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Arc 9-13

“Wait. Take me to the beginning. Why were you watching the Grand Summoners in the first place?”

Little Water pauses in her explanation, the end of her tail standing up and remaining still. I don’t know if her blue skin can show a blush, especially in a way I’d recognize, but there is hesitation about her that suggests embarrassment for getting ahead of herself. The way she launched into her explanation, words running after one another without any discernible reason or pattern wouldn’t be remiss coming from a child chattering to her mother about something she stumbled on. The news is spoken in a similarly innocent excitement, which is mildly disturbing given the topic.

“Alright,” she says, quickly moving past the interruption. “You are aware of my people’s connection with summoners?”

“Yeah. You hunted them.” Something I’m not entirely copacetic about. I like to think they were at least able to discern the real summoners from the idiots. Otherwise, the art wouldn’t be alive to today.

“Mm. Nothing in this world can threaten the majesties but beyond this realm, the threats are countless. Your city is young and the young are vulnerable. I thought it wise to keep an eye on a known threat.”

“Reasonable. And that’s how you learned of this Bloody Mender?”

“Arrbutor. A…mass of flesh with dozens of hands sprouting from it like a grotesque bloom. In one of its palms sat a golden bird, Rizen. The creature spoke for it, interpreting hand sigils.”

How unique. It’s both embarrassing and exciting that I don’t recognize the description of the elemental. This is what I hoped for; the passion for summoning has been ignited in another group, causing them to bravely explore that which exists beyond our world. Just, why? Why choose monstrosities? This isn’t a consequence of being uninformed, not when their leader has access to the Summoning Hall and other summoners with plenty of experience.

Honestly, a mass of hands? The only thing worse is dozens of mouths with sharp teeth. Appearances can be deceiving but they are always telling. For example, the succubi. They can take any form they please, but they make the effort to look familiar and pleasing. Their empathy is practiced and malicious, but it’s there. They may not be born with human morality, but they’ve taken the time to understand it and can pretend with the best of them.

This red creature? Saints save them, this thing won’t even deal with them directly, leaving the conversating to an intermediary. It clearly has the physical affinity being called something like Bloody Mender, which means it’s choosing not to have a mouth. Choosing to distance itself. That doesn’t bode well for any future negotiations or its opinion of this world’s inhabitants.

Not to mention it’s got a penchant for subjugation, given it literally travels with a servant. Glorious Cosmo, I chose Mr. Self-Made for this position because of his ability to swallow his pride in the face of overwhelming disadvantages. I almost kill him and he comes simpering back, reporting to me faithfully if ineffectually. He got his ass kicked in Kierra’s little club night after night and came back for more just for the chance that he might amount to something more. That is not someone I expect to run out of patience and throw caution to the wind.

“And you watched the summoning?” Which is an offense in itself. One of the first things these Grand Summoners should have learned is to secure a summoning site.

“I did. A young woman named Fey contracted it, but it was obvious that Callan was directing her.”

“Go on.”

“They struck a bargain with the creatures. It would serve them, meld them into their ideal images. Or some of them. Others it would improve according to its own inspiration. And more still would be sacrificed to it for its own amusements.”

I stare at her, brain working hard to process the other nonsense trailing from her pale lips. It’s not the sacrifices, the transgression she’s so interested in reporting, that leaves me stupefied. That is the natural conclusion to summoning a creature that willingly goes by the moniker “Bloody Mender”, for saints’ sake. “You’re telling me these idiots gave this thing the leeway to…experiment on their members?”

“Within the boundaries that they remain vaguely humanoid and the improvements made them better, yes.”

My eyes slip shut as I force myself to relax, pushing my body into the cushions behind me. It doesn’t do much to alleviate the sudden exhaustion pressing on my mind.

“I’m going to assume this raid is meant to secure their sacrifices for the near future?” I ask the ceiling.

“Indeed.”

“Is that it? They’re going to go coast to coast sacrificing people to this thing’s knife?” It’s completely unfeasible. Is no one asking the obvious questions? Like, how long can they go before someone figures out what they’re doing and reports them to the crown? Hells, let’s assume the kingdom never catches on and they manage to murder their way through the countryside, recruiting new members along the way. Are they going to declare war on Harvest by sieging a city once they run out of easy prey? Does Callan think one melder can make him king?

Dammit, no! I massacred thousands to stop Victory from going to war. I’ll be dammed to the Abyss before I let that sniveling, self-important, delusional, little bastard ruin everything! Especially summoning!

I jump to my feet, pacing behind the couch as I work to control the sudden, burning emotion in my chest. “Give me the rest.”

To her credit, Little Water isn’t intimidated by my temper, her tone remaining soft and her eyes watching my tense stomping without a ripple of emotion. “The contract means they need to offer the creature two sacrifices a month, however, from what I’ve come to understand, they have used more sacrifices to bargain for additional services.”

A laugh bursts out of me, dry and humorless. “Great. Bargaining beyond the scope of their contract. Do you know what that means? Do you?”

“No.”

“It means they made a shitty contract in the first place!” I hiss, resisting the urge to storm from the room. “If you’re going to kill ten people a month anyway, just offer that from the beginning and secure better terms!”

“That sounds reasonable.”

I turn, peeking at her perked posture, alert but as still as the ice that permeates her home. It’s like staring into a clear pond, inherently tranquil. I breathe and let the calm douse the anger. The violent emotion doesn’t disappear, but the inferno weakens to simple embers.

“Alright. They targeted a village. You were there?”

“We followed at a distance.”

“But you didn’t intervene?”

Her pupils narrow. “Should I have?”

Her tone makes it clear she doesn’t think much of the idea on its own. She’s probing its importance to me. Do I care about the nameless innocents dropped into a terrible fate their dull minds, unable to conjure a fate beyond working the same fields as their fathers, could never imagine? Should she have stopped their screams?

“No,” I admit grudgingly. It still feels wrong, my empathy. I don’t have to act on it, I won’t, but I’d only be doing myself a disservice if I ignore it. I couldn’t ignore if I wanted to. “I’m assuming there was a small army of them. You could take any of them in a direct fight, but they outnumber you, what, five to one? Ten? And that’s before talking about the elementals.” Vanity King, the summon used to entice Callan, would be problematic on his own. A beast impervious to blades is not the greatest threat Harvest has ever seen but such a creature with enough intelligence to strategize and lead others? Very problematic.

“You made the right decision.”

“Thank you. What will you do?”

“I’ll stop him, of course.” And that’s the end of the Grand Summoners. What a waste.

Unless…

“You said that this Arrbutor isn’t contracted to their leader?”

“Correct.”

“Anything else?”

She pauses, tail thwacking the cushions in a soothing rhythm as she thinks. “The creature mentioned something about the elves.”

“Be more specific,” I growl.

“I believe it wants to study them? Learn from them? It wants to go south.”

Haha. So, these idiots not only want to start a war with the king, they want a war with the elves. I definitely have to intervene. Luckily, I think I can work with this.

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Henry Rybolt


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