Chapter 348: Cerulean Surprise |
*****
SYSTEM ADDENDUM ADDED BY USER NAME: [EMPRESS RONA LITTAE]
ADDENDUM NOTE: 20 minutes beforehand.
*****
Lieutenant Nokomi Moonwing shifted her leathery wings to adjust for where her uniform tugged at them. She stood next to Ulia Starion, Count Starion’s daughter, and the pair of them watched King Xor’Drel hold court in his own odd fashion. Nokomi had been to many of Arzia’s seats of power, from the Dark Iron throne room in Hiward to the Empress’s hall in Litta. Timan council chambers, Mittakan chief’s dens, Chovali governacula, all different in form and the particulars of their function, but so far as she could remember they all had at least one thing in common–those of the highest station sat above those that they ruled.
The King’s Chamber in the Closetland Capitol building inverted that rule. The room was more of an amphitheatre, with King Xor’Drel standing behind a podium near the lowest point. The small stage he stood upon rose only slightly above a walkway for attendants who came and went, providing documents and exhibits to the king or one of the aides who sat behind him. This had nothing to do with the status of such people, from what Nokomi could tell, but was simply a practical choice so that the help didn’t block the king’s sightlines.
Otherwise, everyone in the chamber either sat behind curving desks lining the spacious rows that surrounded the center stage–the lowest of which was slightly higher than the king’s stage–stood on balconies overlooking the chamber, or held the floor to petition the king from a platform level with the ruler’s own. This gave everyone in the room a clear view of the king, and Nokomi had to admit it was more comfortable to look down at the man than to be forced to crane her neck back for hours on end.
The original purpose for which she had come to Closetland had been fulfilled some weeks ago, when Nokomi undertook the procedure that gave her access to training stats. It was called the MIST method, with MIST being an acronym of some kind, although Nokomi hadn’t learned what it was an acronym for. Since then, she’d managed to reach 10 in Strength and begun making significant progress with her Intelligence. While she’d never be as advantaged by the process as a Level 1, since she’d already placed points into half of her attributes, it would still be worth 4 and a half levels of progress without raising her actual level.
The count had paid for this massive boon out of his own pocket as a reward for Nokomi’s rescue of his daughter during the Battle of Krimsim. The gift was exorbitantly expensive, but the count hadn’t offered it purely out of a sense of extraordinary generosity. She was now his personal liaison officer to the imperial military, had been given orders from General Tyvus himself to safeguard the life of the man’s daughter, Ulia, and there was now talk of her joining young Lady Starion’s party once she’d reached Level 10. Ulia was to undertake Creation next year, which would mean Nokomi was locked out of Delving for a significant timespan. It wasn’t an ideal arrangement, but she could hardly complain given the amount the count had invested in her.
In addition to her lessons, the young lady had been given some token diplomatic duties to carry out in Closetland, earning her some rare, high-level experience with such tasks. Closetland was growing at an incredible pace, but the lead diplomat was still the king himself. This meant that Ulia, a woman who had only just reached her eighteenth year, was using a foreign head of state as her diplomacy training wheels.
Of all the world’s leaders, Arlo Xor’Drel was perhaps the best opportunity for Ulia to interface with someone at such high levels of government, while simultaneously being the worst example of someone in such a position. This wasn’t due to any flaw in King Xor’Drel’s character or even because of any lack in his leadership capabilities, it was simply that most lessons Ulia would learn from him would not carry over to interacting with any other world leader.
“Look,” said Arlo, “I understand why you’re upset, but Closetland isn’t abducting Carbuncles. The packs that have immigrated have done so voluntarily.”
The petitioner replied with a series of squeaks and yips. This came to no one’s surprise, since the king of Closetland was currently speaking to a fox.
Granted, it was a magical fox, standing atop a small set of stairs that brought it up to eye level with the king. It even had its own tiny podium where it rested its front paws. A large, amber gemstone grew from its head, and as the adorable creature barked its response, the stone glowed in pulses that emphasized its tone.
“They were given a comprehensive series of civic lessons,” the king replied. “One of them focused entirely on the consequences of forfeiting their existing citizenship in favor of swearing fealty to Closetland.”
Yip, yip. Bark, squeeeaaal. Yip!
“Yes, my familiar and I have several obelisks. Why do you ask?”
Chirp, bark. Yip?
“I suppose you could describe them as very big magic stones, yes.”
The fox-like being turned and yipped a few times at a congregation of Carbuncles crowding one of the balconies. They stood on their hind legs with their little paws on the balustrade. Ulia had squealed when she first saw them, and Nokomi agreed that they were among the cutest things she’d ever encountered. The Carbuncles yipped quietly with one another, and the one at the center barked a reply to the petitioner.
Bark, Bark. Yip!
“Yes, we’re still accepting new citizens. If you’d like to apply, you can speak to one of my magisters.”
The Carbuncle squeaked out what sounded like a happy reply, then bounded away to find one of the ghostly beings that helped King Xor’Drel run his kingdom. Arlo shook his head, looking amused by the interaction, then shut a portfolio on his podium.
“Those are all the formal audiences being held today,” he said to the crowd watching the proceedings. While a number of people in the King’s Chamber were there on business, the majority were ordinary citizens of the growing kingdom. That the man held court in public was another oddity, although one that serendipitously allowed Ulia to observe and learn in a way that other autocratic nations would leave inaccessible.
As the room filled with the babble of the audience while it emptied of its people, one of the king’s aides approached to take the man’s portfolio. Nokomi turned as one of the translucent Mystic Magisters approached her and Ulia through the open doors to their balcony. The king on the stage transformed back into its true form as one of the magisters, and the magister before Nokomi and Ulia turned into a copy of the king. Arlo’s real body was deep inside the Less-Than-Habitable Forest, assisting the Littan military, although he was still personally inhabiting the clone. Nokomi thought the idea of running a mercenary company while also running a kingdom sounded exhausting, but the man appeared to be in his element.
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“Lady Starion,” King Xor’Drel said, giving Ulia a nod, to which she replied with a perfect curtsy. He turned to Nokomi and added, "Lieutenant Moonwing,” and she bowed deeply at his acknowledgement. He turned back to Ulia. “I’m told you have an informal request.”
“An inquiry, Your Majesty,” said Ulia. The young woman’s whiskers twitched nervously. “A personal one, if you are willing to indulge me.”
“For you, I’m happy to oblige.”
“Thank you,” she said. “As context, this year would have been my last at the Krimsim academy, had it not been destroyed. I plan to join Litta’s next Creation Delve.”
“So I’ve heard,” said the king.
“It is my understanding that Closetland recently had a small Creation run. There were 30 Delvers?”
“That’s right.”
“The rumors are that all 30 undertook Platinum Delves and that all 30 survived.”
“There were a few close calls,” he said. “Some closer than I’d like, but yes.”
“Is it true that Closetland provided custom equipment to each Delver before they entered?”
“Yes. We’ve had the fortune of developing some gear that gives candidates a strong leg up for their first run.”
“Well,” said Ulia, hesitating. She looked down and saw that she’d been wringing her hands. She dropped them before meeting King Xor’Drel’s eyes again, spending a moment studying the sparkling green irises and black sclera. “I would like to negotiate the purchase of such a set for my own run. I’d planned to use my family’s regalia, but it is simple armor and weapons. High quality, of course, but ordinary. I wouldn’t ask, but I worry about my father and–”
Arlo held up a hand. “You don’t need to explain wanting to survive,” he said. What went unsaid was the king’s connection to the death of Ulia’s brother, Sayil.
Nokomi had thought the request was a breach of etiquette when Ulia first pitched the idea; an attempt to exploit the man’s guilt. Having spent much time observing him in negotiations with the count, however, she’d come to believe he felt no guilt over the death of the count’s son. He certainly harbored a sense of sadness, but Sir Sayil’s memory wasn’t a lever that would move him.
“Tell you what, why don’t we take a tour of the armory,” said the king, “so you can see what you’re asking for. The equipment is pretty specialized, and even if I agreed, Litta wouldn’t have any way to service and maintain the stuff, much less upgrade it.”
A bright smile washed away the anxiety on Ulia’s face. “You are most gracious, Your Majesty.”
“Lieutenant Moonwing, you’re most welcome as well,” King Xor’Drel added. “I understand you’re keeping a close eye on the count’s daughter.”
“A duty I am honored to perform,” she replied.
“If you don’t mind, I’d be interested in chatting some about Chovali culture while we meander. I haven’t had the opportunity to get to know many of your people. I’m afraid my most significant interaction was with a group of pirates.”
“I have heard of this encounter,” said Nokomi, expression growing somber. “Practitioners of the ancient customs are not normally so depraved, but some travel a twisting path. I am ashamed it was your first impression.” Nokomi was surprised when the king responded in her native tongue.
“Free yourself of shame,” he said amicably. “That night’s become a memory.”
“Then let it become a distant one, so long shall you have lived,” she said, giving the customary response. “You’ve not flown with our kind, yet taken time to learn our speech?”
“I see language clear as moonlight through empty nighttime skies, but practice of your speech still lies in murky waters. As you’ve said, I’ve not had the opportunity to flock.”
Nokomi grinned wide enough to show her fangs, then swapped back to Imperial. “That explains why your accent is terrible.” Ulia gave her a wide-eyed look, shocked by the lieutenant’s sudden informality.
King Xor’Drel chuckled. “Book learning can only teach so much. I think the language is fascinating, but I’m also interested in these ancient customs. They’re a type of non-System magic, right?”
“Yes,” she said, “but the Chovali believe that all magic is non-System magic.” She paused and watched the king’s expression, waiting for the skepticism to creep in. She was happy to see that the man didn’t look like he was about to challenge her, but curious instead. “Rather than wade that river, I will say the customs have many paths, and all Chovali are born upon at least one. Mine is the Noko, which grants cunning senses, but I am not a true practitioner.”
The king raised an eyebrow at Nokomi mentioning and then dismissing the System magic topic, but didn’t push. “And what counts as a true practitioner?”
“One who seeks to travel the furthest reaches of their path and to join other paths to their own.”
“But some paths are twisting?”
“Any path can become twisting if they are joined without care,” Nokomi said. “Those who avoid the journey to seek the end become lost.”
“Shortcuts make you evil?”
“Perhaps,” she replied. “Or perhaps evil seeks out shortcuts.”
“You said you walk the Noko. Is that related to your name being Nokomi?”
“Yes,” she said. “Traditional families will sometimes wait to grant their young a forename until their path is known.”
“Then I guess your family is traditional.”
She gave him an embarrassed smile. “All Chovali refer to ourselves as children of the moon. I am Nokomi Moonwing, a moon-daughter walking the Noko. Noko even has an alternate meaning in certain contexts, which is ‘child.’”
“Very traditional, then.”
Ulia looked at Nokomi with furrowed brow. “But you are a Chovali in the Imperial army,” she said. “That is very non-traditional.”
The lieutenant sighed. “You have seen the stage play of my life, Lady Starion, and now know it to be a tragedy.”
“Well,” said King Xor’Drel, “you have my condolences. My parents weren’t always supportive of my choices, so I understand having some familial angst. What do you say we mosey on down to the armory?”
As the king spoke, an aide came onto the balcony. She waited politely for Arlo to finish his sentence, then whispered in his ear.
“Her Cerulean Majesty has arrived at the embassy for Club Dragon,” she said. “She is asking for an audience.”
King Xor’Drel had a nonverbal back and forth with his aide, then frowned. The aide rushed off and Arlo rubbed at his eyes, looking frustrated.
“Is something the matter, Your Majesty?” asked Ulia.
“You know, of all the dragon rulers, I think Cerulean is the one most likely to make a shitty house guest.”
“Um…”
“Golden is probably trouble, but she’s got her own logic that I can kind of figure out.” He gave them a knowing look. “Super religious. I think she worships a wicked god but it’s one that’ll mostly leave you alone if you don’t piss it off. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure that Cerulean is a textbook psychopath.” He blew out a breath and looked around at the mostly empty chamber. “Feel free to hang out while I deal with this. We can tour the armory after.”
King Xor’Drel vanished, replaced by one of his magisters. He reinhabited the one down on the stage. A minute later, the main doors opened to admit a woman who looked like she was made of blue liquid. Nokomi was unnerved as she realized that the woman created a complete sensory dead zone. The space where she was swallowed sound, emitted no scent, and seemed to contain no mana whatsoever. It was more noticeable to Nokomi than if the woman hadn’t bothered to mask her presence at all. It almost felt like a power play, an announcement to those perceptive enough that she was beyond them. That was only confirmed when Nokomi used Identify on her.
[RESTRICTED]
Nokomi’s stomach turned. She’d never seen that before. She didn’t even know an identify could be restricted.
Ulia opened her mouth to say something, but Nokomi laid a hand on the woman’s arm and turned to her, a warning in her eyes and a finger to her lips.
“Your Majesty,” said King Xor’Drel. “What brings you to my humble kingdom?”