ever heard of it?”

Shaya thought back to Bari’s stories of Devi, “Yeah, you could say I was born for it.”

“Let’s do it then,” Bri grinned, flagging down a waiter and ordering them a bottle. The waiter looked skeptical at first, but then eyed the two large women and accepted the order at face value. “I cannot wait to see you drunk.”

+++++

“What are you working on?” Shaya asked, taking a peek at Apricot’s notebook over her shoulder.

“Oh,” Apricot said, blushing, “I found it difficult to keep track of the Empire’s races and the many types of nephilim here, so I started making a list of the divine bloodlines and people who I think are descended from them.”

Apricot slid her notebook to Shaya to let her read it over. The larger woman squinted down, head fuzzy from the Vincasan Brandy, and admired Apricot’s handwriting – and the doodles in the margins. She flipped through a few pages, frowning down at the notebook in concentration, then flipped back and forth. Something about how the names were grouped caused her mind to itch, but she couldn’t piece it together.

Damn alcohol, she thought, why do people bother with this?

“Recognize some of the names?” Apricot asked, looking at her.

“More than a few,” Shaya agreed, “it reminds me of something, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

Apricot shrugged, taking her notebook back, “I’m sure it’ll come to you eventually. Then we can compare notes.

“Speaking of that though,” she flipped to a page outlining Tarrak and His many descendants, “do you know which bloodline you descend from? I can’t figure it out based on your appearance.”

“Hmm, no, actually,” Shaya said, mind slowly piecing together her response, “I don’t know who my donor was and my moms didn’t tell me.”

“Do you know Phaedra’s?” Apricot asked, “Maybe she managed to find someone from the same line?”

“Yanvion, God of Air and Freedom,” Shaya replied, “supposedly why she was better able to control the blood rage – Yanvion was considered one of the more... calm children that Tarrak had. She wasn’t the calmest, but probably a close second. Given how prolific my Ancestor was, I’ll take it.”

“Have you told my mom yet?” Apricot asked, “That might be helpful for her report on you.”

“She told you about that, eh?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Apricot looked embarrassed, “I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Shaya said, smiling, “I trust you. You’re right though, feel free to let Rea know my possible heritage.”

“Enough nerding,” Bri said, pouring Shaya and herself another shot of the Brandy, “more drinking. I think I might actually be getting drunk for the first time ever.”

“That’s our cue,” Oraeus said, standing and offering a hand to Apricot, “I believe it is my turn to drag you onto the dance floor now.”

Apricot unleashed a deep, dramatic sigh, but joined Oraeus with a smile.

+++++

“I dunno,” Shaya sighed, gesturing at the dance floor full of couples, “sometimes I envy them, you know?”

“Have you ever given any thought to dating? It sounds like you don’t have to contend with political marriages or alliances like many of us,” Samorn said, tone polite as she poured another glass of water and slid it to Shaya, “you strike quite the heroic figure, I am certain you have at least admirer.”

“Psht,” Shaya waved away the compliment, but the rational part of her accepted the glass of water, “no way. And besides, where would I find the time? Six courses... working most evenings, full-time on weekends... plus studying, practicing. I don’t have any free time.”

“Which is not healthy for you,” Samorn said, giving her a worried look, “while I appreciate that you want to maximize your experience, you are constantly haggard and worn down because of your many commitments.”

“Needs to be done,” Shaya said stubbornly, sipping at her water, “my father’s lands are so hostile he can’t even find nobles willing to take them. I need to be as strong as possible to clear them of monsters, protect them from bandits and make sure none of our neighbours think of encroaching on our territory. That means being an amazing mage, warrior, and commander.”

“He will find someone brave enough to take on the risk eventually,” Samorn assured her, patting her arm, “and you cannot take everything onto yourself like this. I’m sure your father is a skilled nephilim, to be rewarded a duchy in a foreign land; you have an older brother who sounds capable, and your younger brother sounds precocious. Not to mention all of your family’s retainers.

“Besides which, you cannot be at your best if you work yourself into the ground. Take the money you get from Una and the bonuses you have earned at work and allow yourself to relax.”

“You’re probably right,” Shaya sighed, “how are you not spoken for yet? You’re smart, beautiful, caring, and powerful.”

“Where there’s a will,” Samorn snorted, “there’s a way.”

“Independent, eh?”

“For now,” Samorn shrugged, “I’m in no rush to be courted or married. I don’t deny the political value of my marriage, but I’m not actively seeking it at the academy like many of my peers. Or children, despite the environment the Academy pushes that encourages such affairs.”

“That does explain a lot,” Shaya nodded, thinking about the overflowing orphanages in Arcadia.

“Between bastards and internal wars, the empire has plenty of orphans,” Samorn nodded sadly, “which is why adoption is so readily accepted within Arcadia. I hear in other kingdoms, orphans are easily discredited from inheritance or looked down upon.”

“That sounds crazy to me,” Shaya shuddered at the thought, then turned more jovial, “I guess the Empire must love people like Ren then, who keep them stocked with nephilim babies.”

Samorn chuckled, “Within reason, perhaps.”

“Ah, probably not Ren himself then,” Shaya snorted, “Where is he, anyway?”

“Shaya,” Samorn said, patting Shaya’s hand like she was infirm, “he left hours ago with Parmenia.”

“Oh,” Shaya said, trying to remember, “Hours ago? Don’t we have class tomorrow? Damn, how drunk am I?”

“Yes.” Bri said, returning to the table and pouring herself a glass of water.

“Pardon me,” Samorn said, standing, “It’s my turn to freshen up.”

“Hey Bri,” Shaya said, turning to her friend, “Thank you for the gift earlier. It was very thoughtful of you.”

Bri blushed, but tried to shrug it off, “Like I said, we all came together for it. Besides, you need better armour given how reckless you are.”

Shaya’s eyes narrowed, “Now who’s bad at taking a compliment?”

“Bah,” Bri said, waving it off, “fine, I’m glad you like it. I think it sucked you were punished for saving Azreon’s dumb ass, only to have him provoke you and then try to kill you in the exchange. I... I can’t bring him to justice for attempting to murder you,” she sighed, “so I at least wanted you to know that I – er, we – had your back.”

“I know you do,” Shaya nodded. She took another sip of water before speaking again, using the time to build up her courage and focus her thoughts, “Hey, Bri-”

“You!” Azreon growled, storming into the tavern and marching towards their table alongside his lance, all of them dressed for an evening of carousing. Even the swords at their belts were fancier than usual, with more inlaid gems and twisted silver patterns. Azreon’s outburst and their march drew the late-night crowd’s attention to Shaya’s table, “I don’t know what witchcraft or bribery you’re employing, but I will no longer tolerate you and your pawns manipulating the results of the deployments!”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Face red with anger and likely no small amount of alcohol, Azreon glared down at Shaya and snarled, “I challenge you to a duel!”