The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'-Chapter 370 - Conspiring? You’ll Damn Us All!

Sevra stood outside the heiress’s quarters. Her hand was raised to knock but had frozen in hesitation. The obviously ancient artifact was protected as best she could in her travel pouch. Bringing it in the fort had been a constant reminder of the decision she was about to make.

Already she had sent a report to the Shadow Whisker Sorority. That she had retrieved nothing of importance but was tracking down a clue. A lie and a truth, but they didn’t feel like they balanced out. It didn’t feel like they were even opposites as she stood with dread in her heart.

’I can’t shake the feeling that I am about to damn us all.’

The quality of the protective container’s sigilwork, which had been far beyond anything the supposed merchants should have possessed, had made her always keep the item far from other people where she could. Sevra had spent the morning gathering information about the heiress’s recent activities with it still hiding outside.

The successful wagon modifications that had earned praise from the command staff. Her presence at high-level logistics meetings where she’d apparently made veiled threats to those who might scheme against her husband. The subtle but constant stream of Whispering Skydancers carrying messages to and from her quarters.

Everything painted the picture of someone operating on multiple levels simultaneously. Far from the delicate young wife that some still assumed her to be. Someone that may understand that this wasn’t random smuggling but a conspiracy.

And there was only one person anywhere who both might understand the artifact’s true significance while also having reason to care about plots against the Goltbred family.

’The question is... what if I’m about to help deliver this to a person involved with it in the first place? Anper and her seem to be at odds, but isn’t that just the perfect cover?!’

Sevra knew her reputation and hasty conclusions when it came to the Goltbred heiress was... complicated. Their interactions at the wedding had been less than ideal all because she got carried away. Stalking her friends and her contacts was something she’d do to anyone to find out what they were up to.

But she hadn’t done it to just anyone, but a bonafide reincarnator of an ancient cultivator. A woman who was known to challenge back with no mercy. Another moment of hesitation, then Sevra finally knocked with three deep measured raps that announced serious business.

"I wouldn’t enter. No one’s home."

The voice that responded, directly behind her, held none of the saccharine ’sweetness’ that characterized the heiress’s normal public speech. Flat, controlled, and somehow ’ancient’ and powerful despite belonging to someone who was only going on fourteen. She turned her head carefully, slowly, trying not to jerk and let the ’little snake’ strike just from movements alone.

Mint green eyes fixed on her with assessment. Not the confused glance of someone trying to remember a briefly-met acquaintance, but the focused attention of someone who knew exactly who had just entered her space and wasn’t all that surprised to see her.

"Sevra. You’ve come all this way to see me. I figured a woman of your ’particular talents’ would be quite busy. Especially during wartime."

"L-lady Goltbred. I do want to apologize for things. But I have something that requires your immediate attention. Something I believe could connect to... unverified threats against your family."

"Indeed? You probably shouldn’t have brought it in here, though. Let us go and commandeer the far workshop. We can then try and see what you’ve brought me without any... prying eyes."

Elua’s expression didn’t change, but something in her spiritual presence sharpened as she turned around and walked off... or so it felt as Elua wrapped them in illusions and energy meant to seal any weaker spirit from getting anywhere close to the artifact. freēwēbnovel.com

The scout wasn’t exactly fully relieved not to be assaulted or torn down with words as she started taking steps, but it did grant her some room to actually notice the fox just prancing behind the young girl. She’d heard people talk about it, but seeing it was simply strange.

’Animals flock to her so easily. How come I want to flee in terror, then?’

⟠ ⟠ ⟠

The Intermediate Voidling’s core split with a wet sound and a hell-rending screech as Qatrand’s blade found its mark. Around her, the strike force maintained their formation against any lingering Lessers while scattered civilians continued their panicked flight toward the nearest fortified position.

"Sweep for stragglers. Leysah, check on the wagon train. Make sure we didn’t lose anyone."

She called, while slicing her blade with a sudden stop at an angle - cleaning her sword with the physical motion and a vibration of essence. The Yecine had been getting better at it with practice after asking a few questions, the curved-blade wielder noted.

The woman nodded and jogged toward the convoy of refugees. Most had maintained good discipline during the attack, but even minor fears let alone deep terrors made people do unpredictable things. Qat watched the rest of her chosen team work together... finding it as smooth and coordinated as she’d hoped for when selecting them.

"Commander."

The voice belonged to one of the Ironclad fighters she’d chosen partly for his experience with siege warfare. She didn’t know if they would be sent to a fort being defended, but it was better to have an expert to question. He approached with the carefulness of someone bringing unwelcome news.

"Something on your mind?"

"Yes, actually. It’s... delicate. But given your rising profile, I thought you should be aware."

His older face carried what seemed to be genuine concern. Qatrand didn’t like touching the spirit of anyone but her wife, really, but a small pass of a tendril at least let her know his ’intent’ was to ’convince’ her of something.

"There’s talk making rounds in some circles again. Old accusations about your father-in-law from the last Descent that were never proven. Resource allocation irregularities, that sort of thing."

Qat’s grip on her sword hilt didn’t tighten, but her attention sharpened completely. She’d studied documents that brought this up before. Her father had made sure that the ’heir’ knew what sort of things might be leveled against the person marrying with the Goltbred.

"People with grudges always find ways to whisper when heroes are made. So I’ve been thinking about that in your case. Just keep an ear out so we can be on top of them, yeah?"

"I see. Thank you for bringing it up."

"But if something like that gained traction again... your wife seems like someone who’d take attacks on her family hard. The political fallout could be devastating for someone young."

For a moment, the only sound was wind through the abandoned farmland around them. Pigeon blues turned and watched a patch of tall weed grass sway, standing apart from the field around it. Qatrand er Yecine’s low voice cut through the wind, strong and precise as her blade work - with a smile arced just as tight.

"My wife is capable of surviving far worse than unsubstantiated political gossip. Anyone who mistakes her grace and love for fragility will discover their error. Quickly, or eventually."

The unconcerned dismissal was clear and the Ironclad member nodded and retreated. But Qat brushed a tendril against him again as he turned away - ’frustration’ and ’calculation’. Like someone who didn’t get what they were supposed to for their effort.

Her El had been right... at least one person touched by her father’s faction of the Yecine had infiltrated her choices. But why had he been told to bring this up to her now...

⟠ ⟠ ⟠

The change in Elua er Goltbred’s demeanor was immediate and profound when the door was sealed. What remained of the composed young wife vanished, replaced by something far older and infinitely more dangerous.

Her spiritual presence expanded briefly in a barrier around the room, making the scout gasp out loud. Before contracting it away from the woman with perfect control. Control she could have used to make her not feel it in the first place. Her probing spiritual touch.

’She no longer simply suspects and feels like at the wedding, it has been ingrained in her heart since last I saw her. I might as well make use of it to keep her in line.’

It seemed a lost cause anymore to pretend with this one to the heiress - the fact that she was reborn was right there sealed in the bag with this particular Shadow Whisker’d cat. A bag she’d let roam and wander freely for a long time by now, bumping into all the furniture to rattle and see if it called attention.

When she spoke again, her voice carried the dramatic authority of someone accustomed to making decisions that affected thousands. But it was still her facade, just made to look more imposing. The real her was still saved for people she liked... or really, really didn’t like...

"...Where did you find this?"

A weight was in her palm, taken from the pouch without the scout ever realizing - she hadn’t even seen her ever get so close. Mint eyes shook softly at the item and its semi-circular rings that extended out from the axis point. A spheroid with sigilry that made the sorts of trinkets she had worked on since reincarnating look ever more like toys.

"I found it among some wreckage, sort of. A caravan was demolished by Voidlings, but this... this was protected and spared somehow. The container it was in... had some sigil work beyond anything I’d seen before, but not like... on this thing."

Sevra explained, her voice low, tight, and nervous despite the privacy of the workshop. Even... because of it. She had known she should fear the girl for many reasons, but that display of pressure a bit ago made it feel like fear was pointless.

The woman wanted to bow or kneel and beg for forgiveness - and simultaneously knew that it would not be appreciated. Because the person before her did not care about her existence.

Small fingers traced the edge of one of the metallic rings. Recognition glinted in immediately dulled mint eyes. Not for what it was in ’general’ terms, but what it was *to her*. Familiar not just as the type of artifact it was... but-

"This is a realmshard. And not just any realmshard."

It was - hardly coincidentally she felt - the same one that had been stolen by her long ago from a certain Astral Exclave... and keyed to function with her personal voidspace. A place that would have been destroyed by her failed ascension, but a persistent item that had somehow survived that.

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