212 – Mizar Keresi

With a burst of displaced air, Vivi and her twenty-three passengers popped into the High King’s courtyard.

The reception was well underway—long tables with food spreads sat underneath awnings, servants in white and black uniforms bustled with trays in hand, and a raised dais hosted the royal family. The ruling monarchs would hardly go anything less than all out when receiving more than seventy individuals ranging from orichalcum to the most powerful people in the world, so it was a fancier affair than even when Vivi had revealed herself.

The gathering fell silent at the sudden materialization of twenty-three pale, horned, red-eyed individuals in their midst. Vivi had to admit: especially thanks to their intricate facial tattoos, demons made an impression.

And not that the other races didn’t produce Titled monsters of their own, but demons were the real deal. Despite being a significantly smaller nation, they tied humans for the most high-rank adventurers. They had a famously bloodthirsty culture that fostered a shockingly high average level. Their typical civilian would demolish even the median adventurer of the human kingdoms.

As High Prince Adrian rose and addressed his new guests, Vivi used the opportunity to slink away. She didn’t go unnoticed, since she felt plenty of gazes on her back, but neither did anyone interrupt the High Prince’s opening words to hurry over and try their luck procuring an audience. So in that sense, it was a successful mission.

She beelined for Rafael.

Earlier, she had thought the man was busy, hence her not dragging him along for the warps. But as it turned out, he’d made room in his schedule to join in on this little soiree.

In retrospect, that made sense—it maybe even should’ve been obvious. Of course the politically minded Steward and representative of Vanguard wanted to be present for the reception of half the world’s Titled.

Even after discovering his presence upon dropping off her first batch of candidates, though, she’d felt a little too embarrassed to ask if he could tag along and mediate.

“All of that went smoother than I thought it would,” Vivi said, throwing up a sound barrier as she reached her Steward. “I mean, something ridiculous happened, but it wasn’t my fault for once.”

Rafael paused.

“Actually not my fault,” Vivi assured him, realizing the phrasing was suspicious. “They were having a free-for-all when I got there. Half the Ashfields had been torn apart.”

“They were… fighting?”

“I’m not kidding, it was a war zone. I thought I’d teleported into a second Dragon King situation.”

For some reason, Rafael squinted at her. “And how did you resolve that, my lady?”

“Nothing crazy,” she said, offended at the suspicion in his tone. “I just… stopped them.”

“Stopped them?”

“Without violence.”

“Without violence how?”

“A-a spell.” She could pick up on the fact that she was missing something.

“By chance,” he said, “did you mean you used one—”

He cut off as he saw Lothazel Casurien of the Primogenitor’s Blood approaching them.

Recognizing two conversations she didn’t want to have, she made the tactical choice to retreat. She dropped the sound barrier so Lothazel could hear her too. “I told the Greywarden I would talk with him after finishing the warps,” she said to Rafael, “so I should go handle that first.”

Lothazel faltered a step at what had maybe been too transparent an attempt to escape him, and Rafael raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t comment.

I didn’t even want to be here, she grumbled internally as she scurried off. She needed to conclude this chat with the Greywarden fast, then speak with Mizar and leave posthaste. I refuse to get trapped by a dozen different Titled who want something from me. That’s not how I’m spending today.

As a silver lining, when the Greywarden saw her walking across the courtyard toward him, he extricated himself from his current company. She wouldn’t have to deal with a group conversation.

The discussion that ensued at least didn’t come with any shocking twists, though that mundanity almost made the ordeal more uncomfortable. The Greywarden didn’t seem to have ulterior motives; the elf was mostly satisfied once Vivi passed over her personal notes on the void problem and caught him up firsthand. He did pester her—and it wasn’t really pestering—about holding a class for the Sylvan Conclave like she had for the Institute, though she wiggled out of anything concrete.

She was exhausted by the time she escaped. Worse, she saw several people stealing discreet glances her way, clearly having been waiting for her to finish.

I’ll definitely get intercepted before I make it to Mizar.

She solved the issue the obvious way. Rather than walking, she [Blinked] straight to the man’s side.

Mizar was an impressive specimen, especially for his race, since demons and elves tended toward leaner physiques. The Primus of the Keresi Clan would have fit in a lineup of statuesque bodybuilders; he towered over Vivi like a mountain. Which a lot of people did, to be fair. But it was clear where Zael’s own stature came from—his father set the standard.

The bulky warrior spun to face the burst of mana, hand shooting to the haft of his axe poking over his shoulder. When he found Vivi standing there, his eyes widened in surprise, and he grinned with his entire face.

“Lady Vivisari,” the man boomed loud enough for half the courtyard to hear him, or so it felt. “What an honor to be in your presence!”

At least he’s not nervous of me, even if he reveres the Sorceress.

“Mizar. It’s nice to… see you too.”

She’d almost said ‘meet,’ but Mizar Keresi had been a minor character in Seven Cataclysms. He hadn’t played a key role in any main quest lines like Aeris, the Greywarden, or the High King, and so Vivi was hesitant to assume they’d met before. She already knew the game hadn’t translated one-to-one, and while she could rely on main story events having happened, she assumed the less important the quests or details got, the more she needed to not take things for granted.

“I must say,” the man continued in his thunderous voice, “your display back in the Ashfields was magnificent. Every man has witnessed his superior remind his cohort of the natural hierarchy by putting his lessers in place, but never did I imagine we would be treated in such a way. All of demonkind’s might, trapped like flies in amber with a wave of a staff. What glorious power!”

He threw his head back and roared with laughter, and Vivi became aware of several non-demons staring at the two of them.

So, the exasperation she’d picked up from Rafael had meant something. She’d made a statement to demonkind by correcting the situation so swiftly. Maybe she should have thrown up a sound barrier before talking to Mizar.

Rafael’s probably trying to smooth things over with Lothazel right now. Ugh. Life isn’t fair.

In another life and another body, her ears would probably have gone pink.

She weighed the merits of explaining that she hadn’t been establishing a pecking order, or that she didn’t consider anyone present a ‘lesser being.’ And that he shouldn’t either. While Mizar seemed like a friendly, straightforward person, his view—and the perspective of demons in general—was rather troublesome.

She defaulted to her usual strategy: ignore everything and hurry on to the next topic.

“What caused all of that, anyway?” Vivi asked. She’d been wondering since the start but hadn’t wanted to ask Lothazel. Politics wasn’t her strong suit, but she knew the Casuriens were the closest thing demons had to a royal family, so any conversations with them needed to be treated carefully.

“Oh, a mild disagreement,” Mizar said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The Navari snake was running his tongue again, and I reminded him that real men speak with their actions, not their words.”

Vivi paused. It’d been Mizar who had kicked the whole debacle off?

…she guessed she wasn’t that surprised. He didn’t seem like someone burdened by temperance.

Though, the phrasing of ‘mild’ disagreement was amusing. That was all it took to spark an all-out faction war?

Beating others bloody is par for the course for these people, she reminded herself. The brawl probably hadn’t been a big deal to anyone, perhaps not even to this Navari person.

“I see,” Vivi said. “I’m rather busy, but I wanted to take you to Vanguard to see Zael and Sarielle.” She glanced sideways at the gathering. “Or do you want to stay and mingle?”

Mizar rubbed his chin as he looked around. “Many worthy foes are present, but I’ll see them in the following days, if not in the ring itself.” He snorted. “And compared to a visit to Vanguard and my children? Hardly a choice.”

He was a surprisingly easy man to talk to—she’d feared that like most people, he would be cautious, circumspect, or too respectful when dealing with her.

After confirming he was ready to go, she scooped him up and left behind the royal courtyard.

All things considered, she’d gotten through the nightmare unscathed.

They popped into Vanguard’s guildhall. The Keresi siblings knew their father was being ferried to the city, so they were present inside the common room. Sarielle looked up from a stack of paperwork, a quill in hand, and Zael pushed off the wall he’d been leaning against.

Mizar took in the guildhall with interest, then settled his gaze on Zael and Sarielle. Smiles clearly came easily to the man, but the beaming grin eclipsed any from before. He threw his arms wide. “There they are! The fruit of my loins, having joined the legendary ranks of Vanguard. I expected nothing less from either of you.”

Both Zael and Sarielle hurried over, their expressions matching their father’s—even the reserved Sarielle, if not quite so openly.

When Zael went to follow his father’s cue by hugging him, Mizar’s knee was suddenly hurtling upward toward his son’s gut.

The action was so unexpected Vivi almost reflexively caught the blow with a spell. Thankfully, she didn’t, perhaps because Zael was already responding himself. He twisted out of the way and—in an impressive display of acrobatics and flexibility—delivered a kick of his own, spinning three hundred and sixty degrees and aiming his heel for Mizar’s face.

The Savage of the Wastes took the strike straight on the jaw. A percussive wave of air blasted through Vanguard, and Mizar’s head didn’t move an inch. Instead, the man bellowed with laughter.

“Staying sharp. Good! You’d have needed a beating or three if you fell for something so obvious.” He stepped forward and swept Zael up for real this time. The young man’s face went red then purple as his Titled father squeezed hard, a groan creaking out of Zael, but the younger Keresi was only laughing when he was set down, clearly finding the exchange typical.

“As if I’d get lazy with my training,” Zael said. “The human lands won’t make me soft, not even if I’m here a century.”

“Make certain of it.” Mizar patted him on the shoulder and went for Sarielle. There was a short hesitation between them—maybe both individuals wondering whether the ‘probing attack’ should repeat itself. In the end, Mizar didn’t try to blindside Sarielle the same way he had Zael, and the girl seemed relieved when she reciprocated the hug.

“I’ve heard you’ve been putting your wit to use,” Mizar said to Sarielle, ruffling her hair. “It’s no surprise Vanguard can recognize brilliance.” Some of the unfettered joy faltered, and he cleared his throat. “But I hope you aren’t neglecting your training. Failure now doesn’t mean failure forever. You’ll be a great warrior one day.”

“I haven’t been, Father.” She huffed in exasperation. “Zael wouldn’t let me if I tried.”

Vivi mentally frowned at the exchange, since for Rafael to have taken an interest in Sarielle’s talents meant the young woman was seriously incredible—a genius in the fields she pursued. Mizar bringing up her deficient combat skills in the same breath as his congratulations felt… dismissive.

But it was pretty blatant that both children loved their father, and Sarielle might only end up annoyed if Vivi attempted to awkwardly chime in. Sarielle had been dealing with her society’s culture since birth, and even if the Sorceress voicing her opinion might help in some way, a reunion clearly wasn’t the best time.

“No Uncle Malziel?” Sarielle asked.

“On a hunt. Our scouts couldn’t find him.” Mizar shook his head. “He’s not going to be pleased knowing he missed the tournament of the millennium.”

Vivi winced. It clearly hadn’t been meant as a grievance addressed to her, but seeing that she and Rafael were the arbiters of how the tournament had been designed, she did feel responsible. Quite a lot of Titled who otherwise would’ve attended if there’d been proper notice would be trapped by circumstances or ignorance. Disappearing into the wilderness for a long training expedition was hardly rare for the strongest adventurers in the world.

“We didn’t have much choice,” Vivi said. “Recruitment’s one of our biggest goals, and we had to get things moving.”

Mizar turned to her, blinking once in surprise. “Of course. No complaint intended, Lady Sorceress.”

She was relieved he really did seem at ease around her. It was a rare combination, the obvious respect without tiptoeing.

“And feel no need to play host, not that the Sorceress would ever be trapped by such things,” Mizar said with a laugh. “My children can give me the tour. Though I won’t turn down a duel—or rather, a thrashing!—if you’re offering one.”

“I should probably get going,” Vivi said. She didn’t actually have anything pressing, but extricating herself now was safest, and he likely wanted to be alone with his family without a legendary figure hovering weirdly in the background.

She raised a hand in goodbye, then [Blinked] away.