Chương 35: Alcohol is no Cure for Idiocy

Nythera rolled over, trying to block out Leo's insane ramblings with a pillow and blankets to no avail. She begrudgingly got out of bed not five minutes later, following Leo through the streets in a dazed state. I'm the lord! ME! Can I sick Leo on someone else to ruin their morning?

"I see you got off to a good start today, Milord." Rowen bowed. I saw that grin on your smug face, you bastard. One day Leo will wake YOU up at 3 am and you will be the one suffering.

"A wonderful start, truly. Did your report go well?" She replied.

"Father was pleased with the results of our labors, however it is now time for you, as the Lord of Myrraval, to witness and assist with the war preparations. It would do a great deal for increasing morale." Rowen answered.

"A parade around town? I suppose I can spare some time." Nythera mused. Talvik dropped in, landing straight onto her shoulder.

"The bird will make a nice touch, it is one of the few things that add to your very-so dignified appearance" Rowen said, leading her deftly through Grandport. Townspeople perioidically called out from balconies or the street "Goodday, Miss Lord!" or "Go beat the shit out of em". By the time the smell of sea air was strong, the roads had swollen with conscripted soldiers. Squads of soldiers moved ballistas after ballista down to the marina, and several groups prepared stone barriers.

Stone and earth battlements were raised from the ground with ease, ripping apart cobble to make a suitable placement for their artillery. Nythera breathed in. And walked straight up to a squad mounting a ballista.

"Good work men." She puffed her chest.

"Milord." They acknowledged her with a nod. This is so awkward.

"You men are doing fantastic work here, however, can I inquire as to why there are so many ballistae? There are nearly a dozen here and more being rolled in." Nythera asked.

"Lance ordered it, apparently Milord has some special power that needs these to be armed and ready. Well that and we thought we could get their blasted ships with these." The squad commander replied. That useless ability? Cascading Fire? It's 1000 flux! I suppose if they got enough of them it might be worth trying… Rowen led Nythera out of the sea docks northward, heading for the river port.

"As you well know, most skills don't themselves to far range, even archers tend to focus on damage and accuracy above range, so ballistae are still quite useful". She nodded. Yup I definitely knew that. Along the way they stopped before an array of furnaces, bellowing smoke out into the sky. Flux violently swirled within them, mixing, merging into new types, and splitting again at a rapid clip. By Kronan, what are these monsters? Are these the Flashfire's around here?

Distance memories of a beautiful Varnholdian forges surfaced. Intricate and complicated contraptions from Vathrial, a world now so distant. Men were feeding strange plants into the forges, one after another, and before the forges lay empty bottles, with glass pipes leading from the crucible to the bottles.

"Lance ordered as many restorative potions to be made as possible, so we assembled all the Flashfire forges we had." Rowen explained.

"Hey, Nythera! Over here." a voice called out. From behind a huge floating Flashfire forge adjusted itself. The forge was set down in the row with all the rest. She smiled.

"Hey Hugh, are you helping with the potions?" She asked.

"Yup, Kennick's out on some scouting trip and Dominic is drilling new squads up in Halsbury." Hugh stopped to wipe sweat from his brow. She hesitated.

"What about Ludwig's family?" she managed to squeeze it out. He looked out towards the sky, at nothing in particular.

"All taken care of, they've got enough sparks to last them a long, long time. A real shame though that we couldn't bring his body back to be buried." Hugh lamented. She nodded.

"Yeah, it was unfortunate".

"Let's go Little Miss Lord, we do not have all day to dally about." Rowen chided her and they continued their way. What a fucking ass.

"Unforunately, Myrraval lacks a suitable population of Runescribes, so we cannot infuse our walls or roads effectively, but your new ship will be infused." Rowen explained as they reached the river marina. There in all its glory, sat her new vessel. It was sleek, a small caravel class, and a lot bigger than her last ship. Along both sides lay three mounted ballistas and two at the prow. I'm supposed to pilot this? Alone? The flux costs on those ballista are going to be insane.

There was a man etching into the side of the ship, suspended by a wooden platform and ropes. The tool he used glowed a faint green, seeming to hum within the air as it carved into the wood.

"We are finished with your duties today, I am very busy so I will depart with haste. Do take care." Rowen said, already half gone by the time she turned to face him. Take care my ass. Nythera stood there. For several minutes I want booze. The sun sank down the eastern sky, they had spent the majority of the day simply walking from one point to the next and greeting people. Within minutes, she stood before the strange house, the amalgamation of pipework puffing out flux-dense smoke today.

Where does all it come from? The cellar probably… Kronan knows what alchemicals Edwin is using down there.

"Shelly! Come out! Let's go to Marco's!" Nythera pounded her fist on the door. The door opened slowly.

"Nyth, you really come here just to get me to drink?" Shelly asked and yawned. Her hair was a complete mess and she appeared to be quite groggy. Nythera nodded with vigour.

"Alright give me a few minutes, ok?" Shelly trod back upstairs. Nythera waited inside, but caught no sight of Edwin or his teacups. Shelly came down moments later, cleaned up. They departed for Marco's, a spring in her step. Got to be careful with the booze this time, no spending token! Absolutely not going to spend any tokens this time. Shelly threw the doors open with bravado.

"I am here to get wasted!" She shouted. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"Here Here!" rang throughout the tavern. Nythera followed Shelly in and took a seat at one of the larger tables. Marco slammed two of his largest glasses before them, nearly as big as her head.

"On the house, Miss Lord, for our brave Queen!" he declared before them.

"To the Lord!" Men raised their glasses in cheer. Nythera tried to hide behind her drink, face turning red. I hate this I hate this I hate this. Soldiers trickled to their table, the boldest from each group.

"Milord, let's drink!" another had come to greet her. CRASHHHHHH The sound of wood splintering and glasses breaking rang throughout the tavern. Her head whipped around to face the sound, no one breathed a word. The jovial atmosphere fled nearly as fast it had arrived.

"Derrick, why the fuck did you smash the table?" a man shouted at another, still seated before the broken table. Marco had rushed to the scene.

"You!, you're running cold." Marco grabbed his hand.

"Get the Hel out of my damn bar, you're not welcome here. Stupid recruits taking more gear than they can handle."

"What, I have done nothing of the sort. Don't accuse me." The seated man responded, his face betrayed no emotion, no irritation, no anger, no surprise, nothing at all.

"Your Ember-Frost is practically frozen over, don't think I can tell? I've seen your type before, now get the Hel out of here." Marco stood his ground and kicked the man out of the bar with a shove. People gradually returned to their drinks, whispering.

"Another new recruit, taking on too much cold, fucking idiots." the man next to her said and took a swig.

"Too much cold?" Nythera inquired. The man across from her piped up "Aye, he took on too much cold gear, warspoils from Damien's lackeys and ran his Ember-Frost down till his blood turned into ice. He can't be trusted anymore." he explained with a sullen frown, taking another swig of alcohol. I need to be more careful, I was running pretty hot before. She recalled the heat burning through her, how it felt, the rage that she had channeled from seemingly nowhere. Then she took another large swig of booze.

Oh well, problem for another time.

"Lord, might I hear the tale of Rustreach? I heard you executed him with a single blast from your cannon." A soldier from another table asked.

"Well I heard it that the lord took out Reachman, all of his guards, and his entire home with a single shot." A man challenged his telling.

"Alright alright, calm down, let me tell you exactly how it happened." Nythera, hopping on the table to begin her much embellished story. … Not an hour later, Nythera stood on a table before a crowd of drunken soldiers.

"BEHOLD MY POWER!" and she pulled yet another roll of parchment from behind her cloak, to join the pile in front of her. Cheers and claps followed.

"Where does she keep it all?", "Did you see her put thirteen glasses of beer in her cloak, incredible." another went. On the table across from her there was a competing act, Kennick tap dancing across the table while downing pint after pint. I'm not going to lose to some silent archer boy.

"AND FOR MY NEXT ACT" she bellowed, bringing her cloak forward to hide her face. Whipping it behind her "I WILL SPEND TOKENS!". She whipped out three upgrade tokens, holding them out to the light. Raucous laughter followed, one man tipped back too far and slammed into the ground, still laughing.

"Our lord has mighty balls." another said.

"Oh look! Her custodian has arrived. Good bye lord" a man waved. Another waved, and yet another, as if she was leaving. Huh, what? I'm just getting to the best part! I ain't leavinggggg. She stumbled on the table, confusion wracking her brain. A hand clasped her shoulder.

"You have drunk far too much, what a horrible display for a Lord. We need to school you in proper etiquette." Rowen's voice called out, as if behind her. But that snobby noble brat isn't here, huh wonder what that is. She turned.

"Oh hey Rowen, why you here? You go home now ok? I do a trick." her speech slurred.

"It is time for you to go home. Come. Now." he commanded. She glared back.

"Make me.". He sighed. Before she could blink she found herself looking up at the ceiling.

"What a pretty roof, I like the woodwork, so elegant." She giggled to herself.

"Shelly, grab her stuff, I'm taking her home, make sure she doesn't lose anything." Rowen's voice said, but there was no Rowen. The ceiling moved, rushing over her head.

"Guys help, the ceiling is moving." her speech came out barely coherent. Below her she felt the ground move, as if she was being dragged. She watched the stars pass her, street lights, sometimes people even, standing upside down. She giggled to herself the whole way back, at one point drifting off. … Suddenly she was in bed, Rowen and Shelly standing over her, looking down.

"Have her take this before she sleeps, It will cure her. After this war, I am taking her to Stormbridge, she needs lessons in proper etiquette and governance." Rowen said, handing Shelly a bottle. Her head pounded in pain, Rowen and Shelly spun within her vision. She tried moving her hand, but it didn't go in the direction she wanted.

"You can't just run off with the lord to your little manor" Shelly pinched Nythera's nose, her mouth opened in response and she shoved the potion into it. It tasted bitter, she tried to spit it out, but Shelly had her trapped.

"She has responsibilities here, she's not your toy, after this war, she'll probably govern the entire isle." Shelly retorted without even looking at Nythera.

"Hence the need for proper education…" Rowen continued as they left the room and slammed the door shut. Sweet, intoxicated dreams took place that night. … She awoke groggily, with sunlight streaming in through the blinds. Loose parchment piled up on top of her along with three shiny tokens. What the Hel is this? Some kind of presents?.... Wait. She night came back to her in scattered images. Huge Her cheeks turned bright red. fucking Hel. She threw everything back into Boxy with haste and got cleaned up.

Heading downstairs, she found Shelly and Edwin making breakfast, the smell of tea permeated the house as usual.

"Good morning Nyth, you feel alright?" Shelly asked.

"Yeah, I feel weirdly fine, I don't remember well what happened last night." she said, rubbing her temple. Shelly grinned "Want me to tell you?".

"No. Decidedly not." Nythera replied. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK Edwin got up and answered the door.

"Dominic, what brings you here at this early hour of the morning?" he asked.

"I have business with the Lord and not much time to spare." he replied, waving to Nythera. She waved back. Wonder what this is all about, though it's nice to see Captain Dominic again.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, just wait by the door will you?" she asked and departed to prepare. The two left Edwin's house shortly after, making way to yet another random place. I never get a chance to rest, always this thing or that thing or go over there or come over here. I suppose the battle is around the corner, though I wish we knew for certain when they are arriving. She sighed.

"You seem to have settled in nicely on our return, men tell tales of you now." Dominic commented.

"I heard them in Marco's last night, the tales have gotten ridiculous, they were saying I killed Reachman, all of his guards, and blew up his entire home with a single shot." Nythera answered exasperatedly.

"Let them, the Lord of Myrraval should be a figure of myth and legend, tales like these will defend our island before you even need lift a finger." he replied.

"But there is something you should know…". He added. She looked expectantly at him.

"When you arrived, Rowen was…" He hesitated.

"Rowen… was on a mission in the north, aboard a vessel. He was out looking for new reefs to fish and new resources to exploit, but as always his primary goal was singular. He was looking for the domain core of an island, as he had looked for Myrraval's core many times before." Dominic explained. Her heart sank. Shit. No wonder he's such an ass.

"Why is he so fixated on finding a domain core?" she inquired.

"Its not my place to explain his story, but you might have already figured out they are exiled nobility from Greymere. They've worked incredibly hard here to rebuild their status, but they seek a core to cement it." Dominic let loose the truth. That explains… everything. He must despise me, a young girl coming in and just days later claiming what he and his father could not. For YEARS. They continued the rest of the way in silence.

"Alright this is it, I leave you here, but before I go, Grandport has prepared a gift for you." Dominic said and pulled a bag out of his tunic. He thrust it into her hands.

"Use it after talking to the two inside, they will help you. They are the only two System Scholars on Myrraval." She opened the bag to find a bundle of clinking tokens. IM RICH!

"I can't take this, this is too much." she tried giving it back.

"You must take it, Nythera, you and your cannon are the hope of the island, this is where the people have decided to place their hope." Dominic said and departed with haste. She checked the contents of the bag. Just how rich?