“Good day for rewarding elucidation, my honest opinion decrees.” “Rewarding? Too dependent on personal interpretation–––on the very side you chose.” “Honouree Queen, thou shalt not fear. I hath uncovered much... unfamiliar breath over past sessions.”
“You too...” Azariah nodded once, mumbling some small words only she understood. After a moment of thought, she turned not-so-smilingly to Linlin who had only recently joined them on the flowery ground while wearing a smile that was simply too much.
“Let the other one out,” she demanded sharply, her tone icy. “…excuse me?” “Ah, my Esteemed Queen intends to assess the taciturn sir.”
‘Taciturn who?’ Pansy couldn’t hope to tell what either of them was thinking. In some form or another, they must enjoy his discomfort.
Their body language left very little room for interpretation–––except for Chartres, whose body composition still made no sense. As Pansy scoured the forest floor, he looked for clues before gloriously deciding to pretend he did not understand.
Pansy got away with this tactic more times than he could count. But anyone who took the time to read every twitch of the Master Strategist’s stony face would notice the peculiarity at some point.
A well-hidden panic lurked behind the calm facade. Fear filled Linlin’s mind as Pansy wargamed methods to deal with this disaster. Pansy began to seriously suspect he’d been found out.
But how?! The burning question remained unsolved. There were many discerning powers at work that he had no idea existed: He could not bluff his way through the questioning.
In retrospect, Pansy could’ve avoided further trouble since both entities he shared the clearing with were trained observers of psychic oscillations so difficult to hide for the unaware.
“You know it’s useless, right? I may not look like it, but I’m unsurpassed in my spiritual accomplishments. Did you learn nothing from the last time you barged in?” It did unsurprisingly little to reassure Pansy that what Azariah said wasn’t what he was ready for.
One explanation for the Queenant’s sudden demand was both highly likely to be true and disastrous for the personalities and their long list of dangerous secrets,so he was unsure of what to do. Azariah wasn’t letting him ponder over her words for too long, though.
“I alone am responsible for State-run communication. I hope you never thought I was not going to find out what you did. That would be an insult! You took such an unusual approach, I’m sure anyone would’ve figured out your meddling.”
As Azariah caught certain over-the-top mind fluctuations, her ill-boding grin widened a little more. Grinningly, she reached out a dainty hand and stroked our stunned protagonist’s pale cheek.
“Come on, don’t be too shocked. Only a selected few should be able to see through you so easily. Let’s say, it was just a matter of a bad matchup? In essence, I’m…”
Neither of the two personalities paid attention to the seemingly endless stream of words that followed. Though they may be explanations, Linlin lacked the foundation to truly comprehend what they were saying.
If anything, the more she spoke, the more heated their argument became. The intensity was great, so much so that Linlin sat there like a wobbling pillar ready to collapse if the two failed to reach a preliminary agreement soon.
Soon, Queen Azariah became bored with the lack of communication she’d received. To avoid dozing off before receiving a satisfactory response, Azariah shot instead a questioning glance at the onlooking mimic.
The blob of living cells bearing the appearance of a sunny, well-educated boy shuffling about shuddered under her scrutiny, but was ultimately helpless.
Lord Chartres’ response was still languid and monotonous, but it answered her silent question. Partially, at least. “…prerequisite to assume any appearance art immaculate dictation over that which defines corporal matter: Cells.”
Azariah’s eyes never lost their inquisitive look, so he hesitated even more before he proceeded. Lord Chartres knew that breaking off the discussion at this time would get him into hot water.
“…aggrieved by the fact an entity as deplorable as feeble requires hegemony over self-defining particularities to conserve the race’s timber, time gave rise to... specialities.
Lord Chartres art everything yet one whereas Honouree Queen art one yet everything.” As the mimic realised he had already revealed too much classified information with his cryptic explanation, he fell silent and refused to entertain the queen further no matter how inquisitive Azariah was.
Having deduced that the mimic would not divulge any more information, the Queenant whispered to him a secret only they would share.
“In other words, each cell is a brain that regenerates what is lost if vitality is abundant? Can it be… you’re undying yet far from immortal?! No natural born race has ever reached this step.
Makes me wonder where you came from.” As he looked unconcerned at the interesting, plain sky, Lord Chartres snorted regretfully and stretched out on the grass.
The mimic, for sure, wouldn’t add any new bits of wisdom for Azariah to deduce his origin. He would have already settled the matter if she weren’t such a strong pain in the backside.
Fortunately for the bored queen, she got her hands on yet another secret just as Linlin seemed to be regaining his spirits. “Well?” Azariah asked in playful irritation.
‘All right, I’ll take over.’ ‘No! No way, that’s too risky. As I said–’ ‘Something tells me, it’s far more riskier to play it smart.’ ‘...’ ‘Pansy...’ ‘Must you really?
During our long sleep, Azariah seemed to have gotten over her initial post-mission awkwardness. Shame, tho. It would have been ideal for us if her weakened state was of significant duration.
That opportunity is now gone. Hehe... we really spent a whole month in a trance.’ ‘Don’t trust them?’ ‘Of course not, silly Stupid. Trust, but verify–––ever heard of Lenin’s good ol’ saying?’
‘They have no reason to–’ ‘We don’t know of any. However, it does not necessarily mean that none exist. See? You lack my professionalism. And healthy caution. If I let you do the talking, it will absolutely end in disaster.’
‘Listen, I have a great idea–’ ‘Now I’m even less inclined to let you do your thing. You aren’t a diplomat. Your speciality lies elsewhere.’ ‘But I’m called for and you are not.’
After a meaningful pause, Pansy sighed exhaustedly, ‘...don’t answer too quickly and wait for my feedback!’ “Here I am.” “That I can feel. Back then, you were the rude fellow talking. In any case, I am also to blame.”
Azariah shook her head as if to rid herself of unnecessary thoughts, and carried on as if nothing had happened. “I am extremely curious about how something like this is even possible, given that mankind’s second nature compels you to evaluate what is considered normal and what must be destroyed as it is not.
In fact, I get the impression it comes too naturally to you.” “Lord Chartres’ corpuscles necessitate correspondent validation hampered not by untenable bias.”
Azariah rolled her amber eyes and continued to not pay any further attention to the sulking mimic staring holes in the sky. “Linlin, don’t get me wrong. I don’t care how many there are stuck with what I can only presume is your true self.”
As Pansy continued to dish out all these waterfall-like speculations, our protagonist frowned. The agent wasn’t too pleased with where the conversation was headed.
First of all, he knew he wasn’t Linlin and that Azariah only indulged herself in wrongful conclusions. There was no true personality. Both were one–––or so the agent happened to understand.
So he quickly oversimplified matters and took control since he knew Pansy better than the latter did himself. It prompted the agent to follow his own ideas.
After all, the Master Strategist had come to a conclusion, but it wasn’t quite clear how he was meant to proceed. Phrasing, wording, intonation, accent... the agent really couldn’t care less.
At certain times, Pansy, in spite of all his brilliance, would fall into time-wasting mania only his immediate intervention could prevent from taking up days.
“How I get my skills, is it? You fear me. No, wait. Now that’s not the right word.” “...did the other one tell you? That won’t do~.” Azariah snapped her fingers, her cheeky grin fading quickly. “Correct either way.
My State cannot suffer under your rule, Linlin, because of secrets I don’t know. Answer two questions and I promise to restrain my curiosity as much as possible, at least until you speak freely. Which both of us need to do eventually.”
With no words, the queen explained what would happen if he refused to answer. Nevertheless, there was no need for them to wait since the only thing both entities could be certain of was that even a dissatisfying answer would lead to a serious fallout.
In those circumstances, she appeared far too calm and controlled to give Pansy an outlet for his tension. More than once he desired to grab the switch and wrestle away control.
They were, however, merely impulses he got rid of quickly. Even without wargaming, he could see that this wasn’t the best approach for future peaceful coexistence.
There were sufficient reasons for why the Queenant was on tenterhooks as well as why she was serious about hearing the explanations from a simpleton.
“Here goes nothing… First question. Must the target be dead?” The agent remembered what had happened to him in the forest, how he had managed to get his hands on the very first Core and made [Gluttony] do its job begrudgingly, and nodded.
‘No!’ His alter ego roared because a simple nod only led to a deeper misunderstanding. The agent remained completely ignorant, whereas the queen’s earnest expression lost some colour.
After taking a deep breath, she prepared herself for what was to come and immediately made her way to the heart of the matter. As the earlier question was only a foretaste, this was the most important one. “Is there a limit? In terms of numerical restrictions, I mean.”
The agent’s quick headshake made the mimic stand up at once and disappear behind a thick trunk, leaving only an ear on a blackish stick to satisfy his curiosity ogling from behind many layers of hard bark.
Azariah’s favourite personality had painted a very dangerous picture as well as a big target on Linlin’s back. ‘S-shite. Fresh, smelly horseshite! Stupidddd~!!!’
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Despite the fact that she had basically confirmed the man in front of her was a highly dangerous individual, Azariah still looked dazed when all was said and done.
Now that she was thinking about so many things, about how to best make it up to Linlin, the situation changed. Why did it turn out like this?
Whatever the case, it didn’t take her long for her meddlesome instincts to overshadow her conscious awareness and prepare her for what was to follow.
Suddenly, as our protagonist was still pondering over why on Central truthfully shaking his head twice would summon a torrential storm heavily charged with killing intent, he spat a mouthful of blood.
The agent felt as if he were dying as a huge shift in power began to mistreat the mindscape, eclipsing whatever restrictions it had been subjected to.
‘W-what the–?’ ‘Fucker!!! You stupid sod!’ ‘Why?’ What a very agent-like, innocent question to ask! For this very reason, the agent went to great lengths to avoid causing a misunderstanding, refusing to utter a single word.
Misunderstandings stem from poor communication, don’t they? Thus, not engaging in such dangerous practises should have prevented bad outcomes.
He didn’t desire to incur Queen Azariah’s monstrous rage. Yet, it was something he could not avoid for whatever crooked reason. ‘Open your fucking mouth and explain what she wants to know. Keep little hidden and hurry!’
‘Why…? It sounds like you wanna strangle me.’ Despite Pansy’s best efforts, Linlin continued to understand nothing and sat in the grass like a drowsy cow surprised by a sudden thunderclap.
‘Because your ambiguous answers can never, ever be understood by anyone whose name isn’t Pansy. It ends with fresh blood every time. You utter, boorish fool, is this explanation sufficient?’
‘I was told not to tell too much about ourselves. By you. Now you tell me to fire right away. Why?!’ ‘Fiddlesticks! Who has time to slowly explain horseshite now?’
As the agent foolishly refused to change his erroneous ways, he lost control over his body and proceeded to float in their mindscape, surrounded by giant question marks that continued to jump up and down above his figurative head.
Why did he always have to deal with such incomprehensible stuff? What the hell was going on here? Why was it always the same goddamn diplomacy coming at him like an angry fan he didn’t want to see at all? Why not simple head smashing?
Innocent to the end, if nothing else. And still, shit had hit the fan. This was a curse! Was he really going to die one day from a simple misunderstanding?
The agent couldn’t help but question his life choices. “One moment.” In an attempt to rescue the hide, Pansy adopted the same posture commonly seen on preaching clergymen.
“Your anger is very understandable, queen. However, listen to me, so that we don’t start beating each other’s brains out–––it’s not worth the... misunderstanding.” “It’s you again!”
Once the wretched fluctuation reminded Azariah they’d switched again despite the restrictions she’d put in place, some sense returned to the seething Queenant as she cursed furiously.
She was ready to flip the table once and for all, but the last vestiges of reason and hope kept her from doing so. She didn’t want to repeat her mistake! “Very well, explain!” “Certainly. First of all, I am the strategist and he is the agent.
I deal with information processing and all the associated stuff, and he deals with physical tasks of daily life. This arrangement has been in place for a long time.”
As Azariah continued to scowl, the clairaudient boy-shaped bundle of cells behind the trunk grew some more sticks with eyes and ears to watch Pansy’s struggles. For research purposes, of course.
The comrade’s performance revealed itself to be so fascinating that Lord Chartres could learn much from only watching in silence. Such a tutoring session was hard to come by!
Probably. Useful as a reference, in any case. Should his turn under dangerous thunderclouds ever come knocking, he’d be better prepared thanks to him.
During this time, Pansy took a breather that was neither too long nor too short, using the precious seconds to go over everything he deemed safe to reveal before continuing his explanation.
“As far as I understand, the real question is whether our very existence is detrimental to the State. My answer to that question is clearly no.
We don’t kill lifeforms indiscriminately just to enrich our repertoire. Let’s consider the following: These are questions you have probably already asked yourself, by the way.
What is our purpose for demanding Cores whenever possible, wherever possible? Is the backlash of overconsumption or indigestion not bothering us?
To tell the truth, I have no idea. Honestly, I am the least sure about all that, especially since we met shortly after you know what. I can only say that we require Cores in order to unlock various abilities based on their original owners.
As long as the Core remains intact and the innate energy is above a certain threshold–––again, this is another unvalidated theory of mine–––we have a good chance of picking up a random skill.”
Taking yet another breather, Pansy cast the newly upgraded version of [Bloodoscope], which was proving to be a useful addition to their skillset.
[Bloodoscope] Level 2
Adult Lesser Otyughs naturally learn this skill in the course of their long lives. A severely downgraded version of the forefather’s priced abilities. Utilise your blood’s innate clairvoyance to uncover the most likely future outcome of your inquiry. Depending on how much prophetic interference there is, the kind, intensity, amount of information, angle of observation, of feedback varies. Low energy consumption. Currently applicable thrice a day.
Level-Up Requirement │ Bioenergy (350)
Comment │ The best a lesser species has to offer. Ain’t no safe choice–––who would’ve thought you’d choose it?
He trembled when he learned that the outcome of his inquiry was not what he had hoped for. “Again, please believe me. There are other ways to get the job done than killing!
We’re not raving madmen going bonkers over this little bit of power.” Pansy gestured wildly as he tried to keep any form of deadly trouble at a safe distance.
Someday he might not mind her knowing more, but for now he couldn’t allow it, as he wasn’t sure if they could even trust her or if they had to prepare for an escape from a bloody fallout anytime soon.
And if they were enslaved for their expertise in alchemy, which Azariah seemed so eager to possess, these secrets would decide their fate.
Regardless of the compelling reason for bowing the head, the Master Strategist suffered greatly from revealing vital information that would expose them defenceless. But again, according to his meticulous calculations, this was the only way to escape right now with their one and only life intact.
“Once again,” Pansy declared wildly while secretly casting a second [Bloodoscope], feeling the result was more pleasing, “neither of your children nor any other creature has suffered disproportionate harm as a result of this peculiarity.
Goddamn it. For goodness sake, we have to eat too.” “...then why have I heard otherwise?” As reason prevailed over instinct, Azariah regained more of her bearing, but that didn’t mean she was easily swayed by Pansy’s overeager performance.
This had also happened once already. As far as she was concerned, the diplomatic, two-tongued personality might as well cover up what his straightforward counterpart thoughtlessly revealed.
Even so, if her previous failure taught her anything, it was that she should make calm decisions with a clear head just in case she regretted them later. It was precisely for this reason that Azariah gave him one last chance to redeem himself.
‘What am I gonna do, shit, she won’t believe me!’ Pansy had blabbed everything he could without spilling every single detail. Still, it wasn’t enough, and the end result seemed only slightly better.
Additionally, the Master Strategist didn’t want to use up the last daily charge of [Bloodoscope] just in case he really needed it later, so he had to work with what he knew.
‘Dunno, demonstrate something?’ The hard-thinking Master Strategist had reached the end of his rope when the agent’s thoughtless remark finally injected new hope into him.
‘This!’ It was ridiculous. The truth was a bait he could use to lure Azariah. “Look here, it’s faint, but can you see it?” The queen turned to Pansy with a sarcastic remark on her lips, one that remained stuck in her throat forever.
The young man in her beautifully amber eyes had just turned light green all over. It was a shade she was most familiar with. It was the same kind as the creature that encircled her ankles each morning as a form of ritualistic greeting. Just not as strong.
“Hmm...” That one surely couldn’t die without her knowing. As she drew closer, she pinched the elastic skin and raised an eyebrow for several minutes as she struggled to admit she nearly made another horrible mistake.
“But his answers still don’t make sense?” Although she was mostly convinced already, her pride would not allow such a conclusion. Therefore, Azariah refused to give up on her last question and remained steadfast in her resolve.
Pansy had expected her to ask this question much sooner, so he had the best response prepared. Azariah might think she was simply repeating her demands, but Pansy knew better.
Right now, she could be wooed by a bit of colourful interpretation from the Master Strategist’s diplomatic arsenal. “Yes, they actually do. In his very own way. He wasn’t entirely lying then, was he?
It is undoubtedly necessary for our tragets to die for us to obtain the Cores, since they are hidden within the vital parts of a powerful beast.
Second, since there are no limits to the number of Cores we can devour, there are also no limits for the number of skills we can gain through this method. In theory. In practice?
This is also the reason for our current weakened state. Last time we spoke, you noted that we pushed too hard, which requires time to rectify. So we cannot even consume Cores for the time being.”
‘The ingenuity!’ Lord Chartres’ cellular pulp quivered a few times in approving nods as he silently worshipped the Master Strategist. Unbelievably, there was no lie told from beginning to end.
None at all! And not at the expense of all secrets either, he could tell. Even the biassed queen couldn’t escape unearthing a conclusion so obvious.
Azariah replied only with a weak “sorry,” then hid her beet-red face under her arms and refused to look Linlin in the eye. Azariah lost the bout.
She could no longer grasp any uncovered tails in her favour. Pansy closed his eyes, feeling as if all their grey cells had been exhausted in working hard for this miracle to realise.
Regardless of how strange it was that she finished a conversation by blushing furiously, Pansy did not forget to thank all sorts of Gods for making it possible for him to successfully clean up after the agent once again.
Despite his success, Pansy dared not rest on his laurels and cleared his throat immediately. An awkward atmosphere might trigger the queen again, for all he knew.
It certainly helped that nobody objected to him changing the topic. “Didn’t you say you were an armoursmith, Chartres? Do you also make vials? Kettles, spoons, units of measure, jars and such?”
“...in which way strike thou common artefacts as exhilarating equipment? Thou require a mundane plumber!” “Oh...” The disappointment of both personalities was evident on Linlin’s expressionless face, which had now become less unapproachably apathetic.
“Thine reason?” The mimic knew he better ask now, otherwise regret would knock on his door eventually. “Simple, we’re alchemists. Without precision tools, we will never succeed.”
The mimic’s soul almost leapt out of his body. Fortunately for him, the pile of cells skidding from behind his protection trunk gave no clue. If Linlin didn’t bluff about his qualifications, he saw a solution.
However, before he acted foolishly and endangered everyone’s slow life, a little proof was needed of Linlin’s promised expertise. “You’re looking for the right utensils? Say that sooner!”
As if the headstrong queen had never felt despair and had forgotten about the earlier episode altogether, she suddenly jumped to her feet, demanded he sit tight and wait for good news before storming off just like that.
When it came to her character trait, Pansy wasn’t sure if he should find it enviable, likeable, fortunate to have, or just plain troublesome.
Perhaps it was just a misunderstanding born of misconceptions on his warped side? Anyway, he was happily waiting for a welcome surprise. The result would also help him decide if they could trust her. After all, their collaboration was on probation!
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
End of Part II