Chapter 120: The Stellar Gala 1

“You have labored admirably.”

“Huh…? What…?”

Having braced themselves for harsh recriminations – if not outright punishment – over their catastrophic mission failure, Bloody and Soul instead found themselves utterly blindsided by Duchess Catleena’s unexpected response:

“You ventured so far on my personal errand. You may retire and recuperate for now.”

“B-But surely…”

“Was there anything else?”

“N-No, Your Grace…”

“We are…grateful for your mercy…”

Rendered speechless by their mistress’s inexplicable leniency effectively absolving their shortcomings, the two witches could only bow in humbled acquiescence before withdrawing from Catleena’s presence.

‘At least we avoided any severe reprisals for now…’

‘Still, does not this resolution feel…disconcertingly abrupt to you?’

That their unprecedented debacle concluded with such an anticlimactic dismissal left both operatives deeply disquieted despite avoiding harsher consequences.

Yet given their otherwise unblemished service records, perhaps Catleena simply opted to extend clemency over this sole lapse in judgment.

With no recourse but to accept their mistress’s magnanimous ‘leniency’, the pair quietly retreated to their personal quarters ruminating over the unanticipated turn of events.

“Oh, and what of this ‘Fredy’ individual – need we render any reports on her?”

“Ah, good point… Should we return and apprise the Duchess even now…?”

Their earlier oversight momentarily rekindled Soul’s inclination to clarify that lingering unknown element from their mission.

Bloody swiftly dismissed such notions after a thoughtful pause, however.

“No, on second thought that seems unnecessary now. Unorthodox as the circumstances were, you nonetheless secured her willing enrollment as your disciple in the end.”

“I…suppose you’re correct. Barring any remaining grievances, the ultimate outcome renders that entire process moot in a sense.”

Beyond the unorthodox initial encounter, their subsequent exchanges aligned with well-established norms regarding procuring new acolytes.

To dwell excessively on trivial procedural nuances seemed an unnecessary imposition upon their mistress’s valuable attention span at this juncture – especially given her evident preoccupations with more pressing paradigm shifts on the horizon.

With that settled, both witches hastened toward their personal residences – eager to begin properly cultivating and indoctrinating their ‘newly-acquired protégé’ in earnest.

“Hmm…”

Alone in her study, Duchess Catleena exhaled a weary sigh as her contemplations inevitably returned to the baffling revelations precipitating her most recent decisions.

‘Bloody… Just what in the world happened to leave you in such a state…?’

Recalling the witch’s grievous wounds and winded account of their inexplicable rout at the hands of some enigmatic upstart, a gnawing sense of incredulous bewilderment consumed the duchess’s musings.

‘To claim a mere youth, a freshly-minted mage at that, managed to thrash one of our deadliest battle-mystics so effortlessly…? It beggars belief entirely!’

As a Rank 10 archmagus of unparalleled puissance, Bloody Mary stood apart as one of the scant elite throughout all Dragonia – if not the entire civilized world – possessing the sheer cosmic might to even challenge her on equal footing.

Certainly, combat inevitably involved uncontrollable variables precipitating unexpected upsets – ambushes, elemental mismatches, or sheer bad luck all remaining plausible factors underlying her grievous injuries.

Yet the notion of some unknown neophyte effortlessly surmounting their seemingly insurmountable experience and power discrepancies strained credulity to its utmost limits.

More so considering the opponent in question amounted to little more than a lesser nobleman’s heir rather than someone of Count Turen’s stature.

Logically speaking, Bloody’s account simply defied rationality – provoking profound skepticism over how such a patently unbelievable tale could have possibly emerged in any earnest context whatsoever.

‘And yet…to accuse Bloody herself of outright deceit seems equally preposterous. What conceivable motive could drive her to such blatant falsehoods before me…?’

Bloodied possessed not only world-shattering power paralleled by scant others, but an indomitable sense of personal pride prohibiting any deceptions or half-truths – especially toward Catleena herself as her foremost patroness and mother-mentor.

Rendering her outright capitulation before any commonplace threat or duress equally unthinkable by the very core tenets defining her inviolable principles and character.

If not Count Turen, not even Santara or the Holy Emperor himself could likely compel such submissions from her sealed lips under any but the direst extremities.

‘Clearly some pivotal element eludes me entirely… For now, I lack sufficient context to parse these bewildering inconsistencies – though their gravity demands answers I cannot presently pursue.’

For one, Bloody’s uncharacteristic reticence itself indicated she harbored weighty – perhaps even existential – reasons to conceal the full truth from her trusted benefactress’s scrutiny at this stage.

To recklessly pry further risked derailing unforeseen contingencies far exceeding Catleena’s present understanding or ability to properly address.

More damningly, a far greater upheaval had already reshaped the very foundations underpinning her relationship with Bohemia’s renegade factions – an empire-reshaping paradigm shift she could not dismiss or undermine under any circumstances:

Empress Rozveta’s abrupt about-face regarding potential overtures toward rendering them substantive military support against the Holy Empire itself.

‘For Her Majesty to so drastically alter her long-standing eastern isolationism on the seeming whim of a moment… Just what precipitated this strategic reversal…?’

For decades, any machinations involving the Western continent stood expressly forbidden by Rozveta’s unyielding imperial decree.

Now that selfsame sovereign inexplicably commanded realigning their regional assets and initiatives toward…actively enabling the very heretical forces she had previously shunned without explanation.

An about-face Catleena could not refuse despite her lingering bewilderment over its motivations – for it ultimately stemmed from the supreme authority to which she herself owed unwavering deference first and foremost as a dutiful servant of the Dragonian state.

From that overriding perspective, Bloody and Soul’s mission setback potentially proved a merciful reprieve – one sparing Catleena from directly entangling herself with the very entity whose existence now represented an untenable complication given her shifting marching orders:

The mysterious ‘Santara’ whom the witches had failed to subdue, yet whose subjugation would have brought him directly under Catleena’s jurisdiction and purview before this latest development arose.

‘Indeed, having that whelp delivered to me as a broken, subservient wretch could have proven…problematically inopportune given current circumstances.’

Now, under the Empress’s revised directives, providing substantive solidarity and reinforcements to Bohemia and their Heretical Coalition had superseded all her prior agendas – strategic necessities precluding petty vendettas or factional grievances from impeding their unified preparations.

A reality leaving Catleena few viable options beyond acquiescing – and begrudgingly acknowledging one clear path forward rapidly crystallizing in her mind’s eye.

‘I suppose under these unforeseen circumstances, activating Cazeros may well prove the optimal approach despite my lingering reservations…’

Catleena’s youngest scion – a willful, hardheaded girl possessing the sole meaningful rapport with Bohemia’s burgeoning apostate dominion to this point.

Her reckless, borderline heretical dispositions belied a fierce sense of personal loyalty and responsibility Catleena knew could readily translate toward reliably executing this delicate pivot on her behalf.

Granted, the underlying circumstances surrounding this prospective arrangement left the concerned mother harboring profound misgivings over what nefarious machinations her wayward daughter might have orchestrated behind the scenes.

‘Knowing her obstinate temperament, this entire debacle likely arose from that girl’s meddlesome maneuverings – exploiting her uncanny talents for manipulation no matter how vehemently she may protest ulterior motives.’

While lacking any definitive proof, Catleena’s maternal instincts resonated with an uncanny certainty over Cazeros’s substantive involvement in reshaping the very geopolitical sands upon which all Dragonia now shifted in this crucible moment.

A staggering accomplishment provoking profound respect and bemusement in equal measures over her sly capabilities as she discerned the optimal avenue for unveiling this new stratagem:

The upcoming ceremonial gala celebrating the Dragonian crown prince’s nuptials – where Catleena would broker this realignment through the designated Repsodian emissary slated to attend those festivities as an esteemed diplomatic guest.