Mana Soul: Chapter 61 - The Battle - Markus

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Markus, Aela, Hilda, and fifteen representatives from the chimaera clans were seated around a large table nestled deep inside of the Arngier fortress. The table was covered in small crystal tiles, which were in turn covered with intricate interlocking webs of sigils and runes to form the most complex enchantment Markus had ever created.

The enchanted tiles were linked to a recumbent pillar of quartzite beneath the table which syphoned mana from the vast storage facilities in the bowels of the fortress and provided mana to the enchanted tiles while maintaining a reserve. The pillar of quartzite was also the focal point of the greater enchantment and the key to allowing its intended functions.

Markus was actually quite proud of the artifice, even if it had only limited practical applications.

A host of ghostly figures stood atop the crystal tiles, each no more than a foot in height and cast in deep shades of grey. Some figures on the periphery were incomplete or lacking in detail, but the majority were so detailed that Markus could make out individual strands of hair on each of the core figures’ heads.

This was good. It proved Markus and Tina’s theory that the visual information from the golems could be amalgamated into a functional and comprehensive display.

The artifice could still only display what the golems could see, so details of figures on the periphery were missing and less substantial than those in the centre. Similarly, the rear-facing side of the larger group of figures was almost completely absent, leaving them only partially formed. All except for one.

A tall thin man with dark hair and disturbingly similar features to Markus’s own was standing at the rear of the larger group of figures. Perhaps a little taller, and with a more aquiline nose, Markus’s doppelganger had a neatly trimmed goatee and wore an expression of the utmost contempt. Unlike the others, the man was rendered in perfect and complete detail, even showing veins of mana beneath his skin.

A quick glance at his tablet confirmed Markus’s suspicions almost immediately. The man was Baron Remy Auguste, Arlee’s biological father. Peabody had attached additional information, but Markus only had eyes for the reason behind the Baron’s presence.

A member of the Crowned Prince Alphonse’s coalition, the Baron was using the opportunity to come for Arlee.

With a host of both lesser and greater nobles in the coalition, the coward no doubt planned on killing or kidnapping Arlee and Abigail during the inevitable chaos of the Crowned Prince’s seizure of Markus’s lands.

Peabody had confirmed that the Baron had been responsible for the attacks on Markus’s home in Endem. Worse still, the golem had also uncovered dozens of further plots to kidnap Arlee, and murder Markus. While Peabody had not been able to link the Baron to the most recent attempt on Markus’s life, it was chilling to learn of how many assassins had been approached by the Baron’s representatives in the past couple of months.

It was Peabody’s prudence that had stayed their blades. The clever golem had paid retainers to the most reputable organisations of cutthroats, directing them at their less scrupulous rivals in exchange for heavily discounted services and enchanted equipment.

While it made Markus uncomfortable to learn that he was employing murderers for hire via proxy, Markus couldn’t argue with Peabody’s results.

Continuing to watch Phillipe’s meeting with the delegation from the Southern Kingdom, Markus felt vindicated in his low opinions of the established aristocracy and royalty. The Crowned Prince Alphonse was everything he had expected him to be. Overbearing, arrogant and profoundly presumptuous.

“-told you once already,” Alphonse curled his feminine lips into a contemptuous snarl, “Your master will surrender the territories without expectation of compensation and will sign the official documents stating as such.”

“His Majesty Farus unequivocally refuses this offer,” Phillipe repeated coldly, his tone shifting from convivial socialite to pragmatic stakeholder in less than a heartbeat, “Unless you have other business to discuss, then I believe this conference is over.” He stood up from his chair and prepared to leave, earning shocked gasps from the southern nobles in attendance.

Leaving without the Crown Prince’s saying so was taboo and a great sign of disrespect. It was obvious that Phillipe was very much aware of it judging by the small smile caught by one of the observing golems.

The Crown Prince glanced briefly at his royal escort and then tilted his head ever so slightly back towards Phillipe.

The commander of the royal escort gave a nearly imperceptible nod in return.

In less than a heartbeat, five of the royal escorts had begun to lunge toward Phillipe, drawing their swords with impossible speed.

However, their surprise attack had already been anticipated, and the golems acted accordingly. While two golems moved to shield Phillipe with their bodies, blades tore through the outside of the tent as the remainder of Phillipe’s golem retinue lunged towards the royal escorts from behind.

Faced with new threats, the royal escorts aborted their assault mid-step and moved as if to retreat and protect the prince.

The golems allowed them to retreat, forming up around Phillipe instead and shielding him with a wall of bodies.

“AEEIII!!!” A noble's scream of pain cut through the cries of outrage, drawing all eyes to Baron Remy. The Baron toppled to the ground and clutched at his bloody shoe, revealing a small masked doll with a bloody improvised blade clenched tightly in one hand.

Even without its clothes and other accessories, Markus recognised Dolly immediately. The fact that no other small-scale golems had been produced was a dead giveaway.

Before the Baron, or anyone else could react, the bladed head of a large axe scythed through the fabric of the tent and sheared through the Baron’s right shoulder, amputating it with effortless ease.

Dolly drove the improvised blade into the amputated arm and hoisted the arm over its shoulder before leaping out of the tent through the hole created by the axe.

At the same time, Phillipe and the golems retreated, using the brutal distraction to provide the opportunity for their withdrawal. Soldiers that attempted to attack them or slow them in any way were cast aside by the golems with relative ease.

While retreating, the golems were peppered with arrows, bolts and javelins from all sides, but they did no good in spite of a lucky archer managing to lodge an arrow in the visor slit of one golem’s helmet.

“That turned violent quickly...” Aela commented with a sigh, “But I suppose you expected that from the beginning.”

Markus nodded, “The more power the nobles have, the more arrogant they get,” he replied, “Not that I expected Phillipe to provoke them on purpose...”

“I thought I might buy us some time by rattling them a bit,” Phillipe insisted defensively, his voice coming through the communication artifice next to Markus’s ear.

Everyone else in the command centre had the same or similar artifice, and they had all heard Phillipe as well. This included Hilda, and she wasn’t amused.

“Rattling them?” Hilda asked in a tone that promised trouble.

Phillipe’s composite image relayed by the observing golems flinched.

“I was intending to buy uncle Welard more time for planning a defence,” Phillipe explained hurriedly, “I didn’t know those other golems were going to hack one of the delegation's arms off!”

Markus was surprised when Hilda fell for the obvious deflection.

“Just come back in one piece!” Hilda demanded, “And put on a bloody helmet!”

One of the golems snatched a helmet from a nearby soldier and pushed it into Phillipe’s head without breaking stride.

Phillipe said nothing but began to fumble with the strap to stop it from falling off his head.

Once Phillipe and the golems retreated across the improvised bridge spanning the gorge, the bridge was retracted and the midway supports collapsed in order to prevent any of the enemy soldiers from following behind them. It was more of a token delaying action since the golem scouts had spotted siege ladders being made on the edge of the enemy camp closest to the distant forest. All the same, a delay would be better than nothing.

The harvesting of the forest for timber implied that Prince Regar and Jarl Findel had given at least tacit approval for Prince Alphonse’s hostility against Markus and his territory. Markus was going to make sure to remember that, but for the time being, he had to accept that his neighbour's opportunism would go unchecked until Alphonse was convinced to leave.

“Who was that human the golems attacked?” Finnic, a wolf-like chimaera representative of the Shadow-Maw clan asked abruptly from the other side of the room.

“The dismembered nobleman is Baron Remy Auguste,” a polite female voice explained, drawing all eyes to Ragna, the slim female-bodied golem standing in the middle of the room beside the table. “The Baron’s continued obsession with kidnapping the Princess was deemed unacceptable. So the Baron was provided with a final warning.”

“Cutting his arm off was a warning?” Hilda asked with uncertainty.

Ragna turned towards Hilda and nodded, “The Crowned Prince Alphonse is known to have Priests amongst his retinue, affording the Baron the opportunity for continued survival. The risks of death are minimal.”

“Why his arm?” Finnic asked curiously, apparently unphased that the golems would be so callous in maiming one of their enemies. Chimaeras were rather pragmatic when it came to displays of violence.

“Because the Baron took Princess Arlee’s arm first,” Ragna replied with a hint of malicious satisfaction.

“He was Arlee’s father...” Markus explained somewhat reluctantly, “He abandoned her mother, Abigail, when she became pregnant and took steps to keep them in desperate poverty. Arlee almost died from an infection, but lost her arm. Both Arlee and her mother were close to death when I found them...”

Hilda looked surprised, “Arlee is the daughter of a Baron? Erm, I mean...”

“I know what you mean,” Markus interjected, “And it’s fine. I just wasn’t aware that the golems had managed to find him. Abigail was incredibly close-lipped on the subject of Arlee’s absentee father.”

The golems vigilante justice was somewhat concerning, but Markus felt no sympathy for Baron Remy Auguste whatsoever. There had been times when he himself had wished ill upon the man, so it would be hypocritical of Markus to begrudge the golems for ‘creative interpretation’ of their primary commands.

Markus had no doubts that, in their minds, the golems were just taking steps to ensure Arlee’s safety. With a battle already guaranteed to take place, and Phillipe antagonising the Crowned Prince, assaulting and maiming a delegate wasn’t going to make the situation any worse. The golems had simply made the most of the opportunity to fulfil their directive in protecting Arlee. It was more surprising that they had left the Baron alive at all.

The chimaera clan representatives had begun speaking amongst themselves. Most, if not all, of the representatives, appeared to have lost any qualms they may have harboured for the ambush. Apparently willing to take Markus at his word, the sentiment held that the Baron deserved worse than he had been given.

“He looked a lot like you,” Hilda commented awkwardly, “Except for the nose and the beard.”

Markus nodded, “I know...”

“Do you think...” Aela’s voice trailed off as she sidled closer, “Maybe he is a relative?” She asked quietly.

Markus felt a surge of revulsion, “I don’t think so...” He replied, struggling to keep the revulsion from his voice, “The golems would have told me.” There was a hint of uncertainty in Markus's voice, and he couldn’t stifle or conceal it.

The look in her eyes confirmed that Aela had noticed, but she tactfully chose to ignore it. “Have the golems had any luck?” Aela asked supportively, changing the course of the conversation while clearly not expecting a different answer than every other time she had asked.

Markus briefly pursed his lips, “Peabody has a lead.”

Aela blinked in surprise, “What? Where? Who?”

“Peabody won't say until it's confirmed,” Markus replied stiffly, irritated by the golem's refusal to release the information, “Doesn’t want to get my hopes up,” he added with dissatisfaction. Markus understood the golem’s reasoning, but he didn’t like it. However, Markus also couldn’t bring himself to force the golem to tell him either. Markus wasn’t sure he could handle the disappointment.

Aela leaned over and wrapped her arms around Markus in a tight hug, saying nothing but showing she was there for him all the same. Markus returned the embrace and took from it what comfort he could.

“I’m going to check on Phillipe,” Hilda stated as she left her seat and headed for the door.

The clan representatives began leaving shortly afterwards, leaving only Markus, Aela and a handful of golems.

“Creator, a delegation from the imperial rebels is requesting permission to observe the battle with the coalition forces. Marshal Welard would like to know your thoughts before committing to an answer,” Ragna informed him impartially.

Aela huffed in irritation, “They just want to know whether to cut and run,” she growled.

“That is one possibility, Mistress,” Ragna agreed diplomatically, “They would not know that the battle is a foregone conclusion and are most likely attempting to assess their limited array of options.”

The artefacts produced for military applications would provide a substantial advantage to Markus’s forces, and the golems would be an adequate counter to most of the nobility. The biggest issue was the difference in numbers. The coalition army outnumbered the troops under Welard’s command by twenty-three to one. Then again, the enemy army was entirely composed of humans, and a full third of Markus’s own was chimaeras. One way or the other, the battle was going to be a bloodbath.

“They can watch the battle if they want to,” Markus answered, suspecting that the imperial rebels would no doubt find a way to get accounts of the battle from someone else anyway. It was better if they would get a first-hand account and learn that Markus was not to be taken lightly.

“As you command, Creator,” Ragna replied respectfully.

Markus and Aela left the room shortly afterwards.

“Are you going to tell Arlee about...You know?” Aela asked quietly, nervously flicking her tongue and tasting the air.

Markus shook his head, “No...I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

Aela nodded in understanding, “I suppose it wouldn’t change anything,” she agreed, “At least, not for the better.”

Markus nodded in agreement, “I don’t think Abigail has told her about him, like, at all. So explaining what’s been done to him on her behalf would also mean explaining her relationship to him and why the golems had cause to act at all. It would be cruel to burden Arlee like that...Especially since she doesn’t seem to care about knowing.”

It wasn’t an exaggeration. So far as Arlee seemed concerned, Markus was her father. Despite the process of adoption having been explained to her a number of times, Arlee’s opinion hadn’t changed. Of course, Markus wondered if that meant she blamed him for the years she had spent in poverty and danger, for the loss of her arm and near starvation...Markus lacked the courage to ask.

“The table was impressive,” Aela commented supportively, changing the subject rather abruptly, “Did it work as you expected?”

Markus had explained the purpose and functioning of the artifice before, but he nodded and smiled, “More or less,” Markus replied, feeling his mood brighten with the shift of topic, “I’m hoping to do the same with the monster detection artifices as well, so the hunters have a better idea of what they are going up against.”

“You mean the thing at the top of the tower?” Aela asked with uncertainty.

Markus nodded, “That's the biggest one, but the flying ships and boats all have smaller ones as well. With some minor adjustments, we can probably watch the battle in a similar fashion to the meeting from earlier.”

“Really?” Aela seemed surprised before furrowing her brow and nodding slightly, “By detecting human mana instead you mean?”

“Exactly,” Markus agreed, glad that Aela had been able to follow his train of thought and decided to give her an appreciative squeeze.

Aela grinned and gave his ear a playful flick with her tongue in return, “Do we have time for breakfast do you think?”

Markus shrugged and scratched his head, “I don’t know, but we could just have the golems bring us food if you don’t want to miss anything.” While he was uncomfortable with trivialising the inevitable loss of life that would result from the battle, Markus was also curious as to how Phillipe’s uncle Welard would engage against the larger force.

“We could,” Aela agreed amiably, allowing Markus to redirect them back towards a large bench set against the wall so they could sit together.

Markus took the opportunity to try and distract himself as best he could manage. However, shortly after beginning their breakfast, the projection artifice came to life and displayed a hundred-scale view of the wall and trench marking the border of his territory.

Soldiers, both human and chimaera were stationed behind the wall while a small number of golems dressed as nobles stood atop it. Phillipe’s cousins, along with his uncle Welard, were stationed farther back, but they were all dressed for battle.

A part of Markus had originally had doubts about their loyalty. Seeing Phillipe’s extended family on the field and prepared to fight helped silence those doubts somewhat. However, their contributions and behaviour during the battle itself would be what mattered most.

Ragna had altered the projection artifice, altering the projected images to take on basic gradients of colour to denote their assumed contributions to the battle and allegiances.

The human soldiers were the dullest, while chimaeras, golems and nobles had brighter shades. The coalition forces were denoted with the colour orange, and Markus’s own forces were a pale blue.

The difference in colouration made it particularly easy to perform a count of the enemy nobles that were taking to the field. Excluding the Crowned Prince and his personal retinue, there were thirty-seven nobles of varying levels.

Twice as many golems stood ready to intercept them and were equipped with personal Mana Storage Artifices to increase their staying power. In theory, each of the golems should be more than capable of taking down at least one noble each. However, depending on the abilities of the noble, a golem may run the risk of depleting both its own backup mana supply and that of its partner before defeating the noble. But the noble would have depleted their own mana, so it was considered a fair exchange.

Unsure of what he had truly expected, the battle began rather abruptly, the blaring trumpets preceding the march of the enemy soldiers taking Markus by surprise.

“It’s beginning,” Aela commented, setting aside her food and moving to stand by the artifice to get a better look.

Markus did the same.

“The coalition soldiers are expected to break under the first volley,” Ragna explained, motioning one of her four arms and providing a magnified image of a human soldier holding the latest iteration of Tina’s repeating crossbow.

The ammunition had been reduced in size and was made entirely of enchanted wooden components. Cheaper and easier to mass-produce, the ammunition was implicitly less valuable and left iron and steel for other projects. Markus’s own weight manipulation enchantment ensured the wooden heads of the darts would behave like steel when combined with durability enchantments. Furthermore, while the fins being made of wood were less ideal than feathers, it was perfectly adequate in the short and medium range.

The southern kingdom didn’t use bows. While Markus wasn’t exactly certain about the details, the general understanding was that the trees in the south of the continent were unsuitable to produce bows of sufficient draw strength. The expense and the requisite skill to use bows created from imported timber made Crossbows a far more practical alternative.

Unfortunately, this meant that when the coalition crossbowmen moved forward to take their first volley, they were scythed down by a concentrated hail of enchanted wooden darts. Those who were not felled by the first volley broke ranks and fled as the second volley began cutting them down.

A ragged cheer rose up from Markus’s soldiers.

The coalition soldiers that had been moving up behind the crossbowmen were relatively unharmed, taking shelter behind a slowly approaching shield wall. That same shield wall was protected from above by large wooden bulwarks that required twenty men or more each to keep aloft.

“Siege ramps?” Aela muttered, pointing at the crude wooden bulwarks.

Taking another look, Markus was inclined to agree, especially when it became obvious that the coalition army had no other means of crossing the trench.

Instead of wasting repeating crossbow darts on the shield wall, their larger cousins, the repeating ballista, were brought to bear.

With merciless efficiency, barbed javelins were launched from the repeating ballistae, driving through the frontmost shields of the approaching shield wall and impaling the soldiers taking shelter behind them.

The centre of the shield wall took the greatest concentration of fire, collapsing under the sustained barrage and exposing the comparatively vulnerable soldiers standing behind them.

Markus’s crossbowmen took this opportunity to release a sustained concentrated volley of their own, felling the soldiers carrying the closest ramps.

To their credit, the coalition soldiers didn’t flee. Instead, soldiers surged into the gap and attempted to protect those who were taking up the fallen ramps.

It made sense. Without the ramps, the soldiers would only face a slaughter attempting to scale the sheer embankments of the trench.

The surviving crossbowmen had joined the fresh wave of reserves and were cautiously making a fresh approach towards the trench behind two separate formations on the flanks of the central shield wall.

Protected from returning fire, the coalition's crossbowmen took far fewer casualties from the repeating crossbowmen. However, their effectiveness in delivering casualties of their own was minimal thanks to the protective enchantments that were standard for Markus's soldiers.

The stalemate was marginally in Markus’s favour. With so many Mana Storage Artifices deployed on the field, the enchanted armour of the repeating crossbowmen was recharged as quickly as they were damaged. The coalition soldiers’ shields were not so resilient and began to give way beneath the sustained exchange in fire.

All the while, the coalition’s nobles had remained with the reserves, well out of the range of ballistae and crossbows. Their prudence bordered on cowardice, not that Markus considered his own position to be much better. At least he had the moral high ground of defending his territory from an invader who was not above employing assassins. It would have been foolish for Markus to take to the field in person under such circumstances.

The coalition’s soldiers, at great cost, had managed to deploy several ramps allowing access to the trench. Unfortunately for them, the ramps quickly became littered with bodies, forcing the soldiers to shove their wounded comrades down into the mud so the path would be cleared for the ramps that would allow access to the opposite side.

Some bodies could not be moved, the unfortunate souls pinned to the ramps by barbed javelins.

Markus had originally been against the idea of using such brutal tactics against the coalition’s soldiers. While most were professionals who had chosen military life as a career, there were still conscripts in their ranks who had been recruited under the threat of violence and incarceration.

Unfortunately, an example needed to be made so the established powers of the continent wouldn’t take Markus and his kingdom so lightly in the future. The fact that the nobles would be allowed to survive was another source of irritation. If Markus didn’t want to harvest their mana, he could have given the golems orders to kill the nobles aligned with the coalition. But Markus needed their mana for his experiments.

Markus could have the nobles killed in cold blood afterwards, but he didn’t want to sink to their level.

“Creator, the first Hospitaller candidate has completed the mana saturation protocol and has successfully demonstrated desired capabilities within predicted parameters. The candidate is now currently receiving treatment to stimulate mana recovery. How would you wish to proceed?” Ragna asked formally.

Phillipe’s cousin had generously agreed to donate her mana in exchange for minor holdings to the northwest of the great valley. The harvesting had been objectively quite aggressive due to time constraints, so the minor title and holdings seemed like a fair exchange.

“Hospitaller?” Aela asked curiously, scrunching up her mouth as she pronounced the unfamiliar word.

“It’s what I decided to call people infused with Priest mana,” Markus explained uncomfortably. He still didn’t like talking about the Priests. Just the thought of them made his skin crawl.

“Oh...” Aela took Markus’s hand in her own and gave it a sympathetic squeeze in support, “You are doing the right thing, Markus. I think this is going to help a lot of people. Especially those like Arlee.”

Markus nodded slightly in agreement, doing his best to suppress his fears. “I think that was what convinced me in the end, you know?” He admitted somewhat awkwardly, “If healing was available to everyone, or was at least more available, Arlee wouldn’t have lost her arm...Wouldn’t have come so close to losing her mother...” Markus felt a familiar pang of pain as his thoughts turned towards the family he couldn’t even remember.

Aela released his hand and drew him into a tight hug, cradling his head and gently rocking him from side to side while stroking his back. By no means a child, Markus still took comfort in the expression of care for his emotional wellbeing.

When Aela released him minutes later, she made a point of taking his hand again as another expression of her continued support.

Markus gave Aela a heartfelt smile in gratitude before turning towards Ragna. “If the candidate agrees, I want low-intensity harvesting to begin immediately so the next candidates can begin the hospitaller treatment protocol.”

Ragna bowed its head and was silent for a few moments. “Hospitaller Sean has agreed to your request, Creator. Hospitaller candidates Geoff and Susan have also expressed a desire to volunteer for low-scale mana harvesting once their treatments have been completed.”

While not particularly surprising since the golems had thoroughly vetted the candidates during the selection phase, it quieted Markus’s misgivings to have the candidates' altruism confirmed. The candidates were each being paid as well as being provided lifelong guaranteed employment and personal protection with a golem companion.

However, those perks had a number of significant responsibilities attached to them as well. Those same responsibilities were part of the reasoning behind providing them each with a golem protector. The Hospitallers would have little to no personal privacy in order to make sure their conduct remained above reproach.

Markus wanted no part in the atrocities Priests were capable of committing when they put their minds to it. So as draconian as the near-constant supervision and surveillance may be, it was the option Markus felt confident would prevent abuses of their powers.

Markus was also seriously considering doing the same with his own fledgling branches of the aristocracy. Each family unit would already have at least one golem present in order to check records, but it wasn’t difficult to think of ways of circumventing that layer of oversight. The banking all being overseen by the golems helped to an extent, but the credits being based on hard currency meant that the nobility could just as easily make secret transactions in the hard currency out of sight of the golems.

Short of eliminating all foreign currency and establishing a new standard that could be independently tracked, Markus didn’t really have any alternatives. “Inform Peabody that I want him to develop a workable currency,” Markus ordered, earning another questioning look from Aela due to his strange segue, “I am just worried about nobles scheming with foreign currency,” Markus admitted somewhat sheepishly.”

Aela slowly nodded to show she understood, “Why not just use mana?” She asked hesitantly, no doubt afraid of looking foolish.

Markus furrowed his brow and frowned.

Why not?

They were already doing this to a certain extent, and most of Markus's wealth was generated through the direct and indirect sale of mana. The hunters were paid based on the mana they harvested from monsters. While you could not hold mana or touch it, it had a number of uses that benefitted every level of society. There was not a single soul in his territory that didn’t benefit from mana in their daily lives.

“I think you might be onto something,” Markus agreed, “But let’s wait and see what Peabody thinks.”

Aela shrugged, clearly not particularly fussed one way or the other. With the first fertility treatment confirmed to work, and the second showing promising signs, Chimaeras in general probably wouldn’t care which currency Markus demanded in payment. They would just pay it.

Turning his attention back to the projection artifice, Markus wasn’t surprised to find the coalition forces retreating from the trench. What he found surprising was the orderly nature of the retreat itself. Markus had expected the enemy soldiers to rout, so it was disconcerting to see them retreating in an organised manner.

“Creator, Marshal Pascal is requesting permission to retrieve the wounded,” Ragna stated and highlighted a number of fallen coalition soldiers and greying out others.

“Welard can proceed, but I want the golems ready to intervene if the coalition rallies.” Markus wasn’t sure what the Crowned Prince was up to, but it made him nervous all the same.

Ragna bowed its head and turned back to the artifice.

“You suspect a trap,” Aela observed, her tone making it clear that she agreed with him, “They could have made it to the wall if they continued with their push,” Aela added, pointing to the trench, “The next set of ramps were only a minute or so away from the front. Retreating now doesn’t make sense.”

Markus nodded gravely in agreement.

“They might have suspected you would attempt a rescue of the wounded,” Aela continued, giving Markus an apologetic look before turning back to the artifice, “Your reputation for helping people, caring about the downtrodden, they might be trying to take advantage of that.”

While Aela had not called Markus weak, it was clear that she was implying that the coalition’s nobles considered his benevolence as an exploitable weakness. Markus shrugged it off. In many respects, benevolence was a weakness and the ruthless would take advantage of it.

Contrary to Markus’s expectations, the coalition soldiers retreated all the way back to their camp.

The recovery of the wounded soldiers was accomplished without any major incidents, but the most critically injured amongst them were almost certain to die. The more time-consuming task was clearing the field of the dead.

Iron and steel would be salvaged, but the bodies would be disposed of by the slimes, rendering the dead into mana to continue fueling the progress of Markus’s kingdom. Any coins the dead may have on them would be divided amongst the soldiers performing the salvage effort.

“The imperial rebel delegation seems to be quite impressed with the outcome of the battle, Creator,” Ragna stated in its feminine yet authoritative tone, “Ambassador Aoki has requested an audience to discuss additions to the established trade agreement,” the golem paused before calling up projections of the repeating ballista and crossbow, “I believe the ambassador is almost certain to request the purchase of the Creator’s advanced artifices’ of war.”

“Of course,” Aela scoffed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “He would have to be crazy not to want them.”

“Indeed, Mistress,” Ragna agreed, not in the least offended by Aela’s tone.

“We can see the ambassador after I have spoken with Phillipe and Welard,” Markus answered after giving the request some thought.

Ragna bowed its head for a few moments before raising her head again, “The ambassador has accepted. Should I connect to the marshal and high chancellor?”

It took Markus a moment to realise who Ragna was referring to before he shook his head, “No, I want to speak with them in person.”

“Understood, Creator,” Ragna bobbed its head in apology.

Markus and Aela had more than enough time to finish their breakfast and get changed before meeting Phillipe and his uncle Welard in the throne room. Although it was only sparsely decorated, a large black banner bearing Markus’s sigil adorned the wall behind the throne.

Contrary to the advice of Phillipe, who had attended the southern kingdom court in the past, Markus had opted for a throne large enough for both himself and Aela to sit upon side by side. Markus thought it added a sense of unity and solidarity compared to the separate thrones of the southern court.

Phillipe had been of the staunch opinion that the throne more closely resembled a small lounging couch. However, Phillipe had relented when Hilda had reminded him that Markus was the King and could have a couch throne if he wanted and that it wasn’t really that big of a deal. After all, the northern Princes didn't have thrones at all, and the eastern emperor was said to sit on an ornate stool.

Even with the both of them sitting on the throne, Aela had more than enough room to wrap her tail around Markus’s back and trail it over the edge of the seat. Markus enjoyed stroking her tail while they waited, finding the smoothness of her scales against his fingers to be both soothing and a little exciting at the same time. It was a very unique and odd sensation that often led to him stroking her tail without fully realising what he was doing. Not that Aela minded.

The throne room was illuminated by crystal globes within the sconces mounted on the walls, casting crisp white light throughout the room. A much larger secondary source of light was built into the ceiling. A band of crystal roughly ten feet in diameter and a foot thick dispelled all but the most persistent shadows.

When Phillipe and Welard arrived sometime later, Hilda had joined them and all three were still wearing the majority of their armour and weapons. Since it was just the five of them, Markus didn’t really see the point in them disarming, not when he had twenty golems spread throughout the room to ensure both his and Aela’s safety.

“I still think you should employ a herald, or at least have one of your golems perform the duty,” Phillipe complained good-naturedly as he accepted a seat provided by one of the golems, “Woof, Armour may not be particularly heavy, but standing still in it can really strain the knees,”

“Indeed,” Welard grunted as he accepted a chair from another golem, “Much obliged.”

Hilda just smirked and shook her head in amusement while accepting a chair of her own next to Phillipe, making sure to scoot it right next to his so both chairs were almost touching.

Aela giggled quietly and earned a broad smile from Hilda.

“What are your thoughts on the battle?” Markus asked bluntly, doing away with the typical niceties.

“We won, obviously,” Phillipe commented with overt dissatisfaction.

“But it was too easy by far!” Welard agreed, his moustache bristling in agitation, “They had the momentum to make a good try for the wall, but they gave up halfway! And the way they retreated! Damn suspicious!”

Markus nodded in agreement, “That’s what we thought too.”

Aela nodded briefly, “We thought they might have been waiting for you to retrieve the dead and wounded, so they could spring a surprise attack or something,” she explained.

“Us as well!” Welard agreed, growing slightly more agitated, “Those flying ships are keeping a close look on the enemy’s movements, but besides continuing to devastate the Jarl’s forest, there is nothing else out of the ordinary at all!”

“We could burn it,” Phillipe suggested, “The forest I mean. Without any timber, they won't be able to make more ramps without sending for it.”

“Too wet,” Hilda stated bluntly, shooting down the idea immediately.

Aela nodded in agreement, “And we have trappers who were foraging and hunting there before the soldiers came,” she added, referring specifically to the chimaera clans.

Technically it was illegal poaching on the Jarl’s lands, but Markus didn’t really care at this point.

“Unless they are expecting reinforcements, I suspect that they will attempt one final push before leaving their tails tucked between their legs,” Welard grumbled, “They simply won’t have enough men for a third attempt, not after how many we put in the ground today. No doubt they are going to attempt something devious indeed!”

“It’s possible that they might attempt a night attack,” Phillipe suggested helpfully, although he didn’t sound completely convinced.

“Possibly,” Welard agreed with the same dubious tone, “If they do, then they are in for a very bloody surprise.”

“What do you mean?” Hilda asked curiously.

“The hunter artifice shows mana, so technically you would be able to see the enemy no matter how dark it gets,” Markus explained, having understood Welard’s train of thought, “The sky boats and ships would also be able to give advanced warning of troop movements for the same reason.”

“Do all of the soldiers have hunting artifices though?” Hilda asked sceptically.

“No,” Welard answered before Markus had the chance to do so, “But priority was given to the ballista crews and crossbowmen, and many of the chimaeras have keen eyesight and senses of smell. Darkness will not be the coalition’s ally but a slaughter!”

“Do you think maybe there is another team of assassins?” Phillipe asked with mounting concern.

Welard shifted uncomfortably, “Perhaps,” he agreed sourly, “If they have resorted to it once, then you can be certain that they will likely consider it again. What is more likely is a potential attack against the civilians in order to damage morale. Turning the civilians against his Majesty would allow their agents to move more freely and increase their chances of gaining access they otherwise would not have.”

“I think you're onto something, uncle,” Phillipe agreed with a thoughtful frown, “Today was probably just a test of our defences or a show of force. They probably didn’t expect to lose more than half of their crossbowmen in a single attack, let alone face those barbed javelins. It all seemed like they were expecting us to just give up or turn tail and run the moment they reached the trench.”

“I think you may be right, nephew,” Welard agreed, thoughtfully scratching at his moustache with a deep look of concentration on his face, “Majesty, with your permission, I would like to make use of a flying ship to raid the enemy camp, and hopefully drive them off!”

“Granted,” Markus agreed, “Speak with Tina about anything you might need. She is bound to have all manner of prototypes that could be of at least some use.” Not least of which was the flammable gas inside of the envelopes that granted each ship flight in the first place.

“By your will, Majesty!” Welard crisply bowed his head and grunted as he got to his feet before bowing more formally. Welard then saw himself out.

Phillipe and Hilda were about to do the same, but Markus motioned for them to stay. “The imperial rebel's ambassador is coming, if you want to weigh in on things,” Markus explained, hoping that Phillipe would volunteer to stay of his own accord.

“Ah, I thought as much,” Phillipe sighed tiredly, “We saw them on our way in.”

Hilda grinned and snickered, making Phillipe squirm uncomfortably.

“What's funny?” Markus asked, “What did they do?”

“Oh it’s nothing like that, although the song she was playing was quite...different,” Hilda chuckled.

“She?” Markus prompted, still unsure of what was making Phillipe so uncomfortable and amusing Hilda.

“The chimaera accompanying the ambassador,” Phillipe explained reluctantly.

“More like, what the chimaera was wearing,” Hilda interjected with a smirk, “Or what she wasn’t!”

Markus was only growing more confused. “Phillipe, what’s going on?” He sighed exasperatedly.

“The chimaera...She is dressed...inappropriately...” He explained awkwardly while shifting uncomfortably.

“Is she showing her ankles or something?” Markus chuckled, quite aware of how rigidly the conservative eastern imperials adhered to their modest dress code. Despite Phillipe’s bedroom antics with Hilda, he was surprisingly conservative about that sort of thing himself.

“More!” Hilda cackled, “You can see her knees!”

Aela tensed, possessively coiling her tail around Markus’s waist.

“We should bring them in so you can see for yourself!” Hilda insisted.

Phillipe’s face reddened and sputtered an incoherent objection as Hilda left her seat and headed for the main doors.

The two empty chairs were taken away by the golems, and Phillipe’s seat was taken as well when he attempted to chase after her.

The golems rolled out a large thick rug in place of the chairs just as the ambassador’s delegation entered the throne room.

Unlike the southern kingdom and northern princedoms, the eastern empire had a fashion all its own. Both men and women of high status wore floor-length robes with long wide sleeves and accessorised with sashes. The most prominent difference between the fashions of men and women seemed to be in the choice of colouration and additional accessories.

The ambassador wore a small strange hat on the top of his head secured in place by large ornate hairpins. In contrast, the woman at his side had her hair styled into a bun and ornamented with a pale jade comb. The ambassador’s robes were a deep blue accented with a light grey sash around his waist. The woman’s robes were a pale green with lighter green flower patterns and a dark green sash.

The chimaera behind them wore something similar, yet also profoundly different. As Hilda and Phillipe had eluded to earlier, her robe ended just above her knees. Furthermore, unlike the Ambassador and human woman’s robes, the chimaera’s robe flared outwards like a bell. Dyed a deep black, the undergarment visible through the excessively revealing chest area of the robe appeared to be another thinner bleached white robe.

In place of an ornate comb or a hat, the chimaera wore an animal mask askew on the top right side of her head. Peeking out from the back of her pale white sash were the handles and blades of a monstrously large pair of scissors. Gripped tightly in her left hand was an eastern stringed instrument of some kind.

Markus recognised the outfit almost immediately. Dolly had been wearing something similar for the better part of the past month at just about every opportunity. But there was something more to it than that. However, the more he tried to think of why it was familiar, the greater the pain in his head became.

The chimaera herself didn’t seem familiar to Markus, but at the same time, he couldn’t shake the idea that she was important. With a slim yet firm build, the chimaera had thick claws at the ends of her fingers and toes and revealed large canines with her toothy smile. Like Aela, the majority of her chimaeric traits were more prominent in her extremities.

Besides the claws, the chimaera had thick dark reddish-brown fur that covered the back of her hands and disappeared beneath the sleeves of her robe. Her mane of shoulder-length hair was the same colour and subsumed her forehead entirely, barely leaving her eyebrows visible at all.

The trio knelt down on both knees on top of the rug the golems had set out earlier.

The ambassador and the human woman next to him bowed low, “Majesty, honoured mistress, I am honoured that you have made time to see me on such short notice,” while quite noticeably accented, the ambassador’s grasp of the northern tongue was commendable. “It is my honour to introduce my wife, Yukio, and the honoured lady Akane,” ambassador Aoki placed his right hand on his stomach and motioned with his left to the woman on his left, Yukio, and then reversed the gesture to motion to the chimaera, Akane, on his right.

The ambassador’s words broke Markus from his trance, “You are most welcome ambassador Aoki,” he eyed Philipe and Hilda briefly as they made their way back across the throne room before returning his attention to the ambassador, “I was told that you might be interested in negotiating for the purchase of weapons?”

Ambassador Aoki bowed briefly at the waist, “This is the desire of my Lord, Majesty. To have witnessed their effectiveness first hand, I am certain that their value must be great indeed.”

Thrown off balance by the unexpected flattery, Markus was confused further by knowing that the ambassador was deliberately weakening his bargaining position by acknowledging how good the merchandise was.

“My Lord was informed by your servant, Peabody, that the sale of such artifices may only be permitted by your Majesty. It is for this reason that my Lord has sent his dutiful servant to negotiate for their sale,” ambassador Aoki bowed again, an older man of perhaps sixty, it worried and impressed Markus with how readily and easily he could continue to bow on cue, “Please excuse my presumption, but records of trade indicate that sugar syrup is in high demand within your Majesty’s realm. I am permitted to negotiate the price of exchange in units in place of coins if it is prudent. My Lord has also sent a gift in hopes that it may guide your benevolent wisdom through this negotiation,” he looked to his wife expectantly and then bowed.

Aoki’s wife Yukio withdrew a small object from within her sash and bowed with both hands extended forward with the gift.

One of the golems moved forward to retrieve the gift and then handed it to Markus.

It was a comb similar to the one worn in Yukio’s hair, only wider and carved from a pale green marbled stone. The likeness of a winged serpent took the place of the comb’s handle and was made of polished gold with shining amber gemstones for eyes.

It took Markus no time at all to recognise that it was enchanted, but it was only to preserve the item against wear and potential damage, so he lost interest. “I think this gift is better suited for you,” Markus said, handing it over to Aela, “It even matches your eyes.”

Aela smiled appreciatively, “I wouldn’t have ever thought I would have a comb this extravagant,” she admitted with a grin, “Maybe I should wear my hair long to make more use of it?”

Markus nodded and turned back to the ambassador to thank him for the gift, but he froze when he realised the chimaera Akane was staring right at him in a disturbingly intense fashion. Aela had begun to notice as well and didn’t seem at all pleased. She was possessively constricting her tail around Markus's midsection and making him feel even more uncomfortable than her stare.

Quite suddenly, Akane stopped staring at Markus and curiously looked at Aela instead.

The pressure eased around Markus's kidneys and he released a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was a fight breaking out between two chimaeras during a diplomatic trade negotiation. All the more so since Markus was quite confident Aela was capable of tearing the other chimaera apart with her bare hands quite literally.