How many Idra does it take to change a light bulb?

  Trick question, they’d rather brood in the dark while someone else does the work for them.

  —Unattributed joke from the reign of Dahlia Aphtangloa, fourteenth Exaltare

  The feeling of fresh air on her face as she rode around was wonderfully relaxing, especially without the pressure of having to guide survivors through a city of death. Lycoris couldn’t remember if she had ever done so on horseback—certainly not without a priest sedating the poor beast first to keep it from bucking her off—so it was quite possibly an entirely new feeling.

  Augusto was quite a comfortable ride too. Lycoris wasn’t sure he even needed the saddle or stirrups, as he demonstrated he knew how to follow her directions simply by paying attention to how she leaned her body, much like Mira did. Apparently it was because he was a retired war-horse… er, war-myrh. After a hundred years they were too old for service, and spent their remaining twilight years as either prized beasts or as training steeds, like Augusto.

  That said, Lycoris wasn’t all that good at riding. Mira had done most of the navigation work on her behalf, or rather they simply had aligned goals whenever she rode around on his back. Augusto may have understood what she wanted him to do just by leaning around, but she didn’t actually know how to properly steer a steed or do much more than run him around in a big slow circle. Given the reactions domesticated animals tended to have to her, it made sense she wouldn’t. If it was something she’d once known as a knight, that knowledge had become lost to her—probably because she had seldom made use of it.

  But once she was actually out in the open and riding around, Augusto became almost intentionally stubborn. If he was actually as smart as Mira, then most likely he was being intentionally obstinate to make Lycoris aware of her own lack of skill. Considering he was a trained warhorse, that was far more likely than him being a senile bird who simply didn't want to be outdoors.

  At least nobody seemed to act particularly judgmental towards her for that—on the surface at least. Maybe it was expected that the highly sheltered princess was less skilled at riding than she would ever admit. Nor did they line up to lend her a hand or give pointers, as Augusto trotted along or sprinted as she struggled to figure out how to give him actual commands that didn’t consist of talking at him. Whether it was because they were privately enjoying the show, or because they were too nervous to approach, or just because they were busy with their own myrh, she didn’t bother to find out.

  While the two of them were in the middle of navigating the basic circular track at varying speeds, Lycoris’s ears perked up and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as a terribly powerful sense of deja vu came over her. From far off in the distance, she heard the sound of a commotion. At the same time, Augusto stopped trotting and twisted his head to look back up at her.

  “Bwurk?”

  “Did you feel that too?”

  “Gwok.”

  “One day I’ll figure out how to— actually, I wonder if there even is magic that allows one to talk to animals. Or if something like that would even be a good idea.” Lycoris shivered as she imagined what opening that particular box of nightmares would lead to.

  “Kwahh…”

  “Right, right. We should probably go check out what happened and make sure that everyone is… okay…”

  Lycoris trailed off as she slowly turned Augusto around, her impulse to problem solve immediately doused as she saw a bright magenta streak charging across the open fields directly towards her, causing other students on their myrh to either stop and gawk, or swerve and dash out of the way to avoid colliding with the encroaching storm.

  “…It was really just a matter of time, wasn’t it?” she chuckled to herself, not even bothering to try and get out of the way or hide. Her noble steed had likely already seen her, given his… frantic pace.

  Hopefully he doesn’t try to pick a fight…

  Unfortunately, her hopes fell on deaf ears as the frenzied blur made no effort to slow down as Mira raced over to the two of them in the middle of the track and immediately jumped over to rear up on his hind legs, squawking and swiping his paws at Augusto.

  “Kweehh!!”

  “Gwork?!”

  Despite being a trained war mount, Augusto still acted on instinct to defend himself and jumped away—with Lycoris still stuck on his back. This naturally only served to further incense Mira, who probably erroneously assumed the other bird was trying to kidnap Lycoris and run away. At least, that’s what Lycoris imagined as she saw Mira raise a paw to bring it down on Augusto’s neck in an attempt to tackle him down.

  “Hold on a second, stop, stop!” Lycoris cried from atop the other bird.

  With no other choice—and a painful familiarity with being on top of a bucking mount—Lycoris tensed up and braced herself. The moment an opportunity presented itself, she dove off to the side from Augusto’s back, tumbling through the dirt to soften the impact before rolling up to a crouching position.

  “Waaaait! Bad Mira, baad!”

  Running across the field and trailing far behind the magenta bird was a girl as familiar to Lycoris as the bird who was hissing at his auburn-colored senior. Her forest-green hair fluttered behind her in a loose braid, her coveralls were covered in grass and dirt stains, and she looked out of breath. Or maybe just exasperated with the animal she’d been put in charge of. Credit where it was due, she never once complained about Mira. At least not in the Palace when Lycoris would speak with her.

  “No honey-treats for a week!”

  “Kwah?”

  Somehow, that got him to release his paw from Augusto’s neck. The older bird seemed more than content to play along as the conquered victim, if only to minimize the confrontation. Lycoris wanted to kiss him on the beak for being so magnanimous, but that probably would have only made things worse.

  As Cecily finally reached her, the girl’s golden eyes lit up in acknowledgement and her weary job ended in a mad dash, as she wound up being the one to tackle Lycoris instead of Mira—in a manner reminiscent of when they reunited in the Palace.

  “Lycoris! Are you okay!?”

  “Just fine. I didn’t even break my arm or anything this time,” she chuckled wryly as she wrapped one arm around Cecily to catch her, waving the other to demonstrate. “Though I guess something like that would just snap back into place for me, huh?”

  “It’d still hurt, though.”

  “Well, yes. Yes I suppose it would…” Lycoris fell quiet as Cecily’s concern abruptly grounded her, reminding her what a normal person’s view on injury should be.

  “Chrrr?”

  “You are going on time-out, Mister. No honeybark for a week. I told you to be on your best behavior and you jump the fence and get in a fight the second you catch a whiff of the other myrh.”

  “Mrrr…”

  Mira, meanwhile, had completely given up on Augusto when the latter was content to play dead and be a non-entity. Instead he trotted over to approach the pair of girls with his head lowered in self-reproach. Cecily naturally wasn’t having any of that and broke away from Lycoris to waggle her finger at him in irritation and disappointment. The mention of no treats apparently put the bird in a mournful mood, as he raised his head to the heavens and whined.

  “Kweeeiiii!”

  Cecily didn’t relent, putting her hands on her hips and tapping her foot. “I mean it. We’re in a public institution now! Well, actually it’s a private one still. Not that myrh have any concept of property ownership… But you have to behave and get along with the other myrh here, otherwise you won’t get to be with Lycoris anymore! You don’t want her riding around on anyone else, right? Shape up!”

  “Bwark!”

  It was hard to say what was more impressive—Cecily’s dominant tone, or the myrh’s understanding of just what he had done. It was like watching a parent scold a toddler almost.

  Meanwhile the other students gradually gathered a distance away to watch, too hesitant to get any closer to the sudden arrival, until the instructor broke through the crowd and marched toward them with a tablet tucked under her arm.

  Her eyes darted from the bird lying down, to the one sitting on his haunches guiltily, then to Lycoris and Cecily. “What’s going on here? Your Highness, is everything fine?”

  “Yes, I think so. This would be my personal steed, Mira.”

  “Kwah!”

  Lycoris turned to the girl looming over Mira with a slightly exasperated grimace, as her too-loyal steed chirped happily. “I take it his training has borne little fruit thus far, Cecily?”

  “Mm. He knows his basic commands already, sit, roll over, play dead, paw, etcetera. But the problem is discipline. We’re still getting him to reign in his impulses, but it’s slow going. We don’t want to hurt the poor creature obviously, and he didn’t learn as a nestling, which makes it more difficult.”

  Eleanor cleared her throat to get the attention of the two girls, “I had not been informed that there would be any new arrivals.”

  “Vanessa—my elder sister—is speaking with the Dean. Or, at least I think she is…”

  “You think?” Eleanor raised an eyebrow.

  “She should be! We arrived ahead of schedule.” Cecily pulled herself away from Lycoris and bowed respectfully to the instructor as she formally introduced herself, “My name is Cecily Oxalis, attendress and myrh-handler for Her Highness Princess Lycoris Aphtangloa. My elder sister Vanessa and I were sent here by Her Majesty the Exaltare as students with her personal endorsement.”

  Something tells me Rosa isn’t going to like her sister stepping all over her toes like that, Lycoris thought to herself with a wan smile.

  “And I take it you’re not in uniform because you were tasked with guiding Her Highness’s myrh to the stables?”

  “That is correct, Ma’am.”

  Unlike when Lycoris said it, Coach Blythe didn’t balk at Cecily addressing her in so formally a manner. It seemed being associated with the Princess wasn’t enough on its own to warrant the nervous deferential treatment routine. She wasn’t sure just how important the Oxalis family was herself, but still felt somewhat slighted on Cecily’s behalf despite the girl’s polite smile.

  “And you, Mira, better be ready for some serious training! Because you’re going to have to seriously shape up if you want to stick around the stables and be together with Lycoris!”

  …Though, Coach Blythe did seem quite nervous when she heard Cecily refer to Lycoris by her given name without any sort of formality. That brought a subtle smile to her lips.

  “Bwork?”

  “Don’t you tilt your head innocently at me! Come on Lycoris, let’s go get him properly saddled up and maybe work on actually training him.”

  “Bwak?”

  “I’m not actually sure how to go about that, if I’m to be totally honest.” Lycoris scratched the back of her head as she stared at the bird quizzically tilting his head back and forth. On cue, he flopped onto his side and wiggled his paws in the air playfully, suddenly pretending to not understand what they were saying.

  “It seems you have quite an afternoon ahead of yourself, Your Highness. Shall I return Augusto to the stables for you?” The instructor walked around, crouching down to give the older bird a gentle rub on the beak, eliciting a quiet croon. “And be mindful, they’re forecasting rain to start in the evening. Be sure to get your myrh sorted and in a stable before it starts coming down. Wouldn’t want him to get sick now, would we?”

  “Thank you, and please do. It seems I have to show someone how spoiled he’s been up until now.” Lycoris put her hands on her hips, stepping toward and looming over Mira beside Cecily as the myrh nervously lowered his head.

  She’d come this far already. She certainly wasn’t about to let him embarrass her.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  ＊

  “Do you think Her Highness is good at fencing?”

  “What kind of question even is that? Of course she is! Don’t forget what family her mother hails from.”

  “What weapon do you think she favors for sparring?”

  “The foil, clearly! As elegant and thin as she is.”

  “No no, the saber, you’re still not thinking about the fact she’s being raised by a Drimus!”

  “Hardly. Her Majesty has done basically all she can to cut ties with her old family. Just like every Exaltare before her.”

  “You’re two thousand years too young to be speaking like my father! Besides, didn’t you see the way Her Highness hugged her grandfather? It was like watching a baby Mauler try to crush a tree trunk to impress its parents.”

  “That barely even makes any sense. You watch too many nature documentaries.”

  Students argued in their family-colored fencing gear, rather than actually stance up and practice swinging their swords. While there were many who put little effort into the art, not even bothering to swing their sword once each week—much less duel—Dahlia was not one such person. She watched with disdain as they argued in circles about the Princess as though they had any sort of read on the almost hopelessly naive child, instead of involving herself in their bizarre tangents and discussion. She had more important things to do than shatter their wistful collective hallucination. Lycoris would either do so herself, or shape up anyways.

  Standing opposite from Dahlia was Iris, dull-edged saber at the ready and a serious look on her face. There was someone who actually put effort into her craft, who worked hard to stand alongside Dahlia as an equal—though in matters of fencing she was actually the more skilled of Dahlia’s little coterie. She would have been a perfect rival for the throne, if Lycoris hadn’t come along and ruined everything.

  Shaking the thought aside Dahlia readied her own blade and, as the two friends made eye-contact, lunged forward. Lately, Iris had been favoring defensive play—obviously indicative of her clouded thoughts and uncertain future. But Dahlia was not the sort to coddle those close to her.

  Swiping at Iris’s left shoulder, she forced the girl to parry in an awkward stance. Following it up with a feint angled up from her waist, she drew her opponent’s blade further away, and then struck instead at her saber-arm, scoring another point.

  “Do you think she’s as good as Lady Dahlia though?”

  “I’m not sure… It’s hard to tell when she mostly fools around with her friends all the time.”

  “She’s not even as good as Iris is.”

  “Well, Iris has a height advantage. You can hardly call it an even duel.”

  “It’s any wonder that Dahlia even bothers humoring her.”

  A vein bulged on Dahlia’s forehead even as she mastered herself and remained calm, though Iris’s eyes lit up in recognition and used the shift in momentum to thrust forward, aiming straight for Dahlia’s padded chest.

  She was too slow, however, as Dahlia twirled her wrist and easily deflected, throwing Iris’s arm wide as she lost her grip on her sword and completely exposed her center for another point to be scored.

  “Hasn’t Lady Iris seemed distracted lately? Normally she does far better…”

  “Can you blame her? The girl who ruined her entire life just showed up last week.”

  “If I were her, I’d be seething.”

  “She looks more despondent than angry, though.”

  Dahlia glared straight at the peanut gallery as she walked forward to pick up her partner’s saber, a barely-calm disapproval stating everything that needed to be before she spun on her heels and twirled the blade to offer the hilt to Iris.

  The pink-haired girl looked down at it with naked gloom, picking the sword up languidly and refusing to make eye contact as she muttered, “Is there even still a point to it?”

  “I’m only up by three, you’ve come back from worse odds against me.”

  “There’s no need to be willfully obtuse, Lady Dahlia.”

  “…Our futures will only be taken from us before they have a chance to blossom if we give up. There are still many paths forward.”

  “Is that why you’re befriending her now?”

  “But of course.”

  Dahlia left out the detail that the Princess was somehow both far more cultured and wise than most of her family had suspected, and simultaneously comically naive. At least when it came to her views on society and the chaff beneath them. Dahlia wasn’t sure what the source of the Princess’s oblivious compassion for commonbloods was, but she would either exploit it and crush her, or see that it get shorn up.

  It would be hard to properly puppet a dearly beloved friend and all-powerful leader if she were weak of heart after all.

  It would actually be painfully simple, in truth, but I can’t imagine anyone respecting an Exaltare who thinks commoners deserve a place at Alephertz. There is bucking and ignoring trend and ancestry like her mother, and then there’s whatever ignorance breeds that sort of thought process.

  “You’re really something, Dahlia.” Iris’s grip tightened on her sword. “Really, really something.”

  She never really wanted the position of Exaltare to begin with. Though she had never told Dahlia that, it was obvious to the Idra heiress.

  But Dahlia hadn’t expected what came next. Iris suddenly leaned forward and threw her sword, a slightly maddened look in her eyes as it spun towards her opponent. As Dahlia swung to deflect it, the spinning blade swerved around and struck at her side instead as though possessing its own will. One point closer to even, but…

  “Spellcraft is cheating, Iris!”

  “And what you’re doing isn’t?” The blade whirled back and clattered back at Iris’s feet. She leaned low and rushed forward, scooping it off the ground and striking wildly, forcing Dahlia to step backwards as their blades repeatedly clattered.

  As the other students had already so helpfully pointed out, she had a slight height advantage, was a better swordsman than Dahlia, and had the momentum besides. The last part didn’t matter quite so much, Dahlia was far more accustomed to being on the defensive in their duels.

  “I’m… afraid I don’t know what you—” She had to stop mid-sentence to duck under a slice, a frown on her face as she scolded, “Iris, the head is off-limits.”

  “How can you even stomach it? She ruined my entire family. I had to watch my mother drink poison and die!”

  The girl was incensed, but unlike when Her Highness had thrown Dahlia’s uncle about, Iris maintained the sort of composure and level-headedness a duel called for. And of course she would be upset about something like that. Dahlia had admittedly been ignoring her other friends, as Lycoris required much tending to if she was going to become anything Dahlia needed her to be.

  Disdainful as she was of the idea of using sparring for therapy, Dahlia didn’t want her other friends to suffer if it held no actual benefit to her. She parried and deflected a blow aimed wide at her shoulder, stepped into Iris’s guard, and dropped her sword to wrap her arms around the taller girl, gazing up into her eyes with a misty smile.

  “How long have we known each other for, Iris?”

  Eyes wide, Iris leaned back in bewilderment at the sudden change in tone. A beat later, she answered sincerely, “Since I was twenty six, Dahlia.”

  “Do you really think a week of working over the Princess—or even a month, or decade—would smear or change the friendship we’ve forged?”

  “I—”

  “It doesn’t! Whatever I make of Lycoris, it won’t change the fact that you will always have a place beside me, Iris. I know I cannot make up for what she has done to your family,”

  “…But?”

  As Iris gazed down at her for an answer, waiting on every syllable Dahlia spoke, she smiled cheekily. A moment later, her sword floated up and lightly tapped Iris from behind.

  “Hey!”

  “But remember that we must distance ourselves from the individual acts. All it means is that she failed the game we’re all born into. You were born of her to be greater than what she was, and she shall watch over you along with the rest of our Ancestors. Also, another point for me.”

  Iris puffed her cheeks out in a deep pout, “Didn’t you say that was cheating? No count, I’m calling for a no count!”

  “Then we strike both those points, and… oh, I’m still up by two, look at that. Fuhu~” Dahlia tittered as she gave Iris another squeeze before parting and stepping back, letting her saber drift gracefully back into her open hand.

  There, that should do for now, at least. She glanced down at the blade, the words of the other students flitting back into her mind. I wonder how good the Princess is in an actual formal duel, rather than barbaric acts of violence? She couldn’t help but wonder. That idle comment of holding a blade as a baby had stuck with Dahlia, absurd a concept as it was. She’d heard of silver spoons before, but that stretched beyond the pale—even if it fit a heritor of the Drimus’s blood.

  She raised her blade up to chest level, holding it straight forward. Before round two could begin, she gave a brief ultimatum, “Once this is over, I’m going to head to the fields. You are welcome to join, Iris.”

  In response, Iris held her blade at her waist, pointed up toward Dahlia’s. “If you win, perhaps.”

  The two smiled at each other once more, and resumed their dance.