Chapter 553: Suspicious Minds

Imperial Plenipotentiary of the World Archives Society Simone Petra, or as she preferred to be called, Archmage Petra, was quite excited when the colony of giants finally came into sight. In sight for her at least, given she was watching it from above using her specialty, ice magic, to create enough lenses to bend the light to her eyes.

"It appears they are celebrating, or at the very least feasting," she reported to the expedition’s security commander, Marshal Abbad, a rather imposing deer beastkin who was presently applying some salve to his budding antlers. "The gates are open, and even the guards seem to be drinking. Shall we arrive now while they’re in good spirits, Lee?"

The Marshal grunted. "Works for me."

For an Imperial expedition, Archmage Petra had kept things small. Two wagons, one which held supplies and the other which held her secretary Zuzan, a priestess of the Three named Veria, and a bard they’d picked up in the Port of Reclaim named Cem Tidal.

The first two were, like her, of angelic descent, and unlike Simone, who’d opted to have her wingbuds removed, Zuzan Kliel wore her underdeveloped wings through the back of her jacket with, if not pride, then a certain possessiveness. Veria Kliel, Zuzan’s sister, was rather taciturn for an angel, and she was here because the religious order she belonged to had an interest in the last known preservation dome. Her fully-grown wings could harvest mana, but nothing else, and Simone knew for a fact that while she worked with the government, she resented the Demon Lord for the supposed "curse" inflicted on angel-kind. She also resented Cem for being a demonkin. Simone was pretty sure "Cem Tidal" was just a stage name, but Cem had proved good company and had an interest in historic legends, even transcribing some local songs for her analysis, though how he’d found out about the expedition in the first place was beyond her.

Outside the wagons walked Marshal Abbad’s guard retinue, six people hand-picked from Reclaim’s guards and internal magic specialists, all mankin of various hues. Petra had gotten to know them a little, but they tended to talk about subjects that weren’t polite for her to engage with. They were an effective team, as two fights with local monsters had proved.

At last, we’ll finally be off the road...

Within the hour, they arrived at the village and were taken to their accommodations, a longhouse with a large shared space and small rooms around the edges. As it turned out, the village was celebrating the death of the old chief and the ascent of a new one, as well as some sort of new alliance? Politics was not Simone’s strong suit.

"The new Chief will see you this evening," their guard, a burly female giant, said by way of parting, while staring at the Marshal with a more than appraising gaze.

Veria was having none of it.

"Is this how your Chief treats Imperial guests? We did not risk life and limb to be delayed." She flared her wings angrily after stepping up to the giant, tall enough to at least make their staredown more across than down.

For someone who hates the Demon Lord, she sure does love wielding Imperial authority, Simone thought with some amusement.

"You’re not in the empire," the giantess said. "Feel free to wander the craic once you’re rested."

"Well, that’s good enough for me!" Cem, who had lain himself down on some pillows, flipped to a stand and drew his guitar from his personal storage. With a few strums and plucks, he followed the giantess out the door, his long tail swaying in time.

Simone might have pursed her lips at his lighthearted attitude, but she couldn’t make herself not enjoy his antics. Much as angels had lost the use of their wings, demons nowadays were far less demonic than their historical forebears. By virtue of having a tail, Cem was something of an outlier in comparison to all but the royals of the Demonic Empire.

After unpacking her books and making sure her gift for the Chief was intact, she was amongst the first to find herself wandering the village.

It was... quaint, compared to even the Port of Reclaim. Simone, like all angels, had grown up on a reserve island amidst the Armedon Archipelago, not a harsh life, though certainly a restricted one. Unlike most, she had found the uncurated ruins and wilds held her imagination far more strongly than the careful reminders of angelic sin planted throughout the isles and the capital, Amduata.

Cem was amongst the singers in the crowd, adding to the musical accompaniment as they alternated between dirges for the old Chief and new songs to praise the new. After twenty minutes of listening, Simone had a pretty good idea that one had killed the other in a duel worthy of song.

One reminded her of the First Argument of Kings, a poem of The Imperial Epic that detailed the first reclaimation era, when the first invasion of the Archipelago was led by the angelic kings of the continent of Retha. Naturally, the Demon Lord first asserted her power by devastating their kingdoms from within, emptying entire dungeons of their monsters.

Oh, I fear, King Lumiel, that we must all go, or none shall return... Of course, no angel that went on that campaign was allowed to return to Retha, and the demands of the Demon Lord saw the angelic populations exiled to the Archipelago and the reserves.

These giants seemed ambitious, unifying into the great enterprise of nation-building that the Demon Lord had finally allowed on the Arethan continent. Far to the east, the Imperial outposts had exploded in population thanks to the newfound opportunities, and while Simone had envied her colleagues seeking to excavate the ancient kingdoms of Arit and Liatra, but if she could verify the ancient site of Norneau, and perhaps even the Crimson Empire’s ancestral seat, her entire career would be made.

She hadn’t suffered through decades in academia, looked down upon for her heritage, had her work stolen or published without credit, and struggled even to receive an official remit allowing her to travel outside the archipelago, only to wind up empty-handed. Her decision to form an entirely angelic core team, even with Veria, had a lot to do with ensuring the integrity of her mission’s results.

And speaking of integrity...

The sound of a familiar, assertive voice brought a small groan out of Simone as she discovered Veria standing in front of the new chief, a young, dark-haired giant who loomed over her despite being seated...

"As an Oldborn, it’s your duty to enter the Cycle of Heroes. To finally free this world of the Demon Lord’s tyranny..."

Not this nonsense...

"Veria!" Simone shouted as she rapidly approached. Having silenced her, she turned to the Chief. "Lord Chief, I apologize for my colleague’s rudeness. She is impatient and-"

The Chief raised a hand. As more giants looked to him, Simone noticed that most of them were also youths; none of them seemed to be older than their twenties, though the sense she got of Chief Aban’s mana was developed enough to be an Archmage’s, at least. Oldborns, those who retained memories of previous lives, were historical wildcards, bringers of chaos at their worst and new ideas and technologies at their very best. She hadn’t known this Chief was Oldborn, but now the inquiry into Norneau that reached her door made more sense. Oldborn were naturals when it came to tripping over history.

"I am interested in hearing what she has to say," he said, leaning forward. "But I won’t commit until I know exactly why, as Imperial citizens, you would try to rope me into your troubles, much less regicide." He gestured around him. "Our kingdom is here, after all."

Kingdom?

A roil of amusement went through the giants around him, but Veria did not flinch from her self-appointed purpose. Simone had heard this all before; close to when they first met when she wondered why her fellow angel was so insistent on coming. At first she’d thought it was because Veria was protective of her younger sister, but while that was true, Veria took her faith extremely seriously. What Simone trusted was history, facts, not blind faith.

"For ages beyond rememberance, the Triune Priests have sought only to guide the world in the proper way. The Demon Lord has usurped that purpose, and so we have ever sought heroes from amongst the people to overcome her, to free my people and the world from her tyranny."

"I’ve never heard of this," a rotund giant behind the throne said, holding up a pendant that had a familiar symbol, an upward-pointing triangle with three circles around each corner, bonuded by a single large circle. The symbol of the Triune Gods.

"My Order has existed for two millenia, since the Heavensfall," Veria drew out her necklace, revealing a symbol like the other, only this was a downward-pointing triangle with a single arc cutting off the bottommost point. "Its purpose is to prevent the end of all things, by killing the living Avatar of Destruction. To stop him, the Demon Lord must first die."

The young Chief burst out laughing. "Why should I believe you? If what you say is true, why would the ruler of your empire allow you to even exist?"

Veria reddened, clearly embarrassed. While Simone felt sorry for her, she felt that being humbled was the least lesson Veria could learn. "The Demon Lord cares nothing for faith, only obedience... She does not consider my Order a threat."

"And why is that?" He leered at her wings, her chest, as if deriving some pleasure from her discomfort.

"Because... No Hero has succeeded for the last two-thousand years. And now we fear the time might be too late."

Perhaps it was something in her voice that drew him to make eye contact. Veria took his silent interest as an invitation.

"If she is not defeated this generation, the Avatar of Destruction, who is called Kirael, will be unleashed upon Ayther, as he was unleashed upon Heaven, two thousand years ago."

To Simone’s horror, the Chief sat back, regarding Veria seriously even as his fellow giants exchanged jokes and humored looks. She knew the look of suspicion, for it was one she’d been subjected to time and again.

But what worried her was not the suspicious gaze, but the glint of belief behind his eyes.

Veria... What have you done?