Chapter 1767: The Villain’s Church
"Do they really go home... to their families?"
Before anyone could even respond, Elisabeth Valorian looked at the soul formation.
The answer was in every face she found.
The blue-skinned soldier’s fists were still shaking but his feet were planted, his tears dried to streaks. The young woman clutched her own arms, white-knuckled. The soldier who had spoken about his mother had raised his head and was staring at Elisabeth without a word, and none of them needed one.
They did go home to their families.
When Elisabeth finally spoke again, her voice carried a tremor she couldn’t quite steady.
"I will need to convene with the heads of the clergy." She steadied herself on the second sentence, finding footing in procedure. "A matter of this magnitude cannot be decided on a battlefield or by myself alone. The church must pray, seek the Goddess’s guidance, and reach a consensus before any position is taken."
"Why don’t you just ask her?"
Quinlan’s tone made it sound like the most reasonable question in the world. His helmeted head tilted.
"I’m ready to hear her decree right now."
Elisabeth stared at him, uncertain if she should entertain the question. Then she exhaled, strained, and reluctantly answered.
"The Goddess is greatly limited in what she can and cannot do, even when it comes to conversing with her chosen." Her eyes fell. "She has never spoken to me when I wasn’t near one of her holy sanctuaries."
’Hmm...’ Quinlan filed that away without a second thought.
"But aren’t you a special case? Unlike the other Arch Priestesses, you can call upon her powers far from any church."
Her chin rose, and the stubbornness that settled over her expression would have been more intimidating if it didn’t also make her look like she was pouting.
"I spoke more than enough to you already, Villain. The workings of the Goddess’s church and the nature of her blessed powers are not topics I intend to discuss with a necro-"
She paused, looked at the petite samurai who was still staring at her, coughed into her palms, and corrected herself. "Necromancer."
Although it wasn’t evident in spoken language, everyone present understood what she’d just done.
She paused to use capital N instead of lowercase for ’Necromancer’.
Ayame’s satisfaction multiplied tenfold.
The samurai’s victorious expression seemed to have a direct correlation with the degree to which Elisabeth’s lips pouted.
A low chuckle rolled through Quinlan’s helmet at her refusal to humor him. "Alright."
He let the sound die, then spoke as if the thought had just occurred to him. "Why don’t you come with us, then? I’ll need to speak with your father regardless, and I’d like to do it in one of my settlements. There’s a church of the Goddess in one of them, so you can speak to her in proper sanctity. You can also see for yourself how my summons live with their families while you’re at it."
The words settled over the field, and for one breath nobody moved.
"WHAT!" Elisabeth released an unladylike shriek, her head snapping toward him so hard her golden hair whipped her in the face. "You have a church of the Goddess?!" The cry came out strangled. "You?!"
The disbelief wasn’t hers alone.
A shockwave of voices broke across the field. In the elven ranks, officers looked to each other, wide-eyed. Human soldiers shouted over one another, and somewhere in the crowd a voice rose above the rest:
"The Villain has a church?!"
The Primordial Villain, the Necromancer, the armored figure who commanded legions of the dead and bore a title synonymous with evil, had allowed a house of worship to exist in his lands?
Did he fund its construction?!
Why would he do such a thing?!
Who was leading the clergy?!
Was it some Goddess-forsaken heretical representation of their holy sanctuary?!
So many questions rippled through the crowd.
Elisabeth’s head swung to her father, and her expression screamed a question she couldn’t bring herself to voice.
’Did you know?!’
Alexios’s face told her all she needed to know.
He had no fucking idea.
"What city?" Alexios demanded, irritation and incredulity plain in his tone. "You shouldn’t have any cities."
Quinlan’s gaze shifted to the king of Vraven, and the silence he offered in return was so smugly unhelpful it might as well have been a wink.
Behind Quinlan, Myrasyn’s ears shot straight up and her hands clasped together in front of her chest, the elven queen’s composure fracturing into an eagerness she couldn’t have hidden if she’d tried.
Her green eyes darted toward Quinlan, bright and expectant, already calculating how to include herself in that invitation to visit his personal domain and see just what sort of rulership the Holy Son utilized.
Quinlan, having refused to elaborate any further much to everyone’s irritation, faced the beastkin lords.
"Let’s finish business before moving on to pleasure."
His tone shifted back to casual authority, as if he hadn’t just dropped a revelation still rippling through every faction present.
"You heard my ’proposal.’ What shall it be?"
Skarn’s growl was already building and Rajah’s claws hadn’t retracted, but before either lord could snarl his answer that would most surely lack political decorum, a quieter voice cut through.
"I propose we take some time with this." Vargis spoke without raising his voice. "Elvardia won’t be rebuilt in a week. We have time to decide, and if we move forward, time to bolster our forces properly instead of marching into another campaign on fumes."
"You..." Skarn whipped toward the dogkin lord, his fury stripped of anything diplomatic. "Your daughter is being bred by the Villain and you expect us to trust your counsel?!"
From the dogkin ranks, a single hand rose with a middle finger extended so gracefully it could have been a royal wave.
"I’m not being ’bred’ by anyone, thank you very much," Kitsara announced, her red eyes bright with theatrical indignation. "I’ll have you know that I’m a delicate lady adored by her mate for her wonderful personality, not a baby-pumping machine."
Despite her words and extended middle finger, Kitsara didn’t seem particularly offended.
She just corrected what was factually wrong.
After all, Quinlan hadn’t even ’bred’ her a single time!
They were just fucking like depraved rabbits basically every single night.
However, unlike the Slutty Foxy, Vargis did take serious offense.
Whatever warmth had been in his voice was gone.
"You will address my daughter with the respect I extend toward you and your family." His gaze held Skarn’s without wavering. "I have betrayed nothing. I merely suggested that entering a war against the combined forces of the Primordial Villain, Vraven, the dwarves, and the elves simultaneously might warrant more than two minutes of thought."
Gorruk’s massive arms unfolded, and every lord on the beastkin side felt it.
"Vargis is right." His eyes settled on Skarn, then Rajah, and held. "The fury is earned. I won’t pretend otherwise. But the army to back it up isn’t standing behind you right now, and you both know it."
Neither lord answered.
"We go home. We rebuild. And when we return to this conversation, we come from strength instead of fumes."
Skarn didn’t respond.
His grey eyes locked onto Quinlan.
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