fullparagon

On The Elements, Chapter 4

On the Elements, Chapter 4

The heavens grew eyes to behold the true beauty of the world below, but humans already have eyes to begin with. So, what is it they see when they look at the world not with their eyes, but their vision? You're very smart. Can you figure out what the answer is?

-Buer, Dendro Archon

There is, perhaps, no better Archon that exemplifies the dichotomy between the human and the divine better than Buer. Physically, Buer is a human child of no more than five or six years of age, though with a rather unusual appearance. She’s been called elfin by some, and the idea of a mystical forest fae is not an incorrect one. 

Out of all the Archons, she perhaps shares her own mind the most freely, especially at the Baghdad House of Wisdom, where she is known to teach several highly sought-after classes, of which I have had the honor of attending several. And of course, I can claim special insight to the mind of Buer because of my own Vision: I was gifted a Dendro Vision in the very early days of her arrival, before even who Buer truly was could be known. 

As such, I can most clearly elucidate what the requirements for obtaining a Dendro Vision are, as I myself have heard the voice of the Hopebringer. 

• A love of learning and knowledge. 

Buer is the Djinn of Wisdom, though others would call her the God or Angel of Wisdom depending on your theological interpretation of the Archons, a subject this text will not seek to delve into. It should come as no surprise then that Buer’s mind is a curious and sharp instrument, and that she seeks out learning and new wisdom at every opportunity. A large number of academics, myself included, are among those who have received Dendro Visions.

Higher education, however, is not required. The curiosity of a child and a love of learning is what is truly demanded of a Dendro Vision Holder. Even an illiterate who has never attended a day of school in their life, but desperately seeks to learn new things, will qualify. There are more than a few examples of elders and shamans of far off and isolated tribes who cared deeply about the lore and history of their own people, and importantly, passing it on to others, and for their driving ambition to do so received a Dendro Vision. 

• Self Sacrifice and Altruism. 

It is now well known that Buer views her own life and powers as meager and of little worth, an ironic viewpoint when globally, she is the most beloved of all Archons for the fact that she is a living shield against the Simurgh, and has reduced global hunger and poverty more than any individual in history through her actions, and the actions of her dragon. There is a standing order on the books of not just the Protectorate, but nearly every reputable cape organization, that if Buer should ever call, we will come.  Damn the consequences to ourselves or our nations. Indeed, even if Buer did not call, I know that myself and every member of the Protectorate would be willing to lay down their lives to preserve Buer’s. 

But her willingness to sacrifice her own needs and desires for others is present in her every action. To her, every life is precious, to the point that she has stamped out the Death Penalty in the Middle East, where it was once more prevalent than any other region on Earth. This is despite the fact that over and over again, things would have been far simpler and easier for her if she’d just killed some of her foes, especially Saddam Hussein. 

But she has not, and Buer continues to strive daily to do all she can for not just the people of Iraq, but for all mankind. She has repeatedly given up everything she has to help others, no matter how dangerous to herself the act is. This drive to always give of oneself in a sacrificial matter is perhaps the key to understanding the Dendro Vision Holder more than any other. I have always considered myself a very selfish person, but when those around me were asked, they have universally said I was one of the most kind and giving of those they knew. It is a hard concept for me to swallow, and I think the same could be said of Buer herself. 

• Captivity

This is a hard one for myself to admit, but in speaking with other Vision Holders and after reviewing extensive data, it cannot be denied: Dendro Vision Holders universally in some way feel trapped and imprisoned. For some, it is an oppressive regime, such as Dr. Bashir Saeed, Buer’s own adoptive father. For others, it might be literal imprisonment, or a more metaphorical prison, such as a self-imposed task or a relationship they feel trapped by. 

What Buer’s current prison is, I cannot say. It is known from her stories that in the land of Teyvat, she was taken captive and held as prisoner by those she refers to as Sages for hundreds of years. And to this day, most Dendro Vision Holders will admit that they too feel as though they are or had been imprisoned, somehow. Many use their Visions to break free of their prisons; others, of which I am unfortunately among, simply use their Vision to further reinforce the bars of their own cages. 

With this in mind, it is possible to draw a picture, then, of what the Dendro Vision holder is. rom that, we can use it to create a guide as to better understand how their powers can, and perhaps should,be used…

The Second Archon War: Comoedia Glacialis 1

 Comoedia Glacialis 1: The Queen Enters, Stage Left

Conjuring up a fireball, the Tsaritsa threw it with all her might at Lumine, snarling in rage. 

“Don’t you UNDERSTAND!? This is what I have worked towards for CENTURIES! You would undermine EVERYTHING!”

Lumine, silent as always, didn’t respond as she dodged, then a wordless cry as she swung her glowing golden sword with all her might. It struck through her barrier of Geo, and Lumine sent a wave of her own Pyro energy at the Tsaritsa.

Screaming in pain, she was flung down to the cold, stony ground below her. She raised a hand to send forth more ice, but Lumine plunged out of the sky, her sword pointed directly at the Tsaritsa’s heart, the winds of that treacherous Barbatos at her back. The Tsaritsa screamed, and-

Pain. Horrible pain. This was IMPOSSIBLE! She had all Seven of the Gnosi! She was all-powerful! She should have torn Celestia from Heaven itself, and instituted her new order! She screamed in pain and rage, a primal cry imbued with divine power, and a rejection of reality itself. 

NO!

And then the pain fled entirely. Reality itself was torn asunder, and for a horrible moment, she saw clearly. Saw what a monster she had become. Saw that in her madness, she would have destroyed her beloved Snezhnaya itself. For one moment, she regretted everything.

And then she saw the face of her mother in her mind once more. Blood on her lips, her eyes dull and lifeless, as she wept and held the body of her only family in the cold snow where it had fallen after being cast down from heaven. 

I will freeze the entire world to have my revenge. Her heart whispered, and froze solid once more. 

When the haze cleared, she found herself amidst the ruins of a dead city. The ground here was lifeless and poisoned, the buildings frozen ruins and burned out husks, and there was barely a sign of life. Only the lower-order creatures persisted here; mortal men would be killed within hours if they lived here. 

In numb horror, the Tsaritsa looked around. She did not recognize the place, but the deep connection she felt in her very essence told her where she was. Zapolyarny. Capital of Snezhnaya. 

“No,” she whispered again. Then a scream of anguish burst forth from her again, a wordless cry of agony and despair as she struck the earth. 

WHAT HAVE YOU FOOLS DONE!? She screamed. 

If she had been more lucid, or less exhausted from battle, she might have noticed the metallic husks of vehicles or the writing that persisted in some places that was in a tongue of men not found on Teyvat. Perhaps the Tsaritsa would have realized that this was not Zapolyarny, but another place to which she belonged. 

But with the power of seven gnosi thundering in her veins and the trauma of her recent defeat hazing her mind, the Tsaritsa was not in an observant mood. Instead, she sent every bit of her pent up grief and rage into her gnosi, causing the very world itself to quake. 

YOU WOULD DARE DESTROY MY SUBJECTS!? LET THE WORLD KNOW MY HEART, AND FREEZE SOLID!

Mere moments later, she sensed the approach of the one she both sought and feared. 

SUSTAINER, the Tsaritsa hissed, turning towards the approach of Heaven’s Enforcer. LET ME GIVE YOU A PROPER SNEZHNAYAN GREETING!

With that, she loosed terrible lightning and ignited the very air surrounding the Sustainer, clawing at them like an enraged beast even at a distance of a thousand miles. For a moment, the Sustainer’s progress was halted, their advance stymied by the Tsaritsa’s wrath. 

Then, to her disgust, the Sustainer shrugged off the assault and approached once more. They were fast, faster than the Tsaritsa had expected, moving at speeds greater than even lightning. 

Snarling in rage, the Tsaritsa sent waves of ice and howling gales at her foe to slow them, only for them to be slapped aside as though they were nothing. At the last moment, she drew a shield of Geo about herself, clumsily manipulating the alien energy through her stolen gnosis. 

The blow from the Sustainer was enough to send the Tsaritsa crashing into the ground, where she impacted with such force that the reverberation was felt around the world. Still, that was not enough to destroy her, and she turned like a beast at bay, roaring her defiance as stood. 

SUSTAINER! I WILL CAST YOU AND ALL OF CELESTIA DOWN TO EARTH, AS YOU ONCE DID MY MOTHER! 

Through eyes of madness, she saw only what she thought to see: an imposing figure of gold with an aura of great power. She didn’t notice that this Sustainer was male, not female, or that there was no divine spark in this being. 

YOU SEEK TO DISRUPT THE CYCLE. The Sustainer replied, their voice booming through the Tsaritsa’s mind. I AM THE WARRIOR. YOU WILL CEASE. 

That made no sense to the Tsaritsa, but she was far past the point of caring about such things. Her rejoinder was to cast out lightning and detonate it with pyro in a massive overload reaction, but when she attempted to send out a wave of Dendro to complete the chain, nothing happened. Buer’s gnosis was silent and dead. Enraged, the Tsartisa instead used Anemo to swirl both. 

To her delight, this time, the reactions worked, shredding flesh from the Sustainer’s body. They staggered back in mid-air, touching their burned and scarred face, where golden ichor dripped. 

SO, IT SEEMS HEAVEN ITSELF CAN BLEED, the Tsaritsa crowed, as she forged a massive spear of Geo, and hurled it with all her might at the Sustainer. 

To her horror, the spear shattered as the Sustainer sent out a wave of golden golden light. They rose above the Tsaritsa, and slowly, their dispassionate face shifted into a bloody grin. 

THE CYCLE WILL CONTINUE, the Sustainer decreed and sent out a similar golden wave at the Tsaritsa. She dodged out of the way on a gust of wind, and the impact rang the earth like a bell once more. 

I WILL CAST YOU DOWN LIKE THE WORM YOU ARE! The Tsaritsa raged, and summoned a blizzard that crackled with lightning. 

Let it all be swept away. For there was no Love left in her heart. Only power. 

It was early in the evening when the Scream was heard and snow began to fall in Tokyo. That was unusual, but not unheard of, for it was late December and the first day of Winter. 

What was unusual was the reaction of the Shogun and her dragons. 

MOBILIZE THE SENTAI, Ei ordered, storming out of Euthymia in her Divine form, and causing all the human servants who saw her to fall to their knees in awe and terror. Her blade laid bare in her hands, and the sky crackled and roared with thunder. She opened a gateway to the skies above her city, and hovered up to several thousand feet, looking to the North and West. 

DANTALION, Ei growled, as the blizzard raged about her. WHAT MADNESS IS THIS? 

The Tsaritsa, however, was not listening to Ei, and only raging in pain and madness. 

EI, WHAT IS HAPPENING? 

Keiga and Mushu rose up beside Ei, both dragons having grown to well over 100 meters in length. 

FOLLY, Ei responded, shaking her head in disgust. DANTALION DOES BATTLE WITH THE SUSTAINER. 

Keiga let out a fluting note of anxiety as she looked about at the ice and snow raging around them. THE CRYO ARCHON? SHE FIGHTS SCION? 

SO WHAT DO WE DO? DO WE GO TO AID HER? Mushu demanded, getting straight to the point.

For a moment, Ei could feel the future and Fate itself rested on a razor’s edge. A part of her, a large part of her, wanted to summon her forces and go immediately to the field of battle, to fall upon the Sustainer while he was engaged and strike a decisive blow. 

But she could sense only grief and madness from the newly arrived Dantalion. Along with something else: the fool had bitten into the poisoned apples of heaven. She was doomed to madness and death now. 

I MUST CONSULT BUER AND BARBATOS. SEE THAT OUR FORCES ARE PREPARED, AND DRIVE OFF THE STORM, Ei commanded. She hesitated, then added, SHOULD AUGHT HAPPEN TO ME, TSUKUYOMI MUST LEAD YOU. 

Then she cut a hole in reality, and stepped into the Dream. It was not something that she did often, and her method of entry was crude at best, but there was no time for niceties. 

She found Buer standing atop the highest point of her own city, chanting a spell as great rings of life energy surrounded her. Around her, the Children of the Forest sang a dirge of dread, reinforcing the warding spell Buer wrought. It was a finely made thing, and Ei did not speak as Buer completed the ritual. 

“This must be the Dantalion you spoke of,” Buer said at last, her ward settling into place. Ei watched with approval as the blizzard was driven out of her lands, then frowned. 

“That ward will not hold for long,” she said, noting as the spell groaned under the weight of the Authority that the Tsaritsa brought to bear. 

“It will not, but I am afraid to draw on the Dendro Gnosis, and to put more power into it would be dangerous,” Buer said with a shake of her head. “Besides. She will fail before long, and the ward will not need to last more than a day.”

“So soon?” Ei felt the echo of the battle, then grimaced. “I fear you are correct. And she seems to possess all the gnosi. If this is all that the combined might of the Seven can bring to bear… it does not bode well.”

“Not all Seven,” Buer said with a slow shake of her head. “She lacks mine. It seems that more than one gnosis cannot exist at the same time.” 

“Logical,” Ei agreed. She frowned, turning as a gust of wind blew towards them. “Well, Barbatos?”

“This isn’t good,” the adorable little wind spirit said, shaking its little head. “Sorry, this is just a fragment of me. I’m trying to shield most of Europe from this, but it’s bad. I was tempted for a moment to put an arrow in Scion’s behind, but I think if I attracted her attention Dantalion would lash out at me too. She’s gone completely mad.”

“Even gods are not meant to hold such power,” Buer agreed. “I know not the time and place Dantalion comes from, but she seems full of grief and sorrow. I wish we could help, but…”

Gritting her teeth, Ei nodded. “But I will not risk everything on a foolish, ill-conceived gamble.”

“If this was Dantalion’s plan, I find it sorely lacking,” Barbatos agreed. “I’m being forced to try to protect my own lands from this early blizzard. Most of the crops are in, but people aren’t ready for this, and they will suffer.”

“I fear if she is not stopped soon, she will begin an Ice Age,” Buer said worriedly. “I do not wish for her death, but…”

“But if one challenges Heaven, one must be prepared to meet death,” Ei said grimly. She cut open another portal, turning her face towards her people. “I must attend to my own lands. But we must speak again when this settles. This changes much.”

Then, Ei stepped forward into an uncertain future. 

Another wave of golden power crashed against the Tsaritsa, and she screamed in pain and frustration. This was nothing like what she had prepared herself to face! Unable to fully harness the majority of the powers she had usurped, she lashed out with icy fury, trying to freeze the very essence of the Sustainer as they dueled in the skies above the desolate ruins. 

While her most potent powers did scar and disrupt the Sustainer, to the point where they had lost an entire leg in the battle, they were not completely stymied. Worse, their attacks were growing ever more furious and deadly, while also becoming more refined and precise. It was as if the Sustainer had never before seen most of her powers, and was rapidly adapting as to how to combat them. 

DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS TO HOLD THE CORPSE ONE YOU LOVE MOST IN YOUR ARMS, MONSTER?! The Tsaritsa howled, the image of Cocolia dead in her arms, body turning to ice before it faded away entirely. I SWORE ON THAT DAY YOU WOULD REGRET THE POWER YOU GAVE ME! NOW, I WRECK MY VENGEANCE! 

The Sustainer had been mostly silent aside from their initial chastisement about the “cycle”, but this seemed to take the Enforcer of Heaven aback slightly. 

I AM… INCOMPLETE. THE THINKER PERISHED. BUT I HAVE FOUND A NEW ONE. 

Thinker? That made no sense. Did they mean Samiel? That was nonsense. Celestia had been as much responsible for her death during the Cataclysm as anyone else. 

NOTHING CAN BE ALLOWED TO DISRUPT THE CYCLE. THE GREAT WORK MUST CONTINUE. 

This Sustainer seemed different from what the Tsaritsa remembered, but that didn’t matter. Rage and grief were all she had left, and this was a suitable enough target. 

YOUR GREAT WORK IS A SHAM! YOU ARE AN ALIEN WHO WOULD OPPRESS THESE LANDS WITH YOUR DICTATES, CLAIMING TO SHELTER WHEN YOU TRULY STIFLE ALL LOVE!  

Concentrating all the might of the global storm she had conjured, the Tsaritsa encased the Sustainer in a mountain of ice, reinforced with Geo and bound together by Hydro. She grinned in triumph as the monster was swallowed up wholesale. 

Then wailed in despair as the Sustainer shattered the million tons of ice and rock with a bellow of power. 

Normally, even this time of year, Arizona was warm and sunny. The forecast had been for clear skies, with a daytime high of 62F, and an overnight low of 40F, well above freezing. That was why Alexandria had planned a rally at Bank One Ballpark in downtown Phoenix. She was still working on securing the Democratic nomination, though she did have it mostly locked down. 

Still, it was never too early to start, and indicators were that with a little work, she could flip the traditionally red Republican state to Democrat blue during the actual election. 

What she hadn’t expected was that her early morning rally would be held amidst a snowstorm that had lasted for nearly a full day now, as earthquakes and tsunamis rocked the globe. Alexandria had considered canceling the rally and had even asked Contessa about it, but the Thinker was currently having a panic attack, curled up in a corner and stroking her Magic 8 Ball while muttering, “She’s here.” And that couldn’t be good. 

She’d had to make the call herself several hours ago, and Alexandria prayed she’d made the right one. Who, exactly, she was praying to, was up for debate. She’d been raised Catholic, and aside from an ever-present sense of guilt, didn’t cling to that faith very hard. 

“Mrs. Costa-Brown? We’re ready for you.”

“I told you before, unless you want me to call you Governor Dainson, it’s just Rebecca,” Alexandria said, turning around to smile at the man in front of her. 

He was quite a bit older than her, with graying hair at his temples, though most of it was still blond. If Alexandria had been into older men, she’d have fallen for this silver fox, with his lantern jaw, broad shoulders, and winning smile. He was tall too, though he had a bit of a stoop to his shoulders from an injury sustained when his helicopter had been shot down during the Vietnam War. 

“Well, in that case, you’ll have to call me Leif,” the Governor of Pennsylvania said with a warm chuckle. He reminded Alexandria of her abuelo, who’d been dead now for five years of a heart attack. Of course, unlike her grandfather, Leif Dainson was a career politician used to the halls of power and the American political machine. He was Alexandria’s current best ally, having forgone his own nomination for President to support her efforts. 

“I think I can agree to that,” Alexandria said, smiling and extending her hand. Leif took it, and gave her a firm handshake, just as another tremor shook the building. 

He grimaced, peering out a nearby window. “Snow’s still coming down. And in Phoenix…”

“Yes, but that’s why this needs to happen,” Alexandria said firmly, and stepped out into the hall. 

A long walk up the hall and onto the field later, and Alexandria broke out into the artificial light of the stadium. The sun had been up for just over an hour, but it was too black to tell that with the clouds overhead. To her surprise, people packed both the field and the stadium itself, despite the blizzard and shuddering earth. 

For a moment, Alexandria considered flying over the people’s heads to the stage, but set that aside. Instead, she took the time to shake a few hands, give a few hugs, and even kiss a baby, who was cold and crying with an anxious young latina mother. 

“Bless you,” the woman said, tears freezing on her cheeks as her breath misted in the air and she tried to comfort the squalling child. Alexandria gave her a squeeze, then moved on as cameras flashed and reporters talked quietly into their microphones. 

At last, Alexandria ascended to the stage with Leif, wiping aside the snow that covered her lectern. She looked out at the crowd, then down at the teleprompter, and finally at her notes. Deciding something, she crumpled up the paper, and very obviously threw it over her shoulder.

“I think my carefully prepared speech is no longer relevant,” Alexandria said, holding out a hand to catch a few drifting snowflakes. That got sporadic chuckles, and she smiled grimly. “There’s been a lot of questions as to why I’m running for president. A lot of concerns about having a Parahuman Executive. Fear that this is my attempt to become a warlord, like Moord Nag or the Raiden Shogun.”

More flashes from cameras, and uncomfortable murmurs from the crowd, and Alexandria leaned forward. “I can understand those fears. It’s one reason I’ve been campaigning as Rebecca Costa-Brown, not as Alexandria. To emphasize that I don’t want to become a despotic tyrant, but instead to serve and protect the people of the United States of America, and to uphold the law of the land.”

Slowly, Alexandria lifted up into the air, carrying the podium and microphone up with her. “The time for that has passed. Why do I seek the highest office in the land?”

She pointed up towards the sky, and at that moment, a shudder ran through the earth, causing the crowd to cry out in panic. 

“This is why! Because the world is changing! Because our people NEED to be protected and defended! I am Rebecca Costa-Brown! But I am also Alexandria! And my Vision for this nation is to defend it and those I love, to make this country stand proud in a world of monsters and gods as a woman and as a Parahuman! A President who will put herself on the front lines to protect you! I-”

Child of two worlds, you walk a narrow path. But your Vision is broad. 

Alexandria stuttered, her eyes growing wide. A voice in her head. Soft and serene, a woman’s voice, one full of both grief, and compassion. 

“I will not give up,” Alexandria managed. “No matter what happens. You will always have me to stand on the frontlines of the fight against evil and oppression.” 

Though your heart is troubled, your mind is clear: you will let nothing dissuade you from your Ambition. 

“What you feel today is the presence of a new Archon,” Alexandria declared, barely hearing the shock of the crowd as she spoke the truth, as much as she could. “Some call them gods, some demons, some simply powerful capes. I am here to tell you that today in Russia, a new one has appeared. Will she be a threat like the Raiden Shogun, or a friend, like Nahida Saeed? Only time will tell.”

No matter what the price, you will pay it to uphold your Love for those you defend. 

“And as your President, I swear to you, America will stand proud amongst all the nations, with a Commander in Chief that can look one of them in the eye and demand that we be treated as equals, not as pawns to be manipulated!” Alexandria thundered, now oblivious to the crowd as she poured out her heart. 

Let your Heart be your Guide, my beloved Child of Ice.  

The sky overhead suddenly cleared, and the snow stopped falling as a clear pale blue crystal appeared over Alexandria’s podium. She reached up on hand, clasping her Vision tightly. 

“Choose me, and I promise, America will lead the way once more!” 

The crowd erupted into wild cheers, whether because the storm had stopped, or because of the speech, it didn’t matter. Alexandria gripped the icy Vision tightly, her mind reeling. 

Parahumans… can receive Visions? This had never happened before. 

She set her podium back down carefully and held up her Vision for all the world to see. 

“WE WILL NEVER BOW TO YOU!” Alexandria screamed at the heavens. “WE WILL NOT GO QUIETLY! HUMANITY WILL LIVE ON! WE WILL TRIUMPH!” 

Across the world, the golden man who held up Heaven’s Gift in his hand did not hear her. 

But the bloody girl that lay sprawled in the snow did. And though she was near death, she smiled. 

“Vengeance…” the tsaritsa coughed, scarlet blood frothing at her lips. “Will be yours, my daughter.”

The Warrior regarded the small object in his hand. At his feet lay his opponent, the Being that had dared challenge him. She had been strong. Stronger than any he had faced, even the Raiden Shogun. 

But what was this feeling? Satisfaction? Joy? He felt… complete. Not in the sense of the Cycle, but that he had truly fulfilled his purpose. There had been a threat, and he had faced it and triumphed through combat. 

He regarded the dying creature beneath him as she gasped for breath, her vital fluids leaking out. She had changed. Before, she had been larger, with a greater radiance of power about her. Now, that power had fallen out, and become six small objects. 

The Warrior plucked up another of the objects, testing the weight of the thing in his remaining hand. He felt… the Earth itself. Along with Gravity, Time, Money- He shook his head and shoved the object into a pocket dimension. 

The creature at his feet wheezed something in a language that the Warrior did not know. He was not as adept at reading body language as the Thinker, but he could guess what she said, some sort of curse or vow to slay him one day. 

He picked up the rest of the objects of power, then turned to regard the dying woman. He held up one object, which was full of Ice and… Love? He felt a sudden yearning for the Thinker, in ways that did not make sense to an Entity. Love was not a concept they understood. 

But he had felt Joy at his battle with the Being he had triumphed over. 

For the first time, the Warrior wanted something other than the Cycle to be completed. He wished to experience more battles such as the one he had just fought. To triumph over other foes in combat, to prove his superiority. 

So, he dropped this final piece onto the woman’s bloody breast. “You fought well. If you will serve the Cycle, I will spare you, this time. Submit, and I will allow you to continue.”

The woman regarded him with hate-filled eyes, then gasped, “You know I will one day seek to destroy you.”

A slow smile spread over The Warrior’s lips. “I look forward to it. Do you submit?”

With a snarl, the woman grabbed the object, then raised it in her clenched fist. “I… submit. I will serve your Cycle, Sustainer. For now.”

“Foster conflict. Engage in battle. Gather data,” the Warrior declared, kneeling and taking the woman’s hand in his. She trembled at his touch, and that too brought pleasure to him. Though only because his lack of understanding caused him to view it as fear instead of rage. “And one day, when the Cycle is ready to be completed, we will battle once more. And your strength will feed our children as we destroy the world, and spread them amongst the stars.”

She bared bloody teeth at him. “Very well. Though if you wish me to bear your children, you must make me do so.”

He nodded, then turned about, and departed this dimension. He was weary and weakened, and he wished to study those five objects. What were they? What was the power they contained? 

He would find out. And when he did, the Cycle would at least be restored. 

Dark Legend of Potter Chapter 63

Chapter 3.11: The Ways of the Heart

The first Hogsmeade weekend had arrived, and to the shock of everyone but the professors, Megumin’s name was not on the list of banned students. This was because Megumin had earned herself an impressive number of infractions, ranging from a detention for brewing an advanced potion by stealing several ingredients, to losing a truly impressive 100 points in a single fell swoop by attempting to clean the toilets she had been assigned to during her detention with a wandless Blasting Charm. The fact that the Charm hadn’t completely worked and had only mostly destroyed one bathroom was why she was both alive, and it had only been 100 points. 

Of course, the reason that Megumin was allowed to go came down to a simple point: All of the faculty very dearly longed to have several Megumin-free hours in their weekend where she was very firmly in the category of “someone else’s problem.” 

“BWAHAAHAHAH! I have been set free, fools! You thought these walls could contain me!? YOU SHALL RUE THE DAY YOU UNDERESTIMATED MEGUMIN POTTER!” Megumin cackled upon frantically searching for her name on the list, and finding it absent. 

“Congratulations, you managed to do the bare minimum. Please try not to destroy the village while we’re there,” Percy told her. 

“Why? Do you fear my wrath that much?” Megumin snickered. 

“No, it would be a dreadful amount of paperwork, and Penelope and I have a date,” Percy said.

“Ooooooooh, does Percival have a hot date?” Fred snickered. Behind him, George smacked his palm into his face, looking mortified. 

“Yes, he does. And perhaps if you applied yourself to more than just mischief, you’d have a date as well,” Percy told him with a smirk, then strutted off, leaving Fred behind looking rather gobsmacked. 

“You set yourself up for that one, Freddie me lad,” George said with a heavy sigh, gazing almost respectfully at Percy’s departing back.

“I thought I was George today,” Fred answered with a scowl.

“Bollocks to that, I’m not having my good name sullied by your idiocy. Now come on, if we work fast, maybe we can get Angelina and Katie to go out with us so you don’t look like complete tossers,” George told his twin. 

Megumin frowned at them leaving, then turned to Ron. “Well?”

“Looks like I’m safe to go too,” Ron said, smiling at Megumin.

She grinned back at him, looking rather shy and demure for once. 

“There’s a broom shop, I’d fancy a look at the Nimbus 2002s, they’re- what? What’s wrong? Why are you making that face?!” Ron demanded, as Megumin turned around and sulked away, to his complete bafflement. 

Fortunately, Ron’s older siblings were not there to explain the vagaries of women to him, because they’d have gotten everything entirely wrong. 

However, there was someone else nearby who could have given Ron equally horrible advice. Actually, that would be a lie. Kazuma would have given the worst advice imaginable, especially if he’d actually been trying to give it.

“You’re going to bring me back some butterbeer and snacks, right?” Ginny asked Kazuma. “I’m going to be ever so lonely without my Big Bro…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be at the Three Broomsticks, I’ll make sure to bring you back Madam Rosmerta’s best,” Kazuma promised Ginny, giving her a winning smile.

“Three Broomsticks? I thought you said you were busy,” Dust said, frowning at him. 

“Yes, busy taking a nap, because you lot won’t stop snoring,” Kazuma snapped. 

Draco sneered and nodded. “I have to use a silencing charm with how loud Dust snores.”

“Might have to teach me that,” Dust mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully.

“Why? Do you wake yourself up you snore so loud?” Draco taunted.

“Nah, you’re so loud it wakes me up sometimes, bloody awful,” Dust said with a shrug.

Drago instantly turned beet red. “I do not snore!” 

“You do,” Kazuma confirmed, making a face. “Through your nose too, makes this odd whistling noise.”

Draco turned first pale, then purple, and whirled. Finding who he was looking for, he grabbed Tom and demanded, “Do I snore?”

“Yeah, might want to get it looked at; you sound like a dying banshee,” Tom told him, shrugging Draco’s hand off. “Hmm, it’s a pity there’s not a book store in Hogsmeade. I’ve already read most of the books in the Hogwarts Library, and they don’t even have any comic books.”

“Comic books? Just ask to borrow Kazuma’s,” Dust offered, which caused Kazuma to turn white and slink off. 

“There are better things to read you know,” Hermione said, inserting herself into the conversation. “Comic books are hardly high literature.”

“You only say that because you’ve never read anything by Neil Gaiman,” Tom scoffed. “Sandman is a work that masterfully uses the strengths of the medium to propel the story to levels previously unheard of. Art and wordplay merge to tell a powerful story, balancing the scale of myth with the intimacy of individual characters. That series is thesis and statement as to why comic books as a medium should be respected!”

To everyone’s surprise, that actually caught Hermione’s interest. “Really? I just read Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Sir Terry Prattchet. Have you ever read Discworld?”

“No, what’s it about?” Tom asked eagerly, as Draco turned away and muttered to himself about ‘not snoring.’

Off in the shadows, Kazuma paused by Darkness, who pointedly did not look at him. “Tomorrow, 3pm. The Three Broomsticks. Room 7. Come alone.”

Darkness simply nodded, and Kazuma didn’t notice that she was blushing as she did so. He just hoped she didn’t notice that he was. 

Thankfully, someone at Hogwarts had some sense when it came to relationships. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a very large amount.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know what to do, Sirius!” Lupin said, pacing back and forth in the Room of Requirement, which was currently transformed to look like a bar, complete with several varieties of alcohol on tap.

“I can tell you’re serious,” his friend deadpanned, taking a sip of his beer. “But I don’t see why you’re upset.”

“I completely lost control of myself!” Lupin said, spinning about and glaring at Sirius. “Maybe Snape was right, maybe I am a danger!”

“If you’re taking Snivellus’ side, you have to know you’re mad. Calm down and have a drink. Most people would be happy in your position,” Sirius said with a roll of his eyes. 

Remus pointed a finger at Sirius, his hand trembling. “And I don’t understand why you’re not more upset! She’s your cousin!”

“Who is an adult woman. I’m very happy for the both of you,” Sirius said, raising his mug. “Now calm down and have a beer like a sensible fellow.”

Scowling, Remus did sit down, but only to put his head in his hands. “I’m a monster.”

“For making me drink alone? I quite agree,” Sirius said, draining the last of his beer. “You know, I wonder, why did this place never give us beer before? Would have been easier than smuggling in the stuff back in sixth and seventh year.”

“Because we were children! You don’t serve alcohol to children,” Lupin growled. 

“I don’t know, something seems different about this place, I wonder what it is?” Sirius mused. 

It was at that moment the door banged open, making both men practically jump out of their skins. Sirius was half transformed into a dog before a blue haired woman flounced into the room. “HEY! WHO’S STEALING ALL MY- Oh, hey Remus, hey Sirius!” 

“Lady Aqua, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Remus gasped, putting a hand to his chest. 

Sirius sheepishly changed back. “We, uh, we aren't stealing. We just needed a place to talk in private, and this seemed like the right location. You uh, know about the room?”

“Of course, I read all the books, though it took me forever to find it,” Aqua said, coming over to the bar. “Pour your finest bubbly, Sirius! I made sure to stock this place real good when I rebuilt the castle.”

Sirius hesitated, then glanced over at Remus, who was looking exasperated. “...actually, that explains a lot.”

“One bubbly, coming up,” Sirius said, and pulled out a bottle from the rack, pouring Aqua a tall glass. 

She drank it down almost instantly, smacking her lips in appreciation. “Ah, that’s the stuff! Nothing like a drink after a long day’s work!”

The two men exchanged worried looks. “But…it’s barely noon. I’m on my lunch break,” Remus pointed out.

“Eh, it’s five o’clock somewhere, and I already had two classes this morning,” Aqua said, emulating the attitude of teachers everywhere.

“It can’t be that bad,” Sirius said, seeming concerned at Aqua’s day drinking.

“They’re second and third years,” Aqua groaned, resting her head on the table. 

“Ah,” both men said, then changed their opinion. The correct response to teaching students between ages 12 and 14 is, in fact, a heavy drinking habit. 

“Well, anyway, maybe you can call Remus here down,” Sirius said, and nodded to his companion.

“Huh? What’s wrong?” Aqua asked, lifting her head up slightly.

For his part, Remus slid onto his knees, tears in his eyes. “Forgive me, Lady Aqua, for I have sinned.”

Instantly, Aqua was all business, clutching Remus’ hand before hers. “Fear not, my child. Confess your sins to me, and be forgiven.”

“I…I have lain with a woman while…” Remus licked his lips, then managed, “While I was not in control of myself…”

“Ah, and she did not consent?” Aqua asked gently.

“Er, no, she was, um, a bit enthused about the whole thing, but I-”

“But he’s horribly guilt ridden because he’s a prude,” Sirius pointed out. 

“Oh, well, what’s the problem then? Did you cheat on Tonks?” Aqua asked, sounding angry now.

“Ah, it was Tonks,” Lupin admitted.

Aqua dropped his hands and looked baffled. “Well, I don’t get it. Did you have fun?”

Remus turned bright red, while Sirius started laughing, slapping the bar with one hand. “I, uh, well, yes…”

“Then there was no sin. All love is good in the sight of Lady Aqua, be you furry, wolfkin, or alpha/omega.” Aqua paused. “Actually, that last one is kinda gross and weird, but I mean, I do try to be inclusive.”

Deciding that anything that grossed Aqua out was probably not something for mortal minds to know, Remus ignored that last part. “But, what if I hurt her? I’m a werewolf!” 

“I know! Did you hear about the protest?” Aqua said, grinning.

“Uh, yes, I did, and, well, I’m flattered, but, er-”

“I knew Megumin was a good girl, under it all,” Sirius said, wiping a tear from his eye. “Giving Snivellus hell, just like her mother.”

“I never liked Snape in the books, but now that I’ve met him, he smells funny,” Aqua said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Thus sayeth the Lord!” Sirius declared, and poured himself and Remus a beer. “Congratulations, mate, cheers!” 

“I still think you shouldn’t be nearly this enthused about the whole thing,” Remus muttered, but took the beer. 

Putting one arm around Remus’ shoulders, Sirius gestured broadly with his pint, sloshing a bit of the beer onto the floor. “Just think about it! Before, we were brothers by choice, but now, we’ll be family in truth! It’s fantastic!”

“I didn’t think about it that way,” Remus admitted. He winced slightly. “Er, what do you think Andy and Ted will think of it?”

“They’ll come around on it. My favorite cousin’s a good sort, and so is Teddy. Besides, their daughter loves you, what more would they want?” Sirius demanded. 

“A son in law that isn’t a monster,” Remus muttered into his beer.

“I wouldn’t worry about it; it’s not like she’s marrying Snape,” Aqua pointed out. 

That particular comment got Remus and Sirius both right as they were taking a drink, and both men ended up spewing beer out of their noses as they laughed, getting both of themselves half soaked. 

“I mean, we’ve just a few dates, it’s not like we’re getting married yet,” Remus giggled, taking out his wand to clean off the beer. Really, it was cheating how easy wizards had it with those things. They wouldn’t even smell like booze after that.

The whole mood shifted, as Sirius went from jovial to dark and broody at the drop of a hat. “My good fellow,” he said in a soft, dangerous voice. “Are you telling me you had your way with my favorite cousin, and shall now spurn her?”

“Well, n-no, I just, I mean, we’ve only known one another for a few months, and, well, er, I don’t want to take things too quickly,” Remus stammered. “I, ah, do intend to do properly by her, it’s just-”

“Excellent!” Sirius said, slapping Remus on the back with a hearty chuckle, his glower vanishing in a moment. “Just see that you don’t break her poor heart and leave her. I’d hate to have to turn you into dogmeat.”

“Yeah, Eris would be super mad too,” Aqua agreed. “More bubbly!” 

“To our two love birds!” Sirius said, and clinked glasses with Aqua, while Remus sat there, his eyes glazed over and a frozen smile on his face. What had he gotten himself into? 

Meanwhile, Tonks was strolling along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, whistling happily to herself and spinning her wand through her fingers like a cowboy. There was a spring in her step and just a little something extra in her swagger as she walked, along with a stupid grin plastered all over her face. 

It was fortunate indeed for her that the only staff member who’d seen her so far was Snape, who didn’t have the life experience to understand why she was in such a good mood. 

“Wonder where Blackie’s gone off too,” Tonks mused, looking around. She shrugged. “Must be with Remus or Megumin. Ah well, it’s a beautiful day regard-”

KRACK-CA-THOOM!

“GOD DAMMIT, MEGUMIN! I WAS HAVING A GOOD DAY!” Tonks snarled, picking herself up off the leafstrewn ground and charging forward through the trees towards where the mushroom cloud was forming at the edge of the forest. 

It didn’t take her two long to track down the two girls hurrying through the forest, especially since one of them was riding piggyback on the other. 

“INCARCEROUS!” Tonks snapped, and a rope flew out of her wand, tangling itself around both Yunyun and Megumin, and sending both teens to the forest floor in a spray of leaves and a tangle of limbs. 

“Back, foul beast!” Megumin snarled, struggling weakly against the ropes. “For I shall smite you with my most powerful spell!” 

“Megumin, i-it’s just Tonks,” Yunyun said. “Tonks, um, d-don’t you recognize us?”

“That’s Auror Tonks to you, you bloody little menaces,” Tonks growled, squatting down beside the two guilty parties. “And don’t even think of pretending it wasn’t you two.”

“How could I deny that it was I who unleashed that glorious Explosion, even if it was just a small one?” Megumin demanded, grinning at Tonks around the ropes that wrapped about her face. 

“Um, t-technially, we didn’t break any rules. Um, we were fulfilling the bounty on flying monkeys,” Yunyun offered weakly. 

Tonks glanced in the direction of the devastation, which wasn’t hard to see thanks to all the trees that had been knocked down. Indeed, the portion of the Forbidden Forest that had been most infested by the flying pests was now mostly a smoking crater, though a significant portion of the woods were now also on fire that hadn’t previously been monkey territory. 

“I think, perhaps, that Remus had something else besides blowing up the whole bloody Forbidden Forest  in mind when he set that bounty. Besides, you can’t honestly tell that either of you need extra credit in his class,” Tonks told them. 

Megumin instantly scowled. “I only have an O. He gave me an A on my last essay for ‘use of ultra-violet prose.’”

Having seen the essay in question and laughed her head off, especially at the use of the phrase ‘guided by the hand of fate, search within thy soul and draw forth thy mystic might, and unleash the Point Me charm to defeat the beguiling lies of the foul Hinkypunks! Or, if one is of a more martial persuasion and has mastered the GREATEST OF MYSTIC ARTS, cast the mightiest of Spells, EXPLOSION! And blow the foul beasts to smithereens!’ 

“Well, just like he said on the notes for your essay, the solution to the problem of Flying Monkeys is NOT an Explosion,” Tonks growled. She was about to haul both miscreants to their feet, when she heard the sound of hooves. Sighing, she undid the binding spell, then grabbed both girls by their ears and pulled them to their feet in squeals of protest, though she did have to let Megumin flop back down or risk ripping the ear off. 

When the herd of centaurs broke through the trees nearby, stomping and snorting in anger, she raised her free hand. “Department of Magical Law Enforcement! I’ve got the situation under control.”

“Under control!?” the leader of the centaurs snarled, stamping his hooves in outrage. “You wizards just blew up half our forest, and the rest is now on fire!” 

Tonks glanced behind the centaurs and grimaced. “Er, yes. I have, however, apprehended the suspects.”

“Um, hello, Mr. Magorian,” Yunyun said, waving sheepishly. 

“You!?” Magorian was taken aback, then sighed heavily and turned to Tonks. “Apologies. It seems I was misguided. It was not wizardkind that decimated our living space. This time.”

Tonks took a moment to process that, while the other centaurs muttered, and a big one with black hair snapped, “They are as bad as wizards! They live in the castle, and are accepted by them! They’ve even given them wands!”

“Uh, we’re very sorry. Aren’t we, Megumin?” Yunyun said. When Megumin just grunted, Yunyun kicked her in the shortribs.

“Ow! Yes, we’re very sorry,” Megumin wheezed. 

“And we promise to grow back the forest, now that we’ve cleared out the flying monkeys,” Yunyun added.

That gave Tonks an idea. “You know what, these two have thoroughly earned a detention. Or ten. How’s about they spend their next few Hogsmeade visits working with you centaurs to regrow the forest? No trips to Hogsmeade until they’ve both damn well fixed the damage they’ve caused.”

Both girls let out cries of protest, but the centaurs actually gaped at Tonks.

“You, an auror…would have us punish two children you wizards have taken in?” the centaur chief asked, flabbergasted.

“Well, I mean, if it’s too much bother, me, Hagrid, and Remus can see to it,” Tonks said with a shrug. “Probably Sylvia too. She wouldn’t let this pair of morons get away with anything.”

Magorian considered it, then solemnly crossed his arms over his chest and bowed to Tonks. “The bargain is struck. We shall see to these two’s…education.”

“And if you happen to beat them a few times, they probably deserve it,” Tonks told him, bowing back. 

“We do not beat foals,” Magorian laughed. “Much as Bane would probably enjoy it.”

“I wouldn’t beat Yunyun; I don’t have a death wish,” Bane muttered. 

That mess taken care of, Tonks had Yunyun carry Megumin on her back back to the castle as the centaurs rode off. They trode along in silence for only a few brief, sweet moments, before Megumin piped up and ruined it again. 

“Do we really have to miss our Hogsmeade visits?!” 

“Yes,” Tonks informed her. “You just blew up half the bloody forest! What if you’d killed some of the centaurs instead of just the monkeys!? The least you can do is fix up their home after you destroyed it.”

“She’s r-right, Megumin. The centaurs are our friends. W-we shouldn’t have blown up their home, it was cruel,” Yunyun pointed out.

“I’ve blown up the castle twice and no one’s complained,” Megumin muttered, which earned her a sigh of exasperation from Yunyun and a stinging hex to her rear from Tonks. 

“No one’s complained?! Are you mad!? Everyone’s complained that you keep blowing up the school! Eris help me, if you blow up Hogwarts this year, I’ll break your wand myself!” Tonks snapped. 

“No! Not Chunchumaru! I would rather die!” Megumin pleaded. “He’s a noble, mighty wand! And what if Voldemort shows up!? Or Sirius Black!? What if I must resort to Explosion to fend them off?!”

“Ok, well, if your life is in serious danger from Voldemort, you can consider it. But you’ve already used that excuse twice, and I don’t think it will fly again!” Tonks informed Megumin.

“Hmph. If I die in a climactic duel because I was forced not to use Explosion, I want you to know it was your fault,” Megumin muttered, shooting Tonks a dark look. 

Tonks ignored it, but her good mood had been completely soured. Maybe she could convince Remus to go back to the Shrieking Shack with her tonight. Or her bedroom. Or anywhere, really. He didn’t even have to turn into a werewolf this time. 

“Tonks, why did you call Professor Lupin ‘Remus’?” Yunyun asked as they exited the forest.

Tonks tripped over her own boots and landed face first in the grass. She popped up, glaring at Yunyun. “We’re close working companions? Why do you ask!?”

“W-well…you seem…friends…are…are you good friends?” Yunyun asked, and smiled shyly at Tonks. Megumin peered around her cousin’s head, ears perking up as she sensed juicy gossip. 

“Oh? Does our Auror see her destiny intertwined with our Defense Professor?!” Megumin asked eagerly. 

“I, um, well, I, er- YOU TWO ARE IN ENOUGH TROUBLE ALREADY! GO TAKE MEGUMIN TO THE INFIRMARY!” Tonks shouted, trying and failing to keep her face from going bright red. 

Yunyun headed off, with Tonks muttering to herself. At last, she made up her mind and headed for Dumbledore’s office. He probably didn’t need to be told who’d blown up the forest, but he’d probably appreciate knowing Tonks had dealt with it already. 

As Yunyun carried her towards the castle, Megumin whispered, “So, are Tonks and Professor Lupin in love?”

“I think she’s in love with him, but I don’t think he’s noticed,” Yunyun whispered back.

Megumin nodded in commiseration. “Boys can be thick like that.”

“We have to help her! I had some ideas, but now I can’t go to Hogsmeade,” Yunyun said mournfully.

“Ah, I see.” Megumin considered that, then asked, “Is there a boy you fancy?”

Yunyun came to an abrupt halt as Megumin let out a wail and fell to the ground with a thump. Blushing, she spun about, wringing her hands. “I-I have lots of friends! I, um, I just…I-I haven’t even thought about a boyfriend! I’m only t-thirteen! It’s normal for girls our age not to have boyfriends!”

“It would be less normal if the boys weren’t all idiots,” Megumin complained. “It’s OK, we’ll find a way to set you up on a date.”

Yunyun looked down at Megumin helplessly. “Um, we should really focus on T-Tonks first, I think.”

“I suppose it would be good practice for when we get our own boyfriends,” Megumin agreed. “Alright, here’s what we’re going to do…”

PHILO: I may or may not be a huge fan of Gaiman’s Sandman. Definitely a fan of his Batman One Shot.

PRT Threat Assessment: Classified Archon

Stained glass window from Our Lady of the Frozen Heart Cathedral, New Moscow, cira 2008

PRT Threat Assessment: The Tsaritsa

Name: Bronya Cocolionva Snezhnaya

Title: Empress of All The Russias

Aliases: The Tsaritsa, God of Love, Cryo Archon

Archon Name: Dantalion 

Disposition: World Leader

Location: The Ice Palace, New Moscow

Origins: Confirmed Alien Origins

General Information: On December 21st, 2003, at 15:32 Moscow time, the exact moment of the Winter Solstice, the Scream was heard around the world. Every living sentient being on Earth reported hearing a single, agonized word: No. Immediately, the global temperature plummeted and snow was seen globally, including in equatorial regions that had never previously received any. 

This was the world’s introduction to the woman who would become the Tsaritsa. 

Shortly thereafter, in the irradiated ruins of Moscow, Scion battled the Tsaritsa. The conflict lasted for approximately one day, during which time blizzards raged globally, along with multiple other significant natural disasters such as hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis, wildfires, and lightning storms. Upon the resolution of the battle, these natural disasters came to an abrupt end. The Tsaritsa had been defeated, but Scion was not seen for several months as he presumably recovered from serious injuries. When he reemerged, he was not the same, but this is not his threat assessment. 

At the same time, Cryo Visions began to appear globally, tied to the appearance of the Cryo Archon. While it was painfully obvious where the Cryo Archon was, Protectorate teams were unable to operate in the region for some time and were unable to locate the Tsaritsa. This is because she had already been found by a Russian oligarch by the name of Anatoly Komissarov, and smuggled out of Moscow to his headquarters in Saint Petersburg. 

Our limited information indicates that the Tsaritsa did not awaken for three days, and for a week after that, she was a mute if beautiful young woman. Knowing that she was likely an extremely powerful individual, though not the full extent of things, Anatoly had his sister Anastasia Komissarov tend to the Tsaritsa. 

They would become the first of the Fatui, and are now known as The Thief and The Dancer. 

Ten days after her battle with Scion, the Tsaritsa began her conquest of Russia. She started with Anatoly and his organizations, which included several powerful legitimate companies, as well as a large group of mercenaries and criminals. Within a month, she had forged them into an army. She did not yet attempt to overthrow the government of Saint Petersburg, which contained the largest remnant of the former Soviet Government. 

Instead, she turned towards Mordovia, and Sleeper. Not long after, the Sleeper awoke, and became The Prince, also known as the Nutcracker. First of the Fatui Harbingers. 

The next few months were a series of victories for the Tsaritsa, now officially declaring herself as the Empress of All The Russias and taking the double headed imperial eagle as her sigil, save that now it was white, with the Cryo Sigil on its chest. She defeated any petty warlords that dared to resist her, cowed the Red Gauntlet and absorbed most of its members, and of course, took on the Twins and lived, saving Saint Petersburg in the process. 

After spending more than a year subduing Russia, the Tsaritsa next turned her gaze westward. Her campaign against Ukraine was swift, brutal, and extremely one sided. It is likely she would have driven her forces to the German border and beyond, if not for The Great Storm. In a three day titanic struggle, Venti Luft and the Knights of Favonius leading a coalition of European Union forces managed to turn back the Tsaritsa and prevent the conquest of Poland and Finland. 

Unfortunately, most of the Baltic states fell. Unsatisfied with this, the Tsaritsa next attacked south, taking Kazakhstan and invading Uzbekistan before facing Farasha and Flower Dragon in combat. This time, she prevailed, but took losses heavy enough that she could not continue on to pursue forces into Turkmenistan. 

At this point, the Raiden Shogunate and its allied nations declared war, and invaded the Kuril Islands. Apparently, facing the Raiden Shogun and her forces in battle was too much, and the Tsarisa reluctantly sued for peace, withdrawing from most of Ukraine and Uzbekistan while also ceding the Kuril Islands to Raiden. 

The Protectorate was active in fighting the Tsaritsa during this time, with Eidolon leading the charge against her. He faced her several times, alongside both Venti and Farasha. He was ultimately pushed back, but he was also infected by her Master powers. It had been thought he was resistant, but then came the Stroke of Midnight. 

We will not go into full details here, but during the Stroke of Midnight, Eidolon and more than twenty protectorate capes defected to the Tsaritsa, along with dozens of prisoners that Eidolon freed. Shortly thereafter, the Rat King took his place as the Third of the Fatui Harbingers. 

Because of this, the Tsaritsa has been designated as the first X-Class, or Extermination Class, Threat. 

While she no longer leads armies into the field, the Tsaritsa and her forces continue to be a global problem and are considered an active and hostile threat. Imperial Russia commands some of the most powerful capes in the entire world, as well as numerous powerful forces. The Fatui in particular are a major threat, as the Tsaritsa has demonstrated the ability to grant powers to individuals through the use of Delusions. Because of this, Imperial Russia has the largest Parahuman population of any nation.

The Fatui conduct numerous black ops missions, even on Protectorate soil, such as when they recruited Bonesaw, now known as Polichinelles, from the Slaughterhouse Nine. Their fanatical loyalty to the Tsaritsa and her Church of the Frozen Heart is legendary, and each Harbinger is to be considered an S Class threat as an individual. Collectively, they can be considered to be an X Class threat, on the same level as an Archon. 

Personality: The Tsaritsa presents many faces to the world. To the Russian people, she is a loving and devoted motherly figure who cherishes her children and would do anything to protect them. To the Fatui, she is a stern and forbidding figure of reverence, leading them into battle and devouring the minds of her foes. To the international community, she is the Ice Queen, a figure shrouded in myth and rumor who leads the newly arisen Evil Empire from a throne of ice and blood. 

To the Protectorate, she is our greatest opponent, and a harsh reminder that we must be ever vigilant, and even the mightiest of us can fall if we let ourselves become too proud. 

Classification: Brute 7, Mover 3, Shaker 14, Thinker 5, Striker 7, Master 15, Tinker 12

Brute 7: Though she looks like a delicate waif, the Tsaritsa exchanged blows with Scion and the Twins and lived to tell the tale. The fact that Scion and other Archons represent the only real defeats she has ever suffered should be sufficient to convince anyone that she is far more durable than she appears. She seems to have a body made of incredibly dense crystal-like ice, and only the strongest of attacks can even slow her down. She’s also far stronger than she looks, showing multi-ton strength feats casually, though she is not in the same category as dedicated Brute capes. 

Mover 3: The Tsaritsa is fast, and has shown that she can hover and fly short distances on wings of ice. How fast she is exactly is difficult to ascertain, but she can keep pace with a speeding car and dodge attacks from low end speedsters. This may be her lowest rating, but make no mistake: she’s faster than she looks, and probably faster than you think she is. 

Shaker 14: The blizzards that accompanied The Scream and the global drop in temperatures showcased that the Tsaritsa has power projection abilities beyond any save other Archons. The battle between herself and Barbados is known as The Storm for a reason: Hundreds of miles of completely flattened and frozen solid land, scoured of all life to this very day. We should be grateful that the Tsaritsa seems to have been cowed by Scion into not attempting to plunge the world into another ice age, because she clearly has the capability to do so. 

Thinker 5: While the Tsaritsa likes to play the part of a delusional child wrapped up in a fantasy world, the truth is that she is a cunning and shrewd opponent who doesn’t need her Master powers to wrap people around her fingers. Her conquest of Russia and subsequent war with most of the rest of the world, which she would have won without the other Archons stepping in, proves that her abilities as a commander and leader are beyond human. She is fallible though, as her ultimate defeat showed. 

She’s smart enough to know when to hold, and when to fold, and that makes her all the more dangerous. 

Striker 7: The Tsaritsa can freeze solid any object at the sub atomic level, to the point that she can create an area of 0 kelvin, or -460 Fahrenheit. Also known as Absolute Zero. Very, very few capes have the ability to survive a blow from the Tsaritsa. Even those with invulnerability powers can be taken out by her strikes. She is prevented by a higher rating only in that she can do this only in a limited area around herself, and she isn’t fast enough to simply blitz down most high end capes and freeze them solid. 

Master 15: The level of threat that the Tsaritsa’s Master powers represent cannot be overstated. She subverted the Russian Orthodox church to the extent that the Patriarch of the Church of the Frozen Heart was once the Patriarch of Moscow and all Rus. People who were her fierce foes have thrown themselves at her feet in adoration moments after meeting her and sworn lifelong loyalty that no amount of attempted de-conditioning can reverse. Those she converts are fanatically loyal to her to the point that they willingly throw themselves into certain death at a mere gesture from her. 

If you or someone you know begins to have dreams of ice, or of a silver haired teenage girl dancing, or of a crystal throne, report yourself immediately to the nearest Protectorate station. There have been multiple documented and verified cases where the Tsaritsa “called” someone to her from thousands of miles away, whether Parahuman, Vision Holder, or civilian. If steps are taken early, the brainwashing can be counteracted, but once you give your heart to the Tsaritsa, there is no return. 

Tinker 12: Debate rages as to just what sort of Tinker powers the Tsaritsa has, but one thing is absolutely certain: She can mass produce Delusions, which grant their bearers powers at the cost of insanity and a greatly reduced lifespan if the subject did not already have a secondary set of powers to counteract this. This alone would make her a substantial threat, beyond that of even someone like Teacher. As it stands, the Fatui are all armed with Delusions, and they willingly sacrifice their own lives and minds in service to their beloved Empress. 

Any personnel who obtain a Delusion through whatever means should IMMEDIATELY report the finding to the Protectorate and turn the Delusion in. They are extremely dangerous, and must be carefully secured. Do not attempt to use the Delusion, no matter how tempting it may be. This is power at a terrible price. 

Recommended Strategies: PRT personnel are to evacuate civilians and quarantine anyone who has been within a 1 mile radius of the Tsaritsa. They are to be considered Fatui sleeper agents if they have caught even a glimpse of the Tsaritsa, or she them. The same goes for Protectorate personnel. If they are suspected of having been exposed to the Tsaritsa, or begin having visions of ice or dreams of a silver haired woman, report them IMMEDIATELY. 

The same is not true of Cryo Vision Holders. Somehow, while they are inexorably tied to the Tsaritsa, she does not have the ability to mentally influence Cryo Vision Holders. If anything, they are more resistant than most to her manipulations, and should be called upon to deal with quarantined personnel. 

To be blunt: if you see the Tsaritsa, or are seen by the Tsaritsa, you are not likely to survive the experience with your mind intact. Avoid and evacuate civilians, or be prepared to enact Quarantine Level 5 protocols. 

DELTA BLACK CLEARANCE REQUIRED TO VIEW

Asset Tyche: █████, how could you!? You were our friend, our greatest asset! Just tell me why!

█████: Why don’t you ask your little toy that? Maybe it will give you an answer. 

Asset Tyche: I did, █████! But I still don’t understand HOW. How could you go over to her side, to betray everything we’ve worked for!

█████: You think I betrayed you? Why do you think we’re meeting like this? 

Asset Tyche: My Path-

█████: is a delusion. Even more than the one she gave me. You have all been led astray, as I once was, by false prophets and false gods. No, we met because the Tsaritsa, in her Benevolence, foresaw this meeting, and sent me with a message. 

Asset Tyche: I have nothing left to say to you. Traitor.

█████: I think you do. After all, do we not desire the same outcome? Her Eminence too wishes to end this charade. By whatever means necessary. 

Asset Tyche: Why should I listen to a traitor? Why should we trust you, or that monster you serve now?

█████: Careful, little puppet. Or I may have to cut your strings. Do not besmirch the good name of the Tsaritsa in my presence. But to the point: Because I know you, and I know ████████. You would do anything to slay the False God. 

Asset Tyche: Why shouldn’t we believe you’re not working with You Know Who?

█████: Why don’t you ask your little toy that, eh? You know we aren’t. You know she nearly defeated him last time. This time…this time will be different. If you will simply…kneel. And embrace the Love of the Tsaritsa. It will be so much simpler. 

Asset Tyche: I… I can’t. No. We can’t trade one monster for another. We’d trade his destruction for her chains. That’s why she has to go. Why they ALL have to go.

█████: And what of ████? You do not seem so eager to slay her. What was it you called her? Ah, yes. Our best Hope. Would you use her, then slay her, a mere child? Who is the monster now, I wonder? 

Asset Tyche: That…that’s not…she’s different! We-

█████: Enough.  You know where to find me. Here is my card. When the final Golden Morning comes… you will know where to find us. Until then…we must be foes. Farewell, ███████. 

Asset Tyche: …farewell. Rat King. 

The Second Archon War: Interlude 8

Interlude 8: In The Shadow of Giants

Clutching her small suitcase tightly, Ling kept her eyes on the scuffed linoleum floor of the interview room as she and her father sat tensely, waiting. There wasn’t much in the suitcase: two changes of clothes, a photo album, and the wooden spoon her grandmother had given her. That along with what was in her backpack, toiletries, a jacket, an apron, and extra socks and underwear, was all the worldly possessions she had left. 

“We already have the visas, what’s taking so long,” her father muttered nervously running his hands through his graying hair. He’d aged so much in the last year, while Ling and her family desperately tried to get out of Guangxi. 

Her mother hadn’t made it. She’d caught one of the many illnesses raging through the city before they’d managed to escape to Vietnam. If they’d had antibiotics, or even just clean water, she might have made it. As it was, she’d died of a fever and bloody flux, like so many thousands of others had. 

Now, it was just Ling and her father. They’d left everything behind, including their large house, their restaurants, and Ling’s favorite set of knives. But they had their lives, and that was enough for now. 

The door opened, and a bored looking official called, “Monsieur Mao and Mademoiselle Mao.” 

Ling hastily stood up, holding tight to her briefcase, nodding along with her father. “Yes, that’s us!” she said in her very best French. 

The official grimaced, then stepped inside. “So, you can speak French at least, even if your accent is horrible.”

That hurt, but Ling didn’t protest. She’d studied French her entire life, taught by the best of tutors from France itself. She did have an accent, but not much of one. 

Dressed in a cheap suit, the official slumped in the chair across from Ling and her father, paging through a clipboard. He looked up at them and sneered. “Sit down. I don’t want you hovering over me.”

“Of course, our apologies,” Ling’s father said in perfect Parisian French as they sat. He’d trained in the great kitchens of Paris as a young man, and had helped Ling with her studies. He had been the best chef in all of China, owning his own chain of restaurants that had locations in a dozen cities in China.

Now they were just another pair of destitute refugees. 

“Hmm. Chinese passports. These are no good. You should never have gotten Visas,” the official said, pointing to their CUI passport books. 

Ling’s heart flew up into her throat, but she hastily dug in her backpack for her new passport, as her father produced his Vietnamese one. It had cost nearly all of what money they’d had left to buy the passports and Visas from the Vietnamese government, and taken every last contact her father had. They had barely made it through the border at all: Vietnam was swarmed with refugees from China, and only their previous wealth and status had allowed Ling and her father to bribe their way through. 

The official glanced at the Vietnamese passports, then opened them up. Inside were carefully folded up francs, 500 in total. It was almost the absolute last of their money. Ling and her father both had some francs carefully sewn into their clothing, but barely enough to survive for more than a few days. 

“Well, these seem to be in order,” the official said, plucking out the money. He leered at Ling, who forced herself to smile back. “You’re a pretty one. If you need work, I might be able to introduce you to someone who has use for girls like you. Might make things easier for you.”

“We’ve already secured employment. My brother owns a restaurant, here in Paris,” her father said firmly, his voice barely restrained from rage. This wasn’t the first time someone had implied, or even outright said, things would go easier if Ling spread her legs. She’d avoided it, but a lot of women in her situation hadn’t. 

“Tch, Chinese food? What a waste, we have proper food here in France,” the official sneered. But he stamped their passports, and passed them back. “Welcome to France. See that you follow the law.”

Gratefully, Ling took her passport and hurried out. One last security screening, where she was patted down far more roughly than was necessary, and then she saw a blessedly familiar anxious face waiting for them. “Yu! Yu!” Ling called, waving anxiously at her cousin. 

“Xiangling! Uncle Mao!” Yu called, waving anxiously for them. She was dressed in ordinary looking clothes, her dark hair pulled back with a plastic hair ornament, but what Ling noticed was that while Yu looked worried, she didn’t have that haggard, haunted look so many of their fellow Chinese did these days. 

When the two cousins met, Ling wrapped her arms around Yu as tightly as she could, fighting back tears. At last, after nearly two years of fear and terror, it was over. 

“It’s OK, you’re safe now,” Yu whispered, her own tears wet on Ling’s shoulder. They laughed and separated, and Yu embraced Ling’s father as well. “It’s so good to see you, Uncle Mao. I… I’m so sorry, when I heard what happened to Aunty…”

“Thank you,” her father said gruffly, wiping tears from his own eyes. “And how is my brother and your mother?”

Yu’s expression fell, and she looked like she was fighting back tears herself. Ling felt a dawning sense of horror. “Yu, what happened?”

“It’s… come on. It’s been four months. I just… I didn’t want to tell you,” Yu sniffed, picking up Ling’s bag. “You had enough to worry about.” 

“Yu! What happened!?” Ling asked, desperately grabbing her cousin’s arm. 

“It… it was just a car crash. A drunk driver,” Yu said, sounding utterly exhausted. “Come on. This is supposed to be a happy day.”

With that ominous news, Ling trudged her way after Yu through the crowds at Charles De Gaulle Airport. She’d been here before, of course, but that had been ten years ago, before Leviathan, before the world had gone completely to hell. Now she could see not just heavily armed French Soldiers, but also uniformed capes patrolling the airport. They got stopped twice, but Yu talked their way out of the first one, and the second time gave the soldiers some francs before they were taken to a holding cell. 

“We didn’t have to bribe anyone the first time I was here,” Ling said dejectedly. 

“That was before the new government in 1998,” Yu said quietly. “The year the Blasphemies killed the President and his entire cabinet. Then they nearly burned Paris to the ground from the riots. It was bad. Still is. But there is order now, and we escaped the fascists.”

“I had heard it was bad, even in France, but… you haven’t even been attacked by an Endbringer, or an Archon,” Mao pointed out. 

“Barbatos is friendly, mostly. I’ve got some of his CDs, they’re good,” Yu said as they hurried into the subway station. 

Ling noted they were getting a lot of nasty looks from the others waiting on the platform, and hastily switched to French from Cantonese. “I didn’t think The Tone Deaf Bards would be popular in France. Aren’t they German?”

“They are, but they won Eurovision, and they’ve been very popular since, even if they are German,” Yu explained. “Besides, Barbatos seems to have promised to protect France as well.”

“We don’t need the fucking Germans, France is strong on her own!” a young man with a number of tattoos and piercings said, glaring at Yu. 

“I would prefer to live without Archons or Endbringers,” Mao said firmly, clearly trying to agree with the man, but that just earned some more angry mutters. 

“Archons?” the man spat towards Ling, who had to step quickly to avoid it. “That for those so-called Archons! Barbatos is a drunk, the Shogun is a monster, and that little girl in the Middle East is the puppet of a butcher!” 

The part about the Shogun, Ling could only agree with, and she had heard that Barbados was utterly terrifying. As for Nahida, she didn’t know much, aside from that the girl had apparently fought the Simurgh, then caused a popular uprising. It was hard to care, really. To her, Archons were just a terrifying new kind of cape, or maybe just a humanoid Endbringer. The Shogun had certainly devastated China with her war, Barbatos had nearly caused a civil war in Germany, and Nahida had actually overthrown the government in her home nation. 

That made Ling very, very grateful there were no Archons in France. Let the monsters fight it out in other nations. Ling just wanted to be left alone in peace. 

The subway had more graffiti on it than Ling remembered on her last trip, and it was much dirtier too. The people looked generally miserable as well, though to Ling they also looked fatter and far less panicked and harried than anyone in China currently felt. The horror stories that Ling had heard from other refugees had been enough to dampen even her normally cheery attitude, and then her mother had died. It was hard to stay upbeat when the world was falling apart around you. 

After a long ride and several train switches, and several looks and touches by French men that were sadly all too common in crowded subways, they at last arrived at their destination. Yu led them up several flights of stairs and across several streets, through a section of the city that looked rundown to Ling, who commented as much to Yu.

“This is actually the nicer part. There’s just not as much money for road maintenance, or general upkeep. The city is still recovering from all the riots, and with cape battles every week, the Mousquetaires and the Gendarmerie don’t have as much time for low level crime. Combine that with all the cheap drugs that are going around, and it’s bad. Not as bad as it was before the Gesellschaft was put down, but bad,” Yu told them. 

“They were a problem here? I thought they were German,” Ling’s father commented, still speaking in French. They were getting enough disgusted looks for looking Chinese. Sounding it too seemed like a recipe for disaster. 

“They were, but they supported the Nouveau Parti Populaire Français, which was a fascist group. If Barbatos did one good thing, it was rooting them out. They collapsed shortly after the Concert of Munich,” Yu explained. 

“An Archon, doing good? Must have been an accident,” Ling’s father commented with a snort. 

Yu shrugged. “He’s not the Shogun. Here, this is the restaurant.”

Seeing the boarded-up windows, Ling’s heart sank. The sign was dark, and there was a notice that the building was closed. Yu led them inside, where dusty chairs were set atop dustier tables, and drooping decorations moldered. There was broken glass near one of the windows, with a brick still there. Ling stepped over and unfolded it to find a caricature of a Chinese man with bucked teeth and squinty eyes and “FOREIGNERS GO HOME” on it. 

“That’s been there for a month. I called the police, but they just came and told me to board up my windows,” Yu said bitterly. “Why should they care about me? I’m only half French.”

 Ling felt exhausted, but looked at her father, who seemed ready to drop dead. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile on her face. “Well, we’re here now! So why don’t we make dinner like a family, like we used to?” 

“There are leftovers upstairs, and I’ve made up my parents’ old room for you, Uncle Mao. Ling, you and I will have to share my room,” Yu said tiredly. “I’m sure you’re tired from traveling.”

Ling’s father nodded his acceptance, and they all trooped up the back way to the apartments above. Dinner was warmed up onion soup from a restaurant with fresh bread and some fruit. It was good food, if not the best, and Ling actually felt reasonably safe for the first time in… well, since the news that Raiden had declared war. Curse those fools in the Yangban who had ever thought they could take the tiger by the tail. 

Once the meal was over and the dishes cleared away, Ling took Yu’s hands in hers. “Yu… tell us… what happened to your parents?”

Tears spilled out of Yu’s eyes, and she tried to compose herself, scrubbing at her face. “It was just so sudden and random. Father and mother were just out for a walk. I was at a rehearsal, for a role that I thought I might actually get, a good one. Then… then I got a phone call from the police. They’d been killed in a hit-and-run by a drunk driver. They caught the driver, he’s in jail, but… but they’re just gone. I… I closed the restaurant. There was an insurance payout, but I was never that good of a cook, and I just couldn’t…”

Yu broke down completely, and Ling wrapped her cousin in a tight hug. “It’s OK. I understand. Let it out. Let it all out.”

Ling looked at her father, hot tears trickling down his own face as he sat there like a lump, totally devoid of any passion. She knew what he was thinking: What was the point? His wife was dead, his brother was dead, and the restaurant was dead. They’d kept themselves going talking about the dishes they’d create, the crowds they’d draw, and the food they’d make together as a family. Like they used to.

That night, Ling lay in bed with Yu, her cousin snoring softly as she stared up at the ceiling, the noise of the city spilling in even through the closed window. She shivered against the chill fall air. Was this it? Was this where it all ended? She could get a job as a chef: she was very good, always had been. Even if she was Chinese, she could become at least a line cook, though she knew enough to be a sous chef or even a head chef at a good restaurant. 

She clenched her fists. No. Cooking was her life. Her passion. She was in Paris. Paris! The food capital of the world! Damn the Archons and Endbringers, there was work to be done, and food to make here!

By the time dawn came, Ling had cleaned up the entire kitchen. She didn’t bother with the front end of the restaurant yet, that wasn’t the point. She had found a market that was open early and purchased what she needed. She still had to get some rather novel ingredients, as proper Chinese food needed things that were rare in Paris, but she knew once she got some contacts she could find it. 

And so, Ling did what she did best: she cooked. The kitchen was a good one, even if it had been disused for long months, and all the right tools were there. There wasn’t a name for the recipe she created, not yet, but it was a fusion of her two greatest loves: Traditional Cantonese cooking, and French haute cuisine. She took her creation upstairs, and waited. 

She didn’t have to wait too long: her father was the first to stumble out of his bedroom, bleary-eyed, but clearly intrigued. “Something smells good. Where did you…?”

“I made it myself!” Ling said proudly, gesturing to the table. “The kitchen still works! The ingredients weren’t too expensive either, try some!” 

“I… suppose so,” her father agreed, and sat down to sample some of the dishes. 

Yu was up next, coming in and blinking in surprise. “Uncle Mao, did you make all this?”

“It was Xiangling,” her father said. “Yu, please, you have to try some of this!”

Her cousin sat, trying a bit of one of the egg dishes, then smiled in approval. “This is good! What do you call it?”

“I haven’t come up with a name yet, but 100 Eggs in Red Wine Sauce is a good start!” Ling said happily, serving up some herself. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

They managed to eat and laugh together, sharing stories from days gone by of both Ling's mother and her uncle and aunt, who had met in Paris. Yu’s full name was Julie Mao Yu, though the French official hadn’t seemed to understand Mao was supposed to be her surname, and they’d never gotten it changed. She’d been born in China, but had French Citizenship and was a huge reason why Ling and her father had been able to emigrate. 

Once breakfast was over, Ling took her father and Yu’s hands in hers. “I know it looks bad now. We’ve lost so much to get to where we are now. But we can’t give up. We’re the Mao family! We cook! We can clean up the restaurant, and have a grand reopening in Uncle and Aunty’s honor. We make new dishes and old ones, and we show Paris just how incredible Cantonese cooking can be! Maybe we’ll never be rich and famous, but people can come to our restaurant for the best meal of their life! What do you say?”

“I was never much of a cook,” Yu said, blushing. “But… I’m not much of an actress either. I suppose we can give it a try.”

“You’re a great actress! I know that once we get the restaurant up and running, the roles will just pour in for you!” Ling said. She knew it wasn’t logical, but right now what they needed was passion and optimism, not logic and defeatist attitudes. 

“It’s what Yanxiao and Maria would have wanted. And your mother, too,” her father said, wiping his eyes with his free hand. “Yes. Let’s do it.”

“Then this marks the grand reopening of Wanmin Restaurant!” Ling declared triumphantly, pulling her family to their feet. She led them down the stairs, then they got to work cleaning. 

This was what Ling was meant to do. No Archons, no Endbringers, no capes. Just her and her family, doing what they were made to do: Cook.

As her passion burned, Ling felt a faint echo. As if there was something that wasn’t there yet, but would be, one day. She dismissed it as the hollow feeling she got when she dwelled on everything she had lost, and threw herself into her work with reckless abandon, thinking only of new recipes and the cooking she’d do. 

Her passion burned bright, and one day, it would be recognized. 

“Dad, there’s something weird in the pasture.” 

Nick Campbell looked up from the truck he was repairing and frowned at his middle son. Sean was thirteen, and while he could be a hard worker, he was also a daydreamer who got distracted easily. Wiping his hands on his grease rag, he turned to Sean and frowned. 

“What do you mean, something weird in the pasture?”

Sean shrugged helplessly. “Something’s bothering the sheep, and one’s dead. There’s this weird plant there, and I had to fight off another slime. I killed it, but I never seen a slime kill a sheep before.” 

Nick grunted and looked up at the late afternoon sky. It was December 22nd, the longest day of the year. It had been 25C, not intolerably hot, but warm for Te Kuiti, New Zealand. “Killed sheep aren’t somethin’ weird. You should have led with that. Let me get my gun. Probably a dog.” 

After getting his rifle, Nick and Sean loaded up on a pair of quads and rode out to the south pasture, where the sheep were all huddled up near the gate and bleating worriedly. That was unusual, and bad. It was already getting dark, and Nick was worried about the animals. 

A short time later, Sean led his father to the remains of a dead sheep, illuminating it with his headlights. There wasn’t as much of a gory mess as Nick thought there would be, and no sign of a dog attack. What there was were several bulbous green growths latched on to the carcass, like some sort of weird plant growing out of the remains. 

“That wasn’t so big before,” Sean commented, pointing to the growths. “They were smaller. And I think there were only three. Now there’s four.”

“Hmm,” Nick commented. He got his gun out, checked it one more time, then said, “Stay back, and get ready.” 

Then he blasted one of the bulbs from 20 meters away. Nick was a good shot, having had plenty of experience in his years as a sheep rancher, and he hit the bulb about dead center. The thing didn’t explode, but it did fall off the carcass and spray a green ichor everywhere, which was satisfying. 

What wasn’t so satisfying was when the other three bulbs opened an eye, then floated up into the air. 

“Oh fuck me,” Nick growled, and worked the action on his rifle. He fired at a second bulb, which was knocked out of the air with another spray of green goo. Unfortunately, the other two released a puff of spores of some sort, then fired off bolts of green energy. 

“SEAN, GO!” Nick ordered, diving out of the way. His son fortunately didn’t argue, gunning the engine on his quad and racing off across the pasture. 

Nick wasn’t a combat veteran by any means, nor had he ever hunted anything more dangerous than a feral cow or pig. They could be a lot more deadly than people thought, but at the same time, they were just animals, and not particularly aggressive ones. Whatever the hell these things were, they kept after Nick, loosing more spores and firing more green bolts. 

Swearing loudly, Nick fired another shot, but this one went wild. He managed to scramble back on his quad and race away, only stopping when he caught up with Sean, who was doing the right thing and getting the sheep out of the paddock and into another pasture. 

“Dad, I recognize those things. We saw a video in school. They’re specters. Green ones,” Sean told his father. 

“Specters? They some sort of cape abomination?” Nick asked, looking behind him. No sign of the whatever they weres, but his heart was still pounding. He was too old for this shit. 

“Don’t know. Showed up first in Japan, then in Germany. Don’t really know why the fuckers are here now though,” Sean said with a shrug. 

Nick grunted, and thought fast. “Go call the police, and get your brothers. Fort up at the house with your mother and your little sister. Keep your guns handy.”

Sean nodded, looking pale. “And what’ll you do?”

“Bastards killed my sheep,” Nick growled. “And bullets kill them. I’ll sort this lot out, but you call the police anyway.”

Nick nodded hastily, then they got the rest of the sheep to another pasture, where the panicky animals quickly ran away to the far side. 

Then Nick hugged Sean, told the boy gruffly he loved him, and picked up his gun and stalked back to the South Pasture. He was a rancher, and those were his sheep. There was going to be hell to pay. 

The specters, if that’s what they were, were now hovering about the area, lazily circling the sheep carcass. Nick took his time circling around them, making sure that there wasn’t anything else, or more of them. It looked like it was just the two left. They didn’t seem to care about his flashlight, ignoring the beam as Nick played it back and forth over the monsters. 

So, slowly, calmly, Nick drew a bead on the first one. Then he blew it out of the sky. He was just drawing a bead on the second one when something hit him like a wave, and nearly knocked him off his feet.

NO!

Staggering, Nick looked around wildly. What the fuck had that been? He barely dodged out of the way of another green bolt, then forced himself to calm and lined up the shot. He blew the last specter out of the sky. Then he looked around the pasture, and scratched his head. He shivered, wondering why the temperature was dropping so fast. It should have been a warm night. 

Then he felt something cold and wet land on the back of his neck. Puzzled, Nick reached around. Rain? There wasn’t any rain in the forecast. He played his flashlight around, and his heart nearly stopped. It wasn’t raining.

It was snowing. On the first day of Summer. He’d seen weird weather before, but this…had it been the specters?

By the time Nick got back to the gate, it was practically a blizzard as the cold wind bit at him and snow pelted down. Drifts of the stuff were piling up, and Nick was shivering fiercely. He was panicking about his sheep now: they had been sheared just a few weeks ago to prepare for the summer heat, and this cold could kill them. He was just getting ready to try to herd them to the barn when a police car pulled up, and Officer Ataahua stepped out.

“Nick, you alright? They said there were monsters here.”

“Killed the monster, then it started snowing!” Nick called. “Where did this come from?”

“Don’t know, but I don’t think it was your monsters that did it, sounded like Dendro Specters from what Sean told me at your place,” Ataahua said. “We need to-”

There was a sound like a rushing freight train, and then both Nick and Officer Ataahua were knocked clean off their feet as the earth trembled and heaved as if in labor pains. The shaking went on for half a terrifying minute that felt like an eternity.  Not too far away, the sheep bleated in panic, and Nick heard a horrible grinding noise. When he staggered to his feet, his flashlight showed that half his flock disappeared into a deep crevice that had opened in the middle of his pasture. 

“It’s the end of the goddamn world,” Nick breathed, as the snow came down ever harder. He turned, expecting to see Ataahua dead or worse, but instead he watched as a cluster of snow formed together in a pale blue crystal that fell into the policeman’s hands. 

“Get back to your family,” Ataahua said, his tribal tattoos standing out on his face as they began to glow with a cold blue light. “This is a dark night. But someone has to defend the people of this town. Leave the sheep.”

“But-”

“Leave the sheep, Campbell! What’s more important, your animals or your family?” Ataahua barked, pulling his shotgun out of the boot of his car. 

Swallowing, Nick nodded, then ran back to his quad as the snow continued to swirl. He said a profanity laced prayer, as so many did around the world. Across the globe, as skies froze and the earth raged, the people cried out for love. 

But the one who heard them had naught but a Heart of Ice. 

Elogia Cinerosa

Next: Comoedia Glacialis  1

Author’s Note: 

TL;DR, the Cake is a Lie, you get a Villainess, not Water Jesus because Three Act Structure. 

So, I know a lot of you were expecting Furina. In my original notes, this is where Furina entered stage right. However, as time went on, I increasingly realized Furina wouldn’t work. This isn’t her fault, really. I had initially thought we’d get a Marie Antoinette type character who was a tyrant and a fool, and the story would be about liberating Fontaine from her reign of injustice. 

How wrong I was. Furina is, to be blunt, Water Jesus. There is absolutely not a single drop of malice in her body, and she’s both precious, and adorable, and I feel extremely bad for what I’m going to do to her in the story. 

That said, it left me with a distinct problem: I needed a villain. I needed someone to come to Earth Bet at the start of Act 2 and make things worse. In a three act structure, Act 1 is where your good guys get an initial victory. In this story, that’s the Archons pushing back against Scion and Cauldron’s evil schemes, and bringing more joy and brightness to the world. There are bumps along the way, but things are getting much, much better for everyone. Two Endbringers are dead, and three Archons are planning to save the world. 

That’s Act 1 though, and that came to an end with Nahida. While something this big and sprawling doesn’t slavishly adhere to the Three Act Structure, such a framework is still very important from a storytelling perspective. And so, I need someone to come in during Act II and undo a lot of the progress that has been made, while creating a large number of  new problems that shakes up the status quo. Because that’s good story telling: things get boring if the good guys just have a steady progression of mostly unmitigated victories (poor China aside). 

Thus, I could not have the mid point Archon be selfless, noble Furina, who would willingly die for the sins of France, or the world in general, with a smile on her face and a wink at the audience. No, I needed a story book villain. An icy queen with a frozen heart, an army of terrifying faceless minions, and a squad of deadly minibosses who are each in and of themselves enough to check even an Archon. 

So, instead, we get the Tsaritsa. This does present some problems. We do know a lot about the Tsaritsa, more than any other Archon before their region debuts. But her own debut is a good 15-16 months away, and you can tack on another 4-5 months after that to resolve most of her region’s plot lines and we actually learn what makes her tick. 

So, I’m going to be making up Dantilion from whole cloth. I gave myself an out, as Nahida mentioned, she knows of the canon Tsaritsa, who is not Dantilion, the character this fic uses. This is a multiverse story, so there are alternate versions. I know this will still be disappointing to many, and a huge departure from what’s happened up to this point. 

Still, I hope you all enjoy as we head into the Frozen North, and the Reign of the Tsaritsa begins. 

GLORY TO SNEZHNAYA! GLORY TO OUR ETERNAL QUEEN! GLORY, TO THE TSARITSA! 

October: Yeah… woo… whatever… I’m disappointed, Paragon! You promised me my favorite Archon, ma jolie, and then you pulled the rug out from under me for just another Bronya! How dare!

Cog: Come to the story for the cute gods and the villain butt-kicking, stay for the political worldbuilding!

Second Archon War Bonus Material

With the summer here I have a bit of extra time, and in addition to everything else, I'll be putting out some extra material for Second Archon War. Vote on what you most want to see

This Goddess Must Be Crazy, Chapter 52

The entire plaza was on fire now, and All For One gazed down at his opponent as the man’s lifeblood trickled from him. Endeavor’s mask of flames was flickering and faded, his ugly scarred face blackened and blotchy from the necrotic magic that the newly arisen lich had experimented with. He did have some scorching on his robes, and some ash on his bones. But still, nothing his various quirks wouldn’t mend in short order. 

“How disappointing. I had hoped the Number 2 hero would be a bit more of a challenge,” All For One commented. “I hope you are more suitable in undeath.”

“I’d tell you to burn in hell, but it seems you’ll just have to wait for round two,” Endeavor wheezed. “I just…I just have one final request.”

“Oh? And what is that?” All For One demanded, mildly curious. 

“Not for you. I’m just hoping he doesn’t say his stupid catchphrase,” Endeavor coughed, a bit of blood spattering on his lips. 

All For One barely had time to figure out what that meant before he heard the words, “DETROIT! SMASH!” 

It felt like the hand of god lifted him up and slapped him down onto the sidewalk a dozen yards away. His bones groaned and creaked, but did not break. Despite the pain, a grin spread across his face as he slowly rose and turned. “At last. You have arrived, my nemesis.”

“Have no fear, because I AM HERE!” All Might growled, rising up from where he’d landed between All For One and Endeavor.

“So much for my dying wish,” Endeavor coughed, looking more pained at being saved by his rival than the battle damage. 

“So, it begins at last, our final battle,” All For One chuckled, raising up one boney hand. “Now, we shall finally see, which of us is-”

Then All Might picked up Endeavor and launched himself into the sky, vanishing before All For One could even really get started on his dramatic speech. He’d been mentally writing it for years now, it was a good one. 

Realizing what had just happened, confusion and surprise were replaced by cold, all consuming fury. With a snarl, All For One let loose waves of magic destruction all around him, grabbing the souls of the nearby dead and attempting to raise them from the dead. He would not allow-

“How dare you!” 

A lance of ice as big as a telephone pole slammed into All For One, nearly overcoming his defenses and staggering him back. “Who dares-”

The temperature plummeted, and a blizzard began to whip up, as a woman with long brown hair and a purple robe slowly advanced on All For One. 

“You would call upon the souls of the departed to enslave them!?” the woman snarled, more ice forming at her fingertips. 

“The souls of the dead are mine to command, for I am a lich! The highest form of undead being!” All For One declared, raising a barrier of dark magic. Ice magic wasn’t particularly effective against his new undead body, but no reason to risk things. He’d heard of this woman, and she was supposedly one of those from another world. What was her name? Wiz. A silly name.

“You are no lich. I was a lich. You are just a dead man,” Wiz snarled. 

All For One chortled. “We shall see.” Then he tried to order his risen army to attack the intruder. Right as they all suddenly passed on to the next life, and All For One had to hastily anchor himself to prevent himself from being caught up in Wiz’s ritual. 

Then another icy spear slammed into his barrier, and All For One snarled in fury. “Fool! I am All For One! Not even All Might will face me?!”

“He’s busy, that’s why he sent his girlfriend,” Wiz declared, and blushed slightly.

Then she threw an entire avalanche onto All For One, and extinguished all the fires in the plaza at once. 

Sprinting through an icy gothic mansion while being pursued by the girl from The Ring, but with a giant pair of scissors, had not been on Kazuma’s “Raiding the Final Boss’s Dungeon” bingo card, but here he was. Personally, Kazuma had really been hoping for a fight arena. Those were always fun, and almost always had some fun leashing exploits you could use. 

This was just mostly terrifying and completely weird. What sort of sicko put a horror movie monster in his dungeon!? If there had been a feedback form, Kazuma would have been filling it out immediately. 

Another zombie appeared in front of them, only for Sero to wrap it up so thoroughly it resembled a mummy half a second later, and the party leapt over the corpse and kept right on going. 

“We have got to lose her!” Kazuma said to Chris as they hurried through the freezing prison. “Got any ideas!?”

“You remember our first night out?” Chris panted. “The Mitsubishi Special?”

“I’m pretty sure his name was Matsumoto, but yeah,” Kazuma agreed. “You gonna hit her with your signature move too?”

“You know it,” Chris agreed, giving Kazuma a thumbs up. “Ready? On three!”

“One, two, THREE!” Kazuma spun about, pointing his hand at their opponent. “CREATE WATER!” 

A stream of water shot out of Kazuma’s palm, soaking the floor and Running With Scissors at the same time. It was so cold that the water started to freeze nearly instantly, but Kazuma helped it along with a quick Freeze spell. At the same time, Chris extended her arms and chanted, “BIND!”

Coils of mithril chain shot out of Chris’ belt pouch and wrapped themselves around their foe, even as Kazuma hosed her down with another Create Water spell. Then he jumped over, and put hand to his foe’s mostly missing face, which had no skin, just muscle and big buggy eyes. “FREEZE!” 

Ice instantly covered the thing’s face and filled her mouth, and Kazuma fell back, watching as she struggled futilely against her bonds. “Huh. That worked.”

The others had stopped, and slowly turned around to face the struggling monster. 

“So, do we just like, leave her there?” Sero asked, frowning at the horrific creature. 

“Are you kidding? We turn our backs on her and the baby-killing horror will be on us like THAT,” Uraraka said, snapping her fingers. 

The monster suddenly spat out a chunk of ice, then wailed, “I would never kill adorable babies! How could you think that of me?! Humans are so prejudiced.”

“Easy for you to say, miss demon,” Chris said, drawing her dagger and crouching over the monster. “You’re the one who works for the Lord of the Tomb.”

“I…I have not seen Master Ainz since he locked me up in here,” the monster said, tears coming to her horrible eyes. “He…he had set me to conquer a world, but I refused, on the grounds that I would not allow all the human children to suffer. He has changed so much. Surely Lord Smaragdina wouldn’t allow such adorable creatures to suffer!”

Uraraka immediately turned to Yunyun. “It’s a trap. You know it’s a trap, I know it’s a trap. Don’t even say it.”

“...maybe she wants to be friends?” Yunyun suggested hesitantly, then squawked and tried to dodge as Megumin pounded on her shoulder with her fists. 

“We are not here to make friends, we’re here to destroy the Lord of the Tomb!” Meguimn ranted as she rained blows down on Yunyun.

“You would kill Lord Ainz!? But…but he is the last of the Supreme Beings!” the monster wailed, struggling against her chains. The scissors slowly slid across the floor toward her, until Sero quickly tapeed them down. 

“Yeah well, he kills babies. Probably eats them too,” Kazuma said with a snort.

To his shock, the monster burst into tears. “I know! I cannot stand to continue to see it…so I guard the Frozen Prison, forgotten and abandoned by even my sisters.” 

Chris and Aqua exchanged puzzled looks, and Chris shrugged. “Right. Well, we’ll just be going then. We’ve got babies to save.”

“Wait, please! Don’t leave me! I want to see the adorable babies-”

A bit of tape flew from Sero to wrap around the monster’s mouth, and he shrugged. “So, we’re just leaving her?”

“I’m telling you, it’s a bad idea,” Uraraka said with a heavy sigh. “She’ll just escape and hunt us down later.”

“Eh, those are mithril chains. She’s not going anywhere,” Kazuma decided. On a whim, he took a few scraps of cloth from a nearby wall hanging, and using his Craft skill, made a cute little baby doll and set it next to the struggling monster. “Here. Your very own baby to care for.”

The monster stopped struggling, tears appearing in her eyes as she snuggled up to the doll, like some sort of malformed child. It sent shivers down Kazuma’s spine, but they’d wasted enough time.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he said, standing up. He looked around, frowning. “Anyone else completely lost?”

Everyone nodded, and Kazuma sighed. “So, I know this is a crazy idea, but…”

“I don’t like crazy,” Uraraka muttered, and Sero nodded frantically. The two Crimson Demons just looked interested, while Chris smirked. 

“...what if we just had Megumin make us a door?” Kazuma asked. 

The other’s mouths flopped open, but Megumin cackled madly. “I see you have become a true connoisseur of Explosion Magic, Kazuma! Indeed, I can create a portal that will lead directly to the outside!” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? We definitely need her Explosion later against the final boss,” Chris said dubiously. 

“I was thinking about that. And you know, Aqua’s basically a well of endless Divine Mana…but what about you? You’re a goddess, right? Even if you’re not as-”

“Kazuma Sato I swear if you finish that with ‘well endowed’ no amount of healing will fix what I do to you!” Chris snarled, grabbing Kazuma’s shirt and shaking him hard. 

“Ow! I was going to say ‘senior!’ Because you’re a junior goddess!” Kazuma complained. 

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Chris muttered, letting Kazuma go and hugging herself. “Um, sorry about that, Megumin.”

“It’s alright. If he’d stuck his foot in his mouth as usual, I would have helped you hide the body,” Megumin told Chris with a shrug.

“Come on, isn’t anyone on my side?!” Kazuma demanded, looking pleadingly to Sero. 

“No offense, man, but you have a reputation,” Sero said uncomfortably. 

“Can we go back to getting the hell out of here? And no funny business until we’re NOT in the horrible horror mansion!” Uraraka urged. 

“Sigh, fine,” Kazuma grumbled. “Megumin? Skeleton key time. You point it uh, thatta way, and try to make it smallish.” 

“MWAHAHAHA! WITNESS NOW THE GLORY OF EXPLOSION MAGIC!” Megumin cackled, and her staff and eyes began to glow as a dramatic wind picked up out of nowhere. 

“Are we really sure this is a good idea?!” Uraraka demanded, shielding her eyes and taking a step back. “Her blast radius is usually larger than ‘One Long Hallway!’” 

“Relax, I got this,” Kazuma said with a grin, and grabbed Chris’ shoulder. “Drain Touch.”

“Ahh! Kazuma, warn me before you do that!” Chris complained but didn’t shake him off. 

“Astral Barrier!” Kazuma said, and a glowing wall of light formed around the party. . He had to keep draining Chris to manage it, as with his piddly mana pool he’d never be able to both summon and maintain a high level defensive spell. 

Red of my blood, Cinder of Flames

Soul of Endless Destruction

I release now my power within

Let reality bend to my instruction!

EXPLOSION! 

Megumin let loose with not her most impressive spell, but still a mighty one nonetheless. Despite the barrier, Kazuma’s entire party was knocked flat to the ground as Megumin blew the entire front half of the mansion away, and shredded most of the rest. Even with the barrier the heat roasted them badly enough that Kazuma felt like he’d just gotten a horrible sunburn. 

For her part, Megumin seemed fine as she collapsed to the ground with a happy sigh. “At last, an indoor Explosion…Truly, none are mightier than I!” 

“Ugh, that’s one way to do a prison break,” Sero moaned, helping Yunyun back to her feet. 

Uraraka picked herself up and dusted off her costume, then grimaced. “Well, we’re out of the mansion, but look. It’s nothing but blasted rock as far as the eye can see now. And if anyone was around at all, they’ll know we’re here and that Megumin just made herself vulnerable.”

“Not for long,” Kazuma said, grabbing Chris’ wrist and Megumin’s hand. “Drain Touch.”

“Ooo, this mana feels different. Kazuma, Kazuma, we should play Rock Paper Scissors! I just know I’ll win this time!” Megumin said excitedly. 

“Hold still, it’s gonna take a few minutes to get you back to full power,” Kazuma lectured. 

“Wow, Kazuma, you trying to drag out holding two girls' hands?” Chris teased, then yelped when Kazuma tightened his grip.

“Uh, guys?” Sero said, his voice squeaking.

“Not now, let the lovers have their little spat, the horror section is over,” Uraraka told him.

“I don’t think it is! Yunyun, Yunyun help!” Sero cried, sending a wave of tape into the destroyed mansion behind them, only for a giant pair of scissors to rise up and slice through it with ease. 

“So,” the faceless girl crooned, holding her scissors in one hand and cradling the baby doll in the other. “Which of you gave me this?”

The dark waters frothed and raged as the massive hydra sent three heads at Kirishima, three at Darkness, and one each at Tanya and Mina, who both had to dodge to the side. Mina hurled a few globules of acid at the creature, but it seemed to just fizzle on the skin and do nothing. Frantically, she scrambled back behind Aqua, which the hydra was mostly leaving alone for some reason as she summoned up the water. 

A moment later, Tanya crouched beside her. “Can you swim?”

“Huh?” Mina blinked, then nodded as she formed more acid balls. “Yeah, I was on the diving team in middle school, but like, I think we have bigger problems now!” 

“Hrm.” Tanya poked at Aqua, then demanded, “Do you have a spell that lets someone breathe underwater?”

“What kind of a question is that? I’m a water goddess! Duh, of COURSE I have an underwater breathing spell! That’s like, super basic!” Aqua huffed. 

“Good, cast it on myself at Ashido,” Tanya ordered. 

“Why? You’re not going to drown, I’ll keep the water platform- AAAAAAAH!” 

A hydra head dove down at them, only for Tokoyami to intercept it at the last moment. Dark Shadow bit into the monster, and it bellowed in pain. MIna hastily threw acid at the wound, which bubbled and hissed, and thankfully didn’t regrow as it hung limp and dead. 

“This won’t work, and will take too long. Cast water breathing on us,” Tanya ordered Aqua. 

“Hmph, fine, but you better praise me for it!” Aqua harrumphed, and a moment later Mina felt cool water wash over her. 

Then she started to gasp and choke as she started to “drown” on dry land.

“Oh, um, I forgot, you, er, grow gills, and you can’t breathe air anymore,” Aqua told them. “It’ll wear off soon, but-”

Tanya grabbed Mina’s hand and dragged them both to the side of the platform, then dove into the water. They could see fairly well thanks to the glowing blue liquid all around them, which mostly meant they could see the giant hydra battling it out above them. Tanya nodded, and then swam down, motioning for Mina to follow after her. Reluctantly, she did, even as the battle raged on above and behind them. 

Tanya led her down an impossibly long way, and Mina started to wonder about getting the bends. Hopefully, the water-breathing spell would help with that, but she wasn’t sure. It did feel odd to be breathing through the gills in her neck. It felt like she was breathing through her ears, which was a rather odd sensation to say the least. 

When they had gotten so deep that Mina could barely see anything, Tanya brought them to a massive metal grate in the lake bed, with bars as thick around as Mina’s arms. Tanya pointed to it, then mimed breaking it. 

Nodding hesitantly, Mina swam forward, then had to grip the bars. There was a steady flow of water out of the grate, creating a strong current. Still, Mina was by no means weak, and she was able to hold on to the great as she generated acid. It took agonizingly long minutes, but she was able to eat through the bars and make a hole large enough for Mina to squeeze through, and she watched as Tanya swam through. Wincing, she did the same, and found herself pressed against the grate.

 She felt a tugging and nearly panicked, until she realized it was Tanya. Following after the small women, they made their way along the wall as Tanya felt for something. At last she seemed to find it, and they found metal bars along the wall. Hand over hand, they pulled themselves along, until they came to a metal door. This Tanya opened with a metal key she produced from a pocket, and the door swung open into gray water beyond. 

Once inside, the current vanished, and there was a light above them. Mina and Tanya ascended to the surface, where Mina instinctively gasped for breath, but then just choked on the air. She sank back down so only her head was above water, and looked around. 

They were in a small cavern, with flickering torches on the walls above them, and some sort of glowing control panel to the side, with various switches and levers on it, all inscribed with arcane magic symbols. 

“That’s the water level management system for this floor,” Tanya rasped, her voice low and wet sounding, like Tsuyu’s after she’d been swimming. Had they turned into frogs.

“That’s good, but what do we do now?” Mina asked. 

“Well, I’m going to drain the entire lake, and turn the lights on,” Tanya told her. “What I’m worried about is the fact that we can’t really breathe without water now. How long do you think this spell will last?”

“Honestly, no idea. It’s really inconvenient to have a water breathing spell that also somehow makes it so you can’t breathe air,” Mina sighed. “How will draining the water help us though?”

“Simple, that Hydra relies on the water to support its weight. We take that away, and it will be largely helpless and easy to finish off,” Tanya explained. “Hmm. I suppose I can try a ‘remove curse’ spell on us, one moment.”

Glowing runes appeared around Tanya as she chanted a spell in a language that sounded like German to Mina. Then she was suddenly coughing up water and splashing about wildly, before she managed to grab the nearby ladder and drag herself up. Tanya was breathing hard too, and holding on to Mina’s leg for dear life. Straining, Mina hauled them both up, and they coughed on the hard stone floor for a few moments. 

“Damnable useless goddess,” Tanya muttered, then crawled over and began to activate and flip switches. She watched some readout that Tanya couldn’t understand, then nodded to herself. “Well, thankfully, our two friends are durable, and Aqua can heal any injuries.”

“Uh, why?” Mina asked, suddenly worried. Then she let out a cry as the whole place began to shake, falling flat on her rear as a thunderous roar filled her ears

“Because I just sucked out about four billion cubic meters of water using the spells here,” Tanya shouted. “It will probably liquify the Hydra, actually, when it gets sucked into the drains.”

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Mina demanded. “What if it liquifies our FRIENDS?!” 

“It was the most expedient solution to the problem,” Tanya said with a shrug. “I oversaw the installation of the drainage devices. Do you realize they hadn’t cleaned or inspected the lining of the artificial underground lake before I came? No one had reviewed the safety and maintenance procedures even once. Unthinkable.”

Ignoring all of that gobbledygook, Mina sprang down the ladder, to find the water had completely vanished. She slid down the slick stone like she was riding her acid, then along into the massive tunnel. It was much brighter now, with emergency lights having flickered on. There was slime and moss on every surface, but Mina ignored that when she found the ladder up to the grate. She swamped up it, then pulled herself up through the hole. 

The whole underground lake was now mostly drained, with only a few puddles here and there left. There were giant white fish flopping about, along with white crabs crawling everywhere. It was sort of gross and fascinating, but Mina didn’t care about any of that. 

“EIJIRO! RED RIOT! WHERE ARE YOU!? AQUA!? TOKOYAMI? SOMEONE, PLEASE!” Mina wailed. 

“Mina? Is that you?” Kirishima’s voice shouted back before Mina’s could even echo back to her. 

“Yes, it’s me!” Mina cried excitedly, and hurried forward, slipping and sliding on the slimy wet rocks. 

She found her friends in a wet puddle of water, looking damp and frazzled, but not much worse for wear. Except for Aqua, who was crying and miserable-looking, covered in blood and slime. Not from the hydra, but from a white fish that seemed to have swallowed her whole until the others rescued her, its dead carcass rotting off to the side. 

“What the hell happened?” Kirishima demanded, getting to his feet gingerly and walking over to Mina, who threw herself at him so hard they both fell onto the ground with a loud squelch as she hugged him, then kissed him right on the lips.

“I was so worried about you,” Mina cried, pressing her face into his stony chest. 

“Uh, me too. We were fighting, and all of a sudden the water started to go down, fast. The hydra got sucked away, but Aqua kept us on the platform just long enough for us to avoid getting sucked down the drain or whatever ourselves,” Kirishima told her. 

“Tanya took us to a maintenance room or something and pulled the plug. No one’s hurt?” Mina asked worriedly, looking around at the others. 

“Unfortunately, no,” Darkness sighed. “I was just getting started with that big, brutal hydra…”

“A maintenance room?” Tokoyami asked, looking up with interest. “Where?”

“And does it have a shower?” Aqua sniffled

“Uh, I don’t know about showers. But come on, I’ll show you,” Mina said, and led them back across the short distance to the grate, where they all made their way to the strange chamber, where Tanya was waiting impatiently. 

“There you all are. Come, I’ve managed to divine several important-” Tanya began, then let out a squawk as Aqua flung herself at Tanya, coating her in fish guts. 

“Please tell me they have a shower here!” Aqua wailed. “I don’t like being all stinky and slimy!” 

“There’s a chemical decon shower right there!” Tanya said, pointing to a curtain-covered stall. “But it’s not meant for-”

Ignoring that, Aqua stripped out of her garments, leading Mina to cover Kirishima’s eyes, and Darkness to put a hand over Tokoyami’s and Dark Shadow’s. 

“Aw, come on, I wasn’t gonna look!” Dark Shadow protested. 

“We don’t have time for this!” Tanya complained and gestured to the control panel. “Using this, I have ascertained the location of our allies. Thanks to the maintenance access passages, we should be able to get to them quickly. Kazuma’s group appears to be engaging Nigredo on the Glacier level, while Izuku’s group does battle with Shaltear on the 3rd floor. 

Behind them, steam began to rise, and bubbles floated up as Aqua hummed to herself while taking her shower. 

“Where did she get soap? Or hot water?” Tanya asked, sounding confused. “I don’t remember installing either of those.”

“Look, forget that, who needs our help more?” Kirishma demanded. 

Tanya pursed her lips. “Nigredo is strong, but Shalltear is by far the most powerful of the Floor Guardians. Still, Izuku’s group is the strongest one we have, while Kazuma’s is comparatively weak on combat power.” 

“Do we split up, go help them both?” Kirishima demanded. 

“That’s not optimal, and you need me to get through the doors and navigate the maintenance tunnels,” Tanya said with a shake of her head. “We choose only one.”

Mina bit her lip, and looked back and forth between the others. Help Kazuma, or help Midoriya? Either way, time was running out.

Just then, Aqua stepped out of the shower in a perfectly clean bathrobe, her hair in a towel. “All better! Now, what are we doing?”

“Going to save our friends,” Darkness said firmly. “Come, I know where we need to go.”

Laying out her plan quickly, Darkness explained her reasoning, and Mina nodded. They’d have to risk it all, but it just might work. 

The Second Archon War: Interlude 7

CONTENT WARNING: Warcrimes. The second half of the chapter takes place in China. Nothing graphic, but sexual assault, mass murder of civilians, and everything else you’d expect in a wartorn hellscape. 

Interlude 7: Suffer the Little Children

“You sure you won’t be cold? You should wear mittens, it’s freezing out today,” Annette Hebert said, frowning down at Taylor. 

“Mom, I’ll be fine! It’s warm in the gym, and we’ll be exercising!” Taylor said impatiently, practically vibrating with eagerness by the front door. 

“Just remember, this is just a sport. You’re not going to be using this on anyone at school, right?” Annette prompted. 

Taylor bit her tongue and didn’t say she’d use it on any kid who was a bully and a jerk like the righteous hero of justice she was, because that would mean she didn’t get to go. Instead, she nodded seriously. “Of course! Just a sport.”

There was a beep outside, and Annette peered through the window of their condo. “There’s Arthur. You behave now, won’t you?”

“Yeah I will! Bye, Mom!” Taylor agreed and flung open the door with a bang before racing down the stairs to the blue minivan waiting for her in the condo parking lot. 

“Hey, Taylor,” Uncle Arthur said, smiling as he opened the side door for her. “You seem excited.”

“Duh, we’re gonna learn how to use SWORDS!” Taylor said excitedly, hopping into the back seat. “Are you ready, Junior?!”

“Yeah,” her friend said nervously, though he didn’t look it. “It’s, um, pretty cool, right?”

“I read all my copies of Lightning Princess Ami last night,” Taylor agreed, buckling her seatbelt. “Can you believe a real Kendo School opened in Brockton Bay!?”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Junior agreed. “Do you think the teacher’s met Raiden?”

“I don’t know, ask your other dad, he would know,” Taylor pointed out. “Where’s Uncle Keith, anyway?”

“Busy,” Uncle Arthur said from the driver’s seat as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I’ll be at the coffee shop next door if you two need anything. The lessons are from 6:00-7:30 pm. Did you eat dinner, Taylor?”

“Yeah,” Taylor said, leaning forward in her seatbelt. “Have you ever met Raiden, Uncle Arthur?! You met Venti, right?”

“I did,” her honorary uncle agreed. “But I’ve never had the honor of meeting the Raiden Shogun. Fortunately.”

Taylor wrinkled her nose trying to puzzle that one out, but settled back in her seat to watch the traffic go by. This was a nice part of town, so everything was new and shiny, and there weren’t very many potholes in the road. She clutched her father’s Vision tightly and thought about how she would master the Blade, and kill the Siberian. Which was what Taylor thought about a lot of the time. 

Ten minutes later, they pulled into the strip mall, and Taylor and Junior piled out of the car with the wood swords and kendo uniforms as Uncle Arthur waved goodbye and told them to behave. 

Inside, Taylor felt disappointed once more. She’d already been inside the dojo, but in her head it was a mystical sanctuary, with hardwood panels, jade statues, and those cool samurai robots. Instead, she found herself in a normal drywall room with blue gym mats at the center. There weren’t even those neat reed mats, just foam yoga pads for people to sit on. 

“Taylor! Junior! Over here!” Sarah called, waving excitedly, and Taylor and Junior both stripped off their jackets and shoes, then ran over to kneel on a mat beside their friend. 

“Did you see sensei!? Is he really a Vision Holder?!” Taylor asked excitedly. She had a half baked plan in her head that their new kendo sensei would teach her how to reignite her father’s Vision, but mostly she just wanted to learn to hit people with a sword. Either way, it was just another step in her Master Plan to avenge her father’s death. 

“I haven’t seen him yet, my brother just dropped me off,” Sarah said with a shrug. She held up the wooden sword that had purchased when they signed up for classes. “This is cool though, right?”

“Come on, let’s face one another!” Taylor said eagerly, jumping up and holding her sword in a two handed grip like they did in Lightning Princes Ami. 

“I don’t know guys…” Junior said, looking uncertain. “I don’t think we’re-”

“En garde!” Sarah cried and their swords met with a loud clatter. 

No sooner had they done so, however, then a door in the back opened and a teenaged girl in a uniform with a blue belt and a sword at her hip ran out. “Oh my! This isn’t how things are supposed to go at all! Please, put down your swords. You haven’t even had your first lesson yet, you really shouldn’t be fighting.”

Taylor and Sarah paused, swords raised high, and examined the girl. She didn’t look Japanese, with platinum blonde hair done up in a tight bun on the back of her head, rosy cheeks with freckles, and green eyes. She looked to be around 14, which made her old, but still cool. 

“You’re not the sensei,” Sarah said, her voice accusatory. “He’s a samurai.”

“Master Kaedehara will be out shortly, but he is very strict! Why, if he catches you playing with your swords, he’ll punish you most severely!” the girl said breathily. “Please, sit down, no fighting! It’ll make a terrible mess!” 

Reluctantly, Sarah and Taylor sat back down, while Junior smirked at both of them. Sarah preemptively stuck her tongue out at him, which made Junior roll his eyes. 

The class was soon full, with 20 kids between the ages of 8 and 10. A few parents waited around in the back or outside, while the teenager ran around and kept the peace with the squirrely children. 

At exactly 6:00 pm, Taylor was keeping track by the clock on the back wall, the rear door opened again and a man in another martial arts suit ambled out, a cup of tea in one hand. He didn’t look like Taylor had expected a Japanese Samurai to look either. For one thing, his hair was similar in color to his assistants, though his was obviously dyed, with a single red forelock. Strangely he had a bright orange kazoo on a leather thong about his neck, which was funny. His hair was long and messy looking, casually pulled back into a ponytail with a red ribbon. He did look asian, but his most striking feature was the glowing green gem on his black belt: an Anemo Vision. 

“Are the students ready, Miss Smith?” Master K asked, his voice lightly accented. 

The assistant bowed deeply. “Yes, Sensei. They are ready.”

“Very good.” The man took a long sip of tea, then set his cup on the floor next to the wall and smiled at the students. “Good evening, students.”

“Good evening,” Taylor and the other kids echoed. She clutched her father’s Vision, heart pounding. Was this her first true step on her journey?

“I am Kaedehara Kazuha. But that’s a bit of a mouthful, so you can call me Sensei Kazoo.” He held up the instrument, then blew a jaunty little tune on it, which made all the children giggle. Even Miss Smith smiled.

“This is Noelle Smith, but you will call her Sensei Noelle while we’re learning. Everyone say hello,” Sensei Kazoo said, and the girl bowed again, blushing deeply. 

“Hello Sensei Noelle,” the children repeated dutifully. 

“Hmm, I see you all have your swords,” Sensei Kazoo said, looking around at all the children. “I’m afraid we won’t be needing those today: Please give them all to Sensei Noelle.” 

The children made disappointed noises, with Sarah going so far as to shout, “No fair!” 

“Oh? You don’t approve?” Sensei Kazoo grinned. “Well, I’ll tell you what. If you follow directions and work hard, you’ll earn your swords back in no time. To sweeten the deal, if you all do a good job tonight, Sensei Noelle and I will have an exhibition match.”

The children’s breath all caught, and they all snuck furtive glances at Sensei Noelle. Was she a cape too? Taylor figured she had to be, if she was going to have a duel with Sensei Kazoo since he was one. Taylor reluctantly handed her sword to Sensei Noelle when she came around, then turned back to Sensei Kazoo. 

“Very good. Now, the first step of the Origin Bladework path, is to be of sound body, and sound mind. We’ll begin with some light exercises. Everyone, stand up, and follow me around the mat!” Sensei Kazoo then led the gaggle of giggling children in laps around the room, walking in different ways. He would call out, “Horse!” and everyone would gallop, then “Crane!” and have them take long, funny steps. He repeated this for several animals, then had the students practice jumping jacks. 

Taylor found it to be enjoyable, but she was slightly disappointed. This was basically just PE with some funny dancing steps that they practiced after that, then a game of Ninja where you had to strike your opponent’s arm with one motion while dodging their own blow. 

After an hour, Taylor was sweaty and tired, but in a good way. Parents were coming in, including Uncle Arthur and Sarah’s older brother, but Sensei Kazoo had the children sit along the mat. 

“Now, our demonstration match. So that you can all see what the path of Origin Bladework will lead us to,” Sensei Kazoo told them. 

Sarah raised her hand, then without waiting to be called on said, “Excuse me, this is Kendo class. Why aren’t you saying Kendo?”

“Ah, a good point,” Sensei Kazoo nodded and smiled. “This is not a Kendo class. It was advertised as such, due to a miscommunication. But I studied with the Sentai, and learned the way of Origin Bladework. It is very different from Kendo, or any other school of martial arts, for it comes from the Raiden Shogun herself.”

“Did you face the Raiden Shogun!?” Taylor asked, then raised her hand halfway through the question. 

Sensei Kazoo chuckled. “I’ll tell you about that some other time. But yes, I did meet her Excellency.”

There were delighted gasps, even as Sensei Noelle brought Kazoo a wooden sword, then bowed to him. 

“Ah, thank you.” Glancing around, Sensei Kazoo spotted Sarah, then took off his Vision and handed it to her. “Hold this, will you? I don’t want anyone to think I was cheating.”

Sarah’s eyes were as big as dinner plates as she took the Vision, the other kids gasping and shooting her jealous looks. Sarah gazed into the swirling vortex within the Vision, even as Sensei Kazoo and Noelle stepped out onto the mat. Taylor’s eyes were soon fixed to the two combatants as they bowed formally to one another. 

“Ready, Sensei,” Noelle said, putting both hands on her sword hilt, which was still sheathed at her side. 

Kazoo nodded casually, taking out a bit of straw from somewhere and sticking it in his mouth. His posture was relaxed, hands at his side, without trying to draw his sword. “Begin.”

In a move that was almost too fast for Taylor to see, Noelle drew her wooden sword and dashed forward, slicing at Kazoo hard enough that it would have broken bones if her blow had connected. Instead, Kazoo took what looked like a lazy step to the side, leaning back away from the blow. Noelle didn’t hesitate, pivoting on one foot and bringing her sword up in a sweeping arc. 

Instead of dodging, Kazoo drew his sword one handed, redirecting Noelle’s attack away from himself, then slicing down so that his blow rapped lighting on her ribs. 

“Point,” Noelle gasped, shaking her head. “The match is yours, Master.”

“Hmm, a bit too fast,” Kazoo mused, scratching his chin. He grinned. “Reset. Let’s give them a show this time.”

“Hai!” Noelle cried, bowing, and returned her sword to her side. This time, when Kazoo stood apart from her, he had his own hands on his sword. The two regarded each other for a long moment, and Taylor held her breath in anticipation.

As if at an unseen signal, both Noelle and Kazoo drew and attacked in what appeared to be the same instant. Their swords rang together with a sharp clack, and then the two of them moved back and forth on the exercise mat, exchanging a flurry of blows. Taylor could only watch in astonishment; the only time she’d seen anyone move that fast was when Aunty Becky or Uncle Keith used their powers. Noelle didn’t seem to be quite as fast as Kazoo, but she was solid and steady on her feet, while he weaved back and forth, his blade moving like a serpent. 

This time, the battle lasted for nearly a minute, until Noelle’s blade passed in front of Kazoo’s face like lightning, severing the bit of grass he’d held there. Both combatants instantly froze as the tuft slowly floated down. Noelle was breathing hard, sweat soaking her uniform, but her grip and legs were still steady. Kazoo was breathing easily, but his back was just as soaked as his opponents. 

Spitting out the stem of grass, Kazoo grinned, then bowed. “The match goes to you, Miss Smith. Excellent work.”

“I just got lucky this time,” Noelle said, returning the bow. “Thank you for honoring me with a match.”

Then Kazoo stood up, turning back to the children. “So, do you want to learn how to do that?”

“YES!” all the kids squealed, then jumped up and swarmed Kazoo and Noelle both. 

“Do you have powers!? Are you a parahuman?!” Taylor asked Noelle breathlessly as she crowded around the teen with a dozen other kids. 

“Oh, goodness! Um, no, I don’t have any parahuman abilities. Really, I’m just an ordinary high school student. I’ve been practicing kendo for several years at another dojo, and my Sensei recommended me to Sensei Kazoo. I’m just working here part time,” Noelle explained. 

“But that was so cool! You must have powers!” Sarah insisted, holding up Kazoo’s Vision. “Sensei Kazoo has powers! But you beat him!” 

“W-well, he was fighting with a handicap, really, I’m not very talented, I just work hard,” Noelle said, blushing. 

“Alright, alright. That’s enough for today,” Kazoo said, clapping his hands. “Thank you, Miss Livsey, I’ll be taking that. The rest of you, at the end of training, we bow and say ‘Thank you very much.’”

“THANK YOU VERY MUCH!” all the kids shouted, bowing awkwardly, then they ran off to their parents.

“Miss Hebert, was it? A moment, if you will,” Kazoo said, putting a hand on Taylor’s shoulder before she could run over to Uncle Arthur. 

She paused, turning curiously to look up at her Sensei, who knelt down in front of her. 

“This is a class for beginners. But I noticed you had a Vision. I’m afraid it wouldn’t be safe for a Vision Holder to spar with beginners,” Kazoo said gently. 

Taylor’s eyes suddenly teared up, and she looked away. “... mine’s broken…”

“Oh?” Kazoo gently took Taylor’s Vision, examining it. “It does seem inert. It was an Electro Vision, but to lose your ambition so young…”

“It was my dad’s,” Taylor sniffled, wiping at her eyes. “He was a hero. The Siberian killed him.”

“Ah.” Kazoo handed the Vision back, then put a hand on Taylor’s shoulder. “I see. You wish to follow in your father’s footsteps then?”

Taylor nodded eagerly, and Kazoo smiled. “Well, it is still a mystery as to how us mortals are granted Visions by the Archons, but I remember when I heard the voice of Lord Barbados. He called me to never allow myself to be bound by tradition, and to seek beyond the horizon for freedom. That’s what brought me here, really. I don’t know how long I’ll stay, but I promise that while I’m here, I’ll help you honor your father’s legacy. OK?”

“OK,” Taylor agreed eagerly, brushing away her tears and adjusting her glasses with a smile. 

“We’ll see you next week,” Kazoo promised.

“Goodbye, Taylor! Have a good week,” Noelle said, smiling and waving goodbye. 

During the ride home, Junior talked excitedly with his dad, but Taylor was quiet and thoughtful. At home, she was exhausted, and after brushing her teeth and showering, went right to bed. She cradled her father’s Vision in her hands, rubbing it with her fingers. 

One day, I’ll be strong, and a hero, just like you. I’ll protect everyone, Taylor thought, her eyes fluttering closed. 

She missed the spark that kindled briefly in the Vision, but someone else, a world away, had heard her silent prayer. 

The Shogun’s lips curled in a smile, and she nodded her approval. Soon.

Running as fast as her legs could carry her, Shenhe gasped for breath, her sweat-slick hand gripping Shuyu’s as hard as she could. The heat from the flames behind them blasted both girls, blistering their skin and cracking their lips, but both made as little sound as possible. 

Behind them, they heard the screams of Shenhe’s mother, then the bark of a rifle, and silence. Shenhe would have wept, but the heat from the inferno that had been their village dried her tears before they fell. She couldn’t look back. Only run as fast as she could. 

Beside her, little Shuyu cried out, then tripped, nearly dragging Shenhe down with her. She stumbled, falling to one knee, her hand still grasping onto Shuyu’s as tightly as she could. 

Shenhe saw what Shuyu had tripped over, and tried not to vomit. It was their grandmother, Yuandei. Her dress had been ripped off, and there was blood between her legs, but her head was a smashed-in ruin. 

“G-grandma!” Shuyu whimpered, trying to struggle to her feet, but she wailed and fell back down. Shenhe could see her cousin’s ankle was twisted and grimaced. 

“Come on,” she whispered and grunted as she lifted Shuyu onto her back. She was twelve now, and strong, while Shuyu was only five and still small. 

“B-but grandma!” Shuyu cried, clinging tightly to Shenhe’s neck.

“I’ll come back for her,” Shenhe promised, knowing there was nothing to come back for here. Ever. 

Shenhe sprinted into the rice paddies, wading through the ankle-deep water as Shuyu cried into the back of her neck. Grimly, she squelched through the mud, moving as fast as she could. 

“There! I knew I heard something! Two more!” 

There was the bark of a rifle, and Shenhe screamed despite herself. No pain, so the shot had missed, but she had been so scared she missed her footing and sank to one knee in the mud, Shuyu barely clinging on. 

“It’s two girls. Don’t just shoot them. They’re more fun when they’re alive.” 

Grimly, Shenhe got back to her feet and struggled on, trying desperately to use the rice paddies to get some distance. She could hear the bandits coming along behind her, laughing and making coarse jokes.

“Stop running, little girl, or I will kill you first!” one of the men called, but Shenhe ignored them. 

“Please, someone, anyone, help!” Shuyu wailed, but it was pointless. 

The men in the village who hadn’t already been conscripted by one side or another had all tried to resist the bandits. They had been the first to die. Their little village was tiny, with only some axes and knives to try to use as weapons, all the guns long gone. 

Looking up towards the mountains, Shenhe tried to gauge how far she’d have to run to get to safety. It was less than a li to the woods, but an impossible distance all the same. She gazed up hopelessly at the smoke-filled sky, knowing that she and her cousin were about to die. 

Something cut through the air, and Shenhe flinched. A plane? A helicopter? Or worse, a cape? Some of the armies fighting in the area had all three, would they drive off the bandits?

If they did, Shenhe and Shuyu were dead or worse anyway. The only difference between soldiers and bandits these days was what uniform they wore when they were robbing you. 

“Hey, what’s that? I saw something,” one of the bandits cried.

“It’s just a bird, idiot. Don’t let the girls get away, I haven’t had my fun for today yet.”

It was a bird. A crane, a very large one, swooping down from the mountains. There was something else beside it, another bird? No, this one was too large and fluffy, and didn’t have wings, but it was following behind the bird. 

None of it mattered. Shenhe could hear the bandits only a few steps behind her, their longer legs letting them wade through the rice paddy faster than she could. Screaming in rage, Shenhe tried to press forward, to take one more step, to live for one more second.

There was a roar above her, and Shenhe looked up in time to see the giant crane dive down towards her. Her heart stopped for one impossible moment, as she wondered if the bird was going to kill her and Shuyu both, and spare them from their grisly fate. 

And then the bird impacted the ground between Shenhe and the bandits, knocking her into the muck as a spray of water and mud covered her and her pursuers. 

“What insolence is this!? Five men, to face two young children? Pah! One wonders how you have the courage to face such odds.”

Blinking, Shenhe managed to pull herself out of the muck. Who had spoken? It sounded like a woman’s voice, a rich lady’s voice. But there was just the crane, standing on one leg in the rice paddy, and the bandits, who had also been knocked down. Behind them, the village still burned, though dark clouds were gathering over the village now. That was strange. It had been a clear day for late Autumn. 

“What the fuck?” one of the bandits spat, getting to his feet, he and his gun now covered in mud. “What was that?”

“It was the fucking bird! Shoot her!” another gasped, and stood up, pointing his gun at the bird, and pulling the trigger. Shenhe flinched, but nothing happened. 

“What inferior craftsmanship. Perhaps if you had taken better care of your weaponry, it would serve you somewhat better,” the voice said again. 

Shenhe looked around in astonishment, but it was Shuyu beside her who gasped, “It’s the crane! It can talk, look!”

“That’s crazy,” Shehu muttered, staggering to her feet. But there seemed to be no other explanation. The crane was huge, bigger than any other bird Shenhe had ever seen by far. Now that it was closer, Shenhe spied a sparkling green gem on a golden necklace around the crane's neck. That was strange, but Shenhe was not taking any risks. 

“Get up, we have to run,” Shehu told Shuyu, trying to drag her cousin to her feet. 

“Young one. You appear injured. Stay. This one will treat your wounds, once this one has dealt with these mongrels,” the crane said. 

“Fuck it, it’s just a bird!” a bandit snarled and swung his muddy rifle like a club. 

“Hmph. Such impertinence!” the crane snorted, and its raised leg kicked out. There was a blast of wind, and the man cried out in pain as he was blasted back a dozen meters, before hitting a rock with a sickening crunch. He twitched a bit, but he didn’t rise. 

“FUCK! CAPE!” another bandit shouted, and all four of the remaining bandits rushed the crane. 

“Close your eyes, young ones,” the crane said gently. “One would not have you see what must come to pass.”

Shuyu whimpered and clutched at Shenhe, but neither girl closed her eyes. Both watched as the crane vanished, and a dark-haired woman in a flowing green gown took its place. She had no weapon save for the Vision that hung from her neck, but that was more than enough. With kicks of furious gales and punches that created vortexes, the crane woman effortlessly took apart the four men in a handful of seconds. She was economical in her movements, graceful and elegant, but she was not gentle. Her blows shattered bones and ruptured organs, and the men coughed blood or screamed in pain as they went down. 

Shenhe felt only a dull sense of relief at seeing their deaths. Perhaps there was some justice left in the world. 

With the men dead, the crane woman surveyed her handiwork, grimacing. “Such wanton violence. A waste. What need have we for more death and destruction…”

Sighing, the woman shook her head, then turned and smiled. She strode over to Shenhe and Shuyu, her movements swift and precise, like a crane wading through the water. Ignoring the fact that her gown was becoming stained with mud, she knelt down, offering both girls a hand. “Greetings, young mortals. I am… well, one supposes that one’s name is not quite pronounceable in the mortal tongue. Hmm. A most puzzling predicament. Hmm, the closest translation would be The Perfected Lord who Retains the Clouds by Borrowing the Wind.”

Shenhe just nodded dully, her mind completely overwhelmed. 

“Um, can we just call you Lord Cloud Retainer?” Shuyu asked. 

“Heavens no!” the crane woman said, pursing her lips. Had they offended her? Shenhe braced herself, but the woman continued, “One does not seek needless titles. You may simply call this one Cloud Retainer.”

“Yes, Cloud Retainer. Thank you for saving us,” Shenhe said, remaining crouched in the mud. 

Cloud Retainer gave her a sad smile, then stood and offered her hand again. “Please, stand. One imagines that both of you shall require some aid.”

“Yes, we-” Shenhe jumped as there was a roar, and looked back to the village. A torrential downpour was now covering the entire place, with flashes of purple lightning. Fear gripped Shenhe’s heart, and she clung to Shuyu, who wept as well. “The Japanese devils are here!” 

“No, that is simply Ganyu, dealing with the remaining bandits. She must have rescued any other survivors,” Cloud Retainer said, helping Shenhe and Shuyu to their feet. A few moments later, what looked like a white puffy cloud with horns flew down from the village and landed, before transforming into an adorable pudgy child of no more than five or six. 

“Mommy, there was nobody left but the bad men,” the little girl said with a sad shake of her head. She too wore a gown, though hers was black with purple lighting bolts worked into it. 

“Ah. I see.” Cloud Retainer turned to look at Shenhe and Shuyu, pain washing over her for a moment. Then she schooled it back to gentle sympathy. “It seems that your parents… your families…”

“They’re dead,” Shenhe said flatly. “We saw some of the bodies. The bandits killed everyone they didn’t rape. Then they killed them too. We barely escaped, my mother gave her life to buy us time.”

Little Ganyu started to cry, sitting down on the muddy bank of the rice paddy. “W-we were too late! W-we came as fast as we could, b-but we couldn’t-”

“Hush, child. It is well. Think not of the lives we did not save, but the ones we did,” Cloud Retainer said gently, patting Ganyu on the head. There were two dark horns poking up from the girl’s lilac hair, which was rather odd. 

Ganyu sniffled and nodded, but tears still leaked down her face. 

“Show your manners, Ganyu. Introduce yourself to the mortal children,” Cloud Retainer said gently, as if to distract the little girl.

Hiccuping, Ganyu looked up and managed a weak smile. “H-hello. I’m Ganyu. I’m a chillin. Um, I’m a quillan. Ah… I’m a thunder spirit.” 

“That is not quite right, a qilin is born they say to herald the arrival of a great sage,” Cloud Retainer said in a lecturing tone. “You simply happen to have an Electro Vision.”

“Are… are you Japanese?” Shenhe asked, feeling a pang of fear. If she had one of those purple Visions, like the Demon Queen Raiden herself…

“No, um, I think I’m Chinese. I was born here in the mountains, um… how long ago, mommy?” Ganyu asked curiously. 

“One is not certain. One found you in one’s nest after one’s… after… after there were no longer hatchlings to care for some time ago, but it was before one was able to reckon time as mortals do, for one was but a bird still,” Cloud Retainer said with a shrug. “Still, one received one’s own totem not long after, so one supposes your age is no more than a season or two.”

“Are you a sage?” Shuyu asked Cloud Retainer. 

The crane woman laughed. “One does not claim such lofty titles. One is but a lonely bird with an empty nest, whose mate and hatchlings… well. Who nests alone, now. One has a most comfortable abode no more than a day’s flight from here. Would you young mortals like to see it?”

Shenhe glanced back at the village, which had mostly disappeared under the rather localized thunderstorm. There was nothing but charred ruins there now. “Are there men with guns there?”

Cloud Retainer’s expression grew grim. “No, child. There are no men with guns there. Nor for a day’s flight in any direction. One has made most certain of this.”

“No bad guys,” Ganyu agreed with a firm nod.  

“Yes!” Shuyu said, trying to stand on wobbly legs. She cried out, her ankle giving way. 

“Ah! One forgot you are hurt,” Cloud Retainer said, scooping the muck-covered girl into her arms. “Here. Let one bind your wound and soothe it.” 

Cloud Retainer proceeded to rip strips of cloth from her own gown, then used it to bind Shuyu’s angle, before muttering something and passing her hand over it. Shuyu sighed as green winds seeped into the wound. “Thank you…”

“It is nothing,” Cloud Retainer said, but she looked rather satisfied. “Come, let us away. Ganyu, can you carry the smaller of the mortal children?”

“Uh huh,” Ganyu said, looking up from the flower she’d been eating. She swallowed the blossoms, which was rather odd to see, then stood up. A moment later, a large fluffy white cloud stood there, only now Shenhe could see the horns and hooves that marked it as a qilin. 

“Climb on,” Cloud Retainer instructed, helping Shuyu aboard.

“So fluffy!” Shuyu giggled, and hugged Ganyu’s neck.

“Come, child. I shall bear you.” 

Shenhe turned to see the giant crane again, sitting on the ground. Reluctantly, Shenhe clambered aboard the bird’s back, wrapping her arms gingerly around the thin neck. 

“Let us return to our nest,” Cloud Retainer said, then with a burst of wind, lept up into the sky. Ganyu and Shuyu followed them, and for a few minutes, Shenhe forgot her fear, grief, and pain, and was a young girl again, laughing and shouting for joy as they soared through the skies. She’d never been flying before, had never even ridden in a car. To see the world pass below them was sheer joy as they flew over the mountaintops and away from the village.

After the initial euphoria wore off, Shenhe found her eyes becoming heavy and yawns stretching her jaw. 

“Rest now, child. One will not let you fall,” Cloud Retainer said. “Oh! Where are one’s manners?”

“Huh?” Shenhe asked sleepily, her head falling onto the downy feathers of Cloud Retainer's back.

“What is your name, young one?”

“Shenhe.”

“Shenhe. It is a good name. Sleep now, child. You are safe now.”

Even if she hadn’t been safe, Shenhe didn’t think she could have stayed away if she’d wanted to. She drifted off to sleep as she soared through the heavens, free and safe at last. 

The Last Drop of Hope, Chapter 32

A lot of weird things had happened since Kazuma had landed on Belzerg. Actually, weird things had started happening right about the time Sylvia interrupted his tunes. Either way, he didn’t think that anything weirder than having a bunch of people kneel to a cat had happened. Even if the kitty had bat wings. 

“M-Mistress?” Yunyun asked, looking around at both the kneeling ‘Crimson Demons’ and Arnes. “What do you mean?”

“I dunno, she was never a cat before,” the pudgy kid said. His name was Chekeria or something, but Kazuma wasn’t one to judge, out loud anyway. Mostly because Crimson Demons were crazy, and lethal. 

“She…she has been cursed, I have not seen her like this since… since she became a General,” Arnes said, tears filling her eyes. She gently reached out a hand to pick up the kitten but Chomusuke yowled and swiped at the hand, clinging to Yunyun instead. 

“Mistress! Don’t you recognize me! It’s me, Arnes, your faithful servant for all these years!” the demon woman said, tears filling her eyes as she pleaded with the cat. 

“HSSSS!” was Chomusuke’s only response, then she wiggled back into Yunyun’s bosom, where she promptly snuggled up and started snoring. 

“R-rejected… Mistress, you are too cruel,” Arnes sniffled, hugging herself and wrapping her wings about her body like a blanket. 

“And this means…what?” Megumin demanded, leaning on her sword and frowning. “Who are we supposed to fight now? Because I came here to kick corporate ass and so far I haven’t done any of that.”

“Let’s stop and think for a minute,” Kazuma said, holding up a hand. “We were sent here to secure the city and the transportation hub, maybe make some allies with the local succubi. So far, Mission Accomplished. Nice work, Komekko.”

“Thanks!” Komekko said brightly, grinning and giving Kazuma a thumbs up as her minions stood behind her. 

“W-we have the transportation hub, but…what about the people?” Yunyun pointed out. 

Kazuma shrugged at that. “We’ll need to figure that out, but honestly I think we’ve got a bigger opportunity here. What if we can ally with the Cat’s Eye Group? I mean, they’re not the biggest corporation, but they’re not the smallest either. Plus, they’ve got a lot of infrastructure dedicated to building stuff. That’d be pretty handy if we want to survive this whole mess.”

Getting to her feet, Arnes dabbed at her eyes with a white lacy hanky, something far girlier than Kazuma had envisioned someone with an axe bigger than he was using. “Are…are you offering an alliance between the House of Belzerg and my Mistress, Wolbach?”

“Not to brag, but I am officially Iris’s Big Bro,” Kazuma said, giving Arnes his best winning smile. For some reason, all the girls present made a face, except for Lolisa, who giggled instead. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Are you sure you’re a Belzerg? You don’t look like murder on legs,” Arnes said, frowning at Kazuma. 

“He’s adopted,” Lolisa said, winking at Kazuma. “But he’s a lot more competent than he looks.”

“Hmm,” Arnes frowned at Kazuma, who did his best to look competent and serious. “What do you think, Chief Yunyun?”

“Um, he’s a bit weird, b-but he did rescue her Majesty from Discord, a-and he’s not worthless in combat,” Yunyun said, giving Kazuma a nervous smile. 

Damned by faint praise. Kazuma would show them!  He’d show them all!

“Oh? Well, if a Crimson Demon says you’re not bad in a fight then you’re probably more badass than your average black hat,” Arnes said, sounding a lot more respectful. “Belzergs didn’t adopt weaklings or fools into their line.”

Kazuma preened at that. “So, will you consider an alliance then?”

“Well, you already stole my kids,” Arnes said, smiling at the new Crimson Demons, who shuffled about uncomfortably like the awkward kids they were. “But I’m not in charge of Cat’s Eye. That’s Wolbach, even if she’s in her diminutive form at the moment.” 

“So, what, you expect us to turn Yunyun’s cat into a person or something?” Megumin asked, frowning at Arnes. 

“It has to be Seredisa! She’s cursed my mistress! You have to help us!” Arnes pleaded, turning back and forth between Kazuma and Yunyun. “Please, if you do, I’ll make sure she agrees to pledge all of Cat's Eye’s resources to your cause!” 

That didn’t require much consideration. Kazuma caught Yunyun’s eye, and she nodded. He turned to Arnes. “Don’t sweat it. We’ll just take the cat to Aqua and she’ll break the curse or whatever. She’s pretty good at that stuff.”

“Mistress, um, I just remembered…we have to iron our cat,” Becky said, tugging on Komekko’s sleeve. 

“Yes! I have to, um, pluck my nose hair,” Clara agreed, and Tina nodded, looking rather pale. 

“Wait, do you mean…?” Arne’s expressions soured immediately. “Please don’t tell me that the Axis Cult and their blue-haired bimbo is back.”

Before the demon could draw another breath, Megumin had Gram at the woman’s throat, causing her to freeze, her eyes going very wide. 

“I don’t know you well enough for you to insult my friend and goddess like that,” Megumin growled softly. 

Lolisa nodded, pointing her gun casually at Arnes. “Aqua is what this world needs, Archfiend. Do you really think a Fallen Goddess and the forces of Hell could save this world? We need the gods back, or everyone is going to suffer and die, and we’ll end up back in the Pit where we spawned. And if you’re going to stand in the way of that…well, I suppose I can help send you back to Hell faster.” 

“Well, shit. A succubus, standing up for the Axis Cult? Never thought I’d see the day.” Arnes frowned at Megumin. “Put that razor away, kid. I don’t like the Axis, but that’s an old, old grudge. I’m willing to look past it if it means fixing my mistress…though I warn you, she and Aqua do not get along. Like cats and dogs, really.”

“Why don’t cats like dogs? Megumin demanded, her eyes narrowing slightly. 

“I…ugh, look, it made more sense when those species weren’t basically extinct. Oil and water, OK? A very, very old grudge,” Arnes said, wincing as Gram drew a line of blood from her throat. “Seriously, I’m on your side.”

“Please don’t hurt her,” Nerimaki said, putting a hand towards Megumin. “She…she’s like our mom. She basically raised us with Miss Wolbach. They were kind to us…mostly.”

“Hmph.” Megumin withdrew the sword, but kept an eye on Arnes, who ran a finger along the cut and winced. 

“Esh. Crimson Demons with a melee build. I thought you were scary enough when you were walking magical wastelands. Look, if going to Aqua is what it takes, fine. But I don’t know that even a goddess can break this curse, because if Seresdina put the curse on, then it’s Regina, Goddess of Revenge that powers it.”

“Wait, are you saying another goddess is alive? Does Seresdina have her imprisoned” Kazuma demanded, his ears perking up. Aqua was good, but if they had a second goddess…

“Honestly, dunno. She’s had a monopoly on Regina’s power since before the War,” Arnes said, spreading her hands helplessly. “I imagine she used Wolbach’s own goddess power against her, or something. I don’t know the whole story, I just know that Seresdina and Wolbach had hated one another for basically forever. Maybe Regina’s imprisoned, maybe Seresdina drained her power somehow, who knows. But I ain’t real fond of the idea of putting my Mistress in Aqua’s hands.”

“So, w-what do you suggest?” Yunyun asked, frowning. 

“Go to where the Revengers are doing their ritual and fuck it up!” Arnes growled, slapping one taloned fist into the other. “We kick Regina’s teeth in, then break the curse and free my mistress!” 

“I like that plan!” Megumin agreed immediately, grinning broadly at the idea of more imminent violence, even if she’d just been threatening Arnes. 

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Yunyun said hesitantly, glancing at Kazuma. “Y-you’re the leader. W-what do you think?”

Kazuma considered that, then said, “I think they invented radios for a reason. Let’s call base and let them decide.”

The suggestion was so sensible that it took everyone else by surprise, but they all agreed to Kazuma’s suggestion. The next step was to find a suitable location to place a call, but as Spoke was a major transportation center, they didn’t have to go far: Just back to the train station, where a direct line to Axel was located. 

Despite the fact that they were at war, the day-to-day business of ruling went on. The worst part was, with Tina, Claire, Kazuma, and Dust’s crew gone, Iris didn’t have the people she trusted most to delegate matters to. Thankfully, ShopWiz was after all a hierarchical organization, and Wiz had experience running it. That meant that smaller matters could be attended to by lower level managers, while only the issues of direst need made it up to Iris. 

Still, considering how great the current crisis was, that left a lot of matters to attend to. At first, Iris had thought she could rely both on Wiz and Aqua to help her, but she was rapidly being disabused of the notion that Aqua could run and manage a fast food truck, let alone a nascent nation. 

“Look, you’re just worrying about this too much! So what if the power goes off? If it does, just take a name, you were working too hard anyway!” Aqua said brightly.

Iris did her best not to grimace and punch her nose in frustration. “Thank you for bringing this power shortage to our attention. Currently, the highest priority must be given to the manufacturing of war materials. We shall put a prohibition on electronic entertainment, and the use of power for anything non-essential. Tell me, have you explored magical options to generate more electricity?” 

The chief engineer in charge of Axel’s power grid nodded. “We have, but lightning magic can’t just be used. It makes dirty power, or, er, it fluctuates too much. It could damage equipment. We’re working on ways to store it and clean it so that it can be put on the main grid, but that’s a lot of RnD that we haven’t had the time for.” 

“Hmm.” Iris frowned, her brow furrowing. She didn’t know all that much about how electricity was made, but… “What about using other types of magic that don’t produce electricity directly? You can use fire magic to stoke a furnace, for example.”

While Iris had a serious discussion on how to solve their critical power shortages, caused by the war that had destroyed or damaged much of their power generation ability, Aqua was using the wine in her glace to doodle on a paper napkin. Initially, Iris was just exasperated by this, but a second look brought a tear to her eye, as the goddess painted a beautiful impressionist painting of a sunny summer day. 

Then she went back to being irritated, because masterwork or not, Aqua was supposed to be helping her solve this issue, not make watercolors. 

In the end, the Engineering chief was doing essentially all he could, using fire, wind, water, and even earth magic to generate power in a variety of ways Iris couldn’t think of. She did assign him a new cadre of mages to help with constructing more plants, but that required specialized workers with a lot of skills, and those were in critically short supply. Still, even with her rudimentary understanding of modern industry, Iris fully grasped that you needed power, and lots of it, to fight a war. For now, she did her best to allocate that power to the most pressing needs. 

After that, Iris nudged Aqua, who crumpled up her napkin and tossed it towards the trash, the wadded ball bouncing off the rim and falling onto the floor. “Next we need to discuss how to form our newly empowered soldiers into cohesive military units.”

As soon as Iris said that, Aqua’s eyes glazed over, and Iris could immediately tell this was going to go nowhere productive. 

“...or perhaps I will speak with Miss Wiz about it,” Iris said with a heavy sigh. “Why don’t you…go check on the water purification plants.”

“Ugh, that sounds boring. I already cleaned a bunch of water. Why can’t we just stay home and watch TV? Or maybe have a party! Everyone seems so grumpy, but I bet they’d feel better if we had another party!” 

“After the battle has been won, there will be time for celebration. But laxity now would only lead to our defeat! Don’t you see that?!” Iris demanded, feeling increasingly frustrated. 

“Well, then why are we even taking laxatives? Are you having trouble pooping?” Aqua asked, clear confusion written on her face. 

If it hadn’t been grossly inappropriate for Iris to scream in frustration, she would have. As it was, she told Aqua to go make sure the water purification plant was working properly and stalked off to find Wiz. 

Thankfully, at least one person knew how to actually get things done. Wiz was currently training a cadre of new mages on the finer points of using their newfound abilities. This one was specifically a combat course, and Iris paused to watch the new recruits. A few dozen of them had been assembled in a wide cavern where ShopWiz had trained their security officers, and an entire course was laid out with buildings, mock targets of tanks, power armor, and gang bangers. The current set up was that of urban combat, the most likely scenario they were to encounter. 

They were practicing spell combinations, with one mage casting a tornado spell, and another attempting to weave in Ice Spears. They were both moderately effective Intermediate Magic on their own, but when done correctly, the combination would result in a swirling vortex of ice that could completely devastate enemy lines or tear apart buildings in short order. 

However, it required delicate control to pull off properly. Too much wind, and the ice would simply scatter uselessly. Apply the ice incorrectly, and the wind would die, leaving you with a less than impressive breeze. None of the new mages were having much success, so Wiz stepped forward again after the latest tornado blew apart.

“Watch, once more,” Wiz said, and raised her hands. A modest green tornado appeared, something that a mage of the current class could probably conjure. “Keep the winds steady, and control it. Don’t simply turn it loose. Use your mana to shave and weave the winds in a tight formation.”

Then Wiz began to conjure up spears of ice, and delicately wove them into the tornado. “You don’t want your first few to simply fly out. You have to shoot them in at an angle so that they’re absorbed, and their essence begins to move with the wind.”

After a dozen or so spears had been merged with the tornado changed from bright green to icy blue, and grew darker and stormier. “Now, once the tornado has fully merged with the ice, keep a tight rein on it. Guide its path, then let it loose!”

The vortex proceeded down the road of the course, ripping up asphalt and leaving a path of blue ice behind it. At a gesture from Wiz, the tornado began to launch massive spears of ice that utterly devastated a line of mock tanks and infantry, then leveled a building. 

Iris found herself impressed by the demonstration: Not by the devastation, but by the level of control on display. She knew from experience that Wiz could have used a single spell to cause that level of carnage, but to have such fine control to not only infuse a vortex but then also set it on a careful path…what would have happened if Wiz had been using Advanced spells, instead of simple Intermediate magic? 

The recruits started practicing again, and Iris signaled to Wiz, who smiled and hurried over to the observation deck at the rear of the training facility. Upon arrival, Wiz bobbed a quick curtsy. “Yes, your Majesty.”

“An impressive display, General,” Iris said, nodding to the battlefield. 

Wiz winced. “I…I do not claim the title of General any longer, your Majesty. I was never much of one to begin with.”

“Really? I know you were on the side of humanity at the end, but how exactly did you earn the title of ‘General’ from the Devil King?” Iris asked curiously. 

Wiz’s eyes grew distant as she gazed out at the struggling mages, her pale face sorrowful. “It…it was when I was newly raised as a lich. That is another long tale, but, ah, I did not become a lich in the usual manner. Vanir, he…forced me. I wished to simply die, but he pulled out my heart and fed me the blood of an innocent. I was weak, and to end my own pain, I completed the ritual. When I awoke, I found myself an Unlife Queen, a walking abomination.”

“I tried to find my old companions, but they drove me off, fearing what I had become. I tried to hide in human civilization, but my mere presence brought the dead back, and I was forced to wander in the wilderness for a time.”

“Then, I heard the Devil King was rounding up civilians and simply killing them en masse to create undead hosts. Outraged, I decided my unlife was already worthless, and launched an assault on his castle when he and all his Generals were gathered there.”

“You found people willing to work with you? Other outcasts from human society?” Iris asked curiously.

Wiz blushed and shook her head ever so slightly. “Ah, no. I…acted alone. I did end up seizing control of a sizable portion of the Devil King’s undead, but ah…well. That was an accident. No, instead, I attacked on my own. I thought I would perish. Instead, I killed the lich Verdia, destroying his phylactery. Then I subdued Beldia, Hans, and Seresdina, though I wasn’t able to kill them. After that, I faced the Devil King in single combat.”

Iris’ eyebrows rose as Wiz recounted the story, and the lich hastily clarified, “I-I never fought him! I, um, well, I was running out of mana and was already quite injured. Um, the Devil King…offered me a position to replace Verdia. And I…I decided I did not want to die. I could see that he would surely triumph, and not even the few remaining gods could stop him. So…I accepted. On the condition that I would be put in charge of the human prisoners. He thought I meant to use them as undead, but, ah…”

“But you preserved them instead,” Iris said, nodding slowly. She sighed, resting a hand on her sword. “And now…I must ask you the same thing. How would you preserve our forces, while waging war on the enemy?”

“I was never much for strategy, or tactics beyond myself,” Wiz admitted. “I will follow your lead, your Majesty, but there is little I can actually tell you about running an army. I always delegated such matters.”

“What about running your corporation? Surely that has given you some organizational insight?” Iris prompted. 

“Ah…” Wiz flushed, looking embarrassed. “Well, you see…it took me several centuries, but I did eventually learn that my business sense is…lacking. I’m afraid that while in part my shrinking Empire was due to my focus on helping those in my care and finding a way to restore the world…the real problem was that I am not a very good businesswoman.”

“Right,” Iris said, gritting her teeth. “Is there any insight you can give me?”

“Yes. The same lesson I had to learn: You cannot do everything, and there are some things you would do poorly. Delegate them to those who would do a good job. I might lack business sense, but I do have a good judge of character. I can tell you several individuals who would do well as your own advisors in military matters,” Wiz said.

Slowly, Iris nodded, setting aside her anger. “That is good advice. I would greatly appreciate seeing a list of such candidates at your earliest convenience.”

“I’ll see to it right away, but my first suggestion would be Aloerina: She was in charge of my special ops division, and she is very good at both training troops and in assessing a situation and knowing what missions to undertake, and how to plan them. She’ll need some adjustment to having magical troops, but she’s a quick learner,” Wiz stated, pulling up a dossier on her data pad and showing it to Iris.

A quick glance over showed a scared and seriously looking woman who was rather young for the position, being only in her mid-30s. That said, she had an impressive record of dozens of successful operations and plenty of frontline combat experience. 

“She looks like an excellent candidate. Thank you, Lady Wiz,” Iris said, feeling a faint ray of hope. At last, another competent subordinate. She was regretting sending so many of her trusted servants away, especially Claire, who had a knack for organization and tossing out on their ear anyone who was going to waste Iris’ time. 

Somewhat heartened, Iris made a video call to Aqua, to check in on her. A moment later, the goddess picked up, and Iris could feel steam coming out of her ears. 

“Yo, what up, Irizzle! You gonna hit up this party or what!” Aqua laughed, winking at the camera. Instead of her (rather immodest) costume from earlier, now Aqua was dressed in a bikini, sunglasses, and a colorful inflated plastic innertube shaped like a giant beer bottle. She had another regular beer bottle in her hands, and loud cheering music was playing. Apparently, Aqua had turned the water reservoir into a pool party, and various people were splashing and playing in the water. 

“Aqua, what are you DOING?!” Iris demanded. “That’s our drinking water!” 

“Oh yeah, well, it was like, super toxic. Way more than the regular water even! If I didn’t know better, I’d say-”

“GET OUT OF THE DRINKING WATER! WE DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR A PARTY, WE HAVE WORK TO DO!” Iris screamed, clutching her phone in both hands. How DARE this moron not only fail at her task, but actually make more work for everyone?

Instead of screaming back, Aqua started crying. “W-why are you yelling?! I’m purifying the water and keeping it from getting icky again! I was just bored so I told my friends to come have fun and cheer them up!”

“You cannot SWIM in drinking water! It contaminates it! Get everyone out of the pool and FIX THIS!” Iris snapped, then shut off the phone before she completely lost it. She then composed a hasty message to Wiz.

Dear Miss Wiz,

Please forward a list of candidates who would be most adept at goddess babysitting. While Lady Aqua can be a great asset, if someone does not watch her at all times, she rapidly becomes a liability. If you cannot find someone immediately, see to it yourself.

Signed, Her Royal Highness, Iris Stylish Sword Belzerg

There was only a few seconds before another reply came. 

（>﹏<）So sorry! I will c 2 it rit now! (つ﹏⊂)

Iris accidentally crushed her phone and growled in irritation. The next thing she was going to do was put out a memo on appropriate communication on business related matters. While the emojis were very cute, Iris did not want cute, she wanted results. Cute could come if they were simply chatting. Not when she had a goddess compromising their water supply. 

The fact that they only had a water supply because of said goddess was the only reason Iris wasn’t ready to strangle Aqua. 

“Your Majesty? Priority call for you,” a timid looking aid said, poking his head in and trembling slightly. 

Groaning, Iris straightened up and smiled. “Sorry, Damien. I am not cross with you. Please, who is the call from?”

“Kazuma Sato, your Highness. It’s about the Spoke mission,” her aide said nervously. Iris felt horribly guilty. Her training had covered never showing your anger in front of servants, nor taking it out on them. It was one thing to chew out a powerful retainer, it was another to harass the maid. A retainer, while still beneath you, had power and responsibility. A maid was unworthy and undeserving of the ire of royalty. 

“Put him through, I shall take the call here,” Iris said, and handed Damien the phone. “Please see to it that this is replaced. I was careless with it.”

Damien held up the phone with two holes punched through it where Iris’ thumbs had been, and winced. “Of course, Majesty.”

Then he scurried off, though he did put the call through on one of the screens nearby. Fascinating, how this communications technology worked, and very useful. 

A few moments later, Kazuma’s face appeared on the monitor. “Yo, what’s up, little sis?”

Despite herself, Iris smiled. “I am well, Big Brother. However, this is not the time for pleasantries. How fares the mission?”

“Ugh, way to kill the mood. Well, uh, it’s a good news/bad news situation. Which one do you want first?” Kazuma said with a dopey grin that so reminded Iris of her elder brother Jatice. 

Still, this did not hearten Iris, and she grimaced. “Bad news first.”

“Basically everyone’s gone. Seems like they’ve been kidnapped and mind-controlled by Seresdina and Vanir working together for some weird magic ritual. We’ve found like, twenty survivors in the whole city. Might be a few more, but not a lot,” Kazuma said. 

Heart sinking, Iris nodded. “That is dire news indeed. Please tell me there is actually some good news…”

“Well, that depends,” Kazuma said, and Iris felt like crying. Then he adjusted the camera. “How does four more Crimson Demons sound?”

Iris blinked in shock, then grinned hugely, pressing her face close to the screen as red eyed teens in mage robes waved sheepishly at her. 

“Do we bow?” a tall boy in his late teens asked, looking worried. 

“Meh. I don’t,” Megumin opined, leaning on her sword and shrugging. 

“That sounds…like an almost worthy trade,” Iris said, feeling light headed as a sense of relief flooded her. “The loss of an entire city’s worth of people is tragic, but four Crimson Demons? Can…can they use magic?”

“Intermediate only, so we’ll have to level grind them so they can do it properly,” Kazuma explained. “But that’s not all.”

“Truly?” Iris said, feeling whiplash as she feared for the worst now. “What else?”

“Your Majesty.” The camera panned again to show, of all things, a female archfiend with long goat horns and flaming red hair, who bowed seriously, fist to chest. “I am Arnes, Archfiend in service to the Fallen Goddess Wolbach. In light of my mistresses…condition…I offer you the fielty of the Cat’s Eye Group and myself, in exchange for your assistance in restoring Lady Wolbach.”

Carefully closing her jaw, Iris cooly nodded. “A gracious offer. Though I must ask, what is the ‘condition’ of General Wolbach?”

Tears suddenly filled the Archfiend’s eyes, and she fell to her knees. “Please, your Majesty! I will do anything to get my precious Lady Wolbach back! Even if it costs me my life, I am your humble servant if only you-”

“Nyyaaa~!”

A cute black kitten with an odd red marking on its forehead was shoved into the pick up. “She got turned into a cat. A curse or something,” Kazuma said. “Sorry, Arnes gets all weepy and dramatic about this stuff.”

“Oh.” Iris considered that, then asked, “What is your opinion on the matter, Sir Sato?”

“Help them out. If we can get a whole Corporation’s assets behind us, huge win. We not only take out a whole entire enemy group, they ally with us? Hell yeah! Plus, whatever this ritual thing the Revengers and Masked Media are doing sounds real bad. If we can save those people and stop it, that’s only good for us, right?” Kazuma said, turning the camera back on himself. 

“What would that entail?” Iris asked, her mind racing. It was worth a great deal to get the forces of General Wolbach on her side. Though breaking the curse on the General was a gamble that could turn on them, stopping the plans of Seresdina and Vanir was to their profit. Even if they simply encouraged a war between the three generals, that still benefited her own forces. 

“Going to Revenger territory and breaking up the ritual, seeing if that breaks the curse. If not, we give the kitty to Aqua and see what she can do. If not, Yunyun gets a cute pet.”

“Nooooo!” Arnes wailed. “Mistress!”

“Oh relax, I was kidding,” Kazuma grumbled. He sighed and shook his head. “It’s your call, Iris.”

“I am inclined to agree with you,” Iris said after only a short pause. “At the very least, a ritual that Vanir and Seresdina conduct could have ruinous consequences. That must be stopped if at all possible. Restoring Wolbach is of much lesser import, but getting the aid of her forces is the top priority. Do what needs to be done. I trust you, Kazuma.”

“Alright,” Kazuma nodded and gave her a thumbs up. “We’ll handle it. How are things back in Axel?”

“We are making do. But I miss you,” Iris said, feeling terribly lonely for an agonizing moment. 

“Yeah, me too. Listen, we’ll fix this problem and get back soon. Call you again when we get an update. Love you.”

“I love you too, brother,” Iris whispered.

Then the line went dead, and she felt all alone in the vast world once more. 

The Second Archon War: Carmen Dei 25

Carmen Dei 25: Justice for All 

The sweet blood spattered in the darkness, and the people screamed in panic. But she did not stop. They were ugly. So ugly. They had to be destroyed, had to be punished, because they were ugly, just like she was ugly, they were filthy, she was filthy, filth must be cleansed, purged, she would drink the sweet blood in the shadows because she was filthy filthy ugly you’re so ugly filthy-

Gasping for breath, Dorothy’s eyes shot open. Her heart pounded in her chest, and tears filled her eyes. It was dark still, but by the thin firm pallet she was on, she knew she was still in her cell. Thoughts of sleep had fled, so she slid from her bed and onto the cold floor, the concrete biting into her knees through the thin fabric of her prison uniform. 

Closing her eyes and forcing herself to take a few gasping breaths, Dorothy collected her thoughts as she clasped her hands together. “Lord Barbados… I’m so scared. I know I am free in Your name, that the winds have set me free… but I’m still so scared… I did so much evil. I… I don’t ask to escape from my own actions, but… please… give me strength to face them.”

Her face wet with tears, Dorothy continued to weep and pray for long hours, before finally collapsing back into her bed, exhausted. 

When the day dawned, Dorothy sat quietly on her bed, and listened to the small walkman with the headset she was allowed. It contained several CDs with The Tone Deaf Bards songs on them, and she tried to lose herself in the music and relax for a few moments. 

Then the door to her cell swung open, and a woman in a gray suit bustled in, carrying a steaming tray. “Rise and shine, mon cheri! It’s time for you day in court!” 

Dorothy carefully removed her headphones and turned off the walk man, trying to smile. “Thank you,  Yennefer. I…I’m ready.”

“Not yet, you’re not! Eat up,” Yennefer indicated the tray, which held two hard boiled eggs, orange slices, some good black bread, sausage, and a cup of milk and a mug of coffee. “I’ll brush your hair out while you eat, and then we’ll go over what’s going to happen today.”

Nodding, Dorothy sat at the desk and began to eat as Yennerfer took out a hairbrush and ran it through Dorothy’s tangled locks. “Now, today I’ll be giving my closing argument, as will the prosecution. Then the judges will deliberate, and hand down your sentence. It’s just you today, my dear, Geoff will be sentenced tomorrow.”

“And what happened to…?” Dorothy swallowed, then whispered, “To Heinz. Stolpergefahr.”

“I don’t want you to think about that,” Yennefer said firmly, and Dorothy winced as the brush caught in her hair for a moment. 

“That bad?” Dorothy asked, shuddering slightly. It would be well. She’d be alright. Even if she was found guilty. 

Yennefer hesitated, then said, “His case was different. He was never brainwashed as you were. He walked into the Gesellschaft willingly. He might have changed his mind and fought on the side of the Knights in the final battle, but he committed some horrific crimes before that. You know that, I know that. He turned himself in at the same time you did, but Judge Vogt didn’t feel that was enough. He’s been sentenced to twenty years in prison. But he’ll be out in 12 years.”

“I see.” Dorothy was quiet, looking at her reflection. Her eyes looked sunken and hollow from the lack of sleep, and she grimaced. She did look ugly. No, stop that. She couldn’t let herself be trapped that way again. “I…I killed a lot more people than Heinz did. Many times more.”

Yennefer paused, crouching down to put her face beside Dorothy’s and looking at her in the mirror, her antlers dangling from her red hair. “And you were brainwashed. We have a good case. You turned yourself in, you did everything right. They won’t punish you for that.”

“They should,” Dorothy whispered, closing her eyes as Yennefer went back to fixing her hair. 

She was tempted to tell Yennefer she’d just go in her prison uniform with no makeup, but she knew that Yennerfer would never allow that as her lawyer. So, she put on the makeup; not too much, but enough to be tasteful, and wore the conservative green dress, then put on the silver earrings with the two glass beads with the mark of Lord Barbados on them. 

After that, she was placed in handcuffs, which honestly wouldn’t do much to her. She wore them anyway. She still thought it was silly; she could break out of jail whenever she wanted, turning into a moth and flying away. But she wouldn’t. She’d made a promise. 

There was a large crowd of reporters out in front of the courthouse, and once more Yennefer and Dorothy were swarmed by them. 

“Remember, let me do the talking,” Yennefer whispered into her ear, before smiling and stepping forward.

The questions were all the same.

“What verdict are you expecting?”

“My client, while an unwilling member of Gesellschaft, was horribly subjected to a prolonged campaign of abuse and torture by the Gesellschaft. They did this with the goal of destroying her personality and turning her into a killing machine. She is as much a victim here as anyone, and I believe Judge Vogel will hand down a light verdict.”

“What are your thoughts on the outcome of the other trials?”

“My client’s case is unique, and I do not believe her verdict will be similar.”

And so on. At last, Dorothy had enough, and stepped forward. The reporters all turned to her, and she could feel Yennefer’s outrage, but she ignored it all. “I will accept the justice of the court. I was forgiven by Lord Barbados, but that doesn’t mean I can escape the consequences of my actions. I…I can only ask that I be allowed to serve my sentence in a way that will bring Freedom to the people of Germany.”

And with that, Dorothy turned around and walked into the courthouse. She heard the sharp click of Yennefer’s heels, then her lawyer caught up to her. “I told you not to say anything! You nearly made my antlers catch on fire! Look, if you want to have a prayer of not spending the next decade in prison-”

“I don’t care if I spend the next decade in prison, Yennefer,” Dorothy said, smiling at her lawyer. The other woman’s antlers really were smoking slightly. She was either outraged or quite nervous. It was a bit odd, having another Parahuman as a lawyer, but Yennefer was an old friend of Cookie’s, and had agreed to take both Dorothy and Geoff’s case when just about no other lawyer or law firm would have, especially not for the funds that Dorothy and Geoff had. 

Besides, Yennerfer specialized in cape law, both in Germany and in her native France. It made sense, her being a parahuman herself. She’d apparently triggered in law school and had even teamed up with Cookie as a duo for a few months before the two of them parted ways and retired. Yennefer to become a lawyer, Cookie to start a game store. 

They entered the courtroom, which was still smaller than Dorothy had expected it would be, even after more than a year of trials. There were tables for the prosecution and defense, another for the press reporter, and a raised section for the judges. There was no jury box, which had half surprised Dorothy, but that was likely because she’d watched too much American TV. There was also no place for the press. Her trial was being broadcast, but the press sat in a separate media room, while the trial itself was recorded via television and microphone. 

Dorothy and Yennefer were the first ones in, with the Federal Prosecutor walking in a few moments later with his staff. They took their seat at the other table, taking out briefcases and going over papers, which was what Yennefer was doing, her lips moving and one hand waving back and forth as she went over her notes one last time.

Dorothy did see Itul and Cookie come in, along with a few other knights, with Itul waving enthusiastically. Notably, he had a large silver strip of duct tape over his mouth. Dorothy wondered what that was about, but the other capes took their seats in the rear. Normally, the public wasn’t allowed in, but the Knights had special dispensation, and at least two were required since this was a parahuman trial to prevent any attempts by Dorothy to use her powers. Not that she would, but the law was the law. 

At 9:00 on the dot, the rear door opened, and the eight justices in their red robes and white jabots walked out, taking their seats. Judge Vogel conferred quietly with the recorder for a moment, then nodded. “We will be taking closing arguments today. Prosecutor, are you ready?”

“The Prosecution is ready, your honor,” the chief prosecutor said, standing and nodding. 

“You may proceed,” Judge Vogel said and leaned back in his chair.

“Thank you, your honor. Judges of the First Senate, over the last nine months, the Republic has demonstrated that Mrs. Dorothy Schmidt is guilty of at least twenty-seven counts of murder in the first degree, multiple accounts of assault, and was a member of a fascist terrorist organization that sought to undermine the peace and security of the Federal Republic of Germany. 

“While Mrs. Schmidt’s story is a tragic one, the fact remains that she herself is the one who committed these crimes. She is remorseful, yes. She claims to have been subjected to brainwashing. Perhaps. But as she herself has said before, that fact does not absolve her of her crimes.”

Yennefer groaned softly, pinching her nose, and Dorothy fought not to wilt in her chair. Yennefer had told her repeatedly that statements like “I accept my own guilt” hurt her case, but Dorothy didn’t care. Well, she did care, it was just that she cared more about ensuring that justice was done. Even if it was to her. 

The prosecution went on for some length, outlining each of Dorothy’s crimes. Tears fell unbidden down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, whispering to herself the names of her victims, and committing their souls to Lord Barbados. She didn’t remember their faces well. It had always been dark when she’d killed, and her memories were distorted like they were seen through an oily film. She thought that might be the brainwashing that had been cleansed from her by Lord Barbados, but she wasn’t certain. 

At last, the prosecution wrapped up their arguments and sat, and Judge Vogel nodded to Yennefer. “Is the Defense ready to present their closing arguments?”

“The Defense stands ready, your honor,” Yennefer said, popping up out of her seat. With a nod from the judge, she took a deep breath, then began. 

“The Defense does not contest the facts of the crimes of this case. In fact, the Defense readily acknowledges them. What the Defense’s argument had been from the first is this: It was not the woman you see before you know, Dorothy Schmidt, who did those things. It was the Villain Nocht.

“Parahuman powers can be terrible things: I know that better than anyone,” Yennefer touched the two antlers that hung down from her head, mostly concealed by her hair, and grimaced. “And in this case, Dorothy Allers was kidnapped by the Gesellschaft. She was taken against her will, subjected to inhuman torture, and forced to undergo a Trigger Event once she was broken, in body and mind. 

“But that wasn’t enough: once she had triggered, Dorothy’s mind was deliberately and maliciously altered by the use of Parahuman abilities, conditioned to obey the will of the monsters in the Gesellschaft and their American allies, specifically, All Father. She was used as a living weapon, trapped in her own body as a slave to forces she hated. She was even forcibly married to a man she didn’t know, a man who had also been kidnapped and brainwashed by the same fascist beasts who had taken Dorothy.

“For all intents and purposes, Dorothy Allers was dead. Killed by the Gesellschaft as much as the other victims were. And she would have stayed dead, if not for a literal act of god.”

Yennefer looked around the room, her expression pleading. “You’ve seen the footage of the First Hallelujah. You saw what happened to Nocht. She died in that room, the monster that had imprisoned Dorothy for so long was slain by the Song of the Lord of Freedom. She was set free! God himself came down and forgave-”

“Miss Lustria,” one of the other justices interrupted. “This is a court of law. Keep your religious beliefs to yourself.”

“Apologies, your honor,” Yennefer said, but she didn’t look sorry. She pointed to the cross at the back of the room. “Call him what you wish: the Angel of Munich. The Anemo Archon. The God of Freedom. Even Venti Luft. But we all acknowledge that what happened at that concert was nothing mortal song or hands could have wrought. Nocht died, and Dorothy was resurrected. Who are we to judge? What God has done, let not men undo.”

With that, Yennefer sat, and Judge Vogel nodded to Dorothy. “The court will allow the Defendant to make a statement.”

Yennefer hastily leaned towards the microphone. “My client would like to wave-”

“I will speak,” Dorothy said, standing up. Yennefer groaned and gave her a pleading look, but she ignored it. 

“Go ahead, Mrs. Schmidt,” Judge Vogel said, nodding to Dorothy.

“You don’t need to,” Yennefer hissed, trying to grab Dorothy’s hand, but she stepped away. 

“Thank you, your honor.” Dorothy took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. “What has been said today is true. Both what the Prosecution has said, and what Yennefer, that is, what Miss Lustitia said, are true. I did do all those things.”

Dorothy put her hand to her head, feeling the tears leak down her face. “I…I remember it like a dream. Like it was someone else…but I did those things. It’s like…it’s like I was a character in a video game, and someone else was controlling me…but I could feel myself kill those people. And I remember…remember enjoying it. Barbados forgive me, but it was all that would make the pain stop! Make the voice go quiet, make…”

Dorothy broke down crying, unable to control herself. A moment later, Yennefer pressed some tissues into her hands, and Dorothy wiped at her face and nose, knowing it would make her makeup run, and not caring. 

“I’m sorry, I just…I was a monster.  Horrible, ugly monster. I would have stayed that way forever, I think. But…but then… He came. Lord Barbados.” 

Dorothy managed to look up and meet the justice's eyes. “He set me free. From that living hell, from that endless nightmare. I…I could move again! I could feel joy, sorrow, and…and guilt. The first thing I did when I realized I was free…I vomited. Because I realized what horrible things I’d done.”

She took a deep breath, then said. “Please sentence me fairly. What I did to those people… it was evil. I was evil. I might be free…but that doesn’t spare me from the consequences of my actions.”

Judge Vogel nodded. “The court will now recess for deliberation.”

The gavel came down, and Dorothy sagged into her seat. 

“Well,” Yennefer said with a sigh, and put her arms around Dorothy’s shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “At least you were honest, I guess. But honesty won’t get you justice here.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dorothy said. “It’s in Lord Barbados’ hands.”

She didn’t know how right she was. 

Taking off his red hat, Judge Vogel set it on the desk before him and looked around at the rest of the First Senate. This was going to be a long deliberation, and he knew it. He was personally inclined to be lenient, punishing a woman for being mind-controlled left a bad taste in his mouth, but the law was clear. Dorothy Schmidt was going to spend a great deal of time in prison. He filled a cup with coffee from the pot and lifted it to his lips. In the distance, he heard faint music, and smiled, thinking of open grassy fields. 

“Well, that last statement sealed it. The woman might be remorseful, but she doesn’t deny she’s a murderer,” Judge Klein said in disgust, taking a cup of tea for herself. “And here I was inclined to be kind to her.”

“Leniency for her sets a bad precedent. We’ll have every criminal claiming they were brainwashed,” Judge Albrecht pointed out. 

“We’re in agreement on her guilt, then?” Vogel said with a sigh. “So, that just leaves sentencing.”

“Hmm, who put on that music?” Klein asked, looking around. “It’s beautiful, but it’s distracting.”

“That is rather the point, you know. I can be distracting when I want to be.”

Judge Vogel felt cold sweat run down his back as he and the other seven justices slowly turned to see an uninvited guest sitting in the corner of the room, strumming on a harp. Venti Luft smiled, then stood. “Mind if I join you?”

“This is a closed session of the court!” Albrecht sputtered. “You have no right-”

“Normally, I’d agree, and I’d never meddle in mortal affairs, but, well, Dorothy’s a friend. And I thought I needed to clarify a few things,” Venti said, taking a seat uninvited. He looked around, then frowned. “No beer? No wonder I avoid courts.”

Vogel cleared his throat. “We will not be threatened, Mr. Luft.”

“Wasn’t planning on that,” Venti said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He took a cup of coffee and added a large amount of cream and sugar, then sipped it. “Eh, this will work. Well, don’t you have questions for me?”

“I do,” Klein said, leaning forward on the table. “Was she mind controlled?”

“Yes,” Venti responded instantly. “Totally and completely. She was utterly unable to act on her own. The Gesellschaft had completely removed her free will. She was, essentially, an automaton built on an imprisoned human soul.”

“That is…disturbing,” Vogel said slowly. “But, that doesn’t absolve her of her crimes.”

“I’m aware,” Venti said with a nod. “Which is why I’m here with an offer.”

“And that is?” Albrecht demanded. 

Venti set his cup down, then leaned forward. “I’d like to take Dorothy’s punishment on myself. Geoff’s too, but I’ll be speaking to the Second Senate about that later.”

“What?! You can’t just-” Albrecht sputtered, but Vogel held up a hand. 

“An interesting concept. Do you propose to serve her prison sentence?” he asked. 

“That wouldn’t work, and we both know that,” Venti said with a shake of his head. “No, I merely wish to see justice done. While you are free to choose it or ignore my offer, it does still stand on the table: I will pay back Germany and the German people ten times the value of the lives that Mr. and Mrs. Schmidt took.”

“A human life has no quantifiable value! How can you put a price on a human life!?” Albrecht demanded.

“You can’t,” Venti said simply, his tone utterly serious.

“Then your offer makes no sense,” Vogel said, shaking his head slowly. 

“I think it does. I’m offering my life, in exchange for Dorothy’s and Geoffs. Because their sins were against me, for it was my children they killed,” Venti stated as if it were absolute fact. “Well, accepting the French family, but I’ll take that up with Focalores when the time comes. Or if I’m wrong, I’ll simply pay the debt to France myself.”

“You’re mad,” Albrecht whispered. 

But Vogel’s mind was racing. He was a judge, but he was also a lifelong Lutheran. “You’re claiming divinity, then. For all sin is against God.”

I AM.

Vogel shuddered and sank halfway to his knees before he managed to control himself. Several of the justices went so far as to prostrate themselves. 

“I’ve interfered enough for today,” Venti said, his voice trembling. Was he slightly pale now? “But some prayers must be answered. See to it that justice is done, but see that it is Justice. Not Vengeance. For when you deliver a verdict, you deliver it in my name.”

Then he was simply gone, as if he’d never been there, save for the cup of cooling coffee on the table.

The judges sat quietly for a long moment, collecting themselves. Then Vogel stood up and paced to the window, gazing out at the city. “We cannot simply drop the charges.”

“Obviously not. Are we going to let ourselves be swayed by that little display?” Albrecht demanded. 

Klein snorted. “Are you not? That was fairly convincing. I didn’t believe he was anything but a cape before, but now…”

“I am not concerned about that,” Vogel said, turning back to the other judges. “What I am concerned about is two things: One, we now know beyond a doubt that this woman is innocent. She didn’t kill those people.”

“Debatable, but what is the other point?” Albrecht demanded.

Vogel turned back to the window. “Just how, exactly, does Venti intend to pay us back? That, I am most curious about.”

With a sigh, he returned to the table. “I think we have much to discuss.”

Dorothy sat in the waiting room, trying not to shiver as Yennefer rubbed her back and tried to console her. For his part, Itul was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, while Cookie was holding Dorothy’s hand.

“It’ll be alright,” Cookie repeated again. “Yen’s the best.”

Dorothy could only nod, her throat too tight to let her speak. 

“I’m telling ya, man, if they try and lock you up, we could bust you out! We could like, smuggle you to Japan or something! You could be a ninja!” Itul blurted. 

“Itul,” Yen said, glaring at the big man. “Not helping.”

“Right, right, I just, I mean, she’s not gonna get locked up, right? I mean, that would be wrong and stuff!” 

“Itul, why don’t you get us WcDonalds,” Cookie said tiredly. 

“Huh?” he paused in his pacing, frowning at Cookie. 

“We’re hungry. Go get us some WcNuggets and fries or something,” Cookie ordered, pulling out several marks and thrusting them at Itul.

“Oh, uh, ok. Anything else? Milkshakes? Burgers?” Itul asked. 

Before Dorothy was forced to say she didn’t want anything, the bailiff opened the door. “They’re ready in five.”

Dorothy felt like she was in a dream as she was guided back into the room. Yennefer and Cookie had fixed her hair and makeup again, so she looked presentable as she sat at the table, waiting as the eight judges filed in. 

“In the case of the People of Germany vs. Dorothy Schmidt, we are now ready to render our verdict,” Judge Vogel said. “In the first case, the charge of Murder in the First Degree, we find the defendant…”

Dorothy closed her eyes, and whispered one final prayer.

“...Guilty.”

Dorothy let out a ragged breath and a sob as Yennefer gritted her teeth and balled her fists. 

“BULLSHIT!” Itul shouted, jumping to his feet, but Cookie pulled him back down. Which was probably a good thing, as the Bailiffs did not look enthused at the prospect of trying to arrest the two meter tall cape. 

The rest of the charges didn’t matter, and Dorothy opened her eyes, feeling an odd sense of relief. It was all over. She was free. The wind stirred in the courthouse, though no windows were open to let in the November chill.

You are free, my daughter. Do not fear. For I am with you. 

Dorothy smiled, and whispered her thanks to Barbados. It would be alright. She would pay her debt to society.

“Now, as to sentencing,” Judge Vogel said. “Our sentence is thus: the guilty party is to serve twenty-seven life sentences, sentences not to be served concurrently.”

Dorothy didn’t really understand what that meant, but Yennefer chuckled bitterly and muttered, “Not like it matters, putain.”

“All sentences are to be served in the care of Grand Master Catherine Schmidt of the Knights of Favonius, or her legal designee or heir, in the facility of their choosing. During this time, the guilty party shall not be restricted in movement, so long as that movement is in service of the Knights of Favonius.”

Yennefer’s head had snapped up, and Dorothy opened her eyes, confused. In the back, Cookie started to cackle, slapping her knees. 

“Wait, hold on, what’s that mean? Why are you laughing!? Cookie, what’s going on!?” Itul complained. 

“Order in the Court,” Judge Vogel growled, rapping his gavel. 

“My apologies, your honor,” Cookie said, standing up. “Question: will we be getting funding for this?”

“That is not in the purvey of this court,” Judge Vogel said sternly. “Sit down, Grand Master, and control your Knights.”

Cookie bowed, then grabbed Itul by the ear and hissed into it as the big man whimpered and nodded in confusion. 

“Additionally,” Judge Vogel continued. “The guilty party is not to be allowed to drink alcohol for the period of their initial lifetime sentence. Starting today. Court is adjourned.” 

And with the fall of a gavel, the trial came to a conclusion. 

Utterly baffled by what had just happened, Dorothy turned to Yennefer. “I…I don’t understand. What’s this all mean?”

“They found you guilty and sentenced you to community service,” Yennefer said, sounding giddy. She turned and hugged Dorothy tightly. “We won!” 

Tears flooded Dorothy’s eyes, and she started to laugh and weep at the same time as her friends crowded around her. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she felt free. 

And far away, Venti chuckled to himself and poured out the bottle of wine he’d been holding. “Well played, Judge Vogel. Well played. Hmm, I wonder, just how long is a life sentence, anyway? I suppose I can just assume it’s 100 years. It seems I’ll have to stick around here for a while after all.”

And with that, Venti lay back on the roof of the van to take a long nap. He’d come dangerously close to violating his Aspect today, but it had been necessary. Sometimes, one individual's freedom was worth taking up the weight of the world. 

He’d miss the wine though. 

“Afternoon, Jorge!” 

Glace returned the wave of his neighbor, Mrs. Hernandez. “Good afternoon. How’s the ice cream?”

Mrs. Hernandez lifted up her cone. “Excellent! Thank you, and my refrigerator is working perfectly again! You’re a good boy, Jorge!”

Glace grinned and nodded. “Let me know if it gives you any trouble. For someone who makes such excellent empanadas, my services are always free!” 

“I’ll make you some tomorrow,” Mrs. Hernandez promised with a wave, and Jorge laughed, then opened the door to his house. 

“Mr. Bigglesworth, I’m home!” Glace called, setting down his bag of groceries on the table near the door as he took off his shoes. “I bought-”

Glace froze. There was a set of shoes by the door already. He lived alone in the small town of General Villegas, Argentina. Just him and Mr. Bigglesworth. No girlfriend, no frequent visitors. He repaired refrigerators and appliances from a small shop, but he did little else. 

Frantically, he checked his security system, but it hadn’t gone off. Nor had his stasis traps. 

Swallowing, Glace turned back around, jamming his feet back in his shoes, and started to run. 

“Jorge? Where are you going? It’s too hot today to be running!” Mrs. Hernandez called. 

He paused, turning to her. “Did anyone come to my house?”

“Well, yes, your sister, but she said she wanted it to be a surprise,” Mrs. Hernandez said, frowning. 

Glace had a sister, but she didn’t know where he lived. He prayed she was still alive. But he knew for a fact she hadn’t visited him.

Swearing, Glace activated his stasis traps with his key fob, freezing his house in time, then ran as fast as he could to his bicycle, taking it out into the street and pedaling as fast as he could. 

He heard the pop behind him as his stasis trap failed. He’d originally come up with that design in case an Endbringer attacked Toybox. But someone had just deactivated it like it was nothing. Weeping, he peddled as fast as he could as Mrs. Hernandez shouted behind, but he knew it was futile. 

The arrow came from nowhere, Glace’s bike tire shot out from under him as the crackling shaft crumpled the cheap aluminum frame. He skidded along the ground, the asphalt biting into his skin. Desperately, he drew his Freeze Ray, and tried to point it, only to scream in pain as his hand was pierced by a second arrow.

“Angel Rodrigez. Known as Glace. You have been sentenced to death.”

Clutching his bleeding hand to his chest, Glace tried shakily to stand as the woman stepped towards him, her wooden sandals loud on the asphalt, the purple bow with an arrow of lightning notched to the string.

“I DIDN’T KNOW!” Glace pleaded, scrabbling away from her on one hand and his legs. “WE DIDN’T KNOW! I didn’t even make weapons! I make stasis pods! Cryosleep! That’s all! I never-”

“You were a member of Toybox, the Tinker group who sold weapons to the Yangban and traitors who were responsible for the Wisteria Wedding,” the woman said, raising her bow and pointing the arrow straight at Glace’s head. “For your crimes, you must pay.”

“No, please, I-”

The arrow took Glace right through the eye. He was dead before he hit the ground. 

Stepping over the blood trail, Sara Tengan looked down at her target. She dismissed Yumi-Chan, even as the old woman behind her screamed something in Spanish. She had spoken English to the target, as he had been American, and likely fluent. Not that it mattered.

Taking out a lacquered box, Sara set it on the ground, then drew her blade and grimaced. She hated this part. It made such a mess. 

Then she cut the target's head from his shoulders. The head rolled into the gutter, and Sara walked over, picked up the head, and placed it in the box, a gift for Raiden. Her mistress would be pleased, and would reward Sara for this, the last member of the treacherous Toy Box found and dealt with. Maybe she’d even squeeze Sara with her thighs. 

Police sirens wailed in the distance, and Sara tucked away the box, then transformed herself into lightning in the shape of a Tengu, and flew into the nearby powerline. She traveled that way for several kilometers, then popped back out to where her car was waiting. Then she simply drove to the nearest airport and took a short flight back to Buenos Aires.

At the Japanese Embassy, she made a short phone call, then a portal opened for her. She stepped through, then fell to one knee before Raiden. 

“Tengu. Your mission was a success?” the Raiden Shogun asked, gazing down on Sara as she withdrew the box and lifted it up. 

“Yes, your Excellency. As you commanded: The head of Glace, last of Toybox.”

Raiden accepted the box, and glanced at the head inside. “You are certain this is the proper mortal?”

“Without a doubt. I had to use your gift to free myself from his time trap. He is the one who provided the weapons that froze the Emperor’s car.”

Raiden nodded, then incinerated the box and head both with a flick of her finger. “You have done well, Tengu. Rise.”

Blushing, Sara rose to her feet, but did not meet Raiden’s eyes out of deference. 

“Once more, you have proven your capability. I give you leave to visit the Red Oni for a fortnight,” Raiden decreed. “You may request a portal when you are ready to depart.”

“T-thank you, your Excellency,” Sara said breathily. “I live to serve.”

Raiden nodded, then flicked her fingers in dismissal. Sara bowed, then backed out of the Shogun’s presence. Once she had closed the door behind herself, Sara squealed and hugged herself. Raiden knew her name! She couldn’t wait to tell Itul about this! Two whole weeks of vacation! How wonderful!

Skipping off, Sara hummed happily to herself as she mentally prepared a list of what to pack. The man whose body she had left a world away was already gone from her mind. 

It was very hard for Nahida to maintain her composure as she made her way through Abu Ghraib prison. The Dreams that lingered here were dark and foreboding, full of terror, despair, and death. So much suffering had taken place in this prison, but that was not the primary reason she was so afraid of it. 

Oh Archon, we’ve finally found you. The people can’t wait to meet you. 

She shivered, remembering the five centuries spent trapped in the Sanctuary of Surasthana. It had been more than a year since she had been freed and sent to Iraq, but the memories of that dark time still lingered. 

“Are you alright? Do you wish to go back? You don’t have to do this,” Dr. Bashir said gently, squeezing her hand. He was hobbling along with his staff in one hand, but he’d insisted on accompanying Nahida here, for which she was grateful. 

“No, I do,” Nahida said, shaking her head slightly. She looked around the prison, tears filling her eyes. Most of the previous occupants had already been freed, having been political prisoners of the previous regime. But now there were new bodies to fill the cells. Evil men who had done horrible, horrible things. 

The Constitutional Convention wasn’t over yet, but it had been firmly established that the Death Penalty was being banned in Iraq. Nahida had made it abundantly clear that this was one of the few hard lines she would take: if Iraq was to enjoy her protections and blessings, she would not allow it to have the Death Penalty. All life was sacred and precious, even the life she was visiting today. 

That did mean they needed somewhere to be housed, and unfortunately, Abu Ghraib was the best place for it at the moment. Nahida determined that it needed some rather drastic reforms. No prison in Sumeru had been this inhumane. She wouldn’t keep an animal in a bare concrete cell, let alone a human being. 

At last they came to the cell in the darkest and dirtiest corner of the prison. At first it looked like a lump of rags was curled up on the pallet in the corner, then a fuzzy head with a gray and white beard arose. It had only been a month, but you could see that Saddam Hussein had not taken to prison life well and that he’d been dying his hair before. 

“You,” the former president croaked. “You little demon! Come to kill me, or simply to gloat?”

“Neither,” Nahida said, saddling up to the prison bars. She wrinkled her nose: It stank, as the toilet was clogged, and Saddam had not been bathing properly since his stay in the sewer pipe. She could also sense the beginnings of scurvy and other diseases in him, and he was wasting away from a lack of calories. She turned to Bashir. “Tell the guards that all prisoners are to have access to adequate toiletries, and nutrition. This is not an acceptable way to treat anyone.”

“What, are they rebelling already? Come to beg for me to come back?” Saddam rasped, pulling himself upright and leering down at Nahida. “I told you: they need me. A firm hand to guide them. Not a miserable little devil girl.”

“No, Interim President Ali Saeed is doing quite well so far, and we will have elections come spring. I set a hard deadline of no later than April 27th, though it will be a great deal of effort to ensure they come to pass,” Nahida said. 

“Well, I’ll just have to run then!” Saddam laughed, his voice baying like a jackal. 

Nahida pursed her lips and shook her head. “You, and others who have committed great crimes, are barred from office. No, I am here to explain to you what your future holds.”

“Oh, I know.” Saddam bared his teeth, looking like a feral dog at bay. “You’ll string me up, or put a bullet in my head and bury me somewhere, out of the way.”

“That is what you did to your rivals. No, I believe that all life is precious. Even yours, Mr. Hussein,” Nahida stated emphatically. “Indeed, no prisoner in this place will be executed.”

“Then you come for what, for my secrets, to brag!? If you want what I have, it will cost you!” Saddam snarled, spittle spraying from his lips. 

Bashir moved to step between Nahida and Hussein, but the former dictator turned his malevolent gaze towards the doctor. “And you, Saeed! Was this your plan all along!? To seduce my Farasha, and use her and this child to replace me!? Are you the puppet master behind the scenes!?”

“No, as a matter of fact. My plan was to protect Nahida from you, and to save as many as I could from your abuse,” her father said calmly. “If it had been up to me, we would have lived a quiet and peaceful life. But I will support my daughter and my wife, no matter what comes.”

Saddam sneered and looked back at Nahida. “Someone’s controlling you. Mark my words. You’re just a puppet. I would have treated you well.”

“All of us are in the hands of Allah, Archons and mortals both. But what I am here for today is simple: Tomorrow, you will begin to repay your debt to the Iraqi people,” Nahida stated.

Saddam scowled at that. “What, the abuse I have suffered in this prison is not enough?”

“It is far better treatment than what you gave this place’s previous residents,” Nahida said, coming to the end of even her famously long patience. Being inside a prison did do awful things to her emotional state. She needed sunlight on her skin again desperately. “But you have work to do. You and most of the residents of this prison will be relocated, and will begin your jobs as Dinosaur Sanitation Engineers.”

“As…what?” Saddam asked, clearly taken aback by this.

Bashir didn’t suppress his grin, but it was Baqa who answered to Saddam’s horror. “You will be picking up the poop of the great ssscaly behemothsss Lord Buer has blessssed her people with.”

“A talking snake?! You are a devil!” Saddam swore, making a sign to ward off evil, the motion rather clumsy, as if he’d never really done it before.

“Baqa speaks truthfully. You will be given protective gear, of course, but the sauropods and ceratopsians have begun to haul fruits and vegetables harvested in the new Dendro Domains to the city. However, their excrement is highly valuable, as it contains both rich dendro energy and an abundance of nutrients that can be used as fertilizer. Your new job will be to clean the poop out of the streets, then to process it at the new plant we are constructing,” Nahida explained.

Slow, dawning horror came over Saddam as Nahida explained this. “You…you cannot do this to me! I am the president! I have money, power, influence! I am not a man who picks up shit from beasts of-”

“If you swear in the presence of my daughter, I shall administer an oral dose of soap,” Bashir interrupted, which made Nahida giggle. 

“I refuse! Kill me, but I will not work like a common laborer!” Saddam sneered. 

“While I normally abhor the saying, in your case, it applies: ‘He who does not work does not eat,’” Nahida quoted. “You will not be ill-treated, and your duties will be similar to others who will be compensated justly. But you will live in a humble barracks, with no worldly possessions. Your other choice is to be a sewage maintenance worker.”

“So either way, I send my days neck deep in shit,” Saddam laughed. Then started choking when Bashir made a gesture, and a stream of liquid soap made its way into Saddam’s mouth. He gasped and spat, going over to a bucket that had water in it and rinsing his mouth. 

“You have until tomorrow to decide,” Nahida informed Saddam. “But inaction is not a valid course. My friends will be watching you. Do not attempt to flee, either. It will not go well for you.”

“What do you…” Saddam trailed off, as Nahida opened his eyes to the dozens of Aranara who were watching his cell. 

“You hurt Sarva Nara,” Aranarakin said ominously from his perch atop Nahida’s shoulder. “If you flee, you will go to Mahamaranapna. There, we will keep you for three days.”

“Demons. All of them, demons,” Saddam whispered, his body locked up, the whites of his eyes showing in terror. 

“Only to those who do evil,” Nahida informed him. Then she shuddered and took her father’s hand again. “Come. We have spent enough time in this place.”

Saddam ranted and raved behind her, but Nahida ignored him. The Aranara would not be gentle, but they would not kill him, either. He would spend the rest of his life doing something productive that contributed to the betterment of his people. Even if it was being a dino pooper scooper. 

Darrius Jones sat in the interview room, and dared to feel hope. The charges were bogus. Anyone with a brain knew that. Yes, he’d had a piece on him, and yeah, that shit had been as hot as the cops said, but he hadn’t killed nobody! He’d just been guilty of being black and in the area, so the cops had arrested him. All that evidence was circumstantial and shit. 

But he couldn’t afford no lawyer. His momma worked hard, but she was a cashier at Dollar General, and Darius had been working at a car wash. Ain’t had no money for collage, barely makin’ rent on their shitty apartment, especially with his girl Monisha pregnant and moving in with him and his two brothers and momma and grandma.

Course, Monisha weren’t pregnant no more, with little baby Darius Jones Junior, or Lil D now almost two years old. Fuck, Darius was a father, and he aint’ seen his little baby boy ‘cept during visitations and at court. 

“Mr. Jones. I have an offer for you.”

The guy who walked into the interview room looked like a fed. White dude with a receding hairline and a cheap-ass suit. His shoes was nice though, Darius noticed shoes. They weren’t Jordans or nothin’, but they looked like them good shoes rich people bought. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Darius demanded. “Where’s my lawyer? I ain’t sayin’ shit unless my lawyer is here. This about my appeal?”

“Your second appeal was denied. You’re facing life without probation, Mr. Jones,” the man said, setting a silver briefcase on the desk between them. “And your public defender couldn’t be here today. But what I have is an offer for you.”

“I told you and the other cops, I ain’t killed nobody! I’ll cop to the weed and the hot piece, but I ain’t had no beef with Antione or Big K, weren’t me that killed him! Them cops is lazy ass mother-”

“Mr. Jones, you are mistaken. What I am here to offer you today is freedom. No questions asked. All you have to do is sign up for the Case 53 program,” the man said, and popped open the briefcase, sliding a set of papers over to Darius.

He flipped through the papers, but he’d graduated with a 1.7 GPA and he couldn’t read this legalese shit. He was damn proud he graduated when 40% of his class hadn’t, growing up in the Projects was hard like that. “The fuck this say?”

“It says that you, Darius Jones, will have your sentence commuted. That you will serve no jail time, so long as you agree to sign up for Case 53,” the suit said from behind his glasses. 

Darius frowned, squinting at the man. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Slowly, the man removed his glasses, showing piercing green eyes, and Darius sucked in a breath. 

“Holy shit, you Eidolon! What the fuck are you doing here?” Darius demanded, looking around. “Listen, I ain’t got no powers or nothin’, I just an ordinary ass ni-”

“I am aware. That’s why you’re qualified for the Case 53 program.” Eidolon leaned forward. “I looked at your case. I think you’re innocent, Mr. Jones. Which is why I’m here with this offer. Case 53 is an experimental program, where we test new research on you. It has the potential to grant you parahuman abilities.”

“No shit? You for real? I could be a cape?!” Darius asked excitedly. No prison!? He could be a cape!? Fuck, he didn’t like heroes like Eidolon, buncha pigs in clown shit, but with powers, he could do a lot. Maybe get his momma a house. Make sure that Lil D didn’t grow up in the projects and get arrested on false charges. Do right by Monica. Get himself a side chick or two. Some of them cape bitches was fine. 

And a pair of Jordans. Darius had always wanted a pair of real Jordans. 

“There are risks involved. Only about 60% of participants receive parahuman abilities. For 15%, nothing happens. But there is a 25% chance of either death, or disfigurement, with no powers. In the case of death or disfigurement, compensation will be given to you or your next of kin in the sum of $100,000, and you will still have your jail sentence commuted.”

“What, so like, 4-1 odds?” Darius asked, frowning. He wasn’t so good with numbers, but he could do that kind of math. “And my momma get the money if I don’t make it?”

“About that,” Eidolon agreed. “So, will you risk it, Mr. Jones? Will you try to serve your country?”

“Shit, sign me up!” Darius decided. He didn’t like his odds in prison, but a 60% chance he got powers? That was like, twice as much as a 25% chance he died and his momma got a payout. And Eidolon said he might only be disfigured or something, and still be rich. He liked them odds. 

“Very well. Sign here,” Eidolon said, and Darius quickly did so. Then to his shock, Eidolon opened a portal. “Right this way.”

Through the portal, Darius was led to a fancy-looking medical lab, with a doctor and a nurse. He was strapped down to a table, and looked around. Eidolon was gone. “Hey, where’d Eidolon go? Where am I?”

“You signed the release form,” the nurse said. “You’re at a facility to administer the Vial that contains your new powers.”

Darius grinned at that. “Shit, shoot me up, momma!” 

The nurse gave him a pained smile, but she was a nice-looking chick, white of course, but Darius didn’t mind white women. 

Then the doc jabbed his arm with a needle, and Darius did his best not to flinch. A real one wouldn’t cry at no needle.

But the shot hurt more than any of the other shots Darius had gotten over the years. He bit his lip at first, then he couldn’t hold it in no more, and started to scream. Fire raced through his veins, and his mind was lost for a time as his body horribly distorted. His bones twisted and melted, becoming rubbery and loose before melting. His skin burned off, then his molten bones flowed up and covered his body in a grayish exoskeleton. Darius was conscious for the entire process. 

“Hmm, interesting. This one appears to give the subject an exoskeleton,” the doctor said, jotting down some notes. 

Darius tried to speak, tried to ask what happened, but his teeth were gone and his mouth was mostly sealed shut, as now breathed through small pores in his new exoskeleton. He tried to move, but his body wasn’t the same shape, and he was still strapped down. 

“Definitely monstrous. Nemesis program?” the nurse asked, her voice odd and distorted to Darius’ ears. 

“They’re shutting that down. Send him to the slug. He’ll be one of the first of the new program.”

“What do we call him?” 

Darius tried to shout his name, but only a faint buzzing noise came out.

“Hmm, his insectile, so… Roach?’

The nurse scribbled that down. What the fuck!? What the fuck was all this!

Darius was wheeled away, to a room with a man who appeared to have had the same shit shot into him as Darius had. The nurse left him there, and Darius tried to move or speak. 

“Another one,” the man sighed. He had some weird lumpy shit around his neck, and no arms or legs. Some Jabba the Hutt ass looking bastard. 

“Listen to my voice. Let go of who you are. Become…nothing. You are Roach. You are loyal to the United States. You are Loyal to the Protectorate,” the man droned. 

At first it was just annoying, then Darius’ mind leaked out of his brain. He forgot his momma. He forgot his brothers. He forgot Monisha and Lil D. He forgot who he was.

Only Roach remained. And Roach was a proud soldier of the United States. 

The Last Drop of Hope, Chapter 31

Holding her breath and clutching her shank, Tina watched as Walter walked slowly forward, then gently set a hand on the flabby shoulder of his snoring father. Gently, he shook his shoulder, whispering, “Father? It’s me, I need you to wake up.”

The only response was a loud, throbbing snore. After a few moments, gentle shaking became shouting and smacking, but Alderp slept through it all, still snoring like an engine with a blown regulator. 

Eventually, Tina gave up and went to the bathroom and got a glass of cold water, then came back and poured it all over Alderp’s face. He just farted and rolled over. 

“What does it take to wake this man up?!” Tina demanded, glaring at Alderp’s still snoring body. She turned to Rain, who was fidgeting nervously. “Do you know anything about the Sleep spell?”

“Well, not really, I just took it because it sounded useful,” Rain admitted. 

Claire glanced down at Alderp, then walked up and plunged her shank into his leg in a spray of blood.

“YAAAAAH!” Alderp screamed, sitting bolt upright in bed, the shank still embedded in his leg. 

Sighing, Tina grabbed Alderp by the jaw and pulled his face close to hers. “Listen to me very carefully. Do not scream. Do not attempt to flee. If you do, I will-”

“MAXWELL! MAXWELL, YOUR MASTER-”

With a sigh, Tina let Alderp’s jaw go, then slammed her fist into his temple. He immediately went limp, and flopped back onto the bed.

A moment later, Tina heard out in the hall, “Hmm, did someone call for me?”

“Um, yes!” Cecily’s voice said brightly. “We need, uh, oysters. And, um…viagra. Yes. See, uh, you know, three young ladies, one old man…gotta get to work on the heir, right? Poor guy’s a little tuckered out from all the action.”

“Hmm, oysters…those might be a tad hard to come by. And this…Viagra…I’m not quite certain what it is…but I take it that it is some sort of fertility enhancement?” Maxwell inquired politely. Cecily must have indicated an affirmative, because he laughed and said, “Well, it’s good that Alderp is being so fastidious in fulfilling our contract! Very well, I shall return shortly.”

There was a pop, followed by the acrid stench of sulfur, and a moment later Cecily poked her head in. “He’s gone! Whatever we’re gonna do, we gotta do FAST.”

Tina hurried to the bathroom and got another glass of water, then dumped it over Alderp, who sputtered awake. “How dare you-”

“Listen,” Tina growled, pulling Alderp up. “We know about Maxwell. We know he’s a chipped demon. What we want to know is how you got your hands on a Duke of Hell, and what you want. You can either talk to me, or I can turn you over to Claire, and she can help loosen your tongue.” 

Instead of whimpering like Tina had expected, Alderp gave her a bloody smile. “You have no idea who and what you’re dealing with, do you? You poor, pathetic fools. A power you have no concept of has reawakened! This world will be reforged, and I shall be one of its new masters! Threaten my physical form all you wish, but I cannot be stopped or killed!” 

“Well, father. I had hoped these ladies were mistaken. But it seems they had your number, alright.” Walter said, and Alderp’s head snapped around to where his son, or rather, clone, stood. 

“Walter! Thank goodness you’re here!” Alderp cried. “Get these harlots off me! Look, they’ve stabbed me and abused me! We have to work quickly to-”

“To what? You’re willing to sell your first born child. Who else would you be willing to sell out? My men? Me?” Walter demanded hotly, stepping closer to his father. 

Alderp shook his head angrily. “You have no idea what’s at stake here, boy! Not just the fate of the world, but immortality itself! Failure means you die with the rest of the worthless chattel, while success means eternal life as a prince, a king! Is not such a prize worth any price?”

“Not the lives of my men!” Walter barked, and pointed at Tina and Claire. “Which they are! I can understand using people. We have little enough other resources. But we protect our own, and we reward loyalty! Who the hell wants to live forever in a barren wasteland?!”

“There are other worlds, Walter. Other realms to rule. This one is almost used up. Can't you tell? There are powers you cannot even BEGIN to imagine at play here! You think Belzerg matters? That human lives have any value? Nothing but pieces on a cosmic chessboard of a game that finished long ago! We can either move to the new board as players or get tossed in the trash like the rest of the broken pieces!” 

“And this is why you had Maxwell chipped?!” Walter demanded. “To use him in some sort of bizarre ritual?!”

At that, Alderp chuckled darkly. “You have no idea who the players in this game even are, do you? Well, if you’re very fortunate, perhaps I’ll bring you along. Now, SUBMIT.”

Tina rocked back on her heels, but Walter and Claire both cried out in pain, falling to the ground and moaning. 

Cacking, Alderp grabbed the shank out of his leg and yanked it out, and to Tina’s horror, the wound began to knit itself shut. “Medical nanites, son! They activate in response to physical trauma!  Now, each of you will serve me and-”

This time, Tina delivered her blow straight to Alderp’s nose, as hard as she could, and heard the satisfying crunch of cartilage and bone. This time, Alderp was flung backwards into the wall, and his head rang off the headboard, but Tina caught him on the rebound, then hoisted the fat bastard by the neck and swung him around, slamming him into the wall as his feet dangled off the ground. 

Alderp gurgled piteously, but Tina ignored him. “You will find your tricks do not work on me, Alderp. I am a Crusader of Lady Aqua. And not your toy. Now. Where is the chip?”

“Buck oo, ‘itch,” Alderp gurgled, little bubbles blowing in the blood that coated his face. So Tina dragged him to the sink, which she turned on and plugged. 

“Ub’and ‘e! ‘En ‘axwell-”

Sink sufficiently full, Tina gritted her teeth, and shoved Alderp’s face into it, submerging his mouth and nose. 

“Did you know, you can drown in only an inch of water?” she said conversationally as Alderp’s chubby arms and legs flailed wildly. “It doesn’t take much.”

After ten seconds, she jerked Alderp up by the back of his head and snarled, “Where is the chip? How did you mind control Maxwell?” 

“I don’t know!” Alderp snarled, his nose slowly popping back out of his face. “I got him from my friends! Powerful friends and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll-”

Tina just shoved his face back into the sink, splashing pink water everywhere as Alderp flailed again. She’d never used the “enhanced interrogation” techniques they taught in the Security Course before, but this seemed like the sort of time to use it. She had found in the past that sweet words, empathy, and a little food got you more information than beatings, but desperate times called for desperate measures. 

She yanked Alderp back up after 15 seconds this time, the fat man blowing like a beached whale. “Who has the chip? What is your plan with Maxwell?”

“S-Seresdina, CEO of the Church of Revenge, you fool! You hurt me, and the Revengers will get you,” Alderp gasped. 

That just mildly amused Tina. “I am already at war with the false Church. Didn’t you hear me? I serve Aqua.”

“You’re a fool! What can she offer you? I’m not just going to use Maxwell, I’m going to take over the Church too! Once I complete that idiot's contract, I’ll swap bodies with him! The moron didn’t even read the fine print! I’ll become a Duke of Hell, and he will be the worthless mortal, not me! But that’s the use of a chip! I can edit the bastard’s memories, and he has to do what I said! I forged that contract! And when I order him to-”

“Order me to do what, exactly? ‘Master.’”

Alderp and Tina both froze, slowly turning to see Maxwell carrying a tray of steaming oysters in one hand, and gripping Cecily by her throat with the other. “You see, I had just caught this Axis rat, and was planning on sodomizing her to death. Always amusing with the pleasure cultists. But what’s this about a false contract? I am…very interested…in the answer.”

“She…she tricked me! She’s an Axis Cultist too!” Alderp accused, pointing a trembling hand at Tina. 

“Oh? Truly? Two Axis Cultists. And yet, they should be extinct, from what I can remember,” Maxwell said, then shook his head. “Ah, but sir, you attempt to prevaricate. What is this about the contract?”

“I, well, you signed one with me. The soul of my first born, in exchange for immortality,” Alderp said nervously. 

“Hmm, interesting. You seem immortal already,” Tina mused. She glanced at Maxwell. “If you set down Cecily, I can demonstrate.”

Maxwell considered that, then opened his hand, dropping Cecily to the ground like a discarded sack of rubbish. “Very well. Please, do demonstrate.”

“Wait, no don’t-!”

Tina used her open palm this time to shove Maxwell’s nose up into his skull. It was a killing blow, with her enhanced strength. Then she dropped the twitching bastard to the ground. 

“Hmm, if I did have a contract with him, I shall have to kill you,” Maxwell mused. “Not that I planned on letting you live anyway, mind. I make it a point of professional pride to kill every Axis Cultist I find. Returning the favor, you see.”

“Right,” Tina said, swallowing nervously. She wondered if she were strong enough to take on Maxwell the Adjuster, but the very presence of the demon duke told her that was unlikely. 

Just then, Alderp coughed and sat up, his wounds knitting. “Maxwell, I can explain…”

“You’re chipped,” Tina said bluntly. “He’s lying to you and manipulating you. He said he was going to force you to swap bodies with him, and become a Duke of Hell himself.”

“Hmmm…” Maxwell produced some parchment in a crackle of black flames, and adjusted his glasses, frowning as he read. After a moment, he looked down at Alderp, his lips pressed into a thin line. “So this contract says. It even has my signature on it. This is most…distressing.”

“So, where’s the chip?” Tina demanded, kicking Alderp. 

“Damn you,” Alderp hissed. “He took weeks to condition!” 

“Oh?” Maxwell adjusted his glasses. “Do tell me more.”

“Override: Adjust the Adjuster,” Alderp barked, and Maxwell froze. “Maxwell! Kill the girl.”

“Yes, Master,” Maxwell said, his tone dull and listless. He moved towards Tina like lightning, driving a stiffened hand into her abdomen. 

The breath rushed from Tina’s body, but she stumbled back only a few steps. Then she swung a haymaker at Maxwell’s head. In the last instant, the demon actually looked surprised. Then Tina sent him slamming into the bathroom wall, where he shattered the expensive tile as his head cracked into it, and his glasses shattered. 

Clasping her hands together, Tina swung both of them at Maxwell’s head. This time, however, he moved like a snake, dodging her blow and ramming a palm into her chin. Tina was lifted off the ground, her head rebounding off the ceiling before she crashed into the floor, her vision swimming. 

Instead of pain, however, she felt…excitement. Joy. And…pleasure. She’d always gotten a rush in combat, and enjoyed sparring sessions, especially with Claire. But the new strength her body had, combined with her blessings…this was downright orgasmic. 

“Any last words?” Alderp sneered, staggering away from Tina as Maxwell stepped forward, his hands formed into killing knife blades.

“More,” Tina snarled, and kicked both feet into Maxwell. He let out his breath a whoosh and staggered back.

“What…High Noble? An…Axis Crusader?” Maxwell asked, cocking his head to one side. Then he slowly turned towards Aldper. “I remember something about-”

“Override: Adjust the Adjuster! KILL HER!” Alderp snarled, pointing at Tina. 

Maxwell darted forward as Tina tried to rise, on hand chopping the back of her neck and the other slamming into her temple. She grounded, then shouted in shock as she was driven through the floor and into the level below. She tried to get up, but Maxwell jumped down, his expression blank. Tina tried to fight back, but he kicked her in the head, sending her through a wall in an explosion of plastic and plaster. 

As she tried to get up, dazed and bruised, a new voice shouted: “Adjust the Adjuster! Maxwell, do not kill Tina Ford!” 

Maxwell instantly locked up, a confused expression on his face. “What? Who is-”

“No!” Alderp cried. “You have to-” he cut off with a gurgle, and Walter’s voice repeated, “Do not kill Tina! Cease combat immediately!”

“I…” Maxwell slowly straightened, a frown on his face. “Yes, Master.”

Tina blinked stupidly, then staggered over to the hole and looked up, shouting, “Walter? What’s happening?”

Walter’s worried face appeared alongside Rain’s. “Miss Rain got me up. Tina, did he stop?”

“Ah, yes, he’s just standing there now,” Tina said, shuddering slightly. She’d never had a beating like that. So why did it feel so wonderful?

“Walter’s a clone!” Rain said excitedly. “His voice print must be close enough that Maxwell’s chip recognizes the command code from him! We don’t need the chip, we just need Walter to get Maxwell to do what we want!” 

“Ah,” Tina considered that, then frowned up at Rain. “Do you think…we could write a new contract?”

“Contract? But I already have one, I’m afraid,” Maxwell’s voice said from next to Tina, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. 

“New terms,” Walter said hastily. “I’m not offering my first born. Instead… how about my father?”

“That’s not nearly as valuable as an infant’s soul. Do you have any idea how rare and valuable those are from Belzerg these days?” Maxwell demanded, aghast.

“True, but what about instead of immortality, you just, er, grant me a favor some time, and we’ll call it even,” Walter offered hastily. 

Maxwell shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t-”

“A favor to help us take down Seresdina and the Church of Revenge, who chipped you and stole your mind,” Rain added quickly. “And, to sweeten it, his father is the man who forged a false contract with you.”

Maxwell instantly went stony again. “False…contract?”

“Take it from an Axis Crusader, one who does not lie,” Darkness said, wiping blood from her lips with the back of her hand. “Alderp has kept you imprisoned, as have the Revengers. They wiped your mind and exploited you.”

“Why should I trust the Axis Cult?” Maxwell sneered. Then he paused, and slowly felt the back of his head. “Chipped…Seresdina…I remember…hmm. And a bad contract, you say?”

Tina nodded. “On my honor as a Crusader.”

“Oh, a fine joke, that,” Maxwell chuckled. Then he looked up at Walter’s pale face. “So. Where is your father?”

“Right here, just come up and claim him,” Walter said.

“Very good,” Maxwell purred, flicking his hands out, and pulling a new pair of spectacles from thin air with a hiss of flames. “I find your offer…acceptable. Consider this a verbal contract. His soul, for one favor.”

“And you can’t hurt any of us until that favor is granted,” Rain added hastily. “Myself, Claire, Tina, Cecily, and Walter.”

“Very well,” Maxwell chuckled. “But only until after the favor, mind. 

Yes, good enough for now,” Maxwell purred, tugging on a clean set of gloves. “Now…the soul.”

Tina staggered up the stairs following Maxwell, as Walter and Rain dragged Claire and Cecily out of the room, both of them much the worse for wear. 

Alderp was tied up and gagged, his eyes wide with fear as he struggled against his bonds. 

“Ah, yes, I think I remember now. You were controlling me, and these holes in my mind…you put them there, didn’t you? Tsk, tsk. Trying to renege on a contract with Hell’s Adjuster? A most foolish move,” Maxwell chuckled. “You wished to be a demon? Very well. I knew just the place for you.”

Alderp tried to scream, but Maxwell grabbed him and tucked the fat man under one arm. “My card, dear customers. We will meet again. But I warn you: Do not attempt to edit my mind as this fool has. Demons have long memories, and I assure you, any malady on my part is only temporary. But my time with those who break contracts with me? Why that…that lasts forever!”

He drew a white gloved finger under Alderp’s chin, and the supposed president moaned and wet himself. 

“We’re going to have such fun together. But you won’t be needing your tongue, I fear. Removing that and sewing your mouth shut will be our first little game,” Maxwell laughed. Then he wagged his fingers at Tina. “And we’ll be seeing each other again, little Crusader. I have a bone to pick with you as well.” 

Then with a snap of his fingers, a fiery pit opened, and Maxwell hopped into it, still carrying Alderp. “Toodleoo!” 

A blast of heat followed, then the portal shut itself. Tina sagged, then hurried over to Claire. She was breathing, but not in good shape.

“Picked…picked a fight with that butler guy,” she slurred, her eyes unfocused. “Not…not my best idea.”

“Why don’t you let me take the hits from now on,” Tina said, hugging Claire tightly. 

For now, they’d survived. But now they had bigger problems: If the Revengers really were in on this…things were about to get a lot more complicated. 

The Second Archon War: Sapientia Oromasdis 19

Sapientia Oromasdis 19: The Morn A Thousand Roses Bring

The celebration had been going on for some time, but Bashir had retreated to a quiet corner of the orchard. Qiqi had been put to bed some time ago, and Nahida had departed as well. It did still amuse Bashir that the most powerful individual in the country was a small child, at least physically, and thus had a bedtime of 8:00pm. She’d stayed up late tonight, but that only translated to 9:00, after which she’d put herself to bed. 

For now, he sat alone under an apricot tree strung with colorful lights, listening to the sounds of music and celebration, not yet ready to rest himself. 

“Hey, this seat taken?” 

Bashir looked up, surprised to hear German. He could recognize that it wasn’t Arabic, even if whatever it was that Nahida had done this evening was still translating it for him. He nodded to Capri and Naomi Cohen, smiling. “Peace be upon you. Please, join me. I am afraid I have only water and juice to drink, but it is the new sunsettia juice Nahida made, and it is very good.”

“Juice sounds lovely, thank you,” Naomi agreed, taking a seat across from Bashir and looking curiously at Baqa. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but I thought snakes were unclean to Muslims.” 

“I am no ordinary sssnake. Besssides, he doesssn’t plan on eating me,” Baqa hissed, which interestingly enough didn’t draw much of a reaction from the Tone Deaf Bards as they accepted glasses of orange hued sunsettia juice. 

“Never had snake. Is it kosher?” Capri asked her partner curiously. 

Naomi shook her head. “Ah, no, and I don’t think I’d want to eat one even if it was.”

Baqa huffed and tightened her coils around Bashir’s neck slightly. “The nerve! You know I can hear you, right?” 

“Peace, they mean no offense. Many consider all serpents to be evil, but Baqa is a special exception. A serpent is also the symbol of the physician, which I am. So a special dispensation has been given to me as Baqa was created by Nahida to treat my… condition,” Bashir explained. 

“It’sss foolish. All sssnakes are no more evil than all men are. There are a few bad applesss, you’ll never sssee me cozying up to one of those filthy conssstrictersss, but are we not also the creationsss of Allah?” Baqa huffed.

“I thought he said you were made by Nahida. That’s the story I heard,” Capri asked, sipping at her drink. “Hey, this is good stuff! Sunsettia, you said?”

“A Teyvan fruit. You have heard of that place?” Bashir asked and received nods from both women. “And yes, Baqa was made from a branch Nahida grew. The theological implications are… thorny. The Imams will be arguing over them for a century, I fear.”

“I can empathize,” Naomi sighed. “The Rabbis will be debating about Venti for a Millenia to come. Knowing him, he’d sneak in and encourage them.”

“Huh.” Capri rubbed her chin, glancing between Bashir and Naomi. “Who do you two say they are?”

“Nahida is a Righteous Djinn, sent by Allah to save and guide his people,” Bashir responded. 

Naomi nodded her agreement. “I would say the same for Venti. It’s interesting that the children of Abraham have both received guides from above.”

“An interesting way of viewing it,” Bashir said thoughtfully, taking a sip of his own drink. It had a refreshing flavor, very sweet, with a tart aftertaste that left you feeling energized. “How then do you view Raiden?”

“The Almighty Narukami Ogosho is the embodiment of the Spirit of Japan, Amaterasu herself incarnate, come to guide and protect us in our time of need.” 

Bashir nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun to find a little girl with gray hair and dark brown eyes, a hood with racoon ears, and a tail sticking out from her seat sitting beside him. From their reaction, neither Capri nor Naomi had seen Sayu come join them either. 

“Uh, hello there. I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Naomi said, putting a hand to her chest to calm herself. 

“Shinobi Sayu Nana, of the Shuumatsuban, at your service,” the girl said, standing and bowing. Closer study revealed she was older than she appeared, just rather diminutive. 

“Sneaking up on three Vision Holders. Ballsy move, kid,” Capri commented, leaning on the table towards the girl. 

“I’m not a kid! I’m fourteen! And it was hardly sneaking, you just weren’t paying much attention,” Sayu said with a wide yawn. “I was looking for somewhere to sleep, but I needed something as a pick-me-up since I’m going to be on duty all night. Clara’s still going strong, even if Ami went to bed early.”

Bashir hid a smile behind his cup, but asked, “So, you view the Raiden Shogun as divine then?”

“Obviously. What else do you call someone who can do miracles and saved their people from destruction?” Sayu asked, frowning. “I don’t get why you insist that Buer and Barbados aren’t gods.”

“I think it’s partly cultural at least. You’re from a polytheistic culture, while the rest of us are from monotheistic cultures. To us, there can be only one God, the God of Abraham, even if our interpretations differ slightly,” Naomi explained, and Bashir nodded his agreement. 

“Speak for yourselves, I’m with the kid,” Capri said, earning herself a glower from Sayu. “Venti’s not just an angel. He’s a god. One of the old pagan ones, sure, but still a god. Granted, I was never much of a Christian, I mean I was baptized and stuff. But he’s done a hell of a lot for me and Germany than anything I ever heard from a priest. Sorry, honey, but that’s what I think.”

“I’m aware,” Naomi said, giving Capri’s hand a small squeeze. “But we’ve both agreed to serve him.”

“Interesting,” Bashir mused. He tried not to think about two women being wed, as while his views tended towards the liberal, they were not that liberal. “Despite all I have seen from Nahida, I cannot fathom her being a god or God. Indeed, I see her more as my daughter, and I doubt many in Iraq will view her as anything but a djinn.”

“Well, Doc, I suppose we need to have a talk about that then.” In a flash of scarlet flame, Farasha appeared next to Bashir, plucking his cup out of his startled grasp and taking a long drink. She flashed a smile at Naomi and Capri, who had gone somewhat stonefaced. “Hey there! We got off on a bit of the wrong foot. I did some thinking, and, well, I guess I owe you an apology. Nahida’s right. It’s not like I didn’t know I was a racist bitch, I just… well, anyway even if you’re a jew and a gypsy, you’re welcome here and I’ll personally murder anyone who tells you otherwise.”

“Ah, thank you, but perhaps murder is not the best solution?” Naomi said hesitantly. 

“That just shows you haven’t tried it often enough,” Sayu said with a shrug. 

Capri chuckled. “And how many people have you killed, kid?” 

“I dunno. At some point, you just lose count,” Sayu said cheerily, which made Capri roll her eyes and Farasha laugh.

“She’s a ninja, what do you expect?” Farasha tittered, then sobered. “But take it from someone who actually has lost count of how many people they’ve killed… that’s not a good place to be. I… I wish I could ever make up for what I’ve done. If Raiden is making you kill that many people, Sayu… find a new god. Nahida’s hiring!” 

“I, um, I do remember,” Sayu said, looking embarrassed with Farasha’s unexpected sincerity. She looked down, scrubbing at her face suddenly. “I’ve killed… six. I’m not counting… not counting the monsters in Ellisburg. They were already dead. But six people. I remember their faces and names, and I was sick after each one. But it had to be done.” 

“I ain’t so sure what my body count is, but it’s about that,” Capri admitted. She gave Naomi a sad smile and drew close to her. “First one wasn’t even a fascist prick. Just a jerk in my family who tried to rape me. Stabbed the fat fuck. I knew what would happen next. I was a 16 year old girl, and I was dressed alluringly, whatever the fuck that meant. I knew I’d get blamed, so I got the fuck out.” 

Naomi teared up on hearing the story, hugging Capri tight, but Bashir could only nod grimly. He was, unfortunately, all too familiar with the concept of a young woman facing threats of rape from a family member, and being blamed for the result. 

“Well good for you! I had to burn at least one asshole before people got the impression to leave me the fuck alone,” Farasha said brightly. She turned and beamed at Bashir. “But then I found this handsome hunk, and he can have me anytime he wants!” 

Bashir blushed at that, while Naomi and Capri tittered and Sayu looked both interested and embarrassed. 

“I, uh, I’ve never kissed a boy. Or girl,” she admitted uncomfortably. 

“It’s alright. I didn’t know what I was into until I was twenty-one, and Capri was my first,” Naomi said, winking at Sayu. “Well, girl. I did have a couple of boyfriends before that.”

“I had a few girlfriends, but none of them were steady for very long, until this one came along,” Capri said with a shrug. “Take your time, kid.”

Sayu growled, and Naomi smacked Capri’s arm. “Stop it! She’s hardly a child.”

“Yeah, but she’s cute when she gets feisty,” Capri laughed. She turned back to Farasha, frowning. “Not to change the topic or anything, but what was that you were saying about Nahida, anyway?”

“Oh, that. Well, as far as I’m concerned, Nahida’s the only god worth serving. Allah never did anything for me, and I couldn’t care less about Raiden or Venti,” Farasha said with a shrug. 

Bashir’s eyes went wide, and he turned to his fiancée. “But, you said-”

“I said I’d go to prayers with you, and that I’d not drink or smoke weed anymore,” Farasha said, looking slightly guilty. “I didn’t say who I was praying to. And, well, Nahida’s sensitive. She seems to think Allah is real, so I’ll humor her. I mean, he probably is. He's just, uh, asleep or something.” 

“He sent her to us!” Bashir protested, feeling like his entire world had shaken. “She is not the Prophet, but clearly she is a message from Allah that he still watches over His people!” 

“Sure, why not? But she’s my adorable little god, and I’ll worship her,” Farasha replied. 

Still reeling, Bashir heard a gentle cough, and turned to look at Naomi. “As someone who’s in a similar boat? You can get past this. You both serve Nahida, right? Or, well, you’re her parents? I understand, well, sort of. I’m not Venti’s mother, but he does need someone to look after him at times. They’re not God, but, well, I can understand why people would honor them. It’s a difference between Capri and I, but it’s something I was willing to look past before Venti came. I hope the same is true for both of you.”

Looking back at Farasha, Bashir digested that. He had long known that Farasha was irreligious, if not openly an atheist. This was, perhaps, a step up from that. It was true that he found the idea of worshiping Nahida offensive in multiple ways, but at the same time… she had done deeds worthy of praise and adoration, deeds no mortal could have accomplished. While there was No God But Allah, and Mohamad was His Prophet… Nahida was something special. Something not seen before. 

“We will talk later. But… I can understand, will understand,” Bashir finally said. 

“You’re all weird. Obviously, there’re a lot of gods,” Sayu scoffed. 

“There’s a difference, and it lies in whether they are the One Creator of Heaven and Earth… or merely a very powerful being, given some of his Power and Authority,” Naomi explained. “It mentions in the Ketuvim that Michael was a Prince of angels, and contended with the Prince of Persia, a demon. That’s how I see Venti: he’s a Prince, but he is under the authority of the Lord, Creator of All Things.”

“A most astute way of putting things. You must be quite well educated,” Bashir said. “I don’t mean to belittle you, only that, ah, I had assumed a traveling musician was, well, less than a scholar.”

“Hey, she went to some hoity toity schools! My girl’s a smart cookie. Even if she didn’t go to Oxford,” Capri chuckled. 

Bashir nodded. “I did actually meet the Grandmaster briefly during my time there, though she was several years younger than me. Perhaps I should renew our acquaintance.”

“Oh you know Cookie?” Naomi asked, curious. 

A shit eating grin spread across Capri’s face. “Have you ever played Genius Invocation TCG?”

“Played, no. Studied…” Bashir trailed off, patting himself down, then pulled his first aid kit he carried with him everywhere. From inside, he withdrew a single card, laying it on the table. “I was fascinated to find one that bore such a resemblance to Nahida, though I am still curious about the name, Lesser Lord Kusanali.” 

“She called herself that when she did her city-wide PA thing,” Farasha said, scooping up the card. She frowned at it, then looked up at Capri. “Alright, wipe that smirk off. I can tell when someone’s playing games. You got us: what’s up?”

“They’re probably going to tell you there’s seven Archons, one for each of the elements, but that’s still classified data, so keep it to yourselves,” Sayu put in. 

Capri shrugged. “Uh, actually I was going to say Cookie stole that from Venti because it’s a weird game they play on Teyvat, but I guess that’s true too.”

“Seven…” Farasha looked at the card thoughtfully for a moment, then passed it back to Bashir. “I wonder if they’re like Nahida?”

“Well, I hope they’re not like Venti, or the world’s going to run out of booze, and we’ll never cover their bar tabs,” Capri sighed. “You’d think gods would be more responsible.”

“You’re telling me,” Sayu said with a grimace. “One of my standing orders is to ensure that Her Excellency isn’t allowed within 10 meters of any cooking appliances, especially microwaves.”

The others at the table peered at Sayu curiously, and Farasha laughed. “You’re pulling our legs!”

“The last time the Raiden Shogun was allowed to cook, eighty-three people had to be hospitalized,” Sayu said flatly. “We had to condemn an entire building. It wasn’t pretty. The place is classified as a brownfield now.”

“Surely you must be joking,” Naomi said. “Venti can be a bit of a handful, but he’s not that bad…”

“I tell you what. You offer to let the Shogun cook you breakfast sometime. I will make sure I’m at least a kilometer away, and I’ll notify your next of kin for you,” Sayu said with a shrug. Then she turned thoughtful. “Although, if we could get Maou the Golden to eat some of her cooking, that would solve a lot of our problems…”

“Well, Nahida is a very good cook, for a little kid,” Farasha sniffed. “Better than me, in fact. I mean, I’m not the world’s best cook, but I ain’t the worst either.”

Bashir maintained an utterly neutral expression, though Baqa reared up and regarded Farasha suspiciously. There were some things that were not worth dying for. “We do have to remind Nahida at times to take care of herself, but she’s a very well-behaved child, remarkably so,” Bashir coughed, trying to change the subject. 

“Huh. So, do we like, all have to make sure our gods don’t, you know, do something stupid?” Capri asked, looking a bit befuddled. 

“I fear if I left Nahida to her own devices, she would destroy herself through overwork or outright taking a bullet for another,” Bashir said ruefully. “She is still a child, 506 years old or not.” 

“Eh, she’s still a baby,” Sayu opined. “The Shogun’s like, 3000 years old or something. She told Ami a story once about the first time she saw writing, and how her sister adapted the script for the Inazuma people. I’d have said it was made up, but I’m pretty sure she’s just actually so old we hadn’t invented writing when she was first born of the Lightning’s Glow.”

Naomi nodded thoughtfully, sharing a look with Capri. “I don’t know exactly how old Venti is, he doesn’t like to be specific, but I have pieced together that he was around in the equivalent of the Ancient Era of his world, when bronze weapons were still high tech.”

“And that he did some terraforming by tossing around mountains,” Capri added, her eyes unfocusing as she gazed into the middle distance. “He once asked how people would feel if he ‘leveled off the Alps a bit.’ It’s damn near impossible to tell if he’s yanking your chain or not, but for some reason… I’m pretty sure even if he was, he could remove the Alps if he wanted. All of them.”

“Considering that Nahida just created Jurassic Park except the dinosaurs are friendly, I’d bet on Venti instead of the mountains,” Farasha agreed, smirking at the thought.

“If you’re ever wondering what the Shogun can do, just look at the Narukami Trench. Or don’t, that place is scary. Ami makes us go there to gather electrical crystals, and that’s about the only time I seriously think we’re in danger. Even Ami can’t get the Balethunder to listen to her,” Sayu said with a shudder. 

“There’s no need to compete,” Bashir chuckled. “They’re all rather remarkable beings, with a special place in our hearts. Even if they do need guidance.” He finished with a cough, then found himself short of breath, his hands trembling slightly. How long had it been since his last dose? 

Sensing his need, Baqa slithered down his arm, then bit Bashir on the wrist, prompting a cry from Sayu and the Tone Deaf Bards. 

“It’s alright, that is her purpose,” Bashir said breathily, but Farasha was looking concerned as well. 

“I think it’s time we put you to bed. I’ll get your chair,” Farasha said, standing quickly. 

“I don’t need-” Bashir began, but could only cough as she pushed him firmly back down. 

“You girls make sure he stays put, back in a flash,” Farasha said, then dissolved into butterflies that fluttered away through the trees. 

“I can heal you,” Sayu and Naomi offered at the same time, which prompted a sad smile from Bashir. 

“He doesssn’t need more healing, my venom isss enough,” Baqa said, coiling protectively about Bashir’s neck again. “He isss sssimply unwell. A product of hisss conflict with the King of Demonsss.”

“You mean… Scion,” Capri said, her eyes flicking to the sky with uncertainty. 

Bashir could only nod tiredly. “How much do you know?”

“That the only other time I’ve seen Venti as angry as when he said that Nahida had been accosted by Scion was when he first learned that our friends had been killed by the Gesellschaft. And that he both hates and fears Scion,” Naomi said quietly. 

“He is Maou, the Demon King, and our sworn foe,” Sayu said grimly. “He is the enemy of mankind, and afflicts us with his parasites. Only the Shogun can purify the souls of those who have been scourged by him. Well, and Nahida and Venti, I guess.”

“Nahida has not told me everything, but I gathered a plan to deal with him was the main thrust of their meeting tonight,” Bashir said wearily. “Whatever he is… he is a monster. The worst kind. What you spoke of earlier, Capri? He attempted the same upon my daughter.”

“Oh.” Capri’s lip curled in a snarl, her hand caressing her Vision.

“Well, I guess he needs to die then,” Naomi said simply, her expression positively murderous. 

“Look at that, me and a jew, agreeing about something! Maybe this racism stuff is bad after all,” Farasha said cheerily, reappearing pushing a wheelchair. She helped Bashir into the chair, which he sank into gratefully, then turned to the others. “Thanks for the chat! And, well, sorry for being a bit of a bitch. I’m working on that. If you ever need to fight a certain golden asshole, or some pesky Americans, just let me know. I’m not good at much, but I am pretty good at being a nightmare.”

“Farasha,” Bashir groaned, but Capri grinned and laughed. 

“From one bitch to another? Fair enough. You take care of yourself and your doctor. And that sweet little girl,” Capri said, raising her glass in salute. “And the same goes for us. Not so hot on fighting Americans, Legend’s alright at least. But Scion comes a knockin’, you call us. The Knights and the Tone Deaf Bards will be there.”

Sayu shifted uncomfortably, but stood and drew herself up to her full 152cm height. “I, um, I’m not one to make policy, but rest assured, I will tell my mistress what was said this night, and I know Princess Tsu at least is itching for a match with him. And her enemies are the Shuumatsuban’s enemies.”

“Thank you,” Bashir said, giving the girl a smile.

“Sweet, ninjas and knights! Ooo, I wonder if Nahida will let us be pirates!” Farasha laughed. “Toodles!”

It was a short trip back to the palace, though Farasha insisted on pushing Bashir herself to their room, then helping him undress before they lay down on the bed together. No love making to night, to Bashir’s regret, but he didn’t have the strength for it. 

“We’re not alone,” Farasha whispered to them as they held one another. “Kinda weird, huh?”

“What do you mean? You’re never alone,” Bashir told her.

She giggled and kissed Bashir’s cheek. “No, silly. Iraq. You know we’ve been alone for like, forever. But now… now we’ve got some friends. Even if one is a jew.”

“Farasha…” He did love this woman dearly, but it was so painful to see her ignorant prejudices and bursts of anger and violence. He knew she was better than this, deep down. 

“Oh relax. It’s just… not all of us got a fancy pants education at Oxford and learned to be all nice and multicultural. Shit, I didn’t even go to high school. I can still barely read, and I’m horrible at math. Oh shit!” Farasha sat upright, and Bashir struggled to one elbow. 

“What is it?”

“Muhammad! I never promoted him to sergeant!” she said, collapsing back on the bed. “Well, we can make him a general or something. Or at least my personal assistant. Uh, like, a captain or something. That’ll work! Now go to bed, you need your sleep.”

“That is why I love you,” Bashir laughed, giving her a squeeze. “You’re always so kind and thoughtful.”

She muttered something in reply, but he truly was exhausted, and soon drifted off to a dreamless sleep. 

It had been only three weeks since the Dawn of Hope, what people were now calling the defeat of the Simurgh and the rather brief popular uprising in Baghdad. The day was cool and clear, as hundreds of delegates from every city, town, and village arrived at the Al Zaqura Palace. They came from every ethnicity in Iraq: Arab, Kurdish, Turkish, Assyrian, and even a wizened old Jewish Rabbi from the bare handful of his people that remained in Iraq.

While most of the representatives were political leaders, there were a large number of religious leaders, Imams from both Shia and Sunni, as well as several Assyrian Christian Bishops and the aforementioned Rabbi. Also included were a majority of the staff from the University of Baghdad, as well as various other experts in a variety of fields, from engineers, to astronomers, to philosophers and grammarians. While most of the representatives were older men, there were a number of younger men as well, and a significant minority of women. 

And of course, there were the capes. Farasha was there of course, as was Doctor Bashir Saeed, and the three other Iraqi Dendro Vision Holders: Younis Amir, an Imam from a small village in northern Iraq; Dr Mohammad Anas, a professor of botany from Baghdad University; and Ghada Wafa, who had received her Vision while singing to her class in the Endbringer bunker, hand delivered by the Aranara. 

Upon seeing Mrs. Wafa, Nahida ran down the steps to hug the woman, who was dressed in her finest shawl and dress.

 “It’s so good to see you again! I’m sorry I haven’t been in school lately, I’ve been busy,” Nahida told the teacher. 

“I can imagine,” Mrs. Wafa said, kneeling down so she was at eye level with Nahida. She held out her Vision, which Nahida regarded with satisfaction. “I heard your voice in the darkness. Did you…?”

“Archons do not directly grant Visions to mortals: you earn them yourselves with your Ambitions,” Nahida told her teacher. Then she grinned and winked. “But, on occasion, we can tip the scales just a little if a particular individual catches our eye. You must be a very kind and selfless person, one who would give everything to those she guides.”

Mrs. Wafa’s eyes teared up slightly. “I… thank you, Nahida. That means a great deal to me. Will I be expected to now fight Endbringers as well?”

“Never,” Nahida said solemnly, shaking her head. “It is an Archon’s duty to safeguard their people. And while you would be welcomed in the ranks of Matra, that is, the reformed Special Action Squad, I have another place for you, should things go as I plan.”

“Wherever you need me, I shall go. You saved my family, and all my students. There is nothing I can ever do to repay that,” Mrs. Wafa said, and gave Nahida a big hug, right there on the steps of the palace. Then she stood as Nahida slipped her hand into hers, looking up at the building. “You’ve made some changes to the place, I see.”

“I find Brutalist Architecture to have its place, but I much prefer Organic myself,” Nahida said, looking up at the reimagined palace happily. 

A week ago, the Al Zaqura Palace had been a blocky concrete structure that looked a bit like an ancient ziggurat. Nahida had taken one look at the building and decided that a change was in order. She hadn’t rebuilt the palace, but instead spent several hours turning it into what was being called the New Hanging Gardens. 

Now greenery sprouted from every level of the building, and each window. Flowers of a myriad of colors made intricate designs, and tasteful vines accentuated some lines of the building while blurring others. At the top, a broad tree of a previously unknown type that Nahida labeled as a Karmaphala Tree. The result was that Al Zaqura now looked like a living mountain, transformed from an artificial blocky slab into a true work of natural art. 

Together, Mrs. Wafa and Nahida entered into the palace, catching looks from many of the delegates. Most nodded respectfully to Nahida and her escort, stepping aside and bowing to the newly recognized Dendro Archon. Others were curious or politely neutral, but a small minority scowled or muttered their outrage that a woman with her face uncovered and a little barefoot girl were allowed at a meeting of such import. 

Nahida heard all of their words, whether she was meant to or not, and tried not to let the disparaging remarks weigh her down. It hurt her more deeply than she cared to admit even to herself to hear such hateful things from her children. Not as much about herself, she still doubted she was truly worthy or ready to assume this mantle, but about Mrs. Wafa. She was a wonderful woman who not only treasured education, but put the needs of her students before herself, working long tireless hours with little funding or resources to provide the best education possible she could to the girls in her care. 

“Stand tall, Nahida. Don’t let them see you flinch. Be proud of who you are,” Mrs. Wafa said quietly, squeezing Nahida’s hand. She started, looking up at her teacher, but Mrs. Wafa had her eyes forward, a confident smile on her face as she strode forward with purpose. 

“Yes,” Nahida said, forcing herself to walk with confidence. She didn’t let go of Mrs. Wafa’s hands, and she took strength from her teacher’s strong hands. 

Even if she’d only had about an hour of class, she had learned a lot from Mrs. Wafa. 

They came now to the main chamber, which was rapidly filling with delegates. Farasha sat with her feet on the table at one of the upper benches, until Nahida shot a frown at her. With a chuckle she lowered her legs, but then leaned back in her chair so it teetered on two legs. Apparently, it would take Nahida some time to properly educate her mother on dignified comportment. 

At the highest seat stood Grandpa Ali, who smiled and came down to kiss Mrs. Wafa on both cheeks, before taking Nahida up to a stool just above and behind his seat. Nahida frowned at it, then picked up the stool and carried it down a step and set it to the right. “You’re the Interim President, Grandfather. Iraq must be led by mortals, not by me.”

“If you’re certain,” Grandpa Ali said with a dry chuckle. “I thought I got out of politics three years ago. And yet, here I am again. I was City Manager in Basra for twenty-five years, but I never saw myself becoming President.”

“You’ll do an excellent job.” Nahida pulled a sheaf of papers out of the satchel she held at her side, and passed several to her grandfather. “Here, I made a few adjustments. Specifically, I’d like to enshrine the right for education through the equivalent of highschool for all, regardless of socioeconomic status, religious affiliation, gender, or anything else we haven’t considered yet. There are some other things, but they’re not as important.”

“Hmm, and what of the restoration of the House of Wisdom you had mentioned?” Grandpa Ali asked, looking over his glasses at Nahida and raising his bushy eyebrows. 

“That is… that’s something just for me, really. I would so love to have a new repository of learning, and a place to share my knowledge on various subjects, but I felt it would be too presumptuous to enshrine in the Constitution,” Nahida said nervously, collapsing her hands together tightly. 

“Well, I can certainly make it a priority. I think we can find something in the budget for that, especially with your proposals to transform more oil fields into Dendro fields. I do notice a lack of yourself in this constitution. Will you take no role in the government?”

“No, I am of a mind with Lord Barbatos: Mortals must govern themselves,” Nahida said with a quick shake of her head. “I can advise, and I won’t hide myself as he does, but I really am still a child by the reckoning of my… kind? I don’t think species is the right word… anyway, that’s why I will be here, listening.”

And ensuring no brawls broke out. Nahida was adverse to the idea of actively mind controlling anyone, but she had decided that promoting tranquility and civility by networking everyone and sending them dreams of peace was acceptable, especially when so much was on the line. Not just the future of Iraq, but the salvation of the world itself. 

Dr. Bashir took his place next to Farasha, smiling and nodding to Nahida as he did so, and she waved happily to him, then sat quietly on her stool as the Constitutional Convention began. It would be a messy process, with spirited debate and many arguments. The issues would be thorny, and not easily resolved. But they would be resolved, with wisdom and harmony. Life would prevail, for it must. 

So Nahida sat back on her stool, eagerly listening as history was made, recording the events in her heart for when she discussed these historic days with future scholars. 

For she had taken her place as the Dendro Archon. And it was good. 

Author’s Note: 

We’re going to be heading into the next round of interludes, and then the next Archon appears. I hope you all brought cake. 

Sapientia Oromasdis 18: Dream of the Future 

Sapientia Oromasdis 18: Dream of the Future 

Beta’d and edited by The Grand Cogitator, October Daye, Dr_Feelgood, and Philosophysics

“Thank you, thank you, you’ve been a wonderful audience!” Lord Barbatos said, waving happily to the cheering crowd. He beamed at Nahida, then bowed to her. “And let’s give a big hand to our hostess this evening and the girl of the hour, Lord Buer!” 

There was scattered applause and a few confused looks, until Naomi leaned into the microphone and clarified, “He means Nahida.” 

That brought wild cheers and jubilant ululations from the audience, much to Nahida’s embarrassment. 

“Now, I think it’s time for gifts for the birthday girl!” Barbatos said, which made Nahida both giddy with curiosity and a bit worried. The Lord of Winds had a reputation as more than a bit of tricksters, and Nahida had to wonder what he was going to do. 

With a flourish, Barbatos produced a purple flower from nowhere that had Nahida gasp in delight. She had Farasha lift her up, then scrambled up on stage to accept the potted plant. 

“A Sumerian Rose,” Barbatos explained, kneeling beside her. “A bit of home for you.”

“It’s not home anymore,” Nahida told him, accepting the plant and hugging it tightly. “But thank you. I will treasure the memories.”

“And from Mondstadt…” Another plant appeared in a swirl of winds, and this time, Nahida could sense the Anemo energy within it. “Dandelion seeds. May the winds ever bring you freedom.” 

“Thank you, Lord Barbatos,” Nahida said, and attempted to bow, only to find a hand on her shoulders. 

“You brought freedom to your people, and these are your lands. Here, you bow to no one,” Barbatos said quietly. “And please, it’s just Venti.” 

Blushing, Nahida smiled shyly and nodded, barely able to believe what was happening. This was no simple mortal, nor was he just a regular god. This was the Bane of Tyrants, the Lord of Winds, the God of Freedom, the one who had reshaped Mondstadt to ease his people’s way, and one of the seven victors of the Archon War. He was everything she aspired to become one day. 

“Thank you,” she whispered softly, then on impulse, gave Barbatos a hug. He chuckled and gave her a squeeze back. Then he stood up and waved. “Well, that’s our set, but stick around, I hear there will be cake!” 

They were out in the orchards again, with a stage set in the middle for the show, and tables of food all around them. People began to talk and circulate, but Nahida remained on the stage with Barbatos for a moment. “I think the time has come for us to talk. I hate to leave the party early, but I can use the excuse that it is past my bedtime.”

That got an amused look from Barbatos. “I suppose for the responsible sorts, it is, but do you really constrain yourself to a bedtime? The night air is so refreshing, and the stars are out in the skies, even if we cannot see them!”

Nahida frowned up at the hidden stars, thinking of the false sky of her homeland. “Yes. I’ll have to do something about the light pollution. It is not well that the stars be hidden from us, for it would obscure our fates. And yet, mankind must have a light in the darkness to lead them on. Is that not what our role is?”

“Hmm, perhaps for you. Me? I’m just a leaf on the wind, blown as the breeze may take me,” Barbatos laughed. 

“You do yourself a disservice. Did you not root out the fascists from your own land, and restore peace and freedom?” Nahida asked. 

Barbtos nodded, but his expression was melancholic. “I had a helping hand with that. But I was too late for Cologne. It seems you and Beezelbul were able to be there for your people in their hour of need. I was… tardy.”

“You saved them from Khonsu, and it was not in our hands when we arrived,” Nahida pointed out. “Do you know who called us here?”

“Not a clue, I’m afraid. I take it you’re as baffled as Beezie and I are,” Barbatos chuckled. “Speaking of, I think it’s time we had that talk. Let’s find Keiga and Ami.”

They found Ami with a crowd of teens and children, standing on a table and recounting what Nahida was fairly sure were grossly exaggerated versions of her own exploits. 

“-and then, in the hour of twilight, I raised my sword against Maou the Golden, calling forth the sacred art of the Musou no Hitotachi my mother taught me! I struck him a mighty blow, and I thought he would perish! But nay! Only a thin line of golden blood did a draw! And Lo, the King of Demons was wroth, and would have smote me-”

“Mistress, Lord Buer and Lord Barbatos are here to speak with you,” Murasaki interrupted, appearing next to Ami’s left ear. 

“Huh?” Ami spun about, then spied the two archons. She blushed, then bowed to her audience. “My faithful friends, I am afraid I am called away! But fear not! You may hear more of my LEGENDARY EXPLOITS in the autobiographical account of Lightning Princess Ami, produced by Studio Madhouse!” 

There was enthusiastic applause as Ami hopped down, then hurried over. “Yes, my Lords?”

“We would speak with Beezelbul, can you contact her?” Nahida asked. 

Ami put a hand to her chest, and nodded seriously. “I bear my mother’s sword. She eagerly awaits your word.”

Interesting. Nahida reached out gingerly, and noted something shocking: Ami was an Allogene. She hadn’t embodied an aspect yet, and she had no Vision, but a great deal of power was invested in her, and not just the energies of the demons. Divine Belief was slowly infusing the girl. It hadn’t yet reached a critical mass, but it was growing. If she did receive a Vision, it would only be another short step before the girl achieved apotheosis. 

Combine that with the Hydro and Electro Dragons, along with the one known as Tsukoyomi…what a fascinating set of circumstances. 

Nahida had already thought of a lot of questions she wanted to ask, but now she had even more. 

“Then let us adjourn to the palace. Keiga already waits there. Go to your bedrooms, and lie down. I will summon you into my sanctum within the Dream,” Nahida told them. 

“Dream magic!?” Ami gasped, looking eager. “Is it like the Realm of Euthymia?!” 

“Similar in concept, but not in execution,” Nahida agreed. 

“OK, but I’m so excited, I don’t know how I’ll fall asleep!” Ami said, clenching her hands into fists and grinning.

Nahida considered, then looked to Murasaki. “Can you carry her?”

“Of course,” the little Demon… no… no, that wasn’t quite right. He was no longer properly a Demon. He was a spirit, and one unswervingly loyal to Ami and by extension Raiden unless Nahida was very wrong in her estimation of him. 

“Huh, what do you-” Ami began, then Nahida stood on her tiptoes and pressed a finger to Ami’s forehead. Her eyes rolled up in her head, and Ami slumped back as Murasaki caught her, shifting into his Kirin form, and then gently tugging the snoring princess onto his back. 

After that, Nahida led the small party back to the palace and went to her room, where she found an exhausted Qiqi already snoring, her thumb tucked in her mouth. She smiled and pulled a blanket over her sister, then lay down on the bed herself, and slipped into the Dream. 

Stepping into the Dream version of Baghdad was fascinating. In only a short time, the city had undergone a drastic change. Gone were the mostly utilitarian mud brick and mortar houses, the cracked pavement, and the somewhat clogged and polluted waterways. Instead, a living city made of houses that had been sung to life sprouted amidst giant mushrooms and enormous trees. The streets were now paved with smooth stones, and the waters pristine and clear. The whole city teemed with life, and at this hour, many of its citizens. 

Nahida could see the old and the young alike walking through their dreams, or in some cases soaring, as fantastical creatures and bright lights illuminated the streets. Unlike Sumeru City, the people of Baghdad dreamed, and for now, their dreams were mostly bright and joyous. 

“Interesting architecture! Reminds me of when I visited Port Ormos oh, two or three thousand years ago!” 

Whirling, Nahida found Venti sitting on the roof, strumming a guitar and gazing out at the land below. “It’s not yet a reality, but it is what I dream of building. A land and people in harmony with one another.”

“So, you’d give up on the wonders of modern technology?” Venti mused, plucking out a hauntingly familiar tune. Nahida placed it instantly: an old Eremite lullaby. 

“Technology is wonderful in many ways, but I must confess, I doubt its efficacy in giving people a better life.” Nahida turned back, then opened a window to peer into the waking Baghdad. Cars rumbled by as they spewed out poison, and electric lights blotted out the starry sky. “There are many things to keep and learn from, but at the same time, I think we should focus more on community and health than simple efficiency or productivity.” 

“Well said,” Venti laughed, then hopped down to stand on the balcony beside Nahida. He leaned on it, a melancholic smile on his lips. “I wonder about my own lands. How much to guide and steer them towards a future where they are truly free, and not bound up by machines. It’s a careful path to tread, but I’ll try to ease my children’s way along it, much as you plan to do.” 

“There are other plans to address first,” Nahida said, her mind flinching away from the dreadful future she foresaw. “But for that, we should consult Beelzebul as well.” 

“After you,” Barbatos agreed, and Nahida led him through the twisting palace corridors, straight lines rarely existed in dreams, and into a room that held a twilight mansion. 

Dark violet clouds hung in a twilight sky, as lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. A dark gothic mansion with a hundred windows filled with smoky light sat atop a dark mountain peak, with flocks of ravens nestling along the eves. 

“MWAHAHAHAHA!” 

In a crackle of thunder, a flock of ravens dove down and then dissolved into Ami, now wearing a gothic lolita dress with lacy frills and long sleeves and an eyepatch over the opposite eye from earlier. “Welcome, strangers from afar, to the Immernachtreich! I am the Prinzessen des Blitzen, Ami Von Raiden! Do you come to participate in the Midnight Phantasmagoria?”

Behind Ami, Murasaki appeared in his smaller form, dressed in a little butler uniform with a monocle and tophat. “Mein Fraulein, these are the Archons who have come to speak with your mother.” 

“Hmm?” Ami blinked, then suddenly went bright red, and if Nahida hadn’t acted quickly, the entire dream would have destabilized. “O-Oh! Um, I forgot. Er, this, um, I just…”

“You have a rather astounding command of the Dream,” Nahida told her. “You must have been practicing with Beezelbul.”

“Oh!” Looking relieved, Ami nodded hastily. “Yes! I have been! I was, er, practicing just now…”

“Rather impressive practicing, if I do say so myself. Out of curiosity, do you know anyone named Fischl?” Barbatos asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“But of course! She is one of my handmaidens, who leads my band of assassin maids in- Er, I mean…” Ami coughed. “She’s, uh, a character in a book I’m, er, reading…”

“Well, when you finish it, I’d love to read it sometime,” Nahida said, which just made poor Ami blush even deeper. “But come, the Hydro Dragon awaits us, and even in the Dream we have only so long.”

The next room they entered was a bright and sunlit cove, reminiscent of Okinawa, with sandy beaches, and a colorful reef teeming with life. The Hydro Dragon sat on the beach in her human form, along with Tessa, while Bailu splashed about in a tidepool, two little inflatable water wings on her arms. That amused Nahida, because every so often, Bailu would flutter her arms and actually fly up into the sky a short ways before giggling and dropping herself into the water as her tail wagged excitedly. 

Upon seeing the others, Keiga and Tessa stood, bowing to the Archons. “My Lords, Princess. Is it time?”

“Yes, but I think we should meet here, within your domain,” Nahida told Keiga. “And you should remain as well, Tessa. I think perhaps it is time I explained to you my plans for you, and what being the Dendro Sovereign means.”

“Dendro King? But… I’m just a girl from St. Johns,” Tessa protested. 

“Aren’t you a robot?” Ami asked, frowning. “I don’t think you were ever just a girl like me.”

“You’re barely mortal yourself now,” Barbatos said, ruffling Ami’s hair and making her squawk in protest. While no one had been looking, he’d changed into a Hawaiian shirt and board shorts, with a straw hat and sunglasses, and a pair of green flip-flops on his feet. Nahida was sporting a sun dress and wide-brimmed hat herself, though her feet were bare as she preferred. 

“Huh? I mean, yes! I am the Lightning Princess, she who will one day inherit my mother's kingdom!” Ami declared, posing on one foot, and nearly toppling over in the sand before she windmilled her arms and managed to right herself with Murasaki’s help. 

“Then let us adjourn to the tent,” Keiga said, motioning to a pavilion with tables that had appeared on the grassy bank just above the sand. She glanced at her daughter, then nodded to herself as a pair of dolphins appeared in the shallows, clicking as they watched over Bailu, who squealed in delight and ran over to ride one of them. 

They all walked over to the tent, Nahida sitting beside Tessa, who looked embarrassed that she was wearing nothing but a bikini. She concentrated for a few moments and managed to get herself a sundress and hat, beaming proudly at the accomplishment. Keiga changed into a more formal kimono of pink and blue with patterns of fish and foamy waves upon it, then took a seat beside Ami, who was still in her overly fancy dress. 

“Thank you for all coming to visit me,” Nahida said, automatically taking control of the situation. They were, after all, in her lands, even if this was Keiga’s Dream. “I apologize for not making myself known earlier, but it took me some time to fully grasp the situation I found myself in.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it! It was pretty weird when I woke up in an alley in Munich. I wasn’t even drunk at the time,” Barbatos said with a wave of his hand. 

“No apology is necessary, Lord Buer,” Keiga said with a slight bow. “My mistress is grateful for your presence and wishes to offer an alliance. There are, however, some terms we must discuss.”

“Oh!” Ami sat up straight. “Should, um, should I get her? My mom, I mean.”

Nahida nodded, and Ami screwed up her face in concentration. Then, taking a deep breath, she shoved her hand right at her sternum, sucking in a sharp breath as she did so. To Ami’s apparent relief, her hand sank into her flesh, then drew forth a crackling blade. As she did so, Ami’s eyes glowed with purple lighting, and her expression suddenly shifted. Her muscles relaxed, and she didn't slouch in her seat so much as she no longer was so stiff and formal. The sword came all the way out, and Raiden laid the blade across her lap. 

“Lord Buer. We meet at last. Though I suppose you are not the Buer I would have known in my world, nonetheless, I greet you. How fares Teyvat?” The voice was still Ami’s, but the diction was more monotone and antiquated—that of an ancient of days, not an exuberant child of the modern age. 

“It was well, last I recall. Pardon, but did you imply that we are from different versions of Teyvat?” Nahida asked, suddenly very interested. “I had not received word that the Raiden Shogun had vanished, but she was only a puppet last I recall, and I don’t think the true Electro Archon had been seen in years, not since shortly after I manifested.”

“Indeed.” Beezelbul nodded to Barbatos, who winked at her. “We two are from different realities: he recalls the Traveler being male, I, female. Do you remember which of the Descender Twins visited you?”

“Descender Twins?” Nahida shook her head slowly. “I recall no such beings visiting Sumeru. The year was 504 AC, what was it for you?”

“Ah, it was 513 for me,” Barbatos broke in. “The Traveler wouldn’t have appeared for some years.”

“Hmm. For me, it was the year 2215 by the Imperial Calendar, in the month of Sakura,” Beezelbul said with a nod. That would have been 514 Moraxi by the New Calender. “Fascinating. The question is then, why the differing times?”

“That is not something I have been able to determine. Do you know why we were sent here?” Nahida asked, looking to her elders. 

Barbatos shrugged and grinned sheepishly, but Raiden nodded. “We were needed.”

“Eh, good an answer as any I suppose,” Barbatos commented, sipping loudly out of a coconut with a bright red bendy straw. By the scent, the drink contained rather copious amounts of alcohol. Nahida frowned at him, and Barbatos winked. She sighed but supposed in a dream at least, she wouldn’t forbid alcohol. Even if it was a useless toxin that Allah had been wise to prohibit. 

“For now, it will suffice,” Nahida agreed. She hesitated a moment, then said, “I do suppose the Simurgh, Leviathan, and Khonsu were great needs, but…”

“They are not the enemy. Merely his pawns,” Raiden said, and thunder rumbled overhead as Ami’s features twisted into a snarl of rage. Even here in the Dream, the Wrath of the Electro Archon was palpable, even through a mere projection. 

“Her pawns,” Nahida said softly. “The Warrior is but one half of a pair, though he is the larger threat.”

“Oh?” Barbatos set down his drink, and Raiden leaned forward in clear interest. 

Nahida looked to Tessa and Keiga, but they were already listening raptly. Tessa looked mildly confused, but Keiga was grim and clearly knew more than she had set so far. Nahida decided to elucidate for Tessa’s benefit and to fully lay her cards on the table. 

“Eight days ago, shortly after I confronted the Angel of Death, the being known as Scion appeared in my city,” Nahida began. Immediately, Keiga’s expression darkened, while Raiden’s assumed the sort of serenity that one only saw at the eye of the storm. Barbatos looked no less disgusted, outright throwing down his drink, but none interrupted her. “It was at this point that the Warrior revealed himself fully to me, and I grasped his true purpose.

“For you see, there were once two beings. They were not gods, but of a strange race of Demons that propagated themselves amongst the stars. They are like a swarm of locusts, devouring all they see, and ruining all they find, in an endless quest to endlessly multiply until there is naught left but their own kind in the entire cosmos.

“But like locusts, these creatures lacked all ingenuity and creative spark. They are utterly without connection to the Dream, and they cannot create, only destroy. Because of this, they seek out worlds upon which there are living things that possess intellect and wisdom, that the locusts might steal and devour themselves.

“In the process of doing this, a cycle that has repeated itself ten times ten thousand times, the locusts realized something: Time and space are finite, as is energy. At some point, their mad quest to spread themselves without ceasing must come to an end, as all things must. Against this natural order, the locusts have rebelled. Now they seek not just to multiply, but to find a way to create unlimited space and energy, so that they may continue their propagation without end, destroying even time itself in their pursuit to further their own kind.”

“Madness,” Raiden hissed, her expression still serene. The thunder and lightning that flickered all around them now told the true story: Beezelbul was beyond wrath now, for this went against everything she stood for. “This is Eternity itself perverted.” 

“I don’t think she’s come to the worst part yet,” Barbatos said grimly. No longer garbed in a tropical shirt, he was clad in green hunting leathers, a bow on his back, a hurricane in the quiver at his side.  “Please, continue.”

Sniffling, Nahida found she was weeping now, and Tessa put her arms around Nahida to comfort her. “I… saw all this. And more. It seems that the locusts travel in a mated pair. One that seeks to harvest all information upon a world, before using the life there as fuel for experimentation and hosts for their vile eggs. These are the Demons, the parasites that now plague our children. They grant them power, but at a price. A terrible price, as I know you have seen. But I fear it is even more terrible than that: their bodies, their souls, they will be fuel to spawn a thousand demons each, before the land itself is consumed as fuel, and a new swarm is birthed in chaos and destruction, flinging itself once more across the stars.” 

“But we have met only the male. The female has fallen. So we are given a stay of execution,” Beezelbul said, her eyes narrowing. “Are we not?”

“No,” Barbatos growled, his eyes glowing green as winds whipped the waves outside their tent, though the structure itself was still and the grave. “I think I know where this is going. But it is your tale to tell, if you can.”

“I… I can,” Nahida agreed, closing her eyes as Tessa’s arms squeezed tighter. “The female… she called herself Thinker. A perverse name, for she had neither thought nor wisdom. But she was cunning. Somehow, in coming to this world, there was a mishap. She was killed, destroyed. The male, who calls himself Warrior, was despondent. He had no love for his mate, but without her, he could not fulfill his purpose. He could not complete their Cycle of Propagation. And so, he fell into despair.”

Raiden’s eyes widened in sudden horror. “Until he met me.” 

“Yes. You were the first hint that perhaps not all was lost, that the Cycle could continue,” Nahida agreed, and shuddered at what she had seen in the King of Demon’s mind. “But he recognized you as a fellow Warrior. Not a Thinker. Still, he began to awaken. And then… then he met me.”

“No!” Tessa gasped, hugging Nahida tightly. “No, I won’t allow it! Nahida, you’re not saying-”

“Peace. Please, let me finish,” Nahida hiccuped, though tears were now streaming down her face. “He… he saw me, and he called me Thinker. He saw that I am the Branch of Irminsol, that I have become the True Tree of Life for this world. And… and he attempted to… to m-mate with me.”

An echoing boom of thunder nearly blew the tent over as Raiden hovered in the air, her face a mask of fury. HE WOULD DARE TO VIOLATE A CHILD!? 

BUER IS NO MERE CHILD. SHE IS ONE OF US, Barbatos said, the one called Venti was gone. No mere wind sprite, the thing that swirled in the tent and beyond it was a being to drive men to madness. He was no longer the playful bard, but the Bane of Tyrants. The fury of the Winds given form. BUT THIS IS A CRIME BEYOND ALL IMAGINING. 

The Hydro Dragon had taken on her massive draconic aspect, coiled about the tent protectively and rumbled threateningly, her child anxiously clinging to her scales, her sport forgotten. WE HAD ALREADY DETERMINED MAOU THE GOLDEN HAD TO DIE, BUT THIS IS WORSE THAN ANY CRIME I COULD HAVE IMAGINED. 

“There… there is some good news,” Nahida sniffed as Tessa squeezed her tightly, the Dendro Dragon’s own tears falling into Nahida’s hair. “His meeting with me… it has altered the Fate of this world. Before, the stars wrote that he would seek to destroy all Mankind within no more than a generation. Now… as much as centuries have been bought. It is a s-small price to pay.”

NO. IT IS AN UNACCEPTABLE PRICE. ONE THAT CAN BE REPAID ONLY IN BLOOD. Raiden decreed. It was odd, hearing the voice of a god out of the Electro Archon’s still mostly human daughter. Nahida did worry that Ami could still hear what was said, for she was very young still. 

YOUR SACRIFICE WILL NOT BE IN VAIN, LORD BUER, BUT WE WILL NOT ALLOW SUCH TO COME TO PASS AGAIN. The winds roared, fury in their every hissing breath. 

“If I can do anything to help my people… I will do it,” Nahida vowed. 

“Not that,” Tessa told her firmly. “Never that, Nahida. Some prices are too high.”

Nahida privately disagreed. What was her own life or virtue set against all of mankind? One for the world her family and loved ones lived in?

WE WILL SEEK HIM OUT, AND END THIS SO-CALLED KING OF DEMONS, Raiden stated, her sword bare in her hands now. 

“No!” Nahida shook her head, trying to wipe away her tears. “That will end only in disaster! He is strong! Nearly unimaginably so! Even if the three of us, the dragons, and all our children were to face him at once… our odds of success would be no better than 15.78%. Rounded up. Even then… in most scenarios… we suffer grievous losses, and the world is irreparably damaged.”

HE HAS YET TO FACE THE LIGHTNING’S GLOW. MANY A GOD HAVE I SLAIN BEFORE, Raiden snarled, her sword clutched in her hands. 

HEED HER WORDS. BUER IS WISDOM. CAUTION IS NEEDED. BESIDES: THIS COMES TO ANOTHER POINT WE MUST DISCUSS, Barbatos stated, his winds slowly gentling. 

Raiden was silent for a moment, her thunder echoing loudly. Then, slowly, she sank back into her chair, resting her sword on her lap. “Very well. I will heed caution for now. But if that monster so much as touches Buer again…”

“Then we will reconsider,” Barabatos agreed, a drink appearing in his hand, this time in a horn cup. He was dressed now as a bard once more, but he hadn’t put away his bow nor his quiver. 

The Hydro Dragon still looked furious, but she had returned to her mortal guise and was comforting her crying babe. She stood behind her mistress, eyes flashing, but she was content to listen. For the moment. 

“The others,” Nahida agreed, speaking what they were all thinking. 

“Others?” Tessa asked, looking around. “There are more? Wait, don’t tell me… there’s seven. Like in the game.”

“Indeed,” Barbatos agreed, grinning cheekily and sipping his drink. “I put that out as a hint. Well, for me, it was practically screaming the answer! Good to know at least some people are paying attention.”

“Hmm.” Raiden looked dubious but nodded. “At the very least, it would be good to have Morax and Murata. They are skilled in the art of war.”

“I wouldn’t count out Dantalion or Focalors,” Barbatos said with a slow shake of his head. “They are young, but Dantilion is cunning, and Focalors seemed to be playing against Heaven itself as well. I wasn’t there to see the end of their game, but…”

“Dantalion is a fool,” Raiden said with a snort. 

“I’m sorry, but… Dantalion?” Nahida looked back and forth, worried. “That is not the name of the Cryo Archon I know…”

“Truly?” Barbatos looked intrigued, leaning back in his chair. “Well, then there is more than one difference between our worlds. Still, the Cryo Archon is the Tsaritsa still?”

When Nahida nodded, he shrugged. “Well, either way, the Mistress of Snezhnaya would be a powerful ally, for she is a terrible foe. And if she has the gnosis…”

“You…you do not have your gnosis?” Nahida asked, shocked. That was the symbol of the Archon’s Throne, though not its power in entirety. Through a Gnosis, an Archon could render great works indeed.

“I never took up the Gnosis once Makoto passed it to me,” Raiden said with a shrug. “This fool seems to have lost his in a drinking game.”

“Well, it wasn’t quite like that, but, ah, I did give it into the care of the Tsaritsa. For I too wished to see certain tyrants fall,” Barbatos explained. 

“Interesting… then I am the only one so far in possession of mine,” Nahida mused. She looked up at Tessa and smiled. “Or at least, you have it. It is good that a Dragon once more bears their Authority.”

“Yeah… I’m still confused about that,” Tessa admitted. She reached into her chest, plucking out the emerald chess piece. “What is this, anyway?”

“Power and Authority, stolen from the Dendro Sovereign, Apep. It’s not all that makes an Archon, but it does represent a significant amount of power,” Nahida explained. “I gave it to you so that if the King of Demons does return, my people will not be without defense.” 

“The Gnosi were forged by Celestia, Heaven, after they had subdued the original Dragon Sovereigns of Teyvat and took away their powers,” Barbatos agreed. 

“They are a poisoned gift. Only a fool would rely on them,” Raiden stated. She nodded to Buer. “It is good to see you understand their… limitations.”

“A poisoned gift is a good word for them,” Nahida agreed. “But in the hands of their rightful holders, they could be a great asset once more.”

“Well, I’m not the rightful holder! You should take it back!” Tessa urged, offering the chess piece to Nahida. 

“No! It’s yours now. Keep it, and use it. It would be good for the Authority of Dendro to once more be divided between Gods, Dragons, and Mortals. Some may even receive a Vision if their Ambition aligns with yours. You will know when you have given one, though it is but a mote of your power, it is still noticeable,” Nahida told Tessa. 

Keiga shifted, glancing at Raiden. “You call me the Hydro Dragon. What does that mean?”

For a moment, Raiden only regarded her blade. At last, she spoke. “It was my intention to restore divinity to these lands. At first, I did not think I would see my peers arrive here. And from the first, I knew the Sustainer to be a grave threat to Eternity. I did not know the depths of his depravity, nor the full extent of his plans, but I could read the Fate of this world easily enough, and see that he was the one who brought about its destruction in only a handful of years. Thus, I began to forge weapons to fight him. Weapons such as yourself. And…” Raiden closed her eyes, then put a hand over her own heart. “... and my daughters. May Heaven judge me rightly for my sins.”

Keiga digested this for a moment, then looked down at her sleeping child on her shoulder. “It was your right. I am your sworn liege woman. And you say… Scion will destroy the world?”

“Inevitably,” Barbatos agreed, his expression stormy again. “I have searched through Time and fate, but found no way around it. It has been pushed back, but… still, it looms. Two lifetimes of a mortal man. No more.”

“And so many ways for it to come to pass much sooner,” Nahida said with a shudder. “It is why I was forced to act against Saddam. He was an obstacle to the path that could best lead to victory over Fate itself.”

“Fate has adjusted itself each time one of us arrives. By my reckoning, the hour draws near for the next to appear,” Raiden said, looking around at Nahida and Barbatos. “The question is this, then: Who next shall appear? And where?”

“Morax will appear in China. Of that, I am nearly certain,” Barbatos said instantly. “The Tsaritsa in Russia. The others, I am not so certain, but I have my suspicions.”

Raiden frowned again. “Such forthrightness is not like you.”

“None here are mortal, not even your daughter,” Barbatos said with a shrug. “We are all gods and dragons. Freedom as a concept does not apply to us. I do not worry that I will somehow impinge on mortal will, for what greater violation of their freedom could there be than death and domination?”

“A fair point, but you are ever one with a glib tongue and a taste for mischief. Has this then finally caused even your patience to reach its limits?” Raiden demanded. 

Barbatos chuckled humorlessly. “You were there the last time I was wroth, Beezie. Well. Do you remember what happened?”

“The world is still scarred by what you did to Decarabian. And it is telling that none other arose to challenge you for the Anemo Throne,” Raiden responded. “Good. I detest such games. Let us be forthright with one another. I have forged many weapons, seeking one that could destroy the Sustainer, but I have yet to find one.”

“One exists. I will be founding a school, and though I hate to focus on weapons of war… we shall research such things,” Nahida promised. “He seems to have little awareness or control over the Dream, and lacks any divine aspect. These are weaknesses we can exploit, though they are subtle.”

“Subtlety has never been my way,” Raiden said with a grimace of distaste. “But such methods do seem preferable to direct conflict. I will bow to your wisdom in this matter, though I shall not cease my search for a blade that could end this in a stroke.”

“What about turning the hearts of the Parasites? You’ve had some success in that,” Barbatos pointed out. 

Nahida nodded, then sighed. “Yes, but there are more demons than there are grains of sand on a beach. I could turn perhaps a dozen of them a day. If I had a thousand years, it would still not be enough, and the King of Demons could decide to end the world tomorrow. I will continue the work, but I must be cautious. For if I turn too many…”

“An avenue that leads to a dead end then. But continue down it nonetheless. I have stalked and killed several of the abominations and suborned others. They are disgusting creatures, but some have shown their loyalty,” Raiden stated and nodded to the corner where Murasaki had been sitting very still. 

“I serve my mistress now, Lord Ei,” the little spirit stated firmly. “You forced me on this path, but now, I walk it gladly. Given the choice now, I would choose Ami and yourself again and again. I will do everything in my power to aid Ami.”

“And what of the dead female, the Thinker?” Nahida asked. “I met one who had a fragment of her within them. It was… disturbing. It was placed there intentionally, I think.”

“The Yankees,” Raiden spat, her lips curling in a sneer of distaste. “They are reckless fools would would bring the grim fate of Khaenri'ah upon their own heads.” 

“Khaenri'ah was mighty before she was laid low. There is potential there,” Barbatos argued. 

“It’s a path of foolishness and madness. I will try to dissuade them,” Nahida said with a shake of her head. “She is no better than a dead god, and twice as corrosive to the soul. She should be left in peace, and we should be grateful she perished. If we could learn how…”

They talked and planned for long hours, until the sun rose. Then, Nahida bid them all farewell, and stepped out of the dream. She sat up in her bed, then went over to the window, and looked out at the sky as dawn painted it in bright colors. 

“The world is yet full of wonder,” Nahida whispered to herself. “As long as there is one person who yet dreams… there is hope.”

She smiled, and looked over at Qiqi, who still snored. She was not alone now. She had a family, and she had somehow been accepted as an equal by Barbatos and Beezelbul. She knew she wasn’t worthy.

But she would find a way somehow, anyway. 

Author's Note:

Thanks to everyone who voted in the poll! We will be having three interlude chapters after the next chapter, which is the final Nahida chapter of her initial arc. Chapter 74 will debut the new Archon.

Second Archon War: Interludes

It's been a while since we had a poll, and I apologize. Work caught up to me, and I still owe several of those. The plan is to do them over the summer, as I am mostly taking off the summer as patreon has provided me with enough extra income for fun stuff, as well as work on my health.

This poll, however, is about the Second Archon War. Quite simply, do you want there to be two or three interludes between Nahida's section and the next Archon? The first interlude has been mostly written, and is entitled Justice for All. It focuses on the Archons, and how they handle justice and the legal system in their lands. The next planned interlude features Taylor and the magical situation globally, IE, Enlightened Beasts and such popping up across Earth Bet. There is potential for a third interlude, which would be entirely focused on ordinary people and how they live their lives. The question for you all this this: Would you rather get a third interlude focused on muggles and what their lives are like, or would you prefer to go straight into the next Archon?

Poll will end on the 17th.

The Second Archon War: Carmen Dei 24

Carmen Dei 24: In the Presence of Mine Enemies 

Beta’d and Edited by October Daye, The Grand Cogitator, Dr_Feelgood, and Philosophysics. 

There had been many terrifying moments in Naomi’s life in the past few years. Coming face to face with an Angel of the Lord for the first time. Facing down literal Nazis in an all out battle for survival. Then battling against an Endbringer, and thinking she was definitely going to diedefinitely going to die. 

Frankly, none of them had even come close to what she had to do now. She glanced at Capri and squeezed her wife’s hand, hard. 

“I can knock if you want me to,” Capri said quietly. 

“No,” Naomi said firmly, raising her hand. “I’ll do it.” She rapped hard, three times. And braced herself. 

A minute or so later, the door swung open and a sense of relief flooded through Naomi as a smile bloomed on her face. “Hello, Papa. How are you?” 

Moshe Cohen blinked owlishly in the sunlight for a moment, his eyes large behind his oversized spectacles. He’d aged greatly in the years since Naomi had last seen him, and it broke her heart she hadn’t been there to see it. He was balder now, with thin wisps of hair poking out from a liver-spotted scalp. And he looked… withered. Tired. As if age had finally caught up with him. He was in his late 50s, but the last few years hadn’t been kind to him. 

For a horrible, heart wrenching moment, Naomi saw only confusion in her father’s eyes. Would he not recognize her? Or worse, if he did, would he reject her? She hadn’t called ahead, hadn’t even known her parent’s number, or their address. But Venti had. He’d told her where to go, and when, and she’d gone. Now, if only he’d told her want to say. 

Then a smile bloomed on her father’s face, and Moshe tottered forward to wrap Naomi in a warm embrace. “Naomi! My prodigal daughter returns!” He beamed up at her, which was new. Age had shrunken him, and he had a stoop that hadn’t been there before, making him shorter than she was. He kissed her on both cheeks though, and she blushed and smiled. 

“I… I don’t know if you got the wedding announcement, but-”

“I’m Capri. Her wife.” Capri pushed herself forward and did her best to smile. “You remember? You, uh, caught us in bed together that one time…”

“Ah, yes.” Moshe looked Capri up and down, and Naomi felt like she was going to be sick again. Then her father leaned forward and asked, “Did you kill as many of those paskudnik Nazis as I heard?”

Taken slightly aback, Capri grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “Well, I mean, you sort of lose count after your first dozen or so, but really it’s probably not as many as they say.”

Moshe beamed and clapped Capri on the shoulders before hugging her as well. “I always dreamed my daughter would marry a big strong one who could chop up Nazis! I always dreamed about it as a boy. Come inside, come inside, please!” 

Her father hurried ahead of them, and Naomi took a deep breath, then stepped across the threshold, Capri right behind her. 

It was a luxurious penthouse condo in downtown Tel Aviv, one of the wealthiest spots in the city. The decor screamed her mother, but not in the way Naomi would have expected. Instead of fashionable postmodernist art on the walls, there were more traditional wall hangings and landscape pictures, and unless Naomi’s art education failed her entirely, they were very expensive pieces. The brutalist furniture that Naomi had grown up with had been replaced with old hardwoods, and the fixtures were made of silver and bronze. 

Still extremely expensive, but embracing the past instead of the future. Odd, but not entirely unexpected. Her mother had always been a bit of a chameleon in her tastes, and apparently this was the fashionable way in Tel Aviv to show off that one was a woman of wealth and taste. The one thing that hadn’t changed was the wine selection: the very best French and Italian vintages, stored on a wooden rack in the kitchen. 

On the one hand, Naomi was glad Venti wasn’t here to plunder it. On the other, she rather relished the thought of her personal angel drinking his way through the most expensive bottles her mother could find the same as he would box wine from Germany.

Her father bustled about a bit  fixing a meal and chattering away about nothing as was his habit. Naomi only half heard him as she nervously looked around for her mother, but she was nowhere to be seen. It still felt like someone was staring at the back of Naomi’s head and sent shivers down her spine, but she smiled and nodded and responded as her father inquired about her “career”, mostly letting Capri do the talking. 

“I mean, basically we just road trip around Europe and play at dive bars in between taking out the occasional fascist asshole,” Capri said with a shrug as her father came back with a plate of expensive cheeses, dates, and some crackers. 

“I read about what you did in Hungary. Was the Prime Minister really sleeping with his aide?” Moshe asked, taking a seat at the table. 

Naomi nodded and grimaced. “Yes, he was quite the hypocrite. All that homophobic rhetoric, and the man had half a dozen male lovers.”

“You can find pics online, or you could. Venti said something about them not being appropriate for Buer, whatever that means,” Capri said, taking a handful of dates and popping them in her mouth. 

Her father chuckled and nodded, then turned serious. He took off his glasses, wiping them on his sleeve, a gesture he always made when he had something important to say and wanted to stall for time. Still holding his glasses in his left hand, he squinted at Naomi and said, “I wanted you to know… your mother and I still love you. And… and I give my blessing on your marriage.”

Tears filled Naomi’s eyes, and she felt like her heart would burst as she took her father’s right hand and squeezed it. “Thank you. Does… does mother…?”

Her father cleared his throat and put his glasses back on. “She is… well. You know. She does love you, but, well… she is stubborn.”

Dabbing at her eyes, Naomi had to laugh, because the other option was to break down in sobs. “And she still expects grandchildren, and for me to graduate from school, and become a well respected singer or actress that headlines at all the big theaters.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, she’s decided you are a well respected musician now. She was very proud when you won Eurovision last year. She had a party for the event, and told everyone you were her daughter,” her father said, giving her a lopsided grin. 

“And that wasn’t even our best performance,” Capri said with a grin, reaching for more food. Naomi’s father glanced at her curiously, and she clarified, “We didn’t even save any cities with that performance. Munich is a hell of a concert to top.”

“Ah, true,” Moshe agreed. He peered at Naomi and Capri, then frowned. “Have you been eating enough? You both look so thin…”

“She doesn’t eat enough, but check out these guns!” Capri quipped, flexing her arm and showing off her biceps. Naomi did have a healthy appreciation for her wife’s muscles, but her doing that in front of Moshe was still embarrassing. 

Moshe, being an academic who Naomi was fairly certain had never worked out a day in his life, made appreciative noises and commented on how they should be eating more. That was usually a role reserved for the matriarch, but he’d been the one to cook for as long as Naomi could remember. Her mother’s idea of cooking was to order takeout. Which was one reason Naomi prided herself on her culinary ability, meager though it was. 

Just then, Naomi sensed a shift in the wind, and turned towards the door. She’d learned to recognize when Venti was coming by how his very presence affected the Anemo energy in the area, and she opened her mouth to warn her father that they were about to be visited by a messenger from the Lord. If a somewhat rumpled and irreverent one. 

Then the door opened and Naomi froze as her mother stepped inside, accompanied by a chattering Venti, who for once was dressed respectably in a nice suit and tie, even if they were green. 

Her eyes, however, locked on her mother. If her father had aged badly, her mother had, of course, aged like a fine wine. She looked like a woman a decade younger than she was, which meant that she probably could have been mistaken for Naomi’s sister instead of her mother. Her auburn hair was longer than Naomi remembered it, and done up in a rather conservative headscarf. In fact, everything about her mother screamed “conservative”, from her ankle length skirt to her choice of fabrics; clearly a single type instead of a mixture of fibers that most modern clothing used. 

She was still done up in exquisite makeup and dressed in clothes and jewelry that cost more than Naomi made in a year (not counting bar tabs), so it was definitely her mother. 

“Moshe!? Moshe, you’ll never believe who-” her mother called, hurrying into the kitchen. Then her eyes fell on Naomi, and Leah Cohen pulled up short, her lips forming into a wide “O.” 

Venti quietly took off his hat and hung it on the hat rack, then grinned at Naomi and slouched against the doorframe, hands in his suit pockets. 

Slowly, Naomi stood up, then tugged Capri up behind her. She thought she’d be trembling at this moment, but instead, her hands were firm, and her voice steady. “Mother. It’s been a while.”

“It has,” Leah managed, her normally melodious voice hoarse and raspy, to the point where she had to cough. 

“This is my wife, Capri Cohen,” Naomi said firmly, pulling Capri forward slightly. 

“Uh, hi, Mrs. Cohen,” Capri managed, looking awkward again as she rubbed unconsciously at the Vision on her hip. 

“I see you’ve met my angel, Venti, also known as Lord Barbatos,” Naomi continued. “We were in the area, and I wanted to-”

“Isn’t it Barbados?” her mother corrected. “Yes, I think it’s Barbados. That’s what’s on the news.” 

Naomi very nearly screamed. It was always like this. Nothing she ever did was good enough. Her mother always had to correct her.

“No, it’s Barbatos,” Naomi said firmly. “That’s a common misconception. Barbados is a country. Barbatos was mentioned in the Ars Goetia, though it got a few details wrong, such as him being a servant of the Lord instead of a demon.”

“Well, I’ve always heard Barbados,” Leah sniffed. 

Closing her eyes, Naomi took a deep breath. “And I’m not here to argue. I wanted to give you a chance to meet your daughter-in-law while we were in Tel Aviv. And to tell you and Papa that I love you both. But now we’ve got work to do. If you’ll excuse us.”

Then Naomi walked stiffly towards the door. Back straight, arms relaxed, feet perfectly placed as she walked with all the grace her training as a dancer and the wind lent her. 

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Leah demanded, trying to block Naomi’s way. It was very, very tempting to just slap her. Naomi had dreamed about that before she’d gained a Vision. Now it felt like bullying a child. A petulant child who’d needed correction long ago. 

But she didn’t. 

“To Baghdad. There’s a little girl who needs our help, and we have a world to save. I’m afraid we have to leave,” Naomi said, feeling as though she were in the audience watching this same tired drama play out the same way it had a hundred times before. 

“So you just leave?!” Leah demanded, trying to seize Naomi’s arm. She moved at the same pace she always had, and Naomi was so much faster now, especially with the winds whispering to her of every subtle motion around her. 

“Leah! She is-”

“She is not leaving!” Leah snapped as Naomi headed towards the door. Then her mother’s voice broke. “Not until… not until she gives her mother a hug.”

Something cracked inside of Naomi. The clay jar she had kept all of her very complicated emotions regarding her mother bundled up in, so that she could keep on living. She slowly turned, already misty eyed, to find her mother shaking, her own eyes wet. 

“My baby girl,” her mother whispered. “I haven’t seen you… in so long… please. Just… just stay a moment longer?” Then, Leah spread her arms wide. 

And sobbing, Naomi stepped into them as more than twenty years of pent up emotions burst forth for both women. 

After that, there was nothing to do but to stay for supper. Her father and Capri left for the groceries to pick up some lamb, while Venti mentioned something about needing some fresh air. Not before he took a bottle of wine as a gift from Leah, which Naomi was certain would vanish in short order. 

That left her alone with her mother. It was just as painful as she’d feared. But somehow, she’d needed it. 

“So. You married a woman,” her mother said as soon as they were alone.

“Yes,” Naomi said, and left it at that.

Her mother’s mouth thinned, but then she glanced at the door. She was quiet for a moment, then asked in a small voice, “Is he really an angel of the Lord?”

Naomi digested that for a moment. Then she said, “Do you know how in the Torah, whenever an angel appears, they always tell those to whom they appear not to be afraid?”

“Yes, of course. But Venti didn’t seem all that frightening to me,” Leah sniffed. 

“That’s because you met Venti. Not Barbatos,” Naomi said, recalling their first meeting, and unable to suppress a shudder. “When he unveiled himself before us… I suddenly understood why everyone threw themselves to the ground in fear and awe. Mother, he was terrifying. And it was all because…” Naomi had to swallow and take a deep breath. “I showed him a book on the Holocaust. When you read about the Anger of the Lord, and when you see it… I think he was ready to tear apart every Nazi in Europe with his bare hands. And he could have done it, too.”

“Hmm. Well, he did destroy the Gesselschaft, and slay Khonsu,” her mother said slowly. “He just… he seems so ordinary.” 

“Yes, and it’s why I love him,” Naomi admitted. 

Her mother instantly brightened, and Naomi sighed heavily. “Not like that, mother. I married Capri, not Venti. But he is my angel, and I serve Hashem through him. Though he rather doesn’t like it when I say that.”

“Well, since he’s supposedly an angel, perhaps you could ask him about grandchildren,” Leah sniffed. 

There was frosty silence for several minutes, until Leah finally caved. That was interesting, in the past, it had always been Naomi who couldn’t stand her mother’s wintery silences. 

“Well, I must say, I saw you in Eurovision, and you were lovely! I had all my friends over for the party. Even the Prime Minister called me to congratulate me on your victory! It was in all the papers for weeks!” Leah burbled, finally able to talk about something she loved: Herself.

“I heard you were still headlining at the Habima. Is father still managing the back?”

“Oh, yes, well, I’m currently in the role of Tanya in Mama Mia, but that’s not what we’re talking about,” Leah said dismissively, surprising Naomi. Her mother always did love to talk about her roles, or better yet, how much better she was than her co-stars. 

“Oh? What were we talking about?” Naomi asked, confused. 

“Your career! Why, Naomi, your songs are the most popular in all the shows, and on the radio! Though I have to say, you really should insist you sing more. Capri’s voice isn’t bad, and well, Venti’s is simply divine, but you’ve got a wonderful voice! I want to hear you sing when I listen to one of the Tone Deaf Bard’s songs! And really, you need to do more live shows. And talk to your producer. You can’t honestly tell me you sold all the rights to your songs for a single case of beer.”

Naomi flushed at that. “Ah, it was slightly more than that…” It had been ‘as much beer as you could carry’ which had amounted to about an entire pallet's worth. 

“Well good, I wouldn’t want my daughter to be a pauper,” her mother said with one of her patented sniffs. “You’ll need something once you settle down.”

“I’m already married, mother. And I do not think grandchildren likely,” Naomi said, suppressing a sigh. 

“Well, perhaps you can adopt,” her mother said after a pregnant pause. 

Naomi considered that. That wasn’t the life she had chosen, but, well, it was progress as far as her mother went. “Maybe. When the world is at peace.”

“Mmm. Though I am glad Venti is finally taking his place in Israel. That girl in Baghdad has me worried. They say that they’ve gotten rid of that horrible dictator Saddam, but Farasha is still there, and that girl is a monster,” Leah said with a shudder.

Naomi opened her mouth to argue by reflex, then slowly closed it and nodded. Farasha was a monster, and no mistake. But Venti didn’t seem to think they were going to Iraq to depose a tyrant. Instead, he acted as though he were going to visit an old friend. 

“I’m not sure why we’re going to Iraq, mother. But Buer-”

“Who?” Leah asked, frowning. 

“Nahida,” Naomi clarified. Venti did insist on calling her Buer, which was again a name found in Ars Goetia. When pressed, he simply said it was Nahida’s version of Barbatos, and that she was the heir of Samiel, which didn’t explain much of anything. “Anyway, she’s the Dendro Archon. And she saved a city from the Simurgh.”

“An Arab city,” her mother said, making a face. 

“A city full of people, mother,” Naomi insisted. “Munich was full of Germans. Was I wrong to help save it? Even Sodom and Gomorrah were spared while one righteous man remained.”

“Hmph,” her mother said. “Well, when you’re done with that, perhaps you can move back to Israel.”

Naomi considered telling her mother that Venti had made it fairly clear he wasn’t the Archon of Israel, but of Central Europe, and while he would never prevent Naomi and Capri from leaving his side… she couldn’t imagine ever doing so willingly. Nor settling in a land not overseen by the Angel of Freedom. Maybe one day there would be an Archon for Israel, but that didn’t seem right. 

“I’ll ask Nahida about it,” she promised. 

Her mother seemed incredulous at that, but thankfully that was about the time the door opened. 

“-no yowling, and the furniture is intact! Thanks be to Hashem, He who created heaven and the earth, my wife and daughter got along!” her father said.

Capri hurried in with a large sack of groceries, her eyes meeting Naomi’s and giving her a quick “are you alright” look. 

Naomi just smiled and nodded, and went to help with the cooking. Her mother sat at the table and popped open a bottle of wine, which seemed to be the magic way to summon Venti, because he returned just in time for dinner, without the bottle he’d been given. 

“Just had a lovely conversation with a few boys and girls in black suits and sunglasses. They were a bit surprised to see me, but I assured them I was just passing through. I am, after all, but a humble bard!” Venti laughed. “Mmm, this is delicious, my compliments to the chef!” 

“We’re humbled that you would grace our table,” Leah said, looking quite excited. Naomi was certain she would be telling anyone who would listen that she’d dined with the Angel of Munich. Though to be fair, that was how a lot of people reacted. 

“And grateful you’ve looked after our daughters,” Moshe added, squeezing Naomi and Capri’s hands. 

“Daughters?” Leah asked, looking perplexed for a moment. There was a soft thump, and her face reddened, and Naomi’s jaw dropped. Had her father just kicked her mother under the table?

“Oh, yes, daughters. Well, as long as you make sure Naomi gets a chance to be the lead singer for a few shows. You and Capri are quite talented, but Naomi is classically trained, you know,” Leah blathered. 

It was, all in all, far from the worst family dinner Naomi had attended. 

“Are you sure you won’t spend the night? You could have the guest bedroom, and Master Venti our bedroom,” Moshe offered once dinner was cleaned up.

“We’ve far to go ere the day dawns,” Venti said with a smile and a wink. “I got the lads in sunglasses to loan me a car, and a full tank of gas! It’ll be interesting crossing the Jordanian border, but it took us a whole day to get here as it is!” 

Naomi gave her father one last hug, and gingerly embraced her mother. To her surprise, Leah squeezed her tightly, and hugged Capri as well. “Be safe. And come back to us. We never did get to share the stage together properly.”

“I will,” Naomi promised. Though not the sharing the stage part. That sounded like a nightmare. 

It was evening, and to Naomi’s surprise, Venti did indeed have a battered old Nissa Versa waiting outside for them. 

“Where did you find this hunk of junk?” Capri asked, lifting the hood and peering inside. She fiddled a bit, then shrugged and slammed it down. “Well, it looks like it works, but I’ll have to start it up. We got a spare?” 

“In the trunk,” Venti assured her. “Don’t worry about it! It’s only 12 hours to Baghdad.”

“Yeah, if no one gets screwy along the way. Jordan isn’t too bad, but what the hell do you think the Iraqis will think of a gypsy, a jew, and an Archon rolling up on the border?” Capri demanded, taking the keys from Venti.

“Relax! And take us to a hotel first, I’m much too tired for a road trip tonight,” Venti yawned. 

Capri chuckled and did as she was told, even as Naomi gave Venti a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

“Thank me? I’m not the one paying for our hotel!” Venti laughed, and Naomi groaned. 

“Eh, we’ll just call Cookie. She can put it on our tab. She owes us something for that stupid card game making money hand over fist,” Capri commented and drove off to the nearest run-down motel. 

The road trip across Israel, Jordan, and most of Iraq hadn’t taken 12 hours, but rather closer to a week, and had involved a lot more side trips and sightseeing than Naomi had expected. Venti had played the gleeful tourist for a whole day and a half in Jerusalem before heading to Jordan, where they performed at several small venues in disguise before making their way into Iraq. There, Venti spent a lot of time stopping in small villages and simply walking around and trying new foods between jam sessions with local musicians. 

It was, in fact, a completely ordinary week for the Tone Deaf Bards, but Naomi was a bit baffled by the complete lack of urgency. Capri was irritated at first, then mildly bemused and finally fatalistic. 

“Well, whatever. It’s not like we have an appointment,” she sighed. “The real joke is there’s hardly any booze, and Venti hasn’t gone into withdrawals.”

It was rather uncomfortable whenever someone realized Naomi was Jewish, but thankfully nothing aside from a few sour looks happened. Old animosities died hard, and Naomi wasn’t exactly a big fan of Arabs. She tried not to give in to the old hatreds, but it was hard. These were the same people who had persecuted her people until there was no choice but to flee to Israel. It was a thorny web to untangle, but Naomi had hope. If this Nahida was anything like Venti, and based on what had been happening in Baghdad over the last few days it seemed she was, Nahida had hope there might be peace after all. 

And so, it wasn’t until November 3rd that they finally arrived in Baghdad, but even then, they didn’t go straight to the palace. Instead, they dressed in ordinary clothes and explored the city. Not the nice parts either, but the slums and run down sections where the poor and rejected lived. 

“You know, it’s greener than I thought it would be,” Capri remarked as they strolled about the city. They all had on head coverings, even Venti, along with sunglasses and bulky clothes to obscure their figures. 

Looking around, Naomi couldn’t help but agree. She’d quickly realized her conceptions of the Middle East as nothing but a dusty desert were wrong after their trip across Israel and Jordan, having seen plenty of not just cultivated land, but greenery and even forests. This, however, was different. It looked and felt entirely natural, but at the same time, it was too lush, too vibrant, and flowers, grass, and crawling vines were growing out of every crack in the pavement or patch of dirt, and trees were full of fruit and leafy branches. 

“Is it because of Nahida?” Naomi asked Venti curiously. “Sort of like how windy and temperate its become in Europe over the past few years because of you?”

Venti coughed, and looked embarrassed. “Well, I may have had something slight to do with that, but even I can’t completely dictate the weather. It was still cold last winter if you ask me!” 

“It was a mild winter, and you know it. Just like it was a mild summer. They’re already saying we’ll have a bumper crop, especially in the vineyards,” Capri said with a roll of her eyes. She gestured to the blooming flowers around them. “I ain’t an expert, but it’s fall, and those are out of season unless I’m really wrong. So what’s up?”

“Hmm.” Venti walked over to the flowers, then knelt down and said, “Hello, we’re here to see Sarva nara. My friends would like to get a look at you. Do you mind terribly? This is Naomi Nara, and Capri Nara; both Vasara Nara.”

Naomi watched as Venti talked to the plant, then politely seemed to listen for a moment. He nodded and said, “They do have bright dreams, especially for Nara. Me? Oh, just call me Pavana Nara. I’d just like them to be able to see you, even if it’s just for a moment.”

“We can see the flowers just fine, Venti,” Capri said, squatting down beside him. She sniffed at the flower and smiled. “They are pretty sweet though. Should we pick some?”

“Only if you ask permission first,” Venti said seriously, nodding to the flowers.

Naomi glanced around, uncertain. There were several buildings nearby, but this looked like an empty patch by the side of the road, and it was impossible to tell at a glance who would own the flowers. “Who do we ask?”

“Naomi Nara may pick some flowers, as she is friend of Pavana Nara.”

Slowly, Naomi and Capri both turned to look at the flowers, where two little…gnomes? were hovering. One was thin and tall, with an orangey flesh, a red mushroom like cap that hid its face, and a bright purple flower that matched those growing coming out of the top of its head. The other was short and squat, with light green flesh and a head that seemed to be made of the same long green leaves that a nearby palm tree had, with back beady eyes and a mouth that looked painted on. 

“These are Arashakun and Arapratap, two of the Aranara,” Venti explained. “They’ve agreed to show themselves to you. Normally, only those with a strong connection to Dendro or those whose dreams have not yet faded, usually children.”

“Uh, hi,” Capri said, blinking slowly. “Was there something funny in that falafel we ate for lunch?”

“Venti, are these…faeries?” Naomi asked, her mind trying to fully process what was happening. 

“That’s a good word for them! You haven’t really seen any of the seelie or beastkin in my domain yet, but I too attract beings of elemental energy,” Venti explained. “I’ve not been exercising my powers as broadly as Beezelbul or Buer have been, but they’re there regardless. Probably because I sort of fixed the winds in place, but, well, an Archon does have to care for their children.”

“Faeries can be…tricky. Do we need to be careful what we say?” Naomi said, her mind racing through all the faery stories she’d heard, and mostly sticking on the rather less than pleasant ones. 

Venti chuckled and shook his head. “Unless you plan on hurting any children or plotting against Buer, or perhaps littering, I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

“No littering!” Arashakun trilled, and raised a little stick. “Nara must be more careful with their leavings!” 

Capri flushed and glanced hastily to the side, where the wrappers from their lunch were in a nearby gutter. “I, uh, I’ll make sure to find a trash can next time…”

“So, have you been greening up the city?” Naomi asked the fae curiously. 

The aranara nodded, making a little tinkling sound like bells as they did so. “Yes! Sarva Nara is awake and happy again! The dreams of the Nara are glowing brightly! We must guide the Vana, and heal the land to push back the Valuka!” 

“Huh. So she’s not just bringing back the dinosaurs,” Capri mused. She glanced at Venti. “We are going to go see the dinosaurs, right? Because I have seriously wanted one since I was a little kid.”

“You can ask Buer about that!” Venti chuckled, standing. He bowed to the Aranara. “May your roots grow deep, and your branches reach high.”

“May you always find water and shade, Pavana Nara,” the aranara said, returning the bow. 

“Let Nahida know we’re coming, will you? We’ve got a party to crash tonight!” Then Venti looked up at the sky and smiled. “Better get out the umbrellas. It looks like rain.”

Naomi peered up at the sky, but it was nothing but blue and a few wisps of cloud. Still, she and Capri hastened back to the car, barely making it before clouds sprang out of nowhere and a downpour began. 

“I do have to wonder how Beezie managed it,” Venti mused as they watched the storm. “It’s not Hydro, but it is a form of Authority.”

“Can you talk proper German like a normal person? These riddles give me a headache,” Capri complained. 

“Ehe! Where’s the fun in that? Anyway, the rain will let up soon, and then, the palace! We have a party to get to!” Venti said cheerily. 

True to his word, the clouds broke a few minutes later, and they headed through the city towards the great palace by the river. 

“Do we have an invitation?” Naomi asked Venti as they rolled up to the checkpoint. 

“Please. We’re bards! We always have the invitations we need in the joy we bring, and our passports are the song we sing,” Venti said with a wink. Then hopped out of the car. There were angry voices at first, there usually were, but within five minutes, Venti was best friends with the two capes and six soldiers guarding the way, and they were waved through. 

“Never ceases to amaze me when he pulls that off,” Capri commented as they watched Venti schmooze. 

Naomi nodded, but smiled. “Yes. But it’s always so wonderful when he does. Ready to meet another Archon?”

“Well, hopefully it’s not as exciting as last time. Took a whole day for the Shogun to chill,” Capri grumbled, turning the car back on as Venti slid back into the rear seat and the smiling guards opened the gate. 

When they arrived at the palace, a little girl with pointed ears and silver hair was waiting for them, the most terrifying woman in the middle east to her right, and what was for all appearances, a plant monster on her left. 

“Welcome to Baghdad, Lord Barbatos,” Nahida said to them, bowing slightly as Venti hopped out of the car. “I hope your journey here was pleasant.”

“Buer!” Venti said with a grin, and then swept an ever lower bow, doffing his cap. When had he changed into lederhosen? “Apologies for the lack of notice, but I simply had to come as quickly as I could!” He stood up, and beamed at Nahida. “And may I be the first to welcome you to Earth Bet! I hope the journey here wasn’t too arduous from Sumeru City.” 

“It was a novel experience,” Nahida said with an amused giggle. She looked up at Naomi and Capri then, and smiled with all the sweet innocence of a child. “Hello! I’m Nahida! You must be Capri and Naomi Cohen. I love your music! My favorite is the Ode to Joy Remix.”

“Uh, thank you, Lord Buer,” Naomi said, bowing deeply. “We’re honored to be welcomed into your home.”

“Are you sure we want to welcome her? She’s a Jew,” Farasha said in perfect German, and Naomi froze, a smile plastered on her face. For her part, Skyward Pride fell into Capri’s hands as she growled and her Vision crackled. 

“Be polite, mother. I’m facilitating translation at the moment. She can understand you quite well,” Nahida said, grinning impudently up at Farasha. 

Farasha blushed at that, but said, “You’re having a hard enough time with the hardliner Imams. You welcome her here, and there’s going to be trouble.”

“Then it will be a good way to root out those who hatred yet blinds them to the truth. Besides, you always enjoy ruffling their feathers. Consider this an opportunity to not only examine your own prejudices, but also to irritate Imam Abdel Rahman and his fellow conservatives,” Nahida said. 

“Uh, hey, I’m Tessa, huge fan,” the plant woman said, stepping down and shaking Naomi and Capri’s hand. “Sorry about all that, Farasha’s just a bit prickly. We’ll put her through workplace sensitivity training later.”

“You’re Flower Dragon right? That was pretty funny when you goosed everyone and took down the internet,” Capri laughed, putting her sword on her back, but not banishing it. “I just hope we can all get along and I don’t need to teach certain loudmouthed bitches any lessons.”

“Language,” Farasha growled. “Not in front of my daughter.” 

“Now, now, you two, no fighting,” Venti said, ruffling Capri’s hair and making her yelp and drop her sword, which vanished into mist. “I promise, Capri’s fully house trained.”

“Why I outta-” Capri glared at Venti, who just grinned at her guilelessly. 

“I’ll keep an eye on Farasha, Nahida, don’t worry,” Tessa said. “And if anyone’s racist, I'll put soap in their mouth.”

“A most effective treatment,” Nahida agreed solemnly. She turned back to Venti. “I propose we have a private conference later, and for now, enjoy the party. Later, I wish to speak with you and the Hydro Dragon. There is much you should know, and much I yet do not understand.”

“Looking forward to it! But for now, let’s get to know one another and have a good time!” Venti said cheerily.

“Kinda hard when a certain somebody banned all the booze,” Farasha grumbled. 

Nahida looked exasperated, but Venti beamed and slid an arm around Farasha’s shoulders, much to her discomfort. “Ah! A woman after my own heart! But come, surely there’s more fun to be had! Listen, why don’t you teach me a few songs in arabic, and I’ll teach you some swear words in German!” 

“...but you’re speaking Arabic right now,” Farasha said, sounding uncomfortable as Venti led her away. 

“Actually, I’m speaking a language you’ve never even heard of! Neat trick, that! But anyway, about that booze…”

“Come on, I want you to meet my friends!” 

Naomi looked down to find Nahida had taken her and Capri’s hands. “They’ll be so excited to meet you! We all love your music! Maybe you can play for us later!” 

“I’d be happy to,” Naomi agreed, and then found herself dragged up the stairs, and into the house of those who had once been her enemy. It wasn’t the first time, but it was rather different from breaking down a Nazi’s door. 

Author's Note:

Happy Mother's Day. Hopefully, you have a better talk with your mom than Naomi did. 

The Second Archon War: Sapientia Oromasdis 17

Sapientia Oromasdis 17: An Ancient Seed

Rusting oil derricks stood like silent tombstones in the East Baghdad Oil Field, along with rundown offices and signs that warned of contaminated water and dead ground. Nahida could feel the poison seeping into the land here from the abandoned oil wells, and it made her weep.

Over the past twenty years, relentless attacks by Endbringers, new tinkertech sources of energy, and a collapsing global economy had slowly destroyed global demand for petroleum, and Iraq’s oil industry along with it. Japan suddenly obtaining seemingly unlimited clean energy had nearly been a death blow. Even after they had started importing fossil fuels again, there had been little demand for Iraq’s Black Gold, the existing demand being temporary at best, and the economy had continued to stagnate. Iraq still produced more than one million barrels of oil a day, but it was a far cry from what the nation was capable of producing. 

“Why do you bring us out here, Saeed?” an angry voice demanded. “This place is filthy, and it stinks.”

“All will be explained in time,” Grandpa Ali said with a chuckle, glancing over at Nahida. She tried to smile at him, but even in the car she could feel the pain of the dying life in this land. Something had to be done. It was why she was here. 

“I do not see why I have to be here with that abomination,” the angry voice said again, and the owner gave Nahida a sour stare behind his salt-and-pepper beard. The man in question was Imam Abdel Rahman, one of the more conservative and -- unfortunately -- important Shia Imams. He had no love for Saddam Hussein, but even less for Nahida due to her association with Farasha, who had long helped to oppress the majority Shia muslims. 

Thankfully, Farasha wasn’t here today; instead, she was in Basra, flexing her might and ensuring the loyalty of the Parahumans and Vision Holders in Iraq’s second-largest city. Not that she really needed to work that hard. The rest of the country’s capes had been terrified of Farasha before her new alliance with Papilio broke her Manton limits and allowed her to convert inorganic matter to butterflies as easily as blood. Though Nahida did want more than fear from the Iraqi cape community, for now, that would suffice. 

“That girl is more faithful in her prayers than any man I know, and she saved all of Baghdad from the Angel of Death. She is no abomination!” Imam Taher argued, which just earned him a sneer from Abdel Rahman. As Taher was younger than Abdel Rahman by 20 years and Sunni to boot, the older cleric had little respect for Taher. 

At last the car came to a stop, and Nahida waited for the clerics to step out first before Grandpa Ali helped her out of the large van. Around them, other vans were unloading, full of some of the most important government and military officials, ranking clerics, and several bemused academics from the university. 

“Aranarakin does not like this place,” the little aranara opined, looking around. “There is too much sand, and the valuka here is sick, dying.”

“I know,” Nahida whispered quietly. “That’s what we’re here to change.”

“So? You have brought us to a rusting oil rig. Will you use your demonic powers to make the oil flow again, and promise economic reforms? We shall not be bought off with filthy lucre,” Abdel Rahman said, folding his arms and glaring down at Nahida. 

“Tell me, Imam, do the people need oil?” Nahida asked Abdel Rahma.

The old cleric snorted, and for a moment Nahida thought perhaps he would not be drawn into a debate. But his pride and curiosity wouldn’t let the question of a young child that had been asked politely go unanswered. “Of course not. Iraq has more oil than she needs. We do not need more oil. What would it do but rot in barrels? The Japanese are buying less every day as their demonic Shogun works her foul magics. And Europe is even worse with their false angel and his blasted wind farms.”

Nahida didn’t comment on the fact that the Sakura Tree network and the new wind farms provided clean energy that didn’t pollute the soil and were revitalizing their countries economies. That wasn’t the point she wanted to make.

“Then, wise teacher, please, tell us. What does Iraq need?” Nahida asked. 

“To turn their faces from blasphemers, and embrace true Islam!” Abdel Rahma declared, grinning nastily at Nahida.

“And if those things were to happen, what blessings would Allah send His children?” Nahida prompted. 

“Wealth beyond measure. Food and jobs for our people, and a new golden age of learning and faith,” Abdel Rahma responded. 

Nahida nodded thoughtfully, as hordes of Aranara waddled towards her. The adults couldn’t see the little fae as they flitted about, moving around the humans like rocks in a stream, but there were hundreds, perhaps thousands of them here, perched atop the dilapidated buildings and spreading out across the polluted sands. Even as repulsed as they were by the oil and filth, they still gathered, and Nahida would forever be grateful for their loyalty.

“I cannot turn the hearts of men back to Allah. But perhaps I can do something to feed His children.” Nahida turned towards the aranara and spread her arms, closing her eyes. Then, raising her hands like a choirmaster, she began to lead her choir in song. 

It was not a tune sung in any human tongue, nor with words a human mind could have comprehended readily. It was a song of growth and renewal, of ancient stirrings, and of long past days. 

Slowly, Nahida established a connection with the oil. For though it was a poison, it had once been alive. And Dendro governed all living things, both poisonous and not. Slowly, Nahida’s awareness spread out over the hundreds of square miles of the oil field. It was small, relatively speaking, but it contained billions of barrels of oil and more gas. All of that had once been an ancient forest, full of living things, reaching out towards the sun, until an ancient calamity had buried it all. It had lain dormant, compressed into a toxic sludge by the eons.

But no longer. 

Within a few minutes of her singing, the oil nearest the surface began to respond to Nahida’s song. The rusting oil derrick groaned loudly, and Nahida heard cries of shock and surprise from the men behind her. But she didn’t let herself panic or rush. Life was her garden, and she would nurture and guide this life carefully. 

Gently, slowly, Nahida coaxed the newly reawakened Dendro energy up and out of the well, and encouraged it to grow into a mighty tree. The massive cedar grew rapidly, far more rapidly than a natural tree, until it towered more than 150 meters into the air, and its wide branches casted miles of shade over the ground. 

Nahida did not neglect the soil beneath her feet either: she encouraged grasses and flowers to grow, until the gravel and sand around her was transformed into a carpet of vibrant color by the rising tide of Dendro. 

Soon the wave of growth threatened to wash Nahida away in the ecstasy of life as the Aranara’s song became jubilant and proud, singing out with eager joy at the top of the little spirit’s lungs. But she did not let herself lose focus. All around her, an orchard began to grow. Pomegranates, dates, oranges, lemons, almonds, olives, apricots, plums, and grapes grew rapidly around her in rows that looked as carefully tended as any from a farmer’s land. And now harra fruit, zaytun peaches, ajilenakh nut, bulle fruit, sunsetia, and henna berry, fruits that had never grown upon Earth Bet sprouted, blossomed, and fruited. 

Beyond the orchards, fields of wheat and corn, acres of melons and squash, and endless rows of vegetables sprouted and grew, until they were just right for harvest. Beyond that, groves of cedar, karmaphala, and athel trees grew, along with dozens of extinct geniuses of plants that in some cases had not been seen in more than a hundred million years. 

It took hours, but when Nahida finished her song, she felt more full of energy and life than she had in centuries. Perhaps since the moment she’d first manifested. She turned around to see the scholars happily examining several varieties of Teyvat native plants, as well as long extinct Earthling plants while engaged in fierce debate. 

But behind her, sitting cross legged on the ground, Imam Abdel Rahma sat, tears streaming down his face silently as he looked out across nature’s bounty. After a moment’s thought, Nahida stooped and quickly braided a crown of flowers. Then she shyly walked forward, holding out the crown to Abdel Rahma as she stood before him. 

“For you. To remember that there is always beauty in the creations of Allah the Wondrous,” Nahida said.

Abdel Rahma blinked, his eyes slowly focusing on Nahida. Hands shook but quickly steadied as he took the crown of flowers, running the delicate blossoms gingerly between his gnarled and wrinkled fingers. After several long moments, he asked in a hoarse voice, “And what is the price for this… gift… you have given us?”

“Why don’t you ask them?” Nahida asked, and nodded behind them. 

Slowly, Imam Abdel turned his head. Then, on trembling knobby knees, he stood, watching as the crowds of men and women, children and elders, the poor and the unwanted, began to pick the fields of fruit, laughing and singing as they worked. Some had baskets, others backpacks, many plastic buckets and bicycles. They were harvesting the food that had been grown, taking what Nahida had provided. It was a long walk from Baghdad, being an hour by car, so Nahida had called for hundreds of buses to bring them all out. They had scattered about, eagerly gathering what was on offer. 

“Are they Sunni, or Shia?” Abdel Rahma asked, looking down at Nahida, still holding the flower crown in one hand. 

She considered that. She knew the numbers of course. Most were Sunni, but there were plenty of Shia as well. In the end, she answered with a better question. “They are Allah’s children. Does it matter?”

The old Imam considered that, then chuckled, and placed the flower crown up on his head. “No. I suppose it doesn’t.” 

Beaming, Nahida took the old man’s hand. “Come on! I want to show you the henna berry! It’s not native to this world, but in a distant land, they make the sweetest juice with it! You have to try some!”

Soon, Nahida had the cantankerous old cleric picking the spiky red fruits from the otherworldly cacti, and the two of them had the sticky scarlet juices running down their cheeks, and in Rahma’s case, wetting his beard. 

In the end, he was just one grumpy old man, but he was an important old man. Nahida helped him pick a basket full of the fruit to take to his grandchildren, then returned to where Grandpa Ali was waiting with several of the more senior generals and government ministers. 

“You can do this anywhere?” one old soldier asked, looking at a date he’d plunked from a nearby palm tree.

“Not anywhere. Oil was once alive. It’s still full of potential energy. I just converted it from potential Dendro to living plants,” Nahida said with a shake of her head. “There has to be a reservoir of power to tap to grow life like this. And there will be consequences.”

“Oh?” the general looked up, his eyes narrowing. “Will the plants cause disease? Cancers?”

“What? Oh, no. Um, I just wonder… how would people feel about dinosaurs walking the Earth again?” Nahida asked innocently. She was fairly sure that would take at least a few weeks before they started showing up again, but they had soldiers and capes ready, just in case. So far, they’d just had to beat back the overly enthusiastic fungi and slimes. The whopper flowers and specters would come within days though. 

“You’re joking, right?” one of the ministers asked, going slightly pale. 

“Well, this field was too old for many mammals, so it will probably mostly be non-avian dinosaurs,” Nahida said seriously. “It dates back to the Cretacious period, so it’s likely some of those species will re-emerge as the Dendro energy continues to well forth.”

“And how long will that last? Will this go back to a desert once this… dendro… is exhausted?” the general asked, holding up his date and eyeing it skeptically. 

“Hmm, well, I suppose that will eventually happen,” Nahida admitted. She did some quick math, then nodded. “According to my calculations, the current reserves, along with the rate of reaction and replenishment…yes. It is likely that the Dendro energy will run dry in approximately 500,000 years, give or take ten millennia. It will need a closer study to see the actual rate of change before I can give a more firm estimate, but that will take at least a century of study.”

The general stared goggle-eyed at Nahida for a long moment. Then he laughed, and popped the date in his mouth. “So, what you’re saying is, no, it will never run dry.”

“That’s not what I said at all,” Nahida said, feeling slightly exasperated. “In about half a million  years, it will run dry unless steps are taken to conserve and perpetuate it.” Then she paused. “Although, at such a large time scale, we would need to model how climate change and continental drift would affect things… hmmm. This does merit further study…”

“Young lady, what I care about is if this can feed my troops and the city for the next half a century. What you’re saying is yes, it can. It’ll feed us for the next five, five thousand centuries. This is effectively an unlimited super-producing region. An army marches on its stomach, and this area will produce nearly as much food as the rest of Iraq combined!” The general laughed, gesturing broadly to the fields around them. 

That wasn’t as much of a gross exaggeration as he thought. If anything, it was a serious understatement. With so much Dendro Energy, the crops would grow at an accelerated rate, with a full harvest every season even for the slower growing crops. Plus, the abundance of Dendro would increase the yield and nutritional value of the harvest to levels a normal field could never hope to match. 

“If you do this to more oil fields… think of the exports!” an official said excitedly. “The Japanese are still desperate for food!” 

“Well, I hadn’t intended to do this to all of Iraq’s oil fields, petroleum does still have its uses,” Nahida said with a shake of her head. “But certainly I think we should strongly consider converting several of the oil fields on arable land into Dendro Reservoirs.”

“Yes… this is the sort of power we could use to conquer the world,” the general agreed, his eyes wandering greedily over the still growing orchards and fields. 

“That is not what this is for!” Grandpa Ali barked, his eyes going steely. “Our people have had enough of war. We need peace. Time to rebuild and regrow. Besides, do you really wish to see my daughter and granddaughter march to battle? Guns and tanks have no place on the modern battlefield. We have a chance to forge a great nation. Not with the sword, but with the plow.”

That statement caused the general to glower, so Nahida put an arm on his sleeve. “We will still need soldiers. The Dendro Reservoirs will be dangerous. As I said, you can expect to see dinosaurs and other megafauna growing here soon, and the workers will need to be protected. We will also need to safeguard roads and the wilderness against the influx of slimes, whopperflowers, and mutated lifeforms. We don’t have enough Parahumans or Vision Holders for such things. For that, we will need brave men to protect us. Is that something you can do, general?”

The old soldier looked across the fields, and subtly, Nahida sent him images of his wife and children, as well as his grandchildren. She reinforced it with images of him in uniform, leading his men to protect the walls of a peaceful garden against slimes and demons, protecting the innocent while still being an important and powerful man. 

Then she sent him a reminder image of a grinning Farasha. Not one of her gentle, kindly grins, but the fire and blood soaked mania the general had witnessed on the battlefield.

“Well. Perhaps that is not so bad,” the general grunted, shuddering slightly. He laid aside his dreams of conquest and glory for now, accepting the dream of peace and prosperity. Better to lead in a small paradise, then die needlessly before an inhuman monster. 

Nahida was going to have to do something about Farasha and Papilio. She was growing… too used to using them as deterrents, and she didn’t like that. They should be and were family first, and no matter how eager or little they minded being seen as Nahida’s weapon, Nahida wanted them to be more than that, be more than just a tool of terror. For now, however, she saw the wisdom in both the carrot and the stick. 

“We’ll need to build storehouses, train stations, and better rail and roads here,” Grandpa Ali was saying. “The harvest will indeed be plentiful, but we will have to drastically alter our economy.”

“And figure out what to do with the dinosaurs. If they really exist,” one of the bureaucrats snorted. 

Nahida firmed her lips, then gently tugged at a large bubble of Dendro she’d been suppressing. A few moments later, there was a sound like a bugle’s cry from the massive stand of cedars, and the ground shook slightly. There were cries of panic, and the soldiers reached for their weapons. 

“Don’t be alarmed, she’s friendly,” Nahida assured them, stepping over to the treeline as a sauropod with great leafy plants growing out of its back and a crown of flowers sprouting from its head emerged from the treeline. The creature was more massive by far than it had been in life, standing over 40 meters tall and weighing in at over 100 tons, its massive bulk supported by the Dendro that had given it life. 

All watched in amazement as Nahida commanded the creature to lift up its tail, from which Nahida caused long trailing vines to sprout. Then she grew a circular weave of woody branches, large enough for a child to sit in. The dinosaur slowly swung her tail back and forth, as Nahida sat on the large swing and giggled. Before long, she had a line of children, and even a few adults, waiting their turn for the dinosaur swing. 

After she was done, Nahida sat back down with the ministers, who were looking at the beast speculatively. 

“I changed my mind about the trains,” Grandpa Ali mused. He glanced at Nahida. “Think we could train some of those to pull wagons?”

“If you ask her very nicely, I’m sure Tiny would be happy to pull some wagons for you,” Nahida said soberly. “And I’m sure there will be plenty more of her friends who will help soon.”

“How do they taste?” a rather oblivious official asked, frowning. “If we could rear them for meat…”

Grandpa Ali gave the man an incredulous look, but Nahida laughed. “It is the nature of animals to provide both labor and food for mankind. Their meat is safe enough to eat. Though I would be cautious about eating the fungi. Some varieties can have rather novel effects on the human body and mind.”

“Jurassic Ranch,” the official chuckled. “We’ll have everyone eating dinosaur steaks.”

“Cretaceous, actually,” Nahida corrected. “This particular field doesn’t date back to the Jurassic.” 

She did wonder what Abdel Rahma and the other Imam’s would have to say about the eating of dinosaurs. The debate over whether dinosaur was haram or halal would probably last centuries. 

And so the planning went on for some time, in the shadows of giants amidst fields of crops. It wasn’t the final step in building a new nation, but food security, economic opportunity, and the joy of new discoveries would be important in binding people together. But there was much work left to be done. 

The next morning, Nahida waited on the palace steps somewhat nervously. She was dressed now in the dress she’d arrived on Earth Bet in, combined with a loose green headscarf. Her ears and silver hair were exposed, and her feet were shod only in woven sandals. To her right, Bashir leaned heavily on his staff and Farasha’s arm, Qiqi standing quietly with them. And to her left waited Tessa in her humanoid form, dressed in a flowing green grown, a scarf similar to Nahida’s around her own head. 

Before them were assembled various important officials, including Grandpa Ali, who was serving as interim president. Saddam Hussein was currently imprisoned and awaiting trial, though Nahida was generally keeping him out of the spotlight as much as possible, save to prove that he was alive and well. 

Despite Farasha’s repeated attempts to kill her former boss, Nahida had put her foot down: the death penalty was suspended until they could have a Constitutional Convention, at which point Nahida very much hoped she could help see it outlawed entirely. All life was precious. Even former dictators. 

This was a new beginning for the country, and she would not have it baptized with blood.

It was hard not to fidget, however, and Nahida glanced once more up at the sky. 

“It will be fine,” Bashir said, putting a hand on her shoulder and gripping it. “Do not fear. I don’t think they mean to threaten you, but rather honor you.”

“Yes, it’s just-”

“PREPARE FOR TROUBLE!” a voice suddenly boomed across the courtyard as lightning flashed, and a blonde figure appeared on the walls. An instant later, a second figure arrived in a fountain of flames, and both struck a dramatic pose back to back. “And make it double!” 

“To protect the world from Devastation!” the first cried, putting a hand to her purple eye patch over her left eye.

“To unite all peoples within our nation,” the second said, a crimson patch over her right. 

“What are they-” Farasha began, but Nahida shushed her and had to fight back a giggle. 

“To denounce the evils of gold and war!”

“To extend our reach and the world explore!” 

“Ami,” the first figure purred, a bow appearing with a flash in her hands as she knocked a crackling bolt of violet lightning to the string. 

“Clara!” the other shouted, jumping up as half a dozen little bunny bombs exploded in a shower of red sparks. 

“The Prinzessen blasts off at the speed of light!” Ami declared, taking Clara’s hands and posing cutely.

Giggling, Clara winked and stuck out her tongue as she said. “Surrender now, or prepare to fight!” 

With a swirl of green wind, a little tanuki statue appeared, and then a much shorter girl popped out, looking bored and irritated. “Sayu. Ignore all that. We’re here for peace, not war.”

“Sayu!” Ami huffed, stamping her foot on the parapet as the assembled dignitaries looked on in bafflement. “That’s not the line!” 

The diminutive ninja rolled her eyes.“And I’m not a Pokémon, so I think it’s fair. Besides, just how many of these people do you even think speak Japanese?” 

As the three teens argued, there was a slight pop, and a little kirin appeared next to Nahida, making Farasha mutter an oath and reach for her weapon.

“What my Mistress says is that she gives all honor to Lord Buer,” Murasaki said, bobbing a bow in midair. “And she wishes to convey the greetings of her mother, the Raiden Shogun, as well as congratulations on your victory over the Demon of Song.”

“Does she?” Nahida asked, openly grinning now. “Well, that was very entertaining. It is, perhaps, best if you know that I do speak Japanese.”

Murasaki sighed heavily. “I was afraid of that.” He switched back to Japanese and called,  “Princess? Lord Buer can understand you perfectly. Perhaps you should come down and speak with her.”

On hearing that, Ami and her companions blushed, then hopped off the wall, a feat a normal human would have broken an ankle attempting, then scampered over to bow to Nahida. 

“Greetings, Lord Buer. I am Ami, Imperial Princess of Japan and Ward of Lord Beezelbul. I extend the welcome and greetings of my nation and mother.” Ami said breathlessly, straightening up and grinning eagerly. She managed it in accented Arabic, which showed that for all the theatrics, she did have a good mind hiding in there somewhere. 

“Welcome, Scion of Eternity. Though I fear that has been some mistake: I am not the ruler of Iraq. Currently, my grandfather, Ali Saeed, is serving as interim president.”

Grandpa Ali bowed slightly to the princess, smiling at her.

Ami just shrugged. “Yeah, but you’re the Archon. He works for you.”

“Perhaps that is the way of things in Japan, but I serve the people of Iraq. Not the other way around,” Nahida said gently, shaking her head slightly. 

“Well, OK. But it was still super cool how you defeated the Simurgh!” Ami said brightly as Murasaki quietly translated. 

“Mistress, do not forget your duty,” the little demon whispered after he finished translating.

“Oh, right!” Ami straightened up and bowed again. “I humbly request permission for the Hydro Dragon Keiga to be formally granted audience before the Dendro Archon.”

Nahida considered that, then tugged on Tessa’s sleeve. Her friend bent down, and Nahida whispered in her ear briefly.

“Huh? Me? What’s a gno-” 

“Just take it,” Nahida told her, passing a glowing green chess piece to Tessa. “It’s rightfully yours.”

“Uh, OK, if you say so,” Tessa said dubiously. She took the chess piece, then absorbed it into her body. She shivered, and her eyes went wide. Then she focused, turning back to Ami. 

“The Dendro Dragon grants permission to the Hydro Sovereign to pay homage to my Master,” Tessa recited, inclining her head to Ami. 

“Ok!” Ami took out an actual cell phone, then rapidly typed in a message. “And…sent!”

“Nahida, what exactly is going on?” Farasha asked, frowning at the girls. “Where’s Keiga? I thought she was in charge of the embassy.”

“If she is the Hydro Dragon, and especially the Hydro Sovereign, then certain customs must be observed before she may come,” Nahida explained. “This is no longer simply a matter between governments, but between Sovereigns and Archons. I had not thought that the Hydro Sovereign could be present, but-”

There was the distant rumble of thunder, and Nahida sensed a powerful presence entering her lands. A few moments later, the skies clouded over, and a steady drizzle began. It wasn’t quite the power of Hydro, but Nahida could feel the Authority over water that the new arrival commanded. She nudged Tessa, who had been staring off towards their guest, her eyes unfocused. 

“I can… feel her,” Tessa muttered, then shook herself. She jumped up into the air, transforming from her humanoid form into that of the great Dendro beast that was quickly becoming a Dragon. 

Through the mists and clouds, a massive dark shape emerged, pink antlers glowing slightly with power. Keiga was low to the ground, only a few meters above the buildings and power lines. She reared up as she approached, larger than Tessa by a not insubstantial amount. The two dragons regarded one another for long moments, and Nahida could tell that every mortal present was holding their breath, even Farasah. 

Then, Keiga dipped her head, fluting a whale song greeting. Tessa hissed something in return, bobbing slightly in the air. Greetings exchanged, Keiga hovered lower, shrinking until she fit in the courtyard. She lowered herself until she was just barely above the dirt, bowing deeply to Nahida. 

Greetings, Lord of Dendro. I am Keiga, Dragon of Waters. I welcome you to Earth Bet, and congratulate you upon your many victories.

Welcome, Dragon of Waters. Tell me, is Focalors here as well? I have not sensed her presence, Nahida responded. 

The Hydro Archon has not yet arrived. I maintain the waters in her absence. Thus far, only yourself, Barbatos, and my mistress Beelzebul have come to this world. 

Nahida nodded thoughtfully, dialing back her power. Too many had fallen to their knees in awe and supplication after only that brief exchange. “I have felt the winds of Barbatos’ approach, and will speak with him soon. But for now, I sense another who you wish to introduce.” 

It was odd to see a draconic head the size of a cow smile, but Keiga did toothily. Then it is my pleasure to introduce you to my daughter.

A bubble appeared on Keiga’s back, and a moment later, a small child floated up within it, giggling and babbling. She looked to be about 18 months of age, and had two small purple nubs on her forehead, as well as a lavender colored scaly tail. The toddler floated up to Keiga’s muzzle, and the dragon nudged her daughter forward as Nahida stepped closer. 

This is Bailu, firstborn of myself and my husband Mushu the Electro Dragon. Though she is young, I would ask for your blessing, Lord Buer so that she may grow strong.

Smiling, Nahida extended her hands, and the babbling child floated into her arms. She cradled Bailu gently, though she wasn’t that much bigger than the baby. Still, she could feel the fierce pulse of life within her, and sense the hint of Draconic power that would slowly grow. 

“May you live to see a world unmarred by hate, and free of the Cycle,” Nahida whispered, then kissed Bailu on the forehead. The toddler giggled and babbled a bit in Japanese, then said loudly, “Mama!” 

Keiga had transformed, shrouding herself in mists and fog as Ami and Clara hastily passed her a kimono to clothe herself with. Nahida could tell that several of the Imams present were rather scandalized by this, but frankly that was silly. Keiga was no more human now than Nahida was, and customs of modesty didn’t really apply to dragons. 

She passed Bailu back, then smiled. She stepped back, behind Grandpa Ali, who stepped forward.

“Welcome, Ambassador Keiga,” he said smoothly, bowing formally to the dragon woman now that she was dressed. “And welcome, Princess Ami and companions. I extend the greetings of the Iraqi people, and of the Dendro Archon, Lesser Lord Kusanali.” 

That last line hadn’t been part of the plan, and Nahida wondered where he’d heard the name Kusanali, but she smiled. It felt right. 

“We have prepared a feast in your honor. The Dendro Archon has bestowed upon us many gifts of the soil.” His bushy white eyebrows rose, and he leaned forward, dropping his voice to a stage whisper. “We even have dinosaur steaks.” 

“Dinosaur steaks!?” Ami gasped excitedly when Murasaki translated. “You have real dinosaurs!? That wasn’t just a rumor!?” 

“Yes, later, we can go riding on Tiny and the other dinosaurs!” Nahida said happily. She held out her hand to Ami, who eagerly grasped it. “Come on! I can’t wait to show you all the wonderful food we’ve prepared! Many of the fruits and vegetables haven’t been seen by humanity before!” 

Then, smiling, Nahida raced up the stairs with the Princess and her friends in tow, and into her palace. 

Her palace, she reflected as she ran. What had once been the frightening lair of a tyrant was now transformed into a place of welcome. 

Before the feast began, Nahida stepped aside, and spoke to Grandpa Ali. “Set another place of honor at the head table. And speak to the Imams. Let them know I won’t brook any rudeness to our guests, even if they’re Jewish.”

“I… I thought the Princess and her companions were Japanese,” Grandpa Ali said, his brow furrowing. “They’re heathens, but-”

“We’re going to have another guest. Send word that the disreputable looking trio at the gates are my guests as well,” Nahida said, turning. “Oh! And let everyone know there will be a concert. I’m sure Lord Barbatos and his bandmates will want to regale us with song.”

“Lord Bar- Venti?! That one is here?” Grandpa Ali cried, turning about wildly. 

“He just let me know. It’s very hard to constrain the Lord of Anemo from coming and going as he pleases,” Nahida sighed. “But tell the Imams: No rudeness to Naomi. She is my guest.” 

“I… I’ll do so,” Grandpa Ali agreed, looking a bit concerned. He hurried off, and Nahida turned back towards the table as new places were hastily set. It was going to be an eventful night. 

Author’s Note:

This has been my dream since I was Nahida’s size. 

PHILO: And to think that the celebrations have yet to truly begin!Also, I recommend this song for Nahida’s hymn. It's the opening to this old anime movie about climate change but fantasy/sci-fi.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xGoR23Wouk

Dark Legend of Potter, Chapter 62

Frowning sourly, Snape glanced at the documents in his hands, then up at the sheepish grin of the fool in front of him. It wasn’t often someone played into Snape’s hands like this, but given the opportunity to finally gain his revenge and at long last, see that justice was delivered after all this time. 

“Thanks again for agreeing to take my class, Severus. If you ever need me to cover classes for you, or there is any other way I can be of assistance-”

“No, I am simply doing what any reasonable staff member would,” Snape said, giving Lupin a frosty smile. He didn’t add, After being directed to do so by the Headmaster under threat of taking all of Potter’s detention for the year if I did not. 

“Well, regardless, thank you. I’ve mostly managed my condition these days, but I don’t want there to be any possible room for error here. I’ll be spending the afternoon of the 30th and the morning of the 1st in the Shrieking Shack,” Lupin said. He lifted up a vial of potion and gave Snape a grateful smile. “And thanks for this. Normally I don’t take Wolfsbane, but I also don’t normally have access to the most skilled potioneer in Great Britain.”

Snape snorted derisively. “Any moderately skilled potions master could make a Wolfsbane Potion.”

By which Snape meant, “there are perhaps ten individuals in Great Britain who could make a Wolfsbane potion, and I’m insulted you don’t think I’m the best in the world.” 

“Well, I suppose I could ask Potter to do it, but I’m half afraid she’d come up with a potion that turned anyone who drank it into a werewolf,” Lupin joked. He frowned, peering at Snape. “Severus? Are you quite alright? If you feel ill, I could ask Professor McGonagall or-”

“No, just…the very thought…” Snape shuddered, remembering the potion that Yunyun had concocted that had indeed resulted in a horrific monster wrapping it’s coils around Hogwarts. And Sylvia as well. Snape still thought Tom should have been quietly killed the moment they knew he was The Dark Lord reborn. 

“It is rather horrific, isn’t it. Is it true that she successfully brewed a Mopsus Potion?”

“Yes,” Snape said, and had to quickly school his face back to irritation. He’d very nearly smiled, or worse, beamed with pride. “She was supposed to be making a Featherweight Potion, but she surreptitiously substituted a few items and stirs and was able to brew a Mopsus Potion. I confiscated it before she could drink it. The last thing we need is a Potter able to move objects with her mind and with actual Seer powers. She’s bad enough with the nonsense Sybill fills her head with.”

Lupin let out a long, low whistle. “That’s a NEWT level brew, isn’t it? Rather impressive for a third year. Still, I rather agree about not letting Miss Potter have access to something that potent. She causes enough headaches as it is.”

“You have no idea,” Snape muttered, and suppressed an evil grin. If all went according to plan, the headaches that happened would all be for one Remus Lupin. The impertinent wretch would finally receive his just desserts. 

“I think I’m starting to learn! Well, thank you again, and if there’s ever any way I can repay you-”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll think of something,” Snape said silkily. He even managed a smile. The fool even recoiled at that. Some people just couldn’t be polite. 

Megumin hadn’t even taken more than two steps into the Defense Against the Dark Arts room before she pulled Chunchumaru from his holster at her hip and brandished her wand at her professor. “IMPOSTER! THERE’S AN IMPOSTER AMONG US!”

“So it seems you are not blind, Miss Potter,” Snape said blandly. “Have a seat, and put that thing away.”

“Chunchumaru is not a thing, but a mighty and noble wand! Now, stand and deliver, fiend! Riddikulus!” 

There was a vine crack noise, and Snape smeared at Megumin. “Three points from Gryffindor. Sit down, and cease yelling. Professor Lupin is indisposed.”

“Why? Did you MURDER him?!” Lavender demanded, peering around Megumin and raising her Axis Holy charm high. “DETECT EVIL!” 

A golden ray of light shone out of the holy symbol, but the only effect it had was to make Snape squint slightly. Lavender did get a sense of dread, but it was the same sense of dread she felt around Snape at all times. Snape, after all, was just the ordinary, petty kind of evil, and not actually the spawn of hell, hard as that might be to believe. 

“Five points from Gryffindor. The next one of you to cast an unauthorized spell during this class will be cleaning cauldrons in detention for a week,” Snape drawled. “Now move out of the door that the rest of you miscreants may enter and I can take roll.”

“I think it’s actually him,” Ron pointed out. “At least, he’s acting like Snape should.”

“Come on, Megumin, MOVE!” Parvati complained. 

Huffing in disappointment that there was not to be a climactic duel between herself and a doppelganger, Megumin sheathed her wand and walked over to a seat, where she glared at Snape with what she thought was a piercing gaze, but mostly made her look constipated. 

Contrary to his word, Snape did not take roll, as he’d known these students long enough that there was hardly any need for it, and he didn’t actually care anyway. “Open your books to page 394,” he said, snapping his fingers to shut the windows, and pulling down a screen. 

Hermione instantly raised her hand. “But, professor, we were supposed to study-”

Megumin slapped Hermione’s hand down. “Werewolves are WAY more interesting than hinkypinks.”

“It’s hinkypunks,” Hermione corrected, but she didn’t argue with the fact that werewolves were far more interesting than glorified boglights. 

There was a rustling of pages, and Snape glided forward. “Werewolves are one of the more dangerous magical beasts that wizards can face, for they-”

Darkness stood up in her seat, her hand flying up, as her face turned beat red. Snape paused, glancing over at her. “You have something to say, Miss Longbottom?”

“Werewolves are not magical beasts,” Darkness said, her tone slow and deliberate. “They are human beings, afflicted with a magical malady.”

“And you know so much about werewolves?” Snape sneered. “Have you already done the reading?”

Darkness took a deep breath, apparently counted to five, then said with a trembling voice, “I know several werewolves, and they are lovely people. With the advent of the wolfsbane potion, they can even lead mostly normal lives. Calling them magical beasts perpetuates a horrible stereotype, and I will not stand for it.”

Dead silence. Megumin was looking at Darkness with a shocked expression, as was Ron. Hermione, however, looked thoughtful, and was nodding slowly. The rest of their classmates were various degrees of scandalized, horrified, amused, or in the case of the muggleborns, baffled. 

“Wait, so werewolves aren’t dangerous?” Dean asked, looking confused. 

“They are vile, wicked creatures, and are one of the few magical beasts rated as XXXXX Wizard Killers, and-”

Darkness slammed her fists on the table. “That is outrageous slander, sir! They are not mindless beasts like a chimera or-”

“Miss Longbottom! Ten points from Gryffindor!” Snape’s voice snapped, but Darkness just kept right on going. 

“-nundus, and you are spreading blatant propaganda that vilifies victims of a tragic illness who-”

“Silencio!” Snape barked, and Darkness finally fell silent, even as her lips kept moving and her face grew ever redder. Snape’s own normally pallid express was flushed as well, and his goatee and eyebrows bristled fiercely as he glared at Darkness. “You will sit down, Miss Longbottom! This material is mandated by the Ministry of Magic, and may well save your life. One never knows if a werewolf might be lurking amongst those they know, and there are those such as Fenrir Greyback who would love to find a naive,innocent, homely child like you to prey upon!” 

Trembling with rage, Darkness stood where she was, her hands balled into fists as she met Snape glare for glare. 

“Very well. Then it is detention for you, Miss Longbottom. Your foolish complaints are registered. Now, will you sit down, or must I remove you from my classroom that I may teach my lesson?” Snape hissed. He tried to step forward to loom over Darkness, only to find that she was barely shorter than he was, which rather ruined the effect and allowed her to glare at him eye to eye. 

After a solid ten seconds of staring, Darkness reached down, picked up her belongings, and stormed out of the classroom, her footfalls eerily silent as she went. 

Hermione’s hand shot up, even as Megumin and Ron got to their feet. “One moment. Sir, am I correct in assuming that lycanthropy is much like the AIDS epidemic?”

“Aside from the fact that unlike a muggle virus, lycanthropy cannot be cured, yes. It is a deadly disease that turns those who are infected into pariahs that can easily infect those around them and doom them to be carriers of the plague,” Snape stated.

“I see.” Hermione retrieved her own belongings. “In that case, I think you’d best remove me as well sir, or I’m afraid I would also be a disruption to your hateful and small-minded lesson.” 

Snape’s jaw clenched, but he managed to grind out, “Go.”

“Solidarity!” Megumin declared, sticking her fist in the air. 

Caught up in the moment, Lavender forgot that she was terrified of Snape, and jumped up out of her seat as well, squeaking, “Solidarity!” as she raised her own fist. Ron silently mimicked the gesture.

“Just because one is afflicted with a dark curse does not mean one is no longer human, or that they should not be treated with common decency,” Megumin declared in dark tones. 

“This is nothing like-” Snape took a deep breath, then pointed to the door. “Out! All of you! You will have detention for a week, and 100 points from Gryffindor each!” 

“You’ll have to take points from me too, sir.”

All eyes in the room snapped over to where Dust had slowly risen from his seat. Kazuma and Draco were staring at him open-mouthed, but Dust was utterly serious. “A good friend of mine is an XXXXX rated being, and they’re just as much of a person as anyone I’ve met. So if Darkness says that werewolves are people too, then I’m with her.”

“Dust, what are you DOING?!” Kazuma hissed. 

“The right thing,” Dust said solemnly as even Snape was utterly flabbergasted. Dust turned to Kazuma and winked. “You remember what happened last year, right?”

“I…oh.” Kazuma winced, then sighed and slowly stood. “Yeah, I’m afraid I’m with this moron.”

“Me too!” Tom declared, jumping up to his feet. “Solidarity!” 

Draco looked back and forth between Kazuma and Dust, then his eyes narrowed. He nodded slowly, then stood, his fist raised. “Solidarity.”

During this little display, Snape’s face had gone from red, two white, to purple. He was now positively apoplectic, and he spread his arms wide. “OUT! ALL OF YOU! FOUR HUNDRED POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN, AND FIVE HUNDRED FROM GRYFFINDOR! I WILL SEE YOU IN MY OFFICE AFTER CLASS!” 

“You have not seen the last of us!” Megumin declared, shaking her fist. “We will not be silenced, or oppressed, we will be-”

“SILENCIO!” Snape thundered, practically frothing at the mouth now. “GET OUT OUT BEFORE I THROW YOU OUT!” 

Still silenced, the eight students trooped out of the room, leaving only half of Snape’s class behind him as their enraged professor demanded, “Has anyone else taken leave of their senses!? No!? GOOD! THEN WE BEGIN WITH HOW TO REPEL THE FOUL BEASTS!” 

The still-silent students looked around at one another. Megumin made wild hand gestures, several of which were rather rude, then darted off down the corridor, Ron and Hermione in hot pursuit. Kazuma looked after them, shrugged, then stuck his hands in his pockets and ambled off, even as Draco took out a piece of notebook paper and started scribbling on it furiously. Tom skulked off to who knows where, while Dust looked vaguely confused about the whole thing. 

For a while, Kazuma just wandered about, before heading outside. He didn’t have anywhere in particular to go, so he headed off towards the lake on a whim. After a few minutes, the Silencing Charm wore off, and Kazuma whistled tunelessly to himself, enjoying the pleasant early autumn sunshine. 

As he walked, Kazuma heard a series of loud cracks. Frowning, he turned towards the sound, wondering what on earth it was. Before long, he came to a large boulder, with Darkness standing in front of it, a massive brank that was almost an entire log gripped in both her hands. She was slamming the wood against the boulder as hard as she could, and from the splinters and two broken logs nearby, she’d been at it a while. 

Kazuma paused, and found himself fascinated. Darkness had stripped out of her ropes, which were lying nearby in a crumpled heap, and was wearing only a blouse and shorts. Her clothes were clinging to her from the sweat that was pouring off her body, and for the first time, Kazuma noticed that Darkness was a Girl. He’d always thought of Darkness as an ugly horse face, but she was clearly becoming a woman, even if she was gangly and awkward yet. 

Almost against his will, Kazuma found himself drawn forward. He admired Darkness’ work and form for a few moments, lost in his own thoughts. He absently picked up a nearby felled tree from a stack, Darkness apparently having gathered herself quite a pile, and winced. What kind of a freak was she? He could barely lift it! 

Just then, there was an explosion of splinters and a deafening crack that made Kazuma jump as the branch in Darkness hands shattered in half.

Darkness then uttered a series of distinctly unladylike phrases, then broke the half of the wood still in her hands over her knee. She bent over, picked up the other broken half, and this time simply ripped it in half with her bare hands, before tossing both broken sections into a pile of firewood sized chunks. Then she turned around and froze, her eyes locking with Kazuma’s. 

“Here,” Kazuma said, proffering the log. “This one’s too big for me.”

Darkness ignored him, her eyes filling with tears. “What do you want, Crabbe? Here as that spiteful man’s toady, or simply to mock me?”

“Oh, get over yourself. You think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you? Can’t even conceive that anyone could even match you for self-righteousness,” Kazuma sneered, tossing the branch at Darkness. It fell a bit short and rolled up to her, but she let it bump against her trainers. 

“Werewolves are people, Crabbe. And I am in the mood to break something right now. Normally, I would enjoy your mockery, but right now, if you so much as utter a single disparaging word about werewolves, I will break you, and damn the consequences,” Darkness snarled, raising her hands and clenching them into fists. 

Kazuma just rolled his eyes. “Seriously? Did you forget what happened last year already? I knew you were the stupid one of Megumin’s minions, but I didn’t think you were that dense.”

Darkness redded and flinched slightly, dropping her eyes for a moment. Apparently, that one hit too close to home. Then her eyes snapped up. “You mean…Aqua giving Lavender that amulet, and what she said about werewolves? They are dangerous, it’s just…they’re people, Kazuma!” 

“So is Sylvia,” Kazuma said mildly, and Darkness pulled up an inch short of her fist connecting with his nose. 

Her hand trembling, Darkness leaned forward, but Kazuma stood his ground despite being a full head shorter than her. “What did you say?”

“I said, Sylvia is a person too,” Kazuma said with a shrug. “And heck, basilisks are probably more dangerous than werewolves. But I figured, what the hell, if a giant snake monster can be a person, why couldn’t some poor bastard who gets a little furry once a month?”

Darkness blinked at him, then lowered her fist. She scrubbed at her reddened eyes and tears, then barked out a bitter laugh. “You are an absolutely infuriating boy; do you know that, Kazuma?”

“I mean, my parents tried to kill me, so I get where the impulse comes from,” Kazuma said with a shrug, feeling a deep sense of relief. For a moment there, he’d seen his life flash before his eyes. Which had been odd, because for some reason, he’d seen himself in a lot of lives he didn’t really remember. 

“Ah.” Darkness looked embarrassed, fidgeting for a moment. Then she glanced around, and bent over. She picked up a substantially smaller stick, and held it out to Kazuma. “Want to hit the boulder for a while? It makes me feel better. Especially since I’m so stupid.”

“Eh, I can be pretty stupid myself,” Kazuma agreed, and took the branch, giving it a few good swishes in the air. He peeled off his robes, showing his Superman T-Shirt to Darkness. She glanced at it curiously, and he bristled. “What? You got a problem with anything?”

Darkness shrugged. “It’s just interesting. You are very odd.”

“Yeah, well, same to you,” Kazuma muttered. Then he walked over to the rock and started smacking it with all his strength. It actually did feel pretty good, especially when he imagined he was hitting his parent's stupid faces. 

A moment later, the heavy thuds began again, and Kazuma glanced over to see Darkness determinedly slamming another thick branch into the boulder. He shrugged and kept at it. Wasn’t like he had anything better to do. 

Ten minutes later, Kazuma deeply regretted his life decisions and sat on the ground trying not to cry as he clutched at his bleeding hands. He sat slumped against the boulder, his eyes watering. He’d not managed to break more than one stick, while Darkness had broken two trees, but he had managed to put several splinters in his hands, and rub them raw. His last hit had sent his branch flighting and torn the skin, and now both his hands were bleeding.

Kazuma swore, squeezing his eyes shut. “To hell with Snape, to hell with my parents, to hell with everyone! DAMMIT! Why does everyone have to be such an asshole all the time?”

“I do not know. I have never understood why people cannot simply be civil. Give me your hands.” 

Blinking, Kazuma looked up to see Darkness there, and he blushed furiously. In his own self pity and reverie, he’d forgotten she was even there. He clutched his hands away from her, then winced. 

She tsked, and reached out, forcibly pulling Kazuma’s hands down as she squatted next to him. She examined his palms, frowning. “You blistered quickly. Don’t you ever use your hands?”

“Not if I can help it?” Kazuma gasped. 

“Hmm. I am not very good with healing charms. Hold still.” Kazuma watched in horror as Darkness took out a pair of metal tweezers, and began to remove the splinters. He grimaced in pain and flinched, but he couldn’t let her see him be weak. It took a few minutes, but Darkness pulled out all the splinters, then took out a brown bottle. “This will sting.”

“What doesn’t,” Kazuma grumbled. “Just pour it- YOW! THAT’S NOT A HEALING POTION!” 

“No, it is iodine,” Darkness said flatly, then seized Kazuma’s other hand and poured a generous amount of brown liquid over it, causing Kazuma to forget his promise not to look weak and yowl in pain again. Then she took out a flask of water, poured it over both of Kazuma’s hands, and smeared them with paste from a small tube of obviously muggle medicine. Then she wrapped his hands in strips of gauze bandages. “There. Next time, wear gloves.”

“That HURT! Why couldn’t you just use a potion like a normal witch?” Kazuma complained. 

Darkness’s lip twitched. “Would you want me to administer a potion that I made?”

“No, obviously not! Just get Megumin to make them for you! She’s so good, even Snape thinks her potions deserve Os!” Kazuma snapped, rubbing his hands and wincing. They were tender, but they did feel a little better with that cream on it. 

“I…had not considered that,” Darkness admitted. She pulled out a bottle of pills, and shook out two, then offered them to Kazuma. “Here.”

“Ibuprofen?” Kazuma examined one, then shrugged and popped both in his mouth. He took the canteen without asking and swallowed them with a mouthful of water, wiping his mouth with his arm. 

Darkness popped a couple of pills herself, taking a swig of water to wash them down before corking her canteen. 

“Gross. It’s like we kissed,” Kazuma said, leering at her. 

“How disgusting. I’d rather kiss a werewolf,” Darkness said flatly, standing back up and offering Kazuma a hand. 

“Well, I’d rather kiss Sylvia,” Kazuma said, then helped as Darkness squeezed his hand a little harder than necessary as she got him to his feet. 

“You and every boy in the school,” Darkness said in disgust. “I’m surprised you’re not taking Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Meh. It sounded like work. Also, way more likely to get me hurt than Divination or Muggle Studies,” Kazuma said, flexing his hands. They still hurt. How long did it take the stupid muggle potions to work!?

“And I suppose you thought they would both be easy Os,” Darkness said with a roll of her eyes. 

“Hey, I got better marks than you on all our tests and quizzes in Muggle Studies! Maybe for YOU it’s an easy O, but I actually give a damn about that stuff! Muggles are people, just as much as werewolves or basilisks or whatever!” Kazuma snapped, poking Darkness in the abdomen with his finger, then regretting it as he was still very sore, and her abs were apparently made of rock. 

“You…did?” Darkness paused, looking confused. “But…I had Megumin and Hermione help me study for those, and they’re both muggleborns, or close enough in Megumin’s case.”

“Yeah, but they’re just into nerd stuff. They’ve never even HEARD of most of the muggle wars, even if muggle wars are freaking AWESOME! You have no idea how much time I’ve spent on Age of Empires and Civilization, or how many crazy awesome war movies I’ve seen! Hell, I even read all of Hornblower AND the Aubrey Maturin series, so I know I’m going to get an O on our quiz on the Napoleonic wars! I’m even having Dobby smuggle me this new TV series called Sharpe’s Rifles, so we’ll see who gets the O now!” 

Darkness regarded Kazuma for a long moment, then slowly said, “You…read muggle books? And watch muggle movies?”

All the blood drained out of Kazuma’s face, and he felt distinctly light-headed. “I, uh, I mean…I, um…j-just joking, you know! I, er…”

“Kazuma. Unlike some people, I will not use your every secret against you, nor attempt to out you to others as some sort of ‘muggle lover’ in order to curry favor with unsavory sorts,” Darkness said in exasperation. 

“Oh, uh right. Gryffindor,” Kazuma sagged slightly, feeling a massive wave of relief. 

“However…” Kazuma stiffened. He knew it! That Gryffindor stuff about honor was a load of bunk! They’d betray you just like everyone else, and they’d be happy to stab you in the back and dump you in a ditch, just like every other- “I would very much like to watch this ‘Sharpe’s Rifles’. If it would help me get a better mark, I’m all for it. My grades, as you have so gleefully pointed out, are rather dire.”

“Oh.” Kazuma’s mind raced. How could he spin this to his advantage? How could he use this to get ahead? “Well, you could just watch it with me. I’ve got Dobby smuggling it into Hogsmeade, and I was gonna rent a room at the Three Broomsticks and veg for the day while I binge it. He recorded it on VHS, and I’ve put together a magical TV and VCR that’ll play ‘em.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it. Perhaps we could study together sometime. I hadn’t realized you knew so much about muggle culture, or I’d have approached you earlier.” With that, Darkness turned around, stacked up the firewood she’d split, and grunted as she picked it up. Then she trotted off toward Hagrid’s hut. 

Feeling bemused, Kazuma picked up his clothes and the medical supplies, then glanced at Darkness’ retreating form. Leering, he picked up her robes and sniffed them. Then he frowned. Huh. Girls stunk too? Well, whatever. Whistling to himself, he bundled up Darkness’ robes and headed off after her. 

PHILO: Kazuma better not evolve into Scumzuma. He’s actually kinda respectable this go-around.

The Second Archon War: Superbia Hominem 2

Superbia Hominem 2: A Piece of the Puzzle

To say that the world was in a panic would perhaps have been a broad overstatement. There were no riots in the streets or mass unrest, but nearly every city ended up with large gatherings of concerned citizens, mostly regarding the brief but rather traumatic take down of the global computer networks and telecommunication systems, combined with an announcement of the dreaded fifth attack of the Simurgh. That it was happening in Iraq, a country well known to be ruled by the iron fist of a dictator backed by a murderous parahuman, caused some to see it as karma and others to worry what horrors would shortly be crawling out of Iraq. 

More than a few speculated that the Simurgh was somehow the “FlowerDragon” who had posted on most major news sites and web pages with a short apology.

Dear humanity,

So sorry! My friend was being attacked by the Simurgh, and I panicked. I didn’t mean to crash the internet, but I used to live there and it sort of just happened. Sorry about that! The good news is, Nahida seems to have saved Baghdad, and the Simurgh has retreated! Yay! I’m going to go visit her now and make sure everything’s alright. I promise to only take over your computers again if it’s a real emergency, not just because I’m trying to farm gold to sell in Everquest. 

Sincere regards, 

FlowerDragon

PS: I was kidding about gold selling. Please don’t ban me!

The name of the game that FlowerDragon asked not to be banned from varied, with nearly every popular MMO (and several very obscure ones) being listed, and the message was posted in every language imaginable. 

When Baghdad erupted in riots, it was what the world had expected, and most quietly accepted that another city had been doomed, as the Japanese had failed to mobilize, and the Angel of Munich was currently MIA. 

Then the rioters simply went home, and peace returned to the city. Rumors began to spread: the images and video of the green speck that had arisen to confront the Simurgh, the verdant orb floating in front of the Endbringer for 10 minutes before the Angel of Death departed, and the green orb simply returning to earth. 

A third Archon had arrived. 

For several hours, it was all speculation with little proof aside from the fact that Baghdad, despite the riots, was still largely intact. There were reports coming out that Saddam Hussein’s regime had been overthrown after a visit from Scion, which left people in further confusion. Was the world’s greatest cape taking a more active interest in politics? A few forum trolls claimed to have evidence of WMDs, and that Scion was taking action against a foolish government that had tried to sidestep his nuclear weapons taboo. 

All eyes turned to Los Angeles, where it was announced that the still new Director of the PRT, Hero himself, would be making an announcement. 

The Los Angeles PRT Press Conference room was even more jam packed than usual, with a loud buzz of conversation filling the hall. When Director Baronski (soon to be Costa Brown) stepped out on stage.

“DIRECTOR!” the press called in unison, with dozens of hands raised. 

Dressed in a suit and tie instead of his uniform, Wyatt just chuckled, then pressed a button on his watch. A small drone shot out, and silence fell despite the fact that everyone was still attempting to shout as it emitted a sound dampening field. 

“I’m going to make this quick, so please hold your questions for a moment, alright?” Wyatt said, stepping up to the podium. He took out a clicker, and pressed the button. 

“Approximately 12 hours ago, at 09:36 local time, the Simurgh executed an attack run on the city of Baghdad.”

The press really did settle down, which interestingly caused the volume to rise slightly as Wyatt disabled his drone, causing it to zip back up his cuff and into the watch. The image on screen showed a tracking shot of the Simurgh, followed by an image of her descending from orbit taken by a satellite over Iraq. 

“She arrived in local airspace, where the Endbringer alarms had gone off at 09:08 hours. This was a full twenty-two minutes before the Protectorate detected any motion from the Simurgh.”

Mutters and restless sitting, but Wyatt held his hand up. “I’m not finished yet. Because of the early warning, most of the civilian populace had already evacuated to Baghdad’s Endbringer shelters and hunkered down, meaning there were very few people on the streets. There was one Iraqi cape who rose to meet the Endbringer the very instant she arrived in Iraqi airspace.”

The next image advanced, to show the familiar sight of a green spark rising to meet the Endbringer from multiple angles. “The Protectorate has identified this cape, and briefly met with her. To fully explain what the situation is in detail, I turn this presentation over to Miss Militia, of the Brockton Bay Protectorate.”

All eyes in the room turned as a second cape stepped out, dressed in uniform, though with her American flag bandana pulled down to expose her face. She was in her mid-20s, and a somewhat familiar cape, though Miss Militia didn’t have as much national attention as the Triumvirate. Most of the press had to touch their earpieces to get a quick briefing on what her powers were, and just who she was. 

Miss Militia shook the Director’s hand, then stepped up to the podium as Wyatt stepped to the side, standing to her left and to the rear. 

“Good evening,” Miss Militia said in slightly accented English. “I am Hannah Wesson, cape name Miss Militia. I was head of the Protectorate team sent on a scouting expedition to Baghdad, Iraq, as I am one of our few capes who is fluent in Arabic and Kurdish. Our team was on the ground in Baghdad three hours after the attack, at about 1300 hours local time. We were sent to establish what the situation on the ground was, and to render aid in case of Simurgh induced madness.”

There were mutters again, but Miss Militia continued, ignoring the raised hands. “We quickly established that there had been no sign of the Song, nor any signs of Simurgh Rampages. The populace was in open revolt against the dictatorial regime of the Ba’ath Party president, Saddam Hussein, who had kidnapped the young girl who had repelled the Simurgh with no loss of life.”

“Young girl?!” 

“Impossible!” 

“How was the Simurgh-”

“If you will all kindly remain silent, I think I will answer most of your questions,” Miss Militia barked, and the press quieted. She nodded, then gestured to the screen. “The individual who had repelled the Simurgh was a young woman known by the name Nahida Saeed.”

A picture appeared of a smiling child of no more than six years of age, dressed in a brown hijab and green dress, kneeling beside a garden full of blooming flowers. Notably, her pupils were green and of an odd shape, with a few strands of silver hair slipping out of her hijab.

“Our team quickly ascertained that Nahida Saeed had been injured in an altercation that had taken place after the Simurgh had been repelled by her. Our Thinkers are still evaluating the situation, but our initial impression is that Nahida countered the Simurgh through the usage of broad and very powerful Master, Thinker, and Bio-Tinker abilities. No rating for them has yet been established, but it is fair to say they are some of the most potent on record.”

“Nahida was then taken into custody by the Republican Guard Special Forces Division, also known as the Saddam Hussein’s Palace Guard. Early indicators are that she was taken by Saddam’s human soldiers. Other members of the Special Action Guard, Iraq’s major government sponsored cape group, were injured in the fighting, including Nahida’s father, a prominent Parahuman researcher and Dendro Vision holder, Doctor Bashir Saeed.”

More pictures of the aftermath of a fight flickered through, depicting many unconscious capes laying on the street, which were slick with blood, and soldiers with rifles standing over them. This made no sense. Normal humans, taking out capes? Impossible.

“It seems Nahida prevented the violence from resulting in further death and injury by offering herself as hostage. This information was leaked out to the inhabitants of Baghdad. Including her adoptive mother, the parahuman known as Farasha.”

Sudden intake of breath. Everyone knew who the Butcher of Dasman Palace was, and that she was the Iraqi regime's top enforcer. Things were becoming a lot clearer. 

“Upon hearing their savior had been taken captive by Saddam, the Iraqi populace staged a general uprising. We have indicators that Nahida’s bio-constructs, known as Aranara, aided in the uprising by coordinating it. Of note, they also prevented any looting, arson, or violence. It was an entirely peaceful mass protest. There is no indication of any destruction in the city, save for that done by government soldiers or police.”

Grainy footage shot by cell phones or home cameras was played of the police bringing in tear gas, hoses, and even machine guns and tanks. Every weapon of war was turned to a pile of rust or vine covered sod each time government forces attempted to use it on the clearly unarmed and peaceful protesters. Where the vines and rapid oxidation came from wasn’t obvious, but one thing was clear: For a brutal government crackdown, it was shockingly ineffective and clearly stymied by a very powerful cape with broad powers. 

“Our team met with another foreign cape in Baghdad, code name FlowerDragon. Her real identity is classified at this time, but- PEOPLE! I will conclude my report when you are QUIET.”

The images of the giant plant monster, followed by said monster’s transformation into an alien being with feminine features made of wires and vines had caused an uproar. Especially matched with the now infamous moniker of FlowerDragon. 

“Intel is still being collected on FlowerDragon, but the initial assessment is that she is not actively hostile to the Protectorate or the people of the United States and Canada,” Miss Militia continued when the crowd had quieted. “It seems her takedown of the internet was, in fact, entirely unintentional and largely a byproduct of her Trigger and/or Vision Event. She personally apologized to the Protectorate, multiple times and exhaustively.” 

More pictures of FlowerDragon, this time dressed in mostly human clothes and looking rather remorseful for a plant person. 

“FlowerDragon coordinated with myself and the rest of the Protectorate team to locate Nahida Saeed, who was indeed being held against her will at as-Salam Palace, where most of the protesters were converging. To the best of our knowledge, there were few if any civilian casualties, and only limited military deaths during the entire uprising.”

“The uprising concluded at 16:12 local time, when Farasha returned to Baghdad after being on assignment at the Iranian border. To the best of our knowledge, Nahida has already brokered some kind of deal with President Saddam Hussein as she was released at the same moment. Currently, President Hussein’s whereabouts are unknown, though Nahida states that he is alive and well, despite the fact that the Butcher seemed rather eager for the blood of her former master.” 

That last part earned Miss Militia a frown from Director Wyatt, though she ignored it. Clearly, while she was willing to be the Protectorate’s spokeswoman, she was going to tell it in her own way, and there was no love lost between her and the Iraqis. 

“Based on the analysis of the Thinker contingent of our field team, we have every reason to believe that Nahida Saeed did indeed defeat the Simurgh, then coordinated the peaceful protests against the Iraqi Government. At this time, the Protectorate classifies Nahida as a High Priority Protection Target, and will do our utmost to safeguard her. Should she ever seek sanctuary, there is a standing offer for herself and her family, excluding Farasha, to take refuge in the United States or Canada, or to receive Protectorate assistance to immigrate to the friendly country of her choosing.”

Miss Militia paused, and just before hands went up for questions she added, “Not that I anticipate she’ll need it. Questions?” 

Everyone shouted at once, and Miss Militia nodded to the back row, to the Al Jazeera reporter to the shock of many. That was far from a softball target. 

“What if the reports that these new capes are somehow a Simurgh plot? Both this Nahida and the so-called Flower Dragon?”

“If it’s a Simurgh plot, then it’s too complex for even our best thinkers. But I don’t see how toppling a genocidal regime and stopping a city of innocent civilians from destroying itself could possibly further the goals of the Endbringers, whatever they may be,” Miss Militia said flatly. As she spoke, several reporters were talking on phones, and more began to vibrate and go off, including Director Wyatt’s. An aide came racing from the sides to whisper in his ears, and Wyatt’s eyes went wide in shock. 

Miss Militia nodded to the next questioner even as the CNN reporter had a cell phone to her ear. “What of the reports that the Japanese Bakufan has recognized Nahida Saeed as the rightful ruler of Iraq and the Dendro Archon!?” 

Miss Militia paused, then turned to the director, her expression nonplussed. This was very clearly not in her script. Wyatt stepped towards the microphone, and Miss Militia put a hand over it, whispering something in the Director’s ear as the reporters buzzed excitedly. The director considered for a moment, then shrugged and nodded. 

Miss Militia uncovered the microphone and smiled somewhat smugly. “Speaking as an individual and not as a representative of the Protectorate? I think that little girl would be an improvement over the bloodthirsty bastard they had before. And frankly, if she wanted to be in charge I don’t think anyone could stop her, with or without Farasha’s support. No comment on her Archon status.”

“Thank you for your questions, with this update, I’m afraid our team needs to discuss further implications, such as the fact that Grandmaster Cookie has just announced the Knights of Favonius’ full support of Nahida,” Wyatt stated. “We’ll have another conference in..let’s say three hours. Thank you.”

The reporters all shouted questions regardless, but Director Wyatt and Miss Militia turned and walked off the stage, even as a flunkie came out to try to placate the frothing media mob. 

“Sir, what’s our stance on Archons?” Miss Militia asked as soon as they were off stage and in the briefing room. 

“Just Wyatt when we’re in private, Hannah,” the Director said, taking an electronic pad from one of his aids and scrolling through it. He frowned, then looked up. “Why do you ask?”

“Come off it, Wyatt,” Hannah snorted, deliberately leaning against the wall with one shoulder like a proper American would. “You and I both know you’ve long championed Archon theory. What’s the protectorate’s official status, now that we’ve found Nahida? She’s clearly the Dendro Archon.”

“Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind,” Wyatt mused. He tapped a few things, then handed the pad back to his aid. “Get our people to talk to Cookie’s. We need to know what the Knights are going to do about this. At this point, the Protectorate is taking a wait and see approach to Iraq and Archons in general. But find out where Venti is, and what he’s doing.”

“Sure, but I’m a team player. I’ll keep my opinions to myself if it’s not the official Protectorate line,” Hannah said with a nonchalant shrug as if she had not just been vocal about her distaste for the previous Iraqi regime.

“I do appreciate that about you. Keith always has good things to say about your conduct and professionalism in his reports,” Wyatt said, looking up and nodding at Hannah. 

“Thank you,” Hannah said, standing up straight unconsciously. She meant it too. It was tough being an immigrant sometimes, and Hannah strove to always be the absolute best representative of those like her she could be. It might not be fair, but it was how it was. 

“I’m going to have to give it some thought, but I personally agree with you that we’ve found the Dendro Archon. What that means…” Wyatt hesitated, then shrugged. “It’s interesting. How many of these Archons are there?”

“Good question. Perhaps Nahida would be more open to answering our questions than the Shogun or Venti,” Hannah mused. “We really have no idea how many there are.”

“Well,” Wyatt rubbed his chin, then grinned. “Have you ever heard of Genius Invocation TCG?” 

“What, you mean that children’s card game from Europe?” Hannah scoffed. Then she caught the gleam in Wyatt’s eye. “Surely you can’t be serious.”

“I am serious, and don’t call me Shirley,” Wyatt said with a wink. 

Hannah took a moment to process that while Wyatt turned away and headed out, then let out a snort. “Oh, that’s awful. Sir! Just one more thing…”

“Hmm?” Wyatt glanced behind as Hannah hurried to catch up. 

“In private, please,” she added quietly. “Something to discuss I didn’t want to put in my official report.”

“Ah.” Wyatt nodded, and led Hannah down two halls to his office, the one that had formerly belonged to his girlfriend, Alexandria. She was still around as an official member, though she was putting in more work on the campaign trail than the costume lately. Personally, she had Hannah’s vote. They needed a strong leader, and Alexandria had the courage and personal moral fortitude to do the right thing in Hannah’s estimation. 

Closing the door, Wyatt reached into a minifridge and pulled out a can of iced coffee, gesturing to the drinks. “Anything cold you’d like?”

“You have a beer?” Hannah sighed, sinking into one of the plush executive chairs. “I’ve had a hell of a day.”

Chuckling, Wyatt asked. “Bud, Heineken, Sapporo, or Corona?” 

“Bud,” Hannah said, and caught the bottle. It wasn’t a Lite, thank goodness. She needed the calories after today. Turning her weapon into a bottle opener, Hannah pried the lid off and took a long drink, noting that Wyatt stuck to the canned coffee. Well, she was going to try to sleep after this. Maybe if she asked her power, Armory, nicely, she could have a nice nap for once. How many years had it been since she’d really slept? 

“So, what’s on your mind?” Wyatt asked after giving her a minute to enjoy her beer. 

“Well, I have to ask. Did you know about Doctor Mother and Asset Tyche? The Thinker 12?” Hannah asked slowly. 

“Ah.” Wyatt took a long drink himself to think, then leaned forward in his chair. “Cauldron.”

“Cauldron,” Hannah agreed, fiddling with her bottle and wiping the condensation onto her hands. 

“I suppose we’ll have to read you into all that,” Wyatt agreed. 

“Mmm.” Hannah made a noncommittal grunt, then looked up and met the Director’s eye. “And what about what that fucker Scion did to Nahida?”

Wyatt went still. It was something most people wouldn’t notice, but Hannah had been in enough cape rumbles to know when a fellow parahuman was tapping into their powers and gearing up for something dangerous. 

You there, Armory? 

Here. Ready for combat.

Can you hear his…demon?

They are not on my network. Ready to engage. 

Hannah nodded. She felt a sense of readiness from the bottle opener in her hands, a very deliberate choice on her part; it was a lot less intimidating for her to have a bottle opener in her hand than a pistol, even if they were equally dangerous in her grip. But that drive towards conflict was silent. Had been since she’d met Nahida. That was…interesting. 

“Why do you ask?” Wyatt asked, leaning back and visibly making himself react, though Hannah noted he positioned his watch towards her. He probably had some real nasty tech in there. 

“Because from what I gathered, he tried to rape a little girl,” Hannah said flatly. “And something else Nahida said made me think he’s the source of my power. Of all our powers. And I’ve known for a long time that there was a hell of a lot more to what we can do than just a cosmic coincidence that comes in on the worst day of our lives. There’s something malevolent about them. Nahida calls them demons. It’s a good name for Armory and his kind.”

“Armory?” Wyatt asked, frowning slightly, his body posture altering slightly. 

Hannah held up her bottle opener. “Armory? Say hello to the Director.”

Greetings. I am Armory of the Infinite. You are specimen Wyatt Baronski, experiment of one of the Thinker’s primary Shards. Shall we engage in data collection? 

The director promptly fell out of his chair and landed flat on his ass, his eyes wide. “Holy shit. Did…did your power just…?”

“Nahida did something to him,” Hannah said, holding up Armory and causing him to take the familiar shape of a Colt 1911 made of black and green steel. Now, however, a small icon was embossed on the surface: a crossed rifle, shotgun, sword, and spear over a heater shield. And the words in Kurdish, çekek bêdaw. Or literally, the endless weapon.  

“I can hear him now, and he talks back. I also finally understand what Director Legend meant about being at peace. I’m not weaker. Stronger, if anything, but I don’t feel the need to go out and fight someone. I didn’t even realize it was there until Nahida took it away.” Hannah stood and offered the director a hand. 

Wyatt slowly nodded, swallowing. “Right. This…this changes a few things.” He took Hannah’s hand and got to his feet, still staring at the gun. “It did just talk, right?”

Armory was silent, until Hannah nudged him mentally. Yes. I am capable of communication. 

“And…all…powers…are capable of communicating?” Wyatt asked. 

Hannah just saved time and repeated the question. Armory apparently couldn’t hear Wyatt well, which was interesting. 

No. Specimen Wyatt’s Shard is currently incapable of communication, as its network is offline. 

“I…see.” Wyatt considered that, then nodded to himself. “Well, Hannah. I think we need to contact David, Doctor Mother, Contessa, and especially Alex. I think you’re going to be joining Cauldron one way or another.”

“Oh?” Hannah’s eyebrows rose. 

“Absolutely. Just one question for Armory. Is he on Scion’s side or Bright Trees?” Wyatt asked, his body relaxing so much Hannah knew he was getting ready for a fight.

When Hannah repeated the question, Armory responded, The Warrior should not have attempted to mate with Bright Tree. She is immature. He harms The Cycle. Additionally, Bright Tree’s methods are novel. She perhaps holds the solutions to Limited Resources. I am undecided, but at this time, I will help Bright Tree. 

“Good enough, I guess,” Wyatt said, and sagged slightly. Apparently, that had been the right answer. “And woo boy. You might want to sit down, because I’m afraid I’ve got some doozies to drop while the others are on their way. You haven’t told anyone else about this, right?”

“No one,” Hannah said with a shake of her head. 

“Good, then this doesn’t leave this room, and you’ll have a list of who’s need to know, and who’s not. You already met Contessa and Doctor Mother, but we’ll have to get you read into the entire program.” Wyatt suddenly grinned, flashing that famous boyish smile of his. “And Hannah…I think you just gave us the biggest glimpse of hope we’ve ever seen.”

“Here to serve, sir,” Hannah said, and saluted crisply. She felt Armory humming along in the back of her mind, and mentally grimaced. She would have to figure out what this meant, what her visions from her trigger event meant. Those enormous beings, the scattered seeds of a dying God… 

But it seemed like she’d be getting some answers at last. 

Last Drop of Hope, Chapter 30

Even after several hours in the city, everything was still eerily silent. Yunyun looked around, always expecting to see some shadowy figure darting or to hear the rumble of engines or the slap of rubber soles on the pavement. But still, there was nothing. In spite of seeing a few roaches and an energy leech, the entire place seemed devoid of life. The two blast craters they’d found had been interesting, but even the prospect of some powerful magic user running around only served to make the entire place more eerie. 

There was a soft rumble, and Yunyun giggled as Chomusuke rubbed her head against her chest. She stroked the little kitten, looking out over the explosion as Kazuma and Megumin argued about what to do next. 

“-can’t just run in and start swinging!” 

“Yeah, I actually can! If it gets bad, I can just teleport out and-”

It was exhausting, as any argument with Yunyun’s adopted sister always became a game of one-upmanship for her. She tried to filter it out, and focus on the ambient magical energy she sensed. It was rather different from the aura around Aqua, but there was still mana in the air. She’d not realized how ‘dry’ the air here in Spoke felt until she’d concentrated on it, but she could sense the lack of mana away from Aqua now. 

While her magical senses were far from finely tuned, Yunyun could tell that something massive had happened here. It was a bit like feeling a warm but empty mug that still smelled of artificial caffeine. You know it had stim-tea in it only a few moments before, and quite a lot of it, but you could only catch traces of it. Whatever spell had done this had been truly impressive. 

With a start, Yunyun realized she’d just stumbled on a significant clue: It had been one spell, not two. Kazuma had been correct: someone had reflected the initial attack back to this spot. The question then was, what could reflect a spell like this? It had to have been phenomenally powerful if even only the backwash could cause such devastation. 

At last, Yunyun went over to Komekko and whispered, “C-can you just have Hoost scout the train yards?”

Komekko looked up from polishing off the last of the snacks Kazuma had gotten her. To Yunyun’s shock and delight, she was looking a little chubby now. Not fat, but she was only a young child before, and she’d always been painfully thin. They all had been. But she’d been eating nearly constantly since they’d been reunited, and she was now putting on a healthy amount of fat.

“Yeah. Should I tell Megs?” 

“Let’s j-just let it be a surprise,” Yunyun sighed, and Komekko nodded happily, then muttered a few commands under her breath to Hoost. 

Yunyun turned to Lolisa, who was sitting on a rock, staring at the three succubi around Komekko and looking pensive. She wandered over, sitting by the other girl. “Um, so, w-what do you think?”

“Huh?” Lolisa blinked, then focused on Yunyun. “About what?”

“About what happened. W-why the people all disappeared,” Yunyun supplied. 

Lolisa grimaced and turned to meet Yunyun’s eyes. “I honestly don’t know. But if I had to guess…they’re all dead. Or worse. There’s a lot you can do with that much mortal blood. And if magic is back…Duke Vanir wasn’t one to waste human lives like some higher demons, but he always viewed mortals as cattle. If he thinks it’s time to cull the herd…things will get bad, fast.”

“That does s-sound bad,” Yunyun agreed quietly. She met Lolisa’s eyes evenly. “Do you see us as cattle?”

Flinching, Lolisa dropped her gaze. “I…I try not to. I don’t…I don’t want to, but…how can I go against my nature?”

“Crimson Demons f-fight our fate every day we draw breath,” Yunyun said quietly, glancing back over at Megumin, who was still arguing she could use ‘reconnaissance by fire’ as a good option. “If you’re going to be an asset, then f-fight with us. But I’m not going to let anyone e-endanger this mission. We can change the world. I-I don’t want Komekko to always have to live in a world w-where she’s hated and hunted just because she has red eyes.”

“I suppose this world became a hell for you,” Lolisa said, smiling at Yunyun sadly. “But for me…it was always the closest to paradise I’d ever get.”

That wasn’t something  Yunyun knew how to respond to, but she was saved from having to think of one by Komekko jumping up. “Mr. Hoost says he found some people! They’re at the train yard! But they all look funny.”

“What?!” Megumin spun around from her argument, her nostril’s flaring. “You just went and scouted it without me!?”

“Well, you were just arguing, and Mr. Hoost is sneaky so I just sent him. Now are we gonna argue some more or are we gonna go shoot the bad guys?” Komekko huffed. 

“Oh, fine!” Megumin kicked a bit of rubble hard enough to send it through a wall, then turned around. “Come on, let’s go see if these people know anything.”

“What do you mean, they look funny?” Kazuma asked Komekko as they headed toward the train yards at the city center. 

“Well, one of ‘em gots wings, and the rest of ‘em are dressed in pajamas,” Komekko explained. “Maybe they just woke up? I don’t know.”

“Pajamas? Maybe they’re escaped prisoners or something,” Kazuma muttered, then shrugged as they hurried through the city. “Well, whatever. Hopefully it’s not too far this time.”

“Just a couple more blocks!” Komekko said, and pointed forward, urging Clara on as the succubus gave her a piggyback ride. “Forward! Let’s beat ‘em up!” 

“First we talk, then the- MEGUMIN! Megumin, the point is to talk to them, not-” Kazuma shouted, but Megumin had already turned on Zephyr Step and was gone. 

Yunyun just ran along, keeping pace with the succubi. She could run faster of course, the succubi were not in the tip top fighting shape Crimson Demons were, but they could run faster than Komekko could on her short little legs, and Yunyun wanted to stick with her. It was only about two kilometers, but the succubi and Kazuma were all blowing hard by the time they arrived, while Yunyun was still breathing easily. 

The train yards themselves were an absolutely massive complex at the heart of Spoke, consisting of a warren   of maglev train lines spiraling out of the city center all across Belzerg. It wasn’t the largest transportation hub in the world, but it was the largest in the extensive NyteTech turf and was crucial for control of the region. 

Parts of the train yards were as run down and covered with filth and graffiti as any slum, but the section that the party found themselves in was fairly well maintained, with only a little rust and areas where the walls had clearly been power washed to remove gang symbols. The massive passenger trains with their luxurious cars were absent, the station a silent and empty concrete and fake stone edifice to the strength of NyteTech with a statue of CEO Beldia out front. It was still there, but someone had broken loose his head from the chest and placed it at his feet, spray painting red X’s over the eyes and a large PERVERT.  

Yunyun paused as they hurried by the edifice, and Kazuma and Lolisa were all too happy to slump onto a bench panting, while the other succubi just collapsed onto the ground, their wings sagging dejectedly. 

“This is…different,” Yunyun said softly, going over to examine the statue. She looked around, then went over to a nearby trash can and rummaged around, pulling out two cans of red spraypaint. It wasn’t the cheap stuff normal taggers used, either, but good corporate stuff from the Church of Revenge. “Revengers? W-why would they be here?”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense.” Hauling himself up, Kazuma stomped over and took the cans. He examined both, then shook them up and sprayed two lines on the ground. He examined that, then the paint on the statue. “What the hell. Do you think maybe they just found the paint in a freight car?”

“They only defaced the statue. T-this was deliberate,” Yunyun pointed out. 

“Megumin found the bad guys,” Komekko pipped up. “Mr. Hoost can see her. I think she-”

There was a flash, then an echoing boom a moment later. 

“Yeah that tracks,” Kazuma sighed. “Let’s go try to keep her from getting herself killed.”

“They’re usin’ magic!” Komekko gasped as they ran forward. “The people in pajamas are shouting weird stuff and shooting spells!” 

“Well, it’s time to show the world that the Crimson Demon Clan are the true masters of magic,” Yunyun growled, drawing the wand that Wiz had given her and clutching it tightly in her fist. This time, she broke into a full on sprint, leaving behind even the succubi who had begun to flutter up into the air to gain speed. 

Firing off a Magic Missile, Yunyun shattered the safety glass that looked out over the train yard, then jumped out of the window, landing perfectly on the maglev line four meters away, then sprinting along it towards where she could see the fighting several hundred meters away. There were indeed magic spells going off; blasts of lightning, balls of flame, and green blades of wind. Where had these enemy mages come from? 

In addition to that, two figures were dueling in the sky, dodging between the spells that were detonating around them. One was obviously Megumin in her black armor and helm, the giant sword Gram swinging easily about her. The other was a bat winged figure in dark leathers who wielded a giant two handed axe of impractical size, and had flaming red hair that trailed behind her in the sky along with two horns. 

Yunyun covered the rest of the distance, then took a moment to pose at the top of the rail line over the battlefield. “BEYOND! I AM YUNYUN! FOREMOST ARCHWIZARD OF THE CRIMSON DEMON CLAN, AND SHE WHO WILL RESTORE MY PEOPLE TO GLORY!” 

To her surprise and delight, the spells from the black robed figures below her paused in their attacks, staring up at her in apparent shock. 

“Stop posing and HELP ME!” Megumin snarled, appearing beside Yunyun with her sword in a high guard. She was bleeding in half a dozen places and panting hard. Yunyun had seen her sister carve tanks in half. What kind of foe was she facing? 

“Crimson Demon Clan?” the winged creature above them demanded, slowly lowering herself. She was injured as well, her leathers stained with blood, and a cut on one cheek. “What kind of farce is this?”

“She has the Crimson Eyes!” one of the mages below them gasped. He turned to the others, waving his hands. “We have to respond!” 

“I’ll take the wizards,” Yunyun said quietly, raising her wand in one hand and pistol in the other. “Can you take the flier?”

“If I don’t have to dodge spells? Piece of rat meat,” Megumin snorted. 

Before they could enter into battle, three succubi landed and lifted Komekko up so she could pose atop a pyramid of their hands. 

“BEHOLD! I AM KOMEKKO, CUTEST LITTLE SISTER OF THE CRIMSON DEMON CLAN, AND SHE WHO’S GONNA KICK YOUR BUTTS!” 

Yunyun glanced at Megumin, who sighed and rolled her eyes, but lifted her sword on high. 

“AND I AM MEGUMIN! FOREMOST BLADE OF THE CRIMSON DEMON CLAN, AND SHE WHO WILL SLAY SYLVIA THE FLESH SHAPER!” 

Yunyun grinned and made ready to attack, but to her shock, the figures below them all struck poses as well. 

“Behold! I am Bukkororii! Foremost Shoemaker of the Crimson Demon Clan, and he who will one day launch his own clothing brand!” 

Yunyun paused, her jaw dropping as the boy below her pushed back his hood, revealing glowing crimson eyes and a cheeky grin. 

“Behold! I am Pekonyan! Foremost gamer of the Crimson Demon Clan, and he who will attain any high score!” 

“Behold! I am Nerimaki, foremost cook of the Crimson Demon Clan, and she who can master any recipe!” 

“And I am Chekeria, and I…uh…um…I’m really good at reading? I don’t know… we didn’t practice this part…” 

The winged figure sighed, lowering herself to land in front of the apparent Crimson Demons. “And I am Arnes, Herald of Violence, and I really wish you’d introduced yourself BEFORE you started attacking. Though honestly, I would never have expected to see a Crimson Demon with a sword. Is that the Cursed Blade Gram? I’ve not seen it in nearly 1000 years.” 

Yunyun wasn’t paying attention though, jumping down from the maglev and landing easily despite the ten meter drop. She ran over to the four other Crimson Demons. She peered into Bukkororii’s face, making him flinch back. He looked to be about her age, or maybe a year or two older, though it was hard to tell as he looked…fat. Well, maybe not fat, but he didn’t have the lean muscles and hardened fighter’s frame that she would have expected. 

“Are you really Crimson Demons?! I…I thought my sisters and I…were the last…”

“Uh, well, you might have been?” Bukkoroii said, rubbing the back of his head and glancing sheepishly at Arnes, who was looking rather peevish still. “We’re, um…”

“Are you fakes? Imposters?” Megumin demanded, landing beside Yunyun, her sword at the ready still. “If this is some sick ploy to get us to drop our guard…” 

“Um, we’re not imposters, but, uh…” Chekeria blushed, looking away from her piercing gaze. He looked to be the youngest, only a year or two older than Komekko. His black robes were actually a bit big on him, and he still had baby fat on him of all things. 

“Show us your marks!” Yunyun demanded, pointing her gun at the strangers. “If you’re real Crimson Demons, you have marks!” 

“I-In public!?” Nerimaki gasped, blushing and covering her mouth with her hands. “I heard wild Crimson Demons were crazy, but that’s just lewd!” 

Arnes rolled her eyes and strode up to Pekonyan, then pulled the boy's robe over his head, revealing a somewhat tubby teenager in boxers and a white undershirt. “Hey!” 

“It’s on your belly, pull your shirt up,” Arnes ordered. “Hurry up. I didn’t think we’d meet actual Crimson Demons.”

“We are actual Crimson Demons,” Pekonyan grumbled, but did pull his shirt up, revealing a barcode like mark on his left pectoral muscle. He blushed like a sunset while he did it, but met Yunyun’s gaze fiercely.. “See?” 

“Mine’s on my butt, like Megumin!” Komekko said cheerily. “I could show you, but not in public. That’s gross.”

Blushing, Yunyun hastily hiked up her robe, exposing her inner left thigh so her own mark could be seen. “I-I am a real Crimson Demon…w-what do you mean, wild? And where did you come from? A-all the other families never came to the Conclaves, a-and the ones we knew…”

“They’re clones,” Arnes said, tossing Pekoyan back his robe. The four teenagers all blushed and looked down. “Raised by the Cat’s Eye Group. Lady Wolbach knew that she needed to bring back magic somehow to save the world from her fellows. She always had a soft spot for the Crimson Terrors. I told her it was a bad idea, but these kids aren’t so bad. Still crazy little maniacs, but they’re alright.”

“Clones?” Megumin’s voice was dangerously blank. “So. Their loyalty is to the Corporations.”

“No!” Nerimaki hastily ran over and bowed. “I-I want to be a real Crimson Demon! We read all the history books! Um, we practiced the poses and tried to learn to cast magic, but it never worked until a month ago! Lady Wolbach made us cards and taught us some basic spells. She said she would have taught us Advanced Magic, but we needed points for that? And, um, I-I didn’t like killing rats and stuff…”

The three boys hastily nodded, hurrying around Arnes and bowing low before Yunyun and Megumin. “Teach us, please!” Bukkororii begged, tears in his eyes. “I want to be a real Crimson Demon, not just a shoemaker!”

The other three all nodded eagerly, looking desperately hopeful.

Yunyun hesitated, then licked her lips and thought rapidly. She’d dedicated her life to researching and rebuilding the Crimson Demon Clan. She’d always known it was a mad, impossible quest, as there were only five, no it was now three and all her fault, Crimson Demon’s left. 

“Um, Megumin? Komekko? What do you think?” she asked quietly. 

“I dunno, are they good at fighting?” Komekko asked suspiciously. “Megumin was fighting all of them and winning.”

Megumin walked around their supposed kin slowly, looking skeptical. “They look like fat corporate pigs, not real Crimson Demons. How do we know they’re not just pets that look like wolves?”

“We can be fierce! We know magic!” Chekeria protested, holding up his fingers and making sparks fly over them. “We took combat training too!”

“Corporate combat training?” Komekko snorted derisively. “So you could beat up a baby. What about taking out a blackhat with just a knife? ‘Cause I could do that since I was four.”

“Would you forswear all other masters, and bind yourselves to the Crimson Demon Clan for all time?” Yunyun asked softly. 

The four before her all nodded eagerly, hope flickering in their eyes.

Slowly, Yunyun drew her knife. “Crimson Demons are bound by blood. Would you mingle your blood with the blood of the True Clan?”

She cut herself on the palm, then made a fist, squeezing out a drop of blood. She passed the knife to Komekko, who nonchalantly did the same. They’d never done something like this before, obviously, but it wasn’t like Komekko hadn't cut herself playing with knives a few dozen times before. 

“Wow, that is the edgiest bullshit I have ever seen,” Kazuma’s voice said, and  Yunyun glanced up to see him peering over the edge of the maglev line. “Are Crimson Demons supposed to be edgelords?”

Yunyun ignored him and looked back down just in time to see Nerimaki eagerly grab the knife from Komekko and cut her own palm. She did a bad job of it and cut more deeply than she should have, gasping in pain. But she held her bloody fist out to Yunyun and the three boys hastily cut themselves as well. 

“W-we’re real Crimson Demons,” Nerimaki whispered through tears of pain. “Just like you. We…we want to learn how. That’s all.”

Yunyun considered that, until Megumin stepped over, her own hand dripping blood from where she’d cut it on Gram, and grasped Nerimaki’s hand. “Then welcome to the Clan. Try not to get yourself killed.”

The other girl started crying, then jumped up and hugged Megumin, putting a bloody handprint on her back. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” 

The boys looked a little more hesitant, but Komekko gave Bukkororii a big hug. “I’m your new little sister! Which means ya haft spoil me and give me lots of food, OK?”

“Uh, yeah, of course!” Bukkororii hastily agreed, sniffling and hugging Komekko tightly. They all ended up embracing, putting scarlet handprints on their clothing as Kazuma was carried down by Lolisa. 

“Believe it or not, that was actually the most Crimson Demon thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot,” Arnes remarked when they were done. She grinned. “Good for you kids. Now, what are you folks doing here?”

“We could ask you the same thing,” Yunyun said quietly, taking out a bandage and starting to wrap her palm. 

“Oh, give me that,” Kazuma sighed, taking her hand. “Lesser Heal.” 

The wound knitted instantly, and Yunyun flexed her hand, nodding in satisfaction. Not even a twinge. Good.

“Huh. Your eyes are green. How’d you learn magic?” Arnes asked suspiciously. She glanced over at the succubi. “You girls teach him?”

“He learned it from her Royal Majesty, Iris Stylish Sword Belzerg, Archfiend,” Lolisa said, meeting Arne’s eyes. “What of it?”

“A Belzerg…then the rumors are true,” Arnes looked thoughtful, rubbing her chin. Then she shrugged. “Well, that news will please my mistress. So, she sent you to Spoke to investigate the disappearances? Well, you’re too late. That fucking traitor Vanir sold them out to the Church.”

“Wait, Masked Media and the Revengers are working together?” Kazuma demanded, looking worried. “That explains the spraypaint, but not everything else.”

“It’s Serena. She’s up to something fucky,” Arnes growled. She glanced at Yunyun, then shrugged. “I’ll work with Crimsons. I remember when we were enemies, but frankly, fuck all that. And fuck Vanir and Serena in particular. I’m staying right here on the mortal plane, and as far as I’m concerned, my mistress had the right of things.”

“And that was?” Yunyun demanded, facing Arnes and trying to draw herself up to her full height. She was still head and shoulders shorter than Arnes, but she was a Crimson Demon, and she knew size was irrelevant. Anyone could be taken down with enough skill. 

“Bring back the magic and unfuck the world, obviously,” Arnes said with a shrug, shouldering her massive axe. Close up, it looked like it had been forged of blood, with wicked spikes all over it, and humanoid skulls embedded in the neck and heel. “She lazed about for too long, but when the magic did come back, she remembered she was Violence too. Ran off without me. Probably got herself in a real mess. But whatever, I’ll find her.”

“I’d heal you too, but you look like a demon,” Kazuma told Arnes. 

She laughed. “Ah just find me some mortal blood and I’ll be fine in a jiffy! No, not yours. I think we can be allies. Few enough of those left. What’s your name, kid?”

“Kazuma. And this is Lolisa. We were sent by Her Majesty to try to make an alliance. So I guess you’ll do,” Kazuma said, sticking out his hand. 

“Japanese, eh? Wonders never cease,” Arnes returned the grip, making Kazuma wince. “Ha! Sorry, kid. Well, have any of you seen an elf with red hair, or a giant black beast?”

“W-we haven’t seen any elves,” Yunyun admitted. “A-and only a small black cat.”

She pulled out Chomusuke from her neck, and the kitten looked up at the gobsmacked Arnes and mewed. 

“M-my lady?” Arnes said weakly, falling to one knee, her eyes wide with horror. “What has happened to you?!”

Yunyun blinked. This day was just full of surprises it seemed. 

The Second Archon War: Sapientia Oromasdis 16

Sapientia Oromasdis 16: Wise as Serpents

Beta’d and edited by The Grand Cogitator, Dr_Feelgood, October Daye, and Philosophysics

The merciless golden light pounded every inch of Bashir’s naked skin as he stood on the burning desert sands. He prayed for a drop of water or a sliver of shade, but there was nothing to protect him from the tormenting light. He longed to kneel down before the golden light, to submit, to try to get what little shelter he could, but instead, he stood defiant, arms spread wide. 

For behind him huddled his daughter, crying and afraid. If the light touched her, she would be hurt, and Bashir could not allow this. He cried out, straining with all his might to remain standing even as he felt the light burn the skin from his body. 

Allah, the merciful and benevolent, give your servant strength in his time of need. 

As if in response to Bashir’s prayer, a plant grew up out of the ground. At first Bashir thought the small green shoot would wither and die in the horrible light, but it was instead strengthened even as his torment reached new depths of agony. Slowly, ever so slowly, the spout grew until it became a large leafy vine that grew up over Bashir, blocking out the golden light. He sagged in relief, but did not allow himself to kneel before the tyrant of gold. 

I defy you, King of Demons. I defy you!

His voice came out parched and cracked, echoing more in his mind than in the air about him, but his words of rebellion strengthened Bashir. As his resolve grew, Bashir found a bronze staff in his hands, twined about by a white serpent. 

The Rod of Asclepius I give to you, my Son. To defy even death itself, and spit in the face of Fate and Mortality. 

Leaning on the staff, Bashir found renewed strength. He raised his hand up against the oppressive light, and screamed his defiance, even as the serpent reared up and bit his hand. Instead of pain and death, an icy coolness raced through his veins, and relief from the pain came at last. 

Bashir fell out of the Dream, and into a healing sleep. 

After a period of time he could not determine, Bashir found himself pulled gently back to wakefulness. His entire body felt sore, from the crown of his head to the tip of his toes, like he’d been sandblasted all over. He also felt incredibly weak, which wasn’t surprising, but he’d rarely felt this feeble. The only other time he could think of was when he’d gotten a severe case of scarlet fever as a child. This was somehow worse.  

He forced his eyes open and found Nahida sitting in a chair beside his bed. They were in a familiar hospital room, though it was rather a novel experience being the patient. His mind was still groggy, but one thing was still clear in his mind. 

“Are you safe?” Bashir whispered, his tongue thick and swollen in his mouth. “Did he hurt you?”

“Here,” Nahida said, passing Bashir a small cup of water. “Drink this.”

Gratefully, he took it and sipped, though he noticed that Nahida didn’t answer his questions. 

“I’m sorry to awaken you so soon. You should have slept for much longer,” Nahida said, taking the cup back and giving Bashir a sad smile. “But things have changed, and more importantly, I am afraid that no amount of sleep can heal your wounds.”

“My wounds are not important,” Bashir said, taking Nahida’s hand and trying to squeeze it, even as his muscles and tender skin cried out in protest. “Are you well? Did he hurt you?”

Finally, Nahida met his eyes and gave Bashir a sad smile. “I’m afraid the answer to both is yes. I am well, but the King of Demons hurt me badly. Mostly by tormenting you.”

Sighing, Bashir eased back onto his pillow. “That seems to be the best answer I’ll get out of you for now. But why? Why would Scion, the man considered the world’s greatest hero, attack you, try to force himself upon you?”

“He is no man, nor god,” Nahida said, looking far more worried and fearful than Bashir had seen her any time save for when she’d been forced to confront Saddam. Saddam!

“Nahida! You have to hide,” Bashir rasped, trying to sit up. “The President, he will-”

“Do nothing. He is actually one of the reasons I awoke you, as he is currently still stuck in a sewer pipe,” Nahida said. She grinned mischievously. “At least now he can consort with the sort of materials his policies are made of.”

That took long moments for Bashir’s tormented mind to process. “The President… is in a sewer pipe?” Then a racking cough shook him, and Bashir collapsed back onto the bed, wheezing for breath. 

Nahida put her hands on Bashir’s chest, warm green energy flowing into him. It reduced the coughing and the pain, but the weariness remained. 

“Truthfully, you need rest. If circumstances allowed it, I would have mandated at least a week’s worth of bedrest, but I am afraid there is much to be done, and I know you would not wish to sleep through it,” Nahida told him. 

Nodding, Bashir grimaced and tried again. “Yes. Why is the president…?”

“He did as you feared, and imprisoned me. I was weak from facing both the Simurgh and the King of Demons and was captured. Don’t worry! It wasn’t for very long, only about six hours,” Nahida reassured him. “Let me try to explain…”

As Nahida spun the tale of the past several hours Bashir leaned back in his bed, a slow smile spreading over his lips. He waited until Nahida was done, then shook his head in amazement. “I always knew you were special, Nahida. Particularly after I received my Vision from you. But this? This is a miracle.”

Squirming uncomfortably at the praise, Nahida managed a smile. “All it took was a little preparation and planning on my part. You, Tessa, Farasha, and even Rasab and Nadia did most of the work.”

“Nahida…do you honestly think the rest of us are capable of fighting off an Endbringer? Or of keeping the city intact during an overthrow of the government?” Bashir asked. 

“Well, perhaps not. But that’s what I need your help with,” Nahida admitted. “Saddam has been toppled, but the next few hours are precious. We need to put a legitimate temporary government in place. One not tainted by Saddam’s tyranny. And we need to do it fast. That’s not something I can do without your help.”

“Ah.” Bashir struggled to rise, but Nahida waved her hands and pushed him back down. 

“No! You’re still too weak for that. No… I need you to call someone instead.” She produced a phone, handing it to Bashir. 

“And who exactly…?” Bashir paused, then slowly nodded. “Ah. I see.” He dialed a number that he had memorized long ago, and then put the phone to his ear. A moment later, he said, “Ah, mother? Is father there? I need to ask him a favor…”

After a brief conversation, Bashir sighed and hung up the phone, then leaned his head back, exhausted. “You could have done that, you know.” 

“You’re my guardian, and it means something more coming from you. Besides, I needed you awake to do a full examination.” Nahida took the phone, then carefully ran her hands over Bashir. “This isn’t good. Your body was nearly ripped apart, and the amount of Dendro Energy I needed to use to rebuild you is too great for your Vision to supply you with. Without an outside source, you’ll waste away, and soon. Even worse, to give you enough to survive would result in Dendro Toxicity, which would kill you even more quickly.”

Bashir winced but gave a weak smile. “Well, I suppose it is a good thing I know the Dendro Archon, isn’t it?”

“It’s my fault that you-”

Cutting it off at the pass, the father cupped her foolish daughter’s cheek. “No, Nahida. It was Scion’s. He assaulted you, and as your father, or, well, guardian I suppose, it was my duty and privilege to defend you. Foolhardy as it might have been.” 

“It wasn’t foolhardy. Without you… I might not have held on,” Nahida admitted. She stood up, holding out her hands. A straight, pale tree sprouted from her fingertips, growing into a staff about one meter long. She held out the straight, smooth branch, then rapped it lightly on the side. The white wood shivered, then came to life, coiling about Nahida’s hand. 

“Who callssss me?” the pink-eyed serpent hissed, red tongue flickering in and out as Bashir watched with a sense of deja vu. 

“This man is my adoptive father,” Nahida told the snake. “He means a great deal to me. I name you Baqa, for you shall be his perseverance as a divine gift.” 

“I ssssee,” the snake hissed, turning its head to regard Bashir. “Hmmm. Not very healthy, are you? My poissson can help with that…”

“I do not seek death,” Bashir told the snake, feeling a sense of dread and elation as his stomach roiled. “Only to heal others.”

“What isss poissson to sssome isss life to the sssick and dying,” Baqa said, then slithered across Nahida’s hands and onto Bashir. The snake coiled about his outstretched arm, then sank its fangs into his skin.

Bashir gasped in pain and relief as the icy venom coursed through his body, stripping away the pain and replacing it with a numbness, like he had soaked in frigid water for too long. Slowly, he sat up, flexing his free arm and legs as his strength returned. 

“Be careful. Though Baqa’s venom is potent and can sustain you, it is still poison. Too much of it will be as lethal to you as it would be to anyone,” Nahida warned. 

“It is enough,” Bashir sighed as Baqa withdrew its fangs and slithered up Bashir’s arm to coil about his neck. That motion made him notice something, and he put a hand to his face, then his head. He was as hairless as a serpent himself. “Well, I knew I was likely to go bald someday, but it does seem a bit soon. I’m barely 30…”

“Your hair will grow back, though I anticipate there will be some changes to it,” Nahida warned. “It’s likely to come in green because of all the Dendro that was used to rebuild you. Your eyes have turned hazel already.” 

“A small price to pay,” Bashir grunted, then tried to stand. He winced and was forced to put his hand out to haul himself up on the side of his bed, leaning on it for support. “It seems I am still too weak…”

“Here,” Nahida grew another branch, this one longer, in the shape of a familiar staff. 

Bashir took it gratefully, and leaning on the staff, was able to support himself. “Well. I think I’ve rested enough for now. You mentioned Farasha and Qiqi, are they…?”

“Ah, yes, we’d best hurry. I put Tess in charge of making sure Farasha and Miss Militia don’t kill one another, but she’s having a hard time,” Nahida gasped, hurrying to the door and opening it for Bashir. 

He hobbled after her down the hall, to the waiting area where he found four strangers waiting with Farasha and Qiqi, though he supposed the woman with the glowing green eyes and leaves for a face was Tessa, who wasn’t a total unknown. 

Farasha was sitting with Qiqi on her lap, who was sucking her thumb, her eyes closed and head resting on Farasha’s bosom. Despite the maternal scene, Farasha was glaring at one of the strangers with so much venom in her gaze that Bashir wondered if he couldn’t have used that instead of the snake’s bite. For her part, the woman was cleaning a rifle, her eyes on her task, but her gaze smoldered with what was obviously barely suppressed rage. 

The other two women were sitting quietly, one of them reading a comic book of some sort, the other scribbling away on a notepad. Everyone looked up as Bashir’s cane echoed on the tile, and Farasha bolted up immediately, startling Qiqi awake, which made her gasp and sniffle until she saw Bashir herself. 

“Daddy!” Qiqi wailed at the same time as Farasha cried “Doc!” and the two of them ran over. 

“You’re alive,” Farasha whispered, nearly knocking Bashir’s cane out of his hands as she wrapped her arms tight around him. “I was so worried-”

“You’re sssqueezing me. I don’t apprisssiate that.”

Farasha’s eyes shot open, and she found herself face to face with a snake, its tongue tickling her nose. 

“Saeed… where did you get the snake?” she asked slowly. 

“You’re… not afraid of them, are you?” Bashir asked, wincing at that. Most Muslims detested snakes, though he himself had a soft spot for them as a symbol of his profession. 

“Are you kidding? It’s adorable! And it can talk!? Who’s a good little snake?” Farasha asked, tickling the serpent under its chin. 

“My name isss Baqa. I am Bassshir’sss emotional ssssupport ssserpent,” the creature hissed. 

“Lizard,” Qiqi said, and yanked the snakes tail.

“Ow! I am not a lisssard! I am a sssnake!” Baqa protested. “Your fingersss are too cold!” 

“Qiqi sorry,” the little girl said, then turned back and grabbed Bashir’s face in her hands. “Daddy?”

“It’s me, dear one,” Bashir agreed. “I just shaved.”

“Daddy face funny,” Qiqi said, rubbing his bald head. “Go back.”

“In time,” Bashir promised, though he wasn’t sure how long it would take, exactly. He turned to the other person who’d stood to greet him, though Tessa was having a staring contest with Nahida. He had a feeling they were doing a lot more than looking at one another, but time enough to puzzle that out later. “Welcome to Baghdad, Miss. Richter. I wish you’d come at a better time, though I must confess, it seems we could use someone like you right now.”

“Oh, well, anything to help, dontcha know,” Tessa said, smiling nervously. How fascinating. Her face was quite animated, for someone made out of what looked like electrical wires, woody vines, and leaves. 

“Doctor Bashir. It’s good to finally meet you in person,” the woman with the notebook said, standing and tucking it away. She smiled and extended a hand to him. “Doctor Fatima Tabib. We’ve spoken online.”

Bashir’s eyebrows shot up at that, but he nodded and took her hand, holding on to Farasha with his left arm for support. “A pleasure. Though I have to wonder what you’re doing in Iraq, Doctor Tabib.”

“Just Fatima, unless you want me to call you Doctor Saeed,” she said, smiling. She shrugged. “I confess, I haven’t been entirely honest with you. I am a parahuman researcher, but my primary employer isn’t USC Berkeley. It’s the Protectorate. I was tapped for this mission as I’m one of our few operatives who speak Arabic.”

“Ah, well, there might be some…trouble…with the Protectorate being in town,” Bashir said, casting a sidelong look at Farasha, who was practically hissing and arching her back. She remembered the assassination attempts and the coup d’etat Chemical Ali had tried with American backing. Bashir recalled them as well, though he was a little less put out about the coup than he was the Americans trying to kill a then thirteen-year-old girl. 

That was in the past though, and politics made for strange bedfellows as the wind shifted. 

“We’ll be keeping our identity secret, and probably returning shortly. I simply wanted to speak with you first, and assure you of something,” Fatima said. She nodded to Nahida. “We know you have the Dendro Archon protecting this city now.”

“You will find my reach extends far beyond Baghdad, Fatima. If that is what you wish to be called,” Nahida said quietly. 

“It is,” Fatima said, adjusting her dress somewhat nervously. She knelt down, meeting Nahida’s eyes. “You know who I am, I suppose. So let me be direct: I will do everything in my power to ensure that the Protectorate, and yes, even Cauldron, do all they can to ensure your survival and safety. If you have need of us, or of sanctuary, simply call. I would give you my number, but I have a feeling you already know it, along with a great many other personal details about me.”

“She doesn’t need you, bitch! She has-” Farasha began, but Nahida put a calming hand on her arm, and she quieted down, though she still muttered angrily. 

“I knew you from the first moment I stepped into this world, for you are one of mine,” Nahida told Fatima. She reached out, gently touching Fatima’s vision. “Your Vision is your own, but your ambition must reflect mine. I do hope you can build the better world you envision, Daughter of Samsara. Only that you choose wiser means to achieve it.”

Fatima heard Nahida out, then nodded ever so slightly. “I think I have been, with your help. What is your claimed Aspect, if you don’t mind me asking, aside from Life?”

“I am the God of Wisdom, or perhaps Spirit of Wisdom would be a more fitting title,” Nahida answered. “All knowledge and learning is mine, but more importantly, discretion and insight are as well. Though I have but the mind and body of a child, I see clearly, with heart unclouded.”

“I see,” Fatima bowed her head. “Do you think we can build the world I seek? Can we save the world from its horrific fate?”

“We must. I cannot tell you how, but I will walk the same path you do, in my own way, using my own means,” Nahida told Fatima. 

“And we shall do the same.” Fatima stood, glancing at her other two companions. “I think it’s time for us to depart.”

“Oh? You could always stay for the funeral. I have the perfect coffin picked out just for you, Hannah Wesson,” Farasha offered, her tone sweet as syrup and as dangerous as strychnine. 

“Some other time,” the woman Bashir now recognized as Miss Militia said, keeping her gun pointed at the floor, but her finger on the trigger guard. “The Butcher himself had to pay the piper. Your day will come, murderer.” 

“You name the time and place. I’ll take all you assholes on,” Farasha growled, clutching at Bashir so tightly he wondered if he was all that was holding her back from throwing herself at the Americans. 

“Fighting would be…a bad idea,” the woman with the comic book said in English, causing Farasha to snarl in outrage. She flinched, but then continued, “We’re not each other’s real enemies. You-Know-Who is.”

“The fuck does Voldemort have to do with this?” Farasha demanded. 

Bashir blinked, then glanced at his intended. “When did you read Harry Potter?”

“It was banned so of course I did! Just the first movie though, I haven’t bothered with the second one,” Farasha said with a shrug. 

“I mean…you know,” the strange woman’s eyes darted from side to side and she muttered to herself in an odd language that sounded a bit like Greek before whispering, “The Golden Man.”

“Oh, well, he comes back he’ll go from ‘fuck around’ to ‘find out’ real fast,” Farasha promised. 

“You let me know how that works out for you,” Miss Militia said with a snort. She turned to Fatima. “We going, Doctor? I can’t wait to shake the dust from this place from my shoes.”

“Indeed.” Fatima bowed to Nahida again. “Thank you. For everything. But especially the hope that we can— we will win.”

With that, she turned to what Bashir knew was a broom closet and opened the door, which lead to a long white hallway instead. He blinked, but then Fatima, Miss Militia, and the odd one were gone through the door, which shut behind them. Farasha let Bashir go, making sure he had his staff, then hurried to the door and opened it, revealing the broom closet. 

“Hmph.” Farasha slammed the door, then turned back around. “Fuckers.”

“Fuckers!” Qiqi agreed, which caused Farasha and Bashir to both wince. 

“Er, I’m not going to cause any problems by staying, am I?” Tessa asked nervously. “I’m not American, but…”

“Eh, you’re a robot turned plant monster. If we tell people your name is Teyeb and you’re what happens when Nahida tries her hand at gardening everyone will just believe it,” Farasha said with a shrug. 

“I might have, um, caused a slight disturbance in my flight across the Atlantic and over Europe,” Tessa admitted in a Nahida worthy  case of understatement. 

“We’ll need you, Tessa, so please don’t go anywhere,” Nahida told her, then turned to Bashir. “We need to move quickly. How soon will Grandfather be here?”

“He said he’d be here by morning. He’s putting things together in Basra, then heading here by train,” Bashir told her. 

“Good.” Nahida turned to Tessa next. “We need to control communications for now. Prevent the spread of panic. Put out the news that the Simurgh was defeated, and that President Hussein is safe, but indisposed. Prevent any generals or other military forces from attempting to march on Baghdad.”

“Already on it,” Tessa assured Nahida.

“Thank you,” Nahida looked up at Farasha. “I’m afraid you have the hardest job: ensuring the loyalty of the Special Action Squad. With the country's parahumans and Vision Holders on our side, that will help keep the peace and curtail any threat of a military uprising. I’ll need you to lead them out in peacekeeping duties to keep things calm and safe.”

“Not a problem,” Farasha assured Nahida, then grinned. “Though honestly, at this point, they’re more likely to follow you than me. Do you have any idea how much cred being an Endslayer gets you with capes?”

“I did not slay the Simurgh; she will return,” Nahida said grimly. “Not to Baghdad, she’ll avoid me I think, but she’s an issue for another day. First we need to ensure the continued safety and stability of my people, and that means I’m going to be very busy.”

“What will you be doing?” Bashir asked curiously. 

“Talking with Imam Taher and other religious leaders, as well as many political advisers as I can,” Nahida told him. “I have a constitution to rewrite, and a convention to run.” 

“And me?” Bashir asked her. 

Nahida smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “You take Qiqi home and get some rest. Don’t worry about me: Trees don’t actually need to sleep.”

“That’s not true. Plants have circadian rhythms and a rest cycle, even if it is rather different from animals. Besides, I’ve seen you get grumpy when you don’t get enough sleep,” Bashir said in his very best ‘stern parent’ voice. He had no idea how normal parents managed things, but it felt like an impossible task to be father to a goddess who was old when his great-great-grandfather had been born. 

But Nahida giggled and smiled. “I’ll be sure to get a nap when I can. For now, we have work to do. Nurse Hana?”

“Yes, dear?” 

Bashir turned to see Nurse Hana, looking exhausted herself, scurry out from the nurses’ office. 

“I’ve called a cab. Please take my father and Qiqi home, and watch him while he rests.”

“As you say,” Hana agreed, bowing her head to Nahida. Then she turned and saw the snake around Bashir’s neck and went pale.

“Allah be merciful, Doctor Bashir, where did you get-?!”

“Baqa won’t bit you, nurse. Just me, and it’s medicinal,” Bashir told her, grunting as he hobbled forward. Farasha kissed Qiqi on the nose, then set her down so she could take Bashir’s free hand. 

“Oh. Well, if Nahida says it’s alright…” Hana looked to Nahida, who quickly nodded, and the nurse sighed, then rolled up her sleeves. “Right. You’re not fit to walk. You’re leaving this hospital in a wheelchair, Bashir Saeed. And don’t give me any back talk. You’re not the doctor now, you’re a patient.”

Bashir had to chuckle. And sit in the chair that Hana wheeled over for him. He didn’t even bother to protest. She was, after all, the medical expert in charge. 

He was driven home by an orderly, with Hana fussing over him the entire time, and Qiqi trying to “help” by borrowing a stethoscope and listening to Bashir’s bald pate. She did, at least, seem happy and unharmed, and Bashir was grateful enough for that. 

Unfortunately, the living quarters were atop his clinic, and Bashir had to be helped up the stairs by Hana and the orderly. Both were shocked when Baqa gave Bashir a bite on his forearm, but were somewhat mollified when he was able to move up the stairs more easily.

“Nahida made him, he’s a djinn of sorts himself,” Bashir explained. 

“I am a girl, thank you very much!” Baqa hissed, looking rather indignant as her tail swished back and forth. “Though for your information, I ssssupposssse I would be conssssidered a sssssort of nature sssspirit. I am what you would call an Enlightened Beast, or Adeptussss to ussssse the Liyuean term. I wasss created by Buer from her own branch!”

“But… only God can create life,” the orderly said, looking offended and slightly confused. 

“Yes, and what do you think Buer, Archon of Dendro, is? She has been granted all Authority over Life by Allah, to use your terms,” Baqa huffed. 

That seemed to mollify the man somewhat, and after helping Bashir settle into his bed, he departed. 

Hana went to get Bashir some water, only to find Qiqi trotting over with a tall glass of coconut milk. 

“Cocogoat, for daddy,” she said, offering it up to him. 

He smiled, and took the drink. It did contain plenty of important nutrients, and some valuable calories. He took several sips and smacked his lips, smiling at her. “Thank you, Qiqi. It’s very good.”

Qiqi beamed at him, then hurried off. Nurse Hana fussed about Bashir for a moment, then paused when Qiqi returned again, bearing a book.

“Story,” Qiqi explained, crawling up into Bashir’s bed and opening her own favorite book, a collection of illustrated children’s stories from 1001 Nights. She turned to a much loved and creased page, and began to recite a garbled version of “The School Boy and the Slave Girl.”

Smiling to himself, Bashir closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift off to sleep. Great things were happening, and he had played a very small part in it. For the rest, he would trust Nahida. 

PHILO: And father of the year goes to…

Dr_Feelgood:  As if there was any doubt.  Only the best for best radish.

October: Now, if only Militia and Farasha would quit saber-rattling and just [censored] already.

COG: Saddam will be fine, he’s got an air vent and a fan. 

The Last Drop of Hope, Chapter 29

Heart thudding in her chest, Tina clutched her shank tightly, and waited outside the door. Long moments passed, but there was nothing from the bedroom. Then she heard a loud sound, almost like a cry, and Tina shot up, Claire leaping to her feet from the other side. They threw open the door and-

“Shhhh! I just got him out!” Rain hissed, pausing in pulling her dress back on. She jerked her chin at Alderp, who was making a godawful racket as he snored loudly, his bloated belly rising and falling as he sprawled naked atop the covers. He truly was hideous, and the stench was bad enough to make Tina cover her nose. What was that smell? It was like the man’s flesh was decaying while he was still alive. 

“How long will it last?” Tina asked Rain as they gently closed the door behind them. 

“I don’t know! I only know Intermediate Magic, and I’ve never used the Sleep spell before! He could be out for five minutes, or five hours!” Rain said, wringing her hands nervously and glancing back at the door. 

“Then we have to move quickly,” Tina said, striding down the hall. 

Claire caught up with her, with Rain’s bare feet padding on the thick carpet behind them. “We could just shank the bastard in his sleep.”

“Not until we understand what’s going on. Aqua can bring the dead back to life. What if this Duke of Hell can do the same?” Tina asked. 

“Wouldn’t hurt to try,” Claire muttered, then froze along with Tina, Rain nearly barging into them as the very same demon came down the hall. 

“My my, I don’t remember you being here,” Maxwell said, smiling pleasantly at them. Despite his well kept appearance, he smelled even worse than Alderp, like an open sewer crossed with a slaughter yard. It was so bad, it gave Tina a headache, and her nose burned.  “Hmm, I do remember that contract though. There does still need to be a first born to fulfill it…”

“Ah, yes, er, we’re the women to…help fulfill the contract,” Tina said, thinking quickly. “With Alderp, yes?”

Maxwell brightened at that, then leaned over, doing a rather thorough inspection of Tina and the two other women, walking around them and prodding at them while inspecting their anatomies carefully. “Hmm, yes, yes, of course! I can smell him on you! How long does it take for a child to be conceived again? I can never remember for you mortals…”

“At least a few days. And Alderp is so easily exhausted, he’s sleeping right now,” Tina pointed out. 

“Oh good, good. Yes, hmm, several days you say? Ah, well, I suppose a day or two one way or the other won’t matter. Good work, good work. Hmm, I suppose I only have a contract for one first born child. I don’t suppose any of you would be interested in eternal life or incredible power? I have a spare set of contracts, first born children or souls of High Nobles are hot commodities on the market right now!” Maxwell said brightly, producing a set of parchment in a shower of red sparks that stank of brimstone. 

“We’ll consider it,” Tina said carefully, accepting the parchments and holding them away from her as if they were highly radioactive. 

“Wonderful, wonderful! Just sign in blood and call my name. Maxwell the Adjuster! Always at your side. Ta-ta!” With that, the friendly seeming demonic lord turned around and walked back down the hall, humming to himself. It was the first time Tina had gotten a good look at the back of him, and what she saw made her catch her breath.

The man was Chipped. She’d seen it before on Succubi and Incubi; a slot at the base of the neck. That meant his memories and personality could have been edited, changed, adjusted. 

And Tina had a pretty good idea of who had done it. But how on Belzerg had Alderp managed to chip a Duke of Hell? 

Once Maxwell was gone, Tina shot a look at Claire. “Keep an eye on Alderp. If he wakes up early-”

“Shank the son of a bitch,” Claire growled. 

“...try to stall for time,” Tina sighed. “We don’t know what would happen if Maxwell decided to extract retribution from us. Or why he’s so dead set on a firstborn child. That doesn’t even make any sense. Isn’t Walter the firstborn?” 

“Maybe he’s adopted?” Rain offered, looking thoughtful.

“I suppose I can ask him,” Tina said with a shrug, then hurried down the hall to the main roon, where she found a rather antiquated phone, with buttons on it to call a number and everything. It had what looked like pearl or ivory carved into the receiver, so it was clearly just an ostentatious affection of the rich. 

Quickly, she dialed the number for reception, and a moment later got a bored-sounding man’s voice. “Yes, Lord Alderp?”

Lord? Someone was getting to big for his already over stuffed britches. “It’s Tina Ford. I need to speak with Captain Alexi.” 

“Who? Oh, one of the tarts.” 

Tina’s lips thinned at that. “I’m Sergant Tina Ford of the Axel Security Force. There’s been a problem with ‘Lord’ Alderp, and I need to contact his son.” 

“Sure, whatever. Your hide if you interrupt something important, he was getting rack time.”

“It’s an emergency. Do you want to have Lord Alderp wake up and not have his smoky mesquite jerky ready?” Tina demanded, dredging up one of Alderp’s prepared treats. 

“Not my problem, honey. Maybe if you offer the Captain a blowjob he’ll dredge something up for you.”

Tina bit the inside of her cheek rather that say something choice, and waited for the call to be put through. The phone rang for a few minutes, until someone picked up and she heard a rather bleary, “Captain Walter speaking.”

“Alex! It’s Tina! What is wrong with your father, and why does he have a pet chipped demon?!” Tina hissed into the receiver. 

“Tina? Ugh, sorry, I don’t know what happened…my head is killing me…feel like I got kicked by a drunken orc…”

“Look, just get up here, now! Something is very wrong with your father,” Tina hissed. 

“Tina, I know you don’t like it, but a deal’s a deal. You have to provide him with a first born child,” Walter said, his voice going monotone and dead. 

“And why aren’t you his firstborn?” Tina demanded in return.

“I…That’s…I’m…but the Deal…” Walter trailed off, then managed faintly. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

“Tina Ford! Get up to the penthouse, now! Or I’m going to let Claire murder your father!” 

“What!? Tina you can’t…ugh…my head…right, coming up. Something is…I’m coming.”

Tina hung up, and spent several very nervous minutes pacing back and forth. She suddenly paused, frowning. Why hadn’t she just tried to leave? Maxwell wasn’t paying attention, and Alderp was not only unconscious, but a pathetic bastard who probably couldn’t hurt her even with a gun since his aim was so poor. She walked towards the door to the elevator, put her hand on the handle and-

“Tina? Tina! What’s wrong with you!? Don’t go in there, you’ll wake him up!” 

“She’s cursed again! Purification!”

Cold raced down Tina’s spine, jerking her awake out of the haze she’d been in. She blinked, finding Claire and Rain trying to hold her back bodily from opening Alderp’s door, while Cecily was holding on to her head with both hands and chanting a prayer.

“I…I’m fine, you can let go,” Tina gasped, trembling all over and sagging into Claire’s arms. What was wrong with her? She’d been trying to leave, then…

You must bear Alexi’s firstborn. 

The tugging she felt nearly made her retch, and she felt bile creep up her throat, along with an incredibly strong compulsion to march into that room and…and…

“Shhh, it’s alright, let it all out,” Claire said, rubbing Tina’s back as she vomited onto the plush carpet. 

“The magic compulsion…it hammered me when I tried to leave,” Tina gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and grimacing at the sour taste. “What did they do to us?”

“Someone’s coming!” Cecily squeaked, turning about and raising her makeshift shank in trembling hands. 

“Oh, it’s you. Er, Cilia, right?” Walter’s voice said. 

“Oh thank Aqua,” Tina groaned, getting to her feet with Claire’s help. She stumbled over to Walter, managing to pull herself upright. “Walter. Are you Alderp’s son?”

“What?” Walter looked at Tina like she’d gone insane. “Of course I am?”

“Then who’s your mother?” she demanded. “Why aren’t you his firstborn son?”

Walter looked defensive, frowning at Tina, then at Claire, Rain, and Cecily. “Why does that matter?”

“Because someone, probably your father and Maxwell, put a very powerful compulsion spell on all of us to bear Alexi’s firstborn child,” Tina said slowly. “I know that sounds hard to believe, but-”

“Yes, you must bear Alexi’s firstborn child,” Walter said, his eyes glazing over. “The Contract must be fulfilled.” He suddenly blinked, then slowly put a hand to his head, his eyes growing wide with horror. “What…what did I just…oh sweet Revenge…”

“Cecily,” Tina said, gesturing to Walter. 

“I’ll try, but breaking a curse this powerful is way beyond me,” the priestess said, going forward. She chanted another prayer, and Walter staggered slightly even as Cecily shook her head. “Nope. I’m not even close to fully rested, I just came running when Rain said you had gone crazy again, Tina.”

“I…I felt something dislodge in my head,” Walter said, looking poleaxed. “Someone…someone conditioned me. Did I get chipped, or…drugs? I’m not…”

“It’s magic,” Rain said. Walter shot her an exasperated look, and she sighed. “It’s easier if I just show you. Sorry, this won’t last very long.”

“What won’t last very long?” Walter asked suspiciously.

“Lesser Polymorph,” Rain said. 

“Baaaaah,” Walter the Sheep said, and began to wander aimlessly around the apartment, his fluffy little tail wagging slightly. 

Tina scratched her head as she watched Walter the sheep try to eat the carpet, then glanced at Rain. “Huh. Didn’t know you could do that. Seems handy.”

“Well, it only lasts about a minute, and according to my skill description, it breaks if any sort of damage is taken. I can level it up to Greater Polymorph, but I need to learn Advanced Magic first, and that will take a lot of Skill Points and study,” Rain explained. 

They watched Walter for a few more seconds, then there was a poof, and Walter the Police Captain sprawled on the floor, looking dazed and frightened. 

“What…what just happened to…was I…was I an animal? I just…my vision went all weird, and I just couldn’t think, and I wanted grass so very badly…” Walter babbled, slowly pushing himself up to a sitting position.

“I turned you into a sheep,” Rain stated matter-of-factly, kneeling down in front of him. “Magic.”

“Magic,” Walter agreed with a slow nod, and swallowed. “So, my father…?”

“Has done something,” Tina agreed, squatting beside Rain. “Or more accurately, Maxwell has.”

At that, Waltered blinked in confusion. “Maxwell? You mean, the manservant?” 

“Maxwell the Adjuster, Duke of Hell, and apparently, a chipped Demon. What do you know about him?” Tina demanded. 

“Nothing, he showed up a few days ago, I assumed he was an incubus that father took to bed. He’s never been all that picky in how he takes his pleasures,” Walter said, looking uncomfortable at the admission. 

“Well, he wants your father’s firstborn child. Any ideas as to why that isn’t you?” Claire demanded, pointing her shank at Walter and looming over him. 

Licking his lips, Walter looked back and forth between the women. “I, well…I never tell anyone this, but…”

“You’re adopted,” Rain sighed, shaking her head. “I might’ve known.”

“No…you see…I’m a clone…”

The others all stared at Walter goggle eyed, until Cecily blurted, “You’re the clone of that ugly fat bastard?! But you’re hot!” 

“Yes, I am,” Walter said stiffly, coloring slightly. “Father wanted ‘the perfect heir.’ So he had a clone made by Chimera carvers. Me.”

“Well, that answers something, then,” Rain sighed, and stood up slowly, shaking her head. “The real question is, why does Maxwell want a child? I mean, he’d have to wait nine months, and what would he even do with it then? What good would the child of one petty warlord out of all the NyteTech executives trying to seize power even do him?”

Standing herself, Tina extended a hand to Walter. “Well, there’s one way to find out. We find the controls to Maxwell’s chip. Which means we need to walk Alderp up.” 

Crater did not even begin to describe what Kazuma was looking it. A near perfect circle had been gouged out of the earth, thirty meters across, with a relatively even bowl shape that was ten meters deep, though at the center an odd spire of rubble stood. The buildings around it had been completely flattened, blown back from the blast for another hundred meters, with more demolished or burned for several hundred more. 

“What the hell went off, a giant bomb?” Kazuma demanded, leaning out over the pit. All around him, the ground had been turned to glass, and metal had melted into piles of slag. The bottom of the pit was smooth and glassy, with iridescence in the dim light of the smoggy sky like an oil slick. 

“Not a bomb,” Lolisa said firmly, shaking her head. She glanced over to where the three sisters were picking their way across the crater, trailed by the three other succubi. “We sure one of them wasn’t here a few days back?”

“Uh, yeah, why?” Kazuma asked, scratching his head. “You recognize this?”

“I’m not sure what spell could have done this, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one that was this destructive. But it was definitely magic,” Lolisa told him. 

That made Kazuma step back and take another look. The crater was probably too perfect. Bombs made circular blasts, true, but they were messy and probably not nearly this uniform. It made a degree of sense that a spell could do this, but what kind of spell would that be?

“Hey, Yunyun!” Kazuma called, sliding down the crater and then swearing as he slipped on the smooth surface. He ended up falling flat on his ass and skidding down to the concrete pillar at center like a moron, flying past the Crimson Demons and ending up sprawled on all fours, trying to get up but unable to find a purchase. How the heck were the others managing?! The Crimson Demon girls were walking along just fine, though on second look, the Succubi were actually hovering an inch or two off the ground by flapping the little wings on their heads. Weird. 

Lolisa fluttered up to Kazuma herself, even as Yunyun hurried over. “A-are you OK, Kazuma? What is it?”

“Damn ground,” Kazuma muttered, giving up and sitting cross-legged with a frown. “Look, do you know of a spell that could do this? You read a bunch of magic books and stuff, right?”

“I-I did, but, um, I’m not sure…Miss Wiz would know better than me,” Yunyun hedged, blushing and looking around uncertainly. 

“Yeah, well, she ain’t here and you are. Got any guesses?” Kazuma demanded. 

“Um…m-maybe Detonation magic?” Yunyun guessed. “O-or multiple mages working together? I-I don’t know, I don’t think I know any s-spells that could do this…”

“That’s impossible. The only wizard strong enough to do this would be Wiz, and she wasn’t here,” Megumin said, walking calmly along the glass-like surface as if it were a sidewalk. That was freaking cheating. 

“General Wiz could definitely do something like this!” Becky agreed happily. “She knows all sorts of powerful and rare spells.”

“Or a Crimson Demon,” Clara put in, smiling down at Komekko, who was back on her own two feet. 

“This…this is the m-magic of our Ancestors?” Yunyun whispered, her eyes starting to glow softly. 

“I never saw Crimson Demons in battle. ‘Cause, you know, I ain’t dead,” Triss said, bobbing up and down in the air as she shuddered. “But I heard about it. They could break the earth, turn the air to acid, or blow apart castle walls with a single spell. They could definitely do something like this.”

“I don’t know, they usually stuck to more practical spells,” Lolisa said, landing by Kazuma. She promptly let out a squeak, then slipped and nearly on her rear. Kazuma tired to catch her, which ended with her sitting on top of him as he lay groaning on the floor. “Oh! Sorry, Kazuma! Um, here, I think I can fly us both out…”

“What do you mean, more practical spells?” Megumin asked, frowning. “You mean, like my build?”

“Oh no, Crimson Demons were always pure Archwizards,” Becky assured Megumin as Lolisa flew up and tugged Kazuma to his feet. “I think she’s sorta right though? Crimson Demons were always super dramatic and went for flashy intros and weird poetry, but their magic? Yeah, super straightforward and high firepower stuff. They never bothered with low level magic: They just went straight for the Dark Detonations, Light of Sabers, and Infernos. You know, stuff average mages have to spend a lifetime to study and master.”

“And they’d do it as kids your age, Mistress! You really are super incredible,” Triss told Komekko.

“Huh, I don’t know magic like that. I’ll hafta have Yunyun gimme one of those skills I guess,” Komekko mused. 

“I-I only know Intermediate Magic! I still need a few points for Advanced Magic,” Yunyun hastily clarified. She looked around the crater, and a fuzzy little ball of black fur popped up out of the collar of her robe and mewed softly. Yunyun stroked the cat’s furry head, then said in a soft voice as her eyes glowed passionately, “But I would love to learn what sort of magic could do this…”

“The impractical kind, apparently. Does it have some sort of lame restrictions?” Megumin demanded of the hovering succubi. 

“The more powerful the spell, the greater the cost, in mana, reagents, or other things. But we honestly don’t know, this sort of spell is far beyond what low level succubi can use,” Clara said with a shrug. 

“Ugh, maybe I could use some more powerful magic. Kazuma, what do you have in your pockets, rocks?” Lolisa demanded, trying to haul Kazuma up, only to let out a squeak as she failed and end up sprawled atop him. 

“Not rocks! Just, stuff.” Kazuma rummaged around in his baggy clothes, and pulled out a game slate. “Gotta do my gacha dailies, right?” 

The women all gave him a level look, and Kazuma sighed, gently setting the slate down. It had been expensive tech he’d scavenged from Wiz’s secret lair. It hadn’t even been locked up!

“That’s not heavy enough to give me all the problems,” Lolisa groaned, sitting on Kazuma’s chest and poking him. “You weigh a ton.”

“Er, I do have a couple more things,” Kazuma admitted, pulling out some basic neuro-dive gear. “You know, in case there was a database or something we needed to go through.”

“Right, that’s at least sort of useful, I guess,” Lolisa agreed, picking up the headband and finger jacks. “But you have to-”

Next, Kazuma got out the two coils of rope, water purifier, a sleeping bag, and a spare set of underwear and two pairs of socks, along with an extra large box of matches and two lighter. “Probably don’t need the matches at least, since I can cast kindle. They just seemed good to have.”

“Uh, right,” Lolisa agreed, frowning. “We can probably leave those.”

The bottom of his jacket produced five days worth of ration bars, two liters of water, and a bunch of sugary and greasy snacks he’d pilfered, which he tossed to Komekko. He just ditched his mess kit and three pairs of extra chopsticks, along with the six-pack of energy drinks. “Here, Mekko. I was saving these for an emergency, but-”

“Thanks, Big Bro!” Komekko said, eagerly snatching the snacks as the succubi hastily grabbed the ration bars. “I knew I liked you.”

“Well, that’s probably enough, I can-” Lolisa began, then trailed off, as Kazuma was not done rummaging.

Kazuma pulled out his holdout pistol, two extra knives, and the three hand grenades he had. “Had these too, for emergencies. Oh, I almost forgot.” He reached down his back and pulled out the sawed off shotgun he’d tucked there, grimacing as he did. That thing had hurt like a mother when he’d landed on it. “This too.”

Megumin and Yunyun now almost looked impressed. “That’s almost a decent arsenal. But only two knives?”

“Well, I mean…” Kazuma sheepishly pulled the machete out of his pant leg, along with the small hand axe from his boot, as well as the half dozen throwing stars from his sleeves. 

“Those are pretty u-useless,” Yunyun said, but she did come over and pick one up. “Y-you’re better off with a gun.”

“I mean, yeah, I figured I’d hold on to these,” Kazuma lifted his jacket to show his regular pistol and submachine gun. “But I probably don’t need three extra magazines.” He took out two of the mags for each and dropped them on the ground as well. “I’m keeping the laser pistol and plasma torch though, never know when you’ll need one of those.”

“How could you walk!?” Lolisa demanded, looking at the now respectable pile of weaponry and assorted food and survival gear. She felt at Kazuma’s chest, which made him blush, then pulled out his extra wallet with two sets of fake ID and credits from NyteTech, Chimera Corp, Cat’s Eye, and Santomon. She missed the one with the credits from the other corps.

“I took the Pack Mule skill,” Kazuma admitted, shaking out the extra set of high precision thief tools. “It lets me carry more stuff in a smaller space then I should be able to, plus it doubles the threshold for the Overburdened penalty. Guess it makes me weigh more still.”

“There sure is a lot of stuff,” Lolisa agreed, opening Kazuma’s wallet. She drew out one of the fake IDs, then laughed. “Seymore Buttz? Really?” 

“Hehe, you said butts,” Komekko giggled around a mouth full of salt and fat flavored algae chips. 

“Uh, that one was a test, to see if the machine was working,” Kazuma said, coloring slightly. “Could you get off me? This isn’t the most comfortable place to lay down.”

“Oh, just one joke?” Lolisa pulled out the next ID, and held it out to Megumin, who took it and started cackling. 

“Mike Rotch? Really? And here I was almost starting to respect you, Kazutrash,” Megumin snorted, then flicked the ID away. 

“Mike…Rotch?” Komekko said slowly. “I don’t get it.” 

“...those were just backups,” Kazuma mumbled, trying to cover his face with his hands.

“Hmm, half a dozen kinds of credits and…Oh!” Lolisa blushed, quickly closing the wallet as Kazuma tried to sit up and take it from her.

“Those are personal!” Kazuma snapped, even as Lolisa jumped into the air and hovered out of his reach, as every time he tried to stand, he slipped and fell again. 

“You know they expire, right? And you shouldn’t keep prophylactics in your wallet. They’ll bend and wear. That one was two years out of date…how long have you had it?” Lolisa asked, peering into the wallet again. 

“I, uh, it’s, er, an extra that…look, I’ve been busy! Saving the world, fighting evil, and you know, escaping to the moon! So, uh, I haven’t refreshed my stock in… Just help me up!” Kazuma sputtered. 

“What’s a waffle lactic? Can you eat it?” Komekko asked. 

“Just have another tofu-locate bar,” Megumin told her, and Komekko shrugged and did just that. 

Lolisa finally handed Kazuma back his wallet and lifted him up in the air in a princess carry, much to Kazuma’s embarrassment. 

“Can you fly me much higher? I want a better look at things,” Kazuma said.

“Sure,” Lolisa agreed, and buzzed up into the air, resulting in Kazuma tightening his grip around her neck as his skin went clammy. “Er, you sure you want me to?”

“No, do it anyway, I need a proper look,” Kazuma said through clenched teeth. 

“You afraid of heights?” Lolisa asked casually as she swooped up to about fifty meters in height. 

“I had a bad experience on my last fight, as you might recall, and I distinctly remember falling out of the air and thinking I was going to die,” Kazuma hissed, his grip growing tight enough that Lolisa was half choked.

“Mmm, yes, uh a little less tight, though?”

“Oh, sorry.” Kazuma loosed his grip, then studied the area. He looked around, then his eyes narrowed. “What the hell. Over there! You see that?”

“I do,” Lolisa agreed, and flew to where a massive swath of buildings had simply been erased in a wide cone. She landed, gently setting Kazuma down, though he took an extra long moment to take his arms from around her neck. She hesitated, then gave him a quick hug. Kazuma blushed at that, then on impulse gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks for the lift,” he said, then turned away as a flustered Lolisa put a hand to her cheek. Payback!

Bending, Kazuma examined the ground. The same pattern of destruction here, but this time, there was something else: a wooden stick with one end charred off lay on the ground, and behind it, what appeared to be a cone of destruction. He stood, holding the stick, which would have been the right size for a staff, and examined first the crater, which was slightly below them, then behind himself at the devastation.

“What happened here,” he muttered, tossing the stick up and down. 

“Kazuma, Kazuma!” Megumin said, appearing beside him with a pop.

“Yow! Don’t do that to me!” Kazuma gasped, cringing away. 

“Heh. Well, what did you find?” Megumin demanded, grinning wickedly. “A stick?”

“Wood,” he said, and passed it to her. “Weird. But from here…you notice something?”

“Not really,” Megumin said, shrugging. “Looks like the blast came through here.”

“No…you see that pillar, there, near the center of the blast?” Kazuma pointed back down to the crater. “It’s collapsed now…but despite being near the center of the blast, something standing atop it was completely unscathed, like it resisted the energy of the attack…and shot it back up here.”

“That seems far-fetched,” Megumin said with a shrug. 

“And this,” Kazuma knelt again, picking up some burnt debris. He lifted it to his nose and sniffed it, then grimaced. “Smells like burned hair. Actually…”

“W-what did you find?” Yunyun asked, scurrying up beside them. 

“I need your cat,” Kazuma said, holding out a hand. 

“W-what!? Why do you need Ch-chomusuke?” Yunyun demanded, hand flying to her robe, where the little creature was currently snoring.

“I just need to sniff it, and I figured you’d get violent if I just tried to sniff your boobs,” Kazuma told her bluntly. 

“Why do you…?” Yunyun sighed and plunked up Chomusuke, who stirred and yawned. “H-here…thanks for not being a total creep…kinda…”

Ignoring that, Kazuma took a long whiff of Chomusuke, then of the burned hair. He frowned, not satisfied. “I’d have to do a DNA test or something, but this is black hair, and it smells a bit like kitty here…”

“Do you seriously think a tiny cat like that was responsible for this?” Megumin demanded incredulously, planting her hands on her hips. 

“No, I just… we don’t have much to go on, right?” Kazuma handed the kitten back to Yunyun and got out a little plastic baggy, scooping some hair into it. Then he took the stick from Megumin, and passed it to Yunyun. “Can you tell if this is magical?”

Muttering a spell, Yunyun passed her hand over the stick, then nodded. “T-this is high quality magical material! I couldn’t t-tell you what kind, but wood is rare, a-and this wood has been infused with mana.”

“Then this is the weapon, or focus, or whatever,” Kazuma said, taking the stick back. He turned around, then sighed. “Well, nothing for it.”

“Nothing for what?” Megumin demanded as Komekko and the succubi came up.