The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Naffur watched with a rather amused expression as the exhausted group of people that had gathered around the first of Randidly’s trials finally released a sigh of triumph; they had managed to melt the fist of ice on the pillar. Water dribbled down the side of the stone edifice that had flummoxed them for quite a bit of time, making for a poor celebration of their triumph.

After almost a half-hour of Alana, Richter, Mark Rowel, Hank Howard, and Wivanya managed to overcome the interference of the ambient Nether field and disperse the image of frigid chill that Randidly had left. Naffur had covertly watched the entire process, slightly surprised by how quickly they adapted to the challenge.

The success earned some notice from the steadily swelling group below on the glowstone tiles, causing most of the conversation to slow somewhat for several seconds. But the anticlimatic sight of the group rubbing their temples convinced most everyone else turned away to continue with their conversations. This was a rare chance to interact with basically everyone of import on Earth, after all.

And the conversations that weren’t political in nature turned into surprisingly interesting diversions as the different methods of dealing with the System from the various Zones were brought into contact with one another.

Near to Naffur’s position on the floor, Isabella Cortez was engaged with a rather heated discussion with Obyrn Myyr, making it difficult to hear any of the other conversations around them.

Obyrn shrugged his huge shoulders. “The weak die. It is the nature of things. More… supporting methods exist, but is not the ultimate goal the survival of the species, not the individual? Your methods waste time and support that could be spent fostering images with much greater potential. Why not allow nature to run its course and select the winners for more resource-intensive training?”

“It is impossible to judge the value of individuals so early in their lives, even with the System. Especially with the System.” Isabella leaned forward and scowled. She flexed the fingers of her hand for emphasis, fully one fourth the size of the ogre in front of her. “I’m not even sure if potential is what is displayed early on in people’s lives; starting strength does not determine future strength. We would need to identify likely indicators, and even then-”

Obyrn was almost puzzled as he looked down at Isabella. “What better test of potential that the willpower and mental determination to succeed early on? Those who give up are demonstrating their own weak will.”

When a waiter walked past with a tray, Naffur grabbed two flutes of champagne. Then he shifted his position slightly, moving along the periphery of the glowstone tiled area so that he could hear the discussion between the group that was so fresh from their triumph. The first success meant that more troubles would be coming for that group. Tatiana crossed the glowstone tiles at a stately pace, easily holding her own against the light of surrounding images as she did so.

When did everything become such a show, Naffur thought sadly to himself. Not that he flinched from it. With a little bit of concentration, he sent pulses of images outward from his position that dimmed the light of images surrounding him.

Tonight of all nights, Kharon and the Order Ducis needed to appear near invincible. As the respective leaders of those factions, Tatiana and Naffur had a responsibility to cast a long shadow.

Naffur could practically see ill-omened raven’s wings beating at Tatiana’s back as she glided forward. The group noticed Tatiana now and straightened, a certain amount of pride clear in their expressions.

After being thoroughly trained at a certifiably sadistic pace for the last year, Naffur felt a great deal of schadenfreude to watch others cope with the standards of the Order Ducis. Especially this moment, when they were informed that their work had only just begun.

“Wonderful job,” Tatiana said in such a light tone that the phrase didn’t sound like a compliment at all. Theodora Greyman’s eyes narrowed, but otherwise no one else really reacted. It was clear that they were all still very drained from their earlier toil. “You’ve certainly moved quickly. But, I have to say that the first trial isn’t yet finished. You are only halfway through. Sorry for the delayed explanation.”

Alana snorted. The cluster of dragons around them bobbed there heads in unison, as though they were thinking of something. The lines at the corner of Theodora Greyman’s mouth became canyons as rivers of emotion ran their course through her.

Still as breezy as a summer day, Tatiana continued to speak. “But you should be familiar with the goal of the task. It is the exact opposite of what you just did; you will need to use your images to recondense the ice on the pillar for me to try and melt. Considering the difference in preparation between yourself and Randidly, all you need to do is to create a frozen image that will stop me from melting it for one minute.”

“None of us deal in images relating to ice,” Theodora Greyman hissed through her teeth. Her hands were tucked into her armpits.

Tatiana eyes flicked lightly to Wivanya, but then she focused on Theodora and smiled indulgently. “And neither does Randidly Ghosthound, not truly. But let me ask you this: is it your images that are powerful or does the power lay in the Willpower that wields them? The rules about not touching the water and the pillar remain the same. Please feel free to ask me any questions… and come get me when you are ready for my participation in the test.”

As Tatiana walked off, the group lapsed into a weary silence for a few seconds as they considered the task in front of them. Naffur took a sip from one of his flutes of champagne. Finally, Mark Rowell threw his hands up into the air. “This is impossible, even with the help of the dragons. We are going to need to base the image and maintain it through that same interference that took us twenty minutes to overcome. And I bet its much harder to make something while under that suppression than it is to destroy something.”

As Hank patted Wivanya’s back affectionately and the dragon conveyed strong distaste through its reptilian features, Alana Donal hummed softly to herself. “It’s a matter of self-propagation of the image. The image’s Vitality, basically. That was why it resisted so strongly once we forcefully suppressed the Nether interference. It wasn’t enough just to convince the image that it wasn’t what it thought it was; that was impossible. We had to forcibly eradicate every bit of the image of cold. Otherwise, it would just have kept being cold.”

“A hard Skill ta learn quickly,” Hank looked at the frost forming on the hand he used to pat Wivanya and sighed.

“A good point about images versus self, however,” Alana admitted. Then she shook her head. “Images are ultimately just a habitual expression of our will. We should not forget that. We can exercise our will in different ways… and that will likely strengthen our images in turn.”

Wivanya slithered forward, putting her head underneath Alana’s arm and lifting her neck into the woman’s armpit in a way that was reminiscent of a giant cat. Then the dragon spoke while breathing out a chilling mist from her nose. “There is enough harmony between my offspring and myself that I can borrow some of their Willpower to install such an image, but removing the interference… requires a much higher standard-”

“Are you really all fine with being jerked around by Randidly Ghosthound like this?”

Everyone turned to look at Theodora Greyman. The woman had spoken loudly enough that some of the surrounding people below the central platform also slowed down in their speech to watch the confrontation with interest. From his vantage point, Naffur caught the slight flash of distaste on Mark Rowel’s face and the naked irritation on Richter’s.

Naffur took another sip of his champagne. But in that moment of expectant silence as Theodora was sucking in a breath to really launch into her tirade, the doors to the Glowstone Ballroom were knocked lightly against the wall with the obvious intent of attracting everyone’s attention. As one, the room pivoted.

Naffur’s eyebrows rose as he saw the two newest applicants to the Order Ducis, Derek Moss and Hydie Mordath, step to the side and allow the group that followed them through the door to take the center stage. It was understandable they’d be interested in the party, but since they were here, Naffur quickly remembered a few tasks they could handle

But movement brought Naffur back to the present. A score of Ghosthound’s Riders, seeming the largest and most powerful of their kind, cantered out into the entrance area of the ballroom as people in the area receded sideways like the ocean’s tide up onto the large staircases that led to the second. They call carried their various weapons and rode chitinous steeds that looked around with eyes that seemed flat and alien. Even though Naffur was familiar with the group, they still cut impressive figures as they allowed some of their natural pressure to roll off of them.

Strong, Naffur hummed to himself. Very strong. Another strong force loyal to the Ghosthound.

Although they weren’t quite as powerful as the top-tiered individuals on Earth, they were very close to the top 10% in terms of image. And what was scary about each of the twenty Riders that came to the party was that most of them had quite a number of sufficiently powerful Riders that followed them.

A ripple ran through the images in the room as the Riders moved out onto the floor and had their own harmonious images push back some of the images of surrounding people. But the spread of the image strangely also diffused the tension in the room from their arrival; because their image clearly conveyed they were just as curious about the surrounding people as the people were about them.

An olive branch cloaked in elegant lances.

Gradually, the Riders dispersed and mingled. One joined Isabella and Obyrn’s discussion, another approached Kayle and began a passionate conversation of which Naffur couldn’t quite make out the details. Some Riders approached the central platform to investigate the dragons. The largest of the RIders, riding what could only be an armored rhino, went over to King Phirun’s group and compared its own muscles with those of the King’s guards. A Rider on top of a spider skittered over to talk to a pallid faced Han Yazhu and the trio of Xiang Le.

People shifted to make room and the lively discussions gradually unfurled once more like a blooming flower. The volume rapidly increased to its previous levels. Turning back to the central platform, Naffur was pleased to note that apparently someone had talked Theodora down from throwing a tantrum.

Tatiana arrived with surprising suddenness at Naffur’s side. “I’m genuinely confused by what Theodora Greyman is doing today. She is sharper and subtler than this. That’s how she, for a brief few months, became the most powerful woman in the world as she sat as Chairman of the World Council.”

“Hubris and pride?” Naffur hazarded. Tatiana shook her head but didn’t say anything further as the two watched the situation on the central platform. It appeared that the group that took the challenges seriously was steadily growing in number. Both King Phirun and Paolo were brought up to assist with the second part of the first challenge.

Naffur’s eyes slid around, taking note that several smaller figures walked into the ballroom in the wake of the eye-catching Riders. He immediately recognized Ed Dugg, and next to him was-

Naffur froze with the champagne flute at his lips. The bubbly liquid fizzed against his tightly closed mouth. Mareen.

It had been over a year since they had last spoken to each other. Naffur had grown and gained a whole heap of confidence after being forced to run the Order Ducis and then by enduring the training of the Order Ducis. He had practically forgotten the way she had returned the flower ornament that he had bought for her in the Orchard before they both had left after the lottery.

Yet when their eyes met almost immediately Naffur’s insides set to squirming. The worst part was how happy she looked as Mareen noticed him and immediately brightened. It was also the best part.

But why is she so happy if she-

She started walking directly over toward him. And all Naffur could think of was the message she had sent him several months ago that he could never work up the nerve to reply to.

While Tatiana noticed his plight, chuckled softly, and withdrew, Naffur twisted his body around and tried to figure out the coolest place to put his elbows. Suddenly he was extremely self-conscious of the fact he was holding two flutes of champagne.

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