Walking Disasters and Me-Machinations of the World – Ch 116
On a massive sprawl of land, dotted with dense forests, worked plains, rolling hills, and a lone mountain, a sprawling city filled with untold numbers of souls rests. Sheltered from the outside world by thick and towering stone walls, their square battlement towers looming large over the populace at a grand height, 300 feet in some spots. Behind the walls, squalor and destitute hovels of roughshod make and questionable quality hug the stone laden interior of their inanimate protector, clinging to it like nails against a prison wall. Winding gravel paths snake their way through thoroughfare and market, dirty and vagabond filled in this region of the city.
As one travels further inward, however, the make and model of the homes, businesses, and infrastructure improves steadily before meeting a second series of defensive walls which shelter the most opulent and gorgeous of structures. Clean, white stone worked into livable towers, manor homes with terracotta tiled roofs, large guild halls and merchant headquarters. Everything that deems this to be the beating heart of enterprise, juxtaposed to the unwashed and starving residents beyond its gilded cage.
There, in the center of the metropolis, a massive stone building comprised of worked gray stone stands, dotted with numerous pointed and black shingle laden towers. Birds flock peacefully between the spires that scrape the sky as sunlight filters through hundreds of masterfully crafted and colored mosaic glass tucked in to the rear of the vaulted and gothic cathedral. Each 100 foot tall, 20 foot wide panel of prismatic glass a mixture of dazzling scenes and glories achieved, woven patterns of hypnotic presence as the light of the star above filters its now prismed rays beautifully across a long, dark oaken table. There, some fifty people of assorted lineage and power argue and bicker, their voices overlapping into a medley of madness and malformed malaise underneath golden candle lit chandeliers and amidst piles of food and drink.
"We should issue a formal summons to that wretched fox! Have her stand here before us and try to weasel her way out of this affront to Heaven!" A human woman with brown short, buzzed hair on one side of her head while the other holds weaving locks to her shoulder. Adorned in a fiery red robe, her face a mixture of indignant anger and irritation as her lithe yet still feminine body huffs in restrained righteousness after standing and slamming her hand down in an unoccupied spot on the dark wood. The loud clap of flesh to surface brings a momentary pause to the chaotic and discordant discussions as eyes and ears become focused on the spectacle about to unfold.
A loud and deep scoff echoes from directly across the table to her in the momentary silence making the woman sneer over to the defiant reply. Leaning back in one of the magnificently crafted chairs made of the same oak that holds the elbows of many that now look over to the confrontation, a large 10 ft tall shelled yet upright tortoise drags languidly from a willowed pipe. Tails of a black trenchcoat traipse underneath him while he rocks gently against the straining legs of the seat, an eyepatch resting over a scar on his face. After getting his fill of the pipe, he breathes out several perfect rings of smoke into the air, the faint smell of burnt leaf pleasant to those who partake, yet crinkling the nose of those who do not.
"Ambrodia." He finally says in a rough and gravelly voice after the dragging silence keeps on, nearly driving the loud woman to anger which may have been the intended purpose. "You were still merely a sub-leader of your Sect back a century ago, so I won't fault you for suggesting something so
asininely
stupid
." His long and drawn-out cadence continues.
The human bristles like an alley cat cornered by dogs, her eyes flashing with anger that makes those nearest to her awkwardly drag the four-legged posts of their chairs further away from the growingly heated conversation. "How dare you, Wiardlur! You are lucky we are in neutral ground or I would see you back up your insults with action! Although given the defeatist tone coming from more than yourself at this assembly, I can only assume that you and the rest of your cowardly ilk have forgotten the purpose and honor of fighting! You would rather hide and laze away in the waves and pools of the Cerimous Bay than rise to any challenge!"
Several voices rise in agreement with the brash human, notably mostly those on her side of the long, stretching table.
"Honor?"
Wiardlur calmly replies after letting the woman and assorted accomplices vent their anger and frustration at him, all her words sliding off his shell like water as he peeks one eye open to gaze down to her. "There is no
honor
when you confront a being such as the Madam of that Village. By the grace of the Heavens, my tribe and Sect were merely observers to her definition of the word 'violence' all those years ago. And I assure you, whelp, that her definition of said word is
far
more vast and profound than whatever silly notion you have bouncing in that spoiled, rotten brain of yours if you think yourself in a position to hand her a summons."
The woman across from the turtle human, Ambrodia, turns her face red from the continued insults and condescension coming from her verbal sparring partner. The flexing of her muscles and fire tinted Qi making it obvious to all that she would much rather it be a physical affair instead. As she opens her mouth to fire back, eyes alighting in vengeance as her brows furrow, a single, piercing clap of wood-on-wood echoes loudly throughout the stone worked room.
All eyes turn towards the sound, its point of origin seated at the very end of the table and framed by the most ornate of all the mosaic glass. A scene of a woman, gorgeous and saintly with near platinum blonde hair, wrapped in bands of pure white silk that almost seem to undulate in the waves of sunlight that perfectly filters through the mural. The background below her various shades of red, outstretched and bloodied hands outstretched toward the pristine woman as she rises above them, her purple eyes fixed towards the dark clouds of the Heavens.
There, framed exactly in the center of the vibrant visage, is an almost equally stunning specimen of womanhood. Long, wavy tendrils of honeyed brown hair flow like water over her shoulders and behind her back, framing a face free of any blemish or unattractive feature. Piercing green eyes slowly open beneath long and full eyelashes, above a slightly upturned nose and full, red lips.
Adorned in a royal purple robe that does little to hide her ample cleavage, thin waist, and full hips, the woman stands in silence. Quiet authority reigns and grows as she ascends, placing down the wooden gavel responsible for the break of growing hostilities some thirty chairs away next to a golden and multi-colored gem encrusted crown before she places both hands behind her.
In a voice dripping in allure and composure, its tone smooth and silky like the image of cloth above her, she voices out, "I have called this gathering of my continental lords and relevant powers to ascertain our response to what transpired nearly a cycle of the moon prior. Not to squabble and revive old rivalries, nor to succumb to infighting whilst a being that even
I
felt concern over roams these lands undocumented. Unchecked. As the regents of Mara and the ones responsible for its safety, it is imperative that we not stretch our attention from the matter at hand."
The woman who caused this whole scene mumbles out an apology of, "Of course, my liege." She then bows deferentially before sliding back into her chair in a huff, steam escaping her lips while the turtle human simply puts his pipe away and adopts a more courteous position at the table.
"What news have we gleaned from the Kneeling Soul Sect and the Golden Order mercenary band that foolishly attempted to assault the Village?" The regal voice of the woman at the head of the table rings out after the spectacle subsides.
A younger seeming woman merely a few chairs down from the speaker stands up and delivers a much more prim and proper bow before picking up a stack of papers and reading out, "It seems that they were wiped out to the last cultivator, my Queen. Even the few Apogee Ranked elders of both factions, the mercenary leader even being at the half-step. Unfortunately, we have limited knowledge about the fatalities of the Village, if they even
sustained
any, as it seems their 'Shadow Branch' made sure to remove any traces of the battle at large, including any hostile survivors."
She pauses as she tucks a strand of woodland green hair behind her tanned, brown almost bark like skin, a faint smell of fresh pine wafting from the small motion that make the others around her look to her in admiration and barely hidden looks of arousal. She is used to this, however, as being a dryad amongst a group of mortals often comes with such attentions. She raises her equally brown pools of honeyed eyes back to the monarch who merely gives her a nod to continue, the woodland spirit taking a moment to adjust the robe fitting to her purposefully seductive form. Hard to procure meals if they don't come to you willingly, after all~.
"From the spirits and creatures in the area that my sisters could interact with, as well as the few traders we have bargained information from, we have gained the following knowledge. Firstly, the matter with the Heavens was an unintentional occurrence that surprised not just the people of the Village as a whole, but the leadership as well. Given the state of the leader's estate directly after the event, it seemed to be localized there. Corroborating s make it out to be a tribulation that escalated, though the fate of the soul who angered the sky so mightily remains unknown.
Secondly, while laughable if not for the power of the Madam and her trusted inner circle as well as that
ridiculous
runic barrier erected by the last Sect Leader of that place, it seems that the Village lost not a single soul during the attack, which I posited previously." Various cries of disbelief and mockery loudly erupt in the room, many of those assembled here knowing that the Kneeling Soul Sect on its own was a powerhouse on that continent. Coupled with forces from one of the formerly strongest mercenary companies on Mara, the idea that not a single person belonging to the Village perished during a week's long assault was just too far outside of their capacity to comprehend.
Another crisp crack of the gavel silences the room once more, the indifferent stare of the monarch shifting to squinting eyes as she decrees, "The next soul that interrupts this official proceeding
will
see their Sect stripped of its position and labeled a
threat to peace
. Do I make myself clear?" Several audible gulps echo into the room, each adorned by the nodding head and wide eyes of their owner before the queenly woman moves her gaze back to the brown skinned dryad. "Continue without worry, Myerial."
Myerial simply smiles and performs another bow, the calming scent of the forest around her as she answers back, "At once, Queen Siceil. Thank you as always for your generous assistance~." The plant woman brings the papers back to her vision and gives a small cough before resuming her , "I realize that such a revelation is almost unthinkable to hear, but again I would remind all present that we are discussing the Village, led by arguably the strongest beast human since times of old. When she truly bares her fangs, the landscape of Mara is forever changed. If you need a reminder, I encourage you to visit the memorial site outside the Bastion Walls and see where a mountain range once proudly stood, leveled and flat like the plains around it now."
A few of the vocal crowd awkwardly rub the backs of their heads, realizing just how arrogant and shameful they were being as Myerial keeps going, "The last two reliable bits of knowledge gleamed from any spies, spirits, creatures, or through trade, are this. Roughly two weeks before the deep and heralding power struck towards the Heavens, said Madam had taken on a new disciple. A human woman, barely into the first stages of adulthood if eye witness accounts can be trusted. While it is known that the Truscilian Nomad named Samantha is also a human under her direct teaching and is a part of her harem, the Madam has not taken a new follower in several decades. It is unknown if the relationship between the new arrival and the kitsune is strictly mentor - mentee or something deeper, but it can only be assumed that the Madam is directly raising a new crop in the form of this woman."
Eyes dart to one another across the table and to their sides, as the threat of excommunication still locks their pondering words inside their throats. Without pausing for their concerns, the dryad continues, "The last trustworthy bit of news is that the Village's own spy organization, the Shadow Branch as was mentioned previously, was nearly rooted out completely for some attempt at a coup, occurring when the Madam first brought this human to the city. In the intervening time, however, it seems she has either brought up new leadership or firmly tightened her direct control over the Branch. Likely both."
The dryad offers one more deferential bow toward Queen Siceil, the regent nodding her head in respect which is the signal that the dryad can once more rest in her chair, as well as lee way for hushed conversations about her revelations to gossip around the table at last. The Queen seems content to let the assembled form their own opinions for a few moments before she lightly taps the gavel once more to bring their eyes back to her royal form.
"I would like to offer appreciation for Myerial and her sisters for gathering such valuable insights into the situation. Even if some pieces of the puzzle allude us, seeing part of the picture is a boon unto itself. Given what we all just heard, it seems clear to me that Madam Akiko is harboring a dangerous individual and shrouding her identity from the world at large. Something that I, and by extension all of you, cannot stand for. I propose that we arrange a neutral ground for both the Village leadership and the most trusted - as well as levelheaded - of my vassals to meet where we can discover for ourselves what the fox has been squirreling away. If any of you hold a difference of opinion on this plan, speak now or forever hold your peace."
A loud, raking creak of wood on stone sounds out in the room after a few beats of quiet, the large and shelled form of Wiardlur rising in slow, practiced movements. As he stands, a few near to him also take the initiative and rise along with him. The first is light skinned human man with shaggy red hair, adorned in leathered armor with a shield and sword strapped to his muscular back. The second, a serpentine woman with olive skin that has rows upon rows of knives strapped over her roughly hewn shirt along with skintight black pants, a long snake tail dripping to the ground behind her. And finally, a woman with birdlike features, including wings for arms and talons for feet. Her unique physiology does nothing to detract from her beauty, however, easily rivaling both the dryad and - blasphemously - perhaps even the Queen.
Long, flowing hair streaked in a mix of white and black strands with orange owl-like eyes, her feathered arms holding the majority color of white with specks and dots of dark black here and there, while the human torso exudes of healthy pale pallor. Carried on her chest are a set of overly large breasts, nearly comical in nature as they seem to be as round and hefty as possible while still allowing for the possibility of flight. Her healthy stomach holds only a slight roundness to it, leading to a thick waist and even rounder plump rear supported by massive, cannon-shaped thighs. All of it concealed though in a pure, blue robe that dots itself with stars and constellations of the night sky.
"Of course
those
four would object. Passivists and cowards, the lot of them..." One faceless male voice in the crowd comments.
"I even heard Wiardlur hasn't been or sent any disciples to a tournament or secret realm in decades! Shameful!" The female voice of another further down the hall chimes in.
Various more growingly disgruntled and overlapping jeers begin to rise up among the assembled cultivators before the Queen raises a hand and silences them all. With pristine grace, she moves her face to regard the three seeming objectors, "Wairdlur, Lan Xiou, Vix'ilos, Perimini" She says to each of them in turn, the red-haired human bowing respectfully as she utters his name of Lan Xiou, while the snake woman does the same when it is her turn at hearing Vix'ilos, shortly followed by the bird woman by Perimini.
"I take it," She says after formalities are completed, her eyes severe yet approachable, for now, "that you four object to this course of action. Seeing as your group is so categorically in the minority, as well as the final decision resting upon my shoulders regardless, it would appear that unless you hold grand wisdom counseling against this result, it shall continue apace. You may speak your minds here."
Wairdlur lowers his head in respect once more before saying out in his stilted voice filled with stone, "My liege lady, I know you were witness to the last time that Madam Akiko step foot on our lands, and the ensuing relentless thirst for vengeance she carried. While my detractors would deem me old and weak, scared of a fight, the truth could not be further than that. I merely know when the time to raise the blade is, and when cooler heads should prevail."
A few hushed complaints rocket across the room, the Queen doing nothing to stop their flow this time as the turtle human sighs and continues, "Madam Akiko has left us well enough alone for nigh on a century now, the agreement between the royal powers and the Village about mutual isolation from each other still standing unbroken to this very moment. If we court her attention when it seems the Village is in a matter of disarray..." Again, a sigh escapes his lips as a weathered and leathery hand comes up to smooth back his small tuft of aqua marine hair.
"We would likely be ushering in yet even more devastation to our doorstep, to the innocent people we are responsible for. And this time, we cannot use the excuse of rouge Sects and agents poisoning and murdering her soulmate in cold blood, right in front of her eyes. It will squarely be our own doing, and we will deserve every response she levies against us." The three beside him offer no further explanations, aside from briefly voicing out their agreement to the Queen.
"I stand by what Lord Wairdlur speaks, my Queen. This is not an avenue that we should be pursuing." Lan Xiou says out resolutely, the chivalrous pride in his voice evident for all to hear.
Vix'ilos speaks next, saying in a slithery tone, "It is a wiser choice to stop and see what scenario unfolds, my Queen. Sudden and superfluous actions will only spite us in return."
"Wisdom would also point to gathering more intelligence before such drastic action, Queen Siceil. We must not rely solely on such shaky and speculative evidence as witness testimony. Facts and answers are needed, but angering the mad kitsune should
not
be our first step." Perimini says tactfully, her words certain and final regarding her opinion.
"I see." The Queen simply says as she turns her back to the group, hands still clasped behind her back as she looks up at the mosaic mural. She seems to stop and think for a few moments, nary a sound coming from her or those assorted behind her before she says out to the room, back to them still, "I appreciate the thoughtful concern given by the esteemed voices of Wairdlur, Lan Xiou, Vix'ilos, and Perimini. However," She says in a flash of motion as a scepter appears in her hand, her other grabbing the crown before placing it atop her flowing hair, "Answers must be secured and the safety of the realm obtained. Lack of action will not see those two matters resolved in our favor. Myerial."
The queen commands as the four detractors lower their head in defeat, all of them beginning to think of how to avoid the bloodshed that is no doubt heading their way now. The dryad rises and then elegantly makes her way to the queens side, falling to one knee with a fist on the ground as she voices out ceremoniously, "Yes, my Queen?"
The scepter lowers underneath the plant woman's chin, raising it softly as a faint trace of a blush kisses the brown skin of her cheeks while the Queen decrees, "You shall be tasked with finding a suitable location devoid of innocents, people and nature alike, where we can summon the kitsune Akiko Yuki and her entourage for questioning. I shall comprise the list of those who shall accompany me on our fact-finding mission. You have one month to source this location."
Queen Siceil leans down to kiss the top of the dryads head, the act alone sending a shiver of delight through the kneeling woman as she huskily responds back to the order, "As you command, my Queen~." In a flurry of nature and Qi, leaves erupt in a tornado as soon as the Queen retracts her head, carrying the dryad out of sight with the faintest echo of erotic moans and giggles lasting in her departure.
The regent turns to the rest of the gathering, her briefly kind and soft face regaining its harshness in a flash as she says, "I shall send summons to those I deem worthy. Thank you all for coming on such short notice, you are free to enjoy the capital for as long as you wish provided no trouble comes of it. Good day to you all, meeting adjourned."
.
!
Machinations of the World – Ch 116
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