Chapter 456 - Trials and Tribulations VI

  Claire slowly opened her eyes as the mirror’s magic ran its course. Her mind was practically overrun with a fountain of information. In reality, it was but a brief moment of activation, but she felt like she spent days, if not weeks taking all of it in. It took channeling her divinity through her brain to process all of the madness. And even then, she struggled to keep up.

  Still, she found herself smiling.

  Panda was telling the truth.

  Her mother was still alive.

  And she was in the winter castle.

  “I will give you a moment to prepare.” Aurora stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her, leaving Claire to reflect on her lack of cleanliness. Though her runecloak had cleaned itself when she transformed it, the rest of her body was still caked in blood. It stained her hair and covered her face, leaving her with a potent stench that proved anything but presentable.

  At first, she was left to wonder how exactly she was meant to clean her body, but the room transformed soon after the goddess’ departure. The relic that was the centerpiece was replaced with a pool of steaming hot water, while an icy mirror emerged opposite a massive wardrobe. The dresses within it were ostensibly Sthenian, but a single glance sufficed to inform that no mortals were involved in their making. They were weaved from the thinnest of strands, individual strings held together almost entirely by the copious divinity vested into the material. They were divine raiments, beautiful pieces of art that served as much as armour as they did as decoration.

  Claire reached for one, only for it to shy away and smack her hand with a coat hanger.

  “What do you think you’re doing, you filthy cretin!?” it cried. It didn’t have a mouth, nor any physical source from which its voice could stem. The words echoed directly into the back of her mind. “Why are you even reaching for me in the first place? I’d clearly look much better on someone flatter and taller.” Though it didn’t have eyes, Claire could feel its gaze, sensing through its eyes both its appraisal and discontent. The claim itself didn’t make much sense for something made in a Sthenian style. Her chest was already much smaller than the average lamia’s.

  Still, she took its words to heart. Perhaps the bath was a better first destination.

  The half-moose transformed her runecloak into a ring as she stepped into the tub. But like the dress, the water recoiled, practically scowling as it shrank away.

  “Stay away from me!!” it shrieked.

  It retreated further with every step she took before scrunching itself up in the far corner like a terrified kitten. Claire was amused, especially when it tried darting between her legs, but she had places to be and things to do, so she seized it with her vectors and forced it to cover her body.

  “You fiend! You demon! You filthy, freak-eared, fox-molesting whore of a princess! How could you!?” it cried. A number of unrepeatable slurs followed soon after, but interestingly, its insults appeared to function as a method of expunging its filth. The water cleared with every word it screamed, cleaning her to sparkling perfection without so much as a drop of soap.

  Still, she raised her ears, filled them with divinity, and quickly inspected her body after stepping out from the griping bath. Only when she was certain of her cleanliness did she invert her freezing aura and dry herself with its gentle heat.

  Returning to the wardrobe, however, she found the raiments just as reluctant. They squealed as they shied away from her fingers, their behaviour reminiscent of a gaggle of teenage girls.

  “What is it now?” asked the lyrkress.

  “You don't fit me!” squeaked one. “I look better on girls with wider shoulders!”

  “And I only fit girls with average proportions,” said a second.

  “I'm for girls with gigantic, disproportionate chests,” added a third.

  “I like men,” quipped a fourth. “Big, hairy men with bulging veins and at least four testicles per leg.”

  Claire rolled her eyes before grabbing the garments with a fistful of vectors and lifting them into the air. Each was perfectly spread so she could examine their sizes and shapes without their complaining or interference. Annoyingly, their claims held some merit. Every dress was too large, too small, or too oddly proportioned. Given that there were only ten of them, it wasn’t too surprising that none were in her size, but the absurd body types they were built for had her raising a brow. It had to be a ruse.

  “W-wait, what are you doing?” The prettiest among them screamed as Claire approached. She came in two parts. The dress herself was a deep and majestic purple. Styled like an evening gown, she sported a lengthy hem that tailed beyond her wearer. Faint bits of silver were embedded into the fabric, glowing like a sea of stars. To complete the look, there was a deep blue corset, worn on the outside to emphasize the shape of her partner’s assets.

  The raiment was wide enough to fit three of her but she was meant for someone much shorter and stockier. She tried her best to struggle, to shy away from Claire’s touch, but she was no match for the forces holding her in place.

  She changed as soon as they made contact, shrinking and growing until she came to match the proportion demanded by the snakemoose’s body. The morph was accompanied by all sorts of screaming and sobbing, but ignoring the dress’ complaints, Claire slipped her on after adjusting her runecloak to include a pair of undergarments.

  Nodding contently, Claire tied up her hair whilst staring into the mirror. Perhaps someone else might have lamented a lack of makeup, but the snoose didn’t mind. She didn't need makeup. Her face was perfect as it was.

  That same logic had her debating the direction to take her ears. They were just as immaculate, her pride and joy in spite of all the trouble they’d caused her. Still, after a brief contemplation, she decided to adorn them, as was the Cadrian tradition.

  The goddess was still standing in the hall by the time Claire finally opened the door. Smiling gently, Aurora examined her outfit, nodded approvingly, and transported them across the castle grounds. Before long, they arrived in front of a large door nested in one of the castle’s quieter wings.

  Claire was about to raise her hand to knock when she sensed a distant gaze. Spinning around, she found a hooded figure standing in the mountains. It was difficult to make him out in detail, even with her eyes’ telescopic properties. But she could tell that his skin was green and that he was looking intently in her direction.

  “My barrier prevents him from entering my domain,” said Aurora. “He can stare all he wishes. Nothing will come of his presence.”

  “Okay,” said Claire.

  Smiling, Aurora turned around and walked away. Though she said nothing, the message was loud and clear.

  Claire watched the goddess’ back. She waited for her to vanish down the hall before slowly raising her hand to the door. Somehow, she almost felt like she lacked the courage to knock, but she soon followed through regardless.

  “Would it have killed you to be a little more gentle?” The door grumbled as it slowly opened itself, revealing a room with three lamia waiting inside.

  She only recognized two of the three faces, but the last looked upon her with the same affection that adorned the others. The unknown lamia had bronze skin, bright, leaf-green scales, and a head of wild, curly hair. She squealed as Claire entered, sparkles glimmering through her eyes all the while.

  The second snake-lady was a little bit taller. She had rose-pink scales, and wore a pair of square glasses that gave her an impression reminiscent of an overly strict, ever-single secretary—an impression only furthered by the bun that her hair was tied in. Like the lady with green scales, she was dressed as a maid, and Claire recognized her as being just that. Camellia was her mother’s servant and friend, and she had lived in the manor with them until her mother’s supposed passing. Apparently, she’d gone on a journey thereafter without leaving the slightest hint as to her destination.

  And then there was her mother.

  Violet was exactly as she remembered her. For a lamia, she was particularly small. Her body measured six meters from head to tail, and her standing height was only about a quarter of her length. She had glimmering purple scales, an eternal smirk on her lips, and the sort of prodigious chest that would make even Arciel feel inadequate. Like both other snakes, her hair and eyes were tinted similarly to her scales. Her ears were elf-like, only much prettier—it was precisely from them that Claire’s had taken their perfect shape. Her hair was cut to about shoulder length and holstered in a fancy updo—the very same one she had always sported to everything that wasn’t a formal event.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  To say that mother and daughter shared a face was an understatement. Claire was Violet’s spitting image, with their colours and expressions as the only things to set them apart.

  Claire wasn’t really sure what to do or say. She had to fight to keep her composure. Her mother was right there. Within arm’s reach for the first time in almost ten years.

  Recognizing her hesitation, Violet spread her arms and smiled.

  Claire knew it wasn’t appropriate. She was due to perform a formal greeting to demonstrate the extent of her growth. But she couldn’t stop herself from throwing herself into her mother’s embrace.

  It was every bit as soft and gentle as she remembered, but it wasn't quite the same. Claire had grown much taller—her face no longer went straight into the older lamia’s bosom, resting instead on one of her shoulders.

  “Mother,” she said. “I… I never thought I'd see you again.”

  “I'm sorry.” Violet squeezed her tight. “I had to.”

  “I know,” said Claire. She'd seen it all clearly in the mirror. “I'm just glad you're still alive.”

  “Of course I'm still alive,” said the snake indignantly. She released her daughter and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Did you really think I'd let myself die from the common cold!?”

  “It was one of Allegra’s curses,” said Claire, deadpan.

  “That's basically the same thing,” said Violet.

  “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  “Don't sweat the details,” said Violet. “Mommy didn't raise you to be so fussy.”

  “You didn't raise me much at all.”

  “Wow! I stepped out for eight short years, and you're already this rebellious? They grow up so fast…”

  Claire sighed when her mother pretended to sniffle. Evidently, she was every bit the same person she’d been when they parted. Her behaviour made it difficult to see her as a princess or a duchess, let alone the queen that she’d unknowingly become.

  They stayed like that for a little, but Claire soon turned away from her mother and directed a curtsy at each of her maids. “Good evening, Camellia. And you too, madame. I do not believe we have met before. Would you mind informing me of your name?”

  The green-scaled guard looked at both of the others before pointing at herself, continuing only after Claire returned a nod.

  “Wait a second Violet! Cammie! Did you never tell her about me!?”

  “I didn’t see any reason to,” said Camellia.

  “Sorry! It probably slipped my mind,” said Violet, with her tongue extended.

  “Slipped your mind!? You had ten years! Ten!” shouted the green-scaled maid, her eyes teary. “Gosh, I can’t believe you two…” Huffing, she turned back towards Claire and forced a particularly awkward smile. “I’m Esmeralda. I’m one of your mom’s cousins, on her mom’s side, and I’m supposed to be one of her best friends,” she said with a sniffle. “You can call me Auntie Ezzy.”

  “I’ll stick to Esmeralda,” said Claire.

  “Why!?”

  Claire briefly scrutinized the green-scaled serpent before turning back towards her mother. She opened her mouth, but found herself at a loss for words. She didn’t know what to say or ask. The mirror had already answered all of her questions.

  “I knew it wouldn’t be too long,” said Violet. “But I didn’t think you’d make it here just yet.” She lightly brushed her daughter’s hair and corrected the braid’s imperfections before running her fingers along the sides of her face. “You must’ve worked hard.”

  Claire smiled. “Not that hard.”

  “Harder than your father, at least,” said Violet, with a huff. “You wouldn’t believe how lazy he was when he was still young. I swear, I was one of the first things that he was actually motivated to do.”

  Claire scrunched up her brow. “I did not need to hear that, Mother.”

  “How else did you think you were made?” asked the snake, with a giggle.

  “Mother, please…” Claire groaned.

  Her amusement renewed by her daughter’s reaction, Violet needed a few moments to finally stifle her laughter. “When did you leave home?”

  “A little before I turned seventeen,” said Claire. “You wouldn’t believe the number of things I’ve killed these last two years.”

  “Virillius told me, well before you were born, that you’d burn a whole city to the ground at some point. You should’ve seen the look on his face when he said it,” said Violet, with a laugh. “He’s done the same thing at least a dozen times, but he looked so guilty that I almost thought he’d forgotten.”

  Claire blinked awkwardly. “Right.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t make that face. Rules are made to be broken, and at this point, war crimes practically run in the family.”

  Noting the content look on her mother’s face, Claire refrained from further comment. “Do you want to hear about all the places I’ve been?” asked the snoose. It felt a little weird to bring up. She already felt like she’d said everything she wanted in front of her mother’s grave, but being in her presence made her feel like repeating it all again.

  Violet gave her daughter a brief, appraising stare before twisting her teasing grin into a much calmer smile. “Gladly.”

  Claire nodded. And then, assuming her smallest humanoid form, she climbed into her mother’s lap. She leaned into the embrace that followed and closed her eyes.

  “Father changed after you disappeared. I’m still not sure if it was because of the shock or if he thought it through. Maybe a little bit of both,” said Claire. “But he changed almost overnight. He started demanding perfection, and he didn’t acknowledge it, even when I delivered.” Taking a bit of a breath, she skipped past the next few years and started with her arrival in Llystletein. She talked about the stupid mechanical birds, the silly talking foxes, and the mountain that had forever etched itself into her mind. Then there was the scheme—the killing of the paladins and her eventual escape.

  Vel’khan came soon after. It was hard to believe she’d only spent about a year in the nation, and she’d only known Lia for a scant few months. Even telling the story again, she felt that it was so much longer.

  “Hold on,” said Violet. “All that’s very interesting, but I can’t help but notice that you’re slowly getting more boring as you go along.”

  Claire blinked. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “The Claire I raised wouldn’t have simply waited around for an organised coup,” said Violet. “I would’ve expected you to lie about the date, and then break into the castle and kill everyone while no one else was looking.”

  “Raised… Right…”

  “Why is that, of all parts, the one you decided to complain about?” grumbled Violet. “I did raise you. I mothered you for ten whole years!”

  “That’s barely half my life at this point.”

  “Half is plenty,” said Violet.

  “Right…” Claire smiled awkwardly as she climbed off of her mother and accepted the drink that Camellia had silently offered. “We opened a shop a little bit after the coup. It was a quaint little place, close enough to the main street to hear all the noise, but far enough away that it wasn’t swamped with unnecessary traffic.”

  And so she continued. She talked about Pollux, Tornatus’ fall, and the present war that was the aftermath. She started telling her about all the foreign lands she’d passed on her way northward, but she didn’t get too much further. Sylvia, Boris, and Starrgort stepped into the hall before she could.

  “Hey Claire!” said the fox. Having broken into a sprint upon spotting Claire, she was the only one to make it all the way. “Aurora said you finished her trial, so I fig—wait a second! Why the heck are there two of you!?”

  She looked between the lyrkress and her mother, her eyes wide and blinking.

  “I’m Violet, her mother,” said Violet. “You must be Sylvia.”

  “Yup! I’m her best friend!”

  “Hmmmm…” Violet flickered her tongue as she slithered a circle around the orange furball. “You certainly smell the part,” she said, before turning back to her daughter. “You said she was huggable?”

  “Very,” said Claire.

  “Let me see.” Violet picked Sylvia up and squished her into her chest. “You're right. She's squishy in all the right ways. And fluffy too,” she said.

  “Mhm! I’m the fluffiest fox in all of Llystletein, and probably everywhere else too.”

  “You make a pretty convincing argument,” said Violet, as she played with the fox’s fur. She scratched the bottom of the fox’s ears and lightly tickled the spot under her chin before turning back to her daughter. “Have you made any other friends? I was always a little worried that you might end up without too many.”

  Claire rolled her eyes. “The others will be gathering shortly.”

  She walked towards the window and looked down at the snowy hills that lay beyond the castle’s walls. Surely enough, a few of the others had gathered at the entrance, chatting about their time apart whilst waiting for the others to finish the goddess’ trial.

  “They look like an interesting bunch,” said Violet. Setting Sylvia down, she hopped onto the windowsill and gestured for Claire to join her. “You’re going to have to introduce me.”

  Claire nodded. “We can start with these two.” She pointed at Boris and Starrgort, who were standing in the doorway, only to find her mother turned pale.

  “Is the spider one of Vella’s?”

  Starrgort had always been such an everyday sight that Claire didn’t think anything of him until she noted her mother’s reaction. And even then, it took a moment for everything to click, for her to realize that his very presence meant that there was something amiss.

  She immediately tried to squish him with a wave of vectors, but she was too late. Clapping his two front legs together, he crafted a forcefield that rendered her magic inert. Further evidencing his guilt was Aurora’s return. She teleported directly behind him and struck with a heavy, two-handed axe.

  But Starrgort was unharmed.

  A rift had opened in the space above him.

  And from it, a glowing pink blade.