Chapter 414 - Amidst the Valencian Wind VII

Virillius proceeded down a long hall as he skimmed through a fresh stack of papers. Sorting through the documents would encompass the better part of his evening’s tasks. There were roughly thirty of them in all, spanning topics from criminal rehabilitation to childhood education. Discussion around the latter point was of particular importance, and on any other day, Virillius likely would have been stewing over its many implications. But on that particular evening, he found himself unable to focus.

His daughter’s presence was certainly a major contributor. Her being in Cadria produced a fair bit of work, much of it stemming from the division between those who knew her identity and those kept in the dark. Drawing the line was difficult, and maintaining it was a behemoth of a task for everyone involved. It didn’t help that she wasn’t being subtle. In fact, it barely seemed like she was trying to hide it at all.

Sure, she kept her face out of sight and steered clear of her old acquaintances, but she had refrained from adopting a pseudonym and many of her allies used her name with little hesitation. Of course, her moniker alone didn’t say much of her identity. Claire was a foreign name to begin with—Virillius would have preferred something more local, but Violet had insisted on a blatant descriptor—if anything, its Ryllian origin meant that it was far more common in Vel’khan than it was in Cadria, though its use had certainly spread since he announced his daughter’s birth.

Combined with the fake’s presence, the frozen spike in her chest, and the hiding of her ears, her identity was largely obscured. Or at least that was how it was for the general public. Most soldiers thought nothing of the coincidence, but for those who overflowed with curiosity, such as the many informants planted by the rich and noble, her origin was easily grasped. Confirming one’s suspicions took little more than peering into her window at night or giving her mana a scan.

But while certainly stressful, the unkept secret was far from his greatest concern. Nay, it was replaced just earlier that day by his newfound tail.

He saw it—her—whenever he glanced at the reflections that danced within the castle’s windows. The foreigner must have thought herself rather sneaky, given that his secret service had actively refrained from catching her, but he could feel her eyes following his every movement.

He wouldn’t have minded if she was simply watching him or evaluating the extent of his power, but there was something else in her gaze, something that sent an uncomfortable shiver up the length of his spine. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the accompanying sentiment. Sometimes, the new recruits would make similar eyes in his direction, though usually it was not for long. Most moved on within a few months so long as he continued to ignore their advances.

Being Cadrian, rather than Vel’khanese, they generally showed more respect for morals and moral decency. At the very least, none were improper enough to stalk him to his study after following him for a whole afternoon.

To make matters worse, she showed herself as soon as he sat down. Locking the door behind her, the foreign maid pulled up a chair in front of his desk and very intentionally planted her chest atop it. Avoiding the exposed valley—she had long removed her apron and unbuttoned her shirt—he raised his eyes to find her staring. It wasn’t just the hungry look that filled them. There was something else as well, something oddly hypnotic accompanied by a spark of magic.

Whatever she tried was to no avail. The mana in his body was far too dense for her spell to take effect.

Deciding to ignore her, as well as any further attempts she made, Virillius grabbed a quill and started working his way through the first of his many documents. She demanded his attention by shoving her chest right into his face, but he avoided the attack with a deft swivel and continued his work. Perhaps a little peeved, the maid reached for his cheeks, but again, he ducked away and avoided her touch.

The interaction repeated seven times before he finally breathed a sigh and acknowledged her presence.

“What do you want?”

“I was hoping you could do me a favour.” The half-succubus licked her lips, moistening them just enough that they glistened beneath the afternoon sun.

“Unfortunately, I am a busy man. You will have to find someone else.”

“I can’t. You’re the only one I can ask to cuckold my queen.”

“Excuse me?” Virillius barely managed to keep his expression intact, in part because of the claim itself, and in part because the maid was so off putting.

“I want you to dominate her while I watc—”

The moose pinched the bridge of his nose. “You must be lost. Your companions are in the south-western wing.”

“Are you really passing up the chance to have a threesome with not one, but two exotic beau—”

“Get out.”

Lifting her up with a pinch of the belt, he opened the door, dumped her in the hallway, and redid the lock in the blink of an eye.

Sighing, he stepped back towards his desk, only to hear a set of awfully suspicious sounds. It was a mix of scraping and tapping, the distinct sound of someone trying to pick a lock. He didn’t think too much of it at first. The castle’s security devices used proprietary mechanisms put together by the most skilled artificers in the nation. His patented technology was good enough that even the secret service had trouble breaking through. There was no way a maid, let alone one so deluded, could possibly remove the lock.

And yet, before he settled in his seat, he caught an audible click.

Opening just a crack, the maid slipped into the room, but a flying book landed smack in the middle of her forehead before she could encroach further into his domain. It was a perfect strike, applying just enough force to rattle her brain and put her to sleep without an excess of harm. The only downside was that the effect was short lived. It would only be a few minutes before her consciousness returned, maybe less if she could rapidly regenerate.

Virillius almost wanted to task the guards with taking her away in the meantime, but thankfully, it seemed that no such action was required. That much, he could tell from the lump of magic making its way down the hall.

Guided by one of Virillius’ maids, the Vel’khanese queen arrived on the scene before Chloe could get back to her feet.

“I do apologize for her behaviour,” said Arciel. A sigh escaped her lips as her eyes fell on her woozy servant. “She was once human, and though she has ascended beyond the race’s confines, her former nature reveals itself in times of stress. Though, I believe this to be the only time that she has acted upon her impulses. If she must be punished, I wish to request a lightened sentence.”

“There was no harm done,” said Virillius. He briefly closed his eyes and debated the possibility that the maid might influence his daughter, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as he formed it. Then and only then was he thankful for the mistakes he made in her upbringing.

Arciel nodded. “Your grace is greatly appreciated.”

With a nearby centaur’s help, she had Chloe grabbed by the scruff of her neck and dragged away.

Finally, Virillius was given the silence he needed to focus. He picked up the document at the top of the pile and grabbed a freshly inked feather once he finished looking it over. But right as he put his quill to the paper, he found himself distracted again. It was not a silly maid that was the trigger, but a spark of mana. It suddenly appeared on castle grounds, much as Claire often did when she possessed the homunculus’ body. And just as was the case with his daughter, he recognized it in a heartbeat.

Because it was his brother.

Constantius’ mana was much thicker than it was during their previous encounter. But of course it was. It had been a thousand years since they last saw each other. Though he was lying low, Virillius would have been more surprised if he hadn’t taken the next step to godhood.

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The familiar presence made its way across the courtyard, moving in a slow but straight line in Virillius’ direction. About ten minutes later, the visitor finally arrived. Knocking on Virillius’ already-open door, the critter that was his brother’s proxy stepped through the entrance with his arms crossed and a grand smile plastered across his face.

“Constantius.”

“In the flesh. Well, almost.” He walked his lardy form over with a wide grin upon his lips. “Long time no see, little brother.” The mask started peeling away as he continued his approach; his body inflated as it changed shape, going from that of a morbidly obese raccoon to an alcine cervitaur.

Like Virillius, he was a snow white moose with a set of giant black antlers. His body featured a fair bit of musculature, but compared to his bulky, protein-drowned brother, he was a thin, stick of a man. Though not as wide, his height loosely matched Virillius’ and his eyes were just as sharp. Rather than the clean shave that his brother sported, Constantius had stubble all over his face and a fuzzy goatee hanging from his chin.

His mane was likewise much longer. Though Virillius’ sometimes grew out, it was always more orderly than the wild mess of a mop that sat on Constantius’ head. The distinction was even clearer in the present, as he had just gotten a standard military style cut ahead of his daughter’s arrival.

“Surprised to see me?” The older sibling twisted his lips into a smirk. “I bet you had no idea I was still kicking.”

“You had me fooled for a thousand years,” said Virillius. His voice a low snarl, he rose from his seat with his eyes turned golden and his ears pinned back. The magic that radiated from his body, the magic that filled the room, was dense enough to choke a man with two ascensions. And yet, his brother was unflinching. “I would have done nothing if you simply wormed your way out of the woodwork and lived out your days in peace. But you had to stain your hands again.”

Constantius laughed. “What, did you think you were the only one who holds grudges? Use your head, kiddo. We’re from the same stock.”

Virillius refused to comment. He knew better than to engage his brother in a battle of words. Riling him was the older moose’s speciality and there was nothing to gain from an unnecessary exchange.

“State your business.”

“Oh, come on Virillius. Sure, I might be a bit of a money grubber, but it’s not like I need business to check in on my widdle brother, you know?” Constantius made a show of shaking his head as he sank into one of the chairs. “I can’t believe you turned out like this after all the effort I put into raising you.”

Only by biting his inner lip did Virillius keep himself from raising his voice.

“State your business,” he repeated. He was tempted to obliterate the other moose outright. The only reason he didn’t was because he knew that it was a waste of effort. He wasn’t really there. The body wasn’t his, and he could easily replace it with any other. Lashing out would accomplish little more than damaging the castle.

“Man, Virillius, you really need to get that stick out of your ass.” His brother breathed an exaggerated sigh and allowed the weight of his antlers to pull his head into his luxurious backrest. “It’s like father always said. He who has a stick up their ass will be too blinded by pleasure to see the path to profit.”

It was, of course, not a real quote. Though their father certainly did offer many words of advice, his were grounded and sensible, completely unlike the drivel loosed from his brother’s lips.

“State your business or leave.”

His eyes and lips curved in tandem and extended far beyond the standard specifications. It was the sort of demonic look capable of instilling the fear of god into a non-believer, the sort that would convince a child to stay home at night and follow only their parents’ guidance.

He was almost more wolf than moose, though with his nature twisted as it was, it was but a proper reflection.

“I just thought I wanted to let you know,” he said. “That your daughter is truly a joy to speak with.”

Virillius barely stopped the colour from draining from his face.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Paired with a cackle, the words were barely intelligible. “Not like it matters that much, does it? You can always make another on—oh wait! Violet’s dead! I wonder how that happened!”

Virillius kicked off the ground with such force that the castle’s magically reinforced floor exploded into a gravelly mist. Twisting his arm, he delivered a chop imbued with raw magic and further empowered with the concept of severance.

Constantius was sliced in half. A long, perfect cut ran from his shoulder down to his waist. And yet, even as Virillius seized control of his blood and drained it from his body, the older moose continued to laugh.

“Hit a sore spot, did I?” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her. I mean, truth be told, she’s more likely mine than yours in the first pla—”

Another strike cut him off. The second blow ripped through his neck and destroyed his throat and tongue in tandem. And yet, his voice was still present.

“Now that’s just rude, little brother. I still have more to say.” Spinning around to face the voice’s source, Virillius found Constantius sitting in another chair with his hooves kicked up and a bottle to his lips. “Where was I again? Oh, right, ranting.” A smile appeared on his lips. “There’s nothing that you can do, Virillius, to stop anything that I’ve put in motion. I’ve already seized control of the markets and bagged all my profits. All that’s left is for you to sit around and watch as it all unfolds.”

“What are you planning?”

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, would it?”

Gnashing his teeth, Virillius was barely able to keep himself from lunging at his brother again.

“Anyway,” said Constantius, “as much as I’d like to keep toying with you, I have things to do and places to be, so I guess I’ll have to get down to business. Granted, calling it business is a bit of an overstatement. In reality, Virillius, the only reason I’m here is to tell you that Vella’s switching gears.”

Virillius’ gaze sharpened. “What are you talking about?”

“Stop playing dumb with me, you little shit. I’m talking about the whole setup that she had going on from day one. You know, the one that led to me killing our parents and sending you up north to suffer.“

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew, little brother.” Constantius twisted his lips into a grin. “The people have always called you Vella’s chosen and whatnot even though no one’s ever seen your mark. They’ve always suspected that it was hidden somewhere out of sight, intentionally obscured and never relied upon. But I know the truth.” Another devilish smile crossed his lips. “You failed her trial. Vella never gave you the champion’s brand.”

The mark in question was an inscription, a distinct insignia left by a deity to those who were directly empowered. Every god’s was different. Kael’ahruus left a lion’s face etched into the bearer’s chest. Griselda placed a glowing half-moon directly atop the forehead. And Primrose left a line of thorns that ran up the length of the spine.

Not every deity was so consistent, however. Flux’s hourglass was etched directly atop an organ, with the particular choice depending on the species’ biology. Dorr’s anvil could be placed wherever and was often hidden by way of hair. And despite being the goddess of order, Flitzegarde often put her paw mark wherever she happened to deem fit.

Vella’s banner-crossed spear was no different. It would simply manifest wherever she placed it—

“It’s pretty obvious. Since, you know, she gave it to me instead.”

—like in the palm of Constantius’ hand.

“I have no need for borrowed power,” said Virillius.

“Maybe, maybe not. We’ll have to see what your citizens say,” said the older moose. “The clock is ticking, Virillius. I can hardly wait.”

“Your threats mean nothing.” His face returned to its usual, composed state, Virillius swept his hand through his brother’s skull and promptly destroyed his false form.

Constantius was happy to return to his body. Laughing quietly, he lifted his frame from the base of the tree where he had fallen asleep and gave his back a stretch. The pleasant drowsiness that had stemmed from his nap remained with him as he cracked his neck, flexed his fingers, and loosened his legs. It had been a long time since he last toyed with his brother face to face, and it had proven just as fun as it had on every occasion.

But just as he was about to reach into his bag and grab a snack, he found his joyful mood suddenly blown away. The hairs on his neck rose and his heartbeat suddenly accelerated as he was struck by a sense of malaise. Driven half by intuition, he turned in the direction of the Valencian castle, only to find a spear buried smack in the middle of his ribcage.

The projectile ripped through his body before striking the ground behind him. He couldn’t tell at first glance, but as he looked closer, he realised that it was made of blood, though there was really no need to check. The evidence had already started to blossom from within his body.

All of the vital fluid in his veins rushed out of his frame at once. It escaped his pores like clay from a fist and left him a dried out husk. One of his brother’s standard, proprietary spells.

It was almost comical to know that it had struck him. He was three towns away from Valencia, a full sixty kilometers from their point of contact. And yet, Virillius had followed the scant trace of mana that accompanied his mental link and released a weapon that landed perfectly on target.

There was nothing for Constantius to do in the face of such a ridiculous assault but throw back his head and laugh.

“Oh, Virillius.” He spoke to no one in particular as his flesh slowly regained its colour. “You truly are the best little brother that money can buy.”

Twisting his lips into a grin, Constantius grabbed a change of clothes from his bag and headed for the nearest river. It wouldn’t be long before Virillius’ men came after him, but they were nothing, worthless tools that would fail to threaten or even correctly track his person.

His bath was of far greater importance.