Heroine Creation: All My Summons Are Custom Made

”Lancet.”

Romsgard’s voice cut through the murmuring hall, and when Lancet turned to face him, he looked proper annoyed. His bearded jaw was set in a line that suggested his patience was thinning.

”Explain yourself.”

Lancet paused. He looked at Verdrak, who was staring at him with undisguised spite, then he looked at the king again. Lancet decided to forget about the gray-bearded Council Member for now. There would be time for that later.

”Before we say anything, your Majesty,” he said, raising his hands to show the Gracebreakers bound tight against his wrists. ”This is not right. You have some of the Heroes of this world who defended and died for the sake of every soul in this room bound like the worst criminals.”

He let the words hang in the air. ”Please, if you want a civil discussion or interrogation, take off the Gracebreakers.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

On the screens above the table, the Sovereigns exchanged glances. King Odesto of Antarticon tilted his head. Avanke of Ebonia raised one elegant eyebrow. Ronald of Falcon Standing stroked the falcon on his shoulder, his weathered face contemplative. Liu Xiu of Asiris bit her lip in a guilty manner.

Romsgard also looked guilty. It was bad optics if the people saw or heard about this.

Verdrak spoke up immediately. ”Those cufflinks are for our safety!”

Lancet turned to him, unflinching. ”Let’s not pretend there isn’t a Grace Wall between you and us, Council Member.” He gestured vaguely at the air in front of the table. ”If any of us attacks, nothing is getting past it.”

Stunned, several Council Members stiffened. Obel’s deep-set eyes narrowed. Verdrak’s mouth opened, then closed.

How did he know about the Grace Wall?

The invisible barrier of concentrated Grace-energy that separated the Council from those standing before them, strong enough to absorb any attack short of a Demon Lord’s full power.

It was not common knowledge. Neither was it something a boy from the eastern slums should have known.

Romsgard leaned back in his throne, visible on the screen. His expression had changed again, the annoyance had faded and it was replaced by something more complex.

Once again, like back in the ceremony after Hebthej, Lancet Leogardt was displaying an unprecedented level of knowledge.

This boy is a mystery.

He looked at Astensia, bound and silent, her bright blue eyes patient but unyielding. He looked at Thor, whose bound hands were clenched into fists, tiny sparks dying against the Gracebreaker’s suppression. He looked at Kestrel, regal even in chains, and Espel, who looked like she wanted to disappear, and Spectra, whose crimson eyes watched everything with quiet, sardonic amusement.

Then he spoke.

”Lady Astensia. Lady Thor.” His voice was softer now, stripped of royal command and replaced with genuine respect. ”And to all of you. I apologize. The cuffs were protocol, but I would never have demanded it myself.”

He paused, glancing at the other Sovereigns, receiving the barest nods of agreement from Odesto, Avanke, Ronald, and Liu Xiu. ”After deliberation, we have decided that you should all be released.”

Relief flickered across Espel’s face. Thor’s shoulders relaxed slightly. Astensia inclined her head in a gracious nod.

”Except,” Romsgard added, and the relief died as quickly as it had come, ”for the Mother of Demons.”

”What?!”

The word came from three mouths at once. Astensia’s voice was sharp with disbelief. Thor’s was a growl of protest. Lancet’s was quiet, but carried an edge that made several Council Members shift in their seats.

Spectra sighed, tilting her head back as if she had been expecting this all along. ”Why am I not surprised?” She raised her cuffed hands—one glowing red, the other blue—and examined them with theatrical boredom. ”I was beginning to grow fond of the accessories. They match my eyes.”

”Lancet,” Astensia said, turning to him, her expression troubled.

Lancet stepped forward, his bound hands gesturing toward the Council. ”You can’t just leave her cuffed while the rest of us are free. What happened to fair treatment of all classes?”

He looked directly at Azura, the Stormweaver, who had spoken so diplomatically about classism in the vehicle. She had the decency to look away.

Obel steepled his fingers, his wizardly beard brushing the table. ”We are not leaving her cuffed because of her Demon Binder Class, Mr. Leogardt.”

He sounded very assured in himself. ”We are leaving her cuffed because of who she is. She is the Villainess. The Mother of Demons. Her history precedes her. We do not trust her to not attack us. Surely she carries a grudge from all those years ago.”

”Enough with this nonsense.”

Thor’s voice rolled across the chamber like distant thunder.

Everyone froze then looked beside Lancet where Thor was standing. She stepped forward, placing herself directly beside Spectra, her stormy eyes fixed on King Romsgard.

”Either she is uncuffed,” Thor declared, ”or the rest of us remain cuffed alongside her.”

Spectra’s eyes widened at that statement. She stared at Thor, feeling a warm essence spread inside her. An essence she had never felt since she was a child.

’Thunderbird...’ she thought in her heart.

Romsgard stared at Thor. His mouth opened slightly, then closed. On the other screens, the Sovereigns reacted with varying degrees of disbelief.

King Odesto of Antarticon, whose frozen kingdom had been built on discipline and hierarchy, looked genuinely taken aback. Avanke of Ebonia leaned forward, her amethyst eyes sharp with fascination. Ronald of Falcon Standing let out a low whistle that his falcon echoed with a soft screech. Liu Xiu of Asiris smiled lightly, as if she had just discovered something delightful.

The Council Members were less composed. Several of them forgot their mental conduits entirely and turned to whisper to each other directly. Verdrak’s face had turned a shade of red that clashed horribly with his white beard.

This was Thor Stormchild. The Valkyrie. The woman whose hatred for Demons was legendary, whose entire existence had been defined by her willingness to slaughter the forces of Gehenna without hesitation or mercy.

She had lost more to the Second World than most people ever had. And now she was standing before the most powerful people on Earth, demanding fair treatment for the Mother of Demons.

Romsgard’s mind raced. What kind of unity has this boy fostered in these women? He looked at Lancet, a young Summoner from the eastern slums, an orphan who had somehow bound the greatest Heroines in history to his side and earned not just their obedience but their loyalty.

Thor had been ready to argue with the Council a moment ago, and a single glance from Lancet had silenced her. Now she was following his lead, standing with his conviction, fighting for someone who should have been her mortal enemy.

Angering them would be a mistake. That much was clear. The world was changing. The Warning Gates were coming. Gehenna was sure to retaliate after this. And these six individuals—this Summoner and his Heroines—were truthfully one of Earth’s most valuable assets in the war.

Romsgard exhaled slowly. ”Very well.”

Verdrak whipped his head toward the screen. ”Your Majesty—”

”I said very well,” Romsgard repeated, his voice hardening. ”I apologize deeply for the insult, Lady Spectra. It was not my intention to single you out. Uncuff them. All of them.”

Verdrak was fuming. His hands gripped the edge of the ironwood table, his knuckles white, his pointed beard jutting forward like an accusation. But he said nothing more. Even he knew better than to openly defy a Sovereign in front of the entire Council.

Obel raised a hand, and at the signal, several Kingdom Rangers stepped forward from the shadows at the edges of the room. They moved efficiently, unlocking the Gracebreakers one by one.

The moment Astensia’s cuffs came off, she flexed her fingers, and a soft golden glow rippled across her gauntlets before she suppressed it. Thor rolled her shoulders, and the air around her crackled with a brief, celebratory burst of static. Kestrel rubbed her wrists and gave a small, satisfied nod. Espel’s Bloomwings immediately fluttered back to life around her shoulders, their pink glow brightening her relieved expression.

When the Ranger reached Spectra, the dual-colored cuffs clicked open and fell away. Spectra held her wrists up, examining them with exaggerated care.

”No lasting damage,” she announced. ”How fortunate. I was worried I might have to sue.” She looked at Azura and smiled sweetly. ”That’s the word, isn’t it? Sue? I’m learning so much about this century.”

Azura’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing.

Once all the Gracebreakers were removed, the Rangers retreated to their positions. The chamber fell silent again. The dome-light poured down in golden columns, illuminating the compass rose at the center of the marble floor. The ten Council Members sat behind their ironwood table. The five Sovereigns watched from their screens above.

Obel cleared his throat. His deep-set eyes moved from Lancet to the Heroines and back again.

”Now,” he said, ”please explain your actions.”

Lancet stepped forward.

He stood at the very center of the compass rose, his Heroines arrayed behind him like a constellation of power.

”We disobeyed authorities, yes,” Lancet began. ”We also interfered with and violated an outer-political truce. That is also true. But in doing so, we’ve saved the world from what could’ve been an astronomical disaster.”

Obel narrowed his eyes. Verdrak beside him scoffed in disdain. The other Council Members gave each other curious looks.

”How so?” King Romsgard, his expression burning with intrigue, asked.

Lancet looked up at him and said with an assured tone. ”You see, your Majesty. There was never a truce to begin with.”