Chapter 49: hold me?
Middle Fire Month, 6th Day, 600 AGG
Draudillon ran a hand through a length of damp hair, feet hurrying her to the study where she left Yuriko with Martin.
'Should have used『Clean』instead,' 『Clean』was an amazing spell, but it didn't give the same feeling a thorough wash in the bath could. 'But this is nice. Feels like I've doffed a full set of plate armor.'
If only a simple bath or spell could wash away her guilt too. Unfortunately, there was nothing so convenient in this world.
'Here we are,' Draudillon arrived before the twin oaken doors leading to her office. 'Wonder what those two have been doing while I was bathing—"
"—what were you thinking?" Her hand stopped above the doorknob as Martin chastised the angel on the other side. "Taking Her Majesty and running off to the Beastman Country of all places…"
Draudillon pushed open the door to the sight of a listless Yuriko being castigated by her annoyed Prime Minister. "I think you've said enough, Martin. Give her a break."
"Perfect," Martin didn't miss a beat: snapping his head around and directing a chilling glare at her. "We were waiting for you, Your Majesty."
"Hey Draudillon," Yuriko spiritlessly waved. "He was just talking about some stuff."
"If it's about everything I need to catch up on, then I'll get to that now," Draudillon glanced at the scattered papers Martin had left piled up on her desk. "Any new developments come up during our absence?"
"Emperor El-Nix sent a reply," the Prime Minister smoothly began listing off a tremendous number of tasks. "A number of nobles are wondering how you want to deal with the beastmen living districts in the case of expansion, there's the matter of coordinating the harvest and replanting with the resettled yeomen in the east, the guildmaster of the kingdom's Adventurer's Guild wants to meet, Marquis Aliund has questions about your future plans for our military, and preparations for the Dragonflame Festival are afoot: Your Majesty needs to start writing invitations for that by the way. Ah, and there's somebody looking for Lady Yuriko—"
"Stop!" Draudillon shook off her bewilderment. How had so much piled up in only a little over a week? "I get the idea. Knowing you, it's already all stacked up there," she gestured at the cluttered table. "I'll read through all of it now, but… Dragonflame? It's been years since we bothered—"
"The beastmen have been dealt with, and the Draconic Kingdom doesn't have to worry about becoming a Human-Ranch Kingdom," Martin shrugged, giving the impression he was rolling his eyes despite his countenance remaining as impenetrable as always. "Unless, of course, Your Majesty is waiting for a better time to celebrate."
"Next month though," Draudillon stressed the ridiculousness of his proposition. "This is the sort of thing that takes several months of preparation. Months. Inviting foreign delegates on such short notice is just asking for a political debacle."
"If it's people laughing, Your Majesty could always switch to her—" Martin's eyes flicked to Yuriko who was preoccupied with staring at their own feet. "Hm. Nevermind."
"I'll think about it," Draudillon pushed aside the lingering sense of shame that always accompanied reminders of her past physical deception. The angel already understood the reason behind her younger form. There wasn't any reason for her to worry. There wasn't. "Don't get your hopes up though."
"You'll have to start now then, Your Majesty. I've already set some things up, but they all require Your Majesty's approval—"
"Um…" Yuriko's halfhearted voice cut through their discussion like a shard of shattered glass sliding across fragile skin. "Is there anything I gotta do right now?"
"Yes." "No."
Draudillon scowled at Martin. Couldn't he see that Yuriko was in no shape to manage all of these additional burdens?
"I shall defer to Her Majesty's wisdom," Martin gracefully bowed—an exaggeration if she'd ever seen one. Draudillon pinched the bridge of her nose. Honestly, why did she put up with this?
"Oh, okay," Yuriko's shoulders sagged with a weight Draudillon didn't have the words to describe. Relief, guilt, exhaustion—all were present in the angel's bearing: a joyless mixture made clear with their every movement. "Well, I'm gonna go sleep. Sorry, it's just… nothing. It's nothing. Just a little tired."
The angel's steps were heavy as she dragged herself to the door, pausing in consideration for a few seconds while her head turned around to the dragon queen and Prime Minister.
"I'll check out the person who's looking for me later, I guess. Tell them I'm sorry they have to put up with more waiting," the angel quietly excused herself and carefully closed the door behind her with a soft click.
'Wait—' Draudillon wanted to reach out and ask them to stay, but held herself back. 'No, give her some time alone. She hardly needs you to bother her now, especially after everything that transpired today.'
"Sleep?" Martin looked at his sovereign with a raised eyebrow as the door closed behind Yuriko. "Unless I'm mistaken, Lady Yuriko is incapable of sleeping. Ah, she's refused to let slip even the slightest detail of your little adventure as well."
The Prime Minister eased his sharp gaze. "Your Majesty. What happened in the Beastman Country?"
"You're smart, aren't you? Figure it out yourself," Draudillon snapped at him before sighing, hands rubbing her temples. "No, I apologize. That was uncalled for."
"Your Majesty does not need to apologize to someone to a lowly servant such as myself," fuck, she wasn't in the mood for his sarcasm; but then again, Martin was always this kind of twisted person. In a way, it was heartening to see he hadn't changed in the time she was gone. "Since Your Majesty apologized, will a detailed report be forthcoming?"
"I'll write one up later," the dragon queen trudged past her Prime Minister and towards the desk that promised countless hours of toil. "Just don't bother Yuriko for one."
"I have to admit, it's a little strange that you're so intent on looking out for her, Your Majesty," what was with that look? Martin appeared oddly satisfied for some reason. Quite frankly, it pissed her off.
"If I don't," Draudillon decided to ignore Martin's sudden smugness and exhaustedly plopped herself behind the desk, unenthusiastically flipping through all the reports that had piled up in her absence. "Then who will?"
"The hell you mean?" Aardev meekly stayed out of the way: keeping his voice as low as physically possible while Falgun Kroh'or—one of the higher ranking Kshatra's of the Clan he was working at—hissed at one of the Clan's human slaves while another Kshatra watched with a detached gaze. "You can't make contact? What—How the fuck did that happen?!"
"『Clean』," the Gom made vague gestures with the magical mithril scepter and mumbled, praying to the gods that the Kshatra wouldn't change the target of their wrath to him. Chunks of carcasses, gore, and viscera vanished with each activation of the multipurpose magic item: a convenience Aardev was immensely thankful for. "『Clean』."
"K-Kshatra Falgun," the slave bowed at a ninety-degree angle as the scent of fear rolled off her in waves. Aardev pitied her, but there wasn't much he could do from his position. "This lowly one dares not make assumptions about the Archives or the Rajan—"
Falgun spat out a shard of bone while picking out the few bits of meat still stuck between his teeth. "Get to the point."
"Y-Y-Yes…" Sweat formed and rolled off the slave's face. "They're rejecting all communication requests. N-None of us know why, but nothing's going through, Kshatra Falgun."
"Pain in the ass, of course that useless Lasaath—Hm? The halfbreed's still here?" Falgun rumbled as his eye drifted towards Aardev. "These words aren't for the ears of some Sudapra."
"I'll leave at once, Kshatra Falgun," Aardev bowed his head in deference. "But, uh, I was assigned to clean this room up first, so…" The Gom's voice trailed off as the tigerman's fearsome growl filled the air.
Apparently there were Goms who could take on forms closely resembling that of humans, but Aardev had yet to meet one himself. Falgun didn't seem to care about this distinction as he continued to heap abuse upon the Sudapra.
"Fucking worthless half-breed, can't you even—Fuuu… what did I even expect?" the striped beastman derisively scoffed and waved Aardev away. "Get out of here. Both of you. The Gom can finish cleaning this up later."
"Falgun," the Kshatra accompanying his bloodstained comrade spoke up. "Will you be making a bid for the seat of Clan Head?"
"Not with all this shit going on—oh, for fuck's sake, are you still here?" Aardev and the slave flinched as Falgun snarled. "LEAVE!"
They didn't need to be told a third time.
The Gom panted as he leaned on the wall encircling the complex's courtyard. A greater beastman might be indignant at the insults thrown at them, but all he could feel was relief that the Tiger Zoastia was satisfied with merely shouting.
"He'll pay," his head snapped towards the slave who had apparently fled the Kshatra's fury alongside him. "Bet the reason why we can't make contact is 'cause the angels fucked the Archives up."
"Angels?"
Getting ripped apart by a four-winged monster. Merciless teal-green eyes.
"I…" His mouth suddenly grew dry. "They're coming?"
After returning from what used to be Stockyard-H Two, he had decided to remain in the Republic instead of taking his family and fleeing to Karnassus. Was that decision returning to haunt him?
'If only the journey wasn't so long and dangerous,' he bitterly thought to himself. 'There's no winning for people like me.'
"You've been paying attention to them, right?" Actually, he'd only been working for Clan Kroh'or for a month, but he decided not to interrupt the human. "They were talking about finally getting the cities set up and heading over for some shitty feast, but you know what? Month or so back they got all pissy about something ruining their investments there. 'Angels,' they said. Same thing's probably happening now."
"Um, you sure it's safe to talk to me about all this?" Aardev awkwardly scratched his head, hoping that nobody was around to hear this conversation. "If anyone finds out, you're definitely dead."
"I can die happy knowing all these assholes are gonna die like chumps," the human growled and glared at the main complex. "Besides, you're just like me, aren't you?"
"I'm not—" He stopped mid-sentence. She was right; a Sudapra like him was little more than a slave in the eyes of the major Clans. The only difference was that he was more likely to be outright killed instead of eaten if he ever offended one of his betters. "Fine, but I don't know what you get from talking about this."
" S'hard holding this in all the time," she mumbled, exhaustion clear in every fiber of her body. "Having to bow and scrape or get eaten… "
"You weren't born here?" Aardev immediately regretted asking as the human narrowed her eyes. "Erm, sorry. You don't have to say anything."
"Na, it's fine," a single glance revealed that it obviously wasn't. "Beastmen hit my village when I was a kid. One thing led to the next, and well, here I am."
The human crossed her arms and tried to put on a brave front, but her trembling form and paling skin showed she was anything but. "Whatever, can't do anything about it now."
"So, uh," Aardev had the strangest urge to cheer her up. Why should he care? Even still… "I think I might've seen this angel before."
"You saw her?" The human perked up. "What was she like?"
"Errr, blonde," truthfully, he didn't remember much. One moment he had—
Been torn to pieces.
—and the next there was some blonde human, though she surely couldn't be in spite of her appearance, standing over him with a relieved expression before handing him to Sinkh. "She was blonde. Had uh, six big wings. White ones."
"Wow," the human's eyes sparkled in amazement. Aardev uncomfortably shifted his feet. Was a barebones description all it took to make humans happy? "Never heard of an angel like that—"
"AND TELL HIM TO RUN!" The unlikely duo startled at Falgun's roar. Thankfully, they weren't the target of his anger this time.
"Guess we should get going," the human nervously chuckled. "See ya around?"
"Sure," Aardev shrugged. It was nice talking to someone who didn't look down on him like he was a pile of Auroch manure. "Be careful out there."
"Mhm. If angels do end up flying by and fucking this shithole up, I'll tell them to let you off," she strolled away, gait lighter than when they had fled from Falgun's rage. "You're not too bad for a beastman."
"Right. Thanks," he raised a hand in farewell before huffing under his breath. "Seriously…"
As they parted ways, he realized he didn't know the human's name. More surprisingly, he realized that not knowing bothered him.
'It's a lot different from all the times I've dealt with her kind in the stockyard,' Aardev stalked off towards his temporary living quarters. Human or not, he found himself hoping she wouldn't get eaten. 'Wonder why.'
"Worry about yourself," Aardev shook his head. 'Got to get back to work soon.'
Even if the angels came, he doubted that would change.
"Puhaaa…" Draudillon let out an undignified sound as she put aside the filigreed quill Martin had acquired from one of the ex-Theocracy priests. In form, and probably functionality as well, it was identical to the one she'd seen Yuriko start using about a month ago; although, it appeared even the Theocracy's magic items had their limits. "I'm going to retire for the day—shit."
A drop of ink fell from the nib of her usual quill and onto the lacquered desk in her effort to dip it in the inkwell. Luckily, the black tear missed the papers she had spread out over the table, saving her from the cruel fate of having to rewrite the missive.
For a moment, she stared at the pitch-dark spot and wondered why she didn't feel happier. The annihilation the Draconic Kingdom seemed poised to face was no more. By all accounts, the once-beastmen occupied regions were smoothly recovering in every meaning of the word. Hell, the entire kingdom was getting back on its feet with a speed that defied common sense.
Did it make her ungrateful if she still felt discontented even after receiving so many blessings? No, she was discontent because she had received them—or to be more precise, in the way she repaid her benefactor.
Her beloved. Draudillon wondered what they were doing now. Angels didn't—couldn't—sleep, so that only left…
The dragon queen's shoulders slumped just the tiniest bit more: invisible to all but those who knew her best.
"Very well, Your Majesty," Martin's eye flicked to the splatter of ink and back to her. "We'll continue tomorrow then. Really, rushing with your tasks just so you can see them sooner—"
Draudillon shot out of her chair, ignoring the Prime Minister's baiting, and ran out the office towards her bedroom. The dragon queen brushed past angels and attendants alike in her rush to arrive even a single second sooner.
"Your Majesty—!" One of her Royal Guards, Vicente, startled as she suddenly appeared from around a corner. "Is there an emergency?!"
"No," she dismissed the worried guard. Why were the bags under his eyes so dark? Shouldn't their workload be lighter now that Yuriko's summons took the dragon's share of their burden? "Go get some more rest: I doubt you can properly dispense your duties with that kind of fatigue."
"Y-Yes, at once!" Vicente halted in place and saluted. "But Lord Asturias assigned me—"
Draudillon didn't stick around to hear the guard's excuse. If it had something to do with Martin, she'd take care of it later. After she assuaged her own worries.
'Here it is,' her fingers wrapped around the door handle. Despite the distance and how fast she'd been walking, Draudillon only felt somewhat short of breath. The improvement was similar to her increased alcohol tolerance: possibly a level—Haa, was she seriously thinking about something so unimportant now of all times? 'Just have to… open the door.'
Draudillon twisted the handle and pushed as she stepped over the threshold into her bedchamber before immediately coming to a stop.
"Yuriko?" Draudillon hesitantly addressed the winged cocoon sitting on her bed. "Are you alright?"
'Of course she isn't, you fool,' she regretted the question the moment it left her lips. 'She wouldn't be like this otherwise.'
"..."
"Is it okay if I sit next to you?" Draudillon slowly approached the bed and sat on the edge. "If you want me to leave and have some more time—"
"Don't leave," the feathery cocoon unfurled, revealing a despondent angel. "Or I mean, you don't need to force yourself, but… S-Sorry. I'm not making any sense, aren't I?"
"I get it," Draudillon scooched next to Yuriko. "Spending time with you isn't ever a bother."
"... Thanks," Yuriko dispelled her wings. "But aren't you super busy right now? We were out for a while—must be a lot of stuff you need to do."
"It's fine," Draudillon placed herself behind Yuriko and encircled them with her arms while she spread her legs out on both sides of the angel. "For some reason, I happen to recall a certain someone making me promise to not overwork myself."
"Mmmn…"
They sat like that for a few minutes: Angel nestled in the dragon queen's affectionate clutch. For a while, Draudillon could pretend everything was okay—that nothing was wrong.
"So, um. How's the kingdom?" Yuriko weakly asked, cringing at their own attempt to start a conversation. "Like, everything is going okay even if we left for a bit?"
"As 'okay' as could be," Draudillon comfortingly nuzzled their neck. "You can leave it all to me; you're carrying quite the load as is."
"But people are counting on me," the angel placed their hands over hers and gulped. "What if, what if I let them down?"
"You won't, and I'm certain you'll only improve from here on out," Draudillon soothed them with gentle encouragement even while she reprimanded herself. There hadn't been much time to give Yuriko a more in-depth education on leadership aside from throwing them into the deep end of practicum: something the dragon queen swore to address in her free time. "For someone who hasn't had any prior experience, you've picked up the basics quite quickly."
"It's hard," Yuriko curled up into a ball as she leaned backwards against the dragon queen. "It's hard having to make my own decisions, having so many people relying on me. I, I'm not cut out for this."
She shrunk even further into Draudillon's hug. "It'll be easier if you told me what to do instead."
"I can't," because wasn't that the whole reason the angel was like… this in the first place? "I'm sorry, but I can't."
"Why?" Yuriko's body shook. "Why not? You're smarter than me, you always know what to do, and I'm just, just some salarywoman!" The angel's voice grew louder and louder until it finally broke. "All I do—all I do is m-mess up."
"That's not true," Draudillon rushed to reassure her beloved. "It's because of you that the kingdom is safe. It's because of your decisions that thousands, millions can live without fear. You haven't failed anybody."
Yuriko didn't say anything in response, but the way they tightened their hold on the hands Draudillon clasped around their waist was telling enough.
"All the people you've seen and helped in the kingdom: you didn't fail them," she continued after it was clear the angel didn't intend on replying. "You're the last person in this world anyone can call a failure."
"I wanna lay down," Yuriko dispiritedly muttered.
"Here, how about this?" The dragon queen reluctantly released her beloved and swung her legs off the bed. "Let me get changed, and we can do that."
" 'Kay. Wait, um—"
Draudillon got up and began the process of taking off the royal clothing she had finally gotten the chance to wear after the last week or so of wandering the Beastman Country.
"Ah—!" She turned around and raised a questioning eyebrow at a flustered Yuriko. It was an unexpected burst of emotion from the downcast angel; what had made them so agitated? "N-Nothing, I'm not looking!"
'Her watching slipped my mind entirely. Does that make me… forget it,' Draudillon cracked a small, self-reproachful smile. "Haven't you seen this already though?"
"I wasn't looking back then!" Yuriko half-heartedly glowered. "You even told me to turn away!"
"So I did," She slipped on a nightgown and crawled into bed next to Yuriko. "Are you sure you just want to lay here the whole night? I can't imagine it being too interesting."
"Dun' have to be interesting," Yuriko burrowed into Draudillon's arms, allowing her to pull them closer to her chest. "Just has to be you."
The declaration filled her with joy. It pulled her to the depths. What right did she have to enjoy their warmth? The same warmth she would've snuffed out in her delusion was now held close to her chest.
A cruel irony. A merciful blessing. How did Yuriko see it? Did Draudillon dare ask?
Even if she could form the right words—she couldn't—they'd dry up in her mouth if not outright die in her throat.
'Need to say something. Anything,' Draudillon forced down the rumbling nausea that suffused her entire being. Never in her life had talking to a single person been so difficult. Crowds of citizens, her Royal Court, Cerabrate himself—none of those had felt nearly as nerve-wracking. 'You did this to her, so take responsibility. Say it. Say it's your fault, Draudillon.'
"Yuriko, about… earlier today," she tried to broach the dragon in the room. "I'm…" She was sorry. She was sorry but the words wouldn't come out. "You don't have to hold back around me."
As irrational as Draudillon knew it was, she didn't want them to hate her. Didn't want them to leave.
They wouldn't. Gods, she knew Yuriko well enough to know they wouldn't.
But fear and shame didn't have to make sense.
"I don't wanna talk about it," Yuriko's muffled voice arose from her embrace. "Can we just sleep?"
"... Alright."
It wasn't the perfect resolution, but… Draudillon couldn't complain. All she felt was relief that the angel didn't hate her: respite in how they still wanted to be at her side.
'Selfish.'
