Chương 25: Chapter 124: Shenanigans II

"You're what!?" Mel blurted, unable to keep her surprise in check.

"Ha…" Amelia shrugged nonchalantly.

"It's not really a big deal, it—""Not a big deal!?" With some effort, Mel widened her already wide eyes further.

"What do you mean, 'It's not a big deal?'" She gestured to the speaker and the broadsheet held high, its headline brazen and bold, like a second Red Moon.

"That looks like a big deal to me! When did you become a saint—" Mel found herself cut off as Amelia cupped her hands over her mouth.

"Ssh!" Amelia hushed, glancing around.

"Come on, let's walk and talk." Amelia grabbed Mel by the wrist, and they began circling the space.

"As I said," Amelia continued, keeping her voice low.

"It's not really a big deal. After what happened in the slums, I realised I wanted to keep helping people. It feels a bit strange to have so much capacity to do good and not use it, right?" Amelia paused and looked at Mel, her eyes shimmering as if looking for affirmation.

"... Right," Mel replied.

"Mmm." Amelia nodded, seemingly satisfied.

"The slums were bad, Mel. Really bad. I couldn't ignore it, but after the event I understood how if I coordinated with the authorities, I could have minimised the amount of…" Amelia trailed off, wobbling her hand as she sought the right word.

"Chaos?" Mel offered. Amelia laughed.

"I guess. You see, they made me an offer that aligned with my goals." Amelia's voice dropped further, and she fell in close to Mel, whispering, "If I became a saint of the Demon Church, it would give me access to the Church's resources and their organisational capabilities. It also helped my goal of seeing humans and demons resolve their differences.

After all, if you're a demon and the religion you follow has a human saint running about healing your friends and family, you can't get too mad at all humans, can you?"

"... I guess not."

"Mmm!" Amelia hummed, her expression brightening. The speaker at the centre of the square had finished his spiel, and the crowd had begun to thin as everyone returned to their daily tasks.

"It suited the Empire as well, from what I understand."

"But don't you have responsibilities? Obligations?" Mel asked. As far as she knew, a saint was someone who dedicated their life to the Church. As significant and influential as Amelia's sainthood may be, surely they wouldn't want her travelling around the world taking part in whatever Captain Halen's duties were? Mel cast a look at Amelia to see her friend shaking her head.

"Not really," Amelia said.

"I made sure to maintain my freedom." Amelia's eyes glinted mischievously. She cast Mel a sly smile, saying, "It only took a small threat."

"A… A threat?"

"Mmm! There was this funny old cardinal and I—""You threatened a cardinal?" Mel interrupted, doing her best to keep her voice low.

"And Greatlord Oshiro!" Amelia chirped. Mel's blood ran cold.

"Relax," Amelia continued, waving a hand as if she'd just reported on the current weather.

"I just told them I would withdraw from my Cascadian prospectorship. You should have seen their faces… They went as white as you are right now!" Amelia giggled and said, "They think I don't understand how important I am to the Empire, but I do." She punctuated her sentence with a wink.

"... I have a headache," Mel mumbled, reaching up and rubbing her forehead.

"Oh, we can get in now," Amelia said, pointing at the plinth with bronze statues on top.

"Let's take a look." Mel, not knowing what to think, obediently followed Amelia, snaking their way between people and reaching the plinth. A large brass plaque bore script in several desert languages, while Imperial came last, situated at the bottom. Thankful for the distraction, Mel bent down to read it.

"So the shrouded woman isn't the Empress," she murmured, casting a glance at Amelia. Her friend was still reading, her mouth moving slightly as she silently sounded out the words. Mel blinked, thinking back to Officer Bright's theories and her spotting Amelia carrying a workbook for reading and writing. Could it be true that Amelia had acquired her native-sounding grasp of Imperial from a blessing and had to catch up with the rest? As quickly as the thought came to mind, Mel pushed it away.

She'd just asked one question of her friend and had been almost blown away by the response. Only the Empress knew what insane event Amelia would casually reveal if Mel asked another. As the saying went, it was better to let sleeping shawas lie.

"The one at the top is Mura," Amelia said, looking up at the elegantly dressed woman with a confident expression.

"The Greatspider of the Urda religion. I guess this is her… personification, then? Under her, from left to right, are some of her children, the other animal gods…" Amelia pointed to the first statue, saying, "This is Bain, the beetle god, and then it's Falin, the ant god. The noble-looking one is Rhaknam's personification. Then…" Amelia's pointed finger came to rest on the centre figure, a benevolent-looking woman with curved horns.

Seeing the figure up close, Mel didn't need to wait for Amelia or consult the plaque to know who this represented. While her horns would change depending on where they were in the Empire, her face was always similar. Standing before Mel in shining bronze was one of the Southern forms of the Empress, displayed here as a child of Mura.

"Elana, Lord of the Desert," Amelia read out.

"And look what she's standing on…" At the statue's feet was the curled-up corpse of what Mel first thought was a snake. Looking closer, she saw it had hundreds of legs, giving it a rather uncomfortable resemblance to a millipede. This creature had its own small plaque, as if the creators of the statues didn't want to insult Mura and her children by forcing them to have their names together.

"It's Amlaq," Mel said, reading the plaque.

"A Titanlord of the Enemy, who ruled the Southern territories during the Long Discordancy." She turned her gaze to the unpleasant bronze corpse.

"I remember learning this; the Empress slew Amlaq during one of the crusades, but"—Mel looked at the bronze Empress—"it's strange to see her represented like this…" It was more than strange; it was unnatural to see their demigod ruler positioned beneath Mura. Mel understood that in the vastness of the Cascadian Empire, there were many different ways of worshipping the Empress, but that Empress was a demigod —a Shard of Infinity.

It felt heretical to place her under some mythical greatspider sourced from desert superstitions. Even Mel's home religion of Quinto positioned the Empress as the greatest of all Kami.

"And then, continuing onwards." Amelia's pointed finger moved to the remainder of Mura's children.

"The man there is Serat, the scorpion god; next to him is Kethra, she's the carrion goddess. Finally, the sneaky-looking one at the end there is Orun, the viper god." Amelia nodded to herself before turning to look at Mel.

"It's rather interesting, isn't it? It's so different from the East! What do you think?"

"I think…" Mel cast her eyes about, remembering the captain's instructions not to cause any friction with the locals.

"It's innovative." For some reason, Amelia laughed at her words.

"I guess it is, isn't it? Come on, let's look for shops," Amelia said cheerfully, darting off in one direction. They passed a broadsheet seller. While Amelia continued onwards, humming to herself, seemingly not bothered by her name boldly written in the headline, Mel slowed down, unable to stop herself from reading further.

She'd just read up to the part where Greatlord Oshiro had given a statement to the media regarding the healing event's apparent chaotic finale when Amelia popped into her vision and asked, "Want me to buy you a copy?"

"No, sorry," Mel said, shaking her head.

"Let's go." Pulling her gaze from the broadsheet, they continued onward and exited the plaza. Immediately, they found themselves back in the throng of aggressive in-your-face merchants and rivers of bodies flowing this way and that. Amelia continued to demonstrate a remarkable aptitude at engaging with a stallowner or shopkeeper, trying their wares, and then nipping away with enthusiastic promises to return in the future before they could trap them any further.

Amelia's disguise of Cerulean horns—small and stubby—may have looked out of place against the native Arakian horns—larger and curled—but Amelia herself seemed right at home. If she'd been wearing the local loose-fitting clothing, Mel would have thought that she'd emigrated to the South years ago. That was how naturally she seemed to blend in with the fast-paced frenzy of the Ishaqian markets.

After brazenly haggling with a stallowner over what the man described as the finest peeka treats this side of the Shattered Isles, Amelia purchased a bag of snacks for Romulus and a small container of something called peekaleaf. Apparently, it was something that made peekas go crazy.

"Imagine if I hid some of this in Serena's inner pocket," Amelia said with a grin, shaking the container.

"Romulus will be crawling all over her!"

"Please tell me you're joking."

"Yes, yes," Amelia said, pocketing the peekaleaf and treats.

"I would never play around like that. I'm completely and utterly—oh!" Amelia's eyes widened, and she wrinkled her nose.

"This place smells amazing!" Without another word, Mel was pulled into a nearby shop full of balms, lotions, and bathing accessories. Amelia wasted no time in looking around the shop, opening containers and bottles of fragrant liquids and creams. There were even scented soaps which reminded Mel of the Kenhoro markets. It didn't take long before she found herself inclined to purchase one or two.

"That's a bold choice," the shopkeeper mused, a middle-aged demon in a lightly coloured dress with silver hornbands. She wore a transparent shawl on her head, keeping in line with what Mel had seen of Ishaqian tradition so far.

"That massage oil contains fragrance synthesised from desert fruits. It's said to excite men, if that's what you're looking for. Although…" The woman leaned across the counter, placing her chin on her hands while a playful smile formed on her face.

"I doubt two exotic ladies like yourself will have trouble exciting the men down here." The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

"Exotic?" Amelia asked, smiling widely as she gestured to Mel and herself.

"Us?"

"To Ishaqian men, you're exotic," the woman replied.

"It goes both ways." Amelia held up the bottle, shaking it lightly.

"Do you sell anything similar, but, uh"—Amelia flashed a look at Mel—"one that excites, you know, women?" Finishing her question, Amelia gave an almost nervous giggle.

"Oh?" The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow.

"If you want to be on the receiving end of your man's massage, then…" the demon trailed off, stepping from her counter and plucking a bottle from a shelf.

"Try this one. It can feel a little intoxicating, so don't breathe too deeply. It works well on human women, too, so I'm told." Amelia leaned in, her nose twitching as she inhaled the fragrance.

"It's perfect," she said with a grin. Casting another quick look at Mel, she purchased the bottle, quickly stowing it away on her person.

"And for you, my anisa?" The shopkeeper's query broke Mel from her stupor.

"Just… just these," she said, placing the scented soaps on the counter. Surely she's not going to… Mel thought, doing her very best to try and keep her cheeks from warming up. Surely that wasn't for the captain… right? It was too bold, too outrageously bold! How was Mel supposed to keep her calm now? Should she bring it up with Amelia? Ask about it? No, how in the Seven Hells could she even begin to formulate—"Hey, I'm looking for a special kind of wire," Amelia said, chatting with the shopkeeper.

After describing what she was looking for and getting directions to a shop that was, more likely than not, run by a relative of the woman, Mel hurried outside. Through the crowds they went, dodging, dipping and, in some cases, practically diving out of the way of the pushiest of merchants. Mel only just managed to mentally recover by the time they reached their destination, where they bumped into someone else from the Vengeance's crew.

"Hello!" Amelia chirped, almost skipping into the aetherscope shop. While her cheerful greeting earned a grumble from the grizzled, grease-stained owner, her word was directed at the other person browsing the shelves. The individual turned, her eyebrows raising slightly before collecting herself.

"Afternoon, Miss Liona," replied the chief engineer's niece, Evelyn. Mel had only seen Evelyn a few times, mostly in the mess hall on the ship. The demon had been promoted to warrant officer only recently and was now charged with leading one of the engineer teams. Her quarters were supposed to be in the same section of the ship as Mel's, but from what she heard, Evelyn practically slept in the engine room.

Now she thought about it, this was the first time Mel had seen the engineer in anything other than work overalls. It looked like she'd even put in a bit of effort to be more presentable today; her normally dirty face had been wiped down, and her curly hair had been somewhat tamed by what must have been a tremendously aggressive brushing session. She was quite pretty, actually.

"Afternoon! What are you here for?" Amelia asked.

"Reflection plates," Evelyn responded, holding up a curved piece of metal, a little bigger than her palm.

"Many of ours got knocked out of alignment in the Passage, and a few were dented. Looking for replacements, although…" The engineer rotated the plate so it lay almost horizontal with her eyes.

"These have an uneven curve."

"Hrmph!" the old man behind the counter grumbled.

"Uneven, my horns! I check every plate myself! Let me look at that!" Without waiting for Evelyn's response, he reached out and snatched the metal from her. After examining it for a moment, he mumbled something incomprehensible about picky customers before grasping the plate with two rough, gnarled hands and began massaging the metal. After a minute of this, he checked it once more and handed it back to Evelyn.

"There you go. Perfectly curved for an eight-foot' scope. I don't want to hear any more complaints from you, now, miss." Evelyn examined the plates and, after nodding to herself, asked the shopkeeper, "Where do you source your alloy from? Even if the curvature is correct, uneven distribution of the crystal will produce a shoddy resolution." The man scoffed.

"You're four decades too late to be lecturing me about homogeneous crystal solutions, young lady. We use red in our alloy, of course. Sourced from just outside Treki and verified through independent testing." He reached down and produced a stack of papers. Thumbing through them, he handed one to Evelyn.

"Take a look yourself. We don't take in bad material here. We know how vital a working aetherscope is to Passage travel."

"Mmm," Evelyn hummed while reading the documents.

"You don't use white?"

"Down here?" The shopkeeper laughed.

"Christdom crystal hasn't flowed to Ishaq in years. But you'll find my plates have all the stability you need. We finely grind the red before giving it a mercury bath. It'll do the job, you have my word on that." Evelyn asked a few further questions, probing the man about his ferro-crystal processes. Perhaps Mel was imagining it, but she thought the grumpy old shopkeeper was becoming friendlier with every question. It was as if Evelyn were earning his respect in real time.

Mel watched as she laid the plate down and sprinkled some ground crystal onto its curved surface. She then produced a tuning fork, and, striking it hard against the plate, held it close to the surface while the crystal danced and bounced. Whatever she was looking for, Evelyn seemed satisfied as she proceeded to purchase more than two dozen reflection plates and a few other miscellaneous pieces.

Once she'd finished her business and the man began methodically counting his coins, Amelia popped up to the counter carrying a bundle of white wires.

"Just these," Amelia said, already pulling out a coin purse and counting out the amount. Looking at the coins Amelia was placing onto the counter, whatever the wires were, they were significantly more expensive than Evelyn's plates. Even Evelyn herself looked at the wire with an inquisitive expression.

"My uncle said you were making something," Evelyn said.

"But I can't imagine why you would need so much lumencable. What is it for?"

"Well…" Amelia began as the shopkeeper counted the coins, "I had an idea after reading a bit about crystalcraft. You know how the Tilburg cut is the standard cut for aetherlights, right?" As Evelyn nodded, Amelia continued, "And there's the Tilburg-chain cut, which responds to aetherlight, prompting one crystal to turn on another, and then another, and so on, down the chain." At her words, even Mel found herself nodding along. It was a simple application of crystalcraft used in most buildings and ships.

It allowed an entire section of aetherlights to be controlled by a single crystal. The only downside was the lumencable needed to carry the light to and through each aetherlight that needed to be controlled.

"And then I realised there were variations of the cut that meant the rotation would fully engage and stay on until the light levels drop beyond a certain amount. That is"—Amelia began speaking quickly, caught in her sudden enthusiasm—"to say that with the right cuts you can have a chain of lights with distinct on and off positions, and the lumencable can carry that on or off signal to other aetherlights!"

Amelia finished speaking triumphantly, but whatever conclusion she felt the others should derive from her information seemed to have slipped through everyone's horns. Amelia saw this and further explained, "What if, instead of seeing these aetherlights as being on or off we see them as representing one or zero? What then?" Amelia chuckled while shaking her head.

"Don't worry, when you see what I'm making, it'll blow your minds!"

"It'll what our minds?" Evelyn asked, frowning as she folded her arms.

"I don't understand."

"Karligard expression!" Amelia replied, flashing them a thumbs up.

"I'll tell you more later, okay?"

"... Sure," Evelyn replied, giving the old demon behind the counter a look, prompting him to simply shrug in response and mutter something about 'foreigners'.

"I'll see you around," Amelia said, skipping to the door.

"Tell Allston to take breaks, the captain gets worried about him!" Without waiting for an answer, she vanished from the doorway only to return a moment later and chirp, "By the way, your hair looks really pretty! Bye!" before slipping away like a sardis. Evelyn's expression changed into one of shock. She raised a hand slowly, touching her own hair and mumbling, "My hair's pretty?" She frowned before catching Mel looking at her.

The engineer snapped her hand down and muttered something about needing to get back to the ship.

"I'll, uh, see you around," Mel said, not missing the slight reddening of Evelyn's cheeks. Not wanting to simmer in the Amelia-induced awkward atmosphere any longer, Mel left the shop and caught up to her friend.

"I, quite literally," Mel began, giving Amelia a look, "don't have the faintest idea how any interaction between you and anyone else is going to go. I can't believe you haven't given the captain a heart attack by now."

"What?" Amelia's face became the perfect imitation of innocence.

"I could never! Although you should have seen the dinners I've had with her family. Once, Greatlord Oshiro and his wife were there and I—""Please," Mel interrupted, raising a hand.

"Have mercy."

"Request granted and mercy given," Amelia replied with a wink.

"Let's keep going!" Realising she was going to need all the divine assistance she could garner, Mel sent a prayer to just about anyone who might be listening before following Amelia as she darted down another street full of colour and splendour. This street had no lack of stalls lining the sides, but they weren't stalls of goods and wares. Instead, each stall was used as an impromptu workshop as people crowded them, all contributing to build a colourful construction around wooden frames.

They were kites, in the shape of animals, the most common one being an arcwhale. Adults were making professional-looking ones, skilfully weaving and tying colourful thread and cloth. Children helped too, with wide grins as they did their best to make their own. She even saw some of the larger ones being filled with paper-wrapped sweets, which she found strange. Any confusion Mel might have had was cleared up by Amelia darting forward and asking a few questions.

It turned out that, in the wake of the arcwhale stranding, the citizens of Ishaq had come together and were determined to spare no expense in making the upcoming arcwhale festival the grandest one the South had ever seen. The sweet-filled arcwhales were something the locals referred to as a piñata, where the kids would soon have to swing sticks and bats to break it open and get to the confectionery inside.

Amelia's naturally engaging and cheerful attitude rewarded her with a few small bags of sweets, which she shared with Mel. With her mouth full of sugary citrus, Mel rounded a corner and was greeted by the largest building she'd seen so far in Ishaq.

"Now that's what I was looking for," Amelia said proudly, standing with her hands on her hips.

"That's what I call an arena!" And an arena it was. If the decorated layers of archways in the oval-shaped construction didn't give it away, the large Imperial lettering reading ARENA did the job. People came and went, with an official-looking human in discussion with a pair of demons in what Mel first thought were performing costumes, but upon closer inspection realised were elaborately decorated functional leather armour.

The fighters even had their faces painted with swirling, dark shapes that contrasted with their armour.

"You weren't…" Mel swallowed.

"Thinking of fighting, were you?" Amelia giggled, spinning around to look at her.

"Not me. Hinako, remember? I'm sponsoring her career! Part of being a good sponsor is getting her fights, right? Now I'm still in disguise, but I can pretend I'm representing House Thornheart, can't I?" As she spoke, Amelia frowned and placed a finger on her chin.

"No, that might be risky. I know!" Snapping her fingers, Amelia nodded confidently.

"I'll just bribe them!" I feel another headache coming along, Mel thought. Mel was then dragged towards the arena. Thankfully, Amelia—who had a history of threatening cardinals and greatlords and did something at a dinner once that Mel very much didn't want to have knowledge of—decided to wait until the official was alone. While they simmered in the shallowness of Amelia's common sense, their attention was drawn to a large bronze statue near the arena's entrance.

"I thought it would be a famous fighter, but it's not," Mel said, bending down to read the plaque.

"Here marks the spot where the Ishaqian Civil War ended in 580 A. V. His Majesty Oziren the Second surrendered to Loyalist forces, and the Republican Council of Ishaq was formed." Reading further, the plaque told the story of how a single unnamed fighter stood up against what was described as royalist tyranny. It told the tale of how this one individual sparked and won a war to change Ishaq forever.

"Amazing," Mel murmured, looking up at the bronze statue that depicted a strong-looking but otherwise ordinary man.

"How such change can happen when one man decides that enough is enough. Don't you think, Amelia?" She turned her head only to find that Amelia wasn't there, and was instead practically enveloping the poor official in a manner surprisingly reminiscent of how the pushy Isaqian merchants acted. Sighing, Mel stood up and approached the pair.

Arriving just in time to catch Amelia spouting off something that was somehow a compliment, threat, and bribe all at the same time, Mel found herself wondering if she was mentally prepared to handle the rest of the day with Amelia. Was this what Captain Halen had to deal with? If so… I have a long way to go, Mel thought. It was early afternoon. Surely, in the few hours Amelia had indicated she planned to explore Ishaq, nothing too crazy would happen. After all, how much chaos could a saint create?