Chapter 308 - The Bell Tolls VII
Marquis Flaccus furrowed his brow as he watched the nameless knight depart. She flew on a pair of ridiculous wings. Located on her ankles, they should have thrown her completely off balance, but she glided off into the horizon without any distortions in her path. When she was out of reasonable earshot, he slowly turned to the shackled hare behind him and spoke as he furrowed his brow.
“What is the meaning of this, Lord Titus? Did you not ascertain that the destruction of Tornatus was the work of the divine?” He was all but outwardly scowling. The campaign was advertised to him as a free dose of glory, a chance to pick up the slack where Pollux had failed and avenge him along the way. But they had only been dealt the humiliating taste of defeat.
“It was,” said the cottontail, with a growl. “It had to have been.”
“I probably should’ve asked this earlier.” Lord Ephesus joined the conversation with a grunt. “But how’d you know a god was responsible?” He stroked his silky smooth beard as he examined the cottontail’s shackles.
Titus sucked in a breath. “It was the churches,” he said. “They were obliterated with the rest.”
The marquises paused for a moment to ruminate.
“I don’t see how that’s supposed to mean anything,” said Ephesus.
“Are you daft?” The count breathed a sigh and hopped to his feet. “Churches and temples are protected by the gods. They are enveloped by thick layers of divinity that are capable of guarding them from hostile outsiders. To pierce a veil is to penetrate a defense constructed by a member of the pantheon. Do you know of any mortals capable of destroying even one temple in a single blow?”
“Our new king could pull it off, I bet,” said Flaccus.
“Perhaps, but Lord Virillius is an exception among exceptions. To use him as a standard of measure is to assume that we have transcended the realm of mortal capabilities.”
There was a moment of silence as the noblemen deliberated the claim. Titus’ argument was not without merit—with all of the achievements already under the man’s belt, they would have been more surprised to find Virillius incapable of striking down a god.
“There is one problem with what you have proposed,” said Flaccus. “Her presence lacked the overwhelming weight that a true god would have borne.” The tiny cervitaur spoke from experience. He was one of the lucky few that had encountered the goddess of the frozen wilds and walked away without earning himself a curse.
“Perhaps she was some sort of local deity then?” offered the count.
“Maybe,” said Ephesus. “But with enough power to blow away a city, she’s got to be more than just that. Maybe a guardian spirit, perhaps one ascended to the level of an aspect.”
“But if such a being existed, surely word of her would have passed through our ears?” wondered Titus.
“It appears that we require more information,” muttered Flaccus. “It is in times like this that Lord Pollux’s presence is most dearly missed.”
In spite of his faults, the freshly deceased Minister of Foreign Affairs had been a competent man. Every time he invaded a nation, he would begin by learning of its mythos and traditions, for it was only by understanding them that he could see them overridden. The man himself had functioned as a walking calculator and encyclopedia in one, and his libraries had contained all the knowledge that he and his men ever gleaned. Alas, both had been lost to the Vel’khanese assault.
“We will just have to make do without him,” said Ephesus. “I am more worried for our own necks. The council is unlikely to let us off, given that we deployed without permission.”
It was a problem born of their failure. No one would have complained if they managed to return with a new vassal state under their belts. But with the circumstances as they were, the three lords had brought the country nothing but a stain upon its reputation.
“The numbers are in, Pops!” An abnormally muscular cottontail, another one of Titus’ sons, leapt through the crowd and rudely inserted himself into the conversation. “I’ve finished processing all the data. You won't believe what I found.”
“Can this wait, Scorpus?” asked his father, as he brought his cuffed hands to his brow. “We are in the middle of a discussion.”
“It’s relevant,” said the muscle-rabbit. “I’ve solved the attack that sank the Titan. It was an arcane blast that contained roughly four million points of mana, propelled at six hundred times the usual speed with heavily bolstered compression.”
“Thank you, Son, bu—”
“Now the part that’s really interesting is that the caster cancelled a more powerful version of the spell before the attack was unleashed. We caught it on one of the scryer’s orbs, but we were hit before the report could make it to the bridge,” he said. “According to our measurements at the time, it was powerful enough to pierce the cities’ shields.”
Titus paled as his son continued.
“There were at least twenty million points of mana involved. Their estimated arcane mage level was roughly one thousand five hundred, total and racial levels are immeasurable from the few bits of data we have on hand. Whoever we were up against was powerful enough to take down the fleet. And here’s the cincher. It wasn’t the same person that froze your hands.”
“Not the same person?” Ephesus scratched the base of his horns. “To think they were hiding not one aspect, but two? I am starting to see the reason behind the Eleven-Horned King’s caution.” His words were filled with concern, but his lips were twisted into a smile. There was no rage, no fear, no anxiety in his voice, only a sense of excitement. In his old age, the marquis had mistakenly assumed that the continent was simply theirs to conquer, that there was no chance for anyone to stand against them. And for a fleeting, vanished moment in time, that was what he had oh so desperately desired.
But the nameless warrior had reminded him of his mistake and realigned his understanding with that of his beloved goddess.
War was only fun when it was not so easily decided—when it was a struggle where both sides fought their hardest.
And he would work to give them just that.
With all the authority and influence at his disposal, he would compose a fierce song where powerful warriors would clash and fall.
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Her armour still equipped and her chin resting in her hands, Claire watched silently as the Cadrian ships retreated. She wasn’t quite satisfied with the outcome, but all things considered, negotiations had gone about as smoothly as they could. Vel’khan wasn’t on fire, the invaders were leaving, and no one was screaming for her father.
“Am I correct in the assumption that the resolution you have proposed was based in some Cadrian ritual or other?” asked Arciel.
Like everyone but Marcelle and the violently deported Starrgort, the vampire squid was back in the coach, her eyes on the rear window pointing towards the north.
Claire nodded. “Dueling has always been a traditional method of settling arguments, but sometimes, just one duel isn’t enough for both sides to be satisfied. So we add more.”
“It is certainly a rather Cadrian solution,” muttered the squid.
“Is that tradition something that has a name?” asked Chloe.
“Not an official one.” The caldriess slowly sank back down into her seat as her armour melted away. It was replaced by a frilly black dress that exposed the frown on her face. “I’m sure you heard, but the number of fights hasn’t been decided yet, and I doubt you have eleven champions capable of reaching the Cadrian standard.”
“Unfortunately, I do not,” agreed the squid. “It is rare for Vel’khanese warriors to be thrice ascended, and even those that are may not be necessarily attuned for combat or willing to fight on the crown’s behalf. Five is manageable if I am to include you and I, perhaps six if you believe that Meltys is up to par.”
Claire breathed a sigh and leaned against the windowsill. “Then I guess I have no choice but to convince my father of a smaller headcount. In the meantime, we should put together a list of candidates. We’ll want to plan some sort of training regimen as well if we want to stand a chance.” She flicked her tongue. “They’ll be gathering the best warriors from around the nation, and the volunteers are likely to fight over the spots. Don’t expect anyone lower than nine hundred.”
Arciel pressed her fan into her forehead.
“I see now that I had previously misunderstood the level of performance that you were expecting. Claire, Sylvia aside, I do not think there exists a single individual in this nation capable of defeating an individual on the verge of becoming an aspect. I suspect that even you are likely to find the taste of defeat.”
“I know,” said Claire. “But there’ll be a few months at least before the duels begin. We have time.”
Arciel stroked the sleeping fox in her lap and took a deep breath. “I do not see how it is even remotely possible to make up a four-hundred-level gap in a few measly months.”
“The whole world would be turned on its head if it was,” said Chloe. “The system only works because it keeps getting harder to level.” She turned her eyes on Claire. “Unless you start blowing up entire cities, of course.”
“It isn’t that hard.” The lyrkress directed her eyes northward. “We just have to go somewhere that no one else will.”
“You cannot possibly be suggesting that we conduct our training within the Langgbjerns?”
“The final portion of it, at least.”
“And here I was thinking that you were sane,” muttered the squid.
“I don’t think she ever has been,” said Chloe.
“Mmmnnn, I dunno about always, but she’s been like this for as long as I’ve known her,” said Sylvia, as she groggily raised her head.
“Rude.” The lyrkress flicked the maid and the fox in turn. “I’m perfectly sane.”
“Perhaps I would be more inclined to agree had you not just suggested that we march to our deaths,” said Arciel.
The Langgbjerns were considered uncharted territory. It was a dangerous domain filled with incredibly high-level monsters beyond any identifiable range. Cadria did send the odd expedition every once in a while, but the soldiers in question never dared to venture too far from civilization. Few that ever did would return alive.
It was so impossible to traverse that Elysium—the land that lay beyond—was considered a myth. There was no record of contact. People only knew it existed because of oracles, technologies, and the whispers spoken by the gods. Claire was fortunate enough to have a rare first-hand account. She often saw it from space, but when placed on the same canvas as the rest of the world, the wintry landscape only failed to catch her eye.
“Are the monsters up there really supposed to be all that strong?” asked Sylvia, as she rubbed her swollen forehead.
“All the myths say that they’re powerful enough to end the world,” said Chloe.
Claire frowned. “I don’t think they’re that bad. According to the reports, all the monsters are aspects. The weaker ones wander around in herds. The stronger ones are three or four thousand.” She flicked her tail around as she spoke. “But those are just rumours. It’s difficult to say how strong they really are,” she settled her eyes on the human, “Whatever the case, we’re going to need maids to help clean up.”
“I’m sure you can take care of yourselves,” said Chloe, with a brilliant, beaming smile. “Us frail, adorable maids would just freeze to death in environments like that.”
“Didn’t you just tell me earlier today that ‘a real maid is ready for any challenge?’” asked Claire.
“I lied,” said the human without missing a beat.
“I suppose this is as good a time as any to ask, Chloe,” said Arciel, as she hid a devilish smile behind her fan, “but might you have any idea as to why some of my undergarments have been going missing as of late?”
The human froze, largely in part because there was a slimy tentacle wrapped around her neck, holding her in the air.
“Chloe! How many times have I told you to knock that off!?” cried the other maid.
“I’m innocent,” she said. “I gave them all back after I sni—er washed them!”
“And was it your turn to do laundry that day?” asked Myne.
“It’s never my turn to do laundry!” complained the human.
“Yes, for good reason,” grumbled the slime maid. She eventually let the human down and returned to her own seat with a curtsy. “I apologize for the display, as well as her poor behaviour, Mistress, Lady Augustus. I will be disciplining the head maid at a later point in time.”
Claire blinked. “She’s the head maid?” She turned an accusing glare on Arciel, who responded with a soft smile.
“Would you not agree that it would be nigh impossible to find another maid so loyal?”
“She is going to violate you in your sleep.”
“That just isn’t true,” said Chloe. “If I was to violate her, I would much rather do it while she was awake.”
“You see?” said Arciel, with a nod. “There is no problem to be observed.”
Claire was a little less convinced but pursed her lips and kept her complaints to herself. It wasn’t her chastity at risk.
“That reminds me,” said the squid. “Chloe, if you do choose to accompany us on this particular adventure, then I shall make you responsible for all of my laundry going forward, effective immediately.”
“Deal,” said the maid. “Wait, you can’t mean to say you’re actually going? Shouldn’t you be sending a warrior or proxy in your stead?”
“What choice do I have?” asked the squid. “Do you believe there is anyone else willing to go along with Claire’s insanity?”
“It’s not insanity,” said Claire. “And everyone you recruit will have to go through the same thing.” She sighed. “The harder part will be convincing my father of a headcount and date. He knows I’m here. I doubt he’d be willing to entertain my suggestions.” She closed her eyes and leaned back into her seat. “I’ll speak with him now and let you know how it goes. Don’t wake me up. You’ll interrupt us.”
“Wait, how is sleeping supposed to accomplish that?” asked Chloe. “Can Cadrians commune with each other through some sort of collective consciousness?”
Claire flicked the maid with her tail. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain later.”
Lowering her ears, she engaged her napping skill and whisked her consciousness away.