Selena bristled. "Lady Illy. I am a moonwing paladin assigned as your bodyguard, it would bring shame to my flight if I were unable to follow you into high society."

"My family and in-laws are a fecking menace to high society, I wouldn't wish them on my worst enemy." Illy said, trying to get the gravity of the situation through.

"Even more important if they are people you need to be shield from." The elf said, ears waggling. "I am perfectly capable of eating within your family estate. I insist."

As soon as the servants had reported yesterday about the strange and wonderful 'guest' that Illy had snuck onto the estate, quite a few of the branch family had shown up early.

Illy could tell why. They were looking forward to a spectacle. Because they were bored snobs with nothing better to do than to hackle her. The lot of them.

To be fair, Illy had tried to ask for the lunch to be served in private to her quarters. Tried. And failed, because the family had heard early and phoned her step-mother, so that the evil hag could order the staff not to serve anyone outside of the dining room and ruin their fun.

Illy had immediately decided they'd just go drive off, probably the nearest drive through fast food and eat in her car. But of course the family here had anticipated their little black sheep would try to scurry away, and so had the staff bar the path and give a few ultimatums on showing up to eat.

She could tell them all to shove their heads further up their asses, but she did need her family connections soon. Frankly, starting the process on her terms was inevitable. What she needed to keep under wraps was Wade and Leon until she had enough power to properly shield them from issues.

At least the bog witch wasn't here yet herself. Small mercies. "I can't right tell who's arrived or not, the staff said the family wanted it to be a surprise, the godless wankers. Could be just two or three, or could be as many as ten. If we're deeply unlucky."

And given her luck thus far, Illy could escape a house fire only to get run over by the firetruck right after.

"Worry not, I am far more prepared this time around," Selena said, looking quite proud now.

It did not fill Illy with any sense of confidence, but her options here were limited. The staff might like her, but they had no power in the situation at all.

"Guess we'll just have to make do with what we got." Illy turned and reached the dining room doors.

Deep breath, they'll get through this, the worst possible that could happen was bound to happen eventually anyhow. It's not like an entire world filled with magic would remain hidden for all that long statistically speaking with ninety eight other weirdos out there possibly bringing it back like Leon had already started to.

The door opened up and she got to see who the surprise family was today and how they'd gotten her step-mother to sign off for all this.

She figured it had to be someone with clout.

She was correct. Just in ways she hadn't anticipated.

Uncle Reginald adjusted his cufflinks with the air of someone preparing to be entertained by a circus act. He'd been the head bootlicker in charge, the kind that had let riches get to his head and his gut. He didn't inherit the main branch, so the responsibilities of training and personal upkeep hadn't followed him after Father had taken over.

Aunt Cordelia whispered something to her husband that made him nervously chuckle behind his wine glass. As far as Illy was concerned, Cordelia was three teenage meangirls in a trench coat, and Illy almost felt sorry for the poor sap she'd conned into marrying her.

But her gaze snapped straight for one single person in the room.

"Ah, feck." No wonder the servants had all been quiet.

Because at dead center of the table head, was the grand bitch herself: Beatrice Blackwood-Sinclair. Illy's stepmother.

With her step-brother Thomas sitting right next to her, looking very much dead inside, probably dragged here against his will.

But at least the silence was mutual. Because whatever the family here expected, it wasn't this.

The armor was polished to a System-perfect shine, looking functional, complete, and clearly expensive. Her blond ponytail and occasional blue-tipped feathers within made her angular elvish face even more striking. And the feather tufts along her cheeks and temples didn't look like fake props but real dark blue iridescent feathers that shimmered in the light. At least the ones above the smaller brown tuffs under.

Her ears gave a slight twitch from the nerves of everyone being quiet, as if she wasn't sure if she should speak or not, although she kept herself ram-rod straight and professional in all other ways.

"Bloody hell, she really is from Hollywood." Uncle Reginald muttered under his breath, then quickly cleared his throat when his wife shot him a look.

Aunt Cordelia recovered first, standing up from her seat in order to walk up and greet the two. Though Illy could see the recalculation happening behind her eyes. "My dear, you must be Millicent's... friend. I'm Cordelia Blackwood-Sinclair. A pleasure to welcome you to our humble estate. Are you able to speak English?"

She extended a hand.

Illy realized she hadn't taught Selena how to shake hands. Or what it meant. Or how to properly do so. But somehow, the elf reached out, and shook hands back. With her full gauntlets.

"Lady Selena Nightreaver. The honor is mine." The elf replied in perfect English, even with a British accent to it.

Wade was going to up his imaginary charges by fifty percent if he ever heard it worked this well. Illy internally swore she'd never breathe a word of it.

The aunt held Selena's hand for a moment, then looked down. "Is that actual metal for the costume?"

As in they'd expected the costume to be cardboard and had probably planned a lot of their jabs with exactly that in mind. In fact, Illy could see all of them mentally backtracking and reassessing.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

All except for Thomas, who had his eyes glued over Selena for more simple teenage boy reasons, probably. Well, he was turning fourteen in a few days. At least he was the only honest one here.

The kid went beet red and looked straight down at the table when he realized Illy was staring a hole into his head. The unworded 'She's with me. Mitts off.' was universal, and Thomas quickly made busy with drinking from his cup of tea.

"Of course it is metal, why would it not be?" Selena asked, feathers puffing out slightly, completely unaware of everything else. "Any other material would fail to serve as functional armor."

Cordelia stared at the moving feathers for a moment. "How... fascinating, they really do move on their own." She sounded genuinely impressed. Which was probably the first time Illy had ever heard that from Cordelia. The old bat slowly turned, "Millicent, your friend really is dedicated to the work, quite remarkable. Will there be a movie shooting here? I hadn't heard or see any staff for that."

Illy rolled her eyes, walking past to the chair. "Before you lot get weird about it, she's method actin'. You twats can have your laughs if ye want, it's good trainin' for her to stay in character."

As she expected, Beatrice immediately pounced. "Millicent Nicole Victoria Blackwood-Sinclair. We are eating as a family, with a guest no less. Use the proper queen's english, not that yokel slang. Your Father and I have talked to you about this again and again. Good heavens, you were such a proper young lady before, where did we go wrong?"

"Bite my entire arse Beatrice."

Thomas coughed his tea out, then choked trying not to laugh.

Beatrice frowned, but smoothly moved forward. "Millicent. At least do so for Thomas's sake, if not the family's. The boy doesn't deserve to have such a poor reception for his birthday. You are a daughter of the Blackwood-Sinclair family, have some degree of decorum for others."

A daughter. Not the daughter. She could tell the insult where it was. She took a breath. Selena was here, and she didn't want to drag the poor elf into all this shite with her. And Thomas really was just caught in the middle.

He was being trained to be an officer like Illy would have been, meaning an incredibly harsh regime of personal trainers and crushing expectations to succeed. The Blackwood-Sinclairs were snobs, not spoiled brats.

The side branches were absolutely both of course, but they didn't quite count.

Illy knew this group of canker sores and their head toad would just keep making more and more noise until it was the only thing to gossip about. Her eye flickered over to Selena next to her, and Thomas just trying to make it through his birthday 'celebration' in one piece.

"Very well, if that is your wish, step-mother." Illy even added a small, polite bow. "I suppose for Thomas's sake, I can set aside my personal thoughts on our family history."

"Much better. There's the old Millicent I remember." Beatrice nodded, as the first round of plates showed up.

She could have launched into her usual rant, about how the Blackwood-Sinclairs had been here for generations, how they should integrate with the people instead of acting like Crown bootlickers. Their family's original purpose all the way back from 1745 had been to "watch over" the Highland people here and prevent any kind of uprising from happening again. As in maintaining military control of the area in the name of the crown.

That had, of course, become utterly meaningless in the modern era. But it did mean collecting every single scrap of Scottish slang she could get her hands on was the single best insult she had against the snobs here. Glasgow, Edinburgh, Paisley, it didn't matter to Illy, she was on a personal mission.

"I do admit, when I'd heard there was a new starting little starlet here, I had expected this costume to be a homemade attempt at standing out. Miss… 'Nightreaver', if there isn't any production planned on these grounds, are you planning on auditioning for a film or a serial nearby? Or have you already been cast? Could you tell us a bit about your character?"

Of course they'd all end up thinking Selena was some low-budget wanna-be influencer TV actress trying to cozy up to the Blackwood-Sinclairs for possibly funding.

"I am afraid I do not follow," Selena said, giving her plate a quick glance. Salad. The elf pointedly did not look like she wanted to try that. In fact, she looked almost resigned for a half-second before remembering this was just the starting meal, and the real lunch was still coming.

"Oh I see, keeping it under wraps?" Thomas asked. "Secret casting?"

"She's more of a costume enthusiast, and a live action roleplayer." Illy said. "This is not a job for her, it is a hobby she is doing for her own amusement. I've been helping record footage to put together for a youtube series."

"Oh, I'd heard of those groups!" The kid looked really happy, like a six year old at a theme park running into a mascot. "I didn't know they were so dedicated even away from the filming. How much time was spent in crafting that costume? Are you able to have full range of motion inside? Any additional props, like a weapon?"

Selena perked up at that, smiling. "I use a spear personally, however other paladins from different Flights all have their specific techniques with various advantages." Even the ears twitched like she'd puffed out her chest and stuck her nose up. "The armor was crafted by the finest smiths of my flight. Each piece was forged to allow complete mobility during aerial combat maneuve-"

Uncle Reginald interrupted with a laugh. "My word, you really do stay in character the entire time, don't you?" His beady eyes turned to Illy next, waving an empty fork in her direction. "Does she actually fight with that getup? Looks far too expensive to risk getting a dent on it."

Illy watched Selena's feathers puff slightly. "It is armor ser, it serves a purpose. A paladin who cannot fight is hardly worthy of the title."

"The feathers are so lifelike." Thomas said. "Are they animatronics? How did you hide them so well on your skin? Are they using fishing wire, or something hidden in your hair? Random movements? No, they seem too intentional."

"Thomas," Beatrice scoffed, "Behave yourself."

As in let the adults ridicule the black sheep and her weird friend in peace, thank you.

"To her, it's important to be authentic to the entire process, from having the armor and using it as intended." Illy said, shooting Selena a warning look before the paladin could say something more. "Part of the whole experience. Right? If she can handle lunch with family like this, she could handle anything."

Beatrice frowned, clearly picking up the insult as intended.

"How… delightfully eccentric," Beatrice gave a soft smile, like she'd figured out the angle she wanted to go down. "And tell me, 'Miss Nightreaver', what exactly does your... character... do for a living?"

Illy couldn't tell what angle the head bitch was going to come swinging with, but she already felt her hackles start standing up. She knew when Beatrice had a plan in her head.

"I am currently contracted under Lady Illy as her personal escort."

"So you're role-playing her bodyguard for the series?" Thomas asked, once more accidentally interrupting whatever scheme his mother was up to. "That's bloody brilliant! Like a fantasy adventure story. Where did you meet Milly?" He stopped, gave his mother a guilty look, "Er, Millicent. Sorry."

"We met online." Illy quickly said, waving him off. "She was trying to get her feet o-"

"But 'Miss Nightreaver'," Beatrice did not relent, and it didn't matter if Thomas was throwing the game off or not. "What do you do for a living, when you're not playing dress-up?"

"Step-mother, as I told you before, she isn't going to answer that." Illy said. "She's in character."

Selena nodded back to Illy. "I am a Paladin first and foremost. The spear is my living."

"Oh my, is that what the youth call it these days?" She stirred her tea, smiling. "Good heavens, I understand now why you are so circumspect about revealing your work."

"Pardon?"

"Well, it certainly wouldn't be easy to fund such an expensive getup, now would it? But I suppose there are always older gentlemen willing to indulge a pretty young woman's expensive hobbies, aren't there?"

The table went real quiet. And Illy could tell Wade's little blessing of translation had passed the message along with everything implied directly to Selena, given how her feathers were slowly puffing up with actual rage.

"Lady Illy." Selena said, keeping her tone as flat as possible. "I would like permission to request a duel to defend my honor."

Beatrice looked wide-eyed at that. As if that was the last thing she could have expected. But only for a second. And then she smiled, deeply, before Illy could interject. "Oh, how delightful! I married into the family, so you'll have to excuse me but I quite lack the military traditions. However, I believe Mr. Harrison is on the estate grounds right this moment. He's Thomas's personal trainer. How about you have a spar with him?"

Illy paled. Because she knew who Mr. Harrison was.

Staff Sergeant David Harrison.

Ex-SAS.

"Ah feck."

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