Chapter Two Hundred and Sixteen. Royals & Rulers.

Chapter Two Hundred and Sixteen. Royals & Rulers.

Elizabeth dashed forward, bringing her sword down in a slash from her right shoulder, the blade shearing through the spine of the monstrous beast in front of her. It appeared that the monsters on the tenth floor of this Dungeon were a twisted amalgamation of a cobra and some sort of weasel.

It spat venom at her as it died, but she turned slightly to avoid it, only a few drops striking her and those running down and off her armor. She stomped on its neck and wrenched her sword out, the damage finishing the beast.

She'd accepted the existence of Thayland on paper, but the reality was something else entirely.

Everything was so refreshingly direct. You fought monsters to become more powerful so that you could defend your people against monsters. Simple, if not easy. Being an Adventurer, as they called it here, wasn't for the faint of heart. Young Jason had repeatedly healed her of wounds that might have been fatal back on Earth and certainly would have seen her laid up for months recovering. While the outcome was that wounds were trivial, the pain of receiving them was anything but. Truly, as her attributes increased, her perception of the world around her became more acute, which made the agony of having her ribs caved in, or her femur broken, all the more potent.

She wasn't at all certain her citizens would have the constitution necessary for such work, but there were always true Englishmen waiting to be found. Young Jason had proven himself both steadfast and true, and she had given more than one idle thought toward knighting the lad for his service to the Crown. She'd had him looked into before entrusting him with her safety, and while he was well educated, his voting history leaned rather decidedly away from the traditional, conservative candidates. There was nothing to suggest he held any affection for the Monarchy, but when duty called, he had stepped forward without hesitation, asking for nothing in return for his service.

She wished that everyone who held a title in her country had that much character.

The future was quite clear to her. The age of democracy was coming to a swift end. Even the fate of republics was uncertain. When the System arrived, the people of Earth would once again find themselves prospering, or in some cases, suffering, under the aegis of Nobility who ruled through personal strength.

She didn't doubt that there would be coalitions of strong men and women working together, however, it seemed likely that such a group would simply seek to control more territory rather than rule in council over a smaller area.

England would need a strong hand to ensure its safety, and she would provide it. Beyond her own strength, her nobles would need to demonstrate the strength and sagacity necessary to protect their hereditary holdings. Which was, of course, another matter.

"Your Majesty?" One of her guardsmen, Martin, prompted her, shaking her from her thoughts.

While her find was sharper than ever, her recollection of events shining with crystal clarity, and her ability to process her thoughts lightning-quick, she still found that she had the habits she developed over the years as she'd matured and frequently found herself lost in thought. It appeared that this wasn't any type of mental degradation at all, as she had once feared.

She nodded to him, and with a thought, brought Porrose back to her side. She reached down and scratched his head before dashing towards her left, where a movement in the tall grass had signaled the presence of another monster. There was work to be done, and despite her reprieve from its shadowy grasp, time waited for no one, not even the Queen.

Kellan nodded to Huron as the man entered his audience chamber.

"Your Majesty," Huron bowed.

"Huron," Kellan replied warmly, "how fares the Church?"

Huron frowned thoughtfully for a moment. "In a state of transience, I believe," he said.

Kellan raised an eyebrow and motioned for him to continue.

"The people from Earth," Huron began slowly, "some of them have embraced our faith with a fervency that demonstrates how desperately they were seeking the light on their world, while others," he paused. "Others are treating the blessings of the Gods as mere hurdles to be overcome in their pursuit of Divine Magic, in much the same fashion that some of the Noble Houses have in the past," he continued. "And while that is, to some degree, to be expected, they are flocking to the Church of Logos rather than to the Church of the Light," Huron finished.nove(l)bi(n.)com

Kellan nodded, "And of course, your concern is that Logos, as the God of Knowledge, allows access to the darker aspects of Divine Magic."

The King shook his head. "No, we've already done that which will work best to bind the man to us. I'm certain that there will be a number of people from his world who choose to remain here after the System integration, and we will ensure that he remains our liaison to his people. Over time we will transform that position into one of a trusted advisor, allowing him to step away from the day-to-day duties that he likely despises, turning those over to new Noble Houses that will rise from those who decide to stay."

"He could be a wellspring of information," Huron agreed as realization dawned on him.

That was one of the things that Kellan liked about his friend. Despite his strict adherence to his religious dogma, his mind was remarkably flexible.

"Which he'll provide to us freely, happily even," Kellan agreed.

"You think he'd be agreeable in regards to steering his people away from Dark Magic?" Huron brought the conversation back on the path.

"I do," Kellan replied. "Make the suggestion to him, and I suspect he'll confirm the truth himself with his access to the System, and then he'll disperse it."

Prime Minister Julwry was, for the most part, happy. She'd been elected Prime Minister at the tender age of thirty-six and held the post through re-election, and if things had continued, she expected a third term.

The bloody apocalypse was going to throw a wrench in those plans.

She had returned from the U.S. and had basically been in a holding pattern. The U.S. President had spoken to her a few times, mostly seeking confirmation on their information on the two telescopes that might be capable of detecting the coronal ejection they were planning to fake as the excuse for getting people off the planet. Other than that, it had been business as usual.

Right up to the point where an entire bloody station had disappeared. People, livestock, vehicles, the lot. That wasn't the worst of it though, from the few people left behind, there had been a huge barbie, with droves of people driving in for the weekend, and those people were missing as well. Under other circumstances, there would be a loud, public investigation, but she'd managed to squash that.

Kaira knew where they'd gone. Or at least she had a very good idea and strong suspicions, given that extended families of at least three of the six Australian citizens who were known to be on Thayland were involved.

The ranchers and bushmen had always been an independent lot, and when it came to governing, she often felt that they were part of an entirely different country only loosely affiliated with the rest of Australia. Oh, they were patriotic enough, often more so than the majority of the country, but they viewed the government with a degree of not only suspicion but also disdain. They didn't hold much respect for anyone who couldn't survive in the bush with only a swag and a knife.

She'd sent a message to the most likely contact, Jessica Wright, but she hadn't responded, possibly because she was in another universe.

Which was frustrating, as Kaira needed a way to access that universe. The U.S. already had a foothold, and while relations with them had always been friendly from a diplomatic standpoint, her country, on the whole, had a rather poor opinion of the U.S., and it would be much better for Australia to have its own beachhead on Thayland, rather than relying on the good graces of allies.

Also, she needed to control who exactly crossed over and when. While it was inevitable that there would be a bit of nepotism, she could easily foresee the entire community of ranchers moving over, completely disregarding everyone else in their quest to be self-sufficient.

She rubbed her temples and opened another brief, this one detailing the number of wounded veterans. That was one thing that the U.S. had done right. Getting those men restored to full health and tasking them with killing monsters was a brilliant move, and she fully intended to replicate it, although she planned to make the whole thing contingent on their re-enlistment in a newly constituted regiment, one with the explicit purpose of preparing and holding their ground on Thayland.

Of course, it wouldn't be their ground. It wouldn't even be an embassy, which was considered sovereign soil. It would be land leased from the King of Greenwold, who was if the U.S. were to be believed, an eighty-foot long Dragon. That taxes were to be collected and delivered to an American who would then relay them to the King on behalf of humanity was galling. She'd met the man, and while he'd been handsome and appeared quite bright, he wasn't socially adroit, and was a terrible choice for a diplomatic envoy.

If the King of Greenwold was an astute statesman, he might have chosen Mr. Whitman for exactly that reason.

She gathered her thoughts, reviewed the brief again, and signed off on the initiative. As soon as they had access to Thayland and either a Dungeon or, ideally, the ability to build Dungeons, they'd start bringing in the veterans. In the meantime, she had another fire raging on the east coast, and she needed to review the damages.