Chapter 531 - The Rising Moon VII

  It was late in the evening. The moon was slowly crawling her way up into the sky, shining her light upon the world beneath her as Cadria’s nobility converged on the castle. The many warlords and aristocrats rode in glamorous coaches—street-width wagons equipped with all the luxury features that a bored nobleman could have possibly requested. The artifacts packed within the beast-drawn vehicles controlled the climate, isolated all noise, and even massaged the passengers seated within, ensuring that their rides provided nothing but the very best experience.

  It was impossible to tell at a glance, but most of the cars were rented. The beautiful murals and bright noble crests adorning their exteriors were constructed to each client’s specifications and quickly swapped in immediately prior to their arrival. Such was the Merdle Company’s standard means of profit. They charged an exorbitant price for the service, about thirty to forty percent of what it would have cost to acquire the carriage as an asset. It was such a high cost that any sane person would have readily called it into question, but a careful audit confirmed the math checked out. The trends changed every two to three years, and any such shift would surely require a fresh carriage. By renting, one could distribute a similar cost over several seasons and avoid unexpected costs during periods of rapid change.

  The Merdle Company had streamlined their own process as well. By modularizing the vehicle, they were able to swap the artifacts and veneers without sacrificing the finely-crafted interiors.

  Of course, not everyone bought into the service. Some families, like the ducal and royal houses, thought nothing of the extra cost of ownership. Others simply liked to flaunt their wealth; they refused to settle for the standard designs afforded by the Merdle Company’s fleet and tasked their house-employed artisans with their vehicles’ decoration.

  Countess Aemilia Acampora belonged to the latter group. Located just two provincial subdivisions south of the northernmost border, her domain was one of Cadria’s richest—a rocky land filled to the brim with high value dungeons. Three of every four was a high-level domain that spawned monsters who grew precious metals. Jeweled lizards, crystal golems, and living porcelain beasts spewed forth in such abundance that the countess had to artificially limit their sale to preserve its value—only the most powerful and mature beasts were allowed to be harvested. Even then, the family had far more influence than the average county; it was all too easy for them to swing their weight and ruin the plans of those with whom they didn’t get along.

  In other words, Lady Acampora was very much accustomed to getting her way.

  She was often the center of attention. After all, she was not just rich, but personally powerful and fiercely patriotic, a Cadrian among Cadrians by all accounts.

  But on the first day of the summer festival, her arrival went entirely unnoticed.

  It wasn’t like the usual bootlickers had vanished.

  Upon entering the garden venue, she found them hovering by the entrance. At first, she thought that maybe they had finally learned some degree of etiquette and decided to await her entrance before bombarding her with loyalty and affection. But they demonstrated no such behaviour.

  They continued to ignore her even as she walked directly in front of them. It was only when she went out of her way to offer a greeting that they finally responded, but even then, their responses were cut and dry.

  The lack of energy baffled her. At first, she thought that something was wrong, that something she’d yet to hear had put everyone in a somber mood. But their attitudes flipped as soon as the enemy state’s representatives entered the venue.

  Suddenly, the rotten, impoverished trash that had always latched onto her coattails sprang to life and heaped all manner of praise upon their foreign foes.

  Aemilia was baffled, completely and utterly stupified.

  It was like they didn’t understand that they were fraternizing with the enemy, buttering up the very adversaries that would trade lives with their lovers and children. Certainly, there was honour in battle and death, but one would have to be truly stupid to believe that it was the outcome desired.

  Evidently, many of her countrymen were just that blind. They foolishly chased glory, not understanding that strength was but a means of negotiation.

  And the foreign presence was only cementing their already broken perception.

  On that very first night, she swore that she would absolutely destroy the Vel’khanese through any means necessary—a resolve that only grew stronger as the tomfoolery was repeated again and again and again. They were the focus of every single party, even when they lost their battles or claimed wins for free.

  Of course, she understood that most already considered Vel’khan a vassal state and that the so-called war was being written off as more of a showpiece than a serious affair. The nobility was ready to accept the Vel’khanese into their ranks and saw the opportunity as one to make early connections.

  It was like they had already forgotten their cruelty, like they’d written off Tornatus and everything they’d lost. The Vel’khanese were, likewise, buying right into it, handling the whole exchange like anything but a war fought on the grounds of vengeance.

  And that made her far more annoyed than the lack of flattery and worship.

  She wasn’t the only one that quickly developed a distaste for the leeches—that was what the truly patriotic had taken to calling the filthy, waterborn bloodsuckers—nor would she be the last. Though much of the nobility was still happy to flatter the foreign invaders, so too was there a rapidly growing group of detractors, members of the gentry wronged or offended, not only by Vel’khan’s behaviour, but also that of their countrymen. They recognized the leeches as a source of rot, a sign of necessary change.

  It was precisely to meet with such likeminded fellows that the countess had set out from the castle. Her destination was a top secret location just outside the edge of the town. It was where she would find The Goddess’ Council—the elite few who saw the blasphemy for what it was.

  She was, of course, aboard a highly customized coach. Its golden exterior glimmered as she rode through the town, entrancing locals and foreigners alike. Those who stared saw their reflections captured in its gemstone decorations and their hearts stolen by their beautiful, floral arrangement.

  To the simple minded, it might have seemed like a mistake to perform a clandestine visit aboard such a distinct vehicle, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. She was sure to head in the same direction regardless. Her own fortress was one of the many floating outside of the city. Only the most observant would be able to determine that the ship she boarded was not her own.

  But even in such a case, there was no risk of exposure. Most would think that she was simply attending an afterparty. At worst, she’d be suspected of having an affair, but in her mind, such an accusation was of no concern. She was the rightful ruler of the Acampora County. Her husband was but one of the countless suitors that had flocked to her doorstep the moment she announced her need for a mate. He was chosen not for his personality, his assets, or his looks, but his lineage, for he was descended from House Augustus, and Virillius was his great-great-great uncle. The blood connection was thin, but present enough for the countess to desire his children. It helped that the other side of his family also stemmed from a mix of high-profile lines. House Pollux was the most notable of the bunch; he was one of the most pureblooded to have escaped the march’s annihilation.

  In simpler terms, there was no love between them. He existed solely as a stud by whom she was to be bred. An affair would waste her time and defeat the purpose of keeping him around, but there was otherwise nothing wrong with extramarital relations; she had always planned to cuckold the stallion as soon as she bore a child that inherited House Augustus’ talent.

  She hoped that day would come much sooner than later. He was an imbecile who’d made it very clear that he was only after her money and she couldn’t wait to be rid of the need to pamper him.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Aemilia arrived at her destination right as she began to grow bored of contemplation. Another noble lady might have engaged her maids in conversation, but House Acampora’s were far too dull. They weren’t known for being all too right in the head; the only thing they did well was math.

  The driver parked the carriage atop a large stone slab and sent a bright magical signal to the man working the artifact’s control. The elevator hummed to life a moment later and the carriage was lifted up into the sky. The manor’s flags were down, but Aemilia was well aware that it belonged to House Verus. Specifically, it was Lord Darius’ personal dreadnought; the giant frontal guns gave it away in a heartbeat.

  Aemilia frowned as she looked upon the fort. Without the banners bearing the house’s crest, it almost appeared too plain for an evening of celebration. It wasn’t just unsightly, it was unbecoming. They were clearly declaring to the world that they were too cowardly to fly their true colours.

  The greeting she found at House Verus was far more appropriate than any she’d experienced during the summer’s royal events. Dozens of penniless peons—foolish knights and barons—flooded from the gates to form her entourage. They were all dressed in proper, modern fashion, but they weren’t fooling her for a moment. If the seams were anything to go by, their clothes were clearly fashioned by second rate tailors working with third rate materials.

  “Lady Acampora! We’ve been awaiting your arrival!”

  “Good evening, My Lady! It pleases me to see that you are still in good health.”

  “Oh, how fortunate we are today to be in Lady Acampora’s presence! Her beauty cuts through the night like the rising sun!”

  “Good evening, Lady Titus, Lord Marcius, Master Tibrux. I am overjoyed to see you all.” Outwardly, she smiled, but she wanted to scoff. It was just the usual nonsense spoken by the usual fools, failed nobles too brainless to realise that they would never climb far enough up the ladder to be allowed into the more important discussions—not that any such dialogues had already taken place. For the next two hours, everything was as it would’ve been at an ordinary party.

  Aemilia ate and drank as she greeted her acquaintances one by one. There weren’t really any deals made at the venue, but that was only because no one was talking business. They spoke of more casual matters, asking about pets, family, and the exciting events that each domain was set to host.

  But, at least for Aemilia, everything changed when an out-of-place man stepped out onto the floor. He was the sole lizardman in a sea of cottontails, centaurs, elves, lamia, and thorae—the person ultimately responsible for putting the party together.

  Lord Darius was famously a foreign implant who’d long fallen in love with Cadria and its culture. There were many who suspected him at first and Aemilia had been chief among them, but he eventually wore down his detractors with his heartfelt sincerity. Even his name was a point thereto; he’d thrown away his original, primitive moniker and adopted a Cadrian designation as a means of better integrating with their society.

  Darius went around exchanging greetings with the crowd introducing the showmen he’d hired. He even stepped out onto the stage and offered many a lady an opportunity to dance—the signal for Aemilia and her peers to detach themselves from the party and venture into the backrooms.

  Smiling softly at the lamia yapping her ears off, Aemilia gently raised a hand. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, Lady Arlow, but it is time.”

  “Oh, of course. Don’t let me keep you,” said the red-scaled serpent. “I know the council meetings are hard. I wish you the best of luck.”

  Aemilia thanked her with a brief bow and headed out into the hall. She walked right past the bathroom, turned a few corners, and stopped in front of a curious wooden door. The bland, unpainted maplewood was completely out of place in the fancy manor, but few had ever questioned it. The runes inscribed into its frame ensured that it would only be found by those it sought to attract.

  Entering the dimly lit room, Aemilia found that most of the meeting's members had gathered; only three of the twelve seats were still empty. One was hers, and another was filled by Lord Darius, who filed in right after. The last seat was vacant. It hadn’t even been a day since its erstwhile owner had passed and none were of the mind to immediately remove his memory.

  For a moment, no one said anything. The only sounds were of the rushing of wind and the crackling of candles. Occasionally, the windows would contribute, rattling with just enough force to remind the meeting's attendants that they were above the clouds.

  Thirty seconds later, and there was an audible click—a sign that the artifact beneath the room had finally kicked into gear. It was accompanied by a full set of audible sighs. All of the meeting's members had released their held breaths in tandem. But even then, no one spoke. They all turned instead to the person at the head of the table, the white-furred drider in charge of the old guard.

  His name was Theodosius Fabius Verus, and at least on paper, he was the house’s former head. In reality, he maintained much of his control well into his retirement. His daughter and heir bothered with none of the political games in which her father was so well-versed and his son in law, Lord Darius, was hardly any more useful. Though he did pull a few tricks here and there, he was unable to become the central, patriotic force whose place he was meant to take.

  “Thank you all for gathering today. I appreciate all of your continued support.” Theodosius spoke in his usual, mellow tone before turning to Aemilia. “Lady Acampora, your contributions have proven especially beneficial. The package you provisioned just last month was central in our efforts. And thanks to it, we have secured the lion’s share of the materials sourced from the most recent Langgbjern expedition. Truly, we could not have done it without your generous donation.” Next, he turned to Lord Calvus, a small, thoraen warrior barely any larger than a cottontail. Though heavily vertically challenged, the man was a powerful warrior in his own right, and like Lady Acampora, he was one of the volunteers who’d nearly joined the seven. “And thank you, Lord Calvus, for the aid of your house’s expert craftsmen. It is their passion that allows us to walk the line towards completion.” The Calvus barony was small, but it was home to many of the nation’s greatest smiths. It was said that they’d only chosen the northern region to spite the artificers who lived down south. “Our forces are already in fighting order. We will only need another two or three days to process the remaining materials. Does anyone have any objections to setting out as soon as we are prepared?”

  “I do.” One of the men sitting around the table, the Lord of House Gnaeus, slowly raised his hand. “I would rather we didn’t wait. I simply cannot stand the idea of sitting around and idly twiddling our thumbs while our enemies run free. Did you not see what happened today?” His voice was quiet and scraggly. If she couldn’t see his face, she very well might have suspected that he was undead. “They humiliated us! Hell, those filthy leeches have been humiliating us this whole damn time!”

  Aemilia could feel the bile in her throat rising as he spoke. He was right. They had been wronged a thousand times over.

  “It was bad enough that they so unjustly executed Lord Ephesus.” Lord Gnaeus glanced at the empty seat while the others clenched their fists and lowered their eyes in solidarity. The man was a champion and a true patriot—the only one among them who’d been allowed to fight for their country. “But the conniving wretches didn’t settle for just that. I know we all noticed His Majesty’s pause.” He bit his lips. “By refusing to admit their guilt, they forced him to cover for their lies. And as for the rest of our people, I feel as if they are under some sort of disturbing charm. They continue to mindlessly flatter the invaders. They treat them not like our enemies, but like our compatriots. It is like they have already forgotten that, just two days prior, they blatantly used Master Gladora’s unfortunate death to spin a false narrative and sell their own feigned strength. Does that not leave a poor taste in your mouth, Lord Verus? It’s as if they’re feeding us maggots by the spoonful, and we are simply sitting with our mouths open, begging for more like hungry chicks.”

  “Lord Gnaeus is right.” Another member of the council slammed his hands against the table and shot to his feet. “We need to take action and purge these filthy leeches before they win over more of our countrymen. We must protect Cadria and preserve its integrity.”

  Aemilia raised her hand. “I understand your feelings, Lord Vopiscus, but unfortunately, it is unrealistic to proceed with the plan before all of our equipment is complete.”

  “Are you saying we’re supposed to just sit around and watch as they strut all over our castle!?” screamed the cottontail.

  “Of course not.” Aemilia twisted her lips into a smile. “I’d like to suggest a more direct means of retaliation. We will simply do unto them as they’ve done unto us.” She paused for a moment to scan the table. “We’ll have one of their fighters suddenly disappear overnight and see how they deal with the humiliation of being forced to forfeit.” She knew that the circumstances differed. But it didn’t matter. She was long past the point of caring.

  “That’s brilliant,” said Lord Gnaeus. “By making a show of their loss, we can not only salt the wound but tempt them into revealing their hideous true nature. I believe we have amassed the necessary resources already. We can have it done overnight.”

  No one thought for a moment that there was anything wrong with the foul play. A combatant that couldn’t survive the outside intervention was one who didn’t deserve the stage.

  “Coincidentally, their next fighter makes for the perfect target,” said Aemilia, with a smile. “What could possibly be more humiliating than finding their queen dead in the streets?”

  “Wonderful!”

  “How bold! How glorious! This scheme of yours is truly a piece of art.”

  “I concur! If anyone is not in agreement, voice your objections immediately!”

  It only took a second for the others to hop onto the wagon. Everyone was eager to dispose of the bloodsucking invaders.

  Aemilia almost wanted to laugh.

  They were all fools, mindless brutes who latched onto even the simplest of plans. But at the same time, she was brimming with pride. Because while they were certainly fools, they were fools who shared her love for Cadria.