Claymore Fanfiction Discussion

[Blue Pentacle]

Hi There,


Shiek927, thank so very kindly for your considered review. I am very grateful and glad that it was the most compelling chapter to date.


You did pick up a number of issues, and I am glad that you did, as they are salient questions.


You would be very right in that they have come to a powerful crossroads in their companionship; Raki faced with the awesome and horrific truth of Luciela's nature, and she facing a most feared scenario in his discovery of her .


You would also speak true of the tremendous pull she feels towards her inclinations. Wishing for authority and dominion, but also for Raki too are things that weigh heavily, and will be instrumental in the future .


I am very grateful to all those who have supported and enjoyed the story so far, and hope to be not too slow in getting the important 2nd part up .


Thanks,


Blue Pentacle.

[Shiek927]

I never fail to enjoy how you write your posts like they are bulletins or letters Blue

[Blue Pentacle]

Originally Posted by Shiek927

I never fail to enjoy how you write your posts like they are bulletins or letters Blue

Thank you kindly. A little habit of mine, somewhat. Also, just as a small test of sorts, could you say if you caught my private message to you; as I am unsure if it got through?


Blue Pentacle.

[revan5]

Spoiler for Preview of Chapter 3 of "The Silver-eyed Empress":

Chapter 3

Excerpt from “A History of Toulouse”

A year after the Organization’s fall, the political situation on the island of Toulouse seemed to predict a long and slow-moving political future. At the time the future King Charles of Lautrec was a mere upstart duke, while in Rabona the church was forced to give taxing authority to the Council of Lords. By most measures, not much seemed to be growing, except perhaps for the size of bandit armies. Given the seemingly bleak future, the choice of many claymores to head north in live in their own sort of “paradise” at Pieta was quite understandable.

Had someone been transported two years ahead in time, they would be forgiven for their shock. Duke Charles had created the Kingdom of Lautrec in the interim, nearly conquered Rabona, and during his second attempt would lose his life. His son, Philippe, took over the young Kingdom, aided by his scheming queen, Violetta. While the young kingdom had suffered a setback, its control over the western lands of Lautrec was solidified.

Rabona in contrast had gone from the long, slow decline of the last century and suddenly found renewed strength. Its military was first revived by Bishop Vincent, and then massively improved and expanded once Phantom Miria took it over. Two and a half years after the Organization’s fall, Phantom Miria was hamstrung by church doctrine in defending Rabona. The Council of Lords overthrew the Rabona Orthodox Church’s six-century rule over Rabona with help from Phantom Miria and the Rabonese Army.

After unleashing an unprecedented night attack upon King Charles Army, the Rabonese Army triumphed in the hard-fought Battle of Kerouac Gorge. Perhaps one of the most famous quotes in history came before the battle from Phantom Miria, “…when the people ask you decades from now, it will be enough to say ‘I fought at Kerouac’ for everyone to say, ‘There walks a brave man.’” At around this time an angelic cult started around Phantom Miria, due in large part to her awakening of wings at the battle. Despite Miria’s best efforts to convince otherwise, a small and growing cult came to believe she was either an angel or somehow divine.

With the Kingdom of Lautrec no longer a threat, Rabona’s government, renamed the “Dominion of Toulouse”, expanded in all directions and even annexed the northern lands of Alphonse. However, some three years after the Organization’s fall, the island’s politics changed forever. The Romanow Empire’s rise and fear of its brilliant empress led the Grand Alliance to send an ultimatum to the Dominion of Toulouse to join or face invasion. With the Romanow Empire expanding its naval reach, the island of Toulouse seemed set to become the Global Hundred Years’ War latest proxy fight.

Unfortunately for the island of Toulouse, these political surprises were not the worst of those to come…

[MisterJB]

Spoiler for Claymore chapter 107:

Ok, I remember someone here writing a Claymore x World of Warcraft fanfic some time ago where all the Claymores who perished in the North came back to life.
Where is that person? I must congratulate him/her for predicting with months of advance what Yagi would do.

[Shiek927]

Originally Posted by MisterJB

Spoiler for Claymore chapter 107:

Ok, I remember someone here writing a Claymore x World of Warcraft fanfic some time ago where all the Claymores who perished in the North came back to life.
Where is that person? I must congratulate him/her for predicting with months of advance what Yagi would do.

Spoiler for spoiler:

Actually, what's he's doing is better, because at least Arthas and bringing them back as Undead is cooler; here, it's less interesting

[Weird D]

Okay, I'm not sure how people will receive this one. I started working on it even before chapter 106 came out, then Yagi threw us that big bomb in 107... So no, it's no disrespect for the dead, it's just me forcing our dear Miria to laugh and smile... which is how I prefer her.

Spoiler for To drink or not to drink - Sequel:

If anyone had seen Miria at the moment, they would have thought she was an Abyss Eater. The leader of the Ghosts of Pieta was currently sitting at a table in the empty mess hall of the Organization's Headquarters, stuffing herself in an undignified way that would make even Helen jealous.

Then again considering the very vigorous physical activity she had been engaged in for most of the night this was understandable. Her pleasantly abused anatomy and ravenous stomach kept hammering the point home : it had not been a dream.

After waking up for the second time that day, Miria had found herself in the same situation she had in the morning : naked in bed with Raki, very sore, and embarrassingly satisfied.

Then the smell had hit them. A night’s worth of sweat and passionate – if drunken – lovemaking had dried off on them, leaving them, to put it mildly… stinky.

Taking a shower had seemed a good idea.

Taking it together had been debatable, but necessary; neither wanted to wait any longer before cleaning up. And they could wash each other’s back, so no harm done, right?

They ended up having sex one more time in the shower. Or was it five?

Hopefully no one would wonder about the damage.

Miria was glad that it was the middle of the afternoon : no one came to eat at this hour which meant no one could see her blush.

Of course she had jinxed herself.

“Well, someone sure is in a good mood today.” Deneve commented as she sat next to her leader before raising an eyebrow at Miria's clothes. While seeing her hair out of its spiky ponytail was unusual, seeing Miria wearing one of the Organization's gray uniforms, minus the armor, instead of her favored leather outfit was downright strange.

“Is there something wrong?” Miria asked with her usual 'leader' tone.

“Nope, just wondering why you're wearing those clothes instead of your usual ones.”

“Mine were torn. This was all I could find.” It was technically the truth : her clothes had been torn off from her body in a matter of seconds at the beginning of this amazing night. Though Deneve didn't seem to buy it.

“You decided to wear one of the Organization's uniforms because of a couple of tears in your outfit? Surely you could fix it up.”

'Not unless you can put scraps of fabric back together.' Miria thought as she fought back a grin. 'Still worth it though.'

When Miria failed to answer, Deneve pressed on. “That bad? What happened exactly?”

Since when was Deneve nosy?

Miria was saved from trying to find a believable explanation by a large plate of food being placed in front of her. Turning to her other side, she found herself face to face with Helen's grinning face.

“Thought you'd like some more.” Helen gestured to the two empty plates in front of Miria; without prompting, the former Twenty-Two sat down and dug in.

Miria's stomach once more made itself known, much to her embarrassment. In an attempt to forestall any further questions, she too began eating though she tried to keep a normal pace.

“Jeez Big Sis, what got into you? You're eating like a pregnant woman.” Helen joked.

Miria nearly choked on her food at the question. Deneve patted her on the back and glared at her old friend. “Helen, there's nothing wrong with being a bit hungry, you of all people should know that.”

Miria nodded in agreement. Deneve continued. “Besides, after such a wild night, it's no wonder she'd need to replenish her energy.”

This time Helen was the one who patted Miria when she once again nearly choked herself.

“True, that was some party! Heck she even overslept this morning!” Helen laughed. “That's why you're here so late, right Sis?”

Miria carefully composed herself. “That's right,” she confirmed, “by the way, why are you here at this hour?” Anything to divert the conversation.

Helen's face turned sour. “We had to lead a search party.” she grumbled.

“A search party? For what?”

“Did you hear about the beast that kept us all awake last night?” a scowling Deneve asked.

This time Miria managed to swallow properly. “I did... I didn't hear it though.”

“Apparently it came back not so long ago. It decided to wreck the showers.” Deneve finished with a glare.

At this, Miria's already shaken train of thought finished derailing. “We only broke one stall!” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “We didn't...” Seeing Deneve's glare morph into an evil grin, the fearless leader could only think one thing. 'Oh shit.'

Behind Miria, Helen cracked her knuckles. “We are going to have a nice long talk Big Sis.”

()()()()

Two Claymores were running through the hallways like two bloodhounds as they hunted down their prey.

It had been difficult for all the warriors to sleep because of the sounds of passion coming from a certain room. But for those two, it had been hell. Hearing screams of pure ecstasy echoing through the hallways was bad enough, but the two most Yoki-sensitive hybrids in Staff had been unwillingly receiving some extra information, a faint feeling that only the most sensitive Claymores could detect.

For endless hours, they had sensed Miria’s Yoki singing in pure bliss, ending several times in a crescendo of mind-blowing rapture. Like Galatea’s subtle manipulation, this Yoki superimposed itself with theirs, conveying the general emotions and sensations Miria was feeling.

Whenever Miria climaxed however, they didn't just sense it, they felt it; images, sounds, scents and touch were felt like they were the ones receiving them.

It had been a very long night.

The morning session had been the icing on the cake.

Renee and Tabitha were officially out for blood - more specifically Raki’s.

It was bad enough for Renee that Raki had treated her so casually, something she wasn’t used to. He had shattered her usual cold, professional behavior, effortlessly getting under her skin and overall making a fool of her. But now, to add insult to injury, this smug, annoying, handsome, insufferable bastard was invading her dreams too!

It didn’t matter that she had had a couple of those dreams before the party.

Raki had to pay. Plain and simple.

For Tabitha, the problem was slightly different.

She had been forced to ‘watch’ her Captain, a woman whose strength she admired beyond anything, brought down to a moaning, writhing wreck, her brilliant intellect reduced to its most basic instincts. Her unattainable goddess, who should only be worshiped from afar with the befitting devotion and respect, had been defiled by this man.

It had nothing to do with her crush on Miria. Really.

Raki had to die. Plain and simple.

As luck would have it, they had run into the young man in the hallways a short while later. At the looks on their faces, the newly-made hybrid who had fearlessly traveled with Priscilla did the first thing that came to mind : running away like Abyss Feeders were on his heels.

Which was what he was still doing now.

To any observer, he looked like a large brown blur chased by two smaller blonde ones.

“Come on ladies! Can’t we talk about it?” he pleaded for the tenth time.

“Of course we can!” Tabitha replied with a sweet tone.

“As soon as you stop running.” Renee finished.

“I’d be more willing to believe you if you’d just put down your swords!” he shouted back. "What did I do to you anyway?"

"You took Captain Miria's virginity!" This answer nearly caused Raki to trip.

"You gave me wet dreams!" This time he did trip. Luckily he got to his feet before either woman could reach him.

At least whatever Yoki Miria had generated could only be felt half a mile away and by sensor-types; otherwise all the Claymores and Awakened on the Island, plus a certain nun, would have been after him now.

()()()()

Miria really wished she could run right now; this however was difficult with the former Number Fifteen holding her from behind. While Miria was the better swordswoman of the two, there were three problems at the moment. One : she didn’t have her sword with her; two : Deneve’s unique dual-wielding style meant she had more upper-body strength.

And more importantly, three : the food Helen had given her earlier had been laced with a Yoki-suppressant, leaving her weaker than normal, which proved that this whole thing had been premeditated.

“Don’t worry Big Sis,” Helen cackled, “this is just the part where you have to give us all the juicy info. Tell us what we want to know and you can go.”

“Helen, why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s an age-old tradition for the one who got laid to brag. Now we wouldn’t want you to break tradition would we?” Helen replied sweetly.

“Deneve, why are you doing this?” Miria then asked the stoic warrior.

“Because you just went to talk to Raki just like we wanted to. But instead you ended screaming your lungs out the whole damn night! Just like we could have been!".”

“What?” Apparently Miria had not been expecting that answer. " Deneve, you have hormones?!"

“Deneve…” Helen groaned.

“At least I’m honest with it.” Deneve shrugged without releasing her captive. “And face it Helen, you’re just as mad as I am. Tradition my ass.”

"Wait, I didn't intend to..." Miria defended.

"We know!" Helen snapped. "But it doesn't change the outcome!"

"And judging by how loud you were, it must have been something, right?" Deneve teased. "Since we missed on it, we want some compensation. We want details." she growled ominously.

Before Miria could defend herself, she was bombarded with questions by Helen. "How big was he? What did he do to you? What did you do to him? How many times? Which positions? Now SPILL IT!"

Miria's blush kept rising with every question, and it only got worse since each question brought back some vivid memories. Then Miria got herself under control. "This is none of your business." she said in a stony tone.

"Wrong answer Big Sis. I had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but you leave us no choice. Deneve, hold her still."

"Plan B then?" Deneve asked.

Miria huffed. "What are you going to do? Tickle me into submission?"

Helen grinned evilly before moving to fetch something. "As is the great Phantom Miria could have such a stupid weakness! Unfortunately for you, you gave one away." She moved in front of Miria, brandishing a bottle.

Miria paled. "Alcohol?"

The troublemaker of the Ghosts grinned proudly. "Yup! Considering how vocal it made you last night, I'm sure it will loosen your tongue a bit."

Miria opened her mouth to protest, which proved to be a mistake as Helen took the opportunity to shove the end of the bottle between her lips and dump its contents down her throat. She tried to resist but in the end, she had no choice but to swallow.

"That should do it." Helen announced once the bottle was empty. "You can release her now."

Deneve complied thought she did ask, "Isn't it a bit too much?"

"Please, you saw her last night, she can hold her..."

"HIPS!!"

Whatever Helen was going to say was interrupted by a loud hiccup. Both warriors looked at their leader whose cheeks now had a pink tint, and who was swaying unsteadily on her feet.

Now it should be noted that the Yoki suppression achieved through the masking pills is different from the stealth some warriors like the Ghosts can do, as it forcefully shuts down all the Yoki flow instead of just slowing it down. Without this minute amount of Yoki in her body, the Claymore under the drug will have her physical abilities decreased.

As such, while Miria could hold her lichor in normal circumstances, this was not presently the case.

Also, the drug is just that : a drug; and any doctor will tell you, drugs and alcohol do NOT mix.

Miria raised furious brown eyes to the bemused conspirators. "Whatcha'you lookin'at?!"

"I can't believe it! She's completely wasted!" Helen exclaimed with a laugh.

"Ya think zat'sh funny Rubber Arms?" Miria slurred. "Tis'ish all yer fault... the sixsh of you... Don' laugh or I'm gonna kick yer asshes!"

The situation was so ridiculous that even Deneve was cracking up now. "In your state? I'd love to see you try."

"Yer' on!" Miria proclaimed as she launched herself at the pair.

For the next ten minutes, any warrior venturing outside the mess could hear various sounds coming from the inside, including but not restricted to : war cries, shouts of pain, bones breaking, bodies hitting the walls, and exclamations such as "This is not supposed to bend this way!" or "This is not where you reattach an arm!". Needless to say everyone stayed clear of the room.

Then there was silence, and a completely unscathed, grinning and still drunk Miria walked out.

Since when did she know drunken boxing anyway?

()()()()

'What is it with me and braided psycho Claymores?'

This was the question currently running through Raki's head as he gazed at the two warriors who had finally cornered him. To think he had survived encounters with Yoma, Awakened Beings, Abyssal Ones, Priscilla, body-snatching parasites and the Organization only to be hunted by a pair of Claymores was ludicrous and would have made him laugh in other circumstances.

It didn't help that Tabitha's braid had fallen from its usual place over her shoulder and was now trailing down her back. This combined with her deceptively sweet smile and the glint of bloodlust in her eyes reminded him eerily of Ophelia... all she needed was pointy ears.

"Come on Raki, we just want to maim and torture you a little."

Riful would have sued Tabitha for copying her tone.

"Don't worry, I'll just cut off your head." the defender of Miria's chastity continued.

"I'll just cut off your other head." Renee's line of sight left no doubt what she was talking about. Especially since the young man no longer had two parasites jutting from his back and shoulder.

On the inside, the tanned Claymore was cackling. Finally he was going to pay; for making a fool of her, for getting her nuts, for being a handsome bastard. And the best thing was, this time no one would stop her, no one was going to say...

"Are'ya picking on Rakish?"

If the words hadn't been enough to stop them, Raki's wide-eyed expression would have. Slowly they turned around. The sounds of a passionate Miria had traumatized Tabitha the previous night, but the sight of her idol plastered nearly caused her a heart attack.

"You shouldn't be picking on Rakish. He'sh a great guy, with a big heart and an even bigger dicksh... or ish it the opposite? Too bad Clare'sh too dumb to shee it." Miria stated drunkenly, much to Raki's embarrassment and Tabitha's shock. "Now Taby, why are you sooo mad when he made me sooo happy lasht night?" She actually giggled the last part.

"But Captain, after all he did to you... I saw..."

"Th'wash nuthin' I didn' want. And how didya seesh anythin'?"

Tabitha blushed and lowered her head, unable to look at her Captain in the eyes, unfocused as they were. However, Miria was still sharp enough to catch Renee attempting a discreet retreat. She somehow managed to use her 'captain' voice. "You goin' anywhere Number Sixsh?"

Of course, the effect was lost when she giggled. "Wait, I'm Number Sixsh too... heh heh..."

Renee mumbled something inaudible; Miria made a show of tapping her foot. "Whut didya say?"

"I said, Yoki synchronization." Renee grumbled.

"What?" Raki shouted as he realized what she meant. "You mean you know..."

Renee threw him a withering glare. “We even felt it. ALL TEN TIMES! NOT COUNTING THIS MORNING!” Her eyes were turning gold as she spoke.

Raki had the decency to look mortified. Miria on the other hand simply looked sheepish. “Oopsie.”

Finally she broke the heavy silence. "Taby..."

"Captain?"

"You're jealoush!" Miria laughed. "Ye're not mad I had sex with Raki, you're mad I didn't have it with you! Honestly Taby, you gotta stop being soooo pr'tective of me. Get laid already, it did wonders for me." Miria then took a thoughtful pose. "Wait, I know! You can shleep with him!"

"What?!" both Tabitha and Raki shouted together.

"Yup! Good way to fix a relationship." Miria nodded in satisfaction.

"Why would I..." Tabitha started.

"Cuz' thatsh an order! I'll even join if yer too shy, and I'll do to you that thing with my tongue that Raki did to me." Miria winked, which reduced Tabitha to a blabbering mess. "Yer' soo cute!"

"Now wait a minute!" Renee protested. No way in hell she was going through that again! She'd sooner Awaken!

Miria looked Renee up and down, which made the current Number Six very uneasy, and grinned. "Dun'worry, you can join us too."

This time Raki and Renee were the protesting duo.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Raki offered, which got him a glare from his one-night lover.

"Whatsh? you dun'think itsa good idea? We made them feel bad, so we gotta make it up to them!" she slurred. Before Raki could counter her (flawed) logic, Miria phantomed behind Renee and, to everyone's shock, groped her breasts. "Dontcha think Number Six's hot? I mean lookie, her boobs are bigger than mine!"

Renee squeaked in surprise and embarrassment. Raki nearly got a nosebleed at the sight of the former Number Six groping the current one. Tabitha on the other hand looked down at her own chest and sighed dejectedly. It was true : Renee's appearance stood out among Claymores for two reasons : her unusual skin tone and her very well endowed bust. Heck, even Galatea, who prided herself on her looks, would be jealous.

"Zat's not fair, we got the same rank but she's got bigger breasts!" Miria growled and squeezed said endowments. "Geez that pisses me off!"

'What kind of logic is that?' the molested warrior thought.

"OKAY I GET IT!" Raki shouted desperately. "Renee's very hot, now can you please release her?"

Miria complied much to Renee's relief. The tanned warrior let out a long sigh which ended in a startled yelp, jumping away with both hands covering her rear. Behind her, Miria looked at her hands and clenched her fingers a little, like she was squeezing something.

“Pretty good assh too...” she mumbled.

"What has gotten into you anyway?" he sighed.

"You, sheveral times," Miria giggled, "oh and Helen gave me a suppressant and made me drink a full bottle of booze and now everythin's spinnin' and spinnin' and I feel reaallly funny!"

'Damn you Helen!' Raki thought angrily.

She then turned to the silent Tabitha. "Well Taby, whut do you shay? We'll be gentle with you..."

Tabitha looked to be in a dilemma... This was a unique chance to be with her Captain, but she's have to be with the very man who had done the unthinkable... She had no real problem with Raki as a person, but what he had done... Then again, maybe she had overreacted, after all she knew Miria had enjoyed herself... And if she didn't forgive Raki, Miria may be mad at her. Smoke was nearly coming from her ears.

"If it's for you..." she stated hesitantly.

"That's the spirit!" Miria pumped up her fist before tossing the stammering Renee on her shoulder. "Take him my loyal minion!"

"Sorry Raki, Captain's orders." Tabitha said as she did the same to the (very lucky) young man.

Raki sighed in resignation while trying to ignore Renee glaring a hole at the only part of him she could see - which happened to be his ass - or the view of Tabitha's shapely, leather-clad posterior wiggling as she carried him to a fate most men would kill to meet : as the filling of a Number Six sandwich with a Thirty-One topping.

()()()()

“Do I want to know what happened?” Cynthia sighed at the immobilized duo while Yuma took in the devastated room.

“I'd rather not talk about it.” Deneve muttered. She would have crossed her arms but she ended up crossing her legs instead. Miria had ripped all her limbs off in her drunken frenzy, though she had been kind enough to reattach them. In the wrong places.

Apparently her regenerative abilities could integrate a leg applied to her shoulder.

“How are we going to treat them?” Yuma asked.

“Well, we will have to cut off Deneve's limbs and reattach them properly.” Cynthia shrugged helplessly. “But I have no idea how to deal with Helen.”

Yuma considered said warrior. “You know, you look like a giant Pretzel.” she giggled.

“Just do something! I have a cramp!” Helen begged. This was understandable with the way her arms and legs had been twisted and tied together behind her back. The worst was that she knew this was going to be her new nickname. As if Rubber Arms wasn't bad enough!

“Healing them is going to take a while.” Cynthia sighed, deliberately ignoring the echo of screams reaching her ears. “I guess we're stuck here for a long time.”

“At least until tomorrow morning.” Yuma said.

A second female voice joined the first one, followed by a third. At this, both conspirators began banging their heads on the floor, mumbling about 'lost chances' and 'should have been them'.

“More like tomorrow afternoon.” Cynthia corrected dejectedly.

“Definitely.” Yuma agreed.

Simultaneously, all four Claymores shared a thought. 'Lucky bitches.'

[FormerAbyssalone]

Originally Posted by revan5

Spoiler for Preview of Chapter 3 of "The Silver-eyed Empress":

Chapter 3

Excerpt from “A History of Toulouse”

A year after the Organization’s fall, the political situation on the island of Toulouse seemed to predict a long and slow-moving political future. At the time the future King Charles of Lautrec was a mere upstart duke, while in Rabona the church was forced to give taxing authority to the Council of Lords. By most measures, not much seemed to be growing, except perhaps for the size of bandit armies. Given the seemingly bleak future, the choice of many claymores to head north in live in their own sort of “paradise” at Pieta was quite understandable.

Had someone been transported two years ahead in time, they would be forgiven for their shock. Duke Charles had created the Kingdom of Lautrec in the interim, nearly conquered Rabona, and during his second attempt would lose his life. His son, Philippe, took over the young Kingdom, aided by his scheming queen, Violetta. While the young kingdom had suffered a setback, its control over the western lands of Lautrec was solidified.

Rabona in contrast had gone from the long, slow decline of the last century and suddenly found renewed strength. Its military was first revived by Bishop Vincent, and then massively improved and expanded once Phantom Miria took it over. Two and a half years after the Organization’s fall, Phantom Miria was hamstrung by church doctrine in defending Rabona. The Council of Lords overthrew the Rabona Orthodox Church’s six-century rule over Rabona with help from Phantom Miria and the Rabonese Army.

After unleashing an unprecedented night attack upon King Charles Army, the Rabonese Army triumphed in the hard-fought Battle of Kerouac Gorge. Perhaps one of the most famous quotes in history came before the battle from Phantom Miria, “…when the people ask you decades from now, it will be enough to say ‘I fought at Kerouac’ for everyone to say, ‘There walks a brave man.’” At around this time an angelic cult started around Phantom Miria, due in large part to her awakening of wings at the battle. Despite Miria’s best efforts to convince otherwise, a small and growing cult came to believe she was either an angel or somehow divine.

With the Kingdom of Lautrec no longer a threat, Rabona’s government, renamed the “Dominion of Toulouse”, expanded in all directions and even annexed the northern lands of Alphonse. However, some three years after the Organization’s fall, the island’s politics changed forever. The Romanow Empire’s rise and fear of its brilliant empress led the Grand Alliance to send an ultimatum to the Dominion of Toulouse to join or face invasion. With the Romanow Empire expanding its naval reach, the island of Toulouse seemed set to become the Global Hundred Years’ War latest proxy fight.

Unfortunately for the island of Toulouse, these political surprises were not the worst of those to come…

Ohhh, Revan sounds like its gonna be a good one!! Looks like its gonna be full of action and a tad suspence!

[shelter]

Originally Posted by Weird D

Okay, I'm not sure how people will receive this one. I started working on it even before chapter 106 came out, then Yagi threw us that big bomb in 107... So no, it's no disrespect for the dead, it's just me forcing our dear Miria to laugh and smile... which is how I prefer her.

Liked Miria's drunken boxing. Who knew yoki suppressant pills & alcohol could be such a crazy cocktail?

And as you've said: I laughed a bit at this one. Thanks for always writing stories from the humour side. I think that with the events Chapter 107 there's no need for me to write Claymore tragedies

Hope to see more.

[revan5]

Just a little something to keep people interested as I finish up chapters 3 & 4. Ironically Chapter 4 is farther along than what comes prior...

Spoiler for Preview of "The Silver-eyed Empress", Chapter 4:

Chapter 4

Excerpt from “The History of the Romanow Empire”

The Alliance of Nations’ ruling families were almost entirely annihilated by Katarzyna Romanowa’s coup, with only a couple of prominent exceptions. However, despite Katarzyna’s killing of emperors, empresses, kings, queens, presidents, and Doges, their former subordinates were not so thoroughly targeted. This led to a bizarre period when cousins of the former rulers began to decide whether to claim their birthright or swear loyalty to the impressive new empress. In the early days the ambitious of these cousins, male and female, thought Empress Katarzyna weak.

When Katarzyna won a string of twenty consecutive victories with ease against numerically superior opposition, many of the rebellious aristocrats had second thoughts. Depending on their level of opposition to her rise to power, Empress Katarzyna chose different outcomes for her former opponents. Katarzyna had a third executed outright, another third imprisoned for long periods, and the rest were given a heterogeneous set of rewards and consequences, ranging from generous compensation to light punishment. With a large percentage of the alliance’s aristocratic families dead or in prison, Katarzyna’s silver-eyed followers often rose in their place.

A month into her reign, Empress Katarzyna had to address the nature of the emerging aristocracy. Katarzyna decreed that all titles of aristocracy were no longer hereditary, but rather incumbent on serving positions in the government, the empire’s armed forces or in recognition of great accomplishments. All previous titles were decreed null and void, which probably prolonged the opposition to her rule. All of the new ranks of nobility were non-hereditary, did not grant legal immunity, paid salaries, and gave no land. Historians agree this was done to ensure loyalty to the Imperial Family and avoid giving the nobility a permanent power base to oppose her plans.

A mixed aristocracy of humans and silver-eyed slayers took shape. Many started out with low titles and advanced as the empire gained strength. Dietrich Tuluzy, having arrived two years prior to the coup, was one of them. When Wenceslaus accepted the permanent change in power, he was given the title of Duke, as was his bitter rival Sergei Djugashvili. Wenceslaus secured for Dietrich Tuluzy, the exiled ex-Organization claymore, the lowest rank of “Lady”. Within a few months Dietrich saw her rank increased to Baronetess, and then Baroness.

Dietrich’s arrival in Visegrad attracted immediate attention, especially once she was promoted to Countess and made Princess Kasia’s aide. Unfortunately for Dietrich, her presence was seen as threatening to Djugashvili’s marriage chances with the empress. Given the stakes and the antagonism between Sergei and Wenceslaus, Dietrich’s life was about to become a lot more interesting…

[revan5]

Spoiler for "The Silver-eyed Empress" Chapter 3, part 1:

Chapter 3

Excerpt from “A History of Toulouse”

A year after the Organization’s fall, the political situation on the island of Toulouse seemed to predict a long and slow-moving political future. At the time the future King Charles of Lautrec was a mere upstart duke, while in Rabona the church was forced to give taxing authority to the Council of Lords. By most measures, not much seemed to be growing, except perhaps for the size of bandit armies. Given the seemingly bleak future, the choice of many claymores to head north to live in their own “paradise” at Pieta was quite understandable.

Had someone been transported two years ahead in time, they would be forgiven for their shock. Duke Charles had created the Kingdom of Lautrec in the interim, nearly conquered Rabona, and during his second attempt would lose his life. His son Philippe took over the young Kingdom, aided by his scheming queen, Violetta. While the young kingdom had suffered a setback, its control over the western lands of Lautrec was solidified.

Rabona in contrast had gone from the long, slow decline of the last century and suddenly found renewed strength. Its military was first revived by Bishop Vincent, and then massively improved and expanded once Phantom Miria took it over. Two and a half years after the Organization’s fall, Phantom Miria was hamstrung by church doctrine in defending Rabona. The Council of Lords overthrew the Rabona Orthodox Church’s six-century rule over Rabona with help from Phantom Miria and the Rabonese Army.

After unleashing an unprecedented night attack upon King Charles’ Army, the Rabonese Army triumphed in the hard-fought Battle of Kerouac Gorge. Perhaps one of the most famous quotes in history came before the battle from Phantom Miria, “…when the people ask you decades from now, it will be enough to say ‘I fought at Kerouac’ for everyone to say, ‘There walks a brave man.’” At around this time an angelic cult started around Phantom Miria, due in large part to her awakening of wings at the battle. Despite Miria’s best efforts to convince otherwise, a small and growing cult came to believe she was either an angel or somehow divine.

With the Kingdom of Lautrec no longer a threat, Rabona’s government, renamed the “Dominion of Toulouse”, expanded in all directions and even annexed the northern lands of Alphonse. However, some three years after the Organization’s fall, the island’s politics changed forever. The Romanow Empire’s creation and fear of its brilliant empress led the Grand Alliance to send an ultimatum to the Dominion of Toulouse: join or face invasion. With the Romanow Empire expanding its naval reach, the island of Toulouse seemed set to become the Global Hundred Years’ War latest proxy fight.

Unfortunately for the island of Toulouse, these political surprises were not the worst of those to come…





The Kingdom of Lautrec had solidified in the six months since the passing of King Charles. Philippe had taken power as king after escaping from the disastrous defeat at the Kerouac Gorge. It was there, west of Rabona, in the main passage through the mountains to the western lands of Lautrec that everything had gone horribly wrong. Phantom Miria had transformed into some sort of angelic demon, and then later a beautifully monstrous cat and wreaked bloody hell upon the army.

To his disbelief, Philippe was soon thereafter told that Miria was back to her human form, seemingly back to normal. He knew better; underneath Miria’s beautiful locks of hair was a huge, terrifying monster. She had to be killed; life on the island could never be safe with her existing. In fact, if Miria were any guide, Miria, her daughter Natalie, and the rest of her mongrel kind should be killed for the good of mankind.

He found his zeal to kill them served him well now, although serving him even better was the advice of his scheming wife, Queen Violetta. He’d originally had Violetta kidnapped from her home on his way to attack Rabona. Her parents and relatives he’d had killed, just like his father’s right hand man, General Davout, had recommended. The beautiful Violetta then became one of his five consorts. After the defeat, he’d given little thought to her, which was either his greatest mistake or the best thing he could’ve done.

Unlike his other consorts, Violetta was well-educated and ambitious, a dangerous combination. While he’d moped and mourned the loss of his father and their assault army, Violetta had plotted. She’d begun seizing the power behind the throne, and in one quick move had gone for power. She arranged the deaths of his other consorts, the mothers of children he’d allegedly fathered, and offered him a bargain. The bargain was that he could live and help unify the kingdom, while Violetta would become his exclusive queen and be the power behind the throne. With Violetta nearly five months pregnant, his optimism was returning.

Together with Violetta, he could found a lasting dynasty and make a mark upon history. Violetta had hatched a plan to eventually unify the island under the Kingdom of Lautrec. There was one major problem; the Dominion of Toulouse, centered on Rabona. It was more powerful and its forces were commanded by the monstrous Lieutenant General Miria. In short, it seemed an insurmountable challenge to his dream.

Violetta however had arranged to meet with a mysterious individual who claimed to be able to help. Thus he was sitting next to the black-haired Violetta in his carriage, having traveled several hours outside of Gonal to the hilly outskirts with a couple hundred Royal Guardsmen.

A knock came on the carriage’s door brought Philippe to attention.

A young red-cloaked and armored Royal Guard opened the door, “Your Majesty, the messenger has arrived. He wishes to speak with you outside.”

Philippe arched turned his handsome face and arched his eyebrows at white dress and crown-wearing wife.

“If he wants to meet us outside, we’ll leave the carriage,” Violetta declared. “We don’t have much of a choice if he represents who he claims to.”

Philippe, wearing a regal red cape, white and red robes, and a crown, carefully got up. He walked down the carriage’s steps and hopped down onto the ground, the early dawn light just enough to see by. He helped Violetta, whose belly was beginning to become obviously pregnant, down the steps. She looked around at the procession of five carriages and nearby Royal Guards.

“There he is,” Violetta said, pointing behind Philippe.

Philippe noticed they were in a large clearing atop a plateau. Standing near the edge of the plateau was a man with a black, wide-brimmed hat and darkened circular glasses. He was dressed in plain black pants and a long black shirt, although a red cape gave him a more distinguished appearance. He appeared middle-aged, and was not particularly attractive to the eyes. Following behind the emissary were a quartet of younger men more flashily dressed in whites and reds, each with plumes of red and white feathers atop their wide-brimmed black hats.

“I’ll do most of the talking,” Violetta made clear.

“That is unacceptable dear,” he hissed at Violetta as they walked forward.

“Face the facts dear,” Violetta whispered back, “You may be a smooth talker and have amazing good looks, but you lack the political skills for something like this.”

“Your Majesties,” the emissary said in perfect Toulousan, “I am the emissary of the Grand Alliance, Rubel Louvre.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you emissary,” Violetta charmed. “The Kingdom of Lautrec is interested in forging a more permanent and lasting relationship with the Grand Alliance.”

Rubel Louvre smiled, “As is the Grand Alliance I assure you. Before we talk about any possible treaty, I would like Your Majesties to understand the importance of the world situation.”

A younger comrade of Rubel brought forward a large globe with all sorts of islands, a grand continent, and oceans upon it. In one distant corner Philippe thought he recognized the island of Toulouse with its four pointed peninsulas. Violetta’s eyes grew wide with curiosity, as did Philippe’s own. Rubel drew out a large pointing stick.

“This,” Rubel said, pointing to the globe with his stick, “your majesties, is the best map we yet have of this world. As you can see, our world is a globe. One can get from end to the other via the Great Ocean, in the middle of which this island is located. The Grand Alliance’s territories are here in white.”

An immense section of the great continent was colored in white, with numerous cities, kingdoms, duchies, empires, and much else marked within it. Next to the Grand Alliance, marked in alarming red, was something called the “Romanow Empire”. Violetta paused, as did Philippe, each looking in cautious interest at the empire. It was not nearly as large as the Grand Alliance, but it was a single empire that dwarfed each of the Grand Alliance’s member-states.

“Ah yes,” Rubel remarked, “the Romanow Empire. It is not yet a year old, but already it threatens all free nations on this planet. It is led by the most dangerous person on the face of the planet: Katarzyna Romanowa.”

“Katarzyna Romanowa,” Violetta and Philippe repeated, both of them looking questioningly at Rubel Louvre.

Rubel handed over an image of someone in a gorgeous black and gold embroidered dress. Her face was veiled, and her head was concealed underneath an enormous three pointed hat. At its center was a blue sapphire nearly the size of the individual’s veiled face. The individual held a sword that looked uncomfortably similar in Philippe’s eyes to those wielded by claymores.

The image was in fact a throne scene. Katarzyna Romanowa was seated in an enormous, golden throne, looking gloriously rich, wealthy and powerful. Just behind and to either side of the throne were two individuals with eyes that made Philippe stomach grip in fear.

“I expected you would notice Your Majesty,” Rubel commented. “Katarzyna Romanowa, as well as her most loyal supporters and the Imperial Family itself are composed of silver-eyed witches. She was once nothing more than an elite soldier who fought on behalf of the Grand Alliance’s enemies, the Alliance of Nations. In part thanks to the overthrow of the Organization, her kind became much more important in the war.”

Philippe had already heard enough to know he would never like this Katarzyna Romanowa. After all, she was a silver-eyed monster just like Phantom Miria.

Violetta asked, “How did this Katarzyna Romanowa rise to power?”

“Katarzyna Romanowa’s kind was called “silver-eyed slayers”. They were originally nothing more than backup troops to the Alliance of Nations’ more dangerous weapons. After the Organization’s fall they had no choice but to use slayers as their primary elite troops. A number of slayers, including Katarzyna, became officers and commanders in their military. Just over eight months ago she was promoted to Marshal. The high command invited her to their meeting…”

Violetta’s eyes narrowed, “She overthrew their high command, didn’t she?”

“Their high command foolishly entrusted their safety to a unit called the Silver Guard, which was composed of one hundred slayers and former subordinates of Katarzyna. We believe they closed the doors and slaughtered the high command like dogs. We know she preceded this by having her allies seize control of most of their military.”

Rubel’s hand paused as he pointed to a city marked “Visegrad”.

“Katarzyna’s coup set off a war that killed millions, and from which she has emerged more powerful than ever. As a military commander and leader, she has never been defeated in the field of battle even before she became a Marshal. She declared herself the empress of the Romanow Empire, which grows more deadly by the day. We believe her ultimate goal is nothing less than the conquest of the entire world.”

Rubel’s words hung over them like an ominous cloud.

Philippe wrapped an arm around Rubel’s shoulders, “So my dear Rubel, how can our young, small kingdom help to stop her?”

Rubel smiled, “The Grand Alliance needs new allies worldwide to help stop her Your Majesty. We hope that, one way or another, the Kingdom of Lautrec and the Dominion of Toulouse will be joined underneath your leadership. Despite the small size of this island, it can help to make a crucial contribution against Empress Katarzyna.”

Violetta seemed skeptical, “How could we make a difference in the global war?”

Rubel shrugged off Philippe’s arm and walked back to the globe.

Rubel pointed his stick at the island of Toulouse and smiled, “That is an excellent question Queen Violetta. Before Katarzyna’s coup, the Alliance of Nations enjoyed global sea supremacy, which allowed the Organization to continue its work. Following Katarzyna’s coup, much of their navy was torn apart by internal fighting or defected to the Grand Alliance. As of this moment, the Imperial Romanow Navy and our own are very evenly matched. With the contribution of this island’s resources, we may be able to finally triumph on the high seas.”

Violetta inquired, “So what is the treaty you desire to make with our kingdom?”

Rubel handed over a clutch of papers to Violetta, “Your Majesties, the Grand Alliance wishes to form a secret alliance with the Kingdom of Lautrec. In exchange we would like a secret naval base, free trade rights, and guaranteed aid of our warships and merchants upon landfall.”

Philippe spoke up, “But I’m afraid, if this empress is as dangerous as you say, we may need more than just naval protection. What if the Dominion of Toulouse should align itself with her?”

Rubel shouted at a member of his entourage near a pile of boxes, “Herr Badstuber, bitte bring mir die Armbrust und demonstrieren sie für ihre Majestäten.”

A young man brought something forward that looked vaguely like a miniature siege ballista. He carried it in his arms as if it was not a great weight, and indeed it looked light and was roughly the length of his torso. Two spans of metal-reinforced wood spread to either side, each pulled taut by strings to the back.

“What in the world is that?”

Rubel smiled at him, “This is the weapon most effective in countering massed attacks of silver-eyed witches: a crossbow. It has the greatest range and penetrating power of any bow on this world. We even improved its reloading time recently by making it a bolt-action reloader. Herr Badstuber will demonstrate its accuracy by firing on that target over there.”

Philippe and Violetta turned to see a scarecrow target with a watermelon for a head a good distance away.

The brown-haired Badstuber fitted a wicked looking and unusual metal arrow bolt to the crossbow, took aim, and fired. The arrow moved at such speed Philippe barely saw it. The result he soon saw: the watermelon was splattered, the bolt having embedded deep into the ground behind it.

Rubel had a triumphant grin upon his face, “Pinpoint accuracy as you can see, and from fifty meters away no less! Crossbows have a range of just greater than two hundred meters, and are useful against fast targets and armored soldiers. As a token of our goodwill, once the treaty is signed, we will award 10,000 crossbows.”

Philippe, Violetta and Rubel walked up to the splattered watermelon, which had fallen off the scarecrow. Philippe took off a glove and examined the watermelon.

“I think you’ve made a persuasive argument,” he commented.

They signed the treaty within minutes, with Rubel leaving within a few hours. He promised that a permanent delegation of the Grand Alliance would be stationed in Gonal within months. The naval protection would start immediately Rubel said, promising a Grand Alliance squadron would deal with the “Bretonese pirates” hitting Lautrec’s coastal towns. This left Philippe very satisfied.

He walked back over to the watermelon and was examining it one last time as Violetta walked over, “What in the world is so fascinating about a splattered watermelon?”

“Just think, if we’d had a bunch of those crossbows in Kerouac Gorge, the head of the bitch that killed my father would look like that,” Philippe replied.

“Miria’s daughter, by your own reckoning, survived over forty arrows to the body,” Violetta pointed out. “We should concentrate our energy on other things.”

Philippe sighed, “I wonder what that horrible murderer is up to right now.”




“Ok you vittle, adorable messier cutey,” Natalie chirped to her adorable pet tiger, “come on, time for your bath!”

Dabi had already visibly grown since her adoptive mother Miria’s wedding to her new father, Count Cid Malaga. Dabi had rather spectacularly crashed the wedding party by sneaking onto a table and gulping down a half platter of fish. There’d been much laughing about this, and Natalie had found Dabi being gifted fish in the week since. The cat had seemed to take a rather great liking to fish.

This had an unfortunate side effect: Dabi swimming in the Toulouse River. Dabi had discovered that fish came from rivers, and had taken to jumping into the dirty Toulouse River after fish he’d seen in the shallows. Natalie had yet to find another cat that enjoyed water like Dabi, and she also had yet to find another cat getting himself as smelly on a regular basis. Her mother had arrived home last night, as she’d been summoned home from her honeymoon with Cid prematurely.

Whether it was the premature end of the honeymoon or the serious threat made by the Grand Alliance, mom had been in a rather bad mood. She’d taken one whiff of Dabi and declared he was to be washed immediately. Thus Natalie was awkwardly hauling forward a wooden tub towards her island home’s major well. Dabi was following along, no doubt expecting he’d be rewarded by fish if he did. She wanted to carry him, hug him, and squish him with her affection, but she was wearing a nice blue dress and Dabi was covered in filth.

Her dress was symbolic of her new status; Natalie officially now had the title of “Lady”. This was due to her parents’ marriage and Cid’s joining of Rabona’s ruling elite, the Council of Lords. Thus her parents were now officially Count Cid Malaga and Countess Miria Victoire de Beauharnais-Malaga. Their new titles had attracted some smarting remarks from unexpected quarters, namely from mom’s old friend, Claire.

“We’ve brought you soap, towels, washcloths, and shampoo Lady Malaga,” a woman’s voice called out.

Natalie turned to find a quartet of maidservants, each dressed in dark green, their hair concealed underneath bonnets. Each was shorter than Natalie, and they were already rushing forward to help. Two were already pumping water into the large tub, while another was arranging the towels. The eldest, a middle-aged maid, grabbed Dabi and plopped him down in the pool.

“It’s fine, really,” Natalie said, wanting to personally clean the young tiger cub. “I can clean Dabi myself and—“

“Nonsense my Lady,” the elder maid smiled. “The Countess would be very upset with us if you were to get your fine dress stained. It is not proper for a lady of upstanding birth to get herself dirty. We can get him cleaned up. Now then, shoo, we’ll have him cleaned up and you can get back to your studies and duties.”

Natalie would have rather liked to tell the maidservant that in her prior life she didn’t just get filthy, but was at times covered in Yoma blood after combat. Somehow though Natalie got the feeling Miria would not appreciate her grossing out the maids and behaving “unlady-like”. What that meant when one was a silver-eyed claymore was hard to know.

Natalie walked off and watched enviously as the maids laughed, splashing and washing the playful, adorable Dabi in his tub. She almost wished she could go back a few months, when things were simpler. A time when she didn’t wake up every morning to find maids fussing over her hair, selecting and buying dresses and other clothes on her behalf, and cleaning her quarters all the time.

Her newlywed parents had grown very rich, with Miria and Cid having enough money to buy an exclusive river isle, the Ile de poires, or Isle of Pears. It was located a mere mile south of Rabona’s ever-more-fortified city walls. It looked pear-shaped from above, the river splitting around it and then wrapping around it to rejoin. It was topped by a small hill, which afforded great views of Rabona and the Toulouse River. The river isle, surrounded by the slow-moving waters of the Toulouse River, was both easily protected and idyllic.

Natalie walked north across the Ile de poires, crossing through the orchard, where hundreds of female field hands were hard at work. Natalie eventually came into the island’s north, where all the buildings were. A large house at the island’s northernmost was her interim home. It had a steep shingled roof, had a grand front porch, and was colored a rich red, and had green decorating steps.

Natalie was walking up the cobblestone lane to the front porch when she noticed a group of familiar individuals sitting upon the porch.

A jocular voice addressed her, “Yo little lady, where’s your bad-smelling cat?”




Valencia announced, “You guys won’t believe this, but I’m going to get married!”

Renee sniffed in polite disbelief, as did the short, voluptuous Nadia, the taller Helen, the petite and thin Tabitha, the very tall, long-ponytailed Matilda, and the pigtailed, innocent-looking Alexandra. They were all silver-eyed witches, all of them wearing their usual navy-blue leather outfits that were nearly skin-tight.

Each of them was also wearing a little armor; a pair of steel pauldrons over the shoulders, and a pair of gauntlets over the hands, wrists and lower arms. Helen, Nadia and Renee’s armor stood out, as their pauldrons were gilded brilliant gold. Valencia was dressed much differently in a red dress, which Valencia had seemingly selected for how low it was cut. They were standing and sitting around the interim manor of Cid and Miria’s river isle estate.

Valencia made clear what she thought of their disbelief, “None of you would be sneering in disbelief if I were Nina!”

Helen sighed as Renee remained tactfully quiet, “Ok, fine, I’ll bite. Who the hell did you get engaged to?”

Valencia held out her left hand, and Renee gasped as she saw the ring.

“Commander Jean-Paul Murat and I are to be married in two weeks,” Valencia bragged. “He said he couldn’t wait until our wedding night!”

“Boy, I can only imagine what that’ll be like,” Helen grinned.

Valencia took a step towards the seated Helen, “What the hell is that supposed to mean Colonel?!?”

Renee knew immediately why Valencia had gotten so feisty. Valencia, like a number of the few dozen claymores who’d survived, had been forced into less-than-savory professions to support themselves. Given that almost all Yoma and Awakened Beings had been wiped out in the initial island-wide hunt, a claymore’s profession was no longer possible. Some like Renee, Helen, Tabitha, Natalie and Phantom Miria had taken to protecting traveling merchants as a profession.

Valencia, like a number of claymores, had taken to prostitution, escort service, dancing in clubs, and most humiliatingly, maid work. Renee had been skeptical of how successful claymores could be in such professions. However, there was a secret to the claymores’ success: belly-concealing corsets. With their scars covered, men were much more easily enamored of beautiful silver-eyed girls with blond hair.

Valencia however, amongst all the claymores, was renowned, infamous even, for the type of prostitution she had specialized in. Valencia had shamelessly revealed to Renee months ago that it involved male domination fantasies. Valencia would dress up in tight black leather while wielding a small leather whip. From what little Valencia said, Renee knew Valencia would inform her male clients they’d “been very bad boys”. After this Valencia told them she was there “to administer their punishment”. Valencia had even unnecessarily shared the fact that many of the men had enjoyed her lightly whipping them as things got “heated”.

Valencia might have once been oblivious to how this sort of thing was viewed by the other claymores. Now however, Renee was confident Valencia realized just how much snide laughter was made behind her back about it. Thus Valencia’s expression had just soured the moment Helen, now a full Colonel like Renee, had made her comment. As Jean Paul Murat was a very religious man, it was understandable Valencia didn’t want her past life mentioned.

Helen, true to form, didn’t help matters, “Well, it’s just I kind of wondered if he preferred being whipped on the back, the ass, or—“

“That was years ago,” Valencia screamed. “Besides, what kind of morals do you have trying to break up Lord Ruud van Willems’ marriage?!?”

Renee knew fighting words when she heard them, as Helen did evidently.

Helen got up, “Ruud doesn’t love his wife, he loves me, and if she weren’t threatening him with the worst divorce—“

Renee got up before things got worse, “Alright, I think we’ve heard enough. Valencia, I’m sure you’ll make Commander Murat a very happy man. I think it best if one of you two leaves and lets things calm down.”

“If you think I’m moving my ass for a mere captain,” Helen growled, “you can keep dreaming.”

“Fine,” Valencia spat. “I’ve got to go find Jean anyways. He’s been off somewhere this entire morning.”

Valencia, looking pissed off, walked off.

Helen turned to Renee when Valencia was out of earshot, “You just had to stick up for your subordinate, didn’t you oh braided one?”

“I’m saving you from having our Army Inspector General making a big deal of this to Countess Miria,” Renee answered, crossing her arms.

Helen’s referring to her as “braided one” was understandable, as Renee’s hair was braided into numerous rows. The sarcasm Helen had added was probably, in Renee’s opinion, due to Helen’s jealousy of her looks. Whatever Helen had Renee had more of: a bigger butt, a much bigger chest, wider hips, more voluptuous, larger muscles, and even slightly longer legs.

Curly-haired Nadia interjected, “Well, take a look, Lady Natalie is finally coming.”

Renee turned, as did all the others. Walking up the cobblestone path between lines of poplar trees in a blue dress was a petite silver-eyed girl in a fancy blue-and-white dress. She had her long, curly blond hair parted into two long bangs. At the back of her head she’d gathered her hair into a large ponytail.

Helen smiled and interrupted the girl’s staring at them, ““Yo little lady, where’s your bad-smelling cat?”

“He’s getting a bath,” Natalie replied. “What are the five of you doing at mom’s house when she’s back in Rabona? If you wanted to see my dad, he’s talking to an architect in Rabona before the big Council of Lords meeting.”

Helen cheekily smiled while wrapping an arm around the more petite Natalie, “We came to see you little one. Come on, buck up, aren’t you a little happy to see your aunts?”

Natalie smiled, “Well, you’re not technically my aunts.”

Helen grabbed Natalie’s head and rubbed it as a joke.

“That’s what you get for being a smart-ass,” Helen laughed as Natalie pulled out of the headlock.

“So why are you actually here?”

Renee exchanged a knowing glance with the shorter-haired Helen.

“The six of us, Helen, Tabitha, Nadia, Alexandra, Matilda and me,” Renee began, “wanted you to join our group.”

“For what?”

The tall Matilda sighed, “It’s a secret group Natalie. We can’t talk about it out here in the sunny outdoors. Someone might overhear our reason for meeting.”

Natalie squealed, “Oh sweet, I like these sorts of things. What kind of—“

Renee cut off Natalie by covering her mouth, “If you go talking that loudly everyone will be on to us. Come on, we’ll go back to your bedroom…”

[revan5]

Spoiler for "The Silver-eyed Empress" Chapter 3, part 2:

Miria had a lot of problems with the situation at present. Her issues were centered primarily on why she’d had her honeymoon with new husband Cid prematurely ended. After the wedding, they’d traveled north to Pieta. Just west of the town in which the Northern War had ended ten years prior was her favorite place: the Pieta Hot Springs. Cid and her had scarcely arrived and done what newlyweds were supposed to when Renee had arrived, breathless.

Renee informed her she’d been sent on behalf of the Council of Lords, the ruling body of the Rabona’s government. The Council of Lords had seized power from the Rabona Orthodox Church when the church had adopted a pacifist response to fighting off a second attack from King Charles’ armies. Since Miria’s big victory at Kerouac, they’d helped to expand Rabona’s government along the entire Toulouse River and even annexed the Northern Lands of Alphonse. Given their new-found power, the lords, of whom her husband was a member, renamed Rabona’s government the “Dominion of Toulouse”.

The message they’d sent with Renee was downright alarming and ruined her honeymoon mood. Renee informed her that an Ambassador Duke von Rundstedt had arrived and demanded the Dominion join within three years or face invasion. With the country’s growing strength, they admitted they hoped to use it to combat a dangerous new threat: the Romanow Empire.

Renee’s message had confused Miria. They’d overthrown the Organization some three years prior, and Miria’s hope had been that its downfall would lead to a negotiated peace between the great warring alliances. Instead the Alliance of Nations, the Organization’s backers, had evidently decided to fight on. For this the ambassador blamed Miria and her comrades, which Miria could not quite believe when she heard it.

Their reasoning was more depressing: somehow one of the warriors still loyal to the Organization had carried some very dangerous knowledge back to the main continent. That knowledge was nothing less than how a warrior could surpass their Yoma energy limits while retaining their human mind. The effects Miria knew well: she herself was partially awakened. It made warriors like her stronger, while improving their rate of combat improvement. Such knowledge could have very well allowed the Organization’s backers, the Alliance of Nations, to continue fighting.

In the ensuing two years, the Grand Alliance had seen a nightmare transpire. A veteran warrior by the name of Katarzyna Romanowa rose through the ranks. Everywhere she’d led troops, disasters and defeats had hit the Grand Alliance. A little more than two years after the Organization’s fall, she’d killed the Alliance of Nations’ high command and seized control of the military. The less competent Alliance of Nations was replaced overnight by the far more unified and brilliantly led Romanow Empire.

There was going to be a massive Council of Lords meeting tonight concerning the Grand Alliance’s demands. Miria wanted to keep clear of the global war, but her wish was not to be. Unfortunately, her troubles with the Grand Alliance’s demands were not the only she had. There was also the small matter of dealing with an incident.

Miria was in her office, a horrible racket of construction work muffled only by the stone and closed windows. It was much the same as previously; she sat at a grand oak desk in the far end. In the room’s middle was a grand strategy table; while on the room’s edges were black sofas. A pair of wooden chairs facing her desk lay empty; they wouldn’t be for long.

Miria glanced up when she heard the door open. Commander Nina, wearing full armor, gold-gilded pauldrons and all, walked in looking unusually happy.

Miria eyed the long ponytailed Nina, “Commander, I’m going to be meeting Claire in a few minutes. I trust this is about something that can’t wait?”

Nina smiled, taking out a brown bag, “Remember that mine you, me, Renee, Helen, Nadia and Virginia invested in six months ago?”

Miria frowned, “Yes, I remember a bit. Nadia found some quartz and silver and started up a hobby mine with our combined money north of Pieta. Is it still losing money or are—“

Nina opened the bag and poured out a glittering pile of diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. Miria’s eyes went wide at the staggering wealth piled upon her desk.

“Oh my god, are you telling me—“

Nina laughed, “We hit the mother lode! This is just a small sample I’ve brought. We’re bringing the first shipment down from Pieta. It’s in a ship that just arrived in secret.”

“Nina, I’m overjoyed,” Miria waxed, shaking Nina’s hand. “But I don’t think you needed to give me these diamonds. I know I own half the shares in the mine, but I don’t need all of them for my personal use.”

“There are ten tons of diamonds in just the first shipment,” Nina declared.

Miria could hardly believe her ears, “Ten tons?!”

Nina grinned, “Well, actually we have another five shipments on their way behind it, each with more diamonds than that. Virginia thinks the first shipment alone ought to net us a 100,000 Francs in profit. Even when prices drop, Virginia thinks the first six shipments will earn around a million Francs. If we ship them abroad to the Grand Alliance, we could earn even more!”

Miria felt her head swimming; she thought she’d been “rich” before while earning 10,000 Francs and having a husband who earned four times that. By most measurements however, she was not that rich. 10,000 Francs would barely pay for a nice small manor in Rabona. 40,000 a year would be just enough to maintain it. The Ile de poires river isle was available for a mere 105,000 Francs because of the fear of attack, and Miria had gone heavily into debt to pay for it.

The economy, which had been depressed by the war, was now booming. The female servants she’d had were leaving for other work now, attracted by far higher wages. The labor force of nearly a thousand had shrunk to three hundred already, mere months later. The merchants, once constricted by bandits, saw a massive surge in their profits. The “merchant kings” to whom the Council of Lords was so beholden were earning millions, and increasingly tens of millions of Francs.

Miria paused a moment to collect her wild thoughts, and then the door to the office opened. A short-haired claymore in a simple blue-with-yellow dress walked in, a massive sword attached to her back.

Nina bragged, “Claire, look at what our mine dug up!”

Claire’s eyebrows arched in surprise, “It’s not very good manners to remind someone who isn’t rich how much money you have.”

“Jeez,” Nina sneered, “I’d forgotten you’d taken a vow of poverty.”

“I didn’t take a vow of poverty, I just don’t believe I should earn more than they need,” Claire clarified. “What did you want to see me about Miria?”

“Nina, please take the jewels and store them somewhere safe,” Miria instructed.

Nina grabbed the jewels carefully, swept them into the bag, and then quietly left the room with a single glance back.

Claire nonchalantly sat down in a chair facing Miria’s desk and waited expectantly.

“Claire, I wanted to thank you again from saving me from awakening,” Miria said, hoping to tamp down Claire’s confrontational attitude. “The only reason why I summoned you here is—“

“All you want to do is tell me not to knock out Galatea,” Claire interrupted. “I don’t care if I did knock her out, she deserved it.”

“Claire, I realize you two have your religious differences, but—“

Miria was interrupted by the door being slammed open to her office. A nun with milk white eyes, a blue and white dress, and a tall build ran in screaming.

The ex-warrior Galatea screamed, “What did you do to my hair Claire?!?”

Claire flashed Galatea an evil grin, “What’s the matter Galatea? I thought a woman of the church shouldn’t care about material things.”

Miria noticed that Galatea’s long, flowing locks were completely gone. Her beauty was marred by a shaved head, which gave Galatea a jarring appearance in Miria’s opinion. Galatea didn’t take kindly to Claire’s goading, and promptly tackled Claire. The tackle knocked Claire to the floor, simultaneously smashing both of the chairs facing Miria’s desk.

“Stop it,” Miria screamed.

Neither of them seemed to hear a word, as they were busily rolling over, kicking, punching and elbowing one another. Claire let out a scream, as Galatea’s hands had pulled loose a modest lock of Claire’s hair. Miria jumped over her desk, attempting to separate the two. Abruptly another four claymores jumped into the room, all of them attempting to help.

Claire managed to kick Galatea off with some force. Galatea was sent flying straight into white-haired Virginia, each of them smashing into the room’s grand strategy table. It was smashed in half to Miria’s horror. Miria in anger knocked Claire senseless with a blow to the back of the head. Galatea was simultaneously knocked senseless by Virginia and her coif-haired claymore cousin, Camilla.

“Give them some yoki pills and send them home,” Miria snapped, losing her temper.

The two claymores were hoisted, unconscious, out of Miria’s door as she surveyed the wreckage of her office. She was cursing her ill luck, as the visitor chairs, the expensive strategy table, and several of her black sofas were complete wrecks. She sat at her office chair in mournful contemplation of what had just happened for several minutes.

White-haired Virginia, wearing steel pauldrons and navy-blue leather, walked in eventually as Miria sighed.

“What the hell do you think happened to those two girls Virginia?”

Virginia’s lip curled, looking as if she found the subject distasteful.

“Well?”

“I don’t think it has anything to do with religion,” Virginia declared to Miria’s shock.

Miria’s eyes narrowed, “What do you mean?”

“I know everyone thinks they’re having religious issues, but I think the spat comes from something far more personal and material.”

“Like what?”

Raki and Yuma abruptly walked into the office, each of them pulling short and looking at the carnage left by Claire and Galatea’s tussle.

“Raki, you have amazing timing,” Miria complimented to the hunky, well-muscled male claymore. “We were just discussing why your wife and Sister Galatea got into a fight and wrecked my office.”

Raki, wearing fine white breeches, a green coat, and long brown boots looked astonished, as did Yuma for that matter.

Raki exclaimed, “My goodness, what the hell happened between them?”

“Claire shaved Galatea’s hair in revenge, I presume, for Galatea calling your children all illegitimate,” Miria explained. “What we were wondering is why they had this spat to begin with. Did their spat start because of religious differences or something else?”

Raki hesitated a moment, “Well, I know they do have religious differences, but I don’t know how it started.”

Virginia scoffed, “You’re lying Raki, and you know it.”

Raki bit back, “I am not lying!”

Virginia boldly continued, “Why don’t you just admit it all started when Claire caught you having sex with Galatea in a church confession box?”

Raki was stunned silent, and with a glare he left the room to collective shock.

Miria recovered first, “Virginia, what do you mean—“

“Their dispute has nothing to do with religion,” Virginia clarified. “Claire and Galatea were both interested in Raki in the first month after our victory over the Organization. He’s vulnerable to feminine charms, so he wound up unable to resist either. Eventually Claire and Galatea found out and blamed each other, not Raki.”

Miria objected, “But even I’ve experienced Galatea’s fanaticism.”

“Galatea might have been religious before, but she wasn’t a fanatic,” Virginia explained. “She loved children more than anything else, and the church helped her care for them. She bedded Raki because she wanted a child of her own. When she got caught, Claire and Galatea made a point of differentiating themselves from one another. Galatea started becoming religiously orthodox, while Claire adopted just the opposite stance.”

“So you’re saying Galatea and Claire became more religious because they were fighting over Raki?”

“It’s how they antagonized one another, and eventually they started saying things so much they believed them,” Virginia answered. “I found this entire story out by sneaking a few reads of Claire and Galatea’s journals.”

Yuma huffed, “But you really shouldn’t do that Virginia!”

“Maybe not, but I understand what’s going on,” Virginia grinned. “Why are you wearing a red dress Yuma?”

“Oh, I just wanted to dress up for the Council of Lords meeting tonight,” Yuma admitted.

“So I’m guessing the reason why Claire has been giving all the other claymores suspicious looks is she thinks we’re after Raki,” Miria sighed.

“Well you have to admit he’s the only one on the island that we can conceive with,” Virginia pointed out. “I know at least a third of the girls desperately want children of their own. If that means they have to risk Claire’s wrath, at least some of them would do it. It’s why Claire is so paranoid around us.”




“Alright, alright,” Renee said, hammering her gavel against a desk. “I call the first meeting of the Monarchist League to order.”

Renee was seated behind a small desk, to either side of which were seated Tabitha, Matilda, Natalie, Alexandra, Helen and Nadia. They were seated together in a loose circle at their own small desks. Above them, providing extra light was a simple silver chandelier with four burning candles. A quartet of arched windows also lit the room, shining light upon Natalie’s large canopy bed, her four massive dressers, a full-body mirror, and the white-carpeted floor.

Renee, being the leader of the secret group, had set up the room hours previously. There was just enough room to bring in some desks Miria had stored downstairs. The group had agreed to meet in secret, even from Miria, as they had a rather dangerous goal.

“I would like to remind everyone that our lives will be in danger if a word of our activities is breathed to anyone else,” Renee stated, glancing around the group.

Natalie spoke up, her hand raised, “Uh Renee, what exactly is the Monarchist League supposed to be for?”

“We are meeting to advocate that the Dominion of Toulouse be made a kingdom,” Matilda answered, sounding very serious. “We’re starting small, and eventually we’ll expand and make our demands heard.”

Clueless Natalie asked, “But who would be king and queen?”

The whole room was swathed in knowing smiles.

“I don’t like it when you guys act like this,” Natalie huffed. “Come on, if you wanted me to join then I should know who you want as the monarchs.”

Tabitha spoke up, “There’s only one claymore I could ever imagine as monarch.”

“Mom?”

Helen laughed, “You big clod Natalie, who else do you think is worthy of being queen?”

“But why?”

Renee sighed, “Why not? I’m tired of being ordered around by callous bastards, both lords and priests. The priests didn’t care about having a competent military, and the Council of Lords cares nothing for anyone but the rich. The only person I believe that can rule justly, fairly and compassionately is your mother.”

Natalie kept prodding, “But won’t the Council of Lords not like mom as queen? Why would they—“

“They would never agree to Miria becoming queen, and I think even you know that Natalie,” pigtailed Alexandra interrupted. “I don’t think even Miria would completely want to become Queen of Toulouse, but we have to make her accept the position.”

“Well mom would make a great queen,” Natalie agreed, “but how would we force her to become queen?”

“The only way the Countess would ever agree to become queen is by popular demand of the people,” Matilda stated. “Which is why we’ve formed this group; eventually we’ll spread in secret and our members will spread enough pro-Miria influence to win over society.”

Renee interjected, “The Council of Lords would never agree to losing power to a monarch, which is why we’re meeting in secret. They could charge us with treason if they find out. You must promise you will NEVER tell anyone about this group Natalie.”

“Ok,” Natalie stammered, looking shocked and confused.

“As President of the Monarchist League,” Renee said, gaveling for silence, “I call this meeting to order. The first order of business is expansion of our group. Secretary Nadia Tierra, have you had any luck in secretly establishing a branch in Pieta?”

Voluptuous if stocky-legged Nadia stood up, smiling, “I had amazing luck. We have over half of Pieta willing to join our group.”

“I object,” Tabitha said. “If we get too inclusive the Council of Lords can’t help but find out about us!”

“But this is a popular movement,” Matilda pointed out. “So long as we don’t have anything directly identifying the central group, they can’t stop us. You didn’t go around asking people yourself, right Nadia?”

Nadia shook her head, “Of course I didn’t do that. My husband Raul went out instead and tells me a lot of people in Pieta really liked the idea.”

“That’s a hell of a risk,” Alexandra commented. “If someone wanted to trace back to our group, he’s not very far from the truth.”

“Raul would never get captured,” Nadia huffed.

Natalie spoke up, “But what if the Council of Lords found out about all of us before the people demanded mom become queen? I don’t know if mom would side with us.”

The entire room went silent as Natalie’s words sunk in.

Renee recovered first, “Then we just have to hope she would. But I want to make one thing absolutely clear Natalie.”

“Which is?”

“You cannot, under any circumstances, tell your mother we want her to be queen.”




“Sister Latea, is something wrong?”

Galatea turned at hearing her nickname to find the small, blurry silhouette of a child not far away. Her milky white eyes might have been injured by fire, but her innate claymore nature meant they had partially healed despite her best efforts. Thus she was not totally blind, although she couldn’t see colors or really anything beyond twenty feet away.

“I’ll be alright Jean,” she assured the boy.

“Did something happen to your hair?”

“I just had it cut,” Latea said, lying despite knowing it was a cardinal sin. “When it grows out you’ll see it again. Now run along back home, I’m sure your mother is waiting.”

The boy ran off onto Rabona’s cobblestone streets as Galatea sighed. She walked back to the side door of the Teresian Cathedral and opened it. She closed the door and slumped against it in regret. She loved children more than anything, and the church had been so generous in allowing her to stay and providing for them. It was something someone rich like Countess Miria de Beauharnais-Malaga would never understand. Miria would never have understood why, but Galatea knew the moment the Council of Lords seized power the poor were in mortal danger.

Thus she’d been willing to kill Miria, and had even attempted to do so. Miria was too much, and Galatea had found herself knocked out and locked up. Thankfully the opportunistic Miria was also forgiving, and Galatea had found her multi-year sentence ended on Miria’s recommendation. Perhaps she had misunderstood Miria’s nature, Galatea thought.

Miria she could deal with, Claire on the other hand was a different story. Galatea had wooed Claire’s husband, Raki de Lautrec, in the immediate aftermath of victory over the Organization. He’d been single at that time, and more than willing to be bedded by her. Claire had “caught” them in the act, which had ended their relationship. Raki had been taken in by Claire’s domineering personality and heretical ways.

It was a terrible waste in Galatea’s opinion, as a good man had been ruined by a heretic. As Claire taunted her and strengthened in her heretical ways, Galatea determined she would set an example in opposition. She learned the holy book from first to last by heart, she abided by its rules, and she learned how fulfilling it was to live purely religious life.

Claire had left only a few months after the relationship with Raki had ended. Now, with Miria’s victory at Kerouac Gorge, Claire had come back like a strutting heroine. It made Galatea so sickened she hadn’t eaten the first week they got back. Claire made matters worse by mentioning her twins every moment Galatea was in earshot. It was heart-breaking to Galatea, as unbeknownst to Claire it struck a raw nerve. Galatea had conceived with Raki’s “aid”, but in her distress at his leaving Rabona she’d miscarried. It was a secret only her fellow nuns knew.

It was not, as Galatea reflected, a cardinal sin for a nun to conceive. Unlike what many thought, there was nothing in the holy book that forbade a nun having a sexual relationship with an unmarried man. Galatea had found Raki tolerable company, although the real reason she’d bedded him was her intense desire to have her own child. She’d fully intended to wed him if she’d given birth, as was recommended in the holy book. It wouldn’t be a marriage of love, but in time perhaps it might have become one.

Instead Galatea had miscarried as he left, and to her eternal regret, she found her eyes too damaged to even cry tears of regret.

Which was why she was now slumped against a door, sighing.

A scream rang out within the cathedral, and Galatea jumped to her feet. She rushed forwards as fast as she dared to the main hall of the cathedral. She heard a number of footsteps to her left, so she turned to look. Unfortunately her eyes could not see who it was, the distance being too great to make out anything.

Galatea found herself knocked over suddenly, a woman’s body falling atop her. Galatea pushed the woman off as quickly as she could.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry Sister Latea,” Sister Lucia cried.

Galatea recognized Lucia’s voice instantly; Lucia was one of the youngest nuns in the Teresian Cathedral. She was Galatea’s liaison with Bishop Vincent, passing along valuable information about the Holy Council since Galatea had been kicked off it.

Galatea picked up a whiff of something and sniffed, “What’s going on Sister Lucia? Why can I smell someone’s blood on you?!?”

“It’s Bishop Vincent,” Lucia cried, “he’s in mortal danger! He’s bleeding in the Council Room and—“

Galatea rushed past Lucia, weaving her way through the underground passageways to the Council Room. She could smell the blood before she even opened the door. She ripped the door off its hinges. She could hear heavy breathing, and she noticed someone on the floor. She gasped as she rushed to their side; it was the bald, middle-aged Bishop Vincent, leader of the Rabona Orthodox Church.

“Bishop Vincent,” Galatea said, holding his hand, “where are you hurt?”

“It’s too late for that,” Bishop Vincent coughed, blood splattering across Galatea’s face.

Galatea ignored this and found his chest was badly bloodied, a number of grievous wounds in his shoulder bleeding badly. Lucia rushed to Galatea’s side with bandages, and they quickly stripped Bishop Vincent’s top off and began wrapping his wounds.

“I said it’s too late,” he said, coughing up more blood.

Galatea ignored this and kept wrapping his wounds.

Galatea questioned, “Who did this to you?”

Vincent’s breathing was barely there anymore, and he hadn’t seemed to have heard her.

Galatea pressed her inquiry, “Bishop Vincent, who stabbed you?”

“I tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen to reason,” Bishop Vincent gasped.

“He kept going on about how he’s been called by God to…”

“Bishop Vincent, who was it that did this?”

Vincent wrist was cold, his pulse waning even as she felt it.

He managed one last word, “Ma…Mazarin.”

He slumped a few seconds later, his pulse disappearing. Lucia began crying as Vincent’s body died, his life slipping away in their hands.

“May God bless your soul on its way to heaven,” Galatea whispered.




Miria walked in the meeting room for the Council of Lords knowing things were grim. The world’s greatest power, the Grand Alliance, a collection of empires, kingdoms and the massive Dragonkin, had made a demand. Their ambassador, the goateed Duke von Rundstedt, had demanded that Rabona either join the Grand Alliance within three years or face invasion. The Council of Lords had scheduled the grand meeting to determine how to respond, to which every military officer of high rank had to attend.

Miria settled into a seat that afforded her a view of the Teresian Cathedral through the room’s massive, wall-length set of arched windows. A magnificent white tablecloth-covered round table sat at the gaudy, enormous room’s center. All around, in a bowl seating pattern, were innumerable fine chairs to hold all the event’s other attendees. The chairs were almost all filled, with Miria seated in the midst of her highest ranked subordinates.

Colonel Renee, wearing chain-mail and gold-gilded pauldrons, leaned over from the left.

“What’s keeping them so long? That damn Rundstedt is making me antsy,” Renee said.

Miria noticed the goateed, finely dressed Rundstedt was seated opposite them, quietly conferring with his “assistant”, Rubel Louvre. The sunglass and wide-brimmed hat-wearing Rubel had been a spy in the Organization, and had helped to lead to its downfall. He was also, in the minds of many claymores, never to be trusted. He had, after all, tried to arrange the deaths of Miria and her partially-awakened comrades on several occasions past.

The sun was just setting as the gray-bearded, aging Lord Mayor Zaehringen walked into the room. He was followed by Miria’s husband, the attractive, ponytailed Count Cid Malaga. Others followed, although most Miria didn’t know very well. Only two were readily familiar to her: the dashing Lord Ruud van Willems, and the elder Lord Staufen. The men sat down around the table as Zaehringen gaveled the meeting into order.

Zaehringen stuck out, as he was tall, wore a grand dark blue cape and a fine white outfit, and had his black hat topped by a huge plume of white feathers.

“My fellow Lords, we are gathered here because of a demand I’m sure each of you has heard about,” Zaehringen stated. “The Grand Alliance, the world’s greatest power, has demanded we join within three years or face armed invasion.”

“I would like to hear the reasoning as to why our young state deserves such treatment,” the hawk-nosed van Willems stated.

Ruud van Willems was staring straight at the Grand Alliance emissary, Duke von Rundstedt. Rundstedt merely stroked his goatee and whispered something to Rubel.

Zaehringen backed up Willems’ objections, “Perhaps the esteemed ambassador of the Grand Alliance would care to answer Lord van Willems’ question.”

The goateed Rundstedt, dressed in a similar manner to Zaehringen, only in tones of white and red, got up. Miria noticed he had unusual silver-buckle shoes which clicked upon the hardwood floor as he walked forward to a dais. Rundstedt reached the dais before the rounded table and set down a clutch of papers.

“It is obvious that your lordships are upset with the demands of the Grand Alliance,” Rundstedt stated. “I want you to understand one thing above all others: we need the added strength of the Dominion of Toulouse. When you join, your leadership will get a say on alliance foreign and military policy. By joining the Grand Alliance, you will be resisting the most dangerous and evil genius this world has yet seen.”

A number of the lords scoffed in disbelief at this claim, and Helen rolled her eyes at Miria upon hearing the claim.

“I am speaking of course about Katarzyna Romanowa,” Rundstedt continued, trying his best to ignore the disbelief. “We too once regarded her like you do now. After all, she used to be a mere captain.”

The audience seemed to quiet down, more individuals paying attention.

“Katarzyna started out fighting by using dastardly tactics against our alliance’s blessed Dragonkin. She starved them to death by hitting supply lines, she purposely targeted officers in the regular army to sow confusion, and she even refused to abide by any rules of chivalry. Captain Romanowa you see did not believe in the honorable ways of war, but those of total war,” Rundstedt began.

Miria noticed the audience’s attention was almost rapt now, and Rundstedt seemed to know he had their attention.

Rundstedt kept reading from his notes, “Romanowa was eventually promoted to Colonel and began her true history as a commander. She systematically killed off the civilian and military personnel supplying a major army with food, weapons and supplies. When faced with a superior force later, she did not even offer battle. Instead she scorched the earth, killing anything and burning everything in our path. Her will to win is so great she would rather annihilate her own countryside than face us honorably in battle.”

“I hate to sympathize with such tactics,” Miria spoke up, “but she won, didn’t she? If you can’t adjust your tactics to fight her, how are you ever going to win? If you can’t handle facing her in battle, then why should we join the Grand Alliance?”

Rundstedt turned to his left and looked at Miria with a look that suggested a hidden hatred of her kind.

“She didn’t win that time,” Rundstedt clarified. “We simply could not continue the fight and turned our armies to more productive fronts.”

Helen, seated to Miria’s right, spoke up, “So you’re saying this bitch still won?”

Rundstedt snapped, “She didn’t win! Romanowa used the most bastardly, nefarious tactics imaginable to make engagement impossible. She has no honor, no morals, and no sense of decency. It was shortly after that when she purposely began attacking the most inexperienced, youngest Dragonkin with her forces.”

“So you’re saying she’s like an opportunistic hunter of the deadliest creatures of this world,” Major General Galacon commented.

Francois Galacon, seated to Miria’s far right, was otherwise known as Galk. He was a tall, well-built man and had brown-blond hair and a scar upon the right side of his face. He was wearing his plate armor and seemed intent on pressing Rundstedt.

“Perhaps you could say she’s like a huntress,” Rundstedt agreed, “but she’s the most untrustworthy, dangerous huntress this world has ever seen.”

Miria noticed Renee stiffening next to her and was about to ask why when Rundstedt got to the core of his message, “Katarzyna Romanowa eventually rose to prominence, and for her victories was promoted to Marshal. Her high command was formed of a council like this one.”

The lords began paying more attention at this while Rundstedt continued, “Katarzyna decided they were of no use to her, so she formed a pact with their bodyguards. In the course of ten minutes, she slaughtered them like dogs and seized absolute power. Since that day, that madwoman has been fully unleashed upon the world. Thankfully for the world, her navy was torn apart by the coup’s chaos. The only thing that is keeping her from world domination is our navy, and with your help we can finally beat her aggression back.”

There was a great deal of murmuring amongst the lords now, and Miria could tell Rundstedt’s words had at least mollified some of the opposition.

Rundstedt finished, “I would urge your lordships to oppose this horrible tyrant before—“

“I think I’ve heard just about enough,” an accented voice interjected.

Rundstedt turned, as did everyone else in the Lord Mayor Residence’s meeting room. A group of five individuals had appeared in the room’s entranceway. Miria immediately recognized the long locks and face of the Organization’s ex-No. 3 Audrey. Audrey was wearing thick black robes with yellow sash, and seemed unusually thick in the middle. Miria’s jaw hung open as she looked to Audrey’s left.

A male claymore was standing there dressed in dark gray pants, a black tunic, gold-colored belt, and brown boots. His face had a strong chin, symmetrical features, and thick blond bangs over his forehead. He was accompanied by three other male claymores similarly dressed, one of them with remarkable long hair.

Every single female claymore in the room seemed shocked silent, although many others were as well.

“I am Count Andrei Tuluzy of the Romanow Empire,” the lead male claymore said, pointing to his chest.

He had a curious foreign accent to Miria’s ears, and she suddenly realized he was holding hands with Audrey, whose middle looked suspiciously like a baby bump. Miria noticed that the grin on Rundstedt’s face had vanished the moment Andrei had interrupted.

“This lovely lady is my wife, Countess Audrey Tuluzy,” Andrei beamed. “We’re currently expecting a baby. I would not have made the journey with her but for Her Supreme Imperial Majesty’s personal request. We are here on behalf of Empress Katarzyna Romanowa, and to counter this blatant slandering of the empress’ reputation.”

“I never said anything incorrect about that barbarian,” Rundstedt growled.

“Lord Mayor Zaehringen, if it’s not too late, the Romanow Empire would like to make a counter-offer to that given by the Grand Alliance,” Andrei declared, ignoring Rundstedt.

“By all means Count Tuluzy,” Zaehringen said, recovering his voice as he spoke.

Andrei walked up to the dais as Rundstedt reluctantly gave way and walked back to his seat besides Rubel. Andrei, in Miria’s estimation, was roughly Galatea’s height, and had a stronger build than most female claymores.

“Honorable lords, citizens of Toulouse, Her Supreme Imperial Majesty has invested in me the power to make a treaty as I see fit with your country,” Andrei explained. “To begin, I’ll start with our initial offer. In exchange for free trade rights with your country, I can personally guarantee we will respect your neutrality and guarantee you protection from any cowardly aggression from the Grand Alliance.”

The lords, including Miria’s husband Cid, began murmuring in approving tones as Rundstedt stood up in objection.

“You cannot believe these lies, that tyrant is the most bloodthirsty, dangerous, and aggressive—“

Andrei interrupted, “What Duke von Rundstedt won’t tell you is that Empress Katarzyna has never invaded the Grand Alliance since rising to power. In fact, when we sent emissaries to discuss peace terms, the Grand Alliance sent their decapitated heads back to the empress.”

“That is a blatant lie,” Rundstedt thundered.

Andrei smiled in disbelief, “I ask your Lordships, who would you trust, the people who have threatened you with coercion or those who respect your rights?”

Miria could tell Rundstedt was in trouble, as Rubel was shaking his head.

The elder Lord Staufen asked, “What about the allegations made by Duke von Rundstedt regarding barbaric and ruthless tactics employed by the empress?”

“Your lordships may not be aware, but the sole aggressor during most of the past hundred years is the Grand Alliance,” Andrei replied. “Their Dragonkin have enormous appetites, and tend to pillage their way through territory, eating cows, horses, and on rare occasion, people. The empress made the decision that killing off the livestock and farms in a border area was a tolerable price to pay to stop a large group of Dragonkin from pillaging deep into our territory. She did not kill our people, although I imagine that fact went unmentioned,” Andrei remarked, directing a pointed stare at Rundstedt.

“I imagine we could hear you two emissaries quarrel all day,” Lord Mayor Zaehringen said, cutting off Rundstedt’s chance to make a rebuttal. “The Council of Lords will be holding a closed door meeting to formulate an initial response to what has been said here today.”

It was a dismissal, and Andrei and Rundstedt recognized it, each making a quick bow.

“Her Supreme Imperial Majesty’s government awaits your response,” Andrei said.

“The Grand Alliance expects and hopes you’ll make the right choice,” Rundstedt added.

Lord Mayor Zaehringen stood up, “Only those of Colonel rank or higher may remain for the—“

Commander Nina came running in, breathless, her yoki unsettled, “Our forces have come under attack north of Rabona! I am requesting immediate reinforcements.”

Zaehringen seemed shocked, “Who in the world would dare attack us?!?”

[revan5]

Spoiler for "The Silver-eyed Empress" Chapter 4, part 1:

Chapter 4

Excerpt from “The History of the Romanow Empire”

The Alliance of Nations’ ruling families were almost entirely annihilated by Katarzyna Romanowa’s coup, with only a couple of prominent exceptions. However, despite Katarzyna’s killing of emperors, empresses, kings, queens, presidents, and Doges, their former subordinates were not so thoroughly targeted. This led to a bizarre period when cousins of the former rulers began to decide whether to claim their birthright or swear loyalty to the impressive new empress. In the early days the ambitious of these cousins, male and female, thought Empress Katarzyna weak.

When Katarzyna won a string of twenty consecutive victories with ease against numerically superior opposition, many of the rebellious aristocrats had second thoughts. Depending on their level of opposition to her rise to power, Empress Katarzyna chose different outcomes for her former opponents. Katarzyna had a third executed outright, another third imprisoned for long periods, and the rest were given a heterogeneous set of rewards and consequences, ranging from generous compensation to light punishment. With a large percentage of the alliance’s aristocratic families dead or in prison, Katarzyna’s silver-eyed followers often rose in their place.

A month into her reign, Empress Katarzyna had to address the nature of the emerging aristocracy. Katarzyna decreed that all titles of aristocracy were no longer hereditary, but rather incumbent on serving positions in the government, the empire’s armed forces or in recognition of great accomplishments. All previous titles were decreed null and void, which probably prolonged the opposition to her rule. All of the new ranks of nobility were non-hereditary, did not grant legal immunity, paid salaries, and gave no land. Historians agree this was done to ensure loyalty to the Imperial Family and avoid giving the nobility a permanent power base to oppose her plans.

A mixed aristocracy of humans and silver-eyed slayers took shape. Many started out with low titles and advanced as the empire gained strength. Dietrich Tuluzy, having arrived two years prior to the coup, was one of them. When Wenceslaus accepted the permanent change in power, he was given the title of Duke, as was his bitter rival Sergei Djugashvili. Wenceslaus secured for Dietrich Tuluzy, the exiled ex-Organization claymore, the lowest rank of “Lady”. Within a few months Dietrich saw her rank increased to Baronetess, and then Baroness.

Dietrich’s arrival in Visegrad attracted immediate attention, especially once she was promoted to Countess and made Princess Kasia’s aide. Unfortunately for Dietrich, her presence was seen as threatening to Djugashvili’s marriage chances with the empress. Given the stakes and the antagonism between Sergei and Wenceslaus, Dietrich’s life was about to become a lot more interesting…




Empress Katarzyna had moved against the rebel city of Praha, last of the organized resistance to her rule. Dietrich could not help but feel impressed with the speed of the campaign. The 100,000-man strong Imperial Guard mobilized in a day, and then began to march at high speed. Dietrich accompanied the Imperial Family and entire Imperial Court not far behind. The Imperial Guard arrived a whole day ahead of schedule, and were soon besieging the fortress city of Praha.

Praha seemed impregnable, with triple city walls, numerous towers, and a sizable and stubborn garrison. Their commander, situated high above in Praha Palace, laughed in the face of the imperial emissaries’ surrender demands. Crown Princess Rima had pleaded for them to avoid bloodshed, but the rebels’ response was to open fire with cannons. Rima escaped to be thoroughly chastised by her sister Princess Kasia for endangering the Imperial succession. Thus rebuffed, the empress decided to make an example of the rebels with a brilliant plan.

The five hundred Empress’ Volunteers accompanying were the key to the plan, aside from massed use of heavy cannons. The next night the Imperial Guard unleashed a hellish storm of artillery upon the fortress city. Under cover of night and the cannonfire, the Empress’ Volunteers quietly scaled the bridge walls over the river. They quietly killed all opposition and then opened the river gates to a waiting flotilla of warships. These entered the city carrying nearly the entire Imperial Guard directly into the city center, unbeknownst to the rebels.

Dietrich was both impressed and appalled by the slaughter that followed. The Imperial Guard fanned out, led onwards by silver-eyed Volunteers. The rebels proved stubborn to the end, fighting to the death rather than surrendering. The Imperial Guard obliged them, hitting the enemy from behind and killing them by the tens of thousands. Eventually it was less a battle than slaughter, the Silver Guard even joining in to single-handedly take Praha Palace.

Only fifty Silver Guards attacked, but their armor, elite combat skills, and outstanding leadership saw them cut through massive opposition. The Silver Guard, thanks to their duratium-forged armor seemed far more lethal than even Wenceslaus had told her to expect. They took Praha Palace in half an hour outnumbered 100:1 all while taking no losses. Dietrich was both impressed and terrified as she watched alongside Crown Princess Rima through binoculars. Their performance was just one of many things she’d have to secretly message Wenceslaus about as soon as she could.

The next morning, with Praha still smoldering, the empress took residence in Praha Palace, which had been hastily wiped clean of blood. The enemy commander was dead, killed by the Silver Guard’s Commander, Katja Tymoshenko. Of the one hundred and ninety thousand man enemy garrison, a mere three thousand had surrendered and survived the attack. The empress had once again triumphed in spectacular fashion despite the odds. Having seen the empress’ leadership in action, Dietrich no longer wondered why Wenceslaus tolerated her overthrow of the old order.

Princess Kasia gave Dietrich one of the finest small manors in Praha, although it was a decent distance from Praha Palace. She’d barely moved in when Princess Kasia’s messengers demanded she come to Praha Palace. Dietrich started work immediately, and as her day wore on, she began to understand Tusk’s warning about Kasia being a workaholic. Kasia was setting up an entirely new, civilian force to maintain order throughout the empire: the Imperial Police. They were to be given a single short sword, a baton, nice uniforms, and only a single cuirass over the torso for protection.

An exhausting week later, with the Imperial Police rapidly taking shape under Kasia’s relentless leadership, Dietrich found herself trudging home in exhaustion. She snuck a glance back at the palace on the plateau behind her. Running down the path from the palace was a familiar figure: her handsome if altogether too lust-obsessed paramour, Jaroslaw Tusk.

Dietrich sighed as Tusk approached down the cobblestone road.

“What is it Jaroslaw?”

Tusk, wearing the full plate armor of an Imperial Guard cavalryman, panted as he arrived next to her. Dietrich walked past his tall figure to overlook the well-lit city of Praha, which encircled both the palace above and the inner city upon the river. Its temple towers and church spires were barely lit in the dark night, although beneath them was another story. Everywhere Dietrich’s eyes could see, there were Imperial Guardsmen marching around wielding torches.

Jaroslaw gasped, walking up to her side, “Where have you been this last week?”

“Where would you expect? I’ve been slaving away for Princess Kasia and I really don’t have the time for romance,” Dietrich snapped.

Tusk squirmed, “Why are you so angry?”

Dietrich’s elaborate black and gold embroidered gown felt awkward as her pace quickened. There was a muffled noise behind her, but she ignored this and kept walking.

“It should be blatantly obvious Jaroslaw; just because you allowed me to stay at your place in Visegrad doesn’t mean I owed you sex every damn hour,” Dietrich spat.

“Oh, and whose dress are you wearing?”

Dietrich rounded in anger, “Look, quit thinking with your balls more than your brains! I am trying to convince the empress to marry Wenceslaus because I am bound to honor my promises to him. I’m just a little tired, so buzz off!”

Tusk walked up with surprising nonchalance and remarked, “Well we can’t have you like that. How about you take some sedatives?”

Dietrich screamed out in pain; in the middle of her belly was thrust a massive sword. Abruptly Tusk’s image was replaced by that of a black-clad individual, only their silver eyes visible. Their face was otherwise covered, and they stood before her, sniffing in amusement through their mask. Dietrich fell to her knees, gasping in pain and shock, her senses blurred somehow despite the pain.

“Why?!?”

A female voice mocked, “It’s well known that poisons won’t work to immobilize those of silver-eyed heritage. However, my sword is covered in a strong sedative, and in two minutes you’ll lose consciousness. However, given your mission, it’d be best for you to die now.”

Dietrich desperately and clumsily grasped for the short sword Princess Kasia had gifted her. Her female assailant however was quicker, and painfully took the sword out of Dietrich’s torso. Dietrich fell to the ground in pain and drowsiness, and glanced up to see the sword raised for the decapitating blow.

Her assailant hesitated a moment, hearing something. A whirring noise stirred in the night, and suddenly the clothed female slayer staggered for a moment. Dietrich’s droopy eyes could just make out an arrow sticking out of the black-clothed slayer’s back. The slayer ran for it rather than finish the task at hand…




Dietrich opened her eyes to find herself back in her manor, tucked into the enormous red-sheeted canopy bed of its master bedroom. The room was just like she remembered, with hardwood floors, several massive dressers she’d stuffed Tusk’s gifted clothing into, a pair of bookcases, and the room’s ridiculously gaudy and enormous gold chandelier.

Dietrich looked around abruptly, remembering the horrible memory from the night. She noticed Tusk slumped over the room’s sole sofa before the grand fireplace opposite the bed. She got up, tossing the sheets off, and rushed over, parts of her feeling oddly in pain.

“Jaroslaw,” Dietrich snapped, jostling his hunky shoulders with her small arms. “Come on; quit being a pain and get up. What happened to you? Did that evil woman knock you out?”

“He can’t get up, you see his drink was laced with sedatives,” a male voice interjected.

Dietrich jumped in surprise; her heart was racing as she remembered why it was she feared the word “sedatives”.

Standing in the doorway was James Havel, dressed in his finest Silver Guard armor. He stood, in Dietrich’s estimation, just a tad shorter than Princess Kasia. In contrast to Kasia, James’ lean frame was somewhat more muscular and of course he had paler skin than the brown-skinned Kasia. He was also the second-in-command of the deadliest unit of soldiers on earth, which was why she was backing away from him towards the bed.

Havel snorted in amusement, “Good grief, do you think the Cesarzowa so idiotic she’d actually attempt to kill Wenceslaus’ emissary? I trust you remember what happened.”

“Lieutenant Commander Havel, what are you doing here?”

“I have been assigned to keep you safe while your assailant is tracked down, Hrabina,” the Silver Guard’s number 2 explained. “Thanks to Princess Kasia worrying about your safety, you’ve had the Silver Guard trailing you for the past week. Luckily for you, we weren’t far away when your assailant attacked, and thus you’re alive. I’d like to hear what happened.”

“I was attacked by some silver-eyed female with a covered face and a mask. I thought it was a bad dream until…well, until I ran into you. How in the world did she sneak up on me—“

Havel walked over to an easy chair before the fireplace’s smoldering fire and sat down, interjecting, “How your assailant managed to sneak up on you and through our security is still under investigation. It would help us if you could tell what you remember.”

“Well,” Dietrich mumbled, thoughtfully stroking her chin, “I was heading back from home when Colonel Tusk ran up to talk to me. I got annoyed at him and then I heard a muffled sound. I guess that he was knocked out by my assailant, but...”

Havel’s eyes narrowed, “We saw you talking to your assailant even as we were coming to help. Corporal Torres claims he heard you talking as if your attacker were Colonel Tusk.”

Dietrich gulped in horrible realization, “There was one claymore, one slayer that is, who could use yoki to explore your deepest memories. She could, with a thought, manipulate your yoki so that you would see illusions that would make you delusional. She was our No. 10, Raftela, and was used as the Organization’s ultimate anti-Awakened Being and claymore warrior. I thought she died during the anti-Organization rebellion, but it’s possible that was her attacking me last night. I don’t know of anyone else able to pull off such a dangerous trick.”

Havel was writing down every detail, “Did your assailant say anything to you after she stabbed you with her sword, or were you still under an illusion?”

“She said her sword was covered in sedatives,” Dietrich replied. “She said given my mission, it was best if I died.”

Havel stopped writing altogether and looked up with concern, “Are you absolutely certain she said that?”

Dietrich sighed, “Yes, but I don’t understand why she’d kill me for my mission when…”

“You’re the sole emissary of one of two male slayers personally stronger than the Cesarzowa and interested in becoming emperor. Why in the world wouldn’t you—“

“I just realized it, I’m sorry! I didn’t think anyone would want to—“

Havel cut her off, “Was there anything else, a name or something else they said?”

Dietrich recovered and replied, “No, I’m sorry, but does this help you?”

“I don’t know if it helps me so much as it’s going to alarm our dear Cesarzowa. Security’s been tripled in only a week here in Praha. We’ve got another 200,000 soldiers patrolling the streets now, but the Cesarzowa may decide to add even more after I bring this to Her Supreme Imperial Majesty,” Havel informed her.

Dietrich asked, “How long have I been unconscious?”

"You’ve been unconscious for a solid week, and the doctors didn’t give you a high chance of regaining consciousness. If the sedative-covered sword was in your body much longer, you’d have been put into a permanent coma. Luckily for you, your assailant didn’t even see the Silver Guard coming when she was about to execute you. You can thank Corporal Torres’ shot for saving your life,” Havel informed her.

“I should really thank him immediately,” Dietrich said, still shocked.

“That can wait,” Havel made clear. “Cesarzowa Katarzyna in the meantime has assigned you a permanent guard of ten Silver Guards for your protection,” Havel added.

Dietrich stammered, “But aren’t there only a hundred of you? How can you protect the four members of the Imperial Family and—“

“The Cesarzowa is relentless just like Princess Kasia. Her Supreme Imperial Majesty has been recruiting, training and equipping a second company of Silver Guards to address this very problem since her reign began. Princess Kasia wanted me to reassure you that there will not be a second attack. Empress Katarzyna has also decided to send Wenceslaus her response in the aftermath of the attack.”

Dietrich hopefully asked, “Did she accept?!?”

A dangerous scowl briefly crossed Havel’s long face as he got up, “No she didn’t, although she’s considering it for your sake. I’ll be leaving now; Tusk will be conscious in an hour or so. He’s been by your side since he woke up. You should appreciate having a boyfriend who is so dedicated.”

“That’s very nice of him,” Dietrich murmured approvingly, looking over at Tusk and then back to Havel. “But speaking of commitment, why are you so upset about Wenceslaus’ marriage proposal?”

Havel turned his back and walked towards the grand oak door, not even looking at her.

“If you love Princess Kasia so much, then why are you interested in the empress too?!?”

Havel paused but did not turn around, “I’m sure you can’t understand my feelings; I certainly don’t feel like a hypocrite.”

“I’m grateful for your help in saving my life,” Dietrich admitted. “But I don’t understand how you can live with yourself. If you and Princess Kasia love each other, why aren’t you ignoring the Cesarzowa and getting engaged to Princess Kasia instead?”

Havel smiled, turning his head to spare Dietrich a parting stare, “We aren’t engaged, that’s true. But that’s because we haven’t divorced and gotten re-engaged.”

Dietrich felt a renewed sense of shock, “Wait, you mean you’re currently married?!?”

“Goodbye Hrabina,” Havel said, and with hardly a sound, he was gone.




“Remember, if anyone asks, you’re my granddaughter Anna, and I’m your dear grandpa,” the old man informed “Anna”.

She’d just escaped her Grand Alliance captors by twisting their necks and killing them. She was a young girl of some twelve years, and by all accounts, not ordinary. Her parents had donated her to the Alliance of Nations’ cause, and a few years later she’d been captured. Her captors had underestimated her, and she escaped through a daringly simple plan…straight into Grand Alliance territory. She’d stolen some peasant clothing; a gray blouse and dress, which was annoyingly constricting her movements.

The old man, who wanted her to call him “grandpa”, was thin, with gray hair and dressed in silver-buckle shoes, a fine black hat, fine black trousers, and a frilly white shirt. He was the last person she expected to be an Alliance of Nations’ spy, due to the ostentatious merchant’s outfit he was wearing. She was not yet his height, although her puberty was in full stride now, her body becoming more womanish each day as her height climbed.

She’d found him after sneaking past the guards to a small town, only for this man to snatch her. He hid her from sight in an empty barrel in his shop while soldiers came by looking for her. Unfortunately for her, a quartet of massive Smokowcy weren’t far behind. Smokowcy, also known as Dragonkin, were legendary for their sense of smell. They were like giant Bloodhounds, and given her body’s unique scent, hiding for long wasn’t an option.

The spy smuggled her out, after she’d been given a bath and blasted in subtle, scent-covering perfumes, right past the unwary guards. A minute later, as she looked through a crack in the carriage’s luggage compartment, a massive Dragonkin had walked up and began sniffing the air where they’d passed by. It passed reassuringly out of view as the carriage continued along.

They spent the night in a tavern, where she was “bathed” in the mixed scents of humanity to confuse their pursuers. Despite needing some rest, “grandpa” had kept going, not resting a moment. As it turned out, he had good reason not to delay. They stopped for a few hours in a cave to sleep when loud sniffing noises had woke her up. A pair of massive snouts was sniffing the narrow main entrance as she watched in horror. “Grandpa” quickly spirited her to the side entrance, where they made a hasty escape out into the rugged countryside.

A desperate day of running later, they were now exhausted, having tried every trick imaginable to shake the terrifying, 3-story tall pursuers. Worse still, word of her escape had spread, and Grand Alliance troops were everywhere, checking papers and people throughout the countryside. “Grandpa” however had one trick up his sleeve: a canoe. They paddled downstream towards temporary sanctuary: the city of Kagano. There they would find a local contact, Mitsugawa-san, and hopefully a way back to the Alliance of Nations.

She could see the city of Kagano dimly in the moonlight, its towers lit by lonely torches. A few months prior this had been Alliance of Nations’ territory; not so now apparently, as they’d had to avoid numerous patrols along the road. It was thus with some relief and apprehension that they approached walled city. She’d dyed her hair and taken every possible step to disguise her true appearance.

She was, however, less than reassured.

“How can you be sure there won’t be any Dragonkin in the city “Grandpa”?

The friendly spy sighed, “Kagano’s streets were never designed for Smokowcy, so you should have nothing to fear from them. We’ll be meeting with Mitsugawa-san, and he should be able to find you a way back.”

“This medicine is making me sick,” Anna complained. “Are you sure my—“

“They’re fine dearest one,” the spy reassured. We shouldn’t have any trouble getting past the gate guards here with you like this.”

They trudged past a pair of sleepy guards on the way towards the gate. The cobblestone road was in great shape thankfully, and made easy work of their walking. They were just within sight of the three-story gatehouse when a klaxon began to wind up. Its alarm rose and fell as she ran towards the gatehouse.

“Anna, wait, stop!”

She ignored the spy’s commands and ran towards the gatehouse, shouting back, “I bet our troops are attacking the city. Come on and we’ll get rescued!”

The spy tried his best to catch up, but her youthful legs surged with energy as she climbed the low rise to the gatehouse. She ran to within a hundred meters and stopped short. Scattered all around the road were dozens of dead Grand Alliance soldiers. “Grandpa” ran up next to her and blanched at the blood, bodies, and dismembered limbs lying around.

“Well, something attacked the Grand Alliance all right, but I think we should be cautious,” he advised.

They crept closer to the main gate, and a number of figures were moving in the dark. She was about to run for it when a whole company of swordsmen charged towards the gate from further within the city. These swordsmen were spectacularly attacked, a pair of individuals with massive swords landed in their midst. They did some vicious spinning attacks, taking down large numbers of men. A third individual jumped into the remaining swordsmen’s midst. By Anna’s estimate, these warriors had killed an entire company of soldiers in twenty seconds.

She noticed a trio of dark figures towing animals towards the gate, all of them pursued by mobs of soldiers holding torches.

“Anna, we need to get out of here now,” the spy shouted.

Suddenly a male’s voice shouted, “Kasia, duck!”

A trio of arrows horrifically hit the spy in the torso, and he fell backwards upon the cobblestone road. His eyes closed as his head hit the stones, and a moment later he gave a last twitch.

She screamed in shock, “Grandpa!”

Seven individuals streamed past her in the dark, out the gate, two of them towing a trio of animals. They were nearly past when Kagano’s gate began rapidly dropping. A pair of other individuals rolled under just in time. The taller, a long-haired female in armor, glanced at her anguishing over the deceased spy she’d called “grandpa”.

“Come on Kasia,” a woman shouted, “Don’t take the girl and—“

The tall woman picked her up, squirming and all, and ran…




Anna shouted in objection, “Let me go this instant!”

The tall woman seemed to ignore this for the fortieth time, and Anna was close to giving up. She’d been picked up by this woman at Kagano’s gates, and now, kilometers later, she had no idea where she was or who she’d been kidnapped by. The only thing she did know was that her captor spoke perfect Comnenian, so Anna’s words would surely be understood. It was pitch black out, and thus she couldn’t see anything very well with the medicine hindering her senses.

“Don’t you know who I am? I demand you let me down this instant and—“

The tall woman stopped abruptly and set her down. Anna found herself in a moon-lit clearing beside a river, surrounded by nine taller individuals. Her kidnapper walked away for a moment while a tall woman with a massive sword came forward; she had the eerie silver eyes of a slayer.

Anna boldly spoke up, “Who are you? What do you want with me?!?”

The tall slayer threatened, “I’m going to knock you out if you don’t shut up!”

Anna’s kidnapper turned back to intervene, “Rima, just let me deal with her. She’s—“

“You let her scream her head off the whole way here Kasia, and thanks to that, those four Dragonkin behind us couldn’t have lost our trail if they’d tried. I say we—“

“Commander Lillian,” Anna’s wavy-haired kidnapper said, “I promise she’ll be quiet if you just let me talk to her.”

A voluptuous and bizarrely red-haired female slayer walked up and looked over Anna dubiously. Anna had never seen such a gorgeous slayer in her life.

“Why in the world did you pick up this screaming piece of annoyance Kasia?

“Well, it was just sort of instinct commander,” the sheepish, bass-voiced Kasia admitted.

“Kasia, now is NOT the time to be bizarrely maternal over a stranger,” the commander huffed.

“But—“

“Don’t give me lip Kasia. I want her sedated and then we’ll decide what to do with her.”

Anna began running for it when she tripped over someone and fell to the ground. A moment later she found herself pinned to the ground. She was turned over and force-fed some bad tasting liquid. She nearly choked after swallowing it, and was saved by Kasia’s smack to her back. Her vision was fast blurring, and within moments, she felt sleep take her.




Anna opened her eyes; her senses still blurred by whatever they’d drugged her with. But even with blurred senses she could not fail to notice someone above her. A brown-skinned female slayer was kneeling next to her, busily sniffing. A knot of fear ripped through Anna as she jumped back, away from the tall warrior.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the wavy-haired Kasia sighed. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t scream. I barely managed to convince Commander O’Malley to let you stay with us, and if you do it again she said she’s sending you to the Smokowcy.”

Anna, despite her mind’s haze, was keenly aware that she was perilously close to being sent back in captivity if she didn’t behave.

“Alright,” Anna quietly agreed. “Um, are you named Kasia?”

“So you remember my name,” Kasia sighed. “Yes, I’m the one who “kidnapped” you.”

Anna noticed Kasia’s left cheek was scarred, the number 3141 branded into it in a raw pink. Kasia’s face still had its beauty despite being marred, and Kasia’s cute if scarred face was complemented by gorgeous long, wavy brown-blond hair. Kasia’s body was somewhat lanky, given her considerable height and long legs.

“What happened to your cheek?”

Kasia explained, “My trainers disliked my resistance to being branded, so they gave me this. You know, you haven’t exactly told us your name,” Kasia noted.

“My name is Anna,” she lied to Kasia. “Are we going back to the Alliance of Nations?”

“We will once we can find a way through the border,” Kasia admitted, sitting back. “You’re a very strange girl; why aren’t you afraid of me?”

“I saw a lot of slayers when I was younger,” Anna admitted.

“Ah hah,” a female voice interjected, “just as I suspected. Kasia, give our little tag-along a dunk in the mountain stream.”

Anna turned to find the gorgeous black-leather-and-armor-wearing Commander Lillian O’Malley standing behind her, her hair now a luscious strawberry-blond. Kasia grabbed Anna with quiet strength and hoisted her into the sun-filled air.

Anna objected, “Hey, hey, stop it, what are you doing?!?”

She found herself being lugged a short distance downhill. All around was a picturesque alpine valley. They were not far from the rugged mountain peaks above, and Anna noticed a cool alpine stream she was being carried straight towards.

Anna screamed in objection, “No, no, let go, you can’t dunk me, its child abuse!”

“I thought you wanted us not to send you back to the Smokowcy,” Lillian remarked. “You can resist being dunked or go to them.”

Anna reluctantly stopped resisting and found herself unpleasantly tipped into the cold stream. A few dunks and half gasping screams later, Kasia hoisted Anna, sopping wet and cold, out of the stream. She was carried back to a sparsely populated camp and had blankets put over her by Kasia and was warmed by the campfire.

“Just like I thought,” Lillian remarked, grasping one of Anna’s strands of hair, “pure blond. So Miss Anna, why were you dying your hair? It wouldn’t happen to be the same reason why we ran into four Smokowcy so soon after Kagano, would it?”

Anna squirmed, “Um, well, you could say I escaped from the Grand Alliance.”

Lillian towered over her, pressing the inquiry, “So then, what kind of twelve-year-old would merit pursuit by four Dragonkin?”

“Ummm,” Anna stammered, unsure how to answer.

“I couldn’t hear your answer Princess, why don’t you speak up,” Lillian goaded.

“Hey, how did you know that?!?”

Kasia interjected, “Wait, you’re a princess?”

“Yes, Corporal Romanowa, meet Princess Bastia Anna Domka Komnen,” Lillian said, smirking.

Kasia looked totally shocked, her eyes wide, “But wait, don’t they call themselves the ‘Royal Family of Comnenus’?”

A male slayer with short white-blond hair and a lean build walked up, “They’ve Bretonized the name Kasia and made it like my first name.”

“Oh,” Kasia remarked, and then turned back. “Your Highness, why did you lie to me?”

“Because I didn’t know if you were friendly or traitorous slayers,” Bastia admitted. “Now that everything’s clear, my first order is—“

“Not a chance,” Lillian scoffed. “You were hybridized as a gesture of good faith in the Alliance of Nations. King and Queen Comnenus made it very clear that you were not to be treated differently.”

Bastia felt her anger rising, “How the hell would you know?!?”

Lillian flashed her an annoying smirk, “Well, since I was once Victoria McKenzie’s protégé, she kept me informed when some haughty ten-year-old slayer entered her squad and wouldn’t shut up about getting opportunities to fight.”

“I am a Princess, I am entitled to—“

Kasia interjected, “How did you get captured Your Highness?”

Bastia felt her defiance melt in the face of Kasia’s question, “Um, well, you see, I was tagging along behind Commander McKenzie during a mission…”

“Yes, but you did so against her orders,” Lillian reminded. “You took yoki pills to hide from detection and when the mission got ambushed by ten Smokowcy, they had to flee. You then got captured, so there will be no recklessly charging off while I’m in command. Just because you’re a princess doesn’t mean you’re special here.”

Bastia felt stung but bit her lip.

“In the meantime, we’re trying to find a way past the four Smokowcy guarding the mountain pass back to the Alliance of Nations,” Lillian informed her.

Kasia spoke up, “Commander, if we can’t sneak past them, could we take them out?”

Lillian gaped, “Have you lost your—“

“What I meant is that there’s only one way to supply those Smokowcy with food since we’re near the front lines. If we raid their supply line, we can starve them and force them to move,” Kasia explained.

“That might be the most brilliant thing I’ve ever heard of to beat Dragonkin,” Lillian complimented.

[revan5]

Spoiler for "The Silver-eyed Empress" Chapter 4, part 2:

Kasia smiled as she finished, watching Dietrich with bemusement. Dietrich, wearing a flashy white and gold-embroidered dress, seemed puzzled. They were in the Praha Palace’s throne room, which was abandoned and unused at the moment. It featured dozens of stained glass windows along its high hall, a fine marble floor revealed in the light. Given Dietrich’s information about the yoki manipulator and illusionist Raftela, Kasia had naturally surrounded the room with Imperial Guardsmen and dozens of Silver Guards.

She was seated at the head of an old oak table half the room’s length. Dietrich was listening while seated atop the table beside her. Dietrich, in Kasia’s opinion, had both an awkward name and hairstyle. Dietrich’s hair was pinned on either side, draping down just past her shoulders. Her bangs were diagonally cut, which struck Kasia as odder than even Dietrich’s masculine name. Thankfully Dietrich’s questionable fashion sense had been aided by Colonel Tusk’s good taste. It made enduring Dietrich’s insatiable curiosity easier to Kasia when Dietrich was well-dressed.

Dietrich queried, “So what happened after you made the decision to hit the supply line Your Highness?”

Kasia cut short the story, “Well, we hit their supply line for two weeks, and at the end of that we were able to complete our mission. Now then, it’s time I stopped telling stories and got back to work.”

“But,” Dietrich objected.

“I have to set up the Imperial Police expansion into Visegrad, and I believe you need to send a message to Wenceslaus,” Kasia informed Dietrich.

“Message?”

“Empress Katarzyna has granted you the privilege of one message to Wenceslaus by any means you wish,” Kasia informed the short Countess. “You may go now; I’ve work to complete.”

“Yes, of course Your Highness, and thank you,” Dietrich sighed, hopping off the table and bowing from the waist.

Dietrich left with a curious glance back, escorted out by a personal escort of ten Silver Guards and dozens of Imperial Guardsmen. The doors to the throne room closed and Kasia let out a breath of relief. Out from the shadows of the room’s support columns walked James Havel, his white-blond hair cropped short like she liked it. He was holding his helmet to a side while dressed in his duratium armor and black leather best.

James sighed, “Why do you find it necessary to tell this Hrabina our life story?”

Kasia sighed, “She reminds me of myself; but she lacks the killer instinct. I can smell it on her; she’s got the air of a girl who’s morally compromised. There’s something she’s ashamed of, and once Andrei and Audrey Tuluzy find what that is, it’ll be interesting to know how she handles me discovering it.”

James asked, “What about yourself dear? What happens when this Countess discovers you’ve begun to whitewash your stories? You remember what we did to those half-dead Dragonkin after we starved them of supplies for a month?”

“Put them to the sword,” Kasia replied, looking James in the eye. “I remember it well James. They didn’t have the strength to fight us after all; it was all very anti-climatic. Is this another one of your moral sermons about my sins? Would you have preferred those Smokowcy survived to kill another day?”

“I understand you don’t like me lecturing on morality dear—“

“Particularly when you’re hardly better off than me James,” Kasia pointed out.

“I know,” James admitted, his voice rising in annoyance. “But maybe we should stop playing this ridiculous game with the Countess. It won’t look good when—“

“I know, James, damnit I know. You know how crucial it is we understand Wenceslaus’ motives. We couldn’t get a spy into his inner circle, so she’s the best unwitting informant we have. If we could get a spy into Wenceslaus’ inner circle, it would probably be reassuring, unlike with Sergei.”

“Speaking of Sergei, do you think he had anything to do with the attack upon the Countess?”

“If we find any solid proof he was behind the attack, he’s about three hours away from termination,” Kasia noted. “It’d be a terrible waste of his talents though. As for the Countess’ attacker, I’ve got an entire team of spies looking for her. I only hope Wenceslaus doesn’t overreact to the attack. Both Sergei and Wenceslaus are ready to kill one another on a hat’s drop, and the last damn thing I need is those two starting an internal war against one another.”

“So I assume then that this contest heating up is why Sergei was summoned here for next week,” James remarked, “but why exactly did Wenceslaus also get invited?”




Dietrich had left Praha Palace dissatisfied, as Princess Kasia had absolutely no interest in confirming anything about a marriage to Havel. Princess Kasia had even tried to conceal something as Dietrich had entered the otherwise unused throne room. It made Dietrich very suspicious of Kasia.

Kasia had ended what was shaping up to be her most interesting tale yet; the tale of how she met Princess Bastia, the only Imperial Family member even Wenceslaus was wary of. Only a month after Kasia and Rima had joined the ranks of slayers, they’d met Bastia, the third of four members of the Imperial Family. That left only Kasia meeting Katarzyna, which Dietrich felt sure she’d hear about one way or another.

The story had been cut short by Princess Kasia this evening, which was not at all characteristic. It was just like Wenceslaus had warned her: “The things they’re hiding are the most important things of all to discover.” Dietrich suspected the Dragonkin Kasia’s tactics had starved of food had met a rather grisly end. After all, as Kasia had already let drop her philosophy of doing anything to survive, and such an individual would not let enemies survive.

The most disconcerting thing about talking with hybrid warriors from the mainland was how nonchalant they were about killing humans. For Dietrich, raised to protect human life at all costs, Kasia’s disinterest in thinking about killing humans made her queasy. She’d left the palace after Princess Kasia’s abrupt dismissal and arrived home.

She arrived to find Tusk had moved in since she’d been home last. He was busily ordering the servants about on preparing a meal and cleaning up the manor when she’d arrived. She couldn’t object to his presence; after all, she’d walked in wearing the white and gold-embroidered dress he’d bought for her.

Tusk had organized a grand party and ball in the space of the day, which rather astounded Dietrich. The guests showed up soon after she’d arrived, and soon she was talking to all sorts of people she’d never thought of speaking to. They were all familiar with Tusk, and kept awkwardly asking about her relationship with him. She began to appreciate a little why it was Kasia had declined to talk about her marriage.

It was nearing midnight when all the guests had finally left, leaving Dietrich feeling a little drained. Despite this, she joined Jaroslaw for a drink of wine out in the manor’s garden, which, as luck had it, had a great view of Praha Palace far above.

“So my dear Hrabina,” Tusk said, “what is troubling you?”

“I talked to the Silver Guard’s Lieutenant Commander, Havel, this morning,” she admitted. “He said he’d sedated you.”

“Oh,” Tusk remarked, “I was wondering why I fell asleep after drinking that wine.”

Tusk took to smelling his wine and then took a swig.

“I asked him why, if he’d loved Princess Kasia, he was propositioning the empress,” Dietrich explained.

Tusk smiled, “The man may be hypocritical, but many males have been bitten by the very same desire. I’ve lost track of the number of males, human and slayer, who have claimed to fallen in love with the empress.”

Dietrich took a swig of wine from her own glass as she looked up at the brilliantly-lit Praha Palace on the top of the plateau above.

Dietrich decided to drop her bombshell, “I asked James Havel why he wasn’t engaged to Princess Kasia, and he told me they’re married!”

Tusk, in the midst of drinking his wine, choked on his drink until Dietrich smacked him on the back. He coughed up the wine for several seconds before his breath returned.

Jaroslaw seemed somewhere between shocked and outraged, “You can’t be serious! How am I supposed to believe such an outrageous claim as Princess Kasia being secretly married?!? What’s next, you’re going to claim the empress is secretly married as well?”

Dietrich fumed, “I am being perfectly serious Jaroslaw!”

“Alright, fine, tell me what he said while you conveniently had no witnesses around,” Tusk demanded.

“When I asked about why Havel and Princess Kasia weren’t engaged, he said it was because they hadn’t divorced,” Dietrich explained, her arms crossed in annoyance at Tusk’s disbelief.

“My dear Hrabina, what you’re saying would be a huge scandal,” Tusk said. “How can you be so sure that Havel was telling you the truth?”

“It sounds like the truth because he was already romancing Princess Kasia years ago, back when she was just fifteen,” Dietrich said. “Maybe sometime during the last twelve years she reciprocated his feelings and they got secretly married. I even saw Princess Kasia fiddling with something ring-shaped when I arrived at the palace. Even you have to admit there’s something between them Jaroslaw.”

“Princess Kasia’s marriage is being arranged by the Cesarzowa,” Tusk objected. “For her to have secretly married Havel would risk the Imperial Family’s reputation at the least.”

Dietrich raised an eyebrow, “And at the worst?”

“Look my dear Hrabina, the Imperial Family’s future depends on arranging the marriages of its members to the most powerful male slayers. I don’t think you should go around talking about this,” Tusk warned. “You don’t want Princess Kasia as your enemy, trust me. You didn’t tell anyone else about this did you?”

“Ummm,” Dietrich stammered.

“Please tell me you didn’t directly ask Princess Kasia about this,” Jaroslaw plaintively pleaded.

Dietrich couldn’t quite manage to look the handsome Jaroslaw in the eyes.

Tusk quickly came to the logical conclusion, “You are a damn disaster when it comes to your curiosity. When are you going to learn there are some things it doesn’t pay to know?”

“But she didn’t even give me an answer,” Dietrich defended. “She denied it and just moved the conversation to another topic. I don’t think—“

“No, you are NOT going to bring this up again, especially since I’m sure there were plenty of onlookers there,” Tusk declared. “Princess Kasia may not have the Crown Princess’ temper, but she doesn’t forget things that endanger her standing.”

“Alright,” Dietrich huffed, “but don’t blame me if Havel’s loose lips blow this scandal wide open. At least Duke Wenceslaus doesn’t have to worry about me in comparison.”

“I don’t know about that,” Tusk demurred. “You’re plenty talkative in bed.”

“That is completely different,” Dietrich crossly replied.

A male servant walked hurriedly up to Jaroslaw and bowed, “Sir, you’ve been summoned for a night patrol around Praha Palace.”

“My apologies my talkative Hrabina, but I must go,” Tusk said, making a brief bow.

“I am not that talkative in bed,” Dietrich grumbled, annoyed at Tusk’s suggestion that she let slip things after intercourse.

Tusk left quickly while Dietrich watched, her arms folded in disapproval.




It was late, and Kasia was busily scribbling Imperial Police expansion plans on a clipboard in her palatial bed. She was dressed only in a black nightgown and lying on her belly. The bed was massive, being some many times as long and wide as she was tall. It was covered in black and gold sheets, her favorite colors; the colors of the Romanow Empire. An immense silver chandelier overhead lit the wood-floored room just enough to see by.

The massive bedroom, despite being stuffed full of furniture, felt relatively empty. The chandelier dimly lit the large room’s distant corners. It felt terribly lonely at times working late at night, but there was always someone willing to remedy that situation.

The two-story tall bronze bedroom doors clicked open, which drew Kasia’s wary glance. A Silver Guard entered in his finest armor, the male warrior removing his helmet respectfully. He had a slightly hawkish nose, an otherwise attractive face, short white hair, and a lean, athletic build. The Silver Guard closed the door, noticed her upon the bed, and made a respectful bow.

“Your Imperial—“

Kasia interjected, “That sounds rather forced James. Come on, there’s no need to be so stuffy and formal around me. You’re late by the way.”

“I was signing off on all the new Silver Guards being hired,” James sighed, walking forward. “Kasia, are you still working again?!?”

Kasia signed off on establishing a new branch of the Imperial Police in Visegrad and turned to answer.

“Oh quit complaining,” Kasia snapped, “you only have to help run the Silver Guards. I’m stuck managing the empire, so don’t give me grief about overwork. You know if it—“

James interrupted by sitting down beside her and kissed her on the cheek.

“You don’t have to keep telling me,” James sighed.

Kasia began signing off on expansion documents for the Imperial Police in other regions when James began walking towards the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

James turned, looking visibly annoyed, “I’m not sitting around while you work all night.”

Kasia got up, wearing only her short black and gold nightgown, and wrapped her arms around James’ armored shoulders. James stopped as she leaned in and rubbed her head against his while sniffing his neck.

“You wouldn’t happen to be seeing another girl again would you?”

“Of course not,” James snapped. “But if you keep being a workaholic I might OOOWWWW!!!!”

Kasia had reached down and jabbed her fingers into James’ leather-covered upper left arm to express her aggravation at his threat.

“You know how much that pissed me off last time, so I really shouldn’t have to remind you about this,” Kasia hissed.

James flinched as she withdrew her jabbing fingers.

“Kasia,” James pleaded, “come on, you know I’m just joking.”

“That is NOT a funny topic to joke about,” Kasia reminded.

“Alright,” James huffed, his shoulders slumping, “but you know why I wound up with—“

“Yes, yes,” Kasia interrupted, “I know all about why you wound up sleeping with another female slayer. Come on, why don’t you take your armor off and come to bed?”

“I wish you had said something like that ten years ago,” James sighed.

“You weren’t mature enough for my tastes ten years ago,” Kasia lectured. “That and I had a couple problems,” Kasia admitted.

James left the bedroom for the guest bedroom, where he audibly ditched his duratium-forged armor. Kasia walked back to the bed and resumed her work while lying on her belly. She heard James walk into the room and silently smiled. Abruptly a very warm and familiar male body lay down atop hers.

“Come on dear,” James said, grabbing her stash of papers and throwing them off the bed. “There will be plenty of time for that in the morning. I didn’t live to thirty just to see you waste away from over-work.”

“Oh alright,” Kasia yawned, “just be gentle.”

Kasia could feel a part of James expanding against her through the nightgown. She enjoyed the erotic feeling of his heat pressing against her own.

“I should’ve known you were in the mood,” James commented while taking off her nightgown. “You’re wearing my favorite nightgown.”
He stopped taking it off her when his hands reached her breasts. He massaged her chest with expertly, each rub, press and push causing her to involuntarily utter little moans. Kasia clutched at James’ well-muscled thighs and turned to kiss James. He broke it off to pull her nightgown off her shoulders and raised arms.

Kasia laughed as James had some difficulty in disentangling his right arm from her now-freed nightgown. She turned around and tackled James while doing her best to ignore his blackened, scarred and pitted belly as he did hers. Somehow, over the course of several minutes of passionate foreplay, they wound up under the covers together with James atop her.

He pushed down, and with a surge of pleasure, Kasia embraced James on an even more passionate level. His heat pushed down into her womanhood and then pulled back. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he thrust yet again. A surge of pleasure overwhelmed her as she sensuously rubbed against James below.

James let out a moan as he pushed further while Kasia gasped. Things continued to heat up as Kasia felt her legs beginning to be slickened by sweat. Time began to blur for Kasia as their lovemaking turned more frenzied. Eventually they’d switched positions, and James began to renew his thrusts up into her. They were trying to kiss, which was difficult, given the pleasurable distractions of their intercourse and James’ hands fondling her chest. The pleasure must have been too much, for a moment later she moaned as her womanhood spasmed.

“Oh god,” James exclaimed. “Whatever you do, don’t stop.”

Kasia realized in alarm that James was beginning to climax himself.

“Wait James—“

She tried to pull away, but James wasn’t about to stop, and with a pleasurable and alarming spasm, she felt him shoot. He released his seed into her again, a third time, and then a final time. He pulled off her wearing a very satisfied smile, as well he might. Kasia’s mood however was both exultant in the pleasure of the moment and yet fearful of its possible consequences. James lay down atop her, resting his head atop her breasts.

“This is why you need me,” James sighed. “Most male slayers would’ve given up on a female slayer as work obsessed as you are. I take it as a challenge to get you off-schedule.”

Kasia looked down when she felt something sticky, “James, do you mind washing up? Good grief, just how much were you holding in James?”

James sighed as he looked down, “Well, I’m sorry, but you made me hold back for two weeks. I’m not the only one who needs to clean up though.”

Kasia’s stomach churned for a moment as she realized how big a risk of pregnancy she’d just taken. Despite all of her logic screaming at her to stop, she found herself unable to give up the relationship. Worse still, she’d kept bedding James, even though a pregnancy by him would be a political disaster for the empire.

She followed James to the master bathroom’s shower and washed off together with him.

“James,” Kasia sighed, “we can’t keep doing this.”

James didn’t respond for a moment, deciding to remain silent, his expression ashen.

“Rima is already getting suspicious, and if she manages to say a word to Bastia, this will all be over,” Kasia stated.

James put his hands on her shoulder, “I don’t care. You keep calling a baby a complication; I call it the natural progression of our relationship. I didn’t wait years for us to become a couple only to hear we can’t stay together for political reasons!”

“James, believe me, if it was not politically—“

“Then make love to the political man of your dreams and leave me already,” James screamed. “Why do you say these things and then never follow through?!?”

Kasia slumped to the shower’s tiled floor and cried, “You idiot, do you think I want to leave you?!? I don’t have a choice. If I don’t marry a male slayer who’s an extremely strong fighter, otherwise the imperial family will be vulnerable to attack by other slayers.”

“I can protect you just fine Kasia,” James reassured, kneeling before her with a look of sympathy. “God always meant us to be together.”

Kasia dejectedly scoffed, “Did God mean for me to help slaughter the High Command? Did he mean for Bastia to kill her parents? Did he mean for me to lead armies and kill hundreds of thousands of people? Where was your god when my father was killed?”

“God works in mysterious ways,” James said, “and I must not judge his designs.”

“So he meant for you to kill that girl?”

Kasia felt a sharp slap hit her face, a spray of blood hitting the side of the shower. James’ fury was broken almost immediately as he realized what he’d done.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” James apologized, wiping away the blood. “Please don’t hurt me for this Kasia. I was just overcome—“

Kasia wiped away some blood and ordered, “Go to bed James.”

Her order lingered in the air as the nude James stood up looking crestfallen and guilt-wracked by what he’d just done. He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he knew better than to tempt her temper after what he’d just done.

Kasia watched James leave for bed as stoically as she could and then quickly healed and cleaned up the blood. She glanced towards the doorway to the imperial bedroom and sighed. She soon felt tears streaming down her cheeks; the last thing she wanted to do was leave James. It was incredibly painful to tell him she had to, and to make matters worse she’d provoked him. She felt horrible and yet angry at James at the same time. He just didn’t understand her reasoning at all.

He knew she wasn’t a believer, and yet he kept spouting off about how God meant it to be. She could never believe likewise; she’d seen too much to believe a caring god James believed in could exist. She wiped away the tears, turned off the shower, and dried off. She wrapped a towel around her body and another around her hair. Kasia found James snoring and already asleep upon the bed. There came a knock on the bedroom’s bronze doors to her right.

Kasia walked across the room and took a glance through the door’s small peephole. Outside were two Silver Guards, Silver Guard Commander Katja Tymoshenko alongside a male subordinate whose name Kasia couldn’t yet remember. They were dressed in full armor but looked relaxed. Kasia opened the door.

Katja made a quick bow, while her male subordinate made an even lower bow. He seemed somewhat shocked, as Katja was not, to see an Imperial Family member in a bathrobe.

“I assume you’re here because you have a report,” Kasia stated.

“Yes, we are C—“

“That’s enough Katja, I don’t need you to list off my titles when I’m in a bathrobe,” Kasia commented. “How are the new security arrangements working out?”

“Nothing remarkable to report,” Commander Tymoshenko said, a small smile spreading across her brown-skinned face.

“Good,” Kasia replied, “back to your duties then.”

Kasia closed the door and began reading through the report with some interest. She slipped away from the bed and towards the bedroom’s attached grand balcony. She was just finishing reading the report when she felt her vision blurring. Kasia shook her head and glanced towards the bed. James was still there, fast asleep. She read a detail in the report that made her annoyed at James; very annoyed at James.

“Goddamnit James, you fool, is this why I’m having questions about us from Dietrich?”

She turned back to the report as he kept sleeping.

“Good evening Kasia,” a female voice interjected.

Kasia looked up in disbelief to find Lillian standing only a few meters away. Lillian was wearing the same red dress she’d worn when they’d seduced the three officers during the Kagano and had her luscious hair dyed a rich red. Even Lillian’s eyes were back to their normal color of blue. Kasia could hardly believe her eyes.

“Lillian, aren’t you dead?”

“Why did you do it Kasia? Did I have to die because I wouldn’t swear fealty? You and me were always meant to be friends,” Lillian cried.

“I…I wanted you to become one of us, a Romanow,” Kasia admitted. “But you killed four of my followers, and…”

Lillian advanced on Kasia, but Kasia didn’t fear this Lillian’s approach.

“I would’ve joined if only you’d asked the right way,” Lillian said.
Lillian touched Kasia on the shoulders and smiled. “I wanted to see you one last time—“

This Lillian was abruptly tackled by James, who was only wearing trousers and a loose white undershirt. Kasia suddenly found Lillian replaced by a black-clad individual who was engaged in a fierce struggle with James.

Kasia yelped in surprise, falling backwards as James tussled with the assassin. They kicked James off in desperation and drew a curved blade. James dodged the attack and grabbed Kasia’s personal blade off a nearby sofa. He blocked a down stroke with ease and swung. The assailant jumped over the swing and James, heading straight at Kasia.

Kasia screamed out for help, “Guards, guards, there’s an assassin!”

A dozen Silver Guards crashed through the bedroom’s bronze doors at once, toppling them with brute force. The assailant stopped in her tracks and barely deflected James’ next attack. The lean, black-masked female assailant had silver eyes, which Kasia only glimpsed for a moment. The assailant ran for her life as the nearest Silver Guards charged towards her.

The assailant ran towards the grand balcony, barely dodging the lethal intents of four separate Silver Guards. The assassin crashed through a closed balcony window and to the outside. Some four dozen Silver Guards rushed past after the assassin, while two stopped next to James and Kasia.

“Oh no,” James exclaimed, looking down at her.

Kasia felt a vague, numb pain in her left shoulder and looked over. There was a long knife stuck in the shoulder up to its hilt. James pulled out the knife with care and turned to the pair of Silver Guards.

“Get her doctors immediately,” James screamed, sounding frantic and distressed.

One ran off while the other stayed as hundreds of Imperial Guardsmen flooded into the room. Kasia felt the voices growing more distant, her senses ever more dulled, and her eyes ever harder to keep open.

The last thing Kasia remembered before sleep took her was James screaming,
“Inform the Crown Princess immediately! There’s going to be hell to pay for this!”





Dietrich was awakened by the whir of a siren. She got up in her bedroom and rushed out to her fifth floor balcony. The siren was coming from Praha Palace, and was soon followed by others all around the city of Praha. The streets not far from the balcony were suddenly being blanketed by countless Imperial Guardsmen and Imperial Army soldiers. Movement along the slopes beneath the Praha Palace caught Dietrich’s eye. A single individual was skidding down the slope, just barely visible in the moonlight.

Dietrich could hardly believe her eyes as she realized it was the assailant from the week prior. She ran back into her closet, dropped off her nightgown, and stuffed herself into her Organization warrior’s outfit. She grabbed her massive claymore sword from underneath the bed and jumped over the balcony and into the manor’s gardens.

Dietrich ran through the gardens, right out the gate past a surprised Colonel Tusk, and out into the cobblestone streets of Praha. She had lost sight of the assassin, so Dietrich cleared the roofline to find the assassin had just reached the bottom of the slope beneath the palace. There came the whistling of crossbows, the assassin barely running out of range as thousands of crossbow bolts hit the dirt. Following the assassin down were some four dozen Silver Guards, many of whom were stalled by the dangers of descending the slope.

Dietrich began running and jumping across rooftops towards the assassin. Dietrich saw hundreds of Imperial Guardsmen converging on the street where the assassin was. She paused to watch as the assassin took to jumping onto the nearest roofs.

The assassin cut to Dietrich’s left, crossing between homes and over narrow streets at great speed. Dietrich jumped into action, nearly falling off a roof when its shingles gave way. She let out a curse, got up, and resumed the chase. The assassin jumped and flipped over a tall chimney. Dietrich followed seconds later, landing awkwardly, but kept going despite the pain. Dietrich barely felt any exhaustion as the assassin began to gasp a little for air.

Dietrich made a flying jump, knocking the assassin flat against a shingled roof. Dietrich was kicked off by the assassin but managed to pull the assassin’s mask off. A familiar face came into view as Dietrich got up and readied her sword for a fight. The female slayer had two long strands of straight blond hair, a stoic face with a high hairline, a pointy nose, and jutting chin.

“Raftela,” Dietrich hissed, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?!?”

Raftela didn’t say a word, reacting by taking out a nasty short, curved sword that looked to be duratium-forged like a claymore blade. Raftela’s face was marred within seconds by veins popping out as Dietrich realized what was happening.

“Oh no, you’re not doing that to me,” Dietrich said, charging Raftela.

Dietrich made a swing, which somehow didn’t connect. Instead Dietrich felt a small prick as Raftela’s blade nicked Dietrich’s thigh. Dietrich a second later barely noticed Raftela’s blade in time, ducking underneath with centimeters to spare. Dietrich kicked out onto her feet, faced Raftela, her heart pounding with adrenaline. Dietrich managed to deliver a downwards slash upon Raftela’s smaller blade, although her vision was beginning to alarmingly blur.

Raftela kicked Dietrich in the stomach, bowling her over. Dietrich nearly fell off the roof, but stopped herself with a fortunate stab of her sword into the roof. Dietrich found Raftela above her, her sword raised in preparation to execute Dietrich. Suddenly Raftela hesitated, casting a worried glance at something further away.

“You have the most incredible luck,” Raftela complimented, and then turned to flee.

Dietrich pulled herself to her feet and took in a breath of air. A quick glance found the source of Raftela’s worries; a dozen Silver Guards were running across rooftops towards her. They moved with ease, making the difficult appear effortless.

Dietrich returned to chasing Raftela, and a mere half minute later Raftela jumped down from the rooftops. Dietrich followed, closing the distance slowly as Raftela took a right and the walls came into view. A pair of Imperial Guardsmen attempted to stop Raftela with expert jabs of their spears. Raftela calmly dodged the first’s blows, jumped and cut him down. She beheaded the second Imperial Guardsman and kept running.

Dietrich had nearly caught up as Raftela approached the ladder to the first of Praha’s walls. Suddenly a massive wave of yoki beyond anything Dietrich had ever experienced washed over her. She gasped in pain; it felt like she had four times her weight on her back. Raftela was hardly better off, as she was crawling forward towards the ladder in desperation. Dietrich just barely managed to get up as Raftela did so. A glance back saw the Silver Guards just coming into view, Dietrich guesstimating them to be a half kilometer back.

Raftela began climbing up the ladder as Dietrich tried to prevent being overwhelmed by the immense yoki all around. It was like a chase in slow motion as Dietrich approached the ladder. Unfortunately Raftela had adjusted faster and just reached the ladder’s top, and looked to be on her way to an incredible escape.

A flying sword however disagreed, flying over Dietrich with a deadly whir and penetrating straight through Raftela’s neck. Raftela gave a short gasp, her body began to falter, and she fell off the ladder. Dietrich could only watch as Raftela’s head hit the cobblestone street, the sword bouncing as Raftela’s head hit on its side. A pair of armored feet passed Dietrich by, and Dietrich looked up to see Crown Princess Rima walking up to Raftela.

Rima, dressed in her Silver Guard best, took the claymore out of Raftela’s neck. Rima, wearing a look of cold fury, picked up Raftela’s limp body with ease.

“Goddamnit, she’s dead already,” Rima commented. “Commander Tymoshenko, the bitch is dead. Get over here and have her body and clothing searched for evidence. I want every piece of scum behind this attack found and killed!”

Dietrich was gasping for breath, as Rima’s yoki was so close and immense it was nearly killing her through its strength. Commander Tymoshenko grabbed Dietrich and hoisted her up.

“Crown Princess,” Dietrich exclaimed, looking in alarm at three immense approaching creatures.

“Its fine Hrabina,” Rima reassured, toning her yoki down to more tolerable levels. “Those are the empire’s only tamed Smokowcy. We captured their eggs ten years ago, and we’ve raised them to be loyal to us.”

The three Dragonkin were massive, standing just over two stories tall, each looking curiously at Crown Princess Rima. They were almost full grown; all that was missing was the fin-like back spikes and the greater size of adults. The largest Dragonkin approached with some fifty Silver Guards walking up alongside.

“Crown Princess,” it rumbled, “what are your orders?”

Rima ripped off a piece of black clothing from Raftela’s body and threw it into the Dragonkin’s immense outstretched hand.

“Duchess, I want you, Sturm and Drang to get a good sniff of this bastard’s clothing, find out what path she took into the palace, and then backtrack along her scent trail,” Rima ordered. “With any luck, we may find the asshole who ordered the attack.”

The Dragonkin came together, taking deep sniffs of the clothing while Rima watched. They walked off with a tremendous set of thuds, their heads low to the ground and sniffing like bloodhounds. They disappeared back into the city while most of the Silver Guards ran around into defensive positions around the Crown Princess.

“Crown Princess,” Dietrich said, having rummaged through Raftela’s pockets and found some coins, “look, she was carrying Allianzmarks!”

Rima scowled, grabbing the coins, “Way too obvious. Kasia always said the best assassin would never have evidence on them to tie them back to their masters. There’s almost no way the Grand Alliance was able to carry this off.”

“But,” Commander Tymoshenko interrupted, “we should investigate that possibility.”

Dietrich queried, “Crown Princess, might I ask who it was that was attacked?”

“This bitch,” Rima said, hoisting Raftela’s limp body up, “put my beautiful sister Kasia into a coma. If we don’t get her out of it in three weeks, she’ll die. The Cesarzowa cannot afford to lose Kasia; she absolutely cannot afford to lose her.”

Dietrich asked, her stomach clenching in a mess of fear and shock, “How can I help?”

Rima bent down and looked Dietrich in the eye, “Get Wenceslaus here immediately.”

[revan5]

"Claymore: New Era"

Prologue:http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3811

Chapter 1: http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3788
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3789

Chapter 2: http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3791
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3792

Chapter 3: http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3793
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3794

Chapter 4: http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3795
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3796

Chapter 5: http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3806
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3807

Chapter 6: http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3808
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3809

Chapter 7: http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3816
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3817

Chapter 8: http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3842
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3843

Chapter 9: http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3845
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3846

Please note that even though "Claymore: New Era" is completed, I am still accepting constructive critiques and reviews at this time. That means I am still editing the story and will correct mistakes and plot holes when pointed out or modify awkward sections. In the meantime I'll be steadily constructing "The Silver-eyed Empress" Section with new posts.



"The Silver-eyed Empress"

Prologue: http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3871

Chapter 1: http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3873
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3874

Chapter 2: http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3878
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3879

Chapter 3: http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3892
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3893

Chapter 4: http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3894
http://forums.animesuki.com/showpost...postcount=3895

[yezhanquan]

Originally Posted by MisterJB

Spoiler for Claymore chapter 107:

Ok, I remember someone here writing a Claymore x World of Warcraft fanfic some time ago where all the Claymores who perished in the North came back to life.
Where is that person? I must congratulate him/her for predicting with months of advance what Yagi would do.

That will be me. It's been a while since I was last here.

[revan5]

Spoiler for Preview of chapter 5 of "The Silver-eyed Empress":

Chapter 5

Excerpt from “A History of Toulouse”

The situation in Toulouse in 3 A.L.E. (After Liberation Era) was incredibly tense. The Dominion of Toulouse, the island’s primary power, had been contacted by the world’s two superpowers, the Grand Alliance and the rising Romanow Empire. The Dominion’s leader, Lord Mayor Zaehringen, knew that to enter the world war on either side meant a certain invasion by the other side. Unfortunately for Zaehringen, the Grand Alliance was not offering to allow the Dominion to remain neutral. The island of Toulouse’s location and natural resources made it a great location for a naval base, one the Grand Alliance thought of global importance.

The Romanow Empire lacked the overwhelming naval power of its predecessor state, the Alliance of Nations. When Katarzyna Romanowa’s coup occurred, the navy was the least loyal of the armed forces to the new empress. Nearly a third of the navy was lost to internal fighting, as the empress’ supporters tried to take command of the navy and Alliance loyalists resisted them. Another portion defected to the Kingdom of Breton rather than their hated enemies, the Grand Alliance. By the time Empress Katarzyna secured Praha seven months into her reign, only half of the old navy was left.

Despite this, it was still formidable, and with the empress’ renewed backing, gaining strength. One of her fleets caught a Bretonese fleet in Konstanz Bay off the island of Toulouse. There they inflicted a crushing defeat on their former comrades and awoke the Grand Alliance to the deadly reach of the Romanow Empire. When the Grand Alliance found it could not decisively defeat the Imperial Navy, it turned to the isle of Toulouse as the key to upsetting the balance of power on the high seas.

The Romanow Empire for its part wished to stop this plot, so the empress sent a delegation to the island to secure its neutrality. Her lead ambassador was the silver-tongued Count Andrei Tuluzy, who conveniently enough brought his wife. Countess Audrey Tuluzy was an ex-Organization claymore, who besides being familiar with the island’s power brokers knew where the Organization’s secret archives might be. These the empress wanted, although the Dominion of Toulouse’s commanding officer, Countess Miria de Beauharnais-Malaga, was making certain the sites in question were closely watched.

Unfortunately for all concerned, an underlying current of resentment on the island threatened to wreck everyone’s plans. When the Council of Lords held a meeting with all of the Dominion’s highest-ranking officers present, those who resented the island’s change in political order had their chance. They attacked during the meeting at a most crucial point…

[revan5]

Spoiler for Preview of chapter 5 of "The Silver-eyed Empress":

Chapter 6

Excerpt from “The History of the Romanow Empire”

There has been a great debate amongst historians as to who was behind the assassination attempt on Princess Kasia Romanowa. Some will point to Sergei Djugashvili, allegedly the most ambitious and ruthless of “the six” stronger than the empress. Others controversially point their accusations at Sergei’s rival Wenceslaus, who they say showed signs of disaffection with the Romanow’s rule and may have wanted to usurp their power. A few historians even allege other female members of the six, including Svetlana Wasylenko and Minhe Choung-Park may have been behind the attack. The vast majority of historians attribute the attack to the Grand Alliance, which had much to gain from Kasia’s death.

According to Grand Alliance intelligence, she was part of the glue that held the imperial family together. Kasia was the peacemaker between the headstrong, militaristic Princess Bastia, and the temperamental, art-loving Crown Princess Rima. With Kasia dead, they figured the imperial family would fall apart into bitter in-fighting. They might have been right had the Romanow Empire not faced the threat of the Grand Alliance. The Grand Alliance never really gave themselves a chance to test their hypothesis, as they invaded as soon as they had news of the attack upon Kasia.

It was an invasion unprecedented in size, and given the Grand Alliance’s greater size than its rival, this invasion was surely an enormous threat to the Romanow Empire’s very existence. Two major thrusts were made on the northern and southern fronts. A third thrust was made between them a few days later, when the empire’s forces had already moved to counter the prior attacks. An army of over a million men under the command of three emperors and the chieftain of the draconic tribe rolled forward. Their target was nothing less than the new imperial capital of Praha.

The Grand Alliance also believed they had managed to cut off the empress with a small contingent far to the north, isolating her from command of the armed forces. This left Crown Princess Rima in command of the empire, a task she had never wanted nor was completely prepared for. Nevertheless she was competent enough, and aided by the more competent (but pregnant) Princess Bastia, she managed to rally the armed forces enough to slow down the enemy invasion.

Ultimately though the empire’s two most competent generals were engaged with the two other enemy armies and could not be spared. That left only one general competent enough but one Rima distrusted absolutely; Sergei Djugashvili. He was recalled to the capital, as was his rival Wenceslaus. Ultimately the only general brilliant enough to annihilate the enemy attack was in a coma: Princess Kasia. To save her life, Crown Princess Rima instructed Countess Dietrich Tuluzy to bring back a key aide of Wenceslaus’ who might be able to awaken Kasia in time…

[Blue Pentacle]

Hi there,


I am just getting in touch with a few items to speak of, as I know that a few here follow my works.


Firstly, I am always greateful for all the help and support that has been afforded by the community here, in particular Shiek927 who has offered an even hand in all feed back and in other matters too .


In regards to the second part of chapter five in "Strange Consorts", it is coming along; though has been delayed due to a few very busy weeks with college concerns. But, it will be out sometime in the near future .


Also, I come here with a idea I would like to nominate for discussion; a familiar theme, but with a fresh application.


In the past, I have tried to examine a Claymore's darker side; the other, monsterous aspect of themselves that dwells in the psyche and that, arguably, is let loose when full awakening occurs.


I would like to raise for discussion what the forum may wonder what Yuma's darker/awakened self would be like when compared to her usual self, as I have been pondering it for a while in a potential project .


Thanks,


Blue Pentacle.

[Shiek927]

As always, Blue strikes where no one has struck before

Yuma.....Yuma......yep, can't say I've seen a centric fic involving her at all yet, so that's already a first there . It's difficult to say just how Yuma would go and react if she were to ever to awoke; AB's are generally the same exact people as they were before, except with huge power, and subsequently, huge requirements. Someone as meek and shy as Yuma...no doubt her awakening would give her a boost in confidence, but even if it doesn't, it's still a unique idea.

Difficult to say just how much detail you plan to go into with Yuma; perhaps you could go into why you think she is so meek, even as a Warrior, or go into her surprising potential and strength; since Yuma hasn't had much attention at all, it's all open to your interpretation.

Sounds good, can't wait to see what comes of it