Prelude

Within the silver spire of Aelf'ahlnohma, Elven nobles gathered in the hundreds to seek counsel with their Queen. The explosion which had shaken the city to its foundations a few days prior was the final straw for many of the traditionalists who had opposed Larion's rule since the revelation of her heritage. The Elven monarch had entertained the most fervent of the city's upper-class, but quickly found herself hesitant to spend another moment listening to the same tired arguments.

"Your Majesty." A guardsman, spear in hand, kneeled before the elevated throne, "Shall I call in the next noble?"

"There will be no need for that." She disregarded, "Turn those who are still waiting away."

"But… Your Majesty-"

"I will not waste my time immobilised on this throne, listening to the plights of those who occupy their time with heritage and racial purity. Not when there are more pressing matters to attend to."

"...Of course. My apologies."

Bowing as he stood, the guard quickly departed for the throne room's exit. A crowd of furrowed brows could be seen casting glances through the door as it was cracked open and quickly closed again, leaving Larion and Din alone in the spacious hall.

"...Hah." Larion allowed her dignified mask to slip, "Unbelievable. What exactly do they hope to accomplish by flooding my spare time with pointless prattle?"

"For as long as Her Majesty lives, the mandate of the royal bloodline will persist." Din replied, "Though, it should go without saying that even if we emerge victorious from this war, the political enemies Her Majesty has accrued will never cease in their attempts to expose her so-called illegitimacy."

"Dear oh dear… you've certainly been taking your duties as a handmaiden quite seriously lately, haven't you?" The Queen sighed, "Please, Din--when the two of us are alone, call me 'Larion' like you always do."

"That's…" The girl's stiff expression faltered, "...You know I want to take this position seriously."

"I know." Larion smiled, "Don't think I haven't noticed you stealing towards the archives in the dead of night, spending the evenings with your nose buried in political history. Time, I'm sure, you would rather be spending in my bedchambers."

"That's another thing…" Din closed her eyes, "Your Majesty… with how your public opinion among the nobility is at the moment, I don't think it's wise for the two of us to be… involved."

"Why, you make it seem as if I'm telling everyone about it." Larion tilted her head, "So long as our relationship remains a secret, where's the harm in satisfying ourselves?"

"But… that's just it." She replied, "I want to be worth more than just… a satisfying bed."

"Din…" The Queen muttered, "Is that what's bothering you? Speak to me."

"I don't mean to offend you." She answered, "But, I feel as though I'm only helpful to you physically. Knowing the duties you attend to every day… I can't help but feel somewhat inferior. If I want to stand by your side, then I must be better. I don't want to remain a simple handmaiden, but someone who can truly lift the weight from your shoulders."

"So that's why…" Larion paused, "I'm sorry."

"It's nothing to apologise for."

"No. It is." She insisted, "I've… made you feel like an object. I never considered your own ambitions or ideals, only the physical relationship between us. And when you began carrying out your responsibilities with a renewed sense of purpose, I ridiculed you for taking them too seriously. To have been so blind… no apology could ever excuse me from such arrogance."

"Please, Your Majesty… a queen shouldn't lower herself so."

"Perhaps not." Larion agreed, "-But I am not your queen, Din. I am your lover. And what lover would ever diminish the accomplishments of the one they adore the most? I should be encouraging you to seek new responsibilities, so that one day, the burden of this city can be shared by the two of us."

"Larion…"

As the two of them shared in a moment of silence, the otherworldly sound of space tearing itself apart resounded throughout the throne room, and a form forced its way through the Gate which had been serving as a convenient tool to travel between Aelf'ahlnohma and Gria. The sudden appearance of someone else in the room forced Larion and Din to quickly regain their composure, but the need for pleasantries dissolved quickly as the Queen took note of who had passed through the portal."

"Lady Dorma?" She blinked, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty." The sorceress smiled, "I do hope I'm not intruding on your privacy?"

"On the contrary, it lightens my heart to see a familiar face. There has been no end to the dissidence of our fair city's nobles since Barion's mission to destroy the Demonic facility."

"Then allow me to make my intentions brief, so as to relieve you of your duties quickly." Dorma replied, "We intend to make our final move against Black Luna."

"You mean to bring this war to an end?" Larion's eyes widened, "Well, then… naturally, Aelf'ahlnohma will do all in its power to support such a noble cause."

"I was hoping you would say that. We're in need of a magical focus powerful enough to conjure a Gate that could travel the distance necessary to approach the false moon in question."

"You seek the sceptre, then." Larion summarised, "I see no better use for it."

"I'm afraid that's only half of my request." Dorma warned, "You see, Fusala believes that not even the crystal atop the sceptre will be capable of channelling enough magical particles to accomplish our goals. Therefore… she wishes to make some modifications to it."

Larion's face straightened out, "...What sort of modifications, exactly?"

…

..

.

"Shamans?"

"As many as you can spare." A feminine voice echoed, "-Ideally all of them."

"You steal not only my spear, my flagship and a not-insignificant number of my ships for yourself, sail off towards the mainland, and then return weeks later requesting the unconditional support of my personal sorcerers?" A deeper voice replied, "Had I known you were such a troublesome woman, perhaps I wouldn't have sought your counsel on so many occasions, Shilahi."

"Your ships are back, are they not? Though, I can't quite say the same for your spear--which was rightfully my own to begin with, mind you." The Hermit countered, "It's a well-known fact that the God-King's personal attendees are among the most practised incanters in the world, and it just so happens that practised incanters are what we need at the moment."

"-But will you be returning them, I wonder?"

"They'll only be needed for a single spell."

The quaint throne room of God-King Emir vastly understated the monarch's power. Like many Onda, his home was on the small side to allow the heat of their hearths to spread quickly. The thick furs of many exotic beasts were displayed proudly on the walls and floor. Contrary to King Granda or Queen Larion, Emir didn't trouble his personal guardsmen with the burden of protecting him at every waking hour, leaving only himself and Shilahi within the modest throne room.

"I know you would not request my aid for trivial affairs." Emir sank into his throne, "...Very well, then. The Feast of the Red is still a fortnight away, and they have no other duties to attend to besides locking themselves away in the libraries for days at a time. And I'm well-aware of the fact that you will not be taking 'no' for an answer either way."

"Is it really so respectable for a king to be buckling at my every demand?"

"Ah, but would I still be king if I were so brash as to deny the Great Hermit whatever she desires?" Emir countered, "You would make for a poor politician, Shilahi."

"Let's be thankful that I have no intention of becoming one, then." She smirked, "Even so, I'm grateful for the assistance."

"A grand battle is on its way. Is that not the case?" The God-King rose in his seat, "Set--my seer--tells me he sees nothing in the golden fires. I have always known that to be a portent of unbelievable strife."

"The final battle draws near."

"Is that so…" Emir closed his eyes, "Just how many 'final battles' must this world endure, I wonder?"

"At the very least, the next will be fought by those who seek a goal other than destruction."

…

..

.

Gria's royal castle had been the focus of much speculation over the past few months. With nobles denied access to court, only the nation's absolute elite could ever hope to enter its walls. Perhaps that was for the best, considering the frankly unbelievable truths its inhabitants had been unearthing. Stranger still was the congregation of Fleecian Shamans--up to that point having been known for never leaving God-King Emir's side, whose crimson-hooded silhouettes had been sighted by passing guardsmen moving through the castle hallways.

"Are you certain this is going to work?" A voice echoed in the grand hall.

"It is not possible to be 100% certain of anything." A woman replied.

"Then, is it likely to succeed?"

"No."

Fusala busied herself with the text on alchemical theory she had brought with her from the alchemy lab while Barion hounded her with questions.

"There are a multitude of factors at play in this operation. Those that we can control are few, and those which we cannot have the potential to render our efforts void. It is not an ideal situation by any means."

"Is it really possible… to conjure a Gate that could travel so far?"

"It is not the distance which is a problem." Fusala answered, "Alongside Lady Dorma and Lady Yula, we have not only received permission to make use of Gria's entire court, but Lady Shilahi was successful in convincing God-King Emir to lend a handful of his personal Shamans to the cause. With such a well of magical power at our disposal, creating a Gate of sufficient strength will not pose an issue."

"Then what is the issue?"

"Accuracy." She summarised, "Black Luna is constantly moving relative to our planet. We will need to decide the Gate's exit point as soon as its incantation begins--which could take up to 10 minutes. Therefore, we must conjure the portal ahead of Black Luna's current location, so as to coincide with its passing. This would grant you the time necessary to infiltrate the target--which is to say, as much time as can possibly be afforded."

"...Because of this tunic?"

"Yes." She raised her eyes from the tome, "I have modified your clothing's natural barrier enchantment to protect you against the dangers of a vacuum environment, including providing its own air supply. However, the enchantment requires an unbelievable amount of magical particles to function."

"-Which is why you needed the Elven Queen's sceptre?"

"Indeed. Though it will need to be modified in order to increase its effective output. I expect to be finished with my work by this time tomorrow."

"Then everything will be ready?"

"Yes." She paused, "Everything will be ready."

"Hm…" Barion lowered his head, "To think we're this close to finally bringing an end to Demonkind… this always seemed to me like a war that was never going to end."

"It may be the end of this war." Fusala mused, "-But it will not be the end of war."

"I know that." He replied, "I never fought to protect this world because I thought it was perfect. There are still so many conflicts left unresolved… we're nowhere near achieving true peace. But what Black Luna wages isn't a war. It's a thoughtless experiment, with the innocents of this planet as its subjects. I won't allow that injustice to continue any further."

"If I may ask--what do you intend to do once your duty is done?"

"Mm… Find somewhere nice and quiet to die, I suppose." He answered, "It's about time I learned to calm down for good. If Dorma's at my side, I don't think some peace and quiet will be too unbearable. What about you?"

"Witilla has enlightened me to concepts I would have never dreamed of." She replied, "There is still too much of the world which is misunderstood. I would be doing my mother a disservice by allowing its secrets to slip through my grasp."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you." Barion smiled, "...If I don't end up returning-"

"We will continue to fight." Fusala interrupted, "That has been our plan from the very beginning. But, despite the odds which have been stacked against us… I do not find myself believing that you will be unsuccessful, Barion."

"A vote of confidence from you is worth quite a bit." He joked, "But, if I have to be honest… neither do I."