Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

Down in Deathrock, the customary perimeter had been established around the half-citadel.

The Brigades were the only ones present. Since this wasn’t an active Demon Break, Kingdom Rangers weren’t necessary.

A few of them were outside the tents, sitting on iron chairs, boots up on crates, speaking over cups of steaming coffee while the wind dragged ash across the outer line of Deathrock.

One pair argued about whether the commander’s awful taste in television had finally gotten worse. Another complained that the coffee tasted horrible. Someone else, half-buried in a folding chair, was trying to win a dice game with two others while pretending not to care that he was losing.

A lean one, separated from the rest of them straightened on his chair.

He had been staring off toward the east, where the mountain lands rolled into a long, jagged line of dark stone and distant storm. At first he squinted, thinking it was a trick of the light or one of those weird ash distortions. But the shapes kept coming.

He spotted six figures. They were small at first, but soon became bigger and clearer.

The Brigadier lifted a hand and shaded his eyes, leaning forward. ”Hold on,” he muttered. ”You guys seeing that?”

Another looked up from his coffee. ”Seeing what?”

”There,” the first one said, pointing harder. ”From the east.”

The others followed his line of sight, one by one, until the whole little cluster of bored soldiers had gone quiet and were staring. One of them pulled a pair of binoculars from his vest and looked through them.

His jaw instantly dropped.

”What?” he said, voice rising. ”Am I seeing things or is that Astensia Valengard and Thor Stormchild?”

One of the others snatched the binoculars and looked.

”By the Elders! I’m pretty sure that’s Spectra Hexerra,” he said, lowering the binoculars with a look of complete disbelief. ”The Mother of Demons.”

The whole tent area erupted at once.

”No way.”

”You’re kidding.”

”Call the commander. Now!”

One Brigadier turned and bolted straight into the command tent at full speed, nearly tripping on the flap in his rush. A second later, his voice rang out from inside.

”Commander! Sir, we have incoming!”

The man inside the tent barely looked up.

Commander Halden Vey sat in a collapsible chair with one boot hooked over the other knee, a mug of coffee in one hand and the glow of a ridiculous old combat drama playing on a portable monitor in front of him.

After months being kept in this dry place, Halden had accepted the life of boredom and had concluded to spend the rest of service watching television. Then, when he retired, he’d live off a heavy pension and buy an even bigger television.

Who knew these screens were such joy?!

Halden’s hair was dark, his coat was half-unbuttoned, and his expression was tainted with irritation and exhaustion.

”Then deal with it,” he muttered without taking his eyes off the screen. ”If it’s another report about trench soup quality, I’m taking away your special lunch privileges.”

The Brigadier in the flap hesitated. ”Sir—”

Halden finally looked over, one eyebrow rising. His expression was flat, jaded, and already halfway to a sigh. ”What.”

The Brigadier swallowed. ”It’s some blonde kid with five female Awakeners.”

Halden blinked once, slowly, then took a long sip of coffee. ”That does not narrow anything down.”

”Three of them have been identified as Astensia Valengard, Thor Stormchild, and Spectra Hexerra.”

The commander froze.

His mug paused halfway to his mouth. Then his head snapped up so fast the monitor nearly became irrelevant.

”Did you just fucking say Spectra Hexerra?”

”Yes, sir.”

Halden was on his feet instantly. ”Out. Now.”

A moment later he was pushing past the tent flap with his coffee still in hand, the Brigadier hurrying after him as the rest of the perimeter shifted into a much less bored kind of alarm. When Halden stepped out into the open air and saw the distant line of approaching figures more clearly, he actually stopped dead.

Then, very quietly, with the voice of a man who had just had his day violently revised, he said, ”Holy Gehenna.”

The six figures were close enough now for faces to start resolving through the haze of ash and wind.

Lancet walked at the front with an easy, confident pace. Behind and beside him came the women, each one carrying herself with an aura that forced the Brigadiers to look nowhere else.

They stopped a short distance from the tents. Lancet smiled at the Brigadiers and the commander.

”Hello,” he said brightly. ”My name is Lancet Leogardt. I’m a Legend Summoner.”

He gestured lightly at the women beside him. ”These are my Summons.”

Espel winced a bit, and so did Kestrel. They were his newest heroines, so they had not quite adjusted to the label yet. In Espel’s case, it was mostly strange because she had not even been summoned from the past.

One of the Brigadiers suddenly pointed at Lancet with a look of dawning recognition. ”Lancet Leogardt?” he blurted. ”Aren’t you the one who killed the Second Demon Head during that Hebthej raid?”

Lancet gave him a small smile. ”That’s right.”

The Brigadier’s eyes widened. ”Woah.”

Another Brigadier, now far less skeptical than he had been moments ago, looked between Lancet and the women beside him with renewed awe. ”They said you summoned Astensia Valengard and Thor Stormchild. I couldn’t believe it. But it’s true.”

Then, almost without thinking, a few of the Brigadiers bowed. To the heroines, mostly Astensia and Thor.

Astensia’s expression softened immediately and extended her to stop them. ”Please do not bother,” she said gently. ”Get up.”

The Brigadiers obeyed at once.

Commander Halden Vey had stepped up beside them by then, his earlier skepticism gone and replaced with a sharp, measuring stare. He didn’t like being surprised, but so far, this seemed like a present surprise.

He looked at the group, then at Lancet, then at the women again.

”My name is Halden Vey,” he said, voice steady now, ”Commander of this Brigade.”

His eyes swept over them in quick, professional appraisal.

”I recognize all of you,” he said, looking at Astensia, then Thor, then Spectra with a brief pause, then finally, his eyes met Kestrel. ”Even you, Emerald Blade.”

The slight emphasis made Kestrel’s jaw tighten a fraction, but she said nothing.

Halden continued, acknowledging this was no ordinary visit. ”This Legend Summoner... you must be very powerful to pull revered figures like these from the past.”

Then his gaze shifted to Spectra, and one of the Brigadiers near him visibly braced for trouble.

”But why the Mother of Demons?”

Lancet opened his mouth, but Astensia answered first, her voice calm and sincere.

”He has his reasons.”

Thor crossed her arms and gave a firm nod. ”And we vouch for her.”

Spectra rolled her eyes with theatrical annoyance, though the corner of her mouth twitched in a way that suggested she found the whole exchange more amusing than offensive. Halden caught that look and exhaled through his nose.

”As long as you keep her demon wings tied down, then fine by me.”

Spectra’s smile sharpened a little. ”How generous.”

Halden looked past her, then frowned slightly at the unfamiliar young woman standing a step behind Lancet.

”I do not recognize the other one.”

Lancet glanced back at Espel and smiled. ”She’s a legend in the making.”

Halden gave a short, considering nod. He didn’t understand all of it, but he knew he likely never would. He was a Brigade Officer and they were Awakeners. Two different worlds.

”I see,” was all he said.

Then the commander’s eyes narrowed again as he looked from Lancet to the others and back toward the mountain line behind them.

”Now why are you here?” he asked. ”This isn’t an active Demon Break. If the Kingdom had sent you, I would have already received a notification.”

Lancet’s smile did not fade. ”That’s fine,” he said. ”We weren’t sent by the Kingdom. We were just curious about Deathrock.”

Halden’s eyes sharpened. ”Curious.”

Lancet nodded. ”The map. The level of rot. The demon invasion. What kind of creatures are in there. How strong the Commander is. How strong the Head is.”

One Brigadier, who had been listening with a growing crease between his brows, tilted his head. ”That sounds like the kind of thing you’d want to know if you were planning to clear the Demon Break.”

He squinted at Lancet. ”Are you...?”

Lancet only smiled back at the commander and said, ”Can we come in and see the hologram map of Deathrock?”

Halden gave him a flat look. ”No. Inside here is for kingdom officials only.”

Astensia stepped forward before the moment could harden.

Halden immediately looked at her, feeling her aura soften the air around him.

She did not raise her voice. She did not need to. She simply stood with that quiet, immense certainty she carried so naturally and said, ”Commander, I understand your caution. But we have not come to stir trouble. We only want information, and if there is a place that may soon become a citadel, then knowing the terrain and the threat is not reckless. We’re simply curious to understand how Demon Breaks happen in this century.”

Halden said nothing.

Astensia’s expression remained calm, almost gentle, but there was steel under it. ”You know who I am. And with me here, be rest assured that we are not here to mock your work or interfere with your post. We are here simply because knowledge saves lives.”

A few of the Brigadiers looked at her as though they had forgotten how to breathe.

Astensia continued, voice still soft, still steady. ”Please let us see what you know.”

Halden looked at her for a long moment.

Then he glanced at Lancet, at Thor, at Spectra, at Espel, at Kestrel, and finally let out a slow breath through his nose.

”Very well,” he said at last. ”You can come in.”

Lancet’s smile brightened.

Halden entered the tent first and gestured for them to follow.

Lancet walked in and the others followed suit. The Brigadier from earlier stood just outside the flap, looking at them nervously. As Spectra passed him, her eyes found his and she gave him a quick, mischievous wink.

The poor Brigadier nearly forgot how to stand.