Rathlands : Chapter 10 (Arsenic POV)

"Oxiderr …"

For one of the first times in her life, Arsenic had released her emotions. She usually kept them all to herself, and her siblings were the only one also able to read her mood. Her adoptive parents had always been unable to do so, so she was misunderstood when she was just a hatchling. But there, in spite of herself, the seal that kept her thoughts locked up had broken. The Dreadqueen Rathian was not the only one to have undergone a similar trauma: since they had been found lying in the middle of the battlefield and brought back to the Rathlands' Castle, the day before, Blast had stopped eating and talking, and Zenith had still not woken up. By elimination, it was up to her to tell the generals and the king about their tragic encounter with the one who presented himself as the eldest heir of the Rakurai Empire. Of course, the king ordered her and her two brothers to stay out of the conflict, terrorized by the event that almost cost the lives of three of his children. Arsenic nodded his head at him, but a determination similar to Zenith's had been born in her mind, and she wanted to live only to find this "Oxiderr" to confront and kill him again, thus punishing him for his outrageous act and insults. Astalian, who had detected this unusual spark in the Rathian's calm eyes, came to see her afterwards at Zenith's bedside. She had explained to him that what they had seen so far was only the beginning of horror, and that she did not blindly support the words of Khryselios, but that they should know that by continuing to fight, this kind of event could be usual. Arsenic nodded her head again, but she had no desire to weigh the pros and cons, as she did every time. The war was also becoming a personal matter now. And whoever had violated honor by attacking Zenith had to pay. So the general had left him like that, feeling the ineffectiveness of her words, by throwing her a sorry look which she had then put on the inert body of the Dread King Rathalos. When she had disappeared, Arsenic had closed the door, then moved closer to the bed to stay by her brother's side, silent. Then she had broken through the silence by whispering the name that now gave new meaning to her reason for being.

Blast made such a discreet entrance that he could have been mistaken for a ghost. His natural pallor did not help him; his face, paler than usual, was contrasted by dark circles under his eyes, giving him a ghostly appearance. His vermilion eyes fell on Zenith and then on his sister. He came to meet her, and the Rathian knew that in such situations it was better not to say anything, so she spread her wings to wrap her little brother in an affectionate embrace. It didn't take long for him to relax, shaken with sobs.

"I-I ... I was so scared! I-I stood there like a coward doing nothing, while you had the courage to stand up for yourself...!" the crystal Rathalos hissed. "I-I was useless! It's because of me that he may be going to die!"

Arsenic tightened her embrace slightly as if to squeeze the acidic juice of Blast's guilt. This juice materialized in the form of salty tears that his brother was shedding more and more.

"I-I'm tired of being a coward!" squealed the alabaster Rathalos. "It's only m-my fault if Zenith is l-like that!"

She judged that she could start to intervene.

"Blast, this Zinogre was overpowering. Myself, I did not manage to push him away. Zenith was beaten to a pulp in less than thirty seconds. You couldn't have done better. We were fooled by an enemy that proved too powerful. We owe our lives to a miracle, that's all we can deduce from it."

He raised his wet eyes slightly.

"I was t-too weak …"

"We all were. The only one to blame is not you, but this Rakurian for having outraged us." She said softly.

Blast did not answer, but his downcast eyes showed a hint of life.

Arsenic heard a slight knock at the door, and released her brother to open it. Phoenix and Blister stood behind it, a grave look painted on their faces. Unlike the younger sibling, the Princess looked strangely untired, but Arsenic guessed that her makeup probably concealed the visible signs of her anxiety.

The Dreadqueen yielded to their silent request by letting them in.

"He ... still hasn't woken up, has he?" Phoenix asked weakly.

Arsenic shook his head.

Blister slowly approached the four-poster bed. The eldest was still asleep, lying in a curled position, and his breathing, though slow and difficult, was steady. The Black Rathian lightly brushed one of the wings of the Rathalos with her own. She did not get any reaction from the Rathalos.

"Are we ... Are we at least sure that he will regain consciousness?"

Her voice trembled like a leaf turbulated by the wind.

Arsenic stared at her younger sister for a moment, then her gaze fell on the Incendiary Rathalos, whose anguish was noticeable by the absence of flames emerging from his body. She did not dare to answer, and lowered her amethyst irises. The purple-scaled Rathian put an end to the silent tension by raising her gaze as she looked up at her brothers and sister and left the room, casting a last glance at Zenith's body.

She had been flying aimlessly for a good hour when she decided to land near one of the chapels of Ignis. She suspected that the cathedral must have been stormed by the inhabitants begging for Teostra's intervention, after the Rathians' bitter defeat. No sooner had her claws touched the ground than she felt the excitement in the center of the city. The air was heavy and resonating with the hubbub that was rising from everywhere. On the day after the battle, the whole city was agitated by the latest news. The lightning attack of Rakurai, the massacre of the Rathiens, the state of the prince after his confrontation with the eldest son of the Nordic emperor ... Arsenic felt the serious, anxious emotions floating in the sky where the sun was shining at its zenith. She let out a brief sigh, then entered the small building intended for prayers. The deserted and rather dark interior comforted her. She walked to the stone altar to deposit some coins, then, looking up at the flame burning there, she addressed her most fervent prayer to the astral Lions.

"O Teostra and Lunastra, preserve the life of my brother Zenith, I beseech you, that he may bind up his wounded honor."

After a brief sign of the wing that was supposed to represent the diurnal star, she left the chapel, and went to the first tavern she found. She still had a few Rathdors left, and she thought her father wouldn't hold it against her this time to take her mind off things with alcohol. So she entered the establishment called "The Blue Flame", run by an Azure Rathalos, where there was a palpable agitation. The place being mainly frequented by Rathalos and Basarios, she passed unnoticed in the middle of this rabble.

The Basarios were actually Gravios still in a juvenile stage. What gave them a name of their own was their physical difference with their adult stage. They were plump, had a very short and thin tail and two stony growths on the tip of the nose, while the Gravios were certainly huge but balanced, and had only a small tip between their two nostrils. Their tails were nothing like those they had as Basarios: long, quilled, and ending in a sledgehammer that could knock down a wall, they became a real weapon. Sometimes, however, instead of the usual rock, crystals grew along the backbone of a Basarios. This "Ruby Basarios'' would grow up to become a much darker shade, losing its pinkish crystals and becoming a Black Gravios. This kind of phenomenon was still being studied by scholars, who had not yet found an explanation for this mutation. If the origin of some subspecies had been clarified for decades already, others remained misunderstood, such as the Basarios or the Nargacugas.

Arsenic promptly went to the counter and deposited 3 Rathdors.

"A might seed liquor please," she said, staring the barkeeper straight in the eyes.

He seemed hesitant about how to respond.

"Yes, ma'am."

When he came back with the said liquor, the lilac Rathian thanked him and placed an extra Rathdor on the counter. It was the turn of the Rathalos Azur to thank her for her tip.

She stayed near the bar sipping her drink, listening to the words of the Rathiens present. The Rathian discerned a majority of sterile discussions about the necessity of killing Rakurai in the same way he had Princess Tourmaline killed, as well as several debates about why Burutians were engaged with Solhatar's worst cockroaches, and should help Rathlands instead. One conversation, however, aroused her curiosity, as the words "outrage" and "divine punishment" caught her attention. As she concentrated further, she learned that a dead soldier had been found with both wings amputated and left for dead at the bottom of a ravine. His broken ribcage proved an appalling hypothesis: he had been mutilated in this way and then thrown into the abyss. As the crime scene was close to the village that the Rakurians had stormed to celebrate their crushing victory, it was clear that this was a barbaric act perpetrated by a Nordic.

"To slice the wings of a Rathien, the worst outrage one can do to him! Would the Rakurians be so abominable? Who would be mad enough not to fear the fury of the Gods? "she thought in disgust.

She decided to let go of the thread when the discussion became irrelevant, and drifted into insults to the entire Nordic people.

The door opened rather abruptly, attracting the rather angry attention of all the customers. A rather banged up Mizutsune made her entrance, accompanied by a Daimyo Hermitaur and a Shogun Ceanataur. She seemed furious, judging by the scarlet color of her fins, and hurried to the bar, where she noisily slammed about fifteen coins in front of the manager's nose, who had wrinkled features.

"Do you have tea?" she asked rather aggressively.

"Only green," the flying wyvern grunted in response.

She glanced at her acolytes who nodded.

"Two green teas and a beer then."

The innkeeper nodded his head. The Leviathan and her fellow carapaceons settled down at a nearby table and began a very virulent discussion, which the Mizutsune clearly seemed to be leading. From here, Arsenic heard unkind words coming out of her mouth. The other clients were strongly irritated by her noisy presence, but remained calm, only gnashing their teeth.

"It's very strange for a Foamian to be so... belligerent? Energetic? Unless she is not? Perhaps a mercenary without a Nation..." she thought.

The Rathalos Azur hailed one of its waiters Felyne, who then brought the drinks to the Ecumiens.

"You've never seen Opal?" he asked, noting his curious interest in the newcomers. "What a specimen though! One would not guess that it is indeed a princess!"

Arsenic looked back at him, urging him to continue. She was mistaken, apparently.

"Every time the Foamias send us a reinforcement unit, it's her who leads them. Sometimes there is their general too, whose name no one has remembered. It must be said that compared to her, he is a shy one! I am sure that she has pushed him aside on purpose in order to have the reins entirely. From what I've been told, on the battlefield, it's a tiger! Wild and unstoppable! I think that defeat leaves a rather bitter taste in her mouth, if you know what I mean."

"Ah, that's the least we can say. "She thought as she watched again as the fierce Mizutsune pointed an accusing claw at the Shogun Ceanataur, while the Daimyo Hermitaur defended him.

"Somehow, a ball of energy like that, it lifts the spirits, you know? Most people are defeatist and think it's not even worth resisting the Rakurians anymore. Few still claim loud and clear that our revenge will be accomplished by crushing them. Just looking at her, one could feel in the mood to fight. It's like a visual slap that puts ideas back in place. Its virulence is as if it were contagious …"

She nodded her head. It actually made sense.

After her third liquor, the Queen Poison resolved to leave the establishment to the very intoxicated customers. From outside, one could still hear the shouts of Opal, who had started playing Gwent with Rathien mercenaries, and who, as a sore loser, roared with indignation at each defeat. Perhaps it was because of the amount of money she had bet. She had had to swallow at least four beers since her arrival and, because of her Foamian way of life away from alcohol, she must have been holding it badly. Alcohol's effects must have been the reason why the idea of playing cards with an astronomical amount of money had occurred to her.

The sun was still high in the sky, and the bright light outside in contrast to the subdued light of the tavern attacked her eyes. Arsenic took flight and headed to Knart's forge to retrieve her armor and that of his brothers, which, having suffered considerable damage, had been entrusted to the royal blacksmith. The alcohol - although she was more at ease with her effects than the Foamian princess - weakened her wings, which encouraged her to walk the last few meters. No doubt it was the cold that amplified this feeling of limpness. When she arrived at the forge, it was deserted, and she had to ring a small bell for one of the workers to come to meet her.

"Hello, is Knart here?" the Dreadqueen asked the Lavasioth.

"No, alas, what was it for? I could convey your request to him, My Lady."

"I've come to collect our armor," she explained. There are three of them, one red, one blue and one green ...

The description seemed to evoke something of Lavasioth.

" Of course it did! I'll bring them to you right away!"

The worker disappeared into the tunnel leading to the workshop. He returned less than two minutes later with the three armors, shiny and almost new. Knart had done an excellent job on them, and Arsenic estimated the time required for such a polish at four hours per piece.

After thanking the Lavasioth, she flew away again, grasping her burden firmly in her talons, and headed for the castle.

She hesitated to push the rare wooden door decorated with gold again. Taking a brave inspiration, Arsenic entered Zenith's deserted room. The purple scaled Rathian placed the dark red armor on the desk and approached the prince's bed again. Pulling out a chair of her own, she sat down, and glanced out the window. Winter tinged the landscape with white, though the first snows had not yet arrived, despite the sun's persistent glow that gave strength to its rays. Arsenic remembered a time when, as a little hatchling, she used to play with her brothers at the snow fight. At that time, Phoenix was still a very young hatchling, but the Incendiary Rathalos was already able to instantly melt the snow nearby. As a result, he always won, because no snowball could touch his burning scales. The Rathian also remembered that Chryselene would call them afterwards to drink warm Aptonoth milk with honey from the corner of the hearth, while Khryselios worried about the likelihood that they might get sick. It was a good memory ...

A slight movement from the inert garnet body drew her out of her nostalgic thoughts.

"Zenith ... ?"

She did not get an answer.

"I shouldn't delude myself so much, I might regret it if I ever ..." she thought, not daring to even finish her thought.

Arsenic breathed a long sigh, then returned to contemplating the outside.

"In this kind of case, one can only rely on faith. Let us hope that the astral Lions have heard my prayer..."

One of the wings of the Rathalos moved again, and was accompanied a few seconds later by its throat which emitted a faint rumble.

"Zenith ... !" pronounced the muffled voice of the Rathian, which came closer to him.

The closed eyes of the Dreadking opened painfully, like his mouth, which struggled to articulate a sentence.

"Yeah … That's my name indeed …"

She threw herself around his neck, but was careful not to crush him.

"How do you find time for irony at a time like this, you idiot!" she moaned, hoarse.

Through her tears, she realized that the Rathalos was hiding more serious feelings behind this incongruous humor. She wiped the salty beads that streamed down her cheeks and released the Prince.

"I ... He ... What happened when I lost consciousness?" he asked her, with his voice hoarse too, his features drawn.

Arsenic dreaded the moment he would ask her that, and she did not expect him to want to know the truth so soon. Her gaze left her brother's face and froze on the ground. With empty eyes, she told the whole story at once.

"Blast was terrified and couldn't move. So I ... I provoked this Zinogre ... Oxiderr, a duel. I thought I could get away with it, I had managed to poison him, and avoiding his lightning bolts was not easy but possible ... But what he had shown me during the first forty seconds was a simple demonstration. He had a lightning speed, as if he was teleporting. When he got tired of this entertainment, he caused a gigantic discharge that hit me and Blast. The armor was almost charred, but it saved us ... You had been sleeping for an entire day," she finished after a blank, raising her amethyst iris.

She had a shiver when she saw him nodding his head in an absent-minded way.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked gently.

"I'm thinking about the fact that we all almost got killed" Arsenic.

He stood up, and took a few steps, stiff and clumsy. There was a cold and grave silence.

"I have failed to protect you ... What kind of prince am I, if I am not even able to protect my own brothers and sisters ...?"

"A valiant prince, who has the merit of recognizing his duty, and of fighting for his nation," answered the Dreadqueen Rathian. "A prince who hardly puts his personal comfort before the survival of his people. Everyone fails and must feed on his mistakes so that they never happen again."

"We were too weak ... And above all, naive ...!" he murmured, looking at his bandaged wounds, his gaze lowering, as dispossessed of life.

"We underestimated the danger that has been tormenting us for ten years, it's a fact. But a war is a war. There will always be stronger than us, Zenith. And ... This "Oxiderr" who outraged you, don't you want revenge?"

The roles were reversed. He was the one who started to doubt, while she was trying to drag him into her determination.

It was his turn to raise his eyes, blazing with anger, which met the now determined eyes of his sister, once so discreet and calm.

"Of course I want."

He stood up completely, regaining his normal, fierce and proud attitude.

"This dog is going to pay for what he and his people did to my brothers and sisters."

Arsenic decided to share his thoughts with him.

"About this …"

The King-Enfer seemed surprised, and tilted his head slightly to the side.

"Yes?"

" I ... I don't think the Rakurians were the cause of Tourmaline's death." Arsenic confessed.