King Andorin had put on an admirable show of complete normalcy to his nobles and court officials, but he had been waiting in extreme tension for his shadow to return. The relief he felt when they again appeared before him was obvious; his expression lifted like a heavy curtain after a rainstorm.
“So you’ve returned safely,” the king said warmly. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you, your majesty,” the shadow crouched into an even deeper bow, almost burying his nose into the plush carpet coating the floor of his majesty's private study.
Expectedly, some of the warmth left the king’s eyes, and his mouth set into a serious line. “How did it go?”
“Our new business partner doesn’t expect much of us, your majesty. Her main goal in this trade truly seems to be to obtain resources that she lacks, and also a thinly veiled attempt to get into our favor. We’ll likely be used as nothing more than a diversion if conflict breaks out.”
King Andorin frowned and stroked his chin. “Their position that stable?”
“The metals she promised us were abundant enough that they’ve built a small fortress city out of them, and their numbers are exceptional for a single monster settlement. I also observed a significant number of evolved monsters among their ranks.”
The king smiled helplessly and clenched his fists at his sides. “Isn’t this exactly the kind of behavior the churches warn us to prevent?” He sighed. “No, first, tell me about their leader. She’s female?”
“Indeed. The Orc Lord this time around seems to be a Queen Orc named Vyra. I wasn’t able to gather much information about her fighting ability, but I wouldn’t like my odds in a frontal assault. She was about as big as you’d expect of a ruler-class Orc, and she had something like flight magic.”
“A Queen Orc who can fly?” The king shook his head, “What a cruel joke fate plays on us. How about her personality?”
“I would say she seemed clever but inexperienced. We likely won’t have to worry about any covert maneuvers coming from her. She also seems to be the type to at least pretend to be civil at first, but Orcs are known to have short tempers, so I wouldn’t rely on that. Her motivations are rather unclear, and that’s what worries me the most.”
King Andorin nodded and gestured for the shadow to continue.
“She said she wanted to help humanity and wouldn’t elaborate further. If she wasn’t lying, her motivations could be anything from genuine charity, to lust, to preparing us as slaves—or worse.”
“That is concerning,” the king frowned. “Go to the archives and dig up any information we have on previous Queen Orcs. Perhaps we’ll learn something.”
“Yes, your majesty.”
The shadow vanished without a trace, and King Andorin practically fell into his chair. Internally, he wondered how long he could stall before the monster queen just assumed he’d rejected her proposal. Two weeks? Less? Orcs are known for their impatience, he reminded himself with a derisive chuckle. He would limit his research to four days, just to be on the safe side. Though, he had little choice but to accept, so he questioned what good it would do him to know just how thick they were in the mud.
***
When Vyra woke up the next day, there was a new blessing in her status… and a new curse.
Blessings:
Perfect Omnivore (Orc)
Gift of Tongues (Orc)
Compel Same Species (Ruler Race)
Family-Bound(Babylonian)
Curses:
Unending Hunger (Negated: Queen Orc)
Alluring(Babylonian)
The Orc Lord stared at that new curse. She stared at it hard. Then she shouted at max volume in her heart: Of course the Beast People stopped worshipping you!
To a citizen of Babylon, a curse like that hardly mattered. In fact, in conjunction with the blessing, it might even help smooth out the relations between male and female Orcs. However, to Beast People living near the edge of the forest, it was like they were begging to be kidnapped, raided, and raped! What an outstandingly horrible curse!
And if I interpret it further, this curse likely led to my birth… and the blessing likely helped my parents get back together. Or at least helped father forgive mother. Vyra was busy with work and romantically inexperienced, but she wasn’t blind and stupid. She obviously knew what her parents were doing at night in her castle.
Ashtante was entirely responsible for the blessing she gave. Vyra didn’t know the rules behind creating a blessing, but that goddess certainly made it that way intentionally. Curses, on the other hand, were apparently different. Curses were planted like parasites by the Greed Lord, Vereses, in order for him to siphon the effects of the gods’ blessings. Each one was loosely related to the blessing it was attached to. Or perhaps they weren’t a cause, but an effect: some kind of waste left behind after Vereses feasted on the blessings.
He was certainly a disgusting evil god, reaping so many benefits without properly working for them. She was seriously jealous!
Well anyway, waking up with an altered status was just the first sign that today was going to be a pain. Vyra had only just sat down for breakfast when a messenger from their fledgling hospital stormed into the palace.
"My lord! We're calling all healers; please come to the hospital!"
Vyra scooped up her bowl of porridge and tipped the whole thing back, standing up and dropping the empty bowl into a servant's fumbling hands.
"What's happening?" she asked, following the messenger out into the hall.
"Most of the women have gone into labor--all at once! Most that we've helped already gave birth to three or more children!" The High Orc huffed, "The only thing we can guess is that it's due to the new blessing everyone received last night.”
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Vyra nodded grimly. She couldn't think of anything else either.
"Remind me how many women were pregnant.”
The High Orc's face darkened considerably, "Sixty-eight, my lord."
Vyra sucked in a breath. Even with just a quick mental estimate, that was more than two hundred children that were about to be born. She had secured enough food and shelter, thank the spirits, but all of the mothers were going to have no choice but to drop out of the workforce for at least a season if they wanted to look after that many kids. Many of them were reasonably skilled craftsmen; losing them for any length of time would hurt.
If my old world had a god, he never interacted with us, Vyra thought. I'm beginning to feel grateful.
The hospital was in chaos. In the waiting room, dozens of women who were somehow holding themselves together were huddled together and waiting for assistance. Those who simply couldn't wait were taken to the rooms in the back and assisted through the painful birthing process. The most serious cases were the women carrying six or even seven children. They were taken directly to the healing chambers in the emergency care rooms where they could safely be cut open and have their young forcefully extracted.
There weren't many suffering the worst case, but there were more than the two healing rooms could accommodate. Vyra rolled up her sleeves and did her part by making temporary healing circles in a few more of the rooms. The work was far from over after that, though. It went on for hours. More help arrived as the time dragged on, and eventually there was enough manpower to get things under control. Nest beds were assembled in the wide waiting room for each of the mothers who had successfully given birth, and furs had been fetched to wrap the newborns in.
At the final census, there were 311 new infants in Babylon. If Vyra could have gone back in time to see herself worrying about their population being too small, she would have slapped herself. If it were possible, there was a goddess she would much rather slap instead, though.
In the afternoon, she had a meeting with some of the higher-ups in Babylon, and they tried to work out how many golems would have to be made to make up for the labor of the women and those taking care of them. It was manageable if Vyra made them herself, but she had other equally important work to do, and if they left it to the tower mages, the time and the money required were a little hard to stomach.
Vyra regretfully budgeted the resources for half that amount and spent another quarter of her valuable time that day making as many more as she could on her own. With this, textile production would go on, as well as other basic mechanical tasks, but the finer crafts would still need people to finish them off. Nobody yet was capable of making golems that sophisticated.
With every magic core she planted, she thought again how badly she wanted a vacation. Or at least one peaceful day! Just one!
***
“Such blasphemy! How dare you speak thus as a priestess of Lord Nemeses!”
Myrtis shrunk under the rebuke of her elder, looking more like a beaten dog than a demon-worshipping monster.
“I only pass on the words of the Orc Lord,” She said meekly. “It brings me no satisfaction to say them.”
The temple was mostly darkened from the outside light, but a few slivers leaked between the curtains, making certain Myrtis could see the rage on her elder’s face.
“We will not bend to such a request!” the elder cut his hand viciously through the air. “You will convey it to no others!”
Myrtis swallowed. “I will convey it and give to each of them the right to choose: our lord, or treachery.”
The nuance in her words calmed the elder priest down, but only slightly.
“If you do, then by the loyal, those who choose treachery will be slaughtered.”
Myrtis shivered and hugged her chest. “Master, this humble priestess begs of you: commune with our lord. If he will not send us aid, we will perish!”
“You ask for a communion when we have no sacrifices!” The elder priest waved dismissively. “You ask the impossible.”
Myrtis gaped. “No sacrifices? How can that be? Was it not that we just received our final supply from the War Orcs?”
The head priest looked down at her in grim pity. “Come, foolish one. I will show you.”
He stood tall and swept the curtains aside, striding outside into the oppressive sunlight. Myrtis hurried to follow the old priest as he all but power-walked down the narrow dirt path. Within moments, they had arrived at the building where sacrifices were kept. The windows let in fresh air and sunlight. Leaves were being burned to keep away insects, and the rooms inside were stuffed with pillows and soft furs.
It was a place to keep the sacrifices feeling comfortable, so Myrtis flinched back when she saw them weeping.
“Mother Goddess, why?” one rabbit girl clung to a wolf girl and bawled.
The elder priest glanced down at Myrtis’s confused and horrified expression and spoke calmly.
“These people are no longer suitable sacrifices. Lord Nemeses has no interest in offerings who aren’t children of the gods.”
Myrtis looked up at him, realization dawning on her, and even more horror.
The priest chuckled humorlessly. “It must be terrifying for them. One word from the goddess of kinship, and they’ve been banished from the ranks of descendants. They’re merely monsters now, same as us. Communing with our lord now is, as I said, impossible.”
***
Vyra had intended to hide the matter of Ashtante’s relocation for as long as possible, but that had been impossible from the start.
Within a wooden building, full of elegant carvings and delicately painted paper screens, the king of the Beastpeople was sitting cross-legged at the head of a long table with a great many of his advisors.
“Your majesty, we must issue an official statement!” an old man with lynx ears urged. “Anyone who looks at their status can clearly see Ashtante’s curse! We must assure them we have the situation under control!”
Sitting at the king’s left hand was the princess; the only child the beast king had had with his legitimate wife. Her silky black fox ears twitched as she herself reconfirmed the new curse in her status.
Because of that, Ashtante’s blessing and the accompanying curse were gone, and a faint divine power that the Beastpeople hadn’t known they’d had was stripped away. Among noble families in particular, this had decreased their stats across the board.
And, most devastatingly, if they inspected their race…
Race: Fox Beastperson; Monster
Princess Nym Nefuna shuddered. She had gone to bed a descendant and woken up a monster. Nothing external had changed, but it was hard to imagine her life would stay the same.
“What should we say about our race change? How can we possibly convince the elves to continue trading with us?"
"Fool! Say nothing of that to anyone! It's the end for us if people find out!"
"Surely they'll be able to overlook it if we offer an official statement on the matter? It isn't as though we've become more vicious."
"We'd better prepare offerings to appease the church."
"You think an offering is enough?!"
Nefuna sat through the shouting of panicked elders and kept her face an apathetic mask the whole while. Thanks to her royal education, at least she appeared to be more composed than they were. Of course, it wasn't really true.
No decision was made, and the meeting was adjourned. All the officials and nobles returned to their quarters to worry in private. There was a soft knock on Nefuna's door and her mother glided in. Nym Airi was a beautiful Fox Beastwoman with long white hair, and she had always been the most put-together and restrained woman Nefuna had ever known. Even now, a gentle smile played on her lips, and there wasn't a single crease on her face. The picture of tranquility.
"Nefuna, dear, come and listen."
Nym Airi sat down on a silk seat cushion on the floor, and her daughter politely sat across from her.
"We don't know what will happen in the coming days," the queen said, her voice like liquid. "At midnight, a carriage is coming to take you to a friend for safe-keeping. His majesty and I will also be hiding in separate locations. Some decoys will stay here in our place. It's important that nobody discovers you until things have calmed down. Do you understand?"
Nefuna lowered her head. "I understand, mother."
Nym Airi smiled, "Good child." She opened her arms for a hug, which was extremely unusual. Nefuna thought perhaps it was a gesture of final parting and bit back tears while she entered the embrace. Strangely, Airi brought her mouth close to the princess's silky black ears and spoke almost imperceptibly.
"After three hours, some of mama's friends will pick you up from that carriage, okay?"
Nym Nefuna kept her apathetic mask, as if she hadn't heard anything, but released the smallest hum from her throat.
"Such a good girl."