V S Crusader Kings

[Android XVII]

Previously on Friends (Original Broadcast: Early December 2021) …

“This was way worse than what I got us into,” Seventeen replied as their transport took off from the ‘surface’ of Opealon and made for the stars above. The machine-hybrid was strapped into what was essentially a geriatric troop transport that wasn’t fit to be moving cattle, let alone actual human beings.

A few weeks ago, the three had managed to claw their way out from the network of subterrenean passageways. Their efforts had only been met with the reality that the once floating Nausicaa was leagues beneath the ocean waves of Opealon. After a less than pleasant experience getting to the surface, the trio had spent about two weeks shuffling among refugee-laden vessels before managing to make their way to Kirden Wharf.

Once they were back in civilization, the reality had continued to sour for them. The ‘contacts’ that had brought Beatrix to Opealon had gone radio silent. The woman had remained obstinate for a few days that they’d likely hear from someone, but there had been nothing but silence and sleeping in back alleys. After four days of waiting around, they realized they’d have to make their own means in the wharf city. From there, they had taken a few odd jobs to scrap together the money to get the first ride off of Opealon and back to Erde.

“What was that?” The blood magus barked from the row of seats on the other side of the flying rust bucket.

“I said this was a terrible idea, and my idea to go to Dante was way better.”

“I died the last time!” Beatrix shot back.

“Hey!” Seventeen replied with a loose smile. “You volunteered for the ‘point of no return’ option. Me and J were more than happy to sip martinis in the winner suites. You were all gung-ho about it and talking how you were going to steamroll all those ‘bleeding, beleaguered bastards’!”

“… I hate you,” the blood magus retorted as she strapped herself into the wall-mounted chair of the transport.

“You’re also the one who got roped into coming here because of some ‘old assassination contacts’.”

“… I still hate you.”

“You really should vet mystery calls, you know that, right?”

Beatrix nearly wrenched herself free from her restraints, but Jaina placed her hand on the woman’s thigh, which had the intended effect of calming her.

“He’s just pushing your buttons, Love,” Jaina spoke softly. “Sit down, because I don’t want this craft to jostle and put your head through the fuselage.”

Seventeen, who could feel Jaina glaring at him, contented himself to merely smirk in silence at a still-fuming Beatrix.

***​

Previously on Friends (Original Broadcast: Late December, 2021) …

The diplomacy of the last two years was at an end. Since the attempted assassination of the Crown Prince, Merana had only grown more emboldened, with some claiming over this period of time that they were just a few greased palms away from receiving an endorsement from the distant Arcadian throne in their generational contest with Lodis.

Over the summer and autumnal months, something had shifted in Merania. The story as told by Lodian agents living within the city of Merania was that the king had suffered some type of health episode—a stroke or a debilitating cardiac episode. Given that the monarch of Merania was barely thirty-five, that raised a lot of eyes among the membership of Lodis’ council. The prevailing rumor was that of a palace coup, with many members of the royal family either ‘vanishing under unknown circumstances’ or being incarcerated.

Within forty-eight hours of the coup, the Meranians had marched a squadron of collapsable assault weapons in the dead of night. That morning, they had launched nearly three dozen pieces of ordinance into the city of Lodis, with the causalities numbering in the dozens. A sortie from the gates of Lodis was confronted by an organized armed force, but despite the chaos, the attacking Meranian force had been beaten back.

Jaina, Beatrix, and ‘Gavin’ returned to a scene of panic and frustration within the castle. People who had been preaching either peace or ‘the long game’ were now frothing at the mouth following the most recent attack, which could very well have been intended as an assault on the city gates. The very vehement public outcry had been the final straw. In the past, the city had weathered antagonistic strikes, but in those days, the main concern had simply been to survive.

Over the last few years, Lodis had been transformed from a city-state on the verge of collapse to a stable and economically flourishing hamlet. Five years ago, a majority of its citizens lived virtually as peasants and transients within its walls. The turnaround since then had resulted in a society where a majority of people were fully literate and able to support themselves and their families. Outside of the capital city, the various villages and smaller town were thriving in a way that didn’t seem possible a few years ago, and this success enduring the rising tide of violence from Merania.

The most recent strike at the capital city had been paired with a violent raid on a slightly fortified town four hours north of Lodis. On the banks of a large river, the town of Bergheim was the centerpiece of the duchy of Berg. Its citizens had received no warning, and by the time news had reached Lodis Castle, the town had been sacked and its citizens either murdered or abducted.

Within a week of the three warriors returning from their off-World adventures, they found themselves pressed into duties that they had hungered for over the last few years. Beatrix and Seventeen-as-Gavin were placed at the heads of marching units, and despite being capable of claiming the same duty for herself, Jaina opted to remain behind the lines. In that capacity, she would serve to coordinate information as it passed from the front and back to the leadership—the King and the other members of his council.

On the evening of what would be their march against Lodis, Seventeen and Beatrix met alone atop one of Lodis’ many sentry towers along her walls. In their absence, the walls of the city had been even further fortified, but this spot had always been an ancillary meeting point for the two. Unknown to anyone who might deign to pry on the conversation of two dukes and councilmembers, this particular tower had a very subtle enchantment placed upon it. Anyone attempting to use some sort of technology to spy on them would be met with either silence or white noise, depending on their method of surveillance.

“Have you read the reports?” Beatrix asked as she passed a document to her companion.

In public, the two individuals in Tower 17 were often seen as at each other’s throats. Others on the Council and most nearby public parties usually assumed that either hated one another or were secretly banging each other. Most of those people didn’t understand that the barbs and scowling were just how they communicated the vast majority of the time.

“Yea, it’s not good.” Seventeen-as-Gavin chirped as he leaned against the wall. “They’re saying we barely have nine thousand men and women ready for this assault? Weren’t you part of that little militia brain trust on the Council last year?”

The redhead rolled her eyes. “They mothballed my initiatives.”

Seventeen shook his head and threw his arms out. “Well why the fuck did you let them do that? Aren’t you some hotshot military genius? Or is this one of those ‘washed out assassin’ traits coming to surface instead?”

“Can you drop that fucking corpse suit you are wearing,” Beatrix growled. “I want to punch your actual face.”

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

“The three counts on that panel all decided not to implement our agreements after you lobbied us to go on that little trip to a comet.”

“So what are you going to do about this?”

“We’ll just put ourselves on the front,” she replied as she turned and stared into the darkness of the night horizon. Perhaps, in her mind, she was parsing and outlining army formations. “The two of us can… the two of us can be the spears. All we need to do is blaze the path. We just have to break the walls, and it’s game over.”

“You’re forgetting.”

She rolled her eyes as she turned to face her companion, who was wearing his normal face. “Forgetting what?”

“The Kirin Tor.”

“The what?”

Seventeen smiled and rolled his eyes. “Do you actually listen when your wife talks to you or are you just staring at her chest the whole time? Those super-powered wizards who jumped us the night of the assassination. The ones that Jaina has been trying to sus out for a few years? She’s still convinced they’re operating within Merania.”

“Our informants never substantiated any of that.”

“So, then she was lying? Making the whole thing up?”

Beatrix failed to answer immediately. Even though she was in full-scale ‘military general’ mode, her gut and heart knew well enough to trust every single word that came out of Jaina’s mouth. “I never said that. I just said it was never substantiated. We can’t be … one hundred percent certain.”

“Says the lady who wasn’t hit in the chest with devil lightning and almost crushed by death magic tentacles.”

“Our personal thoughts don’t factor into this anyway,” Beatrix stressed as pointed behind the man to the cityscape stretched out below. “We’ve been the hawks on the Council for years, and it’s up to us to either make this work or look like complete clowns.”

“What are the estimates on Merania’s military capacity? Those reports made it seem like the place is in civil war or something.”

Beatrix shrugged. “I read the reports from when we were off-World, and it seems like they had become fairly militarized. The Unmaking’s presence in the region pushed that, and they’ve always had designs on Lodis. For all we know, they might be arming teenagers to fight. Our best hope is that the anarchy at the top of their society plays into our favor.”

“Okay, so they out number us by a large enough margin that you don’t want to talk about it.”

“That isn’t—” Beatrix paused as she realized she couldn’t go on with lying to someone who was fairly adept at reading her body language and verbal cues. “It’s not going to be easy. Our armed forces haven’t seen the field of battle in years. Do you know how scared I am that they might rout? If we’re turned away at the gates of Merania… it’s game over. There won’t be any coming back from a loss like that.”

“We have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“I know,” Beatrix groaned. “I just don’t know how to make diamonds from shit.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Seventeen replied as he put a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “We tend to find a way whether we like it or not.”

***​

Four days later.

“This is it,” Seventeen-as-Gavin barked from atop Salsa. The disguised machine-hybrid was pacing on his chocobo at the head of his column. The initial figures that Beatrix had shared were, in hindsight, the optimistic evaluations of their standing forces. Seventeen had a column of about two thousand men-at-arms at his disposal. Beatrix had a similarly sized contingent in the reserves, with an additional thousand units of cavalry at the ready. On the far side of the Merania capital, a much smaller covering force of about five hundred souls also stood at the read. Further behind them, Jaina oversaw the artillery, and given her positioning, she also served as the relay point for much of the Lodian army.

A mile in front of the pacing cyborg, the forests would break apart into the open plains that surrounded Merania. In fifteen minutes, the main artillery would open fire on the town, and at the same time, two additional forces spread out on other parcels of high ground would launch salvos. With any luck, the Meranians would divide their defense under the belief that attacks were coming from three separate directions.

The plan with the battle was to open up with artillery and move quickly to the walls. Seventeen, in his capacity as ‘Gavin’, had strongarmed himself into the role of spearhead despite the ire of Beatrix. When he mentioned to the woman that she was needed to coordinate the attack in the event that his column and he were shattered, she begrudgingly stepped aside.

“We’re advancing in a controlled formation,” he shouted—his voice carried down the column by another of Jaina’s hand-crafted magical enchantments. “The opening salvos should begin by the time we reach the forest’s edge, and at that point… it’s full charge.” He sucked in a deep breath of air and let it out in a controlled fashion as he looked down the column of soldiers. “Visors closed. Our ‘pults are going to hit them from three directions, and Count Orton’s going to lead a feint designed to further distract the defenses.

“I will strike the walls,” Seventeen continued. “If I am struck down before then or otherwise in capacitated, we have six individuals here with the miniaturized bombs designed by Duchess Proudmoore. If those individuals fall… you know your task. We cannot fail in this endeavor. There is no Plan B for Lodis. Duchess Zulenka waits in the wings, but it is on us to breach the city and lay a path for her and the second wave. Are you with me, Soldiers of Lodis?”

“Aye!”

“I said … are you WITH me?!

“AYE!.”

With that, Seventeen gave Salsa a reassuring pat on the side of the head and started the controlled march to the edge of the forest.

***​

Jaina, despite having been used to all of this, still winced when the catapults and trebuchets launched their first volley of explosive ordinance. The crews immediately rushed to reload the weapons as she glanced through her spyglass and watched the first salvo arc toward its intended target.

“Trebuchets… drop your angle by three degrees!” She screamed over the hustle and bustle around here. Without looking back to the crews, she glanced to verify that the other two artillery camps were operable and on time. Their initial salvos likewise crashed near to their intended targets, and she hoped that the crews and their spotters were keen enough to make adjustments. It was important that the Meranian’s anticipated attacks from all three directions…

***​

Beatrix paced, much like her peer had done just minutes earlier.

Overhead, a third salvo of artillery screamed through the sky.

“Reports?” She shouted as she raced over to the command tent. Inside the sprawling structure, three teams were surveying the areas of Merania that were actively under fire. Her main focus was on the blue team, which were overseeing the area where their actual assault would unfold.

“They’re starting their run…” One of the soothsayers whispered as Beatrix scrambled over watch the scene.

***​

Seventeen-as-Gavin was the first to emerge from the tree line. While the soldiers had been hooting and hollering less than twenty minutes ago, they breached from the forest in near silence, save the thundering of their metal boots on the ground.

The only member of the group on a mount, Seventeen raced ahead. He saw the twinkle of lights along the battlements just moments before the first of the searing arrows crashed into the ground around him. He lowered his head and leaned a little forward in the saddle. If push came to shove, he’d be more than happy to absorb an arrow or two for the chocobo, who had served him faithfully for four years. As one armored hand clenched the reigns, his other hand stood naked to the elements. Halfway between a fist and fully relaxed, his digits trembled as he channeled the concentrated sphere of ki. Once he reached the thirty-yard mark, he’d leap from his mount, and he would have roughly ten seconds of airtime to finish channeling and leashing the blast.

“Almost there, Salsa.” He whispered as an arrow scrapped along the back of his plate mail but failed to find purchase.

“KWEH!”

***​

Two years later, at the gates of the Idrisids.

Seventeen-as-Gavin couldn’t believe the state of the city that lay before him. While he had never visited the place in peacetime, he had heard countless stories about its beautiful architecture, glittering obelisks, and elegant religious structures with onion-shaped minarets. He had heard stories about how many of the bricks used to construct the city were formulated in such a way to catch the sun to the point where they seemed to almost glow in the evening sky.

None of that was true about the horror show that lay before the ‘Grand Army’. The capital city of the Idrisids was—quite literally—a festering blight on the surface of Erde. The walls were wreathed in throbbing, overgrown pustules of corruption, and massive, tower-sized tendrils rested ominously along the battlements or through the walls. What buildings could be spotted were likewise transformed into ghastly tableaus that did not belong on this World.

“This whole place will need to be scorched and salted.” Seventeen spoke softly as he turned to look at Beatrix. “There is no…” He shuddered a bit. “There is no saving this place.”

“Nausicaa wasn’t even this bad,” the redhead spoke as the gates of the city that lay a mile in front of them casually swung open. The remnants of the army were sallying forth to defend their hive of corruption.

“Taking the city is going to be harder than beating back what remains of their army.” Seventeen noted.

Beatrix nodded. “This fucking place is one giant monstrosity, but I think the only way is to break our way in and burn it from the inside out. Something tells me that no amount of artillery is going to kill this thing.”

“I think you’re right,” Seventeen replied as he mounted his chocobo and drew the Power Sword from his scabbard. “Race you to the gates?”

The redhead smiled faintly. “Destroy this force. Rip the gates down. Purge the surrounding area. That will be our beachhead.”

“So… yes to the race?”

She rolled her eyes as she leapt onto her mount. “Don’t get stabbed again.”

“Don’t get killed again.”

“Ha-ha. Your wit is so grand, Crown Prince.”

He merely winkled as he lowered his visor and charged.

***​

Two years ago… at the walls of Merania.

It all happened so quickly.

The bolt struck Seventeen in the shoulder of his riding arm. He felt his grasp reflexively weaken, and before he lost everything, he managed to swing up his legs and push away from Salsa, who was already in the starting motions of a crashing forward roll. As he was falling, he got his other hand out, and there was a vibrant burst of light that temporarily drove his column of soldiers to a stop.

Despite wearing plate visors that shielding their eyes from arrows, many on the front lines found themselves looking away as their commander’s light-like powers cut a devastating swath across the battlefield.

Seventeen, who had momentarily lost the air from his lungs upon crashing to the ground, scrambled quickly to his feet. His eyes swung to the walls, which had absorbed the attack as intended, but the damage was less than he had expected. The tumble had broken his concentration, and now he found himself staring at a sundered wall barely large enough for four men to cram their way through.

“Shit.” He replied as the arrows and burning pitch started to belch down from the towers and battlements. “Charges!” He screamed as he turned and was joined by three of his under-officers. They handed over the explosives and quickly hoisted their kite shields to defend themselves and their Crown Prince.

“Only three?”

“It’s bedlam, Sir. Might be a few minutes to sort out where the other three satchels fell.”

“No time,” Seventeen spoke over the thump of arrows and stones against the trio of shields. “I’m going to plant these myself. Do your best to rally the men. Do not let the Meranian’s reinforce the breach.”

“Are you sure, Sir? That sounds like suicide.”

Seventeen rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Even if I blow myself up, it’s nothing new to me.”

They seemed confused, but they had nothing else to say as their Crown Prince ducked the shields and rushed the walls.

With the charges hastily wired together and tucked under his armpit, Seventeen vanished in a swirl of lights. He dropped back into reality within the breach, where he found himself immediately stabbed by a spear. On the other end of the weapon, a Meranian guard seemed a little too pleased with himself.

“I got him!” The young man shouted before noticing the parcel of shimmering objects that Seventeen had chucked behind him. “What wa—”

***​

Beatrix watched the explosion through the crystal ball. She visibly winced and nearly turned away from the display as the rest of Gavin’s column screamed forward a few seconds after the blast brought down a thirty-foot-wide section of the city walls.

“The walls are breached!” She screamed before she was even fully outside of the command tent. “Let’s go!” She added as she swung up onto Sleipnir.

 

[Beatrix III]

The siege had begun. Jaina had been given orders to use incendiary rounds in the mortars to achieve as much damage to the city as they could. Everything had to be gutted. This meant that only archers would be able to provide covering fire for the troops now charging into the remaining enemy force. Stephen-as-Gavin had taken the lead and led his forces at the tip of the spear. The bulk of the army was under his command for this push. Beatrix had been relegated to a different task. The elite troops from the capital had been fifteen hundred winged hussars. Shock calvary capable of tramping over even the heaviest of infantry. As both front lines crashed into each other, the two stewards in charge of Slepinir finished attaching the plate armor designed for warhorses. Beatrix had her longsword, her elven blades, and Rebekah’s blade on her person ready to go. Climbing up on her now armored companion she kicked him in the hindquarters and rode to the side of the column where the calvary was waiting. Serjeant Masters had been given a horse, heavy armor, and a new sword so he could follow his General into battle. Beatrix could rely on him to stay with her and to keep the men going. He had earned a name for himself for how many xenomorph soldiers he had managed to slay. Two hundred and five.

Beatrix trotted into the mustering area for her group of soldiers, hidden to the left of the battlefield on a hill.

“Gentleman. I know most of you know who I am at this point and that you’re on loan from the capital.”

The troops on loan had only heard of how Beatrix was on the battlefield. They had not seen it for themselves, so they were unsure of her as a leader.

“It is my job to keep you safe and make sure that you get to go home to your families.” She stated.

This got a few cheers out of the men.

“Stay with me. Hold the line. Continue the charge until we break through the entire enemy line.”

She pulled on the reigns of Slepinir and drew her blackened longsword.

“Stay. With. Me.” She roared.

The signal had been given. Gavin was ready for the charge.

“Let’s go boys! To glory and victory!” She roared, charging forward on Slepinir.

The men cheered wildly following suit. The ground shook from the sheer number of horses moving to crash into the right flank of the enemy army. By the time whatever enemy commanders realized what was going on, Beatrix had formed the hussars into a wedge and collided with the enemy force.

The winged hussars had arrived.

Beatrix and the Arcadian calvary cut through the enemy like a knife through butter. The enemy turned to form ranks to try and counter the charge, but with Stephen-as-Gavin pushing them from the front it was complete chaos in favor of the Lodian army.

The city was on fire. The continuous clap of artillery letting loose a firestorm upon the castle city was almost deafening among the sounds of the battle. Beatrix and Stephen-as-Gavin drove the enemy army to extinction against their own walls. The Mistress took a flare gun from her belt and fired. A green orb of light shot high above the battlefield.

Back by the bombards the commander gave the order.

“ALL BATTERIES OPEN FIRE!”

The massive artillery pieces exploded giant projectiles forged of solid iron upon the enemy walls with devastating effect. Beatrix and her forces had pierced through the enemy force and circled around to reinforce Stephen-as-Gavin’s push forward.

“On foot!” The blood mage cried.

Her men began to dismount with their weapons and rush into the rear behind Stephen-as-Gavin’s forces. It didn’t take long before the wall was a crumbling mess. The bombards had also managed to take out both towers at the corners of the wall, bringing one giant section of the wall facing them to the ground. As the dust cloud wafted over the Lodian army they charged forward.

They were met with a devastating surprise.

A row of artillery opened fire from behind the wall that had been raised onto a platform. Explosions littered the oncoming Lodian force, ripping men apart and splattering others with blood and viscera. This didn’t deter Beatrix nor Stephen-as-Gavin. They continued their race to the gates. It wasn’t until a well-placed shell exploded at the Mistress’ feet did things look like they were going to turn against them. As the men continued to charge around her, Beatrix found herself on her back with one of her legs missing below the knee and her torso peppered with huge chunks of shrapnel. She gripped the ground to try and stand, blood spilling from her mouth. Masters was the first to her side. He threw his sword and removed his helmet.

“General, oh god. General, can you hear me?” He said, taking her hand, which was scorched with third degree burns, her gloves torn to shreds.

The only thing Beatrix could do was sputter and gasp as she struggled to stand.

“No. Stay still, General. Stop moving.” He pleaded.

Reaching into his belt he pulled out a flare gun and loaded an orange round into it. Firing it into the air, an orange globe of light illuminated the battlefield around them. It only exposed the true nature of Beatrix’s condition to Masters. Half of her leg was missing; her left foot was shredded. It was bad.

Back at the rear of the column Jaina spotted the orange flare. Her heart sank to the very pits of her stomach.

General down.

There was no way to tell who it was, but that didn’t matter. Jaina knew who it was. She materialized her staff and as swiftly as she could vanished into a puff of arcane particles. She reappeared next to Masters, who looked up at the sorceress for guidance. Beatrix was dying. Fast.

“Oh no no no. My love. What has happened?” Jaina said as she dropped to her knees.

Beatrix smiled, exposing her blood-stained teeth, gripping Proudmoores clothing and pulling her close.

“No. Don’t try to speak.”

Beatrix’s blood-stained hand gripped at her wife and pulled her close.

“F-f-forever.”

Tears ran down Jaina’s face as her wife felt limp, her hand falling to the ground. The once bright red eyes of the blood mage going dark completely. They turned their previous shade of green. The Mistress’ hair reverted back to it’s brunette color.

“What!? No! Your blood magic! BEATRIX!” Jaina began to sob.

“Miss Proudmoore, we need to get you off the field.” Masters pulled at the sorceress.

***​

Beatrix awoke with a start, lifting herself to a seated position. She was naked.

Where are my clothes? What is going on?

Taking stock of her surroundings she found herself in a giant gray void. A light fog covered the ground, but other than that. There was nothing. No sound. Nothing. Standing up she took stock of herself. She was still scarred, but she was completely healed.

“Hello, Beatrix. I’ve been expecting you.”

She turned to face the origin of the voice. Standing before her in all his glory was the blood god Hakkar. He was a giant serpent loa with bladed wings, blood dripping from his maw.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Do you really not know? Do you really think that serpent artifact you stumbled upon so many years ago was coincidence? You’re a fool if you do.”

Beatrix thought for a second about the previous few years. The blood magic books. The Imperium mage who spoke with a slight hiss. The serpent drawings and rituals. She swore she had seen his name before.

That’s it!

“So, you’re the Imperium mage. You’re the progenitor of my blood magic?” She mused.

“Very good. My faith in you has been well placed. You’ve become quite a powerful mage. I’m here to offer you a second chance. The Unmaking force you so defiantly fight has taken your powers.” Hakkar explained.

“How is that possible?”

“Darkseid. That childish Arbiter fool!” Hakkar spat out his name.

“He thinks his Unmaking magic forged to unmake and twist anything it touches is superior. He’s a fool and a false god. He’s no Arbiter. I know where he came from, but that isn’t why I’ve summoned you here.”

Hakkar roared.

“I’ve come…to offer you a supremely powerful version of your blood magic. Now that our spirits have communicated with each other, and we’ve met. I can help you.” Hakkar explained.

“Tell me what I must do.” Beatrix replied, determined to get back to Jaina.

“Good. This is why I like you, Beatrix. Always willing to do whatever it takes. I will consume your soul. I will replace it with a piece of my essence. You will be given all my knowledge on various blood magics. You will be empowered and ten times stronger than you were before. Magically and physically.”

Hakkar roared.

“In return I ask that you kill Darkseid. Rid this world of his filth and his childish behavior. Preach my word and my way as a Blood Priestess. You do this…and what’s mine is yours.”

Beatrix pondered the blood gods’ words. She looked at her hands and closed her eyes. She could see Jaina clamoring to wake her up. Master’s was desperately trying to get the sorceress off the field of battle. Her appearance had returned to what it was years ago.

“I accept, but may I ask one thing of you?” She asked.

“You ask more of me? Bold of you. State your question.”

Hakkar roared.

“Safeguard Jaina Proudmoore’s soul, that if she fall in battle I am able to retrieve her and give her life anew.”

“Very well. It is done. She is safe. Are you ready to submit?” Hakkar said.

Beatrix dropped to her knees. The words filled her mind.

“I submit to the will of Hakkar. I promise to serve and to remake the universe in his glory. I will bring ruin to his enemies and victory to his allies. I will serve faithfully and eternally as Blood Priestess Beatrix Zulenka.”

Hakkar roared louder than before. Beatrix was struck with a blinding flash of lightning that ripped her apart, causing her body to erupt into flames and explode violently.

“Serve me well, Priestess.”

***​

Back on the battlefield a giant storm cloud had formed over the battlefield.

“The artillery is proving a challenge!” Stephen-as-Gavin shouted to his men as they climbed over the broken wall and into the city proper.

A giant bolt of red lightning burst forth from the clouds striking the enemy cannons and liquifying them. The platform exploded brilliantly causing the Lodian forces to cheer. Back on the battlefield Beatrix’s body sizzled and bubbled as it dissolved into a pool of blood and soaked into the ground.

“No! Beatrix! NO!” Jaina dropped to her knees sobbing.

Before they knew what was happening a giant bolt of red lightning erupted from the ground where the Mistress had laid throwing Masters and Proudmoore off their feet. Jaina scrambled to stand up and to her surprise there stood her wife.

Beatrix was enshrouded in red magical energy dressed in new armor. She was wearing a billowing black robe with intricate lettering and markings littered all over the fabric that glowed like cinders in the night. Tightly strapped to her torso, forearms, thighs, and shins were blood red plates of an unknown metal. The armor was tailored to her bodily form. Her hands were gauntleted in black leather gloves that were plated on the top of the hand and along the fingers with the same red metal. Beatrix had her hood up, a cloth garment wrapped around her neck covering most of her face. It was the look on her face that gave Jaina chills. The Mistress’ irises were ignited with bright red magical energy. They almost appeared to be smoldering. Particles of burning blood energy littered the air around her, continuously fluttering about like flames. Beatrix turned to face Jaina who ran to hug her wife.

“Masters.” Beatrix said, her tone extremely calm and collected.

“Yes, General?” He replied.

“Escort Miss Proudmoore to the rear of the line and then rejoin me. We will burn this city to the fucking ground. Together.”

Jaina wiped her eyes. Her wife was back and there was more going on that she didn’t understand, but in the middle of a battle she didn’t have a choice but to obey.

“I can teleport back. Masters, stay with my wife. Keep her safe, okay?”

The serjeant nodded. The sorceress returned to her post. Beatrix drew the blade containing Rebekah’s soul. Raising the blade vertically in front of her a white like energy poured from the blade into the blood mage. Beatrix was consuming Rebekah’s soul. After a moment the Mistress touched the blade with her gloved fingers and ignited it with brilliant red magical energy. She had imbued it with Hakkar. Twirling the blade, she held it out, the point of it facing forward. Pushing off the ground, Beatrix entered a powerful and fast sprint that Masters had trouble keeping up with in all his armor. The Mistress leapt over the castle wall and carved her way into the fray. Unmaking enemies poured out of the buildings. Obvious turned citizens and noncombatants. She reached Stephen-as-Gavin as his unit was engaged in combat with remnants of the enemy army. There were a little too many of them.

“About time you got here!” He shouted as Beatrix joined the fray.

“Stand back!” She ordered, sheathing her sword.

Pointing both of her palms forward she grinned beneath her mask as two jets of billowing fire spewed forth from her hands. She pumped up the power of the spell and began to engulf a nearby building.

“Fuck. Be careful with that! You’ll cook our own troops!” Stephen-as-Gavin called.

As soon as the surrounding buildings were on fire, she closed her palms and drew her soul blade. Jaina had moved the mortar crews forward to focus artillery fire on the center and rear of the city. The bombards had run out of ammo having done what they had been designed to do. Beatrix carved her way into the resistance Unmaking troops just as Masters caught up. He joined the fray with his General as they proceeded down the main street. The fighting began to thin out as the bulk of the Unmaking force was routing. As the trio moved down the streets Beatrix would stop to torch buildings and corruption as she saw it.

“The keep is where they’ll likely be keeping the leadership.” Masters shouted over the roar of flames.

“That’s this way.” Beatrix said, as if she knew the layout of the city.

Did she?

All my knowledge will be yours.

With a swift snap kick, Beatrix blew open the keep doors and Stephen-as-Gavin, her, and Masters rushed inside. Almost immediately they were assailed by a volley of arrows. Stephen was able to take cover behind a wall, any arrow that dared approach Beatrix was incinerated in the magic surrounding her, and Masters managed to take two. He got hit in the shoulder and just below the waist on his left leg.

“General, not looking too good over here.” He said as he slumped against the wall he was behind.

Beatrix moved to his side and wrapped her fingers around the arrow in his shoulder.

“No. Don’t remove it. I’ll bleed out. Just…finish this General. Then get me back to a hospital bed.”

Beatrix nodded before looking back to Stephen-as-Gavin. Unsheathing a fan of knives from the holder on her lower back, Beatrix fanned them out striking the unmaking archers and dropping them. Stephen exited his cover and moved into the room with his blood mage companion. Masters managed to get to his feet and shut the keep doors behind them. They were standing in the giant throne room of the Idrisid capital.

Atop the throne sat the leader of the Unmaking forces.

“You’ve think you’ve won? Arcadia will burn still!” He threw his hand forward and unleashed a stream of black magicks at Stephen-as-Gavin.

Beatrix side stepped in front of her compatriot and extended one of her hands. The Unmaking magic harmlessly collided with a red translucent barrier of magic that had been conjured by the Mistress, her eyes burning brilliantly with renewed power.

“You’re not the only one with ranged abilities, asshole.” Stephen-as-Gavin said as he materialized an orb of Ki in his left hand and lobbed it at the leader standing by the throne.

The enemy commander went to deflect the attack but found that instead his arm had been severed. The orb collided with the cultist leader’s head and disintegrated it. Almost immediately the remaining remnant of Unmaking resistance began to rout and retreat from the city and the battlefield. The shouts and cries of thrilled soldiers rang throughout the city as the Lodian forces celebrated their victory.

“New armor. New powers. Did you level up or something?” Stephen asked, sheathing his sword.

“Something like that.” Beatrix replied, doing the same.

Masters!

Beatrix’s intimidating presence receded until most of the magic was gone from around her. What remained were her burning red irises. She rushed over to Masters who had stumbled to the ground.

“Alright, buddy. Let’s get you to a hospital tent, shall we?” The Mistress said, wrapping his arm around her neck and lifting him up.

“What’s the plan for cleansing the city?” Stephen-as-Gavin asked as they made their way out into the corrupted streets that were now filled with soldiers finishing off downed enemy resistance and carrying the wounded back to the line.

“Jaina came up with a solution for that. Despite our history with them, we’ll deploy five mana bombs at different sections of the city. If we set them off at the same time it should vaporize the entire city and every piece of corruption.” Beatrix explained as she helped Masters down the steps.

“This time it won’t cost you your relationship.” Stephen jabbed.

“No. No it won’t.” The Mistress retorted.

 

[Android XVII]

Previously on Friends (Originally broadcast: Late December 2022) – The One with the Siege of Merania, Part 2

He wasn’t quite certain how long the blast had knocked him unconscious.

All he knew was that he awoke to the realization that the battle had advanced passed him.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he felt the unpleasant, coppery taste of blood among his teeth and gums. He lifted his head and saw that the bottom half of his body was buried beneath a pile of rubble. He tried to move his legs, and when that didn’t work, he opted to teleport himself a few feet back. When he rematerialized—still on the ground—he was immediately assailed by the pain radiating from his lower limbs. While his legs were both intact, the avalanche of debris had shredded the leather components of his breeches, and his boots were crushed, which left him with nervous prospects for his feet and toes.

“Boots,” he muttered as he orbed the footwear off to reveal that he’d likely be in a walking boot once the adrenaline ran its course.

With his feet garbed only in bloodied socks, Seventeen-as-Gavin located the Power Sword among the collapse and armed himself. He had barely moved forward when he heard the literal thunderclap from somewhere within the city. A second later, he grimaced as a strong burst of wind washed over him.

“The fuck is that?”

After shedding the metal greaves from his pants, the man rushed toward the sound of the fighting. He had barely made it four blocks when he saw a literal wave of ice washing toward him. Tossing up his ki barrier, he grimaced inside of it, because even though is preserved him, he still experienced the sudden drop in temperature.

Dropping the shield, Seventeen floated up off the ground and burst forward. With a manic speed he hadn’t used much in the last few years, he erupted through the air as an erratic blue-white comet of searing light. Around the cyborg, the hyper-chilled surroundings quickly melted and even scorched as sensed something and took a hard right literally through a pair of stone structures. As he erupted out onto the parallel street, he immediately crashed into the person poised above a partially frozen Beatrix.

The void mage snarled for a brief moment before Seventeen punched him in the center of the face. Instead of shattering brain and bone, the impact drove the magus through a nearby carriage and into an abandoned tavern.

Turning to look at Beatrix, Seventeen found her staring at something behind him. “More. Of them.” She rasped through chattering teeth just as her companion spun to brace himself against a belching blast of violet flames. The fire stung, but the concussive burst was what sent the wiry cyborg crashing down to the still partially frozen streets. He rolled a beat later and promptly winced when the ground next to him erupted upward as a giant spike of congealed earth and stone.

With the spike still descending back into the earth, its intended target scrambled to his feet and called the Power Sword into his hand. He twisted his body and used the kaitchin blade to intercept an oncoming battle stave. This second magus snarled as he took a step forward and kicked at Seventeen.

Without wasting a moment, Seventeen reflexively released his grip on the sword, prompting the staff and its user to jerked forward—a fleeting, solitary moment of unbalance heightened by the lack of two feet on the ground. The cyborg smiled as he clenched a sphere of ki in his hand, and a beat later, the still startled mage winced as the ki saber bore a diagonal gap up through his chest cavity.

“You should have stuck to magic,” the machine-hybrid grunted as he wrenched the compressed cylinder of ki up through one of his foe’s shoulders. There was a spray of partially cauterized blood as the magus collapsed backward into a convulsing heap.

“A little help!” A voice barked at Seventeen as he pulled himself away from the rapidly dying wizard. Beatrix, despite her best efforts, still had one of her legs encased in ice. “Or would you like to keep thinking up one liners?”

“Keep that up, and I’ll leave you in there.”

Even though he was joking, the two nearby stone structures suddenly exploded, and Seventeen was forced to stick to his threats as he went airborne to avoid the crossfire of charred bricks. The man didn’t bother to look down as he continued up into the sky, because he could hear the rumble as it followed him up above the rooftops. Staring up into the clouds, he grimaced as he quickly inverted himself and released a burst of ki down at the twisting, serpentine column of rubble pursuing him. The blast shore away a chunk of the animated rubble, but it did nothing to stop the rest, which crashed around him.

A curse slipped from the cyborg’s maw as he lifted his forearms to shield his eyes from the stone, earth, and brick scraping and grinding against his skin.

Down on the ground below, an irate Beatrix watched as her ally flew high into the sky and was promptly brought to a stop by what was now a cloud of debris that entombed him. On a nearby rooftop, she could spot the void mage behind the onslaught, but at this angle, she wouldn’t be able to get a clear shot, even if she had a projectile at her disposal. Glancing down to her free leg, the blood magus kicked viciously at its frozen twin, but the magical ice would not yield. After a few moments, she let out a scream and sag back down to the ground.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the discarded heavy weapon of a soldier. Reaching out her hand, she managed to get her fingertips around the handle and drag it over to her. It was a thick sword, almost more like a machete than a dueling weapon. Its owner likely used this from horseback, if anything.

She started at the heavy blade for a few moments, then glanced at her trapped leg, and then back up to her suffering ally.

“Fuck it,” she muttered as she hoisted the heavy weapon over her head and brought it crashing down onto the skin just above her frozen ankle and foot. The first blow crashed through flesh, muscle, and cracked partially through her tibia.

“Mooother FUCK!” The blood mage screamed as she twisted the weapon free, lifted it, and brought it slicing through her trapped limb on her second attempt. Pulling away from the severed limb, Beatrix used the heavy blade as a crutch to help shove herself into a fully vertical position. Her vision was a bit blurred around the edges, and while she would need a stiff drink after this, the blood magus willed herself forward.

Four stories above the war-torn streets of Merania, the Kirin Tor mage grinned as he continued to torment his captured quarry. The smug magician didn’t lose his smirk until the blood-based spear tore through the back of his ribcage and out his chest.

“Get fucked,” Beatrix hissed into the man’s ear as she shoved him off the rooftop and looked up into the sky. With the mage dead, her ally was free, but that also meant there was now about half a ton of debris free-falling back down to the earth, with Beatrix at ground zero.

The woman could merely curse beneath her breath as she half-stumbled, half-ran to the side of the building. Slinging herself over the edge, she dropped down and was barely able to slip in through an open window before the block was partially buried under an avalanche of debris.

***​

Three hours later, at the center of town …

Beatrix and Seventeen-as-Gavin found themselves on the outsides of Merania’s most fortified location. After their run-in with the mages, the pair had managed to find one another and mentally regroup. With her blood magic, Beatrix had managed to generated something close enough to a foot to let her walk and move well enough to defend herself. The avalanche had rendered it impossible to recover her lost foot, but she assured her partner that she’d just fix the problem later.

With the void mages seemingly limited to the small group the two had encountered, they had been able to quickly rendezvous with their units. Fortunately for the pair, the had competent serjeants who had kept up the pace of fighting even after rumors had started to spread that the duke and duchess were slain. The reappearance of the two, coupled with the capture of the other gates by auxiliary forces under Jaina’s long-distance instructions, was the moral boost that the straining Lodian army needed to continue its push into the heart of the city.

The fight toward the keep had been a slog. A final void mage had surfaced, and that distraction had meant that the army regulars had to bear the brunt of that push. By the time Beatrix and Seventeen had downed the mage, they could already hear the celebratory hoots and hollers from two blocks away.

Now, the two leaders stood before a pair of sturdy wooden doors. In peacetime, the towering wood and iron bulwarks would likely be seen as a symbol of security in the event of unrest, but whatever solace they may have provided had been robbed at some point prior to the assault. In fact, the doors to the stronghold looked as if they had nearly been blown off their massive hinges.

“Part of the coup?” Seventeen asked as he turned to the group of serjeants and officers who had joined the two on this final push into the heart of the castle complex. “Work to secure the rest of this facility. Anyone who bears the crest of the Meranian royalty is to be detained, and anyone who fights back is to be cut down. Once these tasks are done, the focus will be on recovery of the fallen and helping civilians who comply. If I hear a single fucking report about a murder or something worse, I will personally be your executioner.”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” The crowd boomed as they dispersed to their units and platoons scattered in the blocks near the castle.

“You think that last part was necessary?” Beatrix muttered without turning her attention from the state of the doors.

“Merania has been something of a bogeyman to Lodis for a generation. I didn’t want anyone with… looser morals to get any fancy ideas about vengeance or whatever.”

The blood mage nodded as she lifted a finger to point out a detail she’d spotted. “Scorch marks.”

Seventeen quickly came to the same conclusion. “Kirin Tor, we have to imagine.”

Another nod.

“Place smells of death, despair, and …”

“The Void.” Seventeen finished. Jaina had never figured it out, but the void magic as it was practiced here seemed to have a caustic effect on the environment that often resulted in a stench not unlike sulfur or brimstone.

With a scowl, the cyborg stepped passed his companion, drew his sword, and passed over into the stronghold. Mostly in unison, the two wove their way through a small network of corridors before these winding tunnels spilled out into the central landmark of this complex. The room before them would have normally served as a final bastion for the royal family and other important figures in Meranian in the event of a siege of some sort of turmoil.

“It’s a fucking butcher shop,” Beatrix muttered as the two soaked in the ghastly tableau laid out before them. There had to be upwards of fifty corpses strewn across a space that had to be less than a thousand square feet. Within that space, it looked as if nearly every member of Meranian’s elite had been murdered with something bordering on the utmost prejudice. Pieces of corpses had been impaled into the walls, and other bodies looked as if they had been turned inside out. On the far side of the room, the king of Merania had been crucified upside down above the room’s throne.

“This is pretty unsettling,” Beatrix muttered as she turned and shared a look with an equally displeased Seventeen. “And that’s coming from me.”

“Same.” He spoke softly. “And you know how many jaws I’ve ripped out in my lifetime.”

“Yes, you’ve shared that story about fifteen times too many for Jaina’s sake.”

“Oh, Little J doesn’t care… she’s married to someone who literally,” Seventeen gestured to the small-scale genocide that lay before them. “Literally this.”

“If I was going to murder this many people,” she muttered. “I’m not doing it like this. I—” she caught herself and proceeded to punch the man in the shoulder. “Asshole.”

Seventeen smiled ever so slightly without pulling his attention away from the horror. “What do you think happened, though? Conflict of interest? This doesn’t look like a simple palace coup.”

“There’s was only a handful of those mages here,” Beatrix whispered. “Perhaps money became an issue? Assassins and mercenaries do dislike when their bills aren’t paid.”

“Again… you would know.”

She ignored the sass, opting instead to reach out her hands and squeeze her eyes closed. As Seventeen watched in silence, Beatrix collected all the various bodies and pieces of corpses and laid them out as gently as she could. While bodies still filled nearly half the room, they at least weren’t scattered everywhere or torn to bits and strewn around.

“That was a kind thing you did.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’ll make it easier for the cleanup crew.” The response didn’t sound entirely genuine on the part of the blood mage.

“Softy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she retorted as she punched him once again in the shoulder.

“Congratulations, by the way.”

She furrowed her brow as they finally turned away from the garish scene. “For what?”

“We won,” he said with a genuine smile. “We still probably have rogue mages out there who may or may not want to murder us, but we don’t have to worry about this city trying to kill us.”

Beatrix smiled. “Feels almost bittersweet.”

“Waxing nostalgic on me?”

“Again. Shut the fuck up.” She rolled her eyes as she turned from the corpses. “It just feels strange to stand here as a conquering hero. Six years ago, we stumbled into the Meranian army and made the decision to defy them. We just as easily could have made another choice.”

“If you think hard enough,” Seventeen muttered. “I’m sure you could create a dozen different permutations of the last few years. Hell, for all we know, there’s some version of us our there that are Meranian warlords or working for some big ass evil empire.”

“That second one sounds a bit farfetched.”

Seventeen shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, I was evil once already. You were a mercenary for hire that murders people with blood devil magic… it’s not too crazy to imagine.”

Beatrix pursed her lips and mulled the thought for a moment. Ultimately, she didn’t respond, and the pair made their way out from the bastion. Once back to the castle proper, they could rendezvous with Jaina and properly begin the after-actions of the siege.

***​

Previously on Friends (Original Broadcast: February 2022) …

Seventeen-as-Gavin smiled as the pair processed down the aisle.

Four years ago, Seventeen had served to walk both women down the aisle at their lavish ceremony (one of the benefits of teleportation).

Three years ago, the three of them had been here in the aftermath of the ‘purge of Lodis’, and they had received titles and honors befitting the saviors that they supposedly were in the eyes of the king and the citizenry of the city-state.

Now the cyborg was once again witnessing another celebration in the chapel of Lodis. This space, once the chapel for the church that served as the first structure in the city (before evolving into the keep and then castle), was much more glib and fabulous than it had been on either of those previous occasions.

Back in those days, the mood in the city had been celebratory but tepid. Even after the purges, the threat of Merania and the Idrisids still hung like black clouds on every horizon. Months after their ennobling, the three would be exposed to the Unmaking, which continue to linger in the minds of the elite.

Yet, this was a time to celebrate.

Merania’s role as the bogeyman of Lodis was a memory. With the royal family of the rival city-state extinct due to the civil war (a cover for what was likely just retribution from unpaid mercenaries) that had consumed the town, there was a dire need for leadership at all levels of society.

Into that void, King Reynard had placed the former Duchess Jaina Proudmoore as his vicereine. The ‘brains’ of the trio, the sorcerous was the best person for the job, and ever since the final stages of the war had started, the majority of the Council had stopped their years of rattling sabers and mostly fallen in line. After all, most of them were embarrassed that they hadn’t ‘truly recognized’ the dangers of letting Merania fester for so long. Reports were still coming in about how the royal court had become a corrupt police state in the years after they had failed to breach the walls of Lodis.

Alongside her smiling wife, Beatrix carried herself in the same stoic fashion she always did, but a keen observer could spot the slight upturn in the corner of her mouth and the glimmer in her eyes. The king had merged the landholdings of the married couple—something the rest of the council had blocked years prior. Years ago, the other council members had protested this ‘centralization’, but the tune of them had shifted on this matter as well, even if Seventeen assumed there had been some back room dealings.

Beatrix was now ‘Grand Duchess Zulenka of the Northern Marches’ as part of these ceremonial transactions. Her wife shared the same title, but for Jaina, it would be secondary to her primary title of ‘Vicereine of Merania’.

From his chair, ‘Crown Prince Gavin Delhomme-Juuanangou’ clapped and watched. In his heart, he knew that this mood of jubilation wouldn’t last forever. There would be a grace period of a few months to allow Jaina to start the process of ‘reforming’ order and prosperity in Merania, and then the three would start to formalize a trip to Arcadia. On the surface, that meeting would be ceremonial… something to do with recognize the non-existent Empire of Arcadia as part of King Reynard assuming the throne of Merania. Seventeen assumed he should care, but he figured that Jaina would fill him in on the ride.

Loop back to the start of the thread to read about said ‘ride to Arcadia’ and the events that followed later in that year.

***​

Original Broadcast Date (August 2023) – ‘The One after the Fall of the Idrisids’

Seventeen’s bloodshot eyes snapped open.

He was bathed in a murky darkness. Almost immediately, he felt fresh waves of pain seethe across his skull. Clamping his eyelids closed, he tried to summon some recollection of the night before into his mind. Everything there was hazy, but he knew that last night had been the celebrations around the victory over the Idrisids. Unlike many of the prior celebrations, this one had been particularly… celebratory. After all, the mood had not been great in the weeks leading up to the march on the Unmade city, and while Beatrix’s quick thinking had helped save lives, the city had still needed to be cleared in an almost block-by-block bout of urban warfare.

When the last of the city had been cleansed—quite literally, by sword and flame—the Idrisids had been brought down by a succession of strategically placed mana bombs. In a few more months, the plan was to found a new city a few miles away and essentially start anew, under the flag of Lodis. Already since the fall of the corrupted city-state, there had been streams of people arriving at the gates of Lodis who attested to once residing in the Idrisids. It was perhaps less than two hundred people, but those families had seen the writing on the wall and been able to escape before their friends and the city at large had been wholly Unmade.

The end of fighting had been marked by another celebration in the church hall of Lodis.

And then drinking.

Lots of drinking.

Seventeen rubbed his temples as he opened his eyes once again to the dark of the unknown room. Lifting a palm up to his face, he conjured a marble-sized sphere of ki and scanned his surroundings. It didn’t take long for him to notice that he was actually lying in a bed, although he couldn’t spot sheets or blankets. To his left, a …

Shit.

Princess Marie Louisa was King Reynard’s youngest daughter, and while she was in her mid-twenties, the girl had focused on a career at the court rather than courtship itself.

Why is she naked?

Seventeen looked down at himself.

Shit. Why am I naked.

With his free hand, the cyborg gentle lifted away one of the woman’s arms that was draped across his chest. Sliding silently out of the bed, he had managed to take two steps when he bumped into something. In an instant, there was a hand at his throat as a second source of red light shone in his face for a fleeting second.

“Stephen, what the fuck?” Beatrix rasped as she let go of him and rubbed her eyes. “Why are you in our estate room?”

The cyborg saw the tangled form of Jaina Proudmoore at the end of the princess’ oversized bed and gestured toward her.

“Not your room.”

Beatrix, still trying to blink and rub away the confusion, suddenly glanced down and frowned. “Why can I see you penis?”

“Well why are your tiddies hanging out.” He couldn’t help himself—the unhelpful sass was automatic at this point.

With that, they both tried to cover themselves as Beatrix leaned over and saw the extra person in the room. “Is that Prin—”

Seventeen pressed a finger against the blood magus’ lips.

“We will never speak of this. I don’t remember, and I don’t want to remember any of this. Agreed?”

She nodded before he dropped his finger. “Agreed and then some.”

“Grab your wife and get out of her before we’re all discovered in here.” Seventeen whispered. “And, uh, I’ll see you all at breakfast or some shit.”

 

[Beatrix III]

The war was finally fucking over. It had been three months since the siege of the Idrisid capital and its subsequent obliteration. All the levies had been returned to their homes and the troops on loan from the capital had marched onward back to their masters. This was the conclusion of Beatrix’s fifth war in her lifetime. She had become more of a soldier nowadays than an assassin or some sellsword. The Mistress had ascended to a new seat of power on the Idrisid battlefield. She had obtained blood magic that even the Unmaking couldn’t undo. She was now a priestess of Hakkar. A faithful servant to a blood god bent on restoring his presence in the Crossroads. The god had mentioned allies. Beatrix pondered at whom or what those might be. It didn’t matter. With her deity’s guidance she had obtained the Book of the Dead from the library of the Idrisid capital before its destruction, along with various tomes and historic texts about the city itself. The redhead made her way down into the storage cellar of the living quarters they had been calling home. She inserted a thick iron key into the door of one of the many rooms and unlocked it. Pushing open the heavy oak door, Beatrix stepped inside and closed it behind her.

Moving to a large trunk covered in dust, the priestess inserted a key from around her neck and unlocked it. The container creaked open, a musty smell washing over her senses. The Mistress rummaged through the various items until she found a stack of leather-bound journals. Closing the trunk, she locked it and made her way to the center of the room. Setting down the texts, Beatrix withdrew the Book of the Dead from within her bag and flipped through the blood-stained pages. Stopping on a dual page incantation she closed her eyes and recited the passage.

““Tátra, amistróbin, hazárta. Tantír, manov, mansízon hazánzobar. Sumunda ropsa, darhis haikur dunsderódza. Kanda, kanda, kanda.”

Almost immediately the blood-soaked text began to glow. Translucent red energy began to pour from the book into Beatrix. She opened her eyes, her irises ignited with a blood red glow. It didn’t take long before the magic began to alter her body. The clothing she was wearing melted away as a bright red circle appeared on the floor beneath her feet. The Mistress felt years of wear and tear on her joints and muscles slowly dissipate. Previously healed broken bones were made anew with loud sickening cracks. Her muscles grew ever so slightly, becoming more defined. The next part made Beatrix laugh. Hakkar must have wanted his priestess’ to be desirable, because the redhead felt her butt grow and her bosom fill out at least one cup size further than it was before. The sickening cracks of bone being mended finally ended and with a brilliant flash of red light the Mistress was thrown from her feet against the door.

Fuck.

When she managed to stand, Beatrix found that she was once again wearing the clothes she had come in with. The book lay on the floor open to the page that had once contained an incantation written in blood. Now the pages were nothing but blank parchment. The power having been absorbed. The newly crowned priestess gathered herself and the journals she had come down to acquire and made her way back upstairs.

***​

Beatrix opened the door to her and Jaina’s private suite and slipped inside. Closing the door behind her she tossed her acquired texts on the table in the back of the room and began to strip off her outer clothing. The room was cool, the candles Jaina had lit were nearing the end of their life.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Jaina asked from behind her book.

She was in her nightgown sitting under the covers of their bed reading a book about Mesa Roja and its various factions.

“I did, yes. My records from my time in the Arcadian military. Why did you want these?”

“You never talk about your service. I figured I’d just read about it in your journals.” Jaina explained.

Beatrix chuckled. “I was apparently much smarter in my youth. I kept records of most of my actions. I even have my discharge papers.”

The Mistress tossed a thick folded piece of parchment to her wife as she unbuttoned her shirt. Jaina unfolded the document and analyzed it.

“You were sixteen when you joined? I never knew that.” Jaina said looking up at her wife.

Returning her gaze to the papers she continued, “Serv-“ She stopped again. “Did your boobs get bigger?”

Beatrix bit the inside of her lip. Jaina was nothing if not observant. It was bound to come out.

“Yeah…sooooo…apparently the Book of the Dead was a segment of Hakkar’s power that was meant to bolster the physical appearance of the one who used it.”

Beatrix was already out of her shirt and sliding her pants down her legs.

“So what you’re telling me is that this new deity you must obey and worship decided to give you new boobs…” Jaina lowered her gaze to her lovers butt. “And a bigger ass?”

Beatrix pursed her lips. “From what I can gather…Priestess’ of Hakkar are supposed to be desirable women who remain chaste. Giving their soul and body to the blood god. I, however, have received an altered deal. I’m more of a warrior priestess than a religious one.”

“But you still got the “upgrades’”” Jaina used air quotes.

Beatrix cleared her throat. “Correct. I see it as a victory for you though!”

“Uh huh.” Jaina crossed her arms.

“Are you really going to complain that your wife now has bigger titties and a bigger ass? Your boobs are bigger even still and don’t get started on your ass.”

Jaina uncrossed her arms and blushed. “Y-yes. You are correct. You’re even hotter than you were. A phrase I never thought I’d ever utter in my life.”

Beatrix laughed. “Back to the point at hand…I served five years in the royal military. You already know I met…well I met the dead Gavin.”

“Were you two ever…close?” Jaina asked, continuing to read her discharge papers.

“You mean did we ever fuck? No. The closest we ever got was the Battle of Stratholme. Both of our forces got cut off and obliterated. We managed to fight our way into the burning city and hide. We took refuge in a larder below a tavern while the entire place burned down around us. He kissed me first and we rolled around a bit, but ultimately decided that it was best we keep our relationship professional.”

Jaina folded the papers back up and put them aside on the bed. Beatrix was finally naked. She went to walk over to her side of the bed, but Jaina’s new question stopped her short.

“Tell me about the Battle of Cairn. That would have been year three and war number two.”

“You’re really interested in my past, aren’t you?” Beatrix said with a laugh.

Jaina smiled. “I’ve told you about mine. I’d like to know more about the woman I love and where she came from. You’re a closed book you know. If I don’t ask you about something, you’ll never tell me.”

“Point taken. Let’s see here. It should be this journal.” The Mistress said, carrying it over to the bed.

She climbed in under the covers and propped herself up against the back of the headrest and flipped open the leather-bound text. She moved through page after page until stopping short on a particular dense set of paragraphs.

“Day forty-three. The Kingdom of Xena had declared war just days prior. The men don’t know when we’ll be marching out. I only hope it’s soon. We’re itching for a fight. Those Xenian bastards killed our troops with their opening skirmish. We’ll get them next time.” Beatrix read aloud.

She turned the page.

“Day fifty-five. The counterattack was a pyrrhic victory. Our forces took the field, but our losses were too great to maintain our march forward. I nearly lost my arm yesterday. It’s been sewn up and patched with magicks, but the doctors say I’m in for a wicked scar. Nothing I’m not used to really.” Beatrix continued.

The Mistress closed the book and looked over at her wife. A sudden urge had overwhelmed her. She crawled her way to the sorceress’ side of the bed, taking her book and throwing it to the floor.

“What are you-“ Jaina started just before Beatrix’s lips were pressed against hers.

They kissed passionately, the redheads’ hands moving all along Jaina’s body, teasing her.

“Take me…” The sorceress whispered into her lover’s ear.

Beatrix did as she was told.