Chapter 66: nervous

Middle Fire Month, 24th Day, 600AGG

"To the Beastman Country," Romas trailed by Freire's side as they headed towards one of Mohajar's training grounds. "You sure?"

"Why'd you drop your accent?" Freire avoided the question.

"Because I need to prepare for—oi, don't try to dodge it, ya punk!"

"Yeah, yeah," his lips curved up just the slightest as Romas's old manner of speaking leaked through. They had been acting strange ever since they received that piece of mail a few days ago, so a return to form was heartening to see. "Just thought it'll be nice to get a change of scenery."

"If you say so," now that Freire was pondering the issue, wasn't it strange for the Draconic Kingdom's soldiers to be so willing to join an operation in defense of the beastmen? Their demihuman neighbors had been farming them as livestock to be eaten just a few months ago—hell, for all he knew, there were probably still humans living in the Beastman Country who were being kept as provisions. "Don't you think it's weird?"

"What's up?" The streets were bustling with street vendors hawking their wares, children running and laughing, people from various walks of life all going about their day without a care in the world. Without a doubt, it was infinitely preferable to the grim determination that preceded the Lady of Wings' arrival.

'Running from one fight to another,' shouldn't he be satisfied with the current peace? Queen Oriculus didn't even make the recruitment mandatory, so why? Why was he bothering? "Everybody who's running off to the beastmen's land. It's definitely strange, right?"

"Sure, but I can kinda understand," Romas shrugged. "For queen and country, eh?"

"That's…" Huh. "I can't argue with that."

"Anyways, you'll be getting a whole bunch of spellcasters and rangers tagging along," the young nobleman threw an arm over his neck. "Heard the Lady of Wings is sending a couple of angels too, so there's nothing to worry about!"

"I didn't ask for any reassurance, you know?" Freire blankly stared at them. How did they know that much anyway—ah, duke's son.

"You're getting some anyway," Romas snorted in amusement. "Whole joint should be a cinch."

"Hm…" It didn't seem that simple. Wouldn't the Lady of Wings have sent a few of her more terrifying summons if the objective was merely killing some monsters? "Why send the army then—"

"Vidal! Imagine catching you here," Romas raised a hand in greeting to their lesser peer on the other side of the road: a motion Freire found himself mirroring. "Got a chance to visit home yet?"

"Oh, it's you," Vidal groaned but stuck around nonetheless. "Would it be excessive to ask you to show some more tact?"

"That's something between strangers. You don't have to answer if you're not feeling up to it though."

"Most things are fine," Vidal lowered his voice. "Foodstuffs, wild monsters, safety and other important indices are doing well, but it's the Goddess worshippers who're being a nuisance."

"Really?" Freire's brows furrowed in consternation. How could this be?

"You've no idea," Videl mumbled. "Got a bunch of damn kids getting married, and the Temples of the Four and Six both won't say anything because they don't want to piss off the Goddess. Blabbing on and on about 'restoring' the kingdom, gods."

"She's allowing that?" The Lady of Wings didn't seem to be that sort of person from the second and third-hand tales he had heard. Besides, if she was into… that sort of thing, then wouldn't Queen Oriculus have chosen to remain in their less-mature form?

"Probably? Not like I've heard about her passing down any mandates," the count's son grimaced. "Tch. Forget about it; complaining isn't going to change anything."

"You could try sending a petition?" Freire helplessly suggested. "I'm guessing some of it's happening on your territory, and they'd count as a third-party—uh, don't take me too seriously."

"Hmph, it's not the worst suggestion I've heard," Videl halted in front of an inn. "I suppose I'll consider it after we part ways here. Best of luck, Alzerdine."

"See ya around, buddy," they pointedly ignored Romas as he shook Videl's hand before leaving the nobleman to their own plans. "Poor guy—buried neck-deep in crap, I'm telling you."

"With the stuff he mentioned, I'm not surprised," Freire bit his lips, barely restraining a wince. Kids and a sect that was rampantly growing out of control…

"It's not as bad as he's making it out to be," a rare serious expression passed Romas's face. "East was hit real hard, yeah? Even with the Lady giving out resurrections left and right, there's got to be a ton of people she couldn't."

He grimly nodded in agreement; resurrection required lifeforce, and most were unable to reach the level of strength necessary to 'survive' it. The angel casted spells straight out of myths seemingly without end, but even they appeared to be unable to bypass that rule. "You're saying that the eastern folk could use the population boost."

"Little colder than I would've put it, although you get the idea. Whole region's missing a ton of people to work the land, so the Crown's loaning out angels to tide them over."

"Won't the angels replace peasants then?" His neck itched uncomfortably. The prospect of silent, autonomous summons rendering the existence of the common man moot didn't sit right with him. "That's kind of… you know what I mean?"

"Her Majesty's got it figured out," his friend was unflappable. "It's a good stop-gap the way it is, and it'll be a great supplement in the future. Don't worry about it."

How was he supposed to respond to that? If Romas who at least had a passing background in managing territory said there was no cause for concern, then who was he to gainsay them?

The rest of their walk was wordless, dodging people, wagons, and ditches alike as they soaked in the energy of the vigorous city.

"Hey, you sure you don't want to work for the duchy?" Romas casually brought up the topic of his future employment—again. "I can probably talk something out with the old man, get you some chances to travel out the kingdom."

"I'm sure. It's not the kind of life I envisioned for myself," and like every other time preceding this one, Freire briskly ended it. Great timing too, since the sign-up location was coming into view.

Fellow latecomers joined the stream of people eager to fight on behalf of Queen Oriculus in the Beastman Country: some still armored from their patrols, others in casual clothing, but the one thing the members of the crowd had in common with each other was live combat experience. 'Got to be at least a couple hundred.'

"Tell the beastman hi for me, would ya?" Romas lightly punched him in the back. "Gah, wish I could go and watch them suck up to us…"

"You can watch the ones in the Draconic Kingdom suck up to you," Freire gave them a reassuring smile as he reciprocated the ribbing. "Be seeing you running the duchy in no time at all, buddy."

"We should swap places—see how you like it," his friend attempted to scowl only to give a lopsided grin instead. "Seriously though. Good luck, man."

"Hope we won't need it," he gave one last thumbs up and turned around, walking into the flat square filled with tables and stands stacked with sparring weapons. 'Sheesh, who'd believe we're being deployed to the Beastman Country with everybody showing this kind of enthusiasm?'

"Freire!" Captain Marwon called out to him. "Finally off duty?"

'You're the one who assigns the shifts though…' Freire dryly thought to himself. "Yes Sir. Was just about to join the line."

"Glad to hear it," Captain mellowed out ever since getting resurrected, but that could probably be attributed to the cessation of beastmen invasions. Having to worry about savage inevitabilities was bound to put a damper on anybody's mood. "I'll catch you around after the briefing to introduce the unit. Really though, glad to see you kid. Could definitely use more folks with your strength."

"I don't think it's that great…"

"We'll see!" Captain belched out a lively laugh and pounded Freire on the back. "Won't keep you any longer then!"

He tensely smiled and returned the farewell before finding a table to line up behind. A couple people were turned away, but the majority were admitted into the temporary meeting hall. Some kind of ability test?

'Wouldn't want to toss some greenhorn in the middle of a horde of beastmen,' Freire reached the front and set aside his idle contemplations for later.

"Name, rank, and station?"

"Freire Alzerdine," the inspector's half-lidded eyes trailed after the quill. "Sergeant in Mohajar."

"Demonstrate a Martial Art. Basic, advanced—an attack Art would be appreciated."

"So just… any Strike Art?" Freire readjusted his grip on the practice spear.

"As long as you can do one," they yawned. "C'mon, got a whole line behind you."

"『Piercing Strike.』" The tip of the wooden polearm blurred as it rushed through the air with an unnatural speed. "What was the point of that?"

"Dragon Queen said so. Now get your ass over there," the inspector jerked his head towards the meeting hall. "Next!"

"Damn, he didn't get it," he muttered to himself and put the spear back on the weapon stand. Either that or they weren't in the mood for quips. Freire screwed his lips and dispelled the curdling sense of awkwardness while his legs took him to where the soldiers were convening.

'Wonder if there's any plans for expanding installations,' he idly wondered, waiting along with his colleagues for the inspectors to conclude their work. Shame all the seats were taken; although, he couldn't complain if even General Ergast chose to stand. 'Thank gods for temperature control items.'

Another half hour, maybe more maybe less, passed and the flow of recruits into the room slowed to a trickle. The stoic general gave no sign that they were going to begin the briefing despite the mounting impatience of the gathered listeners.

'What is he waiting for—'

"Sorry!" A melodious voice carried across the room from the back alongside the din of people shuffling away to allow the newcomer access. "I'm not too late, right?!"

Freire looked behind to see the cause of the commotion—only to have his mind stutter in astonishment.

Six wings attached to a slender form nudged their way to the front where General Ergast stood, squeaking out small sounds of apology with each and every step. Finally, they reached the Oriculan commander's side and waved to those present.

'Unreal,' was his first barely coherent thought. 'How can somebody like this exist?'

She was blessed perfection made manifest.

Every last drop of the world's virtue distilled into the slight frame surveying their ranks. An inevitable end to darkness and despair.

Here stood an existence completely foreign to paltry, mortal concepts such as frailty and sin. In the cramped meeting hall of the barracks stood the dawn.

Here stood the Goddess.

"『Everyone!』" General Ergast called for their attention. He needn't have bothered; there was not a single person who dared violate the silent sanctity of the angel's presence. "I'm sure you're already aware of what you've signed up for! Yes, Her Majesty is sending us to the Beastman Country to bolster their internal security!"

The soldiers knew, but hearing it declared in their briefing made it more real, and in its realness, absurd.

But no matter how ridiculous, they were the ones who agreed to the absurdity in the first place. To be the instrument of the Dragon Queen's will was their purpose wherever they went.

"While we're doing that, we'll also be facilitating the safe transfer of our brethren back to their homes," General Ergast continued without pause. "Your commanders will brief you on the details upon arrival, and in the name of the gods, do not start fights with the beastmen there."

Unhappy murmurs bubbled and frothed from those present until the general quieted the audience. Mentioning humans enslaved by the beastmen was a helluva way to kickstart the joint operation. "As strange as it may sound, our purpose is to assist them, not to pick fights. Any harassment or sabotaging will result in disciplinary action. Understood?"

"Yes, General!"

The grizzly commander nodded in satisfaction. "Lady Yuriko here will be responsible for transporting all of you, and re—summoning angels to support our goals there. Do not cause problems for her."

"Yes, General!" Louder this time; who would want to disappoint their savior?

"Excellent," General Ergast gestured towards the angel. "We're ready to go at your discretion, unless you wish to address them as well, Lady Yuriko."

"Thank you," to his and everybody else's shock, the Lady of Wings bowed to them from the waist as golden hair cascaded down like so many strands of woven sunlight, unconcerned with the gap in status between her and the soldiers. "All of you. Draudillon, I—I mean everyone is grateful for you guys. Thank you so, so, so much."

She gulped in nervousness, but what reason did she have to be nervous? Freire shook his head: he was projecting his own mortal experiences on someone who it couldn't be applied to. "I might've helped in the end, but it's thanks to everybody here that the kingdom was able to hold out until I could. Again, th-thank you."

Complicated feelings emerged in his increasingly tightening chest. Being appreciated by civilians was one thing, his peers another, and Queen Oriculus yet another—but from a god themself…

He understood then how her cult managed to explode with new members in such a short time.

The Lady of Wings bowed again and cleared her throat, shaky hands extended in opposing directions. "『Extend Magic - Gate』,『Extend Magic - Gate』."

Twin portals twisted themselves into reality, circular gashes on the world breaching nothingness to bend concepts as trivial as space and distance. "So this group goes… oh shoot, don't really—hmm… um, General Ergast?"

'Teleport? That's already Fifth-Tier, so what would a portal be?' Freire lacked an understanding of magic beyond the basics, but judging by the reactions of the few spellcasters squirming in eagerness, it was something more amazing than what he could comprehend.

"『Lieutenants and Captains, form your columns. We don't have time to waste.』" The general inclined his head to the angel. "『Divisions One and Two to the left; Three take the portal on the right. Keep your eyes open and stay on your best behavior. We're making ourselves known to the eastern lands now.』"

Another shout of acknowledgement arose, then more to whip the mass of soldiers into formation. It didn't take too long with the disproportionately large ratio of commanders to soldiers. Were they planning on having most of the captains sent first to lay groundwork for the rest of the army?

He dispelled his pondering with a sigh. They had their jobs, and he had his just like the queen, Goddess, civilians, and nobles did. Every person had their role in life, and this was his; damn what old man Alzerdine had to say about it from the grave.

'Into the maw of the Beastman Country,' Freire approached the ominous swirl of purple and violet. 'We're actually doing it, aren't we?'

Whatever his reasons, the Crown's—even the Goddess's—he was certain the next several months would be interesting.

One armored foot crossed the threshold and then the other: a multitude of clanking footsteps heralding the birth pains of a new era.

He had the feeling the demihumans weren't going to agree without a little fussing.


"Being able to freely go outside must be nice," the black-haired, black-irised woman addressed her companion before taking a forkful of gnocchi. "Not having to use magic items to conceal your appearance… getting nagged by the Executive Council…"

"Y-Yes, Lady Fouche," Windstride, or Clementine, nervously swirled around their own soup. Antilene supposed it was too much to ask for them to still have an appetite after only three days of their initial reunion.

"What do you think of the food?" She sipped from the wineglass. The taste was tolerable, though far from enough to inebriate her. It was doubtful anything could. "Bad, good, mediocre? Your general impressions."

"It, it's good!" Clementine hurriedly stuffed a spoonful of the seafood soup into their mouth. Despite how developed of a city Silksuntecks was, transporting bounties from the sea remained a difficult task. Of course, price was no concern to somebody like Antilene. To use the sizable stipend the state granted to her for minor things was fine by her.

Not as if she needed or wanted to save up for some nebulous, monotone future.

"What's good about it?" Antilene put down her utensil. Another disappointment, but what did she expect? Rare was the establishment that could come close to rivaling anything Aunt Nazaire prepared. 'What if she was a Godkin too? With a propensity for cooking or whatnot.'

The memory brought a bitter twist to her lips. Nazaire and all the other people in her childhood were gone, save for one, so what was the point of indulging in nostalgia? Certain Death, the Guardian of Humanity, had a duty to safeguard this current era, not dwell on the past.

"Erm, it tastes n-nice?" The red-eyed blonde nervously gulped. Antilene snorted at the redundancy. "I-I-I mean it has a very unique flavor to it!"

"I thought it was pretty average," she resisted the urge to frown when Clementine flinched. Their reaction was expected, but that didn't make holding a conversation with someone who had a deeply instilled fear of you enjoyable. "But after so many years, I shouldn't really be surprised, huh?"

Windstride frantically shook their head like a madwoman, garnering a few stray glances their way. "Well, it's fine as long as one of us enjoyed it."

'Don't know why I bothered,' she shoved away her disappointment and let the conversation wither into silence save for food being chewed. 'First Seat's taking a break, Thousand Leagues is mapping out the Empire's magic institution, Tenge is doing practice runs with Kaire… and here I am babysitting Quintia's psychotic sister.'

Antilene waved for their waiter and dumped a pile of gold coins on the table. "My companion and I will be leaving. Keep the change."

"Thank you for your patronage, ma'am," the waiter dipped his head and discretely cleared the table as they exited the premises.

"Next on today's list is shopping," the ace of the Slane Theocracy brazenly strolled down the orderly streets of its capital. "Then we'll go to a bookstore before watching an opera."

"Why?" It seemed the trip threw off Windstride's balance to the point that they were comfortable asking her questions.

"Why what?" Didn't mean she had to make it easy for the traitor.

"T-Taking me outside," cold sweat broke out over Clementine's skin.

"Because I want to," she bluntly answered. "Did you expect me to be locked up in the Sanctum every waking hour of my life?"

"No, I—yes," they fearfully amended themselves. "It's, I just, well it…"

"I can't act too openly," Antilene mused. Funny how her strength served as her greatest shackles. "True Dragon Lords would burn this country to the ground if I did.

"Bigger deal than you were thinking?" She raised an eyebrow at their paling face. "Wondering why I'm telling you this?"

"Forgive m-my rudeness."

"It doesn't matter if you know, and it's nice being able to talk about this," Antilene raised Windstride's head up by the chin. "After all, you're a dead person walking, aren't you? From now until you can't be resurrected anymore, I'll be there behind every step you take."

A shadow of death keeping them on the path most beneficial to the Theocracy. The Executive Council would rather make use of a Hero-Realm individual, even a traitor, than resort to killing them off—only because they believed they could rely on her.

'Better than dying,' they were allowed to enjoy life and the fruits of the nation's developments. 'Did I let them off too easily?'

"But onto other topics," she shook off the faded feeling of fist against flesh from her knuckles. Council wanted an obedient weapon, not one broken through pain and trauma. "What did you do in Re-Estize? Where else did you go?"

"I, I told you everything I knew, Lady Fou—ma'am," Clementine fidgeted, likely scared of another beating.

"You hid in a cemetery for nearly the entire time," Antilene fiddled with the necklace that concealed her less desirable racial traits. The previous owner was a rogue of some sort if the skill her Talent provided was any indication. "That stint of freedom didn't amount to much, didn't it?"

"…" They turned paler, somehow.

"Killing random adventurers. It sounds more pitiful the longer I think about it," an ugly, spiteful urge spilled forth. "You ran away for that. Something so, so pathetic."

They were a person who was lucky from birth. Parents who didn't emotionlessly beat them to the brink of death, the permission to see anything other than the same boring locations every single day, being born an existence who wasn't instantly reviled by the greater powers of this world…

What good was there in being strong? Antilene bitterly smiled, causing Windstride to shiver in fright.

"Forget it," her words were the lash to the whip of her mouth. "We're returning to the cathedral. The Council wants you on another mission; mess this one up, and you won't go down easy."

Perhaps that's why she was in a foul mood. The traitor being stationed in Evasha before she could take a single step was laughably ironic.

"W-Where?"

"The Great Forest of Evasha," Antilene drawled. "Plenty of weak people for you to kill there. Aren't you happy? To receive a gift this thoughtful?"

In that forest, Windstride would have nowhere to run assuming they would dare do so even after their recent 'lesson.' True, she was annoyed that her own deployment date had yet to be determined, but she understood the reasoning behind the Council's decision. Having someone in the Realm of Heroes to combat her pitiful half-siblings would be useful.

'What an awful job,' having Windstride accompany her was more tiring than she had expected. 'Be patient—your time will come.'

She had already waited over a hundred years. What was another few months?