MEMORY FRAGMENT

Whirlwind Citadel, 18 years ago

“Hurry up!” Jiroh whispered as loud as possible as she ran through the walls of the citadel. Normally, that was considered poor form—children had to know which spots to use and when. However, as a royal princess, those rules didn’t apply. Walls, floors, and even ceilings would open up for her, allowing her to pass freely.

Flying behind her, almost at the same speed, was a small cloud puff. Originally, the creature had been assigned to serve as her protector in the city, however, the girl had quickly convinced it that playing was a far more fun, and more efficient, way of keeping an eye on her. As a result, she’d frequently sneak out of whatever she was going and try to hide in the city.

Two years had passed since Jiroh had officially been proclaimed princess of the citadel. Most of that time had been spent learning about the world, the awakened powers, and her own thunder abilities. To everyone’s surprise, the first skill that Jiroh had been granted was attack. Many saw that as poor, since it was the most common of the common. However, half a year later, upon the fury’s full awakening, she had also been granted a second skill: carving. When that happened, it was a cause for celebration. Not only was it a crafting skill, but one relatively rare for furies. It was whispered that the skill had come from her father’s line—her real father—among which there had been many gifted cloud sculptors. The explanation didn’t matter. The only thing that did was that she was progressing better than expected and—by the looks of things—had no restrictions whatsoever.

It was this skill, and the child’s curiosity, that had led her deep into the citadel’s cloud, where she had met the one of the creatures that kept the citadel in the air.

“Come on!” Jiroh told the cloud behind her. “They’ll catch us if we don’t hurry up!”

The cloud entity didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was the one that was supposed to catch her, so it played along, following her to the very edge of the citadel. There, once Jiroh made sure that no one was watching, she combined her carving and attack skills to slice an opening in the ground.

“Ready?” she asked the cloud.

The entity twirled in place. Just as Jiroh was about to jump in, however, both her tiny arms were caught by a strong hand, leaving her dangling in the air. The fury instinctively tried to let out a bolt of lightning at the person holding her, but to little avail. The zap of lightning, as powerful as it was, bounced off, hitting the ground instead.

“I’ve warned you about this,” a black fury said in a stern voice.

“But, Geroh…” Jiroh pouted. Part of her cringed that she had to go through this, yet even that part had to admit that pouting was extremely effective. “You told me I could play!”

“I told you, you could play in your room,” the larger fury corrected, letting her go. “The king has forbidden you from talking to the citadel.”

“But why? It’s not like anyone else does! All I wanted—"

“Jiroh!” the fury said sternly, pronouncing every syllable of her name. “When you take the king’s place, you might change the laws, but until then you have to do what he tells you. I’ve long given up hoping that you’ll do what I say.” He crossed his arms. “However, the king is the king.”

Jiroh didn’t say anything. There was no denying that. Despite all her powers and abilities, she was no match for the king or any of the high nobles. For that matter, she wasn’t even a match for the common guard. It was only thanks to her lightning that she could stand on her own.

“Come, now,” Geroh said. “We’ve been asked to join a war meeting.”

“Must I?” Jiroh sighed audibly. Both her six-year-old self and her twenty-eight-year-old self found the experience tedious, to say the least. The room was cramped with lots of people inside, and all of them talked about war all the time. It wasn’t that Jiroh was afraid or wary. So far, she’d witnessed seven major raids on the citadel itself. It was the strategic discussions and constant arguments that bored her.

“The king has ordered that we be there so we must.” The black fury knelt down so as to look her in the eye. “Just hang tight for a while, okay? Once it’s over, we’ll go back in the awakened realms.”

That didn’t seem as thrilling as talking to the citadel, but Jiroh nodded. She didn’t want to cause problems for Ge. While the fury had been cold to her after her initial awakening, at present he was the closest thing to a friend she had. One could even say that she thought of him as a brother. The only other thunder fury in the citadel, he was always there to guide and train her, putting up with her pranks and tantrums. The sad thing was that while he was far more experienced, he had already peaked when it came to awakening powers. At present, his awakened level was twenty-four—more than twice that of Jiroh’s—and likely that was where it would remain. He had already reached the limit to which he could increase his body trait, and without a substantial boost there, it was looking like he’d never complete his next awakening trial.

The two went to the king’s war room the usual way. There were no shortcuts, no flying through buildings, just a gentle floating along the stairways and corridors. A squad of guards stood to attention as the two royals passed, letting them walk through the opening that led to the room.

“Jiroh,” King Alroh said with a slightly displeased tone. “It’s unprincesslike to be late to a war meeting when invited.”

“That was my fault,” Geroh intervened, his hands on the child’s shoulders. “I took a bit longer to discuss strategies that would help with the next breakthrough.”

“Hmm.” The king was not convinced. “Still at nine?” he asked.

“Ten,” Jiroh replied instinctively. “I just haven’t defeated it yet…”

“An undefeated ten is a nine.” The King waved his hand, no longer interested in the conversation. As he did, two chairs of cloud matter emerged from the ground, for the thunder furies to sit.

There were sixteen people in total in the room: the king, Jiroh, Geroh, and fourteen furies with gold and silver masks. Each of them was in command of a squadron and as such were here only in official capacity. As the laws stated, if someone represented a post, they were to wear a mask symbolizing that post. It was only the king and the royal family that had to be seen.

“The Tamin Emperor has killed another of our squadrons,” a male fury in a gold mask began. “Officially, the empire claims that they had nothing to do with it, but—"

“Of course they would,” the king interrupted. “They’ve been hiring other citadels to attack us for decades. Now that’s failed, he’s finally decided to get his hands dirty. Who did they send?”

“We’re not sure,” the other fury replied. “There’s no trace of our squadron or a battle ever taking place.”

“It has to be mages,” another fury, in a silver mask, said. “Only they have the power to do such a thing. The Order will not get involved. Not with their eyes set on the Tamin throne.”

“The Academy has always been neutral.” The king brushed his chin with a hand.

“It might not have been Academy mages,” the golden masked fury said. “There are enough rogues to cause an issue. Also, there are those who serve the imperial family directly.”

“Imperial mages,” the king mused. “Jiroh, what will you do in these circumstances?”

Everyone turned towards the child. This was the first time the king had asked her for advice. Deep inside, Jiroh was screaming in anger. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid. There was no way a child of six would come up with a better plan that dedicated flight generals hadn’t already considered. The king was merely testing her to determine her level of leadership and strategic thinking.

You’re really pushing it, old man, Jiroh thought.

The proper thing to do was feign ignorance. Being a child, she could easily pretend she didn’t understand the question, or give a half-assed answer that would keep the king from asking her for advice for the next year. However, her pride didn’t let her.

“We engage in all out war against the Imperial capital,” Jiroh said, her sweet voice contrasting with her words. “We send messengers to all citadels and ground dukedoms, telling them that we’re attacking the citadel. Once we do, there’s no chance they won’t follow.”

Total silence filled the room. For the slightest of moments, Jiroh managed to see a faint smile on the king’s face.

“Explain,” he said.

“Since our messengers reached them, there would be no way for them to convince the Tamin Empire that they weren’t involved. Should we fall, the empire is certain to go after them, so the only option they have would be to join in.”

“Because only if the empire falls can they be safe.” The king nodded. “And what if the Order or the Academy decide to help them?”

“They won’t. Not if we attack the Imperial capital directly. None like the meddlings of the emperor, they just don’t want to enter a conflict because of it. The Archdukes won’t be in a hurry to do anything either, unless they have to.”

“You’ve been reading,” the king noted.

“I’ve been teaching her world politics,” Geroh said.

In truth, Jiroh had shown no interest in the subject whatsoever. As any child, she strongly preferred reading to anything else. However, the echoes she had created were much closer to her Fauna self, and they loved to read, viewing world history like fantasy novels. If Jiroh herself didn’t have the freedom that she had, she’d probably agree with them as well.

“Very well. Let’s see what happens. Send messengers to all citadels and ground dukedoms,” the king ordered. “Let them know we’re going to the Imperial citadel, and if they wish to be left behind, they are free to do so. However, also remind them what is likely to happen should we fail.”

Not a single fury argued with the order. Half of them immediately left to execute it, while the rest remained focusing on other discussions. Logistics were discussed, troop mobilization, attack methods, and intricate issues that had to do with the practical minutiae that went along with the decision.

“Can I go to talk to the citadel now?” Jiroh whispered to Geroh.

“We can’t just leave. We must remain till the end.”

“But others left.” The child pouted.

“They had reason to,” the thunder fury tries his best to keep his tone calm and voice down. “Think of it as a challenge. Bear it until the end.”

“If I do, will we go then?”

This was an unexpected question. On the one hand, it ensured calm until the end of the discussion, but on the other, it was still against the king’s orders. If Jiroh wasn’t a child, one might call it blackmail. However, what she really saw it was a compromise.

“Why do you want to talk to it so much?” Geroh asked.

“Because it’s lonely. No one talks to it anymore.”

That was strange. In the last few generations, that had never been a problem. There weren’t any indications whatsoever that the creatures that were used to form the citadel were in distress.

“Why are you so sure?” the black fury asked. “Did it tell you?”

“Yes.” Jiroh nodded. “It said it liked talking to me because it didn’t know if it would be able to talk to anyone again.”

“What do you mean?”

“It said that it’s dying and there are no others to replace it.”