KamiKowa: That Time I Got Transmigrated With A Broken Goddess

Calypso stared at Lord Commander Alaric, her mind racing with possibilities. The timing matched perfectly with that strange, overwhelming sensation she'd experienced a few days ago—that inexplicable moment when pain had shot through her chest and tears had spilled down her cheeks without warning.

"This Thornslayer," she said, setting her spoon down carefully. "When exactly did this attack occur?"

Alaric's weathered face showed surprise at her interest. "Three days past, according to the messenger. Just before sunset."

That was it. That exact moment I felt him. Calypso pressed a hand to her chest, remembering the phantom pain that had struck her while standing at her window. She hadn't understood it then, but now it made perfect sense. Their connection—their divine entanglement—had allowed her to feel Xavier's battle even across the distance separating them.

"Is something wrong, Selene?" Torval's bushy eyebrows drew together, his spoon hovering halfway to his mouth.

Calypso composed herself, straightening her shoulders. "Not at all. I just find it fascinating. A single man defeating three Thornbeasts? Someone with such remarkable abilities could be invaluable to Hearthome's defense, wouldn't you agree, Uncle?"

Torval rubbed on his mustache. "Perhaps. If the stories are true."

"I've known Dalen for fifteen years," Alaric said, accepting a bowl of soup from a servant. "He's not given to exaggeration. If anything, he understates matters."

Duke Haverford's elegant fingers tapped against the table's polished surface. "Even so, one successful encounter doesn't make a man worth recruiting. Luck plays its part in battle."

"Three Thornbeasts isn't luck," Calypso countered, leaning forward. Her wine-red braids swung with the motion. "That's skill beyond anything we've seen. What if this is another sign from the Flame itself?"

The Duke's eyebrow arched, the streak of silver at his temple catching the light. "First your illness, now this stranger? You seem eager to find divine messages, Lady Selene."

"The Flame speaks to those who listen," she replied, lifting her chin. It was a phrase she'd heard Agna use countless times, and it seemed to fit the moment.

"Indeed it does," Torval agreed, nodding sagely. "But why are you so interested in this man, niece? I've never known you to concern yourself with military matters before."

Calypso felt three pairs of eyes fixed on her, each gaze holding different questions. She needed to tread carefully. "I simply think we should recognize exceptional talent when we hear of it. Especially with the Winter Court growing stronger."

"The lady has a point," Alaric said, surprising her with his support. "If this Thornslayer is half as capable as reported, he could be worth meeting."

Duke Haverford's lips pressed into a thin line. "Or he could be an agent of the Winter Court itself."

"The Winter Court doesn't need spies when they have storms and beasts to do their work," Calypso said, unable to keep a note of sharpness from her voice. She'd grown tired of how everyone in this realm attributed every problem to this mysterious Winter Court. "Besides, why would their agent save a caravan bound for Hearthome?"

"To gain your trust," the Duke replied immediately. "To place himself among us."

Torval nodded, stroking his beard. "Cedric raises a valid concern. We must be cautious."

"Then be cautious," Calypso said, "but don't dismiss a potential ally without even meeting him." She turned to Alaric. "Has this Thornslayer given a name?"

Alaric's scarred face remained impassive. "He calls himself Xavien, according to Dalen's report."

"A northern name," Torval mused. "Not from any of the major houses I know."

"All the more reason to learn more about him," Calypso said, trying to keep the excitement from her voice. "We should prepare to welcome this caravan properly when it arrives."

Duke Haverford's blue eyes narrowed slightly. "Your enthusiasm for this stranger is most curious, Lady Selene."

Calypso took a sip of wine to hide her expression. "I simply appreciate exceptional bravery, Duke Haverford. Don't you?"

Before he could answer, servants arrived with the second course—roasted pheasant with winter berries and root vegetables. The interruption gave Calypso a moment to collect her thoughts. Xavier was alive. He was coming to Hearthome. And apparently, he'd become some kind of legendary monster-slayer in the process.

That's my Xavier.

As the meal progressed, Calypso could not focus on the conversation happening. Torval and the Duke discussed border defenses and trade agreements, while Alaric occasionally offered tactical insights.

What would their reunion be like? Would he recognize her in this unfamiliar body? Would the divine entanglement that bound them still function the same way in this world? And who else might be traveling with him?

That last thought gave her pause. If Xavier had been pulled through the gate with her, it stood to reason that others from their class might have come through as well. Margaret—Margot here—was proof of that. Who else might be wearing a different face in Frostfall?

"Lady Selene?" Duke Haverford's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "You seem distracted."

Calypso blinked, forcing herself back to the present. "Forgive me. I was considering the implications of the Thornbeasts venturing so far north. It's troubling."

"Indeed," the Duke said, though his tone suggested he didn't entirely believe her. "As I was saying, my hunters have noticed increasing beast activity throughout the Northern Reaches. The Winter Court grows bolder."

"All the more reason to strengthen our alliances," Torval said meaningfully, looking between Calypso and the Duke.

Here it comes, Calypso thought, bracing herself.

Calypso set her own utensils down, her appetite suddenly gone. "Uncle, perhaps we should save such discussions for after we've enjoyed this lovely meal your cook has prepared."

"Nonsense," Torval waved his hand dismissively. "Duke Haverford has traveled far to speak with us. It would be discourteous to delay further."

The Duke dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. "I appreciate your directness, High Burner. And I agree—there's no need to postpone what we all know must be discussed."

"Lord Commander, you mentioned the Winter Court's increasing boldness. Perhaps we should focus on immediate defense strategies before considering long-term alliances?"

Alaric looked between her and Torval, clearly sensing the tension. "The lady raises a valid point. Our southern patrols have reported—"

"The patrols can wait," Torval interrupted firmly. "Duke Haverford has come to discuss a union between our houses, and that is what we shall do."

Calypso felt a momentary panic. She needed to delay any formal arrangement, at least until Xavier arrived.

"Uncle," she said, forcing a smile, "I'm honored by Duke Haverford's interest, truly. But given my recent illness, perhaps we should proceed with caution? The healers advised against any significant changes or stresses in the coming weeks."

"Marriage is hardly an illness, niece," Torval said with a laugh that didn't reach his eyes.

"No, but planning one can be quite taxing," she countered. "And winter is hardly the ideal season for celebrations."

Duke Haverford studied her, his expression unreadable. "Lady Selene seems reluctant. I would not wish to press where I'm not welcomed."

Thank the gods for male pride.

"Not reluctant," Calypso said quickly, recognizing the dangerous glint in Torval's eyes. "Simply... cautious. A union between our houses deserves proper consideration, not haste born from winter's urgency."

Duke Haverford's expression softened slightly. "Lady Selene speaks wisdom. Perhaps we might discuss terms over the coming days? I had planned to remain in Hearthome for a fortnight."

A fortnight. Perfect.

"An excellent suggestion," Torval agreed, though his tone carried warning. "We shall speak again tomorrow, Selene. After you've had time to consider the honor being offered."

Calypso inclined her head graciously. "Of course, Uncle."

The remainder of the meal passed in stilted conversation about trade routes and winter preparations. When servants finally cleared the last course, Calypso excused herself, claiming fatigue from her recent illness.

In her chambers, she dismissed the handmaidens and sank into the chair by her window. Snow continued to fall beyond the glass, but her thoughts were fixed on the north road.

One week. Maybe less.

She pressed her palm against the cool windowpane, imagining Xavier's approach with every passing hour. All she had to do was deflect marriage discussions and avoid any binding commitments until he arrived.

Hurry up, Xavier. I'm waiting.