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Board & Conquest 98: Princess Day
🕑 Added 2025-08-23 05:50:08 +0000 UTCVictoire has a bad day.
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Gaspar reacted first as the fireball came for them.
The Valentinian mage moved in front of his new allies and weaved a forcefield out of mana to intercept the projectile. It cracked at the impact and nearly sent the mage stumbling back, but it held and allowed the others to spread out. The Hood and Rapoleon’s men engaged the demon horde in close combat, teeth to claws, swords and spears clashing with scales. The plaza turned into a chaotic brawl.
Filou unsheathed his flaming scimitar and leaped across the battlefield in an attempt to reach Melchior and Balthazar; having fought the former, he knew better than most that mages like them were weak against close-combat fighters. He quickly leaped past all the demons in his way, watching the Hood tackle a mutated civilian to the ground thanks to his superior strength, and Rapoleon immobilizing another by cutting at their heels.
Filou was by far the fastest fighter on the battlefield, and he quickly reached the demon sages by jumping straight at them, sword first. He recalled tackling an undead mage this way in Lavaland before he could react, but his enemies’ transformation had sharpened their reflexes. The fusion sidestepped his attack and retaliated with a beam of black light fired from their fingers. Filou barely managed to dodge by ducking to the ground, the attack leaving a hole in the pavement.
Gaspar quickly attempted to reinforce him by teleporting next to his former colleagues and hitting them with an ice spell of some kind. Melchior’s head snapped at him, and one of his hands countered the attack with a burst of fire, frost and heat clashing in a puff of white smoke, while Balthazar continued to fire lasers at Filou to force him back.
Each head can fight independently from the other, Filou thought as he tried to find a chink in the enemy’s defense. Unfortunately, Balthazar was proving as fast as he was and wisely forced Filou to keep his distance with long-range attacks. They can multitask on more than one foe at once.
“Why such resistance, old friend?” Melchior’s head asked Gaspar as the abomination that he and Balthazar had become bombarded his shield with a series of lasers. Filou recalled that Wintresse once told him that defense cost more mana than offense for a mage, so he guessed the demons were trying to break him through attrition.
“The fusion has opened our minds, cleansed them of weakness, showed us the truth,” Melchior said, only for Balthazar to butt-in and finish the sentence, “We can perfect you too!”
“Listen, I know you’re in there!” Gaspar replied, his hand raised as he cast a spell Filou sensed but could not see. “Listen to my voice and fight the infection! Fight it!”
Magical energies erupted from Gaspar, expanded beyond his shield, and reached out to the demon sages. Balthazar’s head appeared to freeze in place… only for Melchior to snap him out of the trance with a slap.
The demon sages immediately exploited Gaspar’s shock to strike at his shield again. This time, their beam managed to pierce through it and struck him in the shoulder. Filou immediately attempted to rush to his defense, but Melchior’s head forced him back by breathing a fireball at him.
Thankfully, the Hood flung a demon civilian at the sages while both heads were distracted by Filou and Gaspar, sending them tumbling against the thorn walls. Filou immediately used the opportunity to rejoin his ally.
“Sir, are you alright?” Filou asked, upon grabbing a healing poultice from his pouch and applying it to his bleeding shoulder wound.
“I can’t believe it…” Gaspar grit his teeth in disbelief. “The fools aren’t under Archon’s control!”
“We told you, Archon opened our minds!” the twisted fusion replied with maniacal pride as it tossed the transformed civilian off its back with immense strength. The heads of Melchior and Balthazar spoke at different times, with one finishing the other’s sentence in a way that only inspired horror. “His kind created us, Gaspar! They created mankind as templates for something greater, mere larvae destined to undergo a great metamorphosis!”
“You can’t possibly be happy about being turned into…” Gaspar sneered at the fusion. “This.”
“You are the one who is blind, Gaspar.” The sages’ hands glowed with magic. “What we call demons in our ignorance are not a curse, but our genetic destiny! A pure and perfectly ordered race whose hierarchy and chain of command is ingrained in their very blood, immortal and perfect in every way!”
“Don’t you hear yourselves?!” Gaspar argued. “Archon’s blood has driven you mad!”
“No, it simply revealed them for who they really are,” the Hood said as he and Filou stepped in front of Gaspar to shield him. “Don’t waste your breath or spell on those two.”
The demon sages grunted as they raised their hands at the group to smite them, only to be forced to summon a magical shield to protect themselves from a sudden hail of arrows. Wenda’s archers had taken position on a nearby roof to provide suppression fire.
Filou glanced at the battlefield and scowled. The archers’ support had lessened the pressure on their allies, but the demonic civilians were pushing back. Rapoleon had managed to cripple one and slay another, yet his sappers also had to evacuate bleeding teammates from the plaza. One demon raged as it tore a wererat in half, and another pummeled a soldier into the ground.
Dealing with Melchior and Balthazar would be difficult enough on its own, but they had little hope of winning without disabling their allies. Not to mention that Lady Victoire was still waging her own battle in the sky.
“Filou,” Lord Wepwawet called out to him through telepathy. “I can shield you from the mages’ spells, but not the others.”
Filou nodded, his hands clenching his sword’s pommel. “Change of plan, Sir Gaspar, Sir Hood,” he said as he pointed his sword at the demon sages. “Leave these villains to me and free the civilians from their control. I’ll hold them back.”
“Are you sure?” the Hood asked with a hint of concern. “You can’t take them down alone.”
“You are only half-right, Sir Hood,” Filou replied with courage he didn’t know he had. “For I have a god on my side.”
He charged on without further word, his sword raised for the kill.
“Foolish,” Melchior’s head taunted him as he and Balthazar focused their splintered minds on him alone. Their hands fired a beam of magic from each of their fingers in a blinding concerto of destruction.
While confident in his god’s protection, Filou’s keen instincts continued to guide his steps. He moved left and right like Lady Victoire had taught him, dancing among the lights of death and gaining an inch with each dodge. Yet Melchior and Balthazar began to move their arms like a single conductor drunk on their own performance, increasing the pressure until Filou inevitably failed to avoid a volley.
“Reflect Force!” his god shouted in his head as he summoned an invisible barrier around Filou. The lasers bounced back to their sender and struck Melchior’s head, blasting it off in a burst of caustic, acidic blood. The surprise was enough for Filou, who closed the gap between them in a leap and drove his sword into their rotten heart.
He didn’t find any.
His blazing scimitar carved its way through iron ribs and dense flesh, burning away the demon blood while it was at it, but failed to find any soft organs inside. The remaining demon sage’s hands grabbed him by the arm and the throat with inhuman strength, lifting him above the ground while his feet dangled in the air.
“Did you truly think you could best us?” Balthazar’s head said. To Filou’s horror, Melchior’s head had begun to regrow. “You, an inferior lifeform unfit for processi–”
Filou kicked Balthazar’s face with his foot so hard that it sent fangs flying out of his mouth. Unfortunately, it only resulted in them tightening their grip until they began to choke the life out of him. His lungs began to gasp for breath, and he felt the blood struggling to reach his head.
“You did teach us a valuable lesson, critter,” Melchior’s head hissed with fury. “Sometimes, brute force does trump magi–”
A sword erupted from their neckline.
The grip on Filou’s neck and hand lessened in an instant as all of the sages’ muscles went limp, causing him to fall onto the ground.
Rapoleon was standing behind the sages, his body cloaked in their own shadow, his movements eerily quiet.
Filou hadn’t even seen him sneaking up on them.
“You may have two heads, but you still only have one bent spine,” Rapoleon taunted Melchior and Balthazar. The neckline wound failed to heal, with a purple substance spreading through the monster’s veins and stopping their regeneration.
“Poi… poison?” The two sages’ heads peeked above their shoulders in unison, their eyes gleaming with rage; a fatal mistake. “You dirty rat–”
Filou swung his sword and beheaded them both in one strike.
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This was a nightmare. A sick joke of a nightmare!
Victoire wanted to wake up, to escape this horrible reality where she would have to deal with three—three—dragons for the rest of her life. How could this be? Did they all gather together one night and decide to mess with her for the fun of it?
What did she do to deserve this?
“I’m sorry, Victoire,” her god said with deep and profound sorrow, for he too shared and understood her pain. “I weep with you.”
The only silver lining about this situation was that it had distracted Archon from his beatdown of Soumis. Although the lunarian kept the red dragon pressed to the ground with telekinesis, he was warily appraising the newcomer.
“Ugh… the stench of republicanism is unbearable,” Glatisant said while waving her claws in front of her nose. “This is why you cannot give an inch to peasants, or else they start to turn into democratic deviants. I didn’t create this natural monarchy reserve so that paupers could eat the wellborn’s cakes.”
“You… created Valentine?” Victoire dared to ask, despite the fact that saying the words left a foul taste in her mouth.
“Who do you think provided the fangs on your head?” Glatisant pointed at Victoire’s crown. “I crafted that crown specifically to help cultivate your ancestor with the proper royal energies, and it was I who trained him in proper noble warrior etiquette so that he could carve himself a kingdom and find himself a wife of impeccable breeding!”
“You… you helped raise him so…” Victoire’s voice died in her throat as a terrible, terrible possibility crossed her mind; a truth so unbelievable, so horrific, that her mind refused to admit it. “The… the shameful secret about the royal family… it cannot be…”
“That is right! I, Glatisant, created the Valentinian monarchy, all so I could homegrow my own princesses!!” A flash of pure insanity crossed her silver gaze. “That is the kind of unparalleled genius I am!”
Victoire collapsed to her knees, her spirit crushed. She barely managed to hold onto her spear and struggled to suppress tears.
“Victoire, I understand how you feel, but please focus on the giant lunarian in front of you!” her god shouted in her skull.
“My entire bloodline was created to give birth to dragon trophies!” Victoire replied angrily. How was she supposed to take this news? “I was literally born for this!”
What would she have to do to escape this curse? Become a republican or an anarchist? Would that cancel it out?
“This…” Soumis coughed up blood. “This is… genius…”
“You, you shut up!” Victoire snapped at Soumis in fury, which caused him to groan in pain and pleasure. “Don’t encourage her!”
“What is there to condemn, princess?” Glatisant inquired while nodding to herself. She was obviously and unbelievably proud of her own ‘success.’ “All of minionkind should celebrate that I, Glatisant, have mastered princessness through social and genetic engineering! No more will your people have to suffer the absence of monarchies everywhere!”
For the first time since he escaped, Archon’s mouth twisted into a scowl of genuine outrage. “What did you say?”
“Shush, be quiet, child,” Glatisant told him off with a patronizing sneer. She didn’t bother sparing the lunarian a glance. “The enlightened beings here are having an enlightened conversation. Find yourself a hole to crawl in.”
“That is not genetic engineering, that is guesswork!” Archon snapped at Glatisant with what sounded like genuine passion. He appeared to have completely forgotten about the fight for the leyline due to the insult. “True genetic engineering is the ultimate refinement of biological matter into molecular perfe–”
“Yes, yes, continue to use big words to make yourself sound smart,” Glatisant replied with the most condescending, dismissive tone imaginable. “I admit that your minion breeding work is passably interesting, but please be honest with yourself; any dragon could achieve the same result while in infancy. Now, stop play-fighting with your dragon master and–”
Archon snarled in rage and telekinetically flung Soumis at Glatisant before she could finish her sentence. As it turned out, dragons were so unbearable that even lunarians couldn’t stand them.
While Victoire had to hastily duck out of the way to avoid the improvised projectile, Glatisant deftly dodged it with blinding speed. Lightning coursed through her scales, and dragonfly-like wings of light surged from her back. She closed the gap with Archon so quickly that he couldn’t get his shield up in time and tackled him to the ground like a cat pouncing on another.
“Now, now, that was uncalled for. Trying to harm a princess was already a grave sin, but trying to harm a dragon?” Glatisant shook her head. “This is exactly why I will never stop fighting for universal minion education. It just saddens me to see you poor things forget their place…”
“You are nothing to me!” Archon snarled back. His serpentine tail swung at Glatisant to hit her in the face, but she quickly pinned it to the ground with her hand. Stones and objects began to levitate around him, only to fall back to the ground when Glatisant’s scales sent a burst of lightning coursing through the Archdemon’s body.
“What’s going on?” Victoire wondered as she tightened her grip on her spear. A wounded Soumis was groaning while getting back up behind her, while Glatisant was handily pinning a raging Archon to the ground. “Why can’t he throw her off him?”
“I get it,” Lord Wepwawet replied. “A lunarian’s telepathic powers come from brain activity, which chaotic electrical signals likely scramble. The lightning coursing through his nerves prevents him from focusing his magic!”
Victoire didn’t quite understand her god’s technical jargon, but she grasped the gist of it: Glatisant was Archon’s worst match-up. Her powers negated his own, she matched him in raw strength, and his blood had no effect on her.
They might actually win this!
“I am so sorry, but deep down you know your backwater species will never equal us dragons, and there is nothing either of us can do about it,” Glatisant told Archon with what almost sounded like compassion; almost. “This is not speciesism, this is science. S-c-i-e-n-c-e.”
“That’s the sad thing about dragons,” Lord Wepwawet lamented in Victoire’s head. “We can educate them, but increased intelligence only makes them more patronizing.”
“I truly feel sorrow for you for forgetting your place, I truly do, but you should simply accept the way things ar–” Glatisant coughed when two immense hands closed on her windpipe.
“Shut up!” Archon snarled angrily as he began to choke Glatisant, ignoring the lightning coursing through his hands and leaving searing burns on his fingers in its place. “Just shut up!”
Victoire immediately exploited the opportunity to throw her spear at the Archdemon. With no psychic shield to protect him, her weapon finally hit him in the left eye and gored through it. Ice surged from it and froze the monster’s blood as he roared in rage and pain. Victoire sensed his mental presence trying to reach her mind, only for the crown to repel it.
Then the ground began to shake, with the briar patch growing over the cathedral ruins.
An unfathomable amount of mana erupted from it in such quantity that Victoire had to cover her eyes with her hand to avoid going blind. Bark burst from the briar patch alongside long branches, casting the street in shadow. The wind blew gilded leaves across the land while all of Saguenay trembled. Victoire looked up and up as an immense form began to darken the very sky.
They had delayed Archon long enough.
A colossal, golden tree as tall as a small mountain now towered over Saguenay.
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Comments
David Giles
Do I hear a fourth dragon?
Publius Decius Mus
All hail to Victoire, the Dragon Princess of Verglane! Have a good break Void!
Andrew Joseph Robinson
Damn it, why did you have to leave it on such a big cliff? I want to see what the dryad's Divine Portfolio is. I'm also a little surprised the System didn't provide any Quests for the battle or for helping raise a new divinity.
George R
Great chapter
TheCrazyDuck
If you haven't already read Vanqueur the dragon, I can highly recommend it. It is all about a dragon just like the ones in this series.
TheCrazyDuck
I wonder what kind of miracles the system would grant for helping a nascent deity rise to power. Maybe a powerful buff? Or perhaps a doctrine related to the new gods influence.
Antony444
Well, it looks like Beelzebub's plans have hit a very touch obstacle once more. If he loses Archon in addition to the two traitor mages, this is going to hurt. You don't find this kind of Chekhov gun and high-ranked traitors to use as a combination every morning...
Manpolar
My favourite part of this story is how you portray dragons as children with an obsession with princesses. Truly genius character work. Also, cliffhanger, booooo.
