Chapter 3

Kin of Storms

Nyxis’ POV

Nyxis remained quiet as she stood in Rowena’s massive study, though unperturbed by her boss’s presence. It wasn’t unusual for the young woman to be summoned before noon, especially during the frantic holiday season, but the elf knew exactly why she was there.

“Did you complete your task of dropping the first snow?” Rowena sat in her decorated wooden throne of a chair, elbows on her desk with her fingers interlocked together. Her face was marred by her regular sneer, as per usual.

“Yes, I did.” The elf confirmed, short and nonchalantly sweet.

“Is that so?” The woman tilted her head to the side, her sneer deepening.

“Yes, ma'am. I dropped a record 2 feet of snow on All Hallows, as directed.” Nyxis sternly replied.

Rowena rolled her eyes, annoyed at the mere presence of the young woman, but more so of the amount listed. “And what of Remisia?”

“Untouched until the middle of Decembris, as I have more pressing matters here to attend to in the meantime.” She did not lie.

A loud scoff suddenly erupted from the older elf, who threw her hands into the air briefly before glaring at the elf. “Oh? And pray tell, what other pressing matters do you need to attend to, other than the tasks I give you?”

Nyxis felt her left eye twitch, her blood rising for the second time this morning. It was far too early to start an argument, but she did have a point to make. 

Every day, she had to walk on eggshells, but during the Holiday Season, she was basically expected to hide away from the world. Every argument they had stemmed from Rowena as the aggressor, most times, for no rhyme or reason other than argue. Nyxis had originally thought that it was due to Mrs. Claus’ widow status, during what was supposed to be the happiest time of the year.

After all, she herself was quite accustomed to grief and the truth of how long it takes to heal.

Rowena wasn’t healed, though. Mrs. Claus chose to thrive on hate, and was all but consumed by it. The citizens of Chakram may not know the details, but they absolutely remember the shifts in her demeanor; both the morning that Nyxis arrived at Chakram, and the night that her husband, Nicholas Claus, died. Her attitude towards the citizens, her late husband’s advisors, and even Father Wynter deteriorated further to bitterness and spite ever since. Giving her a title after all of that just inflated her fragile ego.

Since the night of the Fallen Leaf Incident, the younger elf knew that working together, even for the sake of the people, was not an option; Rowena hated Jack Frost for her very existence, and Nyxis would never respect Mrs. Claus as a Leader, much less a person. Their current obligations were solely linked to the Claus bloodline, and nothing more. 

Rowena, with the status and title of Acting High Commander of Mt, Wynter, had all the power necessary to help the people, not just of Chakram, but of all of Mt. Wynter, and had chosen not to. 

Jack Frost, as a secondary Commander to Mt. Wynter had no such power and was merely a servant to not only Father Wynter and Mrs. Claus, but to the citizens under their care.

She already had nothing, so why not throw caution into the wind?

‘Inner peace…be calm’

“Ma'am, with all due respect, the description of my Jack Frost title also entails that I am to ‘provide assistance for the citizens and or the Mt. Wynter Leaders in preparation for the Holiday Season.’ I don't simply work for you; I also work for Father Wynter and Mt. Wynter as a whole.”

“What are you getting at, Frost?” The woman carefully placed her hands on her desk and slowly stood up, her glare never faltering.

‘Steel yourself…Do not back down!’

“Rowena, we do this dance every year. You know I help the citizens as much as I can, especially around this time of year. You know, of all people, that I'm stretched quite thin in terms of work, because you assign my work.” Nyxis spoke candidly. The adrenaline was starting to rush, and it took all of her willpower to not shake from the effects. “I'm sure you must have noticed that the citizens are now starting preparations for requests that should have been approved in the middle of the year. The citizens need our assistance, your assistance. If you could-”

“If I could, what?” Rowena shouted abruptly, her face beet red with repressed rage. She slapped her hand once upon another red book; one of Mt. Wynter’s this time, the sound echoing in the empty room. “Do you realize just who you are speaking to? I have been consistent and exemplary in my career centuries longer than you have even been alive and you have the audacity to tell me how to do my job!?”

Their eyes locked, and if anyone else were in the room, they would scurry in fear from the tension.

“Well, I have been completing my tasks, as well as yours.” The elf equally sneered, annoyance seething through her teeth. “And last I checked, Bast has been completing the remaining tasks of yours that I cannot. What I mean to say is that if you were so “exemplary” at your job, then maybe you would know just how much your people need help, especially now. Can you please try to help-” 

Nyxis was suddenly cut off when she watched the woman across from her throw the heavy tome in her direction, just for the book to whip past the elf’s head, hitting the wall, and tumbling to the ground, on its back cover.

“Enough! I will not stand for this insubordination!” Rowena screamed at the top of her lungs. Mrs Claus glared daggers into the elf across from her desk. “You are remarkably lucky that you are well liked by Father Wynter, but do not think that makes you special in any fucking way! I have absolutely no reason to answer you, or to anyone! I am the Leader of Chakram, as is my right! Meanwhile, you stand before me, like the marriage ruinous troglodyte you are, demanding something from me!?”

The elf stood quietly, a flicker of pain shadowed her glare, but only for a second. She wanted to scream back. She wanted to throw the book back with twice the force and triple the precision. She wanted the fight that Rowena was evidently proposing with her actions. 

But she wouldn’t, for she had to maintain decorum as Commander.

She couldn’t, because she had too much to lose and the time for her Trial had not yet come.

Oh, but how she wanted to, because the abuse was already too much to bear.

Rowena stood tall, her nose pointing high, as she was normally viewed by anyone watching her. The scowl of the Witch, as it was commonly murmured throughout the townsfolk. “As the Leader of Chakram, I declare that the punishment for your juvenile display of insubordination is to attend all future proposals from the Courts in the name of Mt. Wynter. If you believe you can do my job better than myself, you are more than welcome to take over my Personal Relations until further notice!”

Nyxis felt her face contort into a confused frown. “So my punishment is to do more of your work? How is that any help to them?!”

“Well perhaps it will give you a new appreciation of the real leaders of Mt. Wynter and what we do. You are simply a child that needs to remember the words of the Rulers of Chakram are law, and if you studied the laws as well as you claim to have had, then you’d know well to remove yourself from my sight, because all is said and done!” The woman sneered down, her hate rising to the peak. “Those people do not need you! Father Wynter does not need you! And I have no need for you. You are not necessary! Now. LEAVE!”

The Commander remained there for a moment after the woman’s tirade, the fire she held tightly dimming quickly from her eyes. Rowena knew well how to dig deep into her insecurities, and reveled in trying to pull any emotion from her, frequently failing. But there are those rare times that she broke through.

Nyxis bowed and turned around to the door, side eyeing the tossed book for a moment, before leaving the room and closing the door behind her. She stood by quietly, breathing deep with shaky breaths. The adrenaline was intensely pumping through her veins, more so than the blood, and the white spots in her vision flickered all over.

‘Inner Peace. Be Calm. Inner Peace. Be Calm. Inner Peace. Be Calm.’

The mantra she kept close wasn’t helping as it usually did. Her inner peace was disrupted, broken, exposed. The Commander could never be exposed, especially not in or to the public.

Without a thought left, Nyxis lifted the hood of her cloak and quickly floated away from the Witch’s Office and the West Wing. She tried to breathe carefully as she moved, but it worked against her when she felt a lump in her throat. Her vision had returned, just for it to then become blurry with slow welling tears, but muscle memory kept her moving.

Down the stairs, make a right, down more stairs, cross the landing, up the stairs, make a left, up more stairs.

When she arrived at a silver ornate door, she twisted the knob, flew inside and closed it softly, leaning her back and head against it. She placed the palm of her hands on the cold mixture of steel and wood, the cooling feeling slowly calming the rage inside.

Nyxis would not allow Rowena to see her pain, her hurt, or that she was even capable of pulling an emotion from her. But there are times that the verbal abuse was so damaging that the Commander’s heart would darken, and her vision would begin to deteriorate, but she was always pulled back to reality, usually by Bast.

But he wasn’t there, her vision was still dimming and she was starting to believe the hurtful words.

Suddenly, the elf heard a soft thump and the sound of wood shifting over a carpet. She did not move from her spot nor did she glance over to see, but she knew who it was. Only three other people had open access to this room.

“You look pale… Bad convo with the Witch?” A soft voice rang through the room. A woman's voice.

Nyxis sighed deeply through shaky breaths. “Do you even have to ask? Everyday is a-”

“‘Everyday is a fight.’ Yes, that you are winning because even the Witch knows that she can’t outlast youth, with her old ass!” The woman piped up.

The elf couldn’t help but smirk at the comment. “It sure doesn’t feel like I’m winning. You sure it’s not a fluke, Rozaliya?”

Nyxis’ vision was returning slowly, as was her breathing. Then, she felt a finger poke at her clavicle. When she finally lifted her head from the door to look, she was staring back at a slightly taller pale nymph with sharp, ocean blue eyes, staring back.

“No way. When I make predictions, I’m always spot on! I don’t make mistakes, I deliver investments.” The woman said proudly, her pale, strawberry blonde curly bob bouncing around her shoulders.

A chuckle escaped Nyxis’ lips. “There are such things as bad investments.”

“Yeah, sure, but they’re not coming from me! Again, I only make spot-on predictions. She will drop dead one day, and then you’ll be free!” Rozaliya spoke candidly. The Commander then felt her cloak hood fall and cold hands holding her cheeks, lifting her head up to eye level. “But you gotta stop poking the bear. You know she doesn’t give a shit, so why should you? You just need to keep doing what you have been doing and just stay clear of her.”

“How, Roza? How can I do that when she literally antagonizes me with more work than I can finish? How can I not care about the citizens? How can I detach myself from her when I have to report to her?” Nyxis questioned. She truly needed answers, but the questions she posed were too numerous to count.

“Have you gone to Father Wynter about this?” The nymph asked.

The commander shook her head. “Father Wynter has been out on official business and won’t return until the day before the Fall Banquet. She is in charge until then.”

“Two weeks from now?” Rozaliya mused, panning around the room behind her. She removed her hands from the other woman’s face and grabbed her wrist, pulling her over to one of the couches that sat by an enormous fireplace.

When they sat, the tension in Nyxis' shoulders evaporated and she slumped into the fluffed cushions. The adrenaline was gone, but the emptiness remained.

With full vision returned, the Commander scanned around the very familiar room. Her grand library, decorated with high ceilings and thousands of books lined along various Darkwood shelves; a gift bestowed to her upon arrival to Chakram to live. In truth, it was a present from her father, but Father Wynter was the person that gave it to her. That room was her sanctuary; the only place she could go where the Witch couldn’t find her.

Well, technically, Rowena could find her here, but she wouldn’t be able to enter.

“I just don’t know how to help the citizens. That’s all Father Wynter asked me to do.”

“What needs to be done?” Rozaliya questioned.

“The Workshop has a major Alteration incoming, and they need help building, and the Creation Station is still waiting on Amnis Powder to make the decorations.” Nyxis rattled off the issues that required troubleshooting, problems that kept her awake for over a week. The woman next to her sat in thought for a moment before piping up, clapping her hands together.

“Well, I can fix one of your problems.” Rozaliya began, smiling all the while. “You can leave the Workshop to me. Bast already told me about the troupe and luckily for you, I had just the space for them. My girls usually volunteer around the city during the season, so they can help at the Workshop. Before you get up in arms against it, they are excellent woodworkers and are volunteer stage builders.”

The commander started to speak when Rozaliya’s dancing Troupe, Aphrodite’s Swans, were mentioned. Though, as her friend explained further, she chose to sit silently. The Swans were the top dancers on Aeon, flawlessly elegant when dancing, but many of them started as young carpenters, assistant chefs, and seamstresses. They already had that eagerness to learn, succeed, and survive, more so in a different country than Bordeaux. Nyxis know that they were more than capable to help the Workshop.

“Assuming you told him already, I’m sure that Bast will come up with a plan about the Amnis Powder. We can handle this, so maybe you can relax, if only for a little bit.” The nymph concluded, releasing Nyxis’ wrist and patting her hand reassuringly. “Why don’t you go read off some of that steam?”

“I can’t read when I’m stressed out.” The Commander sighed. It was true, as she still didn’t have a plan nor explanation for the Amnis Powder situation and it weighed on her not to know. 

“Then go punch it off.” The older woman suggested.

Nyxis shook her head with a bit of force. “The Training room is in the West Wing. I’m not going back over there if I could help it.”

“Fine, then why not go to Farrum Ember? The training facility is far away, and you know the bitch won’t leave Mt. Wynter. This is as far as she will go to look for you.” Rozaliya pointed out.

The elf blinked in thought. The Farrum Ember training facility was past a Realm Gate, and as Jack Frost, she does have access to that gate.

“Do I have to pull a favor for the Workshop assistance?”

“No.” Rozaliya stated, before lifting herself over the couch, levitating above the cushions. “I’m fierce in my favors, but I’m not an asshole. I can see when someone needs help and I don’t indulge in kicking the helpless while they’re down.” The nymph poked the Commander’s nose before floating just out of reach of the couch. “Now, I’m going to go work my magic, and you should go before she ‘summons’ you for something else. If she asks for you, I’ll just say that you’re busy.”

The Commander reached up to slap Rozaliya’s hand away from her face, but it was too late; she got “booped”, a signature move of the Valentinian Lady. “Please be careful on how you word it. The last thing I need is another “punishment” for minor insubordination.”

“In that case, your location will be on a need to know basis, and she doesn’t need to know shit.” The nymph stuck her tongue out at the Commander and floated over to the door, exiting the room.

Nyxis smiled softly towards the closed door. Rozaliya Belmont, the Head of the Valentinian Family Line of Bordeaux, was the closest person she had to an older sister, being an only child herself. She still recalled a time where the two couldn’t speak to each other, mostly due to her priorities being on her early studies. But one day, the young Water Nymph managed to break into her library in the middle of the night, just to speak to Nyxis.

Rozaliya was previously just as uncomfortable with conversing as herself, due to her own seclusion on Bordeaux, and they bonded over their shared social anxieties. It was easier to speak to each other now than it was then, but even as close friends, Nyxis still had some closely held secrets to keep to herself.

Her deeper insecurities of being labeled as “useless” and fear of rejection, compounded by her fear of disappointing Father Wynter, after he lovingly took her in all those years ago.

She didn’t want to let him down, even while she was at odds with the cranky-ass Witch. 

Nyxis shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Rozaliya was right; She did need an outlet for her anger and remaining in the castle was only going to further complicate the situation. With the adrenaline gone, she could then feel the light pain in her stomach, twisting around and constricting. Her rage was eventually going to retaliate against her body should she continue to repress it. After a monitoring session of deep breaths, she eventually rose from the couch by the fireplace, and floated over to the door.

Nyxis floated deeper into the Weiss Forest, past various Darkwood and Yewlight trees scattered across a snowy landscape. The late afternoon air was cold and brisk, and snow blew softly in the wind. The rare times that Nyxis was allowed to leave Chakram, she had always suggested visiting the Weiss Forest. Regardless of the weather, she had always found peace here. 

But the southern area of the forest was off-limits to civilians. That was due to the weather and the Realm Gate, a portal of space that links the continents of what used to be Temperantia. Those specific gates had the power to transport a person to the closest continent, and all of the Realm Gates lead to one specific area; Ferrum Ember, the Archive Domain of Old Temperantia.

The gate she approached looked just as she had remembered it all those years ago; a grand construct with a snow-covered roof blended into the enormous tree that held the gate, extending to the pearl, marble stairs leading towards the gate. it, too, was covered by snow, but undisturbed and prestinely even. 

Nyxis dared not place her feet to the ground, to preserve the beauty, and floated over the stairs towards the gate. Once she was under the roof, she moved closer to the gate, tapping on the mirror until it rippled, like water. Then, she watched as an all-brick fortress rippled into view, standing mighty in the middle of a deep forest of trees with amber leaves. When the rippling ceased, the Commander walked into the mirror, until she stepped out into that Emberlite Forest.

She arrived at a two-story guarded fortress of stone and copper, with a path leading inside. No snow in sight, in fact, it was quite neutral in temperature. Golden amber leaves fell all around, yet somehow were growing back in a questionable fast rate of revivification. Though, it still looked more beautiful than most places she had been able to visit. She proceeded away from the entrance of Mt. Wynter’s Realm Gate, following a lit path of lanterns that led into the fortress. When she arrived at a colorful stair landing under overarching ceilings and windows, she followed it all the way down until there were no windows, and the grand staircase came to an end.

Nyxis was quite accustomed to busy castles and towns of Liliácea and Chakram, but Farrum Ember was completely different. The Hall of Titles didn’t have attendants, servants or maids. The entire continent was controlled solely by the Record Keeper, a title and occupation created merely as a lifelong punishment from the Fae King of the Midsummer Cape to one of his Fae attendants. Even after the Rebellion of Storms, the attendant remained in Farrum Ember, forever attending to collected tomes and records of the world.

Where she was going, however, held no such records.

In the second level basement of the fortress sat an acre wide room, adorned by various weapons and stationary training mannequins, perfect tools for combat training lining the walls. Though, she soon noticed that the room was occupied as she moved closer to the elongated door.

Dueling before her were two men; A shirtless, fair-skinned Storm Nymph donning merely dark green pants and blue, silver and gold greaves. The other man was darker-skinned and also shirtless, but kept on his dual-toned brown boots and muted dark blue pants. Both men were focused solely on their fight, but the sound of her feet landing on the floor made them separate from each other, each sliding back a good distance away to a halt. When they faced her, the elf raised both of her hands preemptively in defense.

Don’t mind me. I’ll be in the other corner.” The woman spoke up.

“Ah! If it isn’t Commander Frost! Did you come down here to test your might?” The darker man chuckled loudly, his robust deep voice echoing off of the stone walls. If anyone else were greeted like that, they would probably see it as a challenge.

But she knew better. 

“No, Tyr. I’m just here to train.” Nyxis removed her hood as she floated over to a smaller sitting area. She removed her cloak, revealing black biker shorts and tank top, but her arms and legs were still covered by the dark blue sleeves she regularly wore. She usually trained barefoot to better feel the floor, so shoes were not required. 

“You’re here to train, or to hide?” The other man spoke up, still focused on his opponent. 

“It doesn’t matter why you enter, but you know what is required! If you want to train in my domain, then you train by my rules!” Tyr proclaimed, clapping his hands together once before turning around to the man he was previously sparring with. “Vincent! I’ll let you off the hook for ditching our last session if you fight Nyxis.”

The nymph’s faded yellow pupils rolled as he stood up straight, noting his spar with the other man was over. “Seriously? It’s my day off!”

Tyr shook his head and folded his arms over his wide chest. “We had an arrangement, and you should have been here. If you don’t like it, you can try to beat my ass, but after you spar.”

The elf couldn’t help but speak up. “I was just-”

“You can just prepare yourself! It’s already been decided! I will spectate!” The bearded man smiled brightly, interrupting her.

In truth, she knew she couldn’t change the man’s mind. After all, the room they were standing in was his domain, regardless of the Record Keeper’s constant noise complaints from thirty feet above ground. Not even the Elders of Old Temperantia can impart their rule here. At best, they can only give suggestions.

Tyr was one of the extremely few humans to ever see through the Fog, cross the threshold, and live to tell the tale. He, like herself, was not born on the lands of New Temperantia. While she was born in Peonía, Tyr was born on an island off of the coast of the Autumnal Ruins, called Carmen. The two were similar in terms of their upbringing, but differed greatly when it came to attunement to Albrun.

While Nyxis, a half-Primordial human with a Legacy Bloodline, had to create a room just to absorb the Mana she couldn’t hold within herself, Tyr, a natural-born human, somehow had such overactive Mana Circuits when activated that his control over Mana was on par with the Elders.

Though, the man cared not about being a leader. He was a fighter through and through, who swore allegiance to the Fae of Midsummer Cape, but was friendly to all. He even took her under his wing in terms of training after the Fallen Leaf Incident.

“You know, you don’t treat Cielo like this when you train her.” Vincent complained, wiping sweat from his brow. He tightened the fabric strip that held his hair in a ponytail, glaring at his former opponent.

”That’s because Cielo shows up to combat training when scheduled, unlike someone I know.” Tyr shrugged and walked towards the sitting area where Nyxis stood, plopping himself down in the seat.

“Listen, fucker. I didn’t need training, and I was busy!” The nymph shouted back, clearly annoyed.

“You were busy with what?” The man asked.

“Busy with my business!” Vincent retorted.

“I haven’t seen Cielo in a while. How is she?” The elf piped up, sitting on the floor, stretching forward to her right foot. She had already pre-stretched after she changed her clothes, but she figured it wouldn’t deteriorate her.

“She’s doing well! Most days, her princess duties with Queen Astoria have been extending well into the evening. So we made arrangements for her combat training to be on alternating days.” The man shifted his arms from over his bare chest to behind his head. “Today is not her day to train, so I pulled that slacker for a warm-up.”

“I resent that remark.” Vincent snorted.

“I resent that work ethic.” Tyr snorted back. 

“Boys, please. You’re both pretty.“ Nyxis groaned, walking into the middle of the room, to the starting point for sparring. She kept her eyes on Vincent, carefully scanning him from head to toe. He stared her down as well, but she was looking for things in particular.

The nymph in front of the Commander was about a foot taller than her, still wearing his greaves, and sweating; all bad signs. Taking him off his feet wasn’t an option due to height and shoes, and then she had to prepare for being shocked upon contact. She had memorized most of his fighting style from before, but the last time they had actually sparred was before the Fallen Leaf Incident.

She shook her head. No thoughts were needed, especially now.

“Ready yourselves, and begin!” Tyr announced from his seat.

By the man’s call, both Nyxis and Vincent began to circle each other, each walking lightly and slowly, gazes unmoving.

Despite his calm visage, the elf could see the spark in the nymph’s eyes; the subtle flash of lightning was her only warning before he bolted at her with a flying kick. Acting quickly, she braced her arm between her head and his leg, using the momentum to slide closer to him, attempting to hit him with a jab to the sternum. Vincent, inhumanly quick as he was, used her outstretched arm like a springboard to flip over her.

The shock upon contact with his hand was expected, but wasn’t a deterrent. She leapt at him mid air, catching him in the stomach with a rising knee, expelling the air from the nymph’s lungs, but only momentarily. Vincent rolled when he hit the floor, narrowly avoiding the landing stomp that she had attempted. Using his momentum of the roll, he spun his leg into a rising triple kick, which Nyxis blocked by swiftly holding her hands to her face.

Now upright, he surged forward, landing a heavy punch to the elf’s exposed stomach that lifted her off her feet, and dropped her to one knee, gasping. She felt the strong electric current course through her abdomen as she coughed, taking a moment to cradle her pained stomach. 

“We’re even now,” Vincent said panting, only to then swerve backwards as the woman suddenly rose for a vicious uppercut to his jaw. “Dirty pool!”, He protested while blocking her follow-up jabs and hooks.

“You got time to brag, you got time to dodge!”, Nyxis said through gritted teeth, landing an open palm strike to the center of his chest. Another shock, but that one felt good. She closed the distance between them, elbowing the nymph in the collarbone.

The jolt was stronger than last time, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. Her momentum was building; her strikes became quicker, her dodges more fluid. She had far too much on her mind and only one outlet to utilize, without complications.

She was truly in her element, and she never wanted to leave.

Not to be out done, Vincent slipped past the elf’s next jab, pulled her back to him and tossed her over his shoulder, landing her hard on her back with an echoing slam. Trying to capitalize and end the fight as quickly as he could, he held her in a standing arm-bar, pulling until they were both on the floor.

She felt the burn in her shoulder, the pain and the current running up her forearm. The smart thing to do would be for her to tap out. Her body begged for it, screamed for it even.

But she’d be damned if anyone got one over on her, much less Vincent. Not today.

Ignoring the strain, the jolts and the pain, Nyxis stiffened her arm and tightened her muscles. Against the best wishes of her body, of physics, of her pain receptors, she held strong. She refused to tap.

Instead, she raised her arm, and with the pure power in her core until the nymph was off the floor, slammed it and Vincent back down, the impact echoing loud against the walls.

The air quickly left his body and on reflex, the nymph released her, gasping for air. Ignoring the screaming pain in her shoulder, Nyxis scrambled behind him and wrapped her uninjured arm around his neck, into a rear naked choke hold. Vincent thrashed and fought but unlike his opponent, and the elf knew he couldn't keep the fight going. Eventually, the Commander felt the satisfying rapid tap on her forearm, releasing the man and falling to her knees. They both sat on the floor after the ordeal, panting and coughing.

“Win goes to the Commander!” Tyr clapped, proclaiming the victor as he stood from his seat. He strolled over to the challengers, satisfied with the results. “This is why you should come to combat training, Rhyddid. ‘War does not end with a single battle.’ You need to prepare yourself for multiple, even simultaneous.”

“Go…fuck yourself.” Vincent coughed out as he laid flat on his back, unmoving on the training room floor. 

“Oh, quit your bitchin! Get off the floor and shake the better person's hand, ya little shit.” 

“In a…minute…” The nymph groaned as he slowly rolled over to his knees, carefully crawling into a standing position. On his feet, he turned to Nyxis with his hand held out, looking more tired than she had felt.

But she couldn't hold back the smirk that crossed her lips when she shook his hand. It was a victory, however fleeting it was. The elf knew she could've done better; she easily pinpointed the flaws in her technique and the miscalculation in her steps, but to take down a Midsummer Spirit with battle experience, it was one of the better wins of the week.

“Don’t get cocky. You only won because I was already tired!” Vincent frowned, pulling away to wipe the sweat from his brow. 

“Get the sand out of your asscrack and suck it the fuck up.” Tyr muttered before a wicked grin crossed his face “…Unless you wanna go for a round against me?” The air seemed to lose its moisture and the ground vibrated under their feet. For the briefest of moments, the sound of thunderous war drums could be heard as the oppressive feeling of Tyr’s Aura flooded the training room.

“No, thanks!” The nymph shouted, walking faster to the sitting area. He held his hand out until his bolero jacket that was resting on the rafters flew to him, grabbing it out of the air. “I want no part of that!”

When the Commander finally stood up, the air slowly returned back to its neutral state and the sounds diminished. The man next to her smiled brightly and clapped his strong hand against her back, causing her to wobble on her feet.

“Good! You're getting better. That was faster than usual.” Tyr cheered.

“I guess…” Nyxis mused aloud. She exhaled, breathing deep. It was a faster spar, and it wasn’t enough.

She wasn’t done. She wasn’t ready to end the fight, and sparring with Tyr was not advisable.

She was not ready to leave. 

“In truth, we had just started our fight when you arrived. He’s just lazy.” The man said, 

“I noticed.” Nyxis confirmed, walking away from the center of the room over to the sitting area, grabbing her cloak. “He tried to end it early.”

“And you flipped it on him. You’ve studied well.”

“I’m still here, you know.” Vincent warned from the corner of the room.

“Keep talkin, you’re still within reach!” Tyr glared back with a devious smile.

Nyxis sighed. Midsummer Cape denizens certainly had the tendency to be overly enthusiastic about their hobbies, almost to the point of gluttony. Tyr’s “hobby” was fighting, in the aspects of combat and training. Meanwhile, Vincent preferred drinking and reconnaissance, always searching for something new in the world. They were free to do as they please, and go where they want.

‘Truly free…’

She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy.

Even still, they were better company than the empty halls of the Mt. Wynter Castle, or the Witch.

“I’m going to head out.” She said, putting on her cloak, clipping the brooch to close it, and floating towards the door.

“Leaving already? That was only one fight!” Tyr exclaimed.

“I only had about an hour of freedom, and I spent most of it just getting to Farrum Ember.” The elf explained. She walked over to her mentor and tapped his arm, reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I’ll come back when I have more time.”

“If you say so, but I’ll hold you to that. Come back anytime!”

“Gentlemen.” Nyxis nodded to both men, before retreating away from her teachers up the stairs.

Vincent, sitting hunched on one of the various benches in the sitting area, tapped his foot on the ground to pull the other man’s attention. “The capacity size of her Mana Circuits have increased, as well as accuracy. She might be able to hold as much as Terran now.”

”It’s an improvement, but not enough to kill the bitch.” Tyr nodded, arms folded over his chest. “The last time the Commander came around for training was about six years ago. She needs more training.”

”Fuck that, she needs more rest.” The nymph frowned. “She honestly should’ve taken a nap rather than come here.”

Tyr eyed the other man, inquisitively. “She can do both.”

The nymph sat back against the stone wall, arms remaining folded. “That throw she did with her arm was sloppy, but actually quite effective, suggesting that she already trains on her own time. The bags under her eyes suggest that she’s not getting sleep, good or otherwise, probably due to training or working.” 

 The bearded man nodded slowly. “Hmm.”

”To add insult to injury, a hour to train? Even I know that our spars can go for hours. But to come all the way to Farrum Ember for a thirty minute duel is particularly questionable. Even more so when there’s a training room in her own country she could’ve gone to.” Vincent sighed, stretching his head from side to side. “She didn’t come here to train, she came here to hide.”

”Regardless of what she came here to do, we cannot intervene in other country’s matters. She will have to learn how to stand stronger.” Tyr shrugged, walking back towards the sitting area to grab his horn of Mead.

“True. I still believe the day when Jack Frost finally snaps is going to be wild.” Vincent smirked, envisioning the chaos to come.