Chapter 18: For me, it was Tuesday
- Location
- A single human dimension
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Special thanks to @saganatsu, @DB_Explorer, and my ten other patrons not mentioned here. An extremely enthusiastic pair of "Thank you"s to @Torgamous and @fictionfan for their patronage as well.
Author's Notes: First off, there will be Danmachi spoilers from this point onward. I've tagged the thread accordingly and added a note to the first post. You still won't need prior knowledge of Danmachi.
Second, parts of this chapter are much darker than usual. It won't last; Taylor is horrified by what she considers genre-violating excessive darkness and is 'fixing' it with alacrity. That being said, there will probably be sporadic spikes in the future since this is crack treated seriously, and that means not vanishing gloomy things the moment they're offscreen. This story just does an OK job of imitating pure comedic crack much of the time.
...And for the record, QAylor will not be going on any murderous sprees in the future. This isn't that kind of story.
Alexander was starting to experience something he'd never expected to feel for a member of royalty: pity. Tears of frustration were glittering at the corners of Queen Administrator's eyes and 'makes adolescent girls cry' was not supposed to be in his job description. There was really nothing he could do, though. After the goddess Ishtar had raised the 'translation error' at an exceedingly lavish party and convinced the attending gods to support her petition to 'correct' Queen Administrator's title, it was out of the Guild's hands. Alexander had been ordered to explain the supposed error to the now-princess and the rest of Orario had already heard of her falsified title.
If Alexander tilted his head and squinted, he could even come up with some plausible reasons for supporting the alleged correction. An adventuring queen — even one who practiced some sort of odd co-rule alongside other monarchs — was strange and frightening. A resident princess, however, was exotic and exciting. The fact that she was currently poor only lent an air of romance to the tale. However, Alexander was pretty sure Ishtar was just being a petty bitch; she definitely fell into the camp that refused to let others have what she couldn't. The other gods were little better and likely wanted to call Queen Administrator and Aiz Wallenstein 'the space-crossed princesses' or something else equally awful. It was always best to look for a malicious motive when you were dealing with gods, drunk or not.
"I am not a princess! We don't even have princesses!"
Alexander watched a tear trail down Queen Administrator's face and decided he couldn't wholly obey his orders. Yes, he was taking a side and would probably experience consequences for it later, but someone needed to explain the political reality of the situation. If he didn't, who would? Besides, he might be able to spin his moral stand as being necessary to avoid alienating a foreign monarch. Enough gods already complained about 'pointless bureaucracy' for their children to pick it up. The last thing the Guild needed was foreigners thinking they were incompetent, too.
"Listen, I truly sympathize and I feel terrible for being party to this, but I can't do anything about it," Alexander admitted. "The Guild itself can't do anything about it. Orario's gods like throwing their weight around and you're just the latest victim. I'm sorry. My advice would be to do your best, make some politically powerful allies — I've heard you're already on the right track — and get 'Queen Administrator' installed as your Alias. You'll still have people calling you 'Princess,' but enough pointed retribution will cut that down to a minimum. Even if you do manage to convince the rumor-mill to accept your name unofficially, the gods will likely just give you 'Princess' as an Alias. They're petty like that."
Emotion slipped off Queen Administrator's face like water washing soap down a drain. Alexander shuddered and wished he was cruel enough to fob this off on someone else. It was guilt-inducing, stressful, and now mildly terrifying. The two giant cats looking as though they'd like to eat him weren't helping any.
"I require confirmation. You are telling me that I have to prove my worth to utilize the name I already earned — the name you savages already didn't even understand the implications of — just because some of your local gods feel like being petty?"
This cannot possibly end well.
"...I hate to say this, but yes?" Alexander answered meekly. "I really am sorry. I'm not even supposed to be telling you this as it is; I'm essentially breaking the Guild's neutrality by doing so."
Queen Administrator stood upright and stared down at him, anger-fueled tears dripping down her face despite the disturbing serenity of the rest of her expression. Alexander wasn't sure how that kind of dissonance was even possible.
"I will go home, raise a swarm, raze this city to the ground, and end the lives of its gods so their arrogant idiocy cannot possibly spread any further," Queen Administrator declared calmly. "We can kill the Dungeon ourselves if we have to. We do not need this arrogant filth getting in the way."
Alexander stared at the irate monarch with dawning horror. He'd expected an outburst and maybe a refusal to help with the Stolen Core situation, but nothing like this. He wasn't even sure he hadn't made things worse.
Oh, gods. This is exactly why you don't provoke foreign royalty!
Alexander opened his mouth to try calming the monarch down only to have an incredibly disappointed voice manage that for him.
"Queen Administrator! You are not going to invade Orario over this!" Lady Hestia sternly said, her hands planted on her hips.
Alexander recognized that disappointed tone of voice. It wasn't, 'You don't have the courage or ability to do this. It was instead, 'You would be morally wrong to do this.' Judging by Queen Administrator's sudden slouching, she recognized it as well.
"I'll, uh," Alexander said nervously. "I'll see myself out, shall I?"
Because I'm going to go finish my shift and get very, very drunk.
~ ~ ~
Queen Administrator had been feeling rather hopeful for the results of her enraged threats. She didn't actually intend to attack Orario — Hestia and Aiz lived here and trying would alienate both — but her last words had gotten through to the representative when nothing else would. Or at least, they would've gotten through to him if QA hadn't been interrupted. She didn't at all like how small Hestia's displeasure made her feel; even Host's body seemed to be defensively hunching to minimize her apparent size.
"...Hestia?" Queen Administrator asked quietly. Why, she wasn't sure; QA's lips had moved before her brain. She blamed Host. "They're trying to take my name."
The pseudo-host stomped forward and reached out. However, rather than intrusively invading
"Administrator, you can't try to destroy Orario over the cruelty of a few people," Hestia sighed. "I know what it's like. Other gods call me 'Hestia-Big-Boobs' all the time and I hate it. I'm more than what's on my chest. But if you let them get to you, they win. Even Loki, with arguably the strongest Familia in the city, is still called 'Loki-No-Boobs.' The bullies just want a reaction they consider entertaining. It doesn't matter who they have to upset to get it."
"I wasn't going to actually attack Orario," Queen Administrator protested. "However, the threat may have brought them to what few senses they possess. If a bully knocks you over, you drag them down with you; you don't just ignore them. Otherwise, you show that they can get away with treating you like that."
"Then you're both wrestling in the dirt when you could be doing other things. And besides, they can get away with it right now. It's not worth it, Queen Administrator."
"But it's my name! I earned it! Even the Falna acknowledges it!"
"'Even the gods make mistakes in interpreting the Falna,'" Hestia quoted, grimacing. "I know I didn't in this case, but that's the excuse Ishtar spouted. The Guild has to be neutral; that sometimes means going along with very stupid things when a significant group supports it and nobody else cares enough to oppose them. It's not the Guild's fault and they do their best; your name is the latest offense in a long history of them, but that history would be even longer if not for the Guild helping when they can. I heard you saying your people don't have princesses?"
Queen Administrator nodded unhappily. The closest translation was an insult used to say that one Monarch wasn't actually as good as the others. That they were lesser and couldn't ever be more since they'd already achieved Monarchy.
"Then just try to pretend they're right about the 'translation error' and that people are calling you by the correct name when they call you 'Princess.' They don't know any better; it's the fault of their gods, not the citizens themselves."
Pretend that reality is different than it actually is? No, that wasn't an acceptable solution. Observations formed through a filter could not be shared with others. Still, it was clear Hestia didn't intend to let herself be convinced. Queen Administrator shouldn't value a pseudo-host over the respect due her position, but for whatever reason, she did. QA would tolerate the insult until she could discreetly gain revenge without Hestia's knowledge; it wasn't as though these pseudo-hosts had shown any signs of being real people. Or maybe they could compromise on grievous bodily harm in place of outright execution?
"Can I at least maim them a little? Pleeeeaaaaaase?"
"No, Administrator," Hestia replied evenly.
"Not even a few toes? I'm sure they can grow them back."
"No, Administrator. You can't solve all your problems with violence."
"I can if I use enough of it," Queen Administrator disagreed.
That point actually seemed to make Hestia hesitate. The argument didn't seem to convince her, though; if anything, the pseudo-host expressed even more unhappiness.
"The problems you had when you started, maybe. What about the ones like 'You just killed the friends of a friend,' or 'The survivors now hate you and want revenge?' You remember what I told you about paths? Everyone can take different ones until the moment they die. If you kill them, they lose the chance to be better than they were and the paths of their loved ones skew toward harming you in return. Killing should only be a last resort, and I know you don't need to go that far. You can find a better solution."
Queen Administrator paused and remembered that she was supposed to be guarding Host's body. She'd gotten distracted amid all the insults. In return, however, that meant Host could help her with her current problem; it arguably affected both of them.
"Please wait. We need to think about this," Queen Administrator said aloud.
Hey, Host? Can you help me get my name back?
Half a minute elapsed before Host responded.
<PROPOSAL.>
Queen Administrator would still be a Monarch no matter what the locals chose to call her. With that in mind, Host didn't want to interfere with her ongoing experiments, but she was willing to punish the primary deity responsible for slighting QA — for a price. In order for the insult to be avenged, it would need to be acknowledged and accepted; Queen Administrator would need to tolerate the nickname as best she could without drastic action or discouraging others from using it. That included deliberately encouraging others to use Queen Administrator's proper title. An arbitrary requirement, but Queen Administrator could see the logic in it.
In other words, Host would remove the cause of an issue in Queen Administrator's life without dealing with the problem itself. It was backward when compared to what shards were supposed to do to facilitate conflict: grant powers that solved a host's current problems while leaving the root cause unchanged. Still, Queen Administrator was proud that Host seemed to be making progress toward that ideal. Also rather unhappy, but she could blame Host's body for that. Queen Administrator should be appreciative of the progress made, not unhappy she couldn't have all her problems solved at once.
<AGREEMENT.> Thank you, Host!
~ ~ ~
I am trying to teach us a life lesson about the harmful policies of our species, guest-self, not like and subscribe to them! Ugh, whatever. At least I'll get to call us a magical space princess once I get Personal Space working properly.
Or at least, Dreamer would get to call themselves that if her guest-self didn't change their plans again. She was getting tired of needing to scrap her work and start over just to stay on theme. She'd been close to finishing the shadow control spell, too.
Focus.
Dreamer shook her head, rose from her table, and began walking toward the wild forests nearby. As Ishtar had taken something treasured to Dreamer's guest-self, Dreamer would take something valued in return. A blackmail-worthy secret, perhaps? It was only fitting that one who raised herself by dragging others down would be dragged down by her past.
Ishtar, Ishtar, where art thou oh holy shit what the fuck.
Dreamer quickly found the poisoned purple form of Ishtar's tree. The leaves were crying in total defiance of the primary poem passages Dreamer had used to describe her realm:
I'll build in the sand,
I'll laugh in the snow.
I'll explore the bright land
Where none ever go.
The flowers are nice
There's no sadness here.
So I bid you farewell
And a happy new year.
There was sadness present and she didn't like it. Brushing away the branches to peer at the cause of their suffering only fueled Dreamer's shock and horror. This was not how this world's stories were supposed to go! Their type of pain didn't belong in this genre at all! Screw merely sharing a secret; Dreamer needed to speak for the leaves, for the leaves had no tongues.
Forced prostitution? In my polytheistic Dwarf Fortress server? Nope, nope, nope, nopeity nope! New plan: You get a curse, and you get a curse, and...
Dreamer frowned at the sheer number of sickly purple leaves compared to the two lonely gold leaves. Tagging individuals might help them fight Ishtar after they left her Familia, but it was slow and wouldn't do anything for those later forced into her service. Dreamer's old mother had told her not to carve into trees, yet Dreamer felt this should be a suitable exception. This tree would wither, but the leaves could fly to newer, happier trees. Something about her fragmented memories also liked the way it would let her finish: Everybody gets a curse!
Dreamer summoned a knife and carved her will into the toxic wood before her. She'd splurge on black flowers afterward so she could turn this nightmare back into a dream, but for now, she had a punishment to prescribe.
Scarred Shard-Spirit's Sacrificial Solution: Familia Curse. Sets obstacles before those willingly doing the goddess Ishtar's bidding. Eases the suffering and paths of curse-bearers who wish to escape her service or otherwise oppose her, including the ability to switch their Falna's allegiance to another deity without permission. Additionally, grants temporary immunity to physical status abnormalities and divine mind-affecting effects. Knowledge of this curse is automatically bestowed upon those inflicted with it.
Poison a tree, lose an orchard;
Set them free: save the tortured.
Don't let her tell this story;
Chase your return to glory.
Dreamer's wrist hurt as she exited the grove. Carving that many words into slippery purple bark was apparently much harder than writing with a pencil or keyboard, especially when her hand began writing certain portions on its own. Still, it didn't hurt enough to stop Dreamer from raising a trio of black flowers to her mouth and swallowing them whole. She didn't want to remember any of this; she didn't need any more reminders of why she was right to stay in her dreams.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Alexander swallowed and stared blankly at the documents atop his office desk, his eyes uncomprehending. They'd been this close to a foreign ruler heading home and gathering an invading army. Even if Orario almost certainly would've won, a conflict still had the potential to deal heavy damage to the city. Trade, food, building materials, supplies, new adventurers... everything they needed, they got from outside in exchange for Magic Stones and specialized magic items. If a truly dedicated ruler wanted to damage them, it wouldn't be a full invasion of the city. It would just be year after year of sporadic raids until traders stopped trying to risk the route. The only thing preventing that possibility was an unusually responsible goddess and Queen Administrator's apparent attachment to her.
For that matter, a people possessing location-bridging magics would be far more devastating than perhaps any other foe. They could strike wherever Orario's defenses were weakest, burn granaries and collapse sewer systems, steal stockpiles and assassinate gods. It would be like Evilus all over again, only this time, Orario would arguably be the bad guys.
They'd been assuming Anzo was meant to endear himself to Queen Administrator, but what if it was the exact opposite? What if Queen Administrator hadn't been meant to die at all and the whole sequence was performed just to alienate her? Stranger conspiracies had been carried out by the hands of factions desiring war, and oh, they had been so very close to succeeding. To a society of knowledge-seeking scholars, stupidity on the level demonstrated by Orario's gods could easily have been a stain worth removing from the world. It would explain Queen Administrator's reaction; it hadn't been the insult to her that seemed to enrage her to the point of almost declaring war, but the underlying idiocy that action implied.
And if Queen Administrator's title was truly granted on merit, then her so-called "parents" wouldn't have been biologically related to her at all. If that didn't remind people of a Familia, Alexander didn't know what would. He hadn't heard of any married gods descending — not ones who weren't already accounted for, anyway — but their relationship could've developed in this realm or even been between a mortal and a deity. Nobody held grudges quite like a god or goddess; even the responsible ones hoarded slights like a hunter hoarded trophies.
They couldn't afford to do this again. Orario needed representatives who wouldn't insult others to such a huge degree just to show that they could. The Guild was neutral, wasn't it? They could get away with creating a diplomatic division. He'd submit the suggestion as soon as he could. Gods, Alexander would even volunteer himself. Anything to get away from these immortal brats in the shapes of adults. He was done.
Alexander jumped and almost threw a spike of ice toward his office door as it was slammed open by one of his co-workers, Polly. The assistant looked as though she'd been running all over the building.
"The Entertainment District is in flames," Polly gasped out, panting. "Ishtar's Familia has gone mad and the responding Familia refuse to — to do more than pull people out of the buildings that — that they're burning."
Alexander closed his eyes and sighed as Polly stumbled toward the next door. He doubted that was the whole story, but until the fires stopped, he simply didn't have the time to investigate further.
One disaster after another. Why did I think the Guild would be less stressful than adventuring?
A small part of Alexander wondered if the Hestia Familia would accept a mediocre, middle-aged, unadventurous coward like him. He could get behind a Captain who openly fought blatant bullshit from the immortal morons calling themselves gods. Really, Queen Administrator's unusually responsible goddess was just a bonus.
Plan B if I can't get a diplomatic division approved, he decided. Not like Hestia will accept me; level two after ten years of active adventuring is a failure by any measure.
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