Chapter 392

Neia's order for her warriors to bring out the paralyzed Black Scripture members was the impetus for the most farcical moment of her life. When Cenna emerged first he wore no smile of relief, only a faint scowl. "I could have talked them out. There was no need to take them like this."

Neia gave an apologetic nod to her lover, "I know you believe that, but I spent my whole life learning to tell when people were angry. When the winds changed and things got dangerous," she put her hand on his bicep and tightened her claws against his skin, "I felt a difference there, it's not something I could explain, but please, trust me." Neia blinked her vertical slit eyes of icy blue up at him, her dragonid pupils wide with longing, her breath caught as if she feared rebuke…

Cenna's heart… and scowl, melted above the eyes of the Queen of Frost. Whatever she'd done, he couldn't mistrust her motives, he put his left hand over the one of hers that held his bicep. "You make it hard to argue, lady." He forced a smirk that let her body relax the tight held tension at last, just as the first of his comrades were carried out.

The great and mighty men and women of renown, clad in gear ripped from the pages of art and legend alike, rippling muscles, heavy armor, and mighty weapons still clutched or dangling in hand where it had been held, their bodies frozen as they had been when the spell was cast… now went from heroes of humanity to oversized child's dolls.

They were hauled out by two demihumans each, their eyes twitched, and despite being frozen, Neia could see the impulse to violence and resistance was strong in each of them. Even without moving pupils, they still kept their spirits, but were a mockery of their former strength.

"So… what now?" Cenna asked, he tried not to look behind him as his comrades were bound with chains of enchanted adamantite that was beyond anyone whose strength was lesser than his own. The chains rattled as demihumans surrounded the frozen, stiff forms of humanity's brightest lights, he tried not to look, keeping them at his back. But their eyes, unmoving, were no less accusing, at least not to him.

"Now?" She dropped her hand away from his arm and rubbed one horn of her head, "I-I try to help. We have to confine them, but I'll make it comfortable. The Allfather has a seemingly limitless supply of adamantite, and with the runecraft plate, I have a space that can hold them. We do have to take their equipment and armor… but I'll give them comfortable clothing, see them fed, and we can try to save them."

"Save them?" Cenna asked, a faint tremor wound its way over his heart.

Neia looked past her lover, to her new prisoners, and spoke loud enough for them to hear even over the bustling of various demihumans, "From themselves. Look what happened now. One Guardian, one spell, and humanity's best are reduced to children's dolls. They can't win, if they fight, they'll die. If even one of them goes back home still convinced that they can win, they'll rally the Theocracy to fight, and I don't want another stupid war. If we can convince them to join you, though? Maybe. And then my wedding gift will be peace among nations."

"You're thinking about work again, Neia." Cenna rebuked her lightly, but it was the sort of rebuke she liked, and she flashed a broad, fang filled smile up at him. "Thank you for the compliment. Now let's get them back to the palace, get them bathed, fed, and given adequate rooms suitable for humanity's finest, and our honored guests." Neia emphasized the final word, and the demihumans who were rapidly finishing up the task of securing the prisoners began to move slower and with more care to the defenseless frozen champions.

Though if there were any gratitude among the captives for her evident and overwhelming mercy, Neia doubted it.

"I consider my husband to already be a god. Do you really think this book is telling us the truth?" Albedo asked, laying her hand over the cover after she closed it.

Calca brushed back her snow white hair and paced away from Albedo for a moment, her flowing clothing graced the floor without a noise and she said, "I can't know for sure. But this treasure of the Six has been here since the beginning. If they are anything like the ancient ones who traveled the long river, or the mysterious 'friends' I hear so much about, even if it only means they were from the same place, they might have the same knowledge." Calca answered, "Giving birth to his son nearly killed me, and I'm one of the strongest magic casters in the Kingdom. To this day," Calca's hand drifted unthinkingly toward the belly where her son once grew, "I think about why I lived. There are a few godkin in the Slane Theocracy, but out of all of them, I know for a fact that no normal woman except for Zesshi's mother, has ever survived to give birth to one who awakened their power."

"What about it?" Albedo asked and pursed her lips tight, her hand never leaving the cover of the book.

"My near death, look at me." Calca whirled around to face the Queen of the Kingdom of Nazarick, the Holy Queen's hand ran through her white strands, "My hair was once as gold as any coin of the purest make, and now it's white as snow. I can never have another child, and I can only wonder how many years I lost from my life. Having him drained me more than I knew… even my husband doesn't know this. I tell you this, woman to woman, our old gods died. They aged and passed away except for the undead. If they can die, our husband can die. So even if he is that sort of God, time is against him. That book," she leveled her finger at the text as if it were a witness being accused, "may have given us the secret to preserving him."

Albedo's fingers tensed over it, the human made a solid point. "Fine, assume you're right. Then there are two options. Kill enough in a grand war that we can elevate him to deification in the eyes of this world's laws. Or convince enough people to worship him that the world bends to their collective will."

"The answer is obvious of course." Calca answered.

"But how best to kill that many? And where to get them?" Albedo asked the most practical question in the world, and then took a sip of tea while she thought over the answer for herself.

Calca sighed and sat down in front of the beautiful monster, again reminded how different the woman was from herself. "No, I meant conversion. The living count more than the dead, and the living can easily reproduce more. I'll draw up the proposal today, and send it out to all the nations of the region. After that, we'll just see what happens." Calca said and clapped her hands together in finality with a little smile that bordered on 'playful' tracing over her lips.

"You are a very… useful human." Albedo said, giving out her highest praise to the Holy Queen, who inclined her head in silent gratitude when their time at tea came to an end.