Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

The week after the elevation of [Griffin Arc] to the silver spot on the Leaderboard passed by much too slowly for many, mostly because Erika effing Burgess did not let them hear the end of their 'distinguished rise'.

She used all political powers in her employ as first-year Student President, and the social ones of her Pynk clan to rub her Arc's swift dominion in the faces—and noses of other factions in the academy.

"How have the mighty fallen?"

She belittled the members of turpedoed Pegasus Arc every chance she got. Aya had asked of Rafel more than once to jam the girl's blonde head in her soup. Or to leave a skunk raccoon in her wardrobe. Or to cast a [Hag's spell] of greenface on her. Or, to literally send her breakfast toast into her fucking smirking face.

Israfel had refused his dear succubus all of those times. Not out of cowardice or exception to Erika's cruelty, but for the purpose at hand, to which they had to keep a low profile. He advised his friends not to engage the Miss President: "Naamah, do not give her the satisfaction. We all know how Erika can be. She's not necessarily our friend, but she's part of the Filii Corvi.

And we'll need all the help we can get for what's coming." He talked about outing and ousting the ruling proprietress of the Corynthian institute, which by no means was a small feat. His friends got it and each time Erika strolled in blowing her hair and popping gums in Aya's face, or Cora's, the girls calmly extracted themselves from her.

Nevertheless, for some reason the Bourgeoisie lass quit her posturing around Rafel. Same as the other prominent members of the Pynks: the Fairfield twins. Perhaps, it was for one obvious reason; it had to do with Israfel's very attractive body.

By the end of that week, everyone was tired of the uppity bitch. And all Arcs were quite ready on the eve of the Sabbath day to prove the Griffins wrong and topple them from their high perch. Other factions of the school were united by this single, embittered mission to fell the gilded cunts. To fell the Griffin.

—And weekend could not come any faster.

From the second the sanctuary's bells rolled that early morning on Saturn's day and sunshine hit the island, a buzz calmly crept in with the sunrise. And if Rafel squinted at the glass screen of his window, he swore he could see Söl and his chariot; the sun god ridin in the picturesque dawn. Today was the finals. The finals of the Spring Games.

Clearly, the term was coming to an end for this year at the school of wizardry.

The finals of the Spring Games was hosted by the grand graces of the [Three Without Eyes]—whom rarely left their spooky dwelling place. And it was financed by the Corynthian college's Alumni: noble folk from all across nine realms of the continent, rich out their arses and more than eager to reunite and show off their proudest assets: their children.

Rafel was suddenly trust into a self-absorbed, materialistic world when the highborn parents began arriving at noon.

It reminded him grossly of his time at Emberfall. If [Enchanting armoire] wove for him a path back in time now, would he take it? He wondered.

At midday, the docks of the isle on which the great magical college sat became busy with landing ships bearing the diverse banners of Houses within the realm—the notable ones. Rafel spotted the Silver May glide into port from the Manager's office at the Spinazolla's restaurant, where he decided to have his lunch.

He peered out the upper-room balcony with a dish of hot sauce in his hand—Cora's personal spruce, facing the direction of wind-chill. He inhaled sea breeze and directed a controlled amount of red aura from his [Epic-grade Mana Core] to his eyes. His vision adjusted and funneled across dozens of miles. He used [Cyclops Sight], which made him see the landing boats as though he was on shore.

On the beaches with haggling sailors.

As he ate softly, he let his enhanced eyesight fall on the Silver May as it crested in with a shallow wave and was roped in by runboys. Langley porters rushed to the splendid white yacht to ferry whatever the Governess aboard did instruct.

"Softly, softly," the woman controlled the lads.

Rafel spotted the owner of the pricey vessel almost immediately she exited her luxurious cabin. Her white petticoat, even against the white of her boat, was impossible to miss. "Lady Nura Fairfield," he said aloud in the silent office, biting into soft steak.

The Noblewoman was helped down from the yacht and swiftly swarmed by her kids: the twins. The hot twins! The lushest topics of conversation in the boys locker room. Rafel would know. They tried to get him to weigh in... on how firm Raz Fairfield's titties might be.

Or if she was ticklish in her armpits or toes.

Rafel had always done his best to avoid.

But it he had to say, then Raziah's breasts were certainly as supple and perky as they looked under her school top. He had felt them.

He stopped thinking when Keziah, the second twin began telling their mother of the finals happening tonight. He released his dish and it floated to the table by [Umbrae Tendrils] that carried it there. He zoned in with his enhanced sight, across the miles between the restaurant and beach and read the girl's lips as she talked to their mother.

"Mama!" Keziah hugged Nura, the Lady of the Grand Duchy of Rievaulx, its peninsula and the Eldritch Keep—where Rafel and his friends had discovered their fifty million Armageddon treasure.

". . .Raz and I are so happy to see you. The term ends in about two fortnights. Autumn is close, and we'll be home soon—as soon as we start exams. Ugh!

Kill me." She made a face as their mother only laughed; the girls held the woman and led her away from the docks where Silver May had roped, talking as they did; servants and porters scurried around them, boots chaffing on hardwood and each one stopping to bow at the Duchess as they did. "Can you believe it? The Finals!" Raz shrieked.

Her sister continued with her telling, "we have done the Hunt, the Triathlon—which was a whole bunch of phenomenal shit."

"Language, darlin'" Nura licked her thumb and rubbed Keziah's forehead.

"Mom! Stop. You're embarrassing me! Anyways, like I was saying, just last week we had the Riders Tournament. Mom! There were dragons.

Big dragons! Four of 'em... and-and a girl died. And it was fuc... sorry, effing epic. It was effing epic!

There was fire and ash and sky. We rounded off last weekend with the Aquarian Dance. Our Arc is now second place."

"What?" Lady Nura stopped; her similar eyes lit in pride.

"Yeah, mama I almost couldn't believe it too. From fourth to second. And if we win the finals this dusk, we've got a solid chance of a tie at first place with Phoenix Arc."

"That's amazing, Kelly! Ohh, come here."

"Thank you, mama." Both girls entered for a tight hug. Raziah offered, "the finale is called. . ."

"A Clash of Swords."

The twins shared a look as their mother finished for them. Raz spoke first. "Mama, how do you—"

"Oh, hush child. I went here. You know I was eighteen once! Besides, I'm an honorary member of the Alumni Board. Now come on, my dears. I want to see your dorms before the Games begin."

Rafel watched the Fairfield women dip into a waiting carriage. It was long and sleek, and gold.

"Tell me, is that redhaired boy still fine?"

Their giggling was the last thing Rafel saw before their heads ducked into the buggy and he couldn't read their lips again. Rafel blinked, and [Cyclops Sight] faded from his eyes. He turned from the office's window, wiped his mouth with a napkin and walked out.

Chefs of the five-star restaurant stared up from menus and orders as they all watched the boss slide mutely into a dark booth and vanish out from sight in a queer burst of shadows.

[Ding!]

[Host has been named as official Gladiator in the Clash of Swords game finale tonight.]

[ Combatant for PHOENIX ARC ]

[Y/N?]

[Tag: The Blood Raider!]

[Named Squire: Imani Beaumarchais.]

"Yes, I accept," Rafel replied Peitho, "it will most certainly whet my appetite to draw some blood at the Clash tonight. And before you ask, I'm headed to meet the Doctor of Poisons. The Duchess's arrival has filled me with sudden inspiration for our Headmistress problem."

Rafel rematerialized in another vortex of roping shadows at the Citadel. The mammoth tower rose before him like a mighty Firestone. He ran up the steps, flashing past corridors in a blur of dark swirls. Obviously, he was using his abilities.

[Heel of Dread] carried him seamlessly through the long halls of the stone building until he came by the scented laboratory marked by overgrown epiphyte crawling up its walls; inside were vases of the most delicate and dangerous flowers: [Potions and Poisons] class.

Dr. Ivy's office.

The young tutor was arranging beds of mandrake when he walked in. She was alone.

"Master Blüdthïrste!" She turned in greeting, hearing footsteps. Her dress like always was flowy and dropped to her knees. For Rafel, it was an instant turn-on—not that he'd act on it. After half the college had seen Professor Ivoria naked on live screen, in gigantic close-up, who didn't imagine her without clothes every single time.

Ivoria pulled off her gloves and rubbed her hands together. A small garden fork was beside her desk.

Before she could ask, Rafel declared his reason for the impromptu entry on a weekend: "I need a favor, Dr. Ivoria."

She walked closer. "Call me Ivy, and sure. I'll help out. What is this about? I know I shouldn't have one, but you are one of my favourite pupils. Is this about classwork?

You did well in your tests. You have nothing to worry about."

"No... uh, Ivy. This isn't about grades." Rafel took a step forward; he looked straight into her plant-green orbs of eyes. "This is about the Academy, and its future."

Ivy's expression went serious. "Okay. Hit me."

"Something tells me I can trust you, Ivy. At a certain time not so distant from now, I will call upon you and your abilities. And I'll need you to deliver. I will need the Enchantress that seduced us to near death at the Hunt. I'll need the wildling. The vessel of the Maiden, Mother, and Crone.

I will need you, Doctor. Will that be a problem?"

"No. No." Ivy shook her head. "—whatever you need. I'll be ready, just say whenever."

"Good." Rafel finally let his smile come through. He started out but turned back at the laboratory door, "see you at the Clash, Ivy."

"Yep. See you there." She waved her fingers, but caught on the shrewd movement and squeezed them shut. "Gods, look at me all flushed." She touched her neck when Rafel was gone; it was hot.

On his way out of the Citadel, Rafel didn't use dark portals or superspeed. He was happy. He had just enlisted the aid of a formidable [Rank A Enchantress]. Peitho pinged in with a notification as he was pulling out the stone steps of the tower.

[DING!]

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[ CLASH OF SWORDS begins in two hours. ]

[I have polished off BLOODTHORN, your Atlantean Trident, FROSTBLADE, and runic Warhammer, WORLDGOBBLER.]

[Host is free, but restricted to selecting only one weapon from the afforded DIVINE class.]

[I have also accessed the records on your foes for the Clash. Only one specific Gladiator proves to be a worthy adversary from my complied stats: a Demiurgan female by the name of. . .]

[ ALEXANDRA, OF HOUSE VERO ]

"Why should it matter, Peitho? She's a student."

[She is also S-rank!]

Rafel's steps screeched to a halt on the pavement.