Chapter 259 - Bottom of the Sky V
Emelia Braun, leader of the aptly named Braun Mercenary Company, twisted her trunk as she looked up into the sky. The wrinkles in her brow grew when she narrowed her eyes to focus, furthering the old, wisened impression that the matriarch worked so hard to effuse. She was barely two hundred and fifty years of age, far too young to lead a clan by the usual standards.
Most tribes only accepted matriarchs no longer capable of bearing children, and though Emelia had done her part and spent over a hundred years birthing fresh blood, she was still another two millennia short of losing the function. That was why she often behaved older than she was; whenever she had to meet with an official, she would hunch her back, change her voice, and keep her face as wrinkled as could be. It was an act that worked best among those unfamiliar with her race, but she had tricked many an erdbrecher as well.
She very much would have preferred to join the others her age and dedicate her days to the holy duty of procreation, but she was given no such opportunity. Her mother had committed honourable suicide to take responsibility for a failed mission, and as her sole surviving heiress, Emelia had been forced to take up her mantle at an early age. It was a fate that she knew she would have to avoid, should she not wish the same hardships upon her own successors. And it was precisely to grow and nurture those successors that she had been so unwilling to send them out into the field.
Most of the men she deployed were throwaway soldiers, bulls that had recently joined her troupe after experiencing their first nocturnal emissions and subsequently finding themselves expelled from their clans. The newest batch was still incredibly young, with their oldest members in their late thirties at most. One of her closest advisors even derided the young boys’ suitors as calf molesters and demanded that they cease their open advances immediately. But they did not. Females in their mid one hundreds often found it too difficult to control their instincts, and the lack of older bulls only made it harder for them to be restrained with fresh meat right before their trunks.
While it was certainly a nightmare in need of a resolution, and one that stemmed from her own incompetence at that, Emelia set the thought aside and flapped her ears again.
Their client was near the very limits of their flight range. Erdbrechers did often travel through the air, but fundamentally, they were not built for true flight. Few had difficulty maintaining their heights, once they managed to achieve them, but the average noncombatant could only get a few meters off the ground at most, with most of the aforementioned height granted by an initial leap. Climbing with one’s ears required strict and specific training targeting the muscles in the sides of their heads, as well as mastery of precise magic control. The upper bound seemed absurd and useless when exploring the jungles and mountains, but in their native desert range, it was hardly a limitation at all. They would only ever need a few extra meters to navigate from the top of one dune to the top of the next. Those that failed to make the flight would simply walk up the sandy hills instead.
Alas, their destination was not one that could be reached on their feet alone. Emelia’s ears were sour, exhausted by the long climb. It didn’t help that she wore a full suit of armour. The thick metal protectors more than doubled her weight, and thus the burden on her muscles as well. Her helmet was especially egregious, and frankly she found it difficult to push forward, but she continued to press on, driven first and foremost by a sense of duty.
The matriarch blamed herself for her client’s circumstances. They had been together when she was first teleported, and while the erdbrecher had noticed the magic, the caster had completed the spell before she had the chance to react. Taking its complexity into account, it had been crafted at an ungodly speed, but Emelia knew better than to blame the catastrophic failure on the efficiency of the enemies’ tools. She was at fault, and she could not allow herself to live with the dishonour.
That was why she had deployed all of her elite forces. Twelve at a time, they took to the skies with their weapons and armour at the ready. It was an unconventional task, outside their realm of expertise, but each team was led by a veteran with at least five hundred levels under her belt.
Mobilising her most powerful tools was more difficult than could have been reasonably assumed. Many of the teams were led by females far older and wiser than herself. Their personal power was within the realm of comparison, and many thought themselves more deserving of the matriarch title. And they likely would have openly declared as such, had they been her mother’s daughters.
It was only because she had grovelled at their feet that they were willing to lend her their ears, a humiliating outcome to say the least, but Emelia had gone through with her daughter as witness. Her pride was a small price to pay if it meant acquiring the forces she required to make up for her shortcomings.
All seemed well until the night was lit with a streak of fire. It was a heavenly white flame, bright as a star drifting its way across the sky. The first group to ascend was immediately flung from the firmament. She doubted that anyone was dead, but the attack had no doubt singed their ears and damaged their already fragile flight capabilities.
Looking beyond the flames revealed a peculiar bird with a rounded beak. She recalled seeing and hunting creatures with similar frames during the migratory season, but none shared the identifying coral-pink plumes that adorned the firespitter’s body, just as how they lacked the thick tentacles that lashed out from beneath her feathers.
There were five pulses of magic as the darkness returned to the night, one for each of the elite squads dispatched. A creature resembling a fennec appeared right in front following the pulse nearest their location. She could tell at a glance that it was just a magical blob and not the real deal, but that was precisely why her blood ran cold. The projection possessed more mana than the entire Braun Company combined. And if the pulses were anything to go by, its creator could churn them out en masse with little to no preparation.
“So uhmm… hi!” The fennec spoke with a damning giggle. Emelia wanted nothing more than to run tail and run; there was no telling what the horrific demon would do if it took delight in their suffering. “Er, uhm… I mean… Stop right there! You’re not allowed to go any further!”
Hesitant to risk angering the hellspawn, Emelia ground to a halt and raised her trunk to order the men and women behind her to do the same. Not everyone seemed to understand the danger; some of the men in particular, who were less magically attuned by nature, were particularly confused, but they all obeyed her orders. Her personal squad was one of the few that respected her authority.
“Why not?” she asked. The erdbrecher twisted the tip of her trunk in hopes that the demon could be reasoned with. She knew that it was unlikely, but she had heard many tales of such entertaining mortal requests and sometimes even cutting good deals.
“Mmmnnnnn… because I said so?” said the fox. “One of my friends is doing something really important right now and you’re not allowed to butt in.”
“I see.” The matriarch felt the urge to tie her nose into a knot and give it a tug; the circumstances were even worse than she had imagined. If the enemies had befriended the demon, as opposed to merely contracting it, then it was unlikely that they would be able to circumvent its security. “Then I challenge you to single combat.”
“M-mot—Boss!?” Alya opened her eyes wide and grabbed her by the shoulder, but the older erdbrecher shook her head and brushed the noodly nose aside.
“I don’t know how long I can stall it,” said Emelia, in a whisper. “But when I do, go.”
“We can’t possibly aband—”
“Just go.”
“Uhhh…” The projection scrunched up its face. “Well uhmmm… first of all, I really don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m just gonna eat you if you try anything, even if you don’t look like you’d taste very good. Oh, and I don’t think you’ll last long enough for anyone else to slip past.”
Every word sent a shudder through Emelia’s spine. She could tell from its nonchalance how little it valued their lives, and from its childish giggling that it felt nothing but confidence in its own abilities. If she wanted to eke out a victory, she would need to strike hard and fast, to identify one of its weaknesses and hit it with everything she had all at once before it could raise its guard. And most importantly, she needed to hit something that wasn’t a projection.
“I know. But I would like to request single combat regardless.”
“Mmmmnnnn… Iunno.” Alas, the fennec did not seem inclined to indulge her. “So uhmmm… I guess I’ll just eat all of yo—oh wait a second! I’ve got an idea!” It clapped its paws together, once, twice, thrice. It was rhythmic, with three quick taps following each slower pair. Her voice was thrown into after a brief delay, used to craft a beautiful, soothing melody filled with long, high-pitched notes.
Emelia reached for one of the spears off her back when she realised that it was a spell, but her body refused to move until the demon’s song was complete.
The spell formed an arena made of clouds. Her squad was situated on one side of the ring, standing atop a layer of imaginary dirt. The other twelve-member teams were seated in the audience, confused and on guard, but unable to act. Their bodies were bound with magical chains, held in place by the dream demon’s song.
“I’ll think about letting you sneak past if you help one of my other friends.” The fox giggled as a cloaked figure with a set of large blue wings descended upon the arena. “She’s been stuck in a bit of a rut lately ‘cause she’s a really big dummy, so you’re gonna have to play with her until she figures stuff out.”
“I’m not stuck in a rut,” said the new arrival. She had a soft voice, calming and gentle, but somehow cold.
Emelia couldn’t discern her species at a glance. Her face was invisible beneath her hood; the only part of her head that could be seen were the large ears jutting out from the equally large slits cut into the sides of the fabric. Their shape was knife-like, but not elven. They were far too long for that, and only their bottom halves were bevelled. She had a tail covered in a set of silvery scales, but its precise shape was unfamiliar; it was too thin to belong to a lizardman, and the tip was adorned with an awfully fluffy tuft of hair.
The matriarch narrowed her eyes in an attempt to scrutinize the demon’s friend in more detail, but she wasn’t given the opportunity. It dashed across the arena without another word and drew the weapon mounted to her back. Emelia had assumed it to be some sort of misshapen club or greatsword at first, given its girth, but its shape changed when it was drawn. Its body thinned as its mass was redistributed to its tip, which warped and grew, until it was turned into a massive scythe.
“Oh uhm… I forgot to mention, she’s gonna be trying to kill you guys for real, so good luck!”
The matriarch drew her quarterstaff and raised it overhead. She was ready to launch herself off the ground the moment she blocked the attack so she could sweep the assailant’s weapon aside. She waited and waited and waited some more, but the moment of impact never came. When she finally heard a thud and spun her staff, she found that it touched nothing but air. The enemy’s scythe had extended midswing and reached for one of the men standing behind her.
Its target, however, was unscathed. The blade was caught by one of the golden trinkets wrapped around his body and easily repelled. Such was the bull’s standard defense. It looked effortless at a glance, especially with the military advisor keeping his arms crossed, but Emelia knew that it was anything but. The protection produced such heavy mental strain that the gold mage was unable to cast any other spells while it was active.
“Hey,” he said, with a casual wave. “I had a feeling I’d be seeing you here.”
“Shut up. Don’t talk to me,” said the attacker.
“Do you know her, Gunther?” The matriarch spoke in a hushed whisper, but she doubted that the words had gone unnoticed. The strange lizard’s ears twitched when she moved her lips, and she even did the courtesy of withdrawing her weapon and backing off.
“She’s the one I was telling you about the other day. Still a prime candidate, if you’re willing to overlook the species bit.”
“I am still… hesitant.” There were other tribes that allowed outsiders into their ranks, but they were generally lower in the hierarchy. For the Braun Company to make such a choice would only give the other prestigious clans more reasons to criticize.
“Hmmm…” The bull grabbed one of the golden pieces out of the air with his trunk and used it to scratch the back of his head. “Alright, well how about this. I’ll have a go at her, and you can see what she’s got. Worth a few dozen softtusks at least.”
Emelia quickly eyed the troops standing behind her, and after noting that there were only two concerned with the proposal, answered the man with a nod. “If you are confident.”
“It’ll be easy,” he said with a grin. “I’ve already cornered her once, and it’s not been long since. What could possibly go wro—”
The sentence was suddenly cut off, turned into a confused trumpet as his body slid across the fake dirt, pulled towards her at a thousand miles an hour. The girl’s weapon transformed again when the distance between them vanished, turning from a scythe into what almost looked like an iguana. She stepped forward, sidestepped his trunk, and delivered the strange club straight into the side of his head.
There was a resounding gong as the man was sent flying across the arena. He crashed straight into one of its outer walls, which was evidently much harder than its cloud-like appearance suggested, his eyes spinning and a stream of blood leaking out the side of his head. He stumbled a few steps forward when he peeled off the wall before collapsing face-first in the dirt.
"I told you to shut up."
The cloaked figure transformed her weapon again as she raised it, turning it into a bow with a crystalline arrow nocked against its string and the mercenaries well within its sights.
With a loud, ear-splitting trumpet, Emelia reluctantly gave the order to attack. There was no telling what the dream demon would do if her so-called friend was slain, but something had to be done. They couldn't simply stand by and allow themselves to be killed.
Chapter 259 - Bottom of the Sky V
Emelia Braun, leader of the aptly named Braun Mercenary Company, twisted her trunk as she looked up into the sky. The wrinkles in her brow grew when she narrowed her eyes to focus, furthering the old, wisened impression that the matriarch worked so hard to effuse. She was barely two hundred and fifty years of age, far too young to lead a clan by the usual standards.
Most tribes only accepted matriarchs no longer capable of bearing children, and though Emelia had done her part and spent over a hundred years birthing fresh blood, she was still another two millennia short of losing the function. That was why she often behaved older than she was; whenever she had to meet with an official, she would hunch her back, change her voice, and keep her face as wrinkled as could be. It was an act that worked best among those unfamiliar with her race, but she had tricked many an erdbrecher as well.
She very much would have preferred to join the others her age and dedicate her days to the holy duty of procreation, but she was given no such opportunity. Her mother had committed honourable suicide to take responsibility for a failed mission, and as her sole surviving heiress, Emelia had been forced to take up her mantle at an early age. It was a fate that she knew she would have to avoid, should she not wish the same hardships upon her own successors. And it was precisely to grow and nurture those successors that she had been so unwilling to send them out into the field.
Most of the men she deployed were throwaway soldiers, bulls that had recently joined her troupe after experiencing their first nocturnal emissions and subsequently finding themselves expelled from their clans. The newest batch was still incredibly young, with their oldest members in their late thirties at most. One of her closest advisors even derided the young boys’ suitors as calf molesters and demanded that they cease their open advances immediately. But they did not. Females in their mid one hundreds often found it too difficult to control their instincts, and the lack of older bulls only made it harder for them to be restrained with fresh meat right before their trunks.
While it was certainly a nightmare in need of a resolution, and one that stemmed from her own incompetence at that, Emelia set the thought aside and flapped her ears again.
Their client was near the very limits of their flight range. Erdbrechers did often travel through the air, but fundamentally, they were not built for true flight. Few had difficulty maintaining their heights, once they managed to achieve them, but the average noncombatant could only get a few meters off the ground at most, with most of the aforementioned height granted by an initial leap. Climbing with one’s ears required strict and specific training targeting the muscles in the sides of their heads, as well as mastery of precise magic control. The upper bound seemed absurd and useless when exploring the jungles and mountains, but in their native desert range, it was hardly a limitation at all. They would only ever need a few extra meters to navigate from the top of one dune to the top of the next. Those that failed to make the flight would simply walk up the sandy hills instead.
Alas, their destination was not one that could be reached on their feet alone. Emelia’s ears were sour, exhausted by the long climb. It didn’t help that she wore a full suit of armour. The thick metal protectors more than doubled her weight, and thus the burden on her muscles as well. Her helmet was especially egregious, and frankly she found it difficult to push forward, but she continued to press on, driven first and foremost by a sense of duty.
The matriarch blamed herself for her client’s circumstances. They had been together when she was first teleported, and while the erdbrecher had noticed the magic, the caster had completed the spell before she had the chance to react. Taking its complexity into account, it had been crafted at an ungodly speed, but Emelia knew better than to blame the catastrophic failure on the efficiency of the enemies’ tools. She was at fault, and she could not allow herself to live with the dishonour.
That was why she had deployed all of her elite forces. Twelve at a time, they took to the skies with their weapons and armour at the ready. It was an unconventional task, outside their realm of expertise, but each team was led by a veteran with at least five hundred levels under her belt.
Mobilising her most powerful tools was more difficult than could have been reasonably assumed. Many of the teams were led by females far older and wiser than herself. Their personal power was within the realm of comparison, and many thought themselves more deserving of the matriarch title. And they likely would have openly declared as such, had they been her mother’s daughters.
It was only because she had grovelled at their feet that they were willing to lend her their ears, a humiliating outcome to say the least, but Emelia had gone through with her daughter as witness. Her pride was a small price to pay if it meant acquiring the forces she required to make up for her shortcomings.
All seemed well until the night was lit with a streak of fire. It was a heavenly white flame, bright as a star drifting its way across the sky. The first group to ascend was immediately flung from the firmament. She doubted that anyone was dead, but the attack had no doubt singed their ears and damaged their already fragile flight capabilities.
Looking beyond the flames revealed a peculiar bird with a rounded beak. She recalled seeing and hunting creatures with similar frames during the migratory season, but none shared the identifying coral-pink plumes that adorned the firespitter’s body, just as how they lacked the thick tentacles that lashed out from beneath her feathers.
There were five pulses of magic as the darkness returned to the night, one for each of the elite squads dispatched. A creature resembling a fennec appeared right in front following the pulse nearest their location. She could tell at a glance that it was just a magical blob and not the real deal, but that was precisely why her blood ran cold. The projection possessed more mana than the entire Braun Company combined. And if the pulses were anything to go by, its creator could churn them out en masse with little to no preparation.
“So uhmm… hi!” The fennec spoke with a damning giggle. Emelia wanted nothing more than to run tail and run; there was no telling what the horrific demon would do if it took delight in their suffering. “Er, uhm… I mean… Stop right there! You’re not allowed to go any further!”
Hesitant to risk angering the hellspawn, Emelia ground to a halt and raised her trunk to order the men and women behind her to do the same. Not everyone seemed to understand the danger; some of the men in particular, who were less magically attuned by nature, were particularly confused, but they all obeyed her orders. Her personal squad was one of the few that respected her authority.
“Why not?” she asked. The erdbrecher twisted the tip of her trunk in hopes that the demon could be reasoned with. She knew that it was unlikely, but she had heard many tales of such entertaining mortal requests and sometimes even cutting good deals.
“Mmmnnnnn… because I said so?” said the fox. “One of my friends is doing something really important right now and you’re not allowed to butt in.”
“I see.” The matriarch felt the urge to tie her nose into a knot and give it a tug; the circumstances were even worse than she had imagined. If the enemies had befriended the demon, as opposed to merely contracting it, then it was unlikely that they would be able to circumvent its security. “Then I challenge you to single combat.”
“M-mot—Boss!?” Alya opened her eyes wide and grabbed her by the shoulder, but the older erdbrecher shook her head and brushed the noodly nose aside.
“I don’t know how long I can stall it,” said Emelia, in a whisper. “But when I do, go.”
“We can’t possibly aband—”
“Just go.”
“Uhhh…” The projection scrunched up its face. “Well uhmmm… first of all, I really don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m just gonna eat you if you try anything, even if you don’t look like you’d taste very good. Oh, and I don’t think you’ll last long enough for anyone else to slip past.”
Every word sent a shudder through Emelia’s spine. She could tell from its nonchalance how little it valued their lives, and from its childish giggling that it felt nothing but confidence in its own abilities. If she wanted to eke out a victory, she would need to strike hard and fast, to identify one of its weaknesses and hit it with everything she had all at once before it could raise its guard. And most importantly, she needed to hit something that wasn’t a projection.
“I know. But I would like to request single combat regardless.”
“Mmmmnnnn… Iunno.” Alas, the fennec did not seem inclined to indulge her. “So uhmmm… I guess I’ll just eat all of yo—oh wait a second! I’ve got an idea!” It clapped its paws together, once, twice, thrice. It was rhythmic, with three quick taps following each slower pair. Her voice was thrown into after a brief delay, used to craft a beautiful, soothing melody filled with long, high-pitched notes.
Emelia reached for one of the spears off her back when she realised that it was a spell, but her body refused to move until the demon’s song was complete.
The spell formed an arena made of clouds. Her squad was situated on one side of the ring, standing atop a layer of imaginary dirt. The other twelve-member teams were seated in the audience, confused and on guard, but unable to act. Their bodies were bound with magical chains, held in place by the dream demon’s song.
“I’ll think about letting you sneak past if you help one of my other friends.” The fox giggled as a cloaked figure with a set of large blue wings descended upon the arena. “She’s been stuck in a bit of a rut lately ‘cause she’s a really big dummy, so you’re gonna have to play with her until she figures stuff out.”
“I’m not stuck in a rut,” said the new arrival. She had a soft voice, calming and gentle, but somehow cold.
Emelia couldn’t discern her species at a glance. Her face was invisible beneath her hood; the only part of her head that could be seen were the large ears jutting out from the equally large slits cut into the sides of the fabric. Their shape was knife-like, but not elven. They were far too long for that, and only their bottom halves were bevelled. She had a tail covered in a set of silvery scales, but its precise shape was unfamiliar; it was too thin to belong to a lizardman, and the tip was adorned with an awfully fluffy tuft of hair.
The matriarch narrowed her eyes in an attempt to scrutinize the demon’s friend in more detail, but she wasn’t given the opportunity. It dashed across the arena without another word and drew the weapon mounted to her back. Emelia had assumed it to be some sort of misshapen club or greatsword at first, given its girth, but its shape changed when it was drawn. Its body thinned as its mass was redistributed to its tip, which warped and grew, until it was turned into a massive scythe.
“Oh uhm… I forgot to mention, she’s gonna be trying to kill you guys for real, so good luck!”
The matriarch drew her quarterstaff and raised it overhead. She was ready to launch herself off the ground the moment she blocked the attack so she could sweep the assailant’s weapon aside. She waited and waited and waited some more, but the moment of impact never came. When she finally heard a thud and spun her staff, she found that it touched nothing but air. The enemy’s scythe had extended midswing and reached for one of the men standing behind her.
Its target, however, was unscathed. The blade was caught by one of the golden trinkets wrapped around his body and easily repelled. Such was the bull’s standard defense. It looked effortless at a glance, especially with the military advisor keeping his arms crossed, but Emelia knew that it was anything but. The protection produced such heavy mental strain that the gold mage was unable to cast any other spells while it was active.
“Hey,” he said, with a casual wave. “I had a feeling I’d be seeing you here.”
“Shut up. Don’t talk to me,” said the attacker.
“Do you know her, Gunther?” The matriarch spoke in a hushed whisper, but she doubted that the words had gone unnoticed. The strange lizard’s ears twitched when she moved her lips, and she even did the courtesy of withdrawing her weapon and backing off.
“She’s the one I was telling you about the other day. Still a prime candidate, if you’re willing to overlook the species bit.”
“I am still… hesitant.” There were other tribes that allowed outsiders into their ranks, but they were generally lower in the hierarchy. For the Braun Company to make such a choice would only give the other prestigious clans more reasons to criticize.
“Hmmm…” The bull grabbed one of the golden pieces out of the air with his trunk and used it to scratch the back of his head. “Alright, well how about this. I’ll have a go at her, and you can see what she’s got. Worth a few dozen softtusks at least.”
Emelia quickly eyed the troops standing behind her, and after noting that there were only two concerned with the proposal, answered the man with a nod. “If you are confident.”
“It’ll be easy,” he said with a grin. “I’ve already cornered her once, and it’s not been long since. What could possibly go wro—”
The sentence was suddenly cut off, turned into a confused trumpet as his body slid across the fake dirt, pulled towards her at a thousand miles an hour. The girl’s weapon transformed again when the distance between them vanished, turning from a scythe into what almost looked like an iguana. She stepped forward, sidestepped his trunk, and delivered the strange club straight into the side of his head.
There was a resounding gong as the man was sent flying across the arena. He crashed straight into one of its outer walls, which was evidently much harder than its cloud-like appearance suggested, his eyes spinning and a stream of blood leaking out the side of his head. He stumbled a few steps forward when he peeled off the wall before collapsing face-first in the dirt.
"I told you to shut up."
The cloaked figure transformed her weapon again as she raised it, turning it into a bow with a crystalline arrow nocked against its string and the mercenaries well within its sights.
With a loud, ear-splitting trumpet, Emelia reluctantly gave the order to attack. There was no telling what the dream demon would do if her so-called friend was slain, but something had to be done. They couldn't simply stand by and allow themselves to be killed.
