Chapter 81: omg so many
Lower Fire Month, 17th Day, 600 AGG
"Tch," Rogrek's mace smashed in the head of the blade-limbed vermin with a wet crunch. His claws dug into its dark-violet carapace, yanking the corpse up just in time to block an errant『Energy Missile』. "How's our left?"
"Clear," the Ur Kshatra grunted as his sunder savagely tore into a Swordstalker. "Rangers should've cleaned up the ones trying to sneak to the rear."
"They're playing it straight then?" Rogrek mused to himself. Attempting to understand one's enemy was the crux of any altercation, but the vermin heteromorphs had minds—if they had minds at all—far too alien for him to comprehend.
"Must've killed a couple hundred by now," arrows and stone bullets spat out from behind them, popping the Sanctifiers and Weblords like spoiled fruit. "Thought they valued their spellcasters?"
"Who knows? It's been decades since they tried an attack this large," for this reason, insectile societies were treated with wariness. Leave them alone for long enough, and well, you'd be staring down a swarm of perfectly unified enemies. There were weaknesses to be exploited in that, but none worth the effort without locating the Broodmother.
"Now isn't that ominous," his inadvertent buddy rushed ahead, half a step behind him, tossing an axe at a bulbous spider fifty-meters away. The wind unnaturally changed direction and blew the impromptu projectile off-path, leaving the Weblord unharmed. "Not a word."
"I didn't say anything," Rogrek dispassionately ignored the caster in favor of the Swordstalkers protecting it. A glowing arrow hummed through the air, piercing the Mac'tal psion's abdomen. In its trail followed three or four more—the bolts moved too quickly for him to count in the chaos of fighting—poking the spider full of holes. "Leave the casters to the rangers and snipers."
"Humph," they equipped another sunder, identical to the first. "Shadra of Clan Ur. You?"
"Rogrek. Rajan of Clan Kroh'or," annoyance surged within his breast at Shadra's surprised expression. "A recent development."
"I'd say," Mac'tal were dragging away the unlucky beastmen they had been able to kill. Did the vermin know of the resurrection deal offered to them by the Goddess? Their superior ability to transfer information did wonders to bridge the gap in prowess. "You seemed a little small for a clan lord. Kroh'or too…"
'Troublesome,' couldn't the tigerman catch a hint? "We all do what we must."
"I have to say, you're a lot less of a flea-sack than I was expecting," the spiders were beginning to retreat, satisfied with whatever incomprehensible goal they had set out to achieve. "Our Rajan's always had a grudge against Clan Kroh'or, you see?"
Rogrek found it odd. Each engagement resulted in far greater losses for the Mac'tal than the Republic's punitive force, so that left only a few possible predictions: some trap was waiting up ahead, the enemy was stalling for time to do something that'll turn the tides, or they were hoping to wear the demihumans down before a decisive confrontation. "I'm aware."
That the worst possible situation would be the arrival of an unexpected hostile party.
"Always bragging about this and that—not you, obviously. You're pretty good for a Kroh'or," Shadra gestured towards a group of humans struggling against a few stray Mac'tal, one of them even having a limb shorn off in the process, before a Nakh Kshatra pasted the monster. "Can't say the same about our allies, eh?"
"They're not suited for this environment; instead of these plainlanders, their commanders should've sent rangers," that was, if the Draconic Kingdom wasn't concerned about strengthening their army as a whole.
"The humans only sent—fucker!" Shadra fortified himself with a Martial Art, Mac'tal blade only leaving a shallow trace of red on his hide. "Damn bug… Only a few hundred rangers?"
"One hundred for us," Rogrek unsheathed an aruval and smoothly bisected the Swordstalker straggler assaulting the tigerman. Around them, rangers had detached from their squads to exterminate the small groups still within reach. "There's multiple fronts to progress; we're hardly the only group that has territory to protect."
"The humans have their specialists though: those with metal identification tags," the tigerman licked his wounds. "Haven't caught any of those fellas out here or in Ur'lathla."
"Just means the Queen wants to train the weakest elements of her army."
"Pft. I can believe that," Shadra chuffed. Was taking pleasure in the struggles of the frail truly so enjoyable? He couldn't empathize with Falgun, any of the deceased Kroh'or Rajans really, in that aspect. "How strong can humans even grow to become? There's the uh… Something-Flash, and then those angel-summoners."
There was some irony to be found in that, for the tables to turn on the Republic once mere angel-summoners were exchanged for she who lorded over the skies.
"Does it matter? If Her Majesty wants us to watch over their growth, then there's no other recourse but to do just that," the sensation of flaying and dicing Falgun's corpse would never leave his hands.
"Pain in the ass is what it is…"
Ah, if only Shadra knew. If only they understood how much worse things could be. If he told them, whispered the horrors of Kruurat into attentive ears, then would they continue complaining over meaningless trifles?
Rogrek clenched and unclenched his unoccupied fist.
"I suppose."
The dryad had seen more activity in the past few months than the last century.
To be clear, it wasn't like nothing happened in the forest prior to the tumultuous events currently vexing her. Demihumans, magical beasts, and monsters chased each other around—perpetuating the cycle of life as was proper. Plants grew, withered, grew again; everything in tune with the passings of sun, moon, and rain.
Yes, those were uncomplicated times. Better times.
"Um, Lady Neralyn… about what you wanted…"
"What about it, human—Makarine?" Neralyn and others of her kind she bothered interacting with never troubled themselves with remembering the names of the shorter-lived species. What for, when their lives came and went with the spring?
However, it seemed their society considered calling people by species 'rude,' so what else could the dryad do but adapt? "I do not believe this request is beyond your capabilities. My tree is not a particularly tall one."
"Errr, how do I say this? You said, hm, Her Majesty hung these slips."
"Indeed," apparently the black-haired woman accompanying the troublesome blonde was the ruler of such-and-such place of which this Viridian Expanse was included. "As well as Yuriko."
"The Goddess?" Makarine nervously tapped his thigh. "Reading those notes… I, heh, don't think it's the best idea…"
Ridiculous. What was that supposed to change? "It is my tree, yes?"
"Y-Yeah, it kinda is." The human ranger slowly bobbed his head.
" 'Kinda?' "
"It is! It's your tree, dammit! I-It's your damn tree!"
"Thus, because it is my tree, wanting to know what other people have attached to its branches is only natural."
As a dryad who had never laid eyes on written script in her life, she obviously couldn't read; therefore, a level of partnership was required until that could be remedied.
Neralyn felt an inexplicable urge to inhale and exhale for no reason. Dryads didn't need to breathe; their trees did that for them.
Communicating with other races was so… frustrating.
"Urk… I guess a quick look can't hurt?"
"Of course it won't," looking at the paper slips hadn't hurt her after all, and she spent hours staring at the indecipherable script. "They're free of curses and enchantments."
"But the angels are watching," Surely he must have seen them on his way here? Angels wielding glowing swords, angels with hands encased in oversized metal gauntlets, and the particularly unnerving lion-headed one wielding an impenetrable shield and lance of fire. "Peeking might make them angry—"
"I stared and the angels did nothing. Please stop making excuses."
"Here I go then," Neralyn scoffed; these summons were powerful, yes, but if they hadn't stopped her from attempting to read the slips, why bother for the human? " 'I hope you can find more treasures to hold dear to your heart.' Uh, geez. Wow. Is this really the Queen…?'
"The other ones?"
"Geez, could make a book out of all these," young beings grumbled too much; one would think they'd waste less time given their shorter lifespan. Neralyn resolved herself to master the art of reading—relying on temperamental humans irked her. "Huh. Can't read these ones."
"What do you mean? I thought you said you could read."
Honestly, this was why she never went out of her way to interact with the human villages in the forest. All of them were two-faced in their words, without exception.
"Explaining written script to a dryad," Neralyn unhappily watched while the ranger mumbled under his breath. "Lady Neralyn, when it comes to words and stuff folks put down on paper, being able to read one script doesn't mean I can read all of them."
"Okay. Go ask an angel."
"They can't," he uncomfortably fidgeted. "Even the army's stuck to using them as mail couriers; they don't talk, write, or nothing."
"In that case, who can read it for me?"
"Re-Estize, Empire, Theocracy… ain't seen nothing like it," Makarine cupped his chin with a frown. "Maybe Argland or fellas down south would know, but not me, you hear?"
"I see," well, she could hardly travel to places she knew nothing of and the thought of moving her tree filled the nature spirit with stress. "Then ask her to come here."
"B-By her, you're not saying…?"
"Yuriko, yes," Neralyn impatiently snapped. Long, slow years of watching the land granted her a lengthy temper, but humans had a way of irking her in ways she could've never predicted. "If she wrote them, it's only natural that she can read them, correct?"
"I—well, I guess, but she's the Goddess."
"Who you worship means nothing to me," even the children of wild beasts knew to afford the forest proper respect. How much more so a deity? "Her status has very little to do with what I'm asking of you."
"Her time is valuable, you see," Makarine continued to blab his excuses. "To dare disturb the Lady of Wings from her duties would be, uh, difficult."
"Tsk!"
"Apologies, Lady Neralyn!"
"I'll offer your 'Goddess' an accord," the dryad disliked extending offers like this, but it seemed she had precious little recourse. "As a keeper of these lands, I am naturally in possession of plentiful knowledge that could be of use to your kind. The army of your 'kingdom' is training here, no? Understanding the terrain and its denizens would be helpful, I imagine."
"… No promises."
"And I could introduce your leaders to my brethren. Wouldn't it be nice, earning favor in the eyes of those above you?"
The terms Neralyn laid out weren't enough to sway the ranger. Makarine remained as skittish as ever, and she sensed she was still far from reaching an agreement. 'Should I just charm him?'
A tempting idea, but one she rejected on closer inspection; Yuriko had easily removed said effect the first time they met. Even a dryad lacking social experiences with the outside world knew that magically coercing someone into a deal was unacceptable.
Should she give up? Wait for Yuriko to come by again and ask them when the opportunity arose? Tree spirits had time if nothing else.
But it was really bothering her. For somebody to hang indecipherable notes on her branches, then request the dryad not remove them was intolerable. What if there were foul sentiments she disagreed with? What if people saw those and assumed she championed said beliefs?
"Asking can't hurt," Neralyn spoke in a softer tone, similar to how she might coax a skittish bunnia closer. "She has bestowed summons upon your army for violent exercises; a mere request won't offend her."
"I'll do my best and send your terms," the dryad proudly smirked. "But again, no promises. She's probably dealing with all kinds of crap right now."
"Hmph. How long could that possibly take?"
Draudillon despairingly contemplated if being buried by parchment was a plausible cause of death. Shouldn't this amount be impossible for an individual to complete? 'I wouldn't have to finish then…'
That was, if resurrection magic wasn't easily accessible for her. Shame.
The dragon queen slapped her cheeks until the skin turned a bright red. It was just paperwork: nothing to act melodramatic over. Hadn't she been doing this since before she reached the age of majority? Childhood?
'That was mostly studying though.'
A scowl found itself sitting on the seat of the royal's brow. Complaining about the many advantages she had received solely from the circumstances of birth was unseemly. She, who had been born into a position of power—both institutionalized and real—certainly shouldn't complain because of some measly paperwork.
Fighting against beastmen on the frontlines was worse. Being raised in one of their farms was worse. There were plenty of paths her life could've taken as one hailing from the Draconic Kingdom, and most of them were worse.
"No funds for anything else but the bare minimum…" Draudillon dispelled those wonderful musings and tapped the side of an obisidian-black inkwell. "Good thing the Rajans I met were so accommodating."
Like they had much of a choice. Fairness? The services proffered were pricey, sure, but certainly nothing to scoff at. She and the Court wrote guidelines ensuring they and the western merchants wouldn't exploit the demihuman nation, extended Yuriko's resurrection to their warriors—at a handsome price of course—and refrained from looting the country to its bare foundations.
Mercy? Of that, the beastmen received in abundance.
Even with the excessive generosity shown towards a group that wanted to domesticate the kingdom into a livestock ranch, Draudillon was not so foolish as to believe the beastmen were given a choice. Refusing to comply meant rebellion, rebellion birthed conflict, and conflict against the angels only had one outcome for the other side.
Anyway, she had no desire to impoverish the newly acquired client state even now that she could. Though there was something to be said about the art of pushing problems down the line…
'Truthfully, the situation isn't that terrible.'
To be sure, treasury, was in as tight a spot as it was during the beastmen invasions; however, there was a profound difference compared to then.
All the resources they spent now would benefit the kingdom long into the future. No more threats of cities, towns, villages being swallowed up by demihumans, no more foreign tributes to barely stave off destruction, no more desperate attempts of propping up a military on the verge of collapse.
What everybody built today and in the days to come would endure, becoming a sturdy foundation for a Draconic Kingdom that need not fear the perils of the unknown. Infrastructure, public services, military forces so robust that the 'Goddess' could finally take the long, long vacation they deserved. Strength that would lift the kingdom above ever despairing like it had before the Beastman Country.
Which was all very nice and wonderful to daydream about, but did nothing for the towering pillars of work teetering atop her desk. "Uuuuu…"
'I took Martin for granted,' Draudillon bemoaned the loss of her capable assistant even while the gilded tip of an enchanted quill dashed across flying sheets of parchment. She idly wondered if rulership levels were increasing her reading and writing speed—ah, she'd have to redo that one… 'I took the entire cabinet and Court for granted.'
Many of the nobles whom the Royal Court was composed of were buried in metaphorical piles of issues themselves. The military was revamping its entire training doctrine with operational doctrine soon to follow, the scant few magicians directly affiliated with the Crown had been tasked with leading the development of an academy, diplomats had to prepare for the upcoming festival, and the Treasurer was suffering more than her—all while simultaneously managing their own desmenses.
It didn't help that most eastern estates had yet to fully recover, and while the newly instated administrators were pulling their weight, there was still much that had to be done before the affected noble houses could properly manage themselves again.
Funny enough, this very state of affairs would see landed knights fall behind ordinary soldiers over time. They couldn't drop everything just for training, and superior equipment only went so far in covering level disparities.
Assuming her plans for the military didn't flop and die. Responsibility was a frightening beast.
"Come in," Yuriko slid through the crack where they had been peeking in from, sandaled feet bringing the angel behind her.
"You're still up?"
"No, I'm sleeping, obviously," Draudillon pointedly ignored how they were mussing her hair. It was already a dreary tangle anyway. "I hadn't realized it got so late."
"Hrm… Drau might be an airhead."
The blatant falsehood was received by an arched eyebrow and narrowed, teal-green slits. "You might be right; the time I spend with you could be rubbing off on me."
"Oops," Yuriko innocently blinked. "It can't be helped then!"
Draudillon grunted in agreement. Where was she? Oriculo's craftsmen were scrambling for profitable contracts with the upcoming festivities. It wasn't just the Crown funding everything; other noble houses had a vested interest in the going-ons of the capital.
A cozy, creamy scent wafted from underneath. She looked up, dry amusement playing across her face. "Milk. Really?"
"People say it helps with sleeping," the angel nudged the cup of warm milk towards their exhausted partner. "You've been at it all day."
"I know," the dragon queen permitted a sigh to escape. "There's much work to be done."
"You promised…"
"A degree of flexibility should be allowed," guilt crept along the undertone of her words. "I'm sorry. Truly. But the occasional late night is unavoidable for anybody in a station of authority."
"That's true," Yuriko stared at the desk and thoughtfully hummed. "Want me to give you a recharge?"
"Now's not the best time—"
"I meant a spell, Drau. It's crunch time, right? Don't you think a boost would be nice?"
"I'm no stranger to burning the midnight oil; the mana is better spent elsewhere. Besides, didn't you say you weren't going to cast restoration spells on me?"
" 'A degree of flexibility should be allowed!' "
Draudillon clicked her tongue. Even for a queen, some arguments were unwinnable. "Fine."
"『Restoration』."
Fatigue departed with the fading holy glow, and she immediately felt her mood improve to the smug grin of the angel. "Yuriko."
"Yesh?"
"Thank you, and I apologize for being a little… on edge tonight," the milk had cooled enough to not burn. Draudillon sipped from the cup and sighed again—this time, in relief. Whoever advised her beloved did an excellent job. "That was unfair towards you."
"Mm mm, I get it!" Brilliant golden eyes unfocused, staring into the distance. "Hard to relax when you've got deadlines staring you down… Whatcha working on anyway?"
"Deciding whether or not we have the means to fund various projects," she waved towards the substantial heaps of proposals and overtures. "Interested?"
Yuriko peeked over her shoulder. "Reminds me of my old job, blergh. I feel bad for Limdel—er, he's the Treasurer, right?"
"Mhm," in Martin's absence, the onus of filtering the worthwhile from the less so fell to her. "That, he is."
"Want me to relearn bookkeeping?" Yuriko spread herself out on the carpet, facing the ceiling. "Maybe I could help some, or something."
"After your court etiquette has been brought up to par. It's hard imagining you have much time to add accounting on top of everything else."
"Yeah… number stuff sucks…"
Silence graced the office, a familiar one where the only sounds were the tapping of fingers on wood, off-key singing in the air, and the arrhythmic scritching of quill tip upon parchment.
As with most still moments spent in Yuriko's presence, it did not last.
"Where's Ryx?" The angel's feet floated off the floor, allowing them to hang the metallic tags over the Gatekeepers' neck. "He's the only Exaltation I summoned, but I got an identifier made anyway."
Yuriko proudly flashed a tag with poorly carved paw etchings scattered around a shakily written 'Ryx.' "Tada!"
'She must have been building herself up to mentioning it,' Draudillon leaned forward to get a better look. 'Seeing me toiling away probably dissuaded her.'
"It looks wonderful," she shamelessly lied. Well, it did have its own sort of charm? "I'm sure Ryx would… love it."
"You really think so?" Yuriko beamed. "I wanted to copy your style because I thought it was super cute, but drawing on metal is hard."
'Why would you want to copy that?' The drawings she drew in the past to encourage the frontline soldiers were bad. Awful. There was just no way around it, nothing anybody could say to persuade her otherwise. Hearing praises for them only made her want to curl into a ball and hide away from the world. "Well, you've done a great job. "
"Hehe!" Oh, how she wished her work would magically finish itself! "So where was he again?"
"I'm keeping him in the courtyard," a hand directed the angel towards the general direction of their quarry. Didn't they have an innate awareness of where the summons were? "His size made it difficult to move him around the castle hallways. He couldn't fit through the doors either."
"That's so sad…" And Yuriko really did make it seem like it was something to be upset over. "We should make all the doors bigger—!"
"We are not."
"Aw… But the Beastman Country has their doors bigger."
"Some ideas are unnecessary and impractical," Draudillon steepled her hands, leaning ever so slightly forward as she stared, stared into her partner's eyes. "We will not be restructuring the castle for the sake of a single summon."
"That would be pretty silly, huh?"
"Yes, it would," her eyelids slid shut. Tomorrow… no, in a few days, El-Nix would be arriving. Considering the clear dislike he harbored against her paired with the drastically changed circumstances of their relations, the interactions lying ahead were sure to be interesting.
She hated interesting. Except when it came from a few select people. Or person, rather.
"Drau, am I bothering you?" The dragon queen flinched, suddenly finding Yuriko's face filling her entire field of vision. "Don't be afraid to tell me if you need alone time for work."
"R-Right, my schedule is a tad tight at the moment—"
"Say no more!" Soft lips pecked her forehead. "I'll wait in the bedroom!"
"Feel free to occupy yourself in the meantime," she called out after them before sinking into the cushions of her chair with a chuckle. The box of commissioned miniatures along with a corresponding set of painting tools should be waiting on their shared bed. It ought to make for a nice surprise, or that was the hope at least. 'I wonder if she's already there, opening it. The office isn't exactly right next-door.'
Draudillon stared at the closed door for a while longer before shooting to her feet, barely biting back a curse.
This was definitely something she wanted to see with her own two eyes.
