Monica stared down at her prey, a prey she wouldn’t have been able to defeat on her own. The older stronger-maiden stared back up, wheezing, her lower half gone, destroyed by Monica’s special shadow-rock. They stared at one another, waiting for the end. “You’ll regret giving away your freedom like that.” The matron spoke, her own darkness trying to sustain the unsustainable, prolonging her life by mere seconds. “The weak… they cling and drag down the strong. You’ll see, in time.”
“Monica knows.” Monica answered. “Sometimes I am in Rick’s way, sometimes, Rick is in Monica’s way. But sometimes, many times, Monica makes Rick strong, and Rick make Monica stronger.”
The older maiden stared with a lone eye, coughing blood. “If…” She coughed. “If you are so eager to take in the weak, then… perhaps…” Inhaling sharply, she shuddered. “Follow the trail within the True Darkness.” Raising her hand, she made a gesture, creating a streak of blackness that shot off, vanishing through the treeline, vanishing into the distance. “There is a gray tree, and… Throag’s…”
Her voice wavered, and with a soft barely audible sigh, the matron’s body slumped.
One final, slow breath, and her heart stopped.
Monica waited for a while longer before the last traces of the strong-maiden’s powers had vanished and the smell of death began to spread. With a determined final nod, she turned to leave. At first, Monica questioned whether to follow whatever the strong-opponent’s last request had been or not.
Rick was probably being fussed over by Dia right now, and the healer would not let anyone get close until she was done… and no doubt there would be silly things the others would want Monica to do. With a quick shake of her head, Monica headed out to see if there was anything interesting.
Maybe the strong opponent had hidden some tasty food?
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The place was known as the Blood-Cliff by many of the people in the human kingdom, and the patch of red flowers at the top made it all the more haunting. During her time as a human, Eva had read many stories about this place, as well as the gruesome tales involving the one that ruled this desolate land. The Red Queen was the name mothers would invoke to make their children go to bed; it was the vengeful ghost that would come in the night and whisper sweet temptations to human women, turning them into blood-sucking maiden abominations.
Despite having become one such “abomination” herself, Eva could not help but feel apprehension as she stared at the stone fortress atop the cliff.
“Do not fear, my Champion, the Red Queen welcomes you to her land.” One of her… assistants spoke up. “She is sure to be joyful of having a grand boon such as yourself.”
Eva did her best to suppress the sigh as she spared a glance at the Vampires that acted no different to the Fledgelings they’d been not even a fortnight ago. They hung on Eva’s every word, always remaining close, within reach were she to ask for anything. “I… would hope things go well,” she said with a nervous smile, wishing nothing more but to run away and straight back to Sinco. The Vampires laughed as if she’d told the best joke in the world, singing empty praises, smiles full of fangs and eyes that glittered with hunger.
It was because the night of the ritual, far more Fledgelings had ascended than anyone had ever expected. Almost all of them, in fact. It had been seen as incredible news “for the cause,” and Zagan had rushed ahead to inform the Red Queen, bringing the lone Vampire that’d aligned herself with the Ghoul’s bloodier views. Which left Eva with far too many Vampires playing the part of… servants? No, not quite; the now-ageless maidens were all too eager to command their former sisters and send them off to do menial chores. At the same time, however, they would ensure not a single Fledgling got the “honor” of tending to Eva’s needs.
Unfortunately, as eager as they were to orbit her, they were equally eager to get her to the Red Queen. It left her effectively trapped in the most uncomfortable gilded cage she could’ve ever imagined, one with captors that held year’s worth of experience wielding their powers as Fledglings, and whose capabilities had only grown upon ascension.
There’d been just one positive aspect to this whole mess so far: mentoring.
One of Eva’s biggest obstacles these past few months had been learning to control her blood-energy such that it would be compatible with the kingdom’s standardized spellcasting system. As it turned out, this shoe-horn approach to solving her problems had been one the Vampires had tackled a long time ago, instead opting to create a system of their own that could adapt standard spells to a blood-energy compatible format. So far Eva was a total novice, which was to be expected, but it had taken her days to learn how to cast an illumination spell where in the previous system it had been weeks. Granted, some of that came from her previous practice, but that was still progress.
There was, however, one major issue.
“Once you meet the Red Queen, I am certain she will aid in your quest to rejoin your most precious Lord. For you, there is no doubt in our hearts that she would grant the blessing of our ageless forms upon him, so that you two may share eternity together.”
The freshly made Vampires might have taken Eva’s claims about love in ways she’d definitely not intended.
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The basement was dimly lit by a single mage-orb, compacted dirt on all sides, the only way in or out being through a heavy wooden door that had been sealed shut with roots and wax. Outside the door there were two maidens, and another two further up the stairs leading out of the sealed room, with four more on the house’s main floor that were loudly practicing singing lessons with a small group of young maidens.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
This was all to guarantee not a single soul would be able to hear what was about to be said within this very important basement.
“I’ve been in contact with some of the nobles, and there’s been an information silence in what refers to the Viscount’s battle with Rick. These people would’ve been cheering out of the windows if the Viscount had won, and the battle should’ve happened by now…” Alice, the former psychology teacher from another world, spoke out to the other people within the room. “I can only assume that Rick defeated the Viscount’s army.”
It’d been a logistical and political nightmare to get as many people from Balet to Aubria as they had. A dozen otherworlders, thrice that in maiden orphans, and just as many maidens bonded to said otherworlders. The only way they’d managed to pull this off had been through asking for favors from the nobles of the Aubrian court, who’d been all too eager to “snatch” the “poor, pure-blooded humans” away from the “dreary” city of Balet. Fortunately, and unfortunately, said debt meant Alice had to visit many noble homes to spend many useless hours speaking to many boring people. The nobles would curtsy and meander in conversation, and beg for stories, but each and every one of them had the same goal in mind: to wed off some son, daughter, or cousin to an otherworlder.
More than once Alice had wished she could’ve just punched someone.
“Fucking awesome!” Katherine cheered, pumping a fist into the air. “I knew the old chem-teach would have this in the bag!” She noticed the grim looks amongst those in the room. “What?”
“He did it; he made something from our world.” Tomas spoke grimly. “It’s the only way he could’ve won. The Viscount had not just numbers advantage, but experience and gear.” He glanced at the teacher. “Are you sure there’s nothing?”
“this is what I managed to put together; I don’t know much else,” Alice said, shaking her head. “But based on the total silence about the matter, if Rick won, then there were no survivors to talk about it.”
The room of otherworlders was eerily quiet, stares shared amongst one another. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife, the silence stretching on as each of them waited for someone else to be the one to state what they were all waiting for.
“Up until now, everything we’d considered was a hypothetical. Now we have the possibility right at our doorstep.” Alice looked around the room. “The instant news comes out that Rick won, the nobles here will do their damndest to lock us up. I do not think we can remain idle indefinitely.”
“Is it even possible?” Tomas asked, frowning. “The road from Aubria to Sinco is not short, and many of the villages along the way were wiped out in the feral rush before winter came along. Even with a few Elves to help make more food along the way, supplies will be a very big problem.”
Alice nodded. “That’s only a problem if all of us were to go. I believe a small group could head out to contact Rick, while the rest of us move somewhere out of the city, outside the Aubrian court’s reach.”
Another moment of silence and shared glances.
Tomas was the one to speak up again. “Going to Sinco is going to be risky. There’s no doubt the nobles will be watching the roads. And I think that, in the group of people that go, at least one of them should be someone who knows him well.”
Alice nodded at this, as did the others.
She thought back to that conversation they’d had, months ago, in Balet right before he hit the road. Ever since then, many things had happened. Alice did not feel like the same person she’d been back then, and she knew it had to be the same case for him. Despite this, she hoped that his goals had not changed.
That he could help build a new home for the otherworlders.
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Rick’s brain felt like it’d been thrown into a thorn-bush, then the bush had been set on fire, before being dipped into a vat of vinegar, rolled around a salt-pit, and eventually thrown into a box full of red-hot nails. With said box being then thrown down a steep hill and into a volcano. The headache wasn’t purely physical, either; even Dia’s attempts to alleviate the pain were overall a token gesture at best.
Whatever it was that he’d sprained, he’d sprained it good.
“Even by the standards of the humans of my time, what you’ve done is a feat very few had ever achieved.” Camilla’s voice had a hint of irritation undermining the praise. “If I were not bonded to you, I would find this more amusing that you did not turn yourself into a vegetable.”
They’d settled on a rotation: whatever maiden Rick was bonded to that happened to be closest would get a share of the pain. Roping the Elf Queen into it had probably been the highlight of Dia’s day so far. Doubly so because Rick loathed the process as much as whoever happened to be the victim, pushing his defenses down just so they could draw some of the pain away left him feeling… exposed.
“Maybe you’d like me more if I were greener.” He snapped back.
Rick was currently being bridal-carried by the designated luggage-Orc. The green giant was respectful and gentle, but she was no Urtha. Not that there were alternatives when they were currently marching hard towards the plains. They were on a tight schedule, and the only reason Dia had yet to forcefully knock him out was because that could potentially make recovery take longer.
“Hm… no, I do not think so.” The Elf Queen eyed him with an amused smile. “But your newest follower might.” She spoke, referring to the Salalexis. The feralborn maiden (Rick had yet to figure out a proper name for her) was currently unconscious and hogtied, being carried on the Orc’s back.
The feralborn lizard had been insistent on not leaving Rick’s side, even while surrounded by a lot of maidens she was terrified of. So they’d needed to take drastic measures after the failed attempt to kidnap him “to safety.”
“It is still so odd to see it in person.” Camilla mused out loud. “The feral threat had been one our scientists had posited would occur if the feral populations were left unchecked. Never had I thought the fall of the Green Empire would leave things to degrade to the degree they have.”
“That sounds like a story.”
“One left for another time,” she said, turning to look away. “It appears the huntress has returned from whatever had kept her.”
Rick tried his best to get a good look at the aforementioned cat.
Who was wearing clothes. A cape, to be exact, draped over her front. “Monica not find food.” The feline proclaimed, walking alongside the group, gaze intently fixed straight ahead.
The cape ruffled.
“What you got there, then?” Rick asked.
Before the feline could answer, an orange blur shot out from underneath, rocketing straight towards Dia. The Nightingale shrieked, instinctively taking to the air as she avoided whatever had just tried to tackle her. It was a little girl, with orange ears and a wildly active striped tail. “Come down and fight me!” The girl that couldn’t have been older than eight yowled.
Rick stared at Monica, who was squirming.
“Fight me you big ugly bird!” The tiny feline shrieked.
“Hello there, little warrior.” Camilla greeted. “Why might you be trying to fight our healer?”
“She beat mother.” The little creature snarled, baring her fangs and claws, trying to pounce up at the Nightingale.
Monica grimaced a little, giving Rick a very awkward and apologetic stare. “Monica… keep?”