Morgana: Everybody Loves Large Chests (Vol.4)

by Iliev, Neven

  “I guess I can’t fault you people for taking that chance,” Faehorn commented.

  “Well, it was hardly the easiest decision to make,” the strategist shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t like it one bit. There are far too many unknowns regarding Primus Underwood’s contact. And I don’t like ‘unknowns.’ Also-”

  “We’ve already discussed this at length, Drannor,” the Legate cut him off. “Like it or not, we agreed that the potential benefits were well worth the risk.”

  “The potential benefits being the ongoing existence of this fort, I’m guessing,” Vera chimed in.

  “Your sarcasm is noted, Prefect,” Aidun curtly responded. “In any event, we may be off to a rough start, but the item seems to have worked perfectly. What became of it after the Decanus… misfired it?”

  “The answer is right in front of you, sir,” reported Underwood while gesturing at the brown, muddled orb on the table. “What you see there is the object, but it no longer holds any of the radiant luster it had when I first saw it. We’ll confirm it later to be sure, but even I can tell it’s more or less lost its power.”

  That wouldn’t be permanent, though. In truth, it just needed a week or so to recharge itself, but that wasn’t something the elves needed to know. Nor would they have the time to wait that long, as the Imperial invasion was expected to arrive within the next three or four days. Faehorn and his teams spent most of the last week trying to slow them down, but they were unable to do much damage to a thirty-thousand-strong army. The 1st Scouting Battalion had already effectively blown their load with that landslide ambush on the first expeditionary force. While it was a huge success, it meant the Republic had shown the Empire their hand. As a direct result, the main force was much more thorough and careful in their approach, leaving little room for the elves to pull any tricks. Harassing the Empire’s scouts in small skirmishes was pretty much all the Republic’s soldiers could do.

  “I see. That is most unfortunate,” the Legate said grimly. “Regardless of the… complications,” he glared at Keira’s empty seat, “we still have a hard battle ahead of us. Is there any chance of Operation Honeytrap succeeding at this point?”

  He looked around the table, silently asking for the others’ input.

  “I’m of the opinion I’d much rather rely on our soldiers than these dryads,” noted the strategist. “While our defeat is almost certain, it is our duty to inflict as much damage to these invaders as we can. Otherwise they’ll regroup and move onto our next stronghold further north. Allowing those things to run wild could jeopardize not only this fort, but the entire region.”

  It was a cold, calculated argument meant to minimize the overall damage to the Ishigar Republic. Losing Fort Yimin would be painful, but it was better than giving up the rich mithril mine that lay deeper in Republic territory.

  “I disagree, sir,” Underwood spoke up. “I think we should give Decanus Morgana a chance to make up for her blunder.”

  “Are you certain it was an honest mistake?” Aidun asked pointedly.

  “I am sure of it, sir. She hadn’t been briefed on what the item or its function were, nor would my ‘contact’ have had reason to inform her of those details.”

  “You are confident she can be trusted?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve investigated her background, personal relationships, and personality as much as I could in this short amount of time. While she may not hold genuine loyalty to the Republic itself, her motivation to protect those closest to her is genuine. Not to mention she has reason enough to bear a heavy grudge towards the Empire, and would not let them do as they please.”

  “So what? She’s trustworthy because she’s the enemy of our enemy?” Vera raised an eyebrow.

  “Something like that, ma’am.”

  Silus personally disagreed with that old adage. In his opinion, the enemy of his enemy was his enemy’s enemy, nothing more, nothing less. However, this was neither the right time nor place to argue semantics or philosophy.

  “Will the dryads follow her instructions?” Drannor asked the important question. “Just because they have a ‘favorable impression’ of her doesn’t mean they’ll just blindly obey.”

  “I wouldn’t suggest we involve her if I thought she was incapable of doing so, sir.”

  Those words seemed enough to convince the pessimistic strategist. Silus Underwood was an expert at handling personnel and sniffing out people’s true intentions. That was why he had been appointed as the one responsible for the highly individualistic adventurers in the first place. If he insisted Keira could be trusted, then the others had no reason to doubt his judgement.

  “How do we know they’re capable of doing the same as this other one down south?” Vera pointed out. “Appearances aside, they themselves said they just ‘woke up,’ right? Would they even know how to use their abilities?”

  “Oh, we can easily ascertain their ability,” Faehorn leaned back in his chair. “The real problem is making them understand friend from foe, and motivating them to act on our behalf.”

  “That’s exactly why I said we should give up on them,” chimed in the strategist. “They don’t just look like children. They completely act the part. They’re far too innocent.”

  “Hmm, I suppose there is that, too,” the Ranger scowled.

  “What do you mean? Was this not what you were talking about?” Drannor raised an eyebrow.

  “There is no such thing as an ‘innocent’ monster, Drannor. And make no mistake, that is exactly what those creatures are. Unless we properly motivate them, they will not lift a single finger for our sake, even if their ‘mother’ told them to do it.”

  The room fell silent as everyone mulled over the Ranger’s words. They carried the weight of over sixty years of adventuring experience, and the passion of a man who truly loved his country and its people.

  “I think,” Legate Aidun spoke up after a brief pause, “there is merit to using those chil- those dryads. However, I would like to speak to the one most concerned before making a decision.”

  “Should I fetch the Decanus, sir?”

  “Please do, Primus.”

  Underwood stood up with a salute and went out of the room for a moment. It wasn’t until he opened the door that the elven leaders realized the chattering of the quintuplets had died down at some point. The cause became apparent when the beastkin returned carrying a sleeping dryad on each arm, while the other three trailed behind with drowsy steps. When she sat back in her seat, they all laid down at her feet and fell asleep while she looked over them with a mix of patience and concern.

  “…”

  Nobody could say a thing. Regardless of the circumstances, she looked exactly like a mother tending to her young. Motherhood was an almost-sacred thing in elven culture, so they couldn’t just thoughtlessly interrupt.

  “Uhm… Sir?”

  It wasn’t until Keira spoke up that the Legate snapped out of the stupor.

  “Ah, yes. It seems you have reached some sort of understanding with these… children.”

  “Uhm, I- I suppose you could say that, sir.”

  “I see.”

  Judging from how they slumbered undisturbed despite the conversation, it was probably safe to keep talking. Still, the elves subconsciously lowered their voices. All of them looked perfectly serene and at peace, and having the slightly smiling beastkin look over them painted a rather uniquely precious scene.

  I didn’t ask for thiiiiiis!

  Inside Keira’s head, however, Boxxy was fuming.

  These damned plants! Why do they have to make so many demands!? Always with the ‘mummy this’ and ‘mummy that!’ Argh! Why the crap did I activate the shiny ball like that?! Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!

  This time around the shapeshifter truly had nobody to blame but itself. It had gotten a bunch of Levels during its recent gnoll hunt and had also found a new and surprisingly tasty way to enjoy its food. It then got paid and would likely receive even more money in the
future if things went well. With its head so full of shiny thoughts, it completely zoned out and triggered the Elder Dryad’s Authority by accident. Its original plan was to have someone else handle the matter while Keira sat on the sidelines. The shapeshifter feared that its persona would attract the wrong kind of attention if it continued to be publicly involved with the matter. That and Boxxy seriously did not want to deal with any more dryads.

  At least Cyrilla was smart enough to recognize the creature wasn’t her real mother. Their arrangement was temporary, an understanding of sorts. She would help the Sandman, and in return the Sandman’s minions would help her with any miscellaneous requests. It was a simple, straightforward, and non-intrusive agreement. That was well and good, but Boxxy still wanted to avoid having to make deals with any more of her kind if at all possible.

  And yet here it was. Saddled with five damnable, selfish brats that would. Not. Shut. Up!

  Ah, this isn’t like me. I need to calm down.

  Boxxy realized its temper had been flaring up a bit too often as of late. Though it once had near-infinite patience as a simple mimic, its transformation into a doppelganger seemed to have shortened its fuse significantly. It couldn’t help but wonder—were all doppelgangers like this? Or maybe the way it kept forcing itself to be so expressive all the time had some sort of feedback that affected its normally cool and collected state of mind? Whatever the cause, it was definitely a problem. If it hadn’t been so excited during the hand-off earlier, then it wouldn’t have gotten itself in this mess to begin with.

  Hypothetical situations aside, the reality of the matter was that it was far too deep in this to just back out now, and it needed to make the most of it. At the very least, the dryads would be physically unable to follow once it left this place behind. Even if they tried, they would have no choice but to return to their trees unless they wanted to die. The shapeshifter just had to put up with them until that moment came.

  That tasty thought seemed to help calm the monster’s troubled mind, so it decided to keep focusing on it.

  “So, do you think you can do it, Decanus?”

  Oh right, this guy wants me to play dryad tamer for a few days.

  The Legate spent the last few minutes laying out plans for the upcoming siege. Boxxy only half-listened since it gave them the idea in the first place. It just really, really didn’t want to be responsible for its execution since the shapeshifter had no idea whether this ‘Operation Honeytrap’ thing would succeed. Its only real concern during its sales pitch had been to make it sound plausible enough to convince this bunch to hand over a criminal amount of money. Truly, the only culprit behind Boxxy’s current predicament was its past self.

  On the bright side, the monster had a newfound understanding of a certain idiom regarding reaping and sowing.

  “I believe so, sir,” Keira nodded after a moment of consideration.

  “Oh?” Aidun raised an eyebrow. “You sound remarkably confident.”

  “It really isn’t that complicated. It shouldn’t be too hard to tell the troops apart since the army colors are so different.”

  The Empire’s forces liked to tout uniforms, cloaks, and tabards that were royal blue with golden embroidery, which would be worn over black armor. The Republic’s heraldry, on the other hand was predominantly grey and silver with a black trim.

  “Yes, that much is a given. But how do you plan to… motivate them?”

  “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

  “Granted.”

  “Well, listening to these darlings go on and on made it sound like they think of themselves as trees first and people second. They act like children, too. So, if we want to get on their good side, we just need to give them stuff that trees would like. Oh, and I guess they’re probably closer to monsters than people, but that just means they’ll respond to bribes and bait better than words or promises.”

  “Hmm, very observant, Decanus. A surprisingly sound judgement,” noted the Legate with a grand nod.

  Faehorn failed to withhold a smug smile upon witnessing a high-ranking officer approve of his former student, despite her rambling and scatter-brained explanation.

  “So then, what would we offer to their trees? Maybe some pest control or medical aid is in order?” Aidun cupped his chin as he thought back on their words earlier. “One of them mentioned something about itching. Perhaps she’s suffering from some sort of infestation or infection we could assist with?”

  “Oh, I actually already thought of something way better,” Keira proudly declared. “Uh, sir.”

  “And what would that be, Decanus?”

  “Fertilizer, sir. Enough to satisfy all five of these kids’ trees.”

  “Yes, that was my first thought as well. There’s just one problem,” Aidun leaned forward on his elbows. “Where do you propose we find that much manure on such short notice, Decanus?”

  “It’s already on its way, sir.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The catgirl’s face shifted slightly. Her mouth was still curled up in an innocent smile, but her eyes practically oozed with hatred as she gave voice to her darker thoughts.

  “We have thirty thousand bags of first-grade fertilizer walking towards us at this very moment, do we not?”

  It was the kind of monstrous logic only a deeply disturbed individual could think up.

  Part Six

  A heavy silence hung over the meeting room. Faehorn, Underwood, Aidun, Drannor, and Vera looked at the empty seat in front of them with bitter faces. All of them were either unable or unwilling to say anything. A few minutes passed like this since the person responsible for this heavy mood had left the room. With a smile and a spring in her step, no less.

  “Thirty thousand bags of fertilizer…”

  As per usual, the first one to break the silence was Aidun, Legate of the 3rd Legion. He spoke in a quiet tone that was unbefitting of him as he slumped back in his chair. Having heard those chilling words once again injected some life back into his colleagues.

  “Heh. Well, she’s technically right, I suppose,” Drannor chuckled dryly.

  “Those eyes, though,” Vera shook her head. “It’s like she literally doesn’t see the Empire’s troops as people anymore. It may be a good attitude for a soldier to have, but as a person…”

  “I fucking hate this war,” growled Faehorn.

  “You’ll have plenty of chances to hate it later, old friend,” Underwood slapped the Ranger on the back. “It hasn’t even started for real yet.”

  “When did she become like this, Silus? She used to be this bright-eyed girl filled with hope and ambition. Now she’s… like that.”

  “It’s just the shock of recent events. I bet this all just feels surreal to her right now, which is why she’s acting out like this.”

  “You said she had ample reason to hate the Empire,” spoke the Legate, “but even I find that much animosity disturbing. What exactly did she go through, Primus?”

  “As far as I understand from interviewing her close confidants, an Imperial patrol killed her parents. She’d been told it was an accident, but she believes it was both intentional and malicious, and holds a deep grudge towards the enemy’s military and authority. And that was before she and her teammates were captured and humiliated by the enemy.”

  “Ah, of course.”

  The alleged incident had been described fully in one of the recent reports, but with so much going on it momentarily slipped his mind. Underwood didn’t seem to want to discuss the matter further, and Aidun was in total agreement. Keira’s mentor couldn’t help himself, though.

  “Did I mention I fucking hate this gods-damned war?”

  “Your displeasure at our foreign political situation is noted, Faehorn,” the Legate groaned. “Still, I’m not going to pretend I understand her feelings, but I can’t fault her for her resentment.”

  “I’m more worried about those dryads, myself,” the strategist changed the topic. “Even if the ‘demo
nstration’ tomorrow proves they can be used, the effects an actual war will have on them… If they develop a taste for blood, we may have to abandon the fort for good.”

  “Well, I doubt they’ll actually do it for the ‘fertilizer,’” the Ranger replied. “If dryads were really after stuff like that, the capital would be a graveyard by now.”

  “You said it yourself though,” Vera chimed in. “They’re still technically monsters, even if they carry Nyrie’s blessing as the legends say. Doesn’t that mean they may see us as the enemy eventually?”

  “I think it will be fine, so long as we don’t agitate or harm them or their trees in any way. They clearly don’t bear us any ill will. If that wasn’t the case, Imiryl’s prideful gaffe would have cost her far more dearly than a spanking.”

  The Prefect conceded the point with a firm nod, and the group continued discussing the long-term ramifications of Operation Honeytrap lasted for another half hour. They hadn’t even given the final say-so on whether they would attempt it, so it was important to consider all the potential outcomes and risks. Old battlefields near ancient hylt trees were brought up, religion and the Goddess Nyrie’s will were touched upon, and various contingencies were roughly outlined.

  *Dororororo*

  This came to an abrupt end when the sole Comm-crystal in the room flashed and vibrated against the wooden table it rested on. The discussion came to an abrupt end as the five elven officers shared a few knowing looks. With a nod from the Legate, Underwood reached over, grabbed the item, and accepted the call. The transparent, blue-colored image of a man with a cloth wrapped around his head and a heavy cloak on his broad shoulders appeared out of thin air.

  “Lord Underwood.”

  The voice was completely befitting that appearance. Which was to say it was deep, ominous, and a bit raspy. Silus furrowed his brows and sighed as he remembered the previously agreed-upon identification code.

  “Hear me, my good fellows, lend me thy ears-” he started.