Chapter 440 - The Festival and the Skyward City
Both the chicken’s flatland and the wolf’s great desert vanished altogether as Claire pumped her wings. Her loose northbound trajectory was matched with a gradual increase in height. She was nearing the clouds, stepping into the danger zone where she might be readily attacked, but Claire didn’t care. Her most recent killing spree had brought her right up to the level 850 wall.
She had heard of how difficult growing further became, but she was still surprised by the cliff’s slope. It had only taken three one-tailed wolves to go from 849 to 850. But despite having killed twelve of them since, she was still only a tenth of the way through the 850th level. And that was against a set of foes on the cusp of level 4000. It was no wonder so many gave up as soon as they reached the threshold. If all the publicly known facts were to be believed, it would only get even harder—she needed tougher prey.
That was half the reason she rose. Claire had already fought some of the most powerful fliers thanks to their presence among the rooster’s ranks. She felt like she was ready to challenge them and explore for herself the world that lay above the sky. The other half, the more important half, was that the elevation allowed her to take in the soundscape.
Raising her ears overhead, she closed her eyes and listened for distant voices. At first, she found nothing worth noting, only the distant flapping of wings, the roaring of monsters, and the booms that came with their battles. It wasn’t until she channeled her divinity into her ears—they held it almost surprisingly well for some inexplicable reason—that she was able to paint a clearer picture.
Whether said picture was better, however, was entirely up to debate. It was a mess of noise. She heard everything from the distant footsteps to the whistling winds in what almost seemed to be an infinite amount of detail. The stimulus was so strong that her head soon started to ache—a problem that persisted until she routed another stream of divine force straight into her mind and invoked one of the phantom’s techniques. Suddenly, everything became clearer. The whole world slowed to a crawl and provided all the time she needed to compartmentalize the necessary information. She was practically cheating, but she didn’t really care. She was only using her divinity for a parlour trick. It wasn’t like she was exploiting it in battle.
Fair or not, the enhanced hearing and processing allowed her to sort through the data and determine that her fox’s voice was coming from three different directions, three distinct locations each over a mountain away. She wasn’t too sure if the copied Sylvias were able to communicate with the original, but depriving her ears of their brilliant red glow, she headed in the closest echo’s direction.
It was well over a hundred kilometers away, but flapping her wings and pushing with her vectors, she cleared the distance in an instant.
As she drew closer, she discovered that there was more than one copy. A small army of six hallucinated Sylvias was sitting just outside of a cave. Five of the somewhat translucent foxes were napping, while the last was lazily humming a tune. Either way, all of their eyes were closed.
Her tail flicked in time with the song’s beat and kicked up a spray bit of snow exactly seven times for every six seconds that passed. The gesture was so adorable that Claire didn’t immediately descend. She took a few seconds to observe before opening a gate beneath each phantom. They each led straight into her arms—it was the perfect chance to hug all of the Sylvias at once.
Alas, the scheme only ended in failure.
Not a single one of the projections fell through. They remained floating on top of the dimensional tears without the faintest hint of movement. Only the most wakeful Sylvia reacted. Yawning, she slowly shook her head of its drowsiness before finally opening her eyes and examining the hole beneath her.
She lightly pawed at the portal, staring for a solid few seconds before suddenly springing to her feet and directing her gaze towards its destination.
Claire, however, was long gone. She appeared behind the echoed fox and pulled her straight into her arms. She couldn’t actually touch the projection, of course, but she pretended to nuzzle her face into its side regardless. After all, it didn’t take too long for the imagined sensation to become real; the echo was replaced with the original in a heartbeat.
“Cla—”
Which, of course, was the reason Claire squeezed even harder. She cut the furball short, took a deep breath, and enjoyed the sensation of her soft winter coat.
“Claire, I can’t breathe!” said one of the echoes.
“You’ll be fine. Breathing is unnecessary.”
“Maybe for you! You’re literally crushing my ribs!” Despite her complaints, the fox settled into the embrace and even rubbed her face against the massive white tail wrapped around both of their frames.
“I know,” said the snakemoose. “Bear with it.”
“I can’t!”
“Well too bad.” Despite Sylvia’s continued complaints, Claire continued to squeeze her for the better part of two minutes before she was finally sated enough to let go.
“What the heck was that for?” grumbled the ruffled furball. “Oh wait! Is everything okay? Are you feeling funny?”
“Everything’s fine.” Claire paused for a moment to lightly squish the fox again. “Don’t overthink it. I just felt like squeezing you.”
Sylvia laughed. “Gosh, Claire. You’re so silly! You know you can just tell me that you missed me, right?”
“And I would have, if I really missed you.”
“You clearly do though!”
“I saw you three days ago. I don’t see why I would.”
“Me either, but I missed you too,” said the fox, with a smile. “I was probably gonna stop by again tonight, but I’m guessing I don’t need to anymore?”
Claire nodded. “I’m done training with the rooster.”
“Did you manage to impress him?”
“I don’t think so.” She took a moment to direct her gaze northward. “I’m not really sure why. But it just felt like time to go.”
“Oh, I know! It’s probably ‘cause the goddess is calling for you,” said Sylvia.
Claire tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a really long story…” said the fox. “But uhmmm, basically you’ll find out if you clear this one really cool dungeon.”
“...Did Panda put you up to this?” asked Claire, after a brief pause.
“Kinda, but not really.” Sylvia assumed her fae form as she landed on Claire’s shoulder and leaned into the nook of her neck. “It’ll start making sense soon enough.”
Claire frowned. “Okay. Fine. I trust you.”
“Thanks.” Giggling, the tiny foxgirl entrusted more of her weight to Claire, just in time for a yawn to escape her lips. It wasn’t too surprising with the time being what it was.
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“So? Where is this dungeon?”
“I can probably point it out if we get high enough, but that’ll probably have to wait until tomorrow.”
The sun was slowly starting to make its way beneath the horizon. Soon, the night would fall, and soon, the mortals that wandered the mountains would be transformed and forcibly grounded.
“We’ll be fine.”
Claire, however, had found a way to make herself into an exception. All it took was channeling her divinity through her mana veins. And doing just that, she started straight up. The clouds were in the way, present almost only to annoy her, so she grabbed the whole blanket and shoved it aside, burying it straight into the distant Ryllian sea and revealing the evening sky. If not for the falling predators, who began to descend as they assumed their nightly forms, the view might have been half decent. Climbing further was the only way to circumvent the flood.
And so she went, higher and higher, until the mountains no longer obscured the view.
Together with her fox, she watched as the sky gave way to a carpet of stars, as the sea sparkled beneath the day’s last breath, and as the divine collective claimed the winter goddess’ realm as their canvas.
She was so high up that even Cadria was visible off in the distance, its bright city lights shining just strongly enough to ascertain its continental presence.
“Is it just me, or is Amrinia even brighter than usual today?” asked Sylvia. “I can’t tell if it’s just ‘cause we haven’t seen it in a few weeks.”
“It’s probably because of the winter fe—”
The lyrkress opened her eyes wide and slowly closed her mouth.
“Uhhhmmm… Claire?” When Sylvia traced the lyrkress’ gaze, she found it turned on the moon, which to the fox at least, meant little to nothing at all. “Are you okay? Why’d you suddenly freeze up?”
“We should wait a few days before heading off to the dungeon,” said Claire.
“Mmmnn… okay, I guess?”
“I promised Marie that I’d visit during the festival,” explained Claire. “And there aren’t too many days left.”
“Wait, does that mean we get to go back to town?”
“Only if you promise not to tell the others.”
“Done!”
“Then I guess we have a deal.”
A soft smile on her lips, Claire quickly put on her usual disguise, ripped open a portal, and stepped out onto the road leading up to the city. Her sudden appearance startled some of the local wildlife, as well as one of the merchants on his way south, but Claire ignored them and continued on her way.
The guards that stood in front of the gate eyed her from afar, but flashing Virillius’ medal saw them silenced; they immediately opened the gate and let her through without so much as verifying the item’s authenticity. And in fact, if they tried, she probably would have found herself in trouble. Seeing no reason to take it with her, Claire had left her real medal inside of the hotel room. The fake she had shown was a reproduction she fashioned with her runecloak.
Whatever the case, she made her way through the gates and into the city.
Even from afar, they had been able to see its bright lights through the evening’s powdery white snow. The light didn’t just come from torches and artifacts glowing all around the city. The water that lay beneath the city emitted a beautiful blue-tinted light. The bright, almost godly illumination made it look as if the moon itself had been captured in the river that lay beneath the city’s liquid base.
And in fact, it was. The terraformers had been configured to create an artificial sky beneath the surface of the lake, and wherever the concept of sky appeared, so too did the moon thus follow.
Every single structure was lit by the rising light, illuminated from below. The resulting shadows were more striking than eerie. The scene’s natural, venerated, temple-like beauty was only amplified by the artifacts that hung beneath the city’s floating structures.
It wasn’t like they were haphazardly placed. Someone had gone out of their way and very specifically arranged them to better highlight the lower levels that served as the primary festival grounds.
“Holy crap,” said Sylvia. “Where the heck did all these people even come from!? I swear there were like only half as many last time we stopped by!”
Centaurs were haggling with merchants while cottontails threw fresh vegetables onto the grill, picked directly from the city’s supporting reservoir. The vast majority of the thorae were asleep in the winter, hibernating in deep caves beneath the snow, but there was the occasional oddball out and about, joining in all of the singing and dancing that filled the town square.
“Most villages don’t have the resources to throw grand festivals,” said Claire. “So they gather in the nearest cities instead.” Her eyes flickered to a stall packed to the brim with handicrafts. The main features were baskets and trinkets, particularly those fashioned from a sort of glimmering pink stone. “It’s a good chance to make money. But most people just want to have fun.”
“I guess it does look pretty fun,” said Sylvia. “But it’s also totally different from the winter festival in Vel’khan. It uhmmm… just doesn’t really seem as organised.”
Claire smiled. “That’s because it isn’t. The people who run these things are idiots.”
“Huh? I thought you guys were supposed to be like, super organised and stuff. You know, ‘cause of how militant things are?”
“Usually, yes.” The moose turned a corner and dodged the city’s vibrant, party-laden center. “Want to come to the manor with me? Or would you rather hang out in town?”
“I'll just tag along since I was thinking of napping in your hair anyway. You can just wake me up when you're done. And then we can go check out the festival.”
“Alright.” Claire tickled the tiny fairy’s chin before opening a small hole in her helmet and allowing her inside. It felt a little awkward when Sylvia used one of her ears as a stepping stone, but she soon dismissed the sensation and set course for Postumus manor.
Surely enough, she could hear the clinking of glasses and the cackling of nobles from all the way down the street. The marquisate house was in the midst of throwing a party, as they just likely were on every other festival night.
After a moment of consideration, Claire decided to approach as would a guest.
She quickly threw together a carriage made of ice and ordered Boris and Starrgort to get up in front and pull it. The two weapons exchanged a pair of glances before following through. Turning into a pair of horse-shaped weapons was far from the craziest thing that Claire had asked them to do. And as the horses had front-mounted cannons, it proved surprisingly possible; the system allowed it without so much as a moment of processing. As for Claire, she figured that the easiest way to address the whole situation was to simply go as herself. She momentarily changed the ice’s precise composition and dyed it a deep, opaque blue, before morphing into her smaller humanoid form and turning her armour into an in-fashion dress.
It wasn’t like the red slit dress that she had worn to Pollux’s decapitation, but rather a full halterneck ballroom as pure as the driven snow. She wore golden accessories lined with milky white pearls, and for the occasion, she even made the exception of throwing on a pair of heels. Her headdress was made up of three parts. She had the usual overly intricate ear cuffs presented alongside a diamond-studded tiara, the tips of which were adorned with sapphires to match the glow of her eyes.
After checking her reflection in the ice and throwing on a pair of gloves for extra decency, Claire ordered her pets to march right up to the Marquis’ front gate.
“Halt!”
She had her family’s crest carved straight into the side of the ice, of course, but the guards—a group of about ten burly men—stopped her regardless. To nobody’s surprise, their faces were marked with visible suspicion.
“Please identify yourself,” said one of the soldiers.
“Must I truly go through the trouble?" Claire frowned. “I am Claire Augustus, Lady of the King’s house and the princess of this nation. Surely, this nuisance is unnecessary? I was made to understand that my presence was expected.”
She could tell, even without seeing their faces, that the guards weren’t convinced, at least not until she lowered one of the windows and stared straight at the guard who had called for her identification.
There was no way for them to have recognized her face.
Her ears, however, effectively spoke for themselves.
“P-princess!?” The unit’s commander, a particularly beefy centaur whose hat and moustache were slightly more impressive than his peers’, was the first to respond. “Please excuse our discourtesy, Princess. We will be with you in a moment.” He put up a fairly composed front, but he immediately spun around and whispered to the man beside him. “Was the princess on the invite list?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know!?” the soldier whispered back. “If she is, she’s late! The ball’s been going on for a whole week!”
“Oh, for fucks sake, man! Can you imagine the shit you’d be in if she heard you?” scolded the commander, who was clearly not aware that Claire could hear him perfectly. “Stop fucking picking at shit and go check the invite list already, goddammit!”
“Right away, Sir!” said the peon. He rushed inside of the guardhouse. The man was certainly quick, but not quick enough. There was already a note sitting on top of the ledger by the time he entered the building. Marked with the stamp she’d stolen off her father’s desk, it was forged in his handwriting to suggest the receipt and acceptance of an invite from the house’s lady.
It was clearly out of place. Even half a moment of thought would have sufficed to determine that it did not strictly amount to an invitation, but if the guard’s panicked wheeze was anything to go by, putting two and two together was completely beyond his means.