“I deeply apologize for my unintended actions,” Michael stated, bowing their head to the subject of their transgressions.
“Like I said before, it’s all fine,” Josephine Deeptide, the Pontiff of Water, replied as she dried her hair with a towel, her previous clothes now swapped out for a very fluffy bathrobe, “It’s not the first time I’ve sobered up from dropping into a canal and I doubt it’ll be the last.”
“That still doesn’t excuse my failure to carry you properly.”
“Misha, right? Don’t worry about it, okay? I literally cannot drown, at least in water. My body’s built for the sea, you’re fine.”
“That…I thank you for your forgiveness,” the angel said, bowing their head again as they elected not to mention that the canal wasn’t the only time they dropped her. They felt like she had to know, at least to some extent, given how she’d landed on her face the first time. Not to mention the only reason Michael was still carrying her after that first time was out of stubbornness on their part.
The pontiff did look better, admittedly, relaxing in the room Brascul set aside for her. Showing up to the palace as they did had earned an exasperated sigh from the archduchess, but she moved quickly in getting Josephine cleaned up and Queen Nashyia settled back in.
At the very least, Brascul seemed…content that the queen's were back. Not that they were sticking together, as it seemed the three queens had made their own “sections” in the archduchess's castle. Michael didn’t particularly care about whatever politics that involved, but as far as they could tell, the queens were basically claiming the rooms they were staying in and some of the surrounding areas as theirs, as though they were claiming territory in a contested region.
“I see you’re settling in okay.” Speaking of the archduchess, Brascul just entered the room, looking about as composed as ever.
“As well as I can,” Josephine replied with a shrug, “It’s been a while since I’ve come by this place…how’re the kids?” Oh so she does have children then.
“Out of the royal’s way. I explained the situation to them. A few of the younger ones were upset about being ‘kicked out of our house’, but I made some promises and they calmed down.” …how many children does she have?
“Oh? What kinds of promises?”
“Treats, shows, presents, various things. At the moment, they’re vacationing upriver, if you want to check on any of them.”
“Hm…I do have a day until I have to deal with the wedding…”
“Then I’ll leave you to dress and ready yourself. Redwing, with me.”
Michael straightened at the commanding tone that cut through their idle musings on the existence and quantity of the archduchess’s children and fell almost immediately into step behind Brascul as she left the room before their brain caught up with the rest of their body. “Wait, where are we going?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not kicking you out.” Michael never worried, so her clarification was completely unnecessary. “You wanted to talk to people, I’m letting you talk to people. Just try to be polite, I’m working hard to prevent any political incidents and I don’t want you to fuck it up.”
“I know how to interact with royals, you have nothing to fear from me.”
They didn’t particularly like the way Brascul snorted in reply, but calling her on it didn’t matter for the moment. No, the important task at hand was to confirm whether or not Queen Circe, or anyone else attending the wedding, happened to be an evil leviathan attempting to kill the king or do some other nefarious activity.
Which she wasn’t. A leviathan, at least. Maybe she still planned to kill the king despite the distinct lack of leviathan-ness?
To explain, the instant Michael saw Queen Circe again–lazing on a balcony overlooking the pools beneath the grounds–the angel Looked deep into the queen’s nature and, well, to sum it up, she registered strongly as a person consumed by a mix of wrath and sloth, the type that came from buried resentment, but with a distinctly mortal soul. What’s worse, said mortal soul even had a tinge of Judgment in it, suggesting the indolent queen actually followed Michael’s Father and that idea did not sit well with them in the slightest.
“Well?” Brascul asked, prompting a sigh from the angel.
“She’s mortal. All three of the queens are. Well, Nashyia is half something, but I don’t know what.”
“Half ifrit. The Alganans call them zebani.”
“...” They looked askance at the archduchess. “You knew that?”
“Of course I did. She doesn’t hide it.”
“So are you two voyeurs going to ask me something or are you just standing behind me for no reason?” Circe called out, the redheaded minotaur looking distinctly annoyed with their presence.
Rather than respond, Michael immediately turned and left, their mind racing at this new information. It wasn't any of the queens, the bride to be, or even the king, so who could it be? Were there other royals here? Or maybe someone on the staff…
Meanwhile, Margrave let out an annoyed sigh as the angel scampered off, prompting a laugh from the queen. “Looks like your champion’s run off! Shame.”
“Hm. Yours is still recovering. I hope you don’t mind lacking a bodyguard.”
“Eh, let Argie rest. It’s not like I have anything to fear in the archducal palace, right?”
There was a challenge in her tone, but Margrave let it go. “Enjoy the view, your majesty. If you need anything, ask.”
Circe just laughed at that, reclining as she watched the waters down below, the slowly setting sun creating a warm shimmer across the surface. Like fire atop the water. “I need more than you can give, Brascul. More than you can give…”
----------------------------------------
Michael grimaced as they moved away from the castle’s kitchens, checking it off on the notepad they’d acquired from a servant who they had confirmed wasn’t a leviathan, so they could keep confirming the rest of the staff weren’t leviathans. Which they weren’t, though that fact was more maddening than reassuring.
It was foolish to think the leviathans weren't planning something and with the current trend in how their plots worked the chances that they had replaced someone was highly likely. While it was a possibility that they changed their plans after being foiled by Michael, they had no way of knowing. All they really knew was that the leviathans either established false identities–which wouldn’t work in getting close to the royals given the heightened security–or took the place of someone already established, such as the daimyo in Gorokiva. Though Michael never did meet that leviathan directly, so they didn’t have a full context of how they went about it, so maybe they could alter their plans on the spot?
"You there, I want to order something."
Even so, clearly someone would notice a guest or staff member disappearing if the hidden leviathan decided to switch identities…
"You there, servant!"
Hm... it was possible that they had some allies too. After all, they were working with demons, so it's possible someone else was–And Michael suddenly felt someone tugging on their shoulder, trying to turn them around.
Key word being “trying”, given the angel wasn’t easily moved by mortal means. Still, they did turn to look at whoever decided to grab them, raising an eyebrow at the presumption.
“Pay attention when his majesty’s talking to you–You again?!” Oh, the Centola, Icilia’s grandson. Darius Centola clearly recognized them too judging by his immediate alarm and offenses, his surprised gaze turning irritated remarkably quickly. “Why are you here!?”
“I could ask the same of you.”
“No you couldn’t! I’m here to guard the royals, you’re just some–”
“Darius, don’t berate the servant, just have her take my order already!” And speaking of the king, King Richard appeared to be present in the dining room, seated at one of the tables with one arm still around his new paramour. Or fiance? Does it count as a paramour if he’s open about his romance with her?
Either way, the king was there and from the look of things, he just threw a bathing robe over his swimsuit for his attire. Not exactly a modest man then.
"Of course your majesty,” Centola said, bowing to the king, before turning to Michael with a slight smirk and a raised eyebrow, “Well? Aren’t you going to take the king’s order, servant?”
“...You know I’m not a servant.”
“Oh? And here I thought a proper paladin accepted their role as a servant of the gods. It’s funny you don’t know that.”
They scowled. “Aren’t you a failed paladin to begin with? Why are you trying to lecture me–”
“Oh I don’t give a shit about lecturing, but I do give a shit when some random bitch thinks she can coast off a name she has no right to–”
“Ugh, really? Can you two take whatever quarrel this is elsewhere?” Richard complained, interrupting both of them, “I want my lobster here sometime today!”
“Aw, don’t stress yourself, Richie! I’m sure the nice elfy lady will bring you your food super quick!” the bubbly blonde at his side, a matching kimono tied over her own swimsuit, simpered, placing a hand on the king’s chest and stroking him there in some manner apparently meant to be comforting, “Just take it easy, kay~? It’s your special day~!”
“You’re right, it is. How could I possibly forget that, my merry Molly~?” He turned to her, his own hand going to her cheek as he smiled. Or, well, grinned in a distinctly sleazy way as his eyes blatantly stared at her chest, not helped by her pushing said chest against his arm.
“...I thought the wedding wasn’t until the day after tomorrow?” Michael couldn’t help but ask, too confused and vaguely disgusted to let that sit.
“Oh for sure it is! Our specialest day! But before that’s our special day, and our specialer day!” Seaside explained, which…sure.
“And I don't want anyone disrupting those special days, so chop chop! Make with the food already!” Richard ordered, frowning, “Circe hired you for a reason, didn’t she? So on with it!”
Right, Queen Circe hired the Furies–Wait, does he think I’m one of–Does he think the Furies are catering staff?? Michael glanced at Darius, but the high elf just bowed to the king.
“Of course, your majesty. Well if the esteemed Redwing won’t deign to obey a king–” The angel in question just raised an eyebrow in response to his thinly veiled glare. “–Avachi, you do it.”
Another blonde–this one wearing a red dress instead of a swimsuit–moved away from the wall behind the king and gave a slight nod to Darius before she moved towards the kitchens. From the general features and red-eyes, she seemed to be one of those possibly-vampiric twins Darius had been walking with earlier, though Giacomo called out to the two of them by name and Avachi wasn’t one of the names he mentioned. Maybe Avachi is their surname?
“So why the fuck are you here?” Speaking of Darius, he was back to glaring at them.
“...I’m investigating the staff for possible connections to a cabal of leviathans that are attempting to subvert or eliminate the royalty of the Light Lands.”
“You’re doing what?” He stared at them, eyes widening for a moment before they narrowed again. That surprised him, for some reason–Then he jabbed his finger into their chest. “What the fuck do you think you’re playing at here!? That’s the biggest load of horeshit I’ve ever heard–”
“Ah, hey there!”
Michael stiffened, then internally cursed themself for their stupid reactions. They couldn’t keep going rigid whenever Anaya spoke up, and they tried to even out their expression as they turned towards her. “Hello Anaya.”
“Ah, hey Misha.” They couldn’t help the wince at her uncertain tone though, and some part of them sank when she turned towards Darius. “So, hi there, Anaya Greenfall, just kinda came in here and noticed things seemed to be getting tense over here–”
“So what? You decided to butt in?” Darius’s voice was still a low growl as he looked down at Anaya, a sneer curling his lips. “I thought woodies preferred to frolic like exhibitionists in their rotted, burnt up forests. Unless Redwing’s a worse fake than I thought and decided to bring in a whore from the fifth.”
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
“...” Anaya lowered the hand she’d raised for a shake. “...Alright. Alright. That’s you then.”
“‘That’s you’? The fuck is that supposed to me? Use your words, woody, or do you not speak the language too? I knew your schools were shot to shit from the dragon attacks, assuming they even existed at all, but I figured you’d at least pick up some words from your clients.”
Michael was going to hit him. They were genuinely about to break his entire face with their fist were it not for Anaya grabbing their wrist and forcing their hand down before it could land.
Darius still flinched back though, his hand jerking to his side before he remembered himself and straightened again, still with that same unpleasant sneer. “Go ahead, shitwing. Try it. See how long it takes before you and your–”
“Pardon me, boss.” The blonde from before pushed past the three of them, bringing a platter of steaming lobster over to Richard, who had ignored that entire conversation in favor of flirting with his fiance, who genuinely looked young enough to be his daughter.
“Gh–Avachi, don’t interrupt m–”
“Oh hi Richard!” And then Anaya was pushing past him too, her hand still on Michael’s wrist as she pulled the angel along towards the king. “Long time no see!”
“Hm? Oh, ah…no, don’t worry, I recognize every woman I’ve been with! It’s just that a lot of things are occupying my attention right now–”
“We didn’t sleep together!” Anaya stated, still smiling, “I’m just a foreign dignitary saying hi! Anaya Greenfall! That’s my name!”
“Ohhh, right, of course, Greenfall, like that hero girl, one of Julius’s. You’re her mother then? Well I can see where she gets her looks from.”
“...not…no. Not her mother, her aunt–Uh, so, yeah, it’s great to see you again!”
“Of course, of course, it’s good to see you too! And I see you’re friends with the serving staff!”
She paused and gave Michael a look. The angel just shrugged in reply, before turning towards the king. “My name is Misha Redwing.”
“Alright? And? And you forgot the ‘your majesty’ part.”
“...I am a paladin of the Light, not a member of the serving staff. Your majesty.”
“Good for you, good for you, I know that’s a whole thing with you furries, the red ones–Why are you called furries if you have a bird for an insignia anyway? I would think that would make you featheries instead.”
“I’m not part of the featheries, your majesty.”
“You’re not? But you’re a high elf.”
“That she is! All the way from Zemava, because the two of us are on a tour of the continent and everything,” Anaya said, doing her best to smile again, “And it’s been really great so far! How are you two enjoying the city?”
“Ehhh, I thought a beach city would have more ladies in bikinis, but so far the general public seem to wear normal clothing. Those silk people are decent enough, but they charge for their services and that takes away the authenticity, you know?” The king nodded to his own words as though they made any sense.
"...Of course, your majesty. So…uh, hello, your grace,” she said, turning to address Seaside instead, “It is a pleasure to meet you too. You would be Lady Seaside then?”
“Oh no, I’m not a lady, just a future queen!” Seaside said with a bright smile, “But you can call me Molly! All my friends do, and I’m sure we can be fast friends!”
“Heh, well I would be happy–”
“Of course you can! Everyone should be the best of friends with my Molly Wolls~!” Richard interrupted, pulling his fiance practically into his lap as she let out a cheerful giggle.
“Aww, thank you my Kingy Wingy~!”
Anaya’s smile looked strained. Reasonably so, in Michael’s opinion, though the angel was at least socially conscious enough not to show their disgust at the “affection” on display. Their social awareness didn’t mean they had any obligation to listen to the pair of annoyances though, so they simply allowed the conversation to proceed without actually paying any heed to the king’s flirtations or his consort’s simpering.
No, they just allowed the conversation to wash over them in favor of observation. Anaya did her best to keep some form of discussion going, asking after the wedding and the pair’s lives and histories with some success, as Richard appeared more than happy to regale her with the story of his struggles as king of a major nation.
Which mainly involved him complaining about… practically every aspect of being a king really. Whether it be having to sign off on laws or declarations, having to sit and listen to peasants when they had court, or even just the never ending complaints from the nobles of the land. And well, while Michael didn't exactly sympathize with him, it was true nobles complained a lot. As did royals, if Richard was any indication.
“–the worst part really is being stuck with my so-called wives,” Richard continued, one hand still on Seaside’s lower back, “I thought for sure Allie would warm up to me at some point, we had five kids together after all, but no! She’s still mad over that party thirty years ago, as though I haven’t changed at all from how I was back then! And Circe’s not much better! Here I was, trying to be nice and uphold previous betrothals and suddenly I’m an adulterer shaming the noble families or whatever stupid thing they were complaining about. And Circe doesn’t even appreciate it! It’s all about priorities with her, as though I’m meant to have favorites among my wives! I’m the only one here trying to make everyone happy, so why am I the bad guy?”
“Aw, you’re not the bad guy, you’re doing your best!” Seaside encouraged. Michael considered mentioning matters of monarchy like picking an heir and not completely destroying the line of succession, things a king would need to do to be considered a good king, but they were being socially conscious now. They were also confident the king wouldn’t really care, so better not to waste the breath.
“...” Anaya, also, was being very studiously silent on the matter of how good a person Richard was. “So…what do you think about Queen Nashyia?”
“Eh? Oh, Nashy’s fine, I guess. Decent lay, but the spark’s not really there, you know?”
Michael would feel bad for the third queen of Luceneva if they weren’t further confident that she wouldn’t care about Richard’s opinion either. How the two even married, they weren’t sure, but the lack of interest seemed obvious.
Anaya, meanwhile, appeared to finally give up on conversing with Richard, instead looking to Seaside. “So Molly! Would you like to tell me about yourself?”
“Hey now, don’t try to seduce my new wife, Greensy,” Richard chided, before grinning, “Not unless I’m getting to join in~.”
“Oh you~!” Seaside said, lightly slapping the king on the shoulder before smiling brightly at Anaya, “And I can’t say I’m super interesting! Just a girl from up north who was lucky to meet the love of her life at just the right time!”
A very convenient time, Michael noted. “What was your life like before you met the king?”
“I’m right here,” Richard grumbled, “You could at least use the right form of address.”
If Seaside was bothered by Michael’s sudden interest, she certainly didn’t show it. “Oh my life was nothing special before I met my Richie! I was just an island girl, daughter of a sailor and a shepherd, who worked as a waitress at just the right place to tend to my poor kingy after those horrible sky people attacked!”
Michael wisely chose to remain silent despite feeling annoyed.
"Oh yes, I've heard about that. A truly awful attack, but I'm glad everyone came out of it alive."
…Once again remaining silent, Michael ignored the “awful” part in favor of thinking Anaya just felt glad they didn't die on that stupid island.
“Mm hm, mm hm, but it turned out for the best! Since I got to meet my Richie~!” she squealed, hugging the king’s arm to her chest again.
“Right, well, I’m…very happy for you–for both of you! And it’s been great catching up again, but I think we should probably leave you two lovebirds to it,” Anaya said, standing and tugging Michael up with her, “I wouldn’t want to impose on you two any longer, especially since you clearly want your privacy!”
“When did I say I wanted–”
“Aw, thank you Naya~! You make sure to have plenty of fun with your own cutie, kay~?” Seaside teased, before pulling Richard into a kiss, stifling whatever he was planning to say. It wasn’t a pleasant sight and Michael found themself taking Anaya’s hand and pulling her away from the table before they visibly reacted.
“That was unpleasant.”
“You weren’t the one talking to them,” Anaya muttered, “Well, at least that prick from earlier left–”
“I’m a ‘prick’, huh?” the prickle in question spoke up the instant Michael and Anaya left the dining room.
The angel fought back a sigh in favor of a scowl that they directed towards Darius Centola. “Did you really wait outside just to harass us again?”
“Of course I did!” The “Avachi” beside him slumped, looking weary. “And it’s not harassment to put some uppity f–”
“Heeeeeeeey, Darry, there you are, hiiiiiii!” Another blonde–though this one wore white instead of red and her hair was a lighter, almost white shade–suddenly pushed past Michael–Wait, that’s the announcer–No, referee, that was the term. The referee from the Kraken.
Indeed it was her, from the braided blonde hair to the same white shirt and pants, though she’d thrown on a furred vest at some point. Seems warm for this weather, but alright.
Darius looked surprised to see her too, or at least put out about it. “Marlowe, what are you–”
“Ah bup bup, we’re on the same job so you can call me Lidia! I insist!” she said with another bright, sharp-toothed smile, which she soon turned on Michael, “And hey again, Champ! Nice to see you out and about! How’s the arm?”
“...Well it broke today, so it’s still broken.”
“Really? Huh, guess I was off on my assumptions. Figured a big time winner like you would just walk that sort of thing off.” Marlowe shrugged, still smiling as she wrapped an arm around Centola’s shoulders. “Well don’t let us hold you two up! I’ve gotta talk shop with Darry anyhow.”
“Wha–Would you get off–Gah!” Darius yelped as Marlowe practically grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him off.
“…Hm. I didn’t expect–No, if she’s the leader of the White Furs, it would make sense for her to know him,” Michael noted. It was still strange though that the leader–or just the branch head, given how large the guild was–liked to be a referee…
“She could definitely keep better company,” Anaya agreed, which wasn’t exactly what Michael meant but also wasn’t inaccurate, “Wonder if she’s married?”
“…Anaya?”
The druid rolled her eyes. “I’m not interested, she just had a gold ring on her finger. It might be a fashion thing or she might be married, I was curious. That and trying to think of something to say other than ‘we should talk’.”
“…We should speak though.”
“Yeah, we should.”
And so they did.
It was easy enough to find an unoccupied room where the chairs were comfortable. Their conversation was calmer this time. Michael’s emotions were calm and steady, for once, and Anaya’s voice lacked its previous aggression and spite. And they talked. About their reasons, about their rationale, about the hurt Anaya felt in the moment that boiled over from past rages.
She recounted her angry youth, her time traveling, her return to the home she once hated. How she rejoined the druids, how she found a sense of peace, and how that was ripped away by Kigalori, the earth dragon. She told of her efforts to save lives. Of her desperation as more and more died despite those efforts. Of how the title of archdruid lowered itself to her after every other holder passed in the defense of their home. Of how she attempted to gain aid from her neighbors, and received nothing. Not even the Faith of Light, those who should have defended the people of the Light Lands, no matter who they were.
“...I was told defending Divica was more important,” Michael admitted. They knew as they voiced it that their answer was a terrible one. “A dragon who could raze nations to the ground would be the largest threat the Faith of Light had faced in centuries. Millennia, even. And it was the will of the Pontiff that decided what we should do. And I obeyed. Because I am an angel, and it is in my nature to obey.
They placed their hands on their knees, and bowed their head as low as it could go. “I am sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Anaya said, as though they didn’t see her brushing a tear away, “It…Thank you for apologizing. It’s not fine. I still hate Vocula for sending me that…fucking letter. Saying he couldn’t, that we all need to look out for ourselves. He phrased it better than that but I got the meaning, no matter how much he dressed it up. He should’ve just said ‘go fuck yourself’ and I would’ve at least laughed from how blunt it was.”
“He shouldn’t have. He should have supported your people in their time of need. I should have as well, and I am sorry I did not.”
“...You apologize really easily sometimes, you know that?”
“I believe I have said so before, but I apologize when I believe I am at fault. There is no cowardice in admitting fault. There is in refusing to face it.” They took a slow breath to steady themself. “I cannot apologize for the conflict with Goldforge. I understand you have good reason to favor him. He saved your life and he did slay Kigalori, avenging those you lost. But it is the will of my God that he be banished, so I cannot apologize. I hope you understand.”
Anaya regarded them in silence. She did not nod, though she did not refuse their reasoning either. “What is it like? Having that kind of connection?”
“It is a sense of peace. A sense of confidence, knowing that I always have someone who loves me. I love my God. He is my creator, but more than that, He is my Father. My very first memory is the feeling of His hands holding me. It’s a sense of warmth and safety, knowing that I am loved. I am…I am His first Cardinal, but I know I am not His first angel. I am the eldest of my living siblings. I am not the eldest of all my siblings.”
Staying silent, Anaya gestured for them to continue.
"...It was before my time, but in the war against the Dark, my Father sent all his angels to rain judgment down upon them. None of them returned, leaving my Father without children. I…a long time had passed before I learned I had older siblings. By then I had grown accustomed to Father’s protectiveness. Even if we were meant to be His soldiers who followed His every command, Father always showed leniency compared to the rest of the triarch. It may have come from a place of love, but I couldn't help but feel… dissatisfied.
"Would I ever be able to compare my siblings who came before me? When Father dotes upon us, is it from love or from the sorrow of losing all His other children? I don't know if I'll ever know the answer, but until then, I am Michael second, and Father’s angel first." An angel with red wings, not the bronze they should have been.
Anaya nodded then, having heard them out. “Thank you for the apology. Well, the first one. I get it, you have…well, everyone has their problems. We’re going to still be traveling together, so I’m glad we cleared the air. I’ll try not to let my own hang ups cause problems as long as you’re willing to do the same.”
“...Uh…yes, of course, I can do that.” How do I do that? What ‘hang ups’ do I even have?
“Also, uh…So. So! In the interest of being honest…You asked if you could kiss me earlier.”
Michael stiffened, their face warming, before they slowly nodded. “I did.”
“Are you attracted to me?” she asked as though it weren’t obvious. Perhaps she was being charitable in that sense, since she wasn’t just acknowledging the blatant truth.
“I am. You are…You have many qualities I find attractive that I have not found in other people before. I am attracted to you.” They were the angel of fortitude, they did not feel nervous. Ever. “...do you reciprocate?”
Her smile looked almost sad, though not pained. “Misha, you’re really sweet. But you shouldn’t fall for the first girl you meet, okay? The world is big. And I don’t think we would work out. I would rather stay friends, if that’s okay?”
“...” They didn’t feel nervous. But they could feel disappointed. Sad, even, though there was a strange sense of relief in it. Not in a pleasant sense, but in a sense of resolution, at least. “Understood. Thank you for your consideration.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for always trying your best. Now c’mon, we should get back to the others.”
She stood, offering her hand, and Michael took it. Maybe they held it tighter than they needed to, but Anaya didn’t complain as the two walked in a companionable quiet.
Maybe…it wouldn’t be so bad if things remained quiet?