Hope

"Irwyn! Irwyn!" he awoke to Elizabeth discreetly but firmly shaking him under the table while harshly whispering. He realized he was sweating and reeling from the overwhelming concoction of grief and rage, even their echoes as distant as they were.

"Irwyn!" she muttered again and he flinched. Irwyn felt… drained, drowsy. Like he has just been awake for two days without rest. Though his flesh was untouched, his throat and eyes felt a phantom of rawness.

"How long?" he whispered back, taking a deep breath only to be attacked by vertigo. Then he realized he utterly lacked the senses he was just using moments ago only to remember that those were not his in the first place.

"About thirty minutes," she replied, frowning but a glimmer of concern flashing behind those eyes. "You wouldn't wake. I was getting worried."

"Sorry, I…" Irwyn started, then realized his thoughts were too much of a mess for a proper reply. "Give me a moment."

"Are you alright?" Elizabeth sounded worried.

"Yes," he nodded. "Just… let me catch my breath."

That being said Irwyn began the sorting. For one it has been way too soon after the last vision. Less than a week, actually. He had another one just after Abonisle concluded. So why another one already?

No, Irwyn realized. That is an entirely wrong train of thought. Because whatever was the source of these visions, it was almost certainly either Fate or Starfire. So why would it care about chronological proximity? No, the visions were most likely happening because they were relevant, not because of a set timer. Which made it particularly worrisome that Irwyn had no memory of passing out. He tried to look back at after his duel with… well, his first duel of the night.

He had returned to sit with Elizabeth afterwards and observed other duelists. To his surprise, the vast majority of people taking the stage had only mastered the use of a singular one-intention spell, no one else for a decent while even attempting three - that had left a strong impression.

Not that long after he had been challenged again, then immediately three more times. The first three he had completely stampeded through as they only wielded a two-intention spell. The last was a Void mage that could make 3 work in short bursts that left them heavily winded. Irwyn remembered thinking they might have been trying to wear him out so he had been more conservative with his resources in the last fight, only prevailing after trading a dozen spells and revealing his Flame magic for a barrier much more effective against Void than Light would be.

"The last thing I remember is returning after the four successive battles, the last one was against the mage with a weird-toothed mask," Irwyn said in a hushed tone. "Am I missing anything afterwards?"

"You sat down and we spoke shortly," Elizabeth filled in. "There was a lull as another duel started and by the time I turned to you again you were already out of it, non-responsive. What in the world happened?"

"I just had another vision," Irwyn did not hide it.

"What?" Elizabeth struggled to keep her voice low. "I thought those only happened in your sleep."

"They had until now," Irwyn nodded. "I am a bit worried about what it might mean."

"Any 'warnings'?"

"Probably, though I am not quite clear of the point of this one," Irwyn sighed. "In it, I fought in the Great Crusade. I walked into a very dangerous trap set up by necromancers, except it was too weak to kill me so in rage and grief I killed them instead… then captured one I couldn't kill." he decided to exclude the Names and Edicts involved in the technically truthful retelling. They had some privacy but better to avoid words with innate meaning and power. He had also not yet mentioned to Elizabeth just how powerful he were in these visions and now would not be the time. "I also think I went half mad right after the ambush and changed into someone more war-minded, so that could also be it. Or the… disregard for collateral damage afterwards."

"Undead, trap, change in face of struggle, capturing foes, frenzied battle. It could be any one of those," Elizabeth summarized. "Or multiple."

"Do you think the event might have been infilt…"

"Highly unlikely," Elizabeth interrupted, knowing exactly what he was asking about. "City Black does not slack on security, especially at the start of a Lich War. But after Abonisle it would be stupid to take such risks. I am already composing a secret message to my mother. She will discretely investigate and be prepared if it comes down to it."

"That is good," Irwyn sighed in relief. "I am more wary of anything ‘almost certain’ after last time."

“I agree, we should keep an eye out,” Elizabeth nodded. Then glanced at her insignia ring. “Apparently there is a senior inquisitor at the main banquet. They were rather interested that this was another ‘hunch’ of the same person who coincidentally unveiled the plot at Abonisle.”

“I hope they are not mad if nothing is found,” Irwyn nodded.

“I think the futile pursuit of dubious intelligence is half of what they do, especially in times of peace,” Elizabeth shrugged. “Probably wouldn’t be the first dead end the inquisitor looked into today. If the Old Mockingbird’s behavior is anything to go by, they seem like a paranoid bunch.”

“Hmm,” Irwyn nodded his assent as the conversation lulled, then realized he was hungry. Half the prawns were still on the plate so he had one. Then a few more. It was a good distraction from the rather… disturbing vision. “These are good.”

“Have you never had any before?” Elizabeth asked.

“I think the only seafood I ever had was what little you treated me to,” which wasn’t much. Abonisle was close-ish to two landlock borders of the Duchy of Black. The Beacon was probably the only reason there was any fresh seafood at all.

“We should see if anything else sits well with you,” she nodded thoughtfully. “I overheard a rumor going around that our navy has slain a kraken just before being recalled because of the War. The meat should be affordable for a short while when they finally get back to port.”

“Affordable as in ‘possible to save up for’ or as in ‘it should now be measured in fractions of mansions on prime estate rather than multiples’?”

“I… don’t know,” Elizabeth said hesitantly. “Kraken meat usually gets sold out in days whenever one of the monsters is slain. Anything else is stored at great expense - Time frozen - then resold at a price so exorbitant even my accountants think it’s ridiculous. But people know the Duke of Brown is partial to it. So some buy it if they need her in a good mood.”

“Her?” Irwyn noted with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” Elizabeth mirrored his confusion.

“I would think she would be called a Duchess, much like Avys.”

“The leader of a Duchy is always a Duke,” Elizabeth shrugged as if it were obvious. So Irwyn assumed it was common sense in upper society. “They and no one else.”

“Doesn’t that create problems with the language and terminology?”

“I think it does the opposite,” Elizabeth shook her head. “There is no confusion about who exactly is truly the head. I think in the case of the Duke of Brown, she declared her husband prince-consort. Brown is much looser with tradition than Black so the Dukes there can just kind of decide what they want those terms to be.”

“Half the time you explain things like this I am only left with more questions,” Irwyn sighed.

“Then ask away,” she shrugged.

“All right,” Irwyn thought about it for a second but saw no good reason not to. He could try to analyze the dream further… but just the thought of it was disconcerting. “So, I know there are nine Duchies - it’s obvious why. But how different are they? You mention the Brown being less traditional so I wonder…”

Then a loud knock sounded, immediately dragging Irwyn out of his questioning. They both turned around to the source to see a familiar figure walking with the help of a cane - which must have been enchanted to be exceptionally loud given that the whole room had immediately snapped towards the figure entering from the Voidways. What was rather more worrying though was that Irwyn knew them.

Truthfully, he might not have recognized the facial features for they had been… twisted. Changed by pain and regrets from youthful to something more gnarled and hateful. Of course, that was not the main change. Rather, Irwyn stared at the two pitch black lines tracing the face, not straight or particularly consistent - much like the imprint from corrosive tears running down its surface. And the eyes above them, half blind and murky with black impurities that mages who had to be some of the best healers alive could not fully cure.

Alira von… Fathomsight, moved another step forward, her legs straining as she had to use the cane just to stumble forward. Step. Knock. Step. Knock. The parlor soon returned to whispers and then outright conversations, though most seemed to keep eyes on Alira, not any friendlier that they had been towards Elizabeth. And there was no mistaking the direction the newcomer was heading.

“I suppose we have our unwelcome guests,” Elizabeth smiled slightly.

“What do we do?” Irwyn asked, unsure how much trouble it would be.

“Let her walk the whole way since she had chosen such an eye-catching entrance,” her grin deepened. “Then leave it to me.”

“Alright,” Irwyn nodded, glancing at Elizabeth curiously. Rather than worried she looked almost predatory. Like she had expected something like this. Which was honestly reasonable. Alira was clearly still hurt but apparently not to the point she couldn’t drag herself into the party. And it was not hard to guess why she would come despite her sorry state.

“You!” by the time she reached their booth Alira was visibly winded from the strain. It did not dim the Wrath burning behind her eyes as she pointed at Irwyn.

“Yes, me,” It was, however, Elizabeth who answered, standing up. “And what matter has you coming to bother me on this occasion?”

“No, not…” she tried to take a step around Elizabeth though in Alira’s state that was clearly not particularly realistic.

“Not what?” Elizabeth crossed her arms and huffed. “As far as I am concerned there is no matter left to settle between us.”

“I do not see it that way,” she snarled, biting the hook.

“Ah!” Elizabeth exclaimed, raising her voice so that everyone who wished to could hear. “Are you then, Alira von Fathomsight, saying you doubt the Duke’s personal judgment?”

“No!” the other girl almost flinched as if she had not seen such an obvious counter coming. Perhaps she really hasn’t, Irwyn thought. Elizabeth had mentioned on a few occasions that the nobility in the Duchy of Black was not usually fond of courtly schemes… but could someone of Alira’s relatively high importance be so… unprepared? Had she not planned every possible way this confrontation she had caused could go?

“Then we have nothing to discuss,” Elizabeth immediately turned around back to their table.

“Wait!” and Alira panicked, seeing the opportunity slipping away. Elizabeth shot Irwyn the slightest hint of a grin before turning back to the other woman.

“What else is there, then?” by the time she faced Alira again, her expression was that of bored annoyance.

“I… wish to challenge the boy from your entourage to a duel!” and Alira seemingly reached for the only solution that occurred to her.

“From my entourage?” Elizabeth’s expression darkened, for all she was acting it was reasonably convincing. “Do you intend to give insult? Are you trying to imply that I, of Blackburg flesh and blood, cannot fight my own battles against those of similar birth? If you want a fight, Alira, we will do it like anyone worthy ought to: Pure against pure.”.

“Then so be it,” Alira grit her teeth but seemingly saw no other course of action. Elizabeth scoffed and walked towards the ring with unhurried confidence. Irwyn was still wondering whether he was just reading it all wrong or if Alira genuinely had not even a proper plan A, much less any B to F.

The walk to the ring had been… long. Especially since Elizabeth took the spot closest to them, forcing Alira to shamble slowly to the other side of the ring. Some two followers had already been fighting for the entertainment of their masters, though they had immediately cleared out when Elizabeth’s challenge had been issued. Now the older judge announced again, most eyes in the room watching.

“A challenge has been issued,” the arbiter announced. “Over Pride of blood pure! On one side stands her Ladyship Elizabeth von Blackburg, 5th in the line of succession. On the other stands her Ladyship Alira von Fathomsight, 27th in the line of succession. They shall battle to first direct strike. On my mark, begin!”

“Void tide”

They clashed. Elizabeth did not hesitate for a split second, immediately calling upon a three-intention spell, a wave of Black mana that she often favored for its ability to obscure line of sight. Yet to Irwyn’s surprise, Alira answered with three as well.

“Maw of the Void”

A familiar spell as well, the exact same one Irwyn had encountered what felt like an eternity ago. Rage’s favourite, which made sense given he had apparently been Alira’s uncle. Back then it had given him the feeling of Gluttony incarnate… now Irwyn knew better, for what it truly possessed was the slightest shadow of that Name, barely the hint of a hint. It still outshadowed what a spell of that level should accomplish, because what remained true was that the spell genuinely hungered.

More than an intention, though that was also it, but the slightest trace of sentience seeped through. The spell would hunt down anything living without the slightest strain on the caster. Such was, Irwyn supposed, the advantage of spells with a great legacy. Half of Alira’s ancestry did come from a fallen House calling itself Blackmaw, after all.

And it was invoked with three intentions. A long time had passed since Ebon Respite for Irwyn… well, perhaps not that long in terms of days but certainly in achievements. Though his memories were hazy, Irwyn still remembered Alira from back then. And she had not been this excellent. Three intentions, in this room full of the great and bright of their generation was the upper limit, at least of what anyone was willing to openly show. But if Irwyn was remembering right, Alira way back when they first met had only used a singular intention at a time. Jumping two whole stages during the months in between was not impossible - Irwyn had charged from one to six - but it seemed unlikely given she had also been recovering from injuries.

The obvious suspect was an Ambrosia. It could assist mages in immediately jumping ahead as well as improving their future potential… except those were supposed to be rare, even for house Blackburg. Was Alira truly worthy of one? The second possibility struck Irwyn as more plausible, even though it had far less certain assumptions:

Alira had broken an Oath and had been smitten. In hindsight, he now understood that she had taken many precautions… and that the reason they had not been nearly enough was almost certainly the same as the source of his visions. The Oath had been taken on Umbra’s name, it naturally involved Void magic. ‘Hollowed eyes for a fool who saw even less’ it was called. Poetic, given Alira had been misusing it at the time. And for the suffering and for all the scars and wounds that no one had been seemingly able to fully cure as of yet, Alira was a Void mage.

It was not a stretch that she may have gained some insight from the harrowing experience.

Either way, the fight had started and the two spells shot forward. As Irwyn would expect, Elizabeth ran along with her wave, meanwhile, Alira remained stationary. It was really only a few blinks of an eye before the two collided, the hungering maw biting straight through Elizabeth’s wave without so much as being slowed down…

Except it missed. Indeed, the moment it had appeared it locked onto the delectable living thing it had felt and pursued its presence with religious zest. When Elizabeth ran along her wave of magic and stepped to the side it swerved to match! Only, it had done so in the opposite direction.

Irwyn did not know how Elizabeth had done that. He had not felt anything from as far as he was. The Maw simply charged to the wrong side without so much as hesitating. That left the smirking Alira facing the wave and Elizabeth behind it. She had erected a two-intention barrier which the wave slammed into and immediately cracked. As did Alira’s smile at the realization that the match was not over yet.

Then the barrier shattered as Elizabeth collapsed the entirety of the wave into it, dismissing the spell in one smooth motion as soon as the barrier was gone. She probably could have used it to win the match immediately…. instead, she leaned back.

By the time the barrier collapsed Elizabeth’s hand was already swinging through the empty space and as the wave was dismissed it was empowered by magic of its own, accelerating. Before Alira could so much as flinch, she was struck. Her head snapped back, though she shouldn’t have felt any actual pain due to the protections. She stared disbelievingly at Elizabeth’s open palm.

“Winner, Elizabeth von Blackburg,” the judge announced and the crowd broke into conversation and snickers. For all Elizabeth was not the most liked, neither was Alira it seemed. And being defeated by a literal slap… that seemed like something that would be remembered among gossips.

“Now that you know your place, please cease bothering me,” Elizabeth threw one last jab, before turning around, not sparing Alira a single glance more. The other girl though threw Elizabeth a severe deathstare. To the point Irwyn almost expected her to burst out and attack Elizabeth. He thought he saw her mouth begin to move with a first syllable of a mutter… then the judge stepped between the two antagonistic nobles, smothering any such possibility.

“Wasn’t that perhaps a bit too hostile?” Irwyn raised an eyebrow when Elizabeth returned to sit at their booth.

“House Fathomsight is not going to hate us any less for being polite,” she scoffed. “Better no one else smells blood in the water. People who flinch tend to get walked over.”

“Well, I will defer to you,” Irwyn nodded. He supposed no one else would be keen on facing Alira’s humiliation and thus less likely to take a shot at them.

Things slowed down afterwards. Alira departed in disgrace and no one came to challenge Irwyn or Elizabeth for hours. Yes, many duels were fought. New people arrived from time to time though few left - and usually only in disgrace. Irwyn… struggled to care. Whatsoever. Elizabeth seemed to paying some attention to names and undercurrents Irwyn didn’t have the proper context for while engaging him in conversations in between.

“Now that I think about it, how long are we going to be here for?” Irwyn eventually half complained.

“Getting bored with me?” Elizabeth grinned slightly.

“I wouldn’t dare, Your Ladyship,” Irwyn returned it. “But I am not one for gatherings or parties.”

“The Exenn lasts until the last rays of sunlight leave the horizon, as is tradition.”

“That is excruciatingly long,” Irwyn grimaced. It was not even noon yet. “And pointlessly so.”

“For the children, perhaps,” Elizabeth shrugged. “Right about now the Duchy’s powers that be are arguing over assignments, supplies, forces, and specialists. Although for our part it might appear as just a social gathering, the Exenn is a joined political and military occasion that forces the Duchy to plan. A Lich War is no joke. No real Undead hordes have appeared the last I heard but we want to be ready for them.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Irwyn nodded, though it did not help alleviate his boredom. He was about to change the topic when he felt something.

It was subtle and Irwyn could not even tell what it was in the first moment. He frowned and looked around, his eyes landing on the Voidways’ gate. The feeling was growing stronger by the moment but he could not quite place it despite the familiarity. It was… distant. Suppressed. In fact, to the point, Irwyn realized it was almost miraculous he could perceive it all. Elizabeth certainly wasn’t based on her questioning look. The feeling climbed and climbed until Irwyn was finally struck with a realisation.

“Ah, it’s Light,” he muttered.

“Light?” Elizabeth frowned, following his gaze over to the Voidways with confusion. No wonder Irwyn could not feel it well, Light magic of any kind would be deeply suppressed and insulated in those long halls.

“No doubt about it,” Irwyn confirmed. The only question that remained was why. “And it’s probably headed here.”

About ten seconds later, the gate flung open with a brilliant blinding flash.