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Swordpoint Diplomacy 47
🕑 Added 2025-04-27 23:29:11 +0000 UTCThe river had overrun for kilometers and ruined a perfectly good farming hamlet. They were lucky enough that the water had drained away, leaving scores of dead fish to stink in the sun and struggle for life in the puddles that were shrinking by the hour. The horses’ hooves made foul squelching sounds with every ginger step through the mud. Signs of habitation peeked out— a fence post here, a bush there. That might be the foundation of a home, but all the wood frame had been washed away in a nasty flood.
“It smells nice, actually.” Prince Marcel scanned the horizon again and couldn’t hold back a frown. It ought to be rank with the smell of rot. “If I didn’t know this was meant to be a darling hamlet and not a stretch of nature, I would think this was a wonderful place to have a picnic.”
“Yes,” said Vivian, “that’s part of the lure, unfortunately. It smells like fresh loam in rain.” Her voice was glum. The men weren’t seeing what she was. There was some powerful magic at work here. That implied predation. Something wanted people to traipse right up to the danger. If it wasn’t the animal itself, then it was something worse.
Ser Kian made a pained expression. “This is exactly how people get eaten,” he muttered. He was wild-eyed, constantly jerking his head in every direction. The paranoia was understandable, given that his senses must be at war, partially piercing the deception around them. He seemed to perceive more than Prince Marcel— but of course, Vivian thought. Ser Kian was a local, and he had been a child within national borders when the dead King had bargained for the return of their magic gifts. He hadn’t been left behind in the ascension.
His tense body language likely wasn’t encouraging to their foreign guest, but he wasn’t the supposed subject matter expert. Prince Marcel turned his attention to Vivian in hopes of comfort.
The blacks of her eyes had swollen to swallow the ring of color, and a morose grief was pressed into the downturn of her lips. She looked like a haunted doll.
“...No, that’s worse,” he muttered. He failed to suppress a shudder.
For her part, Vivian was trying to keep her nerves together as she tried to remember anything that might be useful to her. Magic was in her blood, so it was her familial responsibility to handle this type of incursion. But the magic had been dormant for generations, and with it, the monsters.
‘In the 7th century, sailors captured one off the west coast, not so far from here,’ she remembered, struggling for any relevant trivia. ‘I believe. In a net? They hauled it on board, and then the ship capsized and the survivors were washed up in lifeboats.’
That… it implied that the creature could control water, to some extent, which aligned with the reports that one had flooded the river. It was hard to fault a captured animal for lashing out to escape. She found herself rather sympathetic, actually. Vivian would like to escape this situation. She was built for court life, not adventuring. If she hadn’t been one of the girls struck by potent birth magic, she would have been safely at some grand estate for this whole affair, arranging diplomatic relations or managing logistics.
But she was gifted, and therefore she had to wade through muck and fight swordsmen and sea creatures with no business being where they were. How appalling. How unlucky.
‘Why is it here?’ She thought miserably. Her horse squelched through the mud below. ‘And why now? Are we entirely cursed? I haven’t heard any stories of a sea creature in the rivers. Why are we having so many unprecedented problems? Is someone influencing this?’
Hmm. Maybe those were all questions that she ought to pursue. “What brings an animal out of their habitat?” She asked aloud. Vivian kept her private suspicions quiet for now, but she kept her ears pricked for danger. “A snake doesn’t go to the cold. A sheep will wander anywhere with food.” The sound of rushing water grew louder as they gingerly approached the historical site of the river.
Ser Kian hummed. “Hunger?” He guessed. “It couldn’t acquire its natural prey for some reason and sought easier food. Perhaps there is a deficit where it was living before.”
Prince Marcel looked rather green as he clung to his emotional support bow. Vivian thought, not for the first time, that he was rather soft to be a real match for their princess. “It could have been driven out by a threat or predator,” he eventually suggested. “Or competition, another predator’s hunting area impinged and the weaker left.”
‘Perhaps he relates. A crown prince ought not be wandering around someone else’s country. Absent conspiracy or serious personal defect, it makes no reason.’
“Might just be lost.” Ser Kian added. “Ahh…. There must be more possibilities….” His brow furrowed. “Lured by something?” He mused. “An animal could follow a tempting scent.” Vivian was looking at him, which was the only reason she caught the instant his horse stumbled. A leg buckled and they both went down.
An animal bellowed. The sound was nearly caught up in the rush of moving water.
Hell. Vivian threw up her hands and a barrier. Force hit the dome with a strength that sent her reeling and a jarring sound that vibrated her teeth. Water splashed around and over the spell. She caught a glimpse of metallic gold that flashed in sunlight, as eerie and rich as the manes of the twin royals. A second glance revealed the color belonged to the winglike fins of a furious-looking beast.
“There!” Prince Marcel shot an arrow. It collided uselessly with her spell and fell down. Was he simple? A barrier always went both ways.
“Help him up!” Vivian ordered. “To your feet, Ser Kian!” She sent more power to her barrier, drinking in the magical animal to try to understand it. Her hands were already shaking.
The head and neck truly resembled that of a horse, strong musculature leading down to a six-legged creature with fins along its flank, spine, and culminating in a magnificent tail. It threw its head back to roar, exposing two rows of what looked like bristle, rather than teeth. Its body was rippled blue, lighter on the stomach with a dark back.
‘That’s not the jaw of a predator. I don’t know what it eats, but it can’t rend flesh without teeth. It didn’t kill people to eat them; and it is not creating a lure.’
Interesting. Ser Kian managed to disentangle himself from his fallen steed, legs freed from the saddle and mud. The horse was screaming in fear, hooves thrashing in the mud. Why had it fallen? Was it injured?
The hippocampus sloshed at them again, six legs scrambling to get through the barrier. Vivian gritted her teeth and forced herself to remain calm.
If it didn’t eat people, why was it drawn to them? Was it threatened by them? Had it drowned the locals out of fear?
‘Is the magical aura an attempt to hide?’ Vivian wondered. ‘It hides visual evidence of itself and convinces other animals to be calm and relaxed… out of fear?’
Was it scared of them? T’was something to test. Vivian transferred the shield to one hand and scrambled to pick up the reins. “Step backwards,” she ordered.
“What-alright.” Ser Kian mournfully abandoned his horse. Vivian spared the thing a pitying glance and a telekinetic lift back to its feet. If the horse had any chance of life, it must be able to stand.
It hit the ground four hooves first and promptly began running away. Vivian had no barrier at their rear so there was nothing to stop the horse from fleeing across the ruined ground. She sharply watched the hippocampus to see what it would do. Would it give chase? She maintained the barrier where it was in relation to her as the group retreated.
The hippocampus reared up on its back two sets of legs, kicking furiously at the air. It made another sound like the breaking of waves. Its golden fins fluttered through the air like banners.
“Be calm,” Vivian said, now fairly confident. “Do not attack it. I think it is defending itself.”
“Defending it- alright.” Prince Marcel’s voice climbed up in outrage but he obeyed her with a frown by lowering his bow.
Ser Kian was struggling to navigate the deep mud, pulling away from the riverbed with difficult paces. “Yes!” He shouted, without even looking at the beast.
Vivian was the only one looking. So she was the one to see it cock its head to the side and look at her with an intelligent curiosity.
“…Do you understand my speech?” She asked it.
The hippocampus tossed its head about for a moment. It gave what was unmistakably a nod.
“What the shit!” Complained Prince Marcel. “What? You’re sentient?”
It gave him a disdainful look.
“That’s a yes.” Ser Kian pulled himself to the top of a larger rock, out of the muck. He addressed the magical beast with the same bland politeness he used on nobility. “My apologies, then. We must have startled you. Do you require any assistance?”
“….Ocean.” It said.
