Chapter 68: i wanna be strong (for you)

Middle Fire Month, 25th Day, 600AGG

"Appreciate it," the administrator double-checked the personnel list and nodded in satisfaction. "Welp, I'll be heading on out then. Good luck, Sergeant."

Freire returned the farewell and focused the squad under his command. Due to the strength he had demonstrated in Mohajar, the army decided it would be in the kingdom's best interests to have him promoted.

'I really don't think I can grow any more than this,' he considered the group of middle-aged men. Taking charge when he was the youngest one in the unit felt mildly awkward. 'Guess there isn't a better time to find out.'

"Attention! Now that we've gotten a chance to settle in, take the rest of this time to familiarize yourself with our base camp. Dismissed!"

Urgh, yeah, not having access to the skills commanders usually had was going to be problematic. It wasn't of great importance now, but once they started fighting, his sore lack of group management skills was definitely going to be an issue.

"I should probably do the same…" Freire murmured to nobody in particular. Organizing everybody was going to take a few weeks minimum, which meant free time he had no idea on how to spend.

'At this point, I can't even say for sure that I'll be grouped together with my squad,' he sighed and exited the barracks. Fighting next to beastmen was going to be—

Fucking difficult.

—challenging. He absolutely had to get his emotions under control. This unnatural anger mustn't be allowed to run wild any longer lest he cause trouble. Thankfully, General Ergast had wisely decided to limit their activities to the current zone which was purposely set apart from beastmen civilians.

Might've gotten a bit messy otherwise.

'Calm yourself,' he breathed in and out. 'Screwing up here means the Mac'tal threaten the Draconic Kingdom. Folks have been through enough; don't need to suffer this too.'

To be honest, it felt a tad meaningless with the angels present, but that was— "Oomph. Excuse me, I should've been more atten…" Freire's gaze trailed up to meet the eyes of the Cougar Zoastia towering over him. Goddess, he'd forgotten how large beastmen looked up close. "…tive."

"Na, it's my bad!" The furry demihuman extended one hand and scratched the back of their head with the other. "Spacing out on the streets is dangerous, yeah? Rokana Nadhkrt. I'll be hanging around you fellas for a while."

"Freire Alzerdine," he shook the proffered hand after a second of hesitation. Laying a foundation for tolerable relations could only be helpful in the long run. Not friends though—never that.

"I'm guessing you're getting acquainted with our glorious capital here," the soldier hated to admit it, but Kruurat's magnificence was barely diminished by the damage he saw here and there. He'd visited Oriculo a few times in the distant past, and even the seat of the Dragon Queen fell short of the beastman city. "Had a few problems—we sorted it out, no biggie!"

"Good to hear," being near Rokana was bringing his blood to a fearful boil. This was becoming distressingly unmanageable. 'Chill. You're chill. The chillest.'

"Hey, tell you what: I've got some free time, so how's 'bout I show you around this joint?"

'Unusually friendly. The couple other beastmen we saw were scared, angry, or a combination of both. Maybe this furbag here understands the importance of cooperating?'

"I would be grateful," a part of him screamed at the absurdity that was being alone with a predator. Fuu… he was safe. Angels were always watching. Hell, a lesser flight of Angel Guardians just flapped by a few minutes ago.

"Cool, cool," he was no sage when it came to deciphering beastman body language, but even he could notice the trace indicators of relief. It helped that they were similar to a cat. "Most of these are barracks—I'm sure you knew that already."

"Yup. Beastman ones got put somewhere else, correct?"

"Not all," Rokana raised an eyebrow. "Why? You wanted to say hi?"

"Just curious."

"Fair point. Here's the armory," the Cougar Zoastia led him into a makeshift warehouse and made a sweeping motion with their arm. "Temporary armory, I mean."

"Noted," Freire jotted the information on a scrap journal. "Lots of variety."

"Lots of clans," the beastman retorted. "Bound to be some differences with how they pull up to a scrap."

Less standardized then—a variation from the neighboring human kingdoms. Where armies had to instruct masses of fresh recruits, simpler weapons were preferred. Of course, it would be a different story altogether if a country had a large corps of veterans and could afford diverting manpower towards overspecialized roles.

The beastman clans doubtlessly had the cultural framework to teach these more specialized styles; each being their own independent state was another significant factor as well.

'It comes down to knowledge in the end,' Freire frowned while Rokana rambled on. 'And if history is the core of knowledge, then it's no surprise the western nations are so lacking in comparison.'

"—chakrams, buuut I don't see anybody using them," he snapped back to attention. "Bet some idiot left their collection and forgot to come back…"

"The quality is pretty good," at least with what his limited knowledge could tell him. Demihumans usually had trouble taking on craftsmen roles, so were these created by his kin? Just wondering was sobering. "Don't see any bows or ranged weapons though."

"Stored in another warehouse?" Rokana shrugged. "You a ranger, sniper, something something?"

"No, but we have a few rotating from the Viridian Expanse," Melac, that ex-bandit, would find a surplus helpful. A timely reminder to fit his squad with improved equipment too if possible.

" 'Viridian Expanse…?' It sounds kind of familiar; I'm sure Clan such-and-such mapped it out, but the Republic prioritized population centers," they paused. "Err, no hard feelings?"

Freire narrowed his eyes.

"R-Right, no spot like a forest to attune yourself to nature!" Rokana unconvincingly laughed. "Smart thinking, real clever. Uh, your army couldn't have been at it for too long though, am I right?"

Sharing this information should be fine; there wasn't much the beastmen could do with it anyway. Whether the Draconic Kingdom had plenty of rangers or a few, the demihumans wouldn't be able to stand against the angels. "About a month. I'm sure Her Majesty had trained some in the past, but this is a lot larger in scale."

"Hrm… not going to be much use then…" Freire silently agreed; one month of exercises was unlikely to produce tangible results, minus precious few outliers.

"How strong are your own rangers?" A question for a question was only fair. "I've heard a few stories."

"Eh? The really strong guys…" The mood between them suddenly tensed. He found himself wrapping his fingers around one of the polearms resting against a stand. "Nevermind."

Hostility vanished as quickly as it came, causing him to release a low exhale of relief. "My Rajan is probably one of the stronger ones nowadays; I'd say she can kill a Bladereaver if she had two or three fellas backing her up. Wait, that wouldn't mean anything to you… say, you've ever seen a Steel-Leaf Tree before?"

Freire gave a thumbs down. He could guess by the name, but hearing it directly would be preferable.

"Stout things, wood's tough as iron," Rokana flicked the flat of a sword, the ping resonating in the empty storeroom. "She can blast a hole right through a sawlog."

"Sounds impressive," penetrating a trunk of solid iron was no mean feat. It was encouraging to know they would be marching with people that powerful—worrisome because they could become enemies were it not for the Goddess's influence. "Why don't you guys make weapons out of them?"

"Can't do it without specific professions. Even druids can't work with it, and the few clans that can hoard it for themselves."

"Huh…" some things stayed the same wherever you went. "Any beastmasters? Seems to me the Beastman Country has a wealth of interesting jobs."

"Tamers? There's some of those around," Rokana scratched their chin. "Most of them don't really do the whole 'fighting' thing… Though there's magical beasts like Meowapedes, Ironhide Boars—"

"Meowapede?" Freire boggled at the bizarre name.

"It's like—shoot, you've ever seen a millipede?" They held their hands apart, each palm facing the other. "Think that, but it's a big ol' cat. Bunch of legs, twists and squirms everywhere, real useful for getting through thick forests."

"Never saw or heard of one appearing during the…" The war. Memories of the beastmen's depravity ran through his mind and brought a dry grin to his mouth. "You know."

"Draconic Kingdom's mostly plains, ain't it? They wouldn't do so well in that sort of terrain," Rokana didn't seem to pay any heed to the touchy subject. Maybe the demihumans saw it differently? No, there were plenty who had warily looked upon them. "Anyways, only clans south-eastish of here bother raising the buggers. Whole lot of 'em have their own problems to deal with too."

"Like the Mac'tal?"

"Yeah, like that!" They smacked their outstretched palm with a fist. "Protecting our borders and, well, you get the idea!"

"So even divided, the Beastman Country could easily sweep through the kingdom," he bitterly muttered.

"No offense, but you humans are weak," Rokana stated matter-of-factly as they left the weapon storehouse. "I can tell you're decently above average, yet I have a good chance of bending you backwards in a fight. Although, I mean, your kingdom has those angels now… don't really have the right to complain anymore."

"Thank the Goddess for that," Freire murmured a short prayer under his breath. If the natural order dictated humanity live beneath the heels of furry oppressors, then it ought to be overturned. "Hey, who are you looking—"

"Rogrek? What's wrong?" The cougarman hurried over to the despondent tigerman approaching them. "Your Rajan chew you out?"

"It's nothing," even Freire could tell they were putting on an air of calm; hell, their tail was limper than a rotted stalk of wheat. "Showing around the humans?"

'Geez, who pissed in his bed?' Resentment poured off the beastman in a thick, cloying cloud. "Sergeant Freire Alzerdine. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Rogrek—"

"Haven't you people done enough already?" Rogrek quietly said and walked past him. "Don't insult us any further."

"Erk… I should probably check up on him," Rokana pressed their palms together in what he thought was an apologetic expression. "Be a bit of time until we've got to set off, so I'll catch you later! Oi, Rogrek!"

Freire blew out the air in his lungs, running a hand up his forehead and through his hair.

'We're really in for it.'


"Is there anything I could get in the meanwhile…"

A vicious glare silenced the Minotaur. Yuriko uncomfortably shifted from side to side. "E-Excuse my impertinence."

Finally, their quarry entered the room accompanied by two of his kin.

"High Vizier," Falgun Kroh'or and his companions dipped their heads. "Queen Oriculus and Lady Yuriko. I was told my presence was required."

"Ahem, yes," Varush cleared his throat. "Our two esteemed guests have a number of grievances they wanted to communicate—"

"Breeding and butchering my people like cattle," she slowly began. "Engorging them with your loathsome poisons," she continued. "Somebody needs to become an example."

She finished.

"Yuriko."

Further explanation wasn't necessary.

"『Constricting Chains』."

Light-forged links lashed out from Yuriko's index finger and wrapped themselves around the Tiger Zoastia lord. Smoke immediately began hissing upwards where chains met hide.

"Grk…" Falgun clenched their teeth as they fell to one knee. "What is this?! Varush!"

The High Vizier wisely turned his face away.

"His head's too high," Draudillon rose from her seat and strode over to the restrained tigerman. The beastman attempted to rise to their feet—an attempt proved abortive underneath the Gatekeeper's hands. "Yuriko, you can go now. There's no need for you to watch this."

They had been stained enough by her. They chose to follow her knowing what was to come. There… wasn't a point in having them spectate a scene so unsightly as well.

'Because this world was always this way,' overwhelming strength did not change that fact. Her guidance even less so. 'Wanting to protect them couldn't result in anything more than a foolish dream.'

Protect what? Their innocence? She had stolen that from them in the early days of meeting. Their well-being? Yuriko was absurdly strong; they were the ones doing the safeguarding.

Protect them from what? Bloodshed? 'Hard' decisions? Reality?

Before, she was stuck with the unacceptable conundrum of sacrificing her people or letting them be eaten—farmed. Now, she was left with the inevitability of pulling a single person into a place where they should not be.

'I don't want to let go.'

For being a blemish upon the most beautiful thing she had ever encountered in life, Hell was her destiny—

"No."

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"It's not your responsibility."

"I'm not leaving you here by yourself," she couldn't bear to face the resolute expression Yuriko was surely wearing. "I won't turn my eyes away."

"… suit yourself," too late anyway. What was she hoping to accomplish with such a half-hearted attitude? "Varush, a weapon—"

"Wait," the angel softly spoke up. Draudillon turned around, her lips tightening at what laid in her beloved's hands. "A normal sword might not… do it in one hit, so please use this."

Silvery, shimmering steel surrounded in an auryn aura shone in judgment of her. By Yuriko's tone, it was clear they also understood this was giving their implicit approval of what she was about to do.

'Draudillon, so very helpless,' she nodded, carefully taking hold of the metallic hilt, not trusting herself to give her gratitude. 'Draudillon, unable to turn aside from this path; unable to turn her lover away either.'

It meant everything to her. In spite of the horrid soul-corroding guilt, she felt happy. So very happy they wanted to stand by her side.

Draudillon forced down the roiling nausea that came wave after wave and walked to Falgun's side. Whatever came next, this… thing had to die. Had to. Must.

At her hands. This was the least owed to the people of the Draconic Kingdom.

Varush weakly protested as she tapped the sword against Falgun's neck before raising it overhead. "Rajan Kroh'or is integral to our defense efforts—"

"I don't give a damn," she silenced the High Vizier with a cold harshness. "He will die, and he will die now. I could flay every last one of your kind to the bone, and it would still be less than they deserve."

Right. This was why she was here. No more doubts or concerns; those could come afterwards.

"We've complied with your commands—!"

'Shut up.'

"Then this is simply your past catching up to you," the dragon queen raised the holy sword, preparing to dye it crimson once more. "Falgun Kroh'or. For your crimes against the people of the Draconic Kingdom, I, Queen Draudillon Oriculus, hereby sentence you to die."

She'd considered performing this execution in public, but a private affair would have to suffice given the Beastman Country's troubles with the spiders.

Luminous swung down in a gleaming arc and cleaved the tigerman's head from their neck—parting fur, sinew, and bone to splatter blood over the skirt of her dress.

Falgun's skull plopped to the ground with a thud and splat, rolling around in small circles 'til it came to a stop; their feline countenance forever locked in a rictus of anguish. Unseemly.

Disgustingly unseemly.

"And you two," she addressed the two demihumans who had entered with the deceased Rajan, not bothering to look up while she wiped the blood off the stained sword. "There's ninety-eight clans remaining, correct?"

"N-Ninety-nine," the one named Rograk stammered. "Once a hundred and seven."

"I see. Peel off his hide and cut—"

"What?" The other tigerman, Rogrek, jerked their head away from the corpse and towards her. "You… what are you saying…?"

"—his carcass into ninety-nine portions," Draudillon continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "Make duplicates of these," she gestured at the packet of documents on the table. "Wrap the pieces in his pelt and have one sent to each clan with a copy."

She grabbed a sheet off Varush's desk and wrote a warning on it before stamping the parchment with her signet ring. "This too. In the coming days, more angels will be sent alongside some administrators. They shall… assist you in running this country. This assistance is not optional."

"Understood, Queen Oriculus," the two tigermen spared a glance of revulsion for the Minotaur. "I will personally ensure that this task is completed according to your specifications."

"Good. With this, our grievances with your people are put to rest," Draudillon didn't turn around, Yuriko trailing behind. "Keep it that way, High Vizier."

Not like she had a choice; the Beastman Country's problems would eventually also become the Draconic Kingdom's if she acted carelessly. As much as the blood of the fallen cried for justice to be meted out, the lives of those who still drew breath took priority.

Then there was Yuriko…

"You really should've waited outside."

"I wasn't gonna let you do everything on your own," the angel grabbed her hand. "Draudillon, look. It's fine to rely on me."

They weren't using the nickname.

"Thank you. I'm okay though. You've done more than anyone could ask out of you, so it would be shameless to demand—"

"Compared to what you've been through, this little is nothing," their interruption came strong and fast. "You're not alone, alright? Stop acting like you are."

"Then what will you do?" Bile rose up her throat, nasty and foul. "The next time a repeat of today happens, what will you do?"

Yuriko didn't immediately answer. For a few moments, she almost thought the silence would persist. The dragon queen wouldn't have faulted them.

"I… had no idea it was this bad. Maybe a part of me was thinking everybody could get along—eventually," The angel blew out a puff of air. "Ha… I don't even know what I'm trying to say. It'll be nice if they stopped just 'cause we told them, but if they don't?"

Their eyes sharpened with a cold gleam that pained Draudillon to see. "Then I'll take responsibility."

The angel would make the Demon Gods look like infants throwing a tantrum, such was the vitriol in Yuriko's voice.

'She's changed. Different from the soft person she was before,' Yuriko inquisitively glanced at how she squeezed their hand. 'Why couldn't I have noticed earlier?'

"Isn't it tiring? Having to push yourself this hard because of me?"

"It's not just for you," their smile remained unchanged. "And it isn't tiring. Don't worry so much about me, okay?"

'How can I not?'

"『Gate』. Wanna go back home?"

Home. A place for the sun to roost.

"…" They passed through the portal. "Where else?"

I'll accept all of you.

"O-Oh, good point."

So please—

"Could you hold me for a little while?"

Continue to accept me too.