Sworded Affair

Nobody approached Emma in the end, leaving her to eat in peace and quiet. She'd learned from the Lutefisk incident, and stuck to familiar foods from then on, loading up on carbs in a manner familiar to athletes everywhere as she helped herself to all of the bread within reach. The same couldn't be said of the other finalists however, as the Murphy siblings received several entreaties from those brave enough to head over to their table. Tian Mao's entourage had a few as well, though most of them were turned away, and only one stayed to exchange words with the cultivator, because Emma was pretty sure he was one from the mannerisms alone.

Is it the spacesuit? Emma wondered as she watched a few of those on the margins head for the exit, their appetite for food and social interaction both satisfied. It can't be my face, can it? I'm mostly normal in this form.

[They're mostly afraid of your social status. There aren't many Knights left in the world, the surname gradually falling out of fashion with the advent of modernity. When combined with Felix's introduction, it was pretty clear to everyone who you were, even for those who haven't heard about your commendation. I'm sure some of them wanted to approach, but doing so without someone to formally introduce you is a risk, one nobody wants to be the first to take.]

That's the other thing, Emma noted, glad that it wasn't her tangible qualities putting people off but rather some more social nonsense. Why is everybody here around my age? I was expecting a bit more diversity in the crowd, given how long magicals have been shown to live.

[Ignoring the dig at my age, that's a combination of a few factors at play tonight. First is the choice of event, which is only one of several, as you know. A contest of physical strength is more likely to appeal to the young, whereas the more experienced practitioners have seen it all before, and are likely to prioritise their existing hobbies or more intellectual pursuits in general. Secondly, this is only the first night of the weeklong gathering, and the first of three days for Practitioners to arrive. While there are no formal restrictions on where and when they appear, it's customary for the strongest to save themselves for last, so to speak. They are known to hold back on earlier events, to avoid dominating the field and give the new generation a chance to shine, and because there's little glory to be gained by an eighty year old man beating people young enough to be his grandchildren. This can change, if the prize on offer is good enough, but people generally stick to these unwritten rules.]

The first night's events are the easiest then?

[The least complex, yes; difficulty is a bit too subjective so we'll leave aside. Third and finally, the older someone is, the more likely they are to already have an established circle of friends in the community, as well as ready access to resources earned by their own merits or through commerce. The rewards of the nightly competitions, both literal and metaphorical, are lessened, and they may simply prefer to spend the daytime socialising and the night in bed. Your Mother, for example, is unlikely to participate in any competitions these first nights, in favour of catching up with her fellow magical girls. Your Father is a bit more uncertain in that respect.]

I see.

Emma waited for a bit longer after she ate her fill, just in case anybody wanted to try their luck, but when nobody came over to strike up a conversation, she became the latest to bow out, heading for the door. One slight surprise came at the end there, when instead of emerging from where she'd entered, she found herself outside the family tent, complete with fading claw marks from where the Monitor Lizard had stood vigil not long ago.

[You could have reached out yourself, rather than waiting for someone to make the first move.]

"I could have," Emma agreed. "Would I have gained much from it?"

[Not particularly. The important ones in the room now know you exist, and that's all you really needed from the night. You'll see some of them again, in a less awkward setting.]

"Then it's all good," Emma shrugged, heading for her bed and a proper day's sleep.
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It was already sunrise, so she was aiming to be up sometime between the afternoon and the evening. Everyone's schedules would be different, but there was still the chance for a family dinner before the next night's entertainment, but only if she fell asleep quickly.

—

"Finally," Astrid heaved a sigh of relief as she pressed her hand to the old, withered tree, feeding it a steady stream of magic to rouse it from slumber.

Her map had said there was one nearby, in a grove that had long since been neglected with the rise of modern conveniences like the automobile, but she hadn't held out much hope given all that had happened recently. Miraculously though, the tree had survived both deforestation and the apocalypse, saving Astrid several hours of travel further South, which might have made her late for a second night in a row. She'd never attended the Solstice in England, and was eager to experience the foreign tradition for herself, even if the idea of the sun setting at all during Summer still baffled her a little. Back in Lapland, the Midnight Sun rose during May, and would not set again until the end of July, meaning that the entire festival period was spent beneath the light.

"Alright, Mr. Fox, lead the way!"

Astrid declared, as the Decision Tree opened, revealing a path into the mist below.

"You can count on me!" Mr. Fox declared confidently, bounding into the fog without a care in the world.

He was born from the System, after all, and there was no force in England that would keep him from his original master.