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Chapter Twenty-Three: Tea With The Empress
🕑 Added 2025-05-12 19:11:06 +0000 UTCGoogle Docs: For Suggestions
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Amelia blocked the three-strike combination with ease. Now that she knew how to tense the muscles in the right places to avoid her guard collapsing, defending against the attacks that came in a half-second was becoming satisfyingly easy.
Another dozen swings came at her from the grandmaster. At first, it was a challenge, but then Amelia understood it was only a matter of figuring out how to move her body in a way that could keep up with her perception. She could see every attack and follow the sword's path through the air. Seeing, however, was very different from being able to do something about it.
A swing from an unfamiliar direction came at the end of the combination, and the strike broke through her improvised deflection before stopping at the centre of her chest.
“That was mune-tsuki, the chest thrust,” the grandmaster instructed. “Here, this is how you deflect it.” Amelia was shown in ever-increasing detail how to defend against a thrust. She gave it her utmost attention, not wanting to disappoint the old man!
Something about the grandpa made her want to do her best!
Besides, he was a little intimidating, wasn’t he? Amelia’s instincts reassured her that the defences of her layered wards would hold against anything he could throw at her, but that didn’t stop the sheer presence of the demon keeping her on edge. Every one of his movements felt, at a moment's notice, like it could snap into a deadly attack. Furthermore, having a sword swung at her face faster than her body could react often triggered a flinching reaction that she was trying her best to overcome.
Beyond that, Amelia had to admit the grandmaster was an exceptional sensei, far more skilled at tutoring than Serena was. Serena was great at identifying mistakes and slowly ironing them out, but this old demon was adjusting things at just the right time to prevent those mistakes from ever manifesting in the first place. Every instruction he gave came with decades of experience that Serena had yet to accrue.
They began sparring again, which really just consisted of Amelia defending against an assault with no opportunity to counter-attack. She could perceive what she thought were openings, but she had no idea how to manoeuvre her body in such a way to make use of them. This time, the attacks against her included the occasional thrust and after an unknown amount of time, Amelia started to feel confident in defending against them even as her body grew tired and sweat dripped down her face.
Serena had been right. The sword she held no longer felt very light.
Again, another attack was thrown in that Amelia couldn’t defend against. Sometimes it was a new strike or a variation of an existing strike that somehow slipped by her guard. With each addition, they would stop sparring and the grandmaster would carefully explain how she should adjust to the new threat. Only after he was satisfied that she understood his explanation would they continue.
Just as her confidence grew and she felt she was starting to piece things together, the grandmaster cloaked his body and weapon in the telltale red hue of the first level of aura. The speed and aggression suddenly increased drastically, and Amelia was only barely defending against each strike. Her blocks, which she felt had become controlled and firm, were now hastily formed one after another, only just fending off one strike before the next one came.
Her hands ached, and her shoulders felt weak. It wasn’t long before her guard collapsed, and the wooden blade was once again at her throat.
“Ha… Ha…” Amelia breathed heavily. For someone untrained, relying on base stats and cloaked wards, her body had held out for a long time, but it could do no more. Without healing herself or Speaking, her strength was all but spent until she rested.
“That’s enough for today. Well done, Speaker Thornheart.” The grandmaster gave a neat bow, and Amelia reciprocated with her own, which was far more clumsy than she would have liked.
“Ah… T-thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me…” Amelia flopped onto the wooden floor. “I’m just going to have a little nap here…” She heard a familiar click of Serena’s tongue and could imagine the shaking head of disapproval, but she didn’t care. The blood pounded in her ears, and she tasted iron in her mouth.
She would ask Serena to give her a nice, long massage later.
“What do you think, Grandmaster?” Amelia heard Serena ask.
“Instructing Speakers is fundamentally different,” the grandmaster replied. “Their constitution, which they gain from just communing with the gods, allows them to train at a higher intensity for longer. This is the first time I’ve trained a Speaker mage…” He trailed off, and Amelia could sense the three of them had turned their heads in unison to look at her sprawled out on the floor. Well, let them look! She was busy resting!
“I hope she is an anomaly, for if all human mages are capable of what she just went through, then I dread to think what their dedicated swordsmen can do.”
“Is she talented?” Aiden asked.
“Maybe. The concentration is excellent, although her etiquette needs some work…”
“Working on that,” grumbled Serena.
“I train here every day. I start an hour before lunch. While the three of you are in Kenhoro, you should join me when you can. I’ll notify the front gate not to challenge any of you in the future.”
“It’s a generous offer,” Serena said. “I hope we’re not imposing.”
“Not at all!” the grandmaster said cheerfully. “I myself have some questions regarding the sword I have struggled to answer for many years. Perhaps tutoring two talents like yourselves will give me the insight I’ve been looking for!”
“Thank you, Grandmaster.”
The trio chatted about various topics while Amelia had a power nap. In addition to her monstrous aether regeneration, she also had significant health regeneration that she suspected greatly improved her recovery from exercise and other stresses on her body.
After a few minutes, she felt okay again and joined the group.
With the grandmaster’s permission, he allowed both her and Serena to take a practice weapon so Amelia could refine what she was taught in her own time. It was a shame; she had been hoping to make her own stone sword back at the inn, but she supposed this was a better solution than repurposing some of the inn’s foundations. The grandmaster had been intrigued by Serena’s weapon, which was made of marble, so they recounted the events of the Highguard affair to him.
“I only know Lord Yulan by name. I didn’t know he was a friend of House Halen,” said the grandmaster while standing up. “Still, it gladdens me to hear he has recovered from his affliction, thanks to Speaker Thornheart’s magical healing.”
“Mmm, mmm!” Amelia said, nodding. “Would you like me to heal you? Serena said it healed her shoulder, which had been troubling her for years!”
“Oh? You would offer such a service to an old pair of horns?”
“Of course! Can’t have you keeling over on us mid-lesson, can we, grandpa?” She flashed a cheeky grin. The grandmaster was only scary when he was instructing her. Outside of that, he had an almost homely feel to him.
Hopefully, Serena’s father was just as easygoing!
“If you wouldn’t mind…” the grandmaster mumbled politely.
“Sure!” Amelia twisted the aether inside her, forming the spell and spreading golden light with blue hues that flowed into the old demon’s body. She threw in a cleaning spell as an extra, ridding the demon of the small amount of sweat that he’d built up.
The grandmaster bathed in the light in an almost meditative state. He was silent for a long moment before a smile crept up on his face.
“Yes… This might be what I needed... It seems so clear now!” He scrambled up and gave a quick bow to the group. “I apologise, but I must continue my own training. Speaker Thornheart, may the Empress smile upon you for your kindness in sharing this boon. Speaker Halen, Officer Aiden. Your company was a pleasure! Leave this old man and his sword now. I hope I’ll see you three tomorrow.”
“Uh…” Serena started before gathering herself. “Yes, Grandmaster. Thank you for your instruction. Let’s go, you two.” The group of them left the training hall and navigated their way back through the building. Thankfully, Serena seemed to remember the way; otherwise, Amelia was sure she would have gotten lost and stumbled upon some lecture instead!
“He seemed… eager,” Amelia said, thinking about the grandmaster's reaction.
Serena shook her head, keeping her voice low. “You must understand just how much above-average your healing is. When you healed me once, it felt like all the wear and tear of years of war had left me. I felt young again, even though, you know…” Serena coughed politely. “I am young.”
“How old are you, anyway?” Amelia asked. She was twenty-five when she had her soul move into this new body, which she suspected was even younger.
“I…” Serena suddenly looked away, blushing slightly. “Hrmph! Does it matter?”
Aiden leaned into the pair, his face contorted into a serious expression. “That’s the noise a woman makes after they leave their twenties, Speaker Thornheart.” The man tried to dodge Serena’s backhand but failed spectacularly and was soon nursing a swollen forehead.
“Don’t you dare heal him, Amelia,” Serena commanded, her eyes still not meeting hers. “He deserved that.”
“O-okay!”
Serena bid Aiden goodbye, taking a last look to appreciate her handiwork on his forehead before taking Amelia on a walk to the nearby markets. Tsk! Men! Why were they always so tactless? Serena cast a side eye at her girlfriend, who was skipping along, humming to herself. Her age didn’t bother Amelia, did it? She was still young, right!?
Well, it was a question she would probably be too embarrassed ever to ask, so best to let it disappear from thought. Amelia’s smile made her want to smile, and the way the girl’s hand kept touching the wooden practice sword sheathed in her belt reminded her fondly of the enthusiasm with which she had entered the academy.
“Whoa! What’s that!?” Amelia exclaimed, pointing to a towering fountain that took the form of a dozen stone waterbirds. From their long beaks, spouts of water poured into the fountain basin.
“Waterbirds,” Serena said. She joined Amelia at the fountain’s edge, where hundreds of coins could be seen shining on the water’s bottom. “Look, each one is an offering to the kami. Each one a prayer or a wish.” She was sure the authorities must periodically remove the coins as they would eventually fill the fountain.
“Can I have a coin? Please!?” Amelia looked at her, eyes pleading. Serena dug out a small denomination from her purse and watched Amelia flick it into the water.
“What did you wish for?” she asked.
“Secret!” Amelia raised a finger to her lips. “It’s between me and the kami!”
Serena rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she said. “Market’s over here.” Together, they moved to the crowd of haggling and bartering demons. There were significantly more humans around, many even running their own stalls. It seemed any discrimination manifested less here in the outer ring.
Unlike the Central market, this one had far fewer luxury goods and instead was more focused on homeware and food. “Here,” Serena said, purchasing them each a large fruit with a paper straw sticking out. She handed one to Amelia before sipping her own, enjoying the sweet taste.
“What’s this?” Amelia asked, taking a sip. “It’s sugary!”
“Of course it’s sugary; don’t you recognise these?”
“No.” Amelia tilted her head, looking a little too adorable with the straw poking her lips. “Should I?”
“Don’t you have sugar where you come from?” Serena asked, keeping her voice a little quieter, although the noise of the crowd alleviated any real concerns of being overheard.
“Yeah… why?”
“Sugar comes from this, right?” Serena wriggled the fruit in her hand. “The sugarfruit?”
“Um… our sugar came from sugarcane.”
“Sugarcane? What does that look like?”
“Like bamboo, I think. I remember reading about it at one point.”
“What a weird place you come from…” Serena muttered, trying to imagine how sugar could be meaningfully processed from a bamboo-like crop.
“Says the person who lives on a floating continent…” mumbled Amelia as she sipped her sugarfruit. “Tastes nice, though!”
“Moon crystal in the soil can affect the taste. Sugarfruit is grown across the Empire, except the very far north.” Serena took another sip from her straw. “The liquid can be drunk and the insides eaten if you can be bothered to open it up. The outer shell makes good fodder for animals.”
“That’s so cool! Every bit can be used, leaving no waste.”
Serena nodded. “I think Centralis can be more wasteful in their attitudes, but here in the East, it’s an important philosophy to use everything, whether it comes from a crop or an animal.”
“Mmm!” Amelia moaned, finishing her sugarfruit before darting off to a nearby stall. “Oh my! Buy two, please!” Serena couldn’t say no to the pleading eyes and handed the stall owner some coins. As they made their way through the crowd, she saw Amelia grinning wildly at her acquisition.
“I can’t believe you have toffee apples! I used to love eating these during festivals! Here, have one!” Amelia handed her one of the toffee apples, and they both disposed of their sugarfruits in a nearby bin.
“What kind of festivals did you have?” Serena asked.
“Mmm…” Amelia raised a finger to her chin in thought. “We had Halloween, where everyone would dress up as scary monsters and ghosts, and we’d give the children sweets! Oh, and everyone celebrated Christmas every year, where we’d give and receive gifts with our families.”
“Finally, something familiar,” Serena said, “We also celebrate Christmas yearly, both here and in the human territories.”
“You have that Demon Bible, right? Eventually, I’d like to read it and see how it differs from our own. What does your one say?”
“I’m not a religious scholar, but it basically details the story of Christ. How he came down in human form to aid the human race in their original realm and then, thousands of years later, took demon form and did the same to us. The Empress is his spiritual successor.” Serena shrugged. “I’m still new to it, myself.” She’d followed Sangoism most of her life, only switching to the Demon Church a few years back.
“So interesting…” Amelia trailed off, seemingly lost in thought.
They perused the market for a half hour, occasionally trying out foods here and there. Amelia had a sweet tooth and was complaining about feeling sick at the end, prompting Serena to once again call her girlfriend an idiot.
It was a term of affection, really.
Together they took the tramlines back to the docks where Serena found her chief engineer overseeing the repairs. Several dozen workers clambered across the deck, operating steam grinders and overhead cranes. The noise was loud. She hoped Anathor wouldn’t be too annoyed by it all.
“Allston,” she called, approaching the demon.
“Ah, Captain!” he replied before nodding to Amelia. “Miss Thornheart,” he said with respect. “We’re removing the patch job. Always slow work with the grinders, but the extra horns sent by the Greatlord should have us done in three weeks.” The engineer's voice lowered, only just audible over the sound of the tools and shouting workers. “You should have been here this morning, Captain. The Stormlord himself came down to look at the ship.”
“Did he now?” Serena’s eyes narrowed. “Did he try to board?”
“Didn’t have a chance to. Shin Yu came out and told him to piss off!”
“What!?”
“I know, right? We’re all there while the Greatlord is introducing us to his new workers and giving out commands. We’re all nervous, of course. You know what the Greatlords are like to be around…” Allston shook his head. “Then Shin Yu comes out of his office and starts berating the man like he’s… he’s…” The chief engineer waved his hands in frustration. “I don’t know! But he just starts yelling about how the Stormlord’s… you know”–Allston made popping noises and motions with his hand–“energy he was giving off was messing with the dock’s instruments.”
“Moons…” Serena mumbled. “What happened then?”
“Well, by the time Shin Yu started threatening to write a letter to the Overlord, it looked like the Greatlord was going to vaporise him. I was saying my prayers, but Anathor piped up from the ship and somehow calmed everything down.”
“Where’s the dockmaster now?”
Allston shrugged. “Probably still in his office, writing that letter.” He chuckled. “Couldn’t believe it. That crazy guy has one hard set of horns.”
“Tell me about it,” Serena said. “So, three weeks for the repairs. Anything from Thorne regarding a new turret?” They couldn’t just leave the turret pod open to the elements. If they couldn’t find a replacement, they would need to cover it with armour.
“He’s working with one of the men the Greatlord brought with him. Apparently, there’s some stock hidden away for emergency repairs that they’re making available for us. He should have a report on it soon, I think.”
“Alright. Good work, Allston.” She patted the demon on the shoulder. “Make sure to give your men some breaks, alright?”
“Hrmph, alright…”
“I need to talk to Anathor about something. Come on, Amelia.”
“Okay!” Amelia chirped, and the pair of them left the workers and headed deep into the ship. Even after closing the door to their quarters, the sounds of the steam grinders could be heard, their vibrations flowing through the ship's structure.
“Welcome back, Captain,” Anathor said, the moose’s eyes glowing softly.
“Anathor, I’m still having this dream,” Serena began, detailing to Anathor the conversation she had with the grizzled human captain in the foggy dream world. It was hard to tell with the disembodied advisor, but when she described the man from her dreams, she was sure something had changed in Anathor’s behaviour.
“Hmm… I don’t think the ship’s talking directly to you, although I believe it shows you a memory.”
“A memory?”
“Something it witnessed. Very long ago.”
“Something's going on, isn’t it, Anathor?”
“Hmm… remember I told you the ship was fundamentally damaged?”
“Right, which is why we dip into the lumina every now and again.”
“I’m starting to sense… It’s becoming less damaged.”
“What does that mean? What will happen, Anathor?” Serena resisted the urge to click her tongue. Sometimes getting a clear answer out of him was more challenging than getting blood out of stone.
“I… don’t know. I didn’t think this was possible. At least, not yet. I’ll need to think about this matter for a while, Captain. Apologies, but I cannot offer proper counsel just yet. This dream. That man you saw… I think… It’s been so long… No…”
Serena sighed. Anathor’s memories, like most Formless, were fragmented. Sometimes it was difficult to have a conversation with him. At least he was sharp when he needed to be.
“Just… give me answers when you have them. I’ve already got enough on my hands with this one.”
“Hey!” Amelia protested, puffing her cheeks out. “Look what I have to deal with, Anathor! This harassment!”
“Hmm…”
“Let’s go, Amelia.”
“Where are we going?”
“Back to the inn.”
“Oh! Okay!” A twinkle in Amelia’s eyes told Serena exactly what kind of thoughts had just gone through the human’s head. She couldn’t stop herself smiling.
“Goodbye, Anathor.”
“Hmm…”
Serena left him to his thoughts and took her girlfriend back to the inn. As they got closer, inappropriate thoughts kept creeping ever more to the forefront of her mind, and by the time they arrived at the door to the room, they were both so flushed that they only just managed to get inside before throwing themselves at each other.
By most people’s standards, the small office could be considered modest. Its extravagance paled in comparison to the rooms of most Cascadian Lords, although none would dare raise any objections over the simple decor. The wooden floor and furniture were primarily functional, with a bit of flair to give the room some character. On one wall was a map of the Cascadian Empire and. on the other. a woven tapestry depicted old memories long since forgotten by most.
At one end of the room, a sturdy desk stood, upon which a small pile of documents lay, weighted down by a human skull. A half-full teacup delicately held in the hands of a woman with golden hair and blue eyes gave off the subtle scent of mint tea.
Upon her head, two very small horns sat.
She sipped the tea while pondering how to word her reply to the letter from the West. The Overlord in command of that territory had sent a rare correspondence, raising a troubling matter that was another piece in a growing set of problems the Empire faced.
A set of problems she was starting to suspect were linked.
After settling on a wording that she felt communicated her thoughts on the matter appropriately, the young-looking woman scratched her reply onto the paper with a quill before gently inserting it into an envelope and using magic to melt some wax upon it. She pressed a stamp into the wax, leaving an imprint of a single letter that was written in the language of the Words.
E.
Placing it to the side, she lifted the skull and removed the next document that required her attention. It was a letter written in shining red ink on ash-coloured paper. Paper that was almost priceless, for it was sourced from the holy trees that only grew in the higher circles of hell. Looking at its author, she saw it was a message transcribed by her ambassador to the Upper Halls. The poor man had been dragged into a rather uncomfortable meeting with the higher gods and given a dressing down.
She allowed the smallest of sighs as she read the letter’s contents. It was essentially a noise complaint regarding the events that transpired in the Lower Halls a week ago. The language used was aggressive, demanding an explanation. It strongly implied that without one, they could consider the event an act of war against the Seven Hells as it had originated from her territory.
The woman took a few breaths to think. The Helllords had been diplomatic in their wording not to demand it, but reading between the lines, they clearly expected her to cross realms and offer an explanation in person.
Whilst thinking about this, the woman decided the mint tea was wholly unsuitable for the mood.
“Theresa,” she called.
With a crack, the maid snapped into the realm, appearing from thin air beside the woman. It was a skill that would frighten even her Greatlords if they even knew what the ability truly implied.
“Divine One?”
“I–” She was cut off. “Something's approaching. Fast.” A slight frown appeared on her forehead as she identified the anomaly. “Ah. This will be a private conversation. Make yourself scarce, Theresa.”
After a moment of concentration, the maid shifted into another plane of reality, leaving behind the telltale sign of a hurried realmshift: the smell of burnt toast. The woman relaxed, sipping her mint tea while the anomaly swept into her office, ruffling the papers and causing a pleasant breeze.
A second passed, and the atmosphere died down. The hollow eyes of the skull glowed with a familiar crimson hue.
“Hail, Empress Elana of Cascadia! Shard of Infinity! Overlord of Overlords! A–” The skull suddenly cut off its salutations. “Am I being used as a paperweight?” it asked, its gruff voice suddenly taking on a tone of annoyance.
“If I had known you were coming, I would have placed you somewhere more suitable, Anathor,” Elana said. She gave the frustrated skull a small smile and took a slow, deliberate sip of tea. “I wish I could say I enjoy these rare moments when you leave the ship. Unfortunately, you always seem to bring bad news when you do.”
“Hmm…”
“What troubles, then?”
“She is waking up. I am certain of this.”
Elana closed her eyes. A feeling of ancient guilt and a touch of sadness filled her heart. “How? It shouldn’t be happening so soon.”
“The human cast a healing spell. It has seeped into those torn and broken pieces of her and brought them a little closer together. It has also… affected me. I’m remembering things.”
“The human…” Elana murmured, her eyes flicking to the ash-coloured paper on the desk. “Tell me about the human, Anathor.”
“Hmm… I did not notice it until now, but the pair of you look similar.”
“In what way?"
“Blonde hair, blue eyes.” The skull’s red eyes flashed. “Both hiding another form…”
Elana was silent for a moment. “Anything else?”
“She has bonded with the captain.”
“Bonded?”
“Yes. I sense it in them both. A growing infatuation. It will eventually turn into love.”
“Oh?” Elana intoned, sipping the last of the bitter mint tea before swallowing audibly. “How sweet. I’m jealous, truly. I must find time to meet the human and this captain.”
“To what end, Princess Elana?”
Elana raised an eyebrow. She decided against chastising the formless, for his comment had raised an authentic smile upon her lips. For that alone, he could be forgiven.
“Princess?” she asked the skull.
“So many centuries have passed, but you are still that same brazen princess I remember. Charging into the enemy, waving that flaming spear.” The gruff voice softened, and memories she had thought she had forgotten sprang up in her mind. “I remember now. I lectured you for your recklessness. Ha!”
“So long ago…” she murmured.
“So long ago,” echoed Anathor.
“Sometimes I still feel like I’m eighteen, you know? I thought I would grow to despise my long life, but as the centuries tick by…” She turned her head and stared directly into the skull's glowing eyes. “I find myself loving it more every day. How about you, my mentor?”
“Hmm… I haven’t given it much thought… You don’t think much of these things when you don’t have a body.”
“Would you like me to make you one?”
At her offer, the skull was silent for a long time. “Perhaps…” Anathor eventually said, “...perhaps after my duty is done. Then I may request such a thing. If you are willing.”
“Of course,” Elana said, feeling a tinge of empathy at the long-suffering plight her mentor’s duty had caused him. “What will you do if that comes to pass?”
“Hmm… I would go home.”
“You’re a long way from home, Anathor.”
“So very far…”
The two of them fell into a lull of silence and self-reflection. Many memories flashed through Elana’s mind, and she was sure Anathor was having his own period of reflection. Eventually, the skull’s red eyes flashed as Anathor broke the silence.
“Are your shackles still holding firm?”
“...Yes,” Elana whispered.
“Our punishments were deserved.”
“I know.”
“It was a terrible thing we did. A great sin.”
“Yes.”
“A cardinal sin.”
“Damn it, Anathor. Why are you bringing it up now?” She gave the formless a pointed stare. He always knew how to drive a point home. “The human, how powerful do you think she is?” she asked, forcefully changing to a less sombre subject.
“Hmm… as with you, I sense no upper boundary to the powers she can draw.”
“Is she experienced?”
“...No.”
Elana sighed, taking a sip from the cup before remembering too late that no tea remained. Nevertheless, she kept the act up, pretending to drink politely as she organised her thoughts.
“Where do you think she came from?”
“The deepest depths of the Sixth Heaven. The souls there merged into something by chance and created her. Not knowing what to do, the Heavens placed the soul in a vessel and threw her into the mists where she stumbled upon our realm.”
She considered the possibility before mentally filing it away for further consideration later. “If the ship’s waking up, then we have no choice, Anathor. We must find what was lost.”
“How?”
“...I’ll think about it.” She placed the cup back down delicately. “Go now, Anathor. You know how uncomfortable she becomes when you’re not there.”
“...Goodbye, Princess.” The red eyes faded, and the formless began its flight back to the East, leaving only the noise of rustling papers.
“Goodbye, Anathor,” she whispered, losing herself in her thoughts.
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