Chapter 1193 – Liberation Campaign 7 – The White Sheep


    Two more days had passed since John had cleared out the fortress. While his true body continued the sweep northwards, the Mandala Sphere had continued along its planned path. It and Aclysia had only stopped once, at the fortress administrating the Archduchy Labyrinth. There was nothing but a token force inside, a couple of Ironborn Lords, acting more like a warning system than anything else.


    The two of them did not stop to fully explore the fortress. They killed all enemies they spotted, freed who they could in the basement, and gave a swift end to who they couldn’t. Like all the other times they had discovered a mana generator in the Iron Domain, the barbarism at display sickened the Gamer to his stomach. Extraction devices were half-melded with scar tissue and Mettle involuntarily injected through masks kept the people ‘alive’ in the loosest possible sense. With a healer around, perhaps they could have saved about half of them. Between the two of them, less than a tenth survived the extraction.


    Perhaps the Gamer should have left them untouched until either Gnome or Undine could make the trip. To see that through, he would have needed to stay, however. Someone would have to refill the Mettle supply. Leaving them would have either doomed them to starvation or continuous usage as fuel by whatever Ironborn would come to reclaim this fortification.


    The moral conundrum John had there was akin to collapsing an enemy mine. Any war effort that could not replenish its resources was doomed to end eventually, so collapsing the location was a strategic no-brainer. Morally, the miners were non-combatants and should not be killed, especially not by being trapped in a collapsed mine. A civilized solution would have been to give a warning, allowing the miners to evacuate. Such a civility could only be afforded from a position of dominating strength. Beyond that, even the warning was worthless against enemies that saw the miners as cattle.


    Ultimately, this was just another awful, pragmatic decision John had to make during this war. He did not have the resources to do this properly, so he did the best he could without slowing down. The best way for this war to go was to end swiftly.


    Beyond that, travel continued smoothly. With its various ravines and cliffs, the Archduchy Labyrinth certainly deserved its name. Even ‘regular’ superhumans would have issues navigating the tall, craggy walls and the gusts howling through them. What lay to its east, however, was wondrous.


    The further they advanced, the weaker the winds became. By the time they hit the coast, it was completely still. The ocean sprawling out before him was completely clear, reflecting the cloudless sky. Various islands of the archipelago rose from the soft waves and the dark horizon, shadows that belonged on a painting. Nothing tarnished the view. No Mettle plants, no lifeless soil, no grey, brutal fortress. A scenic view, like Caribbean islands at midnight. Gorgeous.


    Gorgeous and useful – the clear water meant that Aclysia could see where she was going. For her, the quickest way to cross any large body of water was to walk over the ocean floor. The water here appeared to be quite shallow and many small islands allowed them to hop to their next destination: the fortress at the heart of Archduchy Parthen.


    It took them another day to arrive at the eastern half of the central island of the archipelago. He had to somewhat amend his Caribbean impression. The flora of the environment was more resembling that of a tundra, dominated by evergreens. Scarce, they were located primarily away from the island’s shores, which did retain the gorgeous beaches and crystal blue waters. It was an odd combination, especially during the day hours when the searing hot sun heated everything enough that the long nights were pleasantly warm.


    What surprised John more than the evergreens was the ‘fortress’ they eventually came across. The sole reason for this was that it wasn’t a fortress at all. Rather, it looked like a manor. A grey manor, devoid of colour aside from the red roof tiles, but a manor regardless. The position it was located in was practically indefensible, a simple flat piece of terrain. Odd especially due to the abundance of smaller islands around, all of them suitable to be entirely controlled by one central structure.


    As much as all of that made the Gamer ponder, the Mandala Sphere and Aclysia still continued in their charge. They arrived during day hours, so they couldn’t hide themselves even if they tried to. Speed was the primary advantage of their assault.


    There were several dozen servants all around the manor, all of them either in possession of or currently using the same breathing apparatus the Gamer had seen all over the Iron Domain. A piece of terrible normality, among this unusual assortment.


    None of the servants were remotely fast enough to do more than take a few steps in the general direction of the weaponized maid. They made their way inside, storming through the open front door of the manor, and dashed down the first corridor that caught their eye. Mandala Sphere behind her, the weaponized maid descended a flight of stairs. It hardly mattered where she began her search, only that they caught the Archduke, should one be around.


    Luck was with them, it appeared, as the cellar bore the marks of luxury typical of an Ironborn’s dwelling. They emerged in a large room, with a casket lying at the centre. It was a highly decorated piece, worthy of being in a vampire movie. Doubly so when the lid was lifted and a human peeked out. One with red hair and red eyes. A description that matched Lorelei’s prophecy. Had that not made the Gamer halt, the Observe window definitely would have.


    Aclysia’s blade stopped short of the Archduchess’ throat, without John needing to say anything. There was a moment of extreme tension, as the Ironborn glanced at the white blade, then at the maid. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes wandering over Aclysia’s form. They glowed crimson in the twilight of the semi-isolated chamber, a slit pupil at the centre.


    “I really like your outfit,” she confessed. “Elegant and just... nice.”


    ‘She’s the one, Master,’ Aclysia told him mentally, and pulled her weapon back. ‘Her words do please me deeply.’


    ‘Of course they do,’ Jack responded amusedly, as the Mandala Sphere morphed into the Gamer’s double. “Hello,” he greeted her. “I’m John Newman, invader of your Kingdom.”


    “Uh, alright, can you give me a second?” the Archduchess requested and, after Jack nodded, closed the lid of the casket again. There was some rumbling inside. After about half a minute, she emerged again. Carefully, she rose to her feet.


    The Gamer had a proper look at her now. Her skin was pale, her lips a light red, and her red hair short and wild. She was a tall woman, yet not quite as tall as Aclysia, and covered with a dress decorated with many white frills. It stopped around her bosom, leaving much of her small breasts visible. As Observe had stated, her figure was on the bottom-heavy side, the long skirt failing to obscure the width of her hips. Since she hadn’t worn clothes moments ago, Jack was able to tap into his near perfect memory to confirm that the thighs matched the rest.


    “That’s the closest I have to your clothes I have stored inside me,” the Archduchess said and lifted her skirt just enough to reveal she was wearing stockings. Elegantly, she curtsied. Her voice, filled with jest, did not quite match the motion. “I know, who even has time for fashion in this world?”


    “That is indeed a good question,” the Gamer supported with a chuckle. The entire situation, especially how quickly it had de-escalated, was odd.


    “Right, I also have a good one,” she continued, “why, exactly are you not attacking me right now?”


    “I just wanted to ask, who should start?” Claire chuckled.


    “Funny, I was going to ask the same thing.” Jack laughed with her and leaned onto the table. He trusted her now. They had killed about ten Ironborn together, a process during which Claire could have escaped a number of times. Observe, her words and her deeds all painted the same picture. If she was fooling him, she was exceedingly effective at it. A little bit of paranoia remained, as it always did. That little bit spurred John to demand, “You start then. Who exactly are you and why are you helping me?”


    Leaning back, Claire gave him a curious gaze. “...I expected the question, ‘why did you end up here?’ but you truly are from beyond the Iron Domain.”


    “Then start with answering that question.”


    “This is the Kingdom of Trials, the Archduchy Parthen – the place where Arkeidos sends Ironborn whose loyalty is in question.” With the sweetest smile, she added, “He’s usually right.”


    “You’re quite young for an Ironborn,” John observed. “He must have guessed you would rebel the moment he turned you.”


    “Ever checked the inside of a Mettle plant?”


    “I have.” Jack sighed and answered the question himself, “I guess for him it’s a win-win. Either you see it his way or he has a new battery.”


    “That’s what I thought, yes.” Crossing her arms, Claire leaned back in the chair. “I’m pretty thankful for the body, to be honest. It’s nice to not have to cough anymore or scramble for clothes that fit me or have all those scars on my face.”


    “When did you turn into an Ironborn?”


    “About seven years ago?” She moved her fingers, silently counting something. Her light, pinkish red lips moved quietly. “Maybe eight?”


    That tracked. To John, Claire looked like she was about twenty-five. Seven years ago, she would have been twenty, but the nature of the Iron Domain had most certainly aged her before her time. Even fixing herself with the shape-shifting available to Artificial Spirits, she could have only undone the accumulated imperfections, not the entirety of the face she was used to. It was noteworthy that she appeared as fully human as she did. There was no note of metal to her appearance.


    “How old are you? If you don’t mind me turning things to you.” She raised her hands defensively. “I hope I don’t come across as inquisitive! I’ve just not had anyone to talk to who wasn’t... not to be rude to the tortured people around here, but... half-braindead or a scummy Ironborn tasked to report my every move.”


    “No, it’s alright. I’m Nineteen,” the Gamer answered freely, then mimicked her quiet counting motion. “Well, maybe twenty. I spent a lot of time in places where it flowed differently.”


    “...And you tell ME I’m young?”


    “I said young for an Ironborn.”


    “You’re young for a dimension travelling invader... I think?!” Claire sounded baffled, her charming voice completely taken by surprise. “I actually have no idea! Are there many strapping young lads running around, trying to kill tyrants?”


    “I hope not, I do not like competition,” Jack joked. Claire did not laugh at that one, so he clarified his position. “Obviously I would approve of other people doing their best to improve however many worlds there are,” he told her. “I just don’t want them to be ‘strapping young lads’.”


    Claire raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, I’m stupid... why?”


    He considered for a moment if Claire was sheltered, nai?ve, or perhaps misunderstood something about him. In any case, her question was honest. To show rather than tell, the Gamer forcefully grabbed Aclysia’s ass. The weaponized maid straightened up, a mild smile on her face. Still, Claire looked confused.


    ‘Guess I’ll just spell it out,’ the Gamer resigned himself. “I’m a man with a large sexual appetite,” he said. “So, I like it when I have all the attractive women to myself.”


    “It’s just procreation, why would you want to do that all the time?” Claire asked.


    John was baffled.


    ‘Jesus, this world makes me sad,’ he thought.