B2 – Chapter 16 (Patreon)

1

Lyn felt the rush of energy as Volio’s corpse turned to ash, all his gear clattering to the ground. She waited for a moment, but no ‘voicemail’ came to her thoughts like it did with Zack. Thank God for that, she thought. She put Cataclysm away and walked forward, embracing Vael and Gael. “Thank you.”

They both hugged her in return, “Of course,” Gael replied. “You’re our goddess. Our Destroyer. Our Lyn.” He pulled back, “Not romantically, of course,” he said with a chuckle.

Vael nodded and pulled away as well. “The same goes for me.”

Lyn nodded, “Good.” She looked up at the shop. “We’ll deal with this tomorrow. Let’s all just get some sleep.” She gestured to the remains of Volio’s gear, “Gael, please bring this stuff up.”

She led the way upstairs and stopped at Volio’s door. She opened it and Gael deposited the equipment there. They then moved one of the beds into Gael’s room, and all Lyn settled down with the twins on either side, feeling quite safe and content.

There was no regret. Volio was judged for his actions. He was guilty of them. He was punished for them. He would get to move on like Zack had done. Even harvesting his core didn’t feel wrong, because Lyn knew if she didn’t, he would just be trapped within it. He was going back to Earth, and would live either his same, old life, or he would go against her wishes, and choose the Ghomar portal. She really hoped he hadn’t chosen that option. But…she had a feeling that he wasn’t ever going to be in her life again.

I’ll have to dig through his gear tomorrow. She focused on her Destroyer core and felt it calm and placid, slightly bubbling like soup on a low simmer. Teleportation, she thought. The external spell type was the most taxing out of them all. And she instinctively knew that she could now use it. Using the special Archer spell she had heard him say plenty of times, she could travel vast distances. And, she would be skilled with a bow now; a master marksman.

Free-form teleportation without the unique Archer-only spell was extremely limited. With full mana at this point, she would be able to maybe teleport thirty feet without the unique spell. And that would exhaust the mana entirely. Only a few people on Ghomar had enough mana to use teleportation spells, and they could only travel a few inches or feet. It was the strongest external spell type known. And the fact that she had it now made her feel ecstatic.

She snuggled in between the twins, willing her armor to recede so she could feel their comforting warmth of skin on skin contact as she drifted off. She didn’t have to worry about that perv ever again.

2

“And what of the forces amassing in Biskon?” Cecily asked her war council, Kory at her right hand sitting in a far smaller chair with his large hammer resting beside him. She absentmindedly tapped her fingers on the large table.

“Your Highness, the Duke of Biskon has twenty-thousand levies and a thousand trained military retainers. He has not declared a rebellion, yet…but that is the direction things are heading.”

Cecily nodded, “And we have determined the cause of these troubles and doubts in my leadership and direction?”

“Yes, we have. You were correct that they are primarily up in arms regarding the new wine tax.”

She scoffed and sipped from a glass of her favorite wine, a light, fruit-filled and full-bodied red. “And the proclamation was explained exactly as I had detailed, yes?” The man nodded and Cecily snapped her fingers as a scribe came over and handed her a sheaf of notes. It’s so simple, how could they fuck it up this badly to incite revolt?

She had been creating several tax reforms since the non-human races, drugs, and public intoxication were sorted out. Primary among those was ensuring that funds were more evenly distributed along supply chains to help prevent centralization of wealth, which could lead to a higher wealth inequality. Or, worse, a noble amassing enough wealth to pose a threat by hiring well-trained mercenaries from the Free City of Bashinol, or any of the other mercenary companies around Ghomar.

This tax was so simple. And yet they screwed up the proclamation in Biskon. And only that one. But that made sense, as it was a primary wine-producing region with the appropriate climate. Other duchies: Skrell, Logor, Komorra, and Rist, were all showing the same level of displeasure with one or more of her tax reforms. Can’t they see that this is for the best?

If she had been able to get these Dukes and Duchesses to her palace then she could have used mind spells to ensure they were thralled to her and unwavering in their allegiance. However…they had been extremely careful in dealing with her. They knew the threat she posed, and she knew they were the older duchies that had been ruled for centuries. “Kory,” she stated, and the Berserker hero stood at attention. “You are going to go to Biskon, and see the Duke on my behalf.”

“But- Lady Cecily,” one of the counselors began.

Cecily slammed her hand down on the table, “Lord Smith here might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even he could read a proclamation in such a way that it wouldn’t incite rebellion!” The counselor who had spoken quivered in fear, and the rest of her council uncomfortably shifted in their seats. “The Berserker hero will go to Biskon with a force of one hundred of my personal retinue. He will deliver a letter and ensure that the Duke reads it.” She looked to Kory, “And if he doesn’t read it properly…read it for him. And if that still doesn’t get the point across…kill him and force the heir to read it. I will not allow for rebellion when I am so close to a fully unified country.”

Kory nodded and grabbed his enormous hammer as he made for the doors, leaving and barking orders for several of Cecily’s guards to prepare for the journey. The counselor who had been quieted and quivered in fear began to speak, but Cecily held up her hand.

“Now, let me be clear; you will never question my orders or decisions. The only reason for this council is because I cannot be everywhere at once. If you serve well, you will be rewarded.” She snapped her fingers, and several servants approached with platters with domes covering them. They set the platters in front of each person, save for the counselor who tried to question Cecily. The others had the domes removed, and lauded Cecily with thanks as they held large, emerald-encrusted rings.

“Serve me well and be rewarded,” she stated once more as she stood. “I want a report on Skrell in the morning.” She turned and left, signaling for her Spymaster to approach. The thin woman walked alongside her. “I want you to have that counselor put into the dungeon.”

“My Lady, I am more than happy to do that. You should know that he is the fourth child of the Duchess of the Emerald Isle, and I must insist on no permanent outside scarring.”

Cecily smirked, “Thank you for the reminder. Just spells for him, then.”

“I did ensure to find more scum of the streets for you, your highness.”

“Excellent.”

I’m getting there, she thought. She almost had a strong enough mana core. A few hundred more criminals harvested, and she could finally accomplish one of her long-term goals. A mind spell that would affect all Valagonia. One that would cement her as their ultimate ruler. Thralling that many at once was impossible, there wasn’t enough mana in the world. But a memory-muddling spell just like what they had used to get rid of memory of Lyn? That she could do.

Of course, her plans did not stop there. Once the whole of Valagonia was firmly in her control, she could then go to war with Khrelardia. Then, Trisk. Instill her reforms, take all of the…undesirables, and harvest them. Eventually, after maybe twenty or thirty years, if her plans well perfectly, she would have enough mana to do such a spell over all of Ghomar.

But…living that long was a different matter. So many things could happen. She leaned to her Spymaster, “And how is progress towards my special project?”

“Ah, I believe you are referring to VEROG?” Cecily nodded and the Spymaster shook her head, “We have found several suitable vessels and are in the process of preparing them, but none of our expeditions to Elent have been successful. The Knowledge hero was the only one to have gone there successfully, and we cannot find any means to get through the storms.”

Cecily wheeled on her, “And what of the Mage hero? How are the efforts of obtaining her assistance progressing?”

“She is…not open to our offers.”

“Tsk,” Cecily was strong, but despite her years of attempting to learn the language, the intricacies of Elenthir still evaded her. Even when she had Thomas thralled to her service, he had built a mental block that she could not break down that kept him from instructing her. Misty and Thomas are the only two that know the language well enough to do what I desire. It was one of those two or getting an expedition to the Ruins of Elent successfully to find Elenthian texts. Ones that she could then use to reverse-engineer the spell she sought to create. “Misty is strong in her versatility. I may have more mana than her, but she is too unpredictable with what she can do.” And with Thomas dead at James’ hand, my only choices are to keep trying to get Misty on board or get to the Ruins.

“Is there anything else, your Highness?”

“No. Thank you.” Cecily entered her chambers and sat down, ringing a bell as a servant entered from a hidden passage with a cup of wine. Cecily sipped it and sat in front of the fire, staring into the flickering flames. Flight is the only way past the storms. Ships cannot get close enough without being dashed against the rocks. With Misty not a possibility, and Thomas dead…She screamed in frustration and threw the cup into the flames, the alcohol feeding the roaring blaze.

I need to calm down. She stood up, snapped her fingers, and the servant fetched her leathers. Cecily got into her gear and went down the hidden passages to the dungeons. “Bring me the rapists. I feel like mutilating tonight.”

3

Lyn woke up to an empty bed. Panicking, she willed her armor to cover her form and bolted out of bed, rushing into the hallway and down the stairs. To her relief, Gael and Vael were just downstairs, manning the shop to complete the dungeon task.

Vael looked over and waved with a smile, “We figured we’d let you sleep in.”

Gael nodded, “Take the day, and you cover the night shift.”

“Alright,” she said as she went back upstairs. First though, she went to Volio’s room and went through all his gear that was left behind. The first item that stood out was an inscribed bow. It was unstrung, but she read the inscriptions. Holy shit. It’s an artifact. Did he know it was an artifact? The name translated to Stul’Nir’Var, and it didn’t need a bowstring.

She channeled mana into it, and the wooden bough bent backward, as a phantasmal string appeared. She pulled the string back, and a bolt of phantasmal, white energy appeared. He had no fucking clue what he had here. The arrows would vanish after impact, so they would not be viable for the Archer-only teleportation spell. But she could will the weight and type of arrow for a variety of shots by just focusing on the arrow. And now…she stopped channeling the mana and pulled out Cataclysm. She pushed the bow into the sword hilt, and just like every other inscribed artifact, Cataclysm absorbed it.

She willed it to turn into a bow, and the black adamantine and obsidian hilt shifted and warped to become a longbow, curved perfectly for her size, and with the same phantom bowstring. Pulling back, the arrow that manifested in her grip was made of lava. But, focusing on the other elementalism types she had available, she was pleased to see that it shifted or even blended. Having wood and metal would be nice for conventional warfare, she thought as she willed it to return to the hilt and socketed the blade into the hip on the armor.

The rest of his gear was mundane adventuring gear. Rope, climbing picks, rations, waterskins, a wineskin, extra clothes, and other minutiae. But when she got to the hip pouches, she felt something. Two golden rings. One was transcribed with his name, and one with hers. Disgusting. Was he going to use these after he thralled me? She let her mana run freely into her palm, and the lava seeped out of her mana channels before consuming the gold and turning it to useless slag. She let the flow cease, and the obsidian-mixed-gold slag hardened. She dropped it, and it clunked onto the floor.

The quivers were full of all types of intriguing arrows. But he wasted the crystal ones from what Misty said. That irked her. Those arrows were extremely rare. She couldn’t remake them even with earth-subtype-crystal elementalism. They were the same rarity as artifacts. The Elenthians made them, and their process of recreation was undiscovered. She pulled out the arrows that were mundane and set them aside. He had several inscribed arrows for a variety of purposes, and she set those to the side in the hip quiver. Well, that’s everything except this. She picked up the small diary.

Opening her mana channel once more, she burned that, too. I don’t want to know anything he thought about me. He was gone. She didn’t want anything of his that wasn’t a tool she could make use of. She returned to the shared double bed and laid back, heaving a sigh of relief. Volio was gone, the Archer hero core was hers – so she wasn’t losing out on anything except…

She sat upright. What will the other heroes think? Eventually they would come to Lynhold – at least, she hoped they would. And they would ask questions. I could just say he’s off on a mission. But…she knew she wasn’t a good liar. She disliked lying. I’ll just tell them the truth. He tried to use mind spells to rape me, and I delivered justice. She laid back once more and nodded. If they don’t accept that, then I don’t need them as allies.

As Gael had said, “Allegiances change…You are no longer Lyn the Scout. You are Lyn the Destroyer.”

You’re goddamn right. I’m the Destroyer. They can either be my allies, bend the knee…or live their lives under my benevolent rule. But sleep did not come to her easily. There was one lingering question she had yet to wrestle with.

What do I do if they resist?

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