The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 285 - Some Hearts Are Dimmed By The Shadow Of War, Some Still Scheme & Squee

Chapter 285: Chapter 285 - Some Hearts Are Dimmed By The Shadow Of War, Some Still Scheme & Squee

Elua er Goltbred’s eyes snapped open in the dark.

Her body remained perfectly still as her spiritual sense expanded outward to search for whatever had disturbed her sleep. Her birds were quiet, her parents were *silent* finally, and the air in the tent felt unchanged.

No unusual sounds pierced the quiet pre-dawn beyond a few other early risers. Qatrand’s fragment remained calm in her chest... indicating her beloved was sleeping peacefully even after their emotional back and forth.

Yet, something had shifted.

She sat up slowly while drawing her essence field tight against her skin. The quality in the air held no ’physical’ change, but her Breacher spirit detected a barely perceptible hesitation in the natural flow of energies all around. A sign which she had experience with.

"So it begins."

The reincarnator spoke before rolling calmly to her feet. Elua dressed silently in her silver dress, choosing practical clothes as the primary illusion over top. The dresses she’d worn in recent days were no longer what she felt was appropriate... even if she had no intention of letting anyone see her in the coming hours.

Her fingers worked through her hair before brushing it out. The time to do something so simple would be a luxury meant only for downtime in the coming months. The ancient cultivator remembered days of fighting with grime and worse stuck in her past life’s hair.

The Whispering Skydancers all sensed her wakefulness and mood. Their white eyes were not visible to mortal sight in the darkness, but she knew they watched from their perches. Her original companion seemed to especially understand the significance of her behavior.

It flew to land on her shoulder and its iridescent feathers brushed against her cheek in an almost comforting gesture. Just as naturally, Elua reached up to stroke it gently as she gathered a few more things. The most dramatic being the Obsidian mirror floating up her arm and swirling around her form as she reached out.

A theatrical motion that pleased no one but herself before the relic settled to the small of her back. The creature chirped softly as if encouraging her, despite not understanding her sudden droop in excitement. The brunette shook her head and left her tent.

The camp guard yawned as she passed him invisibly. The competition grounds she walked through were still and stars still dominated the early sky. Though the faintest edge along the horizon promised that dawn would remove them within the hour. She had matters to attend to while the world still slept.

’Troublemakers to spy on, merchants to close deals with, and certain hires to manage.’

She had made it so that her spirit fragment remained relatively dormant within Qatrand. Her husband-wife would need her rest for the days ahead... and waking her early when ’warning’ others was out of the question was unnecessary. The day would bring its own complications once others noticed the more obvious sign of what she already had.

The veterans of previous Descents might feel as restless as her soon enough. By midday, even the least spiritually sensitive cultivators would recognize the weak signs of light dimming. Like a thin film of something was in the atmosphere.

The mortals might not notice anything until told. It would be days more still until it was truly ’overcast’ in the middle of the daytime. But they would recognize the change in their protectors’ demeanor as everyone readied for travel and final evacuations.

The illusionist smiled as she danced about her business in the shadows. The Descent had come again, as it always did every 18 years. But this time, it would be one of the more *interesting* kind.

With someone actually worth protecting other than herself.

⟠ ⟠ ⟠

The announcement had come at midday, as the Goltbred expected. Schedules for competitions were suspended and evacuation priorities had been posted at every information station. The confirming news spread rapidly through the grounds.

The Descent’s early signs had been confirmed by multiple Guild representatives, including the Void Defense Society. Throughout the morning, a number of cultivators had moved with a different purpose than the festive atmosphere before. The transformation into an organized withdrawal had begun.

Mortals were given priority on the earliest transports to the closest rail hub, followed by the few underage cultivators and those with defensive assignments in far outlying areas. Yet amidst the growing urgency, Corde hez Iralev had announced her intention to perform her traditional Frost Sword Dance that evening... a ritual normally reserved for the closing ceremony.

The Frozen Duskblade chose to limit the panic by providing part of what she came for this time. An offering to those who might be eased by her presence and own lack of rush to leave. Something for those who were waiting for their turns on the rail.

The large ring of spectators gathered in the central area where competition events had been held just days before. Teams of event staff had cleared the space from the setup they had done for the now canceled team scenario. Now, an arrangement of large blocks of ice in a circular pattern and several basins of water stood at strategic points around the performance area.

Elua sat with her family in their viewing section, as did many others. Many of the Guild cultivators were out keeping order during the evacuation, but it was more a precaution than necessity. There were almost as many watching in these same ’special’ areas as there had been throughout the rest of the competition.

The Sand performers she’d met days earlier had joined them as well, thanks to a letter she pressed her disciples with when they went out to meet them. The man’s elementalist preference would have drawn him to witness the famous Frozen Duskblade’s control technique regardless, but now he could watch from a better spot.

A fancy hourglass hung from his belt, catching the light occasionally as he shifted position. A sight which Lady Aarengraf, positioned with a clear view of both the performance area and the Goltbred section, froze momentarily when she caught sight of. Her eyes narrowed, calculating.

The heiress was clearly communicating through these strategic placements! Creating a network of marked individuals across the grounds. She leaned toward her aide, whispering instructions to note the man’s presence and affiliation as well as anyone else that might have the items.

Talva had also joined them as promised. The tall blonde Army cultivator felt somewhat awkward in the formal setting, sitting in uniform while many were still in finery. But she was warmly welcomed by Yatrel and the outfit of the little sigilist she fangirled over eased her considerably.

One-year-old Onya sat on Talva’s lap smiling. Her small hands occasionally reached up to touch the woman’s golden hair and babble at her. The woman let out lots of ’oh’s and ’mhm’s as she cooed happily at the child, forgetting her surroundings just a bit.

"It was good of you to join us. Especially with everyone preparing to depart."

"My unit leaves tomorrow morning. We travel far, but the civilians come first."

Talva replied offhandedly to the mother while patting the orders in her pocket. She started to bounce Onya gently on her knee to the little girl’s delight. Her care for the surroundings grew even less and her voice gained a dreamy slur.

"I couldn’t miss this opportunity... uh, to see the Frozen Duskblade perform. Such displays were rare where I trained."

The woman’s ears grew red, knowing she wasn’t fooling anyone with the sharp change of tone. Yatrel covered her face and hid her amusement at the pairing. It would not surprise her at all if the Army member sought to get pregnant with her own young one after the war was over with!

Among the eclectic gathering in that section of waiting spectators, Dima sat rather uncomfortably at the edge of her seat. She was still processing how last night, Klaytei had shown up with food and a despondent tale.

The eventual innocent enough invitation from the servant to come and sit with her during the closing ceremony after they chatted for a while... had been moved up so suddenly thanks to the Descent.

’That girl’s husband isn’t even here. She could have been fawning over her employer. I’m sure she regrets inviting me now.’

With evacuation preparations consuming her attention, she had somewhat reluctantly torn herself away from administrative duties to brave sitting next to *her* employers. The Goltbred family had not been too officially heavy handed since she started working as the branch manager, but...

"I wasn’t expecting to attend like this at all."

She confessed this to Klaytei in a quiet voice. The other woman had somehow managed to secure a place directly beside her despite the crowded seating. For some reason, she kept waiting for someone to yell at either of them for taking up space.

’Servants aren’t supposed to mingle with the family, right? I’m not just out of the loop with how affluent families operate... right?’

The former liaison’s confusion was replaced with annoyance. She’d just granted *herself* that descriptor!

"We cannot simply be overworking during times like these."

Klaytei referenced the slight admonishment she had given the late worker when she felt bold so many hours ago. A sweet cake from a small wrapped package was handed to her Princess that she went out and bought that morning with her own funds. Truly, she wanted to hand feed it to her... but she knew it was *nowhere* near time for that.

’One year, two, or three? She is so stubborn and willful, I’m not sure how long it will take~’

"We must remember why we protect what we protect. The people important to us and the moments we can share with them."

The servant’s genuine and warm smile made Dima’s protest die on her lips. That she should leave and let the woman attend to Elua if she wanted it that much no longer felt like something she should say. She accepted the offering, thinking to herself again that such devotion deserved better.