This is the second chapter of the day. If you're reading this and haven't read the other one yet, go back one chapter.
If anyone wants to read 3/7/13 chapters ahead, that's possible on my (P)(A)(T). If not, I still truly appreciate you reading my story. Thank you very much!
That said, good morning to everyone, and enjoy the reading!
(P)(A)(T)/CalleumArtori.
[...]---[...]
With the room now silent, I ignored the (CHAT) messages that popped up in front of me and began to sit up.
I could see varying degrees of protest in the three people in the room, but I waved my right hand to signal that I was fine. Which wasn't a lie — physically, I was fine.
I sat up easily and perched on the edge of the bed.
I wasn't wearing the clothes I'd fainted in. My armor wasn't anywhere in the room either.
The clothes I had on were a green shirt and pants — living leaves, or very thin vines, woven so they actually looked like fabric.
I was barefoot.
My left arm, in particular, was completely covered, all the way to the fingers. It was as if I were wearing a second skin made of leaves, grass, and vines.
Or rather, a third skin — since, beneath the living fabric and above my real skin, was the body of the Shadow Puppet.
There were several small runes on the inside of the fabric. If I had to guess, it was basically a life-support system — only far more effective and completely magical.
I very much doubt anyone could die while wearing those garments and with those roots inside their body. I had the vague impression that even if I cut some random Terrarian in half — waist down — and threw them here, they'd still manage to live until they died of old age.
That is, if old age reached them normally and their lifespan wasn't extended by a few more centuries.
A pretty miserable scenario to imagine, actually…
It was impressive. But I wanted it off. I was okay with the clothes, but it was kind of creepy to have roots burrowing into my veins and putting the equivalent of spores into my bloodstream.
I stopped myself from tearing the clothes and putting on a black shirt and pants. Whether I liked it or not, it was helping the seed grow inside my Spiritual Realm — so it was an advantage.
I only removed the roots that were on my forehead and around my second right eye. I left the others.
And it was good to have something helping my body balance the mess I'd made by eating those life and mana crystals. Mana Burn and Hyper Vitality were still very active.
Sighing, I stood and stretched. Almost all my joints popped at once. The grass on the floor writhed around my feet.
At my side, two "trees" — if I could even call those things trees — rose from the ground. They were thin and straight, standing on dozens of small wooden legs made from thicker roots. From the trunk, roots extended and connected to my veins.
Living IV supports. How cute…
"Shall we go? I've slept more in these three days than in the last three months. I want to talk to the others, and there are a few things I need to check." I turned to them. "It's better to call everyone to the same place — repeating myself is inconvenient."
"I'd normally tell you to stay in bed, since you're clearly not fully healed. But knowing you? Just don't overdo it." Ozma tapped his cane lightly on the floor and straightened up, approaching me. "Not that I believe you'll listen."
Jinn didn't look particularly convinced either.
Should I be offended?...
"You know that even in my current state I'm still a few hundred times healthier and stronger than an ordinary person, right?" Well, make that thousands, but that wasn't the point.
"That's exactly what we're worried about." Jinn laughed, standing and giving me two light pats on the chest. "Come on, there are a few things I want to show you. I made friends with Hirael and Ísis while you took your nap — they're pretty nice."
I just hummed without answering.
So that was why those two were at the door with Dylan? I could feel Robyn arriving at the palace too, and others approaching us from different locations. Someone must have used the EchoMirror to tell everyone I'd woken up.
Ozma reached out and placed his right hand on my shoulder as he came up to me.
"I'm glad you're okay, friend." He said, releasing his hand and giving my shoulder two pats. "Really."
I just nodded in response. His concern, of all of theirs, was welcome and, I won't lie, it made me happy.
I took the lead after that and went to the door.
But before I could reach it to open it, Alalia disappeared. In the spot where she had been, a wooden living doll appeared. The doll climbed one of my "living IV supports" and sat on top.
I sighed and raised my arm, grabbing the doll by the nape and putting her on my head, where she usually sat.
"I'm not irritated or angry, so act as you normally would." I said aloud. "Understood?"
I could feel Alalia's happiness ripple out in waves at my words.
"…Okay." She said softly and settled into my hair.
Jinn narrowed her eyes, a little displeased. But it looked like she expected this. "You're too kind, you know that?"
"I have a list of people who'd say otherwise." A pretty long list, actually. And something told me that list would only grow over time…
I already had enough problems to worry about, without adding other people's drama and sadness to the mix. Melancholy was enough for me — I didn't like the rest.
Speaking of problems, where were the two eggs I'd given Alalia?…
Actually, where were my things in general?... The Bone Helm was with the Shadow Puppet — I could feel it. The item had changed slightly, but what about my armor and the Enchanted Pearl with Simon's memories and personality?...
Forget it, I can ask Jinn later.
Forget it, I can ask Jinn later. Let's just gather everyone, get through all the questions and answers, and finally check the changes in the Stream, the rewards for killing that damn abominable thing, and see the little slime again.
… I missed Millia.
Jinn didn't answer my question. She stared at the wooden doll for a moment before sighing and giving a slow nod to me.
I took the chance and opened the living wooden door, and found Ísis, Hirael, and Dylan waiting.
The Mage was wearing his purple robe adorned with golden stars. Dylan had on a simple white shirt and brown pants, leather shoes, and his hair slicked back. It was a simple, casual look — yet it still carried a noble air.
Ísis was dressed in a light pink shirt and a darker pink skirt, with thigh-high colorful socks and blue sandals. Her curly pink hair fell over her shoulders, draping across her chest.
Hirael stood further back, leaning against the wall and reading something in an old-looking notebook. Ísis and Dylan were closer to the door. Ísis reacted first: her eyes widened slightly when she saw me and she leapt toward me with her arms open.
"Devas!" she shouted, her pink hair flying behind her.
… I moved aside.
Ísis flew past me and fell — not to the floor, but onto the person behind me: Jinn.
The blue woman caught the one in pink effortlessly in her arms.
"Thanks for catching me, Jinnie, since some people are too rude to do so…" Ísis said, turning and glaring at me as she grumbled.
They must have really become friends, since Ísis called Jinn by a nickname.
"Some people are rude enough to jump on a newly bedridden patient."
"If you're already walking, you should be well enough to carry me." Ísis narrowed her eyes slightly. "Or are you calling me fat?"
"I've jumped on you before too, Devas. Are you calling me fat as well?" Jinn chimed in, stepping to her friend's right, her eyes narrowing slightly as well.
Something tells me they shouldn't have met…
For some reason, seeing the two of them side by side made me think of a tutti-frutti candy and a blueberry one, respectively.
I pinched the tip of my nose to hold back the amused smile that the image of a pack of Jinn-and-Ísis candies brought, and I sighed.
"Great, there are two of them now…"
They held each other's gaze for a second before smiles appeared on both their faces, and they chuckled lightly.
Perfect, distraction always works!
"How's the eye?" I asked Ísis after she stopped laughing. "Seeing things that shouldn't exist? Hallucinations? Words of madness crawling along the walls?"
"What? ... No, it's fine. Actually, I think my eyesight's even better than before. I don't see any of that" She closed her left eye and brushed her fingertips over her eyelid. "Should I? Should I be seeing it?"
"No…"
"You didn't sell that answer with any credibility!"
"If the walls start breathing, tell me."
"If the walls what?!"
This time I didn't hide the small smile on my face. I was relieved. I'd improvisationally fixed Ísis's eye — good thing she was okay.
I ignored her and turned to Dylan.
He looked different. Several strands of his brown hair had turned white, and patches of his skin were darker, as if he'd only tanned in those spots.
He also seemed more serious. Especially his eyes — they were different from the ones I'd seen when I first met him. They looked more tired.
If he starts talking about killing his younger self, I swear I'll kill someone…
"You look tired." were my first words. I joked, "You even have white hair now."
"The last three days have been exhausting. Besides worrying about your condition and helping Miss Jinn, Melissa and the dryad as much as I could for your recovery, I had a ton of paperwork to read and sign…"
"Post-battle paperwork, compensation distribution for wounded soldiers and for the families of those killed in action. Paperwork about funerals. Paperwork about rebuilding the destroyed sections of the walls. Paperwork about rebuilding the villages near the kingdoms, for the rain refugees. Paperwork about the goblins who passed out outside the walls. Paperwork about—"
His voice trailed off with a sigh. It sounded sad and deflated. What the hell?
"Isn't that Charlotte's job?"
"She forced me to help."
"You could've just said no."
"She threatened me. I still refused. Then she said she'd hang herself in front of the palace if I didn't help… She sounded pretty psychotic when she said it, so I didn't want to risk it."
… I had no words.
The stream chose that moment to launch one of Stark's missiles right in front of my eyes; it exploded in the chat:
[(MOD)GeniusBillionairePlayboy]
How sweet, I've never seen a more beautiful friendship. Both of them have color-changing, glowing eyes. Both are good with Mystic Symbols. Both are whipped by small pink-haired girls… ¯\ (ツ)/¯
… I deny that last accusation.
Dylan sighed again and shook his head.
"But forget that. How are you doing, brother? Your health situation was complicated. I couldn't help much, I admit — I'd never seen anything like…" He looked at my left arm. "That thing. How does it feel? Can you move it?"
I made a "so-so" gesture with my hand, using my left arm.
"I can move it, it's just weird. There are a few holes in it, even though I can't really feel them." Besides the cold sensation, of course. "But nothing painful. Same with the eye."
"I'm fine. Physically, at least. I've got a slight headache and a few other minor issues, but I'll get better with time, don't worry." I totally ignored Jinn's cough, which sounded vaguely like "liar."
Dylan just nodded and stepped forward, giving me a quick hug before stepping back.
"I'm glad you're okay." He said that with a smile.
"You gave us a scare when you just stopped responding and sat down on the kingdom's wall. If you're going to faint like that again, warn us first." He joked.
I smiled back, amused. "I'll try to warn you, don't worry." Then I turned my attention to the old mage leaning against the wall.
I hadn't expected him to be there. Although we'd interacted before the battle, it had only been three or four times at most.
Dylan must have noticed my look, because he explained:
"The Royal Mage, Ísis, Miss Jinn and I were in the palace's magic workshop when Miss Jinn told us you'd woken up. We were studying some goblin items."
The old mage chose that moment to step forward. He slid the worn notebook he'd been reading into the inner pocket of his purple robe and gave a wave.
An iron sword and a pistol appeared in the air before me, held aloft by wind.
"Thank you. The sword was a great help in battle. I didn't need to use the fire-shooting device." His voice sounded a little sandy and hoarse.
"Keep them. They're the kind of items I have in abundance." I replied.
I had thousands of weapons and hundreds of random swords I'd bought just to test runes. I'd handed many of them out to the Terraria army and my companions, actually.
Well, at least the swords. The firearms were things I'd only given to team members or close people. Curiously, many of them had refused the guns — either because they wouldn't know how to use them properly in the heat of battle, or simply because they didn't like them.
Still, I made sure everyone had at least one or two in the Travel Space, just in case. Whether they used them or not was another story — but I armed them.
I also considered giving out the Atlesian Paladins — the robots I took from Atlas. I had a few stored away, fewer than I'd have liked. But after a discussion with the others, we decided it was better not to.
Training someone to use one of those robots effectively would take time, and time was something we didn't have then. Unenchanted robots would also be of little use, and my time was better spent preparing the Proto-A than anything else.
There was also the chance one of the Atlesian Paladins would be stolen in the middle of battle — which would be a disaster, since I didn't doubt the goblins could copy the design.
In the end, the robots just gathered dust inside the VoidBag.
Hirael didn't make a fuss and waved his hand, making both the sword and the pistol disappear. His control over the Travel Space was the best I'd ever seen in Terraria.
With nothing more to say, I turned and started walking toward the throne room. I wasn't sure of the palace layout, but the minimap fixed that easily.
The corridor was wide and tall, with a red carpet trimmed in gold that contrasted with the white marble floor.
On the left, bluish glass windows looked out onto a semi-open area; on the right, there were statues and portraits of people I didn't know — or simply didn't care enough to ask who they might be.
But it was very nice decor. The white pilasters in the walls made everything look more regal.
Hirael didn't come with us; he turned a corner, saying he'd return to his workshop. He asked me to visit him in the future if possible — he had some things he wanted to discuss.
We said goodbye to the old mage and kept walking.
"Miss Charlotte was receiving some nobles in the throne room before you woke up. I was assisting her as an advisor." Ozma began, as we walked.
I stopped almost instantly.
"Nobles… nobles?" I asked.
"Pompous, yes. But not all of them."
"Ugh…"
I could feel amusement radiating from Ozma in waves.
"I know a way that bypasses the throne room." Dylan suggested. He sounded almost vindictive.
Should I?… You know what, screw it. I didn't have the patience for that.
"No, let's go see the princess."
I'm sick, so it's easily excusable if I rough a few people up.
POV: Charlotte A'Elise of Valmont
It wasn't the first time I wished I hadn't been born into royalty.
Of course, I wasn't ignorant or foolish enough to say I'd rather have been born a commoner. Nor was I hypocritical enough to claim I didn't live a good life as it was.
But honestly, I wouldn't have minded losing a rank or two in nobility. The heir of a marquis would've been just fine. Or someone like Melissa — heir to the most powerful duchess in the kingdom.
No royal problems, no enduring idiotic nobles all day, no worrying whether the kingdom would've exploded and drowned in terror and blood if the resident orange-eyed alien hadn't intervened the way he did.
Trivial things, of course. Barely worth mentioning.
"The reconstruction of the western region requires additional funds due to—"
The voice of the noble speaking in front of me turned into white noise. Who was talking now? Viscount Julian or Countess Niola? Frankly, I hadn't been paying attention for quite some time.
I loved my subjects — truly, I did — but sometimes they had no sense of decorum or common sense. Nor did they know how to treat a lady properly.
I had woken up after the battle with a terrible headache. And that was after sleeping almost eighteen hours, according to Melissa. Not even an hour later, I was already being called to solve problems.
Was it my duty? Of course. But it was inconvenient!
If it weren't for Dylan and Mr. Ozma helping me, I probably would've killed someone by now. Even if it were myself, out of spite — just so they'd know their persistence and incompetence were what killed their princess!
Maybe I should grant Mr. Ozma a noble title, actually. He deserved it — and then I could delegate my royal advisory work to him and hand over all my paperwork…
Or I could just marry Dylan. Having the consort prince deal with the princess's problems was expected, wasn't it?
Not a bad idea, really. Dylan was the son of the Duchess of Symbols; he might not be the heir to House Oakwood, but no one would dare say a word given his pedigree. He'd earned his own merit over these last few months anyway — through his inventions and everything he'd done for the kingdom.
He was one of — if not the — smartest people I knew. And someone I'd known since childhood; I knew his character well, and he didn't displease me in the slightest. He was also extremely loyal.
And he wasn't bad-looking either. His taste in clothing could use some improvement, he dressed far too plainly, but that was a minor flaw.
Actually, he was quite handsome, now that I thought about it, even more so since he'd started to build some muscle.
Uhm… why did that idea get more interesting the more I thought about it? It wasn't just the paperwork anymore…
"Your Royal Highness, do you agree with what has been said so far?" I snapped back to focus when someone addressed me.
I looked at the speaker — a woman in her thirties, sharp features, black hair, blue eyes. She wore a black dress with minimal jewelry. Countess Niola — one of the few nobles my aunt Helena deeply respected. She'd earned her title despite coming from common origins.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words froze in my throat the moment I noticed a change in the atmosphere. It was subtle — I wouldn't have noticed it before awakening my Semblance.
The air grew slightly warmer. Some colors looked more vibrant, others more muted. Shadows deepened. The light coming through the stained glass windows shifted in tone.
Something was wrong…
My Semblance flared to life instinctively.
I turned my head toward the door to the right of the throne. I could sense the presence — and vaguely, the emotions — of a few people there: Dylan, Miss Jinn, Mr. Ozma, Ísis, Alalia — and by process of elimination, what could only be Devas.
The sensations I felt coming from him were... nonexistent.
Alalia's emotions were distant. I could tell they were there, but not what they were — like trying to discern something far too vast while standing far too close; like trying to grasp the true size of a mountain from its base.
But in Devas's case, not even that. My Semblance couldn't reach him. It wasn't as if the connection had been blocked or severed — it simply... vanished.
One moment it was there; the next, it was gone, like a thread of silk brushing against a flame.
...Why do I feel like I should be grateful that happened?… Yeah, that's it — better not use the Wise King on Devas, never.
I sighed in relief. It was just them. I'd worried for a moment. Mr. Ozma had told me Devas was awake, but I hadn't expected him to be up and walking already.
From what little I'd seen of the battle — and from what I'd been told afterward — I thought he'd take much longer to recover. The man truly wasn't normal. An alien, indeed.
I deactivated my Semblance. It made my head ache if I used it for too long.
Three Crowns, as I called it. Or rather, as it was called — since the name had come to me instinctively — was something I was still learning to understand and control.
Extremely useful, but a bit complicated.
My Semblance had three faces — three crowns — each representing a different aspect of royal power.
The first crown, The Kind Princess's, was responsible for issuing commands to those considered my subjects.
That depended on something complex — partly my own perception of them as subjects, partly how they recognized me as their sovereign, and partly the bond that tied them to the land I ruled, whether they were born here or not.
The strength and effectiveness of an order varied according to many factors: the amount of Aura I possessed and used, the magnitude of the command, and — most importantly — how the person saw me.
The greater their respect, loyalty, love, or even fear toward me, the deeper The Kind Princess's influence.
But there was another equally crucial factor: the person's own belief in themselves.
If the one receiving the order believed deep down that they couldn't fulfill it — if they doubted their strength, their will, or themselves — the power granted by The Kind Princess's weakened.
The Semblance could force an action from nothing, but the result would be weak, incomplete. Its true power lay in amplifying what already existed.
The stronger the person's self-confidence, the greater the command's potency.
Still, there were limits. Three Crowns couldn't force someone to act against their own values.
No matter how loyal someone was — if I ordered something that violated their deepest principles, their body and spirit would resist me with everything they had.
On the other hand, if the individual knew of my power and chose to accept it — through faith, devotion, or love — the result was a dramatic amplification of the commanded action.
The second crown, The Gentle Queen, connected me emotionally to my subjects. It also sharpened my senses to changes in the environment.
It allowed me to feel what my people felt — their joy, their fear, their anger, their hope. I could sense how they felt about me: whether they hated me, feared me, loved me, or plotted against me.
It was mostly passive, consuming little to no Aura when active. It only drained more if I focused on a specific person and tried to discern what they felt — and what they intended.
A blessing and a curse, all at once.
Well, for letting me act before a betrayal could bloom. For showing me who was loyal and who wasn't. Bad, because it also revealed things I'd much rather not know.
Knowing that my guards respected me was good. Knowing that a sixty-year-old nobleman lusted after me… ugh.
But hey, on the bright side, at least I knew Dylan thought I was pretty! That already made my plan easier!
The third crown — The Wise King — was different: colder, more distant, analytical. It manifested before those who were not my subjects.
With it, I could distinguish the emotions and intentions of outsiders.
It wasn't passive like The Gentle Queen; I had to focus to use The Wise King. And it consumed twice, maybe three times as much Aura as it would've if I'd used The Gentle Queen on someone specific.
The Wise King also granted me the ability to sense the level of threat a person might represent if they were ever to become an enemy — not just to me, but to the crown and the kingdom as a whole.
That sense was instinctive and vague. I never knew exactly what danger the person posed. It was more like a premonition — a random physical feeling.
So far, the sensations I'd experienced had been either a chill down my neck or a tightness in my chest.
I only knew how to interpret those because of Miss Jinn and Mr. Ozma.
They'd both helped me test Three Crowns. Neither of them were considered my subjects — they respected me and held a certain fondness for me, but they didn't see me as their ruler, and I didn't see them as my subordinates.
Miss Jinn's emotions were gentle. She was friendly and playful — something I had noticed through interaction, but which my Semblance quickly confirmed. She also disliked conflict.
The feeling she gave me when I used The Wise King on her was that of a tightness in my chest. I'd have to force her if I ever wanted her to become my enemy — and she'd suffer for it. But she wouldn't seek revenge against the kingdom as a whole; only against me, and she'd only kill me as an absolute last resort.
It was strange, having that kind of premonition — the way the information simply appeared in my mind was… unsettling.
Mr. Ozma, on the other hand, was different. Calm, composed, wise — someone who knew how to appreciate the moment. Like an old grandfather, if I were to describe him.
The feeling he gave me when I used The Wise King was a cold shiver down my neck.
Just like Miss Jinn, I'd have to force him to become my enemy. He wouldn't turn against me without a very good reason.
But if he did… I'd be dead.
It would take time — months, years, maybe decades — but he would find me eventually. He would hunt me relentlessly. An eternal hunter. And the kingdom would suffer for it. He'd avoid unnecessary casualties, but if that's what it took to kill me, dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands would die.
The only way to avoid my death would be to have Alalia glued to my back twenty-four hours a day, forever. And even then, I felt that with the slightest lapse, I'd still end up dead.
… It was a little sickening to realize that.
Of course, I told Miss Jinn and Mr. Ozma about my sensations and premonitions. They both praised my Semblance as one of the most useful and versatile they'd ever seen in their lives. And given that both of them were old — in their own words — that praise wasn't meaningless.
I was proud to have such a powerful Semblance, I won't lie.
Mr. Ozma, in particular, talked to me afterward about what I felt when I used The Wise King on him.
He comforted me while we enjoyed a short break for tea — one of the very few breaks I'd had in the past few days. He was a kind man. Truly, like a grandfather.
… A grandfather that my Semblance told me was terrifying. Better not make him an enemy.
I was pulled from my thoughts when the door to my right finally opened.
The first to step through was Devas, leading the rest of the group. Behind him, on the right, came Dylan and Mr. Ozma. Isis and Miss Jinn followed soon after, with Alalia perched atop his hair like a bird in its nest.
It wasn't the first time I'd seen Devas since the battle — I had visited him while he was still unconscious. But seeing him awake was… different.
He was still wearing the same green clothes — something Alalia had made to help with his recovery. But the mark on his forehead looked different now; it glowed faintly.
If I hadn't awakened my Semblance before, I might not even have noticed. Ever since I awakened my Semblance, my senses had become sharper and better — especially my vision.
His hair wasn't combed — it fell freely to his shoulders in a wild mess. That, along with the beard, the closed left eye, and the lack of shoes, made him look like some sort of forest sage or wandering hermit.
Even more so with those green clothes, the left arm wrapped in leaves, and the two thin trees walking behind him like strange beasts, their roots connected to his arms and body. Not to mention Alalia, inhabiting her wooden doll form, sitting right atop his head.
Devas waved when he saw me, raising his right hand.
"Charlotte, how are you? Everything alr—"
Someone cut him off. Devas grinned like a child receiving the best birthday gift imaginable.
"Who are you, and how dare you address Her Royal Highness so casually—"
"Enough!" I shouted, standing up at once.
This was serious — who the hell said that?!
It couldn't be accidental; they had to be doing this on purpose just to annoy me! No one could be that stupid! Idiotic! Ignorant! Suicidal! Contemptible! Incompetent!
I could feel my fingers twitching. I needed a neck to squeeze and twist!
[...]---[...]
I really like the Semblance I came up with for Charlotte. I think it fits her character and makes sense.
The Semblances of the other NPCs aren't planned. Well, Dylan's is, but he's a special case. If you want to share ideas, feel free to comment!
As always, have a good night and enjoy the read!