Chapter 69

  Brother, where are you?

  Antilene dipped a slice of bread and blueberry jam into her milk, satisfied only when it was completely full of it. The sweet texture, flickering her palate, made her reminisce of when she used to eat alone in the Cathedral of Darkness. Sometimes, she would join Rufus in his chambers, if only to enjoy the company. A silent one, but company nonetheless.

  "So, tell me what you've managed to find out."

  Now, however, the atmosphere was louder, and the ruckus provoked by reuniting extravagant personalities in such an enclosed space was more welcomed than any quiet.

  "At your orders, lady Fouche," Clementine had lazily put her feet on the table, desisting right away thanks to a mortal glare by the half-elf.

  Manners before all.

  All of the reunited group was having breakfast in a discreet wing of the fortress. The Black Scripture members with whom Antilene was sharing the meal were officially part of her retinue, and only Queen Draudillon was made aware of their arrival. Though, news traveled fast when there was nothing more to talk about.

  In any case, the provided table was quite large, but when a mountain like Samson sat down, everything seemed to crumble before his sheer presence. Poor Rinaldo had to squeeze in just to make room, unable to find complete comfort in that narrow space. For once, the distance the other Blacks put between themselves and her proved to be quite useful.

  "You've already read the reports from Windstride and the Sunlight Scripture," Cassandra had requested coffee, and though her request hadn't been denied, it was clear the blend wasn't entirely to her liking. "And you've been here a long time now. The beastmen have launched a true migration, and I suspect it's due to the undead infestation. Previously, the Draconic Kingdom was a hunting ground, a place to procure food, slaves, and anything else ripe for plunder. Now, they're trying to colonize what were already occupied territories. No need to specify, occupied by humans. The western part of these lands has seen the rise of five small kingdoms, each with a different self-proclaimed monarch."

  "Four," the half-elf corrected. "I've already eliminated the wolfmen's enclosed camp, scattering their remains towards the other tribes. The kingdom bordering the Draconic Kingdom, Bahal Geesi, was a union of various tribes that maintained a certain autonomy. But the social pact has dissolved due to the actions of their current elected leader. Our enemies are confused, but no less fierce for it. And each pursues different rules and objectives."

  Disadvantages and advantages overlapped: on one hand, it was good that old rivalries were resurfacing; on the other, all that fragmentation made it difficult to predict the opponents' future moves.

  "If we don't act quickly, we could have a second Katze Plains," Rinaldo observed, ready to pace the room to regain some personal space. "At that point, both the Baharuth Empire and the Re-Estize Kingdom would be doomed. We alone don't have enough firepower to manage two such vast territories abandoned to the undead plague. Following the common rule, the undead born from accumulating negative energy grow stronger and stronger. Is the liches' goal to create a creature so powerful it can annihilate every trace of life in the vicinity?"

  The Holy Sword's insinuation was clear: the Night Liches couldn't defeat the Theocracy, but they could create someone—or something—capable of doing so. An undead even more powerful than humanity's guardian would mean not only the end of the human race but also of every living being.

  "This is now a fight for survival between species. Not just dead and living, but also between humans and non-humans. In a few years, we may remember this as the moment of humanity's greatest recent splendor..." Antilene paused, the jam still flocking on her lips, before infusing greater emphasis into what she was about to say. "Or a tragedy that will be recorded as the beginning of the end."

  Her gaze swept over everyone present. Aradia, still half-asleep, jolted awake, taking on a certain seriousness in her trembling demeanor. Rinaldo's face darkened, and he drank a cup of tea to calm himself. Cassandra opened the small bag she always carried with her, agitatedly stroking the creature dwelling within it to regain some composure. Samson smiled disdainfully, well aware of the gravity of the situation, yet unable to suppress a certain satisfaction at that tragic prospect. Even Clementine broke into a cold sweat: after all, no more living beings meant saying goodbye to toys to amuse herself with, and that clearly didn't make her happy.

  It was the latter who spoke first, her full lips still stained with the remnants of a bunch of grapes she was devouring greedily, with no sign to stop anytime soon. "Gathering of legendary undead, demi-human lords at every corner, and a mad true dragon lord who wants our souls. Well, especially yours, Lady Fouche. And they call me crazy. I almost miss training missions in dirty jungles and treacherous terrains."

  "Are you missing everything about your training regime?"

  Clementine stopped her feasting, while a visible shiver of coldness ran behind her back. "Not everything… Some experiences are life-changing because they remain unique."

  Chuckling lightly, without losing her serious demeanor, the half-elf reassured her companion, now visibly in distress. "Don't worry, it was no more than a joke," returning to more important matters, she dispelled all the concerns growing between the other scriptures members. "What do you think of all this, Windstride?" She posed that question, at the end, before anyone else could precede her.

  "That I hate Mondays," shrugging, Clementine indulged in a new bunch of grapes, having depleted their breakfast of almost all of them alone. "If things continue at this pace, even I'll be forced to act seriously."

  "Th… That would truly be an exceptional event," Aradia commented, with a certain unusual swagger.

  Clementine reacted to the provocation good-naturedly, concealing with loveliness her true feelings. "Infinite Magic, don't you think it's time to cut those long locks? They're really bulky and could cause you complications on the battlefield." Her hand slid towards one of the stilettos she always carried with her, at the sides of her chair. "I'd be more than happy to give you a hand. If we don't help each other as comrades..."

  The enchantress was no less quick-witted. The sleeves of the dark blue pajama that was completely covering her figure floated in the air, stopping only when they inadvertently graced poor Rinaldo, who that morning could know no rest. "At least more than a bowl of bananas grows on my head. Are you trying to use yourself as bait towards non-humans thanks to them?"

  Clementine whistled in amusement. "Since when do you have balls? Other than the one where you put your ass all day, I mean."

  "Is a brawl starting? Nothing better to start the day!" And Samson wasn't doing anything to cool tempers either, preferring to attempt dragging Rinaldo with him outside. "No excuses this time. I want to be put to sleep before the sun is high in the sky."

  They had just woken up… Cassandra was the only one who distanced herself from that mayhem, more because she was busy feeding the creature dwelling in her purse, rather than some sense of self-decency.

  Antilene had had enough. "Stop it, all of you!" Her tone allowed for no arguments, and both women and men alike understood instantly. "Windstride, Infinite Magic, you're expected to cooperate like one soul, am I clear? Strongest Human, Holy Sword, there will be enough enemies for all in the future. Once returned to the Theocracy, you could train as much as you want." It was important to maintain a strong grip on such personalities, lest they would get lost in their idiosyncrasies.

  For all that was holy and sacred, she really was acting just like Rufus.

  "We're sorry, Lady Fouche," they hastened to say in unison, with an ounce of shame staining their expressions.

  Antilene sighed faintly, rubbing her temples. The morning stiffness hadn't completely worn off, and such bickering would only give her a bothersome headache later. "Is even Aeneas forced to babysit you whenever you're on a mission?" A surge of compassion for the young Godkin grew in her chest, especially considering they weren't the entire Scripture. How could he manage all of them reunited in one place? "You are the Blacks. Even the word elite holds no meaning for you. You represent Surshana's will on this earth, and the last bastion of good against evil. Behave accordingly!"

  "That's nothing, Lady Fouche. You should see when Windstride and One Man Army are in the same room. The chitchat turns into squabbles, the squabbles into brawls, and the brawls into wars," Cassandra cleaned her glasses with a scarlet cloth, letting her eyes find delight in those memories that on paper seemed anything but pleasant, yet it was quite obvious to her and the other members of the Black Scripture that they were unusually precious. "Friction is normal. It's better to let tempers flare when we're safe, and to have no grudges when we place our lives at the mercy not only of enemies but also of friends. Wasn't it the same with the previous teams?"

  Hit and sunk.

  "You could say that..." The distance once again grew profound, seemingly unbridgeable at first glance. "I... It's been a long time since I've operated directly in the field. Some things have been... Forgotten."

  Maintaining an incessant aura of seriousness could be detrimental. Taking advantage of rare moments of calm to let go was an opportunity not to be missed. Better take note of it.

  "And anyway, Quaiesse is an idiot," Clementine couldn't help but let that comment slip, almost a natural reflex. "I'm sorry, but some things need to be spoken earnestly."

  "Well, Windstride, last time it was you who got us into that den of giant spider-worms, just because you wanted to prove your brother's worries were unfounded," Astrologer retorted, mocking her.

  "Let's put such considerations aside. Cassandra, have you done what I asked?"

  The Seventh Seat regained her seriousness, and prepared to explain without omitting a single detail. "For now, I have set up defensive measures five kilometers in every direction. If anyone tries to approach within this radius, we will be alerted. Field research, however, is slow. The area to cover is quite vast, and the demi-human settlements I've identified were already known to us thanks to Lady Fouche's reconnaissance."

  "Is there a risk that any enemies could escape your surveillance?"

  "It's not out of the question. If they had a specialized diviner like me, it would, in theory, be possible. The fact is that these give us an advantage," and she took off her glasses, showing them to the half-elf in front of her. "The Lenses of Delphi make even an ordinary man capable of easily spotting illusions and hiding places. When I wear them, there are few beings in this world on the same plane of ability as me."

  The equipment was familiar to her. The Lenses of Delphi, but also the sailor's uniform, the Bow of Foresight, and every other piece of Oracle's clothing were the best the Theocracy's treasury could offer in terms of tracking magic. For Antilene, they were almost entirely useless, but in Cassandra's hands, they were priceless magical items.

  "Perfect. If you notice anything strange, even the smallest detail, let us know. We must move quickly, but without setting aside caution."

  "May I ask a question?" Rinaldo raised his arm, embodying the diligent schoolboy a little too well. The Holy Sword conserved still some stiffness that couldn't be shaken with good manners alone.

  Antilene motioned for him to proceed. "Better now than later."

  "Thank you," he cleared his throat with a cough, to make the tone clear. "If I understand correctly, the plan is to gather demi-humans and undead here, then wipe out both problems with a single blow and attribute the credit to the queen of the Draconic Kingdom."

  "Yes. That's right."

  "Well, what are the plans for this kingdom once it's done? The crown of the Draconic Kingdom has accumulated a large debt to the Theocracy. I'm sure the Cardinals will be lenient, as long as the remaining resources are used for the country's reconstruction and its military and economic recovery. But this poses a risk: Draudillon Oriculus is not a simple human. The blood of the dragon has awakened in her, and if she were to lead a rebirth, it wouldn't be just humans who might see her as a revolutionary."

  It was easy to forget how everyone of the Blacks had a certain experience with politics and implications. The role of mindless sword was more fit for Antilene, much to her chagrin, rather than the operatives who had to partake in undercover missions, infiltrations and assassinations.

  The half-elf took a few moments to ponder what she had just heard. She poured coffee into her half-full cup of milk to energize herself, while the others around her murmured. "You're afraid of the Argland Council State, aren't you? The dragons have been quiet lately." That didn't mean they would be forever. In fact, it was more likely the proverbial calm before the storm. "The last true dragon lords might find a true descendant of their art to be an interesting experiment. And Queen Draudillon, from a powerful ally, could turn out to be a major thorn in our side. Don't worry, if she proves to be a danger, I'll personally cut off her head."

  With delicacy, and without causing her the slightest pain, as a sign of respect. Draudillon deserved that, at least.

  Rinaldo puffed out his chest, taking a deep breath. "It's not just that. If your theory is correct, Lady Fouche, the enemy we know as Five Fingers is a member of the ancient dragons race. There's no need to explain how the Draconic Kingdom founded its culture, indeed its very existence, on devotion to the Rainbow Dragon, one of the last survivors of that lost kind."

  "That culture has been in decline for years," Antilene countered, acknowledging the validity of his arguments. "The Draconic Kingdom has never had an official state religion, and there are plenty of flourishing cults, including the Four and the Six. Few now have faith in a rainbow that has never appeared after the rain."

  The issue didn't stop there, and both were well aware of it. Even Cassandra had noticed where the final part was heading. "We run the risk that the new heroine will cause doubt about the more human-centric beliefs we have always professed. After all, since the death of the Elf King, even the most fanatical followers of the Doctrine of the Six have been asking a lot of questions, putting dogma under severe scrutiny." She looked at Antilene, making it very clear what she was implying. "It's not always bad, per se. Faith is driven by doubt, and rigidity leads to stagnation. Still…"

  "What do you mean?"

  It was Windstride who answered, without mincing words. "For years the Theocracy has professed the superiority of the human race, and then it was a half-blood who ended the century-long war. People are starting to see things from a different viewpoint..."

  Antilene overlooked the joy that shone through. "In short. Once might be a coincidence, but when you get to two... This would be the second conflict that has lasted for years in the region, concluded thanks to the decisive intervention of a human who is not entirely human."

  There was no need to seek further confirmation. Each of the Blacks let the answer be read in their silence.

  Antilene sighed. Scratching an embarrassed cheek, she wondered how to proceed. But the half-elf couldn't find anything to make her reasoning more convincing.

  "Ah, how stupid..." Having control over politics wasn't the same as having it on the battlefield. Thinking she had always looked to the future, her gaze had been stuck in the past instead, let alone the present.

  "I didn't mean to offend you," Rinaldo hastened to apologize, even though he had committed no mistake. The paladin had been one of the few who wasn't too shaken by the initiation ritual years ago, but he still held a certain reverential and fearful respect for her. Like all others, for what it mattered. "Honestly, I don't think we can find a better alternative. This war has been going on for too long, and has involved too many factions, to end it in the shadows. Even if we had acted without attracting the attention of other international players, even worse rumors could have spread, rumors that we couldn't control..."

  He who controlled the information also controlled the hearts. It was one of Rufus's first lessons.

  "And what is useful could prove to be harmful..."

  "...Exactly."

  "Child, Raymond and the other Cardinals wanted you to be fully aware of the choices you've made," Samson, on paper, was much younger than Antilene. But since his household was already full of little terrors, bane of peace and harbingers of cuteness, it wasn't so strange that he looked at the half-elf like one of his grandchildren. "The last time the world changed so much was with the advent of the Thirteen Heroes. It's hard to realize that history is advancing when you are the one writing it. Maps are rewritten, beliefs are challenged, and everything you took for granted proves to be more fragile than expected. How we react to all this determines who we are."

  So who was she? The girl trapped in a tower, far from everyone? The queen of a people she had disowned? Or the weapon that acted as a bridge between mortals and Gods?

  "You're right, Strongest Human. The Draconic Kingdom is at a crossroads. It's up to us to direct it towards a new nation where our people can prosper..."

  "It's not just the Draconic Kingdom," Cassandra began to explain. "Ramposa the Third has ceded the throne to his eldest son, too old and tired to keep governing. Even if hersays whispers it was a different kind of evil than age. Rumors notwithstanding, the new king has decided to end the war with the Baharuth Empire once and for all. A declaration of total war has been issued. More than three hundred thousand soldiers will march directly towards the imperial capital. The Bloody Emperor may soon live up to his name, wiping out this foolish invasion."

  Such a mobilization, with the means of the Re-Estize Kingdom, was a disaster waiting to happen. Thousands would die, both during the attack and during the counter-offensive that would follow.

  "Wait, is Jircniv okay with all this? I thought his plans for Re-Estize were much more cautious." After all, the Empire didn't yet have the proper bureaucracy to adequately control such a vast territory.

  "He didn't have much of a choice," Windstride interjected, strangely well aware of the situation. Evidently, the promised carnage was enough to pique her interest. "The last time I was in Re-Estize, everyone, from the humblest of peasants to the most boorish of nobles, was aware of the anger with which the new king had ascended the throne. The Golden Princess had the audacity to suggest peace with Baharuth, and this had the opposite effect of what she had hoped for."

  Foolish and naive. Wasn't the Golden Princess renewed for her acumen?

  "Could this new war last a long time?"

  Antilene didn't have a clear idea of Re-Estize's military strength, but from what she had gathered in various conversations, it was by far the least advanced of all the neighboring nations. Pitting it against a legendary hero like Fluder Paradyne, the imperial wizard, and his disciples was like demanding a mouse to tear apart an elephant.

  "The Cardinals have no doubt about who will emerge victorious," Cassandra said. "Nonetheless, there will be significant losses for the Empire as well, if they are put against these numbers. So much negative energy means that a large part of the imperial army will be busy purifying the battle sites in the aftermath. And then there will be the actual occupation, which will have to be greatly accelerated compared to the original plan. It will be necessary to sign agreements with the nobility of Re-Estize, much of which is corrupt to the core."

  Queen Oriculus had complained about the lack of help from the imperial cavalry: this gave an explanation for those grievances.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "I imagine Jircniv won't be very happy about all this," Antilene had met him briefly, but she was quite sure he was the type of man who didn't tolerate unexpected events with great pleasure, although his ability to adapt to them was another matter altogether. "But is it possible that it's not all so simple? If the new king has planned this grandiose invasion, perhaps there are elements we are not aware of."

  A new champion? With the sacred treasures of the Kingdom, fatigue would not be a problem. If a warrior capable of defeating the imperial wizard appeared on the battlefield on Re-Estize's side, the outcome of that war would not be so certain. After all, beings like Antilene, but also her father, or Aeneas, made all possible musings on strategy, resources, and tactics meaningless.

  "It could be..." Astrologer shrugged, not very convinced by that hypothesis. "But the truth is very often that..."

  "Humans are idiots!" Clementine interrupted, with a knowing and scornful grin. "They prefer to wage war among themselves, while monsters lurk in the darkness. If it weren't for us saving their asses, there would be no Empire, no Kingdom, and no Holy Kingdom now. Men are vultures fighting over a carcass, while the lions are fretting to devour them," yet her satisfied tone was not in line with that apocalyptic description.

  "And are you okay with that, Windstride?"

  "Oh, I love it! The new king of Re-Estize is my favorite kind of prey: arrogant, full of himself, pompous, and consumed to the core by the tall tales his cronies whisper into his earwax-filled lobes. If only I could have some fun with him... But the Cardinals don't want him to disappear, or his more capable little brother might take his place… What a pity."

  For what it was worth, Barbro the First should have thanked whatever god he believed in, had he been aware of his luck.

  Antilene rose from the table, lost in thought. Ultimately, none of this directly concerned a stranger like her, yet she felt that part of the responsibility fell on her persona. "The Theocracy's intentions might come to pass, and a great human nation could be born, acting as a buffer against Argland..." This could still prove harmful: the five dragons who ruled Argland might declare war to prevent it, finding some excuses to rally the small population of non-humans living there. At that point, without the Theocracy's intervention, it would be impossible for the Empire alone to defeat the Republic's immense military force. "Have the Cardinals planned something?"

  "They're divided," Cassandra adjusted the bow that was falling from her hair. "Analyzing the pros and cons, eliminating what's left of Re-Estize's ruling class that is worth saving would surely accelerate the outcome of the conflict. On the other hand, leaving only the mediocre and incompetent would make it much more difficult for the Bloody Emperor to rule such a vast territory alone. The imperial bureaucracy is barely sufficient for the current Empire."

  Having great warriors was only useful up to a certain point. Without someone to manage your conquests, there was a risk of them slipping away due to revolts and riots.

  "From what I know, my brother is setting up some private negotiations," Clementine pulled out one of her stilettos and stabbed it into the table in front of her; the mere mention of Quaiesse always made her seek blood or, in this case, wood. "I doubt he'll get great results. I believe his goal is more to establish who should be helped from the chaos that will follow, so as to provide them with an adequate escape route when the time comes. More than anything, it would be interesting to see if he manages to convince the adamantite groups of Red Drop and Blue Rose to stay out of it..."

  According to internal guild rules and signed pacts, adventurers were supposed to stay out of conflicts between nations, but it was undeniable that very few would stand by and watch their homes destroyed and their people massacred. Such conventions only held up until they were tested, but a principle of legality was useless if there was no will to enforce it.

  "A new human nation born from the ashes of war. The Draconic Kingdom reforged after the conflict. Evasha and the Theocracy making amends. The Union breathing again after the death of the Equestrian King. We are truly at the dawn of a new era..."

  Perhaps Jircniv and Draudillon could even sign a marriage contract to unite the two states. Although, as Antilene had understood, their relationship barely went beyond simple courtesy. It also had to be said that love was a superfluous element when political gain pointed in another direction.

  Love... The half-elf herself was now a queen, if only for a short time; she should have made that sacrifice for herself too. Every generation of Cardinal had pushed for her reproduction, with subterfuges and suggestions that fell on deaf ears. Duty demanded it, but her feelings on the matter were conflicted.

  Because, after all, everyone was a child of their parents.

  "After this, you could go to the Hills, Lady Fouche. If we could give the Holy Kingdom some breathing room, the Holy Queen might be able to purge her internal problems."

  "Don't be so hasty, Strongest Human. Even if you're itching for a fight, not only do we run the risk of attracting too much attention with so many missions one after another, but also of eliminating an excellent training ground for our recruits as well as those of the Holy Kingdom itself."

  "Haha, you've caught me," the imposing man erupted in a thunderous laugh, as cheerful as noisy. "I'd say this meeting has been fruitful. The child has been brought up to speed on everything. The Cardinals will be satisfied."

  Antilene gathered the papers she had left scattered on a nearby desk. She picked one from the pile, quickly analyzing its contents. "Speaking of fruitful mornings, it seems one of the seeds I've planted is finally paying off..." The half-elf began to prepare her equipment, determined not to waste any more time. "So... who wants to meet some demi-humans? Hunt season has just started."

  Two hands went up, one well expected, the other more than welcomed. After giving instructions to the remaining members, the three of them left the fortress.

  They entered a dilapidated house, reduced to rubble. It had once been the refuge of a hopeful family, who had found comfort within those walls against the winter cold and summer heat, imbuing their few possessions with dreams and hopes. Now it was nothing more than a cemetery of horror, where the only things that could find rest were perhaps the lost souls who had been forcibly torn from that home.

  "How silly... Wooden toys and sheets of paper... Whoever lived here had more than one brat," Clementine kicked away a pile of garbage; objects of little value that had surely been great treasures to the inhabitants of that place. "Making children live in such a hovel... And then they call me the crazy one..."

  There was much that could have been added. That the owner of those toys was, with any luck, still alive, only wishing to hug that scarred rag doll, to which she had given a name that was far too sweet, a story that was far too heart-wrenching, and an affection that was far too immense. That those crayons, now worn down to the nub, had been bought from the children's parents by some itinerant merchant, enterprising and stupid enough to reach those lands, with their few accumulated savings. That on the small table, outside in the little courtyard, a precious peace had been achieved, important precisely because of its transience.

  Antilene said none of this, nor did she venture into anything else, her imagination already going too much astray.

  "In the end, this is why we fight..." She murmured, clutching her chest with her trusty scythe to give herself strength. Alas, this would not be the first or last time that sight would give rise to all those thoughts, one after another, so they could line up, be cataloged in an orderly space in her subconscious, and re-emerge only when they would hurt her the most. "So that there won't be any more garbage like this..."

  A bitter chuckle, which was followed by nothing but a shrug. Clementine found pleasure in other amusements, and as much as she reined in her more contemptible side, she was itching to find some form of satisfaction in that empty house.

  "If they had any brains, they would have abandoned these lands a long time ago."

  An implacable judgment, yet not without its own cold logic.

  "It's not always that simple, Windstride," the strongest man in the world tried to sit on various chairs scattered disorderly in every corner, finding each of them too small for his bulk. "I've seen many stories like these. You grew up here as a child, and you don't see why it should be your generation that has to leave. You fight to the end. Sometimes, because the stubbornness is too great. Other times, many more, simply because you wouldn't know where else to go. In the end, you get used to it. To death, to pain, to loss... This is perhaps the most frightening thing about us humans. That no matter how terrible the conditions are, no matter how much others tear what is dear to us away... In the end, we get used to every abuse, every slight."

  Would the ancients have shared that sentiment? When they were hunted, exterminated; derelicts in a sea with nothing to cling to. The Theocracy had professed the survival of men thanks to the descent of the Gods; yet the alternative to their absence was even more frightening. Not an extinct humanity, but a humanity that would continue to hope, that would continue to move forward, without giving up.

  Until when?

  "Hmph, what you're saying isn't all wrong, I must admit," Clementine carved out a small space for herself, where she arranged her stilettos and weapons as if she were about to use them. "See this?" She proudly held up a shimmering blade, with a silver handle and a sharp point. "I took it as a trophy from an orichalcum-grade adventurer. One of those madmen who preached cohesion between monsters and humans. He had fallen for a siren he had saved, the idiot. A pair of nice tits, and all idealism is thrown out the window. Too vulgar, Dame Fouche?"

  She gave her a grin that Antilene found out of place. "No. And there's no need for you to call me 'Dame'."

  Clementine became unexpectedly serious. Teasing her, the half-elf believed, was the only way Windstride had to exercise a sort of control, a challenge to forget that her life wasn't hanging by the thin thread of Antilene's will, which could be severed for any small whim. It was a dangerous game, based only on benevolence, in a perverse exchange of roles.

  Clementine, the victim. Antilene, the executioner. Was this the result she wanted to reach? She would not be humored so easily.

  "There are far too many imbeciles like that. Many monsters and creatures use seemingly human forms to induce their prey to trust them. Sirens and harpies have well understood that, with the prospect of a weird and beautiful fuck, many men would be well disposed to throw reason out in the trash," Samson let out a disgusted grunt, while all the stories of that ilk he had only even heard of made him cover his mouth to avoid puking. "Adventures, especially, tend to get caught in temptation, foolishly believing they are the exception. Such morons die at the peak of pleasure, and I'm sure some wouldn't even call it a bad deal."

  Some things were better off lost; as long as you only thought about holding on tight, you ran the risk of being crushed.

  "Hmph," Clementine puffed out her cheeks, tantalized by Samson's words. "In my case, the story was much more fun. As I was saying, the adventurer was a very high rank, and when I captured him, he was all cocky and full of himself. He would make me pay, he said. He had a lot to say, a lot of it uninteresting, until I took him to the shelter I had set up near the lake where his beloved lived..." At that point, she took one of her stilettos and started carving the ground, lost in pleasant memories. Pleasant for her, that is. "At the first sign of pain, he maintained his stoicism. He was used to pain, to danger. The second incision was finer, right below his nipple. Then I started touching the bones, and scraping. He gave in so quickly that I ended up disappointed. In the end, the adventurer begged me to take his siren in his place, while I had her watch all of it. He was sorry... Sorry for having betrayed humanity, sorry for having made love with a monster, sorry for things he had never done… All to make me stop… The weak beg you from the beginning, giving little satisfaction. But those who believe they are strong have a threshold that must be tested. And when you reach it..." A shiver ran through her.

  "Disgusting," Antilene spat.

  "And yet, Lady Fouche, you know what I'm talking about. The baptism of the Black Scripture consists of exactly this."

  It wasn't true. That was a ritual with a precise purpose: to prevent people like Clementine from growing too arrogant and full of themselves. A benefit in the long-run, despite what many of them could have thought when it was inflicted.

  "Perhaps you need a second lesson," Antilene raised an eyebrow, making a clear statement.

  Swallowing, Windstride took a step back. "I got the message. It was just an observation, nothing more," the resentment she harbored for that day would have been obvious even to a blind man. Not that it mattered; they were both aware that it had saved her life more than once. "It's not my place to question old beliefs."

  In the Theocracy, which had so many rituals you could lose count, the baptism of the Black Scripture was relatively new: established with Antilene's talents and her particular specialty in mind. Although previous Godkins like Faine herself had also kept their teams in line by resorting to violence, it only acquired a legitimate structure with the half-elf's arrival.

  "And how did the story end?" Antilene asked, intent on tidying up a bit. If nothing else, it provided a good distraction.

  Passing a finger over her chin, Clementine got lost in a long contemplation. "You mean with the siren?"

  Antilene nodded. Samson looked out the door, to make sure no one was coming, barely holding back a yawn. A disadvantage of having a body like theirs was that even caffeine needed to be consumed in large quantities to have a considerable effect.

  "It's not very fun, or interesting. After seeing her beloved sell her out for his salvation, she completely lost the will to go on," Windstride sliced the air, to replicate the gesture from back then. "At least we got some excellent sashimi out of it. Hey, Strongest Human, do you remember that fish I brought as a gift? It was excellent, wasn't it?"

  "No one eats what you bring, Windstride," Samson replied, massaging his goatee. "One day you'll bring us human meat, I swear on the Six."

  "Not even I'm that twisted," Clementine pretended to be offended, heedless of that observation.

  Antilene believed it was more a matter of adapting to her and her weird sense of humor, the trick to read behind the mask, behind the intention to see the real Windstride. The thing was, there was no assurance that the real Clementine was less perverse. "Like I said, disgusting." The half-elf didn't feel guilt or regret regarding that siren, just weariness for all. She glanced outside, motioning for the other two to come closer. "Behave yourselves with our guests. Only kill them if I give the signal."

  "And what would the signal be?" Clementine raised her arms in defeat after Antilene's glare. "I get it. I get it. There's no need to be so serious."

  A wind howled in the distance. When the white nevayu made its entrance, the only gifts it brought with him were information. Their worth in attendance to be estimated.

  "You're looking well, Elf," Zewedu, Prince of Bahal Geesi, was more regal and composed than the last time they had met, despite the few weeks that had passed. The golden armor bore a single emblem, a white crest like the mane of its wearer, and the always-golden sword at his side was more of a decoration than anything else. It was unlikely that the cub had sharpened his claws like a true lion. "I don't see the queen of men here with you. Only guards. But what kind of monster surrounds itself with hounds?"

  Clementine remained silent, a miracle for which every single deity up there should have been thanked. Not that Antilene was unaware of the intentions her diabolical imagination harbored, and how her scarlet pupils narrowed, stripping that little creature of protections, skin, and bones until she admired the shapeless mass that was hidden inside, and which only the Ninth Seat was allowed to scrutinize.

  "Even monsters need those who watch their backs," Antilene retorted, maintaining her composure in defiance of the insult. Even without looking as deeply as Windstride, every ornament revealed what the young man concealed behind his adornments and arrogance: fear, simple and pure in its natural state. "The queen will not meet with you. You answer to me, now. You are my instrument, and it is only by my whim and my magnanimity that you are here today. And as for the guards, well, you didn't come alone either."

  Ashiramn was his name, if Antilene was not mistaken. Where the prince displayed a false confidence, the warrior who followed him in the shadows covered himself with a more understandable caution, so that his lord could wallow in recklessness, aware that someone was ready to lift him before he got too dirty in the muck.

  Samson had sized him up from head to toe the moment he sensed his presence, then completely lost interest just as quickly. Still not the one he was searching for, he had to swallow.

  "My lord, everyone present is stronger than me," the nevayu, who must have been a veteran of his fair share of battles, was perhaps underestimating himself too much, but in those conditions, it was better to show a losing hand rather than bet on slim chances. "He who shows arrogance, will receive arrogance in turn. But just as two suns cannot shine in the sky, there cannot be two beings who claim superiority among each other at the same time, for that is a kind of truth that can't face itself in the mirror."

  Zewedu was quickly convinced. "I know we're the prey... But what can I do? I'm still a prince."

  A stupid prince would grow into a mad king. The hard lesson was that the attitude to command was not a simple matter of bloodlines. You had to have a certain class to wield it.

  Having Clementine hand her a bag, Antilene pulled out some goblets and a bottle of red wine. "In my homeland, wine is also called the blood of the Gods. There are many reasons: some link it to the fact that it was so beloved by the Earth God, Imirduo, that his wounded body would not have sprayed blood, but this very beverage. Others say that the Fire Goddess Lagusa would get drunk on this before doing her most scandalous deeds, because even Gods feel pity," she poured the contents for each person present, being careful not to waste a single drop. "In any case, it is associated with many customs, not just in my homeland I reckon. Many merchants exchange a glass to seal a business deal, or it is offered as a token of a pledge."

  The prince took a glass, heedless of any possible poison. It was quite obvious that if she had wanted to kill him, Antilene would not have needed to resort to such tricks.

  "Our culture has many similar customs. Although the religion of the Goddess has an ambivalent view: alcohol is both an instrument of ecstasy and a temptation, a vice. The warrior who gets caught up in such frenzy can both leave fear behind and let reason run wild."

  "It's not very different from what men think," the half-elf only tasted a sip, it was too bitter for her, who was accustomed to sweeter flavors. "I bet a barbaric people like yours prides itself on such an advanced warrior culture."

  Zewedu replied with disdain. "We are not just warriors. We are poets, innovators, builders. Bahal Geesi is a cradle of beauty, law, and art. The architecture of the aarakocra and owlin is high-level engineering, designed for those who dance in the sky. The tabaxi are impeccable at playing the flute, at composing melodies that warm the soul. We nevayus are explorers, descendants of adventurers who crossed the most rugged areas of the continent before founding our kingdom, our home."

  Years and years of history gathered in that boy, who didn't even realize the weight that was being placed on his back, which he could barely support.

  "And yet, you've only shown us the worst part of yourselves."

  "The strong consume the weak, this is the natural state, before laws, customs, and friendships. Eat, or be eaten."

  He was not the first, and would not be the last, to proclaim that philosophy, confusing boldness with ingenuity.

  "I am stronger, but I don't want to eat you. I would find your flesh completely foreign to my satisfaction," and, remaining calm, Antilene continued with sweet words. "Do you know what I think? That this thing about the natural state, that the strong prevail over the weak, is just an excuse. A postscript to avoid facing the consequences of one's actions, to wash one's hands of all responsibility. I kill, because I have the right to do so. I am just, because justice is my strength. If we were to follow this reasoning, you should call me Goddess Justice, because there is no one stronger than me. If we were to follow this logic, when I exterminate all of you, they will call me savior, saint, immaculate. Nonsense. My father was just, he was strong, he was unbeatable. And my father is dead. Just because I was stronger, am I also more just? Is that enough? If I had lost that day, would he have been in the right? History is not as lenient as you think. There is a truth that goes beyond such trivial beliefs. Even if the memory is lost, the footprint remains, the consequences remain... Windstride!"

  "Yes?" The Ninth Seat, who hadn't touched a drop of wine, stepped forward.

  "You are stronger than this little prince. If no one stopped you, what would you do to him?"

  Clementine froze Ashiramn with a single glance, who was about to interpose himself between her and his prince. The latter remained motionless, while the woman ran her index finger over the tip of his barely-there beard, over his thick mane, and over his chubby cheeks. "I would cut here, here, and here. Royals boast of superior blood, so I would compare it with that of his other scavenged kin, just to see how long it would take him to find the right one if placed in a slop basin. His eyes... They are deep, just the way I like them. I would tear one out, to make him eat it. They say demi-humans become stronger if they feed on notable adversaries, but I've always wondered how it works if they self-cannibalize. Would anything change? Maybe not... Ah, but I'm so curious!" She gave his arm a pinch, making the white nevayu flinch from the sudden pain. "Soft, weak arms. It wouldn't amount to much to break them. I would amputate them, for it wouldn't make a difference anyway. Then..."

  "Let's skip the scandalous details," Antilene cut her short. "When would you kill him?"

  Clementine enclosed herself in deep meditation, wanting to carefully consider how to answer. "If I were in a hurry, no more than four or five hours, just to stay in shape, to not lose my touch. But if I were granted a vacation, at least a couple of days. A job well done takes time, after all."

  "Animal!" The bodyguard couldn't do anything, since Samson had blocked him in place before he could even make the slightest move.

  "Stay in your place. If we wanted to hurt your liege, you couldn't stop us anyway." Ashiramn had no alternative but oblige. For how big and imposing he was, compared to Strongest Human was no more than a hill that dared to challenge the mountain.

  "Hehe, so scary!" Clementine mocked him with a tongue-out, as childish in her mannerisms as she was irritating in her attitude.

  "Why all this, Elf?" Zewedu, who was trying to maintain a composed demeanor, was trembling from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. "Do you take pleasure in seeing me humiliated? Seeing your hounds able to do whatever they want with me?"

  "No," Antilene said, sincerely. "I want you to remember why you're here. This is not a negotiating table. We are not equals discussing. You are my hostage. I gave you a task the last time we parted. And I want to know if you carried it out. I can read what's bothering you, why you want to put yourself on my level..." Standing up, the half-elf also closed the short distance separating her from the prince, each silent step resonating louder than any earthquake, making the ground shaking with their pressure. "You came here today with a concession to beg for."

  The demi-human, filled with shame, tried to lower his face, but the half-elf's hand had already grabbed it, forcing him to look straight ahead, without looking away. And in front of him, there was only Antilene.

  "Three days. In three days, the largest possible army that Bahal Geesi can field will attack your fortress. My uncle, the white lion, has gathered every surviving king and queen of the twelve tribes..."

  They had been wrong. The enemy were not as scattered as they had been led to believe. Or perhaps their leaders were more formidable than they could have thought.

  "Three days..." Little, but enough. "That's not all, is it?" The cub's hesitation was banned by an imperious order from Antilene, which left no alternative but to spit out what he was foolishly hiding.

  "I spoke with my uncle. My father... The Negus, is still alive. Or whatever you want to call what he has become now..." There was something more in his eyes now. It wasn't regret, nor desperation. Guilt? Perhaps. Or perhaps a more abject feeling, but no less understandable.

  "Undead... Your father has become a lich... His experiments were successful."

  A procedure not only forbidden but also almost impossible. By casting away morality, you could truly achieve anything you set your mind to. And the price? The love of a son, a brother, a kingdom...

  "Boy, are you telling the truth?" Samson shook Zewebu so much that the little demi-human almost collapsed to the ground.

  "I am merely reporting what my uncle told me. Ashiramn was with me, and he can confirm what we were told..." The warrior gave credence to his lord's proclamation with a nod of his head. "Now, will you listen to my request?"

  Antilene felt particularly generous, but even still miracles she couldn't promise. Three days passed quickly, and she needed to capitalize on the little time available. "If you expect me to save your father from the curse he inflicted on himself..."

  "No!" It was the first time the prince showed the bearing of a king. "I will not ask you to save anyone. I know my family. I know the white lion will not deliver the killing blow to his brother, because he loves him too much. I will not ask you to save my uncle, my loved ones, my subjects. I will not ask you to save my father, or what remains of him. Elf, if you are Death, I ask you to reap."

  A story of two brothers of which she was nothing more than a postscript, the final part whose involvement served for nothing other than to provide a closure, a conclusion.

  Three days. Three days and the humans would be free. Three days and the Draconic Kingdom would be reborn from the ashes of its tormentors. Three days, and that chapter would be over.

  "Heh," Antilene smiled. "That, I can do."

  Beta readers: hackslashbash, whostolemytea?

  Greedy and selfish proofreader who charges the poor, impoverished author an exorbitantly high price of one and a half cashew nuts per chapter proofread: PervySageChuck