Mother of Midnight

Chapter 177 – Volunteerism

Kaelvar slumped back into his chair as though the weight of those two words—twenty thousand—had struck him with the force of a warhammer. His expression, for all its hardened edges, cracked just slightly, the barest flicker of something between calculation and unease crossing his face.

Vivienne tilted her head. She supposed that was a big number. It certainly sounded impressive, given the stunned silence that had fallen over the room. But context was everything, and she lacked it. The world she came from had known war on an apocalyptic scale—battlefields where four hundred million combatants clashed, entire nations ground to dust under the weight of unrelenting carnage. Twenty thousand? It barely measured against the horrors she had seen. Still, she kept that to herself. No need to belittle their moment of crisis just yet.

Kaelvar’s gaze snapped toward Rava, sharp and searching. “You said Vailora would fight Nythara?”

“If she holds to her word, yes,” Rava answered without hesitation. Her voice carried none of the uncertainty that flickered through the others. “Even a titan would hesitate to break a promise with my mother.”

Kaelvar exhaled slowly, fingers drumming against the arm of his chair in thought. Then, with a resolute nod, he turned toward his son. “Darak, in an open field, we have no chance. They outnumber us ten to one. Shore the gates—bring all outside the city walls inside if you can.” His tone left no room for argument, and Darak gave a curt nod, already shifting into motion, even as his father turned to the rest of the councilors.

“Skol Yanek, Skol Tasye.” His gaze snapped to the two named council members, both of whom straightened at the call. “You are to command the defenses for the northern and southern walls respectively.”

Kaelvar’s gaze settled on Aeryn, his expression unreadable. She had barely moved since her failed attack on Vivienne, her knuckles white around the remnants of her broken spear. If she felt any humiliation, she swallowed it down, setting her jaw and straightening her shoulders as though sheer force of will alone could erase her moment of weakness.

“Aeryn,” Kaelvar said, his voice as firm as tempered steel. “You are to command the east.”

“Yes, Father.” The words left her lips with crisp precision, no hesitation, no protest.

She turned sharply on her heel, and the moment the order was given, the others followed suit. Those who had been named wasted no time in departing, moving with the swift efficiency of warriors accustomed to immediate action. There was no lingering, no questions—only duty.

Vivienne watched them go, mildly impressed by their discipline. Perhaps there was hope for these people yet. A well-ordered force, acting without hesitation, had the potential to be something formidable. And in war, the dead piled high. So much food lying around…

She wet her lips at the thought.

Then, a thought surfaced, unbidden and alien—not in its content, no, she agreed with it, embraced it even. But the origin… That was not her own. It felt familiar yet distant, as though whispered from the edges of a dream. A subtle, pressing weight settled over her, not physical, but undeniable nonetheless, like unseen fingers grazing the edges of her consciousness.

The gaze.

She knew it without needing to look, without needing confirmation. It was her goddess. Watching. Weighing.

Vivienne did not shudder, did not flinch. No one else seemed to feel it—the oppressive, suffocating presence that coiled around her like an unseen shroud. So she gave no sign. Instead, she merely straightened, the ghost of a smirk curling at her lips, and let the thought settle into place, a quiet echo of something greater than herself.

“Kaelvar,” she purred.

The High Fang snapped his gaze toward her, irritation brimming beneath the surface. “What is it, creature?”

Vivienne lifted her hands, palms up, a mockery of peace. “Calm down. I come with an offer, not a demand. Surely the power of a champion would be useful in this war of yours?”

Rava’s frown deepened as she stepped closer, her ears angling backward in a clear sign of displeasure. Her golden eyes held a sharp edge, quiet but firm, the kind of warning that carried weight. “Viv, we need to leave. We can’t stay for this fight.”

Vivienne tilted her head, feigning curiosity, though the glint in her black eyes was anything but innocent. “Can’t, or won’t?” she mused, her voice lilting, teasing.

Rava’s tail flicked once, the only outward sign of her growing impatience. “Either,” she shot back, her voice brooking no argument. “We need to leave before this place is under siege. Staying here isn’t an option.”

A scoff nearly left Vivienne’s lips, but before she could retort, Kaelvar cut in.

“What would it cost us?”

The High Fang’s voice carried the weight of authority, the kind that demanded answers, not speculation. He had not yet seated himself again, still standing with his hands braced against the table, the flickering torchlight casting sharp shadows across his face. His pale fur bristled slightly, but his posture remained firm—rigid, but not hostile.

Vivienne turned back to him, an amused smirk curling her lips. “Oh? So now you’re interested.”

Kaelvar’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t rise to the bait. His claws drummed against the table, slow and deliberate, the weight of his authority pressing down on the chamber like a coiled storm. "Answer the question, creature."

Vivienne chuckled, a low, indulgent sound, stepping forward with a lazy confidence, her tail sweeping behind her in slow arcs. She took her time, letting the tension in the room stretch taut, feeding off the wary glances and stiff postures of the remaining councilors.

“There are three things I desire,” she finally said, her voice smooth as silk. "Wealth, influence, and power."

She tilted her head as though pondering the weight of her own words, but the glint in her black eyes betrayed the truth—she had known exactly what she wanted from the moment she stepped into this hall.

"Three hundred gold coins for my participation." she continued, flashing a grin lined with far too many teeth. "A fair price, I think. A mere pittance, really, considering what I bring to the table. And speaking of tables, Kaelvar—" Her eyes flicked to the High Fang, her smirk deepening. "How much do you think your people’s survival is worth?"

Kaelvar’s lips pulled back in a silent snarl, his golden eyes hard as polished steel. "Three hundred gold is no small sum," he said, voice measured, as though testing her resolve.

Vivienne met his gaze with a slow, lazy blink, utterly unfazed. “Neither is the strength of a champion,” she countered, her voice silk-soft yet firm.

She could feel Rava’s glare drilling into the side of her head, the weight of her frustration palpable. Even without looking, she could hear the barely contained irritation in the way her companion shifted, the way her claws flexed against the leather straps of her armor. But Vivienne wasn’t done yet.

“I also want a promise,” she continued, her tone growing cool, deliberate, “that no matter what happens in this battle, you will not antagonize me or mine.” She let the words settle, watching Kaelvar’s expression shift ever so slightly—wariness, perhaps, or calculation.

Rava took a sharp step forward, voice low and seething. “Vivienne! This isn’t our battle. We should leave. Today.”

Vivienne sighed theatrically, tilting her head toward Rava but not breaking eye contact with Kaelvar. “And I heard you, sweetheart. Truly.” Her black eyes gleamed with amusement as she let a smirk tug at her lips. “But if we’re still here, we might as well profit.”

Kaelvar exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. “Fine. Done.”

The remaining councilors stayed silent, watching the exchange like wolves scenting a coming storm. None dared to object, none dared to interrupt. The weight of Kaelvar’s word sealed the agreement, binding it in a way more permanent than ink on parchment.

Vivienne grinned, slow and satisfied. “Then we have an accord.”

The weight pressing against her lifted, withdrawing like a tide receding from the shore. A test, perhaps. Or merely a sign that she had aligned, however briefly, with her goddess’s whims.

Was this the correct decision? She didn’t know. She wasn’t even sure if there was such a thing as a "correct" choice in the eyes of divinity. Her goddess sought only entertainment, and, for now, Vivienne’s desires seemed to dance in step with that unspoken demand.

But what if she veered off that path? Could she displease her goddess? Would there be consequences if she did? The thought nagged at the back of her mind, yet no answer came.

She could imagine a different life—something quiet, something still. A secluded place, where she could live with her daughter, with Renzia, Kivvy, and, hopefully, Rava. A life not so different from the one she once had. It was a tempting thought, but she knew better than to entertain it. It was a delusion, nothing more.

Right now, she didn’t want quiet.

She wanted to feel the pulse of the world beneath her feet, to walk its roads and drink in its sights, to meet new people, learn of their ways, their ambitions, their strengths—before tearing it all away and consuming them.

No, there was no choice to be made. Her gut had already spoken, and she would trust it. Praxus had plans, and it was her divine mission to unravel them.

Kaelvar studied her for a moment longer, as if weighing the wisdom of his decision. Then, with a curt nod, he relented.

"Fine. I will have rooms assigned to your group while you remain here. I will send for you when the time has arrived."

Vivienne and Rava were directed back toward the waiting room, but before they could step inside, Rava grabbed Vivienne by the arm and yanked her to a stop.

The anger in her face was unmistakable—her ears pinned back, fur bristling along her arms, tail lashing in frustration. “What in Serranos’ name was that?” she hissed, voice low but sharp enough to cut. “You can’t just make a decision that big for all of us!”

The attendant who had led them there flinched, eyes darting between the two before he decided that whatever was about to happen was far beyond his pay grade. Without a word, he turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall.

Vivienne sighed, rolling her shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the conversation before it had even begun. “I do have an excuse, sweetheart.”

“Oh, you have an excuse?” Rava’s ears flicked forward, her nostrils flaring as she stepped closer, crowding into Vivienne’s space. “What could possibly excuse that? I thought we were a team! You didn’t even look at me before making that deal. Did it even cross your mind to ask?”

Vivienne met her glare with one of her own, though hers lacked the raw frustration of Rava’s. If anything, there was a bemused glint in her many black eyes, as if she found the whole situation mildly amusing.

“I felt Akhenna watching me,” she said, voice softer now, almost contemplative. “She urged me to take part in this battle.”

Rava went still, the anger on her face shifting into something else—not quite shock, not quite disbelief, but something tangled between the two. Her grip on Vivienne’s arm loosened, and for a moment, she simply stared at her, as if trying to find the lie in her words.

Her grip on Vivienne’s arm loosened, claws no longer digging in but lingering, as if reluctant to fully let go. For a moment, she simply stared, searching Vivienne’s face, combing through the shadows in her expression, the curl of her lips, the glimmer in her black eyes. Searching for the lie, for some hint that this was another of her games.

“Are you sure?” Rava finally asked, her voice quieter now, the frustration in it tempered by wariness.

Vivienne tilted her head, letting her grin fade into something softer—though the sharpness never quite left her. “I’m surprised you couldn’t feel it,” she murmured. “Her presence was suffocating. Like a weight pressing down on me, making sure I knew she was there.” She exhaled, tapping a claw idly against her thigh. “I don’t know if I should take part in this battle. I want to, but I think she was urging me to.”

Rava’s fingers twitched again, hesitation warring with frustration in the set of her jaw. She let out a rough exhale and dragged her paw through her wild mane of hair, claws catching on knots but working through them absently, as though grounding herself in the motion. Her ears flicked, and her tail lashed once before settling stiffly behind her.

“I don’t like it,” she muttered, voice low but firm.

Vivienne tilted her head slightly, a flicker of amusement ghosting over her lips before she smothered it. “I know,” she said, her tone lacking its usual teasing lilt. “If you want, you can leave me here. Take Liora, Kivvy, and Renzia—get them somewhere safe. I’ll make for Serkoth after the battle.”

For a moment, Rava didn’t react. Then her golden eyes widened, just a fraction, and a sharp breath escaped her lips. She looked as though Vivienne had slapped her.

“Do you really think I would leave you to battle alone?” Rava’s voice was quiet, but there was something dangerous in it, something raw and bristling.

Vivienne arched a brow, watching her carefully. “If you’re this against it, I figured you’d take the way out,” she said, though she wasn’t entirely serious.

Rava stepped forward suddenly, closing the distance between them, standing just shy of invading Vivienne’s space. “I am not leaving you here,” she growled. “Not in this city, not in this fight, not anywhere.” Her claws flexed at her sides, but she didn’t reach for Vivienne again.

Vivienne hummed, tilting her head. “Even if it’s the stupid choice?”

Rava let out a frustrated snarl. “Especially if it’s the stupid choice! You make too many of them!” She jabbed a clawed finger at Vivienne’s chest. “Who’s going to drag your ass out of trouble if I’m not here? Hm? Because I don’t trust anyone else to do it.”

A slow grin curled Vivienne’s lips. “That’s a lot of trust to put in yourself, sweetheart.”

Rava let out another exasperated noise and threw her hands up. “Oh, shut up.”

Vivienne chuckled but didn’t push further. This was as much of a concession as she was going to get—and if she was being honest, it pleased her to know that Rava wouldn’t abandon her, even when it was the smarter move.

Rava scowled at her, then let out a heavy breath, ears twitching. “Fine,” she muttered. “We stay. But if this turns into a disaster, I am saying ‘I told you so.’”

Vivienne smirked. “I’d expect nothing less.”

Rava huffed and crossed her arms, clearly still annoyed but resigned. “So what now?”

Vivienne stretched, rolling her shoulders as her tail swayed behind her. “Now? We get comfortable, I suppose. It wouldn’t do to go into a battle without some proper rest first.”

Rava eyed her warily but nodded. “Fine. But if I wake up and find out you’ve run off to cause trouble without me, I will rip your tail off.”

Vivienne laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”