“Oh,” Mesaes cleared his throat a third time, “I… did not think Nevve had mentioned me.”

  “We recently spoke of my mothers,” Jurao said, “Or I would not have recalled. Though I think she has also spoken of you in the past.”

  Mesaes’s tail swayed, clearly pleased his nephew knew him by name. He was a traditional demon like Nevve, and shared a simir light blue-gray skin tone, though with yellow ssh-like markings to her dark red. His hair was curly and pastel pink, grown long but pulled half-up and away from his face. He had yellow eyes, the same shade as two of his sister’s four eyes.

  “See? Nothing to worry about, old timer!” Saerma decred, puffing out his chest with one set of arms on his hips and the upper set on the elbows of the lower set. He, too, was a traditional demon, with red skin and orange circur markings. His bright yellow hair made him a very colorful man, his purple eyes sure as he appeared to be sizing the King up.

  “The Mafokuraeses send their regards as well, your highness,” Petty Prince Scues added, with a chuckle. He was an inspired demon in a wash of pastels - with his light blue skin and white spotted markings, wavy lic hair hanging down to his waist like the River Curtain trees that were plentiful in his city of origin.

  “Thank you, Petty Prince Scues,” Jurao said, inclining his head to him.

  “Forgive me, your highness - I’m Lord Ken,” an arcane demon with dark pink skin, lighter pink thick wavy markings, and short wavy gray hair bowed, rising with a grin, “I’m Petty Prince Oresti’s valet. These are Petty Prince Kylse’s guards - Invaokka and Deyk.”

  “Your highness,” both greeted - gring at each other sidelong.

  Invaokka was a bull beastly demon with midnight bck skin and brown spotted markings that reminded Jurao of Eweylona and the twins’ spots more than pin demon spots. Fos markings barely stood out from fos skin, though fos red eyes appeared more bright by the contrast.

  Deyk was an inspired demon with grayish-green skin, bck banded markings, and a shock of messy white hair on fos head. Fos gray eyes were less prominent, though no less strong in their gre.

  “Would you know where we might find the rest of our party?” Ken asked, still grinning.

  “Oresti is likely in the Petty Royal Wing,” Hujur replied, directing castle porters to help with the representatives’ luggage and direct them, “And Exmarre in his studio. Petty Prince Kylse has been spending time with Lord Meir’ril and Lady Ayelma - Lord Braelin’s siblings, of a simir age. I could not say with certainty where they can be found.”

  Jurao hummed and considered, “I believe Aya intended to help Kylse with his sword work, so they are likely in the training field.”

  “What?” Invaokka scoffed, “He should work on his magic.”

  Deyk rolled fos eyes, “It’s not like being able to use a weapon effectively will make him worse at magic. Look at you.”

  “He’ll never be as strong as a demon!” Invaokka replied with a growl, “Even one as weak as you!”

  “Boys,” Ken said, interrupting the budding argument, “Please.”

  They growled at each other - then both huffed and looked away.

  Hujur raised his brows but only found staff to direct the young guards to where they might find their charge.

  “Apologies, your highness,” Ken sighed, “They are… young. But they both genuinely care for Kylse despite their personal disagreements, so are the best men for the job.”

  “No harm done,” Jurao nodded, holding up a hand as the valet followed the nearest porters headed to the Petty Royal Wing. He noticed that a second arcane demon followed him - perhaps choosing not to be introduced.

  “If I recall correctly,” Petty Princess Hane said, approaching with slinky steps, “Petty Prince Exmarre is a fashion designer.”

  “Yes,” Jurao confirmed, “He has been hired as the Royal Tailor.”

  The Petty Princess was a beastly demon with a snake tail, and weasel ears and feet. She had small antlers in pce of horns and dark green skin with yellow spotted markings. Her pale yellow hair fell around her shoulders, and she brushed some back as she said, “He certainly has some interesting ideas about demonic fashion, your highness. Such as it is in its infancy.”

  “Is it,” Jurao asked.

  Hane didn’t seem to know how to reply to his question.

  “I thought your partner would be with you to greet us, your highness,” Petty Princelin Doys said neutrally. Fos was a traditional demon with dark blue skin and pale green wavy markings, teal hair back in a thick braid.

  “Braelin does not do well in front of rge groups of people he does not know,” Jurao replied, “But he will be at the evening meal.”

  It worried him, to a degree - Braelin would be uncomfortable during the meal with so many arriving at once. But there was little he could do to remedy the situation beyond letting the discomfort run its course.

  “I see,” Doys said - voice and face both too neutral for the King to glean anything from them.

  “Ah,” Petty Princelin Voysh cleared fos throat, “Your highness?”

  Jurao turned to fos and asked, “Yes.”

  Voysh wilted under his gaze, though fos had no reason to do so that Jurao could think of. Like fos namesake, fos had yellow skin with white ssh-like markings and white hair down fos upper back. A traditional demon, Voysh shifted fos weight on fos hooves.

  “Voysh is worried you’re still mad about Naenga trying to cede!” Saerma said, coming to pat his peer on the back again.

  “I was never upset about Naengaquena’s attempt to cede,” Jurao tilted his head curiously, “They executed their right, and I mine.”

  This did not seem to put Voysh at ease.

  Saerma patted fos back again, saying, “See? It’s fine!”

  Voysh stumbled from the force of it, but bowed to Jurao and scuttled off after fos retinue. Saerma nodded to him before doing simirly, but with more confidence.

  Mesaes cleared his throat, “I did… ah, intend to visit my sister.”

  “Yes,” Jurao nodded, turning, “I will show you the way to the smithies.”

  Hujur nodded to the King as he passed - the greeting was complete, and none of the petty royals had further news to discuss, after all.

  They did not speak as they cut through the Training Yard - the fastest means of reaching the Civil Smithy. Jurao saw that he had been correct - returning a wave from Ayelma where she stood with Kylse and his arguing guards.

  “Good morning, your highness,” Ferrori greeted as they entered.

  “Good morning,” Jurao nodded to the man, headed to the back. It was one of the days Feyl was working in the smithy, and he and Nevve were attempting to build a rger version of the magic engine with Sazel seated nearby for her part.

  “Hey, brat,” Nevve said, waving over her shoulder without turning to face them, “Something you need?”

  “Um,” Mesaes said.

  Nevve turned in surprise at the sound, frowning as she said, “Mesaes?”

  Mesaes chuckled nervously and said, “Hello, sister.”

  That caught the attention of the entire smithy - the sound of work slowing as smiths emerged from their stations to look at their boss’s brother.

  Feyl and Sazel were both too absorbed in the engine to do the same, which hardly surprised Jurao.

  “What’s this?” Nevve asked, gncing back at the pair before shrugging and approaching her brother.

  “I, um,” Mesaes was clearly a few centuries younger than his sister - perhaps half a millennia. He took a steeling breath as he straightened his spine and said, “Ces is too stubborn, and I wanted to see you. And Jurao.”

  Nevve blinked at him, then snorted and ughed.

  That caught Feyl’s attention. He gnced over, giving the situation a cursory once over before turning back to the fae metal chassis he was working on and finding a stopping point.

  “Fair enough,” Nevve said, cpping her brother on the shoulder. He was a few inches taller than her, but Jurao could see the resembnce between them. She asked, “How have you been?”

  “Well enough,” Mesaes smiled, tail swaying in relief again. He asked, “Is… this your protege?”

  “Something like that,” Feyl confirmed as he joined them, “I’m Feyl - a civil smith and Jurao’s valet.”

  “An… interesting set of jobs,” Mesaes chuckled.

  “He’s Beloved of Soken, too,” Nevve snorted.

  Feyl rolled his eyes.

  “Doesn’t surprise me!” Ivali decred cheerfully, “Most of us are just happy he works here instead of haunting the pce!”

  “Haunting…?” Mesaes asked.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Nevve stated, “This is my brother, Mesaes. Haven’t seen him since Jurao was born, but no need to worry about shit like that.”

  Mesaes started ughing, “You haven’t changed at all!”

  “Why would I?” Nevve grinned, “And what about you? Still chasing women twice your age?”

  “Oh, no, you told him that story?” Mesaes said, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

  “When you attempted to flirt with my grandmother on my mother’s side at Mom and Vaokis’s wedding,” Jurao asked.

  Feyl snorted, then coughed to hide it.

  “You don’t have room to ugh at him,” Nevve said.

  Feyl shrugged, “True.”

  “What?” Mesaes asked.

  “My gieuls is several centuries older than I am,” Feyl expined.

  “Ah,” Mesaes nodded, “Well, admittedly, I do still find older women attractive, but the gap has not remained so rge.”

  Nevve nodded, “Makes sense. Why don’t you join us for the midday meal? We usually eat with Jurao and his partner’s family.”

  “Oh,” Mesaes nodded, “Yes, I would… like that.”

  “Do you need somewhere to stay?” Nevve asked, “I have a spare room.”

  “Petty Prince Saerma was going to allow me to stay with him until I made other arrangements,” Mesaes said, “But if you don’t mind…”

  “Come on,” Nevve said, “We’ll get your shit and I’ll introduce you to my partner, Omarri. The rest of you, back to work!”

  The other smiths studiously went back to their stations, resuming their work.

  “Are you enjoying working in the smithy,” Jurao asked, as he had a moment.

  Feyl snorted, then sighed and said, “I am - more than I thought I would.”

  “And we’re gd to have you here!” Ivali called out.

  “Some of us,” Quenesti scoffed.

  “Most of us,” Ferrori corrected, chuckling.

  Feyl rolled his eyes at all of them - but his gentle, genuine smile spoke for itself.

  Jurao nodded, saying, “I’m gd.”

  “I know you are,” Feyl snorted, then waved as he turned back to the engine, “Now go see if you’re needed with all the petty royals arriving at once, your highness.”

  Jurao nodded, watching his best friend for a few moments as he went back to working on the engine. He returned greetings from other smiths as he left, gd to see Feyl doing well before returning to work for the day.

  He saw Feyl again at the midday meal - a picnic in the Pond Garden where Nevve introduced her brother to the group. Omarri had joined them on a few previous occasions and did so again today.

  “I was going to invite Kylse, but I didn’t want his guards arguing the whole time,” Ayelma said, and added, “Turns out he’s a mage, too.”

  “Really?” Meir’ril asked, “He never said.”

  “I don’t think he likes being a mage,” Ayelma shrugged, “But he didn’t seem to want to talk about it.”

  “Did he say what kind of magic he has?” Meir’ril asked.

  “No, but one of his guards said it was a tri-affinity,” Ayelma replied, “I want to ask him, but if he doesn’t want to talk about it…”

  “Gresma has a history of treating magic with suspicion!” Malson nodded, “Especially as a royal, there’s a good chance he was treated poorly for it!”

  “Yes,” Ebener nodded, “They were not pleased with my marrying Eweylona - an elven warrior did significant damage to their kingdom some two centuries ago. It has made them oppressive towards magic users. It is why Kaber has so many, compared to the rest of the Reaches - that is where most flee to.”

  “Oh, well, yeah, then I see why he wouldn’t want to talk about it,” Ayelma shrugged.

  “He should still learn it, though,” Eweylona said, “As a human Petty Prince, magic would be his strongest defense - weakened as it is in the Demon Realm.”

  “If I can figure out what kinds he has, he can join me in my lessons,” Meir’ril said, “The applicable ones, anyway.”

  “Just don’t press him too hard, my son,” Eweylona chuckled. She added, “Forcing him will not repair his retionship with his magic.”

  “I won’t,” Meir’ril promised.

  “Repair his retionship,” Jurao asked.

  “Magic is a living force,” Eweylona expined, creating a ball of ice above her hand and shaping it into different forms, “The power of creation filtered so mortals may partake as their gods do. It is not precisely sentient, but it responds to mortal emotions. If one is afraid of their power, it will become as they see it in their minds - something votile and menacing,” she let the ice ball become a beast with many sharp teeth, “so forcing someone that is afraid of their power to use it will only make their fear greater. If one can, instead, be allowed to get to know their magic, they can change that perception,” the ice ball became a young canid figure, running about their group like a puppy at py, “Repairing their retionship.”

  “Me too!” Henes decred, running into her grandmother’s back, “Henes wants to make an ice dog!”

  Eweylona chuckled, pulling her granddaughter into her p. She had the ice canid return above her hands, then colpsed it back into a ball. She said, “Hold out your hands, and we’ll work on shaping it together, okay?”

  Henes nodded, doing as she was asked.

  Amancia - unable to use magic - still joined them to watch her sister try to shape the magic ice with wide eyes.

  Malson smiled at his mother and daughters, then asked, “Has he said anything about how he got here!?”

  “No,” Ayelma said, “Seems like another thing he doesn’t like talking about. But if what you said about Gresma is true, then it makes sense.”

  “Well,” Braelin sighed, sliding his hand into one of Jurao’s, “the kind of emotions that let you slip through a rift don’t tend to be happy.”

  Jurao gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and conversation turned to other matters.