Chương 17: Miracles and Calamities

Lord Corrigan threw leatherbound books off his table in a thrashing rage. Lady Reece was the real thing: a living, breathing oracle. In just a few months, she had cemented herself as an ordained noble and destroyed every plan that he had. Lilikan threw him bright grins, but he didn't let loose anything about the tyrexia elixir.

"Too important," he said, but the way he said it said that it wasn't up for discussion. With him. Corrigan. The man who owned him. Lilikan changed completely once he met Sara Reece—the "Oracle." She must've told him something… or showed him something… A sudden blast of mana shook the papers in his office, spilling floating papers outward in all directions. From an array hidden underneath his carpet came someone he had seen before. He was a Chosen, but he wasn't anyone of value. Not until that exact moment.

"Hello, Corrigan," the Chosen said.

"It seems like Sara's put you in quite the quandary."

"W-Why are you in here?" Corrigan asked as he studied the man's sinister smile.

"To prevent your exe~cu~tion. See, Sara's rather competent, so she's gotten everything she's wanted. But that's kinda a problem." The Chosen pulled out a chair and sat at the table, fingers laced.

"Because what she wants isn't what this kingdom needs. So… we're gonna change that."

"This sounds like a threat."

"Oh, it is. If you don't, I'll… who knows, start with your operations in the Senaca District? Or your relationship with Weista. Your blackmail ring with Lilikan... Oh, Carrigan. Dear, dear, Corrigan. What do you and Sara say…? Something cliche. Like, I own you? Well, that doesn't apply here. See, I am you. Or rather, you're me. A… part of me. A… puppet!" The Chosen popped their voice merrily as they made a chattering motion with their hand.

"A talking corpse lacking the slightest agency. And if you don't hurry up and clip on your strings, you're gonna be dead by sunrise." —King Escar— King Trinov Escar stared out of his audience chamber's window as he listened to his advisors bicker behind him.

"The gall," Darthmith said.

"What are the odds? That a silvermoon bloom hits the market the moment that you're cured?"

"And what are you implying?" Lady Reesta asked. She was the one who was in charge of announcing royal decrees and managing the response.

"That Sara sold one?" Darthmith scoffed.

"Why would you even think that? Because you're protecting your investment?" Sara chose Reesta as her patron. So, it was in Reesta's best interest to protect her.

"Then what are you suggesting?" Corrigan asked.

"That they hid it until they could sell it!"

"That's reasonable," Reesta said.

"If someone announced its presence, it would've been seized by the kingdom."

"It was. Immediately. Well, most of it."

"What does that mean?" Corrigan asked.

"There was a girl they cured. As a demonstration. One… Tiber Senaco." Reesta strode to the king, voice smoother than usual.

"My Liege. I think that we should squash this. If word got out about the moonbloom, it would be a symbol of disloyalty. Think about it: that someone would hide a bloom while their king suffered. In essence, a commoner was killing you." He turned to her.

"And of the girl? How well known is she?"

"Very," Darthmith said, making Reesta grimace.

"She's the sister of Kyritus Senaco, who runs the most popular reaper tavern in Helscope. Word will spread."

"Which~," Reesta followed, "is not a bad thing. As long as we contain knowledge of the market, we can claim that Emanasa has healed a four-year-old girl of tyrexis in celebration of your kingship's curing."

"That… sounds rather nice," Trinov said.

"What do you think Corrigan?"

"That.. was actually what I was going to suggest, My Liege," he said.

"In fact, I think that we should bring her to Amia. To celebrate her for a day. Prolong your celebration." Reesta's muscles tensed. Trinov narrowed his eyes on her arms subtly before looking away, acting as if he hadn't seen it.

"What do you think about that, Reesta?" Reesta was a sharp woman. She noticed him watching her reaction and acted accordingly.

"I think it's a wonderful idea."

"Excellent. Let's bring these… Senacos to Amia." —Sara Reece— Sara was furious.

"And you didn't even try to push back?" she demanded.

"It was our idea," Reesta said.

"If we were to switch gears from celebrating her healing, to squashing knowledge of it, it wouldn't have gone well. He also saw me tense. Any denial at that point would be an implication of guilt, whether I was guilty or not." Sara grabbed a wine glass to throw, but forced herself to hold it, passing it between her hands. It made Reesta anxious to see the small quantity of wine splash back and forth, threatening to spill out on Sara's clothing. That was good. The woman should be anxious. She needed to be.

Sara was facing a calamity.

"I think that we should focus on how we're going to handle their presence," Reesta said.

"Your proximity—""Proximity isn't the problem," Sara said.

"It's their image. It's them. In case you're unaware, I already have enemies. If someone fixates on them, I'm going to break their legs. And then what? I have a vulnerability. And trust me, Reesta said. If you tell anyone I said vulnerability, you will regret it." You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Reesta sat down, eyes drifting back and forth in thought.

"What's wrong with your meeting?"

"Excuse me, what?"

"Your meeting. You healed the king. What if you 'meet' in public. Then, you invite him to dinner? Spend time with him. I can limit their stay to a single night. During that period, you convince all of your enemies that you've just met."

"That would be a great idea if…" Sara stopped herself. She was about to say, His image wouldn't trigger Jason's memories.

"And," Reesta added, earning her keep.

"We'll get Jason out of town. Let's… send him off on a mission. And then… welcome him home with a Hero's triumph? Is there anything in that Oracle brain of yours that you can use?"

"That could work…" Sara muttered, tossing the glass back and forth.

"Tell King Escar I have a suggestion for getting Jason out of town." She put down the glass, scribbled it onto a piece of parchment, and gave it to the woman.

"Do that, and we'll be fine."

"This gets… all the Chosen out of town," Reesta commented as she read it. Sara picked up the wine glass again.

"It's not like a young girl's miracle recovery means anything to any of them. To Jason, it's just another thing that's usurping his attention. Trust me, do this, and Jason will pounce and drag everyone else with him." Reesta sighed as she stared at it.

"I'll do it."

"Good. Succeed, and I'll use my 'oracle' powers to reward you. Fail, and I swear…" She didn't finish her sentence. She stopped tossing the cup back and forth and drank the contents. This had to work. Even if she had to get involved personally, she would get the Chosen out of the capital and take that pig Corrigan with them. Sara secured patronage from every other politician directly involved in, or working for, Jason during the prosecution period after the Markinoa Festival.

Those she didn't, she would have a talking with. It wasn't as though she and Edico hadn't explained her situation. The king would understand. And Jason would take the bait. There weren't many certainties in life, but that was one of them.

Jason overlooked the company of soldiers who would allegedly accompany them to Coline, a northern town besieged by orcs about five years back. There was an entire border of such orcs that had been breeding, but the problem had been pushed aside, as orcs were a particularly stupid species that thought and fought like Neanderthals. That wasn't to say they were weak.

Each of them was about twelve feet tall and wielded weapons out of the Bronze Age, not that Veridia and its feudalistic excuse of a society was that much further ahead. Without magic, orcs would probably fuck them all. Jason didn't really care where he went. He was in a foul mood and wanted out of Amia, which had just ordained Sara a dutchess or margravine or something. The only good thing was that she was leaving Amia, going off to some less developed war torn bullshit of a countryside.

He thought that was a huge downgrade until he saw the company in front of him. One hundred twenty normal soldiers in armor. Two sycounts on horses. No Aelia. He was about to lead a hundred soldiers into battle. He. The Hero. There was something greatly nostalgic about leading armies. He already knew he'd be good at it. It felt good—but bitter fucking sweet. A margravine's entire duty was to protect an entire border from another kingdom. That meant that Sara was just put in charge of three field armies!

It ticked him off, but… did it matter? He was, in fact, the Hero, and once he came back from his first conquest, he would be given a much greater position—in the main army. Sara was going after low-hanging fruit. It would get her further in the short run, but he would end up victorious.

"You actually look like you're in a good mood for once," Raul commented, riding up to him.

"Yeah, fuck you, too, traitor," Jason said.

"Why are you even talking to me?"

"Because you're running this thing," Raul said dryly, adding, quite sarcastically, "Boss."

"Go join Sara. She just got an army."

"Doesn't matter. Your King just said I had to be here." Jason scoffed.

"My King. What? You think I own this army?"

"Nah. Anyway, I'm actually here to tell you that we're changing direction. Instead of going to Coline, we're going to Aprio. It's in the same territory."

"And you're just now saying that?"

"Bro. We need to work together. So stop treating me like Raul and start treating me like your second in command. It's kinda depressing you didn't make the switch." Raul rode away, leaving Jason filled with fury. It was always something. One thing after the other. Even Mary started telling him what to do every time she touched up her makeup. Everyone had some type of opinion. It was ridiculous. Jason just wished that Raul and Mary and the rest of the Chosens would just fuck off and let him lead this army.

He just needed a fresh start. People who didn't expect so goddamn much from him. People who didn't see him as a high schooler made college freshmen. People who viewed him as a leader. Instead, he had Raul as his second-in-command. That meant that he had to talk to him. After all, a good leader talked to other leaders. Those leaders talked to their group leaders, who talked to the soldiers. That's how it worked. Jason didn't know why he knew that was how it worked. But he did. He whistled.

"Raul!" Raul turned.

"What?"

"Tell the sycounts to break their platoons into squads. I want to meet all the leaders before we go." Raul's eyes widened, and then his face developed a bitter smile.

"You got it." What the hell was that for, Jason wondered. It was like he was aggrieved that I was good at this. That thought lingered. Mary rode up to him.

"Everyone's accounted for. Well, except the worm."

"Worm" was Daniel's nickname.

"Please say that's because he's not coming," Jason said woodenly.

"He's not. He's still on the road."

"How long does it take to get to the Hatlan Road?"

"Years, hopefully. He's collecting books like a reverse missionary. I think he's gone for good."

"Let's hope. Something about that guy gives me the creeps." Jason said.

"Okay, let's get to work. Go ride up to one of those sycounts. They're each platoon leaders. I want you to ride with them and learn everything they do."

"Uh… why?" Mary asked.

"What part of won't be a soldier don't you get?"

"I know you're not gonna be a soldier. You're going to use your hips to get into power and blah blah. Whatever. In between then and now, I need you to take over Raul's job. I refuse to put such an important job into his hands."

"Oooh, so you need me," she whispered into his ear. He shivered.

"Yeah. Now do it. I need total concentration for this thing. I finally get a chance that bitch can't fuck up. I'm taking it."

"Kay, kay~," Mary said, kissing her lips and waving them in that up-down puppet wave that looks good when hot people do it and disgusting when ugly people do it. She was good enough. Raul was competent enough to get the two platoons separated into squads. At least he's good enough, he thought. Okay. Time to meet my soldiers.