BECMI Chapter 374 – More Immortal Maneuvers
To the Great One’s utter astonishment, Cirru had refused His recruitment as well, basically telling Him to flark off and find another consort. His attitude of draconic isolationism was at odds with everything she had seen and experienced with me, and she had no incentive whatsoever to doubt what she had learned, nor to give up what might be possible in the future by staying with me.
Dragon elitism was a given, but refusing to engage with other races meant dragons becoming weaker in relation, as her own past and present confirmed. Cirru had no problems man-handling a Gold or Amber dragon of equal age to herself, she knew it, and the lure of wielding Divine magic was only a fool’s temptation.
The next morning, after a long discussion about such possibilities with the Great Jordie, Archbishop of the Eismark Federation, she had instead taken her Vow as a Priestess of the Morning, and everything the Great One had offered her was rapidly becoming open to her regardless.
The Great One had then expeditiously decided to use her as an ambassador to the mortal realms, complete with gifting her with unexpected Clerical spells that didn’t go away, the Slots to spend them with, and sending dreams her way.
That meant she had been appointed as a Favored of the Great One, although she didn’t advertise the fact at all.
He was another Immortal attempting to make a tool of her. The fact He had unlocked a dragon’s hidden and repressed sorcery Spell Slots under the guise of making Her a chosen tool was also something she didn’t publicize, knowing how dangerous that might be, and how it could rebound badly on the Great One. It meant she had to do a lot of work to cover up the fact and work on developing the new abilities, but unlike many dragons, she actually had a good work ethic and the habits to go along with it.
Berating these idiot Whites for getting involved in a clusterfuck between Immortals was totally something she could do without threatening her conscience… and as a Favored of the Great One, her words had teeth!
“Do inform them that if they come after us, I’m going to kill all of them and not give a fuck about being polite,” Sama stated coldly. “They get the one free pass, that’s it.”
“Understood, Grandmaster,” Cirru nodded once, palest blue eyes glancing over the larger wyrms as she settled down next to the two of them, the other one likely unconscious and drifting in the depths for now. If something big came up and decided to munch on it, that was no scales off her nose, although the fact it was likely freezing the waters around it meant it was unlikely to happen. “Go kick the tail of that arse from old Delpha, would you?” she sniffed haughtily.
“Let’s hope He shows!” Sama laughed, as she and I turned to head back to the Scampering Wave’s deck in the distance…
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“Qeogur sails coming in from the south!” reported the lookout, giving descriptors to the white sails on the horizon.
“Ah, the Baron’s fleet,” Sama mused aloud. “Relay to them steady on the course, no deviating, if you please, Edge?”
“To the Fleet: Ignore the incoming ships of Qeogur. No, I don’t care what King Taravon ranted about. The Baron of Qeogur was in Vinndsvol when that war declaration was delivered, wooing the daughter of the Delphan Empress. Which, by the way, was successful, and he and she embarked aboard the air carrier Horizon Bound for Aetla, where King Brucall is playing proper host for his sister’s noble wedding in two weeks.”
That had happened by the Horizon coming down out of the sky as it opened its hold, dropping down AROUND the baron’s vessel, scooping it up, and carrying it away while his fleet could only watch in dismay. These incoming ships were completely disorganized and demoralized, in no mood to fight.
“Our enemy is not Qeogur. Qeogur does not have the magic or the muscle to do anything being blamed on it. At the very most, it might be a match for Eiscall on the open seas. These poison fog manipulations are utterly beyond it and him.”
Any thoughts of taking on the Qeogur ships evaporated, and the reformed fleets stayed together.
The Qeogur ships were cautious, being outnumbered a hundred to nine as they were. But the lack of reaction was enough for them to slowly move through the formation, as we were all heading in basically the same direction regardless.
Soon enough the signals indicated the head captain of what was obviously a merchant fleet, likely carrying the trade from their winter seal hunts, wanted to speak to whoever was in charge.
Sama simply Teleported aboard the Native Ivory in a wink of magic from Tremble, badly startling the captain when she popped up next to him at the wheel.
“I understand you wanted to see me, Captain Novigz?” she asked calmly, utterly ignoring the blades that had leapt from scabbards all around her for the moment. “I am Grandmaster Sama Rantha of the Eismark Federation.” And then, then she slowly started to smile. “And those who draw steel on me on the high seas have a long and highly verifiable history of ending up as shark-food,” she went on, as her smile only grew wider.
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The round-faced and bellied, red-bearded tall man there stared at that smile and those eight canines, and his tanned skin slowly paled as he started remembering tales.
“Blades down!” he bellowed, hurriedly sheathing his own lightly glowing Cutlass and even executing a rather well-done formal bow. The sailors all around quickly did the same, looking very embarrassed and relieved as they stared at the tall blonde woman in their midst, her hair barely blowing in the sea breeze, her stance so solid it looked like she was nailed to the deck, and her confidence that she could and would kill them all striking them right to the marrow.
“Our, our apologies, Grandmaster. We were told to expect your arrival, but we were expecting a launch!” he uttered quickly.
“Inconvenient for all concerned, Captain.” She slowly looked left, then right, her heavens-blue eyes seemed to glitter, and all the sailors who’d come running abruptly found they had better places to be.
The captain indicated for his stolid first mate to take the wheel, stepping to the aft deck. “Do you want to take this into my cabin, Grandmaster?” he asked quickly, noting her rather sparse attire, her long officer’s coat more ornamental than useful, and being worn like a cloak, her arms completely bare save for her bracers!
“I’ve walked through the icy barrens at the top of the world for hundreds of miles, Captain. This sea breeze is nothing,” she assured him calmly, unmoved and clearly not uncomfortable. “What do you need?”
“Well,” he coughed delicately, “can you assure us you are not on the way to attack Qeogur?” he asked directly, plainly wondering if the question was going to be the end of him.
“I cannot promise that we are not, but not for the reasons you think. There was an ultimatum delivered to King Taravon of Eiscall in the name of the Baron of Qeogur, demanding Eiscall’s immediate surrender and capitulation. You’ve probably seen the fumes there from that volcanic island to the south of your home before. Someone has weaponized them, turned them into things choking the eastern shores of the Eismark Federation lands, and is putting the blame on your baron.”
“He, he had nothing to do with that!” the captain immediately protested, hands clenched on his Cutlass.
“Correct. He was away in Vinndsvol, selling your winter furs with you, Captain,” Sama nodded, and he visibly settled himself. “However, he’s been dealing with Siricil.” The man immediately stiffened up again, his face paling at the fact she knew that. “The baron and his fiancee are now the guests of her brother King Brucall in Aetla, who is preparing a rather lavish wedding for the two of them. I’m sure he’s sent a launch and some magical missives to that effect, as the Aetlan Magister has relayed to us.
“I cannot make promises that your country has not been conquered by some powerful magical enemy and enslaved while you have been away.” The blood drained from the man’s face at her words. “We are not your enemies, however. If you want to commit suicide by turning to Siricil, we’ll leave you to die in your idiocy. The amount of effort it will take Delpha to reclaim your home is minimal, the effort it would take Siricil to defend it is weighty, and all you are is a pawn between empires lobbed back and forth until you break.
“Feel free to escort the armada or race home ahead of us, it makes no difference to us. Something is behind the foul clouds, it is just south of your homeland, and we are going to find out what.
“Also, if you want to send a couple of your ships to Aetla to verify the status of your baron and his wife-to-be, feel free. I have a feeling you can up-trade some of your cargo if you do so, and the baron might be entering some rather involved talks with his soon-to-be brother-in-law regarding matters of state and trade routes. I understand the rights of nobility in Delphan ports can be substantial, and Qeogur could make a fine profit off its status as a minor Delphan state just by expanding its merchant marine.”
The whiplash of going from potential attacker to defender to avenger to rebel to profiteering loyal citizen and burgeoning trade partner was making Captain Novigz’s hairy eyebrows twitch at how fast things were shifting back and forth.
He did, however, grasp that there were opportunities here, and he could take advantage of them if he was quick… and if his home hadn’t been conquered in the interim!
“Mmm, what manner of cargo is Aetla looking for?” he asked, stroking his long black beard thoughtfully.
“What are you carrying? I can make some recommendations…”
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Three vessels of the Qeogur fleet peeled off and headed west on a course for Eisen Bay, following the lure of profits and to verify for themselves the status of their baronial ruler. A Baron of Delpha was as powerful as a king of many other lands, although the collective power of the Eismark was still relatively unknown or not believed by outsiders. By any outside measures, King Brucall was a peer of the Baron of Qeogur.
After all, tales of us killing all those dragons and giants were just rumors and hearsay. We had to have a proper scrum with a true army to really have our strength tested, right?
Sama stepped up next to me. “Coms came in. A nor-easter of near hurricane size just spun itself up out of nowhere inside an hour, and we’re heading right toward it.”
Dread sparkled in my grasp, looking that way. “No, no, can confirm there’s no Immortals pulling more shit,” I said back to her. “Especially the twat from the old world.”
Sama’s smile was hard at the open lie. “Announce storm preps to the fleet, and do what you can to lessen the power.”
I nodded. “Lady Edge to the Eiscall armada. We’ve a storm coming in, barreling for us out of the north, full of piss and vinegar and some damn cold winds.
“Immediately begin full preparations for a major storm. Bring the formation in within a mile of my position, I will be able to reduce the effects of the storm significantly if you stay close to me. If you lag or you’re stupid enough to think you can take it alone, good luck, I doubt we’re going to see you alive again.
“Start securing everything and get ready, NOW.”
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Any doubts as to my ability to predict the weather evaporated within the hour, as ominously dark clouds, even more intense than the poisonous ones, appeared abruptly ahead of us. The winds were blowing us toward the storm and starting to churn the sea, a roller-coaster ride of potentially twenty-foot waves basically designed to overwhelm most mortal vessels!