Alchimia Rex (142) (Patreon)

[142] [Loose ends](Various)

Knight Captain Cecilia beat her wings as hard as she could, the Mikila flying away from the battlefield as fast as possible. The battlefield smoldered beneath her, screams and chaos, knights and Vampires slaughtered in equal measure. She could only cringe and fly harder.

All was lost.

The Viscount had been captured alongside the other nobles, their forces captured, dead, or soon to be dead. There was nothing she could do to save them, nothing but head back to the camp. She would find the few nobles left behind, and take them to Aubria, from there, Cecilia could only hope that a message could be dispatched to the King.

Sinco was lost, in the hands of maidens.

Be they Vampires or wildlings mattered not, if the city was a foothold the enemy could not be allowed to keep.

Pushing further and further away from the battlefield, she flew over the improvised camp where the nobles were being held hostage. The knight captain steeled her heart, promising herself that she would be back for her Lord. Either through force or trade, they would get him back, a Viscount was too valuable for the King to merely discard!

None of the enemies pursued, too focused on one another for them to bother with Cecilia. She thanked her stars and pushed harder, ignoring the wounds and exhaustion from what had been the longest day of fighting in her life.

Soon enough the battlefield and her foes were left behind the horizon, and the camp was straight ahead. Cecilia broke her alternate form, returning to her more adequately sized one with a sigh of relief, gliding down to the camp in a hurry.

“Alarm!” She called out, touching down at the center of the mass of tents and improvised fortifications. “Alarm! We must flee! Bring forth the…” Her voice trailed off as she looked around, not seeing any movement…

Not seeing anyone.

With barely a thought of alarm, she lunged to the air.

Yet something heavy and powerful smashed against her back with the force of a falling tree. Her wing bent abnormally, and she tumbled. Crying out, she raised her defenses immediately, turning to face the threat.

It was a massive Orc wielding an equally massive metal club… a familiar Orc, one that had assaulted Aubria’s walls once and survived. “The Spear.” Cecilia hissed under her breath, jaw clenching tightly. “I should’ve known your absence in the battlefield could only mean the Alchemist was doing some new cowardly trick.”

“I believe fair sharing of merit is due.” A voice spoke up softly. “Rick has proven far more resourceful than I expected him to be. But this time it is my accomplishment.”

Before she could attempt to take to the sky again, the soil underneath her exploded upwards. Dozens of roots shot up, Cecilia spun, trying to break them all, yet more emerged, each one snagging on her wings, on her armor, on her limbs. Within seconds she’d been pulled to her knees, pinned to the ground as the roots rushed to tear her armor off, stripping her of her gear just as quickly.

“Show yourself!” Cecilia roared, even as she was bound so tightly she could scarcely breathe.

“I don’t think I will.” The voice answered from behind one of the tents. “Urtha, if you could?”

The Orc stared down at the bound knight captain, looking sternly as she tightened her hold on the club. “Any last words?”

“You will all burn.” The knight captain hissed. “God save the King!”

THUD

---

With a single downward swing, Urtha finished off the Mikila. She stared at the body for several long moments before letting out a sigh. “It does not sit well with me to kill them like this.”

“There is a place for honor, and a place for ruthlessness.” Camila spoke, stepping out from behind the tent alongside the ghosts of the deep forest.

“If the goal was a boring execution, you could’ve had one of yours finish her off.” Urtha muttered with furrowed brows.

“She wore heavily enchanted armor, it could’ve included methods to inform people far away of who killed her, or perhaps even the last thing she saw.” The former Empress replied. “My aid here can only remain useful as long as there is no proof that it occurred. This tiny little province that calls itself a kingdom already has every excuse to call me a threat. I’d rather not give them solid proof to back that claim.”

Trust in politics to be able to ruin a good fight. Urtha just growled in annoyance. “What now? More waiting?”

“Winning the battle is merely half the fight.” Camila shrugged. “Controlling the flow of information is crucial in any political and strategic endeavor. If the enemy is kept from the truth and only fed rumors and half-lies, then they will never be able to adapt.”

As she opened her mouth to say something else, she stilled, abruptly stepping back and away, into one of the tents, gaze rising to the sky. As one, the Golden Elves had done the same, vanishing from sight so quietly it’d almost been as if their presence had been nothing but an illusion.

“Do not look my way, pretend you are alone.” Camila whispered from within the tent.

“What’s going on?”

“An observer is approaching… I suspect them to be the same one that wounded the Frostcaller.”

Urtha frowned, remembering the streak of fire that’d brought the blizzard to an premature end. Her eyes remained on the ground, however. “Think she’ll attack?” Her knuckles were itching at the prospect.

The assault on the camp had been far too clean, too… quick. The ghosts alongside the Elf Queen had weaved some sort of spell that had made most fall unconscious before they even revealed themselves. The few that remained had been weaklings, squires left to guard the camp or the odd worker. The fighting had been too easy, too simple, barely even a challenge. 

As soon as she’d finished, the Elf Queen and her fighters made it so not a trace of the encounter remained. They’d seeded the place in preparation of potentially ambushing a full force coming back from a day of fighting, yet now they knew there would be no such force. Only whoever escaped and slipped through the gaps.

Urtha would’ve been better able to stomach it all if not because she’d felt Rick’s kidnapping and been unable to help.

“It appears they left.” The Elf Queen commented after a few minutes of silence, though not stepping out of the tent. “Likely to inform their master of the Viscount’s defeat.”

Nodding slightly, Urtha kept staring down at the ground. “What now?”

“Once today is over, I will be offering my condolences and assistance to Sinco. If they’re foolish, they will allow me to run the city in their stead. If they’re smart, they will request I aid in bolstering their forces.” Camila spoke softly. “As to you, in particular… my doors are open for you, Spear of the Father.”

Urtha clenched her hand. She’d been told that Dia had ascended, and of Monica’s pyrrhic victory against a foe far stronger than anything either of them had ever faced. Deep within her gut was an uneasy sense of being left behind, of having stagnated in her growth for far too long.

Only now had she begun to feel that notion was starting to fade. It’d been the reason for her delay, Camila had been showing her of the ancient ways of the Orcs, methods of combat and using her powers that just felt right. As if she’d spent her whole life waiting for these clues, only now having these secrets revealed.

“After everything is straightened out, I will go to the Grove to continue training. I… need to be stronger. I can’t help Rick like I am now.”

Camila laughed lightly. “Certainly.”

---

Raphaella opened her eyes to the familiarity of her cave, the ceiling that had been scratched and scribbled with a thousand thousand formulas and truths. She sat up, nose wrinkling at a lingering horrible stench, a shot of concern added in when she noticed the doors were all closed.

“The cat used the forbidden weapon.” One of her sisters informed her.

But it was not Raphaella’s concern, she looked around once more. “Where is it?”

“Dismantled,” another said, a voice chorused by more of her sisters. “New iteration must begin.”

Raphaella nodded, pushing aside the lingering aches. “We must review, then.” She felt her psychic sisters reaching out to her, hands pressing against her head. Their thoughts became her thoughts, her knowledge, their knowledge. 

As one, the horde looked upon the experiences of Raphaella’s fight.

Every moment, every action, reviewed, looked upon, contrasted. What would’ve made for a better fight? What would’ve made for a better plane? They debated, argued, contrasted, and distilled their findings down to actionable upgrades. One by one, the notes and ideas were written down, ready to be brought up to the non-horde helpers. To Barry and Embla.

Lord Rick had made it imperative that non-horde helpers give feedback and opinions, thus they would look, they would ask, and they would take the parts of the old plane and make it anew.

Better.

It was time to work on Prototype Three.

---

“Hello, Mark, Barry, please take a seat.”

Kiara’s voice was smooth, soft as silk, her appearance perfectly proper and careful, human in all but the two tiny horns peeking out of her temples. She’d made sure the horns were visible, not to hide what she was, but as a reminder to the two otherworlders.

“Brye, tea?”

“Yes, my Lady.” The fox whimpered, cringing as she hurried off into the house as the two siblings glanced at one another.

Though their auras were as faint as Rick’s, Kiara had grown accustomed to reading the subtle nuance of such flavors. Nervousness, apprehension, and no small amount of awkwardness. Good.

“Get to the point.” Mark stated flatly, his face flustered as his eyes kept bouncing towards the door the fox had taken. “Why did you call us over?” ‘at the same time’ was the part of the question that went unspoken yet lingered all the same.

“Simple, really.” Folding her hands on her lap, Kiara kept her smile threateningly disarming. “We won the fight. News of that has already started spreading, no doubt. But we’ve yet to start processing the many prisoners we’ve gained. Slaves, if you will. Most willing, the rest don’t matter much.”

Barry squirmed. “Why?”

“Because they’ll be executed.” The softness of her voice made the words all the harsher. It was an old trick she’d learned long ago. Watching the two boys squirm was well worth it. “Rick’s instructions were to take in any that chose to give up Aubria, and to let go of the rest. However, any who could not truthfully claim they would not attack Sinco was to be… well. Dealt with.”

Mark was the first to speak. “What does that have to do with us?”

“We don’t have enough humans to bond everyone who wishes to join. Rick’s presence was a stop-gap measure, keeping several hundred maidens bonded to him.” Kiara turned to the door as Brye stepped out, bringing their beverages. “Similarly, those with the weaker bonds to him are bound to slip through sooner rather than later. A month at the most, and we’ll start seeing some of the maidens from the militia start going feral.”

“You… want us to bond them?” Barry asked. His tone was almost an offer, the young man looked almost eager to jump at the opportunity to help.

“You’re going to force us to do it.” Mark growled.

Kiara’s smile grew a little.

“I will not force, or coerce, either of you. I am merely making a proposal.” Carefully folding her arms, she leaned back into her chair. “You could bond those in need, and merely retain positions of… replaceable leash-holders. Or you could actually get a job to play.”

She allowed the silence to linger, watching the two siblings as they waited for her. Mark, of course, was the first to break the silence. “I’m not going to play games.”

“Sure.” Kiara dismissed, turning to Barry instead, meeting his gaze, and waiting.

The young man with hopes of heroism crumbled. “What… sort of job?”

“You two are in a unique position, capable of bonding many maidens, and more importantly, holding a great deal of knowledge…” She nodded at Barry. “And experience.” She added, nodding at Mark. “Both of which are very desirable to the city right now.”

It was amusing watching the two young men exchanging glances. “You… want us to teach maidens?” Barry tentatively asked.

“Indeed.”

“What?” Mark frowned. “We don’t know much.”

“On the contrary, you know plenty.” Kiara cocked her head. “You’ve spent the better part of your lives studying and learning. You’re chock-full of ‘common sense’ things and details that are not quite so common.” She focused on Barry. “Matters of books, philosophy, reading, writing, arithmetics, history.” Then on Mark. “And matters of the streets, pick-pocketing, telling lies, caution.” Placing her hands on her knees, she smiled just a little wider. “Granted, the positions we are offering are more managerial in nature, but the teaching element is one I find to be most crucial.”

She wasn’t lying either. Rick had made it one of his prescient issues to tackle: educating the city at large. He’d spent many hours talking of how he needed smarter and better educated citizens to be able to better scale-up his projects. It didn’t matter how smart you were if the people following your instructions couldn’t distinguish between an acid and a base… he’d said. Kiara hadn’t quite understood why it was so crucial, but then again, she wasn’t the one making “not Alchemy” explosives out of thin air.

And what better way to tie the two youths into more active participation and integration?

“I would at least ask you to consider these positions in a temporary measure until we get Rick back.” Kiara offered. “If you grow dissatisfied with it, you are more than free to leave.” She made her smile extra dazzling as she looked at Mark directly.

The young man glared, but kept his mouth shut.

“You will have a few days to consider while we continue processing the survivors.”

Barry grimaced, guilt flared out of him. “We’ll consider it.”

Next to him, Mark scowled, but not refusing. He wouldn’t, not in front of his brother. No, he would come privately to propose an alternative, something less public, away from prying eyes, where he might not become as easy a target. Though the young man chafed at authority, it had become impossible for him to deny that joining Rick’s team was his best option.

She grinned. “That’s all I ask.”

---

Dia sat down.

A day’s worth of “victory”, of gathering survivors, tending to the injured, of saving lives. Her Politas, her budding healers, had all collapsed hours ago, taking rotating shifts just to keep up.

So many lives saved, and for what? Dia looked into their eyes and could only see terror. Terror at the healer with bony wings and clad in black armor. Who among them would willingly join the city? Who would honestly claim they’d never bear ill will to Sinco or the Alchemist? Already she could only imagine how many of those rescued would be put to the blade…

But the fight was won.

Dia stared at the empty chair across from her, her lips curled.

Against all odds, they’d won.

They’d neutralized the Darktons, the Vampires had run away, and the Tigress clan had only burnt a few buildings and kidnapped a few humans. And now… and now they had to clean it all up. Even now Dia could hear the retching of half the city as they convulsively tried to run away from the horrors Monica had unleashed. It would take days to properly remove the stench. Days to rebuild houses. Days to-

“Fuck.”

Jolting back up to her feet, she turned away from the table.

“FUCK!” She screamed.

They hadn’t won, they’d lost.

Lost Rick.

Lost Eva.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Picking up her chair, she swung it at the wall, shattering it into a thousand pieces. Next was the table, smashed in by blows that just a day ago would only have made it crack. “Fuck!”

She’d been about to reach for Rick’s chair but froze, breath caught in her throat.

Her legs gave out under her.

But she didn’t hit the floor, a furry arm holding her aloft.

Dia looked up at Monica, the feline’s nostrils were stuffed with cloth.

She couldn’t help herself, she let out a long pitiful laugh. “You look awful.” Clutching the Sabertooth closer, she laughed harder, tears running down her cheeks.

Monica quietly pulled her into a hug, and they remained there, allowing everything to flow out and through, until Dia was too exhausted to keep going.

“I… can't do this alone.” She spoke, voice muffled against her bond-sister’s shirt.

“Heal claws.” Monica stated, patting the smaller maiden’s head. “Then… hunt with Monica.”

“What?” Dia’s voice came out a croak, looking up at the Sabertooth.

“Monica teach you.” The arms tightened, squeezing harder, closer. "Fight."

There was a soft knock at the door, both of them turned to stare, Dia quickly drying her face and casting a minor spell to make herself presentable before she approached. Opening the door, she startled a little, seeing Kiara, Camila, and Urtha standing there.

“Bad time?” The Succubus offered, eyes lingering beyond Dia and towards the disaster deeper within.

“What do you want?” The healer growled, sparing a glare at Urtha, but not to the Elf Queen.

The ancient maiden merely gave a nod. “I believe it is time to sit down and talk.”

Her first urge had been to slam the door in their faces, but it was Kiara’s soft nod that made her stay her hand. “Fine.” She growled, inviting them inside.