Alchimia Rex

“Long day?” Dia asked with a grin.

“Getting the tribe to sit down and listen to the proposal was… manageable.” Rick let out a long groan, practically draping himself over the chair. “Then things got nasty. Lots of screaming, lots of swearing, lots of things getting thrown around. Urtha nearly dragged me out of there a few times.”

“Surely not out of concern for your safety,” Dia cheekily commented, eyes unabashedly dancing on his sweat-slickened chest.

“No comments,” he deflected. “I’ve at least managed to wrangle them towards agreeing to learn and look into the whole legality.”

She nodded slightly. “Is she still… breaking things? Is she safe?”

“She’s still cracking tables, if that’s what you’re asking,” he mumbled. “But it’s taking her longer to lose it, so small victories.”

Dia paused. “Then why are you…?” She made a gesture at his clearly exhausted figure.

“Just… lifting weights,” he answered vaguely, averting his eyes. “No further comments.”

The temptation to ask was there, but most likely it would be juicier to get the details out of the Orc. So, she kept her tongue tied and moved to pick up her dirty dishes. Yet the moment she stood, Rick had clambered back to his feet, snatching the plates and utensils from her hands.

“Hey,” she protested lightly, her lips curling into a smile when he kissed her cheek and made his way to the kitchen.

“It’s my turn to clean,” he stated with a tone that left no room for arguments. “I heard about the collapse, you’ve had plenty on your plate today.” Rick grinned slightly. “I also heard you saved everyone.”

“No one was going to die.” She waved him off, but didn’t make any moves to stop him, turning enough so that her eyes could linger on his back.

There were no scars there, and the sun had been kind to Rick, giving a light, healthy tan to his formerly pale complexion. She quietly took in the way sweat glistened and ran down his back. It took her a good minute to find the will to stand up and dry him off. “It’s better you don’t catch a cold.” The cloth was applied gently; the maiden leaned closer, caressing his shoulders. “I can’t help but notice it always seems to be your turn when cleaning.”

“If I allowed you to spoil me all the time, I’d become one gigantic potato.”

“Lies.” She hugged his waist, pressing the cloth against his stomach and leaning to whisper into his ear. “You’d become a wheel of cheese.” Her words were followed by a light pinch of his flanks. “Don’t be too cruel to yourself. Firmness has its merits, but a little softness here and there would be healthier.” Her caress moved to his back once more, intending to trail her way down to his pants, but stopping when she found tension. “Is… something bothering you?”

“Nothing escapes you, huh.” He chuckled lightly. “It’s… the whole situation with this world, and Sinco, I've been thinking about it.”

He let out a soft grunt as she began to massage into his muscles, undoing the knots with small applications of her power, allowing his body to relax and recover. It didn’t stop him from continuing his work, using ash and water to scrape off and clean the plates, the splashing water mingling with little grunts of satisfaction.

She patiently allowed him to finish. Once he placed the cleaned wooden platters aside, he leaned more heavily into the counter. "When I came to this world, I barely paid any mind to the radio tower in Astunes. It was just… there, this large metal thing I’d seen a thousand and one times in my world. It was normal to me.” His hands spread flat against the wood, eyes closed in concentration. “In my world, everyone could talk to anyone else at the press of a button. I could literally send messages and talk with people that were continents away with barely any effort.”

“I've heard such things here too,” Dia commented.

“Objects worth fortunes that only a handful of people could ever afford to make or own,” he replied, shaking his head. “Information, my world was a place chock-full of it. I'm talking about even the lowliest person having more information within their grasp than they could ever know what to do with.” He paused, letting out another groan as she pressed into his lower back. "I had the option to be updated about wars involving complete strangers in lands I've never visited. The progress, the fallout, all of it accessible. Many overlooked this convenience, and admittedly, so did I. Yet, the possibility was always a mere click away," he tapped the counter again, punctuating his point. "Being disconnected felt natural when we were journeying. My family had a farm, going there to break free from all the bustle was a relief…”

“But?” She held the word out.

“But when I tried to understand what was going on with this world, with this kingdom, it was like a gigantic slap in the face. I'm blind.” He was glaring at the wall. “Anything I find is out of date by months if not years, and I rarely, if ever, have any way to verify its validity. And it just kept making me think about Sinco.”

Dia's eyebrows rose in interest, her face assuming a more alert expression. "Hm?"

Rick was clearly grappling with his thoughts. "Astunes is a mere speck compared to Sinco. They're barely a line on a map, but they had a radio tower and Sinco didn’t.” Another tap. “Why? Why would Thorley not tap into this source of information? I kept thinking he might have been a moron for not seeing the potential. To turn the Lightning-vault into a radio tower would've been far easier than making that tower in some remote village with barely a couple dozen homes.”

“Perhaps he sought isolation, to have a better excuse to stay out of touch?” she suggested, applying a bit more warmth to his back.

“I thought it might be the case. But I spoke to Rollo today, and when I asked about the prospect of getting a radio tower, he mentioned how much Thorley had wanted one.” He growled slightly. “Particularly, he kept talking about the lengths he'd gone to try and acquire the equipment, but how there was clearly some ploy in place as every time it would be thwarted.”

“He does seem overly boastful at the wrong time.”

“The documentation was there to prove the purchases, and he didn’t lie either.” Rick shook his head. “It reeked of a pattern, and I just kept circling around the notion, over how convenient it was.”

“When he most needed help, he couldn't reach anyone.” His gaze hardened, lips curling. “I’d bet my left arm every messenger he sent had been intercepted. But do you know what’s hard to block out and moves faster than any maiden can fly? Radio waves.” He leaned away from the counter just to gesture around wildly. “I thought all of this was insane. There was no way anyone could’ve been making such a plan for...how long? Years? But then we get that psychic fox, and suddenly it's clear that the Wildlings and the Vampires didn’t just up and start talking to each other from across the kingdom. Someone put them in contact with one another. Someone intercepted Thorley’s attempts to get his hands on a functioning radio.”

With his breathing speeding up, Dia increased the pressure of her powers, slowly coercing his body to relax under her touch. “I am sure that whoever they are, we can win.”

“It’s not that,” he grumbled under his breath, closing his eyes and leaning more heavily against her. “This third faction, if I’m not just imagining this whole thing, is a part of the kingdom. Maybe… maybe they could help prevent the Darktons from attacking us.”

Dia didn’t comment on it, not immediately. She didn’t know about war, not really. The last time any noble fought against another had been during the years of rebellion, well before she’d been born. She did remember the tales of the great battles that had forged the kingdom into what it is today, of how Feralborn maidens had ignited the flame of destruction.

This felt similar, somehow, like a fire was being stoked. “Is that wise?” She finally asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted in a heartbeat. “The tribe is all up for a fight, but the city would sooner put me on a stake. Our best bet is to buy time, lay low, keep everyone in the dark about what’s going on over here, and grow our stockpiles. If things go our way, they might just see Sinco as not being worth the effort.”

The proclamation immediately sent an alarm through Dia. Her first thought was towards the report on the parasite. What would it mean if they delayed spreading the news? What if the infection reached other cities? There would be lives lost before they could figure out the nature of the threat. Her breath hitched; should she bring it up, mention it?

Dia’s thoughts ground to a halt when Rick turned around to look at her. “How long will it take to finish the report on the parasite?”

Three days. “Two weeks, perhaps,” she spoke tentatively, avoiding his gaze.

Should she put it off? Were her Lord’s safety and plans more important than the life of innocents? Her hands lingered on his chest.

Maybe there was an alternate way; maybe she could find a way to send the report to Seledo, or Balet, or Astunes, something to bypass Aubria and thus avoid the Darktons. But such a task would be nearly suicidal for the messenger. Sinco was in a corner of the kingdom, and the great forest kept it isolated from all other cities except Aubria. Any messenger seeking to go directly to the other cities would need to travel for a month through the deadly wilderness. Perhaps if they sent a flier to head south into the sea, then east, and then followed the snowy peaks north until they reached Astunes? No, that would be even worse; the Frostcaller was awakening again.

“One week,” he whispered, caressing her shoulder. “If I can’t find a solution by then, send your report.”

“But-”

“If a swarm of plant-feral-zombies were to infect the kingdom, we’d be toast.” He chuckled, his voice thick with reassurances. “Nobility is at least easier to negotiate with.”

Dia leaned against him, laying her ear against his chest. “Does the bond let you read my thoughts?”

“No, you’re just a terrible liar.” He kissed her head and pulled her into a hug. “I’d like to read your report, by the way.”

“It’s nothing special, it’s full of boring, dry text.”

“All the more reason you should be there when I read it.” He chuckled. “I’ll definitely need your help to understand it.”

A swell of pride fluttered inside her chest, and she hugged him back. Yes, she could work with this. Maybe if she removed her name from the report, passed it off as Thorley’s healer…

The moment was interrupted with a thud.

Urtha stepped out of the basement, completely naked and uncaring about the lack of clothes. “Spikes,” she greeted, smiling widely as she marched towards them, picking up the bucket Rick had been using and drinking from it.

Their human visibly shuddered. “Urtha, that’s…”

“Ash, water, some food.” She shrugged. “Water is water.”

Rick visibly recoiled, his face twisting into a grimace. "Ugh," he trailed off, shuddering, unable to finish his sentence.

“You’re too bothered by things that don’t matter,” the Orc retorted with stubborn defensiveness. But she didn’t press further, turning her attention to Dia. “Haal is with child.”

Dia’s face split into a wide smile, heart soaring as she let go of Rick to give her sister her full attention. “The tribe must be buzzing! A parthenogenesis Orc is-”

“It’s big, yeah,” Urtha nodded with a self-satisfied smirk, giving a punitive look at Rick. “See? This is the proper response. Not that stale ‘good for her’ crap.”

The comment earned a scowl from Dia. “You said that!?”

“I’m happy for Haal. I just don’t know what you expect from me.” He held his arms up in a poor attempt at appeasement. “I’ve barely had a handful of conversations with her. As far as anyone is concerned, I’m basically a stranger.”

Urtha huffed, crossing her arms. “Have you forgotten what your title is, F-A-T-H-E-R?”

Rick paled for a moment, then scowled. “Haal is married. I know she’s married because her husband is one of the men looking for a divorce.”

“Any maiden born from the tribe is of the tribe. A tribe you are the Father of,” the Orc insisted. “And Haal is no slouch, she-”

“Urtha, if you would, a moment,” Dia interrupted, raising her hand and turning her attention to their human. “Rick, in your world, if…” She paused, biting her lip, her mind working to frame the question the right way. "Suppose you were a resident of a village or town, and a neighbor brought a child into the world, how often are you expected to help with the child's upbringing?"

He jerked a little, looking pensive. “None? In most cases the answer is a very solid ‘no’. Anything that goes beyond that hinges on what sort of friendship I’d happen to have with them. If they were family, or close friends, then I guess the norm would be to visit each other’s home every few weeks? And to lend a hand if the parents have to do something and need someone to look over the child.”

“And you were raised this way?” Urtha was the one to ask, her thick brows knitted together in a look bordering on concern. “This explains so much.”

Without allowing him to complain, she pulled Rick into her meaty embrace, thick fingers patting his hair as he struggled (and failed) to escape. “Hey!”

"Families are large," Dia stated matter-of-factly, grinning from ear to ear as she watched him give up his attempts to find freedom from Urtha’s hug. "And a tribe is one very big family."

"Haal is my sister; we have fought many battles together. She is a great warrior, and I’m sure her daughter will be no slouch," she rumbled, squeezing him tighter.

"A daughter, mind you, that will be born an Orc," the healer casually danced around the two, looking for his gaze. "The only other Orc-born the tribe has witnessed within its lifespan is Urtha. This will no doubt be seen as a great boon, and a sign that your promise for a better future is being fulfilled." The smile only grew. "You wouldn’t want to give a cold shoulder to your niece, would you?"

He visibly twitched, then froze. "Niece?" It escaped his lips like some horrifying echo.

"Why are you more terrified of the idea of having a niece than of fighting the kingdom?" Dia teased.

"I can bomb a kingdom! I can’t do that with…”

"I’m sure she’ll eventually be strong enough; it would make for good training," Urtha muttered out loud.

"NO!" Rick and Dia spoke at the same time.

The Orc just rolled her eyes and huffed. "Whatever the case, you’ll have to help her find a good husband."

"What?"

"Divorce, that whole nonsense," she finally let him go, glaring at him. "If you succeed in making it a reality, and Haal’s husband leaves her... if you do not help her find someone else…"

"Not you," Dia snapped, then quickly put back her amused grin. "Besides, wouldn’t want the mother of the next generation’s Urtha to hold some vendetta."

He collapsed against the chair, rubbing his temples as his eyes were glued to some invisible horizon. "Damn it all."

"Just remember to look for the positive," the healer reassured, patting his shoulder. "It will serve as good practice."

"Oh." He straightened slightly, blinking rapidly. "Huh." His eyes moved from Urtha to Dia, then back.

It was the quiet that followed the statement, a hesitation as he turned to look at the floor and frowned. The silence strangled out anything either of them could've said, but both maidens shared a concerned look all the same.

"I guess I should be thinking about that sort of thing too."

"Rick?" Dia asked.

"No… it's nothing." But it was everything. It was the look he had when he'd found a problem he could not ignore. "What would happen if Monica got pregnant right now?" His question lingered in the air like a sword.

"It'd be practically impossible," Urtha commented. "The stronger the maiden, the harder it is for them to be with child before becoming a matron."

But that wasn't what Rick wanted, Dia knew. She stepped forward, looking at him intently. "The child would be seen as a potential gift to be traded for amicable relationships with some noble family. She would grow up to become a prized knight. No one would see her as your child, let alone an heir."

"I see." His brows furrowed. "I don't like that."

And with just those words, everything changed.