“Misty Step!”

“Dimension Door!”

“Sweep!”

“Caliban!”

‘CLANG!’

Gila-ban caught Lulan’s blade with its torso, its scythe-sized claws missing Lulan’s thighs by an inch.

“Lightning Bolt!”

Lulan intercepted Gwen’s bolt with a hovering slab of iron, redirecting the current to the ground.

“Sweep!”

“Dimension Door!”

“Misty Step!”

“Cali, do it now!”

Twisting sets of writhing tentacles shot from Caliban’s open maw.

“Pierce!”

Blocking Caliban with the first, Lulan's second slab of gleaming iron pinned Gwen's Familiar to the floor, pulling the creature's tentacles just enough so as to grazed, but not penetrate, her iron-clad dermis.

Outside the duelling box, Richard and Kusu watched as the two girls thrust and parried one another’s spells. Lulan had the clear advantage at melee distance. Gwen dominated at longer ranges. Though Gwen could teleport rapidly, her tier 4 translocation took much more concentration than the Signature Blink utilised by the Clanner. Were it not for Gwen's prodigious affinity for Lightning; it would have been impossible for her to keep up with a melee Mage like Lulan.

Of course, the Sword Mage’s advantage existed only in the confines of the Duelling Arena. Out in the real word, Gwen could displace herself as far as a hundred meters, while Lulan’s Misty Step managed twenty at best.

“Slash!”

“Dimension Do- Oof!”

‘Thunk!’

Lulan managed to catch Gwen on the tenth teleport, sending Gwen's non-Newtonian Shield skittering and sparking across the floor.

“Gwen, are you alright?!” Lulan dispelled her swords, landing beside the winded sorceress.

“I am fine.” Gwen nursed her left lumbar. Had her Shield had been a split-second slower, she would have paid a visit to the infirmary. “Ouch.”

“Good fight!” Richard called out. “So, what’s your takeaway on fighting a dedicated Melee-Transmuter?”

“Run the hell away.” Gwen took Lulan’s hand, catching herself on the girl’s shoulders.

“I wouldn't have won if you had Caliban and Ariel out at the same time,” Lulan pointed out. “Not to mention your Dragon-hounds.”

“Not in an ambush I won’t,” Gwen replied. “Especially not the dogs. Also, Ariel’s melee talents are fairly limited, and I need concentration to activate Barbanginy.”

Her praise was overly humble, but there was a reason for that. Gwen wanted Lulan to build up her confidence. Otherwise, the fact that Ariel and Caliban had hasted charge-attacks when in their fully-empowered forms would have made short work of the melee-caster, not to mention her pseudo-Kirin could fly.

“Just shoot yourself with an Elemental Sphere,” Richard quipped. “Ariel’s got IFF. I bet that’ll dissuade anyone from getting into a melee with you.”

“What if they attack Ariel first?” Gwen pointed out.

“Immediately unsummon, then re-summon Ariel with as much altitude as possible,” Richard counselled expertly.

Gwen made an ‘O’ with her lips.

"You need to reconsider your techniques from the perspective of a Spirit-possessing Elementalist." Richard patted his cousin on the head. "Watch my fight with Kusu; I'll show you."

“Wow, that’s evil.” Lulan imagined Gwen hitting herself with an Elemental Sphere, catching her in the splash as she closed in for melee.

“Additionally, you could go in with Invisible Familiar.” Richard laughed. “I’d love to see that.”

“Suddenly, a Ba-ban-gin-ni.” Kusu shivered all over. “I can’t even imagine.”

“Barbanginy,” Gwen corrected her companions. No one seemed capable of pronouncing the Noongar word for Lightning, least of all her Asian counterparts. With little else happening in the quiet start of December, the team had taken to training together in Gwen’s pre-booked training chamber.

“I don’t know, Gwen…” Lulan dispelled her physical enhancements. “I don’t think I am suited for the IIUC.”

“Nonsense.” Gwen hugged the girl about her shoulders. “Confidence, Lulu. You’re the quickest caster I know. You weren't even Hasted! If you can give me a run for my crystals, you’ll brutalise the others.”

Thinking of the IIUC ahead, Gwen had decided to induct Lulan into her and Richard’s group. She had initially asked Petra, though the Enchanter made an excellent case for her vacancy.

“One, I can’t use my Mind Magic in public. Two, I don’t bring a unique spell-set, I can only replicate spells our team already possesses. It’s not like I can borrow Spell-cubes from Master, or stow rare spells to take on Quests. That would violate the rules of the competition. It’s a test of competency and skill, not a test of who’s got the best backers.”

Instead, Petra suggested that Gwen should groom Lulan as her front-line fighter.

Lulan looked over at Richard. Gwen's cousin likewise affirmed her brilliance.

“Lulan, you’re exactly what we need,” he assured her. “My defence and battlefield control you can attest to, but when it comes to offence, your efficacy is leagues ahead of mine. No one can disrupt casting as well as you.”

Lulan beamed.

"Alright, come on, Kusu," Richard ushered the Sword Mage into the make-shift duelling arena. "I'll make this easy!"

A week after she had submitted her application, Gwen's Magitech ‘Quest’ remained unresolved.

Her request was for an Enchanter with expertise on Data Slates to meet with her and discuss the possibility of additional glyph functions. The meet and greet itself would award 10 CCs, with an extra 20 - 40 CCs for each ‘function’ the Enchanter implemented.

“It’s a strange request, so please be patient,” the doubtful clerk informed the infamous Worm Handler. “Assuming no one takes the Quest. Your deposit of 30 CCs will be refunded after ten weeks.”

The deposit was a nice touch, Gwen had to admit. Quests rewarding CCs made by private entities must provide 50% of the payout as a deposit. Should the requester fail to pay the contractor, the Tower will award the deposit to the contractor, then penalise the offender.

When she returned to the glass interior of her office, she caught sight of her three employees each at their private stations.

Dai sat aimlessly with one leg across his knee, hiding behind a pile of paperwork, tossing a ball of Water to and fro, watching it turn into different forms as it reached the zenith of each arc.

Across the table, Ken was earnestly making a futile attempt at the accounting homework Gwen had set the man, struggling to balance the accounts send in by Patriarch Fung’s Construction Golem Division. The difficulty lied in that someone had stolen about 300 HDMs worth of crystalline fuel and had written it off on overtime while simultaneously another manager was underpaying the NoM operators. When Gwen went through the report herself a day earlier, she had spotted the missing fuel pushed onto maintenance, while the schedules of at least a dozen NoM operators was fudged as 'human error'.

But at least Ken was trying.

On the farther side of the open office, her P.A seemed to have taken to work like a Mermaid to water. Ruì's table, intentionally designed by Gwen to be larger than her Mage companions and curved to resemble a kidney, had neatly stacked paperwork in the manner Gwen preferred - ‘To Do,’ ‘In Progress,’ and ‘Ready for Submission’.

“Ruì,” she greeted her P.A first and foremost before turning her attention to the others. “Good work, where did you get up to?”

“Almost done with the East Quadrant Warehouse Expense account, Ma’am,” Ruì answered reverently. What Gwen had taught her over the last few days would have made Professor Ma blush for shame. The manner in which her absurdly young teacher had split the accounts into Cash Accounting for their smaller operations and Accrual Accounting for Tonglv’s construction was ingenious. Now equipped with the ability to report revenue and expense on a quarterly-basis, Ruì could generate periodic tax liabilities the Canal owed the state. The smaller, for-profit operations could then offset their tax against the construction project, whose taxes were offloaded to the District Governor’s office for reimbursement by the CCP’s Central Economic Bureau. This way, the profitable operation paid less tax, while Governor Fung could keep a finger on the pulse of the project's budget. “I can’t believe we’re making crystals through accounting!”

“Ha, saving on taxes IS no different to generating profit,” Gwen praised her P.A. “Any Messages for me?”

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“Yes, Ma’am.” Ruì pulled out a data slate from under her table. “Professor Ma says that everything is proceeding smoothly with Secretary Fung and the others in Nantong and they should be operational starting next year. He had some questions which he will deliver to you via data slates. You’ve also got a Message from the House of M, requesting a time slot for later in the week. Also, someone called Tao Wang Messaged in, saying he had free tickets for a ‘show’; that’s all I have for today.”

“Very good, Ruì. Good work,” Gwen golf-clapped. She then turned to the young men sweating at their desks. “Message Tao and thank him, but tell him I am busy. Ken, Dai? Got some good news for me?”

Ken sat sweltering in his ergonomic chair.

“I’ll need another hour, er… make that two hours.”

"That's fine, Ken. Keep it up. Dai?”

Dai blinked at Gwen, his face full of irritation.

“What was I supposed to do again?”

Gwen pointed to the paperwork.

“You can’t be serious…”

“You didn’t do it?”

“Ruì can do it.” Dai waved at the NoM girl. “Ruì! Can do you this for me later?”

“Yessir,” Ruì answered demurely.

“See?” Dai smirked.

Gwen grinned back, flashing her teeth.

The temperature in the already glyph-cooled room lowered. Dai felt every hair on his neck stand to attention. Carefully, he dispelled his water-ball.

“Ruì, Ken, leave us.”

Ruì ran for the door, joined by Ken, who was more than happy to get away from the accounts unbalancing his sanity.

“Dai Fung!” Gwen stalked toward their power-progeny heavily. She couldn't believe that after all that 'pep' she had to go through, the man remained as useless as a log. “Explain yourself.”

"What's there to explain?"

"Why aren't you doing your assigned work?"

"I am beyond this bullshit, give me something better to do."

"How the hell are you supposed to manage Ruì or your future aides if you have no idea what they're showing you?! How useless do you hope to be? What did you promise me?"

Dai’s face changed from smugness to one of indignant ire. He had given the girl more space than he had given anyone in his twenty-two years of existence, yet still, she shamelessly stood on his toes.

“Cao! Who do you think you are, speaking to me like this?” Dai cracked his neck, standing over her.

"Dai, do you want me to call your father right now?" Gwen didn't bother with the invitation to dance, choosing instead to go straight for the gonads.

Dai's complexion reddened. The girl had gone too far. He had thought the minx fun and beautiful and lively, but now she'd upgraded from standing on his toes to walking over his face. The audacity of the woman! Give her three colours, and she would open a paint factory!

He raised a hand as if to slap her, expecting her to flinch or at least take back her threat.

Who does this biaozi think she is? She's just a girl, a dual-elementalist, a Void Mage, a soon to be Magus, someone who duelled Wonsoo Liu to the hospital-

WOCAO! Dai's passion cooled, his logic coming to an unfortunate realisation. Gwen could kick the shit out of him without breaking a sweat! Subtlely lowering his hand to scratch his nose, Dai nervously looked away, then glanced back to see if Gwen had gotten upset.

Instead, his unrequited amour cooly stepped away.

“Hello? Fung Group Office? This is Gwen Song, connect me to Patriarch Fung, please. It’s urgent.”

“Tamade!” Dai's hand was moving with a mind of its own. “Water Missile!”

A blast of water shot through the air and struck the girl squarely across her upper torso. Miraculously, the water did not injure his target but travelled up her blouse and her arm until it tore the Message Device, a thin gold bracelet, from her wrist, sending it clattering to the floor.

“What in Mao’s name do you think you’re doing?” Dai stood from his chair, his back drenched with cold sweat. Wocao! Wocao! Wocao! His mind raced a million miles a minute. What the fuck am I doing? Get father involved? Need it come to that? Was she so bad at taking a joke?

In front of him, Gwen wrung a handful of water from her hair. The jet-blast had avoided most of her clothes, but the resultant splash, though harmless, had caught her hair and her right shoulder.

“I should ask you the same question, what do you think you’re doing?”

Dai’s retort caught in his throat. He was in the wrong, but he could see her bra. Truth be told, he could see a hint of cleavage too. He tried to think.

Hmm, they're smaller than he thought.

“Erm… we should get the cleaners in,” Dai stammered after racking his brain for half a minute. “The water will ruin the floor.”

“Clean it up,” Gwen commanded, her eyes glowing with supernatural aggravation, setting her amber-green irises ablaze.

“That’s for the cleaners!” Dai insisted stubbornly, his eyes wide and staring, unable to tear himself from the unexpected titillation.

"!"

Gwen crossed the floor in an instant, faster than Dai could blink. She caught Dai's collar before he could decide whether summoning his Spirit to defend him was a better or worse course of action. Pulling his face within an inch of her demanding gaze, she cranked her Dragon-fear to eleven.

“Suiqi, clean it up!” Dai croaked.

An aquamarine salamander, its body entirely transparent, slithered from Dai’s pant leg to lap up the water he had spilt, leaving not a single drop.

“Do you want to be here, Dai?” Gwen waited until the salamander dissipated before releasing the man’s tie. Her eyes softened, in Dai's eyes, the girl choked back a torrent of emotions threatening to spill. “Am I forcing you to be here? Are you my prisoner?”

Dai had fully expected Gwen to slap him or at least attack him with a Lighting Bolt. Instead, his whole body had gone numb with indescribable guilt.

“N-no… I want to be here.” A rush of blood hammered at his head, he couldn't think.

“Then am I not doing enough?” Gwen demanded of Dai. “Have I not done enough for you?”

Dai’s eyes told her 'yes', but his lips were forming a 'no'. A few inches from the man, Gwen recognised the stubbornness. Dai wasn’t just a regular idiot; he was a narcissistic, megalomaniac idiot.

“I made a deal with your Father, Dai.” Gwen moved her hands to his shoulders. With her grip strength, the man couldn't escape without touching her, which she knew he dared not to do. “I told him I would take care of you, make you into someone useful for our operation. Instead, you loaf about all day, moping about this and that, playing the loser.”

“How dare-”

A single glare from Gwen was enough to silence him.

Gwen sighed. As a man, a companion, or a co-worker, Dai was a failure. She would put him to his proper use, harness Dai's out of control testosterone. If she left him as he is, he was a liability for when she went away on the IIUC.

"Have you calmed down?"

Dai nodded.

“Then listen to me, Dai Fung,” she spoke slowly and meticulous. “My dearest wish is for you to be standing atop the Fung Group, leading your company, lording over your Clan, being you, standing beside Vice-Chairman Tu, Magister Chen and Patriarch Fung. That was my intent when your father pleaded for your position. A condition I agreed to because I was very much full of hope for your ascension. Wow, Dai Fung, I told myself, what a catch. He must be an incredible guy…”

Dai stared at Gwen with his mouth half open, flabbergasted by her sudden tenderness.

“… So I come out here, working my ass off; for myself of course, but also you. I got you to rent the office for me so you could show your father that you can do it, show him that you're competent. Else I could have asked the Wangs. Look around. We built this place, Dai, and it looks amazing - don’t you think it looks amazing?”

“Y-yes,” Dai confessed, his voice croaking.

"I jog at 6 AM - did you know I start my day at 5 AM? I get up at 4 AM, Dai, and I think to myself. I better train my ass off, because I need to be at the office, consulting, whipping you and Ken and Ruì into shape, answering mail, writing reports, drafting proposals. But I don’t gripe about it, okay, Dai? I don’t bitch about it. I go home at 6 PM, and you know what I do? I have supper, and then I train again. Training for the IIUC, Dai. No rest for the wicked. But why? Well, you know why. I took time out of my training to make sure that you have an easier time. But I don’t brag about it, how come? Why go to all the trouble?"

"..." Dai's lips parted. "I don't know."

"Because I want to do it - because I believe in you - because you’re worth it. Okay?” Gwen revved her Almudj's Essence like a chainsaw.

“Okay,” Dai muttered, mesmerised by her oratory, paralysed by her Dragon-fear.

“So help me, Dai.” Gwen welcomed the climax of her speech. She could hardly contain her excitement. Who’d thought one of her favourite in-flight films would be so damn useful? Even parroting the line, she shivered with motivational energy.

“So help me - help you. Dai. Help me, help you.”

Dai nodded.

The two stood in awkward silence.
Fuck, Gwen forced her face to remain impassive. Was it too much? The kid better not be too thick-skulled to take it all in.

“I am sorry,” her opponent suddenly exhaled, his eyes grew moist. “That’s the most touching thing anyone has ever said to me. I love you.”

Not the reaction I was looking for, but good enough. Gwen relaxed: if anything, she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. What’s with these assholes who don’t appreciate their parents. What about your father, Dai? Didn't he send you to me to make crystals and gain reputation? If she had a father like Dai’s, she would have been ten times the man Dai was right now. Hell, she'd probably be the right-hand woman to Secretary-General Miao.

“Thank you, Da-”

‘Ding!’

Her Message device chimed from the floor.

“It’s your father.” Gwen glanced at the pale young man before picking up her device.

Dai bowed.
For the first time in his life, he bowed wholeheartedly to someone who wasn't his father.

Patriarch Fung had called to ask why she had hung up. Gwen apologised and told him she had another incoming call, and that the matter was regarding Dai and if she could ask him to canvas Shanghai’s Fu-er-dai to find financiers for Tonglv’s second-stage expansion.

“If he’s up to it.” Patriarch Fung knew well his Son’s ability. From his dubious tone, the man doubted Gwen’s grandiose projection of Dai’s competence.

“I have full confidence in his abilities.” Gwen flashed Dai with a smile that showed off her pearly whites.

“Hee, you're too generous.” Unlike Dai, Patriarch Fung wasn’t a man so easily taken in. “Good work bringing in Ma, by the way. It puts me at ease knowing he’s watching over Tu and Chen.”

The same to you, Gwen stifled a snigger.

“Anyway, keep me updated. If Dai acts up, tell him, I'll skin him alive.”

Shen Fung terminated the Message.

Gwen was once again alone in the room with the Patriarch's darling son.

Just as she was wondering how else she could bend the young princeling to her will, Dai bowed again, a full ninety-degree show of subservience.

“I’ll do it,” Dai announced, his eyes fervent. “Just tell me what to do.”

Gwen’s eyes moved toward the paperwork.

Dai’s profile grew rigid.
It wasn't that he didn't want to do it, but that he essentially couldn't do it. Was it his fault that he had spent three years in Jianqiao duelling, drinking, whoring and partying? It's not like securing guan-xi and hooking up with the nouvelle riche taught him how to balance and audit financial statements.

“I won’t ask you to do that anymore, at least not until you ease into it.” Gwen threw him a carrot. “How about instead, you do something that'll benefit the both of us, and carry out your father’s plans?”

Dai’s expression grew hopeful.

“With Professor Ma now overseeing external Audits, we can afford a more rapid expansion,” Gwen stated. What she meant, of course, was that Tonglv was now a big old slab of braised pork dripping with fat, with every Secretary and his dog wanting a slice. “You, my friend, are going to do what you do best. Did you hear what I told your father? You can do that much for me, right?”

“I’ll convince them!” Dai expressed eagerly.

There it is! Gwen breathed out. Dai was finally getting it.

“Ha, I am not sending you out there alone! Take this." Gwen snapped her fingers, producing an obsidian currency card made of a material so dark that it seemed to absorb light. “This an Orichalcum-Centurion Card.”

The card drifted through the air until it reached Dai’s hands.
The moment his fingers touched its surface, it lit up with two pictograms that read ‘Dai Fung’, followed by the pictogram Sigil for his Clan besides his name.

“It’s heavy…” Dai hefted the card. “Mao, this is real Orichalcum!”

“Of course it is.” Gwen snorted. “When you go out with your friends, make sure you present this card at each club and restaurant.”

“Why?”

“Because they're worth your time and interest. That card is a limited-edition item from the House of M. At any establishment owned or affiliated with the House of M; you will receive VIP personalised service: private rooms, discounts, limited stock, the works.”

Dai, of course, knew of the House of M. He was one of their most frequent customers, although, like most of the power-progeny, he was a VIP only in the sense of a fox borrowing the tiger’s terror.

“And at places not connected to the House of M?”

“You show the card anyway,” Gwen chuckled. “Remember, it’s called the M-Centurion Card. Or the Orichalcum-Card. There’s only a few like it in existence at this point. Don’t lose it.”

“Why am I doing this?” Though suspicious, Dai pocketed the card anyway. He was too curious not to try it out, not to mention the damned thing was Orichalcum!

“You don’t have to-” Gwen reached out a dainty white hand. "Give it back, I am sure Peaches..."

“I’ll do it!” Dai knew he was not committed to the girl's demands. Whatever Gwen's intent, he would have to pay his dues. It was the least he could do to show appreciation to the girl who thought of him so dearly.

Gwen glanced at the clock.
They’d been at this for too long. Ruì needed to go back to work.

“I am glad we see eye to eye, Dai.” Gwen softened her stance. “Now take that card, and...”

“And?” Dai asked eagerly.

“… don’t forget to pay the balance at the end of the month.”


December descended upon the pearl of Asia, accompanied by the coming of first-snow.

From the East China Sea, Shanghai resembled a giant snow-globe. Thanks to the city's Super-Massive Resonance Barrier, downy flakes of ice crystal became trapped within the dome, swirling and drifting, carried by invisible currents.

Yet, despite the growing frigidity, the figure of a girl, lithe and picturesque, jogged through Fudan's Gouding Road, heedless of the cold, steaming gently in her thermo-tights and runners. She was by now a well-known sight, for beside the girl was a menacing Mongolian Death Worm, while above her, invisible, floated a Kirin-marten.

Though she began her exercise in the dark, Gwen could see just as well whether at dawn or dusk, another boon gifted by the Essence exercise Ayxin had taught her.

As for the Dragon-kin, the woman had dominated Gwen's mind over the last week, especially when she grew hyper-conscious of the fact that her 'training-crutch', a Dragon-Scale regulating her Essence, belonged to the Dragon-Mage herself, plucked from her neck.

Along the way, Caliban wagged at an aunty who had risen early, preparing the charcoal for making grilled buns. In return, it received a stick of fried dough.

Gwen bowed her head, keeping her pace. The fact remained that she could neither contact uncle Jun nor Ayxin, nor did she have time to pursue the matter.

In the interceding weeks, Gwen had finally picked up a tuned version of Ice Storm, learned free of charge courtesy of Magus Young, her Evocation Lecturer, at the behest Dean Luo. At the same time, she began practising with Wall of Lightning, a spell well provisioned by the depth of her mana pool. Unfortunately, a Wall of Void, with its proportional expenditure of vitality and mana to length, height and length, proved itself to be a precarious and highly conditional contingency.

Additionally, she took flying lessons with a guest Instructor at Fudan, recommended by Jun. The Magus, Eric Dienhart, was said to be an Aerial Ace, retiring only when the psychological burden of the Front began to impact his mind.

When Gwen arrived at the lower campus training grounds, she was surprised to see Kitty, Mayuree’s guard from the Kunlun Clan, waiting for her.

“You’re the new student?!” Kitty’s expression couldn’t have been colder.

“Hi, Kitty!” Gwen cheerfully waved at her. “Haven’t seen you around for almost three months!”

“I’ve been training.” Kitty’s complexion was as white as snow, a testament to her growing affinity in Ice and Air. Gwen noticed that as she spoke, the girl drifted back and forth, as though a strong breeze might blow her away. “We should duel sometime.”

“Oh certainly.” Gwen grinned, wondering if Kitty had any idea about Caliban or Ariel, or her recent growth spurt. “Looking forward to it.”

Kitty escorted Gwen to their Instructor, a gruff old military type.
Like Instructor Chen, Gwen’s Creature Mage mentor, Wing Commander Dienhart was the type to put up a front of good cheer.

“You two know each other?” The man appeared surprised by Gwen's acquaintance with Kitty. “Here I’d thought Kit's a lone wolf.”

“We’re not friends.” Kitty was desperate to clear the confusion.

“We’re battle-buddies,” Gwen reminded Kitty that they had Quested together. "We're neighbours, even."

Kitty hissed.

“Never forsake your battle-buddy,” Dienhart chided Kitty for her immaturity. “Alright, let’s begin with some basic exercises. Gwen, show me everything you got.”

Gwen could scarcely believe her eyes and ears when the LRM Device pinged at dinner, revealing the caller to be Yue.

“OH MY GOD! YUE!” She squealed into the holographic Illusion, negligent of Richard and Petra's annoyance as they tried to finish their take out.

Yue's projection materialised head first, with Gwen holding her breath until her companion’s robust bosom joined the fray, authenticating her friend's identity.

“GWENNIE!”

"YUE-YUE~!"

The two girls studied each other with a frightening intensity.

Almost a year on since rescuing Yue from Sufina’s Grot, the Fire Mage appeared older and wiser, having acquired a tan and cut her hair shoulder-short. Interestingly, Gwen noted Yue wore a white-blue singlet in the shade of the Royal Australian Air Force, paired with matching cargos in camo.

“I’ve missed you so much!” Gwen gushed, finally catching her breath. “I’ve called Alesia a dozen time, but you were always away.”

“I know.” Yue’s voice was huskier than Gwen remembered, more mature. “Lots of Lizardmen drama on the Brisbane Line, so Alesia’s boys took me up north. It was supposed to be three weeks, but it ended up being a tour! Haha.”

Gwen's gaze drifted to the rank-Glyph Yue hung on a string between her bosoms.

“Yue! You got promoted! Evee was right!”

“That’s Cadet Warrant Officer Yue to you!” Her friend chuckled, snapping a crisp salute.

Gwen snapped back with one of her own.

“That’s a terrible salute!” Yue mocked Gwen's feeble attempt. “Whatchu been doing?"

“Oh~ projects. This and that. Trying to make ends meet, hee hee."

“Hmm, so I've heard. But, first things first, when are you coming back?”

"Ah..."

In all honesty, Yue's question caught Gwen flat-footed. With everything going on from Uncle Jun to Mayuree to the Fungs, she hadn't felt homesick in some time.

“...not for a long while,” Gwen replied with a measured voice, assuring Yue that she was indeed coming back when the time was ripe. “I’ve got the IIUC coming up, then three more semesters of University, and that’s assuming I pass my Magus exams. Did you know I am the subject of a dozen research papers?”

Yue snorted with laughter.

“You’re a student and a specimen? So you're engaged in self-study?”

“Well, you know what they say - 'If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.'"

"Umm... Gwen?"

Before Gwen could continue, Petra politely interrupted.

“I am going to bed,” her cousin informed them. She disliked skulking in the corner while Gwen conversed on the LRM Device.

“Woa, there's your hottie cousin again!” Yue wolf-whistled, waving to Petra.

Richard took the cue to walk into the LRM Device's field of view.

"Yes? You called."

"ARRRGH! Richard ya old dog!" Yue laughed out loud.

"Yue, good to see you. Doing well?"

“Better, I am doing good!" Yue replied. "Joining us?"

Richard shook his head.

"Naw, I am off to Nantong first thing in the morning. Don't talk too late. Petra and Gwen need their sleep as well."

"Nite, Richard."

"See ya."

"See you in a week or two." The man left.

With Richard gone, Gwen and Petra stood shoulder to shoulder.

“Are you the one dissecting Gwen?” Yue followed up with an inquiry of surprising abrasiveness. "What's she like on the operating table?"

Petra and Gwen exchanged glances. Gwen recalled that she had indeed bitched to Alesia about Wen, Petra's Master. The Scarlet Sorceress must have Chinese-whispered her displeasure, and now Yue was taking it out on Petra. Like Alesia, Yue was the type whose heart and mouth were interconnected, bypassing the brain.

“Yue!” Gwen Shielded Petra from view. She gave her cousin an apologetic wave. Petra declined, shaking her head, then left for her room. "Yue! That was very rude; Petra's been nothing but kind to me."

“Hey, a girl’s got a right to be curious."

The conversation stalled.

"So, you got a boyfriend yet?” Sensing Gwen's displeasure, Yue banked and barrel-rolled onto a safer topic.

“No, do you?”

“Nope. Nothing to fuck out there but seven-foot lizards. Did you know their dick’s got two knobs? It's like a Y-shape.”

Gwen gagged, trying to dispel Yue's vivid vision of reptilian phallus.

“That’s a crock!” Gwen shot back. For some unknown reason, she was reminded Ayxin, who could change gender at will. _Egh,_ Uncle Jun better watch his ass. “First of all, you’re out there with hundreds of Mages, all beautiful human beings, amongst whom I am sure there are at least a dozen have an active interest in shacking up with a well-endowed sorceress with many talents. Second of all, how do you know you won't like lizard dick? Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

“Puhahahaha!" Yue was beside herself.

“…” Gwen herself was surprised by how quickly she slid back into immaturity. Such was the terrifying power of Yue's foul-mouthed charisma that all the tension she had collated over the last few weeks dissolved at once. “Lizard-amour aside, tell me about the Saurian-Front. Give me some highlights,” she implored.

“You want stories of lizard dick? We wrangled some giant mother-fuckers, I’ll tell you that.”

“God.” Gwen stifled another round of laughter. “Be serious! So, how was it?”

“Well.” Yue tilted her head. “Let me tell you about this village we hit up in mid-November…”

Yue's descriptions lacked flare, but its simplicity was no less haunting than a well-told epic.

With Alesia in recuperation, the Scarlet Sorceress' Apprentice roved up and down the coast with Alesia’s old unit, kicking ass, completing Quests, and taking names. From week to week, she Purged new mining regions, defended coastal townships and hunted down particularly nasty magical creatures threatening the banana and mango plantations. The climax was when Yue dove into the canopied jungle in pursuit of a Saurian Priest that had sacrificed a sugar cane processing station's two-hundred strong staff.

“Oh yeah, check this out.” Yue pulled up her singlet.

“Woooa!” Gwen instinctively averted her eyes. The illusory projection was very much three-dimensional. When she gathered the courage to look again, her eyes meandered past the udder madness of Yue’s shameless bravado and instead focused on a strange discolouration marring Yue's upper body.

Upon closer inspection, Gwen realised she was looking at a patch of Yue's body that was pale and supple, sharply juxtaposed against the rest of her tanned and peeling dermis. If the effect had been reversed, Gwen would have thought Yue was suffering from a driver’s tan, but Yue's exhibition indicated the opposite.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Impressive as ever, are you showing off?” Gwen fought back a sinking suspicion, disarming her paranoia with humour. “I am not taking off my top, by the way.”

“Looks weird, right?” Yue chortled. She pointed at her right arm and breast. “How about that, huh, new arm and a new boob."

Gwen's next words choked before she could speak.

“Yep, lost the old pair.” Yue thankfully replaced her shirt, her tone inferring that she had suffered a stomach upset. “Let me tell ya; those lizards don’t fuck around. Got nabbed by one of their Champions in the canopy, jumped me from a tree. CHOMP! Cut through Taj's Shield, just like that. Had a bite-force like a fucking foundry-press. Fuck, it hurt like hell. Thankfully, Jonas had a Regeneration scroll on em. Still, had to stay back at the Brisbane Tower for rehab, took two weeks.”

“Jesus, Yue…”

Yue flexed her arm.

“Pretty interesting, yeah? Anyway, thought I’d let you know, always keep a Regeneration Scroll handy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks, Yue.”

“Anyway, I am sending you a souvenir. You should get it in a month or so.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“You’ll see. Call me when you get it,” Yue grinned, showing her teeth.

Gwen felt immediately suspicious.

“Alright, gotta go. Look forward to the package!”

Not one for sentimental goodbyes, Yue cut the Message link with a finality that Gwen could never manage herself. Not yet ready, Gwen found herself suddenly alone in the darkness of her living room, overlooking the vista of Fudan below, her mind's eye still thinking of Yue's creamy left lumbar juxtaposed against the rest of her tanned body.

She wondered at that moment, what life would have been like had she not gone with Guo’s men to Shanghai. Yue's adventures were like a parallel journey, the road not taken. Had she fought tooth and nail to return home, it would probably be herself, Yue and Richard, roving the east coast, building up their military credentials.

Gwen imagined a life without Petra, or Babulya, or uncle Jun or Tao and Mina and even Mayuree, Lulan and Kusu.

In hindsight, how could that be enough?

Split between paperwork and Spellcraft, mid-December came on in a wintery haze. Each morning, come wind, rain or snow, Gwen persisted in her early morning jog, her Draconic-constitution trivialising the extremity of weather.

Unlike her work, December saw the gradual shutdown of the university and its surrounding industry. With a diminished roster of staff and students, many of the eateries, cafes, and street stalls reduced their staff and opening hours.

Gwen’s office, in contrary to the local trend, had gotten busier. She picked up two more NoM staff members from James Ma, a young man called Terence Li, and a mousy quiet mathematician by the name of Effi Chen. Now at a full allotment of five employees plus Gwen, her work could be offloaded to subordinates. For day to day operations, Ruì remained in command, overseeing Dai and Ken, who managed dealings with their fellow Mages. As for paperwork, the lion’s share of accounting first went through Effi and Terence, then to Ruì, and finally to Gwen.

At Gwen’s behest, all of her NoM employees had access to simple, crystal operated Magitech such as Message Devices, Translation Ioun Stones, as well as other conveniences of life.

Dai meanwhile, had taken to his Centurion privileges like a fish to water. He roved the Bund day and night with his band of Guan-er-dai and Fu-er-dai friends, doing luncheons and throwing lavish banquets, sweet-talking them into buying the canal’s Stage 1 expansions, and for those who had missed out, a chance to invest in Stage 2.

The House of M, meanwhile, had quickly begun to grasp the quirks of a Centurion customer’s desires, acknowledging that men like Dai cared less about crystals and more about face. Simple occurrences such as a maître d` knowing one by name, a restaurant offering a free bottle of expensive wine as a gift, or segregating one from the mundane customers via exclusive seating, made all the difference. Naturally, every interaction began and ended with Dai presenting his Centurion membership.

When Gwen read the House of M’s reports on Dai’s spending and activities, she was pleased to find that a significant buzz had engendered among the upper-class gentry of Shanghai. When finally, in a conversation with Tao, the wannabe rapper mentioned that his father had enquired about the Centurion card, Gwen knew she was onto a good thing.

By late December, Gwen knew she needed a break to stretch out her brain.

Training indoors in a private sanctum and scribbling reports in an office was beginning to grate on her patience. If nothing else, her joints were growing mouldy.

She contacted Richard, who had by now returned to Nantong with Kusu and Lulan, then joined them for a week in the Yengchen coastal District, clearing out a particularly aggressive infestation of Mer-Gobs. She had invited Percy, but her brother was occupied by MSS Instructors fortifying his Abjuration and Evocation.

According to her grandfather, Percy’s new Abjuration talent was exceptional, potentially even exceeding Gwen’s acquired skills. He suspected that the boy had a natural talent for that particular School of Spellcraft and that their accidental trigger had brought out the boy's latent abilities.

At any rate, regardless of whether his talents were acquired or natural, Gwen was happy that Percy was filling the shoes of expectation the family had laid out for him. As for herself, her mastery over her hound spells was progressing nicely, not to mention she had finally purchased a Signature Spell previously deemed too dangerous to use without a Spirit - one with a hefty overhead of 80 CCs.

**Robinson’s All-Purpose Cloud Kill**
Conjuration (5)
Casting Time: 56 Major, 25 Minor Incantation
Range: Medium, LoS, AoE
Components: Somatic, Verbal, Component
Duration: Instant, Persistent.

_Since its initial inception during World War I, Meister Fritz Harber's original AoE has undergone significant revisions. The original invocation, utilising a catalyst of silver-salt activated with Positive Energy, generated a rapidly expanding 'cloud' with the means to disable low to mid-tier Undead. The spell’s current incarnation is the brainchild of British Meister Robert Robinson, whose work on the physiology of Demi-humans and Magical Creatures culminated in the spell's Signature variant. Without a catalyst, Cloud Kill generates an area of Elementally volatile discharge. When employing Earthen catalysts, the spell’s effervescent effects can be altered to produce light, corrosion, poison, or used to repel Undead._
 ** _This spell has a Class 2 Restriction and requires registration with a Tower._**

To test the effectiveness of Gwen's new acquisition, Richard, Lulan and Kusu, together with Gwen's deer-hounds, corralled some hundred odd slavering Mer-Gobs into a ditch Lulan had dug out with Shape Stone. Gwen then took the thirty second needed to conjure the massive tier 5 Area of Effect Conjuration, unleashing her new spell upon her gibbering test subjects.

Her first attempt discharged a cloud of electricity that succeeded in paralysing enemies stuck within its field of effect.

“How wonderful,” Gwen remarked. She was all for non-lethal alternatives.

After which, she began experimenting with catalyst-driven variants.

In all honesty, the curious sorceress wasn’t sure what she had expected: the spell was called 'Cloud Kill', it created a cloud of elemental discharge. Why should she be surprised when the addition of a chunk of Volcanic rock-salt modified her static-charged Conjuration to emit a 'cloud' of horrid green gas that 'killed'?

In all likelihood, it was because of the screeching. Unlike the usual mob of Gobs and Goblins, Mer-Gobs were semi-aquatic, breathing through their skin. When the gas descended upon the Mer-Gobs, melting their gills, it drove them into a self-destructive frenzy.

“Wocao!” Kusu shied away from the foul-smelling odour. For some reason, he was reminded of indoor pools; only the noxious fume was a thousand times more concentrated. “Can Ariel control that?”

Gwen shook her head. The advertising on the spell was misleading. She could control the static-cloud, but the will of the wind drove the gas. No wonder the damned thing required Tower registration and couldn’t be used within the city.

“Well, go on, try the other ones.” Richard was brimming with interest, urging her to prepare all the variants.

"I don't think I want to."

"Oh, come on." Richard nudged her. "You can't just leave the Gobs to choke like that."

"I want to see as well!" Lulan raised her hand. The spell was anything but fascinating to a sorceress long used to cleaving through flesh and bone.

Gwen gazed at the Goblin-filled pit. As usual, Richard's logic was sound; the Mer-Gobs had to die. Any longer and the buggers would suffer needlessly - that or tunnel through the pit’s bottom.

Convincing herself that it was for Spellcraft, she produced the other minerals they had procured from the Magic Ingredient shop on Gouding Road, then activated them one by one as quickly as she could, stopping only to record their effects.

A bar of Cinnabar produced a paralysing and suffocating silvery gas.

A block of Pyrite turned the cloud into a mustard-like acid.

"I think we should stop." Gwen had goosebumps riding her skin from her shins to her neck. "I'll finish them off with a Barbanginy Sphere."

"There's one more ingredient," Richard pointed out. "Come on. You need to know how the spell works. Don't just waste the CCs."

Her final catalyst was a lump of salt-like Apatite. Once injected into the spell, the resultant 'cloud' spontaneously ignited in the air into white-hot incandescence, raining molten motes of phosphor onto its Mer-Gob victims.

“Jesus, this Robinson must REALLY despise Magical Creatures,” Gwen observed the atrocity below, her jaws grim with second-hand memories from her old world. There was a finality about her other Evocation spells, whether Void Bolt to Ball Lightning, that bespoke of purpose. Robinson's Cloud Kill, in Gwen's eyes, was a spell designed to deliver suffering. “This fucking spell, it shouldn’t exist.”

"It's a blunt instrument." Richard patted her on the back. “The next time we have to crawl into a Mer-Gob Den only as wide as your shoulders, you’ll think otherwise. I might pick up the spell myself.”

“Richard!” she snapped, pointing at the scene below. “You can’t think this is an acceptable act, even in war. It's too dangerous!”

“Don’t be such a hypocrite!” Richard pushed back, catching her flatfooted, being accustomed to her cousin grinning and shrugging off her 'Gwenisms'. When she persisted in glaring at him, he gave her a quick flick on the forehead, to which she responded by punching him solidly in the arm. “Hey! Don't get pissy at me. The spell of the hand! Remember?! It wasn't my Master who said that!”

The retort struck her conscience like a physical blow.
'It's the spell of the heart that murders, not the spell of the hand,' her Master's wisdom rang in her head like it was yesterday. But hypocrite or otherwise, her heart refused to accept the scene below. There was a steepness to the murderous efficacy offered by Cloud Kill that only a student of human history understood in its totality.

She lowered her head.

Richard, Lulan, and Kusu stood to one side, measuring their soft-hearted, stubborn-willed leader with their eyes. In the pit below, the last Mer-gob thrashed and died, leaving nothing but the stink of sizzling fish to permeate the foetid air.

It took Lulan all but thirty-seconds to fill the mass-grave.

“Let’s go.” Gwen motioned for her party to move.

“Gonna need another pit,” Richard reminded her. “We got ten more kilometres to cover, and you haven’t finished investigating your spell yet.”

“Then we'll do it the usual way!” Gwen snarled. Hadn't she done enough? She tried out all the damn minerals!

“Yes.” Richard studied Lulan as he cleaned up, then turned to Gwen with an awkward grin. “But we haven’t seen the Void variant…”

After a break like that, Gwen decided she needed a break.

"Alright, everyone! Let's get ready for a big Christmas bash! Ham, sparkling wine, merriment and gifts for all!"

Her workers, regrettably, first froze, then regarded her with confusion, concern, and accusatory glances full of discomfort. From their expressions, she may as well have told them they were having a unicorn-themed lingerie party.

“I never figured you for a follower of King of the Jews.” Dai took great interest in the unexpected revelation, though Gwen could sense the apprehension in the man’s voice. “Does my father know about your allegiance? Not that I mind...”

Taken aback, Gwen looked to Ken for a second opinion, completely flabbergasted by the resistance she was receiving against an innocuous Xmas Party.

“Maybe it’s not my place to say this.” Ken coughed, averting her gaze. “But there's going to be of trouble if you openly worship the Magi of Nazareth.”

Her NoM workers were likewise intimidated.

“OKAY, HOLD IT!” Gwen commanded her workshop elves to cease their fantastic imaginations at once. “Minor Image!”

She conjured a glowing Christian Cross.

“What does this mean to you.”

“That’s the Christian Symbol for the Almighty.” Dai glanced at Ken. Beside his godless comrade, Ken Duan visibly shivered. “Come on, Gwen, you're not seriously going to hold a ritual in the office, are you? Can't you keep this sort of thing at home? Look, you're scaring Ruì.”

The NoMs backed away.

Gwen stopped herself from tearing a clump of hair out. She conjured, with great effort, a jolly fat man in red and white.

“Does _this_ mean anything to you?” she enquired hopefully.

The men and women under her care shook their heads in unison. What in Mao's name had brainwashed their boss? First, she wants to hold a ritual to honour the mortal birth of a Western God, and now she's showing them an image of a jolly Gweilo in red? Why did the man have a sack? What’s with the beard? Was he, perhaps, a high-priest serving the Christian God? The man certainly looked fat enough to be a high priest. The crimson on his clothes, could it perhaps, symbolise the blood sacrifice made by Christ as he sought to overthrow the old Theocracy? The fivesome collectively shivered; they had heard through snippets of propaganda, that Orthodox Christians consumed the body of their Lord and drank his blood. Was that why the high priest was so fat?

“Er… I have to go.” Ken reached the door. “Permission to return after New Years.”

“NO!” Gwen’s Dragon-fear froze her audience where they stood. More than anything she realised she had to clear up this misunderstanding. “I am not a disciple of the Christian God! Christmas is a...”

She replayed a flashback of last year's Christmas spent at Elvia’s mansion.
They had prayed, said grace, ate and drank, then Elvia had sung Silent Night, and they released candles.

But there was no Santa.
_Holy shit_ , Gwen baulked at the memory. There was no _Santa_. Thanks to Elvia's divine presence, she hadn't even noticed there were no reindeers, no baubles, and no Christmas tree! Her family had indeed had been celebrating the birth of Christ.

Her workers’ questioning eyes bored into her, demanding answers, wondering if they should report their employer to the MSS for unsanctioned worship of a foreign religion.

Gwen knew she had to do something to offset their concerns.

“As I was saying, Christmas is not a religious holiday in Australia. In Australia, we call it BOXING DAY.”

The workers regarded one another. Boxing day? What did pugilism have anything to do with it?

“Ah, I see why you’re wondering why we celebrate Boxing instead of Christmas in Australia.”

Her audience nodded.

“You know we have Kangaroos, right?”

Though none of her audience had seen a Kangaroo, they had a general idea of the deadly marsupial's prowess. The bestiary stated that the omnivorous mega-fauna could grow up to four meters in length, rove hundreds of kilometres across red-sanded deserts in search of food and water, and had a kick that could snap a man in half. Infamously, they also liked to box one another for dominance.

“See.” Gwen was pulling it out of her arse now, keeping her face as straight as can be. “To mimic the noble Kangaroo, we have a day of Duels. Hence, Boxing day…”

Ken raised his hand.

“Ma’am.” The man trembled. “I went to England for exchange. Boxing day is the non-religious holiday after Christmas originally for the common folk. The Box refers to the act of gift giving, typically in wrapped boxes…”

An awkward silence descended upon the open office, as thick as the December snow. Gwen wondered if she could open a portal into the Quasi-Elemental Plane of the Void and crawl into oblivion.

There was now only one way to prove her innocence.

“Thank you, Ken.” She cranked her dragon-fear until the Essence was hammering at her eyeballs. “There is to be no worship of anything! No one is taking a break! We’re staying open until the 30th!”


Magus Maymaruya visited Gwen’s office with the necklace she had uncovered from the Water Ghost’s den.

“An unusual curio.” The Magus presented the identified device. “The central Core distributes the creature’s mana to the lesser Cores, reducing the stress of operation.”

“So, can a Mage use it?” Gwen asked the quintessential question.

“Poorly - also, that’s the reason why I am here.” The Magus shifted in his seat. “This thing wasn’t made by a Water Ghost. They lack the means. The item was made by people - by us.”

Gwen arched both brows.

“May I suggest handing it to the relevant authorities, perhaps a Tower? Usually, Enchanters are very interested in those creating illicit Magical Items for the Demi-humans.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Gwen heeded the Magus' advice, glancing at the necklace.

“On the other hand, I wouldn’t overthink it.” Magus Maymaruya inclined his head. “Are you familiar with the work of the Grey Faction?”

To the Enchanter’s surprise, Gwen knew.

“Yes, well, boons like this could often be a means to unbalance the power structure of a Demi-human region. By giving items to one tribe or race, the Tower encourages competing tribes to war with old enemies for food, land, and other resources.”

“I see.” Gwen realised the Magus was suggesting the Rogue Enchanter might be the working of the Tower itself, or least a Faction within the Tower. “Let's not stir the pot unnecessarily.”

“Do not fret for the loss,” the Magus assured her. “The reward for such things are usually paid in CCs. About twenty to thirty would be my guess.”

Gwen’s regarded the orbs.
Currently, she had no shortage of CCs. Perhaps she could bolster Richard’s efforts? Call it an early Xmas gift. Surely her cousin would like that.

For the next few days, Gwen managed her long-distance contacts.

With Gunther, she delivered a full report on her current condition in Shanghai, everything from her Spell List to her economic exploits, illustrated via the Power-Point School of Illusion. Thoroughly impressed, Gunther asked if it was possible to apply some of the ideas to Australia, or at least Sydney.

“Our population and production won’t cut it.” Gwen shook her head. “When I am back in a few years, I’ll go over what we can do - not to mention to induct NoMs into our workforce; there need to be significant changes to our basic economic infrastructure.”

Not to mention, Gwen held her tongue for the time being. If Australia was anything like the land of her old world, there remained unfathomable volumes of resources waiting to be unearthed in the Wildlands. In her old world, by 2010s, the great Southern Land was the world's biggest producer of diamonds and opals, a bulk supplier of sapphire, ruby, emerald, garnet, topaz, and the single largest source of iron-ore in the world. Considering that precious stones formed in areas dense with elemental-crystals; she could only suppose that the same could be said of her current world.

“And what of your allies in China?”

“There’s nothing wrong with the methodology I am applying,” she explained. “Not accounting for avarice, nepotism, and inbuilt disregard for social good, of course. There’ll be tangible benefits for some time to come. But, as Master would say, all things conform to the natural rhythm of human greed. As for economics, it bubbles and bursts, ebbs and flows. If nothing else, I hope my friend Mayuree’s House of M will persevere.”

“Merchants without nations,” Gunther mulled Gwen’s earlier words. “An interesting philosophy.”

“Only in an interconnected world.” Gwen had already cut back on the vision her world had entertained since some five decades ago, but even so, Gunther had been sufficiently engrossed in her illustrated roadmap of Sydney’s future.

“I’ll look forward to it,” Gunther inspirited his sister-in-craft's ambitions. “On our other topic, the Imperial Divination Agency has tracked Sobel’s cabal to the South of Kazakhstan, on the Demi-human Steppes.”

That Elizabeth Sobel was alive came as no surprise to either Gwen or Gunther. A sorceress capable of hiding from the Tower’s best efforts for three decades would not lack the means to escape even the direst of catastrophes. When they had held an earlier conference regarding Sobel, Gunther pragmatically informed both Gwen and Alesia that the hunt for Sobel would be neither quick nor satisfactory, but a life-long pursuit involving dismantling her organisation, turning her backers and exposing Spectre’s sympathisers. Only then, finally starved of resources, support, mana and vitality, they would have her.

For some reason, Gwen thought of Henry's story, where they had cornered Elizabeth in Hungary, in a place devoid of people. But even then, she had escaped, or was it merely her Master's sentimentality that had forbade them from pursuing further?

“If you hear anything, or if you think someone’s after you, tell us immediately. Pudong will do its best to intervene.”

“What about our Ravenport problem?” Gwen reminded Gunther of her drama with a member of the British House of Lords.

“I’ve asked friends in the U.K to keep an eye him,” Gunther cautioned his sister-in-craft. “To be honest, the man has his hands full. Westminster’s paralysed from a pitched battle between the Conservative Tories and the socialist Labour Party. Magister Blair’s just declared that he'd resign before his fourth term, so the Priministership is up for grabs in three years...”

Gunther paused when he realised his China-bound junior was politically illiterate.

“… so don’t worry about Ravenport,” he concluded. “At least, not until you leave for your IIUC. Talk to me then.”

Gwen cocked her head.

"What do you mean? Am I going to be in London?"

“I am not saying you will,” Gunther explained. “The U.K universities dominate the top ranks of the IIUC. Oxford, Cambridge and the London Imperial Sorcerous College are all seeded. Assuming you manage to beat out the Universities from your region, your team will progress to the top 20 round. Whether for the Quests or the Duels, its very likely the competition will take place on their home turf.”

“WOA, I GET TO SEE ELVIA?!” Gwen blurted out, her mind suddenly flying to her golden companion. “In person? In Europe?!”

“And Ravenport himself, I’d wager.”

“But Elvia!” Gwen grinned foolishly. To think she'd be reunited with Elvia in just a year and all she had to do was plough through a few teams of elite Mages.

"The chance of Ravenport taking action..."

The Radiant Mage paused; he could see her attention was elsewhere.

The girl was in a world of her own, but in a way, Gwen’s indifferent composure was the right thing. Until their path crossed, there was little they could do against Ravenport, now or in the future. Even in the instance of Gunther's Centralist Faction allies taking meaningful action against House Ravenport, it would be for political gain. Without significant rewards, no one in their right mind would move against a deeply rooted member of the Conservative Faction.

“Don’t count your cockatrices yet,” he stifled the girl’s excitement. “Now, tell me again about this Dragon problem in Myăma…”

Gwen tried to contact Elvia before Christmas came upon them, only to be informed by the Dorm Matron that the girls had left for Lady Astor’s country manor. Elvia did leave her a Message, however, wishing Gwen well and telling her she would be contacted when the opportunity arose.

Dejected, Gwen returned to the slog.

On Christmas Eve, she returned home to find Richard and Petra setting up dinner.

"Richard! You're back!"

“Petra told me about what happened at your work,” Richard remarked with amusement. “China’s not big on religion. You should know that. Also, what’s this thing about putting St. Nicholas in a big red coat? How is it possible that at your age, you confused Jesus Christ with the Patron Saint of Children?”

Gwen groaned. Petra had already bemusedly explained to her that Pope Julius I had made the 25th of December a day to celebrate the birth of Christ.

When she demanded if there was a Santa, Richard chimed in with the expert knowledge that it wasn’t pronounced Santa Claus, but ‘Sinter Klaas’, or Dutch for ‘Saint Nick,’ corrupted by English speakers when the Protestants frowned upon the worship of Saints. Either way, gift giving was not associated with Christ, but rather with Saint Nick.

“Gwen went to a government school,” Richard explained to Petra. “They don’t have a religious curriculum there.”

“Ah~, I went to private girls academy,” Petra informed her cousin. “The Boarding School for Girls of the Ministry of Defense of Russia, we had mandatory religious education using sanctioned scriptures.”

“I’ve heard of your school.” Richard whistled. “The best girl’s academy in Moscow.”

“Prince’s is not bad either,” Petra's lips curled sensuously.

“Nothing of the sort!” Richard scoffed. “I was in a Frontier chapter, incomparable to the real thing in London. The very idea that at tier 5 Conjuration I was made House Praetor should give you an idea of how starved we were for talent.”

Bah! Gwen rolled her eyes. Private school kids. My school was next to the fish markets! It stank, and we ate fish and chips three days out of the week. On the weekend, homeless people slept on our oval.

Ultimately, it wasn’t as though China forbade the celebration of religious holidays. It was more so that its citizens, particularly the younger folk, were indoctrinated by the thought that devoting one’s life to an all-powerful being was antithetical to say, blind allegiance to Clan, House, Family, and the Mao Manifesto. It was no surprise, therefore, that her employees had been so alarmed. What she had done was no different to asking Coca-cola employees to engage in Pepsi Appreciation Day.

The dinner that Petra and Richard had laid out reflected that austerity. Her Xmas celebration was bereft of any sign that the jolly fat man of commercialised gift-giving existed in this world.

Nonetheless, fluted glasses clinked.

“To us!”
“To your jolly fat St Nicolas!”
“Merry Christmas!”

As agreed, the trio had forgone expensive gifts. Gwen bought for Richard a moderately priced quasi-magical cologne. While Richard had gotten her an Expatriates Guide to Living in China handbook; for Petra, Gwen brought French perfume, the closest thing she could find to Chanel No.5, while her cousin gave her a can of Huso-Huso caviar.

“From the old country.” Petra tapped the quasi-magical tin. “The taste of home.”

“Wait up.” Richard stopped her. “I thought the Beluga Sturgeon's gone from the Black Sea.”

“This is incredibly precious!” Gwen pushed the can back toward Petra. “We said nothing expensive, remember?”

“I had it since a long time ago,” Petra explained. “I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. I figured you could do with the vitality.”

“The roe can be kept alive for a century,” Richard salivated. “It’s the ultimate decadent delicacy.”

Gwen made a face.

“I’ll hold onto it,” she informed her cousins. “Maybe one day, we’ll share it for a special occasion.”

Richard had hoped they would eat it now, only to have his hopes dashed when Gwen packed it away.

“Oh yeah, I got this thing from Yue!” Gwen changed the subject. She produced a gift-box which she had received the day prior but waited until now to open. Stripping away the protective shipping packaging, she unwrapped a box, then another box, then a colourful assortment of paper wrapping to reveal a hair ornament.

“Oh wow.” She lifted the opal-coloured twig between her fingers, allowing the play of lights to shine through its semi-opaque interior. “I better call her back! It looks hella expensive!”

Two invitations plus a hopeful Dai presented themselves in front of Gwen.

‘The House of M cordially invites Miss Gwen Song…’

‘Wang Enterprises invites the esteemed Miss Song…’

“Gwen. Father wants to know if you can attend our New Years Dinner. Uncle Tu and Magister Chen are going to be there as well. I’ve invited Ruì, Ken and everyone else…”

In a time like this, Gwen wished she knew the legendary Illusion ‘Simulacrum’.

But in the end, she chose to accept the invitation from the Wangs, informing the others that she wished to spend time with her family, a universally acceptable alibi which absolved her of any accusations of favouritism or snobbery.

“Thanks for the offer Dai,” Gwen apologised to the Fung Heir. “Can you explain my circumstances to your father for me? I haven’t seen Mina, Tao or my Aunty Nen in weeks.”

“I will,” Dai was visibly disappointed by her choice.

“We see each other three days a week, Dai,” Gwen joked. “Aren't you sick of me by now?”

“How could I?” The young man grinned sheepishly. “We should see each other outside of work.”

“Date a teenager? You wouldn’t!”

“Oh... Hmm...” The Fung heir scanned his unrequited beloved from head to toe. Since their first meeting, Gwen had strung him by the nose with the air of an older woman. Through he was intellectually aware of Gwen’s age, Dai never gave much thought to the fact that they were five years apart.

What kind of optics would taking a seventeen-year-old girl to a New Years party bring, especially one who was your boss and could kick your ass?

“Have a happy New Year, Dai.”

She gave him the gift she had prepared.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

It was just a simple thing, a jar of potpourri she had made herself, although the vase was imported Venetian glass and the ingredients both rare and enchanted to uplift the user’s mood and attentiveness.

Before Dai could think of something profound to say, Gwen left to give the others their gifts.

“A trifle,” Gwen laughed amiably as Ken Duan likewise received her standard-issue potpourri.

But for the real heroes of her office suite, Gwen had prepared two gifts.

“Ruì,” Gwen summoned her P.A. “Here, this is for New Years, and the bonus is for your hard work.”

“Ma'am!” Ruì’s hands shook.

On her table was a card and a box.

The first was a currency card with 150 HDMs, a paltry sum for Gwen, but for Ruì, it was akin to three months of her salary.

The second was a special-order item Gwen had commissioned from Magus Maymaruya - a small Storage Ring useable by NoMs.

“Miss, I can’t!” Ruì’s hands shook. A Storage Ring was the mark of a Mage, only the servants of powerful families or the NoM attendants of prominent Secretaries were given customised Storage Rings.

“Nonsense!” Gwen slipped the device onto her right ring finger. “If it weren’t for your dedication this month, Dai and Ken would have failed already, right guys?”

“Absolutely!” Ken raised his hand. “Thank you, Miss Li!”

“We’re in your debt,” Dai added dishearteningly. There's was no skirting the fact that if not for Ruì’s help; he wouldn’t have been able to spot the discrepancies in the accounts Gwen had given him.

Gwen took the empty box and placed it in Ruì’s hand. The instructions were inside. Ruì left her seat, bowed deeply toward Gwen, then likewise toward her two co-workers.

“Keep up the good work.” Gwen patted the woman on the shoulders. “I’ll be counting on you next year as well.”

“Thank you for everything, Ma’am!” Ruì’s head remained low.

As for Effi and Terence, Gwen gave them each a ‘thank you’ card and a Minor Ioun Stone of Clarity sourced from the House of M for having followed her gruelling regime, after weeks of training under herself and Ruì, both of Ma’s hand-picked acolytes were proving to be worth their weight in crystals.

Finally, with the secular gift-giving completed, Gwen fared them well, wishing everyone a prosperous 2004.

Dinner at the Wangs was the right choice to make.

The gathering became an impromptu meeting of the young members of the House of Song. The location, as expected, was the Wang Group building just off Zhongshan Metro with the moniker of Dragon’s Dream, a massive complex with self-contained apartments, office blocks and a six-storey shopping mall choked to the brim with restaurants and shops.

After delivering their greetings and performing bows, Gwen, Tao, Mina, Petra, Richard and Percy retreated to a private level of their own, to a shabu-shabu restaurant owned by the Wang Group. With alcohol freely flowing and a display of Wildland meats free for the taking, Gwen thoroughly enjoyed herself.

“Sis, I want you to know I super appreciate our Nantong trip.” Percy raised a glass to toast. “Really gave me a confidence injection.”

“Oh-ho?” Gwen slammed down a shot of Mao-tai. Tao was shouting, after all, the Patriarch shouldn’t mind a few hundred HDMs, she hoped.

Percy’s face flushed with optimism.

“After I got back, I tried out and got short-listed for the junior Duelling team! Once training starts in January, I’ll know if they’ll include me as a starting or backup member!”

“How wonderful! Drink!” She sipped another mouthful of the vital liquid, feeling warm and fuzzy as the triple-distilled alcohol infused with her Essence. Beside her, Ariel was chewing on an enormous bone-nub she had fished from the hotpot soup, while below the table, Caliban ate up table scraps. Not far from her two Familiars, Lea the Undine likewise sat as though a member of her human party, although other than the mana-rich alcohol, she couldn’t consume anything else. "Did you have to duel many people?"

“Hell yeah! You should have seen it, Sis, I kicked ass…”

Inspired by a cup of Mao-tai, Percy related to her a slurred account of his participation in the school tryouts. At first, the boy was nervous and afraid, but after facing the Water Ghosts in Nantong, he realised there was nothing to fear from his fellow Mages, especially when sparring. As such, using his rudimentary Abjuration to create a defensive bulwark, Percy managed to defeat his first opponent by wearing them down, and then a second opponent by immobilising them with his salt shards. After that, the extended use of Salt exhausted him, and he had to request a pause to the duel. His performance, however, caught the eye of the Duelling team captain, a genius-level Mineral Abjurer with a Secondary-School in Transmutation called Kelvin Ma.

“Captain Ma might even give you a run for your money, Sis,” Percy challenged his sister, his boyish face red with passionate worship. “He can duel our No.2 and No.3 at the same time! I’ve never seen someone as good at Melee Magic as Senior Ma, not even Lulan!”

Gwen looked at her companions, who all shrugged.

Richard didn’t know the local celebrities. Petra didn’t care.
Tao wouldn’t know if he tried, and Mina wasn’t interested in kids.

“That sounds wonderful,” Gwen assured her brother. “Maybe we’ll find out one day if Lulan’s better or this Ma of yours.”

Of course, the alcohol-infused Percy continued to speak at a hundred words a minute, an endless torrent spewing forth without end.

When the time was ripe, Gwen retrieved from her Ring a dark, obsidian box and passed it over toward Mina.

“What’s this?” her cousin asked.

“I need a favour,” Gwen leaned in conspiratorially. “Give this a whirl and see how you like it. Most importantly, see how your friends like seeing you using it.”

Mina picked up the container. She recognised the embossed M from the House of M atop the scented and sealed package. It was thin, but also dense, about the weight of a book.

The package opened with a suction sound.

“!”

Mina’s eyes widened as her name flashed across the card’s light-absorbing surface.

“Gwen!” Her cousin whispered loudly, the sorghum amplifying her volume. “Is this the Orichalcum Card?! Daddy's been asking about this!”

Tao's eyes glowed beside them.

"Uncle Bao's already famous and influential, so I'd be infringing on his time and generosity," Gwen explained. "But, for you and I, we both have something to gain..."

Friday, 2nd of January, Gwen returned to the office to find two of her staff absent.

“What happened to Dai and Ken?” Gwen demanded from her P.A.

“Ken’s recovering from drinking too much at Dai’s party,” Ruì informed her.

“And Dai?”

“Mr Fung has being detained by his father.”

“Oh? For what reason?”

“For logging a total of 3,350 HDMs on his expense account.”

“Ouch,” Gwen winced. The total outgoing for the Office so far was 480 HDMs for the outfitting, courtesy of Patriarch Wang, and their total monthly wage, excluding Gwen, was 500 HDMs a month split between three NoM Secretaries, Dai and Ken. “Dai sure knows how to have a good time.”

“It's not the amount," Ruì explained, snickering. Gwen was happy to see that she had grown comfortable talking about her Mage colleagues. "Mr Fung forgot to pay the balance before the year’s end as well, and has incurred a 17% interest on all purchases.”

“…” Gwen exhaled. You can lead a Dai to water, but you can’t make him pay his credit card bill on time.

January passed in a daze.

With university yet to be in session, Gwen continued to refine her Spellcraft, sparring with her cousins, receiving visits from the occasional lecturer, and one time, had impromptu tea with Dean Luo and Ellen on the balcony of Fudan's Zibinyuan.

Two events of note punctuated early January. One was that Gwen received a Message from her uncle Jun, stating that he would return to be with the family on Chinese New Years. Of course, Gwen ecstatically responded she'd be there, or be square.

The second was her catch-up with Elvia. During their two-hour long conversation Gwen's erstwhile angelic companion gushed and cooed that upon receiving her provisional practice-licence, she would be assigned a Knight-Protector for Quests outside of London’s domain. Though Elvia was young and inexperienced, Lady Astor had earmarked the Spirit-Healer for great things.

Gwen's response was one of ambivalence. The idea that some man was going to follow Elvia around the countryside, inches away from her dear Evee at all times, left a bad taste in her mouth.

“Can a woman be a Knight-Protector?” Gwen insisted across the LRM Device.

“The rank of a Knight-Protector is ‘Knight Brother’ of The Most Distinguished Order of St Michael and St George, so…”

Gwen groaned in despair; even the title sounds cool as fuck.

To offset her growing anxiety, she informed Elvia that potentially; there may be an early visit to England on the horizon, assuming the IIUC goes well.

“Ooo! Gwennie!” Elvia squealed, her smiling face filling Gwen with happiness. “That’s amazing! I’ll ask Matron Maxwell and Lady Astor about the November IIUC as well. I am positive our school provides healers to the competing teams! Imagine if we could meet up!”

“No need to imagine! I’ll be there!” Gwen ground her teeth with such determination that the impact jarred her jaw. She had never felt such motivation to run to the Training Hall and summon all her hounds at once. Her Evocation was edging close to tier 5, and Gwen was keen to pick up Bilby’s Hand and Cone of Cold before May. If by August she could make inroads into the mid-tier 5 Evocation, it was entirely possible to learn the most crucial spell of the Lightning Mage’s repertoire - the tier 6 Chain Lightning.

Tier 6 Affinity Barbanginy Chain Lightining? As Peaches would say, you Mother-fuckers better watch out!

"Wait for me, Evee!" Gwen gushed. "I shall not pause until I bestride the green hills of Avalon!"

Curiously, work at the Office began to die down around mid-January.

When Gwen consulted Richard's Expat Guide and her workers, they informed her that all work on Tonglv would be suspended between 17th of Jan to the end of the Golden Week on the 29th, with the labourers and the Mages gradually returning until the 5th of February which was the Lantern Festival.

With book in hand, her orientation of Chinese holidays clicked into place. For her host nation, the real ‘end of year’ party was on the 22nd of Jan, the Lunar New Year of the Wood Monkey.

Supposedly, according to Ruì, the whole calendar wasn’t so much as based on the lunar cycle but the year of the inauguration of the Yellow Emperor, marking 2004 as the 4702nd year of Han dominion. Chinese 'Fengshui' Divination, it seemed to Gwen, was entirely divorced from the Eurocentric variation of Augury sourced from the Greco-Hellenic Dynasties, far too cryptic for a westerner to understand.

“This year is very auspicious for business, Ma'am,” Ruì explained to her bemused boss. “2004 is the beginning of metal-cycle, meaning an abundance of gold, precious stones and crystals. Therefore the financial business will boom. You are a Lightning Mage, correct? According to the Analects, it means you will get along with people who are related to Water and find conflict with those who are Wood. Also, when do you wish to close the office?”

“What’s your opinion, Ruì?”

“The 17th is a Saturday, Ma’am,” her P.A advised. “The problem with Golden Week is that manufacturing also takes the week off, meaning there’s a break in the supply chain. We won't be receiving reports starting from the 16th.”

“Then 17th it is. No point in working when construction's halted.”

“Agreed, Ma’am. I imagine all the migrant workers will be going back to their Districts to visit family and relatives. I'll probably request to travel to Canton to visit my family as well.”

“Well then.” Gwen wondered what she’d be up to in the interim of the Golden Week. “Let’s set that down tentatively, and I’ll speak to the others.”

January 21, 2004.

Chinese New Years Eve.

As was the tradition from Harbin, the Chinese Frontier west of Vladivostok, Klavdiya’s end of the year get-together involved the whole family gathered around an enormous table, jointly knitting hand-made dumplings.

Gwen arrived early, looking a treat in her hybrid blue-silk cheongsam, the very first dress that her babulya had given her. She had taken extra care with her hair as well, piling her long strands into a thick swirly bun before striking Yue’s opalescent ornament through the middle, affecting a distinct oriental look that turned heads wherever she went.

She spent the morning and noon speaking and listening to Guo and her babulya, teasing Percy whenever she got the chance.
By the late afternoon, the rest of the family had arrived.

Once the DIY dumpling banquet began, the youngsters were all pushed to one side, consisting of herself, Petra, Tao, Percy and Mina. Knowing that Kusu and Lulan would be spending their New Years alone, Gwen had invited the siblings as well, but Kusu insisted that he and Lulan would spend the Chinese new year together as a testament to their new independence.

On the other side was Tao’s father, Bao Wang, his mother Nen, her father Hai and his wife Qīn, her Uncle Jun.

Gwen had imagined Qīn's presence would have made everyone antsy as anything, but as it turned out, her family was out of shit to give.

The reason being Ayxin came as well.

Which, Gwen realised, explained why there were two CCP-Tower Magisters eating noodles in the courtyard, chewing the fat with Guo.

Currently, her babulya was trying to teach the dragon-princess how to make jiaozi-dumplings.

Draconic-dumplings.

Initially, the dumplings had chive-and-pork or mushroom-chicken-bamboo as filling, but the Magisters who had arrived informed the Songs that it was an insult to the Dragon-princess to provide for her such mundane, mortal fare.

When Guo bullishly asked his colleagues what the Dragon-kin had in mind, Ayxin outright murdered the old man by exploding his old heart.

First, she tilted her head, then with the utmost respect one of her race could afford a mortal being, she presented to Gwen's grandparents a gold-foiled New Year's gift-box.

“This is for the family, Father,” Ayxin announced, her voice the softness of gentle water. “It has properties that will improve yours and mother’s health.”

Guo's face moved through multiple shades of colour at once. The 'F-word' ripping out his tongue and nailing it to the wall. Babulya blinked her big eyes innocently as Jun performed a double facepalm.

Ayxin then opened the box.

Were it not for the quick actions of babulya calming his nerves, Guo would have spat a mouth full of tea in Ayxin’s face.

What was inside was a white-jade slab of perfectly preserved flesh, and what looked to Gwen like a Mandrake root.

“This is the rump from one of Ryxi’s prized dragon-boars.”

Just the vitality radiating from the damn thing was having Gwen salivate uncontrollably. She could eat the damn thing raw.

“And this is for yourself, esteemed mother and father. It’s a Ginseng Spirit, millennia old, from my father’s herb garden.”

The two Tower Magisters gazed at Guo, wondering if they had heard the word ‘Spirit’ wrong.

That was when the ginseng root tried to make a break for it.

“Pok!” Ayxin commanded in her draconic-tongue. Half the assembly froze. She picked up the mischievous ginseng root, then tore off one of its limbs.

The ginseng let loose a silent scream, possessing no mouth to communicate its agony.

Ayxin then materialised an urn of rice liqueur, then dumped the crushed limb into the amber liquid.

“The Ginseng is best when drowned in this Song Dynasty rice wine.”

Guo wanted to refuse, but the whole family, babulya included, was wiggling their brows at him. Stricken by the immense pressure of public scrutiny and peer-pressure, Guo relented to being bribed for the first time in his life.

“Please accept it, Father,” Jun urged from the side. “I’ve already dissuaded her from bringing gifts that are too outrageous.”

The two CCP Tower Magisters' eyes watered as Guo gave his thanks, wishing Ayxin well in the coming year. Millennia-Old ginseng with a developed sentience? Dragon-brewed rice wine? The flesh of a draconic-creature used to make dumplings?

Was their old friend cultivating a path to immortality?

“Magister Cho, Magister Xiang, if it too much to ask that you join us for New Year’s dumplings?” Guo requested of his two old compatriots, seeing their wistful faces.

Cho and Xiang almost burst into tears. Guo was a true comrade, his socialist manifesto without question.

Spending Golden Week away from their family guarding a Dragon Demi-God was already hard enough on their old bones. If they had to eat buckwheat noodles outside the door while their friend feasted on the food of the Gods, they would lose faith in Mao himself.

“We’re going to need to mince that somehow…” Gwen’s babulya examined the slab of draconic-boar meat, moving in onto a chopping board. “Shall I ask if any of the barrack’s chefs know how to prepare magical ingredients?”

“No need,” Ayxin glared at the slab harshly. There was a gentle breeze; then the meat fell apart into tiny diced cubes smaller than Gwen’s fingernails.

“Now to season it.” Gwen’s babulya didn’t miss a single beat. A collection of Wildland grown garlic, shallots and generous serves of chives cleared her Storage Ring and into the mince. “Nen, start kneading out the dough. Qīn, Gwen, Petra, Mina... Ayxin. Start with egg and chive pockets while I ready the filling.”

The women cleared some space around Axyin, though Gwen didn't care and sat right next to the Dragon-kin.

After Nen cut the dough, they got to work.

Ayxin picked up a piece of dough, feeling the texture of the soft and stretchy flour.

How many centuries had it been since she ate dumplings? Her draconic-memory recalled a temple, or what looked like one to the young Ayxin, with her aunt and her sisters on their knees, head bowed, presenting a stone cold dumpling in a golden bowl after it had been tested for poison.

"You hold the edge like this, and then you flip the corner, kneading with your index and thumbs..."

Luckily, it didn’t take her long to learn. As a Dragon-kin with perfect control over her body, she was soon producing more dumplings than all the other girls put together.

As for Gwen, she couldn't make a jiaozi if her life depended on it. All of her dumplings looked as though conjured from dark space, each one of her creations was a 'thousand young' spawned by Shub-jiaozi-Niggurath.

Soon, the first dumplings arrived. When cooking, the Song family chef, an ex-army cook, almost kicked over the pot when the steam took on strange, draconic shapes.

"Gānbēi!"
"Gānbēi!"
"Hao!"
"Happy New Year!"
"Prosperity and fortune!"

Ayxin bit into a dumpling, her mouth filling with the fatty soup of juices from Ryxi’s painstakingly reared beast. It was delicious and nostalgic, so much so that she closed her eyes to savour the taste and texture.

“Ergh! Sooooo good! The sou- ARRGH my dress!”

Ayxin’s nostalgia was rudely interrupted by Jun’s niece and her indelicate, hyperbolic utterances. Were it not for Jun’s questionable paternal devotion to the girl, Ayxin would have cautioned Gwen with a power-word to teach her some manners. To have so little regard for her betters, especially in a sacred time like the change of one elemental cycle to the next, was blasphemy.

Back in the Palace, every twelve-year cycle, Ayxin, Ryxi, Golos and their mightiest sibling, Ruxin, would present their gifts to Father. For the entirety of the ceremonious occasion, the siblings, as well as the Yinglong’s lesser subjects, would sit in silence, not daring to breathe or achoo, waiting on their Lord to conclude his meal.

She looked toward Gwen, whose form she had once taken, and saw the girl shoving dumpling after dumpling into her maw. For some reason, Ayxin saw Golos' gluttonous face. For some reason, she felt homesick.

That was when she noticed the pronged ornament sticking from Gwen's piled hair.

The Dragon-kin's eyes narrowed, she focused her pupils for a closer inspection. There was something disturbingly familiar about the shape of it, the way its tapered end split into two elegant, coral-like extensions.

Half-way through chewing a dumpling, the realisation hit her.

“PufFFT!”

A mouthful of boar-juice showered Jun, who was turning to ask what held her attention so intently. Ayxin's complexion glowed a vivid scarlet as her desired mate wiped tender bits of pork from his eyebrows.

“Enjoying yourself?” the Ash Mage intoned carefully.

“Your niece, Gwen…” Ayxin wanted to apologise, but Dragons don’t apologise or yield- especially not when faced with such an absurd sight. “She’s wearing…”

“Oh?” Jun looked toward Gwen, who was now staring at them, holding back laughter at her uncle's ridiculous face. “She’s adorable tonight, isn’t she?”

Ayxin wondered if she should explain, but looking at Gwen, she just felt so tired.

“It’s nothing.” The Dragon-kin returned to her meal, though all her appetite was gone. “Here, let me clean that up for you.”

Beside them, the 'adorable' niece burned with oppression as Ayxin took a priceless moon-moth silk hankerchief to her Uncle’s face.

What a peculiar child. Ayxin pondered bemusedly. Why would anyone stick an enormous baculum inside their hair? Sometimes, there was no explaining what humans did in the name of fashion.