21 Prelude to a Figh (1/2)

Cara and Zara both decided to spend a day on their cultivation. The decision came about after some enlightenment from both parties, though neither could see through the other's thought process. It was serendipity (and nothing more) that their wills aligned.

Cara, herself, thought it was a good change of pace. She spent a large portion of the previous day running around the city, and she did need to reinforce her realm a bit. The two passed their time in peace, each focusing on what they lacked and the road forward.

-

Cara stood from the bed and stretched her legs, finding them a bit numb from the meditative pose. Zara was still in the throes of her own meditations. Cara didn't disturb her as she passed by.

The downstairs of the inn was lively. Cara found her way to one of the tables, her stomach hungry and her mind unfocused. The tablecloth and the chair were of a high quality and felt smooth to the touch, almost like silk. Cara rubbed them a few times with a bit of a goofy grin on her face.

”Look at that hick over there, astounded by a mere cloth,” said a young woman a few tables over. ”How did someone like that even get into this place? Is the Dancing Fire Inn going to shit?”

Cara's eye twitched at the sudden insults. She looked up to see a girl in her late teens wearing a teal-colored brocade dress. The ugly color sparked Cara's memory. It looked identical to the color that that Mage wore, the one who was from the 'Four Families', the one who used an identification spell on her and said Cara looked like someone from the Stonelight lineage…

Cara took a deep breath and tried to pay the taunt no mind. She couldn't let every arrogant child get a rise out of her.

As soon as Cara decided to let the slight go, the entire building almost seemed to shake. A familiar aura overwhelmed the dining room.

”Oh no,” Cara muttered under her breath while pinching the skin between her eyebrows.

”What did you just say?” Zara's voice echoed from the top of the staircase in the back of the dining area. Her words were directed at the sharp-tongued noble girl.

”Tch, are you talking to me?” said the girl in the teal dress. ”Do you know who I am?”

”Do you know who -I- am!?” Zara echoed her question but louder. Her tone was almost sarcastic.

”You damned bumpkin, I am the Enra Zeitgar! Granddaughter to Elron Zeitgar, the head of one of the Four Families! Who are you to raise your voice at *me*.”

”I am Zara, one of the twelve direct disciples of The Sage! And you just insulted the person most precious to me in all the world!” Zara's voice echoed over the room like thunder and she jumped the railing on the stairs. She landed on the main floor with cat-like grace. Her green hair fluttered behind her and her old patchwork robes were gone, instead replaced by a tight-fitted, blue cultivator's robe, a powerful artifact properly weaved with arrays and strong magic. She looked ephemeral, almost otherworldly.

”Disciple of 'The Sage'? What nonsense are you spouting?” The noble woman stood up and her chair screeched as it was dragged backwards across the floor.

Cara held her head in her hands off to the side, almost in defeat. She swore she could hear the hissing and screams of two cats in the background.

Cara closed her eyes and decided to just wait the argument out. She didn't think Zara would actually do anything other than run her mouth…

And that thought was a terrible miscalculation.

Because Zara originally did plan on just fighting with words, but her foe held no such inclinations. The young woman of the Zeitgar family pulled one of her white gloves free and used it to try and slap Zara, driving it with the power of a lower Xantian Outer Cultivation.

Cara's eyes snapped up. She immediately moved and intercepted the slap, grabbing the woman's hand with her own.

”That,” said Cara, ”Was a mistake.”

A loud sound echoed in the dining hall. Cara's own hand was slightly red, but the Zeitgar girl's face was redder, with a distinct palm mark on it.

Cara's eyes were serious and sharp. Words she didn't mind. A few spitfire insult sessions never hurt anyone. But the moment someone tried to slap one of *her* precious disciples? That was when things hit the fan.

”Teacher, y-you defended me?” Zara asked. Her voice was so full of sugar and joy it could send a healthy man into a diabetic coma.

The Zeitgar girl, on the exact opposite of the spectrum, wore a scowl so twisted and full of salt it would make a pretzel jealous. Tears were bubbling up in the corners of her eyes.

Three guards, originally waiting at the sides of the room, all stood. Two of them were in the Xantian Rungs, and one actually was in the Zong realm. He seemed to have two cracks in his core.