From Ashes To Scales

The coronation and wedding were nothing short of monumental successes. The dawn of a new era had been cemented in the hearts of Ephiria's citizens, and the land now stood united under the rule of Magnus, their newly crowned King. The festivities reverberated with joy and hope, signaling the kingdom's transformation into a beacon of unity and prosperity. For the first time in decades, Ephiria was headed toward a bright and promising future.

Magnus, however, was utterly spent. Between enduring the emotionally charged marriage ritual, delivering an impromptu but rousing speech, and shaking hands with countless clan leaders offering their congratulations, the day had drained him to his core.

Now, under the soft glow of the moonlit night, Magnus trudged toward his chambers. His feet dragged slightly against the marble floors, his eyes half-closed. His mind barely registered his surroundings as exhaustion wrapped around him like a heavy cloak.

“Today was a long day,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I really... need some sleep.”

Upon reaching his bedroom, Magnus stumbled inside without so much as lighting a candle and let himself fall face-first onto the bed. The mattress was softer than he remembered… far softer. He sighed, a small shred of comfort easing his weariness—until the softness under him shifted.

“Kyaaa!”

A sharp Kya! pierced the quiet night, jolting Magnus awake.

His heart raced as his senses caught up with him. That was not the bed. It was...

“Naja?!”

The cobra lamia queen lay beneath him, already tucked into bed, her emerald eyes glinting with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. The softness he had so gratefully collapsed onto? Her chest.

“Aren’t you moving a bit too fast?” she teased, her voice light yet sultry, though a slight pink hue dusted her cheeks.

Magnus shot upright, his face burning with embarrassment.

“Wait—what?! What are you doing here?! Did I get the wrong room? No, this is definitely my room!” He scanned the familiar furniture, hoping for some kind of explanation.

Naja propped herself up on one elbow, her silken scales catching the faint moonlight as she smiled. “Isn’t it obvious?” she said with a playful shrug. “We’re married now, Magnus. Married couples share a room. And since we’re not exactly normal, we’ve agreed that we brides will rotate each night.”

“Rotate?!” Magnus exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly. This meant each night he would have a different woman in his bed.

“Of course. Fairness and all that,” Naja replied, her tone as nonchalant as if she were discussing tomorrow’s breakfast.

Magnus groaned internally but forced himself to compose his expression. He didn’t want to imply anything by kicking her out of the room, yet his mind was a whirlwind of nerves. After a brief moment of awkward silence, he carefully settled onto the bed, keeping a respectable distance.

“Let’s... just try to get some sleep,” he muttered, staring resolutely at the ceiling.

However, as the minutes ticked by, Magnus found himself unable to relax. The massive bed offered plenty of space, but he felt hyper-aware of every sound, every tiny movement. His nerves were so taut, he could hear the faint rhythm of Naja’s breathing.

“It’s no use,” he finally groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I can’t sleep. I’m too nervous sharing a bed with a woman. I’m too self-aware, and it’s driving me crazy!”, thought Magnus. His mind raced with all sorts of crazy ideas like this, hindering him from sleeping.

Naja chuckled softly, turning her head toward him. “You can’t sleep either?”

Magnus turned his head toward her, and their eyes met in the dim light. Her expression was softer than usual, her eyes lacking their usual sharpness.

“You know, Magnus,” she began, her voice quieter now, “I said this would just be a political marriage. But… after everything you’ve done for Ephiria, after the Staff of the Great Beyond accepted you… and after today…” She hesitated for a moment, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “You’re pretty cute. I wouldn’t mind… taking it all the way. Having a proper bridal night.”

Magnus’s breath hitched. “W-wait, hold on—”

Before he could fully process her words, Naja leaned in, her slender fingers gently cupping his face. Her lips brushed against his, soft and deliberate, silencing his protests.

His mind blurred, his thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm. Despite his initial resistance, his body began to respond on instinct, and the exhaustion that had weighed on him earlier melted away into the moment.

However from this point on… he couldn't recall a single thing that happened that night.

---

~The Next Morning in Ephiria~

The sun rose lazily over the great tree castle, its light trickling through the dense leaves like liquid gold. Inside, the morning hum of activity began.

Rusalka, the sprightly weiss goblin, stirred under her soft covers. She sat up groggily, her green hair disheveled, and began her usual routine—light stretches, some pushups, and a series of squats. With a grin, she slapped her cheeks lightly. “Alright! Time to go beat some humans into shape!”

After scarfing down her breakfast, Rusalka darted toward the training grounds, where she found Leona already in action.

Leona’s booming voice carried across the courtyard. Soldiers were sweating as she barked commands, her Red Flame Aura glowing faintly around her like a pulsing ember.

“Hold your stance! If you can’t last against me, you’re just meat for the monsters!” she roared, sparring against three men at once, her strikes swift and precise. The soldiers struggled but gritted their teeth under her fiery gaze.

“Leonaaaa!” Rusalka’s voice rang out.

The giant warrior woman turned, her glare softening. “You’re late, Rusalka.”

Rusalka grinned mischievously. “I like to make an entrance. Besides, I’m ready to see how much stronger I’ve gotten!” She cracked her knuckles.

Leona smirked, sizing her up. “Fine. Let’s see if Magnus’s Experience Boost has made you a real warrior or just a puffed-up sparring dummy.”

The surrounding soldiers murmured excitedly as Rusalka bounced onto the field.

The duel began. Leona lunged first, her aura flaring as her wooden training sword struck downward. Rusalka sidestepped, light on her feet.

“Too slow!” Rusalka taunted, darting in for a jab.

Leona parried effortlessly, sending Rusalka stumbling. “You talk big, but you’re sloppy!”

The back-and-forth continued, Rusalka dodging and darting while Leona chased her down with powerful strikes. Slowly, though, Rusalka’s agility began to shine. She slipped through Leona’s defenses, landing a light tap against her shoulder.

“Hah!” Rusalka panted. “Gotcha!”

Leona paused, grinning despite herself. “Not bad, sis. You’re finally learning.”

Rusalka beamed, hands on her hips. “You better watch out, Leona. At this rate, I’ll be your boss in no time!”

Leona snorted, flicking Rusalka’s forehead. “In your dreams, runt. Now let’s teach these soldiers how it’s done.”

Among the recruits, one figure stood out—a tall, dark-skinned elf with flowing white hair tied into a loose ponytail. Her topaz eyes burned with determination as she faced off against another trainee. Grace’s movements were precise, powerful, and graceful.

“That’s her,” Leona murmured to Rusalka, nodding toward the elf. “Grace. Saphira’s pick. She’s got the loyalty, skill, and spirit to become Magnus’s bodyguard someday.”

Rusalka watched in awe as Grace disarmed her opponent with a swift strike, her enchanted military uniform shimmering faintly as the protective barrier absorbed a glancing blow. Magnus came up with the uniform design. Unlike typical metal armor, this allowed for better movement, and to compensate, the uniform could deploy a magical barrier. Of course, only specific individuals would wear these. Those with higher ranks.

“She’s strong…” Rusalka mumbled.

Leona crossed her arms proudly. “I’ll make sure she’s worthy.”

.

.

.

After training, Rusalka scampered to the bustling markets of Ephiria, her energy undiminished. Rows of stalls lined the streets, displaying fresh produce, exotic fabrics, and rare trinkets. Merchants waved her over, each hoping to earn a coin or two.

“Three gold for those spices? You’re robbing me blind!” Rusalka pouted dramatically at a merchant.

The merchant sighed. “Miss Rusalka, I’ve got to make a living—”

“Two gold and I’ll send Lord Magnus himself your compliments.”

The merchant gaped. “…Deal.”

She skipped away triumphantly, giggling. “Another victory for Rusalka!”

By evening, she found Magnus in his study and burst through the door. “Magnus! Magnus! Guess what I did today?”

Magnus looked up from his papers, smiling faintly. “What did you do, Rusalka?”

“I out-haggled everyone! I even got those stubborn dwarves to agree to better trade terms!” She puffed out her chest proudly.

Magnus chuckled, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “Well done. You’re becoming quite the merchant.”

Rusalka melted under his hand. “Headpats are the best reward…”

---

Meanwhile, in a quieter part of Bloomhaven, Saphira walked through the courtyard of the newly founded Mage Academy. Young mages huddled in groups, practicing basic spells under her watchful gaze.

“Remember, control is everything,” Saphira instructed, her voice calm but firm. “Raw power without precision is dangerous.”

One student misfired a fireball, which sputtered and hit the ground with a weak fizz. Saphira sighed, summoning a small water spell to douse the smoke.

“Focus,” she repeated, shaking her head.

Later, she joined Magnus for a strategy meeting. Citizens were petitioning about tenant issues again.

“Magnus, we need clearer laws regarding property ownership,” Saphira said, pushing her spectacles up her nose. “These disputes are eating up our time.”

Magnus nodded. “We’ll address it. Write up a proposal, and I’ll review it.”

She sighed, brushing her hair back. “At this rate, I’ll never finish my research.”

“You’re doing great, Saphira,” Magnus reassured her. “The kingdom would fall apart without you.”

She flushed faintly but hid it behind a huff. “Flattery won’t get you out of your duties, Magnus.”

---

High above the castle, Lydia lounged on a rooftop, watching as Zeta and the harpy squad circled in the sky. Reports clutched in her hands detailed everything—suspicious movements in neighboring clans, trade fluctuations, and whispers of unrest.

Later that evening, Lydia appeared in Magnus’s study unannounced.

“Another flawless entry,” she teased, holding out the reports. “You really should lock that window.”

Magnus jumped slightly, glaring at her. “Must you do that every time?”

She smirked, leaning in just a little too close. “Where’s the fun otherwise?”

---

Rose’s day was spent counting coins and drafting plans for Ephiria’s future adventurer’s guild. She glanced up from her desk as a priest from Iseria’s temple shuffled nervously into the room.

“Are the donations lagging again?” she asked with a sigh.

“Y-Yes, High Treasurer,” the priest mumbled.

Rose massaged her temples. “I swear, if I have to remind them one more time that faith without coin is meaningless…”

That night, as Magnus joined her to review treasury reports, Rose smirked playfully. “Don’t get any ideas, Magnus. I’m the lifeblood of this kingdom, after all.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Magnus replied dryly.

“Good.” She winked.

“Now, about that adventurer’s guild… shall we discuss it once more? I want to establish one just like on the mainland. Adventurers will prove helpful since the military can't handle everything. And just thinking of the profits…”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Explain your idea to me, please.”

And such is the daily lives of the women surrounding Magnus. As for Magnus himself…