Chapter 2: Where I Walk Around Bored (and she goes to meetings or smth idk)
Lower Wind Month, 6th Day, 600 AGG
The sun was blinding.
Draudillon groaned, wiping the sleep away from her eyes. Come to think of it, had the sun always been so close? And was it always a ring rather than a solid circle?
"Oh, you're awake!" that cursed voice cheerfully chirped above her. "Y'know, it's really boring not having to sleep."
"Why?" Draudillon dragged herself up to a sitting position, the woman backing up as she did so.
"Huh? Why is it boring? Well, you see—"
"No," Draudillon cut her off. "Why must you shove that gods-damned halo in my face?"
"Oooh, this?" the woman waved a hand through the halo. "I forgot about it to be honest."
Draudillon opened her mouth, closed it, before finally settling on shaking her head and crawling out of bed. She stared expectantly at the woman.
"Hm?" the blonde tilted her head in confusion.
"I need to change."
"Oh!" She raised her hands to cover both eyes. "Don't mind me."
Draudillon shook her head again in disbelief. Deciding to contemplate her guest later, she slipped off her nightgown and focused inwards, expending a portion of her soul's lifeforce to shape her body until it was in the childlike form most people recognized her by.
"Uwaaa~ Was that『Change Shape』? Like the thing you used yesterday? I haven't ever seen a human use that before!"
Draudillon startled before blushing with a hiss, "Oi, I thought you weren't watching!"
"But aren't you done?" the source of all evil flopped onto her bed. "Did you know your voice gets higher pitched too?"
"You—!" Draudillon wrapped a comforter around her now petite appearance. "Just get out for a moment, alright? Today's a busy day, so the attendants will be here any—"
She was cut off by the sound of knocking at the door.
"Your Majesty?" a muffled voice filtered through. "The Prime Minister sent us to get you prepared."
"Fuck!" Draudillon shoved the startled angel behind a set of curtains. "In a moment!"
"It's like I'm a secret mistress or something," the woman giggled as she peeked out from the side of the curtains. "I wonder how your minions would react if they saw me. Um, you're not married, right?"
There were many things Draudillon wanted to do. First and foremost was to slap the everloving shit out of the unwanted roommate. Second, and perhaps more importantly, was to ensure that the blonde didn't cause even more problems for what was certainly already going to be a stressful day.
"Look," Draudillon raised her gaze to match the woman's golden eyes. "I know you want to… do whatever it is that you want, but could you just lay low for today? Please?"
"That's so boring though…" Draudillon's head began to pound in pain. "But fine."
"Eh?"
"What now?" the woman sat down on the ground, arms wrapped around her knees and curtains around herself.
"I didn't think you'd agree that easily," Draudillon confessed. "Since you seem to take some sort of perverse pleasure in making me miserable."
"I'm not that kind of pervert though!" the woman huffed indignantly. "In fact, aren't you the pervert for walking around as a little kid?"
"That's because—No, you know what? Nevermind," Draudillon dragged her feet towards the door. "I don't have time to explain anything right now, so just don't cause any trouble."
"'Kay~"
Coming to the unfortunate conclusion that her guest would absolutely cause trouble, Draudillon turned the doorknob and prepared to face the day.
"Your Majesty," the attendants bowed.
"Well, let's get on with it then," Draudillon sighed, falling into a flow of activity as she got washed, dressed, and promptly ushered out of her room. She turned around one last time, feeling a spike of annoyance upon seeing the lump behind the curtain that was, to say the least, doing a poor job of hiding.
'What did I do to deserve this…?'
"—And so that's the situation at Fort Adelemus, Your Majesty."
Draudillon nodded, an almost hilariously child-like frown plastered over her face. "Aww, darn! I wish the meanie Beastmen would just stop bothering us!"
"As we all do, Your Majesty," Marquis Altamara, a burly northerner, nodded his head in agreement. "Speaking of which, has the Theocracy or Empire responded to our petitions for aid, Prime Minister?"
"Not as of yet," Martin calmly responded. "I had sent overtures for further reinforcements just the other night."
The nobles in the throne room mumbled in discontent.
"They still refuse to send aid, even with the situation as it is? Isn't the Sunlight Scripture supposed to deal with this sort of thing? And what of the Empire? What ridiculous reason do they have?" the vassal of the frontier duke scowled.
"According to our most recent missives from Ambassador Yves, the Theocracy has cited hostilities with their elven neighbors as cause for the delay in aid," Martin said as a slight frown crossed his face. "And the Sunlight Scripture was said to be preoccupied. As for the Empire, they appear to be preparing for a large-scale western operation."
"Utter nonsense!" a noblewoman—Countess Avila, Draudillon recalled—scoffed. "Is this not but an excuse for them to drain our kingdom's treasury? Even now, they have yet to make any major military movements towards Evasha."
"Indeed, the Empire I can understand, for they are an ambitious and greedy bunch, but this is a poor excuse from the Theocracy," Altamara rumbled in agreement, storm clouds gathering under his brow.
Draudillon hummed thoughtfully. From the little she knew, the sudden animus towards the Elven nation was a result of some crime or another against one of the Six Scriptures, while the Empire's westward ambitions were hardly a secret. Unfortunately, knowing this didn't really change her situation by any means.
"I find it odd that the Theocracy would cut off so much of their aid this abruptly," the nobleman who had spoken first mused. "Is the rumor of a Theocracy priest wandering the eastern border truly just that?"
"I've heard that they vanished rather suddenly," one noble piped up. Many others in the room murmured in assent as they all began talking over each other.
"The descriptions were rather conflicting, but 'a blonde woman' was a common feature in all of them," yet another mused.
Draudillon twitched. Blonde? Woman? Surely it could not be…
"If you all would, I believe there are much more important topics to discuss than an insubstantial rumor," Martin sharply reprimanded the gossipers. "With the Theocracy and Empire holding back on aid, and the kingdom's treasury in dire straits, our only option is to redistribute forces towards Fort Adelemus."
"And from whom would these forces come from, Prime Minister?" a minor count charged with logistics in the eastern region asked with a bitter expression on his face. "Our reserves have nearly been completely deployed. Furthermore, despite fighting on a single front, our troops are spread far too thin."
"And if our forces were simply moved around, then it would only be natural for our enthusiastic neighbors to pounce on the weak spot we leave behind," Countess Avila mused.
A grim mood settled over everyone in the room.
"Even still, to allow them to take Fort Adelemus would be giving up a path straight to the heart of our kingdom," the frontier vassal furrowed his brow. "I will petition my lord the Duke and see if any soldiers can be spared."
"Thank you. I'm sure Uncle will get it if I talk to him!" Draudillon forced herself to express her gratitude with a big, fat, fake smile. Gods, how she wanted to throw up in her mouth. To be forced to act this way simply to maintain morale… yet this was but the very least she—a failure who couldn't defend her nation—could do.
"That would be appreciated, Your Majesty," the frontier vassal bowed before the child queen.
"And what of Crystal Tear?" Avila asked. "Could they not be spared from their current position? A strike force aiming for the throats of the beastmen leadership does not sound all too implausible."
"Crystal Tear is but four people, and they are the only reason the northeast still stands, Countess," the minor count grimly answered. "We ought to be grateful for that at least."
Draudillon held back a grimace. The meeting yesterday with Crystal Tear's leader still left a bad taste in her mouth.
"It's a shame that most of the Adventurers moved out," Altamara mulled. "And of those that remain, few teams could pose a credible threat against the Beastmen."
The mood in the room grew even heavier. Being reminded of the Adventurers who had so easily abandoned the Draconic Kingdom only fed the anger and despair of the nobles.
"It's okay!" Draudillon attempted to defuse the situation with a bubbly voice. "If we all just work hard, we'll get through this!"
'Stay strong. Please. I beg of you all.'
Everyone in the room smiled at their queen's optimism, and the background chatter grew less dreary. Almost as if by magic, a semblance of hope seeped back into the hearts of those present.
"Indeed. With that said, let us adjourn for today," Martin's soft voice cut through the hall. "Her Majesty will call for all of you if any new developments occur."
Needless to say, no one in the room was looking forward to new developments.
Concluding words having been spoken, everyone save for Draudillon and Martin took their leave, the door closing with a thud as a guard saw the last person out.
"The two of you may leave as well," Martin nodded towards the two guards. "Her Majesty and I have need for a private discourse."
The pair bowed and left behind the last of the courtiers before Martin turned to look at Draudillon expectantly.
"Yes," she groaned, immediately realizing what he was waiting for. "I finished writing those letters and had a courier send them to the frontlines."
Left unsaid was how a certain blonde had laughed at her as she wrote the letters with childish script and doodles. She didn't even get a chance to get drunk!
"Good," Martin said with a look of supreme satisfaction. "I had expected Your Majesty to arrive at today's court with a hangover, but it seems you were able to finish those letters of support without needing to drink this time."
Draudillon pursed her lips. "I fear the day where that becomes my default method of communication," she replied dryly.
"On the bright side, neither of us might last long enough to see Your Majesty embarrass yourself in such a manner," Martin morbidly quipped. "In all seriousness, Your Majesty seemed rather distracted today."
"That so?" Draudillon slumped against the back of her currently oversized throne. "I was just thinking about that rumor, I guess."
"As fascinating as it may be," Martin's eyes sharpened as he looked at her. "I implore Your Majesty to consider it at a later date."
"I understand, Martin," she tiredly pinched the bridge of her nose. "I suppose I'll find my answers at some other time."
By some other time, she meant tonight. Though of course, she had no intent of letting her Prime Minister know that just yet. She'll leave that interrogation to her future self!
"..." Martin looked at her thoughtfully. "You must stay strong, Your Majesty. Even if everyone else were to stumble and fall, you alone must stand steady."
"Uwaaa~" Draudillon sarcastically drawled. "To make such a ridiculous demand out of your queen. I pity your wife."
"Your Majesty would be glad to hear that her Prime Minister's wife is tidy, moderate in her drinking, and needs not be told such a demand," Martin snarked back with an ever-calm expression. "In any case, that was all I had left to say. If there is anything else…?"
"No, that's all," Draudillon shook her head. "Go ahead and spend time with your family. You… Ah, now's not the time to think about that! Just go back home and relax! Your queen commands you!"
"As Your Majesty wishes," Martin bowed and exited the throne room, leaving Draudillon the last one remaining.
"Well, I do believe I've got a 'priest' to question…"
"Where did that gods-damned woman go?!" Draudillon growled as she speedwalked through the halls of the castle with her short, stubby legs. Clearly, her guest did not understand what 'wait here' meant, though it was likelier that they just decided to not bother.
'Did she really leave after… after all of that nonsense?' Strangely, Draudillon found herself a bit upset at the thought. 'And I had my suspicions that they were the subject of the rumor too…'
"Attendant Cerde," Draudillon called out to one of the castle servants cleaning the ornaments in the hall. She'd struggled to remember all of their names, but it felt like the least of what she should do. "Have you seen a blonde woman with golden eyes pass through by any chance?"
"I'm afraid not, Your Majesty," the attendant bowed and apologized. "However, I believe I overheard someone saying they saw such a person head towards the gardens."
"Is that so? Thank you," Draudillon felt a surge of vindictive relief flood through her as she walked as fast as she could to the gardens. There was no way she was letting this troublemaker go without some answers first.
To her dismay, the castle gardens were located directly opposite to where she currently was. By the time she got there, the setting sun had already given way to the moon.
'If only the meeting wrapped up earlier…' Draudillon thought, panting as she walked down a moonlit pathway. To her dismay, she was beginning to understand that sitting on a throne all day wasn't conducive to improving her stamina.
"What am I even doing here?" she muttered to herself, propping an arm against a tree while she regained her breath. "I still have to meet with Uncle regarding the redistribution of forces…"
She had promised Martin that she wouldn't worry about the rumor, yet here she was, wasting a rare moment of free time that could have been spent resting instead of chasing after the wind.
"Though I suppose it's been a while since I've last walked in the gardens," she mumbled to herself, choosing to continue walking down the limestone pathway instead of heading back to her soft bed. A flare of teal-green magic and fatigue later, and she was back in her true appearance.
It really was a nice night though; the sky was clear, the stars were out, and—
The Dragon Queen's breath hitched in her chest as she came to a halt.
Sitting against a tree was her quarry, clad in white and overflowing with radiance. Six feathery wings laid slack at her sides while a sphere filled with countless stars floated above her shoulder. The angel's expression was filled with wonder, lips slightly parted as somber eyes beheld the night sky.
She had never seen anything so beautiful before.
Draudillon stood there, unmoving and dumb, until the woman—angel—tore her eyes away from the stars and directed that burning gaze straight at her.
"You okay?" a small grin graced the angel's face. For some reason, the angel lacked the energy Draudillon had come to recognize her by.
"Huh? Uh, yes," Draudillon snapped back to attention. "I'm in perfect health, thank you."
'Okay, she looks… nice. So what? You've seen plenty of attractive people! Don't lose your mind now,' Draudillon chastised herself. Could this possibly be the influence of charm magic?
"You're not talking like you were yesterday and this morning," the angel went back to watching the sky. "Tired?"
"...To say the least," Draudillon hesitantly stepped closer and sat a small distance apart from her conversation partner. "Foreign relations have been rather troubling as of late."
"Hm," the angel nodded, not taking her eyes away from the stars. "I wouldn't know anything about that."
"You really were unaware…" Draudillon sighed. "Did you not say you came from the east? Surely, you must have come across the demihuman invaders."
"Well, people did talk about it. A lot of them thought I was from the 'Theocracy'? I think?" the angel bit her bottom lip. "I did a looooot of healing. Maybe I should've asked more questions about these Beastmen."
At the mention of the Theocracy, Draudillon felt a surge of vindication run through her. It seemed that the rumors weren't quite so unfounded after all.
"Are you?" she asked carefully.
"Am I?" the angel cupped her chin with a puzzled look. "From the Theocracy, you mean?"
"Yes, that." A frisson of fear swept over Draudillon. Was she possibly a member of the ever-so-secretive Black Scripture? Had the Theocracy finally gotten tired of her and decided that she was more useful dead than alive?
"Oh, I don't even know what the Theocracy is," the angel giggled. "Are they good guys? All the people I came across were really hopeful when they asked the same question."
"Good, huh…?" Draudillon absentmindedly picked at the grass. In hindsight, it was rather obvious she was from elsewhere, wasn't it? Though the eccentricity was rather in line with some of the more disquieting whispers… "Politics is never so clear cut."
"Yeah, that's true," the angel's eyes held a hint of concern and sympathy now. Draudillon hated it. Was she truly so pitiful that she elicited such a reaction from a near-stranger?
A moment of silence passed between the pair.
"Back in my… homeland," the angel falteringly began even while turning her head away. "Politics was pretty similar, I think. Everyone was just looking out for themselves."
Draudillon listened intently. It wasn't everyday that one got the chance to hear about an angel's life.
"Things actually got so bad that we couldn't even see the sky anymore," the angel continued on, her gaze thrown to some far off place. "Hell, staying outside without proper protection was a death sentence."
Her voice grew more heated as she warmed up to the topic. "But of course none of that mattered to the people in charge. They lived in their damned arcologies, completely separated from the rest of us. Like they were too good to be around trash like us."
"I find it hard to believe that someone as outstanding as you could be considered trash," Draudillon cautiously responded. To think that an angel's homeland would be so unpleasant was quite baffling. It appeared that Theocracy doctrine when it came to angels wasn't all that accurate after all.
The angel let out a bitter laugh while a red blush crept up her neck. "Right. Thanks for the compliment, I guess."
Draudillon didn't know how to respond to that. Clearly, she had hit a sensitive point.
Another moment of silence went by, this time much more awkward than the last, before the angel softly spoke again.
"So, um, in case you were wondering," she coughed into her hand. "You can call me Sephyrelia. Or just Seph since that's probably a mouthful."
"A fine name," Draudillon noted how a family name wasn't given. Perhaps her culture simply saw no need for them. "I am Draudillon Oriculus, but I wager you knew that already…?"
"Mhm!" the angel—Seph, now—seemed to have regained her original good cheer. "The villagers I met on the way here talked a lot about you."
"I, I see," Draudillon held back a grimace. She didn't need to hear another reminder of how badly she'd failed her kingdom.
"Most of them praised you, y'know?" Seph smiled, and Draudillon felt her heart skip a beat. "Even though they were having such a difficult time, they still saw how you were doing your best."
"My best isn't enough," Draudillon harshly snapped back. "They shouldn't be praising me. A queen who can't protect her people is absolutely undeserving of praise."
"At least you do it though," Seph laid a soft hand upon her shoulder. "If my wor—homeland had more leaders who were like you…
"I wonder what it could've been," Seph moved her hand away.
"It does us no good to ponder on it," Draudillon tried to ignore the feeling of loss as Seph stopped touching her shoulder. "Either it is or it isn't."
"Yeah," the angel mumbled to herself. "You're right. Just have to… accept it somehow."
There appeared to be a deeper meaning behind those words, but Draudillon decided to just remain quiet and nod along instead.
"Well, I had a pleasant time," after a few more minutes in quiet companionship, the dragon queen picked herself up and patted the grass off her dress. "Unfortunately, I need to make a long journey tomorrow, so you'll have to excuse me."
"Oooh, where to?" Seph excitedly leapt to her feet. "Can I come with?"
"To the eastern border," Draudillon gave her an unimpressed look. "And no, you may not 'come with'."
"Oh," Seph looked deflated for a moment but perked up. "I could provide protection! And food! And, uh, a lot of other things too."
She grabbed Draudillon's hands and held them before her chest. "Pleeeease?"
Draudillon could feel her face burn as she turned away. Was she, the Dragon Queen, really so starved for even the smallest amounts of intimacy? "Fine. Just…
"Just try not to stand out or make a scene," she let out a frustrated exhale. "My relationship with the person managing the demesne is rather dicey as of the present."
"Woo!" Seph released her hands and threw up her own in excitement. "This is like the start of a quest!"
Despite herself, Draudillon found the corners of her lips tugging upwards.
'Maybe this isn't so bad after all.'