#no wonder they need a mage registry

[varlaisvea]

Va garlas agea...

TES Summerfest Day 1: Forbidden

a/n: I have been working on this fic for two years, not exactly knowing whether and how to start publishing it. So I decided I'd use @tes-summer-fest (the first one I've participated in) to force myself to start! No presh! Before this, I've posted snippets that are unlikely to make the final edit, so this is it... welcome to the first TWO official chapters of Palimpsest!

If people enjoy it, I will have a spicie little treat ready for the last day :)

Palimpsest takes place in both the Second and Fourth Eras. Skyrim in the streets, ESO in the sheets ;)

Chapters 1 and 2 are Gen, G-rated. This will change as the story continues. 4.2k words total.

On AO3: Chapter 1 Chapter 2

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The moment I enter the Arcanaeum, Urag slams shut the book he was reading. “I need to speak with you,” he says.

“Good morning to you too, Urag.”

“If it were a good morning, I’d have all my books accounted for,” he says gruffly, shaking his head as he reviews a book registry, “and I certainly wouldn’t have extra titles floating around that I can’t find in any of the catalogs.”

“You mean, some books are missing, and new ones have appeared in their places?”

“No,” he says, not looking up from the pile of lists in front of him, “that would be more straightforward. Some books are missing, and others have appeared in, uh, other places. I think I’m seeing a pattern, finally. Maybe.”

This does not feel like a matter for the Arch-Mage, but… actually, I am not certain what the Arch-Mage’s duties should be. At any rate, I’m intrigued. “Is this what you needed to speak with me about?”

“Obviously,” Urag says with a sigh. “The thing is, all of the titles in question seem to concern…” He finally meets my eyes, looking uncertain. “Have you ever been to Artaeum?”

“Artaeum? The Psijic Order’s pocket-dimension-island? No; how would I have gotten there? Why would I go there?”

Urag looks at me with some exasperation. “The Greybeards called your name from High Hrothgar. You’ve been to Apocrypha and the Shivering Isles. You’ve been to Sovngarde, and you’re not even a Nord… or dead. And the Psijic Order showed up to anoint you Arch-Mage of this place despite your having arrived here that same week. Excuse me for imagining you might have gone to the pocket-dimension-island.”

“All right, sorry, I understand,” I say, resisting the urge to defend my worthiness as a mage. “The books missing are about Artaeum?”

He looks at me again, like he doesn’t know whether to tell me the truth, but then sighs. “All of the missing and newly-discovered books mention the Psijic Order. Since the whole business with the Eye of Magnus… I don’t know how to say this, but I’ve begun to wonder whether the Order… er, curates the library according to their own agenda.”

“What interest would they have in our library?”

“I think they’re mostly interested in the Order’s image… I think there are things about the Order they want to keep hidden. Most of the library stays unchanged unless one of the librarians or scriveners move things. But the section about the Psijic Order seems to have a mind of its own, and now we’re discovering other titles that mention the Order going missing, or… appearing. Or reappearing, maybe.”

“Hm. I certainly don’t like that they’d change our library like that, but they are charged with watching all of Tamriel and beyond, apparently. I imagine such a weighty responsibility means some knowledge must remain forbidden. I suppose that's their prerogative?”

Urag meets my eyes again, this time with fire, looking almost threatening. “You are Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold,” he says curtly. “Your prerogative is to ensure no one interferes unduly with the study of magic. Even them. Your duty is to us.”

Yes, and to the Blades, and the Dark Brotherhood, and the Greybeards, and the Thieves Guild. And Meridia, and the Dawnguard. Plus I’m Thane of every hold in Skyrim. But, I simply nod, and say, “I agree. What do you need me to do?”

He sighs. “J’zargo found a few of the books that seem to have appeared. He said he was ‘led’ to them, but he wouldn’t tell me how. He’s somewhere around here; go find him, see what he knows.”

“Ugh, isn’t there a way to help the College that involves fighting undead in an ancient Nord barrow, or killing a dragon by myself? Something less distasteful than trying to get a straight answer out of that cat?”

Urag looks at me for a moment, then looks back down at his pile of lists. “Don’t think so,” is all he says.

I resign myself to dealing with J’zargo, and head for the Arcane Societies section of the library. Before I get there, though, I notice something in a secluded corner of the Ancient Peoples section seems to be… glowing? Getting closer, I see that it’s a book; it looks like a ray of sunlight is shining directly onto it, and only it. But as I walk toward it, the glow fades—maybe I imagined it?

“Hm, must have been nothing,” I say to myself.

But as I walk away, the book starts to glow again. This time I take the book from the shelf—The Psijic Elves of Sunhold. I flip through a few pages. It mentions the Psijic Order a few times, but it’s largely about a small subculture of non-Aedra-worshipping Altmer who did not leave Summerset with the Order.

“You saw the glowing books too, hm?” I turn to see J’zargo has appeared. At least I don’t have to keep searching for him. “Of course you did,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“You saw the… uh, glowing books? Why you?”

J’zargo regards me for several moments, trying to muster politeness, no doubt. “J’zargo has found some heretofore unknown books that mention the Psijic Order. Truthfully, J’zargo has been curious about the Order, recently.” He looks at me, with a similar trepidation as Urag had shown.

I ignore whatever he’s implying. “This book was glowing,” I say, and hand it to him, hoping we can get this problem solved as quickly as possible.

J’zargo takes the book and looks at it, but almost immediately looks back to me. “J’zargo regrets questioning the Arch-Mage’s authority…” His tone makes it clear that he loves questioning the Arch-Mage’s authority. “But this situation is a bit tidy, no? A Psijic monk shows up, tells us the Eye of Magnus has power beyond our understanding, and then takes it—and makes you Arch-Mage.”

I try not to show my delight that he’s seemingly incapable of saying my title without contempt seeping into his tone. We need to be talking about the books, but I can’t resist: “Hm, jealous, are you, J’zargo?”

“Yes,” J’zargo says, with an unfriendly smile. “But this is not relevant to the question of why we should trust someone just because he can project himself through time and planes. Arch-Mage.”

“I…” That’s actually a good point. “I’m not surprised that you haven’t heard of the Psijic Order, J’zargo, but they are ancient Altmeri mages of incredible power. They have advised powerful people—such as the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold—throughout history.”

“Yes, J’zargo heard Tolfdir and Aren informing you of that a week or two ago,” he says, unimpressed.

I am beginning to lose my patience. “Do you have a point, J’zargo?”

He scoffs. “Just like an Elf, to trust power and authority implicitly. J’zargo’s point is: does the new Arch-Mage know how, exactly, the Psijic Order has protected the College from the supposed danger that only the time-traveling Elf-monks know about?“

“The Eye of Magnus was more powerful than…” I trail off. “Stop pestering me, cat, I don’t answer to you.”

J’zargo sighs wearily. “You may call J’zargo a cat; after all, J’zargo is a cat. And J’zargo is a gracious cat—for example, J’zargo will graciously assume that you are not being racist directly to his handsome face, and are simply ignorant of the… substantial… difference between calling Khajiit a cat, and addressing Khajiit as cat. But, J’zargo will not make such a gracious assumption in the future, no matter what Elf-title someone has appeared out of nowhere to confer on you.” He waves his fingers to accentuate his claws. “Yes?”

Ugh. “Yet you could address me as mer.”

“Who says that?” J’zargo says, laughing.

“Well, you’d be allowed to address me as Elf.”

“Just so,” he laughs harder, and claps me on the back as if I’ve just made a joke. “You must tell J’zargo the next time someone calls you Elf while spitting on you and kicking you out of their city and into the cold wilderness—because you are Altmer. Arch-Mage.”

I roll my eyes, but I say, “I understand.” He’s an ass, but I don’t want to be racist, I suppose. “So the other books you found—”

Before I can finish my sentence, someone I want to talk to even less than J’zargo appears. “What do you want?” I ask.

Quaranir’s projection holds up one hand. “I mean no interference—“

“That is what you said last time,” J’zargo says, cradling a small mote of flame in his hand.

“It seems you are beginning to question the Psijic Order, Arch-Mage,” Quaranir says.

I adopt a very Altmeri tone of voice. “I trust the Order implicitly, of course. I am only trying to learn about—“

“You misunderstand.” He puts both hands in front of him, as if to show he means no harm. “The Order does not know I am contacting you, this time. I must be brief.”

J’zargo and I look at each other.

Quaranir speaks quietly. “I could not impede the seizure of the Eye of Magnus, but I could try to ensure you investigated and asked questions after the fact.” He gestures to the book in J’zargo’s hand. “It may be too late for the College of Winterhold, but much larger things are at stake.”

“What do you mean?” I ask. “Too late for the College? Was I supposed to find—”

“It will take both of you,” Quaranir says, looking at J’zargo.

“Both of us? Him too?” I point at J’zargo.

“There is still time to protect the study of magic in Tamriel,” Quaranir says, as his projection begins to fade.

“The books will tell us how?” J’zargo asks, gesturing to the book in his hand.

“By any means necessary,” Quaranir says, and his projection is gone.

J’zargo and I look at each other in stunned silence for a few moments.

“It seems we should read these books, perhaps,” J’zargo says.

For the second time this morning, I sigh and resign myself to dealing with J'zargo. We both sit down at a nearby study table, and I crack open The Psijic Elves of Sunhold.

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The Psijic Elves of Sunhold by Eymei Gwylanwe, 2E 58[the last number of the date is illegible]

The way Tamriel learns Altmeri history is roughly thus: before the Merethic Era, Aldmeri elites began to solidify their worship among their favored ancestors, and they compelled the rest of Aldmeri society to adopt their new paradigm of worship. This caused many Aldmer to flee Summerset for mainland Tamriel, eventually to become Chimer, Ayleids, and Bosmer. Those who remained in Summerset became the Altmer, and Altmer who opposed the shift toward Aedra worship became the Psijic Order, removing themselves from Summerset’s society to Artaeum, in order to preserve the Old Ways as best they could.

Here is what you were not taught: a few clans of the Old Ways remained on Summerset, refusing to yield their homes and hearths. These Elves—the first Altmeri hearth Elves—believed it was pointless to lock away magic that was meant to enable communal connection and healing, and considered it vital to maintain ties to their ancestral lands, the wisteria plants they tended to honor the Ehlnofey, and the sacred oyster farms where they cultivated their Varla pearls. As followers of the Old Ways, those Elves still called themselves (lower-case-P) psijics—this term simply means “enlightened.” To this day, many hearth Elves still call ourselves psijics and psijic mages, as we have since before the Psijic Order existed.

As the elite of Summerset society began to take more exclusive control of worship and arcane culture, laborers and farmers rapidly found themselves not only assigned to a lower class, but considered nebarra in their own land unless they adopted the gods of the upper crust. As a result, many of the newly-designated lower classes fled for mainland Tamriel around the same time the Psijic Order left Summerset. Those psijics who remained feared that the Psijic Order’s solution—relinquishing their rightful ancestral homes to a rapidly-stratifying Altmeri society—would leave the newly-formed lower classes to be preyed upon. They saw the potential for the values of the Old Ways to be erased completely from Altmeri life, and worried that worship of the ancestor-gods of the elites would quickly become entwined with justice and culture. History has proven that their fears were not only justified, but prescient.

The new Altmeri society characterized psijic Elf culture as simplistic and backward. The term ‘hearth Elf’ itself was originally a derogatory term—a way of calling us primitive, because we still performed all of our rituals at the hearth, instead of just the ones which had not been replaced with Aedric customs. ‘Proper’ remove from the hearth became a marker of sophistication, which coincides neatly with markers of the lower classes—denizens of the hearth; the servants, cooks, and nannies of the world. But such an association was not exactly an insult to the first hearth Elves: through the memories of their ancestors, they still remembered that not long ago we had been a society where this type of labor was respected. In fact, they considered it an apt name—the hearth, after all, is a symbol of mortal connection to the Ehlnofey, and an enduring part of all cultures. It is a reminder of the relationship of people to time; barely changed from our primitive origins—a center of life no matter how nomadic the peoples; a site of ancient rituals no matter how sophisticated the society.

The hearth was an apt metaphor for our magic, as well—“nature magic brought indoors,” in the words of an archmage who believed herself to be snidely insulting it. But this is exactly what hearth magic was and remains: ancestral earth magic, adapted to a cosmopolitan Altmeri way of life. Unsurprisingly, after the psijic schism, our magic was almost immediately derided as witchcraft, and has been deemed such for centuries. Many hearth mages embraced this epithet as well—though intended as an insult, it was an acknowledgment of our uncommon power; then as now the word witch belies a fear of those who can call upon the most ancient, wild, and potent arcane forces in Nirn. To this day, many of us still call ourselves ‘hearth witches’, ‘witches of the Old Ways’, and (the term I prefer for myself): ‘psijic witches.’

With the formation of the Mages Guild—founded on the psijic ideal that magic should be accessible to anyone who wishes to wield it responsibly—the Psijic Order left Nirn entirely. This made it clear to the Summerset Elves that the Order considered the Guild threat: in order to avoid whatever danger they believed the Mages Guild represented, the Order was willing to leave behind the very Earthbones on which their immense power depends, and willing to commit permanently to relying on more precarious (and infinitely more wasteful) methods of obtaining Ehlnofeic magic. Hearth Elves as a group had been vocal proponents of the Guild, believing it to be a much-needed equalizer that honored the Old Ways—but by this time, most of Summerset held the Old Ways synonymous with the Psijic Order. Hearth mages, who still practiced the true psijic magic of the Old Ways as they had since before history began, were suddenly considered a radical separatist cult—one which was advocating a revolutionary force, in the Mages Guild, at a time when the Guild was too young and embattled to advocate for hearth magic.

So, for almost all of the Second Era, our magic has been practiced quietly, taught quietly, spoken of quietly. What remains of Altmeri hearth culture in the public consciousness is largely mysticism and herbal magic—while Altmeri Praxes severely restricted our ability to practice these openly, there was some cultural tolerance afforded to what was undeniably an ancestral tradition. In fact, despite Praxes, it is still commonplace to consult a hearth witch to have your fortunes read, your hangover cured, or for mystic guidance about romance, sex, and marriage. But since the rise of the Divine Prosecution, even fortune-tellers and herbalists are actively watched with suspicion, so today our magic is largely practiced in secret—and under tacit threat of violence. It is the culmination of centuries of effort to relegate hearth culture to dark magic and quaint folk superstition: our Old Ways are an uncomfortable reminder that a vastly more equal society is in the blood-memory of every Altmer alive today, from kinsfolk to common folk.

We of the hearth remember. The psijic schism was not just a disagreement about mystic and religious philosophy—in addition to those, the Old Ways also represented a more egalitarian society in which those who work the fields and the seas had the same place in society as scholars and mages. I come from a privileged family, and my father is a mage of the hearth who can trace his family’s tradition back for generations. Father tells stories from when our family worked in vineyards, moving with the seasons to harvest and process grapes—and my family’s tradition goes back even further than those stories.

Altmeri readers may be shocked that I’d say so: for non-Altmeri readers, to admit that my family were ever common laborers is to weaken the argument that superiority to others is genetically inherent to Altmeri society’s upper crust—a notion that is, unsurprisingly, dearly sacred to Altmeri society’s upper crust. That I, a relatively upper-class Altmer, practice hearth magic means that at some point my family were disposable folk, and now we are not.

Though our beliefs have had the same core principles since time began, hearth Elves are ever more an inconvenience to the pillars on which Altmer have chosen to construct our modern identity: to hold the sway that they do, Altmeri social classes must be seen as eternal and unchanging. Hearth culture is older than modern Altmeri social classes; older even than the modern notion of class itself. Very inconvenient, if one is invested in preserving one’s class status.

I write this from occupied Sunhold, the traditional ancestral home of psijic Elves of the Old Ways—some hearth Elf families can trace their ancestry here to before the Psijic Order left Summerset. According to our tradition, Sunhold is a sacred place where the Earthbones meet, and in such places is psijic magic the strongest. This is why the first hearth Elves refused to leave with the Psijic Order, and why Sunhold’s healers are renowned throughout Tamriel. It is also why the city’s central ruins are adorned with ancient wisteria—hearth Elves have historically cultivated these trees (which are the ancestors of most of the wisteria in Summerset) to honor and protect this place. Some of the wisteria in Sunhold are as old as the ruined ancient seawalls upon which the Wisteria District homes and streets are constructed. In fact, many of the oldest trees grew in our communal courtyards—psijic Elves’ traditional homes are built encircling a small central plot of land, which is tended to, but left intentionally undeveloped to enable communion with the Elhnofey. Several such courtyards remained untouched for the entirety of Sunhold’s recorded history.

I note also that as Summerset’s major trading port and naval hub, Sunhold has historically been a diverse and working-class city compared to the rest of Summerset—prior to Queen Ayrenn’s decree and the Maormer occupation, it was home to more immigrants than the rest of the island combined. Considering the demographics of its population—nebarra foreign and Altmeri alike—it is perhaps not shocking that the Divine Prosecution immediately abandoned Sunhold when Maormer ships appeared on the horizon a few years ago, nor that the Aldmeri Dominion left a city of civilians, the home of its own navy, to defend itself. Some of the heaviest destruction in Sunhold has been in the former enclaves of the psijic Elves. Many hearth families have lost loved ones as the resistance drags on, and most of us have lost our ancestral hearths and communal yards in the destruction. Already-embattled hearth Elf culture may be destroyed for good, scattered across Summerset and mainland Tamriel after millennia of barely hanging on. Whether these circumstances were intentional or simply unfortunate, it must be said that they are unavoidably positive for Altmeri hegemony in Summerset and all of Tamriel, and for the complete erasure of the Old Ways from Altmeri culture.

The Psijic Order believe they exist to serve "lesser men," yet we are all lesser men in the grander sense—in the sense that we are all mortals, all of us deriving from the Ehlnofey, who rejected immortality and omnipotence so that we could exist at all. We are all lesser than gods, and that is the beauty of our existence—we are allowed to discover, to become, to learn, to grow, to change, and what is holier than change?

Yet, we Altmer live longer by far than the other races of Tamriel. We will always have the advantage of steering history, simply because we live longer. We are not gods, or god-like, or even more godly—we are mortals, the same as the others. But we have the honor of being the keepers of the story of this world, by no other blessing than the randomness of our birth. We have made our gods everyone else’s gods, and we have made it so Tamriel aspires to our languages and our culture and our view of magic. At very least is our duty to care for what we have built, and to ensure that the world we live in belongs to everyone equally.

This is not the world we Altmer are building. I write this because I want history to know that there were Altmer who heeded the lessons of the bones of the earth, who believed that we are here for one another. I want future generations to know that there were always Altmer who rejected the toxic lie of Altmeri supremacy over the other races—many of us, and certainly not only hearth Elves.

This text is meant to be informative, but it also represents the selfish desires of a mortal who wishes her people not to be forgotten or remembered falsely as Daedra worshippers or cultists. I cannot apologize for such desires; I am a mortal. Although I understand that countless injustices of this sort exist in history, I still cannot stomach the thought of psijic Elves being lumped in with the Psijic Order that abandoned the bones of the earth, or the Altmeri society that eroded us to nothing over the centuries, while making ever more brazen attempts to do the same with the other races of Tamriel. To be sure, we are Altmer; we still benefit from—and thus, bear some responsibility for—the actions of the Altmer as a race. We must commit ourselves to counterbalancing oegnithr (bad change) including and especially that which is perpetrated by our kin. But I fear this is truly the end of my people, and if it is, I want Tamriel to know who we were—and who we were not.

I want future people to know that we psijics understood the onus of power; the duty to care for the earth and one another, placed upon us by our ability to wield the unmitigated might of the Ehlnofey. Remember us, not only for our sake, but so that no one may ever forget: no matter how powerful, hegemonies are not truths, they are illusions preserved by violence. They always topple under their own weight eventually; absolute power corrupts absolutely. But no matter how silenced or ineffectual, for every hegemony that rises, there are always people who oppose it. There always will be—let no one ever, for a moment, believe otherwise, no matter how bleak the outlook.

Let the psijic Elves of Sunhold be a reminder: no matter how many subcultures, how many neighborhoods, how many people are erased, there are others who live and believe in the life you know in your bones to be right, even within seemingly-monolithic cultures. Keep your Oghma, and you cannot really be erased—a book may be burned, a person may be killed, but spiritually, keeping your Oghma inscribes your existence into the long memory of the Earthbones. As such, recording a mortal existence is close to life-energy itself in terms of power, and such power lives on in the magicka produced by the bones of the earth. Therefore, to keep your Oghma is to remember that you matter—to understand the onus of your life mattering—and to know that your power can never be destroyed. We of the hearth and the Old Ways keep our Oghma so that people may know: those who know the Ehlnofey and live by the laws of love have always been here, and we always will be; we are in the bones of the earth, and they are in us.

[shepherds-of-haven]

Hi Lena! I was wondering, do the shepherds have like actual licensed Healers? If so do other mages who are healers just come in and help out like MC can on their day off? Do any healers in the order (like mc or benir roxx) get like ‘field medic’ training or something? I’m super curious about it!

Also excited for WHABH! Good luck with the release!

Hi anon, thanks for your question! Because the Shepherds are a governmental agency backed by the Autarchy, their standards for their practicing Healers are different from the licensing requirements that Healers must pass in order to open general clinics for the public. In short, if you become a Shepherd, you're essentially given free reign to use your powers in service to the Order and its cause, so Shepherd Healers do not need to be licensed clinic Healers in order to treat their patients in the Shepherd infirmary, and they do not keep a registry/extensive records for the Autarchy the same way that public clinic Healers must (for the protection of the general populace). However, their healing magic is limited to Shepherd officers, or to exceptions in emergency situations in the field (such as saving civilians during battles caused by demons, etc.). Shepherd Healers do have to pass specific tests in the Order in order to be allowed to work or help out in the infirmary, and the ones who are pulled to work exclusively in the infirmary and do not serve as field combatants/fighting officers tend to be from a pool of Healers who already passed their clinical license exams in Haven and were just stuck waiting or were denied for purely political reasons. The Head Healer was originally the head of their own large clinic in Ashtown before being tapped by the Shepherds, so they have experience in running a large medical wing with multiple staff members under them (but with better resources and supplies).

Anyone who comes in to help on their time off (like MC) still has to pass exams by the Order to be allowed to actually see, treat, or heal low-to-medium-level patients, but the exams are not necessarily as stringent as the Healers and doctors who work in the infirmary wing full-time, who are the only ones in charge of actual surgeries and emergencies, etc. There are others who also help in a non-patient capacity, such as handling bandages and supplies, restocking shelves, or keeping records, and these volunteers don't have to pass any exams, though they do receive a bit of training to keep things running smoothly!

I hope that all makes sense!

[pandas-pandemonium]

Blood Ties (Part 1) - Yandere! Thomas Andre x GN!Reader x Yandere! Baek Yoon-ho

A/N: It’s here! The first part of the yandere solo leveling fic! Both the mens’ endings have yet to be written, but enjoy this open ended part first.

Note: Only hints of yandere is shown here and nothing too extreme yet

Summary: [Name] is an A-Rank mage in the Scavengers Guild. When an offer to join the White Tiger Guild in South Korea is given, [Name] has to question where their loyalties lie. To their years in the Scavenger guild, or to their childhood friend? 

2pm,  Wednesday – Thomas Andre’s Office, Somewhere in the United States

“Sir, Hunter [Name] is here for their scheduled meeting,” the voice of Thomas's secretary announced, looking over to her boss who was busy with some paperwork, while the TV blared in the background. Immediately, he lifted his head up, his eyes bright and his grin brighter than ever.

“Oh? Then send them in! What are you even doing? Don’t make them wait,” he said, leaning back in his seat. Despite his cheerful grin, Laura had worked long enough to pick up his slight shifts in mood. She was glad she hadn’t waited any longer, or she might have lost her job right then and there.

“Understood. I’ll let them in,” she replied. It sure was a wonder though, how this A-rank Mage caught Scavenger's Guild Master's attention and interest. After all, the guild had a bunch of S-rank hunters from all over the world. For a mere A-rank to catch the eye of a man who believed in strength more than anything else, she wondered if this person was a false ranker at first, until she checked their guild registry.

[Name] [Surname], an A-rank magic user who favoured the wind element above the more destructive fire or ice elements. They had been in the guild for the past three years, and it was just a year after they joined that Thomas Andre started asking about them. They were even personally asked on a number of occasions, to join the guild master on several raids.

As these thoughts ran through the secretary's mind, Laura quietly watched as the figure made their way to Thomas's desk.

“You wanted to see me, boss?” they asked, looking up at the large man seated at his desk.

Thomas’s eyes softened as he leaned his body towards them, “Yep. Say, we haven’t talked for a while, eh? Something about you going on several overseas business trips?”

[Name] swallowed as they nodded. “It was urgent sir… I’ve had a lot to do abroad lately,” they explained. Thomas only hummed in acknowledgement as he leaned back against the leather chair.

“And tell me, what are these trips for? Last I recall, a guild in England had to hire you about two months ago. Other than that… I don’t think you’ve had any overseas raids,” he said, a large hand stroking his goatee absent-mindedly.

“Uh… personal matters, sir. Nothing concerning the guild, really.”

Just then, out of the corner of the hunter’s eye, they spotted the news channel that was on, featuring a very familiar face, Baek Yoon-ho. Immediately, their eyes widened.

“Wait, Yoon-ie’s a guild leader?!” they exclaimed, almost forgetting about the giant in the room.

“Yoonie?” he repeated. [Name] immediately felt the blood rush to their face as they cleared their throat awkwardly.

“Um, yeah. I used to study abroad in South Korea… Yoonie is just what I called Baek Yoon-ho when were students,” they explained, looking down at their feet bashfully while cursing themselves internally.

“Hm, that’s new. So your little highschool buddy’s a full-fledged guild leader… and a rather famous one at that,” he commented, dark red eyes silently observing the smaller figure in front of him.

“Y-yeah, time sure flies,” they replied. “You don’t have to worry though! He’s a friend, but it’s not like I’ll leave the States for the White Tiger guild!”

Thomas’s face darkened as a threatening smile loomed over his gaunt features, “You’d better not, [Nickname]. I don’t take kindly to my guild members trying to leave, remember that.”

[Name]’s face blanched, and they nodded nervously, “R-right. Of course, sir. So, um… what was it that you called me here for?”

“Ah yes. I did call you here for something…now what was it…” he pondered to himself as he gazed up at the ceiling. “Right! I wanted to invite you for dinner! To catch up with you, talk a little, get to know each other better, ya know?”

[Name] raised an eyebrow, “Well, I don’t have any plans tonight…but this is quite sudden, sir.”

“Think of it as a little ‘Welcome back home’ party for you. All expenses will be handled by me. We can even go on a date afterwards,” Thomas said, his signature smile on his face.

“A-A date, sir?”

“If you have a problem with calling it a date, it can just be an outing. No titles, just us two hunters. What d’ ya say, [Name]?”

[Name] pressed their lips in a thin line as they thought over the offer. Free dinner sounded great, but they didn’t know if they could stand the pressure of being next to such an intimidating figure. Hell, even right now he looked the part.

Taking deep breaths, [Name] weighed their options in their mind, in the end settling to accept. If they rejected him, [Name] didn’t want to think of what could come next. Thomas Andre was a powerful man after all, with status and prestige to his name, and with it, he could do many things with little to no consequences.

“I’ll go. As long as we consider this as just a friendly outing though! I don’t want people to misunderstand,” they said. Thomas’s eyes softened and he reached over to stroke [Name]’s head.

“Good to know. I’ll text you the restaurant’s name and location in a few. You can go now,” he said, dismissing them from his room, much to their relief.

Upon exiting the office, [Name] let out the breath they had been holding throughout the whole meeting. It was so sudden. Two days after they arrived back from Japan on a family trip, the guild master suddenly informs them that he wants to speak with them the next day when he’s free. At first, they had thought he was going to reprimand them, but his awfully cheery demeanour and dinner invite had them second guessing his intentions. What the hell was going on? Then again, Thomas Andre had been like this ever since they met face-to-face, at least a year ago. [Name] could remember one too many incidents when their own raid got cancelled only to be suddenly slotted into some A rank gate to “accompany” the guild master. It really wasn’t like he needed the support though, being a National Level Hunter and all. [Name] sighed, perhaps this dinner would be a good chance to ask why their guild master was so interested in them.

~*~*~

Unfortunately, that dinner never came as [Name] suddenly had to cancel, receiving a phone call from their cousin, telling them that they were awakened and that a recruiter from the White Tiger guild wanted to meet her in two days. Said cousin also asked that [Name] accompany her and that she’ll pay for her ticket to South Korea. Normally, [Name] would have protested, but they had to admit, they were curious. It was also due to the fact that [Cousin’s Name] was someone who [Name] was very close to, and denying her request made [Name] feel guilty. After all, [Cousin’s Name] was there for them when they were awakened. It was only right that they do the same.

That night, [Name] had to make a very difficult phone call to Thomas Andre that they couldn’t make it for their dinner, much to his (not very well-hidden) dismay. When prompted, [Name] could only give the truth, saying that their cousin who was studying in South Korea had called for a last-minute reunion. It wasn’t too big of a deal for [Name], as they were used to having to pack suddenly due to emergency calls for a raid or (as with their previous job as a medical intern working in the ER), urgent calls for assistance.

Thomas, despite his initial disappointment, sounded quite understanding, ushering them to quickly pack for tonight, and that he’ll mark them as unavailable for raids for the next three days or so. Thanking him profusely, [Name] immediately started to pack for the 10am flight the next morning.

~~~~~

Thomas Andre was not happy, his mood worsened by [Name]’s dinner cancellation followed by some small guild leader asking for assistance with an A-class gate somewhere in South America. He shot them down quickly as he went off to have his own solo dinner at the same restaurant he was supposed to go with [Name] that night. How frustrating. Just when he had a clear schedule, the universe decided to screw him over by making other people preoccupied. At this point, he won’t be able to have a proper talk with his little [Name] and it left a bad taste in his mouth.

His bad mood continued until the next morning and well into the night, causing everyone around him to be on edge. It was not until around 1am that day, that he received a phone call from the one person who indirectly caused his moodiness, [Name] [Surname].

“Darlin’! Great to hear from you, are you already in Korea?” he greeted, his loud booming voice echoing in his bedroom, unable to contain his excitement.

“Uh, yes I am. I just reached about two hours ago. Anyways sir, I needed to call you to ask for permission about something.”

Oh, he loved hearing their voice. “Go ahead.”

“Okay, well this is quite last minute, but I need to ask for formal permission to participate in another guild’s raid. More specifically, the White Tigers.”

Thomas almost broke his phone in half.

“And may I ask why you’re joining another guild’s raid?”

“See, it just so happened that I ran into Baek Yoonho when I was accompanying my cousin to the guild. One thing led to another, and they just so happened to receive news of a gate opening in Seoul. It’s a small one, just a B-class. Yoonho and I, along with my cousin and a couple other members will be going.”

“And why have you agreed? You are a member of the Scavengers, you know.”

Silence on the other end.

“Uh…how do I say this… Yoonho might be interested in recruiting me.”

The line went dead, as did Thomas’s phone.

[Name] was sweating bullets. Thomas Andre hung up without a word. He was mad, really mad. Nervously, they looked up at their childhood friend who was with them. His amber eyes looking down at them softly.

“No good?” he asked. [Name] sighed and shrugged.

“I don’t know. He didn’t give me an answer. I just know that he is very, very mad. I don’t know, Yoon-ie, I don’t think this is a good idea…” they said.

Baek Yoonho furrowed his eyebrows. This was upsetting… he meets his childhood friend (and first love) after so many years for only a couple days and then they head back immediately? That was horrible! He had so many things he wanted to talk about, they haven’t even had the chance to properly show them around Seoul and show them how much the city has changed!

“You don’t have to join us… Think of this as just accompanying your cousin on her first dungeon raid,” he said, hoping to reason with them. As [Name] frowned and thought over his words, their message tone rang.

“Oh, it’s Thomas!” they exclaimed, hurriedly opening his text message. As soon as they read it, their face paled and their eyes widened.

“No way…” they muttered.

“What did he say?” he asked leaning over to look at their phone. [Name] shakily showed the text to the other man.

“He says he’ll let me go, but he’ll be flying here by tomorrow night to make sure nothing happens to me…”

Baek Yoonho almost let out a snarl. So, this was how a National Level hunter played huh. Very well then, he’ll agree to the Scavenger guild master’s conditions.

“Tell him he has my word. He can be certain that I’ll protect you to my very best ability.”

~*~*~

The next afternoon, the group of hunters had gathered in front of the department store where a gate had opened. It was astonishing to see an S-Class hunter in front of a B-Class gate, and that fact alone was enough to draw hordes of reporters to the scene, hungry for a scoop. Despite the shouting of questions and demands for answers, the group remained unaffected…for the most part. [Name]’s cousin was observing the whole situation wide-eyed while clinging on to her cousin’s cloak, a signature garment for mages.

[Name] looked over to their cousin with a smile, squeezing her shoulder to comfort her. (They were also trying to ignore the fact that they too, were incredibly nervous).

“It’s the usual crowd, [Cousin’s Name]. Don’t worry too much about it. Once you’re in there, all you need to do is focus on fighting the monsters in the dungeon, and you’ll come out a hero,” they said with a sympathetic smile. [Cousin’s Name] looked at them worriedly.

“You sure, [Nickname]?” she asked.

[Name] nodded, “Very.”

It was then that the clock finally hit 1pm and Baek Yoonho shouted, “Everyone! Get ready to go in!” getting the attention of the remaining crew. Some of which were wondering why they were even here. With an S-Class hunter leading the group, were they really needed? Without a doubt, Baek Yoonho would slaughter every single one of the monsters. He was an S-Rank after all. As if he read their minds, Baek Yoonho turned to the back.

“Remember, I’ll only be assisting you when you’re in a pinch. Other than that, you all will be doing most of the work. Got it?” he said. The three B-Rank hunters swallowed and stood up straight.

“Yes, sir!” they shouted.

With that, the six hunters entered the gate.

The moment they entered, a swarm of bug-like creatures flew out of their hiding place, responding to the intruders. Immediately with a wave of their hand and a shout, [Name] put up a wind barrier, slicing the insects that were trying to get in clean in half. Those that were already in the barrier had to be dealt with by the three melee hunters, one of which was [Cousin’s Name].

Understandably, [Cousin’s Name] was lost, swinging her spear haphazardly. [Name], who was focusing on keeping up the wind barrier, could only shout instructions to her. Thankfully, the other two hunters dealt with the swarm quickly, allowing a brief moment of downtime as they ventured further in.

Soon enough, they came across a giant wasp nest, much to [Name]’s chagrin. Aside from the massive dirt ball in the middle of the cavern, red glowing eyes accompanied with the occasional yellow and green watched from the holes. Quietly, they whispered into their cousin’s ear.

“Remember, watch their movements and then strike. You can do this.”

[Cousin’s Name] smiled back at them, “Thanks, [Nickname].”

The group took in a deep breath and watched the insects who remained hidden in their home. The air was tense as neither side made a move until Baek Yoonho raised his hand, and lowered it, signalling the attack. Immediately, the two melee hunters dashed forward, running up the walls of the hive and stabbing a knife into the nearest wasp. In response, the bugs flew out, poised to kill the intruders.

[Name] inhaled, summoning the energy between their palms, slowly gathering a strong wind. Just as a wasp turned towards them, it was slashed in half by a wind blade along with its comrades. [Cousin’s Name] on the other hand, was thankfully getting a hang of fighting the fast-moving insects, her spear piercing through several at a time. Her footwork was clumsy, but with practice, she would be a great fighter, [Name] acknowledged.

At least ten minutes passed before the soldiers of the hive were cleared out, leaving only the generals and the Queen Wasp. She had finally shown herself, her large insectoid body hovering above the hive. Baek Yoonho’s eyes glowed for a second before his expression morphed into one of shock.

“You’re telling me this is a B-Rank boss?!” he exclaimed, immediately stepping out into the forefront. [Name]’s eyes darted over to their friend in shock.

“What do you mean, Yoon-ho?!”  

“This queen can’t be a B-Rank, it’s at least an A-Rank or higher,” he said, his hands curled as his claws slowly formed. “Either way, it’s not something you all can defeat singlehandedly. I suggest the rest of you deal with the generals, I’ll take care of the boss myself.”

[Name] swallowed and nodded. How was this possible? An A-Rank boss in a B-Rank dungeon was unheard of! Alas, they had no time to think over this anomaly, as they were immediately engaged in battle with a general. The general was huge, at least 4 feet tall and [Name] realised quickly that their wind blades barely dealt a scratch against its hard exoskeleton. It didn’t help that it was incredibly fast, and within seconds, [Name] was forced into the defensive, putting up a weak wind shield around themselves as they tried to create some distance from the attacking wasp.

[Name] was huffing, sweat dripping down their cheeks as they continuously threw out wind blade after wind blade. Their mana was dangerously low, and if the wasp continued its onslaught, their shield would break in no time. It was then [Name] made the mistake of letting their eyes wander, and they landed on their cousin, to find them cornered by another wasp. They watched in shock as the wasp whacked away the spear [Cousin’s Name] was wielding and raised a sharp arm to attack.

‘[Cousin’s Name]!!” they yelled out as they summoned a strong gale storm in their cousin’s direction, effectively knocking the wasp away, but leaving themselves open for their enemy to attack. In horror, Baek Yoonho tore his eyes away from the queen and leaped towards the mage, transforming mid-jump and tearing through the general, but not before it managed to stab through [Name]’s arm.

“Damn it! Are you okay?!” Baek Yoonho cried out, dashing to the fallen [Name], who was wincing in pain from the deep wound. [Name] gritted their teeth in pain before nodding.

“It’s just a stab wound. I’ll get the healer to tend to it. You need to get back to the Queen, Yoon-ie,” they said through deep breaths. [Name] was right, the queen was already on her way down, attacking anyone who tried to stop her. If Baek Yoon-ho wasted anymore time, [Name] wouldn’t be the only badly injured one.

Yoon-ho clicked his tongue and got back up, this time in half-transformed state. In two slashes of his claws, he tore through the already weakened Queen, successfully clearing the dungeon. [Name] thankfully, received almost immediate attention from the healer, but unfortunately the healer was only a B-Rank and thus could only stop the bleeding, as they had to reserve mana for the other injured hunters. Aside from that, [Name] received a nicely wrapped bandage around their arm, keeping the wound safe from infections. They could only hope Thomas won’t make a huge fuss about the whole injury, especially after he had made Baek Yoon-ho swear to not let anything happen to them.

As the group moved out of the dungeon to allow the clean-up crew to enter, Yoon-ho looked over to his friend worriedly.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, a gentle hand on their shoulder as he walked beside them. [Cousin’s Name] had sneakily withdrawn to the back of the group to “allow the two some alone time”.

“I already said I am! Don’t worry so much, Yoon-ie. The healer stopped the bleeding, and all that’s left is for the wound to properly close and I’ll be fine in a couple days,” they said, patting their friend on his back. Yoon-ho could only give a half smile as his gaze remained fixated on their arm.

Gosh, he was an idiot. He should have finished up the boss fight quicker instead of letting [Name] try to handle an elite monster by themselves! If he hadn’t saved them in time… he didn’t dare think of how badly hurt [Name] could’ve been. He didn’t care about Thomas Andre’s conditions, he only cared that [Name] was hurt under his supervision.

As soon as the group exited the portal, they were once again bombarded by the press. He groaned. Right, he completely forgot about this nuisance that he had to deal with. With deep breaths, he steeled himself and forced a confident yet reassuring smile on his face. In a calm voice, he explained that there was an unexpected occurrence, but it was dealt with swiftly and that there was nothing to worry about. He was relieved that the press left after that, allowing the group to return the White Tiger Guild headquarters to recuperate.

However, Baek Yoon-ho did not expect Thomas Andre to be greeting him in his own office, seated right behind his own table, much to his annoyance.

~*~*~

Thomas Andre grinned the moment Baek Yoon-ho and [Name] walked in and he stood up to greet the two.

“Hello! You’re Baek Yoon-ho, right?” he asked, in broken (and admittedly rude) Korean, but understandable, nonetheless. Baek Yoon-ho had to hold back a scowl as he muttered to an assistant to get a translator in the room.

“Yes. What brings you here, Mr. Andre?” he replied. He was silently grateful to [Name] for teaching him some English. A man soon rushed in, introducing himself in fluent English as an interpreter.

“I’m here to check in on [Name], like I said I would,” he replied, this time in English. His red eyes then fell onto the bandage [Name] was wearing. “And it appears, you have broken your promise.” The aura around him changed, his face morphed into one of anger. The poor man translating was quaking in his shoes.

“It appears I have. But aside from that, they say they’re completely fine. As you can see, they’re still well and healthy, and I intend to have another guild healer attend to their remaining wounds as soon as possible,” Baek Yoon-ho replied, standing closer to the tall blonde American, his chest held high.

“That is true! Sir, you really don’t have to make a fuss. See! I’m a-okay!” [Name] chimed in, unwrapping the bandage to reveal the slight scab that had formed over the wound.

Thomas hummed to himself as he glanced over [Name]’s injury. “But you still got hurt despite Mr. Baek’s claims that nothing would happen to you.”

“That was entirely my fault. I took my eyes off the monster for a second, and Yoon-ho dove in to save me. Really! If it wasn’t for him, I would have been much worse off!” they tried to explain.

“So, you’re saying you do want to be with the White Tiger guild then, since you’re defending the guild master so much.”

[Name]’s eyes widened, hurriedly protesting against his words. “That’s not what I was saying! I just- Yoonho is my friend and I don’t want you thinking he’s guilty of anything!”

Yoon-ho felt his face warm up, baffled by [Name]’s bluntness. It would make it even better if he wasn’t just a friend to them, but he was glad that he meant so much to them.

Thomas stared the brown-haired man down as he stroked his goatee.

“If you say so, babe. Anyways, I have a proposition for you, Mr. Baek. How about, we decide who’s the stronger one of us here? That way, we’d have a better way to gauge who’ll be more suited to protect them, no?”

[Name]’s jaw dropped. “Hello? I can decide for myself!”

Baek Yoon-ho sighed, “Exactly what they say, Mr. Andre. They can decide for themselves, so if they choose to join the White Tiger guild to be closer with their cousin, then so be it. America is awfully far from their family after all, no?”

Thomas let out a mirthless laugh, “Sure. But it is unfortunate that little [Name] here has wavering loyalties. Think of this fight as more of a…” he thought for a while. “Warning.”

Baek Yoon-ho’s eyes darkened. “A warning, you say?”

“Yes. You see, I don’t like that you attempted to steal one of my guildmates and so by defeating you, I’ll be showing you why you shouldn’t take things that aren’t yours.”

Yoon-ho chuckled, “Very well then, Mr. Andre. I’ll see you downstairs in the Hunter Association’s gym.”

[Name] could only watch in bafflement as the two men made their way out of the office, a bloodthirsty aura hanging around them. Whichever one wins, [Name] knew it wasn’t going to end well.

 Choose your winner:

Thomas Andre or Baek Yoon-ho

[nyllae-shiverflame]

Warm Welcome

“The Lady Shiverflame!” her name was announced and Nyllae stepped through the double doors causing Garrelon to stand from the head of the table, “Ah!” her let out, hand motioning towards her and the two others in the room who had been sitting followed suit and offered a bow to the Starscythe bastard, “My daughter, Nyllae.” he made known and he made quick strides over to her side.

“So glad you could join us. I wasn’t expecting you though your company is welcome enough. Come, you can meet our visitors. Lord Vawen Omberdawn and his son Onvai.”

Nyllae was stunned but she done as bid and her head bowed ever so gently in the direction of the two men, “Well met. I certainly apologize for walking in on a meeting.”

“Not at all.” Vawen spoke, “Your father was actually just telling us wonderful things about yourself and your late mother.”

Baffled, Nyllae’s eyes shifted between the three men. It was as if though their last meeting hadn’t happened and her father was every bit the showman that she thought he could be. Yet another simple little trait she seemed to have siphoned from the old man. With a furrowed brow Nyllae angled look towards Onvai and Vawen, “It is a pleasure to meet you both.”

“Will you join us for dinner?” Garrelon grinned as he asked, motioning to the table before the Shiverflame lady, “I have some news for you.”

News? News was never good when it came from one in which she couldn’t trust. Even more so when there was an unpalatable sincerity behind his words and actions. Confused as ever, Nyllae settled for a firm nod in compliance. At the very least she could appreciate the time to dig a little further.

“They seem to enjoy your company.” Garrelon spoke, point of the knife twisting lightly into the wooden surface of the table, “You look distraught, daughter.”

The very word ‘daughter’ spurred Nyllae’s eyes from her half-empty plate, focusing where ever she could which just so happened to be the center of the table, attention at the grain while her stomach roiled with discontent and spite. He hadn’t been in her life long enough to truly know her as daughter let alone call her such. Nyllae gathered herself, pointed gaze ticking towards her father, “I am glad I could show your guests some measure of good conversation.”

“They were here to discuss the prospect of your hand.” “My hand?” “Marriage.” “We have discussed this --” “That does not change the fact you are going to need to continue your mother’s line. You owe her that much.”

Silence found her and Nyllae’s eyes returned to the place in which she had found prior. He wasn’t wrong -- she owed her mother so much and then some, guilt was a hard thing to process but even more with Amorthon gone, she couldn’t exactly whisk him away. It never occurred to her that he could have just up and left -- sure, if he wanted to abandon her that would have been an elaborately throughout plan, even abandoning his tigers? The Mage knit her brow, wracked with confusion. No, Amorthon would never just leave Cibor and Savage, there was something else.

In other times she followed her gut and now? Her gut twisted and wrenched and she knew it hadn’t been from the food.

“You have a choice.” Garrelon spoke out which drew Nyllae’s thoughts and attention away. She liked having a choice, “The registry has not legally finalized you being the sole proprietor of your mother’s estate, land or belongings. Being your father by birth that claim goes to me and in a few short hours that will be finalized and handed over to me.” He motioned towards the door, “All in thanks to some help from our guests at the Registry, I’ve been able to ready things along. Isn’t it great news? You will be able to keep your status without having none of the worry to oversee staff and more intricate dealings of family affairs.”

The table jolted and hands came slamming down, Nyllae’s chair kicked out with a wooden screech, “You did WHAT?!” fire found her head space and she could already feel her skin boiling, “How DARE you.” she seethed out.

“You are my daughter and I aim to take care of you.” Garrelon fired back cooly.

“All this undertaking, for what? Have you not enough?”

“Never enough to build a legacy.” he intoned and he pointed towards her, “Your choice right now is to do as I bid and you will get those lands back on one condition, you must marry a man of my choosing. Deny me and I will burn it all to the ground and shackle you in a room until I find a match for you and then I’ll see that you are married and shackled in an unfamiliar household!”

“You cannot make me do anything.”

“Can’t I?” he asked, “I have the rightful claims and law at my back to oversee your future as your father.”

With pursed lips Nyllae pushed off from the table to leave. No one was going to bind her to their ideals and she certainly wasn’t about to stay behind to hear more of his antics. She had to get back to her lands, warn the staff -- get Cibor and Savage. With Amorthon missing it was no wonder that everything else had to come crashing down when the pillar was absent.

Two flicks of Garrelon’s fingers smoothed through the air and Nyllae’s arm had been seized before she could even step foot from the dining hall, “Wha!--” she looked over her shoulder to her father and in that the manacles found her wrists, barring her from doing anything stupid; anything at all, “You can’t do this!” she yelled out, the three guards easing the lady out of the room and her voice traveled, “I AM THE SOLE HIRE TO MY NAME! I AM NOT YOURS TO CONTR-- GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME! I CAN WALK!”

The yelling remained until it grew to a distance muffle and then there was silence. Easing back into his chair, Garrelon found some rest for his aching bones and there had been a satisfied grin on his face, “She’ll adapt.” he mused, a hand coming to refill his goblet with wine and the elder gazed up at his son, “Cerovel, please inform our other guest that his services will no longer be needed. Break his body if you wish but it is his spirit we need to contend with. Regardless of what some might think, hearts aren’t as strong as some claim them to be. Even for men. And do keep this rabble quiet from Macelius, I don’t need him snooping around. Take him hunting, keep him silent and away from the estate for a while.”

@amorthonblackwood for mentions