The High Council of Elders had thought it a good idea to make such a huge announcement to a child who barely had an inkling of ancient courtly procedures. They had said it so suddenly that it did the trick; his laid back ears were a clear sign of uncertainty and apprehension. As if pleased by the sight of the Crown Prince's reaction, Zera continued to lay it out thick for him. She told him:
"Sire, we are a race that will lay down our bows and swords if the battle exceeds our abilities and powers, but we do not stay down forever. We have to rise from the ashes and regain our glorious vigor and place in the world."
All Safatore heard from that speech was "bows" and "vigor", and immediately thought of Saka and Semacoar. He looked back to the council, his ears still drooping. Did that make him and his brothers the obvious tools? And since when did they start calling him "sire"?
"Nothing has happened in the past three hundred years that had a significance such as this," Zera went on. "Ever since the Fall, it seemed like our race had no reason to rise back again from the bowels of the world, but thanks to your presence, our future is back underway."
"In three seasons' time, we should awaken the rest of the elves and introduce the five of you as the future of Xander. Who knows, maybe your presence might also change Azarek?"
Safatore frowned, glancing aside. He bit hard on his lip, drawing blood and looked at Zera. He was starting to dislike that unified decision-making process.
"This is a terrible idea. My brothers and I were born after the Fall."
"The Fall...was three centuries ago, young Kraufford." Zera said firmly, steepling her slender fingers in front of herself. Her voice carried across the room with unyielding authority as she added, "More so it is your duty as Crown Prince to show the people your capabilities to rule the kingdom."
The bottom of Safatore's eye twitched. So that was what that meeting was about. The elven high council members had summoned him there to tell him they were giving him responsibility over an entire race. But then again, regarding how they knew he had questionable authority over his younger brothers, that might have been a trap to burden him.
The logic here was not introducing him to his people, but putting more pressure on him so he could submit and rely more on them. That way...they had more authority.
Not to mention he was born after The Fall. A three-hundred-year old disaster.
He let out a fragile sigh. These figureheads were as cunning as they were old.
It was funny how they easily switched from pleading and coercing to commanding in a single breath.
It would take a lot of thinking to bypass their cunning.
"Three seasons is surely not enough time for us to familiarize ourselves with the history of our people, if we are to impress them," Safatore stated.
Zera's face remained neutral, but an eyebrow of hers rose, questioning, belittling and reprimanding all at once.
"History? You're already aware of what happened between the Elven race and the outside world. We were betrayed and secluded. No need to learn the tiny bits." She said matter-of-factly. "Those three seasons are so you can prepare April, and on the day everyone wakes up and stops grieving, you will introduce yourselves, and announce Sakature and April's engagement. Give the people something to celebrate."
Safatore had thought he had heard all the dastardly things the council had to say through Zera but that one may have taken the cake and eaten it. He paused and blinked, standing straight like a ramrod in the center of the room.
That was going to be awkward.
"Um..."
"What? Is something the matter?" Zera leaned forward, her crimson eyes piercing down into Safatore's green ones.
He chuckled sheepishly, scratching his cheek with his forefinger. He could feel the sweat on his back turning cold.
"Uh...you see... The thing is... I had a significant, non-military, anti-political, and brotherly conversation with April's brother just a while ago...and he pushed the wedding date a little further."
Everything Safatore did was to derail the High Council of Elders' plans, though now was not a good time for such playfulness.
The other figureheads still statuesque, Zera looked slightly confused.
"Pushed it further?" She asked.
"Yes," Safatore nodded while simultaneously ordering Loys to make the food table disappear.
"How much further?"
Safatore raised three fingers, nervousness mixing with rising amusement.
Councilwoman Zera looked at the young elf's fingers and then back at him. "Three months?"
"Years," Safatore blurted.
And just like that, the already cold room's atmosphere turned tundra freezing.
"Young Kraufford—"
"—In all honesty, we don't control April and he has every right to do as he did," Safatore didn't miss a beat to cut the woman's words off and shrugged. "We just have to do as the bride's family asks. That...or we could make them sign prenuptials...?"
Safatore's signature grin meant to charm and appease was now a sly and mischievious thing that would grate at anyone's nerves, like, I'm laughing in your face and there is nothing you can do about it kind of grin. He watched as the gears turned inside Zera's head.
After a while, Zera leaned back against her high pedestal stone chair with an exhale.
"Well then. The period of preparation will the slightly decreased and rest of the elves will be awake in the three months. Now, isn't it that time of the year for Sakature to be in a rut?" Zera raised an eyebrow.
Safatore's eyebrows shot up and his eyes circled. They were keeping tabs, and... Saka had lied?!
"Eh?"
(∩｀-´)⊃━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ. ε=ε=(っ* ´□` )っ
There was no strong wind in the botanical training room, just some sunshine shining down of everything except for the training circle, coming through a hole in the sky-high ceiling.
Dust motes floated around among the trees, dandelions twitched in the gentle breeze, and the local small fauna silently went about their daily lives. A butterfly landed on a bright yellow, three-petalled flower and unfurled its proboscis to drink the nectar, while some rabbits ate some carrots at a random patch nearby.
The whole room smelled like dirt, flowers, trees, clean air and a heavy iron scent.
This iron scent was the first to greet Hiroko as he stepped into the botanical training room. He paused at the door, taking a whiff of the air. This was a scent he was used to, since he was always bleeding in Modest, but the source of the scent didn't look quite right, situated in the center of the room.
His frame halted right at the threshold, Hiroko watched as the samurai Kuri grabbed the other samurai, Kakuro, by the coiffed black and white bun and pulled her bloodied face from the dirt. The blood was crimson, the sisters were not in their crimson armor, just some dusty red robes, and, Hiroko noticed, that ninja with the blood-red sash sat a distance away at a tree, watching the whole endeavor, his glowing lazulite blue eyes silently fixed on the twins.
The sight in front of Hiroko was a bit confusing. Kuri was literally pounding Kakuro into the dirt, punches and kicks beating mouthfuls of blood out of her. Hiroko stared, stunned and speechless with wide, purple eyes.
"Argh!" Kuri's fist connected with Kakuro's jaw with another sickening crack. The younger samurai fell back onto the ground but Kuri pulled her right back up, shouting at her in Japanese.
"Hey, hey, hey! Get back up! Get right back up, you hear me?!"
Kakuro spat out blood and immediately, as if she wasn't trembling bodily and bleeding, got onto her knees, strands of black and white hair loose. Immediately, she received a knee kick to the side and with a loud crack of what could have been several ribs breaking, she was sent flying across the combat circle.
She landed on her face, coughing and stirring up dirt, visibly broken but still trying to get on her knees at Kuri's command. Kuri blurred into reality at her side and barked at her:
"Get on your knees and prostrate yourself, now!"
Her face covered in crimson, Kakuro got on her knees and kowtowed a few meters from a silent Masaru. Kuri pulled something out of her robes and dropped it in front of the younger woman. It was a broken piece of a sword, the handle and pommel of her katana with nothing but a metal stump on it. The one she had broken against Hiroko's golem leg when they first met.
Hiroko's eyes widened but he said nothing from that distance.
Kuri shook her finger at the broken weapon.
"Do you see that? What is that?" She asked heavily.
Kakuro, not looking too good, raised her head, her lazulite blue eyes shining through the blood. She sniffled, trembling and wheezing for breath.
"...That's my sword," she quietly replied through a strained voice.
Kuri, as if hearing an insult upon her ancestors, snarled. "What?! You call that a sword?" She brought out another piece from her robes and stabbed down into Kakuro's back of the hand with that broken blade from her katana. She nailed her hand to the ground.
Kakuro cried out in pain, but instantly bowed her head and bit back her cries, gritting her teeth and tightly shutting her eyes.
"It's a broken, useless piece of steel!" She shouted, her voice cracking at the last word. "It's useless."
"That's right, it's useless!" Kakuro hammered her foot over the broken katana blade on Kakuro's hand. "Now, how did it turn useless? Tell Father how your katana turned useless, little sister!"
Kakuro screamed through the older samurai's angry voice, her uninjured hand balling into a fist while the right one remained bleeding and nailed to the dirt. She took a second to catch her breath.
"I... I broke it..." Her voice was small.
"YOU, WHAT?!" Kuri shouted over her, forcing her to repeat.
"I BROKE IT!!" Kakuro roared, her head still pressed against the ground.
Kuri circled her like a predator. "Good, I wasn't sure Father could hear you while you were muttering through your teeth. Now, how did you break it? Speak!"
Hiroko blinked at the scene, his lips parted. The shock he felt was unable to reach his face.
Kakuro groaned and spoke.
"My form was off..."
"And why was your form off?"
"I was overconfident and underestimated my enemy!"
"In what ways did you do that?" Kuri didn't let her breathe, circling the younger girl while Masaru stared at them like a detached sentinel watching the proceedings of a courtly punishment.
Kakuro lifted her head once more and picked up the broken sword, mimicking the way she had held it when she had failed to cut through Hiroko's golem. She slowly recreated the move, from the grip to the swing, and this served only to anger Kuri further.
"You stupid girl!"
The broken sword dropped out of Kakuro's hand and she dropped her forehead back down on the ground.
Kuri resumed kicking the daylights out of her.
"Technique and skill are everything in a swordfight, Kakuro, you know that! How could you be so careless as to break your sword against obsidian? Your form was shit, your grip was shitty and your overconfidence was through the roof! You couldn't slice through that and now you've broken your sword. What was the point of naming it Ishi-kiri hōchō if you couldn't cut through that?"
Kakuro withstood the onslaught of kicks to her body by remaining in a kowtowing position.
Kuri was relentless in both her blows and her words.
"Not to add, you had that sword since you were seventeen! Father made that sword from the ore of a shattered nebula found only in Akihiro's domain! It took him four years to forge, but you've broken it in two seconds flat, have you no shame?"
"Punish me, big sister!" Kakuro cried.
Kuri grabbed her by the hair. "If you were mortal, I'd have you commit seppuku for your dishonorable act-"
"Enough," both women gasped and looked up to see Masaru finally move from his statuesque form and blink. "That's enough."
The heated atmosphere in the botanical training room came to an abrupt halt as the ninja finally spoke, exhaling into his grey, metallic face mask, his hands moving from his knees and crossing over his chest.
Kuri shoved Kakuro back to the ground but released her. She even pulled out the blade nailing her hand to the ground and they sat kneeling. Kakuro was composed but still trembling.
Masaru watched the sisters for a moment before he uncrossed his arms.
"...Are you two done playing?" Was what came out of Masaru's concealed mouth.
"Playing?" Hiroko mumbled under his breath, his jaw dropping to the floor. What part of that was playing?
The sisters bowed their heads. "Yes, sir..." They mumbled.
The ninja bowed his head and sighed. "Honestly, Kuri, I asked you to never treat me like a shogun. And Kakuro, shame on you."
The younger samurai pouted and whined, her head lowering.
"Now heal your sister and make up."
The twins nodded obediently. They both raised their glowing right hands and began healing Kakuro with the golden light.
Hiroko, who had been watching the entire thing unfold, was not prepared to hear Masaru's words. That was it? Two lines of scolding and nothing else? Damn, this was one generous father, if he had ever met one. He remembered how his own father used to beat the ever-loving shit out of him - though not as extensively - if he ever did something like Kakuro, but this Masaru ninja was way too laid-back for Hiroko's comprehension.
He blinked, not ready to process that.
*She hit almost as hard as your father,* Kurobara scoffed at the back of his ear.
He shook his head. "Screw this. I'm not getting involved with that."
He swerved back to the door, ready to leave, only to find Kakuro standing with her arms crossed, robes stained in blood.
"Where're you going, tough nut?" She grinned.
Hiroko recoiled so hard he sprang back several feet, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"Holy shi—"