Chapter Eighty: Initial Reconnaissance

Chapter Eighty: Initial Reconnaissance

When the next night rolled around, I stood outside the cave—flapping my wings. Behind us sat two corpses with slit necks. Two Atrixian scum had entered the cavern to empty their bladders. My Elven companion ended their lives. Verdant spat on their bodies and crushed their bloody necks with a few stomps.

“Let us go, Mila... I’m ready.”

I picked up Verdant and took flight, leaving a drop of slime behind to assimilate the corpses.

The magical fog cladding Tiran’s Crest wasn’t static. It had a little give and take, and its precise position was never the same. And as of now, it had advanced about half a mile towards Plymoise, providing good cover for my ascension. My Clone!Birds had scouted the area earlier, so I knew we would be fine once we broke through.

From there, I merely flew forward and cross-checked my current location with the stuttering map. It was still too dangerous to land, so I kept flying until the mist was no longer below.

At that point, it was dumb to remain airborne, so I took us to the ground. We walked the rest of the way while sticking to the surprisingly high number of trees. It was like the whole ecological environment was part of a different world. One side reminded me of an arid, dry desert, and the other was like a luscious, green wonderland.

Why the hell were the two environments so different?

Verdant didn’t know. She said Atrix had always been this green. When she was a child, she thought it strange her birth city-state lacked natural evidence of its Vestige’s color.

We attempted to talk about why the landscapes didn’t match up, but the closer we came to those tall walls protecting Atrix, the more patrols we encountered. Since it was the dead of night, I saw them way before they noticed us, but the guards required torches.

I didn’t. for new novels

“So, that’s where they’re keeping their soldiers? Out in front of the city? Why not let them rest in their barracks?”

“That’s the price for failure, Mila. Atrix... The last time they waged war was nearly 70 years ago. Their target was another city-state. It wasn’t Plymoise.”

“Atrix punished their soldiers like this back then?”

“Worse. Half were hanged. The other half was forced to fight for survival against each other. Only a quarter survived...and... And I presume Atrix instilled those failures onto their soldiers as stark reminders.”

“That explains the burnt villages... How disgusting...”

“Turning the citizens against Atrix may...prove difficult. I don’t know if their fear can be conquered.”

I put a hand on Verdant’s shoulder. “Trust me, it’s possible. It doesn’t matter how many people you have. There will always be differences of opinion. Everyone can't agree on everything all the time. That has never been done before in a world that has free will. You’d have to control the minds of everyone at the same time. Something tells me Atrix doesn’t have that power. If they did, everyone inside the city would have marched on Plymoise.”

“...”

“I know people are wanting to change things. The problem is finding that spark of rebellion and giving it a push. Revolution grows quickly. And people enjoy being on the winning side. If we show them victory is possible? That’s all we need to do. When we get close, I’ll check the walls with my birds and fly in when it’s clear.”

My goal was to use my clones as martyrs. Their ‘deaths’ could be the catalyst. I’d do anything to get the revolution going.

“When Atrix’s spies returned before the attack, we heard whisperings of a High Elf with a flaming lion. The soldiers confirmed its overwhelmingly staggering might and destruction over the battlefield... They said it took out five drakes and three hippogriffs... And it charged into the heart of the army...”

“I can confirm the validity of that statement,” I said, ferrying a cup of tea to my lips. I sat at the head of a table that fit fourteen, and every seat was filled. “That very lion is named Surtr. He’s my loyal protector.”

After entering Atrix, Verdant had taken the lead. We kept to the shadows and slowly ventured into the merchant district, where my companion slipped around the backside of a blacksmith’s shop to knock on the wall. She said a passcode, the door flipped away, and we entered, descending a long, barely lit staircase carved of rock and stone. The bottom held a door, which housed an underground building. Verdant’s spies lived here, but different tunnels and paths led to their respective cover jobs.

Apparently, shortly after the last war Atrix was involved in, Plymoise’s ruler of that time predicted the fangs of conflicts would chomp at their neck. They commissioned a multi-decade-long operation to instill spies, leading to this underground cavern of connected tunnels.

But that was risky. All it took was one turncoat, and everything would be ruined. Just how insane was their nationalism to their country? It was something I almost found endearing, but still...

I didn’t think anything like this had ever happened in my time.

Then again, this world couldn’t compare to the one I originated from.

Maybe...

Maybe these mysterious Vestiges were responsible? It was a far cry thought, but what if the Vestiges wanted to be reunited? You had to assume they influenced the people around them if they could alter physiology.

But could that be the case? Maybe? Stranger things had happened.

“Master Verdant, why are you here? You never told us?” asked an orange-haired dwarf. She had a full, long beard.

“We are here to sew the threads of rebellion. Lord Springfield has been instrumental in helping us thus far, and she believes she holds the key to ending this conflict sooner than later.”

I’m only being held in high regard because I'm a High Elf. If I were a Dark Elf? Maybe the same, but a Cowfolk? Desert Foxfolk? I doubt it.

“Revolution is the relentless roll of a stone downhill, gathering the strength of dissent and the power of change, unstoppable in its pursuit of a new dawn,” I said. Essentially, we would spread rumors of general aggression towards Atrix's ruler concerning how this invasion turned out. Some would be angry mothers protesting their sons’ death. Others would be wives angry that their children would be without a father.

Anything we could do to sway the general opinion, which seemed to be slightly on the positive side. One of Verdant’s spies said the rumors he had heard still believed victory was in Atrix’s grasp. They planned to use their superior wealth to grant the ‘High Elf Lioness’ a mercenary contract to switch sides. One of their spies was sneaking into Plymoise at this moment.

I told Tris. She said she would alert Gretchen in the morning and search when her capabilities were restored.

Another spy asked how to do this, causing me to create a wooden puppet after playing a tune. “I can use [Illusion Magic] to alter their appearance,” I said, displaying my ability.

Might want to add [Illusion Magic] to my front-facing Status Menu...

“I can handle that. As for you... We need to sew discourse. If we set fire to military offices, food supplies, maybe their ships? If you know of any firesalts, we can use that. As I said, we need to ignite the powder keg. And to make that keg, we must show the people they have a voice. Once the pendulum of revolution is set in motion, its force becomes unstoppable, sweeping away the barriers of oppression and heralding a new era of liberation."

After the meeting with Verdant and her spies, I retired to one of the rooms in the safe house after they asked me to get some sleep. It would take time to grease the wheels of revolution for the initial plans we wished to set in motion.

A couple hours of rest here and there certainly wouldn’t hurt anything. My quarters were lacking in many ways. The room was small, with the bed being tinier than me. It looked just like a well-used sleeping bag, except it had holes. But that didn’t bother me. I was a chimera who ate the dead and slurped her enemies with her slime as if they were smoothies.

“Ahh... Who knows how long this is going to last...?” I walked over to the sleeping bag and chose to rest against the wall while opening a [Skyview] window to my room in Plymoise.

And there they were... Irisa... Tilde... Tris...snuggling together in the bed in my room.

The stream was so laggy and blurry it almost gave me a headache. Tris was scheduled to come off cooldown in about 24 hours, so it would be much better by then.

Before arriving in Atrix, I told Tris to invite Irisa to sleep with her and Tilde because I didn’t want her to be alone. And I figured Tilde could prime Irisa for the talk I wanted to have with her.

It never turned sexual, though. There was a time and place for everything, and this wasn’t it.

A guard rushed to grab my Clone!One on Captain Max's orders.

“Let her go!” shouted Clone!Two. He drew back a fist and clocked the guard across the cheek with a running punch. He straddled and wailed on him as another soldier tackled him to the ground. Two more appeared and helped their ally up before grabbing Clone!One.

“Get your hands off of my sister!” Clone!Three joined the fight, and it turned into a brawl that quickly delved into a senseless beating.

They were, after all, under 15 years old, clashing against grown men who had, presumably, killed in the call of duty to serve Lord Atrix’s wishes.

“Please, forgive my children!” Clone!Mother barged from the crowd and cried. “They don’t understand--”

“So, you’re their pathetic mother?” Captain Max scoffed and gave a command. Two more soldiers grabbed Clone!Mother and dragged her into the beatdown. “Perhaps this wouldn’t have happened if you were a better parent. Going against me is turning a weapon upon our glorious Lord Atrix. I’m aware you know of the punishment.” Captain Max waved his hand and ordered everyone to watch while his men pummeled the ‘cowards,’ as he called them.

It was inhumane... Seeing grown men inflict this horrible abuse. It was made worse by the constant cries of Clone!Mother, who begged for her children to be let go.

But no. Captain Max said all traitors deserved death... He put the family to the sword with glee, horrifying the onlookers.

My clones asked and begged for help before their lives were brutally ended. Captain Max ordered his men to impale the corpses on the nearby pikes to serve as warnings to remember their place in life.

There was a reason he did this here. The coward wouldn’t dream of doing it near the city square or where the wealthy lived. He probably got his kicks on abusing his power, which told me exactly what I needed to expect. I didn’t need Tris’s processing abilities to deduce that.

Clone!Bird took to the skies and darted across the city, screaming about the heinous event it witnessed. Captain Max didn’t look bothered, though. He ordered someone to hunt it down and wring its neck.

While returning to the hideout, Verdant questioned my strategy. Even though I told her my puppets were expendable, she couldn’t watch children die. Yes, they were fake. She knew that, but seeing them shout for help... Their mortal cries... A mother screaming for her children...

It hurt her. But she said she needed to throw away her weakness.

But she’s fine with those deserters being put to death. No, I can’t say anything. I was fine with it, too.

Margie questioned me about what we were going to do now.

“That’s why I asked for firesalt this morning,” I told her, turning the corner to the road that held the hideout. Already, news of the hanging was spreading via my Clone!Bird. The outrage was insignificant-- mainly fed by fear, but it would soon turn to anger in the coming days because the Clone!Bird played a recreation of Clone!Family’s final screams and heartfelt cries.

“I plan to make bombs, ‘instill’ them with magic to increase their potency, and use them to burn away the evidence of those corpses being wooden puppets. Using illusion magic to make wood and sap appear as flesh and blood taxes me greatly.”

“How will you do that?” asked Margie when we sat at the table. It was nice to be here. It was strangely dark and dank—just the perfect environment for a woman trying to organize a revolution.

“Easy. It’ll require a soldier and a victim. The soldier will throw the bomb and desecrate the bodies while ranting about how they don’t deserve to be buried. The father will annoy him, and that’ll cause an argument. It’ll turn into a fight, which ends when they accidentally toss themselves into the fire. They’ll burn away, and the evidence will be gone. It’s brutal, but remember... They are puppets. They’re made of mana. I can recreate them as many times as I want. But this will be the most I can do today. Things will ramp up tomorrow.”

Tris would be off cooldown by then. The most intelligent and capable Fragment of Wisdom yearned to get to work.

Kull, an orange Lizardfolk, made it back soon after. He had broken into a warehouse near the docks and returned with a steel box full of firesalts. The gunpowder-esque lookalikes were dangerous and prone to exploding. So, I didn’t trust anyone but myself with making them, and an hour later, I had twenty bombs.

“That’s...” Kull was at a loss for words. He looked at the mimicked copy of a random soldier I had seen. His most noteworthy feature was the dozen scars under his eyes. “It’s so life-like... How did you make the wood feel like flesh?”

“Consider it a High Elf secret. Here's our victim,” I said, creating a man with orange hair after playing the flute. It took a moment to alter their physical properties. “You have your orders,” I told them. “Get it done.”

The puppets nodded and left, and I remained at the hideout. Verdant asked if I was going to watch it, but I declined.

“I need to see this for myself.” Kull left, and I went to my room and drank two blue potions Verdant had given me earlier. The drain was unreal. I’d never made and sustained this many clones before.

Health potions didn't work on me, but mana restoratives weren't restricted.

I thought about making a daughter for the victim, but I didn’t want to overuse children. Besides, no man would allow their child to get anywhere near this-- not after hearing about what Captain Max did.

Kull reported a success when he returned to the hideout shortly after dinner. “It really went like you said.” He went on to say that a large crowd gathered after the soldier threw the bomb. Kull didn’t expect the explosion to be that loud. Nor that the flames would burn that hot.

He said firesalts were scary to mess with, but that wasn’t the entire truth. A firesalt-infused inferno couldn’t burn away a corpse to mere ash, so I needed more. I had an insect clone inside the bomb. It used a flame spell right as the soldier threw it. That was responsible for the increased destruction.

But no one needed to know that.

The Puppet!Victim berated the soldier with crying eyes, saying that they needed to perform the funeral rites for the souls of the fallen to find peace in the afterlife.

Puppet!Soldier didn’t like his tone and drew his sword. The fight happened as I choreographed it, but...

“It’s difficult to watch,” said Kull, his gaze downcast. “I know it’s fake. It’s not real, but the screams... The emotions... Those can’t be faked. That man cried for those burning puppet children in a way I hadn’t heard someone shed tears for their flesh and blood. If you wanted to make a statement...you did. Those two killed each other after tumbling into the fire. I’ve... Never seen such an emotional scene played by puppets... There wasn’t a single pair of dry eyes...” Kull’s expression of utter, abject terror said it all. “People were talking. Murmurs grew, but they were silenced when a group of approaching guards told everyone to disperse as they tried to put out the flames.”

“Are you afraid of me? Your tone suggests you are.”

“I...” Kull looked at Verdant, then at Margie, then at the other spies. They hadn’t done anything today because of my orders, but that’d all change tomorrow. “I am. I've never seen anyone with such excellent control over your puppets. They're... Umm... Forgive me, Lor—Mila, but... Are you...a chimera using the spell as—”

Margie slammed the table with her hands and stood up as nervous murmurs radiated from the other spies. “What the hell is wrong with you?! You dare to accuse Lord Springfield of being one of those heinous monsters?! This is clearly [Wooden Puppetry] and [Illusion Magic]!”

It’s nice to know your feelings about them, Margie. Kull’s sharper than I thought, though. His dull facade must be for show to make others let down their guards.

“I’m not a chimera,” I said, lying. “But even if I was a ‘heinous monster,’ would that be a problem?”

“What?”

“Answer the question. Are you so high and mighty that you would refuse help from one? Would you rather fail at the mission to cause an insurrection because the one helping is considered a monster?”

“No, it’s--”

“Oh, but I think it is. Chimeras are dangerous. They’re scum residing in the darkest, deepest retches of society—monsters only acting in their self-interest. However... I would believe that it’s fair trade to unleash such an enemy upon your foes if it means your city-state survives. I know Atrix would do the same. They may already employ the use of one.”

“But... No, you’re right. Please, I’m sorry... I never meant to disrespect you.” Kull kneeled and lowered his head.

“I’ll accept your forgiveness, but you must work hard. We will be busy tomorrow.”

“With what?” Margie asked, sitting down. She briefly looked at Kull with a disgusted grimace.

“No one is better than me at gathering information. I’ve been preparing something to reveal what those in command have hidden.”