Chapter 60: organizing ACTUAL military deployments…
Middle Fire Month, 19th Day, 600AGG
"『Restoration』."
"Thank you," Draudillon released a sigh of relief as golden light chased away her fatigue. "Apologies. I know I promised to not substitute sleep with magic, but I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to function otherwise today."
"Eh? It'll be pretty dumb if I got upset," Yuriko tilted their head. "I kept you up late with our talk, then I snuck out and woke you up because Mira and I were talking too loudly…"
"Mm, well, I'm glad you're interacting with your friends again. They were worried about you, you know?"
"… yeah, I know."
"You're doing a good job," she patted their cheek. "I'm proud of you."
"But I barely did anything."
"An improvement, no? That's always cause for pride," Draudillon got off the bed and released a repressed groan to accompany her stretch: one arm reaching to the ceiling with her other holding its elbow—heels lifting themselves off the ground as the balls of her feet pushed her upwards. "Mmph~ It may seem small, but there's nothing wrong with taking joy in the little things."
"I'll try," the dragon queen yawned as she plopped in front of her vanity and put on her earrings. One for slightly increasing her stamina and the other for minor damage reduction—two trinkets she had grown much more lax in wearing nowadays. "And I was wondering…"
"I'm glad to hear it," Draudillon raised a hairbrush, pausing with a small frown as she turned around to face Yuriko. "Could you repeat that? I didn't quite catch what you said."
"I was wondering maybe," they made a vague, unsure motion towards their head. "Hair?"
"Hair?" She stared at them.
"Brush—I mean, brushing!" Yuriko's head rapidly bobbed up and down. "Brushing."
"Certainly… but what brought this on?" Having her heart race like this in the morning couldn't be healthy.
"J-Just um, you did it for me last week," the angel's stammered muttering silenced her protests. "So I was thinking maybe I could s-sorta kinda do it for you?"
Draudillon nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat, watching and allowing Yuriko to run their hands through strands of midnight-black hair. Their touch was hesitant at first—and remained that way—but grew more assured with each pass the brush made down the length of her hair.
'Guess I didn't have to ask her after all,' she dredged up faint fantasies of this very moment, warmth trickling through every vein in her body while she recalled old wants. 'Does she still feel bad for keeping me awake last night? I ought to ask.'
"If this is because you're still guilty over—"
"It's not," the brush in Yuriko's hand stopped for a second before resuming its reposeful, rhythmic motion. "I wanted to get a present for you, but couldn't think of anything so I thought like I could…" The dragon queen watched them shrink on themselves from the mirror. "Forget what I'm saying—sounds stupid, right?"
"You gave me the toad trinket," Draudillon's gaze moved towards the odd fetish that sat on the table.
"W-Well! That one doesn't count," Yuriko ducked their head in a swift effort to hide their reddening face. "It's dumb. I don't know why you like it just because I gave it to you."
"Does the 'why' matter?" Draudillon quietly replied and reached out for the amphibian icon. "You know, most people would be happy and settle for me liking their gift in the first place."
"I don't wanna be most people," she had the hunch that Yuriko wasn't referring to merely the present. "You deserve more than that. Everybody deserves more than that."
"You already are—hm?"
A『Message』. Now? Her bedroom was warded against basic divination effects, which meant whoever was trying to contact her had put in a modicum of effort in doing so. 'Well, there isn't a safer place to accept an unknown call than here, is there?'
"『Queen Oriculus.』" This was… the Naga Raja Archmage? Couldn't tell for sure without some sort of verification system in place. She'd have to get someone to create that before impersonators became an issue. "『Please forgive this one for the sudden intrusion, but the High Vizier has asked me to assure you that it is of the utmost importance.』"
"Draudillon?" Yuriko curiously poked her arm. "Is something wrong?"
"『Message』from the Beastman Country," she rubbed their hand. "『What does he want?』"
"『As you're probably already aware, recent… um, incidents have resulted in a decline in our ability to defend our lands.』"
"『I see. And you didn't contact us earlier because?』"
"『Mana has been in short supply, and I had to cast a few supporting spells to penetrate your divination defenses. I, I apologize for the intrusion and mismanagement.』" It was somewhat disturbing to listen to the once-proud Archmage act so pitiable. "『A-Ahem, where was I? The High Vizier wishes to petition for your aid in driving back the monstrous threat plaguing the Republic.』"
"What's going on?" Yuriko loudly whispered in her ear despite the fact that『Message』didn't transmit information via sound.
"Monsters incurring on their territories," Draudillon murmured back. "『Do tell me what this threat consists of.』"
"『Mac'tal.』" Nushrik gravely responded. Hm? That was what they referred to their crystalline golems as, wasn't it? Did the beastmen use these creatures as components for those constructs? "『Hellish spider aberrations who would like nothing more than to slaughter outsiders to the last infant.』"
'Sounds more like you're reaping the consequences of your actions. Again.'
"『Capabilities. What can they do? An estimation of their numbers and locations. I'm going to need more information than what you're giving.』"
"『O-Of course. Excuse my outburst. For the most part, they tend to breed melee combatants with some skill in stealth. The more dangerous ones though are, uh, psionic casters. Regarding numbers and locations… I'm afraid we don't know enough ourselves.』"
'Psionic? I fear that I lack familiarity with the field,' the region of the world where the Draconic Kingdom sat was one focused more on the traditional branches of spellcasting. That wasn't to say she'd never heard the term tossed around before, but woeful ignorance was the default when it came to understanding psions. "Yuriko, do you know anything about psionic casters?"
"Psionic…" Her beloved scrunched their face in a way that nearly made Draudillon forget the entire topic at hand. "Um, there's five—no, six! Six, right uh, there's six disciplines."
"And those disciplines are?"
"『Hello? Ah, I should elaborate more—』"
"『Quiet. I'm talking to someone.』"
"Mmm," Yuriko chewed their bottom lip in deep thought. "Shaper… shaper and seer? And then the other four are—I dunno. Not sure what they do either."
The angel lowered her head; their shame was clear for all, or just Draudillon, to see. "Sorry I couldn't help more."
"Don't apologize," Draudillon pulled them towards her chest. "You've already helped more than anybody else could. Nobody's expecting you to have the answer to everything."
"It doesn't feel like it sometimes," she shifted her position, allowing them to snuggle closer. "Y'know, like I can't afford to not know everything."
"『Err, maybe I should wait for a better time—』"
"『Shut up. I'll be there in a moment.』"
"Hm," Draudillon rubbed the top of the angel's head. "Do you think I know everything?"
Yuriko silently shook their head.
"Right. And it would be nice if I did, wouldn't it? For the sake of the kingdom and whatnot."
"I… Yeah."
"But I don't," she firmly continued. "Even when I—the whole of the Royal Court really—couldn't find the answers to alleviate our troubles, we still had to manage without them."
The dragon queen breathed in. And out. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is that you're not alone. You're not the only person who's had to bear this kind of burden, and you certainly won't be the last. Powerful people, weak people—all of them have made decisions they've regretted. When it comes to failure, not a single living being stands alone."
"And if I keep on failing?"
"Then the onus is on you to learn and improve," Draudillon tweaked their nose. "If it means anything coming from me, you have. The Yuriko of today has come far from who she was a mere two and a half months ago."
"You really think so?" Yuriko didn't look her in the eyes. Draudillon cupped their chin with a gentle hand and raised their head to meet her gaze. "U-Uwaaa…"
"I do. And for what it's worth, you haven't failed nearly as much as you might believe."
"Thanks," they forced a weak smile that sunk Draudillon's heart a little. "Maybe I'm just being too hard on myself."
'She's finally being more open with you again. Don't insist on trying to 'solve' the issue in a day.'
"You're doing wonderfully," Draudillion repeated her reassurances. "Pick a random person off the streets, and I guarantee that they'll express similar sentiments."
"Random person… That would be super embarrassing—oh, um, don't you have a call to get back to?"
"Tsk. We'll talk more once Nushrik finishes his piece, okay?" She had almost forgotten if she was being truthful. "『Forget about it. You'd have to repeat everything to whoever we end up sending anyways. I presume you'll be relaying all of this to Varush?』"
"Okay. Erm, Nushrik was that snake-guy, right?" Draudillon wordlessly inclined her head in response. "Gotcha. Remembering all the names is a little tough sometimes, bleh…"
"『Thank you for your graciousness, O' Queen!』" She had the vague impression that the Naga Raja was bowing from wherever he was. "『Surely, our descendants will praise your generosity, the annals of our history shall proclaim—』"
"『I haven't made any promises yet.』" Draudillon bluntly cut off his ear-grating—or was it mind-grating?—praises. "『Message me again in a few hours.』"
"『Un-Understood.』" With that fearfully disappointed word, the Naga Raja Archmage closed the arcane connection and left the dragon queen's mind to the sanctity of her own thoughts.
"You're done?" Yuriko asked in a cautious tone. Were they afraid of distracting her? "Sorry if I'm being a bother; you looked kinda annoyed."
"Another bothersome affair during an already busy time," a hint of frustrated fatigue slipped past her calm facade and leaked into her voice. Ah, who was she kidding? Wasn't this a direct result of her decisions? "Don't worry about it."
"Saying that makes me worry about it more…"
Draudillon considered the angel in the mirror. If she wanted to, it would be a trivial task to convince them to lend angels to the Beastman Country in return for whatever terms she felt like dictating. Truly, persuading Yuriko wouldn't be difficult at all.
She didn't want to. Not after they'd expressed their fears and worries to her only a night prior. If she were being honest, she didn't even want to broach the issue at all, much less put any effort into pressuring them. However, wouldn't it be equally as wrong to keep her thoughts from the angel when the matter was tied so closely to them?
'You wanted her to share her thoughts with you, so isn't it only fair?'
"I'm sure you can guess already," she slowly began. "But to keep it short and simple: they're asking for help in dealing with the monster incursions I mentioned earlier."
"Because they can't deal with it by themselves?" The corners of the angel's lips turned downwards.
"Not quite. They're in a state where they can, and will continue to recover their capacity to defend themselves, but they'll sustain more damages without any third-party interference," Draudillon bit back a grimace. This was all beginning to sound awfully close to the guilt-tripping she had wanted to avoid. "Don't blame yourself. In the end, it's a problem they brought down on themselves—"
"I'll do it."
"Are you sure?" Draudillon worriedly asked. Hadn't most of their turmoil come as a direct result of intervening so deeply in violent affairs? "Like I said, even if we don't dispatch assistance, the Beastman Country certainly has the strength to hold out by themselves. Once they regather their bearings, it'll only be a matter of time until the Mac'tal problem is dealt with."
"I'm sure," the angel buried their face into the crook of Draudillon's neck. "But, but is it okay if I don't go myself? Y'know, only flying over some summons?"
"That's—of course," her moment of puzzlement was quickly overcome and replaced with a heavy-hearted understanding. "You're already doing more than enough; there's no need whatsoever for you to go in person."
"I'll be running away from what I've done," Yuriko mumbled into her shoulder. "That's definitely wrong. It's just…"
Their voice trailed off, returning weaker than ever even as they tightened their clutch around her.
"I never knew helping people could be so—complicated."
"Yet you're still determined to do so in spite of that," Draudillon comfortingly replied. "You can rely on me and others as well, okay?"
"Mm," The angel seemed to regain a temporary measure of surety in themselves, releasing their grasp and returning to their original task of combing Draudillon's hair. "Okay, so—what should I send?"
"Keeping the bulk of your summons to Archangel Flames and lower should be fine. Add in a few Zebulian Sungazers, Thrones of Light… One Infernum is probably overkill, but it'll cover the lack of information we have on their foe," her fingers tapped the varnished top of the wooden vanity. "Would you mind teleporting a number of our soldiers there too?"
"I didn't think you'd want to send them there," Yuriko tilted their head. "Even if it's to train them and stuff."
"It is good training in a low-stakes setting. Failure here won't result in the deaths of the kingdom's civilians or the occupation of our cities."
"But if it's only power-leveling, can't we find something safer that's still effective?" Yuriko pointed out. "You definitely have another reason."
"If the Draconic Kingdom is to have the beastmen as neighbors, then I'd rather we get along for reasons beyond coercion and fear," Draudillon leaned back and closed her eyes, resting her head against Yuriko's stomach. "And what better way to bring them closer than to have our people and theirs fight side by side?"
"Some of them are going to die, aren't they?"
"… They will," the dragon queen braced herself for Yuriko's condemnation. It sounded harebrained even to herself: concluding one brutal war only to jump right into another, albeit with far less at risk, on the side of her once enemies no less.
"You won't force them," Yuriko's voice was infinitely kinder than she had expected. "Will you?"
"I won't," Draudillon swore. "Only the ones that are willing to go."
"Okay," the angel nodded with a tender—no, resigned? Caring? She couldn't parse the emotions flitting across their eyes. "I can resurrect them if they die, but don't tell them that."
"Don't want the army getting careless," Draudillon tore her gaze away from their eyes and focused on their chin instead. "That's a good idea; the higher ups will still have to know, but I'll tell General Ergast to keep the information from disseminating."
"O-Oh, I didn't think about that…" Yuriko nervously scratched their neck. "Since it'll be easier if they could bring back the bodies, and people will be wondering why they have to do something so weird…"
"Bringing back the fallen from the battlefield is normal though?" Draudillon fought the ever-growing urge to giggle. She failed. "P-Pffft hahaha!"
It wasn't particularly funny. In fact, it was downright morbid. Disrespectful to the soldiers who fought and died in her name, even.
But… she couldn't help it. Maybe she didn't laugh because it was funny.
Maybe it was because for the first time in a while, the angel didn't seem so weighed down by their responsibilities.
Maybe, the dragon queen thought—
She was relieved.
"You want to leave today?" Dhartha shoveled a chunk of bread down his gullet. "Clan Ur's got the Mac'tal covered; you're worrying too much."
"Got a bad gut feeling," Jirs unenthusiastically nibbled on a sandwich. "The sooner we grab my family and head westwards, the better I'll feel."
"Still don't want to move to another country? If safety is what you're worrying over, then just accept my offer, idiot."
"Already gave you my reasons," Jirs sighed, putting down his food as he got up from the table. "Just have to pick up a slave, yeah? You've already sold off everything you could."
"Hmm… would be nice spending some more time to find valuables. Still need to talk to Rek'cils about making something out of the Chimera and spider materials too," Dhartha huffed and joined Jirs. "Ugh, you know what? Fine. We'll leave after getting that slave."
When it came to instincts, one could never go wrong following a warrior's intuition. Well, Jirs's at least.
"Good," the nacatl relaxed their shoulders. "Let's hurry then. Gods know how long you'll spend haggling…"
"Shouldn't be long," Dhartha grabbed his essentials and headed out the door, Jirs trailing behind him. "Yesterday, you said humanoid slaves were recalled, right? Clans are feeling antsy which means Ulanxic's probably desperate to clear out his inventory. This will be a cinch."
"You're the expert," the pair ascended the stairs leading to the ground level, glanced at the constantly napping innkeeper, and made their way towards the center of Ur'draga where the ocelotman slaver set up shop.
"Yo, Ulanxic!" Dhartha raised a hand in greeting while Jirs closed the reinforced door behind them. "How're you doing?"
"After seeing your ugly mug? Terrible," the ocelot beastman drawled. "Here to buy, or are you planning on staring all day?"
"Not much to stare at though, is there?" Dhartha hummed as he inspected the mostly empty cages and cells in the shop. "Clan Ur really cleaned you out, huh?"
"Worry about your damn self," Ulanxic growled. "If you're here to buy something, then hurry up."
"No wonder you don't get many customers…" The gnoll merchant rolled his eyes and inspected the few slaves held in captivity. "Serpenti, Nishoba, Thanoi—oooh, a Ga'mal?"
"A Ga'mal around these parts?" Jirs joined him in scrutinizing the bipedal camel demihuman. It was difficult to tell how tall the golden-furred camelman was, but the sizable hump on their back suggested the appearance of a hunchback. Their eyes were adorned with long, magnificent lashes, and their legs ended in two sturdy cloven hooves. "From the Rujindira Desert?
He had run across a few nomadic tribes during the days where he still made the perilous journey through the desert. The camel demihumans weren't much when it came to fighting—although their druids could pull a few nasty tricks out in the sand—but when it came to traveling in difficult environments on limited resources, the race was second to none.
"The one and only," the Ga'mal didn't even flinch when Ulanxic gave a good rattle to the bars they sat behind. "Fifty Dinar, three Denaree, and he's yours."
"Fifty Dinar and three Denaree?" Dhartha affected a tone of mild outrage. "You running a scam here? I could get one for a third of the price down south."
"Then go down south," Ulanxic scoffed. "Take it or leave it."
"What's his carrying capacity even?" Dhartha abruptly switched the topic. "Health, temperament, skills—give me a rundown."
"Over five-hundred kilos. Guy's been born a slave, so he's no trouble to manage, but don't expect any special skills either; his lifestyle hasn't been conducive to a proper lifepath, you see? Won't have to worry about him suddenly becoming a warrior."
'Should probably still have a natural disposition for pathfinder and survivalist skills,' Dhartha hummed some nondescript tune to himself. 'Maybe our next stop after dropping by at Jirs's place is developing the slave's path.'
"Probably sturdier than usual," Jirs murmured loud enough so only Dhartha could hear. "A lifelong slave… Clans usually keep those to themselves."
"Look," Dhartha acted like he hadn't heard Jirs at all. It wouldn't do to let Ulanxic know that they knew how valuable the Ga'mal was. "Ur'draga's been running into a few problems, yeah? Mac'tal, Chimeras… You get the idea."
"Gods' sake," Ulanxic crossed their arms, claws digging into hide as their tail thrashed around. "It's a damn good deal, and you know it."
"I'll be doing you a favor," Dhartha shrugged and motioned at the entirety of the shop. "Can't be cheap, having to keep all of these products in tip-top shape. Plus, what're you going to do when you have to evacuate? Pull them in a line and hope for the best?"
"You…"
"Nobody else is buying," the gnoll leaned closer. "Not here at least, and if you want to move out with the rest of your inventory? Well, I hope the gods are still in the business of miracles because you'll need it."
He pulled back. "Ulanxic. Buddy. Are you really going to give up this chance? I'll take the Ga'mal off your paws for thirty Dinar, flat. Oh! And I want you to cover a healing session along with three months worth of food for him."
"Motherfucker," the ocelotman's shoulders sank in weary acceptance. "Suck the meat right off my bones, would you?"
"That's what we're in the business of. You're just unlucky this time."
"Tch. Take your damn proof of ownership and get out," Dhartha appraised the document, nodded in satisfaction after verifying its legitimacy, and handed a small bag of gold coins to the slaver. Having the innate ability to tell apart counterfeits was probably his favorite perk of being a merchant. "I'll get a druid to look at the Ga'mal. Want the food now or later?"
"We'll come by for it after you're done with good ol' Yassin there," the gnoll beckoned for Jirs to leave. "Come on; we've got a bit of free time."
"You could've pressed him for more," Jirs commented once they were outside of the shop. "Didn't see anybody else browsing the slaves—business isn't going great for him."
Time's worth money," Dhartha carefully rolled up the proof of ownership and dropped it into one of his hidden Bag of Holding. "Plus, you're the one who wanted to leave earlier, remember?"
"We have to wait anyways," Jirs groused. There just wasn't satisfying some people. "No, wait. You asked for the check up because you wanted to dump the Chimera and Swordstalker parts on the fucking rat."
"Oops?" He offered a hesitant smile to the unimpressed cougarman. "Maybe it's a present for you?"
"Downgrading my equipment is a present?"
"Okay, fine! You got me," Dhartha raised his hands. "I wanted to increase their value a bit, so—hey, what's that?"
"Resorting to something so juvenile," Jirs followed his gaze and grimaced. "There were three of them, weren't there?"
"Yup," the pair watched the two Kshatras of Clan Ur—down from three—angrily stalk off towards the central hall where the clan ran the town. "Think Rek'cils can finish a piece today?"
"I don't think he'll even be in today."
"Welp," Ur'draga was feeling more dangerous by the second. "Let's hope he is, 'cause I'm starting to get why you want to ditch this joint."
"—Rajan Ur, Rajan Kroh'or, Rajan Nadhkrt," Varush addressed the beastmen Clan Lords. Even with access to fatigue eliminating magic and items, exhaustion made itself plain to see on each one of their postures. "All of you are aware of the recent Mac'tal problems. Pathways lay undefended as clans retreat to themselves, areas once safe for travel are now deemed high-risk, and I doubt any of you require further examples."
"Get to the point, Aanyaj," Enverak Ur, a usually stoic bipedal tigerman, bared his teeth and snarled. "Some of us have important matters to attend to. We don't have the time to listen to a repeat of what we already know."
"As you wish," Varush took the griping in stride. "I've had Archmage Nushrik contact the Draconic Kingdom for assistance with regards to the aforementioned problems—"
"You what?"
"—Queen Oriculus and Lady Yuriko have kindly agreed to lend their forces for the purpose of protecting our territories. Said troops will be teleported here, to Kruurat, sometime within this week for us to distribute and coordinate with as needed. In return, we've only had to make a… few concessions regarding spoils and trade." And our magical industry, Varush silently added in his head. No need to pour fuel on the fire; it was only something the Archives had to know anyway.
" 'Kindly?' " Enverak glared at him in disbelief. "You allowed them to sneak into our capital, slaughter the Council, massacre our citizens, and now you're saying they'll kindly send aid?!"
The tigerman lord clenched his fists, self-control thinning by the second. "First our capital. Next, the surrounding cities. Finally, all of Vahasi. Before you know it, the Republic's history and culture will fade into obscurity to be replaced by whatever these—these humans deem fit."
"And we were doing the same to them only a few months ago," Vahanda muttered.
"The alternative would result in further weakening the Republic," Varush calmly replied. "Countless people will die if we insist on holding fast to our pride."
"Have you no shame?!" Enverak roared, nearly pouncing on the High Vizier were it not for his colleagues yanking him back. "Varush, you fucking bastard—"
"Oh, shut up," Falgun Kroh'or sneered at Enverak. "Whine, whine, whine. Is that all you know? Your position is wasted on you, Rajan Ur."
"Enough, Kroh'or," Varush firmly returned everyone's attention to the topic at hand. "They'll be including a full regiment of Lady Yuriko's angels alongside a couple thousand of their kingdom's soldiers."
"So we have to babysit a bunch of bumbling humans while fighting the spiders," Enverak bitterly chuckled. "This Queen Oriculus clearly doesn't care whether we live or die; our troubles are only seen as a training exercise for her army."
"Roundabout's fair play," Ka'yilt Nadhkrt tried to calm the enraged beastman. "Getting any help is preferable to none, but I do wonder what her expectations and guidelines are for us. For instance, I doubt the queen and her champion would be pleased if we used their units as bait."
"Treat them as you would your own," even the Minotaur winced a little as the command left his mouth. "But keep in mind that they do not know our ways, our land, or even our enemies. Perhaps a path to a more… friendly coexistence can be carved throughout the course of this cooperative effort."
"You dare call this farce 'cooperation?' " most of the anger had left Enverak's body, replaced instead by a simmering, impotent resentment. "Ha, don't any of you understand they have the power to single-handedly end the Mac'tal with the smallest fraction of their power? Don't you? Any of you?"
Nobody responded. Nobody looked at the tigerman either.
"So the Republic has fallen this low," Enverak spat on the floor. "That we would beg to be insulted in such a fashion. Fine. Fine, but leave me and my clan out of this circus."
"Isn't your territory one of the closest to a nest?" Vahanda spoke up. "Rage however you want, but don't sabotage the rest of us because you were too prideful to accept the Draconic Kingdom's aid."
"I don't need to be lectured by a sellout."
"Rajan Ur," Varush softened his eyes and voice. "Certainly, the blame for all that has befallen the Republic rests on me. I do not dispute that. You have concerns over the potential death of our ways of life—I will not say they're unwarranted. However, isn't it our duty to safeguard the wellbeing of our people first and foremost? Are we not the ones whom they have placed their trust in? Can we truly look them in the faces and say that they should die because of our conceit?"
"It seems to me that the only thing you bunch are interested in is producing flimsy justifications for your cowardice," resignation colored each and every one of the tigerman's biting words. "Congratulations. You've convinced me. Now, are you happy with yourself?"
To that, Varush had no response. Nothing that could ease whatever anguish they felt without falling flat.
"If that's everything you had to say, I'll be taking my leave now, High Vizier," Enverak bowed and turned his back on the group. "Call me in once that damn queen's reinforcements arrive."
"What a brat," Falgun mocked the tigerman as they left the conference room. "He'll be whistling a different tune once his clan loses a town or two."
"None of us can really say we don't understand him though," Ka'yilt admonished her peer. "Try showing some empathy to him, Kroh'or. We're all on the same side, no?"
"Either he adapts or he doesn't," Falgun dismissively waved aside the softly worded criticism. "The world doesn't tolerate prideful foolishness."
"Well, that's true. Anyhow, I'm kinda curious about the slaves you had us gather," Ka'yilt asked while Falgun and a few others shifted around in discomfort, a scene she seemed to take great joy in. "I'm assuming you gathered them from over the country for the humans to reclaim."
"That was mentioned, yes," Varush nodded, confirming her assumption. "Though I'm aware we haven't had the time to be thorough, Queen Oriculus was adamant we do so with all due haste. Of course, this means it'll be something that we must keep an eye on over time."
"How do you expect us to replace our specialists?" Falgun complained. "Merchants, blacksmiths, spellcasters not affiliated with the Archives… The Republic is already struggling and you mean to throw an even greater yoke over our shoulders?"
"Either you adapt or you don't," Ka'yilt's eyes glinted mischievously as she smirked. "That's what you said just a few moments ago, eh?"
"Ugh…" The tigerman looked like he had bitten into something sour. "I'm heading out. Kruurat isn't going to purify itself."
"Pft, what a little bitch," Ka'yilt apologetically put her hands together and made to follow Falgun out the room. "Sorry for the poor showing, Varush. I'm sure tomorrow will see everybody in a more agreeable mood."
"No, no. Their feelings are only natural. Wouldn't it be more strange if they accepted this situation with a smile?" Varush reassured the cougar beastman. "Go in peace; I'm sure your attention is demanded elsewhere, Rajan Nadhkrt. The rest of you as well."
"Appreciated. For what it's worth, I think you're doing an alright job," with that parting encouragement, the cougar beastman left, joined by the remaining Rajans.
"Thank you," the words felt empty in his mouth. Varush slumped against the long table and heaved a weighty exhale. "When it rains, it pours, huh?"
Unfortunately, his troubles had yet to come to an end, for the doors opened once more to reveal a familiar four-legged Direwolf beastman. "Ithit. Back from your investigation so soon?"
"There wasn't much to go off," the Orthrous Vizier—a title that meant little with how the Council had been gutted—surveyed the mess of papers scattered over the conference table. "The plant Elder Vamsa had designated as the destination is no longer living, and as I'm sure you're aware,『Transport via Plants』isn't much use without that."
"My condolences. He traveled to your sacred site in the southeast, correct? Once we bring the Mac'tal to heel, I'll have a search team deployed to that stretch of the Saramati, or Greater Dragonspine as the humans call it—"
"Don't bother," Ithit laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I, we've already come to terms with his disappearance. There's no point in throwing away lives so selfishly."
"If you ever decide otherwise…"
"I'll keep your offer in mind," their tone was a clear indication that they wouldn't. "Anyways, what are we up against?"
"So far, there's only been an increase in Swordstalker sightings," Varush indicated the locations on his map. "Haven't seen any Bladereavers yet, so perhaps the gods haven't completely abandoned us."
"… Only a matter of time."
"Yes, but it makes the timetable we're operating on significantly more bearable. That said, we haven't received much contact from the eastern frontier which isn't a good sign."
"If Weblords have set up nests there, then we should pray to the humans' winged champion instead," Ithit lacklusterly joked with a wry twist of his mouth. "Exterminating those are… difficult."
"Telepaths, right?"
"Weblords are telepathy specialists," Ithit nodded. "Kineticists too, but they shouldn't be able to apply firepower at a level we need to worry about unless we decide to directly attack one of their nests and run into a『Metaconcert』. Egoists—their Sanctifiers—aren't a concern so long as we provide appropriate equipment to our warriors."
"No nomads, seers, or shapers then," the High Vizier muttered. "It would be quite the disaster if they were able to develop psions with those skills. We're fortunate they're incapable of producing lord-type individuals as well."
"Some natural limits simply cannot be overcome," the Orthrous shrugged. "We ought to be grateful that this truth applies to our enemy as well. Speaking of which, do you know the composition of the forces being deployed?"
"Nushrik contacted Queen Oriculus today, so I assume it'll be a few days until—"
"I meant ours," Ithit interrupted him. "How many clans have heeded your call?"
"More than expected," Varush dryly grinned. "Most of those who live to the west have turned away our runners, but we have a good number. The Archives have agreed to lend their full assistance as well, although I suppose neither of us should be surprised by that."
"Hm. Will you be taking to the field yourself?"
"… Have we located the Broodmother?"
He wanted nothing more than to fight on the frontlines himself, in a situation where moral ambiguity had no place, where he could be certain that he was doing the right thing.
'Somebody needs to command. Can't abandon that responsibility for the sake of personal satisfaction.'
"Vaguely," Ithit paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. "By that I mean we've narrowed down the region, but you know what their underground nests are like; it doesn't mean much knowing where they were."
"Guess our overarching plan depends on what Queen Oriculus is willing to send then," Varush stared at the map. Strange, how lives felt so very small when represented by tiny figurines—so very easy to treat as mere numbers in a game where the price of failure was paid not by him, but by the millions of people whom he was responsible for.
He hated the feeling.
