Chapter 51
The red plains
Draconic Kingdom
Everything was destined to return to its natural state.
Inevitably, the physiognomy of the landscape would soon be furrowed by great turmoil. Yet, years later, nothing would remain, and future travelers would see that same spectacle again as it now presented itself to their eyes in that very present.
Clementine was walking on a steep, unsteady slope leading to an elevation from which it was possible to gain more visibility of the surroundings.
It was cold, and her coat was beginning to catch a light frost that had been falling placidly since early morning. Not uncomfortable, though. Almost... regenerating.
She looked up to the sky, seeing the archangels hovering above her. Every now and then, a feather from their holy mantle would break off, making the snowy ground even whiter.
Vice-captain Ian was giving some directions to the members of his unit, shouting positioning orders and strategies left and right. The Sunlight Scripture members were used to a tactic Clementine used to call 'the flood'. It was the privilege of the weak to use numbers to hide their weaknesses and frailties, and the way of the summoner practiced by the Sunlight Scriptures was the ultimate expression of that philosophy.
Had she been asked, Clementine would have described that tactic as utterly pathetic and tasteless, incapable of giving a foretaste of the dense and exquisitely violent taste of battle. A lack of tact, perhaps.
Clementine considered her art to be first and foremost a personal, intimate work. When that contact established in the embrace that sealed the end of a life was lost, she could not help but evaluate the experience as incomplete.
The Black Scripture woman recognised, however, that from a purely practical point of view, the benefits were without a shadow of a doubt present and, therefore, even if she might harbor skepticism about the method, she could at least appreciate the impending massacre from a purely intellectual point of view.
"My lady, are you ready?" Elysant had approached, and in the flow of her thoughts Clementine had hardly noticed her presence.
"As always when it comes to entering battle," she donned the mask of a smile, and answered her with an air that should have conveyed a calming confidence. The other woman gave no hint of fear and gave no sign of being concerned for her life, much to Clementine's chagrin. "Is what I asked for ready?"
Elysant handed her a headband of stilettos, which Clementine promptly grasped. "We followed your instructions, my lady." Pulsing with magic, almost as alive, to the touch they gave a pleasant sensation of comfort.
The preparation of the Scriptures, no matter the precise affiliation, left no room for imperfections, although it was legitimate -and undoubtedly amusing- to wonder what it would feel like for the other five scriptures' members to be subjected to the initiation ritual of the Blacks to which Clementine belonged.
That prospect made its way into the mind of the one who had received the name of Windstride, and led her to wonder if she could replicate that prerogative of the Extra Seat to her current comrades as well.
Imitation was the highest form of compliment, after all. It would not have been perceived as an insult, or disrespect, seen from the right angle.
"What is the plan?" Clementine asked, holding back a yawn. "Recent inactivity has been unhealthy for my alertness. This upcoming clash is a godsend, to be honest." Sun was setting, and although there was no better way to end the day than with a slaughter, it had to be acknowledged that the impelling sleep could be a hindrance to one's enjoyment. It was better to be well rested before any fight. An appropriate motto for a well-diligent girl as she was.
"The Sunlight Scriptures will unfold on either side of the plain, while the Archangels of Flame will control the skies and protect our spellcasters on the flanks. The few ground troops we have will absorb the shock of the first impact, giving time for our spellcasters to bombard the enemies with a wide assortment of spells," Elysant's explanation was concise and uncluttered, with particular appreciation from Clementine.
The woman handed her a sheet of paper on which the major points of interest and the positioning of their troops had been drawn. "We trust that the workers and adventurers provided to us by the County of Tiro will buy us enough time to give our evocations the go-ahead to get into the thick of the skirmish. At that point we would be able to overwhelm our foes from both distance and proximity."
"A classic but effective plan," commented Clementine, admittedly unimpressed. "But what should we do if the demi-humans don't jump in like idiots in our circumvention? Or what if they decide to outflank us directly and make a single run towards Tiro and the human cities?"
The plain chosen as the scene of the clash was bare from winter, and the accumulated snow made movement difficult and complicated. In the past it had been the scene of a battle with some phantom warlord who had tried to invade the entire Draconic Kingdom, with only the help of his clan. Even then, the Sunlight Scriptures had put a stop to such foolish ambitions.
For the demi-humans, masters of druidic and shamanic magic, the lack of natural aids they could rely on was a disadvantage. At the same time, the weather conditions and lack of protection could prove to be also a malus for humans, who lacked the innate physiological abilities of their opponents.
War was the art of deception. Layer upon layer, one had to become the adversary and anticipate their every move, foresee their every prediction, anticipate their next two steps.
"They will not!"
Exclaiming with such conviction was someone Clementine had learned to recognise with particular ease in the crowd. Amid human voices, the quacking of a duck was always easily discernible.
"Good morning to you, Captain Luin," the woman grabbed the hems of her cloak to perform what was a silly imitation of a high-ranking lady's bow.
"There is no need for you to prostrate yourself in such attitudes before me, Lady Quintia. It would be I who would have to kiss the ground on which you walk, rather." Whether the irony of such a gesture had been divested or not grasped by the Sunlight Scripture captain was difficult to determine. In truth, Clementine could not decide which of the two alternatives she preferred.
"Captain, why are you here?" Elysant, on the other hand, exhibited far more grace in showing respect to her superior. Undoubtedly, her upbringing was not at the level of a Quintia, but the attitude of a student could cross such qualitative differences. "Weren't you supposed to make sure there were no weak points in the teams?"
"I have already done so several times, and I plan to give one last check before it all begins," Nigun smiled scornfully, and after exchanging the appropriate pleasantries with his subordinate, clarified what he had said with particular confidence. "The beasts know that to attack Tiro they need to conserve their energy, in view of a future assault against the fortified cities of Gelone and Biblo. They also know that we are here waiting for them, as we have left some of their rangers patrolling the surrounding area alive for this very reason. As I see it, there are three possibilities: the first is that they might ignore us completely, to head for what is a juicier target for their intentions. In that case, we could attack them from behind, gaining a great advantage."
It was clear that was the most advantageous alternative for them, but also the most unlikely. Leadership was not a vocation that had been imparted in Clementine's early education, perhaps due to her lack of ability to empathize with the line of thought of enemies and friends alike, yet even she could see how the risks far outweighed the benefits with such a decision.
"So I suppose the enemies can attack us with full force... or split into several groups," Clementine traced a small arc on the ground with the aid of one of her stilettos, drawing an unattractive grimace. "I wonder which of the two choices will be undertaken? Huhuhuhu, really interesting."
"I think the first option is the most likely, Lady Quintia…" On hearing that name called for the second time, the Black Scripture woman sighed dryly. Captain Nigun either paid no heed to the gesture, or felt it was not worth investigating. "We don't have a really accurate number... but our rangers are sure they don't exceed a few hundred. Just enough to carry out a lightning raid and return home with considerable booty. Considering that winter is still full, it's in line with their modus operandi for the past few years. Attempts at flagging in the winter, so as to make it easier to conquer in the warm season."
Elysant approached, shaking a lock of hair from her forehead. "They evidently believe that after their last assault our defenses are insufficient... or at least that's what I'd like to think. But Captain Luin and I have many reasons to assume it is not so simple, Lady Quintia."
'And third… what should I do now?' The stiletto was twirled in the air as Clementine pondered how to rectify such embarrassing and misplaced devotion. "Only Clementine will do, for all of you. Lady Clementine, or Windstride, if you wish to retain the honorifics," she said at last, after a deliberately long pause. "As for your worries, I can well surmise what they are caused by."
Captain Nigun, keeping well clear of the sharp point of the weapon, nodded with conviction. "That corpse we found last time still needs to be properly explained. And there is a possibility that the one -or those- who shot down the higher angel are among the assailants," a drop of worry began to furrow the brow of the man who made his own self-confidence a boast.
Clementine wished she could lift the veil of that arrogance at that moment, allowing herself a moment of intimacy with that pious and devout soldier. But the glances of the other scriptures and the memory of the mission made her desist from such enchanting intentions.
"Just in case, don't rely on me too much. Even I wouldn't be able to compete with someone capable of eliminating a Dominion Authority," would have been a more suitable task for that limp-dick balls of a Captain of theirs or a specialized Black Scripture team. "And I confess, crowd control isn't my specialty either."
Quaiesse would have been better fitted for such a mission, but he was busy elsewhere, to their misfortune. What a pity, in case of great danger her twin would have been the perfect bait to throw to the monsters.
Certain people had the delightful quality of being natural bait. The gait, or perhaps the unpleasant smell, or even the shape of the teeth could be a justifiable cause. Whatever that mystery so difficult to decipher was, some faces seemed to be specially modeled with care and love only to be punched. Or devoured, as in that case.
"We will not ask you to do anything above your abilities, Lady Quai... Lady Clementine. Leave it to us to keep their infantry at bay. Your intervention will serve more to wreak havoc and break their formations…" The Sunlight Scripture captain took a brief second to carefully consider how to finish his 'suggestions'. "And in the event that there is an individual within their ranks who can claim the title of hero, there too we will provide you with all the appropriate support to be able to claim victory."
And while a Quintia would have been the perfect sacrifice in that case, all Clementine could settle for at that moment was a Luin.
"How fortunate I am! To have an entire elite group watching my back! In that case, I cannot show myself lacking in front of my beloved!"
"No, it is we who are fortunate to have a hero of your caliber to lend us aid, Lady Clementine," Elysant interjected, with a calmness and veneration that would have moved even the most monolithic of statues to commotion. Clementine almost desired to weep, to return that affection. "Our superiors now consider the Draconic Kingdom to be an area of high danger, and are prepared to withdraw their support if the current situation worsens. Should the dangers increase, the safety of a Black Scripture member takes precedence over everything. Have no qualms about using us as a diversion to save your life."
"There will be no problem in that case," she reassured her with a wink of the left eye. "Let's all try to get back safely, shall we? So that the Cardinals can intercede with the Gods for us and decant our glory to the empyrean!"
Clementine knew she was being selfish, but already she'd marked the Sunlight Scriptures as her future toys, and a soft cry in her chest would have been caused to see them wielded for someone else's amusement. Some whim would be granted by the Gods, or those who called themselves such, for the most loyal followers of their cult. So the Black Scripture woman dared to hope.
"We cannot ask for more, Lady Clementine," Nigun extended his calloused hand towards her, getting nothing in return. "Would you like to join us in prayer before the battle? It would be a wondrous privilege for us."
"I am forced to refuse. My rituals require solitude and concentration before an important battle. I am sure you understand."
"Absolutely."
A note of disappointment, immediately suppressed by both of them. Clementine was gratified by so little, for her surprise.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I could use a little time for myself. To concentrate."
Nigun and Elysant bowed their heads with a synchrony that could not but have been prepared in advance. "I will see you again at the end of the battle, if the Gods so wish."
Left alone, Clementine allowed herself a moment to get her preparations in order. She stretched every muscle in her body, assaying the flexibility of every limb. Tooking a quick glance at the equipment she sported, the woman of the Black Scripture was unable to not be astonished once more at the relics of the Six.
An echo in the distance grew deeper and more concrete. Battle cries began to rise from the valley; the ruthless hunger for glory began to demand to be satiated on both sides as Clementine foretasted the chaos that was to follow, intoxicated by the excitement that teased every foundation of her being.
----------------------------------------
There was no precise moment that marked the beginning.
'It's noon'.
Over half the day had passed.
When the beastmen finally arrived, the two sides could finally begin to get acquainted. The silence that preceded every battle had become particularly insistent, and each vanguard preparing to make its first move hesitated, almost as if the most insignificant of actions had led to the rupture of the balance so early established.
As Captain Nigun had predicted, the demi-humans had decided to accept the invitation, and now appeared at the door of their home. A warm welcome was what they would receive and, in all likelihood, courteous hospitality was what they would give in return.
'Good manners are important. Better not forget them.'
The gates of hell opened.
The aarakocra who plied the skies were the first to break that stalemate, launching their javelins towards the infantry arrayed in protection of Sunlight Scripture. But domination of the heavens required to be contested first in a showdown with the archangels summoned by Slaine's spellcasters.
The constructs called from the divine hive stood between the rain of metal that had begun to descend relentlessly towards those they were to protect, blocking that first assault with simply the sturdiness of their bodies.
The flaming swords were unsheathed, and the crush of an infernal crash coloured the noonday sky a hellish orange; rivers of scarlet plumage were offered in sacrifice to those Gods whose will the archangels carried, raising that carnage that was so rapidly consuming to the highest of evening stars.
The first blood had been spilled on the high, and was now flowing downwards, staining those virgin lands of conflict with the first drops of death. The aarakocra had on their side numerical superiority and the mobility of bodies trained to plough the skies from their first infantile wanderings, but the evocations of the Sunlight Scriptures were the messengers of a distant and coveted paradise; the proof of an unshakeable faith and a justice that admitted no second thoughts.
There were three ways to deploy a strategy: the first was a shot in a single direction.
Under the leadership of Captain Nigun and his elite, the archangels moved like ethereal, imperishable bodies, breaking the formations of the winged demi-humans and challenging their strength in unequal contests of endurance and power. The fiery flaming swords pierced the defenses mounted by their opponents, crumbling bone and igniting skin and flesh. The cries of despair, which tried with such harmless sounds to make the burns stop, were so miserable that they brought humans and non-humans alike to pity.
In those few, preliminary moves, the horror of war had shattered the mirror that hid under good intentions and falsified ideals the undeniable truth of the miserable world in which all of them -humans and beast without distinctions- lived, reminding even the most hardened veterans of the vicissitudes of the wars of the past.
'Eat or be eaten', the butcher's shop had been opened, and only the Gods themselves could have prevented Clementine from taking her place at that table laden with food now. 'How I love all of this. The smell of blood so intense to make the nose flinch and the screams so full of valor and hope that fill the ears, just before everything goes to hell. I could listen for ages and ages to such symphonies.'
Clementine had to admit, with no small amount of admiration, that there was a reason why every member of the scriptures was of unimaginable value to the Theocracy. The amount of magic used to support and attack at the same time, with perfect timing required according to the situation each summoning found itself in, sanctioned an experience forged from immense dangers and diverse situations, mastered by continuous and exhausting training.
By that time, it had become evident that if things continued in that manner, the Sunlight Scripture's victory would be all or almost guaranteed. It had to be said, though, that if so little was enough to prevent that threat, the few positives of her thankless task would have vanished without a trace.
The demi-humans were not stupid, and they had a primal and ancestral instinct, as old as the world itself, that provided them with guidance towards confrontation, towards the destruction of those who stood in their way.
'So it begins.'
Like bells on a feast day, the battle cries of the demi-humans filled the valley. The wave of their advance fell with a thunderous burst towards the workers and adventurers who formed the vanguard of the Theocracy and the Draconic Kingdom.
There were three ways to deploy a strategy: the second was to attack both sides in both directions.
Reinforced-skinned armats wielded blunt axes and clubs, descending their violence with relentless bloodlust. The enchantments of the human blades blazed with blinding light, as the sharpness of their spikes pierced their way through the compactness of the opponents' fur. The rest of the infantry, composed of soldiers from both the Theocracy and the Draconic Kingdom, acted as shields to the connoisseurs of the magical arts, giving the latter time to formulate their spells and bring disaster to the enemy lines.
But it was not only the armats that had to be feared. Would have been too easy and, as such, devoid of fun.
The enemy army counted on a vast assortment of ruthless and diverse races. Clementine recognised agile tabaxi moving in circles, shooting darts and arrows imbued with poison and other unknown substances, in a race that soon became frenzied with the enchanted spears thrown by the Sunlight's Scriptures.
Bouffalor and wolfmen used their greater physical prowess to engage as many adventurers and workers as possible, who were forced to work as a team in order to fight on equal terms with these creatures, shifting the quantitative needle of the scales even further to the side of the demi-humans. The only positive note was the total lack of coordination between members of different races, who acted more like hastily amalgamated clans, unaccustomed to leaving the initiative to their comrades.
This left room for maneuver for the more organized and specialized teams within the human ranks. There was a special power in teamwork, which Clementine reluctantly had to acknowledge provided the weak with more than enough of a step to compete with those who sported the title of strong. Whether this alone would be enough to climb the ladder in its entirety was now up to them to prove.
Of the three ways to deploy a strategy, the third was the most complex. It required to merge the many into a chain, a reaction triggered by many single acts.
Tortle and styx druids had invoked some minor earth elementals, forcing Vice-Captain Ian and a select group to engage in a second, dangerous standoff in the rear. While the first turtle-carapaced demi-humans absorbed aquatic magics in defense of their summonses, those with features resembling deer used their superior melee skills to force the Theocracy's spellcasters into close combat. Some of the archangels were summoned from the heavens to absorb that harsh impact, allowing the aarakocra to catch their breath.
The clang of shields and swords, axes and spears clashing against each other screeched with extraordinary intensity, suggesting that the sound of metal was that of the valley weeping for the ruin that had been brought upon its realm.
The battlefield had turned into a pandemonium marred by cheap, futile and simply unnecessary violence. Of all of it, that was the Black Scripture woman's favorite.
Clementine shrugged her cloak from her shoulders, revealing the splendid armor that had once belonged to the Gods and now defied the morning sun in a proclamation of brilliance. Covered in sharp thorns, it might have looked uncomfortable and unwieldy to the eye, but worn by Windstride it proved to be the perfect combination of defense and offense.
Sins eater, the saber she wielded with pride and self-sacrifice, whispered to her to begin the pilgrimage for which she had been granted. The journey to the one faith that could only be professed through a bath of true knowledge, a baptism into purest carnage.
'Look at Captain Nigun, so intent on issuing orders and protecting and ensuring that things do not fall apart. Adorable, in a way.'
The Sunlight Scripture captain had summoned a Principality Observation to act as defensive support, strengthening the strenuous resistance of the other evocations. Both sides had achieved a precarious balance, and both were aware that in the theater of conflict, those who first managed to advance even a small step would claim victory that day.
'The Theocracy trusts that the Archangels of the Flame will succeed in exterminating the aarakocra and secure a way from above to surround their enemies, while the demi-humans are counting on their infantry to crush ours, bringing them into the heart of the summoners' formation. Interesting. Without external intervention, who would win?'
Clementine already had her answer, and part of her would be curious to determine if it matched reality. She had to desist, however, also in view of how long the Cardinals' sermons would be in the event of a failed mission.
Reclaiming one's freedom, in the Theocracy of Slaine, required making a blood pact. Luckily for her, there were more than enough offers at the moment.
'Now, where should I start?' The saber screeched into the ground as Clementine took up her stance. Her legs flexed athletically, bringing her body into extreme elasticity. The cheetah amulet she wore around the neck imbued her with a prickly feeling, which stimulated her concentration and speed even more.
After a deep breath, the Black Scripture woman snapped, breaking through that wall that separated ordinary mortals from the elect, the chosen ones from extraordinary fortune and the leathery ticks that contaminated that sad and desolate land.
With a placid step, Clementine burst through the ranks of the armats; swift was her blade to flay the skins of two demi-humans leading the advance. The blood that began to flow from the first victims flowed gently onto Sins Eater, and the saber, living up to its name, began to feed on those first kills, invigorating the firmness and brutality of the cut even more, leaving its possessor as clear and pure as the day she was born.
"What?"
"Reinforcements?"
"A human...!?"
"Welcome to the Black Scripture's art of war~!" Clementine proclaimed.
Confusion and bewilderment spread like a disease between both sides, but Clementine did not let such frivolities stop her running. Her saber swung two more slashes in quick succession, one faster than the other, beginning to slit the slender reinforcement of other armats with indifferent ferocity. At that point, that same primal instinct that had led non-humans to war was transformed into a much more common and easy to appreciate feeling: that of fear.
It was interesting for Clementine to observe how a common imprint was present in every race and culture at the moment when the certainty of the end was no longer just an immanent worry of the future and transmuted into a dangerous certainty. So close, ever closer, that one could begin to glimpse their own features in a mirror that replicated a different conception, yet always with interesting points of contact, of what would come next.
Because that was the central question: what would come next?
'Only that, I do not know.'
Only once in her entire life had Clementine been forced to confront that inquiry, and the answer she found then would perhaps have been different if posed today. Did that matter now?
Carving her gospel into the souls of her enemies, perhaps she would uncover the elusive answer.
'I am burning with excitement'.
What mattered now was only to understand how the demi-humans, as those whom the humans of the Theocracy defined and classified as horrors that could not be understood, reacted to Clementine's request for that dance of death. With little surprise, they agreed, unable to contemplate escape as a solution to a common dilemma.
Will you kill, or will you be killed?
The Armats clustered around her, trying to overwhelm her with their numerical superiority. Their sickening breath came so close that Clementine could only gasp in disgust at the stench. Their weapons crashed down upon her, the sound of their screams expanded and the force of their assault became impetuous. With what audacity did they dare defy Windstride, the ninth seat of the Black Scriptures!
Although Clementine bore no particular affection for that rank, she could not deny that it conferred a dignity and social standing that could not be disregarded, not at that precise moment. Windstride was the name given to her and, for that time at least, she would bring it glory and honor.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
She moved like the wind, therefore. Allowing only an echo to remain at the end of her charge, only a layer of copious blood to bear witness to her passing.
Sins Eater clashed with the equipment of the demi-humans, letting the fragile weapons of the demi-humans taste its hardness and resistance.
Neither the reinforced skin of the armats, nor their metal armor could put a stop to that blade that now infiltrated their weak points, bringing to the surface a fragility that had never slumbered, while now shattered the certainties matured over a lifetime, not even leaving time to contemplate the arrival of the end before the encounter with that inescapable fatality.
Clementine had paved the way, and soon the others fighting alongside her were also caught up in the frenzy of battle. With that first signal, the torpor that had perhaps drowsed them in the moment of agitation now gave way to the blindest of warrior eagerness.
The Black Scripture woman was the needle thrust under the thickest skin of those who were to be annihilated, and the trickle of corpses left in her wake was the hemorrhage of an epidemic that had just begun to spread.
Tireless, she who was called Windstride lost herself in the funereal wind that now scourged the demi-humans. The enemies, finally giving her the attention she deserved, began to concentrate their forces to try and stop her.
Two wolfmen sought to bring her down with cleavers so thick that merely lifting them would have required the effort of two normal men. The slashes struck only a residual image, a sign of Clementine's passing, while the tip of her stilettos had already sunk into the darkest recesses of the enemy's defenses, digging greedily into the innermost part of their hairy layers, breaking arteries and veins, disrupting the flow of those lives with their metal.
The screams of pain that followed sounded to the woman's ears like the opening of portals to other worlds, to unknown and distant lands, whose wonders were yet to be discovered. Repeating again and again her mastery of an art so highly prized, Clementine was seized by a mystical ecstasy, which the most devout would perhaps have described as pagan and blasphemous, imbued with the divine blood that the Theocracy had come to adore as the holiest of nectars.
The very existence of the Quintia was a miracle wrought in blood, a fragment of what once were Six and now were Many.
The last vestige of something that was once worshiped as holy. The object of those prayers was now none other than her.
'How far can I go?' After exchanging a couple of blows with another wolf-faced demi-human, her saber finally delivered another lunge, an offering perhaps, towards the throat, cutting through what united mind and spirit, disappointed to find that no priceless discovery had brought that experiment. Nothing important. The guinea pigs at her disposal were many, and Clementine was not the type to skimp on the discovery of arcana, of the source of all existence. 'Let my offer be accepted, may the revelation of a new religion be fulfilled today, and be welcomed by posterity as a new beginning!'
In the sky, the cries of battle grew louder, and the non-humans who began to descend wounded and dying from above led one to believe that at last the precarious balance had been broken, that a new triumph could be written in human history.
The demi-humans began to retreat, as the offensive of the Theocracy and the Draconic Kingdom became more and more persistent.
The temperature began to rise, as the flaming swords of the archangels blazed in the vale that began to burn, bringing immolation to the sins of humans and non-humans without making preferences. In a perverse way, that was the ultimate purification. Reduced to ashes, the differences would disappear forever.
Clementine had broken an encirclement of tabaxi who had foolishly tried to overwhelm her in her best field: speed. After flaying two felines with no small amount of care, the Black Scripture woman didn't even have to stop for breath, thanks to the blessing of such precious equipment and objects. Authentic treasures, even a laywoman like her had to admit.
Her rush continued for a few more minutes; Sins Eater devoured every potential victim that was offered to its sharpening, the satisfaction that trail of death granted never guaranteed full satiation, but greedily demanded again and again to be fed.
An imposing bouffalor, tall and firm as the greatest of mountains, stopped Clementine, surrounding her with a few earth elementals. Beings of low level, but who could prove to be considerable nuisances for a specialist like Windstride.
The demi-human attacked her with a large war hammer, vibrating it with mighty energy. The blow was so slow that it was telegraphed from miles away, but it was only when she dodged it that the ninth seat of the Black Scriptures was able to witness its destructive power, and the shockwave it unleashed upon the bare earth caused her balance and steadiness to be lost, even if for an instant alone, causing her to stagger for only a few seconds.
Sufficient, however, to give one of the elementals time to grasp her arm with a grip that, though not very painful, froze her for a few seconds. Enough time for the second to hit her full in the face with a fist made sharp by the composure of rocks and sediment. Clementine felt the bones in her nose creak on impact and the blood began to rush to her face.
For the first time since the beginning of the battle, she had been able to taste pain. Her spirit was strengthened, and after spitting out saliva that had accumulated in her mouth, she could see the second blow approaching, along with the bouffalor that was about to join in that attack.
"『Greater Evasion]』!" The still locked arm went limp, twisting in an unnatural way, and Clementine broke free at the very instant she was about to be swept away by that charge. "『Flow Acceleration』!" And then, it was as time stopped.
Clementine's world was still in motion, but her mind registered perceivable reality faster than her eyes could. Her legs made a leap, and Windstride landed right on the head of the first elemental that had held her still until moments before, resting with perfect grace on that steep platform. Just at the right moment, she was able to watch the other elemental's second fist and the demi-human's war hammer smash into their ally.
The latter was overwhelmed by a great destructive force, and exploded in an ocean of splinters and fragments, which dispersed to all sides by the driving force of the impact. Clementine, however, was already in the air and, pirouetting, had extracted two stilettos which she pierced into the eyes of the non-human, using them also as a foothold to stop her fall.
The bouffalor could only see darkness, as the magic engraved in the weapons began to awaken within his body. Fireballs melted him from within, consuming organs and limbs in a pyre of flames. Clementine was already far away when the charred body slumped to the ground with a silent, almost imperceptible thud.
"Now only you remain," she said, addressing the elemental, wiping away the last encrustations of blood and dirt that littered her lips with her thumb.
The summon was in the midst of approaching but, to Clementine's surprise, its run did not come to an end. A continuous series of magical arrows caught him in the back, destroying him instantly.
"Lady Windstride, are you all right? It was vice-captain Ian with some members of his troop who had intruded, rushing breathlessly towards her. The man had taken off his hood, and showed a face all but free of wounds or other signs of battle, furrowed with great fatigue.
"I did not need your help," Clementine replied, allowing herself a moment to catch her breath and observe the course of battle. "What is the current situation?"
Ian had to raise his voice one too many times to make himself heard in the midst of that infernal din. "The archangels are almost free, soon Captain Luin will be able to lead the last offensive. Most of the wolfmen and bouffalors are still standing, and are dangerously diminishing our ranks of adventurers and workers. But the tabaxi and tortle are no longer a problem, and some of the armats are beginning to retreat. If we can take the enemy leader's head, we should be able to rout most of their army."
"Leave it to me. Where is he?"
Ian looked at her, half puzzled, half heartened. After a deep breath, he pointed towards the southern part of the valley, where the enemy ranks were thinning. "We believe the one who is leading them is in the rear. Do you want us to provide support?"
Clementine pointed at the future prey. "Just let no one follow me. Cover my charge, and give me aid in case some bad match-up should prevent me from operating at my best."
The vice-captain replied with a military salute. "Will do. You tend to our lady's wounds." One of the subordinates put his hand towards Clementine, who found herself graced by the few wounds inflicted. The equipment of the Gods prevented her from feeling physical fatigue, and now that her strength was regenerated she felt fresh as a rose.
Wasting no time in thanks, Windstride ran once more. By now the battle was beginning to tilt in their favor, and although losses were not numerous on either side, Clementine was aware that it was by crushing enemy morale and breaking their will to fight that victory could be claimed.
'It has to be him.' It took her just a few seconds before she broke behind their formation. Clementine noticed a hooded figure, watching the progress of the clash, shielded from the nearby violence. Decked out in gaudy, silky robes, he gave the impression of being a courtier at court rather than a commander on the battlefield.
Yet, impressions could be misleading.
He was strangely alone, with only a fully armored guard escorting him. Probably was not a demi-human belonging to the most imposing races, for he did not surpass Clementine in height, nor in physical prowess.
"Are you the author of this beautiful spectacle? As a theater master, it does not seem to me that your skill is worthy of note. Ah, don't worry though; the curtains will be closing shortly."
The figure remained silent, adding nothing more, just bringing his hooded face towards her. The only thing Clementine could make out was a crimson eye peering at her with what appeared to be curiosity.
Windstride swallowed, feeling strangely pervaded by a feeling of uncertainty. The figure shook its head, and the armed guard protecting him stepped forward. From the horned helmet, with a single horn so reminiscent of a unicorn, Clementine could see only deep, dark gloom.
"Not even a word of welcome? Well, if you want to start -and finish- right away, I won't object."
Clementine brandished Sins Eater. The guard, on the other hand, drew two serrated blades, and assumed a guard stance. Nothing leaked from his actions. Fear? Agitation? Excitement? It was like facing a puppet.
Clementine snapped, aiming for the lower part of his right armpit. To her surprise, the blow was deflected by one of the swords. The impact did not move either contender. Sins Eater remained splendid and sharp, while part of the metal of the enemy weapon splintered slightly. An advantage that would bring no results at the moment, unfortunately.
Out of the corner of her eye, Clementine noticed the second blade was already ready to slice through her neck. The image of her severed head rolling on the ground appeared uncomfortably real for a fleeting instant.
"『Great Acceleration』." Dribbling her teeth, the woman felt herself pervaded by that familiar embrace. The joints of her body became as soft as slime, and Clementine's body was already on the ground by the time the blade finished its journey. The wind roared, complaining of a wound that had perhaps been imprinted in the air itself.
Danger had been averted for only one precious second. The first blade, now free, descended upon her. The tip came dangerously close to her heart, and the consideration that the armor of the Gods would not be sufficient to protect her became concrete.
It was an instant, a single instant, required to raise the saber. The screech pierced her eardrums, and incandescent sparks flew to the four winds. The demi-human lost his balance, and Clementine was already on her feet again.
Sins Eater moved once more. It crept into his side, cutting through the armor and touching what it protected.
Clementine smiled, anticipating the cut of flesh.
"What?"
It was not soft, what struck her blade. The saber bounced off something hard and firm, which was not sheared as easily as the woman had expected.
'Bones?'
The demi-human remained motionless, as if waiting for orders, while Sins Eater continued to dig into the cartilage. It was not the first time Clementine had had to use brute force in order to crack the skeleton, but this time she realized that the physical effort would not be enough.
Her pulse was steady, but being able to move forward was not judged to be easy.
It was at that point that a strange pressure enveloped her. Clementine turned her head, realizing that the enveloping sensation came from the hooded figure, who had now approached her. The mysterious enemy raised his hand, and Clementine's every sense gave her a single, desperate warning.
'Run!'
Before realizing it, she was already far away, as a spiral of fire enveloped the spot on which she stood until a few moments ago. Yellowish sparks formed a whirlwind that ignited the air, burning and consuming the oxygen. Breathing through all that smoke became labored.
The demi-human who was hit by that spiraling inferno made no sign of pain, nor did the heat that should have turned his mighty armor into a prison of endless torture bring even the slightest groan.
"What are you?"
Not even an answer, not that she expected one. A drop of sweat, caused by the rise in temperature, began to descend from Clementine's forehead. Windstride scrambled back into position, undecided on who to attack first.
The spellcaster stepped back again, letting the demi-human approach. First, however, he touched him on the back, imbuing him with a nefarious aura.
Clementine watched as her opponent was enveloped in something dark, which increased his murderous fury even more. There was not even the slightest trace of faltering, nor of excitement to be seen in the total emptiness that stood out from the visor of his helmet.
This time, it was he who began the assault. Clementine had no trouble following his movements, and deflecting the serrated blades that tried to mow her down. After each deflection, Sins Eater continued to remain new and shining, while the enemy weapons gradually lost their sharpness.
The force of the lunges and cuts, however, was monstrous, more so than it had been at the beginning of the fight, but it was not even comparable to the violence that some of the Black Scripture members could exert.
'Continuing at this rate, soon his swords will be useless.'
In a normal clash, she would have continued to circle around and methodically wear down her opponent before going on the counter-offensive.
But that was no normal clash. Not only did her foe not give even the slightest hint of fatigue or loss of composure, the spellcaster kept watching everything from afar, waiting for the right moment.
'Not only is their champion a bad match for me, but the strength of that other guy's spells is impressive. I do not intend to test my resistance against just one of his attacks.'
Reluctantly, she found himself thinking about what Aeneas would do if he were now in her position. What Quaiesse would have done. What Lady Fouche would have done.
But she was not Fouche, nor was she Quaiesse.
Perhaps, in the end, she was not even a Quintia.
It was a terrible situation, entirely to her disadvantage. Clementine smiled, for she had nothing else she could do. Each piece of the puzzle found its natural place after each blow, and a curse to cruel fate was the only profanity she invoked.
After slapping down a sword blow once more, she lunged with all her might to aim at the visor. The eyes were a fatal point, and experience had suggested to Clementine that not even the toughest of enemies would be unharmed by such a wound. This time she decided to use one of the stilettos.
"『Ability Boost』,『Greater Ability Boost』."
In her vision, the world became chaotic, every dot began to blur and every nerve to go mad with pain. The familiar red liquid oozed from her nose, and the strain forced her to grit her teeth in pain.
A hacking grazed her chest, ready to rip her insides out. The taste of metal teased her tongue, the bitterness of that day would accompany her for the rest of her life.
Fortunately, it would not last long.
"『Greater Evasion]』."
Every boundary had to be crossed, every doubt abandoned. There was only one monster on that battlefield, and that monster was her.
Clementine struck, and all she touched was emptiness.
"Ah... shit."
The Fireball exploded, and the trigger of that energy detonated inside the demi-human's armor. Once again, Clementine could not taste a note of despair or pain that would have eased her fatigue.
The enemy twisted in on itself, just to give her time to pull away. The unicorn-shaped helmet had been almost completely destroyed, but the remaining part was as if fused to the burnt flesh. However, the non-human champion didn't seem to give it much thought. In fact, after recomposing himself, he had simply adjusted that part of the remaining protection and was once again heading towards her, almost as if all the damage suffered had been of little consequence.
'I knew it. An undead.'
Part of the demi-human's left arm was completely roasted and lay on the ground in a mixture of rotting flesh and iron. For the most part it was the remains of bones, or what was left of them, that sank into the bowels of the earth.
The movements had become slower, and Clementine was now ready to finish him off once and for all. After dodging the first assault, she was on the verge of making the final counter-attack.
But it was at that point that the spellcaster attacked.
A first thunderbolt struck her in the back, and although the armor of the Gods had cushioned some of the impact, an electric shock still sent her staggering, and the sensation of discomfort she felt was only the preamble to what was to follow.
She had to dodge a second slash from the demi-human carcass.
A second thunderbolt would soon follow. And then a third for sure. A fourth? Could she have survived that?
"『Pace of the Win..."
No time to activate the martial art. Clementine found herself struck by a second thunderbolt to the right leg. Resisting became unbearable.
She could not give up now.
Sins Eater managed to snap the remaining blade of the champion in two halves. The upper part flew far away. At that moment, Clementine wished she could follow suit.
Another thunderbolt, this time to the left leg.
The world collapsed, and her with it.
What happened next was difficult to determine. It all happened in a flash. Clementine found herself on the ground, her stomach in pain from a kick that had struck her ribs full force. The thorns of the armor had embedded themselves in the metal of the enemy's shell, and, of course, what should have resulted in a cry of agony resulted in only a mute gesture of acquiescence.
Sputtering, she struggled to get up, seeing the demi-human towering over her. The vomit that was about to be regurgitated caused her uncomfortable queasiness.
The spellcaster had lowered his hood, and, approaching, was now peering at her from that superior position. The shining red-eye devoid of any emotions, except for a strange curiosity. The remains of skin sprinkled with a pungent perfume, which made that affront to humanity even more gross.
"Ehehe... Since when do beasts get help from the undead?"
The lich was looking at her emotionlessly. He raised his hand and touched one of the curls that fell on her face. The chill that followed sent a shiver down her spine.
"Every sin will soon be repaid." A disgusting and unnatural voice, outside any concept of emotion. Strangely, it didn't even seem to come from that decomposing skull. In another situation, Clementine would have wondered about that bizarre situation, and the future implications that strange alliance might bring.
But unfortunately now she was too busy dying. Doing two things at once had never been her speciality.
She had always been the kind of girl who focused on a single thing at a time.
What a pity.
The moon was beginning to rise in the sky, and it was easy to think that with its light it was making fun of her.
In hindsight, she could have killed Captain Nigun and Elysant that morning to give herself one last gift.
To kick the bucket with regrets was a prospect that she never dared to imagine.
"Lady Windstride!"
That obnoxious voice again. Was she perhaps dreaming? If yes, it was definitely a disappointing last dream.
"Lady Windstride!"
No. It was real!
She had never been happier to hear that squawking bloody goose than at that moment. In fact, never could Clementine have imagined that Captain Nigun's shout could have heartened her.
Life was indeed a tasteless farce.
The author of that play was undoubtedly lacking in taste and originality.
A flock of archangels surrounded the lich and its grotesque guard. The undead enchanter did not give them much thought though.
He merely raised a finger, and hit most of the summons with a blaze of fire that instantly disintegrated them.
It was enough.
Clementine had managed to take advantage of that distraction, draining every ounce of energy left, and quickly reached her allies.
"Are you alright, Lady Windstride?" Nigun and his men were definitely fatigued, and their numbers could hardly be described as reassuring.
"I will survive," she replied, catching her breath. The potion stockpile was consumed voraciously. "I've seen worse..." Never would Clementine have imagined to find herself grateful for training with that living fossil, but it was clear that this was a day full of surprises.
All that was missing was for it to rain to make that day perfect.
The lich watched them all with no particular interest. He seemed to be unfazed in anything around him, neither in the battle, nor in those who were supposed to be his friends and allies.
"The rest of the demi-humans?"
"Most of them are on the run. Ian is taking care of the few that remain..." The Sunlight Scripture captain motioned his Principality Observation to the front, for protection. They both knew he would not withstand an attack from that spellcaster. Clementine sensed Nigun's fear, his desire to flee.
Right when no enjoyment could be gained by such a spectacle. Fate was toying with her. And its sense of humor was greatly underappreciated.
"Was it that lich that brought the Dominion down?"
"No... I'm pretty sure it was a warrior in that case."
"...Splendid."
The lich continued not to move. Was he perhaps waiting for an order? But from whom?
'I don't have time to think about all that. I have to figure out how to save my skin...'
How much time would the Sunlight Scriptures allow? A few seconds, at most. Clementine looked behind her, cursing the theater of that confrontation. The plain that stretched for kilometers would afford no protection and no chance to sow any pursuers.
Would that be the place where she would rest forever? There was still much she wanted to do...
"This is no ordinary lich," Clementine said, continuing to watch his every move. The undead had turned his gaze to the sky, and gave no sign of life. "It must be some evolution... An older, more dangerous race. What were they called? Ah, yes. A Night Lich, perhaps." That at least would have explained how he had managed to damage her despite the special equipment she wore.
If it hadn't been the last moments, she would have complimented herself on her wit.
"Our men are tired... Even if we were at full strength, I don't think we'd stand a chance..." Captain Nigun tried to appear controlled, but by now his mask of confidence had given way, and his true nature as a coward was beginning to become more apparent. A pity he had granted such sincerity to someone else, and not to her, Clementine sadly considered.
'I'd almost be on the verge of feeling jealous...'
"Take time. I'll try to get to safety. Once the capital is alerted, we can count on the help of the rest of the Black Scriptures." There was a bet on even one second. In that situation, Clementine had no other ideas.
The Night Lich muttered something. "Yes..." He gave the impression that he was talking to himself. He raised his hands to the sky, enchanted rings the only decoration on skeletal fingers. "The woman is not among those we seek. She is too weak. The blood is not strong." The guard at his side began to collapse.
"What is he saying?" Nigun asked. The Sunlight Scriptures were in position, but they dared not move. The tension could have been cut with a knife.
"...I have no idea."
The lich gave them no further consideration. The surviving demi-humans, meanwhile, had gathered behind him. It was assumed that they were aware that an undead was leading them.
The guard with whom Clementine had fought until recently was now completely down. The undead sorcerer tried to touch him, perhaps to restore his energy, but this time nothing happened.
"So that's the limit for now?" There was disappointment in his tone. The putrid skull analyzed what remained. To be honest, not much. "As a first experiment it was... satisfactory. But there is room for improvement. Yes, next time. Next time for sure…"
Ian and the rest of their army had gathered. Hard to say how many had fallen and how many were simply out of the game. Numerical superiority no longer mattered. With a Night Lich as an opponent, the semblance of balance had simply been a mirage.
"Human," the lich turned to Clementine, starting to approach. He had not even the slightest trace of fear, knowing that no one would be able to scratch him. "Are you perhaps from the Theocracy?"
"So what if I am?"
"Where are those descended from your gods? Those who have awakened the blood."
"You have one right here in front of you." Household Quintia could boast direct descent with the Six Great Gods. Of course, neither she nor her brother, nor their parents or previous generations, had acquired the extraordinary powers of Aeneas or the living fossil, but that did not make them any less special. "If you intend to prostrate yourself at my feet and hope that I spare you, it won't work. But it costs nothing to try, right? My boots need polishing, and I'm pretty sure someone like you doesn't lack elbow grease."
Clementine doubted that bluff would do any good, but ideas were in short supply. A miracle was the only thing that could save them now, and there weren't many prayers left for them to invoke. She wiped a few drops of blood from her lips; for the most part, the ground at her feet had already been bathed in red.
"Lies do not suit you, woman." The undead could not sigh, but it seemed to Clementine that had been the spellcaster's reaction. "What to do? If I only knew..." Once again, the lich had turned its gaze to the sky, waiting for answers.
'Is he senile? In fact, he doesn't seem very lucid. Gods, if you exist, this would be the perfect time to give a nod,' the sky continued to remain clear and silent, deaf to her requests. 'Perhaps it is the punishment for my sins that finally comes to claim justice.'
Was that the judgment everyone would be led to in the end?
The knowledge that every action would be repaid?
The sign that everything done in her life had been wrong? An invitation to change, just when it would be superfluous?
'Nah. It's just my fucking bad luck. If nothing else, I should have had more fun. Capturing the fleeting moment and all that crap.'
At least, she would die doing what she did best. Killing. She would have taken as many beasts as possible to the slaughterhouse before she collapsed. Sins Eater seemed to reciprocate that sincere sentiment.
Clementine unsheathed her saber, intent on plotting the course that would reap as many victims as possible among the ranks of the demi-humans. The archangels and the Sunlight Scriptures would hold the lich back long enough to fulfill the will of the Gods. She couldn't let them have all the fun.
Taking the fruit of others' labors and claiming it as one's own was reserved only for the worst scum.
As a final massacre, it was to be made a masterpiece. There would be nothing worse than leaving that world with unsatisfactory work.
Captain Nigun muttered something. "We can manage to win if we are fast..." perhaps more to convince himself, rather than as a plan of attack. The formations of their teams, the teamwork, the magic items, the spells they were preparing... Everything was useless in front of that monster.
Clementine was worth thousands of soldiers.
But the monster in front of them would have driven even the most tenacious mathematician mad trying to solve that ratio. "Those who have been chosen will not be abandoned in the end..."
'If that's how you think, you should have brushed up on the history of the Theocracy.' But this, Clementine did not say.
Instead, she prepared herself for one last bath. The only consolation, perhaps the water would be warm.
The now familiar sound of screeching metal flooded the valley again. The last sound of the day, and then silence.
Just when the remaining demi-humans were on the verge of attacking, behold, every prayer was answered.
A shriek of trumpets was heard, and a clamor of hooves engulfed the plains. On the horizon, a swarm of horsemen drew nearer and nearer.
Leading them was a man who sported the Draconic Kingdom crest on his chest. Beside him rode a paladin glittering like the sun itself.
When he saw them, Captain Nigun was coloured with hope. "Stronoff..."
"I have come to repay the debt from last time," the man said, once he had reached them. As reinforcements, they didn't look bad, Clementine thought.
Would it have been enough?
'Surely not'.
The last fight commenced. And it was unexpectedly anticlimactic.
The non-humans were routed in no time. That Stronoff was fighting with a demon, leading his people towards the most fragile parts of the enemy ranks, bringing them on a collision course. Like him, the paladin and his team soon followed, wiping out any last resistance. For a moment, the possibility of victory became real again in their minds.
Archangels and men fought as one, and buds of blood began to fall awakened by that spring of war on the plains of the Draconic Kingdom.
Clementine was the only one who remained skeptical. That unexpected help would certainly have benefited them if they had fought against a normal army of beastmen. But the one leading them at that moment was not at all perturbed by that turn of events.
The night lich had risen into the air, and was flying far away from the battlefield. His soldiers being mangled did not bother him much, but rather his attention was caught by the newcomer, which he observed with renewed interest. A little too much, to be frank.
'Maybe in another life he swung that way. In any case, that makes things easier.'
By now Clementine had made her decision. She was on the verge of turning around and running towards the safer town with all her might.
Something stopped her.
"This time the victory is yours, humans," the voice of the undead was pure terror. Everyone froze to listen to it, forced by something too frightening to counter it. "Keep fighting as you have now, and we will meet again. I hope that next time those we seek will be with you..." The palms of his hands came together, and a flaming ball began to manifest.
It was small, but that was not necessarily a good sign.
"Run!" Shouted Captain Nigun, commanding his angel to shield them, but it was too late. On that occasion, he was not fast enough.
The explosion affected humans and non-humans alike. Clementine was thrown off by the denotation of that power. A cloud of ash and dust made it difficult for her to understand what was happening when she opened her eyes again. All she heard was screams and disconnected orders, and a great roar echoing in her ears.
She stumbled over something hard. A corpse. Clementine tumbled for a few seconds before she managed to get up.
"Need help?"
A friendly voice held out a hand to her. The surroundings became visible again, and she could clearly discern to whom it belonged.
The same man who had led the reinforcements, that Stronoff who had fought like a fierce lion in such a short time.
"Good to see that gentlemen still exist..." Clementine's mouth was slurred, full of saliva and soil. Speaking was, if not difficult, certainly uncomfortable.
"Just doing my duty."
The man's left arm was covered in burns and if he was in pain, he didn't show it. The kind who knew how not to display signs of weakness. Of all of them, the one Clementine hated the most.
"It is appreciated..." Windstride had to sit on a nearby boulder to catch her breath. She noticed something shimmering, emitting a strange purplish light from one of the pouches at the warrior's hips. She was on the verge of demanding satisfaction for her curiosity, but tiredness made her desist from idle chatter. "Urgh… They really kicked our ass."
"It was a defeat, but at least we managed to drive them off. Next time we'll be able to come up with a plan so we can beat that lich..." At the very least, his morale was not easy to break. A guy who was easy to pin down as a classic textbook example of the suicidal kind.
Clementine had to hold back a laugh. "Sure, if you want to try, feel free to do so. Don't count on me, though. Chances are my debt to Lady Luck has reached astronomical figures by now," the joy at having escaped was only comparable to the frustration she felt at having lost. "I'm done with this shithole of a place. Vultures can feast on this dunghill as far as I am concerned."
"A fair maiden should not talk like that," said Stronoff, puzzled. "But if you intend to retire, I don't think anyone will be able to blame you. If you'll excuse me... " He walked away, leaving her there to rest.
While Clementine recovered her breath, he lent a hand to help the survivors. Many of them needed dressings or healing spells just to stand up. Supplies of potions and mana would run out before they could help everyone.
On another occasion, Clementine would have found all that delightfully amusing, but her bad mood prevented her from enjoying even the smallest pleasures.
'I am denied even the little joys of life.'
"Lady Windstride, are you all right?" Elysant had part of her face covered in splinters, and one arm fluttering dangerously, yet she was more concerned about Clementine's health than her own. If Clementine had snapped the woman's neck on the spot, in the middle of all that mess probably no one would have noticed. But she was too tired even to allow herself that distraction. "Sir Stronoff gave you a hand?"
"We can say so."
"Captain Luin is unconscious, but out of danger. The vice-commander is rounding up all survivors. The beastmen have either been eliminated or escaped," her expression grew gloomy. "There have been indigent losses on our side as well. It will take some time before we fully recover."
"Get used to it," Clementine replied dryly. "That's how it works. Be thankful you're not among those who didn't make it, and promise yourself to replicate today's success tomorrow." So much wisdom. And so much nonsense. Since when had she become Quaiesse? She was on the verge of checking between her legs, before remembering that it would not help her.
"...I will." Elysant didn't sound very convinced, but it didn't matter to Windstride. Nothing did. "Of all my missions with the Sunlight Scriptures, this was undoubtedly the most disastrous. We lost so many of us, and I'm sure we barely made a dent in the enemy forces."
"I imagine Queen Oriculus and the Cardinals will have a lot to process." Clementine rubbed her eyes; all she could think about was the epic sleep that awaited her. A week, at least. Only after that would she perhaps deign to get up.
"Yeah… I guess so…"
They remained without saying anything else to each other for a few minutes.
"Crystal Tear is gathering the adventurers and workers. If the Scriptures are ready, we can begin the retreat." Stronoff had approached again. Someone must have warned him that, technically, Clementine was in charge now. Captain Nigun had beaten her to the holiday she was planning to take.
The woman stood up. "Let's leave as soon as possible."
The man lowered his head in a sign of respect. "As you wish. We have a few scouts and warriors who were not affected by the explosion. They will act as a rear for our escape. I don't think they will attack us again, but caution is never too much."
"Yes, good idea. I'm pretty groggy right now... Can I put you in charge of operations? Sir... I don't think I know your name."
"It's Gazef, my lady."
"Gazef Stronoff," Clementine repeated the name, trying to impress it on her memory. "I will see that I do not forget it. You might be useful to me one day. Or maybe not. Ahhhh… who cares. And now let's get moving, we've lingered too long."
It was the first time she would go back as a loser. Strangely, she felt freer than usual.