RE: Monarch
Chapter 266: Kholis XI

Magic had limits—that had always been the rule, and it held true here.

I threw everything I had at her, anything within a magnitude unlikely to destroy the natural beauty surrounding the home Lucien had built. The fragment held against it all. Projectiles, raw flame—it mattered little. Whenever the fragment contacted whatever spell or effect I hurled her way, it stopped it cold.

However, it could be baited. That was the first limitation. If two spells were fired in quick succession and properly spaced, one often slipped through. By the same token, if multiple projectiles were in play, the fragment would cover her vitals first, extremities second. If there was an absolute mess of them, the fragment sought to encircle her entire person—not unlike a bubble. In bubble form, the fragment was far more vulnerable.

There were downsides. Even so, I had to marvel at what she'd gained. An arcane watchdog always looking over her shoulder, prepared to protect her whether or not she was intentionally directing it.

Something within me, held taut for gods only knew how long, finally relaxed.

Life was fleeting. I'd seen too many people die quickly to feel secure in any scenario, but now? Knowing there was a contingency, something to watch over her even when I couldn't?

Bliss. The closest to real peace I'd felt since long before the coronation. I clung to the feeling, as if it could be wrested away at any given moment.

Maya's expression grew serious as she held out a palm, the dark gold of the fragment rippling in a half-circle around her. "Hit me again."

Seven blazing projectiles, each with a light burning core the size of a child's fist, flew in a screeching arc. Before they left my range of adjustment, I tweaked each trajectory, ensuring that if they blew through the shield, they'd miss her entirely.

Varnished gold hexagons embedded in the shield became more defined as Maya directed more mana toward the impact points.

Thwip thwip thwip—

One by one, they struck the fragment with a hissing ripple, remaining fixed wherever they impacted until the violet around each white core burned away and the core dropped to the ground, fading and spent. The shield remained intact until the last projectile struck with the sound of shattering glass.

"Mmf, dammit." Maya huffed, taking a few steps back from the still-burning projectile before I swiftly extinguished it. "Bested by seven again."

"Not an insignificant accomplishment. You're spreading it more thinly than before, and these take considerable mana to reach that level of strength. Yet it's still holding up relatively well."

"At significant cost. Need to regenerate again—vision's turning gray." She groaned, taking another few steps back from the charred grass and lowering into a cross-legged sit. Her breathing deepened as she practiced a technique, varying the breaths in complex patterns. "They're that strong?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't lie about that." I nodded, summoning a spark and thickening it until the gaseous core grew white. "If I wasn't actively suppressing the size to limit effect, this would be enough to level..." I turned, evaluating the space. "Maybe half this grove?"

"Huh. Better than I realized." Maya held out a finger knuckles upward, and the fragment swirled, taking the form of a dark finch. It landed on the proffered perch and preened itself. She smiled at the exchange before her expression grew even.

"What is it?"

"Just a few nattering voices fraying at the quiet of my mind."

"And yet here you are, presented with a willing ear ready to listen."

"They're... they're not pretty thoughts."

"Then by all means, vanquish them. Gods know I never talk to you about anything remotely unpleasant."

"Fine." Maya laughed a little, though her eyes remained troubled. "The first is that I'm glad I didn't come into this power during the period I was at my lowest in the sanctum. Even now, with a clearer, less troubled outlook, my mind draws certain conclusions it would not have traveled to before that time."

"Regarding..."

Her eyes slid away. "Methods to reinforce the fragment that exceed my natural limits."

At first the statement didn't make sense. Eventually, it dawned on me. "You can convert mana to life force."

"Yes." Maya confirmed cautiously.

"Can you do the opposite?"

There was no visible change. Her expression and posture froze in place, as if she were made of stone. "Yes. Monster vitality lends itself well to bolstering mana. It can be done. Yet it should not be."

It was glaringly, overwhelmingly obvious that further discussion on the topic was unwelcome. The way her emotions suddenly vanished, the way her words became filtered, generalized with no assignment. It would have been smarter to come back to it later. But as I realized how haunted she looked, I couldn't help myself.

"We just talked about how survival sometimes requires adhering to the unpleasant. Hunting as prime example. Sometimes we have to do unpleasant things to survive."

"It goes far beyond unpleasant, Cairn. Desperation does not make all options viable, nor should it."

The vehemence surprised me, and I raised my arms defensively. "How? I'm sorry, but I don't understand the difference. We're not talking about every potential heinous action a person can take. We're talking about taking a monster—perhaps even one we've already hunted and eaten countless times—and using it to fuel mana instead of life."

"Because—" For a moment, Maya's voice was on the verge of shouting. I watched as she willfully reined herself in, heated features growing cold once more. "Good hunting prioritizes a clean kill. Fear taints meat, leaves it stringent and unpalatable. Alternatively, if a creature is killed swiftly, there is no life force left to harvest. Vitality shines brightest when death is close at hand." She looked away, shame creeping back into her features. "It should not be done."

"Apologies. Should have just taken the word I was given." Tilting my head upward, I squinted at the overhead sun. It was at least an hour after noon now. We'd lost ourselves in magic practice and meditation, which was nostalgic enough that I would have happily continued if our agenda was clear for the day. But alas. "Enough of this maudlin talk. We need to pick out a wine for dinner at Lucius's." I held out a hand and hoisted her to her feet, noting her somewhat surprised expression as I turned away.

Maya missed a step and gawked. "You're not going to ask more?"

I tilted my head. "Yes. Did you pack a fine dress for the evening? Your current attire is certainly charming, just a bit..."

"A bit what?" There was a warning in her voice.

"Sweaty."

Instantly her cheeks flushed red. "And whose fault is that, you fire-flinging bastard—" She cut off with a glare. "You're doing this on purpose."

"Hm?"

"Riling me up on purpose as a distraction." Maya drew closer, studying me with such intensity I had to actively fight the urge to step away. "Will you also do this when we're together and I'm a kept woman?"

There were two questions I desperately wanted to ask, but the sudden proximity muddled with her intoxicating scent scrambled them together, demonstrating towering intellect. "Do when if?"

Maya took another step forward and brushed against me. Her tone was light. "Bully me for my appearance. Laugh at me for being sweaty when you made me that way."

The last handful of words, whispered directly into my ear, sent me scrambling to the refuge of the mental monastery I'd erected the previous night. Something in my core grew heated, and I imagined falling just shy of the monastery's double doors, reaching out in desperation as the stern monks swung them shut, blocking all hope of retreat.

"Yes. No. Uh—" I cleared my throat, trying desperately to recover. "I find a bit of teasing keeps a relationship well-rounded and healthy. Only in fun, highly dependent on context."

"Oh? Tell me more." She whispered, addling my brain again. "Dig the hole ever deeper."

"Poking fun at you for being sweaty after rigorous exercise, when it makes perfect sense to be in that state, is a good example." I hurried along, trying to get the coherent point out before anything could be further misconstrued. "If it was something that genuinely bothered you or represented some underlying insecurity, I'd never mention it."

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"And you'd have no issue if I did the same?" The question might as well have been a blade to my throat.

I swallowed. "Of course not."

"Good." The impishness faded, and her mouth tightened again. "Seriously, Cairn. If you want to know what happened in the Sanctum—the details Ozra was so gleefully hinting at—I'll tell you. Everything. I'm not stupid enough to give a demon leverage to manipulate me. So we can just get all the ugly out in the open, and then you can evaluate."

In truth, part of me wanted to know—more out of curiosity than any important reason. But I could already take the hints she'd given me to their logical conclusion. It also wasn't much of a stretch to see how whatever occurred there might have bothered her greatly due to her experiences, specifically those with Barion.

"Evaluate?" I asked instead.

"Yes." She shifted, uncertain, clasping her arms behind her back. "Whether you want this. Us."

"Ah." I paused. "Done. I want this."

Maya huffed. "I'm being serious."

"So am I." I took her hands. "There's nothing you could reasonably say to change my mind. I've an idea of the shape of things—enough to realize that recounting the specifics would only bring you shame and discomfort. If sharing them would relieve that burden, I'll happily listen. But we don't have to know everything about each other. We can simply bury the topic and move on with our day."

Her lips pressed against mine, and my mind stilled.

The monks in the monastery leaned out of tall windows and hurled spears, driving me further and further from respite as I lowered her into the soft grass.

Discipline gave way to desire as hands wandered and boundaries were toyed with, small sighs and gentle laughter a balm to both our souls. She was lively, full of energy, and her strength—honed from training and combat—displayed itself in a manner I was entirely unaccustomed to. One moment it was light and playful, the classic touch of a lover, and the next we warred gently for dominance, shifting for better leverage and advantage, allowing for pin and counter-pin. It ebbed and flowed, any concept of time going with it.

When we'd both regained enough of ourselves to part, I came up for air, breathing raggedly, waist still pinned tightly between her legs. All the most important articles of clothing remained intact, but only barely. Her hair was utterly askew, and we both panted as she gripped my forearms, struggling to catch our breath.

"We—" I paused, "should probably take this inside. Preferably before we inspire a scandal."

"To what purpose?" Maya blinked innocently.

"Continue... where we've left off." I regained my breath, though my heart still hammered.

"Alas, there's much to do. We still have to pick up that wine." Her smile turned cruel. "And I'll need to bathe, of course—"

"—No..." I cursed the gods and leaned back on my knees to face skyward, bracing for the inevitable.

"Someone told me I was sweaty." She drove the knife in, easily and swiftly.

"Elphion have mercy." I bled all over the metaphorical pavement as the monks, having run out of spears, hurled stones.

"More unheard prayers. The same person told me a little teasing keeps a relationship healthy."

I cursed the gods once more, adding myself to the list. "Trust me, I'd much rather worship at your temple—ah"

Her vice-like grip on my waist released, and she shimmied from beneath me, making far more contact than strictly necessary, her warmth seeping through the thin fabric. I grabbed at her ankle, on some level enjoying the push and pull more than I'd ever admit. Her skin was soft, a reminder of what I'd only just experienced, and my fingers lightly passed over a small scar on the outside of her shin.

Maya stopped, looking down at me nonplussed. "What are you, a bog vine?"

I peered up at her. The sun grew brighter as the clouds shifted eastward behind her head, the light framing her with an ethereal crown, its radiance seeping through her slip and gilding her silhouette with a warm glow. Something about it felt timeless—the sort of memory I'd cherish for decades to come.

"Just... stay there for a second."

There was no question what I felt. It was perfect, all-encompassing. Everything I could ever want.

And immediately after, a razored gale of terror. Because my enemies did not adhere to the storybook limitations of evil. There was no honor in conflict. That was Lillian's parting lesson. Honor was as dead as the gods, its prevailing corpse serving only as carrion for the worms that hid within it to feed on. The fragment was only a start. We needed more contingencies. Layers of defenses and misinformation. The worms could starve. They'd already eaten their fill.

I shuddered.

"Catch a chill?" Maya asked, still entertaining my request and holding the pose, like she was being drawn.

"Not the word I would use." I replied, kipping up to my feet and straightening my tabard. "Now unless you'd like company in the bath again..." I let it hang.

To my delight, she seemed to seriously consider it before reneging. "Probably not. Any more procrastinating and there's a good chance we'll never make it to the baron's estate at all."

In all fairness, she was probably right.

"Then I'll spend a little more time meditating, and by the time you're ready, I'll join you."

Maya retreated slowly, casting a considerate glance over her shoulder. "That was fun. Can we... do it again soon?"

It was everything I could do to keep a straight face. "When are you free?"

"Later tonight."

"Absolutely." I wiggled my eyebrows provocatively. Maya sighed, then walked away, following the stepping-stone path to the rear of the house, and disappeared into the back door beneath the overhang.

Only then did the mask slip.

"Were you successful?" I asked, feeling a familiar presence draw near.

"Yes. Not only did I locate their primary camp, but several others they're in communications with. I've passed my notes along to the town guard." Vogrin stopped moving, and something about the way he was standing gave the sense he was evaluating me.

"Can they handle it?"

"From what I've seen? Yes. The guard here appears quite capable, while the bandits are entirely the opposite." Vogrin scoffed. "Would you believe they're still cowering in fear, holding defensive positions?"

I snorted. "Some people lose their minds at a little fire. Nevertheless, it works to our purposes."

"Are you well?" The question, voiced seemingly without reason, caught me off guard. We were more than acquaintances, Vogrin and I. On the good days in the Sanctum, when it was just the two of us, I'd even call him a friend. But when he'd left, he'd been unhappy with me, and no being in this realm or any other could hold a grudge for as long as a demon. "My suspicion was you'd be drunk out of your mind and entirely carefree by now."

"Drunk? Perhaps. But carefree? You don't know me at all."

My voice sounded like someone else's as I spoke. "I understand there's little you can say. But it remains to be asked—has Ozra said anything else? Perhaps along the lines of diverting whatever crisis he was worried about?"

"In truth, I don't know the full shape of things, though there is enough to guess." Vogrin waited, wincing a little. "If there was a failure, I cannot imagine it was one of conflict. I felt the vile ancient purge its mana. It was streaming off in vapors at the end. No fragment of it remains. A successful rout by any metric."

"Good."

"Ozra himself has not been in contact—which, to be fair, is at least a bit odd, as he is the sort to gloat. Yet despite his somewhat annoying fascination with the mortals of this realm, he is an arch-fiend, and as such oversees multiple planes of existence. Once, he didn't speak to me for a hundred years."

I snorted at the mental image, imagining Vogrin wringing his hands in some infernal library like a lost child. He was incredibly efficient at any duty, but left to his own devices, struggled a great deal. "Please tell me you made his return equally unpleasant."

Vogrin showed shark-like teeth. "Heavens no. To show any sort of animus to my direct report would be treason to the hells themselves." His mouth widened into a slow sneer. "I merely fulfilled my duty by filing every bit of paperwork that accumulated. Every document, certificate, and license that built up over nearly a century. And my people do love their paperwork."

"Sometimes I forget you're evil," I joked flatly.

"Doubtful. Should I begin the golem project?" He sounded eager, if a little exhausted.

"Not... yet." Tempting as it was, Vogrin could be horrifically single-minded when set to task. As soon as I set him on something large scale, I likely wouldn't see him for weeks unless it was about the project. "Considering you've already done more work than the rest of us, and we just had a conversation about what you do to inconsiderate lords—"

"—I never so much as implied such a thing." Vogrin interjected dryly, dictating to the infernal record.

"Uh-huh. Still, I think it's best that you take a break."

"A... break?" Vogrin repeated, cocking his head.

"A breather."

"Air holds little interest to me."

"That's..." I trailed off, putting a hand to my forehead. "Okay, let's try this again. We're here in Kholis because for the moment there's nothing to do but wait. No one works harder than you, so I've granted you some time to yourself."

"Time to myself...?"

"This is going to be a very long exchange if you keep repeating everything I say as an interrogative."

"Apologies." Vogrin looked... well, now that I was studying him closely, he looked genuinely intimidated by the prospect. "Unless there's some subtext I'm missing, you're attempting to do me a kindness. Which is not entirely unwelcome."

"Glad to hear it." I returned.

"But I do not need 'breaks.' I would not even know what to do with a break if I had one."

"Elphion—the same thing you do in your personal time."

"Personal time?—"

"Gods dammit." I squeezed the bridge of my nose. "When I'm sleeping and you're doing whatever it is you're doing. You've said countless times that sleep holds no interest for you. That's potentially dozens of hours a week."

"Some of it is spent carrying out assignments, most is passed either guarding my charge from the many forms of peril he constantly surrounds himself with, and if there is no peril, researching whatever aspect of our circumstances I do not fully understand. The remainder is meditation and attendance."

"What do you mean, attendance?"

"What do you mean?" Vogrin's voice rose slightly. "How many times have you woken restless, drenched in sweat and panic from whatever images your mortal mind torments you with, and called out my name to ensure all is well?"

I felt warmth flush my face. "Somewhat... often."

"And how frequently do I answer?"

"...Every occurrence."

"It is not because I am omniscient." Vogrin spat the last word, growing the closest to heated I'd ever witnessed. "It is because I'm attending. Serving as your attendant. Do you not feel attended?"

With dawning horror, I realized he was right. It wasn't willful ignorance. From the day the ink on our contract had dried, he'd simply always been that way, even when I'd done nothing to earn it. I reached out and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"Why are you touching me?" Briefly, Vogrin appeared to consider fleeing.

"Because we're fixing this." I said, determined. "Right now."