Xervaveve eyes the mostly human-looking interlopers. Mostly being key, as humans would not have canid ears or tails. They seem strong, with firm muscles. They would be a worthy choice for breeding the next generation, and she can’t find any arguments for not procreating with them, especially their leader.
A great deal of self-discipline in that one. While the others are anxious and fidgety, he alone stays seemingly collected. But things are not always as they seem, Xervaveve notes as the man’s eyes dart to the champion; the great protector, sent by Anansi himself, who single handedly slew an army.
“I believe you, lycan Garn,” the Matriarch reassures from atop her seat, eight legs folded. The champion sits beside her in his lesser form, only the size of a human palm.
“I doubt the champion would have captured you alive had you been deemed a threat to us. We won’t hold you for much longer.”
The foreigners relax at these words. Their story of an army traveling south is distressing to hear, especially if they’re as strong as those captured, but that they’ll soon be gone eases her worries.
“With that taken care of,” the Matriarch shifts her gaze to the small form aside of herself, “I have a proposition that may interest you.”
The Matriarch looks back to Garn, who rightly takes the look as his cue to say, “I will hear it.”
“I propose we form an alliance.” She suggests.
He frowns. “That’s unexpected. Why?” he asks, slightly guarded. The idea surprises Xervaveve as well.
The Matriarch nods, her expression turning grim. “Your story of Coyote, a Great One, and the promise of protection in the south matches the declaration of the Great One Anansi. He too has delivered unto us an assurance of safety deep south.”
Xervaveve’s eight eyes blink at once, only now realising what is afoot.
“I believe we are called to the south for the same reason, Garn: Security. In that, I believe it would be in our shared interests to travel together.”
Garn considers this. He looks back at the “Champion,” who has not seen fit to interfere with the discussions. In a way, this shows its tacit approval, or at least, its neutrality. After a few more seconds, the lycan makes his choice.
“As the leader of my people, I can agree to an alliance, but I’ll need to speak with my mistress before anything official is decided.”
“An acceptable caveat. You and your men will be released to communicate with her,” the Matriarch points at Xervaveve, “My daughter shall accompany you to speak in my stead.”
Garn evaluates her, old and contemplative eyes meeting her own. Strong and steady is his gaze, but not unkind.
“That’s fine. We should be able to return within a day if we leave immediately.”
The Matriarch taps a leg and a path opens through the webs. “Then go and return. Come back when you are finished. I will have my people prepare to depart.”
_________________________________________________________________
Only when he is fully free of the foliage and traveling under bare skies does Garn breathe a sigh of relief. Meeting a weaver would have been unlucky. Meeting that thing could have been catastrophic. With his mistress unable to properly fight under the sun, that champion could be the one to end their southern march. Its presence alone had cowed him, after which he wisely surrendered.
He shakes the thoughts free of his head and looks back, where the arachne is keeping pace. Xervaveve, as she introduced herself, springs forward instead of sprinting along. Her thin legs bely her great strength which she uses to leap vast distances. If all arachne can move so quickly, he doubts they will slow his people down.
Breathing slowly, he arrives back to the army. The [Soldiers], upon seeing him, enthusiastically wave. He had been gone for a day, having not returned the night before as was planned.
“Clear!” Garn calls. “We have a guest. I am heading back to my carriage. Continue as you are.” he orders, and the army parts. As he passes by, the gazes and attention of the [Soldiers] move from him to the arachne following. He can hear their whispers, feel their curiosity, but ignores them. They’ll have time enough soon to get used to the spiders. He arrives at the carriage and knocks.
“Come in.”
He opens the carriage door. “I come with a guest.”
He enters and gestures for the arachne to follow him in.
This well-meaning gesture goes poorly, as Xervaveve squeezes her way through the door, which voices its displeasure with wooden cracks and groans. She glances inside before laying on the seats opposite his mistress.
“Hmmm, an interesting guest you’ve brought me, Garn. An arachne, all the way outside their forests.”
Garn nods to his mistress, relieved that she has some knowledge of the species. It would be complicated to explain… well, everything.
Ambrosia chuckles lightly. One leg goes over the other while she looks at the arachne with a critical eye. She knows of the Arachne. She also knows that one wouldn’t be here without reason.
“Xervaveve, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Ambrosia, the [Lady] in charge here. What brings you here?”
Xervaveve looks surprised. “You know my name?”
Ambrosia smiles. “I’ve ruled as a [Lady] for a long time. Identifying a class and name are only a few of my skills.”
Xervaveve nods slowly. A few eyes look at Garn, but the man is content to stay silent.
“My Matriarch requests an alliance. She wishes to travel south with your army.”
Ambrosia lifts an eyebrow. “Oh. Why is that? I was under the impression that the Arachne prefer to keep to their village. Has something changed?”
Xervaveve’s legs twitch. “Y-yes. The Great One, Anansi has conveyed to us that we must go south, where we might find safety.” She points at Garn. “Garn said he holds a similar command from his Great Coyote. The Matriarch believes it would be in our best interest to work together.”
Ambrosia closes her eyes.
“Gods, Miss Xervaveve. Your ‘Great Ones’ are known as gods. Anansi is a god, as is Coyote. They are beings beyond us. As for an alliance,” she looks at Garn, “What do you think?”
He shrugs. “They will not slow us down,” he frowns after a moment, “they also have a very powerful weaver that defends them.”
Ambrosia smiles. “Then it is decided. We will ally with the Arachne.” Her smile widens. “Garn, you will seal the contract according to Arachne traditions.”
“Contract?”
“Of course! When anyone wishes to create a contract with the Arachne, they must surrender their body for coetus.”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“What?”
Ambrosia chuckles, enjoying the confused look on Garn. “Arachne are only females. In order to reproduce, they require a male from another species. Usually, this ends with the death of the male.”
“Are you telling me to die?”
Ambrosia giggles now, watching the hairs on Garns body stand on end. “Contracts with the Arachne are built on trust.” She explains. “If they value the contract, if they wish for things to go well…” The vampire looks pointedly at the envoy with a toothy smile. “Then they will not kill you. If you trust things will go well, then you should be willing to put your life on the line.”
“That's… Hrrr,” Garn growls while glancing between Ambrosia and Xervaveve.
Xervaveve quickly raises her hands. “My apologies, but we are not fertilizing our eggs at this time. A contract of words will be enough.”
Ambrosia pouts. “Really? Not even a little?”
Xervaveve shakes her head, ill at ease with Ambrosia’s near insistence. “No. The Gre- I mean, our god has declared that a male far to the south will be responsible for fertilizing every arachne.”
The vampire tilts her head and snorts as she glances at Garn.
“If I remember correctly, you mentioned that Coyote told you to make sure you have over a thousand fertile lycans for the Alpha in the south.”
She tilts her head and glances out the enchanted carriage window.
“I wonder…”
__________________________________________________________________
“Ah, for-” Whatever expletive Quasi planned to declare is cut off with a mighty, “ACHOOO,” as he sneezes into his handkerchief.
He sniffs and frowns.
“Why,” he tosses down tissue, “the fuck am I sneezing? I shouldn't be sneezing. My stats are too high to sneeze.”
“Someone must be talking about you.” Jessica idly replies as she reads.
Quasi rolls his eyes at her. “That's just some East Asian superstition.” His eyebrows furrow. “At least, I think East Asian. I can never keep that stuff straight.”
“Asian?” Fiona asks but Quasi just waves his hand.
“Nothing. Just a culture from Earth.”
“From the ground?” She asks again.
“From my world,” he adds and then looks at his new wife. She has a very confused expression on her face.
“Shit… I think I forgot to mention that I’m a summoned [Hero] too?”
Abernick chuckles, Jessica facepalms, and Deflon ignores the hijinks.
___________________________________________________________________
[High King] Henceforth sits at the head of the table, listening to his trusted council. His [Royal Lady], [Royal Merchant], [Royal Knight], and [Royal Strategist]. He considers their inputs, the unique views that they can add to a discussion, and absorbs the ideas. The [Royal Merchant] uses his skills in economics, balancing budgets, and making trades. The [Royal Lady] is unmatched in her knowledge of [Noble] politics, rumors, and how to wield high society. The [Royal Knight] discusses ongoing training, national security, and powerful individuals of note. It is the final member, the [Royal Strategist], that keeps the [King] abreast of foreign relations, the state of the army, and the ongoing war.
This powerful, organized group was brought together by Henceforth after his ascension to [High King]. A capstone skill, [Royal Court], is what made the council what it is today. A seemingly weak skill, Henceforth had assumed, as it empowered the classes of others and not himself.
He changed his mind after he realized what skills he gave others.
Avena, a [Royal Lady] and high level [Gossip] was granted [Trending Rumors]. The skill allows her to discreetly spread information throughout the city, without anyone directly pinpointing the origin. With just a few words with other [Ladies], she can spread lies and deceit, destroying political opponents with relative ease and with little to no bloodshed.
Peris, his trusted and loyal [Royal Knight] gained [Emend Draft], arguably one of the most useful skills Henceforth has ever seen. Peris can take any man or woman, and through training, replace their current class with [Soldier] while retaining many of the levels and shifting the person's skills to combat variants. A [Farmer] of level thirty could easily become a [Soldier] with over twenty levels. But, where the skill really shines is its effect on [Slaves]. Yes, high-level [Slaves] can become competent [Soldiers] in mere days instead of training them for years. A promise of strength and glory, all in service to an ever strengthening army.
Ventis, the [Royal Merchant], an old man with a penchant for profits and skill to boot. His skill, [Demand Shift], makes it so that any specific range of goods of his choice become more attractive to a consumer, or the exact opposite, raising and lowering prices at will. Currently, Ventis skill is keeping local demand for armor and weapons low so the army can purchase them for a lower cost.
And the last is Jade, the [Royal Strategist] and the only other person in the room who has risen beyond level one hundred other than Henceforth himself. She is a curmudgeon touched by time, hair grayed and half her teeth replaced with silver dentures. The formality and ceremony do not stop her from calling each and every one of her fellow council members a cunt. Even the [High King] gets graced with her ineffable wisdom, but behind the total lack of decorum and sharp tongue is an even sharper mind. Her skill, [Final Stand], has made her allies far more dangerous. With the activation of the skill, she can push her [Soldiers] into [Berserker’s Rage], drastically increasing their strength at the cost of direct control over them. A skill with drawbacks, but a powerful one that will keep foes from fully committing to a battle. She’s used it several times, and each time Dominus was forced to retreat or risk losing many of his higher leveled [Soldiers].
Even with all these benefits, the [Marauder Warlord] continues to be a threat. His class and skills are now equivalent to a [General], with a capstone skill to go alongside it. [Designate: Deathless Marauders], a skill that turns a group of [Soldiers] into monsters that cannot be killed. He’d heard the reports of these Deathless being stabbed through hearts, ignoring what should be fatal injuries while slaughtering with impunity. They move like undead, undeterred by normal bodily movement.
The worst and most frustrating part is that the Deathless regenerate when beside a corpse. When they kill, the entire group heals, and the more deaths around them, the faster they recover. Such a skill would have destroyed him if not for the monthly recovery. Dominus can only use the skill once a month whereas Jade can use her skill far more often.
Regardless, Henceforth is confident that he will eventually be victorious. His army grows faster, and the economy has never looked better. Eventually, the [Marauder Warlord] will be overwhelmed by numbers and the higher leveled enemies will perish under such an overwhelming onslaught.
Well, so long as there are no surprises…
“Are you sure, Jade?” he asks, fully knowing that his question will be answered with vulgarities.
“Yes, you deaf fuck. Mundus was conquered by a motherfucking [General], a shitbag named Rathos. He’s probably also the fucker that brutally raped my cavalry with fucking horse dicks.”
Henceforth grunts, used to the woman's crass language. If it was anyone else, Henceforth would have executed them, but Jade is too important and she knows it.
“So these horse Demi-humans exist?”
Her cane taps the floor hard. “I’m not a parrot, you cunt. I’m not going to keep repeating shit to you because you can’t fucking understand it the first time I said it. The horse-fuckers are there and being led by that asswipe.”
He taps his chin, hand ruffling his smooth and blond beard. His thoughts trail to the [General]. He’d heard rumors of a [General] down south, but he thought they were fabricated. It wouldn’t make sense that a [General] would have risen in the southern mana-starved lands, especially that close to the fog.
“As Rathos is the most likely candidate for slaughtering our cavalry, he is likely a belligerent party, but we do not know the exact circumstances of the attack and it could have been justified. Writing him off as an enemy may be premature,” Henceforth muses, leaning his head back.
“What are the thoughts of my court?”
“We kill the bastard and I use his skull for an ass scratcher!” shouts Jade, ready to enact “justice.”
Avena clears her throat. “My king, I believe we should not over-extend ourselves. Dominus already occupies our armies. A war on two fronts could be disastrous.”
“Well said,” Ventis agrees. “Not just that, but forming a trade alliance would be to our advantage. An army in the south won’t have the same resources we have at our disposal, but surely we have things they would be interested in purchasing.”
“It could also shift the tide,” Peres begins, his eyes glossy with an idea, ”Dominus has already attacked several [Traders] from our other allies. If we trade with the [General]’s kingdom, Dominus would most surely attack their [Traders]-”
“-after which the [General] will retaliate.” Henceforth finishes the sentence, a smile forming on his lips. His gaze quickly shifts to the [Royal Lady]. “Avena, prepare an entourage. Use whoever and whatever you need. I want an alliance with that [General] at all costs.”
Avena bows. “Yes my king.”
He turns to the other three. “Assist her with whatever she needs, be it [Soldiers], gold, or [Slaves].”
“I will do my best.”
“It will be done.”
“Fuck off.”
He waves his hand and bids the four away. They leave his presence, a smile still plastered on his face. A plan, a simple one, but also effective. A win-win situation, regardless of whether Dominus attacks the allied kingdom. If he doesn't, he gets more trade. If not, then it seems he will not have to wait years for his rival to perish.