1 King's Oblivion

It was just a regular and mundane day in the Luficica continent.

The Vritra is at war with the Indraths once again, hurling spells and calamities like any other day for the who knows how long. Conflict within the respective factions were heating up like usual.

"We need to attack now while the Vritra are still recuperating from the loss of Visutica. Their guards are low and their soldiers are hungry, it is our time to strike now. Quick and fast like the sword of the almighty Indrath themselves." One adviser boomed to a well postured man. He was wearing a well ironed, dark purple tunic. On this loud man's tunic hung many regalia, proof of his stature and evidence of the depth of his strategic acumen.

The well postured man leaned forward, resting his knuckles and heaving a deep sigh on the war table sitting dead center of the 4th Company tent acting as the command center.

"Would it break the treaty though? —is the problem." The well postured man whispered, aware of the upcoming response.

"The treaty?" The well postured man closed his eyes shut. "Our men have died from the hands of the enemy, the Vritra, if we let an opportunity like this slip away once more, then we might as well throw our weapons and wave a white flag around at our enemy and watch as they rend and tear through our soldiers like the disgusting pig that they are." He leaned slightly to the well postured man's ear and whispered. "A platoon will be enough. Just give the order and I will burn those Vritra garbage to the ground in a single night."

A fire is lit inside of the loud man's eye, dyeing his pupils fiery red. Upon noticing this, the well postured man immediately got into action, slamming his fist on the war table with enough force to shake the ground itself.

"Enough!" He said, his voice the loudest it's ever been. "I will not have unnecessary blood on my hands. You may be one of the Highblood families and a graduate of the famed military academy Fershire, but that is to disrespect your superior-in-arms."

The loud man, no longer the loudest man in the room shrugged and crossed his arms. "You left out the part about graduating as valedictorian and being the youngest soldier to ever obtain the honorary badge of bravery." He begins adjusting a silver badge pinned to his chest, cherishing it's luster.

The well postured eyes went wide. "Get down!"

"Wha—" Before the loud man could finish his sentence, a dome of earth has already surrounded the two of them in a perfectly circular half sphere.

A loud earthquake rang out, strong and powerful. The well postured man could feel the tremors from his feet and noticed that the source of it was no more than two hundred feet away.

He gestured to the loud man with military hand symbols in the pitch-black enclosure of the earthen half dome.

 "…" The loud man nodded sternly as soon as the well postured man was finished relaying his findings.

They both looked at each other, step by side, and kicked the dome down, ready to kill, detain, or capture the cause of this mysterious disturbance.

A burning flame was lit ablaze in the loud man's eye and palms, burning with intense heat as he scanned their camp attentively.

A look of despair and horror dawned on the loud man's face.

He dashed forward, creating a small explosion where he used to be. "Barry! Barry, are you okay?! Talk to me man." He stopped just before the body of a man wearing a similar uniform as him.

"Speak godammit!" He cursed aloud, holding the bleeding, battered man. The bleeding soldier's body has been trapped by a fallen tent beam from the waist down.

He seemed to be barely keeping together.

The loud man tried to lift the debris away, only to fail and almost break his back.

"Captain!" He yelled back. "Captain Messil, I need your help!!"

 "First Lieutenant Blame…" Captain Messil just gave First Lieutenant Blame a sympathetic and melancholy look, watching on as the man tried to lift the wooden beam off of the bleeding soldier's half crushed body.

"He's already dead." Captain Messil looked up, high into the sky.

"He had a child, a baby girl and loving wife waiting for him at home. Why did him? Why not take me instead?!" First Lieutenant Blame wept to the heavens. His legs had already given up and his eyes that are steaming with tears are raised to the skies, as it to pray or ask some kind of prayer, almost like an Oracle would.

However, his tear-filled eyes went wide as dinner plates as soon a she saw the monument right above.

"That's…" He muttered softly, almost in reverence. His tears had stopped entirely at this point and all he felt was a sense of belittlement and humbleness.

"Magnificent." Captain Messil continued.

A tower stood—floated beyond the ground, casting a long shadow that stretched far beyond Captain Messil and First Lieutenant Blame could perceive with their eyes.

"What is it?" Another different and new voice pivoted toward the two of them, clutching one bleeding arm with the other.

The long-eared lady, Second Lieutenant Vaporshire, gave Captain Messil one questioning eye. "What just happened?" She asked begrudgingly.

"We…don't know, Second Lieutenant. Though, from what we have affirmed, it would seem that the Vritra have developed some kind of weapon, a fearsome one at that."

The three of them gazed up at the floating spire.

The mystifying mood remained for a minute, maybe an hour. Time seemed to move differently for the three.

A shrill, unnatural sound emanated from the floating spire.

"!!!" The three of them immediately recuperated; their trained muscles and artificially enhanced senses were on the ready at the drop of a needle.

A dark fire was lit on First Lieutenant Blames pupils.

"It's…moving?" Second Lieutenant Vaporshire asked to nobody in particular.

"It would seem so." Captain Messil affirmed, glaring intensely as the giant floating spire twisted.

"…" First Lieutenant Blame remained silent.

The giant spire began twisting in midair. While it was impossible enough for such an enormous structure to be suspended in midair for such a long amount of time, the reality that it could—nevertheless the reason as to how and why—was too much of a reality check for the three at this very moment.

It was almost like Captain Messil was petrified, transfixed in his position as his hands fell to his side, letting his power dissipate his mouth hung open.

There was ringing in his ears, the subtle stench of steel in his nose, and the taste of something foreign on his tongue.

"A….sword…" First Lieutenant Blame broke his silence, muttering the first thing that came to his mind.

"…" The other two stayed silent.

Indeed, it was a sword, a very magnificent sword. Its length was long and even, perfectly balanced as all things should be. The blade, the most vital and arguably the best part was—despite its length and girth, projected the image of a pristine, delicate, fragile lady, as thin as possible—no, much thinner than that. It's cross guard, on the other hand, was heavily ornamented, brandishing millions of micro-sized intricate inscriptions, like a map for one  of the major cities or a sophisticated machine. Its grip, however, was less intricate, possessing no real defining features except the paper seal on it.

"Destruction." Second Lieutenant Vaporshire's voice echoed.

Then, the sword flipped entirely, it's furthest edge pointed at the three remaining soldiers of the 4th Company of the Indrath race.

Captain Messil glanced at First Lieutenant Blame. "You were right." First Lieutenant Blame did not look back. "This is no time for treaties. We need to strike now and we need to strike fast."

Some say they could still hear the giant sword's booming echo to this day.

◇◆◇◆◇

It has been ten years since the King's Oblivion—a name that the public has chosen after the fact—occurred.

In one of the industrial orphanages in the outskirts of Hamaha, the kingdom of the mighty Indrath clan; a lanky boy sat in the corner of a small room shared by his fellow orphans. He was reading a book about the history and political structure of the country of Mesubi, the neighboring kingdom of Hamaha and the outdated but still ongoing conflict between them.

"Hmm…" The boy mused, absorbed in the wonders of the literary arts once again. "So the Hamaha has been refusing trade since the King's Oblivion? Interesting. I wonder if Lady Barett knows about this…"

Just as the lanky boy was about to turn a page, another boy—much taller and well-built—snatched the book from his hand, hanging it like a thread as Lieren, the lanky boy huffed and puffed as he stood on the tips of his toes, jumping repeatedly to take back the book.

"Give that back!" Lieren barked at the tall boy. "I was reading that!"

"What if I don't want to?" The tall boy grinned teasingly, enjoying Lieren's pitiful struggle. The tall boy seemed to revel Lieren's desperate face, enjoying it thoroughly.

Tears welled up from Lieren's eyes. "Give it back!"

The other kids present in the room—all of them boys—laughed. This was the usual, normal everyday life in the Basford Home of the Unwanted.

"Kids, you better be ready, the inspector is here~" A feminine, high-pitched voice resounded from downstairs, causing a cascading ruckus from every single child present.

"Oh crap."

"That was today?"

"Finn, do you know where my pants are?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"I wonder, should I wear underwear today?"

"Shoot! My shirt is too tight, can anybody lend me theirs?"

""Not it.""

"Not i—eh?! What are you doing?"

"Thy clothing shall be mine own."

"Kyle~ Henry is being weird again~"

"I'll be right there…actually, you know what? I won't be right there! I'm sick and tired of always taking care of your messes. It's about time you morons learn to be independent. And one more thing—"

"Mikey~ Kyle is being weird again~"

"Will anybody please lend me their underwear. I'm feeling pretty feisty today."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I wouldn't mind."

"'Wouldn't?'"

"Yeah, I'm trying to be more open-minded."

""…""

All the boys scrambled to find their best clothing, though, with the state of the orphanage—like it's always been—the best that they could find is nothing more than a shirt without needless holes and a pair of shorts, maybe pants, if luck was on their side.

The tall child teasing Lieren jumped as well, hurriedly moving to a corner of the room where a large chest was hunkered down on. After a minute or two of ruffling through the contents of the chest, the tall child produced  single button-up shirt and a pair of clean pants.

Innocent wonder filled the child's face as he beamed with glee. "Today's the day…" He muttered to himself, clutching the simple shirt to his chest.

Lieren picked up the book and straightened his clothes. It was the only thing he owned…well, borrowed, technically. Not a single child in the Basford Home of the Unwanted owned anything, even those supposedly owned or inherited from their "real" families. No matter how small or inconsequential it is, every single one of them must "offer" all of their belongings, lest they lose the only shelter that would accept them, especially in during the aftermath if King's Oblivion.

"Come on come on." A bespectacled child urged, peeking her head through the door and waving her hand. The other children all followed, filing up in a neat line that stretched all the way to the first step of the stairs.

The girls were beside them, the ones that slept at the room opposite to them. The bespectacled girl nodded once all the boys were lined up properly and trotted to the front of the line, a light chipper to her step.

"Looks like Gyneva's excited." One boy said to the other, the ones in front of Lieren.

"Who isn't?" Another boy responded. Then, they both laughed to each other.

Lieren opened his book, only to be interrupted as soon as he began reading.

"Psssst~" A girl from the line on the right-side of the hall hissed. Lieren looked up from his book begrudgingly, the somewhat irked expression his lost on his interrupter. "How about you, what do you think you're gonna get?"

Lieren raised a brow and looked up, the thought finally occurring to him. "Something…powerful, I would guess."

The girl's eyes widened. "Oh~ pretty confident, I see. That's admirable. I wish I had that kind of conviction. They say the Great Arcana responds to desire, and those that need it will power one way or another, taking various shapes and forms. As for me, I don't really want anything. Nobody expects me anything from me either, so I guess it evens out…still. Sometimes, I just wish I could have other's strength and passion. If I had just a little bit, maybe I could find what I want for myself, you know?"

Lieren stayed silent, impassive. He didn't ask for the girl's life story, nor did he express interest in it, and yet she just laid it all out for him, and all the kids at the back of the line where Lieren was to hear. Luckily, most of them were preoccupied daydreaming about what kind of powerful ability they'll have after the Adornment.

Could this be my ability? Lieren thought to myself, then dismissed the thought entirely. The girl is probably just nervous and pent-up, desperate to vent her feelings to somebody else. Who wouldn't be? Being cooped up inside all the time. Unlike the boys, who went spent full days on fields and applied for construction jobs—one of the most in demand jobs in Hamaha—everyday, girls have to stay inside, sewing and knitying clothes both for retail and for personal use.

Either way, Lieren could not wait to get his ability. Whatever it was, Lieren was determined to use it not for his benefit, but for everybody's—especially Lady Barett's—own wellbeing. That is why Lieren is always immersed in his books and other pieces of literature, even children's books that would normally beyond him. Lieren wanted not just theoretical and base knowledge, but also the reasoning and logic to properly make use of them, as advised by Lady Barett—the only other bookworm besides Lieren himself.

Lieren reminisced about the nights spent learning how to read sakrasta, the common language in the domain of the Indraths, with Lady Berett. Her glossy lips, her naturally flowing hair, and her beautiful almond eyes...

Lieren's cheeks flushed as his mind began to wonder into strange places.

"Are you okay?" The girl beside her asked, leaning forward.

Now that Lieren took a closer look, the girl looked better compared to other kids her age. Her cheeks were naturally rosy, but not unhealthily so. Her pink lips contrasted her milky white skin and complimented her simple yellow dress. And her violet eyes—eyes that, unless Lieren was mistaking it, seemed to hold much more than just the present. If Lieren had not been talking to the girl in the past minute, he might have thought the girl to be a fake. Even worse, she could have been a Shifter, Lieren thought.

Lieren ignored her question. "…What did you say your name was again?"

The girl beamed. "My name is Minasaki." She held out a hand. "What's yours?"

Lieren stared at the outstretched hand. "…I'm Lieren."

Lieren nodded, satisfied. But seemed Minasaki wasn't.

"H-Hey, what are you doing?" Lieren complained as the Minasaki snatched Lieren's hand and held it. She shook both their hands up and down.

"A handshake. What, have you never had a handshake before?" Minasaki grinned teasingly.

"I liked you better when you were timid and vulnerable." Lieren complained as he swiped his hand away from Minasaki.

"Then you must love me when I'm gutsy." Minasaki chaffed. Her smile was as big as it could be at this point.

"That's not what I mea—" Just as Lieren was about to rebuke Minasaki, a high-pitched voice sounded downstairs, however, this time, the owner came along with it.

Lady Narita was always strict, tough, and unrelenting. Lieren liked that aspect of hers, respected it, even. She was always rough, choosing action first. Lieren still remembers the first time he got caught sneaking into Lady Barett's quarters…and the intense pain that came along with it. Because of her reputation as the "tough" caretaker and mismatched voice, residents—staff and orphans alike—have dubbed her as "The Hot and Cold Lady of the West", a stark contrast to Lady Barett, touted as "Fair-weather Lady of the East".

Goosebumps crept up Lieren's arms as the line slowly advanced. The question is, whose the cause?, Lieren mused, half-confused and half-terrified.

The line for the men was much slower than the women's. Probably some guy trying to be gentlemanly, Lieren thought impassively. Lieren could hear the groans and complaints of all the boys in front all the way from where he was but said nothing. It's not like the inspector's just gonna leave, they need to examine every single child in the case of a prodigy, or at least somebody of above normal aptitude, Lieren remembered Lady Barett's lectures about the Adornment. What to say, what to do, how to act, even how to react to the most minute of details.

Everybody has to go through it, even orphans like yourself, though not much is expected considering lineage. At any case, it's more of a formality—a yearly one—conducted by a couple of people sent by the Council of Manas, Lieren remembered Lady Barett's casual remarks about the Adornment. Lady Berett seemed less than interested in the process herself, even bitter, but not detached. Lieren thought that perhaps Lady Barett had some kind of bad memory related to the Adornment. Oh well, Lieren shelved the issue for later. There was much to do.

As the girl's line inevitably dwindled, the light steps of a chipper girl could be heard creaking on the wooden floorboards. The footsteps got closer and closer, until it was right next to Lieren, in which case, it stopped entirely.

"Huh—" Lieren raised his head, just in time to feel the soft touch of Minasaki's rosy lips peck his cheek, dyeing both their faces crimson.

A blushing Minasaki smiled at Lieren. "That's for the encouragement, Lieren!" She shone brighter than the sun…maybe even more than Lady Barett, the blushing boy thought, his hand on his cheek.

"…Huh?"  The blushing boy, Lieren, muttered, dumbfounded. "What just happened?" He stared absentmindedly at Minasaki's back as she returned to the back of the line, the tips of her ears bright red.

""You tell me!"" All the other boys barked out, offended and envious of Lieren.

◇◆◇◆◇

Barett held her hand as tight as possible, the nerve and anxiety of the previous weeks and months of preparation failing her once again as she watched the kids—mostly girls—fall in a line that stretched all the way outside, where the inspector sent by local security, the scout assigned by the military, and the wizard in-charge of the Adornment were at.

"Lady Barett, are you feeling unwell?"

A lump got caught inside of her throat. "Iyam—" She cleared her throat. "I'm fine, Lady Narita…just a little nervous. This is a big day for the kids, and even if I'm not the one undergoing the Adornment, just the atmosphere is enough to unnerve me." She hanged her head. "I know it's ill-fitting for a member of the faculty to make such a face, but the pressure really is  getting to me…my apologies, Lady Narita."

The dark-skinned, blue-eyed woman in her 50s waved her worries away, her high-pitched voice catching the attention of more than a few children. "Oh, it's fine, dearie. This is your first time supervising an Adornment, if I'm not mistaken?" Narita responded gingerly to Barett's nervosity.

"Yes, it is." Barett muttered quietly. Is she suspicious?, Barett thought. "I move from orphanage to orphanage very frequently, depending on where the wind takes me. Really, though, sometimes I just wonder if I'll ever find him. It's been a couple of years since me and my little brother got separated, and even I'm starting to lose hope. For a while now, it'd beginning to dawn on me that fate just doesn't want us to meet." Barett looked down, her eyes glued to the floor.

Narita placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find your brother soon, you just have to believe and keep praying." She gave Barett a serene, peaceful smile.

Barett nodded, glancing out to a window that showed where the Adornment was taking place. There were metallic equipment strewn about here and there. Two men were busy chatting to themselves, while a woman, draped in highly sophisticated robes and glasses placed a metallic helmet reminiscent of a bowl on a child's head. The metallic bowl had various instruments and knick-knacks attached to it, all of them hooked up to a tall box half the height of Barett herself with gauges and various measuring instruments on it. Most of the machine's functions were lost to Barett, except for the main function of said machine.

Magical aptitude and capacity measurement, Barett's eyes turned into slits as her gaze narrowed, watching the Adornment with intense curiosity. The only reason why she's here.

From the corner of Barett's periphery, she could just about make out the nervous squirming of a lanky gray-haired boy. I have high hoped for you, kid, Barett thought as an insidious smile crept up her cheeks.

◇◆◇◆◇

Lieren is nervous, incredibly nervous. If it wasn't for the fact that he could still feel the earth beneath hid feet and the rapidly beating heart in his chest, he probably would have already collapsed from anxiety, or threw up; whichever came first.

The girls, the first group to take their test were just about done, and even though there was still a long line of boys to go through, Lieren couldn't help but sweat buckets as his turn to be Adorned grew closer and closer.

"…Huh?" Lieren whipped his head up, suddenly noticing a bright light shining from the front lawn of the Basford Home of the Unwanted.

Lieren pressed his book to his face, shielding his eyes, though his curiosity led him to peek one eye to the side, just to see what's going on. Lieren gasped at the familiar silhouette in the center of the light. "…Minasaki?" He muttered, and for a brief second, he could feel the figure—completely enveloped by the bright light—turn in his direction.

Then, like the setting sun, the light started to dim until it disappeared completely. Lieren rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of the sudden phenomena. From what he can tell from the lack of a response from the others, it would seem that—aside from himself—nobody else noticed the bright light that Minasaki exuded.

Nevertheless, Lieren still searched the others' faces, looking for some kind of indication that they noticed what was going on. Lieren immediately zoned in on Lady Barett's face. She was staring intently at the Adornment, but that was to be expected. She was, after all, a caretaker for the children. Looking after and making certain of the children's safety was a prime duty of hers. Lieren found nothing suspicious of her. From where he was—the very back of the "boy line"—he could just about make out the flabbergasted expression of the examiner just before she pulled on the rim of her pointy hat, covering her face entirely.

"…Hey…you…there…" An unfamiliar voice reverberated inside of Lieren's head as if boring through his soul. The voice sent a cold chill down Lieren's back, to the point that his anxiety quieted down in fear to the unknown voice.

"What…?!" He spun, checking behind him; nobody was there, nobody could see, that is. For all Lieren knew somebody with a presence erasing spell could have crept up behind him. Lieren shook his head vigorously. Stop thinking negatives, idiot, he chided himself.

By the time Lieren came to, the line has already well past him. Most of the kids were just about finished, their faces a mixture of dread, satisfaction, surprise, disappointment, fear, awe, glee, happiness, and even just complete hopelessness. Those ones, Lieren thought, were most likely the Insigs.

Lieren took a deep breath, puffed up his chest, and took a bold step forward. It's fine, he reassured himself, Lady Barett said that I'm special—different from others—that whatever result the Adornment ended up in, that she would be proud of me.

Lieren sat on the wooden stool, gripping the oak tightly, his self encouragement sending his spirits high into the skies. I can do this, he finally thought, letting the examiner finish her preparations and strap the metallic bowl on his head.

Lierne gulped audibly. It's fine, Lady Barett said I was special, he thought finally, watching as the measuring instruments rose and fell.

The examiner's face remained impassive, and Lieren could see—feel the sour disappointment in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, kid." She started unbuckling the straps on Lieren's helmet.

Timed seemed to slow as he felt his world crumble into millions of microscopic pieces.

"I'm afraid to say that you can never perform magic, no matter how hard you try. It's just beyond you." She began writing the results on some kind of clipboard, then gave Lieren a pitying gaze.

"You're an Insig."