Chapter 80: omg drau made furry friends?

Lower Fire Month, 15th Day, 600 AGG

Amrel contemplated the benefits of ditching the pedo-idiot and signing up with the Magician's Guild.

'Or actually,' Queen Oriculus had recently been making inquiries of her upcoming plans. 'I should join the Crown's institution. Her Majesty could use the help. Whispers of being able to work with the Lady of Wings' relics have been spreading too…'

It was clear to see that the draconic sovereign wished to jumpstart the kingdom's magical industries and was sparing no expense to accomplish that end. The Draconic Kingdom, after all the flesh-gnawing tribulations, had finally reached a point where its children could concern themselves over more than base survival and set their gazes on the future.

Before that day in Almersia, Azure Gale would've never considered tying herself down to the Draconic Kingdom, or any nation for that matter. Freedom from the obligations of nobility, freedom to travel the world… those were too important to surrender. Sitting down and talking to a dignified, adult Queen Oriculus—not the immature brat Cerabrate lusted for—somehow opened her eyes to the plight of the country she had unwittingly abandoned.

"Organized the books? Good," regardless of the noblewoman's best intentions, attracting spellcasters to the kingdom was currently a slow process. Even with promises of ample funding and the chance to lay eyes on the Lady of Wings, most practitioners already held profitable occupations they weren't keen on abandoning. "Well, Miss Furt. I do believe your departure will be sorely felt. Are you planning on returning to the Empire soon?"

"I'm afraid so, Lady Asturias," the petite bob-cut blonde bowed. "Any longer would burden my coworkers."

"They didn't take some jobs nearby?" Furt blinked in confusion. Amrel rubbed her forehead in frustration. "Ah, right. Angels. What do you say about taking a more permanent position here, Miss Furt?"

"I…" the Baharuthian worker, probably attainted noble, uncomfortably shuffled her feet. "That's something my teammates need to be informed of first. My apologies, Lady Asturias."

"Well, your friends are welcome to stay too," Amrel confidently offered with a generosity that probably wasn't hers to grant. Queen Oriculus shouldn't mind; the royal expressed an interest in recruiting talent, didn't she? The girl's mercenary squad was in possession of a bit of that if their track record had anything to say. "Her Majesty is looking for all sorts of skilled people; I can put in a good word or two."

"…" Furt's lips were thinly pressed together before hesitantly reopening to mutter: "We'll make sure to discuss it among ourselves. You have our gratitude, Lady Asturias."

"My friends call me Ams," she patted them on the shoulder. "Let me know whenever you're done talking it out, alright?"

Amrel saw the Furt girl out the research atelier before turning around with a sigh. "Don't you have something better to do?"

"Uh, no? I healed a few folks, hung out at the tavern, said hi to the fans, played with the kids—"

The noble spellcaster raised an eyebrow. If he had really been messing around in the city, even her tolerance would run dry.

"N-Not like that, gods! I'm loyal to the Queen! Her Majesty is the only one I have eyes for!"

'Like that's any better,' as long as he kept his hands off, she wouldn't burn them off. "Go on."

"Ahem, y-yeah, attended a few temple services… actually, how are the temples still operating with the shitty angels stealing all the business?"

She glared at the dashing blonde man with a handsomely chiseled face and lean, defined muscles that strained against the tight fit of fabric. His appearance was, for lack of better words, stunning. His strength of arms, undeniable.

Truly a storybook hero men and women alike fawned over: an exception to the usual resentment directed at adventurers. Even his dedication to Queen Oriculus could be considered legendary—her previously affected childishness and form aside.

Unfortunately for the pedo-idiot, the sole target of his affections couldn't care less. In fact, Amrel was sure the Queen hated the man, positively despised Cerabrate, and if there existed some element of fear, she wouldn't be terribly surprised.

"Her Majesty is subsidizing their services," Amrel patiently answered. For all she detested the less savory aspects of the Holy Lord's character, he remained a comrade who put his life on the line time and time again for their adventurer party. "Temples do more than just heal people. I thought a paladin like you would know these things, Cerabrate."

"My folks didn't really talk about that stuff," Amrel vaguely remembered his parents had blood tracing back to the Theocracy. They didn't seem to pass down all the doctrinal traditions though. "Don't gotta rub it in, Ams."

"Hmph," Amrel disdainfully sniffed and ascended the stairs to her small but private study. Building expansions were hopefully on Queen Oriculus's plans; with the amount of space given, she may as well just keep everything in Bags of Holding. "They maintain the region's population register, take in the needy and orphaned, provide spiritual nourishment—"

"Pft, 'spiritual nourishment,' " Cerabrate bitterly scoffed. "They have the Lady of Wings for worshiping, don't they?"

"Why are you still so… worked up over her? You do understand that at the rate we were going, the beastmen would've got us sooner rather than later, right?"

Amrel already knew the reason—or at least, she was fairly confident that was the reason—but listening to the grown man gripe over the object of his affections being entangled with somebody else was unbearable. Best let the paladin vent his frustrations instead of stewing in unrequited love. 'I want to throw up.'

"Ams, you know that's not true—"

"Can't you show some gratitude?" She kneaded her brows. "Look. Cerabrate. I get it. I get that you, fucking what, like the Queen," gloved fingers shushed the paladin's protest. "And we were fine defending the kingdom at a lower price because of your infatuation, but those missions you had us taking? Crystal Tear was heading towards a team wipe. It's only because the angels appeared when they did that we're even standing here."

"I'm sorry," Cerabrate at least had the presence of mind to look ashamed. "I… I just didn't want to let Her Majesty down. Not after she smiled at us like that. Not after she trusted us."

The spellcaster's eyes softened. Although their motives behind not wanting to disappoint the Queen differed, she understood the drive. "Well, we didn't. We did our damn best, and Surshana claim those who say otherwise. Sure, maybe the angels took center-stage, but that doesn't change what Crystal Tear accomplished. Don't take out your frustration on them, alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, fine, I'll try."

"Seriously, what's your deal? Move on," and then Amrel was pissed again; there wasn't time for this crap, not when she needed to hurry and pack for an angel-flight to Oriculo.

"It's not that easy, Amrel!" He raised his voice before sighing, slumping against the wall his stool was placed next to. "Me, I'm worried about Her Majesty. Worried she's in some deep shit, you get me?"

"No, I don't. I don't 'get' you, Cerabrate," she hadn't much of a desire to either. "You're making shit up to fit your narrative. This jealousy is unbecoming of your stature in the people's eyes."

"Wait, listen to me. Just listen, okay? The Lady of Wings… she's strong, ain't she? Aren't you curious where someone that tough came from?"

"So are you," and Queen Oriculus looked infinitely more at ease with the champion's summons than she ever did when talking about or with Fierce Flash. "By that logic, you're suspicious as well."

For other more obvious reasons, went unsaid.

"It's different, Ams."

"Oh? Do explain to this unenlightened one, leader. What sets you apart from the Lady of Wings?"

"Me? Ma and Pops taught me the ropes," a wistful glimmer crossed the Holy Lord's cobalt blue eyes. "Training was tough as nails—but that's not important! My point is, someone that… fine, powerful. Someone that powerful has absolutely seen some shit; they aren't going to bail out an entire kingdom for free."

Normally, she would be inclined to agree. Experience made a person strong, and those who accumulated vast amounts of harrowing stories were never fully the innocent heroes people made them out to be. 'Case in point: Cerabrate.'

"So what I'm getting is that you're jealous because Queen Oriculus already has a lover. And one she's exclusive with."

"Okay, well, those are all just rumors, Ams! Fucking! Rumors!" Combat-forged muscles flexed in Cerabrate's clenched grip. "The Queen hasn't confirmed anything yet!"

'Are you kidding me…?' Fierce Flash cut a striking figure with his scowl and crossed arms. If only the drivel spewing from the Holy Lord's mouth matched the masses' perception of him. "Don't get your hopes up; she's probably waiting for everything to calm down before making an official proclamation."

"She's not—for gods' sake, they're both women! Her Majesty is a ruler, and one day she's gonna need an heir!"

"Cerabrate," Amrel's face twisted in discomfort. "I say this a lot to you, but that's really fucking weird."

"Fine, I'll drop it. Just saying…" A firm hand accustomed to the hardships of warfare covered Cerabrate's eyes, tiredly rubbing the vexation away. "Worried she's being coerced—"

"I said: That. is. fucking. weird."

"My bad," he threw both arms up in the air. "Won't bring it up again." Impossible. "What're you packing for, by the way?"

"Her Majesty and the Prime Minister require my presence in Oriculo," Amrel coldly replied. "As a member of a noble house, there are certain tasks that have fallen under my purview. Hence, the packing."

"You never used to care about this kind of stuff before. Wasn't running away from the noble schtick the whole reason you signed up with the team? Why start again now?"

Why indeed? She herself had pondered on that question for a while: was the Queen's charisma honestly so overwhelming that it changed her outlook on life after a single face-to-face? Had her resolve been that fragile?

'Can't expect any less from the ruler who kept the kingdom together,' the scioness of Asturias cracked a small smile. 'I wonder, would things be any different had I supported the Royal Court from the start?'

"Feels like the right time," Azure Gale nonchalantly shrugged. "I've kept my dear cousin concerned for a while; I suppose it's only reasonable for him to collect the family's dues."

"Leaving the team then? Eh, I guess I'm not too surprised," Cerabrate took her resignation better than expected; although, an air of disappointment seemed to linger. They had, after all, spent years adventuring together. To feel nothing would be stranger. "You've been making a lot of excuses to stay and help out… ah shucks, it is what it is…"

"Re-Estize probably has an abundance of those with unrecognized potential," Amrel stuffed away a rectangular steel plate with faintly glowing etchings carved into its polished veneer. The prototype Docucopier was slated for a presentation at the Royal Institution of Magic. "Could try looking there for a replacement."

"Re-Estize?" Cerabrate wrinkled his nose while she collected various scrolls and incomplete knick-knacks off the shelves. "Hate to break it to you, but they're not the best place to find mages, y'know? I was thinking along the lines of Baharuth, pick up a graduate from their Academy…"

"Graduates all get pipelined into the Ministry or Imperial Army. Good luck sniping one from under El-Nix's nose."

"Some of them fall through the cracks, don't they? Explains the workers there—well, I'll discuss it with Al and Cas after the festival's over. We might just head to the Council State after."

"Great. Send me mail when you guys get there," Amrel absentmindedly responded, preoccupied with examining an enchanted pauldron. Her repertoire of spells didn't lend well to protective enchantments being the evocation specialist she was, so this piece must be from someone who desired a second opinion. 'Fuuu, I already put up my notes… I'll check who it's from later.'

"Sure will. When you heading out, Ams?"

"Now," she threw the strap of the custom-enchanted Satchel of Holding over her shoulder. Bags were fine, but a satchel had a professional ambience to it. Pulling precious research prototypes out of a raggedy bag before the Queen would surely be considered an egregious gaffe.

"Why are you following me?" What did the pedo-idiot still want? "I literally need to get there by tomorrow morning."

"I thought we were all going," Cerabrate scratched the back of his head, clearly confused. "Her Majesty's giving a speech, and there's gonna be a ton of those upper crust folks—great chance for networking, eh?"

"Dammit…" Of course he'd want to make a trip to the capital.

"What's that?"

"Blazing Crimson's making an appearance," Amrel lied out her ass. The worker group could be coming, but she had no confirmation of such. If it dissuaded Cerabrate from wanting to tag along though… any problems could be dealt with after the fact. "Optics, Virima, Gethell, Monicil, Sergiu; they'll all be there."

"Blazing Crimson? Optics is showing his ugly mug?" Cerabrate groaned in exasperation. "I hate that guy. Dirty money-grubbing bastard…"

"Want to stay here until the Dragonflame Festival's over then?" Amrel secretly hoped the paladin would follow her suggestion. Imagining him running into Lady Yuriko… such a scenario could not be permitted to occur. Worse, if Cerabrate tried to act smooth around Queen Oriculus and the angel ran into them… gods save them. "Almersia probably has their own celebrations in mind, so you won't be missing out too badly."

"Fuck that," Azure Gale's stomach sank as Fierce Flash, the vaunted hero of the Draconic Kingdom, he who stood among the strongest swordsmen of Humanity, cracked his knuckles with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "No shitty merc is scaring me away."

"Right, right…" Amrel sighed. "I'll book some additional rides for Alvarin and Casilda while I'm at it."

"Damn straight we're all going. What a joke, a merc having the nerve to show his face before Her Majesty after trying to extort her," wow, Cerabrate was furious. And as always, it was because the precious flat-chested image of Queen Oriculus filling his head had been slighted in some way. "Wished the beastmen got their grubby paws on them."

"Uhhh huh… anyway, pass me nine silver; I'm heading to the transportation warehouse."

'Shiiiit.'

From here, everything could only get worse.


An inexplicable shiver ran down Draudillon's spine.

The pinkish-purple crystal pulsed with an unsettling glow that made her want to throw it in the deepest pit she could find: a feeling only exacerbated by the knowledge of its creation.

In spite of that, she should at least consider the benefits the vitric shards could bring. With that in mind, the dragon queen put down the gilded loupe borrowed from an artisan of Ur'lathla. "What do you think?"

"There's mana coming from it?" Yuriko irreverently flicked a crystal across the wooden desk's surface while strange sounds of air hissing and high-pitched whistles escaped her mouth. "But that goes for like any magic item, so it doesn't mean much."

"I see…" There existed a chasmic gap between the fundamental nature of her beloved's existence and the spellcasters of this world. The methods through which spells were learned, the ability to participate in ritual casting—those among other traits set the angel apart from the arcanists and people of faith in the Draconic Kingdom.

Yuriko could not learn new spells—either that or they simply lacked the mental aptitude—could not take part in collaborative spell circles, could not develop her own spells: a 'balance' of a sort to their overwhelming might.

'Maybe if she lost levels and took new ones in other classes?' That meant the loss of her strongest 'prestige' classes though; hardly an experiment worth carrying out, and who knew how long it'd take to accumulate the experience required. "It's interesting, isn't it? An item to circumvent the need for arcane casters…"

The world was a large place, and this was merely an underdeveloped corner of it. The far east, the central superpowers, the vast sea—there were countless things beyond the perception of humanity. 'More of my relatives, I suppose.'

Relatives like that tigerman monk whose fur shone with all the resplendence of refracted light. Great-grandfather was known as the Seven Colored Dragon Lord among his other titles, and she doubted Tiger Zoastia naturally developed that kind of bizarre coloration…

Not to mention that peculiar sense of kinship too; perhaps she would see if they would be willing to converse about their travels.

"These are the same thingamajigs the Archives used for those teleportation circles, right?" The angel's mouth was scrunched to the side. "Side-effects looked bad."

"Nothing an ordained priest can't handle. They'll be quite the boon to our arcanists. What do you think?"

"I don't like it," Yuriko scowled as her voice rose. "Drau, you, you saw how they made these. Yeah, they're dangerous monsters, but it's the same shit the beastmen did to—!"

"Martin informed me that the beastmen have decided to put an indefinite halt on further production… as of two days ago," she laid her head atop crossed arms, matching Yuriko's own inquiring gaze. "You needn't worry, dear."

"Wha—you're teasing me!" The angel's head shot up from where it had been slumped over the desk, fields of red racing over their face. "I-If it was all figured out already, then why did you wanna know what I thought?"

"I value your opinions," Draudillon's expression softened, cheek nestled into the crook of her elbow as she looked up. "Isn't that reason enough?"

"O-Oh…" Blushing, Yuriko glanced to the side for a brief moment, brushing a stray strand of spun sunlight behind their ear in a tantalizing motion that revealed the side of a slender, flushed neck. "I, um, thank you!"

The blemishless expanse bothered her, strangely. Draudillon touched her own neck, rubbing the spots marked by bruises just several hours prior. "Come closer."

"Sure?" Silken fabric, ink woven and silver threaded, rustled with the wrapping of arms around shoulders. Her loosely wrapped shawl fluttered to the ground, falling to the couple's feet. "Are you feeling down—Hw-Hwah?!"

Draudillon nibbled a little to the side of the angel's throat. The sudden action startled Yuriko; though the dragon queen was secretly pleased they didn't recoil. "Drau, we're supposed to be b-buh-bwuhhh…"

The angel brought a hand up to their mouth, covering a moan, and the other on the tingling small of her lover's back.

Every motion was so vital, so full of joy. A painful contrast to the half-life they trudged through in a world that tossed its future down a decaying gullet of greed.

She pulled away, wiping off the wetness off Yuriko's lips with a quick, but gentle swipe of her thumb. "You know, I realized something."

"That you like teasing me?" Yuriko's touch was wandering now, lower and lower to the firm round of her behind—not that she could complain considering she intentionally stirred the angel's urges.

"Yes, but I was referring to this," Draudillon cracked a smile as her beloved trembled under the ministrations of a delicate fingertip. "I do believe I've never successfully left a… mark on you."

"Ah, err, I could turn off my physical damage immunity?" Yuriko frowned. "Can't disable damage reduction though… hm, maybe…"

The dragon queen motioned for them to continue. "Luminous can definitely overload my reduction—ow!"

"Not what I meant, dear," a sigh drifted from her lips, hands still clasped behind Yuriko's nape. "I suppose I'll have to live without the privilege."

"Drau, I… I'm sorry—"

"I'm teasing you," she released their neck and patted the angel's cheeks. "Being able to disable damage reduction would make detecting certain monsters more difficult; it's better this way."

"Mm," Yuriko held her tight against them, head buried in the dragon queen's shoulder. Draudillon's brows scrunched in concern; what was troubling them now? Guilt regarding the resurrection mishap from a few days ago? "I love you. A lot."

"What's bringing this on?" Even as she voiced the question, a comforting hand immediately rose to rub the back of her beloved's head. "Is something the matter?"

"It's nothing, I'm just," their words came out in halting syllables. "Just wanted to tell you, again. Y'know?"

"Yuriko…"

"Back in my old world, I sorta—gave up. Yeah, gave up looking for someone. Most people were like that, not having the energy to do anything after clocking in for ten hours—not counting overtime. It got so bad Internal Affairs actually started throwing stipends at anyone that was willing to carry a baby. Never enough though, and how's somebody gonna take care of one with all the work they had? Did I ever tell you?"

"This is my first time hearing it," gods, right when she thought she heard it all, the angel's world opened up new depths to sink into. "It sounds terrible."

Grim curiosity sat on the tip of her tongue, but now was… certainly not the moment. She found herself relating, a little, through how the beastmen raised humans for consumption.

It seemed given the opportunity, humans would do the same—worse. The beastmen at least granted their livestock the mercy of a quick and painless death.

Yuriko's megacorporations would squeeze out every drop of profit and then find some way to make money from the husk.

"Yeah, there were rumors," the angel muttered. "People would pop in, carry to term, and then, well, meat-scrappers weren't that rare. A little extra money with none of the costs. Compliance Ops put an end to it real quick though—guess the megacorps didn't like their slaves cheating the system."

"Gods, I'm sorry," the morbid humor in their voice was a nail piercing her heart. Worse, almost, than the resigned matter-of-fact way they related the horrifying facet. "I swear on my soul that you'll never have to see in the Draconic Kingdom what you saw in your world."

"Drau, you don't need to make a promise," like clouds parting, such was Yuriko's smile piercing through the gloom of recollections. "I know you care tons about the kingdom and everybody. You work so, so hard everyday; how can't I know?"

Each word was a balm to the ears. Expressions of sincere trust and faith. Faith from the one the masses deemed a deity.

But more important, more precious, was the faith from her partner who chose to walk the same path—even while possessing the power to choose any path.

"I believe in you, Drau. Even if you mess up, I know you'll get back up and keep fighting. And if you can't," Yuriko blinked, brought out of whatever fugue had descended over them. "Y-You can always rely on me!"

They stiffened, briefly. It didn't last long under her relentless assault.

"I love you too," their lips eventually separated. "And lean on me as well when you find yourself struggling, understand? You've been doing a good job of that recently."

"Yes'm!" The angel mirthfully giggled. As always, their beauty was better suited to bubbly exuberances than somber remembrances.

Draudillon lowered her voice to a murmur. "And thank you for sharing something so personal."

"Ah, it isn't personal really, just stuff I heard about—never been to the reproduction clinics myself. I, I didn't ditch some kid in my apartment!"

"I know," the dragon queen's teal-green eyes closed. Moments of repose like these were to be treasured and tide her over during the hectic hours of day. "I know."

Although magic items kept the room at a comfortable, constant temperature, the sunlight streaming through the window from the courtyard seemed to impart an additional degree of warmth. Imagined or otherwise, it mattered little.

"… there's no bed in here, Drau."

"When has that ever stopped us?"

To the pair's dismay, knocking filtered past the doors of her temporary office. Draudillon huffed, each releasing the other, and seated herself back on the plush chair with no small amount of annoyance. "Come in."

"Queen Oriculus," the Tiger Zoastia entered the room, fist pressed against an open palm in a salute. "Forgive the interruption, but there's a merchant who insisted on seeking your audience."

'One from the Beastman Country; this could be interesting,' none had explicitly sought her out yet, though many indirectly worked for the kingdom and its new client state thanks to the nature of the vocation. "I'll grant their request. Are they here with you now?"

"It's as you say, Your Majesty," the tigerman pushed the decoratively carved door open, allowing the waiting gnoll access. "Announcing Dhartha Auta."

Dhartha stepped over the threshold and immediately fell to his knees, forehead kissing the carpeted floor. His guide spared him a quick glance before bowing and making their way out. "Raise your head, O merchant. What would you ask of me, the one responsible for your woes?"

"And me," Yuriko interjected. "Um, I'm responsible too. For your woes."

"… yes, and her. Now, continue if you would."

"If it pleases Her Majesty, I ask if an escort could be hired for a trip to the eastern fringes of the Republic. In return, this one would swear his undying loyalty and service."

"By escort, would it be right to assume you mean an angel?" Perceptive of him, to address her directly. The gnoll must have realized that Yuriko would've deferred to her anyway. "An angel strong enough to brave the perils you'll surely face on your journey."

"Your Majesty speaks truly; this lowly one cannot profess to be knowledgeable of the Lady Goddess's thralls, but trusts you will deal with your servants fairly."

"Why should we?" she replied, chin resting on the back of a svelte hand. "All you have offered thus far are vague, spoken promises. Would you yourself accept such a deal?"

"Everything," the gnoll merchant answered without missing a beat. "My life, my deeds, my wealth—all of it. Whatever contracts Your Majesty wishes for me to sign, I shall gladly do so without complaint. I only beg Her Majesty to send but a single angel to accompany my companion and I."

"Drau, if it's just an angel or two, I don't mind," Yuriko whispered in her ear. "Pretty sure there's enough to go around."

Draudillon nodded, not taking her eyes off Dhartha. "An interesting proposition; though, I wonder what cause you're doing this for. Serving the Crown is not to be lightly taken after all."

"In the past, your servant had a friend," his firm voice grew mournful. "Someone who would go along with my whims and suffered because of it. This friend asked your servant to look after his kin—to which I swore an oath." Dhartha's body shuddered with a deep inhale. "That is your servant's cause."

"Then wouldn't it be simpler to negotiate for their safe return instead? I see no reason to risk your own life only so you can give it up to me later."

"I…" It seemed he too realized the strange foolishness of the petition. "I fear it would be remiss of me to not go in person, Your Majesty. To explain it is beyond your servant's ability."

'Responsibility, hm…?'

She understood. More than she would've preferred.

"Very well," Draudillon gestured towards one of the flame-maned Gatekeepers. "Take the merchant wherever he needs to go. Do not let a single strand of his fur come to harm—and you, Dhartha."

"Your Majesty?"

"When you return, go to the Merchant's Guild and ask for a Royal Trade Charter. I'll have the necessary paperwork filed by then," the dragon queen paused. "Safe travels, and may your gods watch over you."

"I'd rather your gods keep an eye on me," Dhartha genuflected again with a quip and nimbly exited, not once turning his back on her and the angels. "This lowly one shall take his leave then, Your Majesty. Lady Goddess."

Click. The gnoll was gone, but the fuzzy atmosphere didn't return.

"Drau!" Yuriko looked amazed for some reason. "Was that your friend? 'Cause you were being a lot nicer than usual to a demi—"

"No."


Enverak wished he brought along more of Clan Ur's Kshatras.

To be fair, he was already mustering over a third of the clan's warrior members; anymore, and his territories ran a very real risk of falling into chaos.

Queen Oriculus wouldn't be pleased with retaking the east only for the rest of Clan Ur's holdings to fall into disarray. The suzerain of the Republic wanted the affairs of her domain to be fixed, not shifted about.

That it was her and her champion's fault in the first place barely registered in his mind.

"『We're stopping here!』" Skill-boosted voice rang throughout the wide clearing dotted with copses of trees casting long shadows under the encroaching twilight. Most of the army consisted of demihumans that fought better in thick forests, but then again, the Mac'tal were as well. Darkvision was another advantage made meaningless by the same fact. "『Stay away from the lake, and stick to the brook! We don't need to be losing anybody before the real fighting!』"

"Rajan, haven't we cleared this area?" Ekala eyed the Ambulatory Edifices slowing to a halt, beastmen and humans alike pouring out the open cargo doors. "I don't recall any monsters lurking in this particular lake either."

"The spiders eliminated the majority of the Kshatras stationed in the surrounding towns. Ur Kanar is not so kind as to allow the wilderness to remain bereft of monsters for our benefit.『Each group is to stay with their assigned Edifice, Rajan Nakh!』" Enverak held back a snarl. Managing other clan lords was always a thankless task. "『I would ask you to refrain from harassing the humans!』"

"Should I go keep an eye on them, Rajan?"

"No need; if they step out of line, the angels will uphold Her Majesty's decrees," he side-eyed the Archangel Flames' descents. "Although avoiding such a shameful outcome is preferable, you need to accompany me to the strategy meeting."

In the meanwhile, he hoped the rangers managed to forage enough food. Enverak would rather the spellcasters conserve their mana for defensive enchantments, but slime infestations were occasionally a problem…

His ear twitched as a gray-haired man in steel armor, sweating under the heat of summer's sun, drew near. "General Ergast. How do your men fare?"

"As well as can be," the elderly human followed his gaze. "Trouble with the command structure?"

"Nothing to be concerned about," Enverak snapped. His allegiance and respect belong to the Queen, not some outsider who knew naught of the Republic, its troubles, and the way it removed said troubles. Rommel Ergast may have been appointed by Queen Oriculus, but his worth had yet to be judged in the tribulations of true warfare—and the defense from earlier didn't count. "Pay attention to your own troops; they are this force's greatest liability."

"Can't argue against that, Rajan," Ergast easily agreed. "Her Majesty wouldn't have attached them to your command if she did not believe they could learn under your leadership."

"The best teacher is live combat," the tigerman suppressed the swishing of his tail. How, how dare this human… it was impossible, inconceivable he, a proud lord of Clan Ur, would feel pleased by his words. "Words and instruction can only go so far, General. I expected a lord of the Draconic Kingdom to be aware of something so basic."

"Certainly," the conversation fell into a lull. Enverak and the two accompanying him watched the forty-thousand strong army unpack and set up camp. In spite of his complaints, the campaign was progressing surprisingly smoothly thus far: a sure sign of impending disaster. "Rajan Ur."

"Fine, fine. I'll have a few of my warriors set aside to train your men in useful Martial Arts and our tactical maneuvers—"

"No—that is, I appreciate your change of mind—but what is that?"

Enverak turned his head, eyes widening, albeit slightly, at the monsters breaching the lake's surface. A four-legged snake-headed beast about six meters in height and sixteen in length curiously stared at them with beady black eyes while its ink-dark, forked tongue flicked in and out.

The beast eventually decided they weren't a threat, climbing out of the lake where the sun could reflect off scales of purest white mottled with patches of orange and black. Clawed, webbed feet lithely treaded upon the grassy ground as lengthy whiskers and tail swished back and forth with a lazy gracefulness.

It was not a dangerous monster considering the sheer force of numbers Enverak was bringing to bear; in fact, a group of four or five halfway competent warriors could cleanly slay it without a scrap of equipment. However, it was not a creature that typically required a violent response.

"A Koibrax," Ekala muttered under her breath. "I didn't know there existed a nest in this forest."

"Because there isn't one. It would've been noticed and reported long before," striped fur rippled as the tigerman shifted. "Nonetheless, this is a welcome omen."

Laying eyes upon a Koibrax, especially one so magnificent, was fabled to bring auspicious fortunes to those wise enough to avoid bothering one. It went without saying that this was mere folk legend, but a little extra luck, pretend or otherwise, never hurt anybody.

"It's keeping awfully close to our camps," General Ergast rumbled, nervously. "Shouldn't we hunt the monster down before it rampages within the ranks?"

"Is killing the only thing you humans think about?" Ekala snarled, every muscle of her body poised to convey exactly what she thought of Ergast's suggestion. "Perhaps the Council treated your kingdom too kindly—"

"Enough."

"… Pft."

He batted the sniper across the back of her head and apologetically replied to the General. "This one is probably tamed anyway if it's comfortable staying in our vicinity. Who knows? The malice slaying the magical beast could bring down on our heads is hardly worth the weight of its corpse."

"A sensible reason," Ekala still could not refrain from glaring. "Hm… well, I suppose I ought to leave the two of you be."

Metal clinked, man rising to his feet with a contemplative expression. "I will meet you in the command tent, Rajan. May the gods watch over the both of you."

" 'Gods,' " his adjutant spat to the side, not bothering to wait until the General was out of earshot. "Fitting, that they worship the Butcher of Kruurat and whatever else sits in the rest of their foul pantheon."

"We are to cooperate with them. It would do you well to remember that."

"You needn't worry about my performance, Rajan," Ekala sighed as the Koibrax retreated back into the lake after it had eaten its share of scraps tossed by the closest demihumans—and humans, surprisingly. "Forgive my lack of discipline. The past few days have been… confusing."

"Understandable. Remember though."

"Yes, Rajan!"

"These troubles will come to an end," Enverak confidently reassured the tigerwoman. "And then I can assign you to Ur Kanar if you wish."

"Truly? I doubt the Koibrax will linger for so long; as you said, we would've received reports if it lived nearby."

He chuffed; it was a shame the arbalest wielder hadn't the chance to pursue the path of a sage. She never expressed the same enthusiasm for fighting.

As if to signal the end of the brief peace, the bellowing of a horn thundered through the clearing and trees. The Mac'tal were determined to keep them worn out: this was hardly the first occasion the spiders attacked them while they were on the backfoot. "Having aerial scouts would've been convenient, hm…?"

Acquiring air supremacy was usually a task dedicated to arcanists, demihumans naturally capable of flight, or specific, expensive golems—neither of which he had the time or money to spare on. There existed clans bordering the Saramati in the far north and south that tamed wyverns, but all three had politely turned away any runners sent to them.

"Your orders, Rajan?" There it was again, the cold light of a hunter preparing to meet her quarry, a sniper's fluid gait, the reminder Ekala Ur was born and bred for this purpose.

A small sliver of him thought it a waste, for the Republic to so often concern itself with matters of war and conquest.

But that was the world they lived in. Violence could not be removed from it anymore breath could be from the living. The primordial Dragon Lords couldn't change this truth, and neither would Queen Oriculus's champion despite—because of the depths of her power.

"『To your positions! We're in for a long night.』"

Kill or be killed, Clan Ur would know no death either way.