Chapter 433 - Reign of the Crowned II

Claire twisted and turned her serpentine shape as the flamingo rained blows upon her. The sword, she evaded with ease. Its patterns remained clearly telegraphed by the pink bird’s eyes.

The kicks, however, presented a world of frustration. She could still tell where the strikes were ultimately aimed, but it was almost impossible to determine the method of their delivery. The flamingo attacked from the most peculiar angles. Sometimes, the foot would come from in front of her, only to drop and rise at the very last moment. Other times, it would swing in from the right before somehow appearing on the left. And on the odd occasion, it would trace the obvious path without the slightest hint of deviation.

The shifts were so sudden that they put even her vectors to shame. It was like it could freely alter its body's position, even though she knew that to be false. If that were the case, it would have easily found her with its blade, or at the very least, not suffered the blow she had left across its chest.

Well aware that its sword was putting in no work, the flamingo inched closer and neutered both their blades. Claire stepped back, but the bird flapped its wings and bridged the gap whenever she tried to escape. It continued to pressure her, forcing her to retreat until she found her back against the arena’s wall.

Giving up on her sword, she retaliated with her tail, her claws, her teeth, and her hooves, but nothing seemed to land. She wasn’t accustomed to her newest shape nor comfortable with its range. For a moment, she considered changing it, but she wasn’t shameless enough to suddenly change the terms when the flamingo was refusing to use its magic. She focused on observing and redirecting the pink bird’s blows. But while she didn’t do poorly, the fact remained that she had her back against the wall. It didn’t take long for one of the attacks to find its mark and knock her sword from her hands.

The bird lowered its weapon, took a step back, and bowed. Its eyes glowed with satisfaction when she emulated the mannerism, leading it to honk excitedly while the peanut gallery erupted into noise. The lyrkress herself was annoyed. She had certainly held back, but she couldn’t help but feel as if the flamingo was far more heavily restricted. Outside of the rooster king’s realm, they relied heavily on enchanting their blades and brute forcing their problems with an inordinate amount of mana.

“Battle. Curious.”

Claire’s ears twitched as they caught a peculiar voice. It wasn’t by any means pleasant. The words sounded almost like they were built from a cacophony of squawks, like a flock of crows had worked together to make a set of almost intelligible sounds.

Turning towards its source, she found the misshapen rooster, standing directly above the pit with its eyes shifting between the fighters. After a brief delay, it settled first on the sword-wielding flamingo.

“Honkarg. Body. Strong. Technique. Poor. Footwork. Bad.”

The flamingo bowed its head and honked apologetically, leading the chicken to direct its gaze at Claire.

“Stranger. Reflexes. Middling. Swordplay. Awful. Childlike.” It said, before slowly blinking and giving her a closer look. “You. Who?”

Claire put on her best smile and performed a picture-perfect curtsy.

“Claire Augustus, caldriess,” she said.

“Augustus?” The chicken paused. “Appearance. Off. Ability. Lacking. But. Mana. Right.”

It took a fair bit of effort, but Claire maintained her outward calm and continued to smile. “Would this appearance be more apt then?” She assumed her lyrkrian form whilst warping the accessories over her ears to don a ballroom dress.

The chicken cocked its head again, clucking once or twice aloud before it finally nodded. “Yes. Apt. You. Augustus.”

“I am,” she affirmed. “How might you know my father, Exalted One?”

The rooster paused briefly to peck at the snow beneath his feet. “Long. Ago. Him. Here. Training,” it said. “Me. Master. Him. Apprentice.”

Claire blinked. She had known that her father had explored the Langgbjerns. His party was responsible for much of its charting, but never once had she heard that he was a giant chicken’s disciple, though she could certainly see why he might have avoided telling the tale.

“Shall I refer to you as Grandmaster then?” she asked.

The chicken closed its eyes. “No. Teach. You. Weakling. Return. Stronger. Refine. Technique.”

Many of the bird’s disciples laughed at the declaration, with her previous opponent among the few to refrain. The flamingo threw a wing over her shoulders and shook its head. Its honks were apologetic, perhaps even filled with empathy for one of its kind. But while it clearly had the best of intentions, Claire was only annoyed.

She frowned for a second before brushing it off, pulling Boris into her hands, and rushing down the giant chicken. He didn’t seem the slightest bit alarmed. He simply laughed as he lowered his hips. A third talon burst from his side as he met her eyes, a katar with a golden handle already within its grasp.

Only then did she finally connect the dots. At the end of the day, a katar was just a shorter, lighter shieldlance with a shoddier guard.

“Stubborn. Foolish. Truly. Augustus,” laughed the rooster.

Claire began with a simple, overhead swing. She knew that it would react to her speed, and she knew that its techniques would be sound. But that was also precisely why she knew it would opt for the simplest counter.

It simply swung its blade to match her own, a perfect textbook parry that would allow it to repel the incoming weapon.

But Claire worked her magic in outright refusal. She began by pulling on the rooster’s hand and shifting its katar’s position. The rooster immediately compensated for the change, but it was to no avail. Claire’s sword suddenly rose a meter with no rhyme or reason and made a ninety degree turn without losing a hint of speed.

Somehow, the rooster reacted in time to that as well. It managed to bring their weapons together and force a parry, but Claire transferred all of Boris’ momentum on contact and knocked the katar out of his path.

Accelerating with another vector, she transitioned the swing straight into a thrust aimed for the rooster’s throat.

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But again, their weapons met. The rooster recovered from its broken stance in the blink of an eye and stuck his blade in her path. It would have been a perfect block had Boris not transformed. His edge split right down the middle, becoming a pair of prongs that shot for the chicken’s face.

Had the rooster not driven his foot into the floor and immediately shoved her away, he surely would have found the lizard buried in the base of his neck.

The oversized chicken laughed as he lowered his weapon.

“Better,” he said. “Prowess. Middling. Technique. Unpolished. Yet. Acceptable.” He retracted his arm back into his body. “Stay. Allowed. Honkarg. Instruct.”

The flamingo saluted with his foot while the chicken hopped back out of the ring.

“Practice. Week. Then. Progress. Revisit.” He threw back his head and laughed. It had been a long time since he last taught an outsider. He would put her on the strictest regimen. If she truly was of his lineage, then it was the only choice he was willing to entertain.

___

“Are you sure it’s better if we don’t give chase?” Agrippina voiced the question as she watched the portal close. The reindeer had a few drops of sweat dripping from her brow, but she was otherwise unbothered. Her weapon was the only part of her that had even a trace of blood, and all of it belonged to her opponent. “I could’ve killed the warrior right then if I wanted.”

“Awroo,” agreed Roumalou. He batted away the corpses that surrounded him with a light swipe of the paw and lazily sank into the snow. All of his effort had clearly been feigned.

Sophia was in much the same boat. Shaking the blood off of her fists, she walked over with her expression completely devoid of concern.

“I swear to Kael’ahruus, Agrippina, I’ve explained it to you three times,” said Lucius. “Prey tastes best when it’s been fattened up.”

“You keep saying that, but that doesn’t mean I know what it means,” said the reindeer. “Letting them go is just going to cause more trouble down the line.”

“Negative,” said Sophia. “Only one individual has exceeded reasonable projections for growth. All remaining units have fallen short.”

“I get that part, but I don’t really understand why we’re waiting for them to grow in the first place. We’re better off just nipping them in the bud.”

“And I literally just explained,” said Lucius. “We’re fattening them up so they make for better trophies.”

“Uhhh… Right.” Agrippina scratched the back of her head—a response that elicited an explicit sigh from her thoraen mate.

“Alright, how about this,” he said. “How do you think the princess will feel if we pick off her friends where she can see them clear as day?”

“She would probably be really sad,” said the reindeer.

“That too,” said Lucius. “But more importantly, she’d be pissed as hell.” Closing his eyes, he could already imagine the way her face would twist in anger.

“Sure, I guess, but I don’t really see how that’s any better from putting them in a cage, waiting for her to show up, and executing them then.”

“It’s about the setup,” explained the bee-ogre. “She needs to feel like she has a chance.”

Agrippina frowned. “Errr, alright. I guess.”

“Suggestion,” said Sophia. “Consider an individual capturing a fish loose at sea and note your impressions. Then, consider an individual capturing a fish placed within a tank. Evaluate the difference.”

“I’m not really sure there’s much of a difference. The fish has to come from the sea at some point, right?”

“Affirmative. Your claim cannot be denied. However, it is worth considering the circumstance that provides for the better viewing experience.”

“Ohhhhh, I get it!” said Agrippina. “Catching the fish that’s inside the tank makes for a better show because rivers aren’t really clear enough to see through. The tank lets you see the complexity of the fisherman’s technique.”

Sophia blinked. “Understood. There is no purpose in further explanation.” The fake goat turned towards Lucius. “I am requesting permission to lobotomize Agrippina to avoid the risk of further interaction.”

The thorae said nothing, only offering a bit of a strained smile. But while he lost his motivation, Roumalou saw a chance to shine. The big orange cat shoved his paws into the snow. Manipulating it wasn’t as easy as he would have liked, but with a bit of effort, he was able to make a structure that loosely resembled a birdcage.

“Arrrrooo!”

He meowed in Agrippina’s direction, but she never seemed to realise that he was trying to talk to her until he leapt in front of her and waved her down.

“Awrr. Awrrooo.”

“What?” she asked.

Having finally gotten her attention, he pointed at the cage and crafted a pair of magical blobs. Despite his best efforts, they looked more like dollops of cream than rabbits, but it sufficed to prove his point either way; one blob sat inside the cage, while the other roamed its exterior. He pounced on the creations in turn, immediately destroying the one in the cage with a bite while intentionally missing the free blob with his first strike and catching it with a second. With that done, he proudly sat back down and smiled, declaring his victory with a satisfied mewl.

Agrippina, however, only blinked a few times before scuttling her way to his master.

“Hey Lu?”

“Yeah?”

“I think your lion might be a little stupid. He’s eating blobs of magic shaped like pieces of poop.” The reindeer had at least tried to whisper, but she wasn’t exactly subtle. Roumalou heard the declaration clear as day.

Hanging his head, the striped, orange cat gave a sad “Aroo,” and collapsed into a loaf in the snow.

Olethra, who was watching over the interaction from the divine realm, broke into a fit of laughter. The outburst earned her a wave of stares, but she didn’t care. She was already something of a popular attraction. Her sudden return had raised eyes all around and drawn gossip from all the worlds’ corners.

It wasn’t everyday that an ancient deity suddenly came out of the woodwork, let alone one with a history as nonstandard as her own. It only stood to reason that the others would immediately begin speaking of the ancient events and asking the witnesses for their personal accounts. Such was another one of the reasons that the goddess had never returned to her post. She had dreaded the thought of hearing all the gossip and dealing with the aftermath of her proven stupidity.

But as it stood, she didn’t have much of a choice. She stood in a very public line, looking incredibly out of place among the other gods and celestials. In fact, she had occupied the position for the last several days, waiting in the endless queue for one of the few moments that Flitzegarde was free to discuss whatever with whoever was at her door.

Considering that she was a literal god, one of the supposed most important individuals to exist within the heavens, one might have suspected that Olethra’s queue time was well within the realm of the ordinary, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. The world couldn’t have possibly retained its function if Flitzegarde took days to process the average request.

Nay, Olethra was stuck in the unfortunate but accurate low priority queue. Most of the others waiting in line were on silly, pointless errands. They looked to invite the goddess to parties, balls, and feasts, divine events that she could afford to shirk in favour of attending to her duties. Either that, or they hoped to petition the goddess to resolve their petty disputes. Either way, they were unimportant inquiries with little to no effect on the world’s well-being.

To that end, most of the others in line were servants—celestials either new to service or otherwise on the bottom of the social ladder. Even then, most were hard at work, plugging away at some console or other as they manipulated the system and governed the concepts they ruled.

Olethra was one of the few who did nothing as she waited. She was more than happy to procrastinate for as long as she was allowed.

After all, returning to work was one of the cards that she still had up her sleeve.

And to convince the goddess of order to take her side, she knew that she would likely need to play it.