50th of Season of Fire, 107th year of the 32nd cycle

  Newt looked out the window as they approached the Tidebreaker family’s summer palace.

  “Why is there snow in the summer?” he asked the world at large.

  “Tidebreaker kingdom is always under snow,” Lady Alabaster said, her aura once more invisible to Newt as she had reached the seventh realm.

  While she was at the sixth, he could see the faint outline of earth energy avariciously kept close to her body, snatched from the world and internalized, with no intention of letting it go until the day she died.

  “I’ve notified Lady Frostgrave that we’re coming to visit. She should receive the letter in a moon, and then she’ll curse herself for missing us.”

  Newt glanced at his former master. There was way too much schadenfreude in that smile for a seventh realm exemplar.

  “I thought the two of you were friends, Master.” Newt couldn’t make himself call Lady Alabaster anything but master, despite her mentorship coming to an end.

  “She is a dear friend of mine. Not at all a rival from the Sage’s Realm tournament. Not at all,” Lady Alabaster smiled brightly, and Newt had a feeling there was a story there.

  He waited, but she offered no explanations.

  She’ll tell me when she finds it relevant.

  The rest of the flight passed with Newt observing the snowy wonderland, noting how few and far between the human settlements were. But the settlements they did find were huge, the smallest one equalling Thunderbluff in size.

  “Do we send expeditions to Wintersweald, Master?”

  “Two or three a year. Are you nervous?”

  Newt glanced at the tiny woman looking at him with a cocked eyebrow, then looked away.

  “Why would I be nervous?”

  “Well, you’re going to meet your future grandfather-in-law, and your wife-to-be should also be there. This visit makes little sense otherwise.”

  Even without looking, Newt could feel the smile that was not a smile his former master was flashing him.

  “I might be a bit nervous about meeting the exalt,” Newt confessed. “But I’m not at all nervous about meeting Maelstrom.”

  “She might want to discuss babies—”

  “Master!” Newt said a bit louder than he had wanted, before lowering his voice. “It’s highly inappropriate to discuss such matters with someone of the opposite sex, let alone my master.”

  “First of all, I’m no longer your master. We’re peers, or very close to peers, with me holding the seniority. And if I want to keep things that way for the next five hundred years, I will need to put in a lot more effort than I did to reach the seventh realm.”

  Lady Alabaster held his gaze, turning serious.

  “Woodhopper and Elmshade didn’t make the advancement. Unless something exceptional happens, they will remain in the sixth realm until they die. It’s a miserable fate, especially for Woody. She had the potential, but the death of her companion had inflicted a grievous wound to her state of mind. If she manages to get over it, she will reach the seventh, but that’s very unlikely. She is in a vicious loop, where she needs to make a win either in the field of beast taming and raise a worthy beast, or advance her realm and make a win there. The former is unlikely, the latter impossible.”

  “Is there anything we can do for her?” Newt asked.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  “Technically.” Lady Alabaster hesitated. “We could find an egg of a powerful trihorn, something at the eighth realm or higher, so it would hatch at fourth or fifth realm, and imprint Woody as its mother once it hatches. Even that has difficulties, such as high realm trihorns, thundertitans, and dreadwalkers being incredibly rare. Then we need to hit just the right element, so we would have to find the egg in the Autumnsweald, but even then it’s a gamble.”

  Newt nodded. If possible, he wanted to help Lady Woodhopper. His youthful infatuation had passed. He still thought the woman beautiful, and worth courting, just not for him. Thanks to Lady Woodhopper’s candidness and upright character, he knew about some of the pitfalls of immortality. To an extent, he was grateful she was honorable enough to pass up the opportunity he represented for the sake of her principles.

  The conversation died down, and Newt considered how to get the egg Lady Woodhopper would need. His mind still lingering on the topic when a grand palatial complex appeared carved into a cloud-splitting mountain. Instead of a central garden, it had a large area dominated by ice statues glittering in the sunlight.

  The airship was still a handful of miles away when they started slowing. Several dozen people walked out into the open at what was obviously an air port. Newt squinted, searching their faces, and found the one he was looking for.

  Maelstrom walked half a step behind a man around thirty years old, who led the delegation.

  The airship touched down gently, and suddenly Gatemaster Greenthorn appeared in front of the exit, the rest of the passengers swiftly congregating behind him, pushing Newt to the front.

  The door opened, and the gatemaster strode out at a non-awakened’s pace, Newt walked behind him, followed by the rest of the orders’ representatives. Solemn silence drowned the air port, sunlight breaking into rainbows through the perfect statues, the garden changing with each step. A beautiful sight, one Newt had no mind to see right now.

  Gatemaster Greenthorn stopped ten steps from the Tidebreaker delegation and went to one knee.

  “Your Royal Highness,” he said, and everyone else followed his example, bowing and greeting the Tidebreaker king.

  “Rise, rise,” Maelstrom’s grandfather said lightly. “I am retired, and it is only through unfortunate circumstances that I find myself at the helm of the kingdom once more.”

  The old men exchanged greetings and empty words dictated by protocol; the young people exchanged glances, and Maelstrom’s mouth moved.

  ‘Pumpkin’ she mouthed.

  Newt couldn’t tell what she expected, pulling such nonsense in front of two exalts. She probably thought he’d be embarrassed, but he had no intention of playing along.

  ‘Pie,’ he mouthed back and inclined his head in acknowledgement, eyes locked on her face, searching for more shenanigans.

  She was beautiful, in a crude, tomboyish sort of way. Her lips moved into a tiny, well-controlled smirk, amusement clear in her eyes. It was clear - she was happy with finding a tougher nut to crack than she had expected.

  Then she froze, and her expression turned serious.

  Newstar, Gatemaster Greenthorn’s words entered Newt’s mind. You can play with your fiancee in private, now is not the time.

  Newt felt himself stiffening and forced himself to relax before exchanging a meaningful look with Maelstrom. They would discuss things later.

  “Let us go inside,” patriarch Tidebreaker said, “We have prepared a feast, and it would do good for the young ones to talk in a less formal setting.”

  Newt wasn’t sure how a feast thrown by a king was less formal than standing outside, but he kept his mouth shut, eyes forward, and followed his master, the two of them leading the Explorer’s Gate delegation.

  Newt wasn’t sure whether the route the Tidebreakers had selected was meant to awe them with their wealth and history or whether they ornamented the path from the air port to the feast hall with paintings and tapestries showing their family’s feats and illustrious history.

  Paints highly saturated with mana formed images which not only showed the monsters’ colors but also their aura and exuded pressure on those observing.

  How did they do that? Newt found the trick interesting. It was basically painting two paintings on the same canvas, using an unknown technique. Unknown because a cursory glance told him they didn’t use runic seals to achieve the effect.

  “So, you like that one?” Maelstrom suddenly walked beside Newt. “That’s the kingdom’s founder, Abyss Tidebreaker fighting a deep-sea leviathan so that we could establish our shores. That was forty-seven thousand years ago.”

  “Your grandfather doesn’t mind you coming here?” he whispered, everyone else pretending Maelstrom wasn’t even there.

  Newt’s fiancée looked at him like he’d been hit on the head. “Do you really think I could leave his side without his permission?”

  I suppose not. Newt agreed without speaking a word.

  “Now tell me, what do you think of the painting?” Maelstrom wanted to comment on its importance, on how the perpetually frozen land was barren for non-awakened, and how difficult life was for them even with fishing as a means to provide for their families. She had a need to impress and to show her family’s compassion and willingness to risk themselves even for the ones at the lowest rung of power. Newt killed all her wishes with a simple response.

  “I think the artist did a masterful job.”