Chapter 359 - The Stifled Sword III

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Dear Diary,

We’re finally here! Ms. Olga says that we’re camping on the border between Moros and Vel’khan today. There’s even a sign on the side of the road. The only difference is that the road on the Moros side is way better. I was kind of disappointed, but Ms. Olga keeps talking about how good everything’s gonna get. I’m starting to think I shouldn’t believe her.

Lia.

___

Arciel stifled a yawn as her eyes slowly blinked open. She hadn’t the faintest clue as to how long she slept. The room was every bit as dark as it was when she first fell asleep, but that was more so a property of the space than it was of the time. For one, there were no windows connecting the prison to the world beyond it—a wise choice, all things considered. Arciel could have easily slipped through such an opening by hopping between the shadows. The method of escape was still viable with the door, albeit much less so. The guards would likely notice were she to attempt to pass them by.

Though awake, the queen did not immediately rise from her bed. She rolled back and forth, hugging a pillow to her chest as she enjoyed the soft, foreign mattress. She knew it was improper and that she ought to return to her duties, but it had been quite some time since she had experienced such an alluring mattress—the bedrolls that had accompanied them on their journey were every bit as cheap as the few inns they rented—she wasn't about to give it up so readily, especially not knowing when she would be allowed another chance to relax.

Despite her unwillingness, the squid eventually rose. She pushed herself out of bed and, after taking a moment to scan the room, looked towards the door.

Chloe entered right on cue. She hadn't the faintest clue as to how the maid knew that she was about to be summoned, but in either case, she made her way into the room whilst humming a tune under her breath. Ciel refrained from questioning the usual anomaly and shifted her eyes to the bucket the former human had carried inside. The wooden pail was filled with hot water and accompanied by a set of towels and scented soaps.

“Good morning, Chloe.”

“Morning.” Smiling through the faint blush on her face, the maid closed the door, set down her equipment, and pulled up a chair in front of the mirror. Neither bothered to engage the iridescent artifacts meant to light the space. Being vampires, they could easily see in the dark.

Ciel, by all means, should have moved over to the chair as soon as it was presented, but she stayed put and allowed herself to be spoiled. She waited for Chloe to take the pillow out of her arms, even squeezing it just a tiny bit as a means of petty resistance. She lazily leaned into the maid’s hands as she was lifted from her bedside and escorted to the looking glass. She was well aware of the way Chloe’s breath was stuck in her throat, of the way she was so desperately trying not to pant and drool. But she ignored it. As she always did.

Still half asleep, she waited for the maid to wipe her body—she had already taken a bath before going to bed, and had no intention of taking another—do her hair, and arrange her clothes. Everything was put in perfect order so she would not embarrass herself in public.

It took a few seconds for the drowsy squid to catch on, but the clothes she was given were not at all her own. Rather, they were silken men’s garments provided by the Cadrians, likely at Chloe’s request. The tour wasn’t exactly a formal occasion, but there was a chance that they would meet with the ship’s commander, and with that in mind, it was better to be safe than sorry.

One could certainly argue that crossdressing on another individual’s dime defeated the point entirely, but as with many of the other silly rituals maintained by the nobility, it was more about the end than it was the means. Wearing a man’s outfit would at least preserve her dignity within the realm of her mind, or at least it would had she not felt ashamed of the perfect fit. Her own clothes had started to get a little too snug. She didn’t have a scale to confirm her weight, but she could feel it in the way the fibres fought against her chest.

Worse yet, her maid was well aware of the extra weight she put on during her time abroad. Were they back home, Chloe surely would have complained aloud and informed her that she was either eating too much or exercising too little. But for once in her life, the former human kept silent, only adding to the squid’s discomfort.

She left the dark room after a few minutes of beautification. Her hair was perfectly combed and her face was covered in a thin layer of makeup. It was entirely unnecessary; the powder was the same colour as her skin and she had no blemishes to hide, but its presence was necessary. She needed to appear as if she had put in the effort to look her very best.

Her late breakfast was already waiting for her out in the common area. Despite its relative simplicity, it was the sort of meal completely outside the average household’s reach. Her tea was a special Kryddarian brand fed for the high nobility, her fried eggs had been laid by a golden Skarnian goose, her fruit was picked from Primrose’s garden, and her toast was made from milled vekratt hay.

If the plates in the sink were any indication, the others were already done eating. Ace was the only one still at the table, groggily picking away at his meal whilst mumbling about a lack of protein. Such was the norm for lizardmen, however, as their meals were typically comprised almost entirely of insects and meats.

It didn’t take long for Ciel to dismiss the carnivore and begin her meal. She was still a little zoned out, so she started with the drink, sipping away at it as Chloe informed the guards that they would soon be ready to leave. Her mind remained hazy for another ten-odd minutes, but it sharpened by the time she was done. Thankfully, the others were already accustomed to the behaviour and waited for her to wake before they probed her mind.

The door hissed open a few minutes after the meal’s completion. The officer who had spoken to them earlier slowly knocked three times before pushing it open. He looked exactly as he had through the tiny slit; his top half was dressed in a standard military uniform, while his bottom was equipped with a lengthy metal skirt.

His outfit made it difficult for her to determine if he was observing the Vel’khanese custom, as the late Pollux had done during his time in the country. The upper half of his clothes were unisex and the plaided metal skirt that protected his delicates was practically essential gear for anyone that shared his silhouette. Of course, one could argue that their armour was unnecessary to begin with, given that most of the warriors were of the regenerating type. It was impossible to decipher his intentions, so Ciel decided not to try.

“Good morning,” she said. She didn’t recall his name, or if he had even mentioned it.

Perhaps realizing that, the man dropped to a knee and placed a hand right over his chest. His horse-like shape mitigated the intended effect. He was still far taller, and the antlers sitting atop his head didn’t help in the slightest. Each was nearly thirty centimeters tall and twice as long. Their shapes were fairly comb-like, with the teeth pointed upwards and as thick as a person’s fingers.

“Perhaps an introduction might be a little overdue. I am Sergeant Balbus of Tornatus, a bighorn cervitaur of the moose variety, and I serve as this ship’s executive prison warden.”

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The royal slowly nodded her head. She thought the combination of his species and dark coat to be a little strange; all the moose she knew or heard of were more lightly coloured. “I am Arciel Vel’khan. My race is empress of tentacles and blood, and as you may be aware already, I reign as queen of Vel’khan.” She stood up from her seat and gestured with her fan for the others to follow. “Let us waste no more time. Present the restraints we require.”

The moose gestured at the servant stationed outside, who entered with a cart of items in tow. The restraints were surprisingly simple, shackles for bodies of different types in addition to a set of wriggling cloth bands.

“Those are the magical bindings I mentioned earlier,” said Balbus, after a brief delay. “Do be warned, they are not the most pleasant.” The servant picked one up and showed it off as the sergeant continued to speak. Specifically, he showed off the underside, which featured a toothy mouth and a set of glowing yellow eyes. “They belong to a unique species of leech that feeds exclusively on mana,” he explained. “We acquired them after a few hundred years of breeding, and I do believe they stemmed from one of our king’s initiatives.”

“No matter,” said Ciel. She extended her hand and exposed her wrist. “Let us begin.”

The sensation wasn’t pleasant—she could feel its teeth as it sank into her skin—but neither was it particularly grating. The way it sucked her mana was somewhat familiar, reminiscent of the way she felt when a certain snake-moose did the very same. The only differences were that it was weaker and less random. It still disturbed the flow of her magic, but only enough to keep her from accessing her most delicate spells.

The warden appeared to notice as well, cocking a brow and reseating his hat, but he refrained from commenting on it aloud. He silently waited for everyone to be restrained before moving to the doorway and propping it open.

“Now, as I said before, you will have to be on your best behaviour.” He wore a dark smile, like he was daring his audience to defy him, but he didn’t make any explicit threats as he led them down the hall. His pacing was controlled; he walked just slowly enough to give them time to examine the other cells. “As I am sure you have already surmised, this is our prison ward. Any warrior captured in combat is kept here until further notice. Does anyone have any questions before we move on?”

“Got a solid one,” said Ace. Chloe shot him a bit of a look, but the lizardman continued regardless. “Why's it that you treat your prisoners so well? Doesn't make much sense, if you ask me.”

The warden adjusted his hat again. “Historically, it was because we only captured warriors who had earned our respect. Everyone else was executed on the spot. That particular circumstance is most likely what led to us being described as barbarians, however, and we have since changed our ways,” he explained. “The previous king found that our reputations across the continent were a little too poor for our taste, so he arranged for a campaign to rid us of any unsavoury behaviours while preserving many of our more reputable traditions.”

“Then why the fuck did you kill the shark?” growled Jules. “And don’t fucking lie to me. I saw what her foe did. The piece of shit was enjoying himself through and through.”

“Unfortunately, not everyone is intelligent enough to grasp the higher-ups’ intentions. For the record, we have detained him and subjected him to punishment. To be honest, given the circumstances, there is not much we can charge him with besides insubordination, so he is unlikely to suffer anything beyond a pay cut. I do sympathize, but it is what it is.”

“You’re being awfully honest for someone that’s trying to fix their rep,” said the lizard.

“Would you rather I lied?” asked the moose.

“Honestly, yeah,” said Ace. “The way you’re acting right now gives me the creeps. Wish you’d at least try to make yourself seem like less of a psycho.”

“It comes with the job, unfortunately.” Balbus laughed. “Anyone else?” He paused briefly to scan the crowd. “Perfect. Let's move on. The next area that we will be visiting is the artillery battery. At least try to keep your hands to yourselves. I would rather not have to clean up another bloody mess.”

“Shut the fu—” It was a cheap provocation, but it worked to perfect effect. Ace had to smack Jules in the back of the head before the wrong words could escape his lips.

“Ignore him,” he said. “Ain’t right in the head, that boy.”

“Who the fuck do you think you’re calling a bo—” The mage tried to lash out, but Ace clamped a hand over his mouth and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t have minded much if you let him finish,” said the warden.

Ace forced a laugh. “You know it wouldn’t end well, Mister.”

The cervitaur laughed aloud as he led them through the battleship and its many halls. The corridors were every bit as extravagant as the room, and the magical lights pulsing within them were placed and tweaked to echo the brightness of a midsummer day. They were so perfectly tuned that the environment almost didn’t seem to change as they ascended a flight of stairs and entered an above-ground space.

Arriving at the top, the prisoners quickly discovered the sheer extent of the centaurs’ arrogance. The gaol was connected directly to a living space; the hall that they entered was filled with butlers and maids. They practically sprinted to and fro, pushing the carts in front of them as quickly as they could without spilling their contents.

“Please excuse the mess,” he said. “The lunch rush will be starting soon, and we’re working to get everything done as quickly as we can.”

Surely enough, most of their transports were filled with piles of fresh ingredients. They were loosely categorized by their type. Some were filled with fruits and vegetables, while others transferred racks with whole animals suspended upon them.

“The vast majority of our protein comes from domestic cows,” explained the warden, as he noticed Arciel’s gaze. “They run rampant in our lands, and we have even bred a few select species to ensure the most delicious result. Of course, career soldiers like us don’t have all too much access to luxury goods like that, so the army tends to settle for highland cattle instead.”

The queen nodded. “But is five whole animals not too many for a ship of this size?”

“Quite the opposite,” said the cervitaur. “From the timing, that’s likely the third or fourth shipment for the day. We’ve got nearly ten thousand mouths to feed, and half of us eat like horses.”

“It must be a great ordeal to transport enough food to feed so many soldiers.”

“We have our ways,” he said, with a faint smile.

He continued leading the prisoners through the manor’s halls. The interior may have appeared somewhat homely for one of high birth, but the size and structure were closer to that of a castle. The halls were convoluted to make it difficult for an invader to navigate, and it took them well over a dozen turns to arrive in the building’s foyer.

Heading outside revealed an exterior far greater than that of the ship that had visited Vel’khan. Unlike the tiny carrier class that late Pollux had chosen, the vessel they were aboard was considered a capital ship. It had certainly seemed massive when they saw it from below, shadowing several of the city’s blocks at a time, but it was high up enough that the scale was difficult to process. Standing on top of the fortress and looking over its contents really impressed upon them just how absurd it was.

The mothership was a functional district in and of itself. There were streets, buildings, and even farms along the outer edges. The massive castle they had exited was but one of the many landmarks that existed atop the sky. Together, the twenty-odd ships suspended in the air around them provided more habitable space than the city of Vel’khagan.

If there was one oddity to call out, one thing that put the floating castles in a league of their own, it was the demographic. Most of the people aboard the ship were of military age. That wasn’t to say that the ship was devoid of children and seniors, but the proportion was overwhelmingly skewed towards the active combatants. Of course, that did not necessarily mean that they were truly young. It was more likely that they had locked in their apparent ages through ascension or perhaps simply gained much longer lives. In any case, they were fit and ready for battle.

The scattered cityscape, if one could settle for labeling it as such, was on the bougier end. The buildings were adorned with fancy, foreign designs and almost appeared to be cut out of whole pieces of stone.

It was a bit of a strange choice. Arciel would have expected them to use wood given the need for the aircraft to stay afloat. Perhaps that was why the ship was moving so slowly; its parts were too heavy for its engines to whisk away.

“Do you have a particular destination in mind?”

Arciel lightly tapped her fan against her chin before turning to the warden with a bold-faced smile. “I wish to see your central command.”