Clever Girl

“Did I hear you right?” asked a 1.6 meters tall woman with long golden hair draping loosely over her big, bouncy rear. Standing before an onyx throne, the woman leaned over, displaying her bountiful cleavage to the kneeling fehl sura’s eyes. But terror-stricken, he dared not glance at them.

“A force of 150,000 led by one top-level Archon, dispatched for a tribe of 400?” Though she stood on the ground, the Sura Queen’s butterfly-like wings fluttered at the rhythm of her words, as if mirroring her silent, budding wrath. Sensing his queen’s anger, the fehl sura trembled. As the head of the new logistic division, he was tasked with managing and recording the moves of all commanders. Unfortunately, the Sura Queen gave all top-level Archons the authority to mobilize troops to harass the indecisive suras and butcher the invading humans.

Initially, she wanted to use the Archons and below to distract the humans while she and her Exarch council fed their Ashera-tainted blood to the Fortress of Vice’s key—slowly eroding its seal. But never did she expect that a trivial tribe of 400 would trigger such a response from one of her commanders.

“As stated in the report, that tribe launched a demagoria to contact all undecided sura tribes and lead them toward a new master. The commander got this info after questioning a tribe about to leave for the demagoria. According to him, that new master can rid our Divine Water of the Goddess’ touch. Alarmed and without solid info on the enemy, he gathered the strongest force he could,” the fehl sura explained, and by Goddess, referred to Ashera.

As she alone responded to their prayers, the fehl suras now saw her as their Goddess and erected a statue at her effigy. For a second, the Sura Queen narrowed her eyes at her subordinate, pondering the event’s implications.

“Idiot!”

Slap!

Though he knew a move of that scope would definitely annoy his queen, the fehl sura found reason in the commander’s fears and didn’t expect the queen’s anger to reach such a level. Spiraling across the throne room, he crashed into a pillar, battered and bloodied.

Giving the man no respite, the Sura Queen yanked him out of the pillar to slam him at her feet.

“Whoever can cleanse that blood must at least possess Exarch-level means. In the humans’ camp, how many have that strength, and even if they do, why would they exhaust all that dra to save those indecisive suras when hundreds of their human peers are getting slaughtered as we speak?

If the report is accurate, this must be the work of some fehl entity opposed to our Goddess! At least a low-tier Fehl Lord, maybe higher, with the backing of another Overlord!

Can’t a Fehl Lord summon Legions? And since he dares oppose us, does he fear our retaliation? You’re sending 15% of my sub-Exarch forces to death! Idiot! Idiot! Why am I surrounded by idiots?”

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Jolted by the Sura Queen’s slaps, the abused fehl sura’s cheeks swelled at breakneck speed. He wanted to scream that he just received the report, that this had nothing to do with him, but knowing that protesting would only worsen his fate, he kept his mouth shut.

“Hurry and have the fool return before it is too late! If everyone is like you, what will I rule?” She bellowed and hurled the fehl sura out of the recently built palace. Pulling in a deep breath, the Sura Queen calmed her anger. Recently, things were going from bad to worse. Her Blood King returned wounded, proof of the existence of other Exarch-level creatures on the Sura World.

Now 150,000 of her subjects left for a suicide mission while the fear of starvation no longer threatened the rebellious suras. God forbid that someone could offer them a debt free way out, or she would forever lose control of them.

“Members of the Royal Council, within 48 hours, we must break the seal. Gather at once to resume the blood offering,” the Sura Queen ordered the 300 members of the Royal Council through a mental message. Only Ashera’s blood could unlock the seal, and while they received some drops, it wasn’t enough to break it.

Sill, with their tainted blood, the 300 councilors could erode the seal at a decent pace. If they went all out—only resting to recover the lost blood—within two days, they could unlock it. Naturally, such an extreme method left room for pitfalls, but the situation at hand left them no other choice.

“As you command, Your Majesty,” the 300 councilors replied like a choir and left whatever they tended to to teleport into the throne room. Thus, 300 Exarchs assembled, all full of unbreakable determination and ready to sacrifice themselves for the sura cause.

Each councilor held a gray stone seat in the room. The Sura Queen sat on her throne and motioned for the rest to do the same. Once settled, they started chanting eldritch incantations in sura language, causing the ground to creak and the wind to scream as a purple dome formed at the center of the throne room.

The ear-splitting racket of a dozen banshee howls boomed and, in the purple dome, an obsidian sphere with a three meters radius took shape. Linked to Haldir’s lineage and those they approved of, this sphere was the key to opening the Fortress of Vice. Granted that without a substantial quantity of Ashera’s blood, the suras couldn’t use it, it remained one of their crown jewels.

Slashing open their palms, the Sura Queen and her 300 councilors aimed their bleeding hands at the sphere. But as they prepared to fire jets of their blood at it, an impertinent yet captivating female voice came from the room’s entrance.

“With such impure blood, no wonder it’s taking you so long. Why don’t you give the key to me, so I can open the seal for...myself?”

Immediately, 301 eye pairs turned toward the entrance and were greeted by a riveting daemoness with purple eyes and skin, black-feathered wings, and a pair of goat horns on her forehead.

Taken off-guard by the daemoness’ appearance, for a second the councilors fixed her with a blank stare. But as her figure settled in their minds, without exception, they rose from their seats—eyes stretched by a mixture of awe and dread.

“Mistress...Ashera?” the Sura Queen blurted, yet didn’t believe her own words. Though 90% similar to the fehl ruler, the one before her lacked Ashera’s autocratic presence, more like an impish version of the unrivaled Overlord.

“Try again,” Jezebel replied, and teleported at the obsidian orb’s feet. Snapping out of their stupor, the councilors conjured arcane circles, insta-casting various Fifth Circle Spells. Even if the figure before them was related to their Goddess, if she came by Ashera’s will, there was no need for such an entrance.

They could avoid harming her, but couldn’t watch her steal the only key to their Goddess’ ancient fortress. Eyes glancing past the orbs to nail the Sura Queen, Jezebel raised her right hand.

“Time Hold,” she whispered, and the time across the throne room came to an instantaneous halt. Worse, unlike the Blood King’s Stasis, Jezebel could move as she pleased.

“Time Reversal.” Before their peers’ immobile eyes, three of the councilors visibly regressed, going from fehl suras with full black eyes and golden wings, to normal suras with green eyes and silver wings.

Their thaumaturgic level also went from Exarch down to High Emissary. Canceling the Time Hold, Jezebel snapped her fingers, forcing the queen and councilors to stare at their downgraded peers.

Their heart rate shot up and their eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

“Time Sovereignty, our mistress’ Arcane Bloodline,” the Sura Queen muttered under her breath and clenched her fists in resignation.

“Indeed, you should therefore know that all my mother gave you, I can take away with a finger snap. I think I don’t need to explain the consequences. So, cooperation or annihilation, which one will it be?” Jezebel leisurely asked.

If the council lost its fehl powers at this juncture, the fehl suras faced extermination. That much was certain. So even before Jezebel’s ultimatum, the Sura Queen was ready to concede.

“Since Your Ladyship wants the Fortress, we don’t dare stop you,” she replied and gave Jezebel control of the Obsidian Orb.

“Clever girl,” Jezebel said with an angelic smile, gashed her palm, and poured one liter of her blood on the orb. Bright purple flames surged from it, with red sigils appearing and breaking across its surface. As the last sigil shattered, so did the seal, and without another word, Jezebel vanished alongside the key to the Fortress of Vice.