The Void Wolf

Ira sat in a cell that was specifically made to detain him and only him. Restrictive arrays lined the walls in addition to the shackles that were placed on him, reducing his total strength to 1/10th of its level, but that still was enough to kill most people with little more than a punch.

The iron door to the cell suddenly opened and Irving, the aide to the Fourth Prince, entered along with a man with keys.

“The matter has been investigated and although you’ve assaulted a man in broad daylight, you’re free to go.” The man said as if he was unsatisfied with the decision. It seemed like he had an important role in the matters of security. In fact, he was the captain of the diplomatic security team.

“I wasn’t before?” Ira asked with a chuckle.

The Captain looked around at the arrays and then at the shackles placed on Ira. “Are you really arrogant enough to think you could just walk out?” He asked in disbelief.

Ira smiled at him as he stood up. Faint wisps of black mist emerged from his skin and then he pulled his arms apart. The chains snapped and the shackles fell to the ground with a heavy clink.

“What time is it?” Ira asked Irving who was stunned.

“...It’s quite late in the afternoon. The banquet will start in a few hours, so I’d urge you to hurry.” Irving said as recovered himself.

“That’s more than enough time.” Ira said as he left the dazed Captain standing in the room.

“Sir Ira, I guarantee you that isn’t anywhere close to enough time. We have to fix your appearance to match the dignity of the royalty.” Irving said as he followed behind.

…

There were attempts to correct Ira’s mannerisms and give him a more noble and heroic temperament, but all of them fell short of the intended goal. The most effort Ira made was to button up his jacket as if to appease the constant nagging of those sent over to help him. They left the room and it was clear Ira didn’t expect them to come back because he had unbuttoned his jacket. His actions caused an ear full of complaints that he brushed off with a laugh or a smile.

There were efforts to reprimand him for wanting to bring his companion who was dressed in a grey cloak, but after hearing about the Parvian man who spoke to his companion, no one had the heart to follow through with it.

After a long process that gave way to nothing but frustrations, Ira and Avery were left alone.

“You weren’t opposed to dressing up for our wedding if I recall correctly.” Avery said.

“I don’t love the Prince.” Ira shrugged.

“You know, Ira. This is an important event, it’s something that even my family couldn’t neglect entirely.” Avery reminded Ira.

There was one issue that she knew was destined to be brought up and that was the deaths of a hundred thousand Diavol soldiers. There was no one who knew that Ira was the culprit and if they did he would probably become the immediate enemy of all nations. It was likely they would press on even under the threat of the Valkyries interference. The main concern was all the different countries unifying under the threat of a common enemy. Even the Valkyries would find it difficult to face nearly a million soldiers. Especially after the Red Moon and Golden Aurora when talented individuals began to appear left and right.

“The talking part is important, not the stupid banquet.” Ira responded.

“Not for people like this, they hold these types of events in high importance. Don’t be too surprised when you’re approached by dozens of people wishing to build a connection to you.” Avery said.

“That’s why I have you, right?” Ira drew his sword and pointed at the air as he made a cold expression. “Move.” He said attempting to recreate Avery’s actions when he was approached by a woman on the street.

Avery smiled as she shook her head. “I don’t plan on revealing my identity until the talks begin.”

Ira sheathed his sword and looked at Avery. “I don’t have a problem with skipping it, you know. We can just stay in the room if you want.”

“As much as I would like to, I want to observe what goes on during the banquet.” Avery said.

“That's surprising, especially since you’ve been more aggressive than me during the entire time we've been here.” Ira seemed to realize something as he recalled his time with Avery. It was her choice to spend the most of their time in the bedroom, not that Ira had a problem with it.

“My Mother and Grandmother want us to have a child as soon as possible.” Avery said plainly.

“Oh...Don’t you think it’s a bit too soon?” Ira asked without much of a reaction. Avery was still in her early twenties, specifically twenty-four, not that it mattered since she became a Valkyrie. On the other hand, Ira was...probably somewhere between eighteen and twenty, his time in the void and the regenerative properties of his bloodline made it very hard for him to tell.

“Are you against it?” Avery asked.

“I’m not. It’s just aren’t we busy all the time? You aren’t the housewife type.” Ira said. He didn’t want to see Avery spend years of her life raising a kid when she could be doing something else.

“That’s not a problem, Ira. Ignoring all the maids and servants available, my cousins, aunts, mother, and grandmother would all play some part in raising our child. The children of Valkyries don’t really interact with their mothers until they’re old enough to speak coherent sentences.” Avery said.

“If that’s how it is, then I don't have a problem with it. I mean, you turned out perfectly fine, so I doubt anything would go wrong.” Ira said.

Even though Ira honestly believed what he said, almost all the husbands of the Valkyries would disagree with him if it weren’t for the fact that they were murdered by their wives. As fathers, they hated to see their daughters subjected to that cruel training that turned them into cold-hearted warriors.

Some, like Avery’s father, attempted to stage a “rescue” but were all killed. Others attempted to reason with the Valkyries and that usually resulted in an immediate death. It was unknown how many servants bore witness to a wife decapitating her husband in broad daylight with no warning.

“In any case, we should be on our way. It’s going to start soon.” Avery said before moving toward the door to exit the room.

“Alright.” Ira followed right behind her.

…

Somewhere in a low lit room, an atmosphere that seemed to cultivate deceit emanated from a man whose features were obscured by darkness.

“That Fourth Prince seems to be unrestrained in his activities...I guess it’s the ignorance that comes with youth. We all thought we were invincible when were younger, no?” The figure spoke to someone else who stood in front of him.

“Yes, but he has Ira on his side. In his country, he is highly regarded.” The one standing in front of him said.

“Ira doesn’t appear to be too closely connected to the Prince or else I wouldn’t dare to move against him. We’ll help to guide the Fourth Prince down a more humble path...Find someone close to him and set an example.” The man sitting in the dark seemed to know a great deal about Ira because his tone became overly cautious when his name was mentioned. It was the opposite of when he spoke about the Prince of another country.

“I’ll make sure it’s done properly.” The figure standing in front of the man nodded before sinking into the darkness.

“Make sure it’s painful and discreet, we don’t want it to affect the talks.” The man said. He heard no answer in response but he was sure that his message was received.

The Fourth Prince created a mask that made him appear as useless to the public eye. While it fooled a large majority of people not everyone would be so easily convinced. There were people who could be regarded as masters when it came to plotting against others. Those few who were immensely skilled in plotting could see the incongruence in the Prince’s act if they looked deep enough.

…

After a few hours, the banquet hall was full and chatter filled its walls. Just about every race on the continent could be seen. Humans, Diavol, Elves, Dark Elves, Dwarves, and Beast People were inside of the hall. While everyone appeared friendly on the surface, there were silent battles being fought all around.

The only ones who didn’t seem to fall into the atmosphere were the Diavol who sat with a grim countenance and barely interacted with others. There were times where a few wanted to scream throughout the hall and warn everyone of the large threat looming over them, but they held it while wishing the time for the talks could come sooner.

The Dark Elves, specifically the Queen and her son, seemed to be in discussion with the beast people and lycanthropes in their retinue.

“Your Majesty, that one with the yellow-eyes...he’s...It’s like he’s forcing the blood in my body down.” An extraordinarily hairy man said as he sent a fearful glance toward Ira, who was sitting in a corner with a woman in a grey cloak.

“It’s the same for me.” A beastman with canine traits that had grown far more apparent, spoke up in agreement

“Is he perhaps a lycanthrope with a strong bloodline?” The Dark Elf Prince, Saren Meldara asked.

“No...it’s more than that. I feel the urge to submit every time I look at him.” The Lycanthrope growled in frustration. After the Red Moon, he had grown quite a lot, but in front of Ira, he felt like a newborn.

He peeked at Ira but felt his body freeze as Ira’s eyes suddenly locked onto him. Ira smiled at the sight before he turned away. Their interaction only lasted for a few seconds, but to the Lycanthrope it felt like forever. He clutched his chest as he tried to calm his erratic heartbeat.

Sylun Meldara, The Dark Elf Queen, witnessed what happened and looked at Ira as if considering something. Anyone with a Lycanthropic bloodline was bound to have a connection to the Red Moon. Ira’s bloodline appeared to be especially strong, so she guessed he would have more information than they did.

“Send someone to inquire about him. If possible, try to make a connection with him as an ally.” Sylun ordered.

It seemed everyone in the hall was busy exchanging information, inquiring about potential allies and enemies. Details about certain individuals served as the currency for the unspoken transactions that took place in the hall. There were two common methods of finding out information during gatherings such as the one taking place. One was the exchange of rumors and information and the other was to use a more direct approach which usually went as followed, Pawn makes a scene, Pawn either succeeds or fails, Pawn gets a superficial reprimanding in front of the spectators.

“Why are you wearing a mask? Are you perhaps hiding something?” An especially loud voice seemed to be following the latter method. It was most likely someone of a minor name who was a willing scapegoat wishing to please their masters.

The banquet quieted down as everyone focused their attention on the scene. Some had amused expressions while other wore faces of criticism. Rhys, the second strongest Mercenary in the Grenitian Kingdom was being confronted by an officer of the Tel’vian Empire.

“Are you perhaps disfigured? If so then forgive me, but it’s a matter of safety, so if you could please take off the mask to show your disfigured face, I would be grateful.” The Officer said with mockery. He bowed politely as if to apologize, but his actions didn't match his words.

Rhys felt all eyes focus on her but still took out her notepad to write before holding it up. [I prefer not to take off my mask.] There had been many times Rhys had heard similar words but she had learned to ignore them.

The Tel’vian officer squinted to read it before he laughed, “A disfigured mute? I heard you’re the second strongest in your country. Would the third perhaps be crippled and blind?”

The Grenitian King and everyone around him frowned but didn’t say anything. It was up to the First Prince to take care of. If the ruler of the nation, were to speak toward a small figure such as the Tel'vian Officer, it would damage the overall reputation of his Kingdom and reduce his standing in the eyes of everyone else.

The First Prince unexpectedly showed a very subdued reaction. Rhys had avoided joining his faction no matter what he promised, so he wasn’t very interested in defending her, but he couldn’t completely disregard her. The First Prince nodded to one of the men at his side enthusiastically stepped out to showcase his silver tongue. He cleared his throat.

“Could you shut the fuck up?” A voice that wasn’t his rang throughout the near silent hall.

All eyes turned toward the source, a handsome young man who looked to be 18 or 19 years old with black hair and yellow eyes. It was none other than Ira who looked unfazed by what was happening. He regarded Rhys as a friend so there was no reason for him not to speak up. It’s just that he lacked any charisma or charm that was usually applauded in a verbal exchange.

The Tel’vian officer looked a little unprepared for such a direct outburst, but he regained his calm and spoke. “Are you not the strongest of your profession in your country? Who would’ve guessed you’re ignorant man who is only good at cursing and violence.”

“This guy–Keep talking and I’ll break your neck.” Ira said without much aggression and a friendly smile that made it seem as the threat was empty.

“Would you really dare to use violence at an international banquet?” The Officer asked tauntingly.

Ira sighed before he stood up. All eyes were plastered on him, ready to see what his next move was. No matter how daring they were, no one would use violence in such a place, especially under the gazes of so many and while so much was at stake.

Nearly everyone at the banquet had heard of Ira’s altercation with a Parvian Noble and weren’t too surprised at his current actions. Ira disappeared from sight, leaving wisps of black mist in his place and shocking everyone who was unfamiliar with his abilities. Then the sound of someone choking was heard which drew their attention and surprise. Ira gripped the officer by his throat and lifted him into the air.

“You know, maybe I could’ve come up with a bunch of clever stuff to embarrass you and get you to be quiet, but isn’t this easier?” Ira asked the officer whose face had grown red, not due to embarrassment, but obviously asphyxiation.

“Unhand him!”

“Guards!”

“Put him down!”

The Tel’vians erupted into shouts as their guards along with the Free City guards rushed forward. Though the first to rush up to Ira was someone unexpected. Cyprian Aurell arrived at Ira’s side and held a translucent sword made of spirit magic up to Ira’s neck.

“I apologize for interrupting, but my name is Cyprian Aurell of The House of Swords. I have a few matters to settle with you in regards to what you did to one of the people under my House.” Cyprian said as he held the blade near Ira’s neck with a resolute gaze.

Ira’s free hand shot up and gripped the sword directly while he focused most of his attention on the Tel’vian officer who was clawing at his arm.

“I’ll get to you after I finish with him so you'll have to wait just a bit. Maybe you should go find a snack or something in the meantime.” Ira said as he disregarded Cyprian's words entirely.

Somehow, only within a few hours of starting, the banquet had turned into a standoff.