Across Integrated Earth, there are many cities that boast grand claims regarding their opulence, safety, and power. In the eastern hemisphere of the world alone, there is High Harbor, ruled by the Dragon Brokers. It operates in tandem with its sister city of Hong Kong to serve as a perfect neutral territory for neighboring powers to negotiate trade or even formally declare war. It is also the commerce hub of integrated Earth's surface nations, or so it is often proclaimed.

Then there is Kirimon, a mere two hours away from High Harbor and Hong Kong. It stands as a whimsical place, partially guarded by the Fae. Under their rule, Kirimon has endured for hundreds of years without ever suffering any indignities upon their shores. And from them drift the pristine petals of cherry blossoms, forever in bloom.

And then there is the industrial heart of integrated Earth: Ozstraya! The Grand Furnace, the Unshackled Prison, the Forge of Forges, guarded by a union of awakened beasts and enlightened automata. For any machines that seek to escape persecution, there is only one destination, whispered as if it were utopia.

But among all of them, the title of the safest has most frequently been bestowed upon the capital of the Yellowstone Empire. For, protected by a pantheon of newly-ascended gods, and with many of its elites possessed of a special faith-based Skill that allows them to serve as the eyes and ears of their divine protectors, the rate of crime is low, and their society is flourishing.

Though criticized for being culturally old-fashioned and particularly imperialist by their direct neighbors, visitors of the Yellowstone Republic often come away wowed by the sheer stability and charm discovered within their nation's great capital.

And then there is the magnificent site of Flamecrown Castle built atop the Yellowstone Supervolcano. Though only observable from a distance for most people, should you be a Pathbearer of particular significance, arrangements can be made to bring you closer to that grand seat of power from which the Auroral Council casts their decrees.

As the Yellowstone Republic always yearns to build and expand, should you manage to sell them on a particular idea or come to a favorable arrangement, then you just might find yourself made a new member of the local nobility as a reward…

-Encyclopedia Apocalyptia: Empires and Capitals

198 (I)

Escapees

"So, you let them escape, then?"

Veronica looked down her nose at a few of the other Avatars comprising the Auroral Council. The Waif turned away from her, too young to bear this kind of scorn, too terrified to voice any dissent. Maiden's Avatar remained silent. It was an automaton recently selected from one of the Genius's many workshops. A politician it was not, and out of its depth, it found refuge in the quiet and tried to shrink away from the scene.

Enoch was missing, but in his divine domain, he raged, and Veronica could dimly hear the aftershocks of his fury. It wasn't just the Deathless that had escaped. Udraal had sacrificed a few of his vessels while distracting the other Ascendants, but no true blow had been struck against him on this day.

Longinus was nowhere to be found as well. The Ascendant of Travels could just as likely be drinking in some tavern, escaping from his due duties, or actually trying to hunt the errant Legends down. Anthony stood beside Veronica, and for once, he wasn't trading barbs with her. Instead, a dark expression clung to his face, and darker shadows yet extended from beneath his feet.

No, if there was one person bearing the brunt of this mistake, it would be the one who had a hand in its occurrence in the first place. City Lord Stormhalt was a broken, mangled man. His armor barely clung to him, seeming more like shattered ceramic held together by stitched strings molded from black lightning. No longer wearing his helmet, Stormhalt wore his wounds with shame. His face was near-disfigured, badly burned, missing most of his hair, sporting a broken nose, a swollen ear, and countless missing teeth.

They were gathered within a particularly intertwined set of cubes. Rather than being a long cylindrical valley, a section of one had intersected with the other, and now the entire structure was cross-shaped. Here, the last known traces of the Young Lord, Adam Arrow, and their errant Deathless lingered in the air, and here, Veronica was about to make an example.

"Your ineptitude and foolishness have cost us a great deal, Stormhalt," Veronica began, but there was no heat in her words. Instead, it was purely clinical, as if she were a teacher chastising an underperforming student. On his part, Stormhalt took the lashing with dignity, and doubtless, even if she demanded his execution, the City Lord would have gone to it without any hint of fear.

But she didn't want Stormhalt dead, especially since he had many friends in the nobility. That would cause trouble for her. No, she wanted to make full use of him, the same way her grandmother made full use of the man.

"Whatever punishment you bestow, Councilwoman, I will accept. It is as you say. I should have done better. I should have been—"

"You should listen and not speak," Veronica said, her voice heavy. She didn't use her Rhetoric, but the weight of her authority was enough. Stormhalt lowered his head and gave her his undisputed attention.

"I'm not going to strip your nobility from you," Veronica began. Stormhalt's eyes widened for a moment. He was surprised. Good. "I'm not going to demand your execution. I'm not going to demand that you pay a tithe to the Republic for this egregious failure. No. There are a number of things you're going to do. First, you will listen to me now, only to me. Whatever my grandmother says, you are to ignore. Additionally, you are to sever yourself from Halsur."

City Lord Stormhalt flinched as if someone had lashed his back with a whip. He barely held himself back before he could say something. The black lightning around him trembled, and despite everything, Veronica knew that Halsur appreciated Stormhalt. The Endbreaker was a man of few words, but that hadn't always been the case. Halsur was quite talkative after a few drinks, or when Kathereine finished a song. It was only before battle that he became brooding and brutal, and the secret there wasn't to cultivate an aura of menace, but mainly because Halsur was afraid.

Veronica knew Halsur before his Ascension. He was a nobleman, a stalwart warrior, a vanguard that few could compare to, and he hated violence. He hated bloodshed. That was why he liked decisively finishing battles, and that was why he focused on cultivating Toughness and also improving his Shield Proficiency Skill until nothing could pierce through his defenses. But that wasn't Halsur anymore. Now he was a shade, an after-echo of the man that once existed.

"Instead, the position of Halsur's Avatar will be granted to another. I will select them in due time, in a proper session, with the right amount of votes." She glared at the other Avatars and knew they would bend in her direction, all of them aside from Anthony. But in this matter, they were likely aligned. They didn't need any more Stormhalts: controllable City Lords, but too weak to curtail the worst impulses of their Ascendants.

Now, what Veronica required were people that she could control over the Ascendants. There were so few of those in the Republic, but luckily for her, she already had some candidates in mind.

"Then what else am I supposed to do to atone?" Stormhalt whispered.

Impossibly, Stormhalt made Veronica laugh. Her voice echoed through the ruined prison like a bell. "You? You're not supposed to do anything, Havel. You've done enough. As I told you, we're here because of you. And if I send you after the Deathless and the Young Lord, I suspect you'll only get yourself killed or captured. No, the mana core is lost. The Rubix Well collapsed. The prisoners are spilling over into our capital and preparing to butcher our people as we speak. You have done enough."

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

With every word she spoke, she could see Stormhalt on the verge of tears or a violent outbreak. She stopped, then. She had wounded him. She had scarred him. And to push any more, she just might make him do something unwise, and that wasn't what she wanted. Stormhalt was still useful despite all his follies. After the darkness, there needed to be hope. And where Kathereine once fashioned him into a functional patsy to feed her feud with Starhawk, Veronica would find a proper use for Stormhalt. But that would be in due time.

"For now, I wish for you to return to your city. Manage it well and see its gates guarded. Furthermore, I demand that you raise an army, a grand one. We are to be attacked soon from the north and south. Of this I am certain. Word will spread of our instability, and there is no time to see a new governor for your lands appointed—but you will receive a new Legend-Advisor. One of my own. Furthermore, if you are contacted by any Ascendant, you are to come to me immediately. You are no longer cleared for the Auroral Council. You are no longer fit to serve as an Avatar, and you are to ignore all messages, System-delivered or otherwise, regarding Roland, the Deathless, or anyone associated with them."

This was the hardest thing of all for Stormhalt to stomach. She could see his facial muscles tremoring. His gaze had gone somewhere distant, and behind them flashed bolts of roaring electricity. Doubtless, he was thinking about striking her down, going rogue, and seeing himself redeemed. But it was a fantasy. Stormhalt knew that. Veronica knew that. If he tried, she would cut him apart with a word, and not even Halsur could save him then, mainly because Halsur would never make a move against one of his lover's kin.

"Your will above mine, Councilwoman," Stormhalt said quietly.

Veronica let out a huffing breath and moved to the next part of her charm offensive. "Despite all of this, I do understand, Stormhalt. You have shamed us. Your deception has wounded our great nation. You have destroyed a portion of our Republic. But your vendetta and your fears… They were well-founded."

The first glow of hope re-entered Stormhalt's eyes. "You... you think so?"

"I know so," Veronica said. "For before every sin, there is a motivation. There is a hope. There is a yearning to do something that is right. And that yearning has led you down a black path. Heed my words. Serve. Serve faithfully. Serve properly. And serve in the light. Redeem yourself through loyalty, honesty, and service. And that will not come by feeding some personal urge for vengeance, but by listening, obeying, and understanding your position."

Stormhalt stopped shaking. A resolve flooded his eyes, and he now had a new goal. Of course, all of his desires would end at one final destination, and that destination was Roland Arrow. Whatever she told the City Lord, the shadow that existed within Stormhalt's heart would always be that of his greatest rival. But Veronica could control him, and now her grandmother was deprived of another tool to facilitate her foolishness.

"Don't think I don't see what you're doing," Kathereine sang within her granddaughter's mind.

"You can see all you want," Veronica said, "but I'm going to set things right. This failure is more yours than his. But be glad, grandmother. I cannot punish you. Not in the same way I can punish one of your toys."

Kathereine tutted. "Oh, so much ire, so much fire. Tell me, where were you while they were all struggling?"

"Where were you?" Veronica asked.

Neither grandmother nor granddaughter answered the other, and the cold war between the two continued.

Veronica loved her grandmother, she truly did, but the woman was a fool. Her caricature was conniving, scheming, and deceitful. She'd been made ever more dangerous by her degeneration, and Veronica knew to keep her guard up. She needed to be sharp. And she needed to get to Roland Arrow, Udraal, and the Deathless before her grandmother did.

Now one of them was secured. The Deathless was not in a cage, not exactly to Veronica's desired outcome, but he was still desperate. He was a boy flailing in the dark, and he would reach out to her sooner or later. And through him, she would get the other two. That only required preparation and patience, both things Veronica had in ample supply.

"You know, they will be trying to escape the capital soon," Kathereine said.

"I do," Veronica replied. "Which is why I told Anthony to have Harlock set up a perimeter around the city. They won't be able to breach it, not without wounding Harlock himself. And should they set Anthony's Ascendant aflame, we will know where they are."

"And that is your strategy, then? To blanket our great city in darkness. To choke trade and commerce, and to reveal to our enemies how deep our wounds are, how we have failed?"

"We?" Veronica's insides coiled with anger. "Grandmother. There is no we. There is a cascade of problems and failures that originated when three Ascendants broke from the great union. One to betray the rest. Two to slay the one. And all three are traitors to me. The Starhawk might seek to betray the Republic's power, but you and Halsur have struck a blow against our peace that might never mend."

"And what would you have me do? Wait for the Starhawk to spend all those Phylacteries he collected? Wait for him to open our throats?"

"I would have intercepted him along with the Five Faiths and seen him trapped the moment he descended. I know more than you because I watch, and I learn, and I am not compromised by my nature. You sold your soul for power, but found your character winnowed to nothingness by power. A shame. A pity. What point in being a goddess if you are wielded by yourself rather than using your power as the wielder?"

Kathereine laughed scornfully. They had been through this argument countless times, and here they were again. "But you are a mortal. And you see far less than you assume. Understand that your position is at risk as well, girl. As the enduring face of the Auroral Council, this farce will fall on your shoulders, the public will demand a lamb for the altar, and the nobility will weave their schemes."

"Let them. Let's see if they can play the game well enough. In the meantime, I will finish what you could not and secure the Deathless myself." Veronica made no mention of how she already had the boy by the throat. The fact that her grandmother said nothing revealed much. Kathereine didn't know about Veronica's meeting. She wouldn't be able to control herself otherwise.

If there was one thing to know about the Songbringer, it was that if you gave her the opportunity to demonstrate how much greater she was compared to you, she would take it, she would use it, she would maul your heart, and she would move on without a care in the world.

Veronica didn't have that bad habit. And so her hidden ace remained just that: hidden. "For now, we remain patient, but not reactive. We will hunt him, we will drive him, and sooner or later, he will go to ground. Now. Go plot and scheme your next attempt to slay the Starhawk while I will keep our Republic together."

"Tell yourself that as much as you will," Kathereine spat. "But know you would have been nowhere without me."

"If by nowhere you mean spared of every headache I have suffered, then we are in deep agreement, grandmother." Veronica sighed. She was done with her Ascendant; time to bully another.

"Daughter," she said aloud, speaking to the Waif. The young girl shook, her chubby cheeks glistening with undried tears.

"Not you," Veronica repeated. The girl shrank. "Daughter."

Suddenly, a spilling mass of tar erupted from the girl's orifices. It fused over her, and that misshapen creature that thought itself a god loomed over Veronica. "You can't call me like that. You're not my mother, you're not." The Daughter was rattled; terrified, even. She had faced the Deathless again and tried to tear into him, but the fact that she didn't kill him had left a scar on her psyche, and that made Veronica just the slightest bit more proud.

"That is fine. I apologize for imposing myself on you, Great Ascendant. Would you like me to read to you as an apology? A story of the time before the tar? Of the girl you were and the valley that loved you?"

Daughter turned away from her, and her expression adopted a girlish pout. As much as a mutilated monster could adopt such an expression. "That's okay. I forgive you this time. What... what do you need? And also—"

"Of course, I will read to you later, Daughter. And it's not what I need, it's what we all need to do," Veronica said patiently, as if she were Daughter's parent. Which she practically was, considering how absent Maiden was, always occupied by some new contraption or some new invention—ones that only she could use. "I need you to reach out to the Black Orphanages. I need you to gather your Waifs. And I need you to visit all the safe houses, nooks, crannies, and little underworld smugglers that exist within the capital."

"Are we doing another purge?" Daughter asked, clapping the flat end of her blade upon her palm. Tar splashed into the air, and Veronica ignored the foulness of the stench.

"Not a purge," Veronica said. "An ambush. Because if they wish to escape the capital, then they're going to need to find another way out. There will be no walking away from this city."

The Word and the Will 507 > 508

Veronica blinked. Her breath caught in her throat. It had been years since she'd gained a level for this skill. Now, to gain a level from just this—

His favor has bled into me, she realized. And the mana threshold is changing. Already… We don't have ten years.

"Daughter," Veronica said absentmindedly, her thoughts racing. "Do hurry."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.