Chapter 53: this place sucks (i… fucked up didnt i)
Middle Fire Month, 14th Day, 600AGG
"Excellent," Quintera beckoned the newly enthralled Skeleton Warriors as he stared off into the north. "An acceptable haul."
Apparently, taking over some dilapidated castle was enough for his peer to think himself above all the other undead of Katze. The very thought of the arrogant Elder Lich set his nonexistent blood aboil.
'Patience. You'll get your chance,' a sudden tranquility came over him. 'There's an eternity to prepare—I need only to remain cautious.'
Mind filled with delightful dreams of vengeance, the Elder Lich began the return trek to the tower he had come to call home. The three floor tower—perhaps four or five, maybe even six once upon a time—was where he had first awoken: one of the many beings spawned by the dense negative energy of the cursed Plains.
He sent a mental command to the Skeleton Warriors, Archers, Zombies, and various other undead he had collected today—watching in satisfaction while they formed a rudimentary formation around him. There hadn't been much in terms of discovering magic items or ancient tomes, but with these new additions to his stockpile, Quintera was confident that he would be able to expand his radius of operations to areas with more ruins—and more undead and relics as well.
"You all go… here," he muttered to himself while directing the newly enthralled undead to their respective groups. Organizing these many entities was difficult considering the amount he already controlled, but all he had to do was ensure they understood the proper protocols for defending themselves while he was away. Unlike the living, an undead army did not need to concern itself over logistics like nourishment and comfort.
Unfortunately, his foe enjoyed the same advantages. Quintera scowled at the reminder of the humiliation he had suffered by the hands of Fanalos: a fellow Elder Lich who resembled the skeleton of some sort of bipedal snake-like demihuman.
It was only mere decades ago since Quintera came across the despicable undead whose superior army had slaughtered his own with almost insulting ease. In his arrogance, Quintera was caught unprepared by the hordes of mighty Blood Meat Hulks, Wights, Skeletal Dragons, and many other undead he'd seen wandering the Plains but was too wary to approach.
They hadn't been satisfied with merely that, no. Fanalos also made sure to strip him of all his magical items—even demanding Quintera serve under them lest he be destroyed.
And now here he was, slaving away under their mocking eye-sockets and condescending words. The Elder Lich's rotting face twisted in hatred: one day, he'd be sure to topple that condescending kin of his and have them lick the dust off his feet.
Once he double-checked the positions of all his undead thralls, he nodded in satisfaction and retired to the inner sanctum of the tower.
The insides were crumbling, barely held together by rudimentary repairs. He was no architect or craftsman, and neither were any of the undead under his control, but studying the layout of the buildings scattered throughout Katze gave him enough knowledge to keep the place together. Quintera ignored the shoddy surroundings and descended into the basement where his workshop was set up.
Initially, the cellar had been a cramped compartment barely able to hold even a hundred adult humans, but through the decades, he and his undead tirelessly worked to expand it into a veritable crypt that stretched far and wide beneath the tower. It was here that he first began his journey into the necromantic arts, here where he raised his first corpses, and here where he found his 'name.'
The Elder Lich wiped the dust off an eroded plaque lying on a table. Only 'Quintera' was still visible—the rest worn to illegibility by the ravages of time. The name, or what he assumed to be a name, was the first thing he had read upon his spontaneous creation.
'It bears a fleeting resemblance to the script of the surrounding countries,' he mused. 'Not amazing in and of itself; it's clear that some civilization once stood here before calamity befell them.'
Well, worrying overly much about the past didn't help him. Either he came across more books and people who knew, or he didn't. In the meanwhile, there were graver problems to deal with.
"Should have a few days until that bastard starts pestering me to scavenge again," Quintera muttered while mentally commanding his thralls to carry raw materials into the crypt. He strolled to his improvised operating table and inspected the instruments carefully arranged in the neighboring tool tray.
As a Ghoulstitcher, it was child's play for him to create composite undead from various parts both organic and not; however, each creation required a certain percentage of their form to be composed of biological components. Furthermore, it was easier to work with flesh and hide than bones.
'I'd be able to construct stronger Skaabs if only I had access to fresher bodies,' Quintera forlornly thought while supervising the team of stitched assistants hacking apart the undead wolf-type beastman that had placed itself flat on the table. 'Working with decaying parts is no good, but I'm in no position to draw attention to myself.'
After the limbs and organs had been removed from the living corpse, he sat on a rusting stool beside the metallic worktop and began his tedious toil. Decaying organs and flesh were laid out and meticulously stuffed into the emptied cadaver, mismatched limbs from bulkier zombies were bound to its back and torso with enchanted bands of steel only to have roughly fashioned hooks and lumps of scrap metal hewn onto their ends—all the while, diseased blood was pumped into the warped veins of the Skaab from a fleshy vessel that crawled along the ground.
With subpar supplies and a modicum of effort, he could cobble together a ghoul that would only be slightly stronger than the average zombie, but given high-quality parts and time, he was confident that the undead he created wouldn't lose out to even Skeletal Dragons.
Here, he had the luxury of spending a few days on his current Skaab until Fanalos inevitably came knocking again.
The Elder Lich fell into a fugue-like state while his hands tirelessly worked to complete the masterpiece. From time to time, he and the stitched assistants walked out to grab more components, but for the most part, they remained underground—tirelessly laboring over their gristly brethren.
'I think I'll classify this one as a Canis Amalgam,' Quintera stood up and admired his creation. The gaps in the wolf head's maw were filled by spikes of metal, an additional torso with four legs attached to it would prop and propel the Skaab, five muscular arms stuck out from its side: two allowed to keep their original hands, one replaced with a wickedly curved hook, yet another with a long sharpened rod of steel, and the fifth with a heavy misshapen chunk of iron.
'A few thousand more and I'll show that fool his place,' Quintera knew he would never be able to match Fanalos in magical skill: because both of them were undead who didn't age, the gap between them was already too wide to bridge. Therefore, he devoted himself to cultivating stronger servants—servants who might be able to cross that ravine of power which separated him and his nemesis.
Quintera had the stitched corpse delicately moved from the operating table to another platform and was just about to begin when dulled sounds of fighting came from above. However, what troubled him more than that was the mass destruction of the undead he had accumulated over the last few decades. "You." He pointed a gnarled finger at one of his skeletons. "Go up and check what's going on."
The skeleton silently headed into the depths of the crypt towards one of the many secret exits. Quintera clenched and unclenched his fists as he looked down at the inanimate Skaab, unease piling up within him. 'This will have to be a rush-job.'
"Dammit," negative energy was channeled from his hand and into the abomination, each second bringing his work closer to completion. "Whoever is responsible will regret this.『Stitcher's Call』."
Bit by bit, the Skaab pushed itself off the platform and onto its four feet: a hulking monstrosity that stood a few heads above Quintera. "Hrgrl."
"We're going outside," He grimly stated to the dumb ghoul, drool pouring from its slacked jaws while the connection to the skeleton he sent was abruptly severed. Running would be the smartest thing to do, but he wanted to first gather information on whatever dared attack him. "Destroy all hostiles."
The Skaab mindlessly growled, taking the vanguard as they stomped out the crypt and ascended towards the base floor of the tower.
"『Mage Armor』,『Lesser Strength』,『Stoneskin』,『Haste』," Quintera casted a variety of buff spells on the Skaab and himself. "『Stoneskin』,『Haste』—"
"『Fireball』," right on time too as the explosive projectile slammed into the wall of the tower and blasted a gaping hole through it. "Quintera. How nice it is to see you."
"—『Protection from Energy - Fire』," he pointed at the serpent-like Elder Lich. "Kill him!"
The Canis Amalgam unleashed a wordless roar, hammer arm lashing out with an enhanced speed that belied its cumbersome appearance.
"Ha… This is what you wasted your time on?" A Skeletal Dragon's hand absorbed the blow and fell to the floor in shattered pieces. Quintera was dimly aware that the last vestiges of his undead were being wiped out as well. "Wasting your strength on crafting mediocre corpses instead of improving your magical ability… You're a disgrace to Liches across the world."
"Tch!" Quintera commanded his undead army to rally to him. "『Fireball』!"
"『Wall of Stone』," his evocation harmlessly detonated against the thick barrier. "It seems a fool doesn't know when they're beat!"
"Wha—" Before he could even express his surprise, balls of fire began raining from the sky, consuming his tower alongside his gathered and stitched undead. "『Dimensional Move』!"
Quintera abandoned the newly created Canis Amalgam to a fiery fate his protection spells couldn't prevent and was met with a truly ridiculous sight.
"Elder Liches?!" He shouted in shock. Were these new additions to their forces? More importantly, if they could enslave Liches, then why didn't they dominate him from the start? "When did you—"
"I've had them since we met, you fool," Quintera grunted in pain as a Wight kicked him to the ground. "Did you really think I would've deployed the full might of my forces against a Lich not even a century old?"
"『Dimensional—hrk!" The Wight kicked him again. This time, Quintera stopped resisting and angrily awaited his fate.
"『Dimensional Anchor』. Have you ever considered why I never bound you to my will?" Fanalos gloated over the fallen Lich. "It's because you wouldn't have been a threat in the first place. Not tomorrow, not in a decade, not even in a century. Ah, it's been fun watching you scurry around like a rat, but I suppose I should put an end to this farce."
Fanalos's bleached white hands approached his face and blotted out the radiant sun. Quintera idly wondered how its light managed to breach the fog of Katze when it couldn't for as long as he could remember. "I've taken your army, I've taken your home; and now, I will take your pride."
'Wait. That isn't the sun.'
The sun did not soar so closely to the earth, nor did it have wings or arms or legs. His subjugator noticed his surprise and turned around, momentarily forgetting their promise of enslaving him.
Quintera should've taken the chance to fire off a spell and make his escape, but he too was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the six winged interloper.
'This being, she looks nothing like the summons of the Theocracy clerics I've encountered,' Surprise was slowly giving way to a bottomless dread. Holy magic was the bane of all undead, and nothing exemplified the hallowed more than angels. 'And those magic items…!'
But none of those angels exuded nearly as lethal an aura. None felt like pure anathema to his existence. None had been decked out in a legendary panoply of value he couldn't even begin to fathom.
The light shining forth from them was still at a tolerable level now, but Quintera felt like it was only a mere half-step away from turning him into a pile of ashes.
'Is this it?' The Elder Lich wondered. 'Killed by some rogue summon?'
"Hmph, to think you'll collude with the Theocracy while I wasn't watching," Even Fanalos was shaken, though that didn't stop him from raising his palm towards the angel. "Did you honestly believe a single angel would be enough?"
'Fool,' Quintera derisively scoffed to himself. At least he could rest easy in the fact that Fanalos would soon die alongside him: a far more preferable fate to becoming the Elder Lich's dominated slave. 'Can't you see I'm surprised too?'
"Hi," the uncannily human-looking angel waved at them. It, or 'she' seeing how it was modeled after a human female, appeared apologetic. "Sorry for bothering you guys—"
"『Dragon Lightning』!" Arcane energies leapt forth from Fanalos's hand and bolted towards the angel, engulfing them in a flash of blue. "『Black Tentacles』.『Twin Magic - Grand Fireball』.『Enervation』."
Pitch dark tendrils sprouted from the ground and lashed out at the angel, while waves of heat washed over the undead as two massive spheres of fire slammed into her and exploded, throwing a thick cloud of dirt and dust up into the air.
Even after the incredible show of eldritch prowess, Quintera found a small part of himself wondering if that was really enough to defeat the angel. An Archangel Flame—or even a Principality Observation—perhaps, but this?
"Um… are you done?" His distaste for Fanalos aside, the Lich's magical skill was unquestionable. For someone to endure that sort of onslaught and escape unscathed… Quintera had never seen its like. "I'm not here to start a fight or anything—just wanted to ask some questions."
'She shows an unusual amount of autonomy and expression for a summon,' the Elder Lich began to revise his previous assumptions. 'Is it possible that she's not one at all? And does that mean it's possible she isn't affiliated with the Theocracy?' Of course, it was equally likely she was some heretofore unknown type of angel that had traits he knew nothing of.
"What are you?" Fanalos bristled at the affront to his pride. "To withstand Fifth-Tier magic without a scratch… are you immune to magic like Skeletal Dragons?! No matter, rip her to pieces, my servants!"
"E-Eh?" Was all the angel had time to say before a horde of various undead swarmed over her. Quintera grimaced; with magic resistance that powerful, it would only be natural for their physical attributes to be poor. Skeletal Dragons, for example, were immune to magic but a competent enough warrior could easily defeat them.
"Foolish," Fanalos snorted, unease melting away with the angel's impromptu burial. "Now, to finish dealing with you—"
The gentle sheen of light surrounding the angel erupted into a radiant flare that vaporized all of the undead piling themselves atop them. More and more of the decaying dead rushed into the brilliant nexus only to perish the moment their foot crossed the boundary separating sacred from sinful.
'『Turn Undead』? But this is a persistent effect, not a one-time cast…'
"『Turn Undead』? No matter," Fanalos was getting anxious, the sneering tone in his words rapidly fading even while he sent forth more of his army. "I have many more thralls!"
Blood Meat Hulks, Skeletal Dragons, Wights, Wriggle Pestilences—undead of types Quintera had never laid his eyes upon—attempted to lay their hands and tendrils upon the holy.
All failed.
"『Widen Magic - Shining Burst』," the angel pointed at the enthralled Elder Liches futilely bombarding her from the sky. "『Shining Burst』.『Shining Burst』."
Luminous spheres—invoked with the name of a spell he never heard of—burst in midair and utterly destroyed the spellcasters.
'I need to run, somehow. Start begging for my life, maybe,' his mind raced. 'She doesn't look scared at all despite being surrounded by a horde of undead, and『Dimensional Anchor』is still active—wait, this could be a good chance to get rid of Fanalos.'
"H-How can this be—?!"
"Your Excellency!" Quintera scrambled to his knees and slammed his rotting visage against the dirt before the angel could respond. Judging by how the Theocracy trespassers acted, angels were 'righteous' beings, weren't they? "This Lich here, he's a mass murderer! He's responsible for terrorizing countless people who seek to traverse these Plains!"
"Quintera!" Fanalos's jaw fell wide open in disbelief. "You, you bastard!"
"There's people here?" The angel frowned. "But all I've seen are—a-ah, sorry. That was rude, and um, you don't have to call me that."
"Your Excellency isn't mistaken!" Quintera shoved aside his confusion over her apology. "Human Adventurers and soldiers regularly come to Katze to clear out undead. Most residents of the Katze Plains are mere mindless undead like you've implied, but the intelligent among us know well enough to keep far away from humans."
"Please don't call me—forget it," she sighed. "I mean, it's okay to protect yourself if people try to kill you," the angel fell into a deep introspection as she continued mumbling to herself. "But everybody always says stuff like undead hate the living, so it's also fine for them to want to protect themselves too? I guess things are like this back home but with beastmen, huh…"
Ahhh, he was just one small push away, he could feel it. A little more and he would be rid of Fanalos. "Not so, Your Excellency. Fanalos purposely seeks to kill humans for their treasures and corpses—kidnapping them for use in his experiments!"
"That so?" She didn't look so easy-going anymore. In fact, the angel looked downright emotionless.
"T-T-These are all blatant falsehoods!"
"He's a liar!" Quintera jabbed an accusatory finger at Fanalos. "A damn dirty liar!"
"『Tele—"
Out of nowhere, an opaque emerald barrier roughly thirty meters in radius flickered and engulfed the trio.
"—port』!" Fanalos paused, waiting for the transportation spell to take effect. "『Teleport』! What is this?! An enhanced version of『Dimensional Anchor』—?!"
"I'll ask the questions from now on."
Despite being an undead, Quintera shivered in terror. This was because he immediately understood that his life was forfeit the moment he provided an undesirable answer.
"『Zone of Truth』," light shone in a bounded field containing the three. "Have any of you killed people?"
"Y-Yes." "Yes."
"... Have you gone out of your way to kill people when they weren't doing anything to you?"
"N-nng!" Had it been any other time, any other setting, Quintera would have shook with laughter at how his nemesis clenched their jaw in helpless anguish. Regrettably, he was in the same position, so finding humor in the situation was challenging. "Yes! Gods damn you, yes!"
"Hm," blank golden eyes drifted from the doomed Lich to Quintera. "How about you?"
"No, Your Excellency!" He injected as much enthusiasm as he could into his voice. "Your lowly servant has never committed such an abhorrent crime!"
'Only because I need more preparation to safely initiate combat,' he silently added to himself. Abducting humans and initiating fights would have probably resulted in him being killed by some taskforce.
"I see," Being undead had many benefits: like not having a terrified heart trying to pound its way out his chest. "Then, if I left, would you keep doing the same thing?"
"..." Fanalos gnashed his teeth. "Yes."
"I…" the angel lowered her head, eyes forlorn and resigned. "I can't let that slide."
'I'm saved,' he fought the urge to pump his fist in victory. 'To think divine intervention would stand on the side of an undead.' To be fair, the angel was against another undead, but his point stood.
"Any last words?" She raised a finger at his enemy's forehead. "It's not too late to change your answer, y'know?"
All three of them knew that truth was not something that could change so easily. Fanalos had lived over a century in the way he had—he might be able to lie to others and even himself, but not to the angel's magic.
"Quintera," Fanalos directed a hateful glare at him. "Death is too good for the likes of you. I pray that the rest of your eternal life is filled with nothing but suffering."
"『Holy Ray』," a lucent beam instantaneously closed the short distance between her finger and the Lich's head—disintegrating the undead's bleached-white skull.
Fanalos's body remained upright a few seconds longer until it accompanied its head back to the dust of Katze.
Quintera side-eyed the angel who was busy staring at Fanalos's scattered remains. Was she thinking about looting the deceased Lich's possessions? Either way, he didn't care about the items—he only wanted to get the hell away. "Ah… ehm…"
"You said you've never done the same things he did," Quintera rapidly nodded. "I'll let you go if you promise not to cause any trouble."
"T-Then what if I'm provoked?" He cautiously asked. Didn't want to push his luck too far. "Surely self-defense should be allowed."
"Self-defense is fine," the angel narrowed her eyes. "As long as you don't bait people for an 'excuse.' "
"How about other intelligent undead?" Quintera pushed his luck. "Given time, many of them may attempt to claim my life. Should I put myself at risk by refusing to act preemptively?"
"If everybody thought like that, there'd be a ton more dead people," she self-deprecatingly smiled, shoulders weighed down by some invisible burden. "I'm giving you a chance here, aren't I? Can't you do it for others too?"
'You can only say that because you're strong,' Quintera resentfully thought.
"Look at me, talking about giving chances to others," the angel laughed without a hint of mirth. "It's not like I did."
'Is she referring to something else? It can't be about the events that transpired but a few moments ago.'
"Fine. Do whatever you want," she raised her hand towards him, index finger pointed out and thumb sticking up. "But the moment I catch you out of line, I'll—it's over."
"Your Excellency need not worry," Quintera would've gulped if he could. She killed Fanalos with a single Fourth-Tier spell; he had no delusions of outrunning her threat. "This lowly servant does not dare defy your commands."
"Okay, cool," she seemed faintly relieved at his reassurance. "It's just, well, I'm not trying to assume anything, but gotta make sure, yeah?"
"Your Excellency is truly a paragon of mercy!" He bowed and scraped some more for good measure all while wishing they would leave already. "Since Your Excellency hasn't left yet, is there anything I may assist with?"
" 'Assist?' Not really in the mood for sightseeing anymore, but…" the angel muttered to herself. "But she'd get sad if I stayed all quiet. Gotta find something I can at least sorta talk about…"
Quintera could only assume this 'she' was the angel's summoner. A shiver of fear rattled his bones—as a rule, summons were weaker than their summoner.
So how powerful did somebody have to be to control an angel as insanely powerful as the one in front of him?
"Hey," Quintera jolted. "Y'know any cool places to see around here?"
'Shit, why won't you leave already?' "There's Fanalos's castle to the north," he gestured with one hand. "And I believe one of the human countries has a fortress further west; although I've never wandered near that area, forgive me. Aside from those two locations…"
Quintera found himself at a loss. He spent most of his time scavenging near his tower or groveling at said northern castle, so his knowledge of local landmarks was certainly lacking. It couldn't be helped: Katze didn't have much aside from ruins in the first place. "I'm afraid there's no other spots of interest I know of."
"Right, that makes sense," the angel scratched her flushed neck. "So… big undead place, huh?"
"It's only natural," he felt a brief flash of fear as a hint of annoyance entered his voice, but relaxed upon seeing her not take offense at it. "As Your Excellency already knows, the tremendous accumulation of negative energy has caused these Plains to become a spawning ground for undead—which results in more negative energy and more powerful undead."
"I didn't know that," she somehow looked even more troubled than she already did. "How does it accumulate?"
Quintera stared at the angel and wondered if she was an idiot. 'No, no. Stay respectful. Who knows if she'll suddenly change her mind about sparing me.'
"Erm, sorry?" She squirmed under his empty eye-sockets.
"When enough of the living die in a single location, there is the possibility of the residual negative energy remaining and condensing instead of dissipating," the Elder Lich admirably repressed a sigh. "The more brutal their deaths, the greater the likelihood of negative energy lingering."
"... oh."
He uncomfortably shuffled his feet. What was with this angel? Summons were never so… moody.
"I'm—I'm gonna go," the angel wore a nauseated expression similar to the few inexperienced Adventurers and soldiers Quintera recalled seeing. "I gotta go."
'Finally,' Quintera bowed. "Your Excellency is welcome to return whenever she wishes."
"If you cause any trouble," six feathery wings gracefully flapped and lifted her feet off the dust. "I'll be back. And uh," she smiled: a small pitiful thing which whispered with the barest echoes of sincerity nonetheless. "Thanks for answering my dumb questions. I hope… I hope we don't have to see each other again."
'Yes,' he watched them vanish into the fog of the Katze Plains. 'I hope we don't.'
"Tribe of Serpenti up ahead," Quaiesse reported to the taskforce. "Should we take a detour?"
"How long would that take?" Ilislev adjusted the bindings on the traitor. Surprisingly, the Lich had followed up on his end of the deal and dropped a heavily wounded Clementine in the middle of the Nacatl settlement.
"Fuck, let's cut right through them!" Divine Chant complained. "We've gone for like over a month now—don't they need us for anything?!"
"Commander Lauransan didn't notify me of any significant developments. Isn't it better to take more time?" He tried to calm down the annoyed priestess. "Getting back sooner would mean more work, right?"
"Hrm," thankfully, this was enough to temporarily quiet them. "Nothing new about the elf war? Zy'tl Q'ae?"
'What's that big tree even going to do…?' It was enthralled by Lady Kaire's sacred relic anyways. The Elf War was the same meat grinder as always, and Antilene… Hm. That wasn't the sort of information to be shared: at least not now. "No. Nothing new."
"Fighting now while lugging around some dead weight would be annoying, I guess," Divine Chant side-eyed Clementine who smiled in return. It was a weak, pitiful smile even to Ilislev's eyes. For all her bravado, she was well aware of the fate that awaited her. "Fiiiine. Let's take the scenic route. Whoopee."
"It'll add about half a day," Quaeisse muttered, deep in thought. "But that's assuming their territory ends only slightly past the river."
"That's alright," Ilislev cupped his chin. "I think it's fine since we're making an effort to avoid direct confrontation. Demihumans out here shouldn't be too eager to fight a group of heavily armed strangers."
"And if they ambush us anyways?" Cedran spoke up.
"You and one of Quaeisse's Basilisks stay to the rear and keep an eye on the traitor," the Captain easily cut the branches blocking their path. "Rest of us except Etillen and Clarisse will deal with the demihumans. Shouldn't be a problem, but keep an eye out for traps. We are on their home field after all."
"We can scry ahead first, Captain," the pair from Clearwater offered.
"That's a good idea," Ilislev gave his approval. "Everyone, we'll stop here for a bit."
Their group came to a halt and took up positions around the two Clearwater diviners who took out various items and knelt on the verdant forest floor.
"『Guidance』,『Lesser Magic Veil』," with a practiced speed, Etillen casted the mandatory pair of spells required for field operations on his peer. "You're up, Clarisse."
"『Arcane Eye』."
Ilislev waited a few minutes before prompting the concentrating diviner. "See anything?"
"It's clear," Clarisse replied in a distracted tone, still busy scouting the area. "A few Serpenti, but we can easily avoid them."
"Here that?" He called out to the rest of the group. "We'll be taking the detour!"
"Yes, Captain," they responded with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Ilislev tiredly smiled; it couldn't be helped. After a long stay in the savage wilderness, all of them wanted to return home sooner rather than later even if it meant more work.
Carefully avoiding the edges of the Serpenti's territory, the group continued their path through the vibrant forest. It was a nice change of pace in a sense; these woodlands were nowhere near as deadly as the jungle they had recently left.
The Theocracy team entered a small clearing and saw a bipedal serpentine demihuman raise its long neck out the river—fish falling from its slackened jaws as their eyes met.
'Unlucky,' he raised an arm, halting Divine Chant and Quaiesse before they killed the poor snake-like demihuman. With how much smaller their build was, and the softness of their scales compared to the others they've seen… 'Looks like a kid though; they're probably scared out of their mind.'
Ilislev slowly raised a finger to his lips. The Serpenti juvenile nodded and hurried back into the tangle. Better to conserve their energy for necessary conflicts. "It's gone. Keep going."
Without any more unwelcome interruptions, the taskforce quietly made the rest of their way past the thickest part of the forest. There was still the occasional Plantfolk and magical beast, but none were dangerous enough to pose a remote threat to the group.
"At this pace we'll arrive at the pick-up point in…" Etillen consulted their map. "About a week."
"Gods, why couldn't they move it further down south?" Divine Chant began griping again. "I hate the fucking sand. Fucking hate it. Next time we get a job like this, send that Enhela punk instead."
"Any lower and they'll draw the wrong kind of attention," he shook his head. "We're already stretching really far as is. Gahi is busy with his own problems too."
"Tsk. Kill the Sandworms before they make a mess next time. Fucking Silica Shades too."
"I'll try," Ilislev mumbled under his breath and leapt over a particularly large root. Divine Chant quieted down, seemingly content with the lackluster promise. "Least we're not sailing."
The Asturian Sound was relatively safe the closer they were to the Theocracy and Draconic Kingdom, but that changed very quickly the further one traveled down the Rafalin Sea.
'Staying on a boat with this group,'he glanced at his comrades and the traitor. 'Mm. Yeah, I'm glad.'
Silence fell over the party, each of them carefully advancing across the thick greenery—driven forth by the yearning for the comforts home would provide.
"Commander Lauransan tell you what we're going to do with her?" Cedran broke the comfortable quietude and motioned at the traitor.
"No," Ilislev confessed. "She won't get off easy though, not after killing a Miko Princess and giving the Crown of Wisdom to her accomplice." An accomplice they still had yet to locate. 'The Abyss' refused their offer on that front.
"I don't get why you guys are sooo mad about that Miko Princess~" Clementine smirked with a forced bravado. "It's our job to send them off to the gods anyways~ What's the big deal if it's a little sooner?"
" 'Our job?' " Quaiesse scowled. "You're no longer one of us. And the Crown of Wisdom, where did you put—"
"Big brother's meeeeean~"
"Stop fucking with the damn bitch, fuck! We'll let the inquisitors do their shitty job when we get back," Divine Chant snapped at him and Quaiesse before directing her glare at the traitor. "And I'll drop a『Silence』and worse on your ass, so you better shut up."
"Let her," Ilislev yanked on her chains. There it was again, an all-consuming fear that broke past the traitor's false confidence and filled her eyes. "It'll be the last chance she gets for a while."
Deep within the apartments of Oriculia Castle, Draudillon appraised the fidgeting aarakocra standing in front of her.
"Erm, can I sit down?" Rasthdaan side-eyed the chair beside him.
"I never said you had to remain standing."
"Funny," he grumbled as he took a seat. "Real funny."
"Thank you," she primly responded. "Now, what are you here for—"
"Promise you won't get mad!" Rasthdaan shrunk back.
'Should've stayed in the Beastman Country longer,' Draudillon thinned her lips. No, she couldn't ever have suggested an extended stay, not after Yuriko's breakdown. 'There's too much happening back home.'
"Go on."
"Uhhh, um… well, there's a lot of things—"
"Go. on."
"R-Right!" Rasthdaan unnecessarily cleared his throat. "The computational nexus got stolen."
"That's what manages your teleportation and messaging network," the dragon queen frowned. After a firsthand glimpse at the security measures in place, she wondered what kind of person or group could accomplish such a feat. This mystery group hadn't done anything during their trip to the Beastman Country, but then again, Yuriko's rampage didn't even last a full day. 'No point wasting energy speculating about it. The best we can do is keep an eye out for them—although I doubt they'll show up again anytime soon.'
Explained why it took the beastman so long to arrive too. With the core of their Archives gone, the demihuman nation would have to revert to more primitive methods for the time being.
"Y-Yeah. Also," Rasthdaan bravely pushed on. "We got uh, a little bit of an undead issue in Kruurat. Nothing too bad," the 'yet' went unsaid. "Just sorta annoying needing warriors to patrol the streets all day, you get me?"
"You want to borrow angels," the aarakocra nodded. "Very well. I'll have a few accompany you back home. I'm sure that isn't all the bad news." Rasthdaan nodded again. "Pft, of course it isn't. Continue."
"We got a few problems dealing with a couple of monsters, but errr, I think the Varush's got that under control," Rasthdaan hemmed and hawed. "Biggest future maybe-concern is that we've sort of attacked this goblin and orc country southeast in the past, and they miiiight retaliate."
'I should just let them get eaten,' Draudillon bitterly scribbled in the margins of her notes. 'See how they like it.'
"But hey!" The aarakocra tried to inject some cheer into the dreary conversation. "There's this big-ass desert sitting between us, and they definitely don't have the teleportation setup we do—uh, did."
"Take an Infernum along with you and use the angels we left behind. Keep in mind it'll only act in self-defense," Draudillon finally relented. With the Beastman Country as a de-facto client state, it would be a terrible idea to let them get run over by some foreign entity—even if that result was a consequence of their own actions. "If this goblin country ever sends an emissary, direct them to me."
"Awesome," Rasthdaan loosened his shoulders. "Awesome, thanks."
"How is Varush's work progressing?" She posed her own question after seeing the aarakocra had run out of crises to dump. "Keeping all the clans together and whatnot."
"Don't know too much about what he's up to, but I… think it's going smoothly. Had to kill off a few Rajans, but it could've been a lot worse," he shrugged. "Still too soon to say—maybe give it another couple months or so."
"Reasonable," the dragon queen tilted her head, flicking through a stack of parchment before pulling a couple sheets out and pushing them towards the beastman. "Give these to Varush when you return."
He unceremoniously folded up the missives and stuffed them into his Bag of Holding. "Oh, yeah—not sure if you're doing this on purpose or whatever, but I saw a lot of little farming villages on my way over. You know you got those angels now, right? Don't know if there's some limitation on them, but if they aren't fighting then you might as well put them to work."
"We've considered that option," Draudillon admitted while silently hoping he would leave already. "But wouldn't that lead to these people losing their livelihoods? And all of them will have to relearn different trades only to find they'll never rival their peers who have walked that path from the start."
Convincing her nobles wasn't the problem: all of them would likely be overjoyed to use uncomplaining angels who had no need for most basic necessities over ordinary peasants. On the other hand, she'd be uprooting the lives of all or most of the Draconic Kingdom's farmers.
"It's not like you have to force all of them to change occupations. Angels don't know how to farm, do they? I bet they don't know the land like your farmers do either. Keep some of them to, eh, supervise the angels or something. Toss some druids in the mix too," the aarakocra scratched the side of his face. "Yeah, it's going to suck for the folks who'll lose their jobs, but it won't be as bad as you're thinking."
"How so?" It felt like an empty question, but she was just… hesitant on making such a big jump.
"Well," Rasthdaan lifted one foot and put it over his knee. "Think of it like this: you'll still be getting a ton of food 'cause of the angels, and the farmers who used to be responsible for that can be productive somewhere else. Sure, they're going to suck. Sure, they probably won't ever be as good as people who've been doing it since forever. But!" He tapped the armrest of the chair. "But since you're leaving the farming to the angels, whatever these people do, it'll only be helping out your other industries."
Rasthdaan nervously put his raised foot back on the ground and straightened up. "Besides, give them a few generations, and they'll sort themselves out. You'll have to transition eventually anyways, so shouldn't you do it while everything's looking good?"
Draudillon realized her mistake. Just because certain aspects of Yggdrasil could be applied to her world didn't mean she should completely rely on an otherworldly game's 'rules.' This world was this world, and Yggdrasil was Yggdrasil. Enlightenment on the nature of this reality had to be reconciled with what made practical sense.
Cultivating the strength of farmers wasn't as worthwhile when the hard limit to the abilities of an average peasant was low. Like Rasthdaan said, if she had the option to remove the need for people to partake in subsistence farming, then she should take it and open up more of the population towards other specialized fields of work.
Another oversight proving she still needed to revise her outdated mindset of worrying over the beastmen punishing major investments towards anything not directly related to the now-settled war. Properly developing a country was impossible when powerful demihumans tore through her domain like wet paper, but that wasn't the case anymore.
'I'm lucky the price for this lesson was only a confused look from a beastman,' really, Yuriko popping into existence threw everything into chaos.
Yuriko…
"Err, you good?" The aarakocra's cautious tone pulled Draudillon out of her brooding. "Kinda spaced out there for a sec, h-heh."
"I was thinking about what you said," she lied. "Thank you for your advice. It's appreciated."
"Cool, cool," Rasthdaan leaned backwards, looking much more at ease. "By the way, back in Kruurat… Vahanda said he saw you kill Rajan Zrak by staring at her real hard. What was that?"
Rajan Zrak? That was the Jaguar Zoastia. Was it? She didn't quite remember. "Is it really important?"
"No," Rasthdaan's eyes wandered off into the distance. "I guess not. You know, I've been thinking about something: why is this place called the Draconic Kingdom? During the whole invasion, we never saw a single dragon—"
"You ask too many questions," Draudillon's voice was hard and cold. "『Know your place.』"
"Shit, must've hit a sore spot—" He mumbled to himself before shooting to his feet upon noticing her increasingly sharpening eyes. " I mean, y-yes, Your Majesty! That's uh, all Varush had to say, so I'll be leaving n-now if Your Majesty allows it!"
"Go," she didn't bother watching the bird beastman scurry out the room. Her thoughts were somewhere else entirely.
Every night, her beloved tried to hide her tears. Every night, Draudillon could do nothing but silently hold them. Everytime she asked, no matter how gently or firmly, Yuriko would fake a smile and say she was 'okay' or 'please don't worry about me.'
Draudillon hated it.
'Even if she didn't close herself off, what can I do?' Trauma wasn't so easily overcome. It hurt seeing the angel in their current state, it hurt knowing what troubled them yet not knowing how to fix those troubles, everything about it hurt. 'I wish I never—'
"Your Majesty," the muffled voice of her Royal Guard interrupted her ruminations. "Priestess Cornelia Cerion Varenne is waiting."
"Tell her to come in."
"Your Majesty," the robed woman in question walked into her office and fell to one knee. "I received your summons."
"Priestess Varenne," she returned the greeting. "Have you brought that Bafolk along?"
"I had him sent to the barracks," Cornelia raised her head. "Bastard is annoying as they come—ah, please excuse my language, Your Majesty."
"It's fine. Katavaar is quite bothersome, isn't he?" Draudillon commiserated. The last time she'd talked with him had been months ago in Mohajar, back when Yuriko first claimed a life— "Did you have a pleasant trip?"
Later. One thing at a time. Devote her attention to the matters she could manage first.
She felt sick.
"—alright," oh, Cornelia was still speaking. "I'd take a horse over angels any day of the week though."
'Huh? What's so bad about angel travel?'
"Somebody will have to build an efficient teleportation network then," but the fucking beastmen lost the computational nexus, so that was out of the question. "I'm afraid angels are our fastest modus of accessible transportation for the time being."
"Ugh… anyways, I don't want to bore Your Majesty with my complaints. In your summons, you called for me to return to the capital. May I ask why? I doubt it was merely to accompany that fucking goat."
"Dragonflame Festival's coming up," Cornelia made an 'ah' of understanding. "End of next month."
"... You want me to help organize?"
"That's my intention," Draudillon passed her a packet detailing her responsibilities. "Are you assigned to another task?"
"No, but it sounds really troublesome," Cornelia grumbled, grudgingly accepting the list. "The temples back home never worked me this hard…"
Yuriko only attracted the deviants, didn't she? All four of the ex-Theocracy priests failed to fit the conventional mold of diligent piety she was used to. "... Right. Anyways, Silas lives here, so I recommend you coordinate with him."
"Tsk," did she click her tongue? "I'll do that, Your Majesty. You need anything else?"
"Leave your reports and observations with the Prime Minister. I'll have an angel fly you to your colleague's house after you do so," Draudillon watched Cornelia push themselves up from their seat with a half-hearted bow and grunt before dragging their feet out the room. "At this rate, I think I talk to them more than Yuriko does…"
But that was normal, wasn't it? For a 'god' to be distant from their servants and followers.
Yuriko wasn't a god though. She was someone who got excited over fishing, a person who constantly apologized when she didn't need to, who cherished time spent among friends, who helped people without desiring a single thing in return.
Not for the first or last time, Draudillon wondered if the angel was truly better off by her side.
