Cira smirked as the old man’s outstretched hand was slowly pushed back out of the barrier, “I guess he never removed your permissions.” Cira realized there were probably a few others like him, so she had to stay vigilant. Regardless, this was a surefire way to show Cira that this person was once well-trusted by her father.

  He only laughed at being repelled, “And in case Breeze Haven fell into the wrong hands, I removed its ability to pass our barrier.” As he floated back, Cira met him and Eliza outside in a flash of lightning.

  “Some good that did.” The redhaired mage Eliza laughed. It seemed pointed at the old man.

  “Yes, yes…” He stroked his beard in fond reminiscence, “That Gazen always had a knack for barriers.”

  Cira nodded along with a proud grin, but inwardly she clenched a fist. Damn you, Dad. Stop being impressive for a damn minute so I can be mad at you. Which proved remarkably difficult. Cira could think of no prouder achievement than constructing a barrier so safe that even Lazulei could one day sleep peacefully within it while a collision demolished someone else’s barrier a hundred times larger.

  Damn you, Dad.

  “I must admit,” A smooth voice surprised Cira and she turned to find a young man with bright golden hair constantly fluttering up as if charged with energy, gliding his hand along Breeze Haven’s barrier. “This is truly a marvel. Do you mind if I study it?”

  His tone was gentle and kind, and while she didn’t notice anything off about this guy aside from the raging mana coursing through him at all times, there was something about his ease that put her off.

  “So long as it is from the outside, I will allow it on one condition.” Cira knew an opportunity when she saw one, “You must report to me in detail if you find any potential weaknesses and give me a thorough summary of any notable findings once you are done.”

  “Wh—okay… If those are your terms.” He turned to face her with an eyebrow raised. This man… he could compete against my harem in a beauty contest. And he’s easily ten times as ripped. You could grate nutmeg on those abs. More importantly, why does he have as much mana as me constantly flowing through him? Does he even store any? “Then I humbly accept.”

  He took his hands off the barrier and gave Cira a slight bow.

  “Oh, and one more thing.” He got a funny look on his face, but Cira was too curious. “You have to tell me what’s going on with your mana.”

  This got a surprised laugh out of him, “I’m not entirely sure myself, but I have no qualms discussing it. As for the rest,” He struck an odd pose with one hand on his heart and another too the sky, “I, Rilihad the Third, swear beneath the sky to report my findings as requested.”

  Apparently, it was a thing to take this pose and stare into the sun when taking an oath. Cira thought he was being a little too serious but couldn’t complain about the show of sincerity.

  If that’s really what he wants, “You heard him, right, oh Incomprehensible One?” Cira let Prismagora do the work and the two were shrouded in holy light, forming a chain between them which faded quickly. The look on Rilihad’s face said he could still feel the bond, however. “Oath humbly accepted.”

  “W-what have you done?!” He stumbled back grasping his chest. Evidently, some others didn’t take kindly to this and a few of the heavy hitters started powering up again, “Release this spell, immediately!”

  Most of them looked remarkably young, and each had a fierce look in their eyes. Eliza and the old man seemed amused, so Cira was confused as to why they weren’t saying anything. Aside from one girl who hid in the back, this group was ready to strike. Javelins of aether flame, an encroaching cage of molten metal, and an adorable display of light magic all surrounded her in an instant. The aether thrummed with pressure.

  Do those two want me to make an impression? I really hate things like that. I didn’t mean to force a man into an oath via his own foolishness. He started it!

  “There is no spell to undo,” Cira replied matter of factly, “You’ll have to complete your studies.”

  It was clear that the others didn’t think much of her by the way they approached and formed their various sorceries. They may have thought she was just a little girl with some neat trinkets. She did boast about them, after all.

  I see. Then let me dismiss my staves. They were still stuck in the lawn behind her, but now they disappeared along with the floating Conduit. This is something I must do with my bare hands.

  The only one she was really worried about was Rilihad. His mana was insane, but he was preoccupied trying to cycle the oath out. That told her something about his constitution. He could not be defeated in a battle of attrition, but the rate at which he could induct mana scaled with whatever the hell he had going on. It required physical and mental effort for him to cycle mana faster, but it was always a consistent flow, in and through.

  Okay, he’s not just a walking mana well. But I have to deal with these people first.

  Inspiration came from a woman with stark white hair—the one casting the light magic. She formed thousands of needles, condensing light in a similar way to the barrier Cira cast over the island below. Especially under the morning sun, Cira was sure she had enough power to return it all to the aether.

  Not quite a barrier, but like a bubble of condensed light burst, all the incoming fire javelins and needles of light dispersed. The molten cage never stood a chance, let alone the cloud of stone bullets. Sharp vines withered to dust and any attempt at dark projectiles wisped away like a dream.

  Not bad. It was sort of like an intentionally failed barrier, but the effects spoke for themselves. While the mages were momentarily stunned, Cira knew this was not the time to rest.

  Rilihad approached, muscles flexed to the point veins were bulging through his skin like worms. Faster than mere eyes could trace, he was before her with a fist cocked back, aether crackling around his fist.

  Luckily, Cira knew he would, and was watching very intently with Spatial Sight. If he had some weird martial arts, she would have been in real trouble. But this person was imposing as all hell—surging with power and manifesting himself to punch people into oblivion as needed. He went for a standard left hook, throwing his whole body into it.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  And Cira was already moving before he appeared, twisting her body around at speeds that was sure to give her a tummy ache later, but just barely enough for the fist to miss. Still, Cira would have to patch her robes. Her belly button was exposed like a wild beast had taken a swipe at her.

  “You bastard.” I can’t pull my punches with him. I don’t even know what this silk he ruined is called! I only have so much! “Sorcerous Punch!”

  Her hand was already within inches of his head. She planned on putting him to sleep, but this option was more appealing. All she had to do was form a fist and follow through.

  Cira’s robes rippled as the air ruptured and Rilihad disappeared with a sonic boom that could be heard repeating in the distance. The mages attempting to reform their attacks were all given pause as they looked at Cira with shock, doing double-takes from her to where the man once was.

  “Is that enough, old man?” Cira gave a pointed glance to the High Arbiter.

  He laughed, diffusing his mages’ attacks at once, “Quite. It would appear my first mark arbiters still have much to learn if they can be defeated so easily by a single girl.”

  A bead of sweat fell from Cira’s face. That Rilihad guy was no joke—

  The aether shook and Cira saw a fist inches from her face. Her eyes went wide as she braced herself for the punch that never came.

  “It’s over, Rilihad.” Fitzgeralt wore a casual smile. Cira was sure he was the one who stopped the attack, but he didn’t move a muscle. “If you did not want to swear an oath, you probably should not have done so in the first place, though I commend your sincerity.”

  The group of powerful mages surrounded her, still not completely willing to drop their mana. They stared at her with caution, and Cira picked another face out of the crowd.

  “Ah, Roman.” She smiled, “How is Kristof?”

  “I’ll show you how I am!” A young man appeared through space with a shining crystal spear, a vicious look on his face. As he stabbed the point toward Cira’s chest, it shattered against an invisible barrier, causing an explosion of light, “Ahhh!!!!”

  His cries disappeared as he fell through the sky as well, having been repelled with equal force. I admit, the force was not insignificant. Maybe next time, Kristof.

  Roman gave her a pained smile in return, “You could say he’s bitter of late… Just got back from Kyrnsbad.”

  “You don’t say…” I can see a rapscallion like him landing himself in the Sorcerous Gaol. “I’ll have to ask him what it’s like.

  “Ahem,” Fitzgeralt drew everyone’s attention. “Shall we head inside? This is hardly the place for proper greetings.”

  Cira looked around to see the confused army of mages in the sky, and more than a few key players that didn’t look happy to see her. The spectacle Fitzgeralt placed in her lap did not help. In particular, there was a vengeful looking old woman with gray hair in a shawl, giving her a stink-eye that must transcend time itself. The next who caught Cira’s eye was a corpulent fellow in pompous velvet clothes, tight to his skin like he was supposed to be some kind of hot air balloon.

  On the other hand, there was a woman who looked far too eager to see her. The white haired one that inspired her before in a revealing dress of vibrant red like fresh blood in the snow. She gave Cira a suggestive wink like Ember used to do, then a subtle wave.

  “Right… This island sure is an interesting artifact. I would love to learn more about it.” Cira couldn’t figure out the purpose, but each islet bound to their tracks revolved slowly around the center over time. It reminded her of the planetarium her father took her to as a child. “Lead the way.”

  With a wave of Fitzgeralt’s hand, most of the army disappeared—literally vanished—and the small group of twelve or so nearby followed the old man. Cira flew between Roman and Eliza as they approached a building close to the center, but almost at the highest level.

  This place really is amazing. There are so many little islands. Most had a patch of buildings on their surface, or a single one, but others were bare or covered in foliage. Better yet, some were clearly gardens. A gentle clicking of gears could be heard from beneath each one, and they either rose to the top on a tilted ring of track or followed the path down at the end of the loop. Only a few lay on the flat outer ring.

  The group landed in front of a wide building made of solid stone, and grand doors swung open to reveal a single, large chamber. Lights from the ceiling illuminated what could only be a room meant for meetings. Three layers of seating in a circle with a few handfuls of higher seats above, and of course, an extra high one for the High Arbiter.

  The center rotunda was open, and it was almost like a stage. Everyone seemed to know where their spot was, but Cira felt uncertain about taking one of the raised seats, as they were likely designated. Below didn’t work either, as it would have hurt her neck to look up the whole time she was being introduced, and she only saw one way to not be pressured to the stage.

  Now, her chair-related sorcery had grown leaps and bounds lately, but flying around in them just made her look awkward. In times like these, Cira conjured a little golden cloud behind her and hopped up. Reinforced with condensed space, this cloud could support her easily while being softer than a mattress. They were only golden when she wanted them imbued with warming light, and it was incredibly cozy. After many years of spellcraft development—or lazing about depending on how one looked at it, Cira sat upon the most comfortable seat in the sky.

  Satisfied enough, she floated over to the space between Eliza and her Dad’s friend Fitzgeralt, splitting the difference in height so she could speak to either of them if she needed to.

  “Why—the gall!” A long-eared man with skin overtaken in freckles shouted in astonishment. He had not been present during the ambush, and now there was noticeably double the number of mages as before. A few were much closer to Eliza’s level in terms of perceivable aura. “Are we even sure this is Lord Gazen’s daughter?”

  She was pissed for a moment, despite her current troubles, but hearing him call Dad ‘Lord Gazen’ just diffused it for some reason. Still, Cira could not stay silent. She stood up, although she was standing on air. Just for kicks, the cloud behind her crackled with void lightning.

  “Would you like to find out too?” The Second Pillar of the Sage manifested in all its orichalcum glory. The polished stone room shook only a little bit because Cira held it in. Still, the man was visibly pressed into his seat under the pressure as it was mainly directed at him. “Or shall I keep pulling out his old trinkets until you believe me?”

  A seat over from Eliza was a young (looking) woman that Cira recognized from before. She spoke up seemingly in support, “That’s… that’s his staff!” Cira was wary, but this girl didn’t seem suspicious at all. “I recognize it from Mudrock.”

  “Huh…?” Cira’s mana faltered as she found herself flabbergasted, “Why do you know about… Mudrock?”

  She smiled with a grin like she had attained the upperhand, “That’s where he found me.”

  What…? Just what is that supposed to mean—

  As if sensing tumult sweeping Cira’s attention away, Fitzgeralt clapped his hands once. Instead of the sound one would expect, it was like banging a drum that shook the very air. He did not hold back like Cira had, “There will be plenty of time for personal conversations later. This is an honorary induction and orientation for Cira, Daughter of the Far Lord Gazen.”

  Far Lord requires its own conversation, but I can’t just ignore this, “What do you mean induction? I didn’t sign anything.”

  Cira crossed her arms and looked between him and the amused Eliza.

  There was chatter Cira didn’t feel like casting sorcery to hear, but Fitzgeralt quickly silenced it, “Worry not. The position bears no responsibility, and you do not even need to consider yourself a member. Regardless, you are child to the High Arbiter of the Second order. This status makes you a Pureblood Legacy within these halls, like it or not. By my good name, you will not come to harm upon this island of Icarus. If not a second home, consider this place a safe haven whenever you need it. You are welcome to all facilities beneath my authority, and if need be, you may petition my arbiters to assist you with your own matters presuming my approval.”

  Well… I already have a safe haven. It’s even in the name. However, this man’s words are spoken from a place of kindness. I can tell how much respect for my father he had—

  Dammit… I’m still mad at him.

  “There’s just one thing I need to know.” Cira relaxed back on her cloud and knit her fingers, peering up at the High Arbiter from a cloudy pillow. Her cold tone did not match her comfort level, “Did my father tell you to expect me?”