Drachne Ch. 06

Yet, this was the legacy that had been written when her honour had died. When she had failed to do what was necessary and protect the egg.

There was a certain poetry to her death. The vengeance of a family long forgotten, fulfilled. The return of a scourge that could bring divinity into the shadows and make them fight to intervene in the ways of a world they kept so aloof from.

This hunt would be the first, awakening the arachne.

There would be no pride in this, just a repetition of a history untold. The return of war, where no one ever wins. In war... All anybody does... Is die.

They might believe themselves survivors... But they're not. They're as dead as a lich stumbling around in the shadows, calling out for the fucking necromancer who raised them.

Kisten's death was the first marker, like the first bootprint upon the sand when the landing ships come in. Propelling the soldiers of chaos forward. The same old story. The world plunging down into the void. Everyone would see it. Everyone would feel it.

They would embrace the fear, turn neighbour against neighbour, and step into the shadows... And be devoured.

That was war.

Kisten's reverie was broken, and her efforts were rendered moot, when something enormous slamming into her left side. She screamed as she tumbled out of the sky, the fluid in her lungs instantly boiling and turning into a froth that trailed upwards out of her mouth.

One of her wings was shattered. Bones flapping uselessly as the skin hung loose. Her ribs were in no better a position. However, being hurt now didn't really list high on her concerns.

Not compared to the ground rapidly rising up to meet her.

With her throat full, she couldn't hope to use her magic to even slow the fall. She couldn't try and heal. She was completely and utterly fucked over.

The salamander clenched her eyes shut, waiting for inevitable.

Magic snapped in around her. It wasn't a gentle caress, and she felt one of her shoulders completely dislocate in the impact, but when she opened her eyes she found herself looking into the eyes of an elf.

The white salamander groaned weakly, and saw the swords and spears arranged behind the elf. She grimaced as she recognised a military patrol. An army unit, hidden in the Tangles.

Shit.

---

It may have taken days, but Reet finally had his knife in hand. He didn't know why there was a darkness clinging to the forest, but he was going to take full advantage of it.

The elf's blade pressed into the arachne's webbing, carving and snapping through the threads until he dropped to the ground. Hitting it and rolling, he stepped quickly and silently into the forest. Spying the shine of the individual threads that the arachne had planted.

He may have failed to protect Lord Elan from being turned into a lich, but he would not fail to be the one to end his lord's murderer. By his hand, or another.

The elf moved cautiously through the forest in the direction of the encampment, his ears twitching despite his controlled breathing. One false move is all it would take, and that bitch would know exactly where he was and probably what he was about to do.

Reet hadn't had many opportunities to observe it yet, but the arachne was more than just a violent killer. She wasn't just skilled at sneaking up on people. He had heard her voice, more than once.

The way she spoke to people, the way she changed how she was speaking, depending on who she was speaking to. Not a single word ever wasted. Always intended as a knife thrust into the mind, to manipulate it, control it.

Drachne was far more intelligent than she let on.

She was a temple trained assassin, raised from birth to be a tool to destabilise empires. To hunt down any and all who might become a threat to the Golden Mountain. Underestimating her wasn't a mistake anybody would be allowed to repeat.

He knew her magic allowed her to see him, even if he was concealed. You cannot hide from the arachne, if she is aware that you are. Your only hope was to not come to her attention in the first place.

His feet moved carefully and silently across the forest floor. His breathing focused and controlled. Two necromancers were present in the Tangles, both of them threats to the elven empire. Even the existence of a singular mage capable of unholy resurrection was a terrifying thing.

The elf kept his eyes on the goal.

He had to avenge his lord.

---

"Lord Suleos." The manservant bowed quickly, "There is a messenger here for you, sir."

The unigrad sighed heavily, and briefly kissed the cheek of his bride before sitting up on the edge of the bed. Sindi smiled, despite her eyes being close, and snuggled down further into the bedding.

Suleos stretched momentarily as he stood, and pulled his pants up. As he buckled himself in, he asked, "A messenger?"

"Yessir. From the palace. They were reticent to answer any further questions, sir."

The unigrad nodded tiredly. The empress of this current empire was not known for either her patience, or her understanding. She wouldn't allow a mere servant to speak to a lord if she was interested in them. Speaking out of turn was a death sentence, for both the messenger and everyone that they knew.

He was still buttoning up his shirt as he emerged into the waiting hall, yawning from Sindi's enthusiasm. He looked tiredly at the waiting elf, "I am Lord Suleos. Speak."

"Honoured Saint of the Golden Mountain." The messenger bowed stiffly, and produced an envelope lined with silver filigree.

Suleos gave it a once over, noting the enchantment that would doom any unintended recipient who attempted to open it. The spell was one he was fairly certain was currently listed on the banned lists.

The unigrad cracked the seal, and opened it. He scanned the flowing script tiredly, scratching his back as he did. He rolled his jaw back and forth, and then ignited the letter in his hand.

He turned to his manservant, "I've been summoned to the palace. Look after my wife, and do as she requests."

"Yes, m'lord."

He turned to the messenger and rolled his neck, "I'm not much in the mood for things, so hang on."

The unigrad grabbed the elf's wrist, and then pushed against the fabric of the world. He blinked in surprise as the weave sang, a note of music trapped in reality. Someone else had been playing at this ancient form of magic, and recently.

All the same, Suleos found his feet landing on red carpet a moment later. The messenger went tumbling to the ground as he lost his sense of up and down. Several dozen spears were immediately levelled in their direction.

He yawned tiredly and tucked his shirt in, looking over at the elf sitting on the throne. Her eyes were angry and fierce, and she was wearing a dress better suited for inspecting troops on the frontline than ruling a vassal state of the world's strongest empire.

He smiled and touched his forehead in respect, "Your grace."

She lifted a hand, "Ah. Saint Suleos. I am sorry to have called on you so soon after your arrival in our city. I would have given you the time to recover from your travels, were we afforded the luxury."

"Upon my travels, I encountered a soothsayer." He replied idly, "It seems that... There is some level of danger, to the Golden Mountain. Is that the reason you have called for me, your grace?"

"Yes." She nodded, leaning forward and placing her elbows on her knees, "I have received a messenger hawk from one of my best, in the field. He sent six. I got just the one."

Suleos nodded slowly, "What danger, did this man find, your grace? One that would prompt yourself into action, one that you swore you would never take, by involving myself?"

Tresian sighed heavily, and stood up. She walked over to one of the stained glass windows, looking up at it. "Is it true, Saint? That you once knew the Empress of Shadows, Vessimultik? Is this artist's dreaming of the day she died, at all accurate?"

"Vess wasn't an empress. Only a queen." Suleos replied quietly, staying rooted to the spot and spying around him at the guards who hadn't relaxed or lowered weapons. "As to the accuracy of the window... I don't think I can remember a single time she cast a spell."

The elf's ears turned an angry pink, and she glared at him, "The Queen of Shadows, then? You killed her. Is there truth in those words, beast?"

"I killed her." He replied, "At her own insistence."

Tresian's eyes changed, becoming more thoughtful. She nodded slowly, and then turned back, "And when was that... Unigrad? Was it truly thousands of years ago? Or has our history been... Distorted?"

"Time, I'm afraid, is meaningless, when discussing Vess." Suleos sighed, "Her magic, your grace, was the magic of time. She was an Acolyte of Tai, and a Daughter of Eratigan. In some sense it is true that I killed her generations ago. In some sense, it is also true that she died only three decades ago. Both are true, even if they can't be, by conventional logic. Time was her plaything, and yet she cast no spells. The god of time can be cruel to our sensibilities, your grace."

The elf gave a grim half-smile, "Two. There were two survivors, of your... Vess. I had one of them successfully hunted down, beast. The boy arachne was burned alive by Lord Elan. A man that I recently sent into the Tangles. A man who didn't come back. A man that I have now heard is dead."

"The boy. Two survivors." Suleos sucked in his breath, "A... Daughter? Yet lives?"

The empress nodded, "I have been aware of it, for some time. She was trained by the temple, in my service. It has been quite enjoyable to have a loyal arachne to call upon, when lords and ladies forget the responsibilities of their stations."

Suleos jaw cracked as he stopped himself from screaming at the empress. He might not be in immediate danger, but he had come to this place with a mortal wife. He wouldn't endanger Sindi, even if he wanted to express just how foolhardy the woman had been.

Tresian nodded grimly, "Yes. I freely admit to my mistake. A female arachne... Who appears to have... Gone off on her own. I had thought her loyal. Now I'm wondering if she could seize control of the draug. Because someone has."

"It is well within the realm of possibility." Suleos hissed, and took a half-step towards the empress, "Where was she last heard from?"

The empress shrugged, an amused smile passing her lips, "Entering the Tangles, in the company of Lord Elan. The murderer of her brother. Apparently that wasn't enough to keep her in check. Not knowing her heritage wasn't enough to keep her in check. She doesn't truly know what she is."

"I will kill the arachne, for you." Suleos stated.

Tresian frowned, "If it is necessary."

"It is." Suleos snarled angrily, "You should have burned your empire down to kill her. She... She's a female! She has no choice in the matter. That bitch of an arachne is going to be queen. She twists everyone she encounters. Unmakes and remakes them, whether or not she wants to. Do you know why I killed Vess, empress?"

"You stated that it was her own desire." The elf shrugged casually.

The unigrad sighed heavily, "It was. Vessimultik ordered me to kill her, because she foresaw her own ascent. Tai was no longer treating her as just an acolyte. She was becoming something that was... More. An anomaly, like the White Witch or myself. Something that can't be killed. The daughter... Will have greater potential than her mother."

Tresian frowned, "Are you suggesting this lone individual poses an existential threat to the empire?"

"No!" He yelled in frustration, "She poses an existential threat to the fucking gods! By the Green Goddess... This child, only a few decades old, could... Become a true god. She has the potential. I have seen traces of her magic, your grace. She is already learning to alter time. She is in the weave."

The elven empress eyed him distastefully, "Can you kill her, Saint, or not?"

"I don't know!" He stated angrily, "But if I fail, empress, then the scars on your land left by Irrlichdan will disappear in the chaos that will follow. The king of all dragonkind... Is a toy before a fully realised arachen queen."

Her cheek gave the slightest of spasms, "Irrlichdan was killed by the Emperor, and his Sons of Menes. Demon-tainted spawn. Are you certain that you have correctly assessed this threat, Saint?"

"Beg the gods for mercy, if I fail. That is your only hope." Suleos restated firmly. "The Golden Kitsune guard my path, she may be your only hope if I fail."

Tresian nodded, "The resources of the Golden Mountain are at your disposal. What do you need, hunter?"

"The luck o' the kitsune." He swore and shook his head, "Numbers won't help. Not against this. I will hunt her. If she becomes aware of my existence, then I will fail. If she hunts, she will succeed. This is a game of shadows, now, your grace."

The empress winced, "Let it be, then. I will see to it that your new bride is kept safe for your return, Saint."

He turned away, "If I manage to return... And Sindi has come to harm... I'll burn the empire down, myself."

---

Finia smiled sweetly, crossing her ankles and jingling her bell. She lifted her cup and saucer to her nose, taking a deep whiff of the tea that her current guest had brought with them. Apparently as a peace offering, but the traces of herbaceous material didn't suggest any truth in that.

The herbs of the tea were innocent enough on their own, but two of them in combination were a paralytic. At least, so long as the liquid was drunk warm. As it cooled, they would separate and become undetectable, again.

Finia's marbled eyes turned to her handmaiden, "Cinnia. Some ice, my dear."

She looked back across the table at the blurred face of Lady Trescotte, and smiled broadly, "Apologies, I am certain you have heard the staff complaining. I am quite the sensitive little thing. Now, sister, what brings you to the estate?"

"My brother has not yet proposed, has he? We should refrain from confusing the staff in how we refer to one another, Lady Finia." The elven woman replied coolly, "But, I am afraid that I have been sent for a most unpleasant reason, on behalf of the rest of the family. There are... Concerns."

Finia buried a laugh, "I am buneko. You may assure the family that Lord Leolian made certain to complete our contract and make me his companion and mistress before he left."

It wouldn't be long before the family started to try and insist on an examination to see if Finia was pregnant. That was their primary concern. That she was about to disinherit the lot of them.

They didn't care that the empress was making overtures for war. They didn't have the foresight to realise the family wealth would disappear in a blink when mankind's God-Emperor tolerated the Golden Mountain no longer. That Leolian was in danger.

None of that mattered to them. They just wanted to hurt the bunny that might take a little bit of their money.

Having a target planted between her eyes by the empress was one thing. Also being hunted by her master's family was infuriating. She wished she could just hurt them, but she couldn't. She was a lady.

Which meant she had to play these games with them.

Cinnia used silver tongs to place two ice cubes into the teacup, and Finia's nose twitched a little. She smiled contentedly and sipped at the tepid liquid, "I am quite certain that the family has many concerns, Lady Trescotte. I am afraid I have been too busy to assuage them. It was an oversight. I do not wish to host a ball in my master's absence, though it would give an opportunity to display the wealth of the estate, protected. Would you have another suggestion?"

Trescotte's scent became sharp and angry, as the suggestion died on her tongue. Manipulating Finia into a scandal wasn't going to be that simple. She had loyalty to Leolian, even if he had fucked her and then dropped her in it.

The lady nodded slowly, "There is truth and consideration to your words, m'lady. Perhaps we can arrange for a compromise of sorts. A gathering of only those who have the power to make decisions that influence the empire."

"... No." Finia smiled, "No. I won't gather the rich and powerful, in these uncertain times. Our future rests upon the slaves and servants. Their fears take food from our tables. A harvest festival, for those who are largely inconsequential, in honour of the Great Buneko."

Trescotte's scent was nothing but rage. She was deeply angry that Finia had foreseen her traps, thus far. Even more angry now that she was being pushed aside. Her concerns displayed as equal to a force of slaves. Yet, there was no arguing with the logic of it.

Famine was not normally the result of an angry god, but merely the consequences of poor management. The acts of corruption and secrets eating away at the world, and leaving those beneath those to blame as starving and dying.

Finia was not going to let her master's estate be such an eyesore upon the empire.

The bunnygirl gave a small smirk, "My personal priest has already begun the preparations. I expect you to attend, m'lady. The House of Leolian cannot be seen as divided, not now. It is traditional to make an offering, before the festival begins."

"Of course." Lady Trescotte said smoothly, "My brother's house will be seen as the cornerstone of the empire, as we ever are."

Finia decided to push the point and pursed her lips, "I have only met with Empress Tresian the once. Would the invite come better from you, m'lady? Of course, the gift to the empress will be arranged to my design, but it may be better if you were to present it to her. Remind her of the strength of the house."

Show the empress that the bunny was the one in control of the house. Threatening Finia's friends was one game the empress was playing, but if the House Leolian was united against her, then Tresian would be forced to step more carefully.

Finia was a temple trained companion. She was not some clueless whore, not just some pretty thing to supply an heir.

Leolian's wealth and power was safe in her hands.

"Of course, Lady Finia."

"Lady Leolian." She replied quietly, "We don't want to confuse the staff now, do we?"

---

Cookie looked up tiredly from where she'd fallen on the floor. A pair of fingers walking a biscuit into her mouth. Her whiskers were heavy with crumbs from the stale and sodden snacks that the thieves had found for her.

The beggar lord made an irritated sound, "Enough sulking, cat. You made your way inside, what did you find?"

"Bad things. Forget that house." Cookie moaned and dragged herself into a sitting position. She looked blearily at the man who controlled her fate, "No lord's house. Someone lied. House belong to Saint Suleos."

"The saint?" The man said, choking on his wine.

Cookie's ears flicked flat and she nodded grimly, "Gets worse, m'lord. Da Saint, 'e came back with a bride. Elf girl, cute and sweet. She's no lady. She used to wearing a bell, if Cookie had to guess. He freed her."

"That's an in, not something awful. What changes the balance?"

The neko smiled grimly, "Elf-bitch be soothsayer. That why he married 'er."

The beggar lord sprang to his feet and started pacing back and forth. Any lord upsetting the status quo was a problem for the streets. A lord who was practically a myth, with someone by his side who could not be lied to, that... Was a powderkeg.

When the match dropped and the politics ignited, when corruption laid bare, it was people like Cookie and Maly Oddzial who would suffer. Kenwood, too, but Cookie didn't care about him.

The catgirl yawned and tiredly shoved another biscuit into her mouth, speaking with a spray of crumbs, "Saint got summoned palace, when Cookie hiding under bed. Saint trying hard to make elf preggas."

"He's a unigrad, isn't he? I though they were sterile." The beggar lord questioned.