“I object!” Soumis yelped, his foot hitting the ground with such strength as to shake it and terrorize the people of Graîne. “I object!”
Victoire rolled her eyes in annoyance. And to think the day had started out so well…
Everything had gone smoothly at first. She and her wereowl squad had made their way to the Forest of Broceliande, where she t with Sagesse and the Lady of the place, a graceful and charming creature who had welcod her and her team with pleasant courtesy. Sagesse had been quite surprised to hear about Victoire’s ancestry, and Renarde felt her life story should be adapted into a play—a suggestion which Victoire vetoed—but neither comnted too much on it; as for Rapeolon, he couldn’t care less. All in all, almost everyone understood this was only a sham to unlock the crown’s power.
But then Soumis heard about their coronation plans and threw a tantrum.
“Please calm down, oh great and beautiful dragon lord,” the Lady said with a deep bow. She hadn’t been surprised in the slightest to see a dragon landing at her tree’s foot, and seed to have had experience handling dragons since she imdiately went for the flattery angle. “I assure you that this coronation is only a formality that your divine presence alone can make tolerable.”
Appealing to a dragon’s pride was a true-and-tried tactic that would have certainly worked against Insupportable… but it fell flat on Soumis.
“If she is crowned, then Lady Victoire will turn into a queen!” Soumis protested. “She will have to retire into a castle where all kinds of kings will want to reproduce with her to make baby princesses! I will be deprived of her princessness!”
“There are no kings on the continent, you dimwit!” Victoire snapped at her mount, with her dry tone taking the Lady by surprise. The only male rulers on this side of the continent were Emperor Malvolo and whoever currently acted as the andvari’s current dictator, both of whom were married. “Besides, I’m not interested in romance. I don’t want a husband, and I don’t want to make ‘baby princesses’ either.”
Her dragon mount stared at her in shock, his reptilian eyes widening so much it seed to hurt.
Victoire took a deep breath and struggled against the urge to facepalm. “You physically cannot grasp the concept, can you?”
“A queen that… does not want to make princesses…” The dragon bellowed, as if struggling to put a nagging thought into words to the point it began to hurt him. “Soumis… Soumis has a headache inside his headache.”
“Victoire would not need to surrender her title as Princess, oh fair and mighty dragon,” the Lady insisted. “The official title of Valentine’s rulers was ‘Monarch.’ Kings and queens were simply a title among many. She may keep calling herself a princess.”
Victoire didn’t want to be called anything, but held her tongue about that. “It’s not like I’m going to rule anyone either. What is a princess, but a queen without a throne?”
“But Soumis is the mistress' throne!” Soumis countered with implacable logic. “This argunt does not hold water!”
“I…” The Lady frowned in confusion. “Does your reptilian majesty actually enjoy being ridden?”
“More than anything!” Soumis shivered in pleasure, much to Victoire’s distaste. “Even now I can feel the weight of her noble chastity pressing down on my back!”
While Victoire desperately hid her scarlet cheeks beneath her hands, the Lady appeared puzzled. “Oh, that… that is new,” she said, a little uncomfortable. “I did not think anything could surprise anymore after all these centuries. I stand corrected.”
It was the mysterious Hood who finally found the chink in Soumis’ armor of sheer stupidity. “She could be the princess of one place and the queen of another.”
Soumis’ head perked up. “What?”
“True, one title does not necessarily replace another,” Sagesse said. As an ambassador, she was well-versed in local customs. “Victoire could beco the Monarch-in-exile of Valentine and the Princess of Prosse, since the Glars hold sway over the city.”
“They’re right,” Lord Wepwawet said in Victoire’s mind. “It would be child’s play to make it official since all of Verglane’s cities have autonomous governnts.”
That was the stupidest suggestion Victoire had heard yet, which ant it worked like a charm on Soumis. “Oh, Soumis gets it now!” the dragon nodded to himself in happiness. “Soumis is so relieved!”
“What did I do to deserve this?” Victoire asked Lord Wepwawet, once again at her wits’ end.
“Hey, don’t ask , we’re both stuck with him… and as much as it annoys , he’s too useful to alienate.”
Victoire sighed in defeat. This just kept getting worse and worse. “Do we truly have to make it official?”
“The cat will be out of the bag the mont you put that crown on your head.”
Victoire clenched her jaw. She hated this—hated it—but her duty to Verglane ca first. If the crown and its power would help bring peace to the continent, help her friends, and root out the lunarians, then she would bear its burden.
“It is you that people will see, Victoire, not the crown,” her god reassured her. “The sa way I saw your strength of character long before I learned of your origins.”
“I hope so, but still… this will cling to for the rest of my life.” Victoire shook her head and steeled herself. “It is what it is.”
Now that Soumis had cald down, the Lady of Broceliande proceeded with the ceremony according to the first king’s rites. It was a thankfully simple affair compared to the more elaborate coronation of Lavaland’s Fire Sultan. The people of Graîne and Verglane’s Champions ford two lines leading straight to the foot of the Lady’s tree, where she would wait with the crown in her hands. Soumis insisted on carrying Victoire on his back to her crowning since they lacked a carriage, which made for quite the procession. Victoire herself struggled not to blush in embarrassnt as the dragon carried her across the nearby town of Graîne, to the amusent and awe of the locals who had never seen such a beast in the flesh before.
“Funny,” Montfort the bard said once Victoire passed by his group. “We founded the Free Brotherhood in liberty’s na, and now we’re witnesses to a new monarch’s coronation.”
“The irony isn’t lost on , I assure you,” the Hood replied. “Though I would rather pick a tolerant king over our current corrupt governor.”
“The occasion calls for a ballad,” Renarde said upon grabbing a lyre. “Montfort, please be a dear and find soone for the percussion.”
“You heard the lady, Wenda,” her fellow werefox said upon turning to the elven archer of the group. “Ti to hit the drums.”
“Hey, why ?” she complained. “Since when are we an orchestra?”
“Since I was struck by inspiration,” Renarde said upon pinching her lyre. “I believe I shall call this, ‘The Queen that Never Was.’”
“I swear to the gods soone will pay for this,” Victoire promised herself upon climbing down from Soumis and kneeled in front of the Lady of Broceliande.
“Oath registered,” Lord Wepwawet teased her.
The Lady smiled at Victoire, her hands holding the Royal Crown of Valentine: a golden diadem with six ivory fangs for horns and engraved with a winged lion’s symbol. “Mother Earth, send forth your spirit and renew the ancient pact,” she incanted, the wind blowing through her tree’s leaves. “May the spirits of the world crown you with glory and righteousness.”
Although the ceremony put her in a foul mood, Victoire lowered her head and allowed the Lady to put the crown on her head. It was heavier than expected, its magic coursing through its ivory horns.
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“I swear to serve the people of Valentine, for my throne rests on their goodwill,” Victoire said. She had learned the vows by heart during her ti with the Glars, but the Lady agreed to a few changes. “I swear to respect and enforce the freedom of religion, the equality of rights, political and civil liberties which all beings are entitled to; to govern what I rule in the sole interest, happiness, and glory of the people.”
This vow might have been for show, but Victoire was as good as her word. Though her loyalty was to Verglane first and foremost, she would defend the people of Saguenay from danger like any citizen of her holand.
“Then rise, Monarch of Valentine,” the Lady said, the forest singing with her. “May Mother Earth smile upon you.”
Magic pulsed through the crown the mont Victoire stood up from her knees. While it refused to obey her once, it had now beco lighter atop her head, as if it had accepted her. The winged lion symbol at the center glowed like the sun for a brief instant, startling everyone.
The crowd erupted in applause, much to Victoire’s flusternt. Soumis was moved to tears of magma. “Her princessness is safe…”
Victoire suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, much to her god’s amusent. “Co on, cheer up a little,” he said before using magic to show a stat screen in front of her eyes. “Look at what you’ve won.”
Crown of Valentine
Category: Accessory (Crown)
Quality: S
Effect 1: Stat Booster (two spots): Grants 5 CHA and LCK to the wearer.
Effect 2: Royal Protection (two spots): Grants immunity to ntal Ailnts, such as Charm or Madness.
Effect 3: Valentinian Authority: Allows the user to call and command the Questing Beast of Glatisant.
Restriction: The crown only grants its power to the properly ordained Monarch of Valentine, Victoire Fleuret of Narc.
The lost crown of Valentine, who overthrew its last mad king in a bloody revolt. Sha the ntal protection didn’t work against self-inflicted derangents, right?
“The stat boost should synergize well with Winter Infusion and Ice Mirror, and the ntal protection will co in handy against the lunarians,” Lord Wepwawet said.
“I suppose it will,” Victoire conceded. “I can only hope the Beast of Glatisant is worth this farce.”
Sagesse joined her soon after with a pile of docunts. “As a representative of Roynimalia endowed with the power to sign treaties on the city’s behalf, I officially recognize you as Princess of Prosse and the rightful Monarch-in-Exile of Valentine, Victoire.”
“Please don’t call Your Majesty,” Victoire begged her.
“Would you prefer Your Grace?” Sagesse replied with a chuckle, ignoring Victoire’s glare. “I do find your reluctance quite amusing. Most would relish a noble title, let alone two.”
“If this can reassure you, Victoire, your ancestor was equally unsure of himself when I crowned him,” the Lady of Broceliande said. “His own knights had to drag him to to complete the ceremony.”
“Did a dragon object to it?” Victoire quipped dryly.
“No, no, quite the contrary.” A shadow passed in the Lady’s eyes. “The boy was simply in love with , and was working up the nerve to ask for my hand.”
“What?” The fact that the Lady could call the first King of Valentine a boy and that he had a crush on her took Victoire aback. “The history books never ntioned that.”
“Because I turned him away when he asked.” The Lady’s smile faded away. “My sisters have taken many lovers across the ages, and all of them they buried; for the lifespan of n are a blink of the eye for dryads. I had buried too many friends to add the pain of a lost love to my sorrows.”
“I’m…” Victoire gulped in sha. “I’m sorry I opened up an old wound.”
“Think nothing of it, my dear child.” The Lady’s smile returned, radiant like the sun. “Truth be told, I am deeply moved that you gave the chance to participate in this rite. This takes back to much older and happier tis when this country did not curse my na.”
Victoire sympathized with her. It must have been quite the crushing blow to help create a nation from scratch, only to be rejected by it. “I would love to hear your tales, Milady,” Victoire said kindly, “once we have saved Saguenay.”
“Yes, as much as a mont of revelry ought to follow a coronation, ti is of the essence.” The Lady shuddered in dread. “This world cries out in pain. I sense a great evil approaching; a hunger that seeks to devour us all.”
“I swear to you that my god and his allies will repel it, as we repelled the Titan Whiro,” Victoire promised from the bottom of her heart. “Valentine might have rejected us, but we shall defend it all the sa.”
“Spoken like a true knight. Your ancestor would be proud.” The Lady nodded with a hint of pride in her voice. “I pledge my assistance in this fight, Victoire. For now, you shall have our help.”
“Unfortunately, I still do not understand how the crown may call the Beast of Glatisant to our side.”
“You simply need to utter the following command in old Valentinian: ‘By the ancient pact, I compel you to appear, oh Questing Beast of Glatisant,’” the Lady explained, her expression swiftly turning into a grimace. “However, while it will cause the creature to co to you in an instant, I would refrain from calling her unless it is absolutely necessary.”
“How so?” Victoire asked. “Is it only compelled to fight for once?”
“While she… while the Questing Beast of Glatisant is a formidable ally who helped found Valentine, I…” The Lady of Broceliande looked away in embarrassnt. “I would only call her in your darkest hour, when all other options have been exhausted or Archon is on the verge of escaping…”
Victoire squinted at the dryad in suspicion. “Why?”
“She’s a… handful… very peculiar… and… she knows a damning truth about the kingdom which, for all of our sake, ought to stay buried.” The Lady gave Victoire a look that breathed pity. “All I can say is that there is a very good reason why only the very first kings bothered to call on her. You would be wise to follow their example.”
Victoire had a terrible, terrible gut feeling about this.
The Second Incursion was an hour away, and they had already caught three saboteurs.
True to his promise to Artemis, Wepwawet had sent as many supplies and cannons as he could to his friend and nearly lost an entire shipnt to well-placed alchemical bombs, which his spies barely disard in ti. None of the culprits—all werelings—had been brainwashed by lunarians, although their handlers and employers might have been. They had simply been paid to place packages on the ships without being inford of their contents.
There were spies in his territory. Not many—or else the incidents would have been far more serious—but enough to cause a ruckus.
“Guys, I won’t need all this food,” Artemis complained when she received Goreville’s latest shipnt of Verglanian fruits and salted at. “We’ve got plenty.”
“I’m almost certain Tiamat will play for ti,” Wepwawet insisted. “And Lord Odin warned that so Titan Incursions could turn into sieges depending on the chosen victory conditions.”
Wepwawet was aware of the ti dilation that happened inside the Board, since he had experienced it firsthand. The battle with Whiro had barely lasted an instant from the point of view of outsiders.
However, the Titans might have sabotaged the chanism behind it. Fights were supposed to take place between two ticks of the clock, but they might instead work on the basis of a ti dilation where one day inside the interdinsional rift would result in an hour outside.
If his intuition was correct and Beelzebub and Tiamat collaborated on a joint operation, then the latter would likely settle on an attrition strategy. The longer the Incursion lasted on the outside, the more ti lunarian agents would have to rob the Royal Vault.
“Fair enough,” Artemis said with a shrug. “Sun cooked up a pretty nasty strategy to take out Tiamat, and my people are tooled up accordingly. I’m as ready as I can be.”
The sa goes for us, Wepwawet thought. Rapoleon and his sappers had completed their tunnel and were waiting for the signal to spring their trap on the Three Sages alongside Filou and the Free Brotherhood. Sagesse remained with the Lady to trigger the Growth plan should the situation degenerate, and Victoire waited in ambush with her dragon to assault the cathedral should their first plan to destroy Archon fail.
The main unknown factor remained Gaspar. Renarde had approached the mage with an offer, though there was no telling whether he would take it.
“You’re sure you’re alright, Arty?” Ganesha asked her. “Did Anansi cause any issues?”
“I would rather fight with you by my side, but Sun will help keep that dirty spider in line. And I’ve got to say that while he’s an ass, so of the Miracles he brings to the table might just save our hides today.” Artemis smashed her fist against her palm. “We’ll send Tiamat packing before she knows what hits her!”
“That’s the spirit,” Wepwawet encouraged her. He knew being too much of a worrywart would only anger her, and he had faith in her skills. “Please bring back a few trophies to adorn our walls with.”
“I will!” Artemis checked the counter, which was quickly growing closer to zero. “Well, ti to go, guys. Group hug!”
“Group hug!” Everyone repeated at once.
The trio embraced each other, with Artemis squeezing her friends tight. “Wish luck!”
“You don’t need it,” Wepwawet complinted her, which caused Artemis to grin wickedly. She waved them a hand and then left their shared Realm of Influence to depart into the rift.
Goreville and the other Verglanian Champions present in the Wyld had been stranded ashore away from Artemis’ centers of power to avoid being trapped in the board; both the 'defeat all enemy commanders' or 'claim the most Altars on the board' victory conditions would have resulted in their expulsion from it anyway, and Artemis was confident in her own forces.
It gave Wepwawet a good view of the situation from the outside. The spatial rift expanded across the sea and reached the Wyld, engulfing entire pans of the jungle. A great barrier of light tore the landmass asunder and stretched across the horizon, beyond the southern ocean and Shadazar in the north, splitting these areas off from Elphion and sealing them into a pocket dinsion.
Just how big was the board?
“It’s covering a lot of ground,” Ganesha noted in alarm. “More than during the First Incursion.”
“Yeah,” Wepwawet replied. He could only think of one reason why. “Tiamat must have opted for the ‘claim as many Altars before the counter runs out’ victory condition. That’s the only one that would allow for a board of this size.”
Moreover, as Lord Odin warned, it was the challenging Titan that decided how long the battle lasted during such Incursions. Artemis and her allies might be trapped inside for a very long ti.
For now, almost all eyes were turned towards that region of the globe, with gods waiting anxiously to see if they would be forced to take up the fight next. Only Wepwawet turned his attention away to focus on his Champions. “Ready?”
“In position, Your Godliness!” Filou replied with enthusiasm.
The Royal Vault heist mission was on.
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