Arc#4 Chapter 59: Swap (Patreon)

Everything after Mira showed him Fawks was a bit of a blur for Reivan, but it all more or less ended with them arriving at the Tower.

Apparently, the others were safe and only Senior Crag died. Nobody else had gotten attacked, so all the seniors and all their squadmates were safely back at the hotel by the time Reivan and Mira returned. Despite that, the seniors were all quite unhappy about Crag's death. Not unhappy at their juniors, no — unhappy at those who wrought the tragedy. They were actually quite concerned with Reivan and Mira’s mental states, offering platitudes that they were faultless and they responded very well to the situation.

The first years were somewhat shaken that it could just have easily been them under attack though. Alini, though she tried to hide it, was visibly disheartened while pretending to be fine. Kantor was pensieve all the while. Inaria was, well, reading a tome as usual, but seemed unfocused. And even Aldimir’s usual brand of idiocy and inappropriacy was absent.

As such, nobody was in the mood to fool around in Lageton any longer. Mira, though she probably did want to roam around somewhat, sanctioned the return as captain. The whole trip back, she had tried to raise the mood by acting like a moron. Again. But the somewhat gloomy hanging over the squad throughout their trip back to Vel Ayala remained even after they were back in the safety of the Tower.

As she had previously mentioned, upon their arrival, Mira was called away for a little bit before she came back and gave them three bottles of Spirit Dew each — which was, apparently, the first time Mira had ever gotten more than one bottle for a mission. Usually, the Tower only gave one, no matter how difficult the mission itself was.

“Oh, right.” She gave her forehead a light slap before turning to Reivan. “I confirmed it with an Elder, but apparently, there are no bad side effects to drinking more than one. It's actually more efficient. And the time your spirit beast naps afterward is the same as if it had only drunk one. Oh! But there’s a limit of three. If you drink more than that at once, it’ll lose its effect. You have to wait until the stuff’s digested before drinking more.”

Apparently, they had been given more than one vial of the precious resource as a kind of consolation for the whole affair. The Tower, through their captain, expressed apologies for assigning them to a mission that was, unexpectedly, far above their station.

Reivan, on the other hand, thought that wasn’t the complete story. In some corner of his mind, he saw the act as a subtle way to funnel resources into Mira’s spirit beast, fattening it up so it could be eaten eventually.

That said, he’d checked Fawks’ ability and it had apparently not eaten another Spirit King Seed yet. So even Reivan’s assumptions were up in the air. For all he knew, the Tower could have a mortal seed ready to devour Mira’s Fawks at any time.

‘No, they wouldn’t let her last for an entire year if that was the case.’

It was, Reivan mused, the biggest piece of circumstantial evidence he had of Mira’s importance to the Tower. There might not be any more seeds at the moment, so Mira was the only option. But more often than not, they had probably deemed her as the seed they wanted to raise to the Ascendant realm.

And when Fawks Ascended, some other Ascendant was going to eat her.

Once that Ascendant got to eat enough seeds to Transcend, Arkhan would be in a superior position against all the other nations in Sentorale.

‘God forbid the Sage King isn’t one seed away from becoming something more. We’d be all sorts of fucked then.’

Reivan shivered at the thought. No amount of mortals could combat an Ascendant. and no amount of Ascendants could trump a Transcendent.

By that pattern, no number of Transcendents could win against… whatever it was that lay above. It wasn’t the Archon realm, he was sure. There was something else in between Transcendent and Archon, and it impressed upon him even more how powerful the being who helped him reincarnate was.

In any case, something truly had to be done about this. The Tower couldn’t be allowed to do what it wanted.

Perhaps an immediate declaration of war was in order. Maybe his brother would even leak the information to Argonia so they could crush Arkhan together. The Tower and its people would need to be uprooted, but Aizen would not be remiss to hand over the republic’s lands to the empire afterward.

‘If Argonia takes over Arkhan… it’ll probably look to conquer Pentagoria next.’

Unironically, taking out the small continent to Sentorale’s southwest was an easier endeavor than taking on Aizen, a kingdom that had firmly entrenched itself upon its lands for millennia. Especially since the place didn’t have any Transcendents waiting at the heart of its lands, unlike the other two nations.

The expansionist nature of the empire would push it toward easier prey first. That would give Aizen enough time to make preparations. Dame Mordred’s presence back in Sentorale meant that diplomacy with the greenskins of Sutherim was established. Only time would tell if an alliance would be struck.

From what information he knew of the orcs, they were a race of warbeasts that saw battle as their purpose, and they had fierce respect for the strong. That was why one of the strongest knights was sent as a diplomat of sorts. She had just gone around and punched as many strong orcs as she could in the face, simultaneously garnering respect, admiration, and friends with fist-shaped bruises on their faces.

They were potentially staunch allies, though it would likely cause quite a lot of collateral damage. Raiding, pillaging, and eating the weak of their foes to nourish the strength of their allies was an aspect of their culture that an alliance would not change. It was their way. And it had always been their way.

If Aizen allowed them into Sentorale, only their people would be safe. There would be no neighbors left unless the green horde was wiped out. They even had some kind of king too. A Transcendent. If that came over for some fun, Reivan wasn’t quite sure if it would stop with just their enemies.

Aizen might have to deal with an orc king after their neighbors were in ruins. They had measures and a lot of data on the latter, but orcs? The kingdom knew very little and had practically no countermeasures for them specifically.

Which, obviously, was not good if the greenskins ever turned coats.

‘God, I this is getting so fucking big…’

Reivan slumped into his bed and massaged the bridge of his nose. His head hurt from the scale of his thoughts and considerations. This was why he truly disliked the notion of being sitting on the throne, celebrating the fact that he’d been born as the younger brother.

No doubt Roland would have a seizure. He was, after all, the man who had to actually make the decisions, not just think about them.

Sen broke him out of his thoughts by lightly tapping him on the feet. It hurt, if he was being honest. She may not have meant to do so, but she’d used a bit too much force. He would forgive her, for she was cute.

“What is it?” Reivan asked groggily, though he already knew the answer.

As expected, she pointed her light-tipped tail at the three vials he’d left to rest right beside him on the bed, an eager glint in her eyes. She couldn't have possibly understood what any other human said, so Mira’s explanation on what it did was irrelevant to her. But it seemed she had an instinctive idea that whatever was inside the vial was a good thing.

And she also understood that she couldn’t drink it directly, it seemed. Spirit beasts were all kinds of weird. Which wasn’t something new, so he simply shrugged.

“Form a permanent bond with me and I’ll drink it,” Reivan grinned, testily seeing how the mini white panther would react. It was insincere, and he planned to drink the three bottles anyway no matter her answer.

As expected, Sen looked somewhat hesitant. But that hesitance soon gave way to irritation. She bared her teeth and growled at him, though it caused him no fear.

“Eh, you can’t blame me for trying.” Reivan chuckled and sat up, taking one of the vials and uncorking it. He’d already checked each one to make sure they were the same potion Mira had shown him earlier, not some kind of supernatural laxative or something. “Here goes nothing.”

He uncorked the vial and drank the entire potion in one gulp. Not a very big gulp, mind. Barely a mouthful, really. But it surprisingly didn’t taste like anything at all.

It wasn’t similar to water, no. But it also didn’t have a taste.

‘Strange.’

Reivan licked his lips and pushed up his glasses, trying to see if he could feel any changes. It took a moment, but he did feel something like mana bubbling up from inside his stomach and heading off… somewhere else. His soul, probably. Or wherever it was that strange mana-like energy went.

Sen was restlessly jumping up and down the bed, sending mental urgings through their connection. She was, quite apparently, a very impatient kitten. He had half a mind to tell her to behave before he drank the other two vials, just to build discipline.

But she was being adorable. And he didn’t want to punish her for doing something he mildly enjoyed watching. As such, he let it go with the realization that he would probably be a very bad father who spoiled his kids a little too much.

The other two potions went down the hatch too and he laid back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he pondered on the bubbly feeling in his tummy. Maybe this was how being impregnated felt, except for the part where something hard and long  — or maybe not, size shouldn't matter — rammed one of his holes. He felt quite thankful that part was left out, if that was the case.

Soon, the bubbling stopped and whatever the energy drinking the potion gave him, it had settled calmly in his soul. It also felt like it had filled up a container of some kind, and even if he drank more potions, it would just go to waste.

‘As expected, I can’t reproduce it yet…’

Sadly, even after having drunk three vials, it wasn’t enough for [Drug Memorization] to, well, memorize the drug, allowing him to reproduce its effect, modify it, or make medicine out of it by using his body fluids. It seemed he would have to procure more, in some way.

They would apparently be given some after every mission, but he knew not how many vials it would take to fully memorize the potion. And hence, he knew not how many missions he would have to sit through to finally get what he wanted.

The sooner he memorized the drug, the sooner he could coax the other spirit beasts locked in the other orbs in Zouros’ stomach. Speaking of the giant snake, it seemed to have no interest whatsoever in the Spirit Dew, further reinforcing his scaly friend’s difference from spirit beasts.

‘I remember Mira saying I could trade with the others…’

Money was something he had a lot of as Reivan Aizenwald. Not so much as Clover though. There was a need to be more creative here. 

The senior battlemages, who likely had more spirit to trade away, most likely didn’t need money that much. On the other hand, the newer recruits could be tempted with riches but also had more need of the spirit dew, as the potion was apparently a lot more effective for weaker spirit beasts.

Basically, the two potential clients had to be approached in very different ways.

‘Hm. Maybe Elsa can help out… Though, I don’t really want to put her in danger.’

The potion had apparently been around for a very long time, yet, the kingdom had never heard of the thing. So it was, quite obviously, a very well-kept secret. Even defectors must not have revealed it after leaving the Tower’s influence for fear of earning intense retaliation.

If he had Elsa sniff around to procure the potion, it would then be revealed to the person she approached that a mere businesswoman knew of state secrets that she shouldn’t have ever known. Elsa wasn’t dumb, of course, and would use a long train of intermediaries. But the nature of what she was trading for required plenty of negotiation and would compel her to give up valuables that could be traced back to her, endangering her position.

Hence, he couldn’t have Elsa do this for him. Or Ouroboros, sadly. They were very big and very well-trained hunting dogs, but he couldn’t send them to a tiger den.

The Tower was not to be trifled with by such a paltry force of mortals.

‘Hm… Then I’ll have to ask through official channels.’

Sure, the Tower would be flabbergasted as to how Aizen found out. But the kingdom didn’t need to answer. And even if Arkhan tried to force the issue, it wouldn’t have mattered, as the kingdom was strong enough to force them back.

They were, after all, still potential enemies. Aizen could never be blamed for the act of sniffing around to see if they could find any kernels of information.

‘Which makes it even more imperative that I make another report.’

Reivan was about to stand up when Sen smacked him in the face, causing him to wince and cradle his cheek. It was, to his relief, not as strong as her earlier prods, but it still surprised him. “What the hell! Why’d you hit me?”

Sen stomped her feet in frustration and hissed.

‘Oh. Right. Sorry, I forgot.’

He’d gotten lost in the mire of his own thoughts about the fate of the continent, so he’d inevitably forgotten to actually send her the spirit dew energy thingy that had built up in his soul. It was useless just staying there, so he had no reason to let it.

With practiced finesse, he controlled the energy like he would control mana and then funneled it through his connection like he did their thoughts.

Amusingly, Sen’s eyes rolled back in ecstasy and her body spasmed as she stiffened, eventually tipping over and resting on his bed. Her tail was straight as an arrow and her joints looked as if they’d locked. The glowing tip of her tail was shining brighter than ever before.

This only lasted for ten heartbeats, however, as she slumped and breathed easily. Her eyes were closed and her face slack, almost as if she was having the best dream of the world.

‘Jesus… It looks like she had an orgasm!’

Reivan’s nose crinkled. He had never wanted to know what a young white panther looked like when she had a really long orgasm. That was information he would have been perfectly fine never having to float around his head for the rest of his life — which, if things went well, would be very long.

A moment later, the sleeping panther turned into a white blur that was sucked into his orb. He hadn’t done that, so it must have been caused by the sleeping kitten or whatever state the potion put her in. His money was on the latter.

It was convenient too, since he planned to head out of the Tower for a few days, and a cat with the most severe case of post-nut clarity was not his idea of a good travel opinion.

Reivan packed a few fresh shirts into the space of his Tower-issued belt buckle before heading out of his room. Nobody was there, fortunately. So he left a note saying he would be gone for a few days to unwind. They were on break for two weeks, and they could do with that break as they wished — though it was implied that they were to use that time refining their spell work.

Obviously, Reivan didn’t give as much of a shit about that as the monumental news he had. If the Tower still had an Ascendant following him, it was completely worth it to have the poor sap assassinated so he would be free to act for a few days.

Though drastic, there were ways to escape liability. Mordred was already revealed to be in the republic’s vicinity and she had a reputation here — and not the good kind. Aizen could blame the assassination on her if need be, and send some kind of apology afterward.

Saying sorry was easier than asking permission, after all.

As for the possibility of war, that was irrelevant, given how the news he bore would spark it anyway.

════════════════════════════════

“Good day, Your Highness.”

Surprisingly, Reivan didn’t even need to get to the city where Valter should have been waiting for him. On the express train there, he suddenly found himself sitting right next to a young girl with black silk for hair and rubies for eyes, a doll-like innocence on her pretty face. Her skin was fair and white, with a smooth milky finish. Being seated did not help him gauge her well, but she looked to be about thirteen years old.

She was not, in fact, thirteen years old.

Reivan knew her from portraits and was aware of the vast list of accomplishments she garnered in Aizen’s service. He gulped and sent a glance at the young lady who was boldly wearing the knightly regalia of Aizen, her chest riddled with medals and accolades that, ridiculously, didn’t fit her entire chest. Some of them had to be pinned over the others, creating the illusion of curves that didn’t exist.

“Dame Mordred. Well met. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Indeed it is. Well met, Your Highness.” Mordred smiled impishly, her voice very much belonging to an adult. “You appear surprised.”

“That would not be a mistaken assumption.”

She covered her mouth and giggled. “You have questions and concerns. The kingdom has many. And finally, it seems like it is time you come back so all of those can be dealt with. Of course, only if that sits right with you, Your Highness.”

Reivan licked his lips. “I have no observers?”

“Just a mortal one.” Mordred lazily waved somewhere behind them. “They will not be a problem.”

“Good…”

“I'm happy to see that this pleases you. As I’m sure you’ve been briefed, I have a gift when it comes to these things. Please rest assured.”

“Yes, I’ve heard…” Reivan trailed off, feeling strangely uncomfortable at the notion that all his special abilities could be neutered with a touch. Temporarily though it might be. “Dame Mordred, why have you approached me so far away from the meeting point? Were you doing something around the vicinity?”

“It’s a secret… is what I would normally say. But I suppose a prince would have clearance.” One of the oldest knights in the order cleared her throat softly. “There has been some hubbub down south. So I was sniffing around the Tower to see if I could find anything and was debating on whether I should try to penetrate Vel Ayala. I was slowly inching toward it when I found you by coincidence.”

“I see…”

“Yes. It was by my judgment that I decided accompanying you was a better use of my time than an enterprise that could get me killed for no gain. I can take you to the Embassy now, if you so wish.”

“What about the observer?”

“I can simply leave a corpse puppet behind. I have finished preparing it. A mortal will never know the difference.” Mordred smiled, the expression seeming horrifyingly innocent despite the woman’s history and what she had just said. “I’d dabble with his brain, but...”

Reivan shook his head, spine-tingling. “There’s no need for that. The puppet will do.”

“How merciful of you. I am in awe of your grace.”

“Can it… uhm, speak? The puppet, I mean.”

She nodded. “I have been studying the real Clover Salwyn and I have reason to believe that my puppet can replicate his actions completely. Just so long as no Ascendant takes too close of a look, it’ll blend in with everyone else.”

“That’s a relief.”

“It would, of course, have gone much smoother if you’d allowed me to make Clover Salwyn himself into the puppet. There would have been no need to put so much effort into fleshmolding and training it.

Again, Reivan shivered at the horrors uttered by a girl with such an innocent appearance. “I gave him my word… And though there were no bindings involved, I intend to honor it until I am forced otherwise.”

“And I respect your intentions.” Mordred giggled and reclined in her seat, crossing her legs. “You are intimidated by me, Your Highness.”

Reivan’s breath caught but he nodded. “That would not be a mistaken assessment.”

“I seem to have that effect on people. Never knew why.” She tilted her head. “It has, I may add, made finding a partner difficult. And I never did get married, in the end. Though, I suppose it cannot be helped when I have such a child-like physique in a nation that quickly gets rid of people with… disgusting preferences.”

Reivan laughed sheepishly. “You are very beautiful, Dame Mordred. And quite a capable woman as well. I’m sure you have a fated one out there somewhere.”

“Oh, truly…?”

“Of course.”

“Hm. What about you?”

Reivan didn’t get to process the question before Mordred slowly leaned her weight against his shoulder, her hand hovering over his own. Their flesh did not touch, and all she did was draw soft circles on the top of his hand with her pristinely maintained nail.

And loath as he was to admit, Reivan found electricity zap climb up his spine at the ticklish sensation.

“You know, Your Highness.” Mordred spoke softly, her sultry voice snaking into his ears. “I’ve never laid with a prince. Princesses, yes. Many times. But a prince? Never. It makes me quite curious.”

“I-Is that so…?” Reivan was torn between letting her continue or pulling his hand away, but he was wary of offending her in some way, even if she couldn’t possibly hurt him.

“Indeed. What say you, Your Highness? You’ll have to do away with your disguise, however, as I prefer Aizenian men.”

“That’s…”

Reivan gulped, oddly exhilarated. He was finally starting to understand what Mira had mentioned about eyes and how they could be enormous points for attraction. Because his preferences were as far away from thirteen-year-old girl as possible, but found himself lost in Mordred's eyes longer than he cared to admit. To break himself out of her spell, he tried to remember Elsa's incredible body, how soft everything was, and how warm she felt in his arms. Of Helen, and her lithe body that had the grace of an apex predator.

“Well? Care to have a go?" Mordred leaned a little closer, forcefully pulling his mind back to the now, to the enchanting eyes that drew all his attention. "I am almost 400 years old. That’s a very long time to accumulate experience. I can show you pleasure you didn’t even know was possible.”

‘I think she’s talking about butt stuff… I don’t like butt stuff!’

That was usually what it was, when they said it was weird. That, or dressing up as animals or something that involved ropes. Either way, he wasn’t so inclined.

With that, Reivan was finally able to snap his gaze away, looking anywhere but at her face instead.

“I would not dare…” Reivan tried, very hard, to say it in a way that wouldn’t be too offensive. “And I am already spoken for.”

“A shame.” Mordred giggled and her hand retreated. “Do forgive me for being forward. I have found few pleasures in a long life, and this is merely one of them. Being stuck with orcs for the better half of a century has not been pleasant for me on that front. For very obvious reasons other than their general tendency to be absolutely hideous. I have understandably grown quite... pent up.”

Reivan could practically hear the unspoken complaint in her words. Right after finishing her duties in Sutherim, she was then sent off to Arkhan. She had probably built up quite a lot of vacation time, but the fact that she was here meant that she had loyally chosen to postpone it in favor of fulfilling her duties.

Knights were loyal, and would do anything ordered of them, but they certainly weren’t inclined to like those orders completely.

“My apologies for the trouble, Dame Mordred.” Reivan dipped his head a little, with all the sincerity he could muster. “And thank you for your service.”

“Goodness, don’t take my complaints so seriously, Your Highness.” Mordred laughed sheepishly, her previous demeanor changing to a more… natural one. Embarrassment was clear in her expression. And for a moment, she seemed every bit the young girl she appeared to be. “You’re too serious. It makes me feel guilty about teasing you.”

“I’d rather you not tease me at all.”

“Ah, well.” She shrugged, grinning at him. “It is in my nature. I do hope that I have eased your nerves, somewhat, Your Highness. I am, very much so, a loyal hound of the crown. I mean you no harm.”

Reivan chuckled sheepishly. “One does not need to mean harm to be intimidating. Take Sir Donovan, for example…”

“Ah.” Mordred’s face fell. “I don’t like talking about that person, Your Highness.”

“Acknowledged.”

Mordred nodded in thanks and snapped her fingers. In front of them, a naked body dropped out of thin air. It stood, though shakily, twitching and spasming all the while. But still, it tried.

Eventually, the puppet that looked just like Clover Salwyn looked at Reivan and spoke.

“What is my purpose?”