Chapter 145 - Fury (Patreon)

Constance slammed her hand down on her desk, activating her skill, [Touch of the Sun Goddess] without thought. In an instant, the wood began to smolder, and before she could retract her mana, it erupted into a brief conflagration. She let it burn itself out, and only a few seconds later, it had been reduced to a pile of ashes. It matched her mood. Behind her, the painting of her patron goddess stared down at her subordinates, radiating fury and disappointment.

Looking up, she schooled her expression to placidity, evening her tone as she said, “Before we go any further with this report, I would like to make certain that I understand the chain of events. First, Abdul insinuated himself into the expedition. It would be a regrettable loss, but one we could bear. I agreed to allow him to lead the group into the Farindale Forest.”

That was only a half truth. Abdul had been one of her oldest friends, a man who’d stood by her side for more than a century. He was practically a living legend, but Constance knew the truth. As was the case with anyone who had reached the pinnacle, Abdul wielded significant might. However, his reputation, which had been carefully cultivated by Constance and her Temple of the Sun, far exceeded his actual power. Over the years, that reputation had been a useful tool, and it had given him significant political power. Even if he couldn’t quite back it up – not to the degree most of the population expected – he was a valuable figurehead for the Temple. So, when he’d insisted upon chaperoning her daughter’s expedition, Constance was incapable of refusing him. Doing so would have come with significant political fallout – a complication for which Constance had little patience. She had agreed to let him go, even thanking the hulking brute for looking out for her daughter.

When the group departed, she had sent a message to Micayne, letting him know about the change, and the man – so different from the person she’d met so long ago – had taken it better than she ever could have expected. He’d even referred to it as a minor complication, saying that he had plans for their former party member. Most importantly, he said it wouldn’t affect their deal, and it would not distract him from his work.

Constance turned to look at the painting of Shar Maelaine, basking in her goddess’s warmth. Of course, she knew the truth – Shar Maelaine was no more an actual goddess than Constance herself. Indeed, she was merely one who’d progressed so far that, to those stuck in the lowest plane, there was no practical difference between the distinctions. To Constance, though, the so-called sun goddess was the means of her ascension. As soon as she resurrected her husband, she would go through the portal and continue along her path.

“My lady?” said the member of the Radiant Guard who’d brought the news that had so upset Constance. The prompt came with the realization that she hadn’t spoken in almost an entire minute – a mistake she normally wouldn’t have made. Nor did she make a habit of burning her desk to cinders. It was a testament to her mood that the mask of her public persona had fallen to the wayside, forgotten, if only for a few stray moments.

“My apologies,” she said, turning the face the man. He was tall, with broad shoulders, a square jaw, and strong features. In his armor, he was the very picture of a handsome knight. It was a pity, then, that Constance was a married woman. She paced as she continued, “The first leg of the expedition went as planned, with the group encountering only low-level zombies, accruing only a few losses.”

“Two probationary members of the Radiant Guard,” said the man. He was a captain, she suddenly remembered. A suitable rank, if she chose to act on the desires she’d sequestered in the back of her mind. “Named –”

“Irrelevant,” she stated. “I’m sure you’ve taken care of their families, correct?” The captain nodded, and she went on, “Every expedition, especially dealing with the undead, has casualties. Two is an acceptable number. The entire party is not. What happened?”

“We…we don’t know, exactly,” the captain stated. “They fought off a few higher-tier monsters, but then the Oracle’s vision went dark. She says that her sight was clouded by a more powerful foe.”

“Abraham,” she said.

“That was our guess as well,” the armored man stated.

Constance didn’t need the Oracle’s sight to understand what had happened. The expedition had run afoul of one of Micayne’s experiments, which was precisely the plan. Even with Abdul along as a chaperone, the group had always been doomed. Talia was always going to be captured. As far as Constance could tell, that was exactly what had happened. The only question was what had derailed the plan so thoroughly that Micayne and his undead horde had gone on the march.

Failure had always been likely. It had happened often enough that it was almost expected. But before, it had always come with an explanation. Now, though? It had only come with a declaration of war.

Constance sighed. “Do you know what it is like to lose a spouse, captain?” she asked.

“No, your radiance,” the man answered. “I am unmarried.”

“I sometimes wonder if my life would have been easier if I’d said no to Jeremiah’s proposal,” she stated. “I think he would have left. We wouldn’t have accomplished all the things we accomplished. Beacon would still be a disorganized mess of a refugee camp, and my children…”

She massaged her forehead, thankful that every member of the Radiant Guard had been sworn to secrecy. She had few peers and no real friends – not anymore – so she had no one to confide in. The Radiant Guard, who couldn’t reveal her secrets even if they wanted to, had, over the years, become her sounding board.

“Twelve of them,” she said. “I can’t remember the first few faces. We had lost touch well before I sent them to Micayne. I was never a loving mother.” She gave a harsh chuckle. “No – I was barely a mother at all. Even with Talia, I was more Lady Constance than mom.”

She looked up, saying, “But my children back on Earth? I remember them so vividly. Christian, who ended up in jail. Sarah, who didn’t speak to me because I couldn’t accept some of her life choices. Michael. My little Michael. Parents are not supposed to have favorites, but I always had a soft spot for him.”

“Lady Constance, I –”

“I have to think for a moment to remember some of my other children’s names,” she said. “The ones born here, in this joke of a reality. They never felt real to me. Not like my life on Earth. So, it was easy to sacrifice them. Talia was the most difficult. She reminded me of Sarah. So defiant. Never wanting to do as she was told. They even looked a little alike.

“But I did what was necessary,” Constance stated. “I molded her into Jeremiah’s image, and I sent her to Micayne. And for what? Abraham has the audacity to come after me, now? After what I’ve sacrificed? What happened?”

“It is…unclear,” the captain stated. “The Oracle –”

“Has limited sight,” Constance said. “I know better than anyone else.”

Of course, Constance had more information than the captain. Despite the fact that the entire region had been veiled, she’d gleaned some details. Somehow, the pair of adventurers she’d sent north had played a part. Of course, that didn’t make much sense. They weren’t strong enough to infiltrate Micayne’s estate and derail their carefully laid plans. Like so many others before them, she’d sent them in that direction because they were unaffiliated and evolved, but not high enough of a level to make a difference. Micayne needed subjects like that to train his horde and as subjects for his experiments. It was all part of the deal she’d made with him ten years before.

“The deal with Abraham always made sense to me,” Constance said. “One child and a few random adventurers to be reunited with Jeremiah? I would make that deal a thousand times. Then, after the first experiment failed, it was so easy to send the second. And the third. By the time I got to the fourth, I had gone too far. I couldn’t let the others’ sacrifice be in vain. Stopping then would be a slap in their faces. So, I kept going. One after another, until only Talia was left. She was raised to be a sacrifice. I tried to keep her at a distance.”

“It was necessary, your radiance,” the captain said. “Lord Jeremiah’s return would mean so much to Beacon. Weighed against the good he could do, a few sacrifices are nothing.”

Constance nodded. Jeremiah had been an unparalleled healer, and before his death, he had saved countless lives. His return would mean a better life for all of Beacon’s citizens. More than that, though, it would mean that, together, he and Constance could eventually ascend. She didn’t need him, not really. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave when his resurrection was still a possibility.

“Jeremiah and I were together for almost two centuries,” she said. “Married for most of that.” Indeed, she’d been so lost without him; it was like losing her other half. It was the only part of her new life that felt as real as her existence back on Earth. And he had been taken from her.

“A love story for the ages,” the captain agreed.

Constance gave him one last look. Any other time, she might have taken advantage of the handsome man. But on the heels of talking about her husband? Whatever desire she’d felt faded in the face of her grief and regret.

“Go. Ready the Radiant Guard,” she said. “And send messages to the guilds. Beacon is called to war.”

“Yes, your radiance,” the captain said. He bowed, then turned on his heel and marched off. As soon as he was gone, the door slamming behind him, Constance sank into her chair and wept.

***

Captain Skyler marched through the halls of the Temple of the Sun, his nerves still frayed from his meeting with the most powerful woman in the Radiant Isles. Certainly, he was aware that there were other islands scattered throughout the world’s endless seas, and those were likely to house rulers just as strong as Beacon’s leader, but that seemed irrelevant to the captain. He had seen her incinerate a desk in the space of seconds, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine that a person wouldn’t last much longer than furniture. A shiver ran up his spine. It was just as easy to imagine himself as that person.

His march took him past various checkpoints as he followed the Temple’s twisting and turning halls. They were structured like a military organization, with rank and a chain of command, and he used that to speed his passage, stopping only long enough for his identity to be confirmed. Eventually, his steps led him to his destination – Master Silas’s office. He knocked.

“Enter,” came a reply. Skyler did, and he was confronted with a small, thin man in voluminous robes. With his long, wispy beard, Master Silas looked like a wise, old master one would find at the top of a mountain. “Sit.”

Skyler obeyed, and when Master Silas told him to report, he did just that, telling the older man everything that had transpired during his meeting with Lady Constance. When he’d finished, he asked, “Do you know what happened?”

“Of course,” Silas said.

“Can you tell me? Because I’m so confused,” Skyler said. Indeed, the entire chain of events made a bare amount of sense. Lady Constance had made a deal with her former companion, Abraham Micayne, the terms of which would mean that she offered support for his experiments in the form of providing subjects, her looking the other way while he built an undead horde, and, most of all, sending her children up to the man’s chosen estate so that he could advance the technique that he hoped would result in the resurrection of his own wife, in addition to Lord Jeremiah. But aside from Abdul Rumas’s inclusion in the party that had accompanied Talia to the north, everything seemed to have been going according to that plan. No one knew what had gone wrong. Nor did they know why Micayne’s horde had begun to move.

“My plan bore fruit,” Silas stated. “The two adventurers we sent to the north were far more powerful than they appeared. As I had hoped, they freed Talia and ruined Micayne’s experiments.”

“B-but…but that means you wanted a war?” Skyler asked.

“I saw a problem, and I chose to do something about it,” Master Silas said, toying with his beard. “The undead horde was always going to attack. The only question was whether or not we had Constance with us when it did. This way, Constance has every reason to defend Beacon.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s because you don’t have all the information,” the older man said. “Few do. That is a problem, in and of itself, though.”

“What now?” asked Skyler.

“We go to war,” Silas answered. “With any luck, Constance and Micayne will take care of one another. Then…well, we’ll just have to see.”

For the second time that day, Skyler had a cold shiver run up his spine. Silas didn’t have access to the same raw power that ran through Lady Constance’s veins, but he was still one of the strongest men in the Radiant Isles. And he was far more calculating. Somehow, Skyler found himself between the two of them, and he could only hope to escape their inevitable clash with his life.

“How is that girlfriend of yours?” Silas asked. “And her…daughter, isn’t it?”

Skyler didn’t miss the man’s threat. Silas often presented himself as a harmless, old man, but he was as ruthless as anyone Skyler had ever known. He wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever it took to advance his plans.

“G-good,” Skyler said. “Brittany is only a few months from being able to choose her first skill. We’re…uh…we’re trying to push her into a trade. Like gemcutting.”

“A noble profession,” Silas said, standing. He wasn’t a big man, but he loomed over Skyler nonetheless. “Take care of her, Captain Skyler. There are dark times ahead. Now, if there’s nothing else?”

Skyler shot to his feet, saying, “No, sir.” He bowed. “I’ll report if I hear anything else of note.”

“Good. Very good,” Silas said. “And if you need my help with finding…Brittany a proper apprenticeship, let me know. I can help.”

“I…I will, sir,” Skyler said, bowing again. As he backed away, he wondered if he could just gather his girlfriend and her daughter and leave Beacon. Salvation always had a need for strong warriors, after all.

Not that he’d get more than a few miles away. Lady Constance wouldn’t take too kindly to his departure. And even if she somehow missed it, Silas wouldn’t. Swallowing hard, he realized that he didn’t have much choice but to stay and do his job.