Chapter 552 - The Cadrian Council IV

  A round of cheers accompanied Arciel’s victory, followed soon after by a barrage of fruits and desserts. People grabbed whatever they could off the servants’ trollies and plastered Graham’s corpse in food.

  “I shall be honest. I am rather confused,” said Arciel, as she returned to her seat. The stage shrank as she walked towards the edge, the tables quickly returning to their rightful positions. “Was his victory not celebrated by the crowd not even two weeks prior?”

  “Different crowd,” said Claire. “Those were normal people. These are nobles.”

  “I did not think their opinions of him would differ so greatly, considering his status as champion.”

  “He was a bit old fashioned,” said Claire. “And kind of an idiot.”

  “I forget. Am I supposed to resurrect him?” asked Ragnar.

  “It is not a strict requirement, but I would prefer if you did,” said Virillius.

  “Alright,” said Ragnar, before quickly restoring Graham, who’d been reduced to a pair of legs.

  “Thank you,” said Virillius. “Now, I believe we are all in agreement?” Everyone except for Graham, who quickly escaped the room in order to change into a fresh set of clothes, nodded in agreement.

  “Excellent. With colonization eliminated, we have three remaining options. As a reminder, Master Leutgar’s proposal is for Vel’khan to pay reparations. Queen Arciel’s proposal is for Vel’khan to be assimilated, and my proposal is some manner of alliance, the precise terms of which are yet to be determined. Would anyone like to discuss reparations any further?”

  “If we are to evaluate the reparations, I believe it would be necessary for us to work out an amount?” said Arciel.

  “A very fair point,” said Virillius. “Master Silverthorn, Master Greenwood. Would either of you happen to have a figure in mind?”

  The crowd didn’t seem all too content, but they were too busy disparaging Graham to give the remaining participants too much trouble.

  “Honestly, I kinda just said it because reparations seemed normal after a war. I don’t even know what’s reasonable.” Leutgar toyed with one of his swords’ handles. “How about we just calculate what Tornatus was worth and have Vel’khan cover half?”

  “That doesn’t really seem reasonable,” said Krail. “We aren’t actually responsible for any of the damage. It doesn’t really make any sense for us to pay reparations."

  “If I may, I do believe it would be worth having Claire give her input on this matter?” suggested Arciel. “Considering it was she who was responsible for its destruction?”

  “I do believe that to be sensible,” said Virillius.

  “Finally,” said Claire. She scanned the crowd for a moment before pressing her hands against the table and pushing herself to her feet. “I only have one thing to say. This council’s already gone on for far too long.”

  “Hear! Hear!” said Miss Brigham. “We’ve had way too much of this bullshit! Either get on with the fighting, or wrap up so we can go home!”

  “Yeah, what the hell!” shouted a centaurian knight. “We’re not here to watch you talk! You’re supposed to be slugging the shit out of each other!”

  “...Claire, I believe you were meant to give your opinions on the reparations,” said Virillius.

  “I don’t really see the point. My Vel’khanese friends have already gotten a taste for Cadrian politics, and the crowd is clearly bored out of its mind. But if you really need my opinion, I don’t think anything built by Pollux has any value. So no, there shouldn’t be any reparations.” Claire stuck out her tongue before grabbing her lizard and throwing him over her back. “Now let’s hurry up and get this over with.”

  She walked out in the middle of the arena as she gave her now-divine weapon a few test swings and confirmed he was just as trusty as usual. The arena expanded again in the meantime, with the tables returning to the walls and the central space opening into a ring.

  “Anyone who doesn’t want me laying out the terms can enter the ring.”

  “Wait, why do you get a say?” asked Graham, who’d returned with a fresh, shoddy suit. “Didn’t you lo—”

  There was a crack and a squelch as Graham’s head was smashed with such force that it wound up stuck in his pelvis. It was followed by a skitter as Boris, who was covered in blood for some inexplicable reason, skittered back over to his mistress.

  “Anyone else?”

  Virillius sighed. “Claire, there is an order to these things.”

  “There was.”

  “Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to dera—”

  “The faster we’re done here, the faster we talk about Mother.” Virillius bit his lips and clenched his fists before breathing a sigh and lowering his head. He briefly paused before scanning the room. “Does anyone else have any objections?”

  His silent admission of defeat set the crowd ablaze. The various aristocrats immediately began speaking at length about who it was that really wore the pants in House Augustus. And none were more vocal than Kryddar’s king.

  “Goddamn. She’s got you by the balls. I wonder where she got that,” he said, with a cackle.

  “Shut up.” Virillius lightly massaged one of his temples. “You’re not any better.”

  “You say that, but I’m not whipped. Hell, the missus doesn’t even know that I’m in Valencia.”

  Virillius raised a brow. “What do you mean, she doesn’t know?”

  “I mean what I said. You know how I arrived without any guards? That’s ‘cause I basically just told a buddy that I was heading out for a smoke and a drink and flew right over.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Why else did you think I showed up by myself? And without a shirt? I gave it to a nice old lady who let me ride in the back of her carriage."

  “You see, Rubia, that thing over there is what we call an idiot,” said Claire. “Make sure you don’t grow up the way it did, okay?”

  “I’ll try my best.”

  “By Rikael’s fucking light,” he said with a grumble. “That was uncalled for. How the hell did you even hear me from all the way over there!?”

  Rolling her eyes, Claire raised one ear and pointed at it with the other.

  “Right. I nearly forgot.”

  “It is unfortunate, but I see time has not treated you too well, King Ragnar.” Claire flashed a kind smile as she performed an exaggerated curtsy. “If it is to your taste, I would not mind introducing you to a nursing home.”

  “Man, Virillius, what the fuck? Why’s your daughter so goddamn brutal?”

  “You should see how she treats Allegra.”

  “Anyway.” Claire snapped back to her usual demeanour. “If Vel’khan doesn’t become a part of Cadria, then it’ll wind up as a close ally. There’s no reason for us to hash out the rest of the details right away. It’d be better if Arciel and my father took their time and worked them out behind closed doors, and I doubt any of you will be interested in three straight days of negotiation.”

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  A few people in the crowd voiced their agreement as they chatted with their neighbours, with Marquis Decimus eventually standing up and raising a hand.

  “Princess, I understand where you’re coming from, and I wholeheartedly agree. But this is tradition.”

  “So is this.” Claire magically yoinked her glove off the ground and smacked it into the side of the marquis’ head.

  “I understand. I will be happy to accept.” The centaur’s lips warped into a grin as his eyes were filled with excitement. Hoisting a shieldlance over his shoulder, he descended the steps and entered the ring.

  “Anyone else?” asked Claire. “You don’t have to pretend to disagree like Decimus. Anyone is welcome to join.”

  “Wait, we don’t even have to disagree?” asked someone in the crowd.

  “Why would you? The meeting’s already over.”

  “Oh, fuck yes. Count me in.” The cottontail grabbed his sword and hopped into the arena. And he wasn’t the only one. Dozens of noblemen descended from the stands and lined up behind him. Even Leutgar and Durham had snuck into the back of the line.

  “At least do this in the training grounds, would you? Or maybe the colosseum?” asked Virillius.

  “I was planning to.”

  Claire snapped her fingers and moved the whole crowd back into the arena, while the older moose sighed and shook his head.

  “I’m almost surprised they want to fight her after what they saw this morning,” said Sylvia, as she walked up beside him.

  “Unfortunately, I am not,” he said. “This is perfectly typical behaviour.”

  “I mean, yeah, but what the heck is even the point? She’s literally blasting straight through them.”

  “Most are expecting to lose. They just want to see how far their strength will take them and if they’ll do any better than their peers.”

  “Wait, only most?”

  “There happens to be a small group that is optimistic enough to hope for either a miraculous awakening or the unlikely chance that their abilities will perfectly counter hers.”

  “Somehow, I doubt either of those things are gonna be enough to beat her.”

  “They aren’t, but they would like to try it regardless.”

  “Losing doesn’t really do much to discourage them,” said Allegra. “And there’s a chance that they’ll unlock better classes, just from facing her if the system decides that the accomplishment is worth noting.”

  “I doubt it. They train with Virillius all the time. Everyone that’s going to get something probably already has,” said Ragnar.

  “Perhaps then it is a means of communication? I have heard that it is possible to learn more of one’s personality by crossing blades, even in the case of a great disparity,” said Arciel. “It was one of Matthias’ favourite sayings.”

  “Uhm, Mistress? I’m pretty sure he was only telling you that because he thought it was funny you believed him,” said Chloe, with an awkward smile.

  “Was he?” asked Arciel, with a frown.

  “While the nature of one’s abilities is not always indicative of their personality, it often is,” said Virillius. “I would say that it is the norm for younger individuals, and still relatively common among those who have lived through the ages.”

  “Doesn’t that basically mean you’re rolling the dice anyway?”

  “Effectively,” said Virillius. “With Claire, we can see it rather clearly.” He watched as she magically lifted a man into the air and shook him until his brain leaked from his eyes. “I might add that it is also more common among the more powerful, as their classes are more likely to be tailored to their needs.”

  “Even then, it depends,” said Allegra. “I don’t really think it works for people with more common dispositions.”

  “Also probably more accurate to say that it’s for people that are stronger than their local average or whatever,” said Ragnar. “Cadria especially has got a lot of high level motherfuckers that’d pass for total monsters elsewhere, but here they’re perfectly average and their classes are pretty much standard issue.”

  “I suppose there is no arguing with that,” said Virillius. “Why don’t we relocate and get down to business while Claire handles entertainment? I believe you already had a proposal of sorts, Queen Arciel?”

  “I have yet to refine my proposal or put it to paper, but I do believe I have something of a skeleton. I believe the approach presenting the least friction demands our integration as a standard ducal house with Vel’khan as the area under our dominion.”

  “I believe it is worth considering. However, I question if you understand the full extent of the accompanying duties and responsibilities. How much has Claire told you of the systems pertaining to our upper nobility?”

  “I shall be honest, she has refrained from any manner of lengthy explanation.”

  “In that case, I’ll begin by drafting a document outlining your responsibilities and any nuances that differ between our cultures,” said Virillius.

  “Wait, are you sure you should jump right back in?” asked Sylvia with a blink. “Didn’t you really want to talk to Claire about something?”

  “Given the crowd, I sincerely doubt she’ll be done anytime soon,” he said. “I suspect she intends to hold the discussion later tonight.”

  “Doesn’t that just mean that you let her totally sweep you along for no reason?” asked the fox.

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Virillius sighed. “She was behaving so much like her mother that I couldn’t help but allow her to swindle me.”

  “Of course you did,” said Allegra, with a sigh.

  “Oh, shush.”

  “So uhm, just making sure,” said Sylvia. “You do know that she’s not her mom and that it’d be really weird if yo—”

  “I am well aware, Sylvia Redleaf,” he said. “I promise you, it is not what you are thinking.”

  “I just had to make sure!”

  “Perhaps if I were human.”

  “Uhhh…was that supposed to be some weird roundabout confession?”

  “It was a joke,” he said, with a familiar, miffed look. “I do crack them from time to time.”

  “How much do you want to bet that was the first in a decade?” asked Ragnar.

  “It was not,” said Virillius.

  “Five years then?”

  “Oh, fuck off.” The moose lightly punched the moth in the shoulder and set off for the castle.

  Contrary to Claire’s expectations, it took them only one day to wrap up their discussions. In the end, Arciel convinced the Cadrian King to accept her nation into their fold—to transform Vel’khan into a Cadrian province, despite the distance between them.

  Virillius had objected at first. He was already incredibly busy and the last thing he wanted was even more responsibility, but he couldn’t deny that direct integration was the best outcome for both nations. Cadria would expand its dominion and gain access to the Vel’khanese navy. Despite what his countrymen might have thought, Virillius himself wasn’t too keen on conquest, but further conflict was unavoidable. The Alliance was finally ready to pounce, and if they had any semblance of intelligence, they were sure to drag the Ryllians into the conflict so as to exploit Cadria’s weakness to water.

  An alliance with Vel’khan certainly would have also driven their forces to combine, but if they remained as two nations, they would have two armies with differing goals and chains of command. Combining into a single entity promoted greater unity. Of course, it would still take them some time to integrate, but Virillius was confident that he could pull it off before the Alliance attacked.

  After all, they’d retreated with their tails between their legs immediately upon witnessing the clash between him and his daughter. It would take some time for them to rebuild their confidence.

  Cadria would take advantage of the moment of weakness by investing more into Vel’khan. After all, the nation was not just by the Ryllian Sea, but within the great rainforest of Tal’ihir. Its lands were already bountiful; the simple act of throwing a few Type-Fs into the field was sure to transform the nation into a veritable breadbasket. It would be a simple task; the enchanted golems were capable of growing abundant harvests even in the half-frozen northlands. It was not just for overall food production, but also the introduction of new flavours to the Cadrian palette. The nations were far enough apart that they grew completely different crops. There were still commonalities, of course. Both nations technically ate meat, wheat, and potatoes, but centaurs and cottontails very much preferred hay as their staple. The various fruits and spices that only grew in Vel’khan were sure to revolutionize Cadrian cuisine.

  As per Arciel’s suggestion, Vel’khan was transformed into a duchy. The former queen had attempted to push the title and accompanying responsibility onto one of her cousins, but Virillius had eventually convinced her to maintain the position for the next few years in the interest of stability. At the very least, he needed her to hold the reins for long enough to cement the idea that their people were one. It was possible that a newer ruler could be more easily convinced to renegotiate their standing and undo her work.

  While Allegra was happy with the assurance of long-term peace, Ragnar was not quite as receptive. It put his nation in a less-than-ideal situation, but his complaints were summarily ignored. The two kings had already agreed that, for the remainder of their rules at least, their nations would remain in a stalwart alliance; it was a problem for another time that some future generation would just have to deal with.

  Virillius was long beyond the point of caring.

  He’d already been made to take on far more work than he ever would’ve liked and his brain was effectively toast.

  He couldn’t help but think, as he signed the last papers, that though he’d spent only two years as king, he wished for nothing more but to kick back and retire.

  His daughter was all grown up.

  He was planning to pass on the crown as soon as he found and eliminated his brother.

  He’d fought for long enough.