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Serra

By the time she was able to escape to her quarters, the whole castle had heard of the events that took place on the training grounds. More importantly to Serra, they had learned of her embarrassing defeat. She was aching from the day's fighting, frustration fueling her step as she neared her bed. She wanted to end the day, annoyed with all the new grievances her father had let invade her home. Humans were trifling enough, but she always took pride in her magic, and even that was worthless when fighting a cursed mixed. Great work, father, Serra thought, letting her face rise and face the sky of stone above, You've brought a human AND a mixed into the castle. Why not let the wild monsters of the Northern Continent as well? Throw in a sea serpent and a dragon or two, and we can make our home a museum of freaks while we're at it!

_ _ She unfurled her bun of hair, unleashing the fury of brown that went past her shoulders and half-way down her back. Thoughts of the day's necessities formed in her head, checking off each of the tasks she had already accomplished and reminding herself of the things that needed to be completed. Every time she tried to focus, however, her mind shifted back to the day's earlier events, and back to her failure. With each reminder, her face soured like a lemon, curling further and further as each second passed. Her face and sanity would only be saved when there was a knock on the door. She hurriedly brushed off the dirt and grime that covered her training clothes and summoned her royal composure. A lady shouldn't make such faces...A lady should also be able to train without an arrogant mixed interrupting!

She answered the door, and when the tall, blithely-faced wolf entered, the joy that usually filled Serra's life returned. He appeared six years her elder, and carried the same colors she did, except his eyes were the brilliant grey that their father carried. His brown hair was messy and bedridden. He wore armor, a silver set that was branded with the Deux across the chest, and he carried a magnificent sword that nearly reached the floor. The sword was the same as the wooden weapon Serra had used in the courtyard; a pale imitation, purely shown in the elegant design of the true blade's scabbard. Red and white sliced across the scabbard, the streaks wild and beautiful. When Serra saw her brother, she embraced him instantly.

"When did you return?!" Serra said, the thoughts erased from her mind.

Ending the embrace, the wolf gestured towards the inside of the room, "This morning, and haven't stopped since," He smiled, "Mind if I sit down?"

Serra shook her head and he found his way to a desk that was stationed opposite of the bed. Serra's study materials shuffled around the place disorganized to a fault, but the chair beside the desk was free of any lazy shortcomings. He sat himself down on the chair and sighing as he did. Travel had made him weary, and his relief appeared as if this was the first time he had rested in a while. Serra moved towards him, leaning against the ornate bed frame.

"Father sent word of our new guests. He plans to hold a feast in celebration." He exclaimed, giving Serra a weary glance. "Perhaps he's truly gone insane this time?"

"I was beginning to think I was the only sensible one left in this place. Father seems all too eager to allow this human free-reign of the castle, and have you heard about his son?"

Serra wanted him to know about the mixed, not necessarily her defeat. If what appeared to be an eight or nine year old child could pose such a threat, gods know how deadly an adult mixed would be. Part of the reason she challenged him was to see how strong someone like him was, at that point just being an over-trained human pup. The other part of her cause was that she wanted to experience what her brother dealt with on a daily basis. There are no humans in the castle, and the only willing human combatant would be miles away. I suppose they could be used as training dummies. They'd have to prove useful somehow

The wolf smiled, knowing her secret, "Yeah. I heard he showed you the hard way that he was a mixed. I'd be grateful you didn't learn the truth from a fireball directed at your face."

Serra scowled, staring at the wall above her brother, "The skill was even, Aiden! He only won because he caught me off guard. How was I supposed to know he was a mixed?"

Aiden sighed, wishing he could return to the state of playful ignorance that Serra was in, his words were serious but not didactic. "That's hardly an excuse! Do you think you'll have time to ask your enemy whether they carried tainted blood or not? Prepare for everything, disregard nothing."

Her scowl disintegrated, replaced by sorrow ablaze on her face. She knew he was right, but the idea of accepting her defeat at the hands of a mixed child was possibly the most difficult thing she had ever encountered. She was of noble blood, a knight in training. She had to defend the kingdom one day, and with all the confidence she believed she could carry, she was outmatched. The other knights, while not open about it, would constantly snicker and look upon Serra as a princess who couldn't keep up with the rest of them.

After a while, Aiden changed the subject, noticing her dismay. "So forget about that, how has the castle been since my departure? Have the sermons remained as sleep-inducing?"

Returning her eyes back on his, she answered, "I've actually taken quite a liking to them as of late. I began to find the stories interesting after giving them a chance."

"I'm glad. In truth, I'm a little jealous. When I was your age, all I wanted to do was snore my way through them. Sometimes, I would find myself drifting no matter how hard I tried to remain awake. Father never noticed, and mother would stay behind to care for you, so I would never get caught. Speaking of which, how is mother?"

Serra scoffed, "Probably praying in the cathedral, like always."

Aiden gave a sad smile. He rose from his seat, his feet howling in dismay. Serra watched him as he approached the door, slightly confused.

"What say we see her? Seeing us together will bring her thoughts at ease, possibly answer some of the prayers she's been speaking." He spoke softly.

Serra disliked the idea, but agreed anyway. If she let her brother leave again, who knows when he'd be back? After the first month of his deployment, she promised the gods that she'd take any opportunity she could to be with him so long as he returned. That was two years ago, and while not as adamant as she used to be in keeping up with her promise, she still enjoyed any time she spent with her brother. With haste, she changed into a cleaner outfit, something befitting a noble and not a warrior.

She followed him down the stairs and away from the East wing of the castle, through the front gates and outside into the world of luscious green and sturdy brown. Beside the castle was a grand cathedral, home to the head clerics and priests who spoke sermons and argued over how donations would be used across the range of the church's influence. Inside the cathedral, stain-glass windows depicted each of the three Deux. There was glass displaying the glorious Akiel, brandishing his blade. There was Lyria, a wolf like Akiel, shown as a mother to all beings and a symbol of love and kindness. Neera did not have her own window, her draconic image being displayed as Akiel rose above her, his justice slaying her once and for all.

The royal siblings found their mother kneeling before the altar that was alit with candles. Her personal escorts were by her side. Two steel-minded yet soft-hearted warriors who were handpicked by the king to protect the Queen would keep a certain distance away from her, so that she may pray in seclusion. The guards bowed as the siblings grew closer. They remained silent, kneeling beside her and listened as she whispered her prayers. When she finished, she allowed herself to take notice of her children, a smile reappearing after so long, and pulling them close for an embrace. Uncomfortable with the event, Serra quickly wringed herself free, straightening her clothing and folding her hands behind her back with a graceful demeanor. Barely noticing Serra's escape, Queen Amelia stared up at her son, who stood a good head above her.

"When did you return? Why wasn't I informed?" She asked, although she was fairly certain her foolishness was the cause of being unknowledgeable over her son's return. Amelia was a forgetful woman, incapable of tackling more than one task at a time. She was most likely informed that Aiden would be arriving today, but her thoughts were heavily focused on praying today for his safe return.

"This morning, although the reception was not grand. My company is resting in the barracks, and only I entered the castle. Father discussed the feast in honor of our return and for the arrival of our new guests. Have you met with them, Mother? Serra's already had the pleasure."

He shot her a grin, which was returned with a glance sharper and more ferocious than a thousand knives. Out of everyone in the castle, Amelia was the least likely to know about the events that plagued the courtyard, even less so than the people of the town that the castle overlooked.

Amelia shook her head, disinterested in the human invasion. She was not a war enthusiast, avoiding each conference that she could and hid in the cathedral whenever Alex's war council would meet. Aiden began to recount the story of the courtyard, keeping each detail from slipping away. Serra ignored this and turned her attention towards her own reflection in one of the stain-glass windows. Fixated on escaping the current reality she was in, her thoughts merged with the godly glass above and created a spectacle of heroics that she often used to vanish from her daily activities. Images of valor and justice were ingrained in her heart, just as they were in the glass. Images that nested into her heart's core and grew, taking over slowly and painlessly until whatever remained was gone, leaving no sign of what had been in her heart before. The faces depicted on these images would forever be contained in blissful harmony, more familiar to Serra than the face of her own mother, and ones that would reveal themselves in Serra's darkest moments. When demons haunted her sleep, they were there to ease her fears. She dedicated herself to fighting in their honor, training daily to protect their image while praying every night to respect her beloved guardians. She even prayed to Neera, an uncommon factor among most in the faith, believing that there was some shred of kindness that was hidden deep within Neera's villainous being. They were her other family. If she prayed for her brother or father's safety, her prayers were answered.

As for praying for her mother, Serra would "forget".

Remembering the tale of the Deux was like breathing to Serra, as it was to many other of the faith. Lyria and Neera were fair maidens from a far away land, possibly sisters in some perversions of the story. In every version told to a follower of the faith, Lyria was a Terran. Many say that Neera was as well, but the truth would make little difference. Some like to believe that she was a human, as to inspire anti-human sentiments. Lyria and Neera's home was on the verge of destruction, a great scaled beast purging the land with terrible plagues. The beast was the being that brought magic into this world. The two maidens were captured by the beast, brought to its horrific lair where they were held prisoner. With the land in shambles, and when all hope seemed lost, that's when Akiel came.

Brandishing a gallant blade of crimson and mastering the beast's own magic, Akiel hurried to the beast's lair to vanquish the demon. He fought a terrific battle, slaying the dragon after sustaining injuries himself. When he ventured deeper into the lair, he found Lyria tied to a great boulder. Lyria screamed after Neera, who was nowhere to be seen. After freeing her from her bindings, Akiel escorted Lyria from the cave, bringing her back to the newly freed world. The two wed, and a new era was born in this faraway land.

Throughout their years, the two enjoyed their lives together in peace, siring a few sons and daughters who would lead the kingdom in the coming years. These sons would begin the family that continued to this day, a distant family that Serra was a part of. However, the peace was short-lived.

One day, when the sky was black and light had vanished from the world, Akiel had received word of the death of one of his sons. His shock was heightened by the creature that had killed him. A reflection of the beast he had slain in his youth, the being that murdered his beloved son was none other than the same dragon that had brought ruin to the land. However, this being took a new form. Instead of the beast that he had fought so long ago, this creature was both woman and dragon. Covered in blood-red scales and wings darker than night, this mistake of nature was set on finishing the task its relative had began years ago. After the murder, the creature spoke to the remaining men, demanding they bring a message to Lyria.

I'm back, sweet Lyria. Neera has been reborn.

After hearing this message, Akiel set out to slay Neera. After a confrontation, Akiel could not defeat this new foe, no matter how great his talent with magic was. Returning home from his defeat, he confided in his family about his worries, fearing he would not be able to defeat this new threat. When everyone looked at their hero with belief, knowing that he could defeat any monster before him, Akiel's fear was eliminated. He gathered his strength, a new found power fueling his step. Another great battle occurred, and due to his age, Akiel had not survived the battle. Using up the last of his strength, he vanquished the ill-fated maiden by transforming his body into a great magical force. He had once again brought peace. With nightmares of Neera haunting her, and the death of her beloved tearing her soul apart, Lyria ended her life. The old gods took pity on their souls and granted them eternal life in sleep. As for Neera, some say that she was never truly defeated, and is also sleeping somewhere, preparing for the day when she will wake up and seek her revenge on the world. The name Deux was birthed from an old Terran term, meaning Fate's Victims.

As for how Neera became this monstrosity, there is some speculation. Some believe that she fell in love with the dragon, becoming its lover and taking on this new form to be with the creature. This act is what earned her title of Sinner to most, and is what inspired the sacrilege that was a human and Terran conceiving a child. As for their divinity, many believe that because of Akiel being the first Terran to use magic, he had become something far greater than a normal person. He shared this gift with the rest of his people. Lyria is remembered for her sacrifice, and Neera is to remind us what may become of those who follow a path of evil.

This story was the first thing Serra was taught, walking came next.

After climbing up to the epics of heroes and falling back down to the rocky earth below, Serra returned her gaze to the people of reality rather than fable. Her mother's aqua eyes shimmered at the return of her child. After Aiden's departure, her expression never shifted. She was stone-faced, eyes stark and face stiff whenever Serra saw her. In truth, Serra rarely saw her mother happy outside the cathedral.

Aiden was never this way. Being the only son to the king, his responsibilities grew as he did. Serra had read stories of charming princes who succumbed to the darkness of royalty, becoming cold-hearted and melancholy. Aiden overcame that standard, never allowing the weight of the role to ruin his smile. Even the day he was deployed, he kept his face high where Serra and her mother's faces were lower than they ever had been before. The day before that, Aiden spent the day with Serra, doing whatever she wished to do. They had snuck out of the castle and crept the city's streets, freely exploring the inner workings of the world they rarely visited. When they returned, Aiden let Serra see the sword their father had given Aiden when he reached his sixteenth year: Rend.

Rend is the sword of royal blood, a blade of unique length and form. Each king wielded the weapon until they felt their heir had more right to the sword than they did. As the pride of Terran leaders of the past was infamously large, the sword would be passed on when the king died. Alexander was the first king to relinquish his right to the blade of his own free will. Giving no reason, Alex presented the blade to his son, who was dumbfounded but appreciative. When asked by his council as to why he gave Aiden the blade, he simply replied that he felt his son had earned the right to wield it. Each child needed to train using a weapon like Rend, in the case that the heir would fall and the blade would be passed on. Each ruler must wield Rend, an act that symbolized the times of old heroics in an era of strife. Rend was Akiel's blade, the very one used to slay both the dragon and Neera.

Serra was able to hold the weapon when she was given the chance to hold it, despite the weight pushing her hands down to the ground. The blade felt good in her hands, a slight tone of envy began to form, but was quickly dealt with. Aiden was the better fighter, and the rightful heir. The red blade glinted ablaze, fear-inducing and wild while the hilt was calm, blue, and tamable.

Serra's thoughts of Rend blinded her to the hand on her shoulder. When she regained her focus, she stared up into Aiden's face. He gave her a stern smile. Their mother had vanished, leaving to prepare herself for the night's meal. Serra let her eyes fall on Rend, crushing the new vessel of envy that began to form.

"We should return to the castle as well. I'm sure the servants need help setting the dining hall, maybe you should go ask? Perhaps I'll head to the kitchen and see if the cooks will let me try my hand again after all this time."

Serra nodded. While royalty, Alexander's children were always busy. When necessary, they would help the servants with what they could. Aiden helped the chef's in the kitchen, finding a secret passion for the art of cooking. When he was first starting out at a young age, he would make the king and queen eat whatever he made, despite the unpleasant smell and appearance his early creations carried. He learned fast though, and now his talents were equal to that of the head chef's. The kitchen staff amiably bestowed Aiden the title of "The Ladle King". Embracing his nickname, he declared that he'd end the war by making a great feast for peace. In truth, his departure was the most difficult for the kitchen staff.

Serra's talents weren't as grand. She could stitch well enough, and could cool down a room, but any wind mage could do that. The one trait she cherished was her gift of song. Her voice was the one thing she shared with her mother. Sermons were rife with hymns, and their voices were the strongest. When Serra was around the age of five, the times she remembered her mother smiling outside of the church was when she heard her voice. Serra recounted the times when she truly felt a connection with her mother, and song was in each time one way or another. Though she wouldn't admit this fact openly, Serra loved that she had her mother's voice. Without that gift, she feared that there would be nothing between the two.

Zack

The cramped feeling of a dozen wolves staring him down with venomous, bloodied eyes was nothing compared to the awkward, haunting feeling he had when the nobles of the castle eyed him with curiosity and intrigue. He was the new pet, ready to be dissected and prodded until everything that lied beneath was spread, revealing all the evils to the world and filling a wonderful pond of taboo.

The dining hall featured a grand oak table with artistic grooves and crosses. Night hadn't settled in yet, shown by the light that casted its way into the room. The king sat at the end of the table, his queen beside him, replacing the dress she had worn in the cathedral with a new, silk one that matched her blue eyes. Alex was silent, stout-faced and steadfast. His advisors begrudgingly agreed with the plan of accepting Luther's offer, but he knew they would need further convincing. Many believed this to be an extravagant ploy to undermine the nation's forces. Tonight, they would evaluate the humans and determine their worth over the risk. Many would know of Zack's blood after the events in the courtyard, and while some may be willing to see him as just a child, some may want to throw him off the castle walls. Luther had warned Zack of the people's likely reaction, telling him that the truth would reveal itself eventually, but to not fear. As for why Luther encouraged the duel that revealed the truth, Zack had no answer.

Zack and his father were close to the king, only two seats separating the king and Zack. The seats were meant for Alex's children, who were late preparing for the feast. Zack's thoughts shifted towards the duel, thinking of his opponent. Perhaps I shouldn't have fought her. I'd forgotten she was the king's daughter. Gods, they'll probably try to hang me for assaulting her! He turned his attention to the window nearest to him, staring out to the beautiful landscape before him that calmed his thoughts. No, killing mixed brings bad omens. At least, that's what I remember reading.

To Zack's right was his father; to his left would either be the heir to the throne, Aiden, if he remembered correctly, or the warrior princess Serra. He hoped it would be the former, wishing to avoid the queer situation of sitting next to the girl who probably wanted his head. Luther was chatting with a noble across from the two. He was a plump fellow with glasses covering old, worn out eyes and a wise smile. Luther's charm seemed to be working, as it always had with humans. Zack remained silent, staring at the empty plate in front of him. The meal hadn't been served yet, as some guests still needed to arrive. The table was set for thirty, but only a dozen or so had already arrived. Every so often, Zack would feel a pair of eyes watching him from somewhere along the table. Eventually, the room filled with, each wolf taking their place. Aiden and Serra arrived together, him donning an elegant yet homely tunic while Serra was stuffed into a dress. Alexander signaled for Aiden to take the seat closest to him, leaving only the empty seat next to Zack.

The two ignored each other. She filled the seat and turned so that if the mixed wanted to speak with her, he would be speaking with the back of her head covered in wavy brown hair. This wasn't an issue, as Zack didn't really wish to speak with her, or really anyone here. Every glare was another reminder that he was in a place he didn't wish to be. He stared up at his father, wondering for what purpose he forced Zack into a new home of strangers. Why couldn't his father have done as he always had? Why couldn't he have just taken him and his mother somewhere distant? He always left, off to fight some battle or to flirt with royalty while Zack's mother was left to raise him. Perhaps his father was a stranger as well, one that only saw him as a necessity. His father did teach him many things, knowledge he was grateful for, but rarely did he ever find himself enjoying the time spent with him. His father wouldn't return, Luther the strategist, Luther the battle-master would return.

Still, his mother taught Zack to always attempt to make a situation better. If the chance arose, he would apologize to the stalwart princess. Getting the king's good graces would prove beneficial in the long run, and the less reason the wolves had to hate him the better. When everyone was seated, Alex made his speech, discussing the future opportunities now that they had such a valuable mind on their side. He thanked Luther, who made a speech of his own, his distained smile never changing. His smile left everything to the imagination.

The food was brought out in sections. To begin, a thick stew was served, one that murmured and growled with heat and air. The stew was filled with vegetables and an unidentifiable meat that Zack dared not to inquire about. When a small serving girl poured stew into the humans' bowls, Zack attempted a genuine show of appreciation, but the girl quickly scurried away in a panic. Serra noticed this event, hiding a chuckle and dropping further acknowledgement. Zack shrugged it off, remembering a statement Luther had made on the boat here. "You'll be the scariest nine year old they've ever met. Take pride in that!"

Pride was a hard commodity to come by, especially when the stew's strength crippled any hardened resolve Zack mustered in the face of all these people. The stew was ruined by some spice added that eliminated any other taste. Knowing his manners, Zack tried all he could to stomach some of the meal, but his nose began to shrivel and his tongue cringed. Even Luther was hard-pressed to retain his joyful façade in the face of this gruesome foe. The Great Luther Krisban, Zack imagined his father thinking, smile sullied by a stew.

_ _ The other guests didn't seem to mind. Zack began to consider that all terran had horrible taste in food. While the other guests enjoyed themselves in discussing the events occurring around the world, Zack remained quiet, feeling miserable with nearly everything until he heard a voice address him directly.

"My apologies for the stew, so much time has passed since I've last had the amount of ingredients I did tonight. I fear I may have overdone it."

The prince spoke in a calm, kind voice. Silent so that only those in a few feet away could hear him speak to Zack. Possibly giving Zack the kindest look he received the entire day, Aiden looked directly on him without a trace of animosity.

"I don't mean to be rude, Your Highness..." Zack searched his brain for the correct etiquette when speaking to terran royalty.

Aiden gave a hearty laugh, "How could I accuse you of being rude when I can barely stomach my own meal? Everyone else is too cowardly to tell me the truth."

Zack spared a glance towards Aiden's bowl. His statement was true. The bowl was full, nearly untouched.

"My father informed me of your father's arrival, but he failed to mention that he had a son...unless I'm mistaken and you're another kind of relative or perhaps an apprentice? Oh! Refer to me as Aiden, if you please. One of the few aspects of humility we terran carry is that we refuse to use overbearing titles."

"Son," Zack responded, "Last time I checked at least..."

Aiden smiled, "That would be rather awkward if you weren't," He stole a glance ahead quickly, seemingly catching himself from saying something unfavorable. There was a silence, granting Aiden time to consider his next words. "Please stop me if I cross a boundary, but I've heard rumors that you are..."

He paused again, leaving his statement unfinished. Zack's eyes kept on his for a moment before fluttering around the room, scraping for an appropriate response to the somewhat personal question. Whenever the rare occurrence in which he found himself asked this question, he would run away, afraid of being caught. Running away was not an option at this moment, and the whole castle must have known by now, but should he answer with pride? Or perhaps he should answer apologetically. Just as Aiden was about to intervene, saving Zack from his impolite question, Zack returned his glance to him, his answer was found.

"Yes, I'm mixed. My mother is back in Lotherin. She was unable to make the trip over her due to..." He stopped, convincing himself of what he was saying, "Sudden illness. She is terran, with an affinity for fire."

Aiden nodded slowly, taking in the air. "Serra told me about what happened in the courtyard, but she tends to exaggerate. I just want you to know that I have no ill-opinions of mixed, as surprising as that may seem. Many of my friends in the company are mixed. I know the others will ease to the fact, just be patient with them," He smiled earnestly, "And if you need anything, come find me."

Zack thanked Aiden, "I appreciate your kind words, Aiden, but may I ask something?"

Aiden tilted his head, letting his hair fall to one side. "Go ahead.."

"You've been the only person around here who didn't stare at me like some monster, even before people knew I was mixed. I just don't understand why. I mean, I'm grateful, but I've done nothing to earn your kindness. If anything, you should resent me for nearly burning your sister."

Pausing for a moment, Aiden's eyes looked toward the ceiling, his expression convulsing into a mix of wisdom and despair. "A world where kindness to others needs to be earned would be a pretty miserable one, no?" Another pause. Aiden continued, "As I said before, some of my closest friends were mixed, and yet they fought for the same cause. Blood doesn't matter, that's what you learn out there. But, ah, please refrain from telling my father about my friends. They would have me placed in another company."

Before Zack could respond, the next course was being served. Aiden's gleeful appearance returned the maturity near dissolving as he found an exit to this serious conversation. He wished to keep speaking to Zack, but the subject had become too heavy for his liking.

"Hopefully this will fare better than the stew." He gave Zack another brilliant smile, and then turned to prepare for his next creation. The main course was a variety of smoked meats, steamed vegetables, and fresh bread. The appearance was certainly more appealing, and Zack would find that Aiden was right about the main course. The taste was still a bit too strong, but edible. Sometime during the meal, Zack could feel a pair of eyes on him. He peered up, looking around to find the culprit. It wasn't until he risked a glance towards the king did he find the pair of eyes. Fearing he had done something to offend, he stopped eating and stared straight ahead, folding his hands on his lap. The king spoke in a hushed voice, so that only those at the same end of the table could hear.

"Tell me, young Zack, what do you think of the castle?" The king spoke politely, placing his head against his hand that leaned on the arm of the chair. The chair he sat in was similar to his throne.

Zack hesitated. He had only really been in one part of the castle, and no doubt the king had heard of what happened in the courtyard. His choices were to lie, not answer, or possibly bring up bad news. Conflicted, he just spoke what was the truth. "The courtyard is beautiful..."

The king's grey eyes met Zack's, "There are plans for a new garden near the fountain that I've been meaning to follow through with. Where do you think it would best fit?"

His eyes were kind, while his queen's were malicious. She stared at Zack coldly and unwavering. She had barely laid a hand on her plate, letting the stew curl and fruits rot. She was disinterested in the affair, shifting her gaze to and from the window throughout the night, wishing to be back in the cathedral where she belonged. She ceased her glares and simply stared ahead, forcing a façade befitting a queen. Alex's discussion veered towards Aiden when Zack couldn't return with an answer, asking about his company and how he felt about the war. The queen returned to the window. Serra remained silent, her eyes wandering the table and staring at the variety of people laughing and yelling. Zack looked at his father, who was impressing the guests with a dinner trick. His thoughts returned to the courtyard, and what Aiden had told him. He thought it may be best to make peace.

"Sorry about what happened earlier." He spoke quickly, almost dismissively. Slightly aghast, Serra looked at him for a brief moment. She didn't respond, only returned to her previous state.

"I should have said something about my magic before we dueled. I was afraid of revealing myself, but it seems that meant nothing in the end."

If Zack could find a way to make his new home more appealing, he would at least try. He hated unnecessary dramatic drivel. If apologizing would ease some of the tension, he should do so. She really should be ready for anything, though, He thought.

"Forget about it," She spoke just as fast, "The defeat may taste bitter but I should have prepared for such an event." While the conversation ended as fast as it had begun, she did appear pleased with the apology, her cold demeanor a little less oppressive. To his surprise, she actually began another conversation with him a little while after.

"What is Lotherin like?" She was asking about the human country. She had heard stories, but never spoke with anyone who had been there.

"Well, I didn't see much of it. I grew up in a remote town, outside of the cities. I did see one though, as we were leaving port. The buildings were really tall, but foggy and some had smoke pouring out of them. My home town is pretty much just like this." Zack felt the pit in his stomach forming again. Speaking with people had eased the homesickness, but the pain was still there.

"Is it true that the trip here takes at least a month?" She began to look interested.

Zack nodded, "Dreadfully true. I was running out of things to do in no time at all."

"I couldn't imagine," She looked up, as if she was thinking of what she would do should she have to travel for such a long time. "What did you do with all that time?"

"Well," He paused, remembering the long month at sea. "My father taught me things, like how to speak with royalty and how to use fire magic in a suppressed area and--"

"Wait, why would he teach you that?" Her eyes flared and caution took over.

Zack stared at her with a blank expression on his face. "In the event that soldiers storm the castle and I'm far from a weapon, or should a fire start in the kitchen and needs to be extinguished?" He didn't understand her concern. Every fire mage learns early on how to control their flames. Zack learned soon after the incident with the boy from the village. Even then, why would he burn down the only safe place he had now? It made no sense.

"It's just a bit worrying, is all. Fire magic is frightening, especially to a wind mage like me." She crossed her arms and sat back in her chair.

Zack nodded, "Well, if it's any reassurance, I haven't burned anything down by accident in a very long time."

The stone that enamored her face was beginning to wear away. "Glad to hear it. As the events in the yard, wind is pretty worthless against fire."

Zack shook his head, "Fire is strong against wind, but there are ways to defeat it." Everything has purpose, but also a fatal flaw. That's how the world works.

"Really? Then what's the best way to fight a fire mage?" Her intrigue was lacking innocence, a feature Zack noticed. She was hunting for a way to beat him, specifically. He looked at her emotionlessly, in order to prevent any other weaknesses from revealing themselves.

"Water works well, but there is one easy way to beat a fire mage," Zack said, turning his attention to the glass of water before him. "Fire is at its strongest when agitated. Wind is always at its strongest, but pales in comparison to the full extent of the other two. Water is best when the user is calm. So, the way to weaken a fire mage is to...."

He paused, waiting for her response. When she didn't finish his sentence, he continued, "...fight them when they're least agitated. The short answer is to not get them angry in the first place, and to do that..."

"...Is to not fight them." They had spoken in unison.

"Seems a bit arrogant, don't you think?"

Zack tilted his head and shrugged, "It's the truth. Of course, you could suppress them with a drug or threaten them with something, but these are two tasks not easily accomplished. I'm surprised the barriers around the castle are as strong as they are."

Serra shook her head, "Single barrier. The castle is surrounded by one strong barrier that the head doctor set up. His water charms are the strongest I've ever seen. I'm still amazed that you were able to cast in the courtyard. There hasn't been a fire here in forever."

Surprise took over Zack's face, thinking back to what his father had said. His father had taught him how to cast within a small barrier, but not something as strong as what she claimed. "That is...strange. When my father was teaching me to overcome a barrier, the small ones he had someone cast felt exactly like this one. I had thought there were multiple, smaller barriers."

Silence returned to the conversation. Festivities were proceeding towards their finale; each guest drunken with either wine or joy, the only attendant with a hint of sobriety was the queen, who had just excused herself to her room. Luther hadn't touched a droplet either, with the exception of clear water that he would drink meticulously. Occasionally, he would shift the food about his plate, giving off the appearance that he was eating. He simply stared ahead, finished with the bewitching of the other guests. Perhaps this was due to the drunken stupor most were in, but the council he had tried to convince over the course of the feast had seemed pleased with him.

"Can I ask you something?" Serra leaned in when she spoke, hoping her words weren't caught in someone else's ear.

Zack gestured for her to ask, Serra pausing a moment to collect her thoughts.

"Do you think you'll start training to be a knight?"

Zack stared at her cock-eyed for a moment, desperately searching each crevice of her expression to find the hidden truth to her words. "I'm not really sure what I'm doing. I'm only here because my father forced me to go with him," He scanned the room, "Besides, I doubt they'd even allow it."

Serra shook her head, "The knight-commander is a kind man, just a bit cautious around humans, but he's willing to train anyone with the ambition to learn. The other knights however..."

Another of the dreadful pauses returned, Zack broke it, "And who would I practice with? I'm not going to learn anything fighting the same people I did earlier, they barely could hold a weapon."

"I would."

"I appreciate the offer, but why?"

She leaned back into her chair, "I've sparred with everyone else all too many times, and while some have shown some skill, most are too fearful to even strike against me. We're in the same position, when you consider it. Fighting the same people, most who wouldn't really fight me, isn't going to help my skill. You would be the strongest one there. Your style is strange as well, completely the opposite of terran methods. You appear to think greatly before any strike, while we emphasize instinct and emotion. Are all human fighters like that?" As she spoke, her eyes shifted to Aiden, who had almost fallen asleep in his seat, his mind and stomach full of ale.

Zack couldn't help but smile, remembering the multiple accounts of when his father would rant about human generals who preached 'Passion over intellect'. An adept mind is stronger than any steel.

"No, many are just as you are. My father says that far too many soldiers fall victim to a sense of battle fury, a wonderful thing for a fire mage, but easy mistakes are made that lead to unnecessary deaths, strong fire or no."

"We've always been taught that instinct will inevitably take over, so you might as well let it." Serra sighed, "And yet you outmatched every one of the knights..."

The end of the feast was approaching. Some guests requesting permission to leave, these requests granted by their king. Out of all the guests remaining, Luther and Alexander were the only adults not light-headed from the evening's events. Luther's mission for the night seemed accomplished, everyone approving of him except the stalwart queen who had retired from the night without so much as speaking to the two humans. When the servants began clearing the table, Aiden rose from his possible slumber and gestured towards Serra, giving a tired but joyous smile. He asked her to help him with the cleanup, which she agreed too. Luther instructed Zack to help as well, and so he followed the royal siblings. The table was cleaned hastily, plates being shuffled into the kitchen and the candlelight being extinguished. Tiny fires seemed to be unaffected by the great barrier over the castle.

Zack's help was an oddity to the servants, some shying away from him when he approached while others actually thanked him. Many of them were older, and the ones who veered away from the kitchen whenever he was heading towards the kitchen doors were the youngest. Some had even graced him with a smile, a small sign of progress, despite how unnatural the occurrence was. When the room was squared away, Zack returned to his father's side, who instructed him again to head back to his room for the night. Looking around before departing, making sure it was orthodox to leave, he felt his shoulder being tapped.

"My name is Serra, by the way," The wolf had appeared behind him, wiping her hands with a kitchen cloth, perhaps returning from washing dishes. "I mean, I'm sure your father informed you of that already, but I felt an introduction was necessary."

"Zack," He responded, "And I'll think about what we talked about. Again, I don't really know why I'm here, but if my father permits it, I'll see how it goes."

She smiled and nodded. Her cold façade had eroded away, a complete opposite from how she had been at the beginning of the night. The stone of her face wouldn't be completely diminished, however, as it were impossible in such a short time. An iron branch is rarely smelted in a night.