Chapter 78: cant scratch tummies through armor
Lower Fire Month, 12th Day, 600 AGG
Above, far above the topmost spire of Oriculia Castle, a Seraph Empyrean hovered, fixed to one position. Clouds floated a sword-length away, the humans and demihumans kilometers below.
Wind couldn't budge it. Mountains couldn't impede it. Enemies, especially after observing the weakness of this world, couldn't break it.
In Heaven and Earth, the angel feared but one existence.
Harbinger, Keeper of the Holiest of Holies, anointed by Her own hands with Her own sacred deeds. Domina of Piety, who presided over abounding mercy and grace. Seraph, venerated High Priestess, the sole judge of Right and Wrong from whom life flowed everlasting.
Oh, how it wished it could sing praises unending! That all manner of sound was replaced with worship eternal! For every creature, however abhorrent, to bend their knees in awe!
What a horrid travesty.
On its left, a lion growled. On its right, a ram bleated. In the middle, an androgynous beauty continued smiling.
The Seraph Empyrean had no eyes to see with, not even underneath the blindfolds that covered two pairs and the hands that covered the center third, but that was a trivial obstacle in dispensing its duties.
By the Harbinger's decree, this city… this Oriculo as the lower beings called it, was to be under its guardianship. That the Empyrean couldn't understand Her rationale mattered not; the pot had no right to interrogate the potter.
If it was commanded to burn the city to ashes, it would've done so without a word of complaint.
If She desired the life of every firstborn—whether they be humanoid, demihuman, heteromorph—then it would dedicate itself to the slaughter, its soul a sanctuary of serenity.
If it found one sinner in a city of the righteous, it would not spare a single person—for iniquity was a poison that must be rooted out in its entirety.
And who was righteous? Who was virtuous? Who was audacious enough to call themselves blameless in the Harbinger's sight?
In Her boundless mercy, She had yet to demand a cleansing and salting of the unworthy lands that dared transgress by existing in Her rapturous presence.
But alas, its duty was to serve, to exalt and extol the Harbinger's name with each sword-swing, to be an instrument of Her glory with every invocation of divinity.
Its place lay not in questioning Her grand purpose for the foul and flawed elements of this world. The fact the Empyrean was given no voice to speak with, no writing ability to unknowingly blaspheme with, strengthened its convictions.
To ponder and question was sinful for a servant of Heaven. As an executor of a higher being's will, it only needed to do.
Although instructions had been getting complex of late… if the angel had the capacity to curse 'Draudillon Oriculus,' then it would be certain whole libraries would be filled with volumes upon volumes of inscribed maledictions.
Though such an outcome would never come to pass because the Empyrean completely lacked the ability to feel anything other than joy for it and its brethren's revered purpose, faith in the Harbinger's foresight, and pity for those who possessed neither.
Yes, it was good and well that it existed beyond paltry emotions like 'boredom' and 'jealousy.' There were ungrateful lower beings who expressed dissatisfaction due to such, squabbling among themselves even while they served Her.
Unspeaking, unmoving, untouched.
Angels did not need to comprehend the callous casualness of their genesis.
A trinity of covered gazes turned eastwards. She was beckoning it to take the place of its counterpart in what the humans named the Beastman Country. The other Empyrean stationed there had been assigned bodyguard duty to the human with the second highest authority over the host of Heaven.
For the Anointed Harbinger, the Empyrean would render every inch of Creation to ashes.
But policing beastmen was wonderful too.
"River splits here," Schoen's disembodied voice reminded the group of thirteen. "Squad Two take west, Five east, and I'll lead Four straight south. Don't wander off alone; always keep a buddy with you. We aren't sure where exactly the guerrillas will show, so be careful."
None of the invisible Scripture members asked for clarification. By this point, they all knew what they had to do and familiarized themselves with maps of the local region beforehand.
The only thing left was to ensure their preparations weren't for naught.
'I hope Windstride doesn't go off on her own,' the fighter from the Black Scripture was only here to observe and get used to how they operated. 'It'll be bad if she's the type to get drunk off overconfidence.'
"Good," Marith imagined Schoen nodding under the effects of『Invisibility』. "Remember how much time you have left on your spells. We're heading out."
They split into their respective groups, senses amplified by『Hawk Eye』and『Elephant Ear』while『See Invisibility』prevented them from tripping over their own magically concealed forms.
In a way, the Holocaust Scripture wasn't a division perfectly optimized for stealth operations. Foes couldn't see them thanks to『Invisibility』, but that also applied to allies. A cadre of rogues would be able to avoid hostile detection without the use of spells while still being able to visually track one another, allowing for a more sophisticated level of efficient communication.
"『Targets spotted. Fan out.』" Marith lightly tapped a pattern on the trunk of a tree upon receiving Schoen's『Message』. For this reason, they refrained from using『Silence』unless the enemy was stuck in position; without sight-based conversation, auditory was the second-best option that didn't require excessive mana expenditure.
"—might be barking up the wrong tree, Guava. The survivors from Pinleaf said they're pushing inwards."
"Yeah. To the capital, Bosi," the elf in front pointed behind them. "Means the villages on the path there are going to get caught in the crossfire. With those crazy strong spellcasters the survivors mentioned, there's no way we can survive an attack."
'These elves are too relaxed,' too confident in whatever victories they managed to snatch. 'Lucky us.'
"Don't want to leaf anyone behind?"
"Could someone tell him to shut up?" A female elf complained. "We're almost there aren't we? Where are the scouts?"
"Maybe they branched out in the wrong direction—?"
"Look, Babaco," the other squads should be properly arrayed now. "I don't mind the puns, but there's a time and place for everything. Focus on the mission—"
Schoen, or at least where the Vice-Captain ought to be, silently launched a『Grand Fireball』.
Heat roared through the gaps in the forest, a boulder of fire bearing down on the hapless elves, threatening to engulf the elven party and the surrounding greenery in its fiery embrace.
"Scatter!" Confirmation that was the leader then, considering how fast the other elves responded. Marith switched priorities and directed his gauntleted hand at Guava.
'『Silent Magic - Haste』.『Triplet Magic - Magic Arrow』.『Triplet Magic - Magic Arrow』.'
"Javia, they're coming on the—urgkh," the barrage of spellfire laid low the badly burned elf. 'Come on, Giulia. Next one.'
His unspoken request was immediately answered by another volley of manifested arrows striking the idiot who'd been making the poor attempts at wordplay.
"Babaco!" The leader of the guerrilla band shouted in shock as their subordinate collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain. They wouldn't be suffering for long. "We're under fire—!"
No shit.
'『Triplet Maximize Silent Magic - Magic Arrow』.'
Marith felt a large chunk of his strength leave him as he subvocalized the modified spell. Twelve bolts of mana flew out and peppered the elf's body, dealing the same amount of damage no matter where they struck.
'He's still standing?' 『Magic Arrow』was by no means a powerful spell, but being hit twelve times with maximized ones meant they were an individual possessing some modicum of strength. Marith casted the spell again, this time without metamagic, and released a small sigh of satisfaction. 'There he goes.'
Javia Guava finally joined his fellow guerrillas on the soil, dead unlike Babaco, after another twelve arcane arrows materialized from their side and lanced into him.
"S-Sorry for the delay!" Giulia's panting voice drew closer. "They moved way faster than expected."
"Good work," Schoen dispelled his invisibility and bent down next to the pair of elves: one unconscious and the other deceased. "Did your group get a chance to recover their items?"
"It's nothing to write home about," Zarel dangled a bracelet of woven grass on his finger. "This the leader, Vice-Cap?"
"This is a subordinate," Schoen said as he grimly divested the prone elves of their equipment while Windstride watched with a disturbing glee. "The dead one is probably the leader."
"Damn, that's going to hurt our information gathering…" Well, sorry.
"We have another live captive. It's better than nothing, Zarel," Schoen raised an eyebrow towards Windstride who had tapped him on the shoulder. "Lady Windstride?"
"Big Sister can get lots and loooots of details out of people~" Marith shuddered. Alluring she may be, but that twisted timbre and the insanity lurking behind those red pupils… "You can leave him to me, Vice-Captain~"
"Permission granted," poor bastard. Part of him was tempted to put the elf out of their misery on the spot. "Remember: we aren't here to play around."
" 'Kay~"
"Are we calling it a day, Vice-Captain?" Even Zarel and Giulia couldn't conceal their disturbance. "Or do you want us to split and join Squads Two and Five?"
"… We're returning," Windstride easily pulled the unconscious elf over her shoulders. "The other squads can contact us if complications arise. For now, we'll see what intel we can collect from this elf."
Marith nodded along to Schoen's order. Ironically, the closer they approached the elven capital, the less dangerous beasts they would encounter. Squads Two and Five likely wouldn't run into anything beyond their capabilities.
Evasha had no shortage of monsters that would be considered on par with Mithril-ranked Adventurers and above. Throughout the course of the Theocracy's war in the forest, he and his comrades dispatched many such threats that could've wreaked untold havoc on the rank and file.
Despite all the fables of how the knife-eared humanoids lived in 'harmony' with nature, it seemed even they saw the beasts of the verdant sea as intolerable dangers. Thus it only made sense that the number of murderous monsters decreased the more they closed in on the plains bordering the Crescent Lake.
He was deeply thankful the Executive Council knew the location of the Elven Royal Capital prior to the invasion. Navigating this nightmare of a wilderness surrounded by hostiles that might jump out of the trees at any moment—without knowing where to go was a tall order.
"You know," Giulia mused, brushing aside the undergrowth. "After this whole elf stuff is all said and done, do you guys think they'll move us to Abelion again?"
Returning to the chaotic demihuman infested region was a conflicting prospect. The adversaries there were stronger than those of Evasha, though on the bright side, they didn't have to tiptoe around ambushes and magical beasts as much. "I think we'd be allowed time to recuperate."
"After. After that. General Bulgari's still holding the line there… I don't even know what we're trying to do, honestly. Clean out the entire area?"
"It's volatile; who knows how many tribes the Sunlight and Clearwater Scripture missed or never got a chance to hit? Imagine if those demis stopped messing around. Be a disaster, eh?" Zarel paused, recasting a sensory boosting spell. "Big ol' demihuman confederation smack-dab next to a bunch of tasty humans. Wonder where we've heard of that one."
"I gueeess…"
Schoen raised an arm, blocking the path ahead. "Heads down; we're taking a detour."
"Another raider band?" Giulia unhappily muttered under her breath. "『Invisibility』."
"『Invisibility』," the other three members of Squad Four vanished from view. "Windstride, keep your distance and hold tight to the hostage—hey!"
The Black Scripture operative blurred, weaving between trees and undergrowth, before appearing in the midst of the elven guerrillas. Marith gritted his teeth as he forwent further attempts at stealth. "『Magic Arrow』!"
It turned out their aid wasn't necessary; Windstride easily avoided the startled strikes of the elves, dodging knives and arrows from all sides while her stilettos made short work of the ambush party.
"They're dead~!"
'So this is a Hero.'
"You were given no orders to engage, Windstride," Schoen's words were grave and disapproving. "Had I been any further, the contingency would have tripped."
"Ehhh~? I was still in range though, Vice-Captain~ And you guys are running low anyway, riiight~?"
"… we appreciate your assistance, Lady Windstride, but I must ask you to follow orders unless you wish to be reported."
"Booo~"
"Fucking scary," Marith mentally agreed with Zarel. Windstride represented an incredible abundance of military strength that quite frankly shouldn't be coupled with her personality.
Regardless, it seemed they would breach the capital before long with this bolstering of their special forces.
He just hoped disaster didn't follow in the wake of their haste.
"So this is one of the beastmen's inner cities…" Draudillon killed the urge to correct Perera; Ur'lathla was wonderful, yes, but the demihumans hardly considered it inner. "Amazing. Nothing like the savages of the hills."
He snapped out of their trance, nervously gulping as his eyes flicked to her. Or the armored lion of bounded ash and inferno she was sitting atop. 'Both' was a safe bet. "Uh, although it's no surprise the beastmen fall short to the wonders of Your Majesty's domain—"
"Surely you jest," she replied, lightly sardonic. Anybody with eyes could tell the beastman city had been carefully designed with expert guidance—not that Oriculo wasn't, but comparing the two was pointless. "Humans and demihumans have different needs; I'm sure the beastmen living here would disagree."
"Then perhaps it is they who ought to experience more of the world," Gasparo huffed in disgust. Tilnyr, a blonde and somewhat chalkish man from Baharuth, nodded.
"Think what you like. Just try to get along with your new trading partners," Draudillon entertained the idea of trying to rid the merchants of their prejudices before promptly tossing it out. She had no love for the Beastman Country, although that didn't mean she couldn't respect their strength and advancements. The merchants would hopefully learn to do the same—after sustaining losses if need be. "The Merchant's Guild has a temporary office established in one of Clan Ur's holdings."
She snapped her fingers, grabbing the attention of an Archangel Flame patrolling the streets. "Take our guests to the office five buildings west of the clanhold."
Holy plate armor clanked against itself as the angel hovered over to the trio.
"Well? I assume your time is valuable, is it not, gentlemen?"
"… Please excuse us, Your Majesty," Gasparo and Tilnyr bowed, allowing the Archangel to lead them away.
Draudillon quietly exhaled, almost flopping face-first onto the back of the angel. After being constantly flown around by her ever-present Gatekeepers, she had realized just how much she'd taken Yuriko's softness for granted.
At least she finally understood why people looked so nauseated after landing? Sympathizing with the plight of her subjects was important for a ruler; however, that wasn't sufficient in dissuading the dragon queen from asking her partner for an angel that was easier to fly with.
She hadn't the heart to correct them and point out that the four-legged angel was also bedecked in full-plate.
Anyway, it went to show there remained a number of angels the prime angel didn't create yet.
Yuriko claimed they had an innate understanding of all their spells and skills, and while Draudillon wanted them to go through their entire summon list, it wasn't an urgent priority. If they said the angels they summoned the most of were best suited to what the Draconic Kingdom needed, then she wasn't about to pretend she knew better.
… Okay, that was a lie. She grilled her partner on the parameters of each summon and the modifiers their classes applied. 'We still have no clue which ones can talk…'
Whatever instincts Yuriko acquired upon transmigration only extended to that which could already be accessed in Yggdrasil. Summoned creatures didn't speak in the game, so it stood to reason the knowledge wouldn't be imprinted either; though going by that logic, none of them should, so maybe she was obsessing over nothing.
'I really want to know though.'
At this point, it was a matter of pure curiosity rather than any sort of real practicality.
"Yes, Perera?" The vassal of Marquis Bodipo hadn't left. What were they waiting for? She thought their type to always be in a rush from one endeavor to the next.
"Y-Your Majesty, it may be a little inappropriate to ask this, but I must admit I've never seen an angel quite like yours," did he harbor an interest in angelology? Worshipers of the Four viewed them much differently than those who prayed to the Six, so it wouldn't be completely out of the pale. "That is, erm, if… I mean no offense!"
'Him asking is a reflection of his growing trust,' at least to the degree where he felt comfortable questioning her, a foreign sovereign, about a military asset. 'Isn't that just boldness then? I suppose a merchant should have plenty of such a quality.'
"It was b-but an idle thought—!"
"Ryx, an Ashenbreath Exaltation," weaker than and made redundant by Cherubim Infernums. She supposed the four-winged quadruped had 'superior' mobility in the sense a lion moved better than a human, although that didn't change the fact it was slower than said Cherubims. If there was one unique advantage the angel had, it would be its ability to bypass a greater percentage of fire resistance. "Ah, you should avoid touching the 'face.' I've been told it burns."
'Infernums ignore a portion of resistances anyway,' dealing hybrid holy-fire damage made it harder to totally null its special attacks at least. 'Maybe if we ever find ourselves fighting an army of Fire Elementals?'
"I… see…" His eyes trailed to her hands absentmindedly stroking the flaring flames that took the place of where a face would usually exist. "If Your Majesty would forgive my rudeness again, is it safe to do that?"
"Of course it isn't safe," was the crackling of azure fire how it purred? The notion felt unlikely; her partner's summons weren't particularly expressive in any given situation. "This angel could exterminate every resident of Ur'lathla on its own if given the command. Would you call that kind of being 'safe?' "
"No, I wouldn't, Your Majesty," Perera paled, shaky gaze glancing to the side as he fidgeted in place.
"Safe would mean neutered. Perfectly under control," she mumbled, fingers rubbing the blazing embers emanating through the gaps of Ryx's armor. Its body appeared to be made with the stuff. "I don't believe I'd desire that out of her."
"Um. I'm—I will go and join my peers, Your Majesty," the merchant hurriedly wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and put it away before bowing. "B-By your leave?"
"Mm. Go ahead."
Complicated emotions roiled in Draudillon's breast while she watched Perera rush to catch up to his two peers. These military and mercantile connections would gradually develop into greater cultural ties, which in turn would produce technological and magical advancements. Progress was forecasted in the Draconic Kingdom's future, and the Beastman Country was an unbelievably massive boost.
Additionally, as the Republic's new suzerain, the souls of its demihuman citizens now fell under her purview. She idly wondered whether or not that was a cause of concern for the Slane Theocracy.
Her head began thudding in pain. Why couldn't they understand she wasn't going to use those souls? Draudillon knew Slane's ruling council already harried themselves over her ability to consume the existential essence of her original subjects, but they had to know it was a last resort of last resorts for her, right?
It wasn't only this instance either; the Draconic Kingdom's reliance on the Theocracy for defense and various other types of aid hampered their ability to conduct diplomacy with countries like the City-State Alliance or the Council State. Sure, some demihuman nations weren't interested in peaceful diplomacy—or at least not the type of 'peace' her prior understanding was rooted in—though having the option would've been nice.
'The kingdom's situation would absolutely be better if it wasn't for their interference in foreign affairs,' she grouched while she rode sidesaddle past a street bustling with beastman civilians. They gave her and the Exaltation a wide berth, eager to vacate the avenue. 'Strange that our coasts are lacking in underwater neighbors.'
Aquatic societies existed in the Asturian Sound, but only small tribes that never surfaced or stayed away from the coasts at best. The rare explorer unsurprisingly blamed the Theocracy, though there were disquieting tidbits revealing the presence of other forces. 'We'll address it someday. Probably need a few generations of magic development before we reach that point…'
After the Vayul Archives reorganized themselves, she planned to draw from their impressive resources and jumpstart the Draconic Kingdom's underdeveloped magic economy. Mages had a decently high lifespan if only because she refused to waste their lives in desperate last stands on the front lines, but the poor finances of the Crown equated to poor funding for the Magician's Guild and nationally owned institutions.
Then there was the wealth of raw resources, manpower, unique classes, and countless other treasures the Beastman Country offered… once the Royal Court had everything running smoothly, they would… the kingdom could… grow?
Expansion was useless, worse than useless, without direction. A person needed only to listen to Yuriko's stories of their old world to realize unchecked growth was as much of a disease as stagnancy.
Though even if Draudillon understood that, she had spent so much of her life fixated on struggling towards 'tomorrow' that enjoying the privilege of making long-term plans was still jarring. For all her beliefs the Theocracy wouldn't have let the beastmen run amok, she never knew the exact extent of damage they were willing to tolerate—gods, three cities had been converted to slaughterhouses before Yuriko's intervention.
'It's like daydreaming about a ridiculous outcome and suddenly having it come true,' there existed plans, certainly, but nothing possessing the level of detail the kingdom required. 'In a way, isn't this similar to our previous circumstances? Just over a longer period, superior resources, a solid position to work from…'
Draudillon sighed, her backside beginning to ache thanks to the lack of a proper cushion. Saddling one to Ryx might make for an interesting image, she supposed.
"How many has she even summoned by now?" The dragon queen muttered to nobody in particular. Yuriko slowed down due to devoting the bulk of their mana to transportation, resurrections, and other difficult clerical tasks, but three months of constantly using angel creation skills represented a few thousand units. "And it isn't as if she hasn't been casting mass summons either… that Super-Tier of hers too…"
A rough estimate put their total summon count in the tens of thousands. 'I wouldn't be surprised if that number's breached a hundred thousand. What an absurd magic item.'
Not as absurd as how Yuriko was happy to let her use them however she pleased. Renting even a single higher-ranking angel should cost a veritable fortune, but her partner refused payment whenever she broached the topic.
Someone that found fulfillment in a role that should've never fallen upon their shoulders.
Someone who became her wings, friend and lover. Someone she knew was wholly unfitted to guide the world-shaking changes their existence birthed. The kind of person who'd stand to lose the most in spite of being in a position to acquire whatever they wanted.
A fool who would smile at somebody like herself after everything they saw and knew.
It said a lot that the most recognizable symbol of their power, the wings the kingdom worshiped, was one Yuriko was content to hide.
The corners of Draudillon's lips twitched upwards. Right now… they were either busy attending lessons with the tutors she'd assigned them or handling resurrections or redistributing angels—
Yuriko would tell her if too much was too much, wouldn't she? One couldn't conjure an army by only spending money, but mana exhaustion was another thing entirely.
'She doesn't seem dissatisfied,' whenever they had the opportunity to carve out a bit of private time for themselves, Yuriko was perfectly willing to go along with her whims—and even becoming bolder with each subsequent occurrence. 'I just need to trust her word when it comes to how she's feeling. Or…'
That was how the angel relieved stress. The theory had some merit to it; Draudillon was confident she was well on her way to becoming a professional hug pillow.
'A full day has yet to pass since I last saw her,' and she was missing her partner already. With the expansion of her territory came added responsibilities; responsibilities that were preventing them from meeting as often until administrators could be freed up for her to delegate. 'Night will come soon; just have to hold out until then.'
"Where's your Rajan?" Her sudden question caused the passing streak of Kshatras to flinch. "Or is he out of the city at the moment?"
The one at the forefront recovered the fastest and bowed, her companions quickly following her lead. "If Your Majesty finds it agreeable, I can take you to him."
"Acceptable, Kshatra…?" Come to think of it, she had never caught their name.
"Ekala, Your Majesty," Ekala glanced behind her. Draudillon gave a nod, had it reciprocated, and waited for the tigerwoman to dismiss the squad. "You all leave without me. I'll catch up later."
Her underlings collectively inclined their heads and left Ekala to her newly appointed task. "Please follow me, Your Majesty."
Their walk was a tensely quiet one. Draudillon weighed the benefits of asking the tigerwoman if she'd rather fly, but their posture conveyed a vibe not dissimilar to a cornered Bunnia's. 'This is why I have ambassadors… although none are eager to be assigned here.'
"Do I make you uncomfortable?" Then it was up to her to forge more working relations for the kingdom. And there was the odd effect she had on people falling under the category of 'subjects…'
"Far be it from me to think such a thing, Your Majesty," Ekala instantly replied. "It is an honor to tread the same ground as the master of Vahasi."
"I'm hardly the person who brought your people to heel."
"A lord's followers are an extension of their strength. Your Majesty would hear no nonsensical complaints from me."
"Quite the contrast from your Rajan."
"Enverak is…" Ekala stared into the distance. "He is a caring leader. It is no surprise he would take the hurts of our people so personally. I beg Your Majesty to overlook his foolishness."
"So long as he performs the tasks asked of him and obeys my decrees, I will not seek his downfall," Draudillon felt a twinge of approval. Regardless of the atrocities they participated in or condoned, worthy subordinates gathered around competent leaders. "Our grudge is settled for the time being."
"My heart is glad to know it is so, Your Majesty," the beastman cupped her hands together and shouted. "Rajan! Her Majesty wishes to speak with you!"
"Queen Oriculus," Enverak ran, dropping to one knee the second he was within normal talking distance. "How may I be of assistance?"
'His attitude's gone through quite the change,' when Draudillon first met the tigerman lord, she could nearly touch the disdain and anger festering inside him, and now all of that was gone: chased away by reverence and honest subservience. 'Class effects are frightening.'
Frightening, yes, but it was making the vassalization of the Beastman Country incredibly easier. Instead of being met with constant resistance left and right, she could foster loyalty merely by staying in the general vicinity of her subjects. 'I should try to… not be so excessive with it. There's a vast amount of room for abuse.'
The dragon queen had no delusions regarding her own competence. Supernatural authority like the one she developed was a half-step away from becoming a horror show, thus it was all the more important for her to remain vigilant with its use—especially considering that there didn't seem to be an 'off' lever for this passive skill.
"Do you have an estimate on when you'll perform a muster?" She marveled at how Enverak was unfazed before the Exaltation that was carrying her. Even Ekala, for all her stoicism, had a stiffness set in her shoulders.
"Soon. The reinforcements that arrived the other day need a week minimum to orientate themselves and establish camps," Enverak shifted his weight. "Your Majesty."
"A week is fast. With the numbers you've gathered to aid you, most would believe it'll take longer," especially knowing the aid referenced was a collection of separate entities.
"The Republic takes these threats seriously, Your Majesty. Nobody dares ignore both yours and the High Vizier's call to arms."
"You've forwarded a logistic report to General Ergast?"
"I…" Enverak gulped. "I will see that it's done by sundown, Your Majesty."
"I'll leave you to it," Draudillon patted the tangible flames of the Ashenbreath Exaltation and pointed in the general direction of her temporary quarters. She had no desire to continue the conversation. "You as well, Ekala. We'll be keeping a close eye on your efforts, Rajan Ur."
Without a backward glance, she left behind the beastman lord and his adjutant. 'What a vast contrast from our first meeting.'
That belligerence had since disappeared after that one on one discussion. Naturally, she suspected it stemmed from the same cause that had been producing corresponding reactions in the Draconic Kingdom.
Did any of her surrounding human peers possess such a potent skill? El-Nix, Bessarez, Vaiself… no, none among them could invoke this irrational fealty in their subjects on a nation-wide scale. If they could, then the Empire's Imperial Bureaucracy wouldn't be dealing with internal power struggles, the Holy Kingdom wouldn't be so split between north and south, and Re-Estize wouldn't be… there was too much to list there.
'Each one of us is ruler, so what's the difference? Could the discrepancies in our cultural context result in a change this massive?' She had been raised by a primordial Dragon Lord for a few years, and the Draconic Kingdom was always ruled by, well, a Dragon King and or Queen. Perhaps that explained it? 'I don't recall Mother and Father having this effect on the kingdom though; nothing in the records either.'
Perhaps she had developed a unique class due to her diverging experiences. Her parents hadn't been personally tutored by great-grandfather, nor did they inherit his authority over souls.
Could that combination explain why? Rather, was it the way she was permitted to use Wild Magic affecting the view everyone had of her? 'Can't discount the Cradle; maybe all Dragon Lords are this way?'
Not like she'd ever personally scrutinized a country ruled by a singular Dragon Lord. The system of the Council States was… unusual. She did know dragons usually disliked sharing equal authority over the same land.
And ultimately, was it really her classes to blame? Skills in her world were developed organically according to an individual's life—Yuriko's anecdotes of their game weren't a reflection of reality in this case.
'A product of want.'
Or perhaps it circled back to traits inherited through her bloodline. If Mother and Father were alive, would they have the answers she seeked?
Guilt seeped into the cracks of her irontight facade. Her parents… she hadn't brought them up since the last time her partner asked.
"Yuriko," she should be more open with her misgivings. Laying personal problems out instead of bottling them in. Stop pushing off what ought to be done sooner. "Your master would want to know, wouldn't she?"
The only reply she received was of smokeless fire crackling and sizzling.
Right. She had been delaying it for too long already.
Even if the answer was painful, she had to make sure. The least she owed her parents was to ask.
'Why can't life be simpler?' Draudillon's temple pounded; the horned crown of the Draconic Kingdom's sovereign squeezing her like a vice despite sitting comfortably on her head. 'Must this day drag on so?'
"—the Queen?!" Poorly subdued whispering crept into her ears. "Ain't she supposed to be smaller?"
The furrow in her brows deepened. People might forget in several decades, but her flat, childish visage seemed destined to linger in her people's memories for a while longer.
"Folks said she looked cuter before, Sarge," the rough looking man didn't notice how his fellow soldier was panickingly trying to tell him she had changed course towards them. "Don't get me wrong; she's great now. It's just that a kid has this charm—"
Draudillon held back an exasperated snort as the sergeant's attempts grew more frantic the closer she approached. Most of her subjects had never laid eyes on her child or original form, but it was solely the knowledge that unfortunately needed to be spread in the past, not her exact appearance.
"Think about how smooth…" He looked up, blood draining from his face as he fearfully swallowed. "She'd… be…"
"Don't mind me. Just passing by."
"Y-Y-Your Majesty! I was uh—" His superior pushed his head down and bowed alongside him.
"Apologies for Melac's crass language, Your Majesty," he… oh, this was… her cousin's friend. Or something. "He will be disciplined."
Maybe some grace was due. "For simply expressing his opinion of me? If he hasn't committed a crime or disobeyed orders, then I see no reason to punish him."
Draudillon forced herself to smile at the pair of soldiers.
"Thank you for your service, Melac. And you as well, sergeant."
Parting words given, she bade Ryx to continue onwards.
"D-Did you hear that, Sarge? Her Majesty is—she… uoooh…!" The dragon queen smile turned brittle the moment her face was out of sight. Their gratitude stung, as always.
She and Ryx crossed the threshold of the courtyard belonging to the building she and precious few administrators were residing in. Draudillon greeted those she had to greet, desperately praying her fervent assistants would let her return to her room.
"Finally," black hair flapped as she dismounted the Exaltation and trudged to the scattered mess of parchment laid over her desk. "More work."
Draudillon picked up a quill, rubbing the vane against her chin before putting it back down. 'Nevermind. I can't do this right now.'
It was turning out to be one of those days. Evenings where she drunk herself into an unresponsive, morose mess on the floor.
And, and because of her partner, those hazy hours were to be forever denied—
The door swung open, blowing her moping out, and ushering high spirits in.
"I'm here!" Yuriko cheerfully announced before deflating. "Sorry, I got a little lost again…"
"Again? Some of the buildings here do have a similar—"
Ryx flopped over, stomach facing upwards. Her eyebrow rose; this was the most expressive she'd ever seen a summon, and it was… this?
"Ryx!" Her beloved happily banged the plate armor protecting the Exaltation's underbelly. "Did you have fun?"
Draudillon scowled. Was she seriously jealous of a summon?
"Hug me," her hands childishly grasped for the angel, interrupting the utterly unnecessary bonding session with their summon. 'Hmph. Serves Ryx right.'
"Uwaaa~" Yuriko went around the table and cradled Draudillon's head against their stomach. "Was today tough? You look tired, Drau."
"Fuuu… mm, more than usual," she closed her eyes, savoring the gentle stroking of her beloved's fingers. "I'm exhausted."
"Don't wanna talk about it now?"
The her of months prior would've wanted to try and resolve every last issue bothering her as quickly as day—and night more often than not—permitted.
Now? She had grown to appreciate the privilege of not needing to worry about imminent destruction. Relaxing was fine. Sticking to a 'healthy' work schedule was fine. Taking her time to think instead of having to make snap decision after snap decision was fine.
"Let's stay like this for another few hours."
"Sounds good—eh?!"
