Battleforged
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Chapter 261 - A painful understanding.
🕑 Added 2023-03-01 04:59:00 +0000 UTC“Why? Why do you have to go back?” Annika asked, a plaintive hitch to her voice that once more masked the anxious desperation that she, and perhaps most everyone else here, now felt every day of their lives.
Eric swallowed the lump in his throat. “Friends I care about were unjustly imprisoned. I need to go back there and find out what happened… exactly what happened, and do what I can to get them safely out of there.” He took a deep ragged breath as his heart began to race, the entire room became so hot he could hardly breath. His voice roughened as he spoke on. “If something happened to them, if they were… sold, I need to find the buyer. I need to make things right.”
Annika winced. “I’m sorry, Eric. I know the pain of losing someone you love. But I have to ask… what happens if...”
Eric blinked back the hot sting he refused to call tears. “You mean what happens if they were killed?”
Annika paled, lowering her gaze.
Eric clenched his jaw in a snarl. “Then I take that goddamned goblin stronghold of a city off the map. As for anyone who gets in my way? They’ll get to embrace the same fate as the girl I was too much of a fool to save while I still could.”
His mother, who had been quietly observing their byplay, chose that moment to clear her throat. “And what happens to the Blue Quarter and the wonderful working relationship you’ve forged with them?”
Eric flashed a bleak smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The one quarter of the city I leave untouched will surely appreciate a wonderful view of the surrounding countryside suddenly utterly free of goblins. And competition.”
“Possibly,” his mother allowed. “Or possibly, the mutual pact Blue forged with the Snicklit Tribe in that city alone will demand a cessation of all relations between you and the one faction able to manage your assets in such away your own glorious path of ascension is able to proceed unhindered by undue administrative concerns.”
Eric winced. Knowing exactly where his mother was going, having wrestled with that very dilemma over countless nights. “You mean what happens if Blue and I can no longer work together, and all development of Ashland and Picksonville’s potential, the most valuable properties on the board, as far as I’m concerned, grind to a complete halt. Maybe until a ruler is chosen. Maybe forever.”
“Exactly,” his mother said, eyes twinkling with a dark sort of mirth all her own. “Which means that if you’re going to eliminate the goblins in Freetown, you’re going to have to be a hell of a lot more discrete about it than going in there, guns blazing.” Her bemused smile hardened. “And the goblins know all about your relationship with Rica Lightfoot, daughter of Charles and Sable Lightfoot, mother of Ria Lightfoot.”
Eric paled at those words.
Aurelia nodded. “That’s right, Eric. They have every intention if hurting you wherever you are weakest, however they can. And for all that they claim Rica and the rest of her party left Blue Quarter for the goblin areas of their own volition, at which point they were apprehended for numerous trumped up crimes, we had two witnesses who claimed to have seen high level classers leaving Blue Quarter with rather large sacks upon their shoulders.”
Alex hissed, feeling a furious surge of horror and vindication with that pronouncement. But there was still one silver lining to the declaration. “So they didn’t leave of their own volition… great, that’s great! Where are those witnesses, mom? Shit, we need to...”
His mother slowly shook her head. “Dead. Both of them. Throats slit open, tongues pulled through the slit. Which proves the veracity of their claim like nothing else.”
Eric ground his teeth. “It looks like I really need to pay those assholes a visit.”
He flinched when his mother’s fists slammed the table, which promptly burst into splinters, sending the last of Eric’s third English breakfast flying everywhere.
Quickness Check made!
“You need to think!” His mother hissed, glaring Eric’s way before her feature’s settled. “Patience, son, or your hot temper will ruin everything.”
Eric flashed a cold smile, holding up a rather large splinter of wood he had caught just inches from a terrified Annika’s furiously blinking eyes. And Eric wasn’t sure if she was more alarmed by how close she had come to being speared by the projectile, or how fast Eric had moved to intercept it. Because if ten Quickness was an average mortal’s and twenty a Gold Medal Olympians, at 243, his speed was utterly beyond the pale.
He caught his mother’s angry gaze. “You were saying?”
Aurelia had the grace to dip her head. “Point. Annika? I apologize. I forgot the nature of the materials we’re forced to deal with, here.”
“It is quite alright, Your Grace,” Annika all but sobbed. “I apologize for failing your test of agility. I shall endeavor to train and better myself at once!”
Aurelia sighed. “Of course, dear. Thank you for joining us for breakfast.”
“It was my great pleasure, Your Grace.” With a final bow so deep it was a kowtow, she turned on her feet and raced for the far entrance as fast as she could without running. But not before giving Eric a look that was equal parts gratitude, fear, and desire.
Aurelia snorted. “You could chase her right now and most assuredly win her heart, and the secrets she’s shared with very few that she hopes I’ll mistake for none, my son.” She chuckle softly. “And she truly would be a prize, Eric. Smart, witty, beautiful, with a tender heart and a cool tactician’s head.”
“And a full set of twelve Meridians. A royal configuration in cultivator terms, and winning the genetic lottery with, what, one in a million odds? Yes, I know. Elonia already filled me in,” Eric said with a bemused smile, though making no move to chase after the girl who so clearly wished for him to follow.
Aurelia sighed. “Far rarer than that, Eric. And I shouldn’t have lost my temper. That was beneath me. My apologies for ruining your breakfast.”
“Apology accepted,” Eric said, thinking nothing of moving to another table with his mother as a waiter hurriedly filled the table with a fresh plate of everything Eric had previously ordered, apologizing profusely all the while, as if their great and terrible Winter Queen smashing a table in a fit of pique was entirely their fault.
Eric found his gaze naturally locking upon his impatient mother’s only after absolutely devouring another plateful of absolutely delectable crepes and pretty much everything else laid out on the table. As to whether it was because he truly was that hungry, or wanted to prove that he was that unaffected by his mother’s games, or just to savor her growing impatience, even he wasn’t sure. Yet even if his stats were more a reflection of his growing potency as a Contender as much as anything else, his caloric needs were still at least that of a 20 Strength human’s. Which meant that, after days or weeks or however long it had been on minimal rations or nothing at all, he was damned hungry.
But eventually even he was forced to concede a perfectly full belly. He gave a contended sigh as he pushed back his seat, leaned back on two chair legs and took a sip of golden wine before giving his mother a salute with his glass. “Tastes like a very sweet Champagne.”
His mother smiled, her mask of impatience instantly fading to that of a mother just delighted to see her son. “That’s because they were raised from grapes harvested from a very private vineyard just north of Reims, France. A strain of grapes I have been, shall we say, cultivating? For years before life took such an unexpected turn.”
“With stock derived from stolen grapes, making wine you know would be forbidden from anything but personal consumption, if anyone found out the source?”
His mother’s eyes positively twinkled. “That just adds to the fun, my dear.”
Eric snorted. “Of course it does.” His gaze hardened. “I recognized that frustrated look, when you smashed the table. It’s the one you make when you think I’m being an idiot.” He tilted his head. “Which means you’re already taking steps.”
Of course he already knew she was. Because for all that he sometimes felt like he excelled in playing the fool, he had been wise enough not to say a word about everything Elonia had already revealed. And the fact that his Acting Skill had just gone up a rank made it clear that his mother hadn’t even thought that he was hamming it up just a bit too much, over the last fifteen or so minutes. Which showed the power of always meeting other people’s expectations.
It was the perfect cover.
His mother nodded. “Correct. Because the absolute worst move you can make right now is to both ruin your intriguing relationship with Blue Faction and assure Rica and her daughter’s death with a single poorly-timed move.”
Eric sighed. “Agreed.”
His mother’s intent gaze bore into his own. “What would you say if I could guarantee Rica’s freedom? Both her, her child’s, and her friends, within the week?”
Eric ignored the pounding of his heart, the surge of emotions roiling in his chest now utterly and completely genuine, knowing better than to do anything but gaze thoughtfully at his mother for a good handful of seconds, taking a thoughtful sip of wine before finally asking, “What’s the catch?”
His mother’s smile didn’t quite hide the predatory gleam in her eyes. “Well done. It is my hope that you will accept Annika as your consort. Give her your seed. Give me a grandchild.”
Eric blinked. “Okay, not the answer I expected...”
His mother gave him a bemused look. “And why not? You’ve achieved incredible power at a pace exceeding anything I’ve seen in over a millennia and a half. But you’ve skirted peril so many times it sends my heart racing if I dare think about it too deeply.”
Her gaze grew oddly intent. “Should the worst happen… it would mean a lot to me if you would leave the gift of fresh life, fresh blood, and a grandchild to take with me for a better world, should the worst come to pass here.”
Eric clenched his jaw. “And by the worst you mean...”
“Should death’s dice claim both your pieces, your offspring I would give my solemn oath to do all I could to protect and nurture,” she declared, her gaze now revealing a vulnerability he had never expected to see. “A child I would give the love and tenderness that perhaps I have denied myself and my offspring for too many cycles. Forging you all into weapons of war. Forgetting the sheer joy of a happy childhood for it’s own sake, and a handful of peaceful generations before fresh tools need to be forged once more.”
Eric furrowed his brow, surprised to find that his What the Other Party Wants and Nose for a Bad Deal perks made it utterly clear that his mother was being dead honest. What she wanted was a grandchild to dote on, should both her children be lost to the mad gambits Eric suspected Aurelia had been embracing for literally thousands of years.
“Why not Elonia?” he asked at last.
His mother dipped her head. “A fair question. Because the odds of your sister successfully conceiving a child and carrying her to term while attempting to master rituals that would burn out many a Bronze, all while physically dependent on opioids, are less than ideal. At the very least, it would risk complications unfair to the child and potential guilt that would utterly cripple your sister.”
Aurelia sighed, shaking her head. “And I don’t blame her in the least. It was her great misfortune that a tainted pod assured that the only essence she could claim was the essence of pain.” His mother's gaze grew haunted. “She hates me right now, Eric, and that is a wound as sharp as any to kiss my flesh for decades.”
Eric blinked at this. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why does Elonia hate you?”
“Because she has the rare opportunity to forge an arcane matrix so powerful, so deadly, that no one below Bronze has achieved its match in a thousand years.” Much to Eric’s shock, his mother, the great Winter Queen, actually lowered her gaze before him. “I… I was a fool. So filled with frustration, nay, fury, that she had invested twenty points in a way that was absolutely counter to our long term plans that I declared you and sister’s desperate struggle against a goblin’s black curse to be but delusion and foolishness.”
She flashed a bitter, pain-filled smile. “Only to find out in my negotiations, while attempting to secure your Rica’s freedom, that our foes were very surprisingly willing to come to an accord. An oddity that demanded immediate investigation, and in very short order my contacts determined that Bloodtear had lost no less than a full half dozen of their elders illegally smuggled into Freetown. Elders of a power level hard to determine post mortem, but clearly well exceeding the level 30 limit for all new world… colonists. And all of them had fallen to an exotic spell unlike anything my agents have ever seen before.”
She took a fortifying sip of wine, her piercing gaze locking with his own. “You’re spell, my son.”
Eric flashed a bleak smile. “Good. I’m glad those fuckers are dead.”
Elonia sighed. “So am I. But the damage was already done. For all that your counter was brilliant, our foes attack from multiple vectors. And all it took was one unaccounted for variable, one unseen enemy to use cybermantic magics I heretofore never expected to see to change two simple parameters within the most precious artifact our faction holds.”
Eric frowned. “You’re going to tell me it has something to do with the training pods. That the only reason why our foes could attack us...”
“Is because yet another foe eager to destroy us worked as the goblin’s accomplice in this. Yes.”
Eric furrowed his brow. “Okay, that would explain how our foes managed to slip their assassin into my spell-forging session. But what does that have to do with Elonia hating you?”
His mother flashed a sad, bitter smile. “I saw it all on the recording, of course. And how furiously I laughed to see how utterly I had been played. Because all it took were the darkest of suspicions being whispered into my daughter’s ears. And a single solitary data point changed. The straw that broke the camel’s back… the lever that could break the world.”
Eric swallowed, doing his best to ignore the surge of dread in his gut. “Spit it out, mom. What did this supposed arcane hacker do to Elonia’s enhanced training pod? Do I need to break in there right now and pull her out?”
Her mom gave a sad smile. “All it did was imply that which had over a 90% chance of glorious success, if everything goes according to plan, was, in fact, a madman’s gamble, with less than 20% chance of success. As if I wouldn’t be there to catch her before she stumbled. As if I would throw her life away for little more than the slimmest chance of survival. As if I would waste nearly twenty years of effort and a mother’s love for that!”
Eric blinked. “Wait. The pod isn’t trained to kill her or rupture her brain, cause an aneurysm or mess up her training?”
His mother smiled. “Not in the least. The steps taken to avoid such vile interference are at the Silver Tier, as is true of all System-sanctioned training pods. As is the case for your own Tier 2 Ascension Center.” She sighed. “No. The saboteur in question merely programmed a false parameter regarding a single if-then question-response sequence. So utterly insignificant that if my daughter hadn’t thought to ask that particular question, if those goblin seers hadn’t predicted that question would be asked… our cuttlefish-faced foes would never have been able to use their vile cybermancy to penetrate our system sufficient to weaken a single attack vector and taint the value of a such a limited data set.”
Eric gazed at his mother for long moments. “You do know that Elonia’s matrix is becoming so damned brittle that she’ll never make it to Bronze, as things stand. You’ll either ruin her, or kill her outright.”
Eric’s heart lurched in his chest at the furious look his mother gave him.
Before she took a calming breath, and spoke in a far calmer voice than a flinching Eric was expecting. “Ware your tongue, child. I’ve been at this for well over a thousand years. Do you truly think me such a fool as to spend your lives so cheaply?”
Eric sighed and shook his head. “Honestly, Mother, sometimes I don’t know what to think with you.”
Aurelia closed her eyes, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her right hand, her left hand moving in a complicated series of gestures that filled Eric with awe and wonder, sensing a magnificent pool of arcane potential forming like a roaring tide that could so easily wash him out to sea… yet washing over them both like the warmest of summer breezes.
She flashed a sad smile. “I will tell you something, and I pray you will keep it in confidence. Are we agreed?”
Eric gave a slow nod. “We are.”
“Good. The plan with your sister was that she save up sufficient points to secure the final four elements of power she needs to walk the road of the High Arch-Magus. My goal was not to shoot for Arch-Mage at level 50, but High Arch-Magus. A Class that normally Bronze Alone is Privy to. An ascension that would occur the moment she balances those arts with a single ritual, the gentlest of all castings, with every single one of my surviving mages working hard to secure her fragile nodes in place for just so long as it takes her to lock in a perfect nodal resonance before securing it with the strength of her essence.”
His mother flashed a satisfied smile. “Essences, my son. The gift you and your sister are both heir to. That is the secret that will secure Elonia’s glorious ascension, using your father’s bloodlines to turn her greatest weakness, meridian channels far more brittle than any High Elf who would dare walk in her footsteps, into an unimpeachable bulwark that will see her soaring to level 100, already the equal of any low tier Bronze. And the moment she ascends to Bronze in truth, her strength will soar to being just a halfstep below Silver!”
Eric shivered at the mad fey light he saw dancing behind his mother’s eyes.
“Can you imagine it, my son? We could, together, forge the most powerful High Mage this sector has ever seen! Right here, right now, needing nothing more than your sister’s absolute dedication to ascension, and the power of a single essence!”
Eric gazed at his mother for long moments. He had gotten just a taste of Elonia’s potential with the mile-wide tornado blowing at insane speeds that would rip flesh from bone. He could only imagine how deadly his sister would be with a full set of twelve arcane elements at her command.
He couldn’t deny that a part of him was absolutely entranced by the idea of just how powerful Elonia could become. A monster before she ever hit level 60. How strong she would be upon breaking through to Bronze? He couldn’t even imagine
He allowed himself a single minute to revel in their shared fantasy, feeling an odd kinship with his mother at that moment, suddenly closer to her than he had ever been before. Both of them, for just a single heartbeat of time, of one mind. To forge Elonia into the deadliest, most glorious weapon imaginable.
“Fucking awesome.”
His mother positively beamed. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you say that, my son.”
Eric sighed. “There’s just one problem.”
“Oh?”
“Her Essence is pain.”
His mother’s joyful expression turned hard and cold.
Eric internally winced as the silenced stretched painfully between them. Even the hastily approaching waiter blanched and froze, quickly turning on his heel and racing out the building, all thoughts of decorum fleeing behind him.
“And you think I would subject my daughter to endless torment, is that it?”
Eric held his mother’s gaze, saying nothing.
Aurelia sighed, shaking her head. “Nothing is simple, my son. And yes, there would be pain. Great, terrible pain.” She flashed a hard smile. “There is a reason why I allow your sister to… indulge herself whenever she seeks relief.”
Eric raised a polite eyebrow. “Besides allowing her a decent night’s sleep?”
“That too, of course. But the other reason, equally if not even more vital, is because she believes it provides relief, and always will.” His mother’s gaze grew intent. “Even the chains of her addiction aid us here. The cravings she fights, fooling herself into thinking that pain relief alone is what she seeks, not the euphoria she is denied along every other path, save casting the deadliest of incantations by my side.”
Eric frowned. “So you know her shooting up isn’t good for her, that just taking the pills, even large quantities would be better, psychologically speaking, but you fail to have her do so. Why? Why does my sister have track marks on her arm?”
“Track marks that heal, completely, after a single night’s sleep, save that her shame brands her like any tattoo.” His mother’s gaze hardened. “Marks of vice, despair, and euphoria. Marks that signify relief. The cessation of pain. Exactly the ritual fetish she will need to escape her constant agony when all twelve of her nodes blaze with the fiery pain of her essence securing her configuration for all time!”
Eric blanched, fists clenching into tight fists. “So you really are willing to lock her in eternal torment?”
“No, Eric, not at all! Use your clever hunter’s insights for something besides killing, and think! Your own essences. What are their nature?”
Eric frowned at his mother for long moments, before his eyes widened. Suddenly getting it. Even as he wore his soul-linked gambeson eternally at the perfect temperature. Because even as numerous weapon edges blazed at 4000 degree heat, other tools were locked in at a perfect 77 degrees… and would never get any hotter.
“Not just heat, but warding against heat. Mastery of all temperatures, to a point,” Eric whispered. “And Elonia’s essence is pain. Both sides of the coin of agony and relief! Once she learns to master her essence...”
His mother gave him the tight smile. “Correct. Not only can she enhance her spells with the most exquisite symphony of pain to stun her foes, but one day she should be able to mute the sensation of pain within her own soul. Embracing its inverse.”
Eric blinked, now finally understanding. “The opiates. It’s not about the high of a dopamine rush, at least not where biochemistry meets magic.”
“Correct,” his mother said. “It’s about savoring the sweet languorous release that is the complete absence of all pain entirely.” She flashed a tiny smile. “For all that I regret your father’s genes as they relate to addictive and obsessive-compulsive behaviors, the boon of his gifts more than makes up for it. When Elonia masters this element of her dark gift, she will simultaneously be able to use this essence to lock her Nodes in with a strength that will be nothing short of terrifying, while muting the pain and transforming it to the sweetest of comforts, all lingering cravings then muted to the gentlest tingle and she can finally breathe easy, filled with the sweet sense of triumph that comes from achieving our first glorious step forward for her. Then she will understand how pale and insignificant were the pitiful echoes of euphoria that those poisons once brought her, compared to the sheer sense of exultation and triumph she’ll feel at forging a true Master Class for herself! One worthy of a caster twice her level. One that even a newly forged Bronze would do well to fear!”
Eric furrowed his brow even as he went over his mother’s confession and explanation. Because what he hated even more than the promise of heightening Elonia’s pain, however temporary, and denying her any cultivation path at all, was that he couldn’t deny the sheer power of the class his mother was proposing. All the more so when she went so far as to hand him a written sheet of vellum that immediately imprinted itself on his Dominion Interface.
“Shit,” he whispered, eyes widening with something suspiciously close to awe. “Mother, you weren’t kidding. This class… it would forever put her a half step above anyone else on the same tier as her, whether White, Bronze, or Silver. And that half-step ascension will be with her for just as far as she can ascend. However far that might be.”
His mother nodded. “At the very least, she’d be the most powerful Bronze conceivable. And Bronze will probably be the greatest threat your sister will be forced to face before the world is consolidated under her Dominion… or another’s.”
Eric quirked an eyebrow at this. “Really? She won’t have to worry about some Silver training up in the shadows, ready to strike and seize the throne, saving themselves an entire world’s conquest worth of effort, all just a heartbeat before my twin becomes queen of the whole damned planet?”
Her mother’s tinkle of surprised laughter was just as melodious as any creature of fey. “Oh my dear imaginative son. As if we would allow any such wildcards free reign without forcing them all to heel or crushing them to dust under our feet… save for yourself, of course, my beloved ‘Free Agent’ son. And make no mistake, Eric, very few Classers ever hit true Silver, even on a newly ascended world brimming with as much untapped potential as this one. And once the throne is hers, and she is able to ascend to a true Silver class, even if the High Arch-magus’s class is incapable of any further breakthroughs on it’s own merits, it matters not. For the likelihood of any Gold bothering this sector, creatures with the power to consume entire worlds, is so minute as to be laughable. It would be no different than a prince hunting the bins for table scraps, when endless buffets of possibilities are clamoring for their attention in a thousand different directions.”
Eric whistled. “Thank god for small favors. Silver Queens able to bend an entire world to their will is bad enough. Gold tier monsters able to actually shatter it without spending a century in conquest is just beyond all comprehension.”
His mother chuckled throatily. “True. And if things work out as I hope, for a few short years of pain, perhaps even less, Elonia won’t have to fear any monster at her Tier, and should she exercise prudence in her dealings once Terra is securely in her control, she can look forward to a long and safe reign spanning centuries, perhaps even millenia.”
Eric cracked a grin. “With her wise and powerful mother’s guidance assuring her steps never stray.”
Aurelia’s smile matched his own. “Of course. A mother always likes to look after her children, and there are few greater allies than Winter’s Court, a coven of united worlds ruled by my offspring, your siblings, that of course would have nothing but love and support for the newest ascended member of our family. For what mother wouldn’t want all her children to prosper under her guidance? Together, united in all things, our court serves as a powerful bulwark against all those who have sought to destroy our people over countless centuries.”
Eric’s gaze grew intent, unable to deny the truth of his own soul. “If this path was before me… I would take it in a heartbeat, reveling in the thought of limitless power and absolute mastery over all the elements for centuries… even if it cost me a handful of years of exquisite pain.”
Aurelia flashed Eric a cheeky grin. “This I know, my son. We are alike in more ways than I find comfortable admitting at times.”
Eric smirked. “As in, we both revel in playing the bloodthirsty savage when our blood runs hot?”
His mother didn’t deign to answer, save for a particularly vicious smile.
Eric sighed, rubbing his face. “But Elonia doesn’t need a pair of savages who revel in blood and battle. She needs a hero.” His gaze hardened. “Cut the bull. What do we need to do to advance her Essence to the point that she is the master of her path, well able to decide for herself what hurts her and what does not?”
Eric shivered as the howling winds caressed his ears, gazing into the pitiless void of the storm.
“The consumption of ten more territories, Eric Silver. Because that which your twisted path allows you to enhance even as you devour… for her it is the permafrost of eternal winter.”
Eric suppressed the icy shiver racing down his spine. “Careful, Mother,” he hissed. “With so many administrators eager for our heads, you have to be very, very careful with these reindeer games.”
His mother smirked. “What else would you say to the fox who has stolen eggs for countless centuries before you were born?”
Eric dipped his head. “Point.” He sighed and rubbed his throbbing temples. “Any chance you can hold off on turning Elonia’s life into a whirlwind of pain until after you’ve done what you need to do to finish unlocking her potential?”
His mother gazed at him for long seconds, the words she whispered shaking Eric to the depths of his soul. “She’s taking Vicodin, Eric. Not Oxycontin. The spell to change the tablet shapes is just the tiniest of cantrips, not even worth the mention.”
Eric gazed at her for long moments. “But that’s like one twentieth the strength...”
His mother dipped her head. “And withdrawal is still a torment. But her addiction is the tiniest fraction of the severity she thinks it is. The relief she so desperately seeks is now granted by the subconscious manipulation of her own essence.” She raised her wine glass, before drinking deep. “In other words, even as she embraces in acts she finds shameful, she is well on the way to mastering her own pain. But I dare not shatter her placebo yet. For if she feels like it can’t be strong enough, it won’t.”
She sighed and shook her head. “But I won’t lie. Not to you. Not in this. She has a 90% of successfully forging her twelve meridians. And less than a 20% Chance of it holding more than for a single night before rupturing.” She flashed a bitter smile. “So the pod’s message was, in fact, the truth. But horribly distorted, and said utterly out of context. Because so long as she infuses her soul with the essence of pain with the help of our ritualists during the night of her 50th level ascension… so long as she believes that she is its master, and relief is just a single tiny pill away… she will endure. Even as her veins burn with agony every day, her nights will be an exercise in exquisite relief.”
His mother flashed a jaded smile. “As weeks become months, and months years, she will find herself growing ever stronger, ever more in tune with her soul, her power, until finally she is pain’s master and she need never experience any discomfort save perhaps the body’s gentlest warnings of flesh being pushed too far, ever again.”
Eric swallowed the lump in his throat, not even sure what to say as he was forced to reevaluate everything his mother had ever said and done… realizing that perhaps she wasn’t half the monster a part of him had been desperate to believe, seeking the easy answer to an issues as complicated as it was icky, messy, and painful.
Before him sat a woman who knew what it meant to accept and eat bitter losses time and time again, to the point that it had made her the most ruthless player imaginable... and a mother who loved her children dearly. To the point that she would infect her offspring with gloriously mad power, no matter the price they might be forced to pay in the short term, already knowing just how grateful they will be for the boons granted in the decades and centuries to come.
Eric sighed. “I’m not even sure where to begin. I want to tell you that the best move is to explain it to Elonia and let her make her own choice.” He flashed a hard smile. “But of course you can’t explain the placebo effect, can you? Not without risking disaster. But the rest of it...”
Aurelia nodded. “The rest of it requires me speaking with such eloquent precision that I am both utterly candid, yet still manage to hide that which she cannot be told, not yet. And a perilous conversation it would be. For if she senses any deception with my plea, she’ll never trust me again, and all this will have been for naught.”
The strikingly beautiful Queen of Winter gave a bitter shake of her head. “It is not an easy dilemma. I just pray that you will let me be the one to work through it with your sister.” Her gaze grew intent. “So you need never be put in the situation of lying to someone you love.”
Eric winced, his mind suddenly bouncing back to Rica. A girl he had, in truth, known for just a span of blissful days before everything went topsy-turvy. But still… he cared for her. In another life? Who knew how far they could have gone. For the sake of the happiness she had fought so hard to secure for herself and her family, for the sake of her innocent baby daughter, he would do whatever it took to save them all. And if monsters had already claimed their innocence?
He would claim their lives. And he wouldn’t back down, no matter the price.
Even if he painted multiple cities red with the blood of his foes.
Even if he had no ally willing to accept his territories in a way that assured they’d bare no weight upon his crooked path.
And if he ultimately had to forgo all wealth save that which he could tear free from his foes and throw in his ES space? That was fine. He really couldn’t give two shits.
So long as his foes learned to fear the very sight of him.
So long as they paid the ultimate price for taking the lives of those he cherished and loved.
His mother flashed a cynical smile. “I recognize that hard look in your eyes, my son. I know it as well as I know my own reflection. So let me reiterate before you embrace Vendetta once more. Right now, there is absolutely no way for you to safely rescue your friends. All you can do is avenge the deaths that you yourself will cause.”
Eric clenched his teeth in frustration. “So, what the hell do you recommend?”
“Negotiation. With the very alliance you have sworn to purge from this world.
Eric glared. “Seriously? You would bargain with those goblin fucks?”
Elonia gazed at her son for long, thoughtful moments. “We have 752 surviving members of the Sylvan alliance. Over half of those are noncombat support.” She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “And a hundred and fifty of my girls are pregnant.”
Eric blinked at that. “I’m sorry?”
His mom flashed a rueful smile. “Remember, my son, we didn’t come here just to pick a fight with the orcs. We came here to colonize a new world. Which, as you know, requires willing participants of both sexes. For all the combat prowess of males in melee, our girls have proven time and again to be superior archers. So long as they are not overly endowed with motherhood’s blessings. Yet for all the biological differences between the tribes of mer and man, we are similar enough that we respond near identically in times of stress. Which means that we’ve had more than one marriage to lighten up the bleak days where death after an endlessly long siege seemed all but assured, and sweet embraces in the dark of night is the only relief to tension and despair most of my soldiers have been able to savor for an entire season.” Her gaze turned arch. “This, of course, has consequences.”
Eric winced. “Because girls might well be better archers than boys. On average. If you account for draw weight differences. But no ones’ going to want to shoot with sore tender breasts and a belly showing, leaving them and their unborn children vulnerable to musket fire or enemy arrows that could kill them both.” He chuckled ruefully. “No wonder there’s so much hate for my, ahem...”
“Milk maids?”
“Pretty much. They’re in the unexpected position of competing against girls desperate for a provider, protector, and husband. To claim the men they’ve fought beside against all foes for over half a year.”
Aurelia dipped her head. “Precisely. As it stands, we’ll be lucky to hold all our territories for a single season, since your sister can’t be everywhere at once.”
Eric winced at this.
His mother tilted her head. “At least, not until Elonia successfully ascends to High Arch-Magister. At which point, she could summon storms the likes of which even Bronze tier legions would fear.”
Eric, still awed by the howling terror of what had been Elonia’s very first completely unmastered tornado, could only imagine how mighty a titan she would become, if allowed to blossom into her full potential. Not that her enemies would ever give her that chance, of course.
“When Elonia reaches Bronze...” He swallowed. “Assuming she can get any perk that allows her to use her rituals beyond her borders, she could wipe entire cities off the map. Easily. The throne? Shit. I’m sure there are some terrifying powers also blossoming in other parts of the world, but barring crossing them, I’d see her advancing pretty damn far in this game of conquest.”
His mother nodded. “Not that she will be permitted to live long enough to blossom to such glory.” Aurelia took a thoughtful sip of wine. “Unless, of course, you were willing to make defending our cause your full time mission. That could buy us years. Even as it would stifle your growth along your own deliciously bloody path, and the power we both know you enjoy.”
Eric felt his cheeks flush, but said nothing.
His mother teased him with her smile. “What if I were to tell you that there was another way, my son? A way you could help us. A way you could gift Annika and all the other girls with desperately needed succor? Hope for a safer, happier future? A way to help ensure that they survive for longer than a single year, before being almost assuredly wiped off the board?”
Eric’s gaze turned deadpan. “I’m not impregnating another 200 elves with my bebes.”
His mother chuckled throatily. “If only you would, my son! I’d welcome them all. The progeny of my lazy slacker of a son who transformed himself into the strongest White tier alpha in this tiny corner of the world, when forced off his easy chair and along a crimson path of peril and power!”
Eric smirked. “First of all, it was an elite gaming chair, with plenty of back support for all-night marathons, not some lazyboy knockoff. Second of all…” Eric sighed and shook his head. “Well, I don’t really have a second. Because you’re pretty much right. I was a bit of a lazy brooding dweeb, wasn’t I? Though I did work my ass off near every day with my saber and bayonet sparring, preparing for a role we both knew I was utterly unsuited for. And damn do I miss that chair. Not even the Blue Palatial suites can match it for comfort.”
His mother smiled. “That you did, my son. Training for the role I knew you would one day embrace. And you have. Brilliantly.”
Eric flushed. “It was never about prepping me for some action hero role, was it?”
Aurelia’s eyes twinkled as she poured herself a fresh glass of wine from a bottle suddenly appearing in her hand. “I think you already know the answer to that, Eric Orcbane, Champion of the Sylvan alliance. Because why worry about cinematic heroics, when you can embrace the real thing? Best of all, no acting skills are required, so long as you have an aptitude for slaughter. And that, my son, you have in spades.”
Comments
Eifer
Nice try, attempting to put a humane spin on the psychotic winter bitch. Not buying it. It's clearly mind games both on Eric and the readers. Fuck off.
Harb
I like this reveal learning a bit more about mum
