[BORN TO BE KING] S7 - ARDENT OF THE END

EPISODE 235: [CHOSEN OF GODDESS MADRIS] 3

— GREAT EDRYAN, YEAR: 7294. SEASON: CENTRAL.

"One of war…," Ninjaro repeated to himself. Ai'esha stood next to him, and their ancestor, a [Prestige], walked behind. Ninjaro stroked his beard; his thoughts swirled as calculations ran.

"One of war…," he repeated.

The evening sun was high, and the early morning event had finished. Those who wished to discuss had done so, or they opted to meet in more private settings. Ninjaro weighed his options as he walked, his vision on the far future of his nation.

Ai'esha's irritation and frustrations grew as she listened to his mumbles. The earlier event had left her confused as Ninjaro's words followed one direction, then his actions followed another. Her cousin was… Ai'esha shook her head. He walked a path she could not follow, nor did she want to. She conceded control of the Federation to him. She kept her strength in reserve and that of her clans, but a sheath blade was still sharp. And, Ai'esha had received what she needed from him—so her blade was ready to be drawn.

"Didn't you say not to interfere," she barked, disrupting his thoughts and calculations.

Startled, Ninjaro nearly tripped, but his level and reflexes allowed him to catch himself before the motion could finish. He turned to Ai'esha, irritation on his face that slowly dispersed as he noticed her genuine anger.

Ninjaro sighed, releasing the breath and irritation all at once. "I saw an opportunity—so I took it."

He continued to walk, his destination the palace grounds manor that the Asigbonle people were allocated. Ai'esha, still irritated, continued.

"Opportunity? Opportunity for what, Ninjaro? Do not forget the Federation rules as a council of thirteen and not one ."

Ai'esha's voice grew colder, and Ninjaro felt the irritation building back up. Ai'esha was the [Arbitrator] sent as his second in command, but also to be the one to keep the rest informed.

"This is not a kingdom—our ancestors created a Federation—joint rulership underneath the thirteen clans of His children. You need to-"

"I don't need to do anything," Ninjaro interrupted. "Thirteen clans, yes, but each snake needs a sole head to control its body. We are in tall grass with unknown dangers both left and right. The Federation is pinned at the continent's end with Edryan above and a sea that leads to the [World's End]."

Ai'esha frowned at her cousin's interruption but allowed his words to continue. She'd wanted to challenge a Machan earlier for a chance to open her Path, but was denied by Ninjaro. When she saw him provoking those in the gathering earlier, she felt like he had directly dismissed her concerns—like he'd directly dismissed the hopes she held for her Path.

"I will not have the Federation face the magi threat as the sole forerunner."

"You doubt our strength to face them in a large-scale conflict?"

Ninjaro shook his head. They spoke freely, knowing their elders' Intent would prevent any from listening in. The bright sunlight and precisely manicured gardens barely registered in their eyes. Nor did the oversized honeybees roam from plant to plant.

"No," Ninjaro shook his head. "Not entirely, but I do doubt the constraints of our population and the consolidation of the nation. Not just that, look at the magi's rapid advancement—just a few years ago, they were still hauling goods on carriages with [Spatial Mages] present to keep the spell constructs active and ensure no goods were lost to the void. That was," Ninjaro paused, doing a quick calculation. "Roughly three years ago, perhaps slightly less. Now look."

Ninjaro gestured toward the city proper, his cousin's frown growing deeper, but she continued to listen to his words. "They ride around on vehicles manipulating gravity, small enough so that one person may ride on a board and travel far. Their goods are able to cross the country within a day and a half end-to-end. Every house, every building, is provided power with permanent spell constructs to keep the lights on. And should one go to war with them, their Goddess's buff allows them to steal the hard work of our people through [Plunder]. I will not allow the Federation to become their stepping stone. I will not. "

Ai'esha paused, gathering her thoughts. "They've improved, yes, but so has the Federation. The mechanism of Grandfather allows the mage towers to harness mana far greater than ever before and provide power to the city. The resources we've mined and the rare minerals taken from the upper levels of the Underneath for the—"

Ai'esha paused, feeling a warning pressure on her from the elder that followed. She continued to speak, skipping over what she was going to say. "We could attack first, easily disrupt their train system, and pause their trade and information pipeline. It would only take a year or less to muster our forces and-"

Ninjaro was already shaking his head, interrupting her before she could continue. "That's not possible. The Gods would give the Federation a [Penalty]."

Ai'esha understood it wasn't a matter of maybe or what-ifs, should the magi attack. It was a matter of when. Their [Chosen of Madris] crusade was well spread throughout the nation, unhidden to any who questioned about it. Every child, every man, woman, Ai'esha could bet even the dogs, cats, and pigs knew of his crusade assigned by the Goddess Madris in Edryan. Then, what better way to gain an advantage over your potential enemy than by attacking first?

Ninjaro sighed. "It's time I tell you more about [The Game], the [Twelve Thrones] play. Do not ask me questions, for I will not be able to answer them. This is what Grandfather has told me, and now I relay it to you."

Ai'esha scrunched her white eyebrows, the sunlight beginning to bother her. She removed a black umbrella and felt relief as the magical device activated. Ninjaro didn't have to mention that this knowledge would stay between them.

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"[Twelve Thrones]," Ninjaro whispered. "Some jade… others… bone. The Twelve Thrones play a game, this world their chess board, and their worshipers their chess pieces—the [Chosen] special champions, Kings and Queens, that can win or lose them the game. They've played three games, and should the Goddess of War win once, then," Ninjaro shrugged. "Well, Grandfather doesn't know. However, twice the members of the [Twelve Thrones] have repelled Her attempts for whatever it is Gods at that level want."

Ninjaro glanced at his cousin as he spoke, and his fingers slowly rose to stroke the abacus in his beard. "Since they play a game, there are [Rules] and [Regulations]—this is to prevent openly cheating and halt them from just fighting outright. Among the [Regulations] is one called the Rite of First. In essence, it gives the magi the right to make the first move, at any time they want to, once the Gods announce the start of a game, yet even before that, they have other [Rules] and [Regulations] that prevent a nation from just outright attacking one another. Should an unruly king, queen, or whoever rules do otherwise, then they will surely die and their nation will experience a [Penalty]."

Ai'esha listened along, still keeping quiet, although there were questions she held. Questions that only her Grandfather could most likely answer.

"A [Penalty] would cripple any nation—the grain they grow is reduced, their birthrates lowered, the ore veins dried. The chances of higher classes, [Legendary] and beyond," Ninjaro's voice trailed off as he raised his hand and slowly closed it into a fist. In that closing fist, Ai'esha saw the Federation of Farya withering away. "Now, knowing this, and seeing their rapid progress in civilian domains… just how do you believe their military and soldiers have progressed. I have to find the Federation a way out, or I have to side with the magi."

The sun continued to shine. It's summer heat, sweltering as it grew toward a crescendo. Sparse clouds littered the sky over the capital of the Edryan Queendom. They did little to relieve the heat and shield the people below from the sun's harsh rays.

The Daughter of Zion leisurely strolled throughout the Edryan markets. Her feline eyes roamed with curiosity and for hidden gems pulled from the dungeons of the nation. Eyes glanced her way, but the young woman could tell it was out of curiosity and not malice for her appearance.

Wilarax was one such eye, a thoughtful expression on her face as she watched the felion. The young woman was growing impatient, and her options of making it into the internal regions of the capital were limited.

"Would have been nice if this were an adventure story and a convenient hole in the wall was left for me," Wilarax grumbled to herself. "There isn't even any illegal smuggling ongoing—this place is clean."

She stood there, arms folded, while her index finger rapidly tapped.

Thum.

Thum.

Thum.

Wilarax pushed off the wall, her silver-golden eyes locked onto her target. Her cloak continued to cover her body, hiding her silver-gradient hair from the view of the public. She'd been revered as far as the Warring Beastman Plains, as many of the individuals from the beastmen tribe worshiped [The Adventurer]. They would use his buffs and state their conquest as an [Adventure]. That, in turn, would boost their power to the level of a [Hero] and beyond if they could achieve the final tier in worship and be recognized as a true [Priest of Adventure]. However, even the Reverent version of worship would have them on par with those who sought Sins and Virtues for their enhancements.

The young True Elf stalked straight toward the Daughter of Zion. She could feel a resonance coming from the young felion and recognized her as a Servant of EL. She was just a step away from achieving the last tier, from becoming a [Priestess of EL] and fully being bestowed His power.

The Daughter of Zion noticed her now. Her neck craned as she turned her head back. Her [Prestige] guard halted and cast a weary glance at Wilarax, but she remained in place as her charge hadn't signaled her to act.

"You," the felion began as Wilarax was just ten steps away.

Wilarax stepped forward, and the claws of the felion extended. Wilarax didn't know if it was out of fear or excitement. She took another step and another, and with each, the felion's claws would retract, then extend, like small daggers being drawn and resheathed continuously. The young woman vibrated, and for a moment, Wilarax couldn't tell if it was from excitement or something else. As she arrived just a few steps away, the felion's knees slowly buckled and she began to fall to the ground in prostration.

Wilarax pushed herself forward, nearly activating a skill to boost her speed as she caught the shoulder of the young beast woman. The eyes of her [Prestige] guard narrowed, but she sensed no danger from the young disguised elf before her.

Wilarax helped the woman to her feet, studying the felion as she did so. The girl wore little, and it was obvious she preferred her beast form over her human unlike the bear of a woman behind her. The Daughter of Zion stuttered a few times, attempting to get words out.

Wilarax smiled, shook her head, halting those attempts. She paused, looked over the felion one more time before asking a question.

"What is your name?"

"M-m-m-my L-L-Lady," the felion responded, her nerves too high to answer properly.

Wilarax shook her head and asked again. "What is your name?"

The felion closed her eyes in an attempt to compose herself, and Wilarax pulled her over to a nearby shop as the stares of the surrounding magi began to grow concentrated. It was only after they were seated that the Daughter of Zion seemed to regain composure.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and as she reopened them, she spoke.

"My born name is Zeor, my warrior name is Olupani. I am Titled as [She Who Kills]—should I desire to kill a target," she waved her hand, recognizing that she was off topic. "You may refer to me as any of the three, my Lady."

"You know who I am," Wilarax questioned, curious. She tilted her head, and although none of her recognizing features showed, the felion before her could not be mistaken.

"How could I not," Zeor questioned, internally laughing. The potent aura of [Adventure] was so palpable that to Zeor it was nearly visible. She didn't understand how she only recognized it now. "I am prepared for anything you may need."

Wilarax smiled. As she traveled, more and more people had the same sort of recognition Zeor held. It was a faith so deep that even the blind could see her. She appreciated Zeor's straightforwardness. Beast-people were often direct, depending on the clan. Their straightforwardness was refreshing compared to others she visited during her [Adventure].

"Then," she paused and raised her head so that Zeor could see her silver-golden eyes. "Let's go on an (Adventure)."