The moonlight was only just beginning to die, slinking behind the lavender-curtained skyline as Spheraphase's sun prepared to rise. Within the golden domes of the Richinaria Palace, one of its chambers stirred with life.
A woman sat up from the lush folds of her massive bed, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. Her skin shimmered with subtle runes which were dormant now, only flickering as she moved. Her violet eyes gazed down at the man still asleep beside her. He was sprawled under the covers, one hand resting carelessly near the place she had been lying. She leaned down and patted his cheek gently. Her lips curled in a smile that was both mischievous and fond.
"Mmmh..."
He grumbled s his eyes fluttered open as her touch registered. His gaze settled on her slowly like a man waking to a painting he didn't remember owning.
"Where are you going so early again?"
The woman didn't reply immediately. She raised her hand and muttered a short incantation. Golden-blue wisps coiled around her body like a caress, cleansing her of last night's... indulgences. Both of them had been in a... lustful mood, to say the least.
Then, stretching her arms luxuriously, she rose from the bed completely and walked to the dressing alcove of their chamber. She could have used mysticism to dress herself instantly, but like her ruler, she appreciated doing some things the normal way.
She picked her mage's robe off the rack, black velvet trimmed with sapphire threading. It clung and swirled around her form in all the right places. Today she wore her official mage outfit, embroidered with the insignia of the House of Levenees. She tugged her gloves on last, finger by finger.
"I have to get up earlier than the Dynasty Monarch, remember?"
The man chuckled softly, voice still heavy with sleep.
"His Esteemed Highness wouldn't mind if you slept in. You've been helping with that project of his since before most Spheraphasian nobles knew how to spell their own names."
She turned, her expression both proud and serious.
"It's been six years. Five in collaboration and one alone. In that entire year I did it alone, I made exactly five percent progress. That's how ridiculous that thing is."
"Sounds about right."
He finally pushed himself upright, the sheets falling off his toned torso. He rubbed his face, then gave her a tired smile.
"You really do value your work."
"I'm the best Grandmaster Archmagus on the continent. You don't get to say that unless you act like it."
He gave a dramatic sigh. "I really need to train more. You're leaving me in the dust again."
She walked over and kissed him. Then she pulled back, brushing her fingers through his hair.
"Goodbye, Commander."
Just like that, she vanished in a whirl of electric violet, leaving behind a faint scent of flowers and perfume. The man, Commander Raziel of House Maximilian, sat there for a moment, staring at the spot she'd disappeared from. Then he groaned as he rolled out of bed and cracked his back. He muttered curses under his breath.
"Archmagi and their work ethic..."
But truthfully? He loved it.
------
Sylveira Levenees, Matriarch of House Levenees, materialized with a soft pulse of violet light just a few steps away from the arched entrance of her Section. The teleportation spell discharged silently behind her, the mystics curling around her feet like mist before evaporating into the air. As usual, the Levenees Section stood as a wonder of magecraft and subtle architectural beauty. Columns were etched with runic sequences, bridges of floating stone between towers and light fixtures glowing from crystallized energy was woven with her family's signature runes. It was quiet at first and eerily so for just a moment but as she took a few steps toward the central courtyard, the hush broke. The sound of synchronized steps, light panting, and rhythmic thudding of boots against stone tiles struck her ears.
"Jogging? At this time?"
She rounded a corner and came to a stop just at the edge of the courtyard and the full picture opened before her.
Dozens of mages... not just dozens. Nearly the entire morning cohort of House Levenees' junior and senior practitioners were jogging in loops around the wide, open expanse of the Section's main training grounds. Even a few aged instructors were there, puffing with visible reluctance, red-faced but moving nonetheless. Sylveira blinked twice. Once in disbelief, and the second in admiration.
"What in the name of Mopheria has gotten into them?"
Then she saw the answer... well, heard it first.
"Come on, mages! I'm a Dynasty Monarch, arguably the most handsome man in all of Spheraphase, and I'm still faster than you?"
Sylveira froze like someone had tossed a flash-freeze spell at her feet. He was sprinting like it was the first lap of a championship trial, loose white hair tousled just enough to still look regal. His tunic was slightly open at the collar, sleeves rolled, and his body glistening just a bit with honest effort.
Vastarael Blossom Richinaria, Dynasty Monarch, Sovereign of the Aeterium bloodline and apparently, this morning's overly-enthusiastic jogging instructor, had no business looking that radiant while jogging.
And of course, the women mages were pushing harder. The girls in turquoise-trimmed robes looked like they had just run through war and would do it all over again if he so much as smiled at them. One poor student tripped over her own boots mid-jog and actually shouted, "I'm okay!" before scrambling back up and forcing a laugh that was way too loud. Sylveira smirked, then caught herself. She patted her cheek as if that would physically wipe the thought away. She was married but still, damn.
The mages were all using Gravity Runes and spells that reduced their speed and stamina greatly. A mage called, jogging past her in a blur.
"Lady Levenees! You're up early!"
"I'm always up early."
Her eyes were still locked on Vastarael as he high-fived a nervous boy who looked like he might cry from the contact. Then he noticed her. Vastarael skidded to a playful stop, turned, and jogged backwards with a grin.
"Matriarch Sylveira! Come on, don't just stare! Join us! You're not going to let all your disciples outpace you, are you?"
"Esteemed Highness, I am not wearing jogging attire."
"You're a mage. Get creative."
He wasn't wrong.
With a sharp breath and a flick of her wrist, Sylveira swapped her ceremonial mage robe for a simpler tunic and fitted pants, an enchanted set she used for certain field work. Her boots shimmered into lightweight runners and her hair pins vanished into a quick braid. She initiated Gravity Runes on her clothes just like the rest.
"If I die before finishing ten laps, my spirit will haunt your throne, your Esteemed Highness."
"That's the spirit!"
And just like that, Sylveira Levenees, the most renowned Grandmaster Archmagus on the continent, joined a mob of panting, desperate mages and started jogging.
The first lap wasn't so bad. By the second, she was side by side with one of her seniors, who looked like he hadn't seen the sun in days and was suffering deeply.
"You're not... going replace our spell practice with this... are you?"
"I'm considering it."
By the third, Vastarael caught up to her again, jogging easily like he hadn't even broken rhythm.
"You doing alright back there?"
"I'm not 'back there.' I'm right here next to you, Esteemed Highness."
"Oh, true. Try to keep up though, Matriarch."
She glared. He just laughed.
Fourth lap in, she started to regret her pride. Fifth, she hit a rhythm. Sixth, she realized the mages behind her were using her as a pace marker. Seventh, someone offered her a towel mid-run. She declined. She had a spell for that.
By the ninth lap, a few mages had fallen out. Some were sitting on the edge of the courtyard with red faces and floating water orbs, wheezing but smiling.
Vastarael, of course, was still going strong, still teasing, still calling out remarks like:
"If you survive today, maybe I'll let you touch Calimostria," or, "You're mages! You can summon lightning but jogging is the real enemy?"
As Sylveira finally crossed her tenth lap, she slowed to a stop, placed both hands on her hips and stared at the sky.
"Why is he like this?"
One of her youngest mages came up beside her, giggling between pants.
"You mean our Monarch?"
"Yes. That one."
"He's so cool," the girl whispered like it was a secret.
Sylveira looked over. "Cool? He's unbearable. And relentless."
The girl nodded dreamily. "And handsome."
Sylveira sighed, "Also that."
Vastarael finally slowed as well, turning to face the group with a proud grin.
"Now that's how you start a morning! You want to cast better? Then be better! Mystic power flows best through a body that doesn't wheeze at a jog!"
Someone in the back muttered, "Easy for you to say, Esteemed Highness."
He ignored it with an eye roll and pointed to the outer wall.
"Cool down, stretch and hydrate. If you faint, don't blame the Levenees medics. They're also doing laps later. No one is left behind."
The crowd groaned in unison but they obeyed. Sylveira walked up to him slowly, watching as he sipped from a flask of water.
"I take it this stamina program is mandatory now?"
"For all mages in Richinaria, apparently. Including the House Matriarch."
She rolled her eyes. "You know this is not the kind of mystic advancement I meant when I said I'd support your project, Esteemed Highness."
"And yet you joined."
"Understood. But tomorrow I'm wearing leg runes. I am not breaking my thighs for the sake of your morning routine, Esteemed Highness."
"Permission granted."
Sylveira Levenees, Archmagus, Matriarch, researcher and proud wife, shook her head and turned to leave the courtyard. Her body ached, her braid was a mess and her dignity was somewhere between the third and fourth lap.
But she smiled. She hadn't had a morning like this in years. And somehow, she didn't mind at all.
°°°°°
{Volume Four, Part Two, The Divinity Chaos Arc.}
{We're back!}