Chapter 352 - Hubris IX

“I would have killed you if I was on their side.”

Claire lifted her foot off the lizardman’s back and glanced around the camp. Sophia had surrendered again, and the two mages that had attacked her were both still keeled over, groaning in pain and clutching their faces. She was at least fairly confident that she hadn’t broken anything, but it was difficult to say with the boost to her strength. She wasn’t entirely sure exactly how much she needed to hold back.

“Didn’t think you were good enough to trounce us,” said the lizard, with a groan. He slowly pushed himself into a seated position and rested his face in his hands. “The theory made lots of sense, with how much we thought you were holding back.”

Claire simply nodded, choosing to keep silent on the fact that much of her strength was newly acquired. “I don’t think you’re wrong,” she said. “There is probably a mole. But it isn’t me.”

She looked around the camp again and carefully scanned each person’s face for any signs that might have given them away. But as she expected, none of them betrayed any obvious cracks. It was the expected result. Whoever it was had fooled everyone else for the entire journey’s duration. She doubted that they were unskilled enough to reveal themselves just because they had been called into question.

“Sylvia,” whispered the lyrkress.

“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not gonna work,” replied the fox, just as quietly. “I can only read surface level tho—er, I mean I can’t read minds!” She was still in Ciel’s embrace, wrapped up in the tightest of squeezes.

“Just do it.”

“Ugh… fine.” Huffing aloud, the fox closed her eyes and pumped her mana into their surroundings. “Mmmmnnn… it’s about what I thought. No one’s thinking anything suspicious.”

“Even though we’re talking about it?”

“Mhm. Everyone’s already kinda zoned out already anyway.”

Claire blinked.

“Lana’s really focused on her balance, Chloe’s thinking about Ciel’s boobs, and Matty is wondering why his claws are bigger than his face.”

“What about the lizard and his cronies?”

“Mmmnnn… Ace has a headache, Jules thinks Ace is an idiot, Krail is coming up with some weird crockpot conspiracy about the gods, and Sophia is thinking about lunch. She really wants to eat tuna.”

“And are you sure that last part isn’t you talking?”

“Super sure!”

Claire paused for a moment to consider the results. It was always possible that there wasn’t really a traitor at all, and that the Cadrian spymasters had used their party’s unique composition to predict their course from its history. But assuming that Panda’s intel was correct, she doubted that was how they found them. Their enemies were too hot on the trail.

In the end, it was as the fox had claimed. It was impossible for her to pierce the traitor’s guise.

“Guess that just leaves the raccoon,” said the lizard, after a few moments of silence.

“Maybe.”

Panda was her first guess as well, but while he was certainly suspicious, she doubted his guilt. His grudge was genuine, and he was clearly annoyed by her willingness to confront the marquis’ army. From what she could tell, his primary concern was the chance of failure. All he wanted was to ensure that they took down her father. And that, in all likelihood, was also why he had disappeared. He was probably exploring an alternative in case her supposed stupidity saw the party eliminated. With a traitor in their midst, they could afford no losses. Even a single legitimate fighter’s demise would flush their already slim chance at victory all the way down the drain.

And that was precisely why she refused to protest the raccoon’s innocence. It would be easier to catch the mole if they were lulled into a false sense of security.

“Now, I believe we may count this matter settled?” said Arciel. Her fan was raised to her lips, hiding an amused smile.

Claire nodded and looked at Ace, who reluctantly did the same.

“Gotta make sure we interrogate Mister Panda when he returns, but that’s about the gist of it,” he said.

“Man, what the fuck!?” complained Jules. “I only stooped to this shit because you said you were sure it was her. Are you really about to let her convince you in like ten fucking words?”

“I would have killed you if I was your enemy,” said Claire.

“Yeah, and you fucking said that already. It didn’t convince me the first time. Why the fuck do you think it would work the second!?”

“Relax.” Claire grabbed the top half of the clam’s shell and slowly closed his lid. “Use your head.”

He tried pushing back and shouting in protest, but his resistance was summarily ignored. The lyrkess looked around the camp in the meantime, and eventually found her eyes on Sophia. “You. Explain.”

“Affirmative.” The landshark replied with a nod. “I will provide an explanation once you have lifted his lid. I do not believe that he is capable of hearing one in his current circumstance.”

“Fine.”

The man was still fuming when he was released from detention, but at the very least, he was no longer shouting, and he seemed somewhat willing to listen.

“I will now begin my explanation,” said Sophia. “The most effective method of crippling the Vel’khanese force is to eliminate us. She could have done so at any point in time. Therefore, it is safe to assume that she does not have hostile intentions.”

“Motherfucker! You literally just said the same shit she did!” cried the indignant clam. “How the fuck do you know she ain’t got any more shit up her sleeve?”

“Understood. Please provide an example so that I may provide a targeted explanation.”

“This could just be a huge distraction from whatever it is they’re plotting.”

“Negative. Our murder would have served as a more potent distraction.”

“Yeah, but then why the fuck didn’t she show us how strong she was if she didn’t have anything to hide!?”

“I do not understand the question. As was evident from the previous battle, many of us still held our cards in reserve.” Of the four that had participated, Sophia was the only one who hadn’t pulled any new tricks out of the old hat.

“She could be fattening us up so that she can turn us into experience.”

“Negative. Scenario is highly unlikely. It would be a much more efficient use of time for a Cadrian to visit a dungeon. Cadrian territories are filled with monsters whose levels are in excess of a thousand. Some are easier to kill than sentient fighters.”

“A-alright, sure, but who’s to say that she isn’t just trying to humiliate us? To feed whatever sadistic bullshit she’s into.”

The maid paused. She slowly looked between Claire and the clam before blinking a few more times. “Affirmative. The scenario that you have suggested is not entirely unlikely. Recomputing the possibility that Claire is the traitor.”

That, of course, earned her a light smack on the head.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong,” grumbled the lyrkress.

“Well, all of that aside, I do see that the two of you have quite a bit of talent for trying to see the world for what it really is.” At some point, Krail had appeared behind the two speculators. “Have you ever considered joining the elven church of truth? We’re always looking for bright, you—”

Another smack ended the conspiracy theorist’s rant.

“Stop that,” said Claire. “We’re not elves. We don’t care.”

“Let him have his fun,” said Ace, with a groan. “Not like we’re gonna be doing anything while we recover.” He lightly touched the back of his knees and winced. “The hell did you do to my legs anyway? They can barely move.”

“I hit them.”

“Ain’t what I meant and you know it.” Sighing, the lizardman stuck his two-handed blade in the ground and leaned his back against it. He then mumbled an oath to his goddess under his breath and dispelled his equipment’s transformation. The glimmering armour vanished, leaving only a cheap cloth hanging over his muscular frame.

“I hit them a little too hard by accident,” said Claire.

“Not really sure that counts as a better answer.”

The lyrkress shrugged.

“In either case, I believe we should discuss our plans,” said Arciel. “How likely is it that the Cadrians are awaiting our departure?”

Claire shrugged. “I don’t know.” Panda hadn’t spoken in enough detail for her to determine the time of the enemy’s arrival.

“Perhaps then it would be worthwhile to send Matthias through?” suggested the squid. “He is durable, and his runecloak shall serve to prevent his detection.” The praying mantis had used his invisibility cloak a few times on the trip already. It was helpful because it obscured key parts of his body in combat, but the monsters they challenged hadn’t exactly tried to read his movements, and he hadn’t any time to activate its effect during the cottontail’s raid.

“Mmmmnnnn… they’ll probably be able to tell that something came out, even if he is invisible,” said Sylvia. She wriggled her way out of Arciel’s arms and ran over to the doorway in question. “Yeah, it looks kinda like the type that’d suddenly appear on the other side and stuff.”

“Then I suppose we have little choice but to call upon our final resort,” muttered the squid.

“Or we could just fight them,” suggested Claire. “It’ll be good experience. And a chance for us to gauge the levels we’ll need to reach.”

“I do not disagree that it would be worthwhile, but I would rather we avoided a head-on confrontation.”

Claire paused for a second to think. “It’ll end up the same whether they’re watching the entrance or not. We can’t sneak up on them if they have battlecruisers in the air. We could disguise ourselves, but it doesn’t really matter if we do it now or later.”

“It would certainly make no difference if we all attacked in tandem,” she agreed. “But a sneak attack with Matthias’ cloak would become a viable alternative.”

“Hold on,” said Ace. “I’m lost. You’ve been talking like we’ve got a choice.”

“We possess a means of escape that will ensure our enemies are thrown off our scent,” said Arciel. “And we are debating if its use is worthwhile.”

“It isn’t,” said Claire. “Flitzegarde told me not to use it. Especially not in front of any potential enemies.”

“The goddess of order? And not the goddess of the flow? Was it not to her that you were sworn?”

“The demand came from the goddess of order,” said Claire. “When I visited her temple.”

The squid breathed a sigh. “And you are certain that you are not simply conjuring this event out of thin air, so that you may provide yourself an excuse to engage the enemy?”

“I’m not. We can’t avoid detection. We only have two choices. Fight or run.”

“And here I was under the impression that your solutions were on the more creative side.” Ciel snapped her fan shut. “But no matter, I suppose. Let us consider a head-on confrontation.”

Claire tilted her head and blinked. “Who said anything about fighting head-on?”

“Did you not just claim that we were incapable of deception?”

“Foul play is still in the cards.” A smile crossed her lips. “And it so happens that I have a plan.”

“Whyever did I think otherwise?” muttered the queen. “And how risky do you believe this plan to be?”

“Not very,” said Claire. “These are Pollux’s men. I’m the only one they’re after.”

“Let us hear it then.”

Nodding, Claire began to elaborate on the scheme she had just recently conjured.

___

It was late in the evening. Dinner was already eaten and the accompanying utensils were put away. Most of the party’s members had already retired to their tents, with only three of them remaining out and about.

Being the night owl that she was, Chloe was still wide awake and attending to her duties. The most important task was to repair the party’s clothing. Thread and needle in hand, she patched up any torn garments she found before throwing them in with everything else still yet to be washed.

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To her dismay, the laundry itself was done on an infrequent basis. They couldn’t afford to fill their packs with bundles upon bundles of clothes whilst they were out in the field, and they would oftentimes go to bed without even wiping themselves down. Claire aside, if she could even be counted, all of the mammalian humanoids practically reeked of sweat.

Though exempt from exuding strange odours, the more insect, fish, and reptile-like members were hardly any better off. Whatever parts they used to walk across the ground were completely covered with grime, and being water-dwelling or at least amphibious, half of them didn’t feel any better until they were bathed. Of course, one could not simply ask for a bath in the midst of the average raid and expect to receive, but with fire, ice, and wood at their disposal, they could easily put a half-decent bath together.

Ace and Matthias were the last two to finish their nightly routines and the last two still by the camp’s fire. With the former not tired just yet and the latter on duty that night, the warriors spent their time in silence. Matthias closed his eyes and made himself comfortable while the lizard lit a cigar and filled his lungs with smoke.

The only sounds they heard, besides those of the monstrous birds, came from the crackling fire, the humming maid, and their snoring companions. Simply tolerating each others’ existence, they took turns throwing bundles of grass into the evening flame. It wasn’t until Ace reached for a second smoke that any words were exchanged.

“Want one?” He held one of the luxury items out to his silent companion, who replied with a faint nod.

Given his species’ lack of lungs, one might have expected that he was unable to enjoy the intoxicating fumes, but that was a problem his species had long solved. He adjusted his cloak so it covered his abdomen and placed the lit instrument beneath it. The smoke naturally wafted up to the airholes that lined the side of his body and worked its chemicals straight into his blood.

“Thank you,” he said.

And then, another good bit of silence. The pause was not particularly awkward. Neither warrior was concerned by the other’s lack of attention.

“Why’re you working for the crown anyway?” asked Ace, after almost half a cigar. “You don’t look native, at least.”

“That’s a long story,” said the mantis. He laughed to himself, softly. “But I don’t really mind sharing if you insist.”

Ace popped open the pouch on his waist and quickly looked over its contents. “I’ve got another eight smokes. You think that’s long enough?”

“Alright, it’s not that long.” The mantis scratched the back of his head with the butt of his scythe. “But it starts almost a hundred years back. I was fresh out of the nest, cocky, up my own ass. You know how it is.”

The lizardman nodded.

The fire crackled.

And Chloe crept closer.

She had always wanted to hear Matthias’ story, but she had never really had the chance to ask it. Though they both reported to Arciel directly, they worked in completely different divisions and only ever crossed each other’s paths on duty. And though she didn’t act the part, Chloe was still the head maid; her subordinates often peppered her with decisions as a means of avoiding responsibility.

The former human’s body didn’t come with any particular features to aid in eavesdropping, like ears that could be lifted overhead, so she had no choice but to scoot as close to the fire as she could. She had every intention of catching all the juicy details.

Her patron deity, however, had other plans. He cast a spell as soon as she poked her head out from around the corner and summoned her into his realm. Her world distorted, warped, and spun, spiralling out of control until her senses suddenly returned. When she finally peeled herself off the floor, the vampiric sex demon found herself whisked to a mysterious space.

It was not her first time visiting his pocket dimension, but she took a moment to take in the sights regardless, scanning the infinitely tall shelves and the books that lay within as her heart pumped with unbearable excitement.

She knew that the celestial—Sylvia had told her plenty about him since her last visit—was waiting, but she began by approaching the shelves regardless. Panting and blushing, she slid her fingers across the tomes until the index was sucked right into her mind. And then, she pulled a very specific book right off its shelves. Taking a moment to glance at the cover, and subsequently gulping in a way that only a pervert could, she pressed it to her chest and assimilated all of its contents. They were ported straight into her mind, changed so she could enjoy them at any point in time.

The deity went about his own business as she did hers. He didn’t mind at all that she had assimilated his property. He had no need for a textbook that described her mistress’ sexual biology. After all, he was the one who penned it after imitating her form and running a series of experiments, and it wasn’t like she was taking it without his permission; their agreement stipulated that she could have a book each time she visited his gaol, and that he would prepare anything she requested should she inform him in advance.

To claim it right away certainly professed a particular set of priorities, but again, Alfred didn’t mind. It was precisely the faithfulness to one’s desire that drew the line between the lewd and the chaste; it was precisely because she knew what she wanted that she could work towards it.

To ask her to delay her objective in favour of pleasing a deity, especially one that was only halfway to true godhood, was to deny his own past and dismiss the accompanying creed.

She did eventually approach, albeit only after taking a few minutes to skim through the thousand-page book. The first chapter alone contained every bit of knowledge she could have possibly wanted to learn, and the remaining nineteen only proved that the rabbit hole went deeper than she had ever imagined.

“Hello,” she said. She knew his name, but the man had never used it himself. Time wasn’t a factor in his lack of introduction. All of their historical meetings had been of the lengthier variety, and they had skipped all the formalities each time. From the looks of it at least, the man intended to do the same again. Leaning forward in his seat, he twisted his lips into a grin and passed a drink to the kindred spirit.

It was the same thing that he had given her before—a drink spiced with the powerless residue that his soul-draining process created. Though a waste product, it was certainly not without its uses, the most obvious of which was its flavour. It tasted just like ether, which, for demons like himself, was the most delicious substance that one could ever know.

The tea was best when it was piping hot, but Chloe set it aside. She had already wet herself once in front of him already; any further consumption would have to wait until she was by her lonesome.

While another deity might have found the display disrespectful, Alfred only laughed it off. He leaned forward in his seat, a small grin on his face as he placed a set of vials on the table. Each was filled with a fine, salt-like material, different only in how they reflected the light. Certain angles caused the grains to shimmer with a bright, iridescent glow. There were so many different colours and shades that her eyes could barely process them. But even with its fancy appearance, the seasoning's function was largely unchanged. It was meant to be sprinkled into a dish in the midst of its preparation. Another gift from the demigod to the mortal he blessed.

"Thank you," she said.

"I don't suppose that means it's working well?" he asked, with a knowing grin.

Chloe bobbed her head excitedly. "It's working wonders. Her bras almost don't fit anymore."

The substance in question was one of Alfred's oldest inventions, produced during the ancient time in which he was still a god-king. It only had one effect—to increase the size of an individual's breasts with continued consumption. Needless to say, the maid was feeding it to her mistress without any semblance of explicit consent, not that it was necessary to begin with. It was a maid’s duty to maximize her mistress’ beauty, after all.

Arciel's breasts may have been the most attractive, eye-catching pair that the pervert had ever seen, but they were very slightly lacking in volume. With their shape as they were, Chloe was convinced that they would be even more appealing if they grew by 3.172 percent, and her patron deity had readily agreed. After taking more time than necessary to lecture her on the quantification of beauty and its mathematical implications, he gave her the perfected drug and sent her off to do as she pleased.

There were no direct side effects, save for the emphasis of her extant back pain and numbness, but Chloe had readily compensated by massaging her mistress’ shoulders each evening. It was difficult to say which of the two really enjoyed the sessions more, but in either case, the up-close view allowed Chloe to observe the precise extent of the drug's effects. In the few days that her mistress was under its influence, her breasts had slowly but certainly expanded without any hints of losing their form. It was the perfect solution, and she only needed more of the substance to be molded into Chloe's perfect ideal.

Of course, her plan had not gone entirely unnoticed. Though she never commented out loud, Sylvia had given her an exasperated look upon discovering the ploy, and more importantly, her mistress' perfectly tailored clothes had gotten a little too tight. Ciel had started eating less when she noticed the consequence, which meant that she reduced the drug's consumption and slowed the rate of expansion. It was unfortunate, but she was going to need more time before everything was as she wanted.

"And how is your sanity holding up," asked the god, "with all the changes you see in her?"

Chloe smiled awkwardly. "It's getting even harder to control myself."

"And that would be why I didn't," said Alfred, "not when I was your age, at least. Unfortunately, my choice happened to result in getting little to nothing done."

"Do you have anything that might help suppress my urges?" asked the succubus.

"I've tried everything, but unfortunately, this wrinkled old form is the only thing that does it. Even then, it's only adjusted them. I find myself peeping almost excessively whenever I'm like this, but it's still much better than the alternative." He sighed. "In the first place, our libidos are as much of a function of our personalities as they are of our biologies. I can certainly stop your body from pining for your mistress, but I couldn't possibly stop you from doing it without changing who you are, just as how there can’t exist a moment where Flitzegarde is gone from my mind."

"The body part would help," said Chloe. "At least something to stop me from... drooling."

A grin spread across Alfred's face. "Oh, in that case, I do happen to have just the thing, but frankly I'd rather not give it to you until you've finally taken her."

Chloe groaned. "That isn't happening anytime soon. She doesn't feel that way about me."

"I don't see why you would think that to be a problem," said Alfred. "People are fickle, Chloe. There are certainly a few rare cases, but unless you've made a bad first impression, which I certainly don't think you have, then it's really quite easy to work your way into someone's heart. And even in the odd case that you do mess up, it really just ends up resolving itself once you’ve put in a little more time and effort. In your case, I'd say that the last few steps are trivial."

"Really?" The maid opened her eyes wide.

"You're already in her inner circle, and she hasn't pushed you away even with your affections as blatant as they are. She clearly isn't against the idea," said Alfred. "I would go as far as to say that you've already broken down most of the barriers between you. I do understand that the final hurdle is the highest, especially in cases like yours, but you simply need to show the sides of yourself that you know she wants to see.”

“Is it really that easy?”

“It is, especially with the person in question being the innocent little princess she is.” Alfred smirked. “I can put together a book on the topic for next time. Oh, and speaking of obligations, did you remember to do what I asked?”

“Right, yeah. I did.” Chloe took a breath.

“Good, good. Very good.” He chuckled to himself. “Then I’d like you to move on to phase two. As for the details...” Alfred trailed off for a moment to think before issuing the rest of his orders.

Like many of the other gods involved in the conflict, the celestial had a plan of his own, and Claire’s most recent exchange with Vella provided the ability to act on it undetected. They both had access to the standard interface; Flitzegarde would never notice if he only manipulated his vectors in time with the mortal’s.

___

Lord Porcius grabbed his clipboard and quickly reviewed his notes as he waited for his prey to walk into his trap. It was at least his thirtieth time looking them over. He practically knew all the details by heart, but he scanned the front page regardless. They had evaluated time and time again that the wildcards were the only threats. No one else in the party was anything but a least concern.

Their most powerful members were only in the level six-hundred range. And for their levels, their abilities were not particularly outstanding—or at least that was what his agents had reported. They hadn’t monitored the individuals directly, but their intel was likely accurate. They had gathered it with the latest model of magical spectrometer. The spectrometers themselves were not recent inventions. They were developed several decades ago, and their features remained largely unchanged. Conceptually, they were incredibly useful, capable of providing not only a precise measurement of the nature of one’s mana, but also several estimations of an individual’s ability scores. The more ancient variants suffered an insurmountable drawback in the form of their three-meter range. Countless geniuses had devoted their lives to the devices’ improvement, but only in the previous year had they finally seen success. One of Tornatus’ top minds had engineered a new version with a fifty-kilometer range just two months prior to the city’s destruction. The crown was quick to adopt the design; purchasing the exclusive right to the schema just hours after its invention.

And from that point onwards, their use had become standard. Every active warship in the nation had the feature attached. It was truly an incredible piece of technology, but perhaps because it was only recently made useful, it still came with a few key flaws. The most notable was that its readings were based almost entirely on mana, so when used on a group, it was unable to pin each target’s measurements to an identity or face. But the gathered data was incredibly valuable in either case. And that was why he had borrowed Ephesus’ best men to see it delivered—a scheme that had worked spectacularly. It was a shame that the accompanying decoys, tasked with confrontation and closer observation, were slain in cold blood. They may have been unskilled, but they were still assets on the nation’s payroll.

He didn’t dwell on it for long, however. Whether their levels were high or not, weaklings were easily and unceremoniously replaced, even if it was their sacrifice that brought the marquis his confidence. It was a sentiment that applied not only to the fallen decoys, but also the birds used for the data’s transport. Not a single one of the thirty-six pigeons had made it home alive. The only successful communications were, unfortunately, delivered directly in person. They hadn’t the faintest clue as to how the enemy was intercepting their letters, but what mattered was that the communications were eventually received in any case.

The delay could have easily resulted in their defeat had the upcoming victory teetered on a knife’s edge. But with the circumstances as they were, Porcius remained confident in certain victory. The enemy only had two wildcards; the nameless knight and the arcane mage were the only threats worth considering. Everyone knew that said knight was the king’s older brother. Ephesus had made it clear that they were to capture him, dead or alive, so that they could present his head to their master. And though it had remained a mystery, since their previous attack, they had finally found themselves with a hint as to the mage’s identity.

She had done a good job of suppressing her output, almost to the point that they had barely noticed her. But the single spell she cast during the first decoy’s battle had clearly given her away. The shape of her mana looked different, incredibly different, likely due to its unnatural suppression, but its demonic nature remained entirely unchanged. It was the humanoid demon, the maid that played the part of the Vel’khanese queen’s most faithful servant.

In retrospect, it made perfect sense. She had disguised herself so she could secretly serve as the party’s escort and protector, present to secure the queen’s safety even in the worst scenario. Their own monarch was the only one powerful enough to join an expedition without a guard to serve him. For any other, it was far too dangerous, even—especially—with one’s blood relations running the nation instead.

That was why they had marked her as another primary target; the moose and the demon would each be tackled by eight of their champions and subject to immediate elimination, while the rest would be given one or two apiece, depending on the merit involved in capturing them alive. That was the gist of the plan, as was described by the sheet in front of his eyes. The rest of his notes listed the individuals’ known abilities and possible ways of seeing them overcome. He didn’t care for those. He had already reviewed Constantius’ profile over a hundred times and come up with a way of taking him down.

Everything was ready. All the pieces were in place. There was no need to worry.

Thinking that to himself again, Porcius set the clipboard down, even knowing that he would be picking it up again within the next five minutes.

It was a cycle of endless anxiety, the same feeling that always plagued him before a fight, even one that he knew he could win with ease. It didn’t help that his field of view was limited. His only access to the outside world came in the form of the magical panels thrown up around the room. There was nothing upon them. The scenery pictured was as droll as the half-eaten brunch still sitting beside his seat.

And yet, he saw the moment it happened.

The water that lay directly underneath them, which was displayed through the panels that lay beneath his feet, started to crackle and swirl. The scene was exactly what the more knowledgeable locals had described. A group of adventurers was emerging from the dungeon’s second exit.

He waited with bated breath. From the timing, it was most likely his prey.

But what he found instead was a party of birds.

Dozens of flightless avians rushed out of the dungeon and into the surrounding area. Seemingly confused by their newfound underwater location, the monstrous chickens and kiwis flapped their wings in panic and pushed themselves back up to the surface.

And then, they started swimming towards the shore, madness glimmering in their otherwise mindless eyes. Their goal was clear. It was the populace. The monsters intended to slaughter the local people.

“Report. It’s a dungeon break, Sir,” said the reverse-centaur standing beside him. It was not a report from a blind buffoon, but a sneer from an insubordinate officer. The man that was standing beside him was one of the warriors who served their late master—one of the warriors who had actively spoken out against Porcius’ sudden promotion.

“I can see that.”

“Your orders, Sir?”

“Mobilize the units waiting alongside the shoreline. Defend the townsfolk and eliminate the hostiles.”

Porcius had not only inherited his master’s name. He had also inherited his duties. If he was to live up to his role, as the Minister of Foreign Affairs, he had no choice but to present his people as the sort by which one would want to be ruled.