RAYLEIGH’S POV: DEN OF DICE
You may think you got me, Apatie, but you don’t know Asha like I do.
The Demon Queen is smirking now, since Rayleigh had agreed to trade five rounds for Asha at the ball in exchange for sitting out the next five rounds.
Not only do I know Asha best after so many lives together, but that promise only limits me from wagering. It doesn’t stop Asha’s other supporters here in the Den.
Still, he knows better than to underestimate the deadly sisters.
The worst will always be you, Chronelia. Just as Light said: “time is the cruelest of all, for she makes torment eternal and happiness fleeting, and wrenches all choice from mortal and immortal.”
Looking down at the World Table, Rayleigh desperately wants to reach out and caress a soft cheek when Asha smiles up at teacher.
I’m sorry for failing you time and again, my love. Things will be different this round - I will destroy the Den myself if it means ensuring your safety. I know your mother and Lune ancestors will not stop me, even if the fact is that they cannot thanks to my foolish ancestor.
----------------------------------------
ASHA’S POV
“My lady, the fourth field of grapeshot grass was recently burned. Meanwhile the Draconid seed Duke Marlowe found is so old it crumbled to dust on the way to the capital.”
I knew it.
Nothing’s going right in the pursuit of the precious herbs she’s asked for. Ordinarily it’d be frustrating, but Asha finds it calming even as she pretends to be concerned while quickly gesturing for Monique to be silent when her father enters the drawing room.
When things are going well, that means everything is going to hell.
“My baby...” Her father hasn’t stopped tearing up since Asha returned from the ball bearing news of the tax waiver for the next seventeen years - the same amount of time that House Lamberg has been paying the aristocratic rate. “Why is my baby so smart?” She giggles when he hugs her tight and kisses the top of her head once more. “Thank you for being born, my light.” Daddy...thank you for making me with mom. Thank you for always loving me, no matter how many times I’ve failed you.
“Master.” Truman is usually stoic, but his eyes have been watering nonstop even as the competent Head Butler happily rebalanced the books. “With this waiver, we have enough to purchase the necessary for winter and the March. The Clan will have plenty of firewood, meat, grain, medicine, and animal fat this year, thanks to Little Mistress.”
It’s been awhile since I was called that. Not since I was in the north in my seventh life.
Valora is glaring at Monique, but Asha sees sharp brown eyes peek quickly at Truman’s calculations before the redhead resumes her silent battle with the Mage maid.
You were always checking the accounts discreetly. I just never realized.
“Thank you, Tru.” The Lune Chieftain looks ecstatic. “Do we have enough to let everyone take a short break before we return to the north?”
“Yes, Master.” Truman bows with a proud smile. “And we have enough to fix the March team’s weapons and armor.” Just fix? I need to make more money so we can buy new ones for everyone.
Though Monique and Valora look increasingly concerned with each messenger who arrives bearing bad news about the search for herbs, Asha simply shakes her head and continues spending time with her father.
Dad...this is the first time your plate is full in this life, isn’t it? Please eat your fill. I’ll earn enough money so that you’ll never have to starve again.
The next day, Asha receives urgent letters from Viscount Hawksworth, the Fenceton children, and Marcia. Reading them, she bites her abused inner cheek and pretends to be concerned for her audience in the Great Hall.
It’s sweet of all of you to worry so much and be so angry on my behalf. But don’t worry, I have a plan. It’ll work as long as I can keep fooling the gamblers until the right moment.
In this life, Crown Prince Griffin had been attacked by basilisks as a child and barely managed to get away on his own. The avian-serpent hybrids had made off with the Imperial’s left arm, while their poisons destroyed the heir to the throne’s face and leg.
“My lady, the eleventh dancing star flower fields were devoured by locusts...” Valora looks increasingly upset as more and more letters arrive, and Asha tries to give her knight an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
“It’ll be alright, Val. With so many nobles and Imperial Knights out looking, I’m sure we’ll find enough to help His Highness.”
The gamblers know I discovered a cure for basilisk poison in my fifth life: grapeshot grass, dancing star flower, and Draconid seed oil. That last item especially was a fortuitous find, since the Draconid plant itself went extinct centuries ago while some of its seeds lie forgotten in caves and warehouses. But what they might not know is that I remember a conversation in the Great Hall just before this round, with Viscount Fleming’s genius alchemist ancestor.
> ”It is not the ingredients but the ingredients’ properties an alchemist seeks.”
Based on that and her memories of the many books she’s read and debates she’s had, Asha is reasonably confident she can concoct a cure with the very same herbs Ellis likes to use in her cooking. However it’s still a gamble: she can’t be sure if the gods and demons had found out about the conversation, and she has no idea how much they know she remembers.
Act worried as more messengers arrive. Fret while pretending to be trying to hide it from dad, Monique, Valora, and the others. Keep those degenerates focused on their ‘victory’, make them lower their guards.
“Darling...” her father looks worried, and Asha feels terrible, “is there anything I can do to help?”
“Actually dad, I was hoping you could help me with making His Highness’ new arm.” He doesn’t even blink before agreeing enthusiastically, and Asha doesn’t need to fake her gratitude.
I need to time this right. Making Griffin’s new arm without the equipment and workspace I used to have isn’t going to be easy, but at the same time it’s an opportunity for dad to practice his aura control while helping me carve it out properly. I need him to at least reach Senior Swordmaster rank soon.
Fortunately Duke Marlowe and many other nobles sent me gold, jewels, and a few magic stones to thank me for saving Uncle Aaron. I can’t do anything about the gamblers seeing what I’m making, but I can at least hide the final touch until the last minute while pretending to be worried about the lack of herbs for the cure.
Several days later, when newspapers start to be hidden from her as Winterblades and Snowfalls storm about scowling, Asha struggles not to grin.
Now let’s pretend to frantically try and whip something up with Ellis’ favorite ingredients.
The gamblers clearly intervene by having an Imperial Knight arrive to summon her to the palace as she’s pounding herbs in a messy, chaotic kitchen.
Right on time.
----------------------------------------
“Your hubris will be the death of you, commoner.” Duke Nathaira has invited quite an audience, and Cassandra predictably hisses under her breath at Asha as the Elementalist walks past.
“Asha.” Uncle Aaron looks unperturbed, but she knows him well enough to tell he’s worried. “I apologize for summoning you so suddenly, but there have been some concerns raised.”
You mean Nathaira and his cronies have been kicking up a fuss in the palace and among nobility and commoners. I used the press and word of mouth to my advantage many times before myself.
“Your Majesty, I apologize for causing you concern.” Asha curtsies next to her father, who’s been invited along and is dressed impeccably even if his clothes right now are nowhere near as expensive or luxurious as in previous rounds. “I appreciate the effort so many loyal citizens have put in, and will likewise do my best to fulfill my promise.” Take the bait, take the bait.
“‘Do your best’?” YES! You’re as stupid as ever, Aasi, and I love it. “Does this foolish child deem the life of the Empire’s only Crown Prince a joke?” Keep going, you ass. “Your Majesty, clearly this commoner’s child has let the attention get to her head, and...”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“‘Commoner’s child’?” Oh Aasi, your foot-in-mouth disease will be the death of you. “I raised Asha’s father to the status of Baron myself, or do you deem my power a joke?” Some things never change. Uncle Aaron’s hatred of Nathaira, Aasi, Canalla, and others being one of them.
“Y...Your Majesty, I meant...” The Marquess’ beady eyes flit nervously to Duke Nathaira, who remains impassive. How many times has this happened?
“Laydy Ashhhah.” It breaks her heart every time she sees how different the Crown Prince this round, but Asha has to play along in order to continue fooling the gamblers.
“Your Majesty.” She shuffles closer when he nods. “I may have an alternative, but...”
Canalla and Aasi snort at that, while their children titter. Asha doesn’t need to look to know that Cassandra and Medea are smirking and probably whispering to other heirs in the noble faction.
“What is it, Asha?” Thank you for always having faith in me, Uncle Aaron. You’re looking and sounding more and more like your usual self, even if you’re still a little too thin.
“It will hurt quite badly for a few minutes.” That’s an understatement, I know. I can’t remember the person I treated in my fifth life, but I remember the enormous pain I felt seeing them suffer through the cure.
“You witch!”
“Your Majesty, this wench is...!”
“How DARE you make...!”
“Silence!” Thanks, Uncle Aaron. “Must you turn the Crown Prince’s chambers into a circus?”
“Your Majesty, isn’t the young lady the one doing so?” As slimy as ever, Nathaira. “She sent so many nobles and Imperial Knights out on fools’ errands, and now she claims to have an alternative that will cause the Crown Prince significant pain. How could we as your loyal subjects remain silent in the face of such impudence and arrogance?”
If this were any other life, I’d be speechless and at a loss, waiting for someone to help me. But not this time.
“Isn’t it more arrogant to assume you know everything?” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “His Majesty has been very kind already, overlooking your indirect attempt to poison him, but...”
“How dare you accuse my father of...!” Belatedly, Cassandra realizes what Asha’s been referring to and blinks while Medea interjects tearily.
“Lady Asha, how cruel you are.” Ugh. “Father only meant to help, and those potions are known to suppress the effects of metal poisoning, yet...”
“They’re also known to cause the patient great pain while bringing about a host of side effects that, combined over an extended period of time, become fatal.” Count Eszes steps in scowling, and Asha suspects it’s not only because Duke Nathaira overruled him on the matter previously. I know you’re a loyal, earnest Minister of Health. You must have felt absolutely incompetent all these years.
“B...but...!” Asha rolls her eyes and turns back to the Emperor.
“Your Majesty, it looks like they’re going to keep trying to prevent His Highness’ treatment.” Her words cause an immediate uproar, but her father remains silent and unmoving.
Thank you, daddy.
“It would seem that way, Asha.” At the Emperor’s words, more nobles start to raise their voices, and Asha struggles hard against the urge to laugh.
“Your Majesty!” Duke Nathaira has silenced his faction, and appears to be falling for Asha’s trap. “If the...child truly can cure His Highness, I will gift her ‘House’ one million gold coins.” YES! “But if she fails, then I pray Your Majesty will see to it that she and the rest of her mercenary Clan are punished accordingly.” I’d suspect you of being under the influence of a god or higher demon, but you’ve always hated my father and I so I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re acting on your own.
“Deal.” Before the Emperor can react, Asha breezily responds. “Everyone here is a witness, so don’t even think of backing out later.” She can tell from the flaring of mana that the Duke is furious at her deliberate insolence, and wants to grin when she feels the answering flare of aura from her father. You’re improving a lot, dad. You’ll be a Senior Swordmaster really soon.
“Your Majesty, may I?” When the Emperor immediately gestures for Asha to approach the Crown Prince’s bed, she bows in gratitude to hide her watery eyes.
“Your Highness, the treatment for your leg and face will hurt badly.” It pains her to see him like this - a deformed version of the brilliant Imperial she’s always known - and Asha struggles to remain calm. “I need your knights to hold you down while I administer the antidote to your leg first, since it will hurt less there. Is that alright with you, Your Highness?”
Even the act of nodding seems to pain him as mangled skin moves, but Griffin agrees immediately.
Thank you.
As soon as the knights are in position, a bunched up handkerchief clamped between the Crown Prince’s teeth, Asha pulls out one of two bottles from her pocket and unsheathes a dagger.
“STOP! How dare you attack His Highness!”
Huffing, Asha just glances at the Emperor. “Can you do something about the barking, Your Majesty?”
Uncle Aaron blinks at that, scarlet eyes flickering between Asha’s face, the blade in her hands, and his beloved son, before he nods and turns. “Anymore noise out of you lot and I’ll have your tongues cut out.” I’ve heard that before, but now’s not the time to dwell on it.
As soon as resentful and expectant silence descends, she swiftly slashes the Crown Prince’s pants from just above the knee down to the hem.
“Asha, my dear, you’re a girl and...”
“Your Majesty, I’m from a warrior clan.” She uncorks the bottle of purplish liquid without looking at the Emperor. “I’ve seen worse.” At that, Asha pours the first antidote all over twisted muscles, tendons, and ligaments, watching as the Crown Prince tenses and writhes while green smoke begins to rise from his leg. “Hold him steady!” The knights seem torn as they struggle to keep their master down without hurting him, their pained eyes not missing sweat and tears streaking down the Crown Prince’s face.
“Steady! It takes several minutes!” Asha herself wants to cry, wants to beg forgiveness from the man who’s treated her like a little sister time and again, but bites her lip and clenches her fists instead. “Hold him down! Don’t let him hurt himself!”
“Griffin...” Uncle Aaron sounds choked up, but the Emperor doesn’t intervene even as nobles whisper, whimper, scream, and faint.
“Just a little more, Your Highness. Just hold on a little more.” Already she can see ligaments starting to realign themselves, the rippling of muscles moving into position while skin becomes flawless. “You’re almost there, Your Highness. Please hold on, you can do it. Just breathe, just breathe.” Her father suddenly gripping her shoulder makes Asha realize she’s been trembling, and she takes a deep breath herself. “Almost there, Your Highness.”
When the smoke finally clears, Asha sags a little against her father, who wraps a strong arm around her.
“Can you move your leg, Your Highness?” Even though he’s probably still feeling the aftereffects of the agonizing treatment, Griffin pants and does as asked. As soon as a long leg bends and lifts normally, the Emperor dashes forward.
“Son! Your leg...it’s healed!” It’s clearly too momentous an occasion for even Uncle Aaron to hold back tears, and Asha discreetly wipes her own eyes. “Count Eszes, come and see! Where are the healers?”
“Yo...Your Majesty, this...” Asha almost feels insulted at the stunned expressions. “His Highness’ leg...it’s cured. It’s fully cured!”
Obviously.
“Asha!” The Emperor doesn’t seem to care that tears are blatantly leaking from his eyes. “Thank you, my dear.”
I should be the one thanking you, Uncle Aaron.
“Your Majesty, the treatment isn’t finished.” Startled, the Emperor blinks before looking down at Griffin, who’s patting his now pristine leg and pressing at where the deformities used to be. “Your Highness, it will hurt a hundred times more than your leg. Can you handle it?”
I know you can. I’m the one who won’t be able to handle seeing you in so much pain, but it’s only going to be for a few minutes and is the least I can do.
She can’t stop the small sob when Griffin clenches his jaw determinedly and nods, one brilliant ruby eye blazing with a familiar stubbornness.
Think about it later. Help Griffin now.
The weeping knights hurriedly grasp their master’s limbs and shoulders while pressing down on the Crown Prince’s torso and firmly holding his neck in position.
“Remember to breathe, Your Highness.” Asha doesn’t even wait for a response before she empties the second bottle on a mangled face. This time the Crown Prince screams, and even though it’s muffled by the gag she can hear his agony clear as day and trembles violently as her father pulls her back.
“Breathe, Your Highness. It’ll be over soon.” The Lune Chieftain’s voice is gentle and firm, reminding Asha of all the times he’d counseled his pupil. No...it should be plural, wh...AGH!
Hoping her sudden tensing and wincing is assumed to be a result of seeing Griffin this way, Asha resolutely pushes aside the meandering thoughts and forces herself to focus on the present.
Minutes seem to stretch into hours, before the Crown Prince lies sweaty and heaving while a thick film solidifies on the left side of his face.
“Excuse me.” The knights next to her move back shakily. “Your Highness, I’m going to remove this now. It won’t hurt, but I need you to stay perfectly still.”
Once again, she doesn’t wait for a response, leaning forward and nudging the mask of extracted toxins up slightly before carefully pulling the mottled item off. Instantly, she wants to cry and scream for joy, but holds back and moves away smiling.
“G...Griffin...” His Majesty’s hands shake badly as he reaches out, tenderly brushing smooth skin. “Son, you’re cured.” When the Emperor himself sobs, the Crown Prince’s own resolve breaks and then Asha has to turn her head into her father’s chest to hide.
I’m so sorry you had to endure for so long. I’m so sorry you had to sacrifice so much for me. I’m so sorry I’m such a failure.
“His Highness’ face! Look!”
“Even his left eye is healed!”
“Thank the gods!”
“Praise the heavens!”
DON’T EVER DO THAT.
Gritting her teeth, Asha turns back to the tearful father and son while carefully placing the mask of extracted toxins on the bedside table.
“Your Highness, try to speak.” His tongue and vocal chords had been damaged significantly by the basilisk poison before.
“Lady Asha...” Griffin’s stunned expression upon hearing himself speak normally for the first time in years nearly breaks her. “Lady Asha, thank you.” Though that familiar voice hitches, it’s as smooth and warm as she remembers.
“Now we just have to set your new arm.” Stubbornly refusing to accept his thanks because she owes him so much more, Asha turns and gestures to Valora, who steps forward with the chest she’s been carrying. “This won’t hurt, but I’ll need to draw some blood.”
“Anything, Lady Asha.” Why are you always so kind to me? Sitting up, the Crown Prince yanks his silk shirt down, exposing the scarred stump where his left arm begins and ends abruptly. Taking a breath to steady herself, Asha opens the chest and pulls out the gold arm her father had carefully shaped. She hears some gasps when everyone realizes it’s been made of solid gold, alongside the last of the magic stones Asha had managed to set without breaking.
I’m an experienced alchemist and inventor, so those gamblers must have made as many stones as volatile as possible. Assholes.
Raising her dagger, she pierces scarred skin and slices until the blade is coated red. Wiping the blood on the magic stone protruding slightly from one end of the prosthetic limb, she smiles a little when it glows before dropping her knife. Hoisting the golden arm up, Asha carefully aligns the glowing stone, then pushes it gently but firmly against the Crown Prince’s arm stump.
“Wha...”
Ignoring the incredulous nobles and knights, she holds the prosthetic limb firm until precious metal imbued with magic seals itself tight, wrapping around the remains of the Crown Prince’s actual left arm and emanating one last glow.
“Now try to move your arm, Your Highness.” He starts slow, clenching and unclenching a golden hand, before gingerly raising the new limb and rotating it. “Please be careful, Your Highness. I made your new arm quite strong.” Her vision is a little blurry, but Griffin’s brilliant smile is still blinding.
You’re whole again, and you again. I’m sorry, and thank you.
Also, Nathaira now owes me a million gold coins. I should’ve taunted him for more - that’s not even close to a tenth of the money House Lamberg had in my earlier lives.
----------------------------------------
MOONRISE BY LUNASEA: CHAPTER 40 END