Chapter 36: Hm? Why's it coming this way?

Upper Fire Month, 24th Day, 600 AGG

"We should've gone around that den."

"Isholranth's sake," Ithit growled. "How was I supposed to have guessed there'd be a pack of Blink Dogs gathered in that hole?"

"You didn't sense anything? Truly?"

"Tsk. I did not expect them to all be awake. By the time we nearly left their range, they already knew we were there."

"Next time, share that kind of information," Varush wiped the gore off his warhammer. "This forest is no Shatterstone, but running into unnecessary encounters is foolish."

"Hah? This is coming from the same person who dragged along a whole horde of monsters behind us?"

"That was the fault of the furball… creature," Varush's expression distorted upon recalling the event. "It harassed and drove an entire stampede towards us. Multiple times."

"You should've killed it," Ithit mumbled without any conviction. Both of them knew slaying the creature wasn't a viable option at the time, not with the time and resource constraints they were under. "The cursed thing will only cause more problems in the future."

"I thought it to be less of an immediate threat," he dryly responded, ducking underneath a low-hanging branch. Well, low-hanging for him anyways. "The creature wasn't an obstacle we could've avoided. That den, however, was."

"Yes, yes. As you say, High Vizier."

"Something to remember for your next outing," Varush rumbled. "Be glad it was only Blink Dogs this time."

"Next time," Ithit bitterly laughed. "Ha! I doubt either of us will get the chance."

"Probably. But it'll be a shame if you got out of this alive and then died to carelessness," Varush shrugged. "I take it that these forests have nothing overly dangerous in them?"

"Our armies and raid parties used to occasionally pass through. Even the stingiest of the Viziers agreed in clearing up anything remotely threatening, however reluctantly."

"That sounds like them," Varush nodded in agreement. "At least it means the rest of our journey will be easy traveling."

"Also means we get to our destination sooner. Our deaths."

"You can still turn back if you wish," Varush jabbed his thumb behind his shoulder, back towards the bowels of the forest. "From the start, I did not expect anyone to follow me. The Viziers might find fault with you, but you'll be alive, no?"

"And pass through Shatterstone by myself? Better dying honorably to a powerful foe than falling dishonorably to the schemes of our countrymen or the jaws of a barbarian," Ithit's eyes narrowed. "Hardly a choice at all. I ask that you refrain from insulting me any further, High Vizier."

"I apologize. It was a worthless suggestion."

They silently treaded through the tangle of the forest, dappled sunlight falling upon their hides. Birds and insects filled the air with their chirping and buzzing while other beasts of the land dashed away from them.

"You don't act like much of a Vizier," Ithit broke the silence. "Or a High Vizier for that matter. How did you even end up where you are now?"

"It's not an interesting story. You can hear similar tales in a casual walk around the arenas."

"Embarrassed?" Ithit inquisitively side-eyed him.

"Hardly," Varush huffed. "It's typical; a young man leaves home to find his fortune, bumbles around until he somehow enters the gladiator pits, and well…"

He vaguely gestured at himself. "The rest is history. Too typical. Boring, in fact."

"How mystifying. I've always thought of pit champions as more…"

"Violent?"

"If you'd forgive the indiscretion," Ithit didn't sound very remorseful. "Even for beastmen, pit fighters have always been inclined to brutality."

"Mm, sometimes," the forest was thinning. "It only seems brutal because that's what it takes to win. The things you see in the pits—"

"I'm well aware. You don't have many lords frequent the arena grounds as participants, so you should be able to see why people may think of you as odd."

"I did what I thought I had to do," Varush knocked a bush out of the way with a sweep of his hammer. "We… We weren't from the Republic. My family came from the northeast—the Minotaur Nation."

"Instability? There was a war with the Commonwealth, wasn't there?"

"Close enough," he didn't really know. He wasn't sure if his progenitors did either. "Close enough."

They hadn't run into any monsters since the den, Varush considered with a frown. Odd.

"Endless Slaughter. He did a stint in the pits too if I recall correctly. Had you ever had the… honor of facing that mad tiger?"

"Once," the ambient sounds of life gradually faded. A bead of sweat rolled down Varush's back.

"You won?"

"I did. Don't ask how it went. It was a long time ago," each step brought on another wave of trepidation, making it more and more difficult to pay attention to the conversation at hand. They were out of the forest and surely within sight of whatever was watching them.

"Hmph. Refusing to humor me now of all times?" Ithit had caught on too; his body shivering as the fearful presence awaiting them strengthened. "This is your last opportunity to boast of your exploits, you know?"

"I wasn't ever much of a braggart—heads down!" A stream of fire streaked over their heads as a four-winged angel with a flaming sphere for a head slowly descended upon the earth. "Isholranth protect us, is that what you faced?"

This…

This was a monster.

Not once had Varush met anything he genuinely believed he could never defeat. His was a strength that stood above everything else in the Republic, and only now was his subconscious hubris broken.

He couldn't even picture himself scratching this 'angel.'

And it was just a summon. There was a strange urge to break out into deranged laughter.

If this was a mere summon, how powerful was its master?

Well, at least it seemed his decision wasn't ultimately a misinformed one. The Republic would crumble attempting—and failing—to slay a single one of these angels.

"Let's go," Varush slapped a hand over Ithit's shoulder, not daring to take his eyes off the manifestation of holy fire. "Looks like we're here."

"Unfortunately," Ithit muttered, his Wyvern-skull helm hiding the fear on his face but not the undercurrent of terror in his voice. "Pray that our journey doesn't end here."

'But who would we pray to?' Varush slowly put his warhammer away, careful to not give the angel any reason to go on the offensive. 'When the one we must face is a god?'


The border was clear. All hostiles and obstacles to sight removed.

Reevaluating…

Two beastmen exiting the forest. Approaching designated border.

One Wolf-like Orthrous and one Minotaur.

Deploy warning.

Warning deployed. Beastmen halted.

Still approaching. Deploying second warning.

The beastmen stopped a few meters before the border. Threatening objective.

Blasphemous.

"Ah, Lord… Angel? Lord Angel," the Minotaur bowed. Profane. All praise and worship should be given unto the Harbinger, not a lesser creation. "We are ambassadors from the Vahasi Republic, or the… hm, Beastmen Country as the humans might call us."

Review objectives… Information irrelevant.

"A-Ahem," the Minotaur was clearing his throat. "If it is permissible with your master, we would like to discuss the terms of our surrender."

Surrender. The Cherubim Infernum rapidly reviewed the objectives given to it by the Harbinger.

Follow Draudillon Oriculus's orders.

Guard the eastern border. Give warnings if anyone comes close, but don't do anything until they actually cross. Just do enough to make them leave.

Assist people in trouble.

Avoid unnecessary killing. Try not to burn down everything.

Protect the Draconic Kingdom.

None of the objectives were a good match for the situation. If the Infernum could feel anything aside from slavish loyalty, it would've fallen into a deep melancholy at its own incompetence.

The beastmen took a cautious step forward. Impudent.

Grass and air alike burned as it flared its passive aura, inflicting a low but constant amount of fire damage over time.

It wasn't enough to flash-fry the beastmen, but it was enough to force them away from the Harbinger's demarcation. Acceptable.

"Does your master refuse to accept even complete surrender?" The Minotaur had its face pressed to the ground now. Annoyance. "Our country has much to offer and can serve as a bulwark against the lands southeast. Our lives would be theirs to do as they please, so would it not be a waste to bring it all to ruin?"

Contemplation.

A complete surrender would be in line with the command of 'Protecting the Draconic Kingdom,' and if the demihuman's words were to be trusted, could lead to beneficial developments. However, bringing the beastmen to the Harbinger would require the violation of the command to 'Guard the eastern border.' The Cherubim was stuck at a crossroads—bring the beastmen in front of the Harbinger as petitioners and disobey one command to possibly fulfill another, or continue to uphold its current commandments.

How vexing.

Review objectives… Check for priority markers…

One priority marker found. Not applicable. The Cherubim had yet to receive any commands from Draudillon Oriculus.

No fellow creations were nearby either; the Harbinger had deemed a single Infernum sufficient for guarding this segment of the border. After the pitiful monsters it had dispatched while dispensing its duties, the Cherubim couldn't help but agree.

It briefly considered allowing the beastmen on their way before immediately terminating that line of thought. There was no concrete proof the beastmen were telling the truth; they were equally as likely to cause mayhem from within the Harbinger's aegis, or even worse.

What if they were hiding a weapon that could harm the Harbinger? Such an outcome must not be allowed even the smallest margin of success.

It prepared to release another torrent of flames—directly at the pair this time—until the Minotaur surprisingly decided to strip himself of all his belongings.

"We mean no harm, nor do we bear any underhanded intentions," the Minotaur gestured at his Wolf-like companion who quickly removed their own equipment. "If there is anything more we can do to show our sincerity, then we are at your disposal."

It wanted to dispose of them. That would be the cleanest solution to this conundrum, but considering the low combat prowess of the beastmen and their wise decision to unarm themselves, the potential of fulfilling a goal far outweighed the minimal risk of failing one. There many more angels deeper in the core of the Draconic Kingdom, enough to easily mitigate any undesirables that might leak through while it attempted to fulfill another task.

In the end, all of these problems were a result of hastily given instructions. Not that the Cherubim blamed its creator. It was all surely part of the Harbinger's vision for the future.

Review objectives… No new objectives.

The Cherubim grabbed the weaker Wolf-like demihuman as a hostage and jetted off towards the nearest human settlement where more of its kind should be stationed. At the very least, it should ensure that its position was covered by another creation of the Harbinger.

"S-Shit!" The Cherubim swiveled its head towards the beastman in its hand. Several severe burns already marred its body and were spreading by the moment.

It had forgotten to disable its aura. How careless. It wouldn't do if the hostage died prior to serving his purpose.

The beastman's struggles ceased as the Cherubim switched off the field of scorching heat around it, Wolf-like being panting in pain while a village with angels gliding around it came into view.

Humans began running inside their homes with its approach, though there were an odd few that remained prostrated on the ground outside. The Cherubim ignored them and hovered towards a Virtue, causing Angel Guardians and Archangel Flames to circle around the silent conversants in stoic observation.

A long spindly finger pointed in the direction of where it came from. The Virtue didn't move for several seconds, its entire stance radiating disapproval until it finally relented and flew off to substitute for the Cherubim. It was a wonderful thing for its brethren to share in the same greater will.

With one problem solved, it still needed to gather a few others to assist in carrying the Minotaur and the paraphernalia of the beastmen. The risk to the humans while they were gone might increase, but this decision was certainly the better one in the long run. Even if there was anything that might overwhelm the angels defending the area, its objectives had specified protecting the kingdom and not this village in particular.

This was the optimal course of action.

The Cherubim might have pitied the beastmen if it could, but it had no will, no ego to drive its intellect and strength. Only commandments and imprints left by the Harbinger.

Indeed, it had no will but subservience to the Greater Will.


"Everyone's been kind of agitated since a few hours ago," Freire took a sip from his waterskin and glanced up at the moon. "People were pretty happy with the new Fountain Crystals that got installed, but now a ton of them are out there fuming. Really feels like it just came out of nowhere, you know? Especially when they were all bouncing between sad and happy yesterday too."

"Man, fuck the damn crystals," Romas wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel he had taken to carrying around with him. Freire had the sneaking suspicion that he thought it made him look 'cool,' or 'charming,' or some other equally ridiculous conception. "Your ass didn't have to go down and walk around the city. Feels like a damn riot's 'bout to start."

"I had the morning shift, asshole," Freire scowled. "How was I supposed to know the whole city was going to… whatever the hell is happening now?"

"Yeah, fine," Romas sighed while rubbing his forehead with the hand not carrying a spear. "Shit just gets to ya when every fuckin' person ya run into is actin' like someone kicked their dog. Ain't only what you've been seeing up here on the walls with the army and whatever. Every single person is pissed. Down here, up there, doesn't matter. Hell, ya probably feel a little annoyed too, don'tcha?"

"Na," Freire snarked with a smirk. Come to think of it, he was feeling something grate at his nerves. "Didn't have to go all the way down to the river to fill up the barrels, so I think I'm feeling pretty damn good."

"Fuck off," Romas worked out the cricks in his neck. "Ya get what I mean."

The guard peeked over the wall. From above, it was hard to tell that anything was different about the city. People went about their day regardless of how annoyed they were feeling: construction, management, hawking goods—none of that stopped. Maybe there wasn't anything different after all and his concerns could all be attributed to an overactive imagination.

"Nothing's happened though?" Freire raised an eyebrow. "What are they angry about anyways?"

"Beastmen. Got people mutterin' and gettin' all rowdy in the taverns. Shit, I don't wanna know how things are in Caldevera or Almersia."

"Worried they're going to lynch the beastmen working there or something?" Freire peered over the walls and at the city below. "Why get all worked up now though? Why not earlier?"

"Who the fuck knows," Romas spat out a glob of spit on the ground. "Just gotta wait this one out too. Push through like we did for the fuckin' invasions. Least we aren't gettin' eaten this time, eh?"

"Funny," the sky wasn't any different save for the winged summons that quietly floated among the stars. But if they weren't there, then he and Romas wouldn't be able to talk like they were now, the people of Mohajar wouldn't have the opportunity to get angry, and there wouldn't be anyone to notice that the stars were still the same as they were yesterday. "You're right. We just have to wait it out. Wait and see, that's what people on guard-duty like us do, don't they? Some things don't ever change."

"Ya got options," Romas half-heartedly glared at him. "If things don't change, it's 'cause ya don't want them to."

"Told you not to bring that up," Freire's knuckles turned white from how hard he tightened his grip over the wooden shaft of the polearm. "I'll smash your teeth in; I'm not kidding."

"Relax," Romas stepped back. "Gods' sake, didn't mean anythin' by it."

Freire wordlessly snorted and turned his eyes back to the rolling hills and farmlands that stretched out into the horizon. Shit, why did he feel so irritated? If Romas hadn't backed up like they did, he really might have started a fight without a single thought for the consequences.

"Sorry," Freire glanced back and apologized. "Guess whatever's messing around with everybody else is getting to me too."

"Don't worry about it. I woulda put your ass in the ground anyways," Romas grunted, a small grin crossing the prodigal son's face. "A minute flat."

"Was that an invitation?" Freire grinned back. The pulse of subconscious rage was still there, but it was getting easier to separate it from his own thoughts now. "A minute's nothing. I'll have you crying for your Ma in ten seconds."

"Pfff. Smokin' too much Laira will fuck up your head, ya know?"

"Oh, piss off."