Chapter 336 - The Scheming God’s Apostle VII

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Dear Diary,

I finally did it. Today, I wiped out an entire army of goblins and got my first ascension. I wasn’t given the same choices as my sister, but I think that might be for the better. She’s a genius, and I don’t think it’s possible for an average person like me to keep up. I’ve always wanted to pretend it wasn’t real. But now that I’ve ascended, it’s only become even clearer.

It’s winter now, but I’m feeling pretty good in spite of the cold. Knowing her strength only makes me prouder to be her sister. I’m still going to do my best. But I don’t think I’ll be following in her footsteps exactly.

Lia

___

Backing out of the dungeon and climbing through the entrance, Claire found herself greeted by a temporary base camp. Both tents had been set up, the surrounding trees had been cleared out, and they had even crafted several rings where the brigade’s members could practice and spar. That much was normal, just like the campfire and the afternoon snack roasting atop it.

Their decorations, however, were in dire need of reconsideration. Neither the strewn-up entrails nor the mangled corpses were particularly appealing, and Claire wanted nothing more than to rebuke the idiot casually enjoying a cup of tea amidst the carnage. Such accusations, however, were sure to fall on deaf ears. To the witch in question, the bloodstained battleground was hardly any different than an amusement park made of cookies and cream. It was precisely because she mixed the secret agents’ lives into her cup that she enjoyed it as much as she did. And if the nearby corpses were any indication, she had even gone as far as blending lamian and centaurian ingredients to create a specific flavour. Apparently, it was a pleasant combination. Both bloodsuckers appeared to enjoy it.

“Good afternoon, Claire,” said the tentacled vampire. “Did you happen to enjoy your excursion?” Though certainly the only one in a great mood, the queen was not the only one hovering around the campfire. Lana and Matthias were helping Chloe clean up, while Ace and the clam found seats nearby. Krail and Sophia were a little further away, with the former sitting under a tree and the latter in one of the tents. By the sounds of it, she wasn’t alone, and the captive they had taken was not enjoying her presence.

“Not particularly.”

There was a brief pause as they exchanged glances, with the squid raising her cup to her lips and the caldriess blank as ever.

“Are you not surprised?” Arciel eventually broke the silence and lightly kicked one of the bodies sitting beside her.

“Not particularly,” repeated the lyrkress.

“There were a bunch of them waiting for us inside,” said Sylvia. “But Claire kicked their butts.”

“That would certainly explain the delay, given the dungeon’s… inadequacy,” said Arciel, with a frown. “Would you like to unwind with some tea?”

“Yes please!” said Sylvia.

“I don’t,” said Claire. “But Boris does.”

The lizard nodded energetically. The spider on his head—who had in fact tagged along throughout the dungeon’s traversal—also weaved a web to secure a serving.

“And what of our guest?” asked the squid, as she looked at the group’s final member.

“Oh uh, me? I ain’t one to pass on a free meal.” The raccoon’s presence drove Claire to furrow her brow. She had no idea where he had come from. She was sure that only Sylvia had accompanied her outside of the dungeon, but there he was, front and center.

“Chloe, if you would,” said the queen.

“Just a minute,” said the maid.

The squid turned back to the ring-tailed rat and raised the usual fan to its usual position. “I am Arciel Vel’khan, queen of Griselda’s chosen lands and chief priestess to the goddess of the moon. Who might you be?”

“My name is Panda. I’m a firewood raccoon. I’m technically Cadrian, but let’s just say my friends and I have got a bit of a vested interest in your victory.” He crossed his arms and tapped his foot. “Actually, that isn’t exactly right. It’s more like we want to see Cadria lose.”

“That is a rather interesting proclamation.” Arciel looked up at Claire.

“Half of what he just said was a lie, including his name,” she said. “But his hate seems genuine, at least.”

“Well I don’t exactly want you to know my real name, and Panda was the first thing I could think of,” said the trash panda, without missing a beat. “Anyway, we’ve got a lot to offer. Y’see, we happen to have a reliable way of tapping into their information network. We can basically read all of their communications, sometimes even before it gets to the people it’s meant for. Do good enough work, and it’ll be yours at no cost.”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe you for a second. The secret service is hardly that incompetent.”

“Yeah, well they aren’t exactly the best at what they do either. Let’s just say we’ve got some major leeway on our side, yeah? I doubt they even know we’re listening.”

It was difficult for her to believe that her father’s information network was riddled with bugs. She knew the harsh training the members went through; each of their agents was level eight hundred at least. They were skilled enough to track individual grains of sand back to the rocks that had shed them. And yet, the self-proclaimed panda remained supremely confident.

“Looks like you don’t trust me,” he said, with a smirk. “Alright, tell you what. Ask me literally anything about Cadria and I’ll tell you everything there is to know.”

Claire paused for a moment to recall the topics her father discussed during his time in the west. It had been a month since the policies were ironed out, but they would only be made public when it was time for the tax collectors to make their annual trips. “How will the Decimus march’s taxes change this year?”

“That’s an easy one,” said Panda. “The crown has allowed the marquis to lower taxes on alfalfa from thirty to twenty percent. Luxury goods will remain the same, while other commonly produced items will see a five percent cut. The marquis has already sent word to all his local governors and ordered them to increase the yield o—”

“That’s enough,” said Claire, as she fought back a yawn. “Next, explain the circumstances surrounding Pollux’s disappearance.”

“You’d know them better than me, wouldn’t you?” said the raccoon, with a knowing, evil grin. “With you being who you are?”

Claire narrowed her eyes.

“And who, exactly, do you think I am?”

“Claire Augustus, my archenemy’s estranged daughter and Cadria’s first princess. It’s worth mentioning that most people think you’re continuing to live your old life as a mute, but your father’s long had you replaced by a puppet. For the record, we didn’t figure that out ourselves until a few weeks ago, after we determined that you were responsible for Tornatus’ destruction.”

The lyrkress narrowed her eyes. They were facts that only her father should have known. It was impossible for him to have confided it in anyone else. He was the only one still in the castle that knew of Rubia’s nature.

“That the truth, Miss? You really their princess?” asked Ace, who had been silently listening in. He leaned forward, creased his brow, and propped up his chin with the back of his hands. “Then how do we know you ain’t on their side?”

“She’s fine,” said Matthias. “She’s been with us since before the revolution. If she wanted to pull something, she would’ve done it way back.”

“Might’ve been working on something longer term. Y’never know with these things,” said Ace. “Hell, the whole damn war could be something she orchestrated.”

“It is my fault,” said Claire, nonchalantly. “But it wasn’t intentional.”

Ace cocked a brow. “Now hold the fuck on. What do you mean, it’s your fault?”

“It means what I said,” said Claire. “This war only happened because I killed Pollux.”

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The open admission was met with a moment of silence. Most of the members seemed content to sit around and process the claim, but Lana opted for a different approach. The tiny canine pirate dropped the corpse she was carrying and sauntered over with her face a visible scowl.

“This is your fault?” she asked, in her usual quiet voice. “All of it?”

Claire nodded, which only prompted the wolfgirl to clench her fists. She took a few deep breaths and turned around. For a moment, it seemed like she was happy to walk away, but she soon spun back around with her veins bulging and her usual calm demeanour completely missing in action. She even lashed out, throwing a punch that surely would have landed on the lyrkress’ jaw had she not ducked out of the way.

“Get the fuck back here and let me hit you!” shouted the pirate.

“I’d rather not,” said Claire.

“It wasn’t a request! It was a fucking order, you stuck-up, carpet-munching cunt! Why the fuck are you asking us for help if the whole goddamn thing is your fault!? How about you get your scrawny ass out of your stupid cum barrel and fix your goddamn fucking daddy issues instead of starting a war, you goddamn shit-for-brains twat waffle!”

Much like the lyrkress’ revelation, the pirate’s outburst was followed by a moment of silence. The chain of insults that had left Lana’s mouth very well could have easily contained more words than she had said the previous day.

Even more alarming was the sense of normalcy. Lana didn’t blush or suddenly switch tones. She only continued to swing her fists and scream at the top of her lungs.

“Get the fuck back here! I’m going to rip out your fucking spine and shove it so far up your fucking ass it comes out your fucking eyes!”

“Is it just me, or does she kinda remind you of someone?” asked Sylvia.

“I cannot recall any others with such,” the queen paused, “colourful vocabulary,”

“Mmmnn… really? Oh well, it’s probably not important,” said the fox.

“You sure this whole thing ain’t some sort of convoluted bullshit?” whispered Ace. “If she’s the reason this whole damn thing started, then we can just ship her off, can’t we? Doubt there’s any need to fight a war over it.”

“There are a number of other reasons that she has neglected to explain,” said Arciel. “The Cadrains were never quite as compliant as they may have appeared. We have reason to believe that our nation was within their sights regardless.”

“And you’re absolutely sure that Miss Augustus over there ain’t a part of their schemes? If she’s the princess, then she’s literally enemy royalty, ain’t she?”

“Claire has my utmost confidence,” said Arciel.

“If you say so,” said the lizard, with an unconvinced frown.

“Hold the fuck on, why’s that the problem?” asked Jules, as he flapped his shell. “You guys believe that she’s a princess!? There’s no fucking way! If she’s a princess, then I’m a fucking god!”

The lizardman stroked his chin. “Well, I mean she’s got the looks, don’t she? Doesn’t seem like much of a stretch to think she’s some noble’s daughter or other.”

“She’s more of a brute than me.”

“It makes a lot of sense if you just think of her as the princess of the barbarians,” said Chloe. “Since that’s really just what Cadrians are.”

The clam hummed, hawed, and scratched his chin. “Yeah, fair enough I guess.”

“I’m not a barbarian,” said Claire. Freezing Lana in place, she suddenly appeared behind the maid and gave the back of her head a light chop.

“I might’ve believed you if you weren’t so violent,” complained Chloe, as she rubbed the fresh sore spot.

“Wait, now that you mention it,” said Ace. “If she’s a royal, then why’s her last name Augustus? Shouldn’t it be Cadria? The place is a kingdom, ain’t it?”

“I can answer that,” said Panda. “The crown is passed down through blood, but that isn’t the only way it can change hands. Anyone that thinks they’re strong enough can challenge the king to a public duel and try to take his place.”

“You see what I mean? Barbarians,” said Chloe, who was immediately met with another chop.

“That sounds like a dogshit system,” said Jules.

“Well that’s ‘cause it is,” agreed the raccoon.

There was a span in Cadria’s history where the crown changed hands several times each month. The warring tribes period, as it was documented, only came to an end when Ferdinand Augustus seized the throne and unified the nation under his rule. The man in question was not always an advocate of peace; in his earlier years, he too sought conquest and bloodshed like all the others that had come before him. It was only his raw strength that distinguished him from the other monarchs. He had passed his thousandth level by the time he claimed the throne and he only grew as he conquered the surrounding lands.

But with the rules as they were, his strength was all he needed. He held an iron grip over the crown and defeated all the challengers that dared to consider its theft. His attitude did eventually change, however. The young buck matured into a wise bull with a good enough understanding of people and politics to overcome the weaknesses otherwise inherent to the Cadrian system.

“I would hardly say it is much better to pass the crown through a bloodline,” said Arciel. “Though it is certainly best for a monarch to be educated in the necessary ways, there exists no guarantee that a particular individual shall bear the qualities required.”

Claire nodded. “Some queens spend too much time gossiping with their friends to get any work done.”

“Perhaps, but surely that proves itself a more responsible choice than simply running away?”

“Sometimes, running away gets more of your work done than not.”

“I believe that only to be the case if there are others to foist the work upon,” said the squid, with a reproachful stare. “Perhaps I would have known the circumstance had you not refused.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Claire smiled innocently before turning to the raccoon. “So? Who sent them?”

Ciel frowned at the obvious attempt to change the topic, but said nothing more.

“It’s pretty much what you think,” said Panda. “They’re some of Ephesus’ disposables. He’s erased most of their personal histories, so there was only really so much we could learn, but they’re petty criminals or hunters down on their luck, for the most part. I could probably get you a bit more if I got my boys to take a closer look, but you’ll have to make it worth my time.”

“They were real Cadrians?” scoffed Jules. “If this is what we’re up against then we don’t gotta worry for shit. I bet I could take three of the bastards at once, even if they’re nearing a thousand.”

“Don’t get too carried away now. They were basically over-leveled civilians with a bit of basic training,” said Panda. “You’d probably lose to anything in your range.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” The clam flipped his lid.

“Exactly what you think.”

“We’re getting distracted again,” said Claire. “Focus.”

“Right.” Ignoring the fuming bivalve, the trash panda scratched the side of his head. “As I was trying to say earlier, the marquis has his eyes on you. The first few, as you’d expect, are really just there to evaluate your strength, you know, double check his books so he can crunch his numbers. From what I hear, he’s already got a real squad heading over as we speak, and I’m pretty sure they’ll reach you by the end of the week.” It was already the sixth day. There were only another four before the aforementioned deadline. “The good news is that it’s only got two people in it. The bad news is that they’re only slightly below average. Chances are, they’ll wipe you out.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Claire. “What do you know about the lion?”

“Nothing,” said Panda. “We’ll look into it, but the only guess I’ve got was that he happened to like the guy you were about to kill.”

“What is this about a lion?” asked Arciel.

“Nothing important,” said Claire. She flexed her claws. “Just a little personal business.”

___

The man known as Lucius Hyacinth pressed a hand into his side as he stumbled through the forest. He hadn’t the slightest clue where he was. He was unfamiliar with the Morosian woods and he had only happened to find himself delivered to them by way of flying horse. He had no clue what dangers lurked beyond the trees, but he continued to wander nonetheless, driven by the fear that his last conflict had inspired.

He could still see her cold, blue eyes boring right through his body. He didn’t know exactly who she was. As a new recruit with only a few months of training, he didn’t have the clearance for any such knowledge. But he had known that he was supposed to kill her. And that he was completely outclassed.

His survival was nothing short of a miracle, a literal work of God. Two of them, in fact.

The deity he had spent his life revering was one that had earned him much mockery. While the other children in his village dedicated themselves to the goddess of war, he saw no merit in seeking her blessing. He was a huntsman's son, and the country had been at peace since well before his birth. It was only natural then for him to gravitate towards the god that lorded over his livelihood.

He never neglected his basic martial training, given that it was part of his compulsory education, but he spent only the bare minimum effort and poured the rest of his time into refining his skill with the bow. He was weaker than the other kids as a result, and often picked last for the games they played. But when it finally came time for war, it was only he who was offered a seat among the marquis’ retainers. It was an ironic twist, but the tracking skills that his hunter class provided allowed him to stand out in a way that his peers did not.

The resulting post was unwanted, but the bee-ogre did his best nonetheless. Even though his combat skills were subpar, he racked up his accomplishments and quickly ascended the ranks. Before long, he was appointed as a tracker in a secret unit responsible for much of the marquis’ dirty work.

His master's agents were not considered particularly elite, in fact, House Ephesus' secret service was often regarded as one of the worst in the kingdom. Still, he held his head up and did his work with pride. It was a post that a lowly huntsman should have never dreamed of grasping.

Knowing it to be his lord’s grace that allotted him such a life of leisure, the hunter’s faith in Kaelahruus stood firm. Lo and behold, it proved the only reason for his survival. The god he so dearly worshiped had stepped in on his behalf and ensured that his life would continue.

And it was precisely his belief in said god that allowed him to overcome his fear. He could feel the holy lion’s voice echoing through his head, calming him, teaching him, protecting him. It told him not to lament his failure or curse his weakness, but to look forward and seize the power that he had been bestowed. There were a few things that he needed to do before he encountered his quarry again. Some of them were outright damning, but the thorae was not afraid.

His god was by his side.

And together, they would destroy the infidel before she was enlightened again.