The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 11, Chapter 6

The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 11, Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Haaah...it’s finally over.

A grouchy feeling settled over Clara as she departed Phelegia’s central keep. It wasn’t over the fact that she had been forced to sit outside the great hall for eight hours just in case Queen Oriculus’ court required her, nor was it because Liane and Florine got to roam around the city doing all sorts of interesting things while she did so. No, it was because Ludmila had appeared for all of thirty-eight minutes and twenty-two seconds to see the Queen, and then left immediately afterwards.Rread latest chapters at n/ov(e)lbin(.)co/m

Her lips stuck out in a pout as she made her way along the covered walkways of the city’s long-neglected central gardens. It was a suspiciously familiar scenario.

Legends and fancifully-spun tales alike often spoke of great Generals and Captains who spent more time on the battlefield than anywhere else. Sometimes, those stories never once mentioned them returning home to spend time with their loved ones. In fact, whoever recorded and rendered the things often took the time to tell of spouses and lovers waiting in their cold and lonely beds for attention that would never come their way.

She understood that war stories tended to cater to a certain type and often lacked in their romantic aspects for that reason, but she couldn’t help but draw comparisons between the protagonists in those stories and Ludmila.

Ludwig needs to spend more time with Clarence...

Whenever Florine next asked for feedback on her writing, she would definitely slip that in.

Clara made her way to the edge of the garden and stared at the boulevard leading out into the city. Like every other urban centre in the Draconic Kingdom, Phelegia had no draft animals to spare. Never mind draft animals, all of the province’s livestock was long eaten by the Beastman invaders. The few dozen animals delivered by Ruin’s Wake were immediately whisked off to wherever they were needed, and thus no carriages were available for hire.

Still, it wasn’t as if she was a cripple. If there were no carriages, she could simply walk like everyone else. Maybe she could catch up with Liane and Florine.

“If you take a single step out into that rain, my lady,” Taiya said from behind her, “your dress will instantly soak through and your hair will turn into a rug.”

“It wouldn’t turn into a rug,” Clara frowned.

She reached into her Infinite Haversack and produced a wide umbrella. Taiya sighed and she reached out to take it from her.

“Where will we be going, my lady?” She asked.

“Do we need to be going anywhere in particular?” Clara answered, “Not every journey requires a destination.”

Taiya opened the umbrella and held it up between them as they walked out into the rain. Though even the city’s main boulevards were mostly empty and the shops sparsely stocked, Clara still thought the surroundings filled with things of note.

Foremost was Phelegia’s infrastructure. What she saw applied to the entirety of the country. Torrential rains that would have overwhelmed any drainage system in Re-Estize or the Empire with laughable ease were smoothly accommodated in every town and city in the Draconic Kingdom. The highways and rural roads never showed any sign of falling apart from the extreme conditions. Every street was well-lit and it wasn’t just in the cities. Even the villages had magical lighting for their humble squares.

Every town had proper stone walls and a magical water source. Their port infrastructure was far in advance of anything she had seen short of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s new facilities. As most of what she and her staff had come up with imitated or improved on what could be found in the north, the Draconic Kingdom displayed a wealth of innovations and design principles that Corelyn Harbour could benefit from.

Beyond its infrastructure, everything about the Draconic Kingdom told the remarkable tale of a country that simply wouldn’t give up. Every time they were knocked down, they got back up and became better. As it was often said, need drove innovation, and struggle built character.

Culturally and economically, at least. There was one major issue with the Beastman incursions that she knew could not be rectified by indomitable will.

With that thought in mind, she made her way over to the local temple of The Six. While it wasn’t the largest temple in the city, she was surprised to find it empty.

Perhaps that shouldn’t be a surprise, considering the circumstances...

She waited while Taiya found a place to dry their umbrella. They slowly walked up the aisle together, looking up at the icons and tapestries lining the walls. It was much like the E-Rantel Cathedral before the advent of the Sorcerous Kingdom: each of The Six had equal representation, and there were a few old relics likely gifted by the Theocracy when the temple was founded. Overall, there was a simple humility to everything, which only lent to its sense of sanctity.

“Oh, um...”

They turned to find a young woman with dusky skin and dark hair approaching them from the temple’s inner cloister, adorned in the robes of a junior Priestess. The blue trim of her outfit marked her as an adherent of the Water God. Clara and Taiya lowered their heads in a curtsey as she rushed up to greet them.

“I hope the evening finds you well, Priestess,” Clara said.

“Blessings of the Six be upo–woah!”

The Priestess went down in a heap in front of them. Clara’s lip twitched.

A Priestess of the Water God slipped in a puddle. I like that blue garter, though...

“Are you alright?” Clara asked.

“I’m alright,” the Priestess sat up and pulled down the skirts of her robe. “Erm, how may our temple serve you?”

“We just came to perform our devotions,” Clara replied. “I also had a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

“I would be glad to answer if I can,” the Priestess said, then sighed. “It isn’t as if I have anything else to do.”

Clara held out a hand toward the Priestess.

“Please don’t let the current situation weigh too heavily on your spirit,” she said. “I believe you’ve gotten past the darkest of recent times.”

“I guess,” the Priestess reached out to take her hand. “Oh, you’re strong. And your eyes...”

She’s sharp. I hope that means she has the answers I’m looking for.

“Countess Clara Odilia Dale Corelyn,” she introduced herself. “From the Sorcerous Kingdom. This is my Lady’s Maid, Taiya.”

“C-C-C-Countess?!” The Priestess’ eyes threatened to fall out of their sockets, “A-and the Sorcerous Kingdom...isn’t where all those Undead that swarmed the countryside came from?”

“Not precisely,” Clara said, “but close enough. Also, we’re in the temple – I should be the one deferring to you.”

The Priestess blinked several times before nodding slowly.

“Right. Sorry. I mean, thanks? No...a-anyway, I’m Sydin, a junior Priestess. The most senior junior Priestess, and since none of the senior staff are left...erm, sorry about this – the Bishop was always the one who dealt with the important people.”

“I understand,” Clara said. “If you don’t mind my asking, how many of the temple staff remain?”

“Just three of us. The two others are on the morning and afternoon shifts.”

“Just three of you,” Clara frowned, “yet you don’t have much to do?”

“Yep,” Priestess Sydin replied. “Back during the occupation, we were always out of mana summoning food and sundries, tending to the sick and wounded, and generally trying to keep the city going. Now that everything’s over and supplies are arriving in the city, all we receive is resentment. It’s funny – we always saw a surge in popularity whenever the Theocracy came around to drive the Beastmen back. It’s someone else this time and suddenly it’s like all those generations of past assistance ever mattered.”

“That’s hardly fair.”

“I know right? Also, the Theocracy may be the seat of the faith, but isn’t the faith itself. All of the temples here have served the people through thick and thin.”

Clara walked over to an offering plate near the head of the nave. She placed sixty platinum trade coins upon it. The Priestess stared.

“I’m afraid I can only assist with your mundane needs,” Clara told her. “If the Temples in the Sorcerous Kingdom weren’t so short-staffed, I would recommend that they send people here to help.”

“To be honest,” Priestess Sydin said, “I thought the whole north was lost to the heresy.”

“Not entirely,” Clara smirked. “My territories are on or close to the Theocracy border, so the faith has always been strong there.”

“I see...but you said you’re short-staffed? Does, um, does that have anything to do with the Undead thing?”

“The Sorcerer King’s Undead servitors bring no harm to law-abiding individuals in the Sorcerous Kingdom,” Clara told her. “Even lawbreakers are simply arrested and subjected to proper judicial processes. The fears that many people harbour are far from the truth: since the advent of the Sorcerous Kingdom, both the citizens and the Faith of the Six are flourishing in the Duchy of E-Rantel.”

“...really?”

“Really.”

As much as she would have liked to, Clara couldn’t go around telling everyone that Surshana had returned. It was something one had to see to believe.

And in the Draconic Kingdom, maybe not even then...

Her eyes went to the walls and ceiling. Unlike in the Theocracy, there appeared to be no images of Surshana in the Draconic Kingdom’s temples: only the icons and symbols associated with him. Personally, it didn’t sit well with her. They were watering down an aspect of the faith that they deemed unsavoury just to appeal to the locals.

“Since you mentioned it,” Clara said, “I’m curious what your stance is on the Undead.”

Priestess Sydin glanced cautiously at their surroundings.

“Um...I’m not going to get in trouble for saying anything bad, am I?”

"Well, that came as a complete surprise,” she said. “The Draconic Kingdom’s had a long-standing arrangement with the Theocracy and I cannot for the life of me think of why the Theocracy wouldn’t honour it this time around after doing so reliably for generations. Also, the way the Beastmen came this time was unprecedented. We may as well have been facing a natural disaster.”

Going by Ludmila’s assessment, the Priestess wasn’t too far off with her analogy. The sheer inertia behind the Beastman migration was akin to a nationwide avalanche. They were far from regular circumstances, and there was nothing the Draconic Kingdom could have done to stop it with their available resources.

“So do the other Temples of the Six in the Draconic Kingdom follow the same reasoning?”

“As far as I know, yes. We’ll still have to hold a council meeting after the dust has settled. To be certain, the Temples of the Six will be facing an uphill battle with all that’s happened, but we will not waver in our service to humanity. We still have our supporters in the Royal Court as well, so it shouldn’t be all that bad. It’s just a rough patch for the short term.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Clara smiled. “I’ll be sure to check in on how you’re doing in the future.”

“Thank you for coming to see us, Countess Corelyn,” the Priestess returned her smile with one of her own. “For your charity, as well. It’s so heartening to know that we have brothers and sisters abroad looking out for us.”

Priestess Sydin accompanied them back down the nave of the temple. At the same time, two silhouettes appeared out of the rain, resolving into a pair of familiar figures.

Ah–

“Minister Soruel,” Clara lowered her head in a curtsey. “Marshal Zorlu. I hope the evening finds you well.”

“M-M-M-Minister?! M-Marshal?!”

All at once, Priestess Sydin’s hard-earned composure collapsed.

“Good Priestess, I hope the evening finds you well.”

The Minister and Marshal paid their respects to the thoroughly flustered Priestess Sydin before they turned their attention to Clara.

“...”

“...”

“Countess Corelyn,” Salacia Soruel said with a smile, “if you would be so kind as to pardon my boldness, I am most curious to know what you are doing here.”

“Why, performing my devotions, Your Excellency,” Clara smiled back. “I was also gifted with the opportunity to have the most enlightening conversation with Priestess Sydin here.”

“What a coincidence,” the Minister undid her rain-slicked mantle. “We have come to do just the same.”

Why would it be a coincidence? What else would Nobles do at a temple?

The symbol of Alah Alaf nestled in Salacia’s cleavage glittered in the temple’s soft lighting. The woman wasn’t as big as Florine, but, unlike Florine, she had no qualms about flaunting what she had.

If she were a follower of The Four, whose religion was strangely obsessed with sexual purity, Clara might have pointed out that Salacia was doing something sacrilegious with a holy symbol. As a follower of The Six, however, she would probably just say it was a pious expression of fertility, nourishment, or some other thing associated with the God of Life.

She wouldn’t be lying, either. The difficulties she presented aside, Clara had no doubt Salacia Soruel was a devout member of their faith and everything that she did as a courtier was in service to her Queen and her country. As such, Clara couldn’t bring herself to hate her, but the woman was certainly annoying for the time being.

Priestess Sydin’s eyes nervously shifted back and forth between Clara and Salacia as they continued smiling at one another. Marshal Zorlu yawned.

“We have a busy week ahead of us, Soruel,” he said.

“Yes, of course,” the Minister turned away and took Emmad’s offered arm. “Let’s not waste any time.”

Clara peered at the couple. For just the briefest of moments, she contemplated asking Marshal Zorlu about his private training with Ludmila.

“Taiya.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Taiya went to retrieve their umbrella and they left the temple. The last vestiges of evening light had disappeared during their conversation with the Priestess, but the rains had not abated. They made their way down to the riverfront and walked along the city harbour where her barges had offloaded their cargo.

It was probably the one part of the city that remained busy throughout the day as the people worked nonstop to get much-needed supplies distributed to the rest of the province. Lines of men and women transferred sacks and crates from cargo containers to awaiting wagons. Further down the harbour, Ruin’s Wake was in the midst of offloading its latest shipment of draft animals. A small flock of sheep had braved the journey over the Katze Plains, too.

“I wonder how Miss Marchand is doing,” Clara said as they idly watched the activity.

“I think I see her at the base of the pier,” Taiya pointed.

Clara went over to strike up a casual conversation with the Merchant, but the towering figure of Captain Iškur crossed them first.

“Oh, Countess Corelyn!” The Elder Lich said, “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“Do you think so?”

“Me?” The Captain shrugged, “Don’t care either way. The people around here sure seem chipper, though. Figured I’d just go with the flow.”

She smiled at the Elder Lich’s oddly sociable manner. There were concerns that he would become more Elder Lich-like once his business got underway and he started getting more of what he wanted, but little seemed to change about him. If anything, he became more lively after gaining enough confidence.

“How have things been for Ruin’s Wake?” She asked.

“Hmm...business has been smooth, we’re seeing plenty and there’s a whole lot of new magic to be had. I’d say unlife is good.”

“I’m glad everything’s been working out.”

“No small thanks to you, my lady. Oh, do you want to hear something funny?”

“What is it?”

“Apparently, I’m a god.”

Clara looked up at the Elder Lich with a frown.

“Some claims can be hazardous to one’s health, Captain.”

“I-it’s not me! It’s the folks around the Draconic Kingdom that came up with it. The people working the docks have quite the imagination when it comes to curses. It’s impressive, even to an Elder Lich. They make weather requests too, but I can’t quite figure out how to cast Control Weather yet.”

“Are they making direct requests?”

“Erm, probably not. It’s always something like ‘may Iškur give that bitch crotch rot’ or ‘I hope old Iškur gets the thousand-year crabs on you’...I had to ask around about that one – took me weeks to get an answer. Actually, why are nine out of ten of those curses focused on one part of the body? The rest had to do with hair loss.”

She hoped he wouldn’t describe all of those curses at length. A stray thought wove a thread of worry through her.

“...you’re not answering these requests, are you?” Clara asked.

“Heck, no,” Captain Iškur waved a skeletal claw dismissively. “They ain’t payin’ me. It’s good to see these people aren’t all sunshine and flowers, though. Anyway, back in Helama, I got curious and decided to follow a group to the temple where they supposedly pray and present offerings to me.”

“...”

“What? Wouldn’t you be curious?”

“I suppose...”

“See? I didn’t get far though. Place was sanctified. Just bzzzt once I crossed the threshold. Then they raised a big fuss over my being there.”

“I hope nothing bad happened after that.”

“Nothing near as bad as the last time I tried doing something in the Draconic Kingdom. Since the Undead are clearing out their enemies, I think the citizens are wary of doing anything extreme.”

“That’s honestly a relief,” Clara said. “Going into this venture, we were half afraid that the Undead would be violently rejected even if they did come to help. By the way, which temple did you go to?”

“The Temple of Storms. I’m an Air Elementalist, so it sort of fits?”

The Temple of Storms...Iškur...

‘Iškur’ was not a name used by the Humans of the Draconic Kingdom. As far as she knew, the only other place where it could be found was in the ruins of Lagaš, where Captain Iškur had manifested under the statue of a Beastman Duke of the same name. It was beyond strange that the people of the Draconic Kingdom would worship a Beastman from the past, so the whole thing practically begged scrutiny.

With her work in the Draconic Kingdom, the mystery that Ludmila had brought back with her from the Katze Plains had fallen far down Clara’s list of priorities. Being raised as she was, she tended to stay as far away as possible from other religions, as well. However, since Draudillon’s court would be focusing all of its attention on Ludmila’s offensive, Clara now found herself with plenty of time to resume her investigation.