Coquelicot had taken one of the carriages that had previously been used by the royals whenever they had business outside of the castle and offered to take King and Anastacia back to Valor. Though the simulacrum seemed reluctant to accept, he placed Anastacia on one of the benches of the carriage in the end, after Coquelicot had convinced him that it was best to move the unconscious necromancer as little as possible until they got her to Emilia, and that carrying her would probably dislodge something in her arm again.

Drawn by two undead horses, painted entirely black and donning multiple traditional necromancer patterns in its design, the carriage wasn’t one of the most discreet forms of transport available and would probably end up getting at the gates of Valor, if not even before that, but that would hardly be an issue.

Even though she knew she was needed at the castle to organize things due to her sudden shortage of inquisitors, Coquelicot chose to hop on and drive the carriage herself. After giving a few last second advice to her pupils, she leaned back and commanded the horses to move.

For hours, they traveled in silence and only after the sun finally started to light up the horizon, Coquelicot opened her mouth. “Silence is nice, isn’t it? I don’t get to enjoy it much these days.” She sighed and stretched her back. “Every time I settle down and try to close my eyes, there’s some new problem with supplies or some idiot from Calloi or some other irrelevant country sends a messenger with nothing important to say. And I can’t even kill them! Diplomatic relations are a nightmare.”

King stared at Anastacia and kept brushing her hair with his fingers, barely showing any interest in what Coquelicot had to say.

Realizing that there was only a single thing occupying whatever served as the simulacrum’s mind, she changed the topic. “The way her arm is fractured, I could recognize those injuries anywhere; she tried to control her own arm with necromancy. That idiot was lucky it didn’t explode immediately or turn her bones and muscle into a mush inside her skin. The problem with controlling living matter is that we have yet to figure out how to keep it alive; sure, we can briefly hold it still, but moving it in a way that keeps it intact is far more difficult. Simulating blood flow is one thing, but the muscles themselves almost always die and break when we try to use them. Even if it looks like they stayed in one piece, something in them is broken and they cease to work, usually they start to shrivel off with time too. At least hers don’t seem too severe, but it’d be good if the priestess can do something.” The High Necromancer explained and wiggled her arms. “Mine blew right off, in case you’re wondering. I figured I could just increase my strength with necromancy and didn’t listen to the warnings. You could say that it worked out for me since that’s why I met Alizarin, but the pain never fully goes away. I still wake up almost every day, feeling my arms get torn into pieces… Anyway, you need to stop her from doing that again, ever.”

The simulacrum nodded.

As the journey back to Valor continued, Coquelicot found her travel companion to be just a bit too engrossed with Anastacia and gave up trying to start a conversation. To kill time, she started to flip through the books Anastacia had stolen and was surprised to find one of them to be written by her old superior. She knew its subject as something Amaranth had been obsessed with, but never had any kind of proof of. Even Alizarin had no information about the supposed violet sect, so Coquelicot had dismissed is as the senile ramblings of a necromancer well past her prime, meant to give her life a purpose.

“Do you know why Anastacia chose to take this one?” She asked and showed the book to King, who just shrugged and probably couldn’t tell it apart from the other two. “She shouldn’t get too into this nonsense, these are nothing but stories for children to keep them in line, like sloths and other made up creatures. After all, ever since ancient times, there has been a red inquisition and they were quick to end any would-be rogue groups, so there’s no way this could be real. Even if it was, as the last red inquisitor, this is my problem and not hers.” She said and continued to skim through the pages.

Slowly, as the sun climbed higher in the sky, they made their way closer to the city. Every now and then Coquelicot made sure Anastacia stayed unconscious by giving her a whiff of the potion she had taken along from the supply tent.

It was already noon when the gray walls of Valor finally appeared in the horizon. Few of the people passing by them stared at the extremely suspicious looking carriage but none of them dared to actually say anything, that is, until they made it to the gates.

“Halt!” A guard commanded and stood in front of the undead horses, forcing them to stop. “You’re from Mournvalley, aren’t you?”

Coquelicot stood up and jumped off the wagon. “An astute observation, clearly you must be the cream of the crop.” She mocked the guard, who was obviously starting to run low on courage already.

“My… my orders are to stop anyone from there.” The poor guard explained and planted his halberd firmly on the ground, trying his best to seem even a bit intimidating.

“I didn’t take over a country to be stopped at the gates of a pitiful little town by some fool in a tin suit. Now let us through, the girl in the carriage is injured and we need to get her to see a priestess residing here.” The High Necromancer demanded and gestured for the guard to step aside.

Suddenly a short man with a crystalline horn growing from his forehead stepped out of the small shed outside of the gates. If the horn wasn’t obvious enough of a sign, his uniform made it clear that the man was one of the guild officials. “Actually, the girl is the reason you were stopped, Coquelicot of the red inquisition. You and the simulacrum are free to enter as you please.” He said while reading something from an open folder in his hands. “Anastacia has broken the contract she signed when she became a citizen of Valor: Adventurers are not in any case allowed to interfere with the political matters of other recognized countries. Yet from what I hear, she was quite an important part of the coup you arranged. The punishment for such a crime is the immediate removal of her citizenship and banishment from the city.” The official explained and handed the folder to Coquelicot.

The necromancer quickly read through the document with Anastacia’s signature on it and closed the folder. “I see...” She said and nodded.

“We even summoned her to the headquarters to warn her from such activities, yet here we are.” The official said in the usual monotone manner they all spoke with.

“There’s a bit of a problem with this document though.” Coquelicot pointed out.

The official seemed surprised. “I find that hard to believe. The contract has been reviewed and perfected over hundreds of years. Like all our paperwork, it is perfect.”

“Oh, the wording is sound, don’t worry about that. It’s just that there’s an arrogant imbecile poking through it.” Coquelicot grinned and slapped the folder on the official’s horn and left it there. “Is there a form I need to fill that allows her to enter after I’ve turned you into a puddle of well-dressed paste?”

Baffled by the rudeness, the official removed the folder from his horn and fell quiet.

“You know, there probably isn’t a single creature in existence that someone in Mournvalley hasn’t dismantled and studied. This includes your pathetic race.” Coquelicot said before grapping on to the official’s horn and snapping it off. The guard next to them was swift to retaliate with his polearm, but not swift enough, as the necromancer caught its blade and proceeded to knock him out with a single helmet-denting punch before turning her attention back to the official. “You use these things to stay connected to each other, right? A hivemind of sorts, a collection of individuals yet all the same.” She asked and inspected the crystal horn.

The official fell down and began screaming in agony. Though the stump left on his forehead didn’t bleed, it quite obviously hurt. He started to slowly crawl away from the necromancer losing every last bit of the proudness and grandeur his kind usually acted with and became nothing more than a terrified creature trying to escape from a predator.

“Did that cut you off from the rest? I’m terribly sorry about that. Here, let me put it back.” Coquelicot acted apologetic and stabbed the horn through the official’s thigh. “There we go, good as new. Now how about you grant Anastacia back her citizenship and Mournvalley will forgive Valor for its rudeness towards one of ours.”

After screaming and squirming in unimaginable pain for a while, the official began to collect himself and barely managed to speak his response. “You… you lunatic! Your actions here are enough to justify a war.” He panted.

“I’m a bit new to the diplomacy game, I admit that much, but a war against Mournvalley is a fool’s errand if there ever was one. It wouldn’t take a week for us to bury your sad little clubhouse for these glorified mercenaries, and no one would bat an eye if you were wiped off the map. Yet I stay my hand, out of nothing but kindness. This is not a declaration of war between our nations, this is simply a demonstration to make you understand that the world has just changed.” Coquelicot explained calmly. “Gone are the days when Valor stood untouchable, without a fear of anyone being able to muster an army powerful enough to topple its walls, for Mournvalley has awoken from its slumber. Now, as the queen of necromancers, my sincere wish is that our nations could coexist happily, and I’m even willing to give you Anastacia as a gift, but that won’t happen if you continue to mistreat her like this. Besides, her meddling in our political matters was done reluctantly after I forced her hand, so she should not be held accountable for it.” She said, bowed deep, turned towards the gates and stared at an unfortunate guard that had stumbled on the scene with the intention of relieving the previous guard from his duty. Coquelicot smiled with an off-putting mix of gentleness and malicious intent on her face. “Did you get all that? Now run along and report it to the rest of these guys, I think I broke this one.”

The guard quickly scurried off in the direction of the guild’s headquarters.

Coquelicot picked up the folder from the ground and turned back to the injured official but found him unconscious and figured it’d be best to just leave the scene, so the other guards wouldn’t further delay them. She dragged the unconscious guard off the road and steered the horses through the gates.

“I can’t believe these pompous twats think they have any other option besides letting Anastacia stay here… Maybe I need to pay a visit to the offices later, to fix their arrogant habits and explain their position in this new age I’ve ushered upon the world.” She muttered to herself and stopped the carriage in front of the inn.

King carefully lifted Anastacia and hopped off the carriage. Instead of his usual way of hitting the ground without bending his knees at all, the simulacrum landed smoothly enough no not even make a noise.

Coquelicot pushed open the inn’s door and was met with a disappointed look from every single person in the room. They had no doubt expected Anastacia to prance through the door at any moment. “Oh, please! You could at least fake a smile to be polite.” She sighed but was completely ignored when King stepped in after her.

Anastacia’s friends immediately rushed to aid the simulacrum and quickly carried the unconscious necromancer to the kitchen. Only Rosie and Gilbert stayed behind to glare at Coquelicot with their arms crossed, clearly demanding an explanation.

“What? I brought your kid back, intact too. Considering what she went against, I think I deserve a gold star or something.” Coquelicot said and tried to get past them to the kitchen but was blocked off by Gilbert’s shoulder.

Rosie slapped the necromancer and almost threw her off her feet. “What you put her against, you mean.” She growled and hissed.

“This is no way to treat a queen.” The necromancer protested but was slapped again.

“I don’t care. Out there you may now be a queen, but under this roof, there’s no higher authority than mine. Now, explain.” The tigress growled.

Coquelicot regained her posture, getting slapped wasn’t something that happened to her too often and it had caught her a bit off guard. “She’s fine, nothing life threatening at least. Her arm is just badly broken, but the priestess should be able to fix that much, right?” She explained.

The anger on Gilbert and Rosie’s faces quickly turned into worry as they glanced at each other.

“Emilia has… lost her connection to her god.” Gilbert said quietly.

“That’s what you get for trusting a god, I suppose…” Coquelicot shrugged. “I’d place an order for one of these then.” She said and waved her arms, only to get slapped again. “Stop slapping me damnit! Look, I feel bad for her, I really do, but all in all this is almost the best possible outcome one can hope for when going against Amaranth. Also, I have this for her.” She said and handed Gilbert the folder she had taken from the official. “The arrogant fools in charge here were going to kick her out, but now they can’t. Because if they do, I will personally come back here and kill every single one of them.”

Gilbert inspected the document and looked through the gaping hole in the middle. “Why is there blood on this?” He asked.

“Enhanced negotiation. Now, can we maybe go and see her? She’ll wake up soon enough.” Coquelicot avoided the question and was finally allowed in the kitchen, where Anastacia had been laid down on one of the tables.

Emilia was already busy undoing the bandages so she could apply some medicinal oils on Anastacia’s arm. Yulia was helplessly crying and running around the table while Dammar and his party stood a few steps away to give the priestess some room to work.

“Can you do anything to it? I hear you broke up with your god.” Coquelicot asked and sat down near the table.

Emilia glanced at her, clearly annoyed. “We didn’t ‘break up’, Lady Sylvia was taken from me. And no, without her I can’t do anything but manage the pain.”

“Well, you have about fifteen minutes before she wakes up and starts screaming. Maybe try praying extra hard?” The necromancer shrugged and started to look around at all the delicious looking food Yulia and Rosie had been preparing for Anastacia’s return.

The priestess ignored the rude comment and kneeled in prayer. For ten minutes, no one but her said anything, but no amount of praying seemed to do the trick. As the time started to run out and Anastacia began to nudge every now and then, she became increasingly desperate as she repeated the same prayer over and over, faster and faster.

Coquelicot started to get bored of the seemingly pointless exercise in blind faith. “Sylvia was it? You know, I’ve seen that name in a book back home. There was an ancient necromancer king that had some dealings with the divine, in that he would kill them. He believed that Sylvia was one of the gods created in retaliation to his actions, but that’s not the interesting part. He was also certain that before being a god, Sylvia was-“

Her story was interrupted by a massive crack appearing in the wall behind her. As the crack widened, it flooded the room with pure white light and blinded everyone. In a blink of an eye, the queen of necromancers was ensnared by strands of silvery hair and pulled into the crack, which then closed as quickly as it had opened.

Everyone was left stunned in silence. Even Yulia had stopped crying and Emilia’s prayer was interrupted.

“Wh… what just happened?” The priestess stuttered and slid her hand over the part of the wall that had cracked. “Did… the wall just eat her?”

No one had a better theory to offer and everyone just kept staring at the wall in silence.

“Fear not my dearest, a close friend of mine merely removed that meddlesome woman from your home.” A sudden voice in Emilia’s head said and laughed gently.

Her eyes widened as the words echoed in her ears. Though mysterious sounding, the voice was one that Emilia would recognize even in her sleep. “My Lady?!” She cried out and fell on her knees.

Rosie leaped to her aid and held Emilia by shoulders when the priestess began to laugh hysterically.

“I can hear her sing!” The priestess declared as her wavy red hair began to glow like white-hot metal wires and the shiny steel surface of her armor eroded into a stained and worn iron. Slowly, she stood up as her usual strength returned to her body. In her excitement, she had almost forgotten about the injured necromancer, but was reminded about her when Anastacia flinched and wailed loudly before settling back down. Emilia placed her mace on Anastacia’s broken arm and almost shouted her prayer, resulting in a bright flash of light that blinded everyone in the room again. Delighted by the successful miracle Emilia turned back to the tigress – but was hit with a bucketful off water straight in her face.

Rosie placed the bucket down and tossed a towel at the steaming priestess, who had returned to her usual appearance. “New rule: no channeling gods inside the inn, especially ones that associate themselves with brats who don’t pay for their drinks or are fire-based, I don’t need you trying to burn down my business every time someone gets a papercut.” The innkeeper stated and started to dry off Emilia’s hair.

Somewhere in the middle of some desert, a couple of meters above the ground, a small white dot appeared in the air. The dot quickly widened into a horizontal line and then into a gap, barely large enough to fit an average-sized person through. Through that gap flopped Coquelicot, The Queen of Mournvalley. She landed on her back in the sand and cursed the blindingly bright sun that was roughly halfway done with its daily path over the world.

Upon gazing in the horizon, she couldn’t see a creature or landmark in any direction, the desert seemed truly endless. Despite not carrying water or food with her, the necromancer didn’t seem too worried, this was not the first time Coquelicot had been in a situation like this. All she needed to do was to choose a direction and head there until something happened.

Before starting her journey, she wiped her forehead with her sleeve and felt something on her forehead: a delicate crown woven from extremely thin strands of silvery material that almost seemed like hair but were obviously far more durable than either silver or hair. In the front, the strands wrapped around what appeared to be a gemstone of some kind, one that was unlike any of the ones Coquelicot had seen before. Black enough to seem like a hole in reality itself, the gem looked like it sucked I even the light hitting it. She was tempted to touch it, but somehow felt that it was a terrible idea and chose to at least leave it for later, when she wasn’t stranded in the middle of a desert.

None the less, she was pleased by the appearance of the crown, and placed it back on her head before taking her first step towards Mournvalley. “Vilja, goddess of the unwanted, huh? Fascinating…” She muttered to herself.