The Price of Peace

Returning to the capital via teleportation, Inessa and Lylia appeared outside the pristine sprawling walls of alabaster masonry that surrounded and protected the citizens within. Not that the walls had served to do more than maintain the magic that prevented teleportation into and within the capital. A precaution from a time when more of the population could access higher-ranked spells. Now, the only enemy that threatens the integrity of the majestic stonework was the weathering of precipitation.

“I still feel a bit bad for Geisty… Being killed the day you are born like that.” Inessa said as they approached the open, guarded gate, stretching as they walked.

“Don’t talk like that, Essa. What if someone hears you?” Lylia replied in a harsh, but concerned, hushed tone. “The last thing you need is for people to think you’re pitying him.” Gesturing to the guards as they passed without being questioned or searched, she forced a polite smile in response to their dismissive glare.

“I know, but still… It’s not like he asked to be born a demon, right?” The brunette asked, lowering her voice as they passed through the thick walls and into the massive capital city.

Buildings of wood and stone lined cobblestone roads with carriages and carts drawn by large, muscular beasts of burden. The people went about their lives, oblivious or unconcerned that a being of pure Dark Magic Corruption had manifested. Most structures were no longer than three or four stories, except for the opulent, literally shining castle atop the hill on which the city was built.

The main road led straight to the castle, several kilometers long and unconcerned with the strategic liability that such a design, which flew in the face of military engineering, presented. Its walls were as bright and pristine as those that surrounded the capital, and it towered over the city as a symbol all citizens could look to at any time.

Lylia wanted to dismiss Inessa’s concern and repeat the rhetoric that she had learned for years after entering the church. Her argument died in her throat as the figure of an older woman with faded blonde hair, dressed in all the divinely crafted artifacts she now wore, came to mind. Instead of a practical or theological basis for her rebuttal, she smirked and made the conversation more personal. “Maybe, but because of him, we now have to go report to the Council.”

Her shoulders slumping, and a long, weary sigh escaping her lips, Inessa rolled her eyes as she looked up the hill. “I hate writing reports… It always takes longer than it does to kill the Demon Monarch.” She complained.

“It also influences our salaries.” The blonde added, nudging her with her elbow. “But I hate it too.” She added with a playful wink.

“Look, it’s the Champion and Saintess.”

“Did they go slay the Demon Monarch again?”

“Huh? Isn’t it too soon for that?”

“Maybe the King sent them out on a mission?”

As they walked through the city up to the nest of ineffectual high society and needless bureaucracy, the two women could hear the people notice and begin to whisper about them as they passed. Despite the hushed tones and attempts to obscure their lips, both Inessa and Lylia could hear every word as clearly as if they were speaking within arm's reach in front of them due to their higher levels.

“Hmph. They go out and slay Corrupted, and there’s less magic for the rest of us.”

“I hear they can use Superior, and even Legendary-ranked magic, but do they bother to use any of it for any of us?”

“What do you expect from a Champion like her?”

“Champion Iskacles came from a noble family you could trust. Her though?”

“And that ‘Saintess’ who succeeded Saintess Audrey. I hear she’s marked.”

“By the Goddess. What was Saintess Audrey thinking?!”

Rather than compliments and unspoken admiration, all Inessa and Lylia overheard were people gossiping among themselves about them. The disparaging comments, the doubt, the ingratitude for what they do. None dared to say it to their faces.

Lylia’s frustration grew hotter and more volatile as she clenched her fists tighter and tighter. “Running their mouths without–” She began, narrowing her eye.

“Lia, don’t listen to them. If we’re the only things they can think to complain about, that means we’re preserving the peace they get to enjoy.” Inessa said, cutting her off. “It’s a good thing. Do you think we’d be any different in their shoes?”

Turning her attention away from the ignorant civilians, Lylia looked at the supportive smile she was flashing at her. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Lylia nodded. “Of course. I was practically raised by Audrey, so I’d never say anything bad about the Saintess.” She said, finally, with a playful smirk. “But I never really liked Champion Iskacles. Not because he was the Champion, though. I just disliked his… personality defects.” She added with a giggle.

Inessa couldn’t help but laugh too, thinking of the imposing mountain of muscle from whom she inherited her position.

*****

The chamber in which the most powerful and influential people of the kingdom met to discuss policies and issues that would dictate the direction of a nation was as opulent as it was oppressive. A small area for a speaker or presentations was surrounded on three sides by masterfully crafted wooden tables and desks that got more decorative towards the center. From the sides to the center, the floor rose in stark tiers, putting the seats closer to the center and above the seats towards the edges. All seats loomed no less than two meters above the floor of the vaulted room that rose several meters higher than necessary.

Inessa and Lylia knelt in the center of the chamber, roughly only half of the seats reserved for the heads of noble families or influential individuals within the kingdom occupied. They were all dressed in the flashy, gaudy fashions of nobility, with thick fabrics or thin silks inappropriate for the climate, thanks to personal temperature-regulating magic items of some sort. Representatives of lower importance, as well as heirs to the noble and royal families, sat in secondary or even tertiary seating behind their respective seating areas. Emblems, crests, or coats of arms were emblazoned on the marble stonework behind each to signify their rank, position, and office.

“So, the abnormally rapid resurrection of the Demon Monarch this time was due to a new one manifesting?” The tall, dignified, older man sitting in the grandest and most extravagant seat on the highest tier of the room asked, his voice low, steady, and resonant. He stroked the neatly trimmed and styled bristles of his purple beard, untouched by the grey of age yet still, as he looked down at the two heroines of his nation. His golden gaze was one with all the interest of someone addressing a farmer declaring a good harvest. “Is there anything of particular concern about this Demon Monarch? This…”

“König Geistdunkelrustung, Your Majesty,” Lylia said, her tone even and clinical. The chamber’s floor was designed in such a way that, even when bowing, the voice of whoever was in the center of the room would carry to even the highest seat of power. “And other than his abnormal number of lives for a reviver, there was nothing of note worthy of the Council’s attention.”

“Very well. Minister Lovaniston.” The regal man said, nodding in approval and looking to a man at least a decade his senior, two tiers lower than him.

The portly, rotund man with tufts of vibrant green and pale grey hair sticking out from under his silk baret nodded, motioning to a bookish girl with large, thick glasses next to him. “The Mana Crystals are, undoubtedly, from a Legendary-ranked and Common-ranked Corrupted. Follow Miss Gilroths to receive your payment.” The blue-haired girl quickly and silently made her way down to floor level and waited patiently by the door with a professional, if not a bit unpracticed, smile.

“Then, if there is nothing more the Council requires from us, by your leave, the Champion and I shall excuse ourselves,” Lylia said, glancing back at the door to see the bespectacled girl who would give them their gold.

“One moment.” The beautiful, violet-haired woman next to the king said, standing up and leveling her sublime, golden eyes on the dark-haired girl bowing before them. Her dress was form-fitting, accentuating her healthy physique and developed feminine charms. “Champion Inessa.”

“Y-Yesh, Your Majesty?” Inessa replied, biting her tongue as she hadn’t expected to be called upon.

“We assume you have not forgotten about the banquet honoring Duke Rajuloew’s suppression of the recent Golemtide, correct? The Champion will be expected to attend.” The queen said, her words more than a courteous reminder. “Perhaps you may use the banquet to find a partner.”

Thankful that she was to remain bowed and facing the floor, even when directly addressed, so that the expression of reluctance on her face was hidden, Inessa nodded. “Of course not, Your Majesty. I’ve been looking forward to it.” She hoped the strained politeness in her voice wasn’t as evident to everyone else as it was to her.

“Very good. We shall see you there.” The older woman said, a pleased grin curling up the corners of her mouth as she sat back down and nodded to her husband.

The King nodded back, then stood to address the chamber. “This Council meeting shall not adjourn as of yet, but the Champion and Saintess may take their leave.” Waving his hand authoritatively and dismissively, he sat back down.

The chamber remained quiet as the two women left the Council room. Once the heavy, magically enchanted doors had shut, and no sound could escape the room, several of the lesser nobles in the room began to speak up.

“A Demon Monarch has never resurrected so quickly before.”

“This is perposterous!”

“But, the Mana Crystal they returned with–”

“Could it be fake?”

“How could it be?”

“It has to be. Demon Monarch Sturmblut Nachtkrieger took much longer to resurrect. Even between his most frequent resurrections–”

“He was still unprecedentedly resurrecting faster than any Demon Monarch from millennia ago.” One man’s voice spoke up, cutting through all the disorderly speculations. Seated one tier lower than the royal family, and to the right side of the king, a young-looking man with short, almost luminescent blue hair in light, flowing robes stood up. Descending the stairs and crossing the room until he stood before Minster Lovaniston’s desk, he picked up the silvery-blue, fist-sized crystal and examined it. “You all seem you have forgotten that, millennia ago, before the Ritual of Selection was needed to find a Champion, before the Goddess Lini gifted humanity with the Divine Artifacts, before Demon Monarch Chrysaor cursed the world and caused magic to decline, it could take decades, if not centuries, for a Demon Monarch to resurrect.” He continued, looking the magical ore over with intense scrutiny. “Sturmblut Nachtkrieger first appeared the same year I was born, and before him, it was unheard of for a Demon Moarch to resurrect more than twice a year. And yet, I do not believe anyone at the time was concerned at all. Is that not right, Minister Lovaniston?”

The older, hefty man shifted in his chair at the question and implication aimed at his age and tenure. But he considered the question seriously all the same. “True, I was still a young man back then. I believe my wife was pregnant with my second daughter at the time, so it was somewhere between thirty-five and thirty-eight years ago. My father still held the position of Minister of Magical and Natural Assets, and I recall his excitement when they learned the Demon Monarch was resurrecting so quickly in the following years.” He said, his words indirectly diffusing the unease in the air. “An increase of Legendary-ranked Mana Crystals will be a great boon to the Magic Item industry. Although…” His voice trailed off as he looked at the Mana Crystal that the blue-haired man was inspecting.

“So, you have noticed as well, even without an eye for Mana?” The man asked, setting the Mana Crystal down.

“You need not be the Court Magician to appraise the value of a Mana Crystal, Mars.” The green-haired man replied with a snort. “Size, weight, luster, color. Enough Mana Crystals have passed through my hands to know that this Mana Crystal from that König Geistdunken-something or other is Legendary-rank, but far inferior to one from Sturmblut Nachtkrieger.” He added, tapping his pudgy, double chin in quiet contemplation as he did the math in his head. “I would estimate roughly one-third to one-half as potent.”

Raising an eyebrow, Mars nodded and gave the experienced minister a short, respectful clap. “Never underestimate a professional.”

“Does the potency of a Mana Crystal correlate to the strength of the Corrupted that it came from?” A muscular woman with bright red hair and brilliantly tanned skin from the same tier Mars had descended from asked. Unlike the other people in the chamber, she wore orange and red armor that was stripped of most of its pieces for a more formal setting. “Could it be that this new Demon Monarch is weaker than Sturmblut Nachtkrieger?”

“Without seeing either, it would be difficult to say for sure, General Quentellia, but when a Corrupted is slain, the magic in its body is converted into a Mana Crystal, some material unique to its species, or a magical item,” Mars replied, turning to face the battle-scarred, statuette warrior. “If more than one is formed from a single Corrupted, it is possible the quality may suffer. However, I highly doubt the Saintess would overlook an additional item forming from the defeated Demon Monarch. So it should be safe to say that, while this König Geistdunkelrustung is undoubtedly Legendary-rank, he could only just qualify. Possibly only Level 16.”

“‘Only’ Level 16.” Scoffing at the dismissive tone of the Court Magician, the General rolled her eyes. “That still would require the Champion and Saintess to combat.”

*****

The room prepared for Inessa in the castle upon taking the position of Champion was just like every other act of ‘kindness’ she received for how much the people of Facide had inconvenienced her. A large, open space, bigger than most houses, with furniture and decoration that likely cost an exuberant amount of gold for things only she would see. All the amenities that she could ever ask for were prepared and reserved for her exclusive use. It made a great first impression, a grand gesture of gratitude and apology for uprooting her life and forcing her to shoulder the responsibility of maintaining Facide’s peace.

However, the gesture was just that, a gesture. Careful misdirection that blinded her from the hollow, obligatory sentiment that hid behind the fake smiles and patronizing compliments. She was kept close for observation, but distant enough not to impact life in the castle. Maids and servants would attend to her daily needs, but never for longer than a week, only to be transferred and replaced before she could make a genuine connection with them. She was constantly surrounded by people, but permanently isolated and alone.

Sitting, flopped over onto her desk as she struggled to write anything meaningful in her report about the Demon Monarch she refused to call anything but ‘Geisty’, her thoughts naturally lingered on their interaction. Her first, new Demon Monarch, and she hadn’t even noticed until after she had attacked him.

I never thought about it before, but I doubt Nachty did anything to hurt anyone either. As soon as Mr. Iskacles and Miss Audrey sensed him, they’d go and slay him, just as Lia and I do. She thought. It had become so natural, so automatic. However, the former Demon Monach never seemed as human as Geist did. His distress over being killed, his concern for the golems Lylia slew, his plea for coexistence that she had to reject. It doesn’t feel fair to Geisty. To be born knowing nothing and being killed for it over and over. I hope he will listen to me and not come back, if that’s even possible. I wonder what even causes a new Demon Monarch to be born like that. Did Nachty just get worn down after being killed so many times?

So many factors she had never considered before now weighed heavily on her mind. There was so much she needed to learn about after becoming the Champion: swordsmanship, magic, politics; she didn’t have time to think about what Demon Monarchs were.

Heaving a weary sigh, the brunette sat up and looked at the form she needed to fill out, unsure what more to write. She had his name, a general description of his appearance, observations and speculations of what abilities he had access to, but she hesitated looking at the area for detailing his personality. It wasn’t as if they had interacted enough for her to know who he truly was, if he was being genuine or deceitful.

“A Demon Monarch who wanted to coexist with the Pure would be a big deal, right?” She asked herself, leaning back in her chair and staring at the immaculate woodwork of the ceiling. “Or is it because I was summoned here that I’m the only one who thinks it might be possible?” Playing with a lock of her dark, brown hair, she thought about a time in her life that had started to feel more and more like a dream. Of a life in a world completely unlike Facide, with people and customs that clash heavily with the sensibilities of the magical society’s culture.

*****

In her room in the cathedral adjacent to the castle, Lylia had long since finished her report on the appearance of Geist and was performing her evening prayers before bed. Despite being the Saintess, her quarters took up no more space than needed for a modest bed, a plain desk, and a spot by a small window to pray in.

The teachings of the Goddess Lini didn’t restrict her faithful from comforts or luxury. Quite the contrary. Cooperation and pleasure were core tenets of Her faith, so long as it didn’t impose on others. It was up to each person to decide what was comfortable and pleasurable to them, and Lylia was accustomed to having little in terms of material goods.

Lylia’s thoughts were filled with gratitude towards the Goddess Lini. Gratitude for the food she ate. Gratitude for the shelter that kept her safe. Gratitude for the Goddess Lini guiding their ancestors from a land of strife and suffering to Facide. Gratitude for granting the Pure magic and the Divine Artifacts to subjugate and slay the Corrupted and maintain peace.

Gratitude for sending Inessa to be the next Champion, someone free of the biases of the residents of their world.

But as she thought of the divine might she had been chosen to wield in service of the kingdom and her faith, the blonde recalled the newly formed Demon Monarch’s naive, near-blasphemous words. “But, I-I’m not dangerous, and I don’t want to hurt anyone. Is there no way we could coexist?”

Behind the long bangs covering the right side of her face, her eye twitched as the words echoed in her mind, and her forehead above it throbbed. A mental scoff dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. A trick. A deception. Lying to take advantage of Essa’s good nature. She thought, her expression tightening into a scowl. But I will not fall for it. I know how a demon’s mind works. It is nothing but hate and selfish indulgence. Twisted hatred for the people of Facide. The resolute absolutism of her belief was as strong as her faith in the teachings her savior instilled in her. There is no coexistence with the Corrupted who cannot be Purified. The Pure are nothing more than sustenance and entertainment for them. Before he can resurrect, I need to make sure Essa understands not to listen to his honeyed words. I cannot allow her to fall for his tricks. His lies.