From utter blackness, Nym Nefuna sucked in a sudden breath, finding herself lying on something soft. She opened her eyes to a warmly lit room with a high ceiling. An Orc with blue skin was standing over her, but before she could really process that fact, the monster smiled and hurried away.

The princess struggled to sit up in an unbecoming manor. The soft thing she was laying on was more of a large disk-shaped cushion than a bed, and the way it moved was unfamiliar to her.

When she finally sat up, she saw that she was alone in what appeared to be a guest room in the Crystal Palace. There was a window on one side that gave an amazing view of the city below. Nefuna stood up to take in the view more closely. The giant goat monsters looked so small from up here, but the white tower next to the palace rose up even further still. The princess tracked it with her eyes, but she couldn’t see the top from this angle.

There was a sudden knock at the door, and the princess’s tail poofed for a moment in surprise.

“Come in,” she said, brushing her robes down.

A black cat beastman opened the door and stepped inside.

“Excuse me,” he said, opening a fan with a master scholar’s insignia on the tassel. Nefuna’s eyes widened a fraction.

“I’m told you lost consciousness while meeting with Lord Vyra, Lady Nefuna.”

The former princess’s tail, which had been starting to wave unconsciously, froze stiff. Just when she thought she’d met another beastfolk, he didn’t call her ‘princess’ or ‘your highness’. The fact that she was expecting such a thing must’ve meant she still hadn’t accepted reality.

“Thank you for helping me,” Nefuna bowed.

The scholar held up a hand, telling her to stand up. “Lady Fiara, the head of our magic tower, happened to be nearby and acted as your healer. I was simply asked to come here as a comforting face. Lord Vyra suspected you might be adverse to the presence of Orcs for the meantime.”

The princess blushed a bit, folding her hands in front of her waist modestly.

“Lord Vyra is the Orc Lord?” She had to confirm it, since she still had a hard time believing it.

“That’s correct.”

“I see.” The girl worried. The Orc Lord was said to be a being on par with a natural disaster, causing huge losses of life every time it appeared in history. Would things be better or worse now that it had ties to a goddess?

“Do you know where the others I came with are?” she asked.

“I believe they are discussing logistics with Lord Vyra right now. The beastfolk they want to bring here are being held captive at the moment. Negotiations should be underway for how many men the lord will send with them for support.”

“I see.”

The princess’s tail drooped a fraction. Her mother and the others were dealing with important matters while she was being little more than a nuisance. Certainly, it wasn’t her fault that she had fainted; the shocking revelation that she was sitting across from a monster heralded by history books was to blame. Nevertheless, she wanted to be of use.

“Is there any way I can help them?”

The scholar waved his fan slowly, his narrow eyes investigating the girl, whose face was just as calm and composed as a beast princess’s should be.

“Can you fight or administer healing?”

Nefuna endeavored to keep her disappointment out of her voice and face, “No, I cannot.”

“Then it would be better if you stayed here for the time being. There are many other important things expected of you as a Babylonian citizen. First and foremost, you need to learn the language.”

The princess lowered her head modestly. “I know the human, elf, and dwarf languages already, but I don’t understand the dragon or devil languages yet.”

“Not those, although they are still helpful.” Surumi waved his fan and moved to a desk in the room. He pulled a metal tablet and pen out of his robes and set them there carefully. “The local language is new Orcish. While the Orcs here may understand any language spoken to them, the other races do not. In order to communicate with each other, they learn the Lord’s native tongue. There is a school in the city where you can be properly taught, but you shouldn’t be moving around too much just yet, so I will go over the basics with you here.”

Nefuna walked over to the desk and sat in the chair that the scholar pulled out for her.

“What is this?” she asked, looking at the thin metal slab.

“It is a magical device for writing and reading, called a tablet,” the scholar told her. “You can write just about infinitely on it. It’s simple to use.”

“What an amazing magic item,” the princess marveled.

“You’ll get used to them.”

Ye Surumi glanced at the calm yet enthusiastic former princess. He was fairly quiet with them, but he had his own thoughts on recent events. In particular, one minuscule detail was causing some turmoil in his heart.

Ye Surumi was, to his knowledge, the only beast person who was already a citizen of Babylon when Ashtante transferred her place of power here. His blessing was never removed, and so his spark of divinity was never lost. His status still called him a descendant.

Here in front of him was the former princess of his former home. Her mother, the former empress, was in another room negotiating with his latest student. Both of them were called monsters in their status, despite being beastfolk just like him. They were beastfolk of higher status and greater faith than he was, but as he was in the right place at the right time, only he had the privilege of remaining a person.

Surumi was like the last member of an endangered species, and he wondered how this fact might affect his life from now on. He had those sorts of worries.

But it was prudent not to dwell long on things that couldn’t be helped, and so he focused on his task of teaching this princess-turned-monster basic new orcish.

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***

Wearing hidden armor under one’s clothes or hiding a knife in one’s pocket would often make a peace-minded person nervous, but it brought mental security and confidence to people who have experienced danger. That said, if ever one noticed that they had left their protective equipment sitting at home, it was imperative to act just as confident as if you still had it with you.

There are people who genuinely do seem to be able to smell fear.

For King Andorin, his shadow was his shield and dagger hidden in the dark. He always acted as if it was there, and others in the know had to assume it was there even when they couldn’t detect it. But there was actually a regular occasion when the king’s shadow wasn’t present.

No, not when the shadow was keeping up Andorin’s magic metals trade with the Orc Lord, although that was a newly emerged recurring absence on its own. The reason the king’s shadow wasn’t here today was because of the recent heavy rainfall.

Heavy rains often caused the Dragon Tail River to flood in the Claymore Kingdom North of Andorin. Whenever that happened, Andorin and the other nearby nations investigated how bad the damages were and if Claymore was showing any signs of breaking the treaty.

It would be a stupid thing to do, certainly. King Andorin had done his best to keep up good relations with the surrounding nations, and they were just as likely to come to his aid now as they were seventy years ago when Claymore last invaded.

However, the current King of Claymore, Claudius Claymore… was a bit daft.

He wasn’t a complete fool, but he wasn’t an exceptional king, either. He lacked the power or wisdom to allow his country to flourish on their wild riverbanks, and so each year they slipped further into debt.

During the few meetings King Andorin had had with the man, when the topic of their finances came up, he seemed to imply that he imagined a lucky year of drought would come and their economy would spring back to health. He insisted on not hiring earth or water mages from other nations, as that would “drain their coffers”, but he neglected to ever train up those sorts of mages in his own territory, focusing instead on wind and fire mages that were useful against the active harpie threat they faced.

Claudius Claymore was shortsighted, and King Andorin saw it as only a matter of time before his kingdom would crumble to pieces.

But that wasn’t so strange. Claymore had been established for nearly three hundred years now. It was about time for humanity’s curse to strike them.

Thanks to Lord Velshire, their ancestor god, humanity took well and easily to civilization. However, owing to the evil god of gluttony, Quetales, they were cursed just like every other blessed race.

Humanity’s civilizations were cursed to fall. As expected of a curse from a god, it was mysterious and unavoidable. A generation of incompetent people being born into leadership positions, at a time when competent people were desperately needed, was simply a matter of time. Claymore was already an old nation. The only question was whether King Claudius would be the last king of Claymore, or if someone worse would follow him.

King Andorin sat through his meetings in anxious tension, waiting for his shadow to return. True to his education, he didn’t project any of his true feelings to those around him, but it was still a stressful time. The moment he was alone in his room and his shadow appeared in front of him, a huge weight lifted off of his chest.

“You’re back,” the king smiled warmly. “What of Claymore?”

“It’s not good,” the shadow, completely covered in black clothes that gave away none of their appearance, got straight to the point. “The river flooded more than usual. I observed weapons and armors being moved around, and I witnessed a discussion between their king and a delegation of harpies. The harpies are planning to start attacking us instead of Claymore, and there are strong indications that Claymore is preparing for war against us as well.”

“… You’re sure?”

“Sure enough that it would be irresponsible not to respond.”

King Andorin clenched his fist into his robes. He had hoped up until now that he was just being paranoid with this spywork and his thoughts on King Claymore.

“We’re already manufacturing armaments. The only other things to do are to organize our other supplies and tighten security at the border.”

Andorin Kingdom was unused to fighting harpies, and keeping them out when they could fly would be especially difficult.

“Perhaps we should consult adventurers about how to deal with harpies. Oh, and we had better prepare letters to send out when Claymore sends us their declaration of war, to ask the surrounding nations to come to our aid.”

The shadow, who had been quiet after delivering their report, vanished the moment they were dismissed, and King Andorin stared out his bedroom window in thought. The situation with Claymore should be more or less easily dealt with with the help of his allies, but the harpies did worry him a bit. But harpies weren’t smart monsters. Perhaps they would forget their little alliance and go back to pestering Claymore like usual. That would be for the best.

***

The council room in the Crystal Palace had an unusual lineup today, as it was currently being borrowed. Seated at three of the chairs at the round table were Nym Airi and her grandparents, currently in the form of goblins with black scales. In two other chairs across from them was Varoon and Durghan, the two generals of Orc Lord Vyra’s army.

The former empress and current high priestess of Ashtante had been given permission by Lord Vyra to stage a rescue mission for Ashtante’s faithful. The generals were obligated to cooperate with her to organize sufficient troops and supplies.

“I admit that I am inexperienced in military matters,” Nym Airi began. “I will be relying on your expertise.”

Durghan, a simple Orc in appearance, but a man who earned his place as a general nonetheless, nodded his head, and Varoon exhaled sharply through his nose.

“Please skip to the part where you explain why military force is needed to bring your kinsmen here,” the blonde War Orc said gruffly.

“Because, unlike most of my kinsmen, as you put it, they are being held captive by demon worshippers.”

Durghan glanced sidelong at Varoon with his beady eyes, recalling that his mate happened to evolve into an Oni. “I’m getting a sneaking feeling that they were taken as sacrifices for the demon-worshipping Orc tribe.”

“That is correct,” Airi nodded, her snow white ears folding forward politely. “Our mother goddess showed me in her vision that she has stopped the sacrifices from happening, but there’s no telling how long the Onis will keep them alive.”

“So we’re fighting the demon-worshipping faction at last,” Varoon folded his arms. “My sister probably wants us to wipe them out, what do you think?”

“I think we should accept any who surrender,” Durghan replied.

“Servants of Nemeses don’t surrender,” the War Orc shot back.

“From our perspective,” Nym Airi cut in, “freeing Ashtante’s faithful comes first. Although the Onis and Orcs are kin, this tribe has chosen to worship an enemy god. Whether they join our family or not is up to them.”

“Then we’ll treat them according to our own discretion,” Durghan nodded. “Now about our time table. Vyra wants this done within ten days in order to focus on the war against Claymore and the harpies. You can have as many of the ordinary troops as you want, but Varoon and I will be the only elite troops that leave the city.”

“Are there any mages we can bring?” Airi’s grandfather asked.

“Yes, we have some mages among the troops. They’re trained to interrupt enemy mages and to restrict our opponents’ movements. We don’t have healers, but we will be bringing a healing array that we’ll set up in our base camp.”

“No attack-focused mages, huh?” Airi’s grandmother chuckled. “Well, that’s fine. We can fill that role.”

“As for me,” Nym Airi said, “As a priestess of our mother goddess, I learned holy magic and healing. I will join in with your mage troops as support.”

Durghan smiled at the pure white fox woman. “Having a healer on the front lines sounds great. But you stand out, so you’ll become a target. Stay close to Varoon and I so we can protect you.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Is your daughter staying here?” Varoon asked.

Nym Airi nodded serenely. “Ashtante’s faithful will be glad to see their former princess in good health when they finally reach safety.”

Varoon resisted mentally comparing Nym Airi to his own mother—there was no point; they were galaxies apart. But that fox princess was certainly a lucky girl.