Aqua Regalia [Monster Progression LitRPG]

Grudgingly, the clerk gave them their money.

She had thrown them at Sara's face at dangerous velocities, but, hey, two coppers was two coppers.

Granted, Cas wasn't sure how much two coppers were worth, but she nevertheless day dreamt happily that night, imagining all the things she might be able to buy for the right price. Granted, that right price was invariably two coppers or less, but two coppers was enough to buy Burkini Stockings in your dreams.

Early next morning, Cas dragged a yawning Sara to the departing yard.

It was bustling despite the early hour. Soldiers were everywhere loading carts and taking counts of provisions as they prepared for their next deployment. The Lieutenant – now Captain – marched around with a new rank and steely comportment, taking notes on her pattern square.

Cas stood just beyond the border of this bustle, feeling apart from it.

Her brooch still glowed on her chest, though with a different color, now.

[Item Equpped: Identification Badge]

Role: (Former) Imperial Army Auxiliary

Faction: Regalia Ember

Unit: Trinket Ember

It was a dim, candle-light spark against the general brilliancy of her aura. It stood out amidst the sea of still active brooches. Because of this, it managed to draw the attention of the right people.

"So, you're really going away, ya?" Anne was not a self conscious person. Consequently, she had little trouble breaking down the awkward wall which had prevented Cas from speaking first.

Cas looked down with some embarrassment, kicking at the dirt. "I'm heading out tonight; Just thought I'd come and say goodbye."

"Huh," Dacula looked up as if remembering something. "So that's how you say it."

"Say what?"

"Well, the parting greeting. You know, the thing that you say when you're not going to see someone for a long time."

"You seriously have never heard of 'goodbye'?" Reginald was in disbelief. "I know this is your second language, but it's a common enough word."

Anne disagreed. "No! I've never heard it either. Always, people are saying: 'see you later', or 'take care' or 'until next time'," she quoted, adopting a more casual mannerism. "Things like that."

"Really?" Sara was intrigued. "Well, I suppose it is an archaic word."

Anne nodded. "In Drussland, we just say… uhm…" Anne looked up again – the tell-tale sign that she was translating something literally: "May I see your heart once more, before fate stabs it."

Sara blinked twice at that. "My, that certainly is… poetic."

"I did something like the same," Dacula added. "Except, in my land they say: 'Until the sun rises on our friendship once again.' What about you, Reginald? Do you have something or do you just say 'goodbye' with a different accent?" Dacula teased the Ranian about his lack of cultural distinction.

And, much as Reginald always insisted that Ranians were completely different from the imperial culture, and that they totally spoke a different language, he was left defenseless against this accusation, so he merely sighed and said:

"May fate stab your heart many, many times before we meet again, Dacula."

"But," Dacula blinked. "We're going to see each other tomorrow."

"Exactly," Reginald answered, and Anne laughed, and Cas found it painful to turn away from them.

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It was a heartfelt moment, but not a unique one.

Similar scenes of goodbyes and remittances were dotted throughout the courtyard. It was easy to make life-long friends in harrowing circumstances, and the Trinket brigade had been subjected to many team-building horrors recently.

In the midst of so many jovial farewells, it was immediately obvious when someone was being left out.

In a distant corner, the Prince's younger brother was alone. The boy stood listlessly against the courtyard wall. He looked all around himself, trying to appear like he fit in, but for all his efforts he looked just like the lost child that he was. The way he looked expectantly at any adult that passed by made Cas's heart ache.

Why were they ignoring him?

Cas had had this conversation with Sara before. It was clear that the boy wasn't a prince, unlike his dead brother, but he was still the prince's brother, wasn't he? Didn't that count for something?

He was still human. Didn't that count for anything?

Cas hated seeing this, and she felt a burning anger at all those adults who were just so callously- A bright spot burned in the corner of her eye. Turning to it, Cas's monochrome vision revealed the bright figure of Angel Girl once more. The girl wore a dress, her face seemed to shift over time, and she had the vague figure of a spirit, but her expression and intent were clear. For once, providence seemed to agree with her base instincts, and Cas managed half a step towards the boy before a hand stopped her.

"Don't even think about it," Sara's voice came coldly from the side. The intensity in the woman's eyes, as well as the strength in her voice surprised Cas.

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"What?" she asked innocently.

"I know that look in your eyes," Sara accused. "It's that 'oh no, a poor child' expression," Sara mimed, clutching invisible pearls.

Cas crossed her arms. "Well, what's wrong with that? He is a poor child."

"There's nothing wrong with it," Sara said. "Just don't expect us to take him in."

Sara's flat tone hurt to hear.

"So, what?" Cas grasped. "You're just going to abandon him because he's illegitimate, or whatever?"

"Oh, heavens no," Sara replied simply. "An illegitimate child would have been manageable. He, on the other hand –" she sent a glance in the boy's direction "– is far worse than illegitimate."

Cas's interest was piqued. "What's worse than being illegitimate?"

"He's disinherited," Sara answered coldly. "The high king wants nothing to do with him. The only thing that's kept him in the royal court was his brother Haowi, who -- I'm sure you'll recall -- is now dead. That makes this boy both 'reviled' and 'politically useful', not the kind asset anyone smart wants to associate with."

"I'm not trying to make a political move," Cas was offended.

"I know you're not," Sara explained. "That doesn't mean anyone else will. Child or no, he's a Banner, and a Banner is meant to attract attention Cas. It just so happens that this Banner," she pointed to the boy, who was glowing crimson in the Aura, "attracts the wrong kind of attention from those in power."

Cas looked down, dejected. It was her only way of acknowledging the loss. "So, what? We're just going to leave him here to die?"

"He's not going to die," Sara consoled. "Don't be so dramatic. This is an army base. Someone will take care of him. I'm sure he can hitch a ride to a city on a shipment caravan somewhere, maybe join the circus or get embroiled in a poorly thought out coup. You know, Banner things."

"Sara." Cas said sternly.

Sara turned around with a desperate wave of her arms. "There are people better situated to help him, Cas! Look at us! I have eight coppers to my name, and you have even fewer. We can't take in an orphan!"

"Sara!" Cas repeated incessantly, not giving up.

"Ugh!" Sara tried to hold back a grimace, looking up at the sky with closed eyes. "Very well," she said at last with a dejected expression. "I can do something, but only if you promise to honor one request of mine in the future."

"I promise," Cas said.

"Do you?" Sara interrogated. "Do you swear to God, and on your mother's grave?"

Cas was still an atheist, and her mother was still alive, but she managed to adopt a figure of complete sincerity as she nodded. "I promise to honor one request of yours, if you help the boy."

Sara looked in her eyes and, apparently satisfied, nodded. "Very well. There's a fine orphanage in my city. We can take him there, but no further, you understand? Oh, the things I do for you."

"Great!" Cas said, beginning to head towards the boy when a hand hooked her shoulder, pulling her back.

"What are you doing!?" Sara said with desperation tingeing her voice.

"I was... getting him?" Cas answered, confused.

"Not now!" Sara pleaded desperately. "Everyone can see us!" Sara glanced sharply around with palpable embarrassment. "No. If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right!"

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Young Kesel was woken up at night by a loud, incessant knocking.

Knocks were out of place, considering he was sleeping in a tent – even stranger was that he heard the sound with his mind, rather than his ears.

Still bleary, he percolated his aura and allowed the spell to take hold. It was a psychic message, set to repeat.

<Good evening, young sir Kesel,> the warm, easy voice echoed in his head. <I, Sara Mathalthazar Quintecient, would be honored if you would accept this invitation to accompany my friend and I to the city of Zeb. If you should find this message agreeable, please rendezvous with us at the marching road at midnight.>

Kesel sat up with a squint. Rubbing his eyes, he waited a moment, and the message began to repeat:

<Good evening, young sir Kesel…"

He listened to it again, intently noting all the relevant details.

He pulled his pattern square. It was nearly midnight already.

…

One constant about Kestel was that he didn't trust easily, and his faith was especially shaken when it came to psylens. So it was a comfort when he arrived at the designated location and found two people there, just as promised.

One was a girl a little older than him. She looked strange, and he almost mistook her for a moon-elf at first glance. The other was a woman he recognized from the Trinket Brigade: the Psylen.

He approached her first.

"Are you Sara Mathalthazar Quintescient?" He asked the question straightforwardly, without fear or hesitation, just like Haowi had taught him.

"The third," the woman appended with a graceful curtsey. "This is my traveling partner, Princess Cas."

The boy bowed in the new direction. "A pleasure to meet you. I hope our travels together will be amicable."

That was the word, right? "Amicable?"

Kesel resisted the urge to curse aloud. Why hadn't he paid more attention during diplomacy classes?

If he made any major faux-pax, neither of his partners commented on it, and, after that brief introduction, they were on their way.

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In principle, Cas felt good about escorting the boy to safer harbors.

In practice, the journey was a bit awkward.

Sara, still smarting about being arm-twisted into an escort mission, was in no mood to talk, and she kept far ahead, outside of conversational range, using scouting as a pretense.

The boy, Cas tried to strike a conversation with, but she couldn't think of anything to talk about.

She thought about introducing herself. But, introductions were dangerously close to 'family talk,' and the boy didn't seem to have a happy family life. And that was the major issue. What could she talk about that wouldn't remind Kesel about his dead brother, or terrible father?

"I notice you have a tent," Cas said, looking at the oversized satchel which towered above the boy's head.

The boy sighed, looking down into the dirt. "Yeah," he answered. "My brother gave it to me."

"...Sara. How many days until we arrive?" Cas asked desperately.

"Just twelve more nights," the answer came back, with a hint of 'told you so'.

The answer was almost painful to apprehend. Twelve more nights of this. Really?

The boy didn't seem up for conversation, either, so they walked without further words.

Eventually, darkness came to join the silence. The sun, set, and while the moonlight was enough to see by, at first, eventually, the forest trail became overgrown, and treetops blotted out the sky, and the night turned pitch black.

Sara closed distance with them; she cast a glow bulb that floated alongside.

It was a gentle, easy light, but it cast sharp shadows which swam around them as moved through the thickening wilderness.

The brush in this region of forest was dense; a veritable wall of plant Aura obscured everything beyond the edges of the trail. It served as excellent cover for any would-be ambusher, and something -- Cas could see in the edges of her night vision -- was taking full advantage, lying in wait behind a particularly thick thrush.

Whatever it was, it picked a good hiding place. It's figure was hidden by the shrubbery, and its Aura signature -- likewise -- was completely obscured by that of the plant's. However, it was obviously not expecting its prey to have a slime's night vision on their side. Still, it had been too careful even for Cas's liking. She could barely make it out, its shape obscured by the branches that criss-crossed across its form.

It had the figure of a man, except distorted beyond all sane proportions. Long, spindly hands stretched out like spider's limbs, each fingertip hooked onto a branch for purchase. At the bottom of its torso, where legs should have been, two flaps of skin -- stretched painfully taught like a drum face -- flapped with a sticky sound, buffering the air like moth wings.

Moreover, It was big.

And it was fast, too.

Before Cas could manage to so much as whisper a sound of warning it, with a desperate flap of its skin-wings, shot forward with a screaming screech..

All of them were staring at it, now, as it hung on the branches with over-long arms.

It had no eyes, simply a featureless surface of skin between two radiator ears. Still, it managed something like a staredown before it attacked. Cas noticed the gleaming face of a steel dagger strapped to one of its fingers.

Its aura flared, and the dagger glowed with Aura, and the floating glow-bulb extinguished like a flame.

Darkness fell, just as the creature sprang down onto Cas, faster than she could react, and with more force than the tearing skin of her throat could withstand.