The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 143 - A Sword That Has Chilled Three Descents

Chapter 143: Chapter 143 - A Sword That Has Chilled Three Descents

The nearly finished competition grounds sprawled before a woman in an ornate dress. Corde hez Iralev looked onto a patchwork of tents and training circles already taking shape in the plains outside of it. Her sharp, dark eyes tracked the movements of fellow Void Defense Society members as they etched boundary markers for the hired sigilists.

Each grouping of Guilds worked with efficiency, their coordinated efforts speaking to the enormous *need* for the upcoming events... as well as the practice they had in arranging things every eighteen years.

The familiar weight of her slim blade tapped against her hip as she descended the gentle slope - an item that was also needed and whose use was well practiced. Early morning light caught on the patterns adorning her black battle dress, making clearer distinction of the embroidery and its very deep blue fabric.

Various representatives nodded respectfully as she passed them. Recognition was clear in their eyes at the sight of the Frozen Duskblade. An imposter might wear the well known accouterments, but the bearing and assured way of movement was far harder to fake.

Her dark gaze lingered on a trio of Ironclad Order members, sparring in a recently marked circle. Their blades tore arcs through the air as she assessed their form. Some styles had evolved since her own training days, inserting more fluid cuts and stances.

’Is it too arrogant to hope that it is from my influence?’

"Lady Iralev."

An elderly Void Defense Society official approached with a scroll clutched in his weathered hands. He held it out for her to take before he continued speaking.

"Your timing is impeccable. We were hoping to discuss the eclipse predictions and their potential impact on the competition schedule."

She accepted the item and let her dark eyes scan the carefully documented observations. Her stern features remained composed as she considered the implications.

"The sun’s event means nothing. If the invasion does begin that much earlier than the last cycle, we still won’t be caught off guard."

The official shifted his weight on the balls of his feet. Her words made sense, but he couldn’t help but feel unease.

"We’ve noted the same gradually increased ambient essence disruption patterns we have always recorded at this time before previous Descents, but..."

"I’ve witnessed three cycles myself. Each invasion brings its own characteristics. Each time, we worry that something will shift dangerously and leave us unready. I’m not here to tell you that we can reach a perfect, flawless result."

Her confidence was clear as she stared the old fellow down.

"I’m only telling you that I don’t feel any more danger than usual. Act as you feel is best."

Her first Descent had taught the then young swordswoman that overconfidence killed faster than Voidlings themselves. The second proved that even seemingly adequate preparation could fail in some places and remain perfect in others. And the third... it showed that survival sometimes meant abandoning who and what you thought you knew.

Each cycle left its scars, but also its wisdom and instinct.

Corde shook her head and turned to observe the merchant caravans continuing to travel in her wake. She wanted to arrive ahead of them to see the venue before it became so busy. Their cultivator guards maintained formation with the many carts and draft animals... even within the relative safety of the grounds.

’Some of our traditions remain unchanged, even as methods evolve and crime decreases. Speaking of unwritten laws...’

Near the far eastern boundary, a cluster of very young cultivators gathered around a senior member demonstrating his blade forms. She wasn’t familiar with the Guild they might represent, but seemed to be one of the usual excitable groups that gathered together those that didn’t make it into a larger organization.

Their movements as they copied him were mechanical and lacked the raw determination she remembered from previous years. But she did not let any of her disappointment show... as finding a jewel in the pile of discarded warriors was never a certainty.

"Have many registered for the competition?"

The official consulted a ledger from his satchel after she suddenly asked the question.

"Numbers are strong. The recent marriage of a Yecine to the Goltbred has drawn additional interest."

Corde’s gaze sharpened at the mention of the Yecine. She had encountered their sword techniques in the past, though opportunities to witness them on display were rare. The family’s isolation made proper assessment of the heavy blade users difficult - and these regions were not the ones she defended in her first two Descents.

"Tell me more."

"There’s talk among the youth of the ’medical fairy’ - oh, that is apparently a nickname they gave the young heiress spawned by Ondua er Goltbred - potentially participating herself in some capacity."

She closed her eyes, knowing it was fruitless to show her exasperation. It only made sense that she was expected to care about the life of one of the region’s heroes. Especially when he was... *something* of a sword wielder himself.

"The young swordsman his daughter married... has there been word of which preliminary events they intend to join?"

"Not yet, though given their background... as many as possible."

She nodded at the insinuation, already assuming as much. Her career had taught her to recognize potential when she encountered it... but making sure you could place yourself in a position to see it with your own eyes was often an ordeal.

’Perhaps this competition will offer me more than just the chance to ease mortal worries and rile cultivator bravery.’

It was a weak hope, but one that was growing with her age - that someone competing might even prove worthy of further instruction.

Her flowing dark locks caught the breeze as she turned to survey the grounds once more. The scale of preparation and festivity had grown with each Descent she’d witnessed, but the underlying purpose remained unchanged. Young cultivators would test themselves here on these grounds.

They would try and prove their worth under many watching eyes right before the real life and death battles began.

’The ones who do well here are not always those that perform best under that pressure.’

As Corde hez Iralev - the Frozen Duskblade and famous swordswoman - began to walk further into the venue grounds, an icy mist billowed out from where she had just stood. From where she had briefly lost her composure.