Kavaa read her report. Eleven thousand, eight hundred and ninety-two Clerics were at the ready.

Now Kassandora’s plan was only a matter of time.

Arascus watched Mint smile at him, bow and blink away from existence. His step felt lighter, his breathing easier. The burn of the whiskey had melted away and he knew a smile had curled its way onto his face. “That was real?” Ilwin asked. The elf had taken the news of Iliyal’s suicide mission badly, but it was news he needed to take eventually. Immortals simply did not exist in this world, everyone died eventually.

“Yes.” Arascus replied, still unmoving. His eyes feverishly scanned the corner for any trace of the ghost. There would be none of course. He blinked and Ilwin’s eyes grew wide.

“Who was that?” Ilwin asked.

“That was Maid Mint.” Arascus tried to keep the joy of out his voice but when he saw Iliyal down his glass and stand up, shakily saluting the empty air, he wanted to burst out in joyous laughter. “My daughter’s maid.” Ilwin’s eyes bulged.

“Yo-your daughter’s maid?”

“Neneria’s.” Arascus confirmed. Neneria had found. There would be no chance she had died, she was the Goddess of Death, defeatable in a war but not in a battle. A woman who had a legion built up over millennia in her pockets.

“She will be here soon.” Iliyal said. “And she likes making an entrance.” He took a step, wobbled and caught the table. “One moment.”

“Neneria?” Ilwin asked again.

“She’s…” Arascus thought about how to explain quiet and precious Neneria. “You’ll meet her.”

“This…” Iliyal pushed himself off the table, took a step away from it and wobbled. “She’ll trigger the alarms.” Arascus chuckled to himself.

“That she will.” He said and kicked his legs to get the whiskey off his trousers. Iliyal took another step, bent down and looked as if he was about to throw up. “Now now Iliyal.” Arascus chuckled. “I thought you could hold your drink.”

“I’m an old man now.” Iliyal stood up, stretched and shook himself off. “I’ll tell the commanders to…” He bent down and threw up. It splashed all over his clothes but frankly, the smell wasn’t even so terrible. The man was just throwing up more than a bottle of whiskey and nothing more.

“Wonderful.” Arascus dryly commented. Iliyal looked to his grandson.

“Never drink boy. And never on an empty stomach.” Ilwin shook his head.

“That’s not something I thought I would ever see.” Ilwin said to himself. Iliyal straightened and wiped his mouth.

“You do feel better after throwing up though.”

“We’ll see how you feel in the morning.” Arascus said. “Now are you going to-“ His voice was cut off by a siren. The lights cut out for a second, and then red started to flare. “Fast as ever.” Iliyal laughed as he fondled with the door the handle. It took his drunkenness a good few attempts to work out how to open the door before his mind figured out to say.

“Death waits for no one. I’ll tell the men it’s a false alarm.”

“You’ve been trying to get out of this room for how long now?” Arascus asked and the elf’s laughter came from the corridor. Arascus looked to Ilwin as he sidestepped the vomit on the floor, red lights and alarms still blaring. “Do you remember how I said Fer was the worst candidate?”

“I do.” Ilwin nodded along, five times for each of the two words.

“Neneria is the best.” It took the drunken elf a moments to realise what that meant. If Neneria was the best… Arascus could practically see the cogs in Ilwin’s head trying to twist and turn as the elf tried to put the pieces together. If Neneria was the best candidate… that meant Iliyal was no longer needed. If Iliyal was no longer needed… Ilwin blinked and looked up at Arascus.

“You mean grandfather won’t be going?”

“The situation has changed. We will discuss this when you’ve sobered up.” Arascus looked to the door as Sara opened it to check inside. She looked to Arascus, to Ilwin, the bottles on the table and the vomit on the floor. Her eyes narrowed for a moment before the siren blared again and kicked her into action.

“There’s an intruder! Someone is trying to get in.” She half-shouted, half-screamed. At least she was dressed properly, in a suit and with the Duchess’ cape.

“We know.” Arascus said. “It’s a false alarm, let her in.” Sara blinked, looked behind herself, then at Arascus.

“Are we sure?”

“We’re sure.” Arascus growled hard this time. Repeating himself was not one of his strong points.

“At once.” She stood up, took a step into the corridor and stopped again.

“And Iliyal?”

“What about him?”

“I saw him in-I assume he’s to be taken to the infirmary?”

“Have maids take him to his room, he’ll recover.” Arascus said and watched Sara’s eyebrow twitch. Ever since her acquiring of nobility, she thought it was beneath her. It was her own fault frankly, if she had left the room immediately, Arascus would have let her go. “And then get two girls to clean up after him here.” Arascus made a wave towards the dirty ground.

“That’s Iliyal’s?!” She burst out.

“He’ll probably be sick in the corridor again.” The alarms stopped. The elf did indeed work fast. The red lights turned off casting them into pitch black darkness for a second and Arascus heard the woman squeak. The standard white fluorescents came on to cast the darkness away as a voice came over the speaker system installed into every room.

“False alarm. I repeat. False alarm. All troops stand down and open the gates. Goddess Neneria has returned. I repeat. Goddess Neneria has returned.” It wasn’t Iliyal’s voice thankfully, although Arascus had not even considered the issue that the elf might embarrass himself and try to slur commands in his drunkenness. “General Tremali has ordered all troops to stand down and let the Goddess in. Do not, I repeat with urgency, DO NOT try and stop her.”

“Oh.” Sara said.

“Handle this an-“ The speakers came on again.

“Prepare the guest rooms and the main hall. There has been a spill reported in the war-room and in corridor twenty-one. Clean up is required. I repeat, this is not a drill, the spill is urgent. All maids nearby are to clean up the war-room and corridor twenty-one.” Arascus sighed. Sometimes the elf was simply too good. Sara’s face trying to hide its smugness simply annoyed him.

“Make sure they clean it up properly.” He said and strode past her. “Then help Ilwin, he’s not in much better of a state.” Daganhoff stepped out of his way, bowed as he moved to the great hall. It was crass, he was sure Sara would be annoyed but frankly, he did not care. It was time for a family reunion. The alarms speakers spoke before the doors finished sliding shut.

“Maids are also to report to the security centre, there has been a spill.”

Wonderful.

Fleur and Edmonton were training alone today. Edmonton unleashed a blast of red energy and collapsed to his knees, his breathing heavy, his shirt covered in sweat and his head spinning. He felt as if he had just ran a marathon. He looked up as Fleur put her hand on his shoulder and squinted. “Look.” He pointed to the tree across the clearing.

The bark had come off.

Arascus went to find Neneria. He set off at a walk. Two steps and it had become a brisk pace that ate up the corridors underneath him. Another steps and he crashed into the wall during one of the sharp turns in a sprint, the metal panels creaking and one of the lights above him falling to the ground. That could be fixed, it wasn’t important.

Neneria was important.

He sprinted down one corridor. Down another. He heard screams, saw a maid turn and run, dropping the tray she was carrying. A ghost strolled past her, an ancient legionary, his body skeletal. A cape dragging behind him and a spear in his hand. The ghost gave a passing look to the maid, then turned and saw Arascus. It knelt onto one knee, spear extended to the corridor he had just come from, a direction.

Arascus slid to a halt on the panelled floor, caught the ridge on the edge of the corner and used momentum to spin himself around. At the end of this corridor, a ghastly legionary was already kneeling, spear extended to the right. His grey-green aura fighting the fluorescent built into the ceiling. The ghost blinked away just before Arascus slammed into it, instead the God slid into the wall and left another dent.

This corridor had two guards armed with rifles watching a ghost. Swords hung by their belts as they aimed the apparition. Arascus sprinted past them in a flash, knocking them over in a blast of wind. Another turn. To a room, he slammed into the heavy door. It buckled, an alarm went off and his fingers wormed their way into the small opening. The steel ruptured, twisted, screamed and then collapsed as he pushed through it.

And then he saw her.

Neneria. Timid Neneria. Lovely Neneria. Precious Neneria. A rose of all thorns, the Goddess of Death. A Goddess reviled and feared, a Goddess used to keep naughty children in their beds. Thought uncontrollable and unmanageable by all. A Goddess only he, with his delusional Pride, would see the value of.

Neneria looked up, dark eyes fixed on Arascus as she wrapped the cloak around herself. She took a step, then tried to take another. A third, her leg started to shake and she reached out a hand. Arascus closed the distance in a matter of moments, he caught Neneria before she fell. “Fa-Father…” Her arms wrapped around him in a hug and she buried her head in his chest.

Arascus pulled the dark hood of her cloak back. That hair, black as pitch, spilled over it and put the darkness of the fabric to shame. She looked up at him, tears spilling down her face. “Father…”

“Shh…” Arascus merely hugged her. There was nothing left to say. No need to ruin the moment. Nothing could be said. Neneria had returned.

“I… I’m sorry.” Neneria cried into his chest. “For not… I tried…”

“Don’t be.” Arascus picked Neneria and hugged her tightly. Not too tight, she had always been delicate, but tight enough. “I’m here now, you’re here, we’re safe.” Her arms wrapped around him and wiped the tears and sneezes into his shirt. Arascus did not care one bit. He could hold her like that forever. He would have. His failure had stolen a thousand years of time together. What should she apologize for? It was his fault that they lost. He should get on his knees and beg for a mere chance at redemption.

Neneria cried tears of joy and then those tears became laughs. “I’m here. I have everything. I’ve not lost anything. The legions…” Arascus put her down and the Goddess looked around to see the crowd of guards and maids, they had careful smiles on their faces, as if unsure if they should be watching but no one would look away. Arascus did not care if they spat at him. He had adopted the Goddess of Death into his family because no one else would, they could not touch his Pride. Neneria’s face went pale and red. Her eyes grew dark as she took a step away from Arascus and smoothed her dress.

“What are you watching for?” She did not shout, but her cold tone carried to the furthest reaches of the crowds. Maids shivered and guards took a step back. Arascus sighed. She was still the same Neneria she had been back then. He put his hand on her shoulder and colour returned to her cheeks.

“This is the remnants of the Empire.” He said. “Don’t be harsh on them.” Neneria only nodded, then her mouth dropped as she sniffed the air. Arascus smelled it too: wet dog.

“I almost forgot.” Neneria said. “But I’ve brought Fer too.” Arascus blinked. He knew Fer was free but seeing her would attract attention to her and to himself. There was not a chance in the world that the Goddess would have been left unsupervised by at least a dozen lesser Divines capable of flight. It had been safest for her not to know about him.

“Fer?” Arascus asked. Well… the situation changed with Neneria about. Fer was a powerful warrior but she did not compare to Neneria. One brought a war-herd, the other brought the Dead Legion. With Neneria here, then having Fer would be better too. Strength in numbers. His head spun as he touched Neneria’s cheek again, simply to make sure the Goddess was real and this wasn’t a dream. She pressed into him and giggled lightly.

“I ran off but she wa-“ Neneria began and was interrupted.

“DAD?!” A voice cried, a voice so joyous and sweet it may as well have been the embodiment of honey. A sniff sounded down the corridor as if something was going to inhale all the air and then the voice cried out again. “DAD!” Men started to shout as crashing came from the corridor. Maids screamed, brooms clattered, plates smashed, men cried out and Arascus shifted his stance as if he was ready to parry.

Fer launched herself into the air with a jump, clad only in a cape and her mass of golden hair. She twisted in the air, her claws dug into the wall and a supporting cast of tearing metal was added to the chaotic orchestra playing. “DAD!” Her eyes met Arascus’ and she screamed out. The God braced as if he was about to enter combat. She curled on the wall, crouched, then launched herself over the crowd.

Arascus caught her. Tried to at the very least. Fer was a full head taller than Neneria, she was the only other Divine that could say they at least tried to match Arascus’ height. And she was almost all muscle, heavy. Very heavy. It felt like a cannonball the size of a tree had hit Arascus, he spun, grabbed her, spun, and then slammed into the wall. “YOU’RE ALIVE!” Fer shouted. Arascus knew she didn’t mean to, she simply got loud when she was excited, but the people closest to them took a step back. Some even covered their ears.

“I’m alive.” Arascus said as took off his cloak and put it around the girl. She simply did not care about such trite as modesty. Not then, not now apparently. “As are you.” Fer vigorously shook her head, those golden eyes staring up at him, they changed colours on emotions, ranging from yellow daffodils to crimson blood. The ears on top of her head quivered as she looked up at the God who had adopted her.

“You’re alive.” She said and nodded to herself. She looked up to Arascus as if expecting an order.

“Are you alright?” Fer nodded rapidly, her eyes large as she stared up at Arascus.

“I am.” She replied quickly as Neneria finally recovered from the shock. “You said a thousand year, I did it.” She saluted, a clean salute just as Arascus had taught her back in the Great War. “Goddess Fer of Beasthood ready to report. Fifty-two dark furs remain, as you asked.” Arascus sighed, he did not care about that in the slightest. He was just happy to see her.

He put his arms around her felt hers embrace him. Her hair was as strong as leather, but as soft as clouds.

It smelled of wet dog.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep