Chapter 234 - The Pleasure Is Entirely Yours

Oliviala Le’Cruex

Olive scowled, her brows furrowing as she stared down her hated foe. Her emotions were a conflicted mess. Layers of anxieties and fears mixed with anger, frustration, and impatience. The result was a mana bridge that was nearly impossible to control, let alone utilize to defeat the higher tiered wooden monstrosity barring her escape.

She wanted to scream and bang her fist against the stubborn door but such undignified and childish behavior was far beneath her. She huffed, focusing on her anger in hopes the stronger feeling could overwhelm her lesser emotions.

Solidify thought, induce emotion, form the bridge, mana flows, my will impose.

Her attempt to talk herself through the process ended in a dramatic failure as her extended glob of mana was thrown away from the door hard enough to knock her on her ass.

Argh! This is impossible! I can't do four things at once, that's simply inhuman. Yet I have to figure this out. There’s got to be a way to make this simpler. How did Jiran say it, automate some of the processes? Whatever that means. He said emotions are merely chemicals that move through the body. Does that mean that once they're felt, the bridge is already formed and I don’t have to focus on them after that? 

So, I should trigger a singular memory to release the chemicals, then, all I have to do is will my mana? If that works, and I don’t have any other thoughts that trigger new emotions, the bridge should remain stable. But controlling my thoughts has always been my weakness. All my tutors said so… Well, it's about time I turn that particular weakness into a strength!

Just as she stood to dust herself off and try again, she heard the sound of rapid footsteps clacking down the hallway. The unnatural speed could only mean someone above her tier was approaching.

She stepped back as the door was unlatched and flung open, revealing Cardinal Andross. The slender man was tense, on the verge of being jittery; corded muscles bunched and released in rapid micromovements and his eyes darted about the room, only landing on her occasionally. They lingered for a moment longer on her outfit than elsewhere, and he released a dissatisfied sigh.

“The least you could do is prepare yourself. We are already late, there is no time to wait for you.”

Olive saw through his ploy with laughable ease. Seneschal Robpert had been ordered to word his requests as though she would be eating with the cardinal alone. Therefore, she had worn a modest and admittedly plain dress from the provided wardrobe. If proper etiquette had been followed, she would have been informed on who else would be in attendance long before the meal. Giving her so little time was clearly an attempt to sabotage her standing.

Olive smiled sweetly, relying on a tactic that she’d used to outsmart one of her mothers in a similar situation seasons ago, “Is there something wrong with my attire?” She spun in a circle, flaring the hem of her dress. With an exaggerated gasp, she twisted her ankle. Her arms flew wide, catching on the cloth and ripping a long gash down the entire silhouette. “Oh goodness! How unsightly. Well, since we are out of time, I suppose there is no choice but to accompany you in such a state. I’m sure no one there will think ill of you for my clumsiness.”

She stood and walked proudly toward the still-open door as though nothing were wrong. She nearly lost her cool when the cardinal’s teeth began to grind. His nostrils flared and tremors ran through his jaw, “Very well, Oliviala. I admit defeat. Please, conduct yourself appropriately, as quickly as possible.”

“And who might I expect to be in attendance?” She hid her smugness behind the same sickly sweet voice.

“Several rankers and many of the city's officials.”

“How kind of you to inform me, Cardinal. I will be sure to prepare with all haste. If you would excuse me.”

“Of course,” He nodded imperceptibly, the motion a far cry from the bow she was due. Such a petty breach wasn’t worth mentioning. He left in a flash and she allowed her hidden smile to bloom.

***

Despite Olive utilizing Oneness while dressing, the cardinal wore a displeased frown upon seeing her. He set a brisk pace toward the center of the cathedral grounds, speeding up whenever Olive attempted to walk beside him. They arrived at the entrance to the assembly yard in record time, neither quite reaching the point of sprinting.

Dinner had been prepared in the classic style: buffet tables heaped with local delicacies that were randomly served to each guest who then took their plate and ate while mingling or lounging on the soft grass. The suns were bright in the sky, reflecting fashionably from the tall towers surrounding the Grandem Papal—The Church of the Voice’s central cathedral, and the most hushed holy seat of the emperors themselves.

The cardinal declined to introduce her, let alone announce their arrival. He left her at the edge of the yard, flying to a central dias and clapping to gather attention. The susurrations of the small crowd faded to silence and he cleared his throat, “The Voice’s sunslight blesses this auspicious gathering. I thank each of you for coming and for the offerings you have presented. If there is anything I, or our devotees can do for you, please find me after the repast.”

We’ve met several times before, but he seems like a different person. Has he been hiding his true personality? He’s so… slimy now.

After a pause to meet the eyes of specific individuals, the cardinal cleared his throat and continued, “The Voice whispers, yet we do not hear as our malefactions and utterances clog our ears. Yet Her hushed echoes can be heard. Remain in silence and open your hearts. Cast aside the debased, self-incriminations that stain your purity. Open yourself to the seed of greatness that grows within. Nurture it, and surely you will someday hear Her truths. A moment of silence before we partake wholly of Her gift of light and meat, so Her hushed blessings may fill our bodies.”

The cardinal paused, the moment brief for some, and a short eternity for others. The cardinal finished with a traditional prayer, “On this most hushed of days, we stand united. Having come together to free our people from corruption, our lands from beasts, and our minds from the thoughts that lead us astray. Let there be light.”

“Let there be light,” the crowd mouthed silently. They faced the suns for another short moment, then spread out to receive their meals. Olive found herself ostracized, outright ignored by most, and the rest offering the barest of greetings before turning away. The few rankers present were long-time supporters of the Voicers, and at one time she had pictured herself someday joining them. That dream had been shattered and burned to ashes when their army appeared behind her’s with weapons drawn.

Their discourteous treatment was ignored. She ate slowly, scouring expressions and mannerisms for signals from a potential ally. If there was one willing to side with her, they would not do so openly so she remained vigilant, examining each person in detail.

The cardinal was the first to eat, he appeared to be stuffing his face with wild abandon, but it was just his regular eating speed. The sight upset her stomach, and she didn't have any reason to trust the food so she merely nibbled at the meat, enjoying the higher-density fare's pleasant tingles as it melted in her mouth.

Luckily, a nearby conversation provided a distraction from the otherwise droll affair, “It’s for the good of the empire. We are uniting the people in a way that’s never been possible. How could they keep the metropoles separate in all forms of governance? It’s pure selfishness I tell you! Beliefs, laws, jurisdictions, these systems have never been optimized in the entire history of the empire. It’s no wonder slavery still exists in the west! I for one have had enough! All under the Fathers’ gaze should be free to control their destiny, and I won’t rest until I see it true!”

“Well said, Son Deremy, well said. Yet those are but a few examples of the hardships the empire faces. What of the repeated famines that strike at Cruex? The unnecessary losses during spawning season? The large swaths of land available for colonization that remain underused and infested by beasts? Not to mention the absolute failure to push back the Graymin and reclaim the empire's lost glory. It is beyond time for change!”

A familiar face made an appearance, pulling Olive’s attention away from the vacuous platitudes of the low-level city officials; Mathayes Le’Furiette, the eldest son of emperor Dagris Le’Furiette. She had heard he joined the church to escape the deadly fate that all children of the emperors’ faced. Seeing him at the front of the very army that ambushed them had soiled her opinion of him even further.

She would have much preferred the company of his silent younger brother, Samris Le’Furiette. At least the resemblance between them was enough she could pretend Mathayes was the other. That is, until he caught sight of her and approached with a smirk, “Oliviala, what a pleasure to be graced by your company at last. Just where has his grace been hiding you, hmm?”

“I'm afraid the pleasure is entirely yours. However, if you refrain from ever speaking to me again, I would find that most pleasurable,” her smile was a rictus, mocking his niceties.

Mathayes paused for a brief moment, then released a too-loud laugh that drew most of the gathered eyes their direction, “Your sense of humor is indeed unique. Vironia spoke so highly of you last we met. Now I know why.”

Mathayes dipped his chin and bowed to the exact angle that would allow him to remain courteous. “I do hope you weren’t overly bothered by our show of force at Morothin? The Voice commanded we dissuade those heinous outsiders from thinking they have any place in the empire. Putting an end to the Graymin threat was similarly satisfying, as I'm sure you can attest. Fear not, your personal accomplishment on the battlefield will certainly be recorded alongside our glorious victory.”

Olive's jaw ached, unable to clench any harder. She barely knew where to begin in rectifying his gross misinterpretations of the truth, and his dismissal of Mayalyn and the People, the Forkara, and Timberlings caused her vision to tint crimson. The final cut was that the soldiers who died under her command might very well be stripped of the victory they paid for with their lives.

Mana churned through her channels and she tightened her fists to keep the furious energy from leaking forth and incinerating the grinning traitor before her, “I didn't know it was possible to be so cowardly! Your army did nothing but harry our flanks and show up after the battle was concluded. I'd love to know how many of your spears have Graymin blood on them! When you count, try not to confuse them for the blood of the true Imperials you betrayed!”

Olive only realized her mistake when Mathayes’ smirk spread wide enough to split his face. He stood with his back to the crowd, his arms spreading wide, “Are you implying an entire army of the Voicers, and the cardinal himself, are erroneous? I simply don't see how that's possible. It seems the battle took a great toll on you. As usual, the cardinal was right in allowing you your rest. You’re clearly not fit to stand amongst us in the sunslight.”

Piss in a cup, I really fu-Wait, why am I even attempting to treat this like a political game? They already threatened the rankers, attacked our forces from the rear in one of the most important engagements against the Graymin in decades, and now they intend to steal the glory from our soldiers. These people are my enemies. Everything they do and say will be another machination to degrade me, or outright strip me of my free will. I am in a nest of serpents, and I must guard myself as best I can, not attempt to play their petty games. 

Olive shook her head slowly, leaning sideways just a fraction as she adopted a confused, far off expression, “I-I think you’re right, Mathayes. I don’t feel well at all.”

I need to focus on that blasted door. Nothing else matters. 

Mathayes nodded, his expression shifting to that of a caring, understanding friend, “Very well, then. Robpert, please escort the princess back to her quarters.” Relieved, Olive turned to leave, faltering when Mathayes continued, “And keep a closer eye on her, would you. In case her health deteriorates further.”

I really hate this prick.

Olive waited patiently for Robpert to appear at her side. He extended his arm but she declined, following him woodenly from the lawn while the crowd snickered behind her. Back inside, she heard shouts and the thudding of hasty footfalls a moment before thunderous waves of chaotic density slammed into the gathering, smashing much of the prepared meals.

She didn’t try to hide the vindictive smile that pulled at her lips. Then, her thoughts and vision sharpened to a dagger’s edge. She took the lead, marching back to her room in a state of focus so serene she didn’t hear Robpert’s repeated attempts to get her attention. Before long, the door shut and the forming bolt clicked into place. Vitriolic hate boiled in her blood as she stared down her foe. Mana screamed through her veins, tearing its way from the gash in her wrist as she went on the offense.