[Kira POV] Year 5, Day 205 (Guest House, Morning)
Morning brought routine. Professional habits ingrained over years of service.
Kira settled into the washing room with her maid dress and began the methodical process of proper care. Water temperature adjusted. Soap measured precisely. Fabric handled with practiced efficiency.
While her hands worked, her mind reached out through the seed network. Long-distance communication. Checking on Borderwatch. Making sure everything remained on track despite her absence.
The distance made it tiresome. Like shouting across a vast canyon and waiting for echoes to return. But functional. Necessary.
She contacted Bunny first. The maid covering her role while she was away. Status reports on general operations. Any issues requiring immediate attention? Any complications with training? Any problems with supplies or schedules?
Response came back slowly. Delayed. But positive overall. Operations continuing smoothly. No crises. No disasters. Just normal day-to-day management.
Then Lover. The dwarf managing coca-cola production. Factory status? Equipment functioning? Any supply shortages?
His response carried enthusiasm despite the distance. Production running well. Quality maintained. Demand building. No problems to report.
Good. Everything under control. Everything managed properly even without her direct supervision.
She filed the reports away mentally and returned attention to the dress in her hands.
This task. This tiresome, time-consuming, necessary task.
Kira understood its importance. Understood the standards. Understood the consequences of neglecting it.
She’d watched 22 get destroyed over dress maintenance. Humiliated. Scolded. Forced to promise proper care. That scene had been educational. Cautionary.
But understanding importance didn’t make it less tiresome.
She could use this time for better things. More productive things. Administrative work. Strategic planning. Financial review. Anything except standing here washing fabric she’d just wash again tomorrow.
A thought emerged. Unwelcome but persistent.
Would it be better to just be brainwashed into loving this task?
If she had to do it anyway—if there was no escape, no alternative, no choice—wouldn’t it be blessing to actually enjoy it? To find fulfillment in the repetition? To feel satisfaction from the process?
Rather than resentment. Rather than obligation. Rather than tiresome duty performed because consequences of failure were worse than tedium of completion.
The seed could probably do that. Could make her love washing dresses. Could make her obsessed with clothing care like those maids from servant backgrounds who’d taken to it with fanatical devotion.
Blessing or curse? Freedom or slavery?
She wasn’t sure. The question uncomfortable. The implications unclear.
But the dress was clean now. Properly maintained. Standards met.
She dried it carefully and dressed. Professional bearing restored. Time to face the day.
Kira descended to the dining area for breakfast and found an unexpected scene.
Null and the Twins were serving breakfast. Actually serving. With plates and presentation and everything arranged properly on the dining table.
But the kitchen was destroyed. Completely. Catastrophically. How had they made ANYTHING in there?
The food itself looked strange. Unfamiliar. Components she recognized individually but never seen combined this way.
Beans. Sausages. Eggs. Tomatoes. Bread. Mushrooms. All arranged together on plates with clear intentionality.
Null announced simply as she set plates down, “English breakfast.”
English? What was English? Another language? Another culture? Another continent entirely?
Kira had never encountered anything called “English” before. Not in her merchant education. Not in her adventuring career. Not in her extensive travels across the Republic.
She examined the food cautiously. Tasted a bite. Then another.
Not bad actually. Strange but functional. Flavors worked together despite the unusual combination. Filling. Satisfying. Professional presentation despite catastrophic kitchen conditions.
But where had Null even learned to make this? Was this some traditional dish from her original world? Or just random leftovers mixed together with a random name attached?
X and 22 appeared and settled at the table. Both looking equally confused by the strange food. Both tasting cautiously.
X’s expression showed genuine puzzlement mixed with appreciation. “What IS this? I’ve traveled extensively. Studied cultures across multiple continents. Never encountered anything quite like this combination.”
22 added her own assessment between bites. “Functional. Efficient. Surprisingly well-balanced nutritionally. But completely foreign to any culinary tradition I recognize.”
Null offered no explanation. Just continued serving with her characteristic efficiency and minimal commentary.
The meal proceeded. Conversation developing. Morning settling into comfortable routine.
Then Null stopped mid-movement. Completely still. Attention focused elsewhere. Reading something. Sensing something.
Her voice came clearly and precisely. “Five beastfolk. Felines. Two of them quite strong. Kira, one of them is your brother or sister based on soul signature similarity. They just entered the compound and are moving this direction. They’re being escorted by several of the seamstress’s maids.”
The announcement hung in the air.
Kira’s mind went blank for a moment. Just static. Shock.
Then processing. Understanding.
Family. Here. In Central. At the seamstress’s estate. Coming to this guest house.
Brother? Sister? Which one?
Years of angry letters and name disputes. Three years of strategic patience waiting for brother to overextend himself.
Now this.
Something stirred. Deep inside. Dragon remnant. Territorial instinct. Faint but present.
Not overwhelming. Not controlling. Just there. A background pressure suggesting this was HER space being invaded.
Kira pushed it down easily. Mostly in control. The dragon had been nearly catatonic when they merged. What remained was manageable. Just had to stay aware of it.
Through the seed network, she reached out to Mistress Null.
«Mistress. My family is here. I don’t know what they want.»
Null’s response came immediately. Calm. Matter-of-fact. «Don’t cause issues for Master. He’s been kind to you. Allowed all your strange hobbies like years of mail war with your brother.»
Kira felt that land. The reminder. The priority.
Master Void had never interfered. Never told her to stop. Never demanded she surrender the Razorclaw name despite knowing it caused complications. Just let her handle it however she wanted.
And now family was here. At his temporary residence. During his time in Central. Potentially causing problems for him.
She couldn’t let that happen.
Professional bearing. Merchant composure. Strategic thinking.
Whatever they wanted, whatever they came for, she’d handle it without making Master’s life more complicated.
The dragon instinct could wait. Could stay buried. Could remain under control.
This required human solutions. Merchant solutions. Family politics and careful maneuvering and decades of practiced diplomacy.
She straightened in her seat and waited for them to arrive.
The door opened.
Five tigerkin entered without knocking. Just walked in like they owned the place.
Kira recognized one immediately. Impossible not to.
Raja. Her half-sister. Same age. Different mothers.
Someone she’d played with during childhood. Same generation. They’d run through the estate together when they were young. Nothing particularly special. Just normal childhood interactions between family members living in the same house.
But when Kira left for adventuring after finishing her merchant education, they’d lost contact completely. More than a century of silence. No letters. No messages. Nothing.
What Kira had heard through family gossip was sparse. Raja had given her loyalty to brother Aldric early. Probably his first public supporter. When Aldric became patriarch, Raja had been one of the biggest winners from that political shift.
Then she’d been sent to Cloudy Continent. Brother’s investment. Mastering dragon riding. Building reputation. Gaining skills the family could use.
But something had gone wrong there. The rumors said Raja had become a dragon worshiper. A zealot. Lost her marbles. Came back half-crazy and covered in dragon tattoos.
She’d managed to finish in the top 100 a few times in various season festival dragon races. Respectable but nowhere near championship material. Nowhere close to actually winning major competitions.
The other four tigerkin, Kira had seen before. Two of them anyway. Side family members. Lower branches. She didn’t remember their names. Wasn’t even sure if they had the honor of carrying family names given the limited slots available. The Razorclaw’s only maintained approximately one hundred named members at any given time.
Behind the five tigerkin came three of the seamstress’s maids. Professional escorts. Proper protocol for guests entering the estate.
Everyone stopped after entering. Attention caught. Eyes drawn to the destroyed kitchen visible through the doorway.
The scorch marks. The ruined equipment. The catastrophic evidence of whatever had happened there.
Everyone except Raja.
Raja’s eyes found Kira immediately. Locked on. Recognition instant.
Kira noticed the dress. One-piece. Simple. Covering everything technically but clearly designed for dragon worshipers who needed something to avoid walking around fully naked while still showing their devotion.
Because the tattoos were visible. Completely visible. Covering Raja’s entire body. Dragon designs. Scales. Symbols. Patterns that marked her as zealot. As someone who’d gone too far.
Then Raja started screaming.
“TRAITOR!”
The word hit like a physical blow. Loud. Furious. Decades of accumulated rage condensed into single accusation.
“You DARE keep the Razorclaw name after everything?! After abandoning your duty?! After wasting your talents on pointless adventuring instead of serving the family?!”
Raja’s voice carried pure fury. Unhinged. Wild.
“You could have been USEFUL! Could have contributed! Could have made something of yourself! But no! You just ran away! Played hero! Pretended you were too good for family business!”
Kira’s mind tried to process. [What? I finished merchant school. I did everything properly. This makes no sense.]
Raja continued without pause. Without breath. Just rage pouring out.
“And now look at you! MAID! Servant! With dragon scales you didn’t earn! Dragon essence you don’t deserve! Keeping OUR name while serving some random master! DISGRACE! ABSOLUTE DISGRACE!”
[Half of this doesn’t even connect,] Kira thought. [She’s just throwing accusations. Random angry words. What does adventuring have to do with keeping the name? What does being a maid have to do with anything?]
But Raja wasn’t done. The words kept coming. Disconnected. Furious. Half-coherent.
“Brother Aldric TRIED to help you! Offered you proper servant position! Chance to redeem yourself! But you refused! You RAN! You chose SLAVERY over family service! Over redemption! Over EVERYTHING!”
[That’s not what happened,] Kira thought numbly. [He wanted me broken. Humiliated. That offer was trap. Everyone knew it.]
Kira noticed the others watching. Null observing with analytical focus. Void’s expression showing concern. 22 watching with clinical interest. X seemed to be enjoying the free family drama. The Twins looking confused. Everyone waiting to see how this played out.
Raja’s expression shifted. Something colder emerging through the rage. More focused. More calculated despite the zealot madness visible in her eyes.
“You don’t deserve that name. Don’t deserve family connection. Don’t deserve ANYTHING.”
Raja continued, the rage building with each word. Gaining momentum. Zealot madness mixing with genuine fury.
“You dodged rank updates SEVEN times. SEVEN! Do you know how embarrassing that was for the family? How it made us look?”
Kira remembered those. The offers. The pressure. The careful political maneuvering to avoid A-rank designation while maintaining B-rank operations.
She’d thought she was being clever. Being strategic. Avoiding attention and complications.
[So what?] Kira thought. [That was adventurer business. Not family business. Why would that even matter?]
Raja’s expression shifted. Something colder emerging through the zealot rage. More calculated. More focused.
“And then when you FINALLY fell, some people in the family still wanted to give you a proper chance. A way back. A redemption opportunity. That servant role offer you got? Some actually thought it was acceptable. Reasonable even.”
Pause. Weight building. Significance in her tone.
“But Brother Aldric saw you for what you are. Worm. Useless. Worthless. He knew exactly what kind of work you deserved. All the most degrading jobs. All the most humiliating tasks. Everything designed to remind you what you threw away.”
She smiled. Cruel satisfaction visible despite the madness in her eyes. “And you would never run out of elixir. Death would be too easy. He wanted you to LIVE it. To experience every moment of your failure. For decades. For centuries.”
[That’s what I thought,] Kira realized. [Aldric’s trap. Not redemption. Just systematic cruelty.]
Raja saw Kira’s expression and laughed. Wild. Unhinged. “But I guess it was fate after all. You ending up as a maid anyway. HAHAHA! Even better! At least this way you’re FAR from family. Far from the name you don’t deserve. Far from everything!”
Then Raja turned. Attention shifting. Eyes tracking across the room. Assessing who was present. Who had authority. Who could make decisions.
Her gaze settled on X. Probably because of presence. Because of the overwhelming something that radiated from him. Because 22 was now sitting on his lap with a maid dress in casual comfort that suggested intimacy and connection.
“So you’re her owner,” Raja stated. Direct. Businesslike. Merchant negotiation mode. “Sell me this useless one. You can buy many better maids for this money.”
She pulled out a bag. Heavy. Clinking. Opened it to reveal contents.
Platinum plates.
Kira stared. Where had Raja gotten that much money? Those things were worth one million gold EACH. And there were multiple in that bag visible from here.
Raja pulled one out. Set it in front of X on the table. Solid. Real. Legitimate currency.
[Even a small part of that would have saved me after the accident. Would have prevented everything. And now my family offers it just to buy my contract so they can torture me more?]
The dragon inside her raged with fury—territorial, possessive, and angry. But this wasn’t the place to show it. She’d mess with brother in the next letter instead. Strategic revenge through calculated response.
X didn’t react. Just pointed a finger at Void while hugging 22 with his other arm.
Raja looked confused. Following the gesture. Eyes landing on Void.
Probably confused because Void had the smallest presence in the room. Practically invisible compared to X’s overwhelming aura. Compared to Null’s controlled menace. Compared to even the Twins’ synchronized attention.
Just sitting there. Quiet. Observing. Processing.
Raja picked up the platinum plate and walked over. Put it directly in front of Void. “Offer stands. One million gold for the useless maid.”
Void said nothing. Just looked at the plate. His expression showed genuine confusion.
Probably still processing the entire situation. The sudden arrival. The screaming accusations. The family drama exploding in his temporary residence.
And the way he was looking at the platinum plate suggested he didn’t know what it was. Had never seen one before. Didn’t understand the value being offered.
Silence stretched. Strange. Awkward. Weighted.
Everyone waiting for Void to respond. To say something. To make decision. To decline this crazy offer.
He just kept looking at the plate. Then at Raja. Then at Kira. Then back to the plate.
Finally—after long, uncomfortable pause—he simply shook his head.
“No.”
Simple. Clear. Final.
Raja’s expression shifted. Confusion becoming frustration. “You don’t understand. That’s one MILLION gold. For a failed adventurer. A disgraced family member. A useless servant with attitude problems.”
She pulled out another plate. Set it beside the first. “Two million. That’s more than reasonable. More than generous. You could buy army of high-quality maids for that price.”
Void’s expression didn’t change. He just looked at the plates. Then at Raja. Then at Kira with something in his eyes. Concern maybe. Support possibly.
Then shook his head again.
“No.”
Through the seed network, Kira felt something. Not words exactly. Not clear communication. Just sensation. Awareness.
Mistress Null was watching this. Observing. Calculating. Assessing threat levels. Determining if intervention was needed.
And underneath that, fainter but present, something else. Approval probably. Satisfaction that Master Void was refusing so clearly. That he wasn’t even willing to discuss the sale.
Raja stared at Void. Disbelief visible. Incomprehension showing. “You’re refusing TWO MILLION GOLD? For HER?”
Another pause. Then she pulled out the entire bag. Dumped it on the table in front of Void. Six platinum plates total. Six million gold sitting there in casual display of wealth.
“Final offer. Six million. Take it or leave it.”
Void looked at the pile of platinum. His expression still confused. Still uncertain. Still processing the absurdity of the situation.
But his response remained the same.
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Six million gold for a worthless traitor and you say NO?” Raja’s voice carried genuine disbelief mixed with zealot fury. “WHY?”
Then she turned. Walked toward Kira. Circled around her slowly. Studying. Assessing.
Her eyes tracked the horns. The tail. The scale patches visible at Kira’s collar and sleeves.
“Hmm. I guess this explains why your master isn’t selling you.” Raja’s tone shifted. Still wild but more focused. “Dragon essence you don’t deserve. Dragon form you didn’t earn. Keeping our family name while serving others. DISGUSTING.”
Kira said nothing. What was there to say? Raja was half-mad. Infected by true dragon presence. The kind of thing that happened to dragon worshipers who got too close. Too devoted. Too consumed. Plus clearly sent here by brother’s command to target her.
The words wouldn’t reach her. Couldn’t reach her. Not through the zealot madness and probable loyalty to her brother.
Raja watched the silence. Then something shifted in her expression. Memory surfacing. Calculation forming.
“You remember the game we played as kids? The one I never won. Around the house we’d go…”
Kira remembered. Wooden dragons clutched in small hands. Racing through the estate corridors. She’d been bigger. Older. Always faster. Raja had never managed to beat her despite trying dozens of times.
Raja continued with weight building in her voice. “There will be one quite similar on the last day of the festival. What do you think? One more time? Sister versus sister. Loser gives up their names. ALL of them.”
The words landed like hammer blow.
Kira’s mind processed the impossibility. “We’re not allowed to fight over family names. That’s against Razorclaw family rules.”
Raja’s smile was vicious. Triumphant. “Brother approved it.”
She pulled something from her storage. Paper. Official document. Threw it on the table in front of Kira.
Kira picked it up. Read it. Her hands started shaking.
Official family seal. Brother Aldric’s signature. Clear authorization and trap prepared in advance.
“Official family challenge,” Raja said with satisfaction. “Old rule. Historical. Everyone can be challenged once. Brother invoked it specifically for you. Made this whole thing completely legal under family law.”
Kira stared at the document. The trap was perfect. Completely binding. Absolutely official.
[Accept the challenge and lose? Give up names. Refuse the challenge by surrendering my name to avoid it? Same result. Give up names. Either way, I lose everything. Perfect trap. No way out.]
Dragon race. The main attraction for the festival’s final day. The grand spectacle. The event everyone attended. Public. Massive. Watched by thousands.
And the stakes were insanity.
Names. Family names. Personal names. ALL names. Identity itself wagered on a race.
Kira’s mind raced through implications. Through options. Through outcomes.
Even if she won—which wasn’t guaranteed—removing Raja’s names would mean nothing. Victory? Revenge? Justice? All meaningless.
It felt hollow. Wrong. Complicated in ways she couldn’t articulate.
And if she lost? Give up Razorclaw? Surrender the name she’d fought to keep for years? The name that drove Aldric mad with frustration? The name that represented her last connection to mother?
Give up KIRA? Her personal name? Her identity? Become literally nameless? She could probably get it back later, but that would take time.
No winners here. Only different flavors of disaster.
Kira finally managed to speak. Voice small. Uncertain. “I don’t have a dragon to ride.”
Raja’s smile was cold. Calculated. Perfect. “Then we’ll use rented wyverns. Keep it fair. Your dragon essence will help you control them anyway. Should give you plenty of advantage.”
The framing. The manipulation. Making it sound generous while setting perfect trap.
Kira knew it wasn’t fair. Raja had lifetime of wyvern racing experience.
But refusing meant losing her name immediately. That was the trap. Accept and lose in the race, or refuse and surrender the name right now. Either way, the result was the same.
Through the network, she felt Void starting to object. Starting to speak. Starting to protect her from this impossible choice.
She cut him off. Made the decision. Accepted the challenge. “Fine. Wyverns. Two days.”
Raja nodded. Satisfied. Pleased. Victory already tasting sweet in her zealot madness. “Starting line. Final day. Don’t be late.”
She turned. Walked toward the exit. Didn’t look back. Didn’t collect the platinum plates still sitting in front of Void. Just abandoned six million gold like pocket change.
“Waiting for you at the starting line. Final day of the festival. Don’t disappoint me, sister.”
The door closed behind her. The other four tigerkin following. One of them hurrying back to collect the abandoned platinum before departing.
Silence settled.
Everyone stunned. Processing. Comprehending what had just happened.
X broke it with characteristic bluntness.
“Kira. Your sister is crazy.”
Simple assessment. Clinical delivery. Absolute certainty.
He gestured toward where Raja had left. “That’s what sometimes happens with dragon worshipers—not always, but sometimes. They spend too much time with true dragons and something changes them. Makes them half-mad. Or maybe it just brings out issues that were already there. You saw the tattoos, the zealot behavior. Classic symptoms.”
He continued with clinical assessment. “And the dragons themselves probably rejected her. Nobody wants crazy people around them, not even dragons. Too unstable, too zealous, too broken—so they get rid of them.”
Pause. Weight settling. “Be careful with that one. Dragon-infected worshipers are unpredictable. Dangerous. Not just physically. Psychologically too.”
Then his tone shifted. Lighter now. Almost encouraging. “But if you want some flight refresher training, I can help with it. Two days isn’t much, but your dragon essence should help. Might even be enough. Plus I want to see your true form.”
Might. Maybe. Possibly.
Not confidence. Not certainty. Just slim chance.
Better than nothing.
Kira looked at Master Void. Permission needed. This was his decision ultimately.
Void’s expression carried concern. Worry. But also trust. “If this is what you need to do…”
Not forcing. Not forbidding. Just supporting.
Null spoke simply. Directly. “Don’t embarrass yourself. Master will be sad.”
Then 22, matter-of-fact and clinical. “And if you DO lose, I’ll help you get rid of those names properly. Name removal is a complex process. Better with expert assistance than some amateur fumbling it.”
Brief silence.
Spy manifested with dry amusement. “22… read the room.”
22 looked confused. “What? I’m offering professional support. I have experience with this. It’s practical help.”
“I don’t think that’s what Kira needs to hear right now,” Void added gently.
“Why not? If outcome is inevitable, proper preparation is logical. Name removal requires specific rituals. Magical binding dissolution. Soul structure adjustment. These things should be done correctly.”
“Logical,” Null agreed. “22, assistance will be valuable if Kira loses.”
X added his own contribution. “And I’m genuinely curious about your dragon form. This will be educational regardless of outcome.”
Kira sat there. Processing. Comprehending.
Everyone trying to help in their own way.
All of them already planning her loss. Already accepting inevitable defeat.
She was about to lose everything. Every name. Every identity. Everything that made her “Kira Razorclaw” instead of just “nameless tiger maid.”
The race was rigged. Even if she miraculously won, they’d hire dozens of riders. Hundreds maybe. All dedicated to making sure she didn’t finish. Didn’t qualify. Didn’t keep anything.
Raja wasn’t the real threat. Brother Aldric was. And he had all the resources. All the connections. All the power to make sure Kira lost.
Depression settled. Heavy. Crushing. Inevitable.
Then something clicked.
Wait.
Kira started laughing.
Not controlled laughter. Not polite laughter. Wild. Genuine. Uncontrolled.
Everyone stared. Confused. Concerned. Wondering if she’d broken under pressure.
Through her laughter, Kira managed to look at 22. “22, would you please remove my family name?”
Everyone froze.
Complete silence. Shock. Incomprehension.
Until Void asked with genuine concern, “Did your sister hit you against the head while we weren’t looking?”
“No,” Kira said, pulling a merchant guild name voucher for the Razorclaw name from her item box.
She placed it on the table. Professional. Organized. Prepared.
“If I lose—which is probable, though I hope not and will try not to—but I need to be honest here. Then there’s a ceremony at the end of the race where all bets are sorted, including names. Something needs to be removed. Kira will be. But Razorclaw we remove here with a voucher to get it back later—fairly standard stuff for family names. This name was given to me to be used as I see fit, including adding, removing, or transferring to my offsprings.”
She looked toward X. “Your opinion. You’ve probably seen many races. Will you see any issues here?”
X’s expression turned more serious. He thought about it. Calculated. Assessed.
“Well, this ceremony at the end is mostly show for the masses. If you give a good race, are liked by the spectators, and get your brother to say something like ‘I’m satisfied with this’ before he knows the hoax—it should work. Judges won’t dispute it and masses like a good show. In the end, it was your brother’s mistake to target ALL the names, so you’re able to pick and choose how and when to use them.”
He paused, then started laughing. “You might even get your name on the Wall of Rulebreakers.” More laughter. “Wait, you don’t have one then.”
Void looked confused. “Rulebreakers?”
X explained between chuckles. “There’s a wall in the arena with names of racers over time who managed to play with the rules so much they had to be changed afterward. Badge of honor. Historical record. Entertainment for everyone who visits.”
Kira waited until X finished explaining to Void. Professional courtesy. Then continued.
“X, I’d like to take your offer of training. I really need it. But can you make it so my brother hears about it? Like some juicy details of my misery during training? I need him confident, not doubting anything before the last second, or he’ll have time to interfere and sabotage everything.”
X laughed shamelessly. “Oh, I can think of some ways to make you squeal and leak it so your brother hears everything.”
Null finally asked—clearly not well-versed in naming logic—”Okay, Kira can just take the family name back right after it ends. But what about Kira? Does she lose that forever?”
Void answered. Educational mode. Clinical. “No. Name removal itself doesn’t add restrictions to getting it re-named. They may add some blockers or curses during the ceremony, but time and magic can fix it all. It just takes time before Kira can become Kira again.”
Kira nodded. “Yes, they’ll definitely add something. It wouldn’t be fun otherwise. But we have our naming removal expert 22—she can hopefully sort it. But I need to be ready to be without the Kira name for a few years probably.”
She almost laughed. “But the main fun comes after anyway.”
She leaned forward. Strategic mind fully engaged. “My brother challenges it instantly to the merchant guild. I lost the name but still have it. That means it goes to the naming commission.”
“They meet once a year,” she continued. “I can skip three meetings with valid reasons before they decide in absentia. So I can delay for years. Maybe get lucky and hit the ten-year auto-close rule by using creative bureaucracy—expert witnesses, procedural challenges, technical appeals.”
X’s grin widened. Appreciating the strategy.
“Then he needs to appeal to have the case re-opened,” she said. “Which is where my strength is in countering it. The commission doesn’t like to re-check things they’ve already decided. Before he can apply name removal again, he has to deal with all that.”
Her smile grew more vicious. “And here’s the bonus—while this legal mess is in process, he can’t make any changes to family names. Like adding more members. The commission only allows a single process per family name at the same time.”
22’s expression showed professional appreciation. Understanding the elegance of the trap.
“I’ll make this a complete legal nightmare for him,” she continued. “Messing with brother at every opportunity while staying legal, proper, and by the rules.”
She paused, then brightened further as another thought occurred. “Oh, and I just remembered—this commission also handles other merchant guild cases. Perhaps I can bundle it and mess with some of brother’s actual business needs.”
The Twins spoke in unison with childlike enthusiasm—not sure if they understood the fine details, but clearly liked the plan. “Lady Kira will make her brother cry!”
She smiled at that. “That would be a nice target.”
She felt how the dragon side of her approved. No mercy to enemies. Making Aldric cry would be very satisfying. A fine goal to have.
Several hours later, the group prepared to depart from the seamstress’s estate.
X had sorted out the destroyed kitchen situation with the seamstress. It was nothing, really. The seamstress seemed more amused than anything, waving off the damage with casual dismissal that suggested kitchen destruction was hardly the worst thing that had happened in her residence over the centuries.
Kira stood with her group. Saying proper goodbyes. Expressing gratitude for hospitality.
The seamstress studied Kira with knowing eyes. Professional assessment. “Good luck with your race. I’ll be watching the final day. Should be quite entertaining.”
They departed, boarding the flying platform that would take them toward wherever X had planned for the dragon flight training.
As the platform lifted from the seamstress’s residence and began gliding through Central’s evening sky, Kira found herself processing something she’d learned during those few hours while everything was being sorted.
The seamstress was 2600 years old. Some of those maids had served her all that time. The entire time.
The Razorclaw family name had been established 1400 years ago.
Which meant some of those maids had already been serving the seamstress for over a thousand years when Kira’s ancestor founded the family. When the Razorclaw name was first created. When her entire lineage began.
And Kira… with the seed. With the dragon heart. With everything she’d become. She could easily live 2600 years. Probably longer.
Would she actually still care about this challenge in a thousand years? In two thousand? Would the name matter then? Would brother Aldric’s trap seem like anything more than a momentary annoyance from her youth?
The perspective was dizzying. Uncomfortable. Strange.
But at least right now—in this moment, at this age, with these feelings—she had every plan to mess up her brother’s schemes.
Maybe in a thousand years it would all seem trivial. Maybe she’d laugh about it with other maids who’d been serving Master Void for centuries.
But today? Today it mattered.
Today she was going to win. Or make this win so poisonous that brother would curse himself for ever messing with her.
