Serideth ducked low, but not low enough as Nabonidus clocked her upside the head with one end of his dual-tetsubo. A light hit for most, but enough to turn her noggin into red mist. Relarina went high, in a relative sense, since the shortest of ogres easily tower over the largest of elves, and neither one was at such an extreme for height. She fared little better, for the other end twirled around to crash down on her shoulder and utterly obliterate that side of her body. Fortunately, Blythnin forced Nabonidus to parry, and with that reality being the most ideal outcome, they agreed to keep that one.

And so, with bodies unharmed, Serideth and Relarina tried once again to strike the ogre. Blythnin certainly remained the strongest of the three, but she resisted going all out. Their purpose was not to win, but to better understand their new Blessing and how to coordinate with one another. Although he could see the future, he still had to find a way to counter all three of them at once, as each of them chose slightly different ways to make a decision and act it out. Reality would only accept one of them as true, and so, they all struggled to be the one that found the desired outcome.

It was a medley of competition and cooperation. It had been infuriating, at first, to try to have a conversation with someone, only to realize that they never heard your words because one of the other two was chosen to be real. Somehow, Nabonidus could pierce the border between realities and converse with all three of them at once, and that by itself was enough for the trio to enjoy his company.

And Nabonidus too enjoyed their own presence. In his hypothetical futures, he talked to all kinds of people about any number of topics, but in reality, he only spoke when he needed to, when actually having the conversation would impart value into the world. This gave others the impression that he did not enjoy conversation, and in truth, while he found it laborious to play out a conversation he already experienced in the future, the trio of elves were different.

For them, he could only see as far as the next time they would choose which one of them was real for a given task. The process was not usually a conscious decision on their part, but more like a subconscious and objective agreement between them as to which one of them handled the situation best. With effort, one or two may suppress themselves so as to not be a candidate for reality, which had been useful whenever Blythnin took a lover to bed, which had been often enough.

And I say that one OR two could do that, because, well, Relarina thought it would be funny, and she was a little curious to see the results if perhaps she "imposed" herself into the situation. From what they have told me, it had been an interesting and amusing experience that also invigorated the efforts of more than one lover.

Serideth is a little shy at times, the lingering embers of her old head mate still swaying her decisions. From what I hear, she can show far more vigor and enthusiasm for life and all its pleasures than even Blythnin, which is saying something. And in this moment, it was being expressed as a desire to finally land a hit on their sparring partner, not that a butterfly knife could sink very far into his fat unless she hit an exposed area.

And so, round and round the ogre and an elf went, the trio of elven beauties flickering in and out of reality as needed, oftentimes a decent distance apart from where the previous one had been. Nabonidus truly pushed his limits, taking care to conserve his strength lest they tire out his mind or body. The trio used simple Abilities, and at times, tapped into each others' original Blessing. On rarer occasions, they even tapped into those possessed by Nabonidus, which surprised him. It also surprised the trio, for his Abilities were so alien to their own understanding of reality that they fumbled with them more often than not. His were not as straightforward as throwing fireballs or slashing with a sword to cut someone across the room.

Three minds are better than one, and as they learn and experiment, the elven ladies slowly deduce the unwritten rules of when and how the World Heart would allow them to play copycat with someone else's Blessing. Their sparring partner of choice just so happened to have a very difficult one, which made the ordeal of mastering their Dual Blessing all the more challenging.

However, they rose to the occasion, finding opportunity and novelty in their new circumstances rather than wallowing in self-pity. Individually, they each had their own styles of fighting, but now as a collective, they were hampered by each other. They each had to take an action that was relatively similar to another in its goal and mechanism. If one decided to press the attack, they all had to. If one decided to be entirely evasive, they all had to. Learning to share control and not become angry at one another has been the most challenging obstacle, especially since there is no time to argue.

Mistakes became the norm, with their efforts feeling clumsy, awkward, and incredibly disjointed as reality righted itself by determining which one should be made real. They had to go with the flow, think on their feet, and adapt far faster and to far more varied circumstances than they ever faced when they were separate. And by practicing with Nabonidus, they were making leaps and bounds of progress, notwithstanding Relarina once again being pancaked on the floor via a very large foot.

Words were for complex concepts, and in the heat of battle, impressions, emotions, and instinct became the preferred medium of communication, for it made up for in speed what it lacked in adroit clarity. I always knew when they were training, at least early on, because they were rather "loud" over our shared connection. They were too in the moment, too caught up in their own actions and each other, that they did not have the mental bandwidth to consider a wider audience. However, at this moment, here with Nabonidus, training for the umpteenth time, something had started to click, and they entered a good state of flow.

Suddenly finding himself on the back foot, Nabonidus pulled out his reserves of effort and fought defensively as he sought a precious few moments to understand what he was suddenly dealing with. For brief moments, "ghosts" of the other two would appear in reality, and though they appeared to be rather intangible in many aspects, such could not be said for the bite of their weapons and the impact of their various Abilities.

However, being the [Vizier to the Draconic Emperor] had its perks, and it was not just for show. Although such a Blessing was subtle to all but the initiated, it could do wonders within the territory of his Emperor. And that was a rather convenient set of conditions, such that he almost never left the lands owned and controlled by his Emperor.

Their training room obeyed his commands, the floor shifting and pivoting to his will to throw his attackers off balance. Various weapons on the wall, jostled by his own thunderous blows, fell "unexpectedly" from their mounts and just so happened to land in such a way that they bounced into the path of the three elves. And, perhaps taking a leaf from Tamadora's book, he chose to level his supernatural authority on them.

"Show some respect!" his voice boomed as his presence flooded the room.

Of all people, Blythnin froze up, her body moving to stand at attention. However, Relarina and Serideth were unaffected, perhaps because they were not part of reality at that moment. One zigged, one zagged, and through such efforts, Relarina ended up avoiding ending up as paste on the floor, which soon became the preferred reality.

However, Nabonidus wasted no time, for no sooner had reality accepted her into its warm embrace than did it cast her into the fire. She had only a fraction of a heartbeat to avoid another lethal blow, and with all three of them starting from the exact same location, they were at their most vulnerable.

Parrying an ogre that wielded such a massive weapon was out of the question when one had a sabre, and beyond suicidal when a butterfly knife was involved. One would likewise think that a rapier would not fare well, but Blythnin was not Platinum without reason, and she managed to parry the incoming blow with apparent ease while the other two were clobbered once again.

And so their training continued. The trio hoped to soon be able to spar with Nanu without embarrassing themselves beyond the acceptable limits, for Nanu was wont to make a fool of everyone, such was her martial mastery and demeanor. That being said, there still remained an acceptable limit of what their egos could tolerate, and they still had a ways to go. Through practice, they would become greater than the sum of their parts.

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Nestled safely within the warm confines of his bed, one particular kobold slumbered peacefully. Naturally, he wore his pajamas and a nightcap, which, combined with the bed, should be rather telling. Kobolds tend to sleep in one big room with pillows and blankets everywhere, and indeed, with everyone sleeping every which way. Pajamas are not the norm, and so, one can deduce that this particular unnamed kobold is playing a bit of some sort, and that he remains vehemently committed to his Role.

An alarm clock suddenly shatters the tranquility with its incessant ringing. A fumbling hand from the same groggy kobold smashes around the general area of the source of disturbance to silence the irritation that causes it. Success is had moments later, and with a belated effort, he finally rises from the warm embrace of soft blankets and steps foot into the cold and uncaring world, one devoid of pleasant dreams and endless comfort.

But then, waiting there for him by his bedside is a warm cup of coffee, one with just the right amount of cream and sugar to be ideal for him. Without undue haste or delay, he drinks it down, savoring each sip of that delicious nectar of the gods. Suddenly invigorated, his five o'clock scales (which normally are not a real thing) take on a shiny glean, his pajamas disappear and are instantly replaced with his clothes for the days, and he stands upright with a smile on his face.

"Today is the day!" he declares with enthusiasm and one fist pumped up into the air.

Well, it is certainly "a" day, but not one of particular note for most. Today, he would be training for his next big gig, one with a certain lord that stood as an antagonist to one of his Emperor's companions. They had been rehearsing in a room especially built to mimic the most likely location of the final showdown of destiny. And he had been entrusted to be the spotlight operator for the antagonist. It was a tricky job, for the locations of the rafters and their estimated location of where the antagonist would be standing placed him directly above his target. However, he would rise to the occasion, and finally get that promotion that he had eagerly been working for his whole life, or at least since a few days ago when his Role determined that he should want that.

Some time later, he and the other members of his troupe were at their stage for training. The first part being the process of getting all of their equipment into position without drawing attention. For you see, their final stage would be deep within enemy territory, and to set up all their equipment would be a feat of do-derring, stamina, and precision. The kobolds in charge of props, safety, and other equipment tested their ropes and pulleys, making sure everything was in peak condition, but anything could happen on the day of their performance, and so they needed to be ready to improvise.

"Careful, you idgit!" Their troupe leader shouted at them. "You have to secure it with at least three ropes or it could fall. And make sure that the spotlight is securely attached to its pivoting anchor so it can be moved freely. We don't know for sure where everyone will be standing, so we need to take extra steps to make sure our equipment is flexible. And you, the third alto over there in the choir! You are off key. Keep in mind the acoustics of the room and how that will impact the sound of your voice."

And while the troupe leader barked instruction, it mostly pointed out faults and offered vague clues as to how to take corrective action. However, after a few hours of practice, this particular kobold felt like things might just work out well in the end.

The day of reckoning had finally arrived. All plans had been made, all preparations completed, all orders issued, and all personnel positioned where they were needed. The final and capital city of the Theocracy of Ulsfarh was all that remained of the country that had not been incorporated into my domain. The rest of it had been systematically dismantled, with the population that formerly resided in its towns and cities progressively coming to my side and converting into my citizens. Reports had shown that only the lingering hardliners of the old regime remained in the city, well below initial estimates, so I found myself in a good mood. I take no joy in killing innocent civilians, especially those who are misled or too immature to reasonably take actions for themselves to avoid conflict. Unfortunately, some children remained with their parents in the city, but I had several squads of my own agents that would go in ahead of me to remove them from the city, by force if needed.

The adults still within the city were to be shown no quarter. I could understand why my own forces might hesitate, but such trepidation held the seed of defeat, for any of them could be [Cultists] or those corrupted by The Devourers. I would not have my people risk their own lives to save those so foolish as to remain in a warzone when, by all accounts, their own government lacked the necessary forces to reasonably restrict people from evacuating.

Fortunately, those under my command had ample practice at this sort of thing, for every city up until how had gotten more or less the same terms and treatment. However, [Nobles] and those given titles of lordship could be stubborn in the best of times, and certainly, loath to surrender power. Many fought to the bitter end, which had been rather pitiful considering the populace had abandoned them, and thus, their Blessings as [Nobles] had been severely hampered due to a collective belief of no confidence by the masses. Such is the power of the common man, for a [Noble] only has as much power and authority as what the people surrender unto him or her.

As for my own view on things, I found matters far more convenient when loose ends found themselves snipped. The last thing I want is [Nobles] that had fallen from grace to cause issues later in my life, and so, I may have worked behind the scenes to ensure stubborn resistance remained the preferred strategy employed by those who opposed me. I simply don't need that many [Nobles] to maintain civilization in my territory, and certainly, I only want those who have been properly vetted and who align with my views on government. Unlike those native to these lands, my [Nobles] have to put in serious work instead of partying it up every day.

That is the neat thing about [Nobles]: they tend to have plenty of children and you only need one to hold a title; the rest are spare parts. A city only needs so many [Nobles] to keep things going, and so, [Scions] better outperform their peers if they don't want to end up as mere commoners. While this does lead to a sort of social elite with seemingly unfair advantages in education and opportunity to obtain coveted positions in government, at the end of the day, I care about competency, integrity, and loyalty above who is the child of whom. And for that last one, "loyalty" has less to do with obeying my flight as sycophants, and more with keeping the wellbeing and happiness of the common man above that of special interest groups. Personally, I rather enjoy it when people have both a valid reason and the cojones to stand up to me.

Unfortunately for the [Nobles] of this city, none of them pass muster for acceptance into my domain, and thus, they will end up with a wooden onesie at best. I plan to be rather destructive to the city, for every last brick and stone will be removed such that only a large patch of naked earth remains as a testament to what used to be here. And in time, nature will reclaim that land, such that not even a shadow of the former empire remains.

That treatment extends to its king, its high priest, and a certain general that burned down the town I grew up in. I plan to erase them from history, at least as far as the public is concerned. I do have a few squads of capable personnel ready and waiting to take anything and everything of value from the city, which notably includes their documents, books, and other sources of history. One never knows when such information could be useful for my flight, and I am not so petulant as to carelessly discard such information due to decisions made with inflamed emotions.

Several legions of Jericho clones stand ready, their job being to box in the city so that none enter or leave without my permission. My other companions mostly have little to no roles in this assault, but my children do. Tamadora, still vexed by how her domain was infested with sabatours, needs to blow off steam, and so, she has free reign to smash some buildings and kill the remaining idiots that lacked the good sense to evacuate. Kaisadoro needs to familiarize himself with getting his hands dirty, perhaps quite literally, as he is a bit of a dandy and a slight germophobe, and thus, never does any work that can bring him into contact with grime or other forms of filth.

While my children and I romp around this city, Serideth, Relarina, and Blythnin have their own mission in Berkerin. Some lord there is on Serideth's shit list, and she means to take her vengeance upon him. Some of my agents will be there to inform the Duke as to my plans and to ensure no one gets in the way of things when the time comes. I have so much damning evidence against this lord that none would even dream of contesting my right to dispose of him. I predict that things will go smoothly, but just to be certain, I have other agents in the area, including others of my companions. Some are known to the elven trio, and others remain covert. It isn't that I don't trust their competency, but I like to have backup plans in case the enemy has a trap in place.

For as I sometimes like to believe, there is no kill like overkill, and overwhelming force can often neutralize any form of violence or resistance that an adversary may think to bring to bear, and thus, ultimately save more lives in the end. Time would tell if my preparations were sufficient, for no plan survives contact with the enemy.

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