Chapter 66: Heheheheheh
"Thank you for your ti today, my lords and ladies."
Cecilia greeted the assembly as they gathered once more in the courtyard.
It was due to tell them her own plans, after all. And whatever those plans were, the gathered lords understood their new role. Abide by her words, and do not, under any circumstance, side with the Delanivis or the Vasilievs.
There were still many other, more delicate questions swirling unspoken in their minds. Chief among them, of course, what, exactly, was the nature of the relationship between the Saintess, the Dragon Lord, and the Black Wolf King?
And now, with the clearly devastated Golden Prince also in the picture... just how complicated was this new alliance going to get?
"I assu everyone here already understands the consequences of betrayal," Cecilia said, her voice not loud, but carrying the weight of the two formidable presences flanking her.
"My request is simple. You will not reveal what transpired here to the Vasilievs or the Delanivis. If they approach you, receive them as you always would. Smile, nod, offer them wine. But you will give them no information."
She paused, letting the instruction settle.
"You also do not need to refuse them openly. Go along with their words, their demands. And then, you will silently inform us of every detail. Any further, specific instructions will reach you by my letters, as they always have."
She scanned the room. Seeing no imdiate objection, only the tense, accepting silence of people who knew they were now part of a conspiracy, she nodded. "Good. Now, questions."
She braced herself internally. This was the mont, the day after the seismic reveal of her death and resurrection, when the lords would finally voice the obvious. They might... demand to know the nature of the tangled bond between her, the dragon, and the wolf. Perhaps they’d even ask about the broken Lion King too.
But when the first hand rose, it belonged to Qinryc Lukas. And his question was one of pure and cold politics.
"Saintess," the Pri Minister asked. "Are you going to reclaim your title and declare Saintess Ruby a heretic?"
Ah. Tactful. They didn’t ask about her husbands. Yet.
Cecilia tilted her head. She closed her eyes for a mont, humming softly as if considering. "I don’t believe she is the heretic," she finally said, opening her eyes. "Wouldn’t it make more sense to call
the heretic? A woman who walks and talks without a heart?"
A ripple of uneasy murmurs spread through the hall. It was a deflection, but one that acknowledged the monstrous reality of her existence.
"Then..." Qinryc pressed, undeterred. "Can you please explain to us... what will be your end goal?"
Cecilia’s gaze drifted, almost helplessly, to Oathran. The Dragon Lord, standing with his own regal stillness, raised his eyebrows in a pantomi of shock. His eyes narrowed in an amused challenge. ’Why are you looking at , Saintess?’
She sighed and turned back to the assembly. "I... want to force the Empire and the Temple to reform. From the ground up. I want to build a system of law higher than either of them. A code not even an emperor or a high priest can ignore. I want to continue the work I’ve always done, but on a scale they could never restrict again."
Qinryc hid a small grin. The people around him shifted. She wasn’t selling them a bloody crusade. She was selling them a dream. A way to institutionalize the very safety and foresight she’d provided for years. But it didn’t have to be unrealistic. It could be just what it was.
An unbound Saintess, doing whatever she liked.
"Then," another voice ventured, "what about... revenge?"
Hearing the word, Cecilia actually chuckled.
"Revenge?" she echoed. "Of course. Regarding revenge... I will handle it personally. Consider yourselves barred from participating. I wouldn’t want anyone else taking my fun."
"But, ah," she said, clapping her hands together once, the sound snapping their attention back. "I do have one thing I will need your help with."
***
"Heheheheheheheheheheheh..."
It was a low, gleeful chuckle, devoid of saintly grace. It drifted down the stark, sun-baked corridor of the desert palace, followed by the sight of Cecilia skipping, her steps light and bouncy, a little spin punctuating her progress.
Moving unselfconscious, slightly manicly, she looked like a pleased little goblin who had just found a hoard of shiny things.
Oathran and Arkai, walking a few paces behind, exchanged a look and a simultaneous, long-suffering sigh.
"Are you truly that delighted simply because you can distribute healing elixirs?" Oathran teased, fondly bewildered.
"You don’t understand!" Cecilia whirled on her heels, striking a dramatic pose and pointing a finger directly at her first husband. "The more people we save, the more brains we save! The more brains we save, the faster civilization grows! The faster innovation grows, the better the technology becos!"
She raised her chin, smugly triumphant, and posed the question to both n. "And what happens when technology grows?"
"The... more people we can save?" Arkai ventured, trying to follow her dizzying logic.
Cecilia squealed, an unadulterated joy that made her look like soone who had just taken a sip of the finest, strongest liquor. "AH! Bingo, handso!"
Arkai flinched, a blush creeping up his neck at the casual, exuberant endearnt. It was enough to make Oathran snorted in amusent.
"And guess what?" Cecilia continued, her montum unstoppable. "The day we can build an easier world to live in, hmm..." She stopped mid-stride, her face scrunching in thought. "What can we do then... huh...?"
After a mont of serious pondering, she shrugged. "Well, that’s not my job to figure out. The next generation can sort it out when that day cos."
The two n looked at each other over her head. Oathran gave a faint, what-can-you-do shrug. Arkai shook his head, a helpless, endeared smile tugging at his lips. Was it fair to say they felt... old, in the face of her boundless optimism?
Cecilia, anwhile, had already spun back around and skipped ahead. She skidded to a halt before Eastiel’s door, peeking in with unabashed cheer. "East! Have you eaten? Guess what I just did! Hehehehehehehehhehehehehehehehe—"
Her gleeful cackle trailed into the room.
Oathran and Arkai shared another glance. It seed the mont had arrived. Ti to formally et their... newest, most complicated brother. They instinctively straightened, subtle adjustnts to posture and expression. A king and a dragon preparing for a delicate diplomatic encounter.
But then, Cecilia, still standing in the doorway, turned back to them.
"Ah," she said. "I need to talk to you about sothing."
At that exact mont, the tall, lion-blonde figure of Eastiel Edengold erged from the room behind her, drawn by the noise or perhaps the strange energy in the hall. He stood there, still pale but clear-eyed, taking in the sight of the two formidable beings flanking his doorway.
Two pairs of ancient, complicated eyes locked onto his.
It was ti.
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