Misadventures Incorporated

We danced together through the fields, pranced through the mountains, and flooded the world with our magic. Together, our blessings extended further and wider than they had ever before.

Back then, I was happy, oblivious, too innocent to understand that it was precisely our joy that wrought his hunger.

The lion came out of left field. One day, he simply waltzed into the village, announced that he was the greatest hunter, and demanded that we play the role of his prey. It seemed like an empty threat at the time, perhaps even a practical joke or some other sort of banal harassment.

Our leaders dismissed the concept as outright absurd.

Even she said that there was no point in worrying and that the elders would sort him out.

Still, I couldn't help but worry.

___

The Vel'khanese delegation proceeded through a hall filled with busy butlers and maids as the morning sun rose off in the distance. The ball had been two days prior. And as far as technicalities went, it was Sylvia's birthday. Everyone had already congratulated her, but none had delivered any gifts just yet. They'd decided as a group to celebrate Sylvia's and Claire's together, right before the festival began.

So if not for an event's sake, why then were all the brigade's members gathered?

The answer was simple.

They'd been summoned, called to the castle's training grounds to bear witness.

"You sure this is okay?" muttered Jules. "'Cause it feels like blatant cheating."

"I would not be so concerned. It was King Virillius who requested our presence," said Arciel.

"I mean, yeah, I know, but still," said the clam. "I just don't know how to feel with the enemy literally inviting us to their qualifiers."

"It's an intimidation tactic," said Claire. "They're looking to shatter our spirits.''

"Yeah, I dunno if that's gonna work. I've seen way too much bullshit to get spooked by a group of idiots with sharpened sticks."

"The champions that've gathered will be much more impressive than the colosseum's fighters," said an unsightly, rabbit-shaped illusion.

The party had spent the past two days more or less split up. Arciel had handled much of the administrative work, namely the oversight of the Cadria-Vel'khan exchange. Virillius had overhauled the city more quickly than promised, and by the end of the second day, there were aquatic and amphibious guests all over. Likewise, Vel'khagan's streets were flooded with horses, rabbits, and bee-ogres. There were already plenty of elves on both sides—the knife-ears could be found all around the world—but the populations had effectively swapped sides with the portal's opening.

Chloe had, of course, accompanied her mistress as she went about her work, but she was the only one who did. Most of the others spent their days in the colosseum, observing the various fighters and making note of common Cadrian patterns. Claire had joined them at first, but left halfway through the very first day. There was little to be learned; she already knew how her countrymen handled themselves, and though the colosseum's prize fighters were fairly sound of skill, most of their choices were suboptimal. They were more interested in putting on a show than giving their all and at least half of them were fighting purely for their own entertainment.

That said, it wasn't like there was much else for her to do. She tried her hand at exploring the dungeons within the city's bounds, but they failed to keep her attention. Neither the plant-like creatures that filled the first dungeon, the undead that polluted the second, nor the wingless draconic knockoffs that wandered around the third could survive more than a casual flick. Though she enjoyed the curious scenes within, she was in and out of all three by the time the sun began to set.

Day three proved much more enjoyable. She wandered the streets again and visited everything that caught her interest. She watched some of the newest plays prepared explicitly for the upcoming season, poked her head into the local art galleries and museums, and explored the markets with her purse strings loosened. She even considered sneaking into the local zoo after hours, though she scrapped that idea as she recalled that it was one of the few jobs where tamers were widely accepted. There was a very real chance that Panda had incorporated the workers and animals alike into his mindless legion, and the last thing she wanted was to play around with a critter only to discover that it was her uncle all along.

"I mean, sure, I know they'll be stronger," said Jules, interrupting Claire's thoughts, "but I doubt it's gonna be by all that much. I mean, at the end of the day, they still ain't gonna be worth shit next to the last group we fought."

"I wouldn't be so sure," said Allegra.

"Yeah, I dunno about that. The fourth ascension's boons are massive."

"There are exceptions, of course, but I was under the impression that most people with four ascensions tend to be far superior to those with three," said Krail.

The rabbit laughed. "You've made three bad assumptions," she said. "The first is that the party we fought wasn't made up of exceptions. Most of them were weak, pathetic in the grand scheme of things. I'm confident I could've easily beat all of them but the goddess even without my fourth, and I'd say the same is true of most of Cadria's elites."

"Oh, come on. That's gotta be bullshit," said Jules.

"Hard to believe," added Lana.

"It's why we kept training after we left Aurora's domain," said the rabbit. "Many of the higher-leveled Cadrians are stuck beneath one thousand because they stopped to hone their techniques and grow more accustomed to their bodies. They spent so many years perfecting their approach to combat that even high-level dungeons have stopped giving meaningful amounts of experience. Durham is the perfect example. If you recall his duel with Virillius, I believe it's safe to say that he could have easily decimated our assailants."

"He was the fast one, right? The one that turned himself into a goddamn bomb?"

"Effectively, yes," said Allegra. She paused for a second to look out a nearby window and scrutinized the training ground before continuing. "Your second misconjecture is that you saw the extent of the hunting party's might. Claire was able to keep them on their back feet and prevent them from playing their cards. They were never given the opportunity to activate their ultimate abilities."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"I think the green guy technically did," said Sylvia. "I felt some pretty wonky magic while she was beating him up."

"I was under the impression that she suppressed or cancelled it, given the lack of effect," said Allegra. "But in any case, none of them demonstrated their full strength, and I'm of the opinion that Cadria's strongest fighters likely would have won even if they had."

"Thanks Allegra. That's just what we want to hear before they kick our butts," said Chloe.

"I'm just setting expectations. I've been saying from the start that I don't see us winning."

"Perhaps, it is as you say, and our loss is inevitable," said Arciel. "Still, I wish to fight and struggle to the best of our ability."

Allegra smiled. "I'm aware. Now, the biggest problem is with the final assumption."

"Oh, god fucking damn it. I swear to Griselda, Flux, and Ira, Allegra," muttered Jules. "If you say they're all gonna be aspects."

"It's unlikely for all of them to have ascended, but I'd be surprised if there weren't at least a few," she said. "There was a large expedition that ventured into the Langgbjerns and saw a fair amount of success."

"Yeah, I know," grumbled Jules. "We literally saw the fuckers on our way over, and I'm pretty sure I'm seeing the same goddamn faces around this goddamn castle."

"That's because you are," said Claire.

"Thanks, Claire. You're really helping."

"You're welcome."

"...Motherfucker." The clam sighed. "So? How many do you think we'll be stuck with?"

"I haven't been briefed on the details," said Allegra, "but Durham wasn't the only one who was close."

"Now you're just fucking with me," grumbled Jules.

"I wish I could say I was."

"Well, all things considered, I'd say we're still a lot better off than we expected when we first signed up," said Krail. "Back then, we were thinking we'd be up against a bunch of Polluxes, and I'm of the impression that we held less of a candle to him then than we do to the Cadrians now, even if it's all as Allegra described."

"We've come far," said Lana. "Pollux seems weak, now."

"He was more of a buffer than a fighter," said Claire. Pollux's primary class was derived from a variant of flagbearers. Though he was durable enough to stand on the front lines, his main purpose was to draw enemy fire whilst bolstering his allies' proficiency. Of course, that wasn't to say that the man was a poor fighter. Even with a couple support classes, he was still decent enough to function as the warlord responsible for the nation's southernmost border.

"You'll be hard-pressed to compare anyone we'll be seeing today to that rat," said Allegra.

The party reached the end of the hall as she spoke. The door was already open; one of the nearby maids had grabbed it as soon as she saw them approaching and held it until the brigade was all the way through.

"Right this way please," said another servant. She led the party over to one part of the field—an elevated hill where a number of observers had already gathered. Virillius, Rubia, and Ragnar were accompanied by ministers, soldiers, and civilians alike. There were even a few curious Vel'khanese mixed into the crowd. But that much was practically a given. The selection was a public event, and there was a large sign hanging outside the castle stating that all were welcome to observe.

There were a few caveats, of course. One could not simply wander the castle willy-nilly. The guards explicitly warned everyone who entered that suspicious activity would be met with immediate arrest—not that there was anyone so stupid. Every group was accompanied by an armed guard as escort and the secret service lurked around every corner. It was obvious, even to the members of the alliance that'd joined the crowd, that there was no stepping out of line.

Of course, while the Cadrians were certainly insane, they weren't so insane that they allowed the foreigners easy access to their VIPs. Cadrian officials and their family members sat in one group up front, while the civilians were given seats a little further back. The soldiers and officers stood in the middle, albeit just as a deterrent. Most were focused entirely on the field even though the candidates had yet to engage in combat.

Like the observers, they were gathered in a large blob, sitting and standing around as they waited for the appointed time. The cut off for application was noon and all interested participants would have to attend in person.

Most of the participants were organised and intelligent enough to have arrived well ahead of the deadline. There were over fifty fighters gathered in the training ground, many of whom were dressed and ready for battle.

About a quarter of the fighters were dressed in full plate. It was surprisingly popular, second only to a combination of plates and leathers. Cloth armour appeared relatively unpopular at a glance, even falling behind protectors made of wood or bone, but everyone was wearing it beneath the rest of their layers.

Of course, not all of the equipped cloth was armour. Case in point, the old elven butler standing in the middle of the training ground. He wore an old-fashioned suit that was likely once as black as the night. The excess of wear and tear, or perhaps the cheap material, had led it to grey and fray; a glance in his direction was enough to inform even the densest onlooker that he was not affiliated with the castle; the king's servants were hardly allowed to wear such damaged attire.

Standing a little to his left was an old bovine centaur holding a young boy's hand, a goblin clearly affiliated with the western alliance, and a clown whose big, red nose had a dozen razor blades sticking out from every direction.

The bizarrely dressed man was almost as attention-grabbing as the thoraen spearman sprawled out down at the front of the crowd. He was clearly asleep; if his snoring didn't give it away, then the accompanying snot bubble certainly did.

And yet, both of them had fewer eyes on them than the unit gathered right in front of the podium. As was made clear by the branding on their armour, they were active Cadrian knights bearing House Augustus' coat of arms. The leader was Durham, whose appearance had changed dramatically since Claire last found him in the mountains. He was still large and bulky, an absolute monster of a man, but his muscles had lost some of their mass, growing tighter and more efficient. His frame had likewise narrowed, albeit only at the very front, perhaps to better ease his acceleration. More striking were the tattoos placed all over his body. They glowed on occasion, pulsing with every beat of his heart. He'd grown a horn as well, a giant, disproportionate lightning rod that sprouted from the front of his skull. It was made of the same almost metallic material that was wrapped around his arms and extended into his palms.

Evidently, the man had ascended.

Just like the sleazy old politician on the other side of the field.

Arms crossed, Marquis Ephesus was front and center with a confident sneer. If not for his changed form—he'd doubled his limb count, grown claws, and turned purple in the time since his last public appearence—his presence would have left many of the participants and observers scratching their heads. He wasn't known to be a duelist, or even much of a fighter. Few had ever seen him fight, but at some point, someone had spread the rumour that he was an incredibly average combatant, and the accusation had stuck courtesy of a lack of denial. The man was only really known for his patriotism, but that much was common among the gentry.

Ephesus was almost surprisingly hard to pick out in the crowd. With a goat's body as his base, he was tiny when compared to the men and women standing all around him. There was a giant thorae dressed in a suit of pitch black armour to his rear and a lion-centaur hybrid covered with a giant shaggy mane to his six.

Even the elf beside him was more conspicuous. Though smaller, the man stood out on account of his exposed upper body and the thunderbolt-like scars that ran down its length. The shirt he'd once worn was tied around his waist, just like the two giant swords he carried on either side. They were so long that they looked impossible to draw; one would need a pair of arms at least three times the length of the knife ear's in order to get the end of their blades out of their polished wooden sheathes.

And then, there was the obvious spy, a tentacle-faced humanoid—a dristle—whose blood clearly blew from a westerly wind. Like the elf, he was largely naked, wearing only a pair of shorts that went halfway down his thighs. Unlike the elf, he was so ridiculously muscular that he was almost as wide as he was tall. The man didn't even have a neck. His trapezius muscles were wide enough to extend all the way to his shoulders.

He wasn't the only one of his species, though the second looked more likely to be Cadrian. His tentacles were half masked by a thick curly beard—a clear sign that he was actually a dwarf possessing a dristle as opposed to a true member of the species.

So on and so forth, the pit was full of nothing but notable fighters, all ready to prove their worth and lay down their lives on Cadria's behalf.