Chapter 411 - Amidst the Valencian Wind IV
Krail woke no later than most of the girls. But rather than heading into the common area, he remained in his room and sat atop his bed with his legs crossed, his eyes closed, and his hands in his lap. As a greenwood elf, he was naturally an early riser. It was as much a result of their culture as it was their biology, for it was only through intermingling with humanoid plants like mandrakes and dryads that the modern greenwood lineage had ultimately come about.
Just by touching his skin, the sun filled him with endless energy. A single extended tanning session sufficed to flood his veins with sugars and his circuits with magic. But on that particular morning, the sky was without its usual light. The dark clouds that accompanied the rain and hail left his mind foggy and his body more lethargic than not. But that was precisely why it was the perfect opportunity to work on self-improvement. To focus in such a circumstance was to perfect the output of his spells. And so, ignoring his magical aids, he took a breath and chanted away. The arrows materialized in the space in front of him, as they always did. But rather than firing them off indoors, he allowed them to fall in such a way that they drew a magic circle.
It was the solution that he had recently derived following several extended discussions with Allegra. The problem with his magic was that it was shallow. Almost everything he did involved the production and firing of arrows. Even his signature ars magna was nothing but a massive arrow sure to land on target.
The problem ultimately stemmed from his cognition. He certainly viewed arrows as the ultimate weapon, but they were more so tools to land precise strikes than weapons of mass destruction. There was nothing he could do if his tiny remote blades were unable to pierce whatever it was they were aimed towards.
Ideally, he needed to be able to imbue his arrows with some sort of brain-eating poison, but without the requisite magical school, such a solution was difficult to construct, hence the solution at hand.
The practice lasted until the sky was suddenly blown apart. The whole castle seemed to quake with rage as a shockwave pulsed through his surroundings. When he looked out the window, he found a bright light that was filled with enough magic to shake him to his core. And then, just as quickly as it appeared, the bursting energy vanished. It was replaced with a shock to his system as the sun suddenly appeared out of thin air and rained its light down upon his body.
Thinking that it might have been an enemy attack, Krail grabbed his staff and scrambled out onto the balcony, but nothing seemed too out of place. Some of the guards certainly gathered in the sky near the pillar’s source, but few of the castle’s workers had reacted. The maids and butlers casually walked around with baskets of laundry and trolleys of food, the men patrolling the ramparts paced around as calmly as ever, and the quarrymen maintaining the freshly-drained moat still sang and shoveled away. The only other person who was panicked was Jules, who had also dashed out onto his balcony in order to check on the source of the magical outburst.
“What the fuck was that!?” screamed the clam.
“I have no idea,” said Krail. “Should we investigate?”
“Doubt it’s worth it with how shit’s looking.”
“I guess not,” said Krail. “Coincidentally, this incident happens to remind me of one of the times I visited th—”
“I don’t mind hearing you out, but we’ll probably get our shit smacked in if you keep screaming out here,” said Jules. “Meet me out in the hall or something.”
“Give me a few minutes to wash off, and I’ll be in the common area,” said Krail.
“Wait, hold on. I’m pretty sure,” he paused for a second to inspect his surroundings, “Claire mentioned something about some bigger baths. Might as well hit those while we’re at it.”
“Works for me.” After heading back into his room, the elf grabbed a change of clothes and stepped into the common area, where he found a note sitting on top of one of the tables.
“The fuck’s it say?” asked Jules, with a yawn.
“It seems that the girls have started touring the castle without us. Most of them have headed to the training grounds. If I had to guess, I’d say that our hosts are likely putting on some sort of display.”
“Of course they are.” The clam waddled towards the door and lightly pushed it open.
There was already a maid standing out in front of it by the time of his arrival. The centaur briefly curtsied in his direction, lifting her skirt and bending her knees, before greeting him with a smile.
“Good morning. Are you looking to go somewhere?”
“Yeah. Where’re the baths at?” asked Jules. “The big ones.”
“Right this way,” said the maid.
She walked the pair through the halls, her steps slowly paced to match their shorter gaits. Everything about her appearance screamed professional. Her back was straight as a rod, her obviously long hair was tied into a bun, and her hands remained held in front of her lap throughout their journey. And though she often moved her ears to check for their footsteps, she never once glanced in their direction.
Only ten turns later did she finally stop in front of a set of double doors.
“This is the public men’s bath. Please take as much time as you would like. There is a bell located by the changing room’s door in case you require assistance. As outlined during your briefing last night, we do not offer any sexual services, but anything else can be freely requested.”
“Thanks,” said Jules.
Curtsying again, the maid continued down the hall and vanished beyond a corner. The two men, however, paid her little attention. Their eyes had been redirected as soon as the door was pushed open.
The changing room was a grand open space with wooden shelves lining the walls and several moose-sized benches placed at fixed intervals throughout. The seats were matched with an equal number of mirrors, with some mounted on the walls and others attached to the ceiling. One would imagine that they would be fogged over, given the steam that rolled in from the connected room, but somehow, they remained as clear as day.
Jules waited for the elf to change his clothes before he started towards the door. There, through a wall of smoke, they found a massive water-filled space dimensioned more like a track than a bathtub. There was already a figure at the far end—a half-humanoid shape visible only on account of its massive size. He was sitting with his back to the deep end’s wall, his eyes closed, and his arms crossed across his chest.
His colouration alone was practically enough to deduce his identity. It was only a little lighter than Claire’s, missing the faint blue hue reflected in her scales. It was a stark contrast to the blackened antlers that sprouted from between the strands. Their dark, ashen colour almost made them look burnt or scarred, but no such wound could have possibly persisted. For he stood at the apex of Cadrian warriors. And even without having seen him in battle, they could easily surmise the extent of his durability.
The mages hesitated for a moment. With no one else present, it looked like they were intruding, but he spoke before they had a chance to back off.
“Sit,” he said. “The temperature will adjust on its own.”
The words were spoken in such a commanding tone that the Vel’khanese found it difficult to refuse. After briefly exchanging glances, Jules and Krail slipped into the bath and settled in a location nearby. It seemed rude to put too much distance between them after the man had explicitly grabbed their attention.
Still, while Jules was brazen enough to plop himself right by the warlord, Krail chose a spot a little further away. Getting too close seemed like a terrible idea. Not only was the man the nation’s king, his biceps were practically as thick as the wood elf’s body. He could rip him apart with a look if he wanted, though that was likely true regardless of the distance between them.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
For a while, the trio sat in awkward silence. The once-lukewarm bath itself was pleasant—like Virillius had claimed. Curiously, it was only the temperature in his immediate vicinity that had heated itself to perfection. Extending a hand and sticking it in a patch a little further away provided him with the same tepid sensation that had assaulted him as he entered.
“How has Claire been? Is she eating well?”
“You know, I was expecting you to say something, but really, man? Of all the fucking things you could’ve said…” Jules heaved a sigh. “I figured you weren’t like she said you were, but still.”
Virillius opened his eyes and turned his piercing gaze on the clam beside him. “...I have nothing to say in my defence,” he said, after a brief delay.
“Damn, and you ain’t even enough of a hardass to deny it?” Jules laughed.
“I see no reason to,” he said. “Even if you were to inform her of this conversation, she would be likely to dismiss it as drivel, or perhaps an act on my part.”
“Probably, yeah,” said Jules. He kicked up the back of his shell and entrusted more of his weight to the wall behind him. “So what’s a king like you doing in a public bath anyway? I figured you’d have your own fancy tub or whatever.”
Virillius nodded. “We do have one such structure in my wing of the castle, but it hasn’t been used since I seized the crown. It’s a waste of resources with this facility active at all times.”
“Forgive me if I’m being too discourteous,” said Krail. “But wouldn’t it have been wiser to keep it running for the sake of your image? I’m under the impression that you’ve styled yourself as a god-king, which from my experience at least, tends to indicate a ruler who shies far away from any sort of public interaction. In fact, moments like this seem like exactly the sort you’d want to avoid.”
“They call me that of their own accord,” said Virillius. “Though I will certainly take responsibility for the prior king’s demise, I have every intention of abdicating at the first given opportunity.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” asked Jules.
“I would rather be anything but king.”
“Are you sure that’s something you should be admitting to us?” asked Krail, with a blink. “We are not your citizens, nor do we have any incentive to maintain your secrets.”
“It’s because you aren’t my countrymen that I can cut loose. Claire is hardly the only individual who will only believe what she wants.”
“Can’t argue with you there.” Jules laughed. “Say, are drinks allowed in here?”
“What sort would you like?” asked Virillius.
“Dunno what you guys have locally. Anything that’s good, I guess.”
Nodding, Virillius stood up in the water and walked over to the statue that stood in the middle of the bath. It was a large stone structure ten, maybe twenty meters tall, with its base sitting above the surface of the water.
“This device will allow you to sample many of the more popular varieties.”
The base rose from beneath the water when Virillius pressed his hand against it. After climbing high enough, the top portion suddenly opened to a set of wine racks, each stocked to the brim with sealed bottles.
“Unfortunately, they are not quite real. You cannot rely on them to fuel your body.” A tray and three glasses suddenly materialized on top of the water when he retrieved a particularly fancy flask. “However, the magic used in their conjuring allows for the full experience of their taste and corresponding inebriation regardless of the extent of your resistance. The effects last until you leave the room, at which point they will quickly fade.”
“Wait, so we get all the drink and all the fun, and none of the hangovers and other bullshit?” said Jules.
“Effectively.”
“Sign me up.”
“And you?” he asked, turning his gaze to Krail.
“If you will be so hospitable, I see no reason to refuse.”
“Good man.” The king poured a mouthful of liquid into each of the glasses and pushed the tray over after grabbing his own. “This is Vekratt, aged hay liquor distilled down to an obscene purity. Most take it with several parts water. You’re free to use any of the fountains,” he pointed at the various places from which the water spewed, “as they’re clean enough to drink, and again, will adjust to the necessary temperature.”
“Fuck that, that’s pussy talk,” said Jules. He grabbed the cup and downed its contents in a single breath. “God damn, this shit burns good.”
“Does it?” Krail was a little more hesitant. He briefly glanced in the fountain’s direction after giving the cup a whiff, but he found himself unable to water it down after both the other bathers downed their drinks straight. Eventually, after finding Virillius’ eyes upon him, he lifted it to his lips and drained its contents.
His eyes opened wide, in part because it was every bit as strong as the others had claimed, but also because its flavour was mind-bogglingly deep. There were hints of pine, strong spices, and a familiar almost bready taste intermingled with that of fresh grass. He almost wanted to vomit on account of its brain-rotting proof, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop himself from joining Jules in putting his cup back on the tray and sliding it towards the king.
“It’s delicious,” he said.
It was only for a moment, but Virillius allowed a small, almost invisible smile to creep up on his lips as a faint chuckle escaped him.
“Yes. Yes it is.” The second serving he poured filled the glass to the brim. Given the smaller size of the elf and the clam, there was likely enough pure alcohol within it to kill each at least three times over, though such a death would not have been possible lest the drink was real and their levels were much lower. It was unheard of for even a mage with three ascensions to drink himself straight into the grave.
“So I gotta ask,” said Jules. “You do know your daughter’s a total fucking psycho, right?”
The clam half expected to be punched for the question, but the moose remained calm and collected. If anything, it was Krail who punished his lack of fear by way of saliva-laden booze.
“You can’t just say that!” shouted the elf, as quietly as he could.
“Well it’s true,” said Jules. “It’s not like she’s even trying to hide it.”
“Admittedly, she did not turn out precisely as I had hoped,” said Virillius, quietly. “But given the circumstances, it was not something that could really be helped.”
“You’re gonna need to be more specific.”
Virillius took a few seconds to swivel his drink in his hand before downing it in one gulp. “I failed her.”
Jules immediately tried to ask another question, but sensing the danger, Krail grabbed a random bottle from the dispensary, and after completing a chant in record speed, attached it to the tip of an arrow and delivered it to the clam’s mouth.
“It happens to the best of us.” Still in the middle of catching his breath, the elf collapsed into the pool with his back against the outer edge.
Virillius, likewise, closed his eyes, leaned back, and took a few moments to entertain his own thoughts.
That left Jules, who had already finished his whole bottle, to break the silence with a drunken hic. Ignoring Krail’s pleading gaze, he set the drink aside and continued to question the king.
“So, why Vel’khan?”
“It is a matter of honour. Pollux’s demise wa—”
“I don’t mean like that. I mean like, why was he even there in the first place? Honestly doesn’t look like we got shit on you guys. Hell, if it didn’t mean I’d be ditching the assholes back home, it almost feels like I’d be better off just calling this whole thing quits and sitting my ass around.” The clam drained the rest of his cup and poured himself another before continuing. “It’s not like conquering even does shit for you. We ain’t even remotely close to being neighbours.”
Virillius set down his cup and crossed his arms. “Our goal was to market our products, particularly our artifacts.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” asked Jules, with his brow furrowed. “You guys were just in it for cash?”
“I’m guessing it was less the cash, and more everything else,” said Krail.
“Like what?” asked Jules.
“The cultural influence, perhaps?” said the elf. “I haven’t seen anything quite like it on my travels, but I have seen a number of plays where similar objectives were demonstrated.”
“There is a little more nuance to it than that,” said Virillius. “The purpose was to build a dependence on goods that only we were capable of producing. With an effective monopoly on artifacts, as well as the continent’s largest center for artifact research and development, we intended to export all manner of goods down the continent’s east coast. In reality, these efforts have already paid off to some extent, as they have with Paunse’s lightning catchers. With their primitive, inefficient tooling phased out and the accompanying industry defunct, they rely on our exports to store the thunder god’s blessing and fuel the growth of their crops.”
“So you were basically looking for ways to conquer people from the inside? You sneaky bastards, goddamn,” said Jules.
“Admittedly, I failed to rein in Timaois when he misconstrued our goal as such, but that was not the original intention.” He sipped from his cup, taking in just enough of the alcohol for its flavour to fill his mouth. “By establishing ourselves as an economic superpower, it was our desire to build a set of willing alliances that might deter the Western Alliance. It served effectively as a means to end our long-running feud without any further bloodshed.”
“Seriously?” Jules raised a brow. “I thought you fuckers were all about making people bleed.”
“Not all of us are willing to follow Vella’s teachings to the letter,” Virillius rose from the water and started towards the exit. “Unfortunately, this is all that I have time for this morning. You are free to help yourselves to as much drink as you would like.”
Only much later would he receive a report that the Vel’khanese visitors had taken his word quite literally; both men nearly drowned in the bath after drinking enough to black out.