Chapter 321: Chapter 305 – The Bell Tolls IV

Chapter 305 - The Bell Tolls IV

The god of isolation entered the shop in an unassuming form. As a cuttlefish with a hat, a tie, and a cane, he hardly stood out from anyone else in the city. It was a disguise that worked perfectly on everyone but the rare few attuned to the powers of the divine. To Claire, his presence was stifling. The sheer weight of his divinity threatened to crush her underfoot as he slowly pulled his way across the wooden floor. It was far, far heavier than it was in his temple.

Thanks to his size, it took the man a good minute to walk the distance. He wasn’t very tall, just over half a meter from hat to mouth, and he had to shift his cane with every languid step. It was clearly an inconvenience, but he didn’t seem to mind. Claire, however, was confused by the leisurely pace. The demigods and gods that she regularly interacted with were always busy with something or other. Griselda was the only one with any spare time, and even she was often preoccupied. In a perhaps ironic twist, given her history of planetary bombardment, she was responsible for redirecting the space rocks that threatened to strike the world.

Her dominion over rockkind was governed by the same principle that allowed goblin kings to guide their armies. She was simply a superior variant with the power to command her kin, albeit one on an entirely different scale.

The god of the abyssal depths was not quite as powerful, but he should have plenty of things to manage and consider; Claire had largely asked him to visit in person because she had assumed that he would refrain. It was clearly a waste of his time. Evidently, the deity was unconcerned.

He greeted the caldriess with a cheerful smile upon finally arriving at the counter and even made himself at home by taking off his hat and setting down his cane. That, however, was effectively all he did. Perhaps because his social skills were lacking, the man simply stood around and awaited communication. Claire refused to greet him, however, leading to an awkward situation where both parties simply sat around and stared.

“Uhmmmm, hi.” A somewhat confused Sylvia broke the silence following a brief delay. “Did you need something?”

Having half broken into a cold sweat, the god was happy to jump at the chance to respond. “Yes. I want someone dead.” He crossed his tentacles, pausing for a moment before looking up again. “His name is Ignacio Alvarez, and he is one of the winter goddess’ bishops.”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “And you won’t do it yourself because?”

“She would immediately decipher that it was my doing if I was to go in person,” said the god of darkness. “I don’t want to start a war. I simply want his existence brought to an end.”

The lyrkress crossed her arms and scowled. “So you want us to absorb the goddess’ wrath instead? I refuse.”

Aurora, the goddess of the frozen wilds, was no doubt cross with her already. The northern nations, like Cadria, were her stomping grounds, and she definitely had a temple or three in the dead marquis’ domain. And given everything Claire knew about the goddess in question, there was hardly any chance that she didn’t hold a grudge. Aurora was one of the pettiest deities there was; she was overly conscious of her unfathomably ugly appearance and anyone that happened to insult it would find themselves cursed in some way or other.

Many considered the punishments justified, stating that they were meted out to the shallow, but in Claire’s eyes, they were stupid and pointless. It was only really the naturally hideous that agreed with the goddess to begin with, but even they should have rejected her claims. There was no reason for Aurora to appear as masculine as she did. Though each had their preferred forms, the divine could freely adjust their appearances at will.

“I know it sounds like that, but it’s not that simple,” he said. “I would’ve hired normal assassins if it was.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Sylvia.

“He’s nearly all the way through his third ascension, far beyond what most mortals can manage,” said the god.

Claire rolled her eyes. “I don’t see how that fixes the problem.”

“But you should, given the specifics of your background.”

The caldriess furrowed her brow. “Are you trying to say that he’s Cadrian?”

“I am,” said the man, “and that he accepts every challenge that comes his way. Slay him in an honourable duel, and I doubt the goddess will have much to say.”

There was a brief pause as Claire considered her request. She moved just her tail, flicking it from left to right as she spun her wheels. “I refuse. I’m not going anywhere near that damned country.”

“I see.” Given his race, it was difficult for Claire to read his expression, but she was fairly certain that there was a certain smugness in his eyes. “I will be back some other time then, to see if you change your mind.” And with that, he was gone. His body vanished, converting from mass to energy and dispersing into the air.

“Uhmmmm… Claire?” Sylvia spoke up after a brief delay. “What the heck was that?”

“What the heck was what?” asked the deadpan lyrkress.

“Why was there a literal god in the shop!?” cried the fox.

“A god? He was a god?” Chloe furrowed her brow. “How could you tell?”

Claire tilted the head. “You couldn’t?”

“Not at all,” said the human.

“He had a really menacing aura thing,” said Sylvia. “It’s the same kind you get around the churches but way stronger.”

The maid raised a hand to her chin. “Right. I don’t think most normal people are all that sensitive to that type of thing, but as a maid I should probably…” Her voice trailed off into a mumble as she continued to work through her thoughts.

“So what the heck was all that about?” asked Sylvia again.

“I didn’t feel like dealing with him earlier,” said Claire. “So I told him to come to the shop.” It looked like Starrgort had a comment or two to make, but the lyrkress grabbed the mechanical spider and pushed him out of her peripheral vision. “I don’t really think it matters. I’m going to keep refusing him.”

“I’m not really sure that refusing a god is necessarily the best idea,” said Chloe.

“I’ll be fine,” said Claire. “I never swore to him, and I never plan to.”

“Right…” said Sylvia, dubiously. “I think you might not be taking it seriously enough, but he didn’t seem too mad, so I guess it’s probably okay.”

“It isn’t a reasonable demand,” she said, with a frown. “Going back to Cadria is too much of a risk.”

“That’s too bad,” said Sylvia. “I kinda wanna see what the place you grew up in was like.”

Claire scratched the top of the fox’s head with a frown. “Well, I don’t. There’s a whole world out there and no reason for us to go back to Cadria of all places.” Her ears twitching, the lyrkress turned to the maid with a curious gaze. “I thought you said you were staying for a week.”

“I am,” said Chloe, confused. “What makes you think otherwise?”

“I can hear Marcelle,” said Claire. “Which means Ciel is coming.”

“That’s… strange,” said the maid, as she furrowed her brow. “Normally she’d let me know ahead of time.”

The maid stepped out of the shop, with the other two following right behind her. It didn’t take long for the carriage in question to arrive. It swooped down through the air and parked itself on the street. The people beneath it only managed to get out of the landing zone thanks to the driver, who shouted for them to make way as he begged the manatee to descend.

Surely enough, it was the royal carriage, and surely enough, the door opened to reveal the queen herself. One of the other maids was there with her, namely a slime girl made of a pinkish-purple goop. Her face lacked humanoid features, but Claire recognized her immediately as the person that often hung around while Arciel did her desk work. Her name was Myne, and she had a talent for being attentive.

“Get in. Quickly. The queen requires all three of you for an important, private conversation.” None of that attentiveness was on display, however. She grabbed all three of the people present with her cherry-coloured arms and reeled them straight into the coach.

“What’s going on?” asked Claire, after magically locking the shop’s door and floating a closed sign to its entrance.

Arciel was pale—that was not a particularly unique or concerning circumstance in and of itself. The squid was always pale, thanks to her vampiric constitution, but her skin was even lighter than usual. More obvious than her lack of rosiness, however, was the troubled look that sat on her face—not to mention her presence. It was rare for her to accompany the maids on their excursions.

The serious mood, however, was not shared by all that were present. Chloe and Sylvia were whispering under their breaths, with the human more panicked than not. She was flustered, with her eyes glowing, her cheeks flushed pink, and her gaze directed towards the floor.

“How am I supposed to turn this off!?” whispered the maid.

“Uhhmmm, just control it like you’re controlling your mana,” said Sylvia. “It’s pretty much the same as casting a spell.”

“I’m not a mage, Sylvia! I don’t know how to control mana!”

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“Wait, really? Aren’t you like, really close to your second ascension?”

“How did you know? Wait, that’s not relevant right now. My level has nothing to do with it. Maids are like rogues. We’re basically purely dexterity and agility. My wisdom’s only a few points higher than it was on the day I was born.”

“You don’t need wisdom! You just gotta feel it out.”

“You’re not making much sense. How am I supposed to ‘feel it out?’”

Sighing, Claire reached across the carriage, grabbed the maid’s face, and drained her body of all its magic. Though shocked enough by the sensation to react with a startled “Pgmrah!?”, the maid, whose eyes had returned to their usual shade, quickly assumed a more normal position and quieted down.

“Thank you, Claire,” said Arciel. The queen took a breath as she directed her gaze around the coach’s interior. “Now I am certain that you must be wondering why I have called for you so suddenly.”

“I was thinking we were just gonna have tea or something until I saw how stressed you looked,” said Sylvia.

The squid smiled before lifting the fox off Claire’s head and pulling her into her egregiously large chest. “While I would certainly enjoy such an outing, this is not the time.” Still squeezing the furball with one hand, she produced the fan hidden in her sleeve and pointed it out the window. “Cast your gaze upon the horizon and you shall see the cause of my concern.”

Claire followed the tip of the fan and looked off into the sky, but she couldn’t see anything obvious. The only thing she did note was the odd storm cloud, gathering in the skies a few cities away. “I don’t see how the rain could cause any major problems,” she said, with a tilt of the head.

Her response threw Arciel for a loop. The squid slowly looked between the facepalming slime and the window before slowly rotating her fan so it pointed to the opposite side. Her cheeks were flushed a deep shade of red; they were even brighter than Chloe’s.

“T-the north was to the left on the way here,” she said, with a cough. “I did not realise that my recital would work against me.” The second line was spoken a little quieter, but Claire couldn’t be bothered to tease her. She was focused on the horizon, looking beyond the sky. Even with her telescopic eyes, she couldn’t see anything of note, but with the god’s hint, and her friend’s behaviour, she had an unfortunate clue.

“The Cadrian armada is coming.”

“Precisely,” said Arciel, with a frown. “They were first sighted by the penhorns just the previous night. It is only a matter of time before they enter Vel’khanese airspace.”

Claire furrowed her brow. “Did they use the scryer’s orb?”

Arciel nodded. “A fleet of roughly thirty flying castles entered the edge of their vision early last night.”

“How far from the city were they?”

“The pirates saw them from Morosian waters,” said the squid.

Claire took a moment to recall the surrounding geography. Moros, the country north of Vel’khan, was an unstable kingdom ruled and populated by grugs. Though incredibly fertile, the maritime nation went largely uncontested by outside forces, courtesy of the eccentricities that came with the local species’ twenty-day life cycles.

“How far away is that, exactly?” asked the lyrkress.

“Few days on turberus back?” said the squid.

“I said exactly,” muttered Claire.

“It’s three hundred and twelve kilometres to the north if we’re measuring the distance from the castle,” said Chloe.

“Then they’ll reach us tomorrow,” said Claire. The fastest Cadrian warships could reach cruising speeds of up to fifty kilometres an hour, but the heaviest and most well-armoured were unlikely to pass fifteen. Emergency situations aside, it was standard protocol for the army to match its slowest ships’ speed. “I should have left a clearer trail when I took Pollux’s head.”

She reached for the carriage’s handle, but Arciel cut her off with her fan.

“Surely you are not planning to charge the fleet yourself?”

The caldriess flashed a brilliant, toothy smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just securing a means for negotiation.” Claire tried pushing past the fan, but one of Arciel’s tentacles grabbed her wrist and held her hand in place.

“Oh, you most certainly do!” huffed the squid. “We must first speak to their emissary. I doubt that they will begin their assault attack without an attempt at negotiation.”

“Any emissaries they send should be executed on sight.”

Arciel raised her brow.

“Cadrian envoys don’t negotiate. They declare war.” Finally moving her hand away from the door, Claire pinched the squid’s cheeks and stretched her face. “Idiot.”

“And they will not listen to reason of any sort? Would your word not suffice?”

“I’m just a princess. Decisions are made by warriors.”

The problem lay primarily with the soldiers’ fervour. With how excited the nation’s warmongers were, in the wake of her father’s crowning, there was no way to convince them to simply turn the ships around. Her name might have been able to change their minds before they had sortied, but with their ships already on the way, they were unlikely to stop until they got a taste for battle. The brass would likely make up some story or other about the Vel’khanese controlling her mind and order their troops burn the nation with even greater zeal.

Given that there were only thirty ships, the deployment was most likely conducted without her father’s permission. As per the old laws, Cadrian lords needed no such confirmation to move their armies. They were free to clash against both foreigners and each other, free to brandish their power however they pleased. Ferdinand’s orders had kept them chained during the lattermost part of his rule, but Ferdinand was dead, and his dream had only joined him in the grave.

“The envoy will open hostilities and attack you no matter what you say or do, and the brass is going to act on the assumption that something horrible has happened to him,” said Claire. “The only way to avoid an all-out clash is to provide a reasonable alternative.”

“Dare I ask why you might consider an attack a reasonable alternative?”

Claire shook her head. “It isn’t. It’s a show of force. They won’t negotiate unless we shame them with defeat, but even that has to be done in moderation. If we blow all of their castles out of the sky and humiliate them, then the rest of the army will have to pick up the slack and prove that Cadria is mightier than Vel’khan.”

“The logic is rather… convoluted,” muttered Arciel, “but I suppose I am not unable to rationalize it with the pride I have seen in the Cadrian people.”

“Don’t overthink it. It’s simple,” said Claire. “Might makes right.”

“Wait, but if everyone just listens to all the strongest people, then shouldn’t they just like, pack up their stuff and go home after you beat them up?” asked Sylvia. “How come you’re still gonna have to talk after?”

“Losing a battle is hardly the same as losing the war,” said Claire. “That’s why we have to shame them. Let them taste battle and defeat so we can negotiate the shape that the rest of the war takes.”

“You truly believe that a longer-term conflict is unavoidable?” asked Arciel, with her brow furrowed.

Claire averted her eyes. “It has been.” She had at least tried not to involve Vel’khan by handling everything herself, but she had known where her countrymen would lay the blame. “Since I decided to kill Pollux.”

Arciel put down her fan, and after a brief delay, leaned forward in the carriage and wrapped her arms around the caldriess’ back. “While I would have preferred that you had informed me of this particular consequence ahead of time, I understood from the treacherous marquis’ actions that conflict with Cadria was inevitable. I would not have asked you to choose another path,” she said. “But I do believe that you have made this choice with some manner of plan in mind?”

Claire nodded.

“I know exactly what to do.”

“Then I shall bear witness as you see it through.”

Seeing the unrelenting smile on the queen’s face, Claire reluctantly nodded her head, climbed out of the cabin, and replaced the manatee responsible for pulling the coach.

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