Within the bounds of our very dear multiverse, Alfia, are contained fifty universes and a bit under four thousand realms. Broadly, the realms may be classified into three though there have been arguments among scholars of that fact. This is simply because there is only one instance of one of the realm types. That is the god realm.

As much as most find the study of the gods and their abode the highlight of desmenology, the realm type that matters most to us are devil realms.

Devil realms, numbering in the hundreds, are the exact opposite of the god realm and the human realms. These realms are composed mostly of barren lands. The natural energies composing the other realm types are in constant flux and disarray, making devil realms naturally chaotic. It has recently been proven that non-denizens can teleport into the realm and out through normal means but residents cannot teleport out of the realm and thank the gods for that. Many theories have been propounded to be the cause of this phenomenon but ultimately no one knows the real reason.

Why these inhospitable realm type concerns us though is because of the rare ores and plant forms that form within the depths of their earth. Due to this, these realms are considered assets for empires. Hafteft alone has mining rights to at least two such realms.

But for all the riches these realms bring, most are inhabited by treacherous devil beasts. Some devil realms do end up being uninhabited but those are rare and mining rights to one of these end up causing conflict upon conflict betwixt otherwise friendly nations.

- A Guide on Desmenology by Robert Beethran.

Universe Ten, Nireavat; Xerdes

Six Years Later...

Ellen Frandus Livrosun Sjon Rantiavum - sole heir to the Xerdian throne.

People said Ellen was arrogant. Ellen liked to think they were wrong. She just didn't give two pennies about most people's opinions.

People said Ellen was haughty. She liked to think they were wrong too. She was just bold.

No one said Ellen was lazy. They may have as well. She would have agreed with them wholeheartedly.

The morning was already gone considerably and yet the Xerdian heir was rolling around in bed, trying to find a comfortable position so she could get back to sleep. It wasn't every day that she had nothing to do.

She had already begun to slip back into slumber when she heard the door open. It was most probably Catley, her 'caretaker', come to rouse her. She threw a pillow in the general direction of the door.

"Buzz off Cat," she groaned into the pillows.

"Frandus," a smooth masculine voice called.

Ellen's eyes snapped open and she sat up sharply. Standing at the door and holding her pillow in one hand was her father; emperor Antonio IV.

"Oh, father," Ellen said, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. "What brings you here this early in the morning?"

Ellen's father sighed and mumbled something about spoiling the girl rotten.

"What is today's date?" He asked.

"Let me see... um, I think it's the twelfth?" Ellen answered uncertainly.

"It's the twentieth," her father informed her.

"O... kay?" Ellen replied and continued to stare at her father. The emperor clearly expected some other reaction from his daughter but none was forthcoming.

Ellen bit on her bottom lip, scouring her memory for something important linked to the twentieth.

"Is there... anything scheduled for the twentieth?" She ventured tentatively.

"I thought you would be a tad more restless considering you would be heading over to Sealarios soon," her father commented.

Ellen scrunched her brow in confusion. "Is there something I'm missing? What do you mean I'm heading-"

Her father bit back another sigh. "The Sealarios envoy?" He hissed.

"The Sealarios... envoy? Gods!"

Ellen rolled off the bed and dove into her closet, cursing as she went.

"Language Frandus," Antonio called after her.

Ellen poked her head out of the closet.

"Sure thing Pa. Catley! Get the fuck in here!"

"Language!"

In a matter of minutes, Ellen was seated within the halls of the capital city's teleportarium and waiting for the envoy. If the envoy arrived early then maybe she could get the welcome over with and return to her bed. If he didn't, well, Ellen could do nothing about it.

In a way, Ellen was looking forward to the envoy's visit. There was, after all, only one reason why those reclusive hermits would break their seclusion and send an envoy: the invitation of the realm to the Triumph Tournament held once every decade in memorial of the final battle of the Great War that had ravaged nine whole universes a thousand years ago. Granted, it hadn't been up to a decade since the last Tournament but Sealarios calculated the years for the event using the old Gaian calendar and that calendar was, in a word, complicated.

Though, strictly speaking, Ellen wasn't heading to the island because of the tournament. The girl could hold her own in a duel thanks to her manipulation but she wasn't a fighter.

No, the reason why she was headed to Sealarios was because the island's lord had invited her to a private banquet of sorts this round of the tournament. It was almost tradition, really. Sealarios' chiefs had been known to invite the heirs of the five nations of Nireavat at least once each generation.

Ellen didn't end up waiting longer for the envoy. In a few minutes, the portal runes lit up, bathing the room in soft white light. When the light receded, a man was standing within the circle of runes.

Ellen stepped up. "You have come upon Xerdian soil. State your name and your business," she said.

The man smiled. Tradition.

"My name is Galdis. Today I step upon Xerdian soil after a decade as our ancestors agreed, and extend this day an invitation to the realm on behalf of my land. May the bravest of hearts come, to the land upon which the multiverse was liberated, and our bitterest of foes put down, for a celebration is in order. That we may remember yet that which the Ethereal Four accomplished in the years bygone."

Ellen smiled. Tradition.

"The realm welcomes you and your message, Galdis, Herald of Sealarios," she said with a curtsy.

...................

Gabriel Santos Reziel Vindescot Rollendrack - sole heir to the Alusian throne.

Gabriel leaned against the trunk of one of the trees dotting the royal garden, reading a book. He was seated on a thick, sturdy branch high above the ground. To his right, a ten-year-old boy sat within a net of vines, peering anxiously over the edge.

"Louise put your head back in and stay still, or Arint would find you," Gabriel said off-handedly, concentrating more on his book.

"I know, I know but it's really hard not to - oh! Here he is." Louise jerked back his head as his brother walked underneath the tree and stood, looking about.

"Oi, Arint!" Gabriel called.

Arint looked up.

"Oh. Hi, Gabriel," he replied. "Have you seen Louise around here lately?"

"Yeah, you might want to head deeper into the garden. He ran past moments ago," Gabriel said.

"Deeper? Argh, the brat!" Arint cursed, stomping his way deeper into the gardens. Louise peeped at him as he went and when he was completely out of sight, speedily got out of the vine net.

"Thanks your highness," he said, pulling out a candy box from his pockets and stuffing it into Gabriel's hands. "As you requested; peppermint, chocolate, and tart-flavored spread rolls."

Immediately after, he scrambled down the tree and set off at a brisk jog towards the garden's exit.

Gabriel put down his book, opened the box, and popped a chocolate cube into his mouth. The bitter-sweet flavor that exploded over his taste buds was simply magnificent and reaffirmed his conviction that getting Louise bring him candy had been the right call. He relaxed against the tree trunk and closed his eyes, an expression of contented bliss settling over his features.

There was a slight rustle from above and a voice eerily similar to Gabriel's floated down.

"If I remember correctly," it said, "you are not permitted to eat candy."

"Shut up Vit," Gabriel replied without opening his eyes. "News?"

"Sorry, can't help you there. Too busy keeping my mouth shut," the voice replied testily.

"Oh come on, Vit. Don't be a wuss." Gabriel opened his eyes. Hanging upside-down on a branch above was a spitting image of him with one glaring difference. A plain black mask covered the right side of its face.

"I'm not being wussy," Vit said, slowly floating down head first. "Just making a comment." He dipped his fingers into the candy box and popped a chocolate treat into his mouth.

"Mmm... as good as ever," he said, shivering in delight.

"So; news?" Gabriel asked once more. Vit took his time to lick his fingers clean before answering.

"Yes. Valerina is planning a visit to Sealarios."

Gabriel snorted mockingly.

"As what? A contestant? Even with her illness?"

"Yes actually," Vit replied brightly. "That is the only way of getting into Sealarios short of an invite, isn't it? Participating in the Tournament?"

Gabriel's countenance turned serious.

"You're not joking."

"No, I'm not."

"She's planning to sneak out, isn't she?"

"That she is."

Slowly, Gabriel lowered his face into cupped hands.

"That girl," he said evenly, "is suicidal."

"Yep," Vit agreed, popping a peppermint into his mouth.

.........................

Valerina Inscrovuvia Don Vontumavia - Sole issue of Alusia's imperial advisor.

"Change of clothes."

"Here."

"Purse."

"Here."

"Aunt Maggie's band-aids."

"Checked."

"Carrying bag."

"Here. Wonder why you'd need that young miss."

Valerina rolled her eyes and put down the list in her hands.

"I do plan to bring back a few souvenirs, Madaki."

"Souvenirs?" Madaki questioned. "From just a week-long visit?"

Valerina pursed her lips. Right; just a leisurely one-week trip to visit Aunt Maggie. That was what she'd told her attendants, wasn't it? And souvenirs were for when you visited distant places, weren't they? She just slipped up, didn't she?

Nothing to it. She'd just force the lie through.

"Yes souvenirs, Madaki. When, eventually, I return, I would just return to being bored out of my mind. Now, souvenirs would serve as a little distraction don't you think?"

At that moment, the door swung open and Valerina's second attendant stepped into the room.

"Young miss, the master and the mistress have both left," she said.

"Thanks, Mira," Valerina nodded. "Help Madaki double-check, I'll be back soon." She handed the list over to Mira and, walking up to her dressing table, pulled out a key from within its drawers.

Leaving Midaka and Mira to their task, Valerina stepped out of her room, made her way down the stairs, through a hallway, and, after looking about carefully, let herself into her father's study using a key she certainly shouldn't have. Once within her father's study, she shut the door gently behind her and locked it from within just to be safe

Getting her father's drawers open was easy. The furniture most nobles used came from an organized group of Freudsian artisans and all their locks were the same. Learning to pick one was like learning to pick all Freudsian locks and that had been the very first thing Valerina had learnt when her parents had deemed her fit to return to the capital. Granted, she had learnt that particular skill just so she could get to the sugar jars in the kitchen but she had to use what she had to get what she wanted no?

She took her time going through her father's correspondence. Official papers didn't interest her. What she was after was dirt, or, in plainer words, blackmail material. She knew there were things he wouldn't want her mother to hear. She just didn't know what.

A thorough search later and the little sneak was still searching. There was nothing tangible she could lay her hands on. She was pretty sure there was something and that left her pacing the study room anxiously, thinking. Slowly but surely, her gaze traveled to, and settled on, the full-size portrait of her grandfather resting on the wall behind the desk. Valerina smiled. Her father was a hopeless romantic.

She walked up to the painting and tried to get it down. It didn't budge.

Hinges then, she thought and pulled. The painting swung open on barely visible hinges, revealing a metal safe buried within the wall. Valerina scrutinized its surface. Freudsian make undoubtedly. Nothing a trusty hairpin couldn't unlock.

There was one problem though. If this was where his important documents were kept then there must be more security provided than just a lock.

Valerina hummed and examined the safe once more. If she strained her eyes, she could just make out a small blood recognition array at the top right corner of the safe. Valerina thanked her stars. As far as she could see, there was only a blood recognition array and nothing else. Clearly, her father was not expecting his only daughter to try to steal from him.

Valerina put her palm on the safe's surface and bypassed the array without a hitch. She and her dad did share the same blood after all.

In two minutes the safe was open and its content exposed to the unfilial thief. There were bundles of papers bound in strings and some envelopes stacked against the walls of the safe.

Valerina went straight for the envelopes and, with the first try alone, she struck gold. On the very top of the pile of envelopes, there was a letter from Chamille Dervishi. Valerina whistled.

"Really dad," she muttered. "The infamous courtesan of Tatendra House. Mum's gonna be absolutely furious if she finds out you still correspond with the wench."

She put the first envelope to the side and began to shuffle through the rest of the letters, opening them and glancing through their content briefly. If she knew anything about her father, a single correspondence wouldn't be able to trap him. She would need at the very least four or five.

The clip-clop of hooves distracted her for a moment. She almost dismissed it but something clicked at the last second and she shot toward the window. The window had a direct view of the mansion's entrance and Valerina could see her parent's carriage come trundling in.

Shit.

She didn't have any time left. Grabbing as many of the envelopes as she could, she shut the safe, swung the portrait back into place, and slipped out of the room as quickly as possible. She was already at the top of the stairs, and out of sight of the main hall, when she heard her parents enter the foyer.

"Oh, Val's visiting Maggie sometime this week isn't she?" Her father was asking.

"Yes, Theo, dear. She would be leaving next tomorrow. The little bundle of trouble is quite excited about it," her mother answered.

Valerina smiled slightly. Well, she should be leaving in two days. Unfortunately, if she did that, she would miss the ship to Sealarios. Luckily she knew the wards around the mansion were geared toward keeping undesirables out and did nothing for keeping desirables in.

And also that scaling a fence was easier with a ladder. Much, much easier.

...............................

Voscov de la Reantendale Dalha Iluhiem - Siadroan heir.

"You're leaving," Sera accused, staring up at her elder brother.

"Of course, I'm leaving. I told you so yesterday," Voscov answered, a slight sense of deja vu welling up within him.

"I thought you were joking," Sera huffed.

"You should know more than anyone that I hardly joke around, Sera," her brother said.

"Sure, sure. Blame it all on me. I didn't know you weren't joking and now you're leaving," she chuffed.

"But I'm not blaming-"

"Better don't regret it when you return from the Tournament with broken ribs, punctured lungs, and a twisted nose."

"That is quite the prediction there," a voice commented from below the stairs. Sera turned toward the voice, scowling.

"Mrs. Heather's my governess. It rubs off," she said defensively.

At the foot of the stairs and leaning against the rail was a tall, brown-eyed brunette in a peach-green dress.

"I feel ya," the brunette said, nodding. "Now get out of the way, twat, and let your brother come down. Access to Sealarios' portal would remain open only for a few hours more."

"Hate you too, you old bag of vermin," Sera grumbled.

"Short stack," the girl retorted.

"Brainless she-goat," Sera shot back.

"Squirt stain."

"Discombobulated vagabond."

"Goblin."

"G... why... kn... You..." Sera griped for a while, casting about for an insult. "Argh! Dismembered snail!"

"That makes no sense," the brunette pointed out.

"I know." The little girl stamped her foot in frustration. She turned to Voscov. "Vee," she whined. "A little help?"

"Um... mild-tempered slug?" Voscov suggested dryly.

Sera turned to her foe. "Aha!" She exclaimed. "Mild-tempered - WHAT?!" She spun around, fixing Voscov with the most incredulous look she could manage. Voscov shrugged.

"I'm bad at this," he said simply, moving past her and towards the stairs. "Lynica let's get going or we are going to be late."

"Uh, hello? Did you just skip over the part where I am not okay with you attending the Tournament?"

"More or less Sera; come off it. I am not heading over there to fight. I'll be back before you know it."

"You promise?"

Voscov stopped walking and turned back to look at the little girl. "Cross my heart," he said.

"Yeah, right," Sera snorted. "Your heart's as cold and impervious as your crystals. Pinky swear?" She held out her baby finger.

Voscov looked down at the finger.

"You know that doesn't work right?" He questioned.

"Just do it," Sera grumbled, wiggling the finger.

Voscov hooked his pinky with hers and swore. Satisfied, Sera let him go and he descended the staircase.

"Couldn't you have spruced up your outfit a bit Your Highness?" The brunette asked as they made their way to the imperial teleportarium.

Voscov threw her a confused look. At least she thought it was meant to be a confused look. "What do you mean?" He questioned. "Don't you notice the different shades of black at the hems?"

Lynica pursed her lips and resisted the urge to facepalm.

"It is all still black Your Highness," she pointed out.

Voscov sighed. "You had told me before to mix up colors a bit. I've gone and done it and you are still unsatisfied. Just how can I appease you, Lynica?"

"For one, you could let the servants do their job and pick your outfit," Lynica replied.

"I would if you start calling me by my name and not my title."

"You know how that argument ends Your Highness. Better not to let that beast see the light of day."

Voscov sighed once more.

"You don't know how much you hurt me every time we argue about that," he said.

"In my defense, it's not as though I can know if I hurt you or not what with your perpetually indifferent expression and the dead-pan tone that never varies."

Voscov shrugged. He doubted that. Somehow she always knew what he was feeling - and thinking too. Probably she also knew he never actually felt hurt when they argued about her form of address. It just rankled him, that was all.

In a minute they reached the teleportarium. Their luggage was sitting snuggly in the middle of the portal runes, having been dragged there by a servant a few hours prior. They stepped into the circle of runes.

"Ready?" Voscov asked Lynica. The aide nodded and he grabbed a handful of copper dust from a small marble receptacle to his right and spread It over the runes.

"Head portal, Sealarios," he said, enunciating each word clearly. The room lit up for a while, soft white light cascading out of the runes and blocking the vision of the two teenagers. Then they felt the ground be ripped away from under them as they were pulled into the void, standing on naught but air. The world moved while they stayed still and they weren't prepared when a marble floor slipped under them with a rush, jolting their legs and numbing them slightly. They bore it with grace, already used to the surprise teleporting came with.

The light receded and the travelers stared out into a familiar room. The room was small and square with only a single door to the left: a standard affair for privately owned teleportariums. There was no need for much space when the reason for the room's existence measured, at most, a meter across.

The two teenagers were met outside the room by a small retinue of servants.

"Welcome, esteemed guests," the foremost servant greeted, curtsying as she did so. They nodded in acknowledgment. She straightened. "His highness Voscov and his chosen companion I assume. I am high maid Snevi. My master has tasked me with leading you to your quarters. If you would, please follow me."

"Lead on," Voscov replied.

The rest of the servants behind her shuffled out of their way as Snevi turned around gracefully and they followed.

"What is a high maid, your highness?" Lynica asked Voscov as the lady led them toward a door.

"You didn't bother to read up on the old ways, did you? You were informed that I had chosen you to accompany me days ago. What did you spend all that time doing? Picking your outfits?" Voscov scolded.

Lynica shrugged.

"I knew you would have read up that stuff so I didn't bother," she replied.

"Gods. Now not only do I have to keep an eye on the other heirs that had been invited but also you too? Only Haebrew would know how much of a pain it's going to be to smooth out potential cultural misunderstandings you would cause," Voscov muttered. Lynica shot him an offended look.

"What cultural misunderstandings? You of all people should know I'm fairly easy to get along with. As long as nobody points any sharp things toward us, everything's going to be alright. Now, what's a high maid?"

"What do you care of it? You clearly did not care enough to read up on the old ways."

"Oh come on. I need to know if we are being slighted here. The city lord doesn't come to welcome us himself and instead sends some 'high maid' to lead us to our quarters. Not the head maid, not the housekeeper but a 'high maid'?"

"This is why you should have read up on the old ways," Voscov muttered. "No, we are not being slighted. A high maid's status is equal to, if not more esteemed than, a head maid's in households in Sealarios. They are-"

Lynica brushed her finger against his suddenly, pulling on his index finger in the process and he stopped talking.

"She's listening," Lynica whispered, her voice cold. "Sound manipulation."

"I see," Voscov commented and held his tongue.

Almost immediately, Snevi stopped, turned about, and knelt before them, her eyes cast to the ground.

"Esteemed guests, this servant has overstepped her station. I have been rude, my actions uncouth. This servant seeks your forgiveness, honoured guests, and submits herself to be disciplined as you see fit."

Oh, she is smart, Lynica thought, looking the girl over.

"I see," Voscov said once again and raised his head, taking in their surroundings. They were currently outside, with a stone pathway paving the way forward and curving out of sight. He looked down at the kneeling maid.

"Where I'm from, the proper punishment to be given would be dismemberment," he said in the same deadpan voice he normally spoke with. The maid bowed her head lower, her knuckles bunching up in anxiety. "Why were you eavesdropping?"

"I- I- it was out of curiosity, your highness. I heard you mention the high maids and I..." The maid trailed off, licking her lips apprehensively.

"I see. I guess losing a limb may be too much given that I'm not in Siadro at the moment but it is just as well. Snevi right? I don't want to see your ears in place the next time we meet. And I guarantee you, we will meet again."

The maid gasped, quailing visibly at Voscov's words.

"Please, your highness. Have mercy, I beg of you.," She cried.

Voscov glanced away from her and scanned their surroundings again. He wasn't looking out for anything; he was just giving the servant time to soak in the information. And feel fear. She needed to feel fear.

The prince focused on the servant once more.

"Get up," he said. "Lead the way. Let there not be a next time."

The maid scrambled to her feet, thanked him with one deep bow, and continued to lead them forward, shoulders tense and steps stiff.

"Dismemberment, your highness? Of all the things you could have said," Lynica commented once she was sure their guide wasn't listening.

"There is no standard procedure for dealing with her offence in Siadro so I improvised. It was the first thing that came to mind and I had to say something. It certainly would not, in any way, matter hereafter," Voscov replied nonchalantly.

If he knew that the other heirs had been subject to similar experiences he would have rethought his last sentence.

If only he knew.

About a thousand years ago, Sealarios had been, frankly, the largest continent within Nireavat. According to legends, it had been littered with forts, castles, and keeps that towered into the sky and stretched from horizon to horizon.

Voscov and Lynica saw none of that. Granted, about three-fourths of its landmass now lay beneath the ocean, but still, you would expect to see some castles and keeps.

No; apparently, what the city-state did have were sprawling manors spanning about three square miles each, and the city lord's home was no different. And so, the two companions found themselves quickly being led through little flower gardens and around artificial ponds. Luckily the teleportarium had been located near the guest wing of the manor and so they didn't have much ground to cover before they reached their assigned quarters.

Said quarters was a pentagonal building with five rooms and a fancy courtyard containing three stone monoliths. Snevi showed them around the place as she was tasked to and left them to pick out their sleeping chambers but not before inviting them to a banquet being hosted by the city lord that night.

They'd accepted the invitation gracefully and politely sent the high maid on her way not a moment too soon.

On the matter of choosing sleeping chambers, Voscov had no idea which to pick. All the rooms looked tastefully furnished and, sure, the master bedroom was certainly bigger than the rest. Going by logic, he was probably expected to take the master chambers since he was ranked above Lynica in their social hierarchy but it made no difference to him and so he ended up sitting on one of the monoliths and tossing a coin to decide which room to take.

On her part, Lynica had already decided which room she wanted and now sat on a bench in the courtyard, prodding Voscov to just pick any room as they awaited their luggage.

About a minute later and Voscov still hadn't decided where to sleep when there was a knock on the main door. Lynica answered the door, coming face to face with a gaggle of servants carrying their luggage. She directed them to keep their burden within the courtyard and waited impatiently as they did so and finally left.

The brunette shut the gate after them almost as an afterthought - shocking the servants as she did so because no self-respecting highborn did that for any reason whatsoever - and walked quickly toward the package in the courtyard, barely resisting breaking into a full-out sprint.

"You brought those didn't you?" Voscov said dourly as she ran up to a blue leather case and squatted next to it.

"Naturally," Lynica replied. "We had been restricted to the number of weapons we could bring and I couldn't possibly bring just a measly two daggers. It's an insult to my craft." She flipped open the case and began to root around the edges, searching for something.

"You're just being paranoid," Voscov countered. "You think there's going to be a fight."

"Yes your highness, I'm paranoid," Lynica answered. Her hands found what she sought and she pulled, raising the false floor of the case, and the clothes on it, using two leather straps. Then she reached in and pulled out a bundle wrapped in thick brown leather.

She unfurled the leather and pulled out daggers. Some were curved, some were serrated, some had crystalline handles, but most had sharp edges and tapered to a pointed tip. All in all, there must have been about twenty daggers, give or take a few stabby-stabby weapons. She laid them all out to the side and grinned. "But you have to agree your highness; my toys are absolutely fetching. Don't you think so?"

Voscov shrugged and stood from his perch on the monolith. "Let us get our effects packed away," he said. "I would be going for a walk after that. Want to tag along?"

"Finally decided on a room?" Lynica asked. Voscov nodded.

"And let me guess, you chose the master bedroom?"

Voscov focused on Lynica and the girl had the faintest inkling that he was appraising her though it was hard to tell with his expression.

"No," he said finally. "I would be sleeping in your room."

Lynica frowned.

"Why?" She asked.

"Why?" Voscov replied.

"Yes, why?"

"Clarify. Please."

"Why would you be sleeping in my room?"

"Sorry, let me clarify. I would be using the room you chose for as long as we are here. You can have the master bedroom if you so wish."

"...Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why."

Voscov gave a dull sigh. "Clarify. Please."

"Why did you eventually pick my room? I'd gotten it first."

"Oh, I do not have a sense for these things so I figured what you pick would have been the best of the rooms," Voscov responded.

"Why you motherfucking shit-eating bas-"