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The Gamer Chapter 1193 – Liberation Campaign 7 – The White Sheep
🕑 Added 2022-04-07 11:40:15 +0000 UTCTwo more days had passed since John had cleared out the fortress. While his true body continued the sweep northwards, the Mandala Sphere had continued along its planned path. It and Aclysia had only stopped once, at the fortress administrating the Archduchy Labyrinth. There was nothing but a token force inside, a couple of Ironborn Lords, acting more like a warning system than anything else.
The two of them did not stop to fully explore the fortress. They killed all enemies they spotted, freed who they could in the basement, and gave a swift end to who they couldn’t. Like all the other times they had discovered a mana generator in the Iron Domain, the barbarism at display sickened the Gamer to his stomach. Extraction devices were half-melded with scar tissue and Mettle involuntarily injected through masks kept the people ‘alive’ in the loosest possible sense. With a healer around, perhaps they could have saved about half of them. Between the two of them, less than a tenth survived the extraction.
Perhaps the Gamer should have left them untouched until either Gnome or Undine could make the trip. To see that through, he would have needed to stay, however. Someone would have to refill the Mettle supply. Leaving them would have either doomed them to starvation or continuous usage as fuel by whatever Ironborn would come to reclaim this fortification.
The moral conundrum John had there was akin to collapsing an enemy mine. Any war effort that could not replenish its resources was doomed to end eventually, so collapsing the location was a strategic no-brainer. Morally, the miners were non-combatants and should not be killed, especially not by being trapped in a collapsed mine. A civilized solution would have been to give a warning, allowing the miners to evacuate. Such a civility could only be afforded from a position of dominating strength. Beyond that, even the warning was worthless against enemies that saw the miners as cattle.
Ultimately, this was just another awful, pragmatic decision John had to make during this war. He did not have the resources to do this properly, so he did the best he could without slowing down. The best way for this war to go was to end swiftly.
Beyond that, travel continued smoothly. With its various ravines and cliffs, the Archduchy Labyrinth certainly deserved its name. Even ‘regular’ superhumans would have issues navigating the tall, craggy walls and the gusts howling through them. What lay to its east, however, was wondrous.
The further they advanced, the weaker the winds became. By the time they hit the coast, it was completely still. The ocean sprawling out before him was completely clear, reflecting the cloudless sky. Various islands of the archipelago rose from the soft waves and the dark horizon, shadows that belonged on a painting. Nothing tarnished the view. No Mettle plants, no lifeless soil, no grey, brutal fortress. A scenic view, like Caribbean islands at midnight. Gorgeous.
Gorgeous and useful – the clear water meant that Aclysia could see where she was going. For her, the quickest way to cross any large body of water was to walk over the ocean floor. The water here appeared to be quite shallow and many small islands allowed them to hop to their next destination: the fortress at the heart of Archduchy Parthen.
It took them another day to arrive at the eastern half of the central island of the archipelago. He had to somewhat amend his Caribbean impression. The flora of the environment was more resembling that of a tundra, dominated by evergreens. Scarce, they were located primarily away from the island’s shores, which did retain the gorgeous beaches and crystal blue waters. It was an odd combination, especially during the day hours when the searing hot sun heated everything enough that the long nights were pleasantly warm.
What surprised John more than the evergreens was the ‘fortress’ they eventually came across. The sole reason for this was that it wasn’t a fortress at all. Rather, it looked like a manor. A grey manor, devoid of colour aside from the red roof tiles, but a manor regardless. The position it was located in was practically indefensible, a simple flat piece of terrain. Odd especially due to the abundance of smaller islands around, all of them suitable to be entirely controlled by one central structure.
As much as all of that made the Gamer ponder, the Mandala Sphere and Aclysia still continued in their charge. They arrived during day hours, so they couldn’t hide themselves even if they tried to. Speed was the primary advantage of their assault.
There were several dozen servants all around the manor, all of them either in possession of or currently using the same breathing apparatus the Gamer had seen all over the Iron Domain. A piece of terrible normality, among this unusual assortment.
None of the servants were remotely fast enough to do more than take a few steps in the general direction of the weaponized maid. They made their way inside, storming through the open front door of the manor, and dashed down the first corridor that caught their eye. Mandala Sphere behind her, the weaponized maid descended a flight of stairs. It hardly mattered where she began her search, only that they caught the Archduke, should one be around.
Luck was with them, it appeared, as the cellar bore the marks of luxury typical of an Ironborn’s dwelling. They emerged in a large room, with a casket lying at the centre. It was a highly decorated piece, worthy of being in a vampire movie. Doubly so when the lid was lifted and a human peeked out. One with red hair and red eyes. A description that matched Lorelei’s prophecy. Had that not made the Gamer halt, the Observe window definitely would have.
Aclysia’s blade stopped short of the Archduchess’ throat, without John needing to say anything. There was a moment of extreme tension, as the Ironborn glanced at the white blade, then at the maid. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes wandering over Aclysia’s form. They glowed crimson in the twilight of the semi-isolated chamber, a slit pupil at the centre.
“I really like your outfit,” she confessed. “Elegant and just… nice.”
‘She’s the one, Master,’ Aclysia told him mentally, and pulled her weapon back. ‘Her words do please me deeply.’
‘Of course they do,’ Jack responded amusedly, as the Mandala Sphere morphed into the Gamer’s double. “Hello,” he greeted her. “I’m John Newman, invader of your Kingdom.”
“Uh, alright, can you give me a second?” the Archduchess requested and, after Jack nodded, closed the lid of the casket again. There was some rumbling inside. After about half a minute, she emerged again. Carefully, she rose to her feet.
The Gamer had a proper look at her now. Her skin was pale, her lips a light red, and her red hair short and wild. She was a tall woman, yet not quite as tall as Aclysia, and covered with a dress decorated with many white frills. It stopped around her bosom, leaving much of her small breasts visible. As Observe had stated, her figure was on the bottom-heavy side, the long skirt failing to obscure the width of her hips. Since she hadn’t worn clothes moments ago, Jack was able to tap into his near perfect memory to confirm that the thighs matched the rest.
“That’s the closest I have to your clothes I have stored inside me,” the Archduchess said and lifted her skirt just enough to reveal she was wearing stockings. Elegantly, she curtsied. Her voice, filled with jest, did not quite match the motion. “I know, who even has time for fashion in this world?”
“That is indeed a good question,” the Gamer supported with a chuckle. The entire situation, especially how quickly it had de-escalated, was odd.
“Right, I also have a good one,” she continued, “why, exactly are you not attacking me right now?”
“Because I can read your intentions,” the Gamer gave the literal truth. “I’m not making enemies with someone who wants to liberate the Iron Domain.” The quiet part was that he did not know yet what she wanted to liberate the Iron Domain into. To find that out, he would have to talk to her a bit more. “You’re the first Ironborn I came across that’s not scum.”
“You sure that’s an accurate assessment?” she joked again, then seemed to remember something. “Right, I am Claire. I caught your name, John… who is your beautiful, well-dressed companion?”
‘I really like her,’ Aclysia told her.
‘She’s a smooth talker… unsurprising at over 400 Charisma,’ the Gamer responded, in a partly cautioning tone. Naturally, he was drawn to her. Her body alone was enough to entice him, easily swayed as he was by attractive women. Her heart-shaped face was adorable, her expression both confident and intrigued. When she spoke, the sharp canines stood out with a sense of tantalizing danger. Between her paleness and the black and white of the maid-esque dress, her monochrome aesthetic tickled his design preference as well. Judging by her hips and thighs, she had a fantastic ass, too. She was a hair colour switch away from fitting perfectly into his assortment of maids. Visually, at least.
The 400 Charisma did their work beyond her words. Even her body language naturally drew out his desires. She pushed out her largely exposed chest. Just a little bit, enough to pronounce but not enough to make her appear slutty. Same went for the way she repeatedly shifted her weight, a motion that appeared more nervous than designed to draw his eyes.
Because it was nervous.
“Soooo… can I get the name or…?” she probed carefully.
“Aclysia,” the weaponized maid answered hastily and bowed her head in apology. “I was struck by your deeply appropriate behaviour.”
“Where I come from, my behaviour is deeply inappropriate. I should be suicidally charging at you invaders right now,” Claire joked.
“Well, it seems like you are the white sheep of the bunch,” Jack remarked.
Claire visibly thought about that one for several seconds. One of her black-gloved hands raised to her chin, she hummed. Then she asked, “What is a sheep?”
Before John could answer, a series of noises up the stairs caught their attention. Their assault had not been quiet and it was no wonder someone would check on what was happening eventually. Into the room burst an Ironborn, a Duke as Observe revealed. His metallic exterior closely resembled a human, albeit a clearly artificial one.
“What is going on here?!” the Duke shouted, while Aclysia and Jack each stepped away from Claire.
To them, what happened could be followed easily. Black swirls emitting a red light extended from Claire’s right hand, weaving together into a long shaft, tipped by a spiral whose many layers were all highlighted by a red outline. To the Duke, that spear coming for his core was too swift to react to.
It penetrated the metal effortlessly. Cries of surprise and pain were channelled into one distorted word, “Trrraaaai-i-i-toorrrr!” Responding by driving her fangs into the neck of the dying Ironborn, Claire sucked the fading lifeforce from him. The process was implied by her appearances and the pulsing of her weapon. Red flowed up her arm and illuminated the chamber properly.
Callously, Claire stepped back and let the unanimated metal husk topple over backwards. It hit the carpet with a loud ‘thud’ and scratched the door frame. “By mettle, I wanted to do that for a while,” the vampiric Archduchess hissed and turned back to Jack and Aclysia. With the back of her left hand, she wiped away the mercury-esque material that dribbled down her chin.
“You throw your lot in with me suspiciously fast,” John admitted, only because Observe told him she was true in her words so far.
“I have nothing to lose anyway,” Claire shrugged. “Let’s take care of the rest before I explain.”
“Good call,” he agreed.
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The human servant, malnourished and Mettle addicted like everyone else in the dystopian world, drew back the chair to allow Claire to sit down at the long table. “Thank you,” she said, gently tapping the man’s arm. “Take an extra ration. There’s no need to pretend anymore.”
“As… you say…” the man said, his voice weak and yet conveying just a hint of a personality not fully subdued by his conditions. Watching him shamble towards the door of the dining hall, Jack sat down in the chair Aclysia pulled out for him. The one next to, not opposite of, Claire.
The room matched the vampire, combining dark wood with deep red decorations. No windows, only candles gave light to the room. Not that it mattered anymore. The short day had passed. Interestingly, Claire had been fine under the sun. It appeared her dislike was either personal or a reminder from when she had been a living vampire – if that even was an accurate assessment of her beyond looks.
“”So…”” both of them spoke up and both of them stopped. “”Who…”” It happened a second time. They waited, wondering who would take the word first. The Gamer was quicker in making an inviting gesture.
“I just wanted to ask, who should start?” Claire chuckled.
“Funny, I was going to ask the same thing.” Jack laughed with her and leaned onto the table. He trusted her now. They had killed about ten Ironborn together, a process during which Claire could have escaped a number of times. Observe, her words and her deeds all painted the same picture. If she was fooling him, she was exceedingly effective at it. A little bit of paranoia remained, as it always did. That little bit spurred John to demand, “You start then. Who exactly are you and why are you helping me?”
Leaning back, Claire gave him a curious gaze. “…I expected the question, ‘why did you end up here?’ but you truly are from beyond the Iron Domain.”
“Then start with answering that question.”
“This is the Kingdom of Trials, the Archduchy Parthen – the place where Arkeidos sends Ironborn whose loyalty is in question.” With the sweetest smile, she added, “He’s usually right.”
“You’re quite young for an Ironborn,” John observed. “He must have guessed you would rebel the moment he turned you.”
“Ever checked the inside of a Mettle plant?”
“I have.” Jack sighed and answered the question himself, “I guess for him it’s a win-win. Either you see it his way or he has a new battery.”
“That’s what I thought, yes.” Crossing her arms, Claire leaned back in the chair. “I’m pretty thankful for the body, to be honest. It’s nice to not have to cough anymore or scramble for clothes that fit me or have all those scars on my face.”
“When did you turn into an Ironborn?”
“About seven years ago?” She moved her fingers, silently counting something. Her light, pinkish red lips moved quietly. “Maybe eight?”
That tracked. To John, Claire looked like she was about twenty-five. Seven years ago, she would have been twenty, but the nature of the Iron Domain had most certainly aged her before her time. Even fixing herself with the shape-shifting available to Artificial Spirits, she could have only undone the accumulated imperfections, not the entirety of the face she was used to. It was noteworthy that she appeared as fully human as she did. There was no note of metal to her appearance.
“How old are you? If you don’t mind me turning things to you.” She raised her hands defensively. “I hope I don’t come across as inquisitive! I’ve just not had anyone to talk to who wasn’t… not to be rude to the tortured people around here, but… half-braindead or a scummy Ironborn tasked to report my every move.”
“No, it’s alright. I’m Nineteen,” the Gamer answered freely, then mimicked her quiet counting motion. “Well, maybe twenty. I spent a lot of time in places where it flowed differently.”
“…And you tell ME I’m young?”
“I said young for an Ironborn.”
“You’re young for a dimension travelling invader… I think?!” Claire sounded baffled, her charming voice completely taken by surprise. “I actually have no idea! Are there many strapping young lads running around, trying to kill tyrants?”
“I hope not, I do not like competition,” Jack joked. Claire did not laugh at that one, so he clarified his position. “Obviously I would approve of other people doing their best to improve however many worlds there are,” he told her. “I just don’t want them to be ‘strapping young lads’.”
Claire raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, I’m stupid… why?”
He considered for a moment if Claire was sheltered, naïve, or perhaps misunderstood something about him. In any case, her question was honest. To show rather than tell, the Gamer forcefully grabbed Aclysia’s ass. The weaponized maid straightened up, a mild smile on her face. Still, Claire looked confused.
‘Guess I’ll just spell it out,’ the Gamer resigned himself. “I’m a man with a large sexual appetite,” he said. “So, I like it when I have all the attractive women to myself.”
“It’s just procreation, why would you want to do that all the time?” Claire asked.
John was baffled.
‘Jesus, this world makes me sad,’ he thought.
Comments
Alexius Matsi
A very fun and well written introduction to Claire.
It's kinda sad...but I also really like how visceral it is :) kinda makes the grinding sessions pale in comparison tbh
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