Chapter 63: was today tough?

Middle Fire Month, 21st Day, 600AGG

"None of us are going anywhere," Ghrik'sa slammed his palm on the oaken table in the meeting hall of Ur'draga's local clanhold subsidiary. "Golem-carriages don't operate this far out, and we've lost contact with all our dispatched runners. I don't believe I need to say what happened to them."

"Um," Dhartha raised his hand. "I've got a question."

"What is it?" The tigerman gritted their teeth.

"Why did you want me to show up to your clan meeting? Definitely feeling very honored and all, but me, my slave, and my buddy would love to get going—"

"To where?" Oh, that was a good question. Mac'tal weren't going to let any of them slip. "As much as I hate to admit it, your bodyguard there has a modicum of strength. You were invited out of respect for your relation to him as his employer. Does that answer your question, merchant?"

"Sure does," in short, the situation was terrible if they were willing to stoop to asking a Sudapra like Jirs for assistance. "You guys planning on fighting your way through?"

If they were, everybody was, in polite terms, screwed. Weblords appearing was a sign that it was only a matter of time until other advanced Mac'tal began entering the field.

"There's no other option. Unless you have a suggestion?" Ghrik'sa raised an eyebrow. "I'm warning you though: another joke, and I'll toss your flea-bitten hide to the spiders myself."

"I've got nothing," he placatingly raised his hands into the air. Everyone in the hall from the Kshatras, civilians—fuck, even Jirs—looked at him with unimpressed expressions. Everyone except Yassin, bless the slave's heart. "Shit, didn't know Ur'draga was a den of thieves…"

Unfortunately, his inventory wasn't much use to him if he was dead. Dhartha pulled on the fur of his head before mournfully placing his Haversack of Holding and numerous Bags of Holding on the table. "Argh! I'm keeping tabs on all this, you hear?!"

"Clan Ur will pay you back threefold if we somehow manage to make it out alive," Ghrik'sa grimly chuckled as he considered a silver bracelet fashioned in the form of three intertwined snakes. "What's this one do?"

"Adder's Auspice," Dhartha grumbled. "Poison immunity and you get to summon a Large Viper three times a day."

"Poison immunity isn't going to be useful," this fucker was really complaining about free items?! "The vipers should be good for those with weaker detection skills—maybe soak a few hits. Anything else?"

"Hng… that's a Banescale Necklace. You have no idea how hard it was to buy it off those Sprinkaan—"

"What does it do?" Tsk, zero appreciation for his skills! Bargaining with insectile heteromorphs was a bitch and a half, especially after he got caught snacking on one of their roasted fellows.

"Increased poison resistance and adds a small poison damage modifier to attacks with natural weapons," poor grasshoppers lived near a nest of Basilisks that were ironically the sole reason their neighbors didn't exterminate them. "Be careful: if you touch somebody, it counts."

"Dragonscale hauberk from a green," one of the other Kshatra's noted as they held up the shirt of scalemail. "Awful lot of poison related equipment, merchant."

"There's lots of places that need stuff like that," the gnoll fumed while the Kshatra's continued spreading his merchandise over the table. "Jirs, let's stay away from Clan Ur for a few years."

"If they're even still around in a few years," Jirs muttered in a low tone. "This town is finished."

"Oi, oi, oi! We're in this town right now, don't you know? I wanted to die in peace surrounded by my loved ones, not getting shredded into spider chow!"

"But you don't have any people like that," the cougarman pointed out.

"Rude!" metal clinked against metal as the Kshatras made their way through the bits of adamantite weaponry he had accumulated in his travels. "Uuu… my inventory…"

"They promised to pay you back. Clans are uptight about that kind of thing. Clan Ur at least."

"Can't repay me if they're dead," Dhartha was beginning to wonder if his charity was sufficient. Having a surplus of items wasn't worth a lot if there weren't enough people to take advantage of it. A beastman civilian was stronger than, say a humanoid one, but that didn't make them a proper warrior.

"Look on the bright side: they don't have any need for your gemstones, bullion, and other raw goods," Jirs's tail anxiously swished to and fro. Their brave front was just that in the end: a facade. "And you can't put a price on your own life, yeah?"

Dhartha made a noise of agreement. With less than a hundred warriors from Clan Ur, their chances of survival were bleak. May as well take comfort in the small things while he could.

"Didn't pin you gnolls to be hoarders," Ghrik'sa walked up to him, bedecked in an arsenal 'gifted' by the pitiful merchant. "There's still a ton leftover; we can outfit some of the more combat-inclined residents."

"Rub it in my face, would you?" The tigerman chuffed as Dhartha glared at him. "You got a plan?"

"We'll be prioritizing the evacuation of civilians—yes, yes, that includes you," Ghrik'sa raised a palm, preempting his question. "Ur'draga will have to be abandoned unfortunately, but with your generosity, we should be able to get some survivors to safety."

"Some?"

"We should be thankful that it's any," Ghrik'sa turned their attention away from the gnoll and roared at their comrades. "『Alright, you all know what we have to do! Streak Four, you'll lead the civilians! The rest of you sorry bastards…』"

'What the heck? Why in the eight hells are you trying to act so cool?'

"『It's been an honor. For Clan Ur!』"

A powerful, wordless shout shook the meeting hall. Dhartha was no member of their clan, but the blunt and short address set his pulse racing nonetheless. Damn skills. "Ready, Jirs?"

"It's a little late to be asking," the nacatl mumbled as he donned his claw gauntlets, flexing the joints a few times before nodding in satisfaction. "Could you please get off the slave."

"But it's comfortable!" Dhartha patted Yassin's head. "Ain't that so?"

"It's as you say, Master," the Ga'mal concurred. "This one is glad you find his perch pleasing."

"I'm due for a raise, huh…?" Jirs sighed and stared at the wicked plates and curves of enchanted orichalcum covering his paws. In a few hours, they would jump into a danger unrivaled by any he had faced in the past. Assuming they survived, it was another few days' travel to Ur'lathla: days where a town's worth of civilians would be dragging them down, days during which Mac'tal would harass them to exhaustion and gradually pick them off. "Guess we'll figure something out, as always."

He had people waiting for him and an annoying gnoll to get to safety. Dying here wasn't on his to-do list.

'Let's hope I have a say in it.'


"Don't think I've ever been in here, Your Majesty," Amrel, the High Wizard of Crystal Tear, tried to make small talk with the severe dragon queen. "Well, there was that one time when Martin dragged me along, but—you know what, nevermind. Is there anything I may do for you?"

"First off, here's some scrolls for you and the Magician's Guild branch in Almersia to study," she could've simply sent an angel with the relevant materials to the arcanist of Crystal Tear, but sensitive research developments ought to be shared in person. "How's the production of ice cream progressing?"

"That? I've heard they can manage it on a small scale," Amrel's brows wrinkled in confusion. Having more workshops established in Almersia should facilitate rebuilding its industries. "Was this why I saw some workers from the Empire hanging around the guild's ateliers?"

Draudillon gave a slight nod, sliding an empty page of parchment in front of her. When it came to lifestyle magic, Baharuth was far ahead of the Draconic Kingdom. Furthermore, Emperor El-Nix wouldn't ever agree to have his Ministry of Magic assist her in any way, shape, or form.

It wasn't impossible to figure the Empire's secrets out by themselves, but that would take a tremendous amount of resources and time. If she wanted the frozen dessert ready for Yuriko by the time Dragonflame rolled by, then the quickest method was to hire workers based in the Baharuth Empire—unaffiliated mercenaries that she normally despised even more than adventurers.

'Perhaps I can try getting a few to settle here,' introduce some new blood to the kingdom and all. That Furt girl and a few others were particularly noteworthy candidates. 'Although with their lack of loyalty to the Empire, they can't be expected to remain faithful to the Draconic Kingdom.'

A problem for later, she supposed. "Then, does Your Majesty have any further requests she wants me to pass to them?"

"Yes, actually. Do tell them to send me a sample of their product later, will you?" She tapped the magical quill against the yellowish-white plane. Since they were already on the topic of guilds… "Also, you've heard of my plans regarding the Adventurer's Guild."

It wasn't a question, and the arcanist knew it. "Yes, Your Majesty. The branches established around Almersia had their complaints, but they'll come around."

"Will they now?"

"Maybe?" The arcanist winced. "With angels taking their old jobs, that'll be the natural conclusion. They don't have a choice."

"Until then, who knows how many will choose to leave for greener pastures instead," Amrel flinched at the harshness of the Dragon Queen's tone. "Do you understand what I want you to do, Lady Asturias?"

"I, I understand, Your Majesty," smart girl, although too smart for her own good if Martin's snide jabs were anything to go by. "Is there anything else you'd like me to say to the guildmaster there?"

"The world that he knew no longer exists," Draudillon doodled on a blank sheet she planned on giving to a local craftsman later—simplistic, childish drawings of soldiers and various creatures with small specifications scribbled underneath. The embarrassment of having… art such as this tied to her name was something she'd learned to shove away decades ago. "He can either choose to accept this and step into the future, or he can continue to delude himself into thinking that there's glory to be gained in a bygone past. "

"A powerful statement," Amrel respectfully inclined their head. "I'll make sure to repeat that word for word, Your Majesty."

"See that you do," would Yuriko want to paint the miniatures herself? Draudillon wrote a reminder to ask them later. "Here's the missive," she passed them the sheet in her hand—

"Um, Your Majesty?" Amrel frowned in confusion, turning the parchment filled with her drawings towards her. "Are you sure this is the right document?"

"This one," she snatched the doodles out of the arcanist's grip and gestured at the scroll marked with the Royal Seal of the Draconic Kingdom. Gods, how mortifying—it was unlike her to be so distracted. "You didn't see anything."

"Y-Yes, Your Majesty."

"What did you see today, Lady Asturias?"

"… Nothing, Your Majesty."

"Good. Now take that to Guildmaster Heifnr," Draudillon looked away from Amrel, acutely aware of the red blazing a trail up her neck. Why weren't they leaving? "Did you need something?"

"Ah, so Cerabrate was wondering if—"

"No."

"O-Of course. But it's only a minor—"

"No," Draudillon wanted nothing more to do with the man. Whatever financial obligations there were between them had been severed, and she wasn't interested in entertaining his ideas of social ones. Speaking of which, she hadn't even told Yuriko about him, did she? 'Martin is right. I need to get this off my chest sooner rather than later. It's not fair to her if she has to hear it from somebody else.'

"Mm, okay, guess I'm telling him he's not getting any letters…" Amrel muttered under their breath. "May I ask one last question, Your Majesty?"

"You may," the dragon queen beckoned for them to carry on. That said, she already had a vague hunch of what they were going to bring up.

"The temples of the Six Great Gods… tensions between them and people out east are getting dicey," Amrel struggled to properly phrase their concerns. "They're big on monogamy most of the time, and well, after all the crap the east has gone through—Your Majesty is aware of what I'm trying to say, right? There's more than that too, of course."

"I'll keep an eye on it," wouldn't require a complex solution: send a few more angels and have them uphold the law a tad more strictly. "If that's everything, then you may leave. Have a good day, Lady Asturias."

"Likewise, Your Majesty," Amrel bowed her way out and left Draudillon alone in her study with the two Gatekeepers. She'd already convened the Royal Court earlier today, and she surprisingly didn't need to see any more people for another couple of hours. Joy.

"Harems, huh…?" A bitter smile crossed her face. Despite Yuriko's tireless efforts in resurrecting the deceased and the use of demihuman immigrants in the workforce, the past attacks from the Beastman Country meant that the ratio of men to women in the Draconic Kingdom was heavily skewed in favor of the latter. It wasn't as unbalanced towards the west, but the practice had been becoming more accepted in the east—practicality outweighing even the tenets advocated by the temples of the Six.

'Just another sign of the times changing.'

It wasn't a lifestyle Draudillon would personally partake in, but she didn't overly mind for so long as the relationships were based on mutual consent; although, the reminder that decades of demihuman raids had brought her kingdom to the point where people took on multiple concubines out of necessity was painful. 'On the bright side, our population will recover within a few generations. Will have to write a regulatory decree addressing bloodline contamination—ha, I have to rethink what to do with the line of succession too, don't I?'

Seeing as Yuriko and her were both women, there was no chance of them conceiving a child through any means she knew of, and she had no intention of finding some surrogate father either. 'Getting too ahead of myself; we're not even married yet. '

It still remained something she needed to prepare for. Adoption? That would result in the child lacking the right bloodline aptitude for rulership, as heartless as it sounded. Hunting for some heretofore unheard of magic item or spell? The thought caused her mouth to twist in distaste; the very idea grated on her.

'I have relatives left,' Uncle possessed a strong claim to the throne, and he had a son in Romas too. 'Well, it's fine then, isn't it? I'll just have to begin putting my cousin through the required training. Uncle outliving me is… doubtful after all.'

But Yuriko…

'Yuriko will live forever, won't she? Unless something were to—don't go there,' even if they did, it would be unfair of her to ask them to watch the kingdom after her passing. 'I'll have enough time to set the groundwork for a talent-discovering government apparatus, strengthen the military, improve our industries, construct more infrastructure…'

All for the sake of allowing the angel to be free of obligations when that day inevitably came. Asking them to bind themselves to the kingdom for gods-knew how long after her lifespan ran its course was too cruel a notion to entertain.

'She's only twenty-five. It's more likely that the full weight of an eternity hasn't registered to her yet,' Draudillon sipped from a glass of water that did nothing to chase away the dryness in her mouth. 'Instead of worrying about how much time is left, I ought to cherish what I have.'

It wasn't… death she was afraid of.

Considering the state the Draconic Kingdom had been in only a few months ago, she had long accepted a brutal demise as a very real outcome. Their new state as an emergent power was already an unearned, undeserved blessing, so what more could her and her people ask of the angel?

She didn't want to be forgotten. To end up as a footnote of Yuriko's stay in this world—a few pages lost in a thick tome of memories, an evanescent note in a symphony stretching beyond the scope of a single lifetime.

'How incredibly selfish,' but couldn't she at least dream? Was she not allowed even that? "Fuu… why fret over something that won't happen for another century or so?"

Because she was growing soft. Because the ruler she had to be in the past wasn't the person she found herself becoming.

Draudillon was grateful: worrying over a courtship was a definite improvement when weighed against the impending doom of everything she pledged to defend upon taking the throne. So why then, did something so, so trivial feel harsher in its own way?

Even if such a boon was within Yuriko's abilities to grant, that didn't mean she was entitled to it solely on the basis of their relationship. And honestly, what was there to be upset about? Hers was a partner who wouldn't fall prey to old age, illness, injuries, nearly anything existence could throw at them—

"Get the door," Draudillon commanded one of the two ever-present Cherubim guards to answer the unexpected visitor seeking her. She would normally turn whoever it was away, but a distraction from her thoughts proved too tempting to pass.

"Draudillon!"

'Yuriko.'

The dragon queen stood up and walked around her desk to greet the one who knew naught of her troubles yet laid them to rest with their presence alone.

'She's smiling.'

It wasn't the forced grin she had grown so accustomed to seeing over the past few weeks. Nor was it an act put on to ease the minds of others.

They were smiling. Happy. Happy to see her.

"I'm back," Draudillon's hand hesitantly reached out for the angel. Yuriko took it and drew closer, bridging the gap between them.

For some reason, her eyes felt strangely wet.

"Welcome home."