Chapter 538 - Before the Storm IV

  There was an infernal roar.

  A moment where the sky met the earth.

  A brief, but certain instant where the sun swallowed the stadium, followed by a flash of light that parted the flame.

  The barrier rumbled and cracked, nearly splintering apart despite the numerous ley lines that fueled it. It stood only on account of the thousands of mages dedicated to its reinforcement. Even sharing the burden, even with Canterbell's most powerful artifacts at play, they had no time to rest.

  Wave after wave, the attacks pounded the shield, each powerful enough to blow the city to bits. Every single strike took it to the brink of collapse and threatened to end its legacy.

  Purely by virtue of slaughtering its populace.

  Even one mistake—one tiny breach—would end over ten million lives.

  And so they resisted.

  They pushed against the tide for hours, days, years. They couldn't tell how long it was.

  Only that they stayed stalwart until it ceased to flow.

  Only then did Octavia declare that they were free from their burden. "The winner is Master Durham! Cadria pulls ahead three to two!"

  The rally that followed was for the battle. But the staff basked in it as well, taking in the cheers of the people they'd protected as they pumped their fists towards the sky and praised one another on a job well done. They couldn't help it. The energy that filled the arena was criminally infectious, impossible to resist, even for the surliest of grouches.

  And yet, there was a scrooge who did just that.

  She sat in the stands, sound asleep in spite of the deafening applause that flooded the city. She was even drooling a little, though it was difficult to tell, seeing as how she was incidentally wiping it off on the oblivious pet she held in her arms.

  "Both fighters put forth stunning performances! Allegra's spells were so powerful that they were limited by the gods themselves, and Durham's strikes were so swift that they could not even be captured by our recordings. Both looked sure to win, certain to triumph over their foe. But though the Grand Magus has taken seventy three of the eighty matches they've fought so far, it was Master Durham who ultimately emerged victorious! I am not even too sure how it happened. To shed a little more light on his victory, I would like to direct your attention over to the analyst's desk, where we have a very special guest prepared. Please welcome your lord and mine, the master of our nation and my very own uncle, Virillius Augustus, the God-King of Cadria!"

  The crowd roared even louder, their deafening screams echoing beyond the city's borders. But somehow, the snoose only continued to snooze.

  "Claire! Wake up!"

  Sylvia was almost worried that Claire wouldn't stir when called, but she responded as soon as she grabbed her shoulders, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal a perfectly lucid gaze.

  "Is it finally over?" Claire stifled a yawn as she spoke. She was tempted to stretch, but stopped as soon as she recalled that they were still in public.

  “Mhm! Good morning, sleepyhead.”

  “The sun is literally in the middle of setting.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’ll probably be down in another five minutes,” giggled the fox. “I can’t believe you actually slept through the whole fight.”

  “I told you I didn’t care.”

  “Oh, come on! Aren’t you at least gonna ask how it ended?”

  “I already know how it ended. Allegra used some big spell, and then Durham cut through it and killed her.”

  “...Are you sure you weren’t watching?”

  “I’m sure.” Claire fought back another yawn before placing a talon atop the fox’s head and lightly running it through her fur. “How else was it going to end?”

  “What do you mean, how else!? There were like, a thousand ways it could’ve ended!”

  “I doubt that. Allegra’s ascension did nothing but further her vanity. Durham’s powered him up by leaps and bounds.”

  “Really?” Sylvia blinked. Thrice. “How could you tell?”

  “I’m a moose. Remember? One look, and I know that Durham is harder to kill than Allegra.”

  “Oh, right.” The fox slowly crawled out of Claire’s lap and gave her back a stretch, only to freeze in the middle of it. “Wait a second! That can’t be right! They’re both so much weaker than you that there’s no way you could possibly tell the difference. And that’s not even how your prey drive works in the first place! It’s supposed to tell you how hard they’d be for you to kill, right? It doesn’t actually say anything about how hard it’d be for them to kill each other.”

  “Do y’see this, Alfred, ol’ pal? Mah lil gurl’s growin’ up so gosh darn fast. She’s even learneds how t’think!” said Claire, with a feigned, teary-eyed expression.

  “What the heck!? First of all, my mom sounds nothing like that! She’s a sophisticated librarian, not some weird farmer with a goat fetish!” huffed the vixen. “And I’ve always known how to think!”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “You literally just said that you did!”

  “By the heavens! Two thoughts in one day? The end times must be upon us! We must notify Flitzegarde immediately and beseech her aid before the darkness swallows us all.”

  “Claaaairrreee!” Turning into a fairy, Sylvia flew up to her best friend’s forehead and started lightly drumming her fists against it.

  “Behold. Unable to have her way, the vixen devolves into a beast that knows nothing but violence. She strikes viciously and mauls her poor target with her claws, leaving it permanently disfigured. It is truly a one-sided friendship.”

  “I’m not even sure what you’re pretending to be now,” said the fox, a little bit calmer.

  "A naturalist," said Claire. "You know? The weird zoophiles who stalk animals and scribble psychopathic 'observations' all over their journals?"

  "Uhhh... right," said Sylvia.

  "You'll understand once you see The Wildcat's Tale."

  "I dunno if I want to know," said Sylvia.

  "You'd probably like it. It's less of a normal play and more of a half-musical."

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  "That actually sounds kinda neat. What's it about?"

  "Silly pets and their problems."

  "Oh, that does sound kinda fu—wait a second! Claire!"

  Laughing, the snoose squeezed the fox just a little bit tighter before teleporting out of the stadium. She kept the portal open for a little, just in case Boris and Marcelle felt like accompanying them, but it seemed that neither quite realised how bored they’d be. Claire didn't even want to imagine how long it would take for the staff to go through the slowed-down battle or how anyone in the crowd could have possibly had the patience to sit through it. To make matters worse, the nobility was just as entranced as the commonfolk. Even those in the VIP booth were staring in awe, their minds working overtime in hopes of deciphering the aspect-on-aspect violence.

  The city was sure to spend the next few days effectively shut down, stuck in a state of fervour with few of its services still running.

  Hence, an escape to another land.

  Vel'khan was sure to be embroiled in all the same toils, and frankly, Llystletein was too boring, so she ventured instead to the place that she had once hoped to avoid at any cost.

  Being under the Thunder God's rule, Paunse didn't quite celebrate the summer solstice in exactly the same way as the surrounding nations. Rikael still dominated the firmament during the day—that much was unavoidable—but their nights were spent with electrified water erupting from the heavens like blood from a headless neck.

  That much was clear from the way that the clouds were beginning to gather. One by one, the ashen blobs crossed the dusking sky. They combined into a singular entity, swirling into a mass of darkness as they blotted out the oranges and reds. The only place they refused to gather was by Claire’s side. In fact, they actively avoided her, not just parting but recoiling to make a path as she floated through the heavens.

  Claire was of half a mind to erase them just to mess with Tzaarkus, but she wasn’t quite that irresponsible. Lightning was key to the cat people’s lives. Depriving them of even a day’s worth of electricity during one of the year’s best growth seasons was no different from guiding them to the slaughter. And more importantly, she didn’t want him to take out his rage on the people who she was set to visit.

  “That’s Lia’s parents’ house, isn’t it?” asked Sylvia. “Are they even going to be home?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Claire scratched the fox’s head as she landed in the yard. She couldn’t help but wonder if the Vernelles would even remember them. Realistically, she knew that they would, but a part of her seemed to think that they might’ve forgotten. After all, it’d already been a year, and it wasn’t like they’d developed all that close of a relationship in the first place. That question, however, soon warped and broke, vanishing in favour of a far more pressing concern.

  “Do they even still live here?”

  Sylvia was the one who’d voiced the thought, but Claire had been entertaining it as well. Considering the circumstances, it was far more difficult not to think it. After all, the house was a bundle of noise. It was filled with a clowder of crying infants. Some were bawling their eyes out, some were mewling for attention, and some were shrieking at the top of their lungs.

  Glancing through one of the open windows confirmed that there were three adults in the mix, all of whom were so absurdly haggard that they were entirely unrecognizable. It took a careful look at their species for Claire to conclude that they were in fact Lia’s parents and master. Lia’s mother had huge bags under her eyes, and she looked like she’d aged at least ten years in the time that they’d spent apart. Her father was quite literally collapsed under seven different children, and her master was panicking as he tried to change three different diapers at once.

  Evidently, Liliya—Lia’s mother—and Lavrentiy—her father—had kept very busy over the course of the past year.

  “We should probably go,” said Claire. “I don’t want to bother them.”

  Sylvia floated up in front of the lyrkress and took a moment to scrutinize her perfectly blank expression. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to help, aren’t you?”

  Claire frowned. “I’m not really fond of infants.”

  “Huh? Why not?”

  “They’re unnatural.”

  “Unnatural!? How the heck are they unnatural!?”

  “They’re weird and hideous, they do nothing but cry, and they need constant care if you don’t want them to roll over.”

  “That seems a little harsh. They’re plenty cut—oh wait! I bet it’s ‘cause your parents’ species don’t have them. You might just be missing the instinct that makes you think they’re adorable.” Sylvia tilted her head. “That’s kinda weird though. Don’t elves, cottontails, and thorae all have babies? They should be pretty normal in Cadria.”

  “Thoraen larvae don’t leave their nurseries until they’re fully grown, and cottontails mature quickly. You rarely see them before they learn to run and play.”

  “What about elves?”

  “I have seen a few of those. And they’re weird. They go from loud and wrinkly to fat and stupid. Even worse, they love showing them off.”

  “You’re such a grouch.” Sylvia giggled as she assumed her humanoid form and threw on a casual dress. “And besides, these aren’t just kids. They’re Lia’s little brothers and sisters.”

  “I know. But still.”

  “No buts!” The half-elf grabbed Claire by the wrist before she could inch away and rapped on the door with her other hand.

  “Just a second!” The woman on the other side sounded surprisingly energetic for someone in charge of a whole litter of miscreants, but that soon changed. Her attempt to cross the door was interrupted by a bang, a squeak, and a whole series of crashes.

  It was only after a minute or so that she finally reached the door and opened it, her eyes hollow, her breathing rough, and her head completely covered in laundry and broken pots.

  “Good evening.” She couldn’t quite see who exactly she’d greeted; only after she removed all the things covering her face did she begin snapping her fingers. “Oh, it’s you two! Lia’s friends!” she said. “Claire and Sylvia, right?”

  “Yup! Hi!” said Sylvia.

  “We’re sorry to drop by unannounced, but we were in the area, and I thought it would be nice to visit,” said Claire. She ripped open a portal and produced a gift basket. It was weaved of a wonderful hickory bark and featured a beautiful arrangement of breads, fruits, and wines. The placement was so careful and intricate that it almost didn’t seem like Claire had assembled it just a few seconds prior using whatever she’d found atop one of the castle’s kitchen counters. Not that she would ever do such a thing.

  “Oh, how kind of you! Thank you very much,” said Liliya. “Please come in and excuse the mess. We’ve been a bit busy lately, and not even three pairs of hands has been quite enough.”

  Claire nodded as she took a moment to look around the house. It was nothing like she remembered. There was garbage everywhere; the whole floor was covered in newspapers, many of which were covered in filth. It was clearly a preventive measure, but she couldn’t help but think it wasn’t really succeeding in its role.

  “Have you considered hiring a maid?” asked Claire.

  “I doubt we’ll need one. All this should calm down in another two weeks.” Liliya walked over to the kitchen table and pulled out a few seats before collapsing on top of it and breathing a sigh of relief. “They’re only loud and grouchy right now because they just started teething. They should be back to being obedient as soon as the pain wears off.”

  “Oh! I know exactly what you mean! Claire used to get all moody and stuff when she was in pain too.”

  “Not really.”

  “What the heck do you mean, not really!? Being moody was your defining trait for the better part of a year!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You clearly do!” Sighing, Sylvia nearly collapsed into a puddle, stopping short only as she realised that the desk was also covered in unsanitary paper. “Anyway, sorry, we’re getting a little sidetracked. It’s nice to see you again! How’s everything been going?”

  “Quite well,” said the catgirl. She flashed a bit of a sad smile. “It was really rough, at first, but we started doing better towards the end of the year. And well, the results speak for themselves.”

  “Fourteen almost seems like too many,” said Claire.

  “You’re telling me.” Forcing a smile, Liliya clenched her fists and dug her claws into her hands. “Normally, larger litters like this one are partially culled or at least split up, but Lia left us the means, so we thought that it was only right for us to see it through.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Right.” Sylvia awkwardly toyed with her fingers.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to spoil the mood.” She forced a smile. “How was your journey? I take it that you’re done, now that you’re headed back down south?”

  “Not yet! We’re kind of just taking it easy for a bit, but we have to go back in a few days to wrap up,” said Sylvia. “You should’ve seen all the crazy stuff we did up north! It was super fun.”

  “Hold on. Don’t go starting that story without me,” said the man in the doorway. Belyaev, Natalya’s sword teacher, was giving a bottle to one child while another two bit at his ankles. “I’ll need about ten minutes to help Lev put these crazy little things to bed.”

  “Oh, in that case, I can help,” said Sylvia. “I’m pretty good at lullabies.”

  “That’d be a godsend,” said the human.

  Quickly getting all the children to bed, the Paunseans and their visitors soon returned to the dining room, shared a meal, and discussed the year over a round of drinks.