Free Web NovelEmerald jolts slightly as she startles herself awake, nearly nodding off. She’s absolutely exhausted in about every possible way she thinks she can be exhausted. She rarely feels physical stamina depletion, since, as a greater dragon, it’s extremely rare that she would ever need to do anything physical without magic to supplement her energy. She has only ever really felt emotionally exhausted dealing with the male greater dragons and their tantrums, terrifying all of the lesser dragons and the female greater dragons alike, because at any moment, any one of the three could lash out and scar or kill the others.
And, the gemstone-green dragon has only ever depleted her mana once.
She looks at her right hand in her human form idly as she ponders her all-encompassing state of fatigue for a moment.
A dragon taking a humanoid form can modify it quite a bit using their imagination while transforming, but a ‘default’ state seems to come from within a part of themselves they don’t control, and is often easily unique and identifiable to human-kin and demon-kin alike. Generally speaking, it also reflects the state of their true body, so a broken horn remains broken, missing scales show up as bare or discolored patches on the corresponding section of skin, and a missing middle finger will still be missing.
Emerald doesn’t resent the Uhl’tall Priestess that brought her to a stalemate in battle, depleting the dragon’s mana. It was a fair fight started because the dragons were trying to rebel at the time, and Vaergraes was locked in battle with Morthybargaron to force him to surrender.
Jeavana was off on one of her little sabbaticals, and because she was very near the brink of utter despair, even Morthybargaron started leaving her alone, lest she try to kill him. And, as the second eldest of the female greater dragons, she may have been able to mortally wound even the treacherous Feldrok Apprentice.
Ryuogriar and Reignleif refused to participate, among others, because the Uhl’tall will petrify their own traitors to make them suffer a slow and very emotionally-painful non-death as their family members are executed before their eyes.
While dragons don’t really have family members to lose because of the pitiful state they were enduring for the last few centuries, they don’t want to be forcibly trapped in a state of conscious impotence for any sizable stretch of eternity.
The dragon flexes her hands. She long got used to the missing digit, and few comment on it, since she usually uses her left hand to point or communicate. Healing magic probably could have restored the digit, but she hasn’t really missed it, and it helped restore her honor after losing to a race she once thought inferior.
She looks to Ryuogriar, who is asleep with the tiny black feldrok whelp in her arms.
Daniel, given the time to prepare, could have single-handedly exterminated the dragons of Stoerykame without the Citadel. Instead, he used that even greater power to defeat them and spared virtually all of the females and essentially all of the male lesser dragons at Hekate’s word.
And, even Emerald was one of them.
It wasn’t the same, though. There was no honorable battle. There was no exhaustion of both sides, with the victor edging out the loser.
Daniel was nothing more than an executioner, and yet, he still showed mercy that would not have been granted to him.
He has done so with the goblins, the dattakoriens, the Uhl’tall, the humans, the gatonines, and the shenwulves. No race that Daniel has encountered has his ire. Even the highly-aggressive Selkethians weren’t exterminated for their ferocious attack and his superior strength.
Fal squirms in Ryuogriar’s arms. Both dragon matrons are sitting with their backs against the donation altar of the Control Room area of the Citadel. They have to remain close. During the last two days or so, Fal has gone out of control at random, like he is being prodded by something they can’t see. It could be as simple -and terrifying because of it- as growing pains. He could be teething. He could be suffering from his current mana pool, which is much larger than a child of his infantile apparent age should ever have to deal with. There’s almost no chance that he’s not ancient, or at least as old as some of the dragons, but he has been trapped in the body of a baby, suffering whenever he has been conscious.
Daniel is capable of soothing him quickly.
Ryuogriar can also get him to calm down… eventually.
Emerald doesn’t have any bond with him, and he seems to only scream louder when she tries to hold him to give Ryuogriar a break, but spending even seconds under the ferocious power of his strange mana is absolutely melting to one’s willpower and strength.
Everyone else other than a very short list on par with or greater in power than Emerald are forbidden from entering the control room for the time being. The golems are the only ones that can approach with minimal risk, but even they can be ‘sapped’ by Fal’s power, essentially ‘killed’ in physical form, which forces them back to the core and causes them some level of pain.
The weary green dragon, in an effort to keep herself awake in case Fal loses it again, or anyone tries to approach who would be in danger, slowly and wearily moves her hands, mimicking the posture of Ryuogriar’s arms.
She… even holds Fal… the same way… Why? Why, Ryuo? Why would you take care of the children of some other being when we have been denied for so long? You’re free, aren’t you? You don’t have to care about him…
Emerald looks at Fal, how is sleeping relatively peacefully for now. His ears are slowly becoming more distinct as the large, fox-like ears of the Feldroks. His little foreclaws and rear claws are growing into proper hands and feet, and his tail has an admittedly cute little coat of fuzz, and it occasionally flops or squirms against Ryuogriar’s forearm as she manages to keep him cradled even in her sleep, thanks to the posture she’s seated in.
She looks absolutely exhausted, and her expression gives the impression that she aged at least a few centuries more, so far as her human form is showing, which is actually far shorter for them.
The green dragon lets her gaze fall on the tiny feldrok once more.
There are similarities with a dragon child, of course. Their infant true forms are somewhat similar in shape, including wings, the general body structure, and even the eyes. Their eyes filter light differently than a dragon, so they don’t have the natural cross-shaped pupils, but there is a ‘feel’ to the eye shape that is very close to a dragons.
But,... That’s not it, is it? Emerald looks at Ryuogriar again. You’ve stopped hating them, haven’t you? The other races that have thousands or millions of children a year. The races that secretly mock us behind our backs. The weak beings that thrive while we suffer…
The dragon closes her eyes and puts her head back, trying to stop that train of thought.
Is the title of ‘Mother’ really so…?
Emerald sighs.
I guess I know the answer to that… now, at least.
She looks at Ryuogriar again, saying in a soft whisper, “I am truly sorry, Ryuo… For everything. I swear I’ll repay Daniel for his mercy. I… I am thankful for it… And, I ask only for one more.”
She notices that, while Ryuo has impressively continued to cradle Fal in her exhausted sleep-state, it’s not the most secure posture.
Rather than risk a slip that will startle him, the green dragon makes a decision, and she accepts what she must do as a person to earn the favor –no, the mercy– that she desires.
Emerald carefully extracts Fal with the slowest and most ginger of movements, unyieldingly slow and meticulous about her motions so that she wakes neither surrogate mother nor adopted child.
She manages to claim Fal from Ryuo’s arms, and she secures him against her torso, careful to support his head, his back, and make sure that she isn’t squeezing him. She even gently starts to rock him back and forth, slow and tender, lest she disrupt his peaceful sleep any further than the risk she just took.
Fal squirms in her arms a little, but he nuzzles his nose against her chest, flopping his tiny little foreclaw against the fabric of her blouse. Emerald is wearing even more ‘suppressive’ clothing than Reignleif, who is only shy, but happily shows herself to Daniel. Emerald doesn’t want Daniel to feel any attraction for her, though he does seem to remain respectful to anyone of either gender with virtually no effort.
Other than returning her own disrespect with jabs of his own, he doesn’t get cruel or spiteful towards her, which, again, is not a luxury that would have been afforded to him if the roles were reversed.
But, as the tiny feldrok child gets comfortable against her bosom, Emerald can’t help but start to understand a little.
Fal, just like the hatchlings that never made it past the first few days, didn’t choose his lot in life. He couldn’t possibly have done so. It was the responsibility of adults around him to raise him, protect him, or put him out of his misery. But, the first two are what he deserves. No child deserves the chance her children were denied by a cruel twist of fate started by Morthybargaron and his treachery.
Emerald can feel herself relax a little. She’s still weary and exhausted, but she finally feels like she can be at peace for a moment.
“Not so bad, huh?” murmurs a soft voice to her left. Ryuogriar is looking at her, and Emerald realizes that the platinum dragon is relaxing back down from a slight panic when she discovered the feldrok kit missing.
The green dragon softens her own expression some more, admitting in a pleasant defeat, “Yeah…”
The two of them sit in silence for a moment, and Emerald asks a serious question. “Do… you think… he can be happy?”
“Fal?” asks the dragon Empress.
Her verdant counterpart gives a single nod of confirmation.
Ryuogriar smiles gently as she shifts for comfort against the donation altar, resting her eyes a little more.
“As his adoptive mother, it is my job to try to give him that.”
“But… Samael…”
“Is my other son, whom I will cherish with my whole heart. But,...” The Empress’s expression turns to one of sadness, and she murmurs, “I failed to look after Hekate when it mattered most… and it took experiencing death and hope so close together for me to realize… Even the tiniest, most pitiful life deserves the future.” She gently tickles Fal’s little foot with a finger, being careful not to wake him. His foot flexes and kicks at her finger slightly, and he squeaks as he stretches.
“If you are asking me if I will have a favorite, I won’t lie and pretend otherwise. But, that does not mean I intend to fail this little one.”
“Pardon me, your Grace,” starts Xyreko’s voice once there’s a moment of lull.
“Xyreko?” asks Ryuogriar. “Did something else happen?”
“Daniel has returned to the Citadel, your Grace.”
“Is he alive?” asks Ryuogriar.
“Yes, but…”
Ryuogriar holds her hand up and shakes her head. “If Mukori is still alive, that’s all I care about. I won’t be able to leave right now until there is a cradle capable of containing little Fal’s power.”
“Ry-, er, your Grace… I can watch Fal for now.”
“I appreciate it, Emerald, but as much as I wish to rush to Mukori’s side, Fal is a severe danger to all of us, you and me included, until we can make something to handle his power.” She then looks at Xyreko. “If there is something I can do, inform me at once. But, otherwise… I fear I must remain here with Fal and Emerald to ensure his power does not cause any additional problems in our current state.” She softens, adding, “Mukori already has enough troubles, it seems.”
After a very long pause, Xyreko finally replies, “... Very well, your Grace. I will keep Fal’s containment bed at the highest possible priority.”
“Tell me… this much, at least.” Ryuogriar started to ask, hesitated, and then decides to finish with asking her question. “Did… Did we at least… win?”
“Several teams are chasing down and extinguishing residual fires, and others are doing their best to evacuate the wounded before the worst of the fallout comes back down. And, it seems, if Sir Ecklevon is to be believed, rumors are spreading that the gods themselves intervened. The worst of it is passed, and the Fievegal, and more specifically, Daniel, may avoid shouldering too much blame in this matter.”
Emerald scoffs at the notion of Daniel’s power being compared to the gods, and Ryuogriar gives her a skeptical scowl.
“Forgive me, your Grace. It’s not that I don’t believe in the power of the ‘Harbinger of Calamity’ now. I did, in fact, witness the first of his God-smiters being used, which was visible from the Citadel.” She smiles bitterly, adding, “I even had Bronze take a day trip to the crater and asked her to breathe her most powerful flame into the sky…”
Ryuogriar chuckles softly, laying her head back. “Not visible, was it?”
“Only at night, did it look like a star-sized glow on the horizon.” She looks at Ryuogriar, saying softly, “I… genuinely had hoped Daniel was taking credit for the power of the gods. Humans… Humans shouldn’t have such power…”
“Neither should dragons,” replies Ryuogriar. “Daniel is rather unique for our world because he holds no racial or species bias. He sees value in everyone’s strengths and weaknesses.” She then speaks to Xyreko, “Thank you, Xyreko. If anyone comes appealing for an Imperial Audience, you may request any of the Empresses handle it. I would include Queens Shek and Skloe, but… They will be in more danger because goblins are the most underestimated race in the world, since few know of their full role as our soldiers.”
“Understood, your Grace. I will send word to the border checkpoints to alert us as soon as possible if that is the case. If there is nothing else, I shall return to other duties.”
“Please do, Xyreko. Thank you for the updates.”
“My pleasure, your Grace.” Xyreko bows respectfully, and her golem disappears, leaving the two exhausted dragons and their very sleepy charge alone once more.
“I have to admit, Ryuo… He’s a lot cuter when he’s quiet…”
Ryuogriar laughs softly again. “Indeed… I pray Samael is not causing trouble for Reina or Geira. Though, I assume they are with Mukori right now.”
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“I assure you I can handle it, Ryuo. You should go…”
“No, but thank you. I’m not deflecting because I distrust you. Quite the opposite, I am surprised you have stayed by my side through this whole ordeal.”
“I did mean what I said…” grumbles Emerald a little sourly, shifting her arms only slightly to cuddle Fal a little more possessively for a moment.
“I know. And I mean what I’m saying. You stayed by my side through all of this. I will not chance leaving you alone until we have solid winds beneath our wings.”
Both dragons are quiet with a small amount of reassurance.
It wouldn’t be completely accurate to say that the dragons have long lived as “the males vs. the females”, because the females each held their own survival as paramount in the absence of being able to have children.
And some of them were even on the edge of losing that much. “I look forward to the day we can both rest well,... your Grace.” Emerald smiles at Ryuogriar, and the exhausted Empress manages to smile in return. She dips her head in approval, then leaning back to rest her eyes once more. “If I fall asleep again, wake me the moment you need to rest, Emerald.”
“Will do. But, so long as Fal is like this…” Emerald cuddles the little black elder being. “Let’s pray it’s all over for now.”
“Yes…” murmurs the platinum dragon Empress. She yawns and does her best to get comfortable, even if she’s seated against stone.
It’s all they can do while there isn’t a safe place to capture and shield Fal’s power.
***
Zuzia approaches a gathering of people when her group returns to the current triage area, where those wounded by the shockwave are being treated. Aramellianna is there, having been bandaged such that her normally elegant hair is messy and stained red, and Sundenelle’s leg is being treated by a goblin with an odd, almost violet skin tone. Yaulwembor is still unconscious, but she is breathing calmly.
The young Polish woman can hear the Grand Duchess Senior explaining to a group of soldiers while Sundenelle and her knight listen, each being tended to by healers. “... starting to see the effects of the anti-magic coming back down. The Fievegal’s convoys were last reported to have begun passing through Fort Peony with relief supplies. They should be able to arrive before midday, but without mana, they may not be able to reach us.”
“All carriages will continue to prioritize the wounded,” states Sundenelle. “Even the Empire doesn’t have enough non-magical healers to deal with this sort of situation.”
“Forgive me for interrupting, but as I said before, we need to treat what’s coming down as a poison. If people can’t be evacuated, sheltering and doing our best to wash off large amounts of dust and ash should be a priority.”
“Rikuto has reiterated the same,” states Aramellianna. “We’ll ration and stick to water in non-opened containers and minimize food preparation times and keep as much as possible shielded. The problem is, we don’t have any means of evacuating any faster than we are, especially because the shuttles are officially grounded now.”
“This is exactly why I wanted Daniel to wait,” retorts Zuzia sharply. “But, what’s done is done. We have to do our best to increase survival rates.”
She looks behind her, where Magnir is resting in his dragon form. “Sir Magnir, is there any reason to believe we might be able to make use of wind magic?”
The dragon replies, “The scale will be the issue, my Lady.”
Serrentuk, who is a bit slower, arrives as Zuzia sets Yaulwembor down on a rag set out by a few of the other goblins so she can properly rest. The elven sorcerer replies, “Weather magic of the scale we need would only be doable for something like the Strylak. Even Senn and I were barely able to cause a local rain that barely touched the diameter of the mana fire’s full size, and that took hours of preparation with no suppression. I’m afraid our best chances are to simply keep moving away.”
“Yes, but that doesn’t help the villages and cities under the cap, which is essentially the range of this poison ash.” She turns a little darker, adding, “God help whoever finds themselves within a rainstorm…”
“For now, please report the status of the crater,” remarks Sundenelle. “As you said, we can only do what we can do, so let’s focus on ensuring everyone is accounted for.”
Zuzia nods. “Our team found and dealt with three small fires, and Yaulwembor has the remains of Sayrdarralouche within her own, uh, pocket storage.”
“What?” asks Sundenelle, and she’s far from the only one surprised, with everyone looking at the draconic woman.
Serrentuk nods in confirmation. “Indeed. Though, it is regrettably the reason for her current state. She depleted her mana in the process.”
Zuzia continues, “We met up with Sir Neith and Lady Senn on the far side, and Sir Neith instructed us to return to the group to report. His team confirmed the effectiveness of the black flames and met up with Rikuto. They should be moving to find and evacuate the Chi’rinnis shuttle that went down, as well as the source of the flares, where Dame Roetta headed.”
“Yes, we’re aware of Dame Roetta,” replies Aramellianna. “She sent a rider and will be arriving by land in order to carry the wounded more safely.
Zuzia nods. Magnir and Roetta don’t have the expendable mana that Neith or Jeavana do, so shielding their passengers with magic isn’t an option, especially with the nuclear fallout starting to make itself more known. Zuzia can’t really tell what ‘magic on’ and ‘magic off’ in terms of the anti-magic effect of radiation feels like, since she’s specifically resistant to anti-magic effects. And, she knows that, until your skin or organs start to cook, it’s impossible to feel radiation. And, even in the state of cooking, if your nerves burn out first, you’d never know how bad it is.
The only blessing, if it’s trustworthy information, is that Zenkon’s atmosphere of mana may actually reduce it enough to minimize the generations of cancer, the short-term poisoning, and the deaths that would be all but guaranteed on Earth.
“What about the suspected volcanic activity?” asks Aramellianna. “It seems our reliably sensitive races have had their senses completely rattled.”
Ecklevon nods in agreement.
“We sent a request for Baeka to deploy her summons, but we haven’t heard anything since.”
“I’ll do it, then,” replies a newer voice that Zuzia doesn’t really know. She speaks with a complete lack of emotion in her tone, but she’s smaller than Arachne by a lot. And, she’s flanked by what looks like a small army of clones that share most of the appearance traits of their leader, other than she has massive scars on her body. She looks like a sort of “sci-fi angel” race, similar to an insect, but with a gossamer white appearance stained with char and a creamy-colored off-white fluid that partially glows, and has since dried. She looks like she has been through absolute hell, and yet, manages to slowly limp towards the group. fгeewebnovёl.com
“Princess Silence, you should be resting,” warns Aramellianna.
“I am in a suitable state of health to stand, your Grace,” retorts the alien-like being bluntly. One of the other ‘angels’ gets down on its hands and knees directly behind Silence, and she sits down, supported by two more who catch her to prevent her from falling back, making her seating look much more like a clumsy collapse.
Silence adds with the same, blunt, icy-seeming tone, “Correction. I am in a suitable state of health to sit.”
“Your Highness…”
“What did you mean you will do it, then?” asks Sundenelle, curtailing the objections and cutting straight to the point.
The machine-like woman looks to the albino Empress, and she replies, “I mean I will deploy summons to investigate, since time is of the essence.” She gestures, and three more of the eight angel-like summons step forward, kneeling before her. “My summons can fly without mana, though it won’t be as efficient as the dragons.” She then gestures at the summons, declaring, “Go, my children and sisters. Search every part of the crater for signs of liquid fire or continued destruction. Report all findings to me, including the inability to continue forward.”
“Your, uh, highness…” starts Zuzia. “It’s not an exaggeration to say the crater will mean almost instant death, especially if the go deep enough to where the volcanic vent likely is.”
“Unlike me, these children are mere permanent summons,” states Silence coldly and callously. “They have no id, ego, or superego the way I and my esteemed mother do. I do not have the strength to summon even more-replaceable temporary summons, so it will be a waste to send these children. But, without Mother or, mmm… Stepmother Baeka, I am afraid they will have to do.”
“But…”
“It is not death, because they are not alive. Please put it out of your mind, Lady Zuzia.” She then looks at the summons, saying, “Go. Quickly.”
The ordered summons rise as one, and they take off into flight almost like a fluttering flock of moths. Their flight does look a little clumsy and unstable, but they make easy progress towards the crater, disappearing into the darkness quite quickly.
Silence coughs, and the two ‘backrest’ summons do their best to keep her stable. They do seem to behave like they’re alive, for something that is supposedly not. But, none of the other summons seem to speak, and Aramellianna confirms, “If losing the summons will not harm you, your Highness, then it will be a big help.”
“Mother and I will feel pain upon their deaths, most likely, as their bond to us returns in a sort of… Backlash, I believe is the word. But, it is no matter. We shall survive. And, if there was still no other being more expendable, I would volunteer myself.”
“You are a princess,” growls Aramellianna a little angrily. “You are the furthest thing from expendable.”
“Mother is also a Princess,” retorts Silence with cold indifference. “Yet, she risks her life for her belief in Filial Piety, and she has not…”
“Silence!” snaps Aramellianna. For the briefest moment, it’s unclear if she’s telling Silence to shut up or simply calling her name in anger to stop the mindlessly self-sacrificing thought. The brunette takes a more gentle tone as she lets out a sigh, “Forgive me, your Highness, but the entire Royal Family of the Fievegal is… frankly… wrong. At times, it is not only acceptable, but the right thing to do being the symbols of the Fievegal; the anchor of power around which the rest of us can anchor our boats and feel safe. If you lead the way into fire, even if we do not follow, we will be left to the mercy of our enemies as our own forces are scattered; a serpent without a head becomes a writhing mass of coils until it finally deceases.”
Silence is quiet for a moment before speaking. “There is nothing to forgive, your Grace. I sit here only because of the sheer force of will I have to live. I am willing to risk my life, but I will never seek death. I will always fight for life. My own and that of the others I am privileged to call my people.” She bows her head, adding in what still sounds like an icy tone with no inflection, “I humbly ask that you extend me patience and continue to guide myself and my family. We are foolhardy, but I believe we all mean well.”
Aramellianna scoffs, and she bows at the waist. “You are gracious, your Highness, and that sincerity in even our foolhardy Emperor is why I still maintain great faith that the Fievegal will continue to carve through the murkiest of mires toward a brighter future for us all.” She smirks as she stands up, adding, “I just pray that you will collectively have a little mercy on this old woman and start to step back away from danger as a typical Imperial Family should.” She does shoot a glance at Sundenelle, but quickly looks away, since it appears to be a slight faux pas.
Regardless, Sundenelle giggles. “I was always content with remaining in the Imperial Capital, but… having been outside, having fought on the ground with my men… I know how terrifying it is; how heavy the lives of the people whose names I do not know can be. But, more than ever, I know how necessary it is. Aramellianna is right. We don’t belong out here, but… To see it all first hand… that is invaluable experience I don’t regret for a moment.”
The albino Empress then turns back to Zuzia. “Forgive us, Zuzia. You’ve been waiting patiently.”
“No no! Don’t mind me. I had nothing to add. If I did, I would have said it. Daniel gave me explicit permission to do so.” Zuzia gives a brief smile, but then returns to business. “If I may, though, as long as Princess Silence’s, uh, minions can survey the crater, then we will hopefully be able to call the mana fire dealt with. The crater will almost certainly become a desert in a short time, and then a poisoned lake, and finally, a volcano hotspot, but we’re talking generations from now, most likely. The main thing will be keeping everyone out of the crater for the foreseeable future.”
“That much we can do,” replies Sundenelle. “I’ll put out an Imperial Decree that a great evil was defeated there, but the land is filled with miasma that will kill people. I believe this should keep it simple enough for everyone to understand.”
“I agree,” replies Aramellianna. “And, downplaying the significance of any anti-magic materials within will prevent people from entering the crater to try to harvest it.”
Sundenelle then turns to Silence, “Princess Silence, I must thank you for all your help, but for the moment, I should have thought of this sooner. Must you send so many of your summons? If possible, I’d rather conserve some of your permanent summons, and focus on making it possible for you to send expendable ones.”
“I do not need to send all of them. I only expect a small survival rate to begin with. Impermanent summons will likely die off faster, but I can likely make use of the mana within charged mana stones or solid sorceranium to make them right now. I may fall unconscious like Yaulwembor.” She gestures at the lizard woman resting nearby for effect.
Aramellianna replies, “Lord Gunther, I believe, was using a hastily assembled system.”
“Is he the young mage with Rikuto?” asks Zuzia.
“Yes?” replies the Grand Duchess Senior.
“Before we left Rikuto and his team with Neith, we uh… I wouldn’t recommend using that design ever again.”
Serrentuk lowers his head, and even Magnir looks away.
“What happened? Is Gunther still alive? Earl Montarre, his father…”
“H-He’s alive!” urgently interrupts Zuzia. “He’ll, uh… have a story he’s not keen on telling, but… Princess Silence, please don’t use what Gunther used.”
“Understood. Though, my body is likely able to handle a greater deal of mana than a human mage.”
“Um… If I may,” starts a voice from someone very short. Everyone looks at the violet-hued goblin, and she holds up the strange hard scales on her chest. Some are broken, but their normal shape looks like square black panels, somewhat like solar panels, but not quite as pitch black, and not obviously coated in glass or plastic.
“Go ahead, Corpsman Floria,” answers Sundenelle. “And, thank you.”
“My pleasure, your Grace. Emperor insist we speak up if we have useful information, so forgive me if it’s not, but these plates are magic-absorbing. It is helping keep me alive because of a condition I… received from Alkus Gristak. K-Kernuules. If it will be of help to her Highness for the sake of the mission, she is welcome to borrow.”
“Isn’t it keeping you alive?” asks Zuzia, the first and fastest to ask the question everyone else quickly thought of as well.
“Yes, but I can go for a time without it. And, if I fall unconscious, I only need mana to reawaken, so please… if valuable, please revive me.”
“It may have been more useful while the mana fire was still burning,” remarks Aramellianna quietly as she thinks. She’s not trying to disparage Floria, but simply stating a fact. They’re still in the same boat, regardless of the absorption method of mana for Silence.
“If she’s wearing it, we can give her our mana, can’t we?” asks Sundenelle. “And, of course, if you’ll agree, Lady Zuzia, I believe you have too little use for your own, yes? King Rikuto seems to have a great deal more mana than any human-kin save for the elves, given the reports I’ve been receiving about various events, none more so than your summoning, so if you’re willing, and we make use of Corpsman Floria’s absorption armor, I’d rather try it than waste Silence’s more valuable summons.”
Zuzia nods easily. “My mana is yours.”
Serrentuk raises his hand, and Aramellianna asks, “Lord Serrentuk? What is it?”
“I can make a pretty awful suggestion, but there will be a great deal of risk.”
“What? You want to pull out one of your captured mana… Oh God… that’s it isn’t it?” Zuzia stared her question partially out of sarcasm, but quickly realized, it is an awful, yet really good suggestion.
The mana fire was self-sustaining, and the only downside to trying might be the fact that they can’t burn off the whole thing with the attempt.
Serrentuk replies, “I have several small mana fires in Gate, so we can still experiment with prevention and containment efforts for the future in a controlled environment, and I can spare one of them to see how well it works.” He adds seriously, “We could… also try to use one intentionally, since we now know a couple methods that work on it, in order to combat the poison ash.”
“Jezu, Staruszku…” grumbles Zuzia. “Nienawidzę tego, że to jest prawie dobry pomysł… [Jesus, Old Man… I hate this, that it’s a good idea…]” Zuzia then sighs. “I don’t like the idea of using the mana fires, but it’s… a working idea.”
“The risks are too great for now to set a new one,” starts Sundenelle in reply. “But, if you can suspend an already burning ember, I’m amenable to this plan. I’m not comfortable starting a new one, even if we intend to keep it small while we have so much out of control right now.”
“Understood,” replies Serrentuk. “Then, if we can have his Majesty Rikuto summoned back here, we shall see if Zuzia can at least suspend an ember. And, if all else fails, I shall quickly put it back into Gate.”
“Good. Princess Silence, will this plan work?”
“Yes,” replies the alien princess. “I shall recall all but two of my summons, such that they will make progress while we prepare. In the meantime, I’d like to ask two questions.”
“Go ahead,” replies Sundenelle as the highest person present, though it’s obviously a fairly “informal” meeting.
Silence states, “I wish to know the fate of Lord Kuboen.”
“He was discovered escorting you and Field Marshall Klur. His own injuries and fatigue were severe, and he should be on a truck bound for Fort Peony.”
“I see. Good. Please ensure Grandfather learns that I wish to personally thank Lord Kuboen formally when time allows. I believe this would be proper, yes, Grand Duchess Senior?”
Aramellianna scoffs and nods. “Yes, your Highness.”
“And, the second question?” asks Sundenelle.
“What exactly did extinguish the fire?”
Everyone else glances at each other. Ecklevon’s ears are bleeding, Floria is bruised, but able to function. Sundenelle and Aramellianna are battered. The soldiers are all fatigued and weary. And, the sky is darker than dark without a single star or moon visible above; a near impossibility on Zenkon.
“Which version should we tell her?” asks Sundenelle, looking at Aramellianna. In turn, the brunette looks at Zuzia, who cocks her head.
“What exactly do you mean by ‘version’, your Imperial Majesty?”
Zuzia’s irritation and blood pressure are about to skyrocket back up. But, the rational part of her brain knows that it would be horrifying, potentially chaos and panic-inducing, and even simply cruel to insist upon the truth.
When the truth is a manmade weapon that can be replicated at any time, and its usage this day was not even the worst way to use one,...
Perhaps giving the credit to God or the ‘gods’ recognized by this world isn’t such a bad thing.
Not that Zuzia will let Daniel off so easily. Real people died, and all he had to do was wait.
It wasn’t a logic question for high school banter or thought stimulation.
Real people lucky enough to survive have lost their homes and their loved ones.
All while you get to lose nothing, Daniel. I hope you’re ready…
***
