This Ascent to Divinity is Lewder Than Expected

6.68 – Shield-Bearer

Late morning the next day, Rosalie arrived at Zoey and Maddy's training room with Delta in tow, interrupting their magic practice.

"My father wishes to speak with us," she informed the two of them. "I'm fairly certain he's made a decision on our fifth teammate."

"Oh?" Zoey asked, instantly interested.

That particular topic had been hanging over their heads since they'd arrived. Rosalie had alluded that she would be trying to sway Enzo toward specific possibilities, a woman at a minimum, though he hadn't seemed especially interested in sharing the decision. Rosalie said when she did broach the topic, Enzo usually disregarded her, sometimes more subtly and others not so much. And Rosalie had seemed grateful enough for him not making a big deal out of their current four that she wasn't willing to press too hard.

Zoey had all sorts of thoughts on that, of course, like that Enzo shouldn't have a say in who they chose as their final teammate to begin with, but she also recognized that making concessions with the most powerful man in the world was going to be a necessity. A part of her heeded the fact that if Enzo decided to take them by the reins and force them to do what he wanted, there was nothing they could do.

"Like usual, it would be best to not keep him waiting," Rosalie said. "You two aren't busy?"

It was a rhetorical question, because even if they were, they'd be setting off immediately. Zoey and Maddy shook their heads, and so they were, a moment later, headed for the exit of the training facility, where they could catch a carriage to the d'Celestin manor.

Once inside the ride's cabin, Maddy chimed, "Any idea who it is?"

Rosalie's lips pursed. "There's a number of possibilities. Obviously, Father will want someone who is loyal to the d'Celestins … or rather, not disloyal. There's a good chance he'd use this opportunity to forge a connection with a new ally as much as solidify a current one." She sighed. "Really, the only thing that's certain is that they'll be strong. No matter how valuable the political connection, he wouldn't cripple, or even compromise, the overall quality of the team. That's all I can say with complete confidence." After a second, she added, "And that they'll be a shield-bearer, of course. We need a defensive party member, and moreover, my newest skill demands one."

"So a really strong shield-bearer, around fourth advancement," Maddy said.

"Or fifth."

"Or fifth," Maddy said, though she raised an eyebrow, perhaps finding the possibility of their new teammate being the strongest of them surprising. "Is the list of candidates long?"

"Well, no," Rosalie admitted. "But neither is it all that short. Especially if I expand the possibilities beyond our guild."

"You think it won't be someone from the Deepshunters?"

"I didn't say that. Just that," she paused, "I can't read my father's mind," she finished. "I know him better than all but a handful, perhaps, but not perfectly. If anything, I believe he hadn't made the decision himself until just this morning. Which could mean he took a while to deliberate and come to the obvious choice, or the opposite: his long musing might have led him to something unexpected." She shrugged. "It could be anyone. Truly."

"The obvious choice?" Maddy echoed. "Is there one of those?"

"Well. The obvious safe choice," she amended.

"Who's that?"

Rosalie seemed reluctant to reply, which was strange until she did; the obvious choice was an unfortunate one. "Cyprus, the heir to one of my father's less solidified allies, and a classical guardian of considerable talent. Shield-bearer, defense specialization, fourth advancement. From a strictly combative sense, he would be an incredible addition to the team. A perfectly slotted piece."

He, though. Therein lay the problem.

"I did, at least, voice some vague allusions to my father that I would prefer it were not him," Rosalie said. "And was even strong-handed enough to suggest that the team would prefer a woman. Though making it clear why such a thing is all but necessary is … tricky. So I didn't emphasize the point."

The only reason that gender was so important a factor was because they might need to, well, get intimate with their newest team member, and Zoey's preferences ran in one way, as far as that went.

"Think he'll listen?" Maddy asked.

Rosalie shrugged. "Perhaps he took it into account. But certainly it would not stop him, should he decide Cyprus the best choice from a practical standpoint."

"Huh," Maddy said.

"All there is to do is find out," Rosalie said. "In any case, the wait is over. We'll know shortly."

Arriving at the d'Celestin manor, they were guided to Enzo with the help of a servant. He was, perhaps unsurprisingly, at the personal training courtyard of the d'Celestins. Zoey suspected a 'teammate induction' would include some showing off of abilities, perhaps even spars, so it was a natural place for the meeting to happen.

There were only two people there, Enzo and his guest. The second of whom Zoey's attention landed on first.

It was a woman, and thus clearly not the aforementioned Cyprus. That alone brought no small amount of relief, though as far as compatibility with her class, 'was a woman' cleared only the lowest bar. Much was to be seen there, and possibly not to be resolved for some time, since 'would you like to fuck?' was a question that took at least some working into, even in the best of scenarios.

More specifically, it was a woman with braided red hair, tall—noticeable even seated, perhaps as tall as Zoey—and wearing leather armor adorned with furs reminiscent of, frankly, a cold-weather barbarian's get-up. The odd attire was only the second most surprising part, because she also wore black face paint, hammering in that wilderness-warrior image. A shield lay to her side, propped up against her chair, and even the item was odd. The shield wasn't made of metal, instead looking like one giant … scale? Zoey was pretty sure it was a scale peeled off an enormous lizard. Bright red, it caught the sunlight and glinted. It was sharp at the top, surprisingly so, enough that Zoey suspected it could be used as a weapon if need be.

The woman's green eyes took Zoey and her group in with obvious interest, though her expression was schooled to be calm. Her body language suggested that she wasn't all that concerned with this meeting: she was lounging on her chair, as at-ease as Enzo, which Zoey thought was fairly uncommon for most people from this world; Enzo had an enormous reputation, and Aria had been all but squirming when meeting him. The older man didn't seem to be taking offense by the woman's easy posture, though Zoey had no clue what sort of social dynamics were at play.

As curious by the newcomer—their fifth teammate—as she was, Zoey was also interested in how Rosalie had reacted. She stole a surreptitious glance sideways.

Only to be surprised anew. Because Rosalie was nearly shocked at what she saw. She clearly recognized this woman and, presumably, hadn't put her on the list of 'who her father might choose.' What did that mean? Clearly that she wasn't one of the obvious choices, for whatever reason. Unfortunately, Zoey wouldn't get to find out more until after this meeting was over … unless the answer came by itself.

Enzo, for his part, was his usual self. Leaning back in his chair, arm draped over the back, seeming like a sophisticated, well-groomed gentleman—honestly a bit of a silver fox, Zoey would admit, even if she held no attraction toward men. But Rosalie had gotten her good looks from somewhere, and not just her mysterious unmentioned mother.

Zoey took a moment to acknowledge that whatever Enzo looked like—a gentleman of late middle age, sharp in his own way but not necessarily screaming danger—that the impression given to her from what she'd seen of him so far was decidedly incorrect. She'd only had polite talks with him, had never even seen him with a weapon in hand. In reality, Zoey reminded herself, this man was one of the most competent warriors in the world, and a man with no small reputation of violence. Not necessarily unneeded violence, or cruelty, but as any man of eighth advancement—of which there was only one, though there was a woman too, the leader of the Striders—he had spent years and decades wading through blood with, presumably, gleeful persistence to reach the heights he had.

So while he might seem like a well-groomed gentleman, almost friendly as he relaxed on a chair underneath a training yard overhang, he was also much more, and Zoey reminded herself to stay aware of that fact.

"Rosalie," Enzo greeted warmly. "I'm glad you made haste. You recognize our guest, I presume?"

Rosalie nodded, somewhat tensely. Not out of dislike, Zoey thought, but simply disorientation.

"Astrid Asorak of the Harkvalen, I take it?" Rosalie asked, the question directed toward the red-haired woman herself. "Though we haven't actually met, your reputation precedes you."