The Chronicles of Dwynveia – A Slimeling LitRPG

Bishop Warnyq

What the fuck? He thought upon entering the Viscount’s audience chamber, surrounded by six Temple Dragoons.

Instead of Wilhum or his abyssspawn of a wife the thrones were occupied by a scrawny blonde kid and a Kitsune with cloudy hair sitting sideways on the throne and reading a book.

Did nobody teach her manners?

Still… her flippant attitude only deepened the sense of unease the room made him feel. Five guards were standing under each of the side walls. Likewise, the thrones were guarded. Next to the Kitsune stood a blue-haired Demonborn girl, a Sanguine woman without wings and a mask and a white-haired girl with black-and-yellow eyes, while next to the boy there were a blue-skinned elf with a lure, a red-haired and silver-haired humans and the spitting image of Lady Malika.

Are those heroes of Ror-Bhyk?

There were also three men waiting behind the throne, Baerniel Zi-Vexhin, an Elf and a Harpy.

‘Bishop Artam Warnyq and his escort,’ the Viscount’s majordomo announced, causing the Kitsune to straighten up.

‘My Lord,’ the Bishop immediately addressed the kid, ‘may I inq-’

The Kitsune snapped her fingers.

‘Wrong choice, Bishop Warnyq,’ she said with grim satisfaction. ‘Kart?’

‘May I introduce,’ Kartyen continued as if nothing had happened, ‘Viscount Lilyth of House Geist and her consort Dainyir.’

‘Yo!’ The Kitsune smiled.

Lilyth

Watching the utter befuddlement on the Bishop’s face made my investiture almost worth it. Of course, the whole farce was a complete violation of protocol, but that was the point. I wanted to keep the old fart as uneasy as possible.

The man was nearly seventy by the looks of it, wrinkle-faced and covered in liver spots. Unlike the Inquisitors with their impractical white-and-gold robes, the Bishop was wearing red-and-gold ones, which were probably even more expensive given the red dye likely costing a fortune.

Some things are the same no matter where you go, it seems.

Dainyir, having finished his examination of the Bishop's party, leaned over to me and whispered:

‘Second man on the right.’

I nodded and looked at the Dragoon he pointed out - a tall and brutish, maybe fortyish, black-haired man with an eyepatch over his left eye.

‘What is the meaning of this?!’ the Bishop shouted, having regained his voice. ‘Where is Viscount von Caiver?’

‘In his chambers,’ I replied. ‘Likely feeling sorry for himself. Anyway…’

The Bishop began to protest, but I ignored him and turned to Sergeant Milten.

‘Could you please disarm our guests and strip them down to their underclothes?’

‘Aye aye, my Lady,’ the guard replied

Several of the Dragoons immediately drew their swords.

‘Phosi,’ I said with an even tone.

The Sconryoll made a predatory smile, half-turned liquid and leapt towards my visitors quickly surrounding them with a ring of acid.

‘I would comply if you value your lives, morsels,’ she rasped. Though, personally, I will be happy if you resist. I am hungry.’

Half the Dragoons immediately threw their swords to the ground. The rest soon followed.

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I apologise for these measures, but I want to ensure none of you are hiding anything problematic, like say… portal prisms. Speaking of…’

I pointed to the man Dainyir singled out.

‘... May you please restrain him, Phosi? If he tries anything you can eat him.’

‘With pleasure,’ Phosi rasped.

‘My Lady,’ Sergeant Milten caught my attention. ‘We seem to have one unaccounted for. Two with Kihliam.

‘Oh, right,’ I scratched my chin. ‘There were ten of them. Thank you, Sergeant.’’

I got up, activated [Enhanced Acoustic Processing] and walked over to the terrified Bishop. It didn't give me near the situational awareness I wanted, but it still was more than enough to hear one of the Dragoons getting ready to lunge at me. I pointed him out with a faint gesture of my hand.

The man began to take a step. The knee of the leg still connected to the ground exploded in a surge of Rot, causing him to topple to the ground, screaming in pain and clawing at the stump of his leg in pain. Then the rest of his face began to blacken, only intensifying his agonised screams. Soon there was nothing left of him but a pile of rotten bones and the slowly dissolving lower leg.

‘Anybody else who wants to take an express train to see this Light of yours?

There were no takers. Possibly they didn't know what a train was, but there were enough context clues for them to figure out what I wanted to relay.

‘Y-you're a monster!’ the ashen-faced bishop accused.

‘The man attacked me. Can you blame my friends for wanting to defend me?’

‘You didn't have to kill him.’

‘No, but trying to assassinate rulers tends to be a capital offence, and since you fuckos seem to think you can do whatever the fuck you want, an object lesson was needed. After all, what did I do to actually provoke that attack? I invited you into my home, you came here with an armed escort, and when I attempted to disarm them, they responded with violence.’

‘Four Dragoons went missing today,’ the Bishop responded, having regained his spine. ‘I can't help but think you are responsible for that, “Viscount”, so distrust is most warranted.’

Four?

‘Captain,’ I turned to Baerniel. ‘I may have forgotten how to count, but I seem to think there were only three of them here.’

‘That is correct, my Lady,’ the soldier replied.

‘Thank you. Sergeant, were there any Dragoon bodies recovered from the plaza?’

‘Not to my knowledge, my Lady,’ the guard answered. ‘We seem to be one short again.’

‘Most perplexing. Thank you.’

I looked at the priest. His fear and indignation were replaced with confusion.

‘So, my dear Bishop this brings me to why I singled out Patchie there. My Lord Husband has identified him and Kihliam as members of the Red Masks.’

‘Lies!’ Patchie shouted. ‘Don’t believe a single word this slaver says!’

I covered my mouth in fake offence.

‘Those are some serious accusations to levy against my poor Dainyir.’

Then I got serious.

‘Surely, you must have some evidence to back such claims.’

It was then that Patchie realised he was fucked. To the best of my knowledge, the only time Dain’s origin was mentioned in a public setting was like three hours before during my earlier confrontation with Kihliam, and I doubted much attention was paid to that revelation given everything else that happened then and the simple fact that my hubby was just some rando to most people. We even explicitly skipped it during the introductions.

‘Yes,’ Bishop Warnyq joined me. ‘I would like to hear the explanation myself. Though I would like to know the evidence you have as well, my Lady.’

‘Oh, that's easy,’ I quickly said. ‘Dainyir is the firstborn son of King Herlicht of Varlia. He is not a bad guy, I mean, I was his slave for a while, so I have first-hand experience. I am just very curious how Patchie knew about it, given how it was never publicised for the obvious reasons.’

‘Yes,’ the Bishop nodded. ‘Meaning that it would require the two of them to have met before to recognise each other. So tell me, Lelyn, do you have any explanation for your prior knowledge of the Viscount Consort?’

‘I’ll sweeten the deal even,’ I added. ‘If you talk I will be merciful and consider stopping Phosi from eating you alive.’

Phosi caressed the man's face and seductively murmured:

‘Stay silent, morsel. I am sooo hungry.’

She then licked his cheek with a waaaay too long tongue, causing the man to shriek in horror and shout:

‘It was all Kihliam's idea! He contacted the boss and told him about the Inquisitor and the fae. The five of us were dispatched to help!’

‘Where is Kihliam now?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know. He went here with Kal and Terryt. They didn't return.’

‘I assume Kal and Terryt were also part of your group?’ the bishop picked up the questioning line.

‘Yes!’

‘That brings us up to four,’ I muttered. ‘Were there any other Red Masks here before the five of you arrived?’

‘No. Just Kihliam.’

Two fuckos left, then.

‘Identify the members of the Red Masks in the room.’

‘Don’t you d-’ one of the Dragoons blurted out before realising what he just did. ‘Fuck.’

[Shadow Barrage] was a quick and mostly painless way of exacting the idiot tax.

‘Any others?’ Bishop Warnyq said with disgust in his voice.

‘The mercy offer is now extended to whoever comes out in the next thirty seconds.’

Neither of the three remaining Dragoons moved.

‘Very well,’ I shrugged and turned back to Patchie. ‘Last question: who is your boss?’

‘I can't. He will kill my family.’

‘And Phosi will eat you if you don't answer.’

‘C’mon, man. I told you everything else! Please have mercy!’

‘I don’t understand,’ Sergeant Milten butted in. ‘How would their boss know about the reveal?’

‘Excellent point, Sergeant,’ I nodded with approval. ‘An answer please?’

‘You don't understand. The boss is ruthless. He will determine the source of the information and punish everyone deployed there.

‘Sounds like an amazing guy to work for.’

‘By the time you learn Halveck's identity, you are in too deep and cannot back out.’

The name rang a bell.

‘Halveck… That's one of the people who escorted Inquisitor Vanek,’ the Bishop mused.

‘Oh, fuck,’ the man blurted out, realising he said a word too many.

‘Phosi?!’ I shouted. ‘Chow time!’

The man screamed something about me “promising” him to call off Phosi. Which I didn't.

The other Dragoons had nothing to add, so I asked Sergeant Milten to escort them to the cells.

‘Don’t worry. We need to search the Cathedral. Once we are done I will let you out.’

Their stares at the three bodies, well… a mangled corpse and two skeletons, on the floor told me they didn't believe me, but this time I meant it.

‘Hard to believe you after what you just did to Lelyn,’ the Bishop noted.

‘I never said I would let him live or that I would actually stop Phosi from eating him. Just that I would consider doing it, an idea I found so laughable I rejected it under a second.’

‘I remember hearing about your treatment in Red Mask captivity, my Lady,’ Warnyq replied. ‘I gather then that the stories weren't exaggerated.’

‘No. Every single Red Mask I get my hands on dies.’

‘So what happens to the Church and me?’

‘This was a Red Mask plot, so like I said, we will search the Cathedral and other Church buildings for answers and to ensure our two missing bandits aren’t hiding there. I want the cunt who summoned the Inquisitor out of my city by tomorrow evening. Any future Church official rallying against the Fae will likewise be asked to leave. After that, we assume bygones are bygones and go back to business as usual. You fuckos have some house-cleaning to do, given how infiltrated by the Red Masks you are.’

‘You will have full Church cooperation in your investigation, my Lady. Thank you for your… restraint.’

‘The city is in turmoil. Best not to fan the flames too much.'

After dispatching Savri, Deirdee, Radeea and a unit of City Guard to escort the Bishop back home and the room was cleaned off corpses, I collapsed onto the throne and, looking at my shaking hands, breathed a sigh of relief.

‘You did well, my love,’ Aki smiled at me with encouragement.

‘Thanks,’ I shook my head sadly. ‘You know… when I ended up on Dwynveia I felt horrified about killing goblins. Now I order Phosi to eat people.’

‘Constant fighting for your life changes you,’ Yachiro said. ‘I agree with Aki, though. You did well, Lady Lilyth.’

Maybe one day I will believe it myself. What has this place done to me?

The sad part was that this was the easy part. Now, I would have to govern the province and I didn't even know where to start. I would have to delegate a lot, but who would be the best candidate for each role?

I had some ideas, but were they the right ones? And I couldn't leave poor Dain with it either.

Then I realised that there was a perfect person to offload this shit to.

‘Someone go get me Wilhum and Malika,’ I said.

‘Why, my Lady?’ Baerniel asked.

‘If they think they are going to get a peaceful retirement, they are wrong. I’ll be the Witch Queen of Ror-Bhyk…’

That actually has a nice ring to it.

‘... or whatever you want to call me, but I am self-aware enough to know I have no idea how to run a country, I know Dainyir doesn't and I imagine none of you do either. Wilhum does. So… call him a Prime Minister, Vizier, Hand of the Viscount or whatever the title is and I am giving him his old job back.

Yachiro sighed in relief.

‘You were afraid I wouldn't figure this one out, Chief of Intelligence?’

Another title I need to figure out.

‘Wait… what?’ Yachiro asked.

‘If you think I will let you get away with putting me in charge, think again. Buckle up, fuckos. The Witch Queen of Ror-Bhyk is now holding court.’

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