The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'
Chapter 286 - Absent Brothers, Frosty Druthers, And Jealous Mothers… As The Descent Hovers

Chapter 286: Chapter 286 - Absent Brothers, Frosty Druthers, And Jealous Mothers... As The Descent Hovers

Across the distance in the Yecine’s viewing section, raven haired Qatrand stood a bit apart from the gathered elders and her fellow participants. Her attention turned to a message scroll she’d just received from one of their retainers. The ’heir’ couldn’t help but tighten her expression as she read it.

"News from your father?"

Lirades approached and inquired of their family’s latest pride. The ’boy’ performed so well in so many events that the old woman heard some... interesting phrases in the markets. She didn’t know young women these days spoke so bluntly about their desires!

"He put my brothers on the first train this morning. It was a coincidence, I suppose."

Qatrand’s low voice was careful not to voice her suspicion. That the man had pushed them out early because of this display being put on by Corde hez Iralev. The talks about the Descent would have still been underway in the main pavilion based on the train schedule she knew.

But that didn’t mean he would not have guessed what would happen. The Frozen Duskblade had not taken very long at all to declare to them she would take her stage in order to help close things off this evening. Nor did anyone there seem surprised by that choice.

"Well, that is disappointing. They whispered to me that they were excited to see it."

Pigeon blues met the old woman’s eyes after she spoke and a moment passed between them. What didn’t need voicing among the two Yecine was that Anper would not have liked Kaland and Ajoreal talking to Lirades... at all. Or that he deliberately removed his sons before they could witness another display of female martial prowess.

Because the pair of children staying here until everyone else moved to their assigned locations would not have been a big deal. Though he could *claim* to be aiding efficiency of the evacuation schedule by removing the ’unnecessary for duty’ members, like written in this letter... by a retainer.

’This is not something I want to save.’

The piece of paper crumpled in a ball as she pulled her calloused hand into a fist over it. Qatrand was sure this was not his handwriting and that he had only dictated it quickly. More than that, even if it had been his effort... she was irritated enough to probably trash it anyway.

The Yecine elder’s efforts to control what his children saw and believed about things was not even a trait only her father possessed. The family as a whole would not have brought their own kids of that age outside the estate for this. Other than attending the Youth Guild, rarely, so that their family’s next members received public exposure... Qatrand had not been much of anywhere herself.

"Next competition, we’ll have to make better plans to arrange for any of our youth who would like to attend."

Before further conversation could develop over that decisive declaration by the ’heir’, a resonant tone from a struck bronze bell silenced the gathered crowd and drew their attention.

Corde strode into the center of the performance space with her dark hair pinned back. Her signature battle dress was replaced by a training outfit of pale blue. The sword that gave the woman her moniker remained unchanged at her hip.

The sheathed black blade that was lined tight with her Frost essence was known throughout the continent and beyond for its perfect balance and deadly edge. At least, *fans* knew that she claimed it had great balance... none other than her had wielded the weapon in half a century. Most didn’t even consider that it had a prior owner at all.

She bowed only once to the audience, a long moment of respect for those who watched and were not panicking about the threat coming for them all. Corde then assumed a stance of perfect stillness. For several heartbeats, she remained motionless as she exerted her focus on the surroundings.

With a movement so fluid it appeared almost languid, she drew her blade. Shards of ice sprayed from the corner of ice block, torn free more from her elementalism than the physical strike. The ’dance’ began slowly like that. Each return position held for precisely three breaths before transitioning to the next slash.

The frost on her sword and in the air caught light and reflected it in tiny glittering flashes as she moved through her forms. Each deliberately placed strike shaved more fine curls from the ice blocks, sending them spiraling into the air only to fall to the ground and shatter.

The swordswoman began manipulating the essence near the water from the nearby basins as her tempo increased. Her Frost Aspect responded to her will and practice. Layers of the moisture turned to sheets of delicate, crystalline structures over the containers.

They ’hovered’ momentarily in view, a trick done by the structural legs frozen underneath the water’s source. Then she turned from the ’larger’ enemy ice blocks and shattered them all with single flowing strikes. Her footwork was meant to be the more impressive, physical part of it all... but the mortals were more interested in how the broken fragments didn’t fall but swirled around her form.

’No, it’s actually impressive that she is doing this as well. Most of us switch between thinking of using our martial skills and our Element. Not applying both at once.’

Mist began to form naturally as the cold of her manipulations met the warmer afternoon air. A ghostly veil billowed behind her on the stage along with her movements.

Qatrand couldn’t help but think of her father’s Smoke Element when she saw this. Her fists clenched again, upset that her two little brothers would not be able to make the same comparison now.

Over in the Goltbred area, Onya squealed with delight at the swirling patterns and twinkles off of the moving bits of icy dust. Her small chubby hands reached out as if to capture the bits she could see right in front of her, but they were so far away!

The Continental Army member chuckled softly while enjoying her enjoyment more than the spectacle itself... but would not dare loosen her secure hold on the child. Pleased that she was enjoying herself - but needing a distraction from the little strikes of emotion from Qat that made her want to zoom right to her spouse’s side... Elua leaned close to her sister.

"So you like all this dancing in the mist?"

Inside the toddler’s mind, the illusionist created more figures out on the stage. Simplified ’Voidlings’ tried evading the path of the Frozen Duskblade. Their dark forms materialized and dissolved with each sweep of the frosty sword in an ’unwinnable’ battle of attrition.

A sort of trick she’d developed to tire other cultivators weaker than her out sometimes, in her past life.

Brown eyes widened as she spotted the familiar illusions - something that the heiress had shown to her a few times in private... as opponents for the ’absolutely not Qat’ miniature figure. When she wasn’t having that ’not my beloved’ overcome the ’this is totally our dad’ enemy figure with its heavy blade, anyway!

The girl’s ever more delighted giggles drew smiles from those nearby. Though as far as they could assume, she was simply charmed by the mist and plays of light itself. If they knew she laughed like that watching a fierce battle between a cultivator and an endless supply of dark creatures, who knew what they would think?

’I’m actually a little concerned myself, but if she’s happy...’

The performance reached its zenith as Corde executed a series of blindingly fast attacks. Her blade sliced through such precise arcs that it seemed to multiply. Frost coalesced in the air around her to leave trailing afterimages of the weapon in complex geometries.

The forming structure was only in existence for a couple seconds before, with a final flourish, she brought her sword to perfect stillness pointing at the very center of the stage. The delicate three-dimensional pattern shattered under its own weight when she stopped propping its positioning up with her essence.

Fine powder drifted to the ground like snow in a circle around her, causing the audience to remain silent for a few heartbeats. The mortals erupted into appreciative cheers as all of the cultivators offered their applause. Corde saluted with her blade held to her chest and pointed into the air, instead of bowing to the crowd again.

Her composure on stage was unbroken despite the physical demands of the performance. She’d fought for far longer on the battlefield than the mere ten minute display.

"That final sequence... requires control few cultivators ever achieve. She did not run into what she was building as she twirled even once at that speed."

Ondua commented while still clapping, though not as loud as Zyris. His voice sat at the edge of ’full fan’ but still bore the weight of a professional assessment. Yatrel agreed, even if it irked the woman to do so just a *little*.

"The harmony between elementalism and physicality is not a path many pursue in the first place. One doesn’t simply master such a dance only through practice of one ."

Part of the duelist wanted to wrap her hands around his neck and make him look at her right now, too. She was also a fighter that melded the two types of cultivation into her style! If she wasn’t still so... *sore* and forgiving, the graceful woman might have shown her ’edge’ in public.

’Men and their swords. You can lose a sword, but not your fist! Well, that’s not true, but...’

Talva er Ryleon approached the Dame Goltbred with Onya in her arms. Though if she’d actually looked at all at the woman biting her thumb behind her talkative husband and excitable Talcres - she might have stayed away!

"I should return her to you. My unit will be meeting shortly to review our deployment plans."

She spoke what she needed to with a very *obvious* reluctance. The child made a small sound of protest as the blonde transferred her to her mother’s receiving arms. The Army cultivator touched the child’s cheek gently while prying the chubby fingers off of her quickly grabbed hair.

"I promise that I’ll visit when this is over. Perhaps we can all spend more time together then."

A grateful smile to the Goltbreds for giving her this evening to think about worked its way past the disinclination to be happy with parting. The farewell was rife with the uncertain reality they all faced, though none would be so indelicate to point it out.

Who would successfully return from the coming conflict and what state they would return in was anyone’s guess.