AUTHOR NOTE: We are going to be getting into some spicy sections in the next few chapters. There's some downtime, there's some romance, Eric gets a breather for once. Nothing is explicit, and things fade to black (I keep things in good taste, I assure you), but this is your heads up.
Misty gave Eric the whole tour of the interior. The layout that he had heard of from rumor in his past timeline was accurate. Each of the four longer points were quarters for the family: one wing for the parents, one wing for the daughters—Misty alone—one wing for the sons, and one wing for esteemed guests. The other four smaller points were wings dedicated to support service space and other rooms.
Dominating the center of the eight-pointed star shape was an octagonal room which would be set up as a dining room, but otherwise had a same-shaped hearth in the center, filled with heatstones, and set up with several cushions and couches. Stairs led up both sides of the room to upper levels, where there were more rooms.
“Up here,” Misty explained as she pulled Eric along after her, “on the second floor is where we have our special storage for Body Enhancements, medicines of the highest rarity, curatives of all manners, and our operating theater.”
“That sounds interesting. I’ve never been in one. What does it look like?” Eric asked.
Misty pulled him along to an enormous, sterile, silver-lined room that was well-lit by white glowstones. Every surface was covered in silver, which Eric knew was very antiseptic surface. The operating theater was pristine, perfectly maintained, with plenty of open shelving awaiting supplies to be placed and made ready.
“Wow,” Eric said. “What type of metal is all this?” he had to at least sound like he didn’t know what it was.
“Silver,” she replied. “Antimicrobial and antiseptic properties.”
“Ah, smart. And expensive.”
Misty laughed at that. “Our family is the second oldest in the city behind the Marshall’s. Behind the Ghulara family, we have the most importance to the common folk, and behind the Valagonia, we’re probably the richest. It’s why we have the entire charitable medical school.” She squeezed his hand. “If you have time, we should probably have you sit down with a few scribes and let them dictate everything you know from Earth, medicine wise.”
“Smart,” Eric replied. “I’d be happy to.”
And I have so much to share, Eric thought. With my Paths Within, I can give you all perfect recollection of everything I learned about medicine on Earth, and all that I combined it with here on Elyndor.
He felt like he’d made the right choice between Misty and Xera. He could make the most difference in the Kingdom of Trok by aligning himself with the Baxter family. One of his biggest concerns was passing along the knowledge he had accumulated across his journeys as a healer—from monks, aesthetics, and sages—across Elyndor when it pertained to healing. And now? He could. He could give all of that learning to people who would then be able to take that knowledge and turn it into Skills, Rotes, and Traits.
Sure, it would take years for them to do that, because if Eric just straight-up told them how to do it, he would be revealing his future-timeline knowledge, but he could present the information in such a way as to not give up his truth.
That also forced him to consider something he hadn’t thought of yet. Should he tell Misty? He was going to be living his whole life with her. Did he want her to know? Should he tell her? They would be in this together.
Misty pulled him along through the tour, and they ended up at the top of the building, where she pulled him out onto a balcony that overlooked the entire estate, which was more like a college campus. “I loved coming up here at the end of a day,” she said.
Thankfully, they were under an overhang, and the rain pattered down around them. Eric held her hand and pulled her in close to him. “This reminds me of the soiree and our balcony moment there,” he said.
Misty giggled at that. “Yeah, that was a good first meeting. You are quite the charmer.”
Eric put his left hand under her chin and pulled her closer for a soft kiss, then moved his head back and sighed softly. “We do need to talk about one thing.”
A momentary flicker of concern raced across Misty’s face. “Oh?” she asked.
Eric swallowed down the twinge of fear he felt at what he was about to do. “This is going to sound insane, but I am going to back it up with plenty of information that will convince you.” He took a deep breath. “And you cannot tell anyone else until I give you the go-ahead, okay?”
“Sounds like a really big secret,” Misty said, eyes twinkling with excitement.
“I’m from the future.”
Misty laughed. She clung to Eric’s chest. “Oh, that! That’s a good joke.”
Eric kept his face serious. “I’m not joking.”
She pulled back and looked at his face. “Okay, future Eric. Tell me something—”
“Your father wants you to have a child with me, to try and see if there is a means to pass along any genetic inheritance that a Summoned may have from Earth that influences how they interact with The Paths,” Eric said.
Misty’s face went pale. “How . . . how did—”
“Your father has been wanting to get onto the small council for decades—particularly the role of Steward—because he knows that he can steer Trok in the right direction that will help the most people possible.” Eric put a hand up along Misty’s face, palm on her cheek, and kept speaking softly. “Your brothers truly care for you, but Corey has been wanting to leave for a long time, and you’ve been trying to figure out how to help him break the news to your father. He wants to go to Flescion and learn from the faith-healers there, however your father detests non-scientific based healing.”
Misty’s eyes widened. “Creator above, Eric. You’re not joking.”
Eric shook his head. “Misty . . . I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, and that I want to spend the rest of my days with you. I want to live in Trok, and make the kingdom the best it can possibly be. Events are coming that threaten not just the kingdom, but all of Elyndor.” He held his hand up to his left and let Blackflame pool in his palm. “This power? This is called a primal force. To stop the literal end of the world, I need to take this power to the bottom of every mega dungeon.” He closed his hand.
Misty took in a shuddering breath. “This . . . wow, Eric.” She clung to him tightly. “Thank you for telling me. Can we go inside? Back to my room?”
Eric nodded, and she grabbed him by the hand and led him downstairs to the first floor. When they got to her room, she grabbed his Silence Node from his hip pouch and activated it, bathing her room in the hue of her mana. She sat on the bed and patted it, and he went to sit next to her.
“If . . . you came from a future . . . you’re a bit older, aren’t you?”
Eric nodded. “Thirty three, mentally.”
She smiled at that. “Ah, good. I was worried you were something closer to seventy. Father had me courting a sixty-year-old before you Summoned arrived.” She nodded. “Much preferable, you being what you are.” She put a hand on his knee. “And you got the younger body, as well.”
Eric grinned at that. “The wisdom of age and the vigor of youth.”
“Indeed,” Misty replied with a giggle. “I . . . thank you for the trust. I won’t betray it. I still want this, Eric. Now I understand why Naomi was insistent on your schedule and going into the Twilight Depths. How much can you tell me about what is coming?”
“I’ll tell you some of what is going to come, but not everything, because I do not want you overburdened with things you cannot change or influence. But, there are things you can help prepare for, given your influence . . .”
Eric spent the next thirty minutes telling Misty about the Titan, the timeline of destruction and the latent infection, the impending world war, the now-stopped horrors of post-war plague and famine, and shared his thoughts on what would happen now that the drug trade was stopped. As he concluded, Misty gave him a firm look of resolve, and grabbed his hand, squeezing it.
“We’re going to save the kingdom,” she firmly said. “You and me. We’re going to make sure Trok mends from the cancer you burned out. Then, we’ll make sure the system is healthy enough to survive the coming war. When . . . when the time comes to travel to these mega dungeons, I’ll go with you.”
“That’s way too dangerous—”
“Not into the dungeons, silly,” Misty replied with a grin. “I’ll travel with you, but just stay in the capital cities. It’s not abnormal for the wife of a prominent noble to travel with their spouse. I’ll just stay in our rented abode, and you and the Summoned can retire to that location after each dive into the mega dungeon, where I’ll tend to you all. Faster recovery means faster clearance, and therefore, faster prevention of the Titan’s birth.”
Eric grinned. “I knew I could trust you.”
She hugged him, and she wrapped his arms around her. “You can always trust me from here on out,” Misty said. “We’re going to be married, and in Trok, amongst nobles, that’s until death.” She let out a little laugh. “I don’t plan on dying. And you better not.”
Eric chuckled. “I won’t. Oh, that reminds me. One moment.” He pulled away, and Misty looked at him with confusion. Eric held his hand up and activated Blacksteel Mending. The Blackflame pooled in his hand, turned to a shimmering stream of grey with silver flecks, and then cascaded around Misty’s body.
She let out a little sigh, but then shrugged. “Healing Rote?”
Eric nodded. “It would’ve had the added benefit of burning out any infection of the invader god inside the Titan.”
“Thanks for trying. Looks like I’ve avoided it.”
There was a knock at the door, and Eric got up, swiped the Silence Node, and then Misty went over to the door and opened it.
A man in his mid-twenties, with a short cut of brown hair and equally brown eyes, looked at her. “Misty, you—” he saw Eric past her. “Ah. Oh. Hello, there.”
“Hi,” Eric said. “I’d guess you’re Corey or Torey?”
“Corey,” the man replied. He looked at Misty. “I’m assuming this is why you called for us and father?”
Misty nodded and moved back to grab Eric’s arm. “Meet my future husband. Blackflame Warlock Eric Mercer.”
Corey’s eyes went wide. “Oh, the Summoned!” Corey dipped his head. “Pleasure to meet you. Sorry for the lack of formalities, I’ve been in lecture all day.”
“No worries,” Eric replied, waving away the apology. “I’m fine with being informal. I heard your father isn’t for it, either.”
Corey grinned at that. “That’s accurate, this household really isn’t into formalities. Oh, my twin and I are hard to tell apart. The easiest way?” He pointed to his shirt. “I wear blue, he wears red.”
Misty grinned and squeezed Eric’s arm. “I assume Torey and father are here, also?”
“Yup. Come on! I’m sure they’ll want to meet your fiance.” Corey turned and walked toward the main chamber.
Misty and Eric followed, and the duo arrived at the central room, which was being set up with a small dining table. It was cozy, being sized just large enough for six to sit comfortably. Homey, in a way, and not nearly as ostentatious as some of the upper class and higher nobility that Eric had interacted with. It was down-to-earth, as the Baxters were definitely ‘of the people’.
Torey was already sitting, swirling a cup of wine, and looking at the heatstones in the nearby octagonal hearth. Next to him, sipping from a large stein, was the patriarch of the household.
Marley Baxter was a man who Eric had met several times in his prior timeline. He was in his mid-fifties, pushing toward sixty, with that same brown hair as the rest of his family, soft, hazel eyes, a trimmed beard that made him look like Aragorn from Lord of the Rings, and he had a build that denoted someone who was not concerned with anything aside from functional fitness.
Both men ceased their conversation and looked up as Corey said, “Father, Misty has someone special to introduce.”
Marley stood up, setting his beer stein down, and a big grin spread over his face. “Ah, Misty, who is this fine young gentleman?”
Misty giggled. “Father, you know exactly who it is, since you told me to go and snag his affections.”
Eric pulled his arm away and performed the proper Elyndian bow as was expected, then stood up straight and took Misty’s arm again. “Marley Baxter . . . I have accepted your daughter’s offer of marriage.”
Marley’s grin spread even wider and he slapped the table. “Atta-girl!” he walked around the table and gave Misty a big hug that forced Eric away from her as she let out an ‘eep’ as all the air was let out.
Corey and Torey were both clapping, and the servants who were rushing about had paused and also joined in the applause.
Marley set Misty down and looked at Eric. “Alright, your turn, soon to be son-in-law.”
Eric accepted the hug, but made sure to be cautious in his return of the squeeze, as he knew he could crush the man to death if he wasn’t careful—his combination of his vast mana reservoir and Mana Muscles meant that he was very strong.
Marley let out an ‘oof’ and stopped the squeeze. “Those Body Enhancements Misty put into you did their job, eh?”
“They did indeed,” Eric replied with a grin. “Mana Muscles and Mana Skin, plus the sheer amount of dungeon diving I’ve been doing—well, let’s just say that my mana reservoir is very large.”
Marley let out a barking laugh and waved at the table. “Come! Sit! Sit, and tell the staff what your drink of preference is.” Eric pulled Misty’s chair out for her and then pushed it in, and she ordered a glass of yinktrell, while Eric ordered a mug of cider. At that, Marley gave him a nod of approval. “A hard drink. Good man.”
Eric looked at Torey. “I believe you would be Torey? Red to differentiate, yes?”
Torey grinned, and was a perfect duplicate of his twin. “That’s right. Great to meet you, Eric. Soon to be brother-in-law.” He raised his own cup at that. “I assume you’ll take the family name?”
Eric looked at Misty. “Back on Earth it was tradition for the woman to take the man’s name, but I would guess that if I’m marrying into a noble family, I should take the noble family’s name, right?”
Misty nodded. “That’s the way to do it. If I took your name, I would be giving up my family ties. And no offense intended, I love you, but I love my family equally.”
“I understand completely,” Eric replied. He thanked the servant who brought him the cider and took a sip. “Mmm. Blackberries in this season?”
Marley let out a chuckle. “We have some stores from last season. So! I heard about the trial and what you were up to with the other Summoned. Making your own criminal enterprise to take out the rotten folk destroying the underclass of Trok. Good work.” He sighed. “Shame about the few innocent folk caught up in it. But, you’ll be making good on their loss, and that’s about all we can ask for.” He looked into Eric’s eyes, and those brown eyes had a look of firm judgment.
“I . . .” Eric cleared his throat. “I was working for the good of the kingdom, under the command of the Spymaster.” He took a sip of his cider.
Torey nodded sagely. “The cancer had to be cut out. Good analogy, by the way, if what the folks who were at the trial were anything to go by. You have to remove the disease before you can heal the body.”
“Aye,” Marley replied as he tapped the table with his fingers. “Misty, I’m going to take your future husband-to-be for a few moments. Catch up with your brothers.”
Eric glanced at Misty with apprehension, and she gave his thigh a squeeze under the table. He nodded, set his cider down, and followed Marley up the stairs. The patriarch led him to the operating theater.
“Shut the door, lad.”
Eric did so, and when he did, asked, “What did you want to talk about, sir?”
Marley turned around, drink still in hand. “I spoke to the Spymaster,” he softly said. “Let’s just say that I pulled on some strings and called in some favors. I have the full trial transcript, and know what happened afterwards, how you brought the Steward to justice. You were the hand who brought the Admiral to bay as well. You’re a man of action.”
“I am,” Eric replied. “I am a Reaper, and I want to make Trok my home. When the Spymaster told me to prove my worth by executing traitors who were already slated to be executed, well, why not benefit personally by progressing my Path, and politically by showing my devotion to the place I plan to live out my life?”
Marley grinned at that. “You’re pragmatic. Good. But, I also know from the Spymaster’s personal conversation with me that you have good intentions. My daughter has talked about you quite a bit, and I know she loves you. You love her, I assume, wholeheartedly.”
“Absolutely,” Eric replied.
“Your reputation in the next few days will be tarnished,” Marley bluntly said. “Already I heard the words ‘Blackflame Butcher’ spread about, so I would not be surprised if that is on some of the gazette headlines. Don’t worry too much: you’re going to be a Baxter, and the common folk love us. We’ll help rehabilitate your image.”
Eric let out a theatrical sigh of relief. “I appreciate that. I’ll admit, I was worried about how all of that would come across.”
Marley waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry too much. I’ve got friends at the gazetteers. We’ll get the spin going: ‘Eric Baxter, Blackflame Executioner, who kills for the crown, and only stops those who seek to harm the kingdom and its people’. I’m not good at press releases, but I have people for that.” He walked over to Eric and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. We watch out for our own. All I ask is that you treat my daughter right. She might not be first in line to inherit, but she deserves the world.”
“I’ll give her everything,” Eric replied. “She deserves everything. If it’s in my power, I’ll make sure she has it.”
Marley’s face slipped into a warm smile at that. “I . . . that is good to hear. Come, we’ll head back down, have dinner, and then we’ll deal with the legal paperwork. A proper ceremony will happen in a few days.” He gestured to the door, Eric opened it, and then Marley led the way back downstairs.
The duo returned to the table, and Misty leaned in after Eric sat down. “You okay?” she whispered.
Eric whispered back, “I’m good.”
Dinner was fun. It reminded Eric of those family meals that he had with his avó and dad on Sundays, when they had an old football game on the screen, and everyone was just enjoying each other’s company. But it wasn’t fun for Eric because of laughter or the food.
It was the conversation that made the entire event so enjoyable.
Every one of the Baxters was an incredibly well-versed physician. The entire conversation, aside from when they peppered Eric with questions about himself, his past, his preferences, or his Earth-medical knowledge, was spent talking about Elyndian medicine, cases that were in progress, or the like.
For Eric? It was awesome.
Dinner was delicious as well. The Baxters had a personal chef who was incredibly skilled, and came out with lots of tasting-style dishes, so that they had over twenty different small plates. That’s just the way that they ate when they had these smaller, ‘true-family’ meals; the chef would make two full-sized portions, and then divvy them up into smaller portions for each person to have a good few bites of the dish. It ensured very little waste, and Eric realized that the Baxters really didn’t live an excessive lifestyle in the slightest.
They truly were the most down-to-earth of the old blood nobles he had ever met.
Finally, after the meal was done, Marley had a server fetch some documents and began filling them out. “This,” he explained, “is a simple writ that will be conveyed to the king. Any time one of us old blood families have one of the youngins in the direct line of succession marry, we need to notify the king’s lineage directly.”
“Why?” Eric asked, four mugs of cider deep and quite tipsy.
Corey answered, “It’s in case there isn’t an heir and the king dies.”
Torey added, “Like right now. Prince gone for days, if the king were to kick the bucket, all of the high nobles and patriarch or matriarch of the old blood families—about thirty families in total—would vote on any eligible inheritor of the old blood family to be the next monarch.”
“It is to ensure a younger ruler,” Misty said, also a bit inebriated. “The old blood families normally vote for their own child, so it really is up to the other high nobles.”
“Why aren’t those families eligible?” Eric asked.
Marley chuckled. “They just don’t have the same prestige-pull.” He frowned, then looked at Eric. “Ah, that means—”
“I’ve been training with my Index,” Eric replied. “Pretty much every night since arriving. I’m versed in Elyndian culture, even saying ‘core-cracked’ when things go wrong in the Twilight depths.”
Marley grinned at that. “Good. The sooner you’re ingrained, the better.” He turned the paper around and handed the pen to Eric. “Sign this, and you’re a Baxter. We’ll plan the ceremony and have the whole party and all that in a few days. Lots has to be done to plan.”
Eric looked at Misty, and he felt that warmth in his chest that he knew and was so familiar with. “Now and forever, I’m yours,” Eric said. Then he signed his name to the paper, blew on the ink to dry it, and capped the pen.
Misty squeezed him in a side hug.
Corey raised his cup in a toast, and the wine sloshed out a bit onto him. “Aww! This was a favorite shirt!”
Everyone laughed at that flub, and after Marley gave the paper to a trusted servant for delivery to the citadel, the now-newly-added-to Baxter family talked and drank deep into the night.
At some time in the darkling hours, Eric and Misty stumbled into her bedroom. It took some doing, but Eric managed to get out of his Gear and other clothes, finally getting free of all of it, and joined Misty in her bed. They were both too tired, too drunk, and too happy to do anything of a carnal nature, and both just passed out in each other’s embrace.
***
Eric woke up to a buzzing bracer. He glanced at it, and saw messages flitting across the text.
[I got married! Signed the paper!] from Shannon.
[Congratulations!] from Peter.
[Good for you.] from Naomi.
Eric quickly typed back his own congratulation message, and then also typed off that he had signed his own document, becoming a Baxter. Then, after a few seconds, he typed out everything he had told Misty about the Titan and his future-timeline knowledge that he had shared.
That resulted in a vibration for a voice call.
Shit, Eric thought.
He grabbed his Silence Node and activated it, then activated his bracer and turned the volume down. “Yes?”
“Why did you do that?” Naomi asked.
“I’m not going to be lying to my spouse,” Eric replied. “I’m spending my life with her, and she can help us fortify Trok for the impending war. Even you have to see the logic in that.”
“I do,” Naomi replied. “I just wish you had run it by me first. You know I’m the brains of this operation.”
“I am aware,” Eric replied.
Peter’s voice came over the bracer. “I think it’s fine, but then we have to be okay with everyone telling their significant others. So I get to tell Benson?”
“That’s trickier,” Eric said. “We know that he works with the Spymaster.”
“That’s not fair,” Peter replied. “You get to tell your wife, but I don’t get to tell my boyfriend?”
Naomi sighed. “This . . . give me a moment to think.”
Eric looked over at Misty, who was still sleeping soundly, and he felt like the luckiest man in the world. He didn’t regret his decision to tell her in the slightest. He was the regressor, after all. He could tell whoever he wanted.
After a few seconds, Naomi’s voice came back. “Okay. Eric typed out exactly what he shared. It’s not everything. I think we can give out limited information. Peter, here is what you should be able to share without giving too much, and even if Benson does share some of it to the Spymaster, it won’t be horribly impactful. Mostly about the impending war, which she will have put some information together about. I’ll send you via text. Sound fair?”
“Not quite fully fair, but good enough,” Peter replied. “Oh, also, I’ll be going to the Ghulara estate outside the capital soon here. I did some thinking on it, and talked to Shannon. With everyone getting married—Naomi doing one of convenience also—it just makes sense to get it done and over with. All I have to do is a few dinners, a night over here and there, and then get married on paper? Fine. If it helps us save the fucking world.”
“Thanks,” Eric said. “I know we’re asking a lot of you, but getting the Ghulara family on our side means we have all four of the old blood families in our pocket.”
Shannon’s voice came through, and Eric was a little surprised, as she had been totally silent up until that point. She said, “I will be drip feeding a little information to Cecil. I have to be careful since we know the Valagonia family is super corrupt, and with the whole Allied Cities of Chisholm thing being responsible for the drugs and whatnot, and the GBA being based out of that region, well, Naomi’s got me.”
Eric glanced at his bracer, pulling up the mapping function, and zoomed out to see where everyone was. “Seems like we’re taking a while here to just get our affairs in order. Have fun getting married, everyone.”
Shannon laughed at that. “Pff. We’ll be attending each other’s weddings probably.”
“Oh, here’s an idea,” Peter said. “These are all old blood families. What do you think the odds are they’d be willing to do one big, mega wedding? All four Summoned, to an eligible child of each old blood family?”
“Yes!” Shannon practically screamed.
Despite the lowered volume of Eric’s bracer, Misty shot up. “What was that?” she asked.
Eric looked over at her. “Uhm . . . Shannon had an idea about the wedding . . .”
***
The next six days were incredible, and very busy.
Eric and Misty’s marriage was accepted by the king’s recorder, and officially recognized. Thus, he took on her last name. Getting his soiree clothes re-tailored to fit his increased muscle mass, and augmented to be more appropriate to a wedding was of highest priority. Thankfully, the Tailors came to him and Misty.
She had a completely new dress commissioned, and it was stunning. A form-fitting, body-hugging, showing-off-all-the-right-curves silky wedding gown with a short train, frills, laces, and the picture of what Eric knew was high fashion.
And of course there was planning the wedding itself. Shannon had been able to convince Cecil Valagonia, her now-husband on paper, to get his family to pull some strings and reach out to the other old-blood families and bring her little plot to life.
Naomi was on board, and seemed to come out of her Makerspark fugue, as she completed her marriage of convenience with James Marshall.
Peter reached out a few times to ask Eric for advice on how to navigate the conversations with Isabella Ghulara. The younger daughter of that family, who had initially courted Peter at the soiree, and had sent him the follow up letter, had ‘clocked’ him as gay, and set up the meeting. After a tense conversation where Eric and Naomi coached Peter via text on the bracer, the Paladin was able to come to terms with Isabella, and the marriage of convenience was arranged. She would be able to have her lesbian romance with her lady in waiting, Peter could have Benson, and both would just be married for appearances: perfectly reasonable and something that, while not necessarily popular, was seen as the ‘appropriate’ way to do things amongst Trok nobility.
And so, on the sixtieth of Fall, forty days since the Summoned arrived in Elyndor, Eric and Misty were riding in a very fancy carriage that had been decorated in the most ornate way possible. Despite the rain, the entire conveyance shimmered with the reflective, light-blue paint that the Baxter family associated with their old blood house color. The sigil of the house was also painted onto the sides of the conveyance in a deep, cherry-red: a pair of open hands, crossed over each other, with the palms facing up: one with a white bandage across the palm.
The vehicle was being pulled by a Mastidorse that had fur dyed the same light-blue color, and despite the rain washing some of the dye out of the fur, the majestic beast was still some of the purest stock, and would make an impression.
Eric’s foot was tapping, and he tried to control the old nervous tick, but couldn’t help it—he was excited. This was the first time in either of his timelines he was getting married. He held Misty’s hand in his own, and he felt so incredibly lucky and blessed. This second chance at life was going so well.
“I’m still amazed this is happening,” Misty softly said. “All four old blood families, and all four Summoned?”
Eric couldn’t hide his grin. Shannon had really gone all out in the wedding planning department, and apparently Cecil was completely on board with the idea. The initially shy Summoned had really come into her confidence since arriving, and she had been able to send letters—conveyed by each of the other Summoned and with their personal wishes—that were convincing enough to get the old blood families to work together to make a truly special and one-of-a-kind event come together.
“It’s going to be amazing,” Eric replied. “This is also a great way to bring the four families closer together.”
Misty nodded. “There’s been some division in the past, true, but thankfully no outright hostility.” She squeezed his hand. “You’re right. The bonds you and your allies have will bring us all closer together. This will be good for the capital, and then will echo across the kingdom.” She turned to look at him, and Eric was awestruck once more by her rapturous beauty. “We’ll save the kingdom, and the world—together.”
Eric added, “And then be together forever.”
Eric had told her about his Reaper’s Reprieve Trait, and how he would have a far longer lifespan than a regular person due to killing monsters. He had also told her about his Skill that enabled him to keep someone’s soul beyond death. They had already taken appropriate precautions—a vacuum sealed vial for her, just like they had done with the other Summoned—and placed that into his Storage Dimension in case he needed to bring her back to life.
Misty was fully on board with learning how to create a backup body for herself and cheating death via Eric’s Skill Nothing’s Certain to stay with him far beyond the reach of death itself. Even if they needed to use a construct body as an intermediary until they discovered the means from a Fleshcrafter in the Empire of Pwish for making a perfect clone, or figured out the process themselves by combining their medical knowledge, Misty was ride-or-die with Eric to the end.
And, Indedroma was equally aligned and of a joined mind. As she had put it when Eric had discussed it with her and asked her thoughts on the topic:
[If I can have a primal force holder on hand, who is on good terms with me, and is a high level, to counter threats to Elyndor’s safety? Who am I to say anything against that? An eternal protector who can act as the physical defense mechanism while I am the—for lack of a better term—ephemeral, spiritual, and reality-interfacing defense mechanism? I approve.]
The coach came to a stop, and a footman opened the door, while another servant held a large umbrella. Eric stepped down, then helped Misty down. They were in front of the citadel, which had undergone a makeover—the whole front of the building had been decorated with streamers that were heavily starched and could hold up to the downpour for some time. They were a mix of white and pink.
Kings guards lined the entryway, and both Misty and Eric walked inside together.
Tradition dictated that the men and women be separated until the actual ceremony, and so Eric gave her a kiss. Misty separated and said, “I will see you soon, my love.”
“Soon,” Eric said.
The two had to go their separate ways, and Eric walked down familiar paths, following the directions of a servant.
But, he was stopped, as the very-familiar silhouette of the Spymaster slipped out of a side passage. “Eric Baxter,” she curtly said, “you wanted to talk, and now is the time.”
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