“Too long did you use the resources of your great guild to aid your foreign lover!” Africanus continued, raising his spear towards her but moving his head to look at everyone else. “Rex Germaniae is part of the empire and your obligations should be solely within our borders!”

The speech continued and Lydia decided to let him have his moment, while she fed the remaining meat to Reika. This happening surprised her, but not too deeply. The dagger Africanus had gifted her had been enough of a sign that some kind of hostility was on its way. His reasoning for the hostilities was the odd part. “Africanus never indicated he was affiliated with those that would demand internal hostility,” she turned to Suel, waiting for him to explain. He had stated his desire to show his intellectual superiority.

“Yes, yes,” the Lord of Pontis squeaked, his red eyes flickering with amusement. “That would be because he isn’t, Lydia. Much like your grandfather when he attacked Austria with the excuse that no woman may be emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, he is merely using a popular sentiment to justify a more pragmatic cause. The more trade from Germany flows out over the Atlantic, the less flows into the Mediterranean. He has personal interests, nothing more, nothing less.”

“Reasonable.” Lydia nodded, just as she put the now empty bowl down. “Konrad, a towel,” she commanded, the leader of her bodyguards handing her something to wipe the meat juices of her hands. She stood up and was immediately surrounded by people loyal to her.

“My queen, there is no need for you to fight,” one of the loyal electors said.

“Your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary. I have been meaning to fight today regardless, albeit for a less serious reason,” Lydia responded patiently, putting a hand on the heft of Strimata. The weapon reacted to the touch with the same excited vibrations it had previously. “All of you should do as usual and let me deal with the problems that are mine. I will request aid if I deem it necessary and not before then.”

The people backed off, while Lydia looked once more to Suel. She still couldn’t figure out what exactly the man hoped to achieve by giving her a chance to curtail her political opponents and, at the same time, advertise Fusion’s creation. “We will talk after this,” the Lord of Pontis said, showing a remarkably toothy smile. It was familiar in ways she didn’t correlate with the corrupt vampire-like man.

“Queen Lydia!” Romulus’ voice bellowed through the silent stadium. “Do you accept this duel for your honour? If so, step onto the elevator and let your voice be heard by the crowd.”

A platform of raw mana manifested beyond the edge of the platform. Lydia swiftly jumped on top and let it carry her down to the proper arena. Once down there, she raised her voice. The enchantments engrained into the walls picked her words up and reinforced them so they could reach the entire colosseum.

“I tire of you selfish aristocrats, demanding where my heart may rest. Never have I, nor will I ever, put the good of my people second to my private indulgences, even if it may tear me apart.” With every word, she got closer to the centre of the arena, where Africanus waited. Finally, she stopped in front of him. Back on the platform she came from, Reika screeched encouragingly. “Since we are both aware that you pay no heed to what I say, let me simply hear your terms for this duel.”

“I demand that, should I defeat you today, Rex Germaniae ceases any preferential treatments of John Newman,” Africanus stated.

Lydia closed her eyes. One arm behind her back, the other raised to pinch the bridge of her nose, she sighed, lightly dropping her upright posture. “If that is your demand, we do not need to have this useless fight. I invite you to look through all of the trade agreements struck between Fusion and Rex Germaniae. You will find that, not only was I not involved in negotiating most of them, they are also universally based on equal benefit.”

“A duel to end your relationship with John Newman, then!” Africanus continued, keeping his zealous tone up considerably well.

“No,” Lydia smote down that suggestion. “I will not be bullied on who I can or cannot love on the basis of ritualistic combat.” She let go off the bridge of her nose and stared at the bald, tanned, Arabic man. Although Lydia wanted to fight here, she would not do so for stupid reasons. “Present me something I would be willing to lose over something as silly as this encounter.”

“I merely wish you gave the Greater Empire the respect it deserved,” Africanus declared.

“Would it be agreeable to you that I, were I to lose, established a council of pro-imperial noblemen that could double-check my decisions?” she suggested, wanting to move this along.

“Yes,” Africanus agreed swiftly. “A council to control your reckless sending of wealth and ideas out of our border.”

‘It appears Suel’s prognosis was correct. How bothersome,’ Lydia thought, as chatter throughout the arena swelled. She did not like to rely on him. “My demand, then,” the queen spoke up, putting both her hands behind her back. “Neither you nor anyone else in your faction of harassers regarding my love life shall bother me in person about it. I wish to be left alone. What you whisper in backrooms I do not care about.”

“I have no power to change other people’s behaviour,” Africanus pointed out. “I alone would not be able to speak such a pledge.”

“A reasonable argument. Would it work if there were more people of your faction fighting alongside you?” Lydia asked and, for the first time, made Africanus hesitate. The queen saw how he tried to read the joking intent from her face, but she remained upright and disciplined in stance and demeanour. Matter of fact was that she knew Africanus was a powerful foe. The imperial domain of Afrika was a march and martial skill was important for its leader. In fact, she had fought Africanus in a show match before – and lost. Quite one-sidedly, at that.

That was before the tournament.

That was before the Lover’s Mark.

That was before Strimata.

Lydia had shown her improvements in public before, in show fights against much weaker opponents, and even since then she had improved. The fact of the matter was that people still weren’t aware just how bullshit the Gamer’s abilities were and how much of them influenced those so close to him. Everyone could see her physical improvements. Verifying just how much stronger she had actually gotten without something as handy as Observe? Difficult.

“If you wish to fight against several opponents at once, I will agree to your terms,” Africanus finally declared, taking the advantage where he could get it.

Lydia turned to the platform she had come from. “You have heard my offer. Will you come and defend your views or will you continue to be a bothersome pack of giggling hyenas?” The question echoed out with every bit of contempt she had for those people. The arena grew silent again, waiting for the response to that challenge. Lydia knew the outcome before anyone even moved.

Either they didn’t do anything and Lydia could leverage that inaction whenever they got uppity in the future or they agreed to her terms. Traditionalists that they were, they thought much more of these public duels than she did. Lydia agreed that honour was important, but she disagreed in what ways it was diminished or raised. For her, it was more about honesty and credibility than about proving oneself in combat. That was the last resort, not the first instance of negotiations, as so many Abyssals happily used it as.

Soon enough, a small group of ten noblemen rode down the elevator of manifested mana to the floor of the arena, headed by Franz. They walked around Lydia and took position opposite of her. “We agree to your terms, Queen Lydia,” one of them, the highest by title, spoke up. Lydia knew who it was, but his identity hardly mattered in the moment. All she needed to know about any of them was how their abilities would interfere with her own combat.

“The pledges are made, then,” Romulus’ imposing voice boomed from his private lodge, elevated above all others. “Take positions, combatants, and wait for my signal.”

Lydia turned around and took five measured steps forward, a simple ritual that her grandfather had taught her to do before great occassions. It was meant to let her calm her nerves, but she had long exceeded the need for something like that. Now it was just something she did. A reminder of her journey to the self-controlled woman she had grown up to be from the thieving child and the metal elemental that wanted desperately to be flesh.

Turning around, she drew Strimata in one smooth motion. The sound accompanying the reveal of the prismatic blade swelled as it grew higher in pitch and finally ebbed away in one melodic note. The thin blade, less than three fingers wide, was raised to point at her opponents, Africanus headfirst. All but him visibly hesitated in their own preparations upon seeing that weapon. The governor merely stared at the weapon with confusion, hidden in part by the helmet now protecting much of his head. Grabbing the Mithril spear with both hands, he got into a battle stance.

Slowly, the other nobles followed his example. The anticipation was thick in the air. Although the common people weren’t privy to the same rumours as the nobles had been, Lydia knew that everyone saw Strimata and wondered just what kind of weapon that could be. If nothing else, they were entertained by the violent extension of politics.

“Ready yourselves!” Even Romulus’ voice was swinging with intrigue. Had he perhaps hoped a fight like this would happen today? Lydia left that question for after the fight and instead concentrated on the way the mana flowed inside her. “Begin!”

Africanus drew back his arm and threw his spear. Attempting to move the weapon aside with her powers, Lydia found it to curve back in her direction. Something else was directing the weapon, something different than elemental magic. ‘Possession,’ she thought as her aura flared up. The colour of mana enveloped her, allowing her to suddenly Shift. From being about to be skewered, she now stood behind the spear. Before it could be redirected into her back, Lydia stormed forwards.

It felt odd seeing her enemies move. To the steel-eyed queen, it appeared as if most of them moved through gel. Hanging around monsters of speed like Sylph and Siena and wielders of absurd brutal force like Gnome and Metra made it easy to forget just how much superior she was to even the militarily respected nobility. Among the harem, she may be one of the weaker members. Here, she was the dominant force on the field.

Lydia lunged forwards. Strimata vibrated with a swelling sound. Africanus barely managed to draw his own blade. It shone with the whitish silver of a Mithril alloy, of lower quality than his spear. The hurried motion brought the flat side of this weapon between his head and the tip of Strimata. The note ended when Strimata clashed against the Mithril. Africanus was forced back three steps by the impact. He seemed relieved to have blocked the strike. The remaining combatants closed in on Lydia. Before she turned her attention to them, she saw Africanus inspect his blade and stare wide-eyed at the hole in it.

Strimata may not have successfully penetrated the blocking weapon entirely, but the very tip of it had cut through. A second strike with more force could have gotten even through the Mithril alloy. It was the very same material that Eliza had spent several sets of teeth on biting through and she was considerably stronger than Lydia was even now.

‘You will serve me well,’ the queen thought and felt the weapon eagerly settle tighter into her grip.

The nobles surrounded her on all sides, three of them going on the offensive. Lydia extinguished her aura to let mana flow towards her Innate Ability. She had time for one breath, straightening out her pose and letting her left-hand stroke over the side of her blade. When she drew it back, a taut wire stayed attached to each finger. Pulling continuously, she moved the near invisible strings between herself and the descending mace of her first assailant.

Rather than just be stopped, the doubtlessly heavily enchanted weapon slammed into the wires and managed to push in a further few centimetres. Not because the wires gave in, but because the weapon did. Thin trenches were cut deep past the surface, as if it was regular steel exposed to a high-pressure water cutter. A moment later, the noble stumbled, the stopping force suddenly gone.

Lydia had separated the connection of the strings. Not to her fingers, but to the actual sword. The Legionmetal Attribute allowed her to separate anything from the blade’s mass she wanted and shift the mass between the pieces as if they were still one. The blade, due to its Dimensional Folding hiding the true mass contained within the weapon, only indicated a diminishing of material by a decrease of the coloured facets that gave it its prismatic beauty.

Although the mass of Strimata was easy to control, its shape was a different question. As much as Lydia would have liked to meet her second assailant with a wall of deadly, taut string, that was a task of immense difficulty without anything to anchor it to. Instead, she shaped and pulled the separated wires into a flat circle, which continued to grow. The second attacker’s strike clashed against the prismatic sheet, while Lydia turned her main attention towards the third, a pale man with brown hair.

They were too committed to pull back now and, despite being intimidated, the discipline bred into the empire’s nobility showed in them pulling through. Lydia side-stepped the overhead strike of the claymore. The correct thing to exploit that opening would have been to simply penetrate his exposed side or shoulder. However, Lydia’s intent to test and show Strimata gave the queen cause for some alternative manoeuvres.

A slice from the man’s hips to his shoulder caused him to vanish in an instant. Fateweaving claimed him, before his body could be split by the shockwave that followed. With the sound of a ringing triangle, a thin wave split the air and the ground, making barely any difference between the two. It continued over a dozen metres and finished off a second person in its path before petering out. The metal of the blade amplified Lydia’s capability to cause these ranged attacks to an absurd degree.

The first two assailants backed off before Lydia could turn around and end their participation with a similar shockwave. Joining the ring that had formed around her, the nobles and Africanus simply stared at her. Lydia separated a second piece from Strimata and made both hover behind her back. Forming into large shields, they would let her defend against attacks from any direction.

Her enemies made the opposite decision and raised their hands, led by Africanus. Lydia faced her strongest enemy and the arcane bolt that came flying out of his palm. A quick cut by Strimata severed the aggressive mana and made it fizzle into nothing. Fire, water, air and light attacks all bounced off her shields. Even the Mithril spear clashed against her defences, continuously flying on its own. They seemed happy to keep this up until either of them ran out of mana or Lydia made a mistake.

Not one to enjoy a stalemate, Lydia stopped another arcane attack by Africanus, before turning Strimata around and ramming the weapon into the ground. Letting go off the haft, she now used both of her hands to manipulate the metal around her to block the continuous cascade of attacks. Gestures supported the intentions of her mind, focused them through motions that had a dancing flow to them. The prismatic shields whirled around in response to each spell that Lydia spotted as they spun around her.

Then she suddenly raised up one hand and several of the nobles screamed when a metal spike penetrated them from below. Before they could end like the victims of Vlad the Impaler, Fateweaving took them away. The others had either been quick enough to react or lucky that Lydia’s aim was off. Directing nine simultaneous underground attacks, even in her zone of absolute control, was far from perfect.

Regardless, her enemy count had almost halved in one instant. Pulling all of the metal towards herself, she shielded herself in a whirling cocoon of multi-coloured edges. A storm of chimes accompanied her advance, as magical attacks were shredded into nothing. The sorry remains of the circle broke when Lydia reached melee range.

Extending one hand, Lydia consolidated part of the storm into one new sword in her hand. Entirely prismatic, the new rapier refused to fit into her hand as well as the previous one. It sat well enough to allow her to reduce the amount of enemies to three, with a single additional strike.

Lydia stopped where her enemy had just stood and analysed the situation. The remaining three of her originally eleven enemies were getting away from her. Gathering what other metal she still had into ten smooth javelins, she raised them above and then sent them hurling forwards with a commanding gesture.

One more noble was impaled by the storm of weapons. The weapon slammed into her guts and turned the dirt floor reddish brown with the blood that sputtered out. It was the first successful attack that hadn’t immediately caused Fateweaving to kick in. Lydia raised one of the javelins that had missed back out of the ground and used it to finish the noble off. All other javelins, no longer influenced by her magic, were drawn back into the main blade.

Lydia saw Franz, who had managed to be the last surviving noble, run towards Strimata. Watching him run, she had to turn swiftly to knock aside the Mithril spear coming for her head. Africanus charged at her from the other side and laid into her with a flurry of blows with his short sword. She retreated several steps, and waited for her opportunity to strike. Africanus kept his eyes on her weapon. Albeit just a piece of Strimata, he still recognized it as dangerous. His fixation was what gave Lydia her opening.

Her aura flared up, giving her the burst of speed and strength she needed to dodge a thrust towards her shoulder and simultaneously knock the flying spear aside once more. The defensive movements left her unable to retaliate with her rapier, but her legs were ready to twist into a sweeping kick. Her reinforced boot crashed into Africanus’ side and sent him flying. Lydia directed her eyes to Franz.

The noble had reached where she had left Strimata and extended his hand towards the weapon. Not needing to do anything, Lydia watched as a number of blades burst out of the weapon’s handle and skewered Franz’s hand before he could lay a finger on Strimata. Screaming, the noble jumped backwards, his palm more holes than flesh.

Despite this gruesome display, Strimata was clean as before. Lydia calmly walked the distance, letting go of the imitation and allowing the material rejoin the proper blade. “It appears the gift of my ‘blind dog’ of a ‘master’ doesn’t take a liking to you,” the queen said and pulled Strimata from the ground. She sighed, “I apologize, sarcasm should be beneath me, but you successfully annoyed me over the past months. I appreciate that this comes to a halt today.”

“Arrogant cunt!” Franz screamed and used his functioning hand to hurl a gust of slicing wind at her. Lydia raised Strimata and brought it down in a straight slash. The resulting shockwave unravelled the weave of magic, transforming his attack into nothing but harmless wind. It continued to advance, accompanied by pure sound, slicing everything in its path until an angry scream was brought to the sudden halt of disappearing.

‘It is not arrogance if I can reinforce it with action.’ Lydia kept the comment to herself, not seeing the value in trash talking her opponent, and turned to face Africanus. “Would you prefer to forfeit the match?” she offered, extinguishing her aura. Although her mana was quite vast, she was working on a limited supply. To regenerate, she would have needed to devour some metal. Not that this battle had exhausted her so much that she would have reached for any of the energy-boosting vials inside her overcoat.

Africanus stood up and put his helm back on straight. “You haven’t won yet,” he growled, the spear flying to his side.

“Your conviction is admirable,” Lydia said and separated a javelin out of Strimata’s blade. It hovered at her side, following her when she charged at her last enemy. She lunged. Africanus dodged and swung at both her sides with his sword and possessed spear. Lydia blocked both with Strimata and javelin. Africanus circled around her, trying to get the clash of spears out of Lydia’s field of view. She had greater control over her secondary weapon, courtesy of its malleability, but Possession allowed one to sense through its targets. Where he could decide, she would have to intuit. Not a situation she wanted to be in.

With superior speed, she circled around Africanus, putting the clashing spears behind him instead. Then she went into a relentless offensive. The governor tried to dodge as much as he could, but at the pace of the fight, instincts soon overtook judgement. He raised his sword in defence. Lydia aimed her strike at the already weakened spot. Impact and Strimata’s sharpness broke and cut the blade, leaving only a stump in the way. It slowed Lydia down enough that the spear could be brought in as a second line of defence.

Africanus dropped his sword and held onto the shaft with both hands, pressing it against Strimata. The strain on his face betrayed the amount of adrenaline rushing through his veins. Lydia continued to breathe calmly. Standing in a simple struggle of power, Lydia looked down on the slightly smaller man.

With a triumphant scream, he managed to push her back. From being pushed down, he managed to put their weapons on equal level. “YOU HAVEN’T WON YET!” he reiterated.

Lydia furrowed her eyebrows and nodded down towards their clashing weapons. Glancing down, Africanus got to see what she meant. Their weapons were locked, but Strimata’s sharpness slowly made its way through the pure Mithril. For all of the enchantments and all of the material’s natural hardness, it still couldn’t stand up to the rapier. It simply would take more of an effort to slice through. A higher hurdle, not an impassable barrier.

Raising her unused left hand, Lydia ended the match in a different way. The javelin that had been dealing with the spear rammed into Africanus back, penetrating Baelementium armour. Fateweaving pulled her last enemy out before it could reach his heart. Standing victorious and untouched, Lydia let the pieces of Strimata unify before she inspected the weapon for any blood or other remains. In the background, she heard applause and Romulus announce her victory. She ignored all of it and just looked more at the weapon. ‘Versatile, can take whatever shape I desire, sharp enough to cut Mithril, untouched by elements, enables ranged attacks, burrows through earth without issue,’ she listed her current discoveries. ‘Not as visually impressive as John’s abilities, but that suits me fine. The constant singing and glowing continue to be drawbacks.’ The blade vibrated once, as if sighing, before being sheathed.

Lydia turned to leave, she had accomplished her goals.

__________________________________________________________________________

Several hours later, she finally made her way back to her car. Romulus had wanted to inspect the blade, Africanus had insisted on a second duel without weapons and magic, the press had insisted on just about everything. Discussions, explanations, pre-written statements and slapping the governor silly with her bare hands later, Lydia was finally on her way home without any more issues.

That was, at least, until she approached the car and found the driver missing.

“Secure the perimeter,” she said to her invisible guards, furrowing her eyebrows. Just as she said that, the window in the back of the limo rolled down and revealed Suel.

“Yes, please go,” the red-eyed man grinned at the seemingly empty air, “I would like to talk to your queen in private.”

The Knights of Teuton stopped following their initial command to wait for re-confirmation. It didn’t take a genius to realize that something was wrong about this situation. The window rolled up again and Lydia looked at Reika circling above. The goddess kept watch and she still wielded Strimata. She was about as safe here as she would be at home. “Secure the perimeter,” she repeated and opened the door of her car.

“As you wish,” Konrad responded.

The inside of her limo was untypically dark. The lights were off, but even with that the blackness in the corners seemed too complete and contrasted heavily with the light of the fading day that fell in through the tinted windows. “A meeting in the twilight hours, I couldn’t ask for a better time to reveal the truth.” Suel sounded immensely pleased. His eyes burned brightly, two red dots in the darkness, illuminating nothing.

“The truth about why you decided to arrange all of this?” Lydia asked, as she sat down a fair bit away from Suel. It wasn’t just a trap she feared. Something about him seemed off. In a way far different from what made her dislike him. Not sleezy and corrupt but smooth and focused on something in the distance. The darkness around him felt as if it was crawling with insects, spiders and snakes. It was as if her impending doom could crawl out of these dark corners at any moment.

She had the urge to slide further away from him, but remained composed and stayed put.

“You could say so,” the harbinger of the crawling feelings told her. The darkness pulled together around his head, increasing the difference between the red and everything else. Strangely, it failed to illuminate anything. “Did you know that bats are commonly seen as bringers of bad luck?” Suel asked, his voice growing deeper and squeakier at the same time. The red dots of his eyes lost their black centre, turned into something closer to a consolidated mist.

Lydia was unable to answer. Her eyes opened wide as she was stunned by the revelation that began to dawn on her. “Impossible…”

“Sometimes, I make convoluted messes and sometimes it’s best to just hide in plain sight.” The creaking of bones accompanied the amused voice. The trickster leaned forward and his bare skull peeled white out of the blackness. It wasn’t human. It was a beast with an elongated skull and its teeth were sharp and contorted into an impossible smile, and on its head, it carried four horns.