Vyra flew to the North gate and saw the second rampaging Golem of the day. The visitor on this side, unlike the king’s shadow, was fighting back. Lightning magic arced through the sky and struck the golem’s metal skin, but the crackling energy was absorbed by the red veins of Herite mixed into the Adamantium. The Golem roared as Magic Power filled its core and gave it more energy. After that, the visitor switched to wielding a blade, insanely chipping at the Golem's hard skin even as the blade grew dull.

“Stop at once!” The Queen Orc plummeted from the sky in between the two combatants, stirring up a cloud of dust. She caught the paw of the giant tiger Golem, her muscles bulging against the weight, and stopped the visitor’s sword slashing through the fog with a quickly deployed barrier.

The dust cleared and the Golem realized its master had arrived; it calmed down. The outsider stepped back, keeping her sword raised. She looked similar to Irsha, with pale skin, silky black hair, and thin horns on her forehead. However, unlike Irsha who was an earnest and kind person, this girl’s eyes were deep and sharp. She wore white robes with red and black embroidery; they were exceptionally nice clothes for a Monster living outside of Babylon.

Vyra glared down at her violent guest. “You’re an Oni,” she mused, then frowned. “If you hadn’t attacked it, it wouldn’t have retaliated. Why are you trying to fight your way into my city?”

The woman puffed her chest out and spoke in a strange dialect; one that filled the gaps in standard Orcish in a completely different way than Babylonian Orcish. “My name is Myrtis; I am the Ritual Maiden of Kut. If you are the chief of this village, then it is your fault that I’ve come. Your ban on slave raiding has cut off our access to suitable sacrifices. I am here to either convince you of your wrongdoing or to kill you!”

Vyra blinked and examined the Oni's curved sword. It had been dented by the golem’s hard skin; in the first place, its thinness and intricacy made it look more like a ritual blade than a war blade. She eyed the tasteful robes that had minimal effectiveness as an armor but did plenty to display status. Lastly, she looked at Myrtis herself.

The Orc Lord snorted and held up her hands in a shrug. “You cannot kill me, so you had better do your best to convince me, cultist.”

The wind whistled by, and the Oni quietly, obstinately, widened her stance.

Vyra rolled her eyes. “Didn’t I tell you that’s foolish? An Orc can’t—”

Myrtis ignored her words and rushed forward. The tip of her sword hadn’t been blunted as badly as the rest, so she held it ready to thrust. Vyra sighed and called upon her racial ability to command members of the same species. Myrtis’ feet hesitated, but she overcame it and pushed forward.

What?!

Vyra prepared a rushed barrier and started leaning to the side to dodge, her reaction was too slow. She would take a little damage from this attack before she could retaliate.

At that moment, a figure appeared between the two parties. It dodged the Oni’s blade by a hair’s breadth, pressed forward, and grabbed the arm holding the hilt. Her elbow and shoulder joints were locked into place, the attack was redirected, and Myrtis was thrown face first into the dirt, all in one fluid movement.

A smile blossomed on the Orc Lord’s face. “Brother! What are you doing here?”

“I was training in that empty warehouse,” the golden-haired War Orc pointed at a plain building just past the gate. “More importantly, are you an idiot? Did you think you could control that cultist?”

She blinked. “Yes I did, but it seems to have failed.”

Varoon frowned and pointed at the Oni who was slowly getting back up. “Look at her eyes, stupid.”

Myrtis had crimson red eyes. Irsha’s eyes were yellow like any Monster, so it wasn’t a trait common to Onis. The only other Monsters Vyra had ever seen with red eyes were the Fomors, which to be devils.

“So, to put it plainly, she’s not completely an Orc anymore.”

“Right. We call them demon worshipers, after all. Naturally, that’s because of their affiliation with the Lords of Darkness.”

“I thought they worshipped Demonic Beasts. That's my misunderstanding,” Vyra trailed off and conjured rings of metal to bind her aggressive guest. Myrtis gritted her teeth and fought, but she couldn't summon any strength with her limbs pressed against her body. “First, explain to me why these sacrifices are important to you.”

“I will explain nothing to you, heathen,” Myrtis snarled.

“Then you will gain nothing. Your aggressive acts as a foreign official will be taken as a declaration of war, you will be enslaved as a war criminal, and I will slaughter all of your tribe who fail to surrender. Alternatively, you could behave yourself and open up a line of dialogue, we can talk through our differences, and perhaps some kind of arrangement can be made.”

The Oni just gritted her teeth, “My people will not bow to you, heathen.”

Varoon rolled his eyes, clipped the woman on the chin so she would pass out, and held her like a sack of grain. “Go ask mother about the cultists. I’m pretty sure she went there once, back when she was still training herself as a warrior. I assume it’s fine if I drop this one off in the dungeon?”

“Yes, that’s fine. Let one of the guards know there’s someone there so they can keep watch.” Before Varoon could walk off, she added, “Also, your timing was perfect earlier. Thank you.”

Varoon didn’t look back, and just softly said, “You’re really foolish. I can’t stand that about you the most.”

Vyra watched her brother leave and shrugged to herself. She was about to turn back to the palace but considered where she was.

Bazarath’s workshop is around here, isn’t it? I had some business there, and I might as well do that now.

The Orc Lord adjusted her angle slightly and took flight, dropping down in front of a plain building that looked no different from any of the other warehouses, aside from the smoke wafting out of the chimney hole and the dull sign hanging above the entrance.

She opened the door calmly and took a look inside. The decorations were as plain as one would expect from looking at the exterior, but there were many display racks with interesting things to draw the eye: weapons of many different sizes and types; a handful of plated armor sets and assorted pieces; and a glass case displaying various glittering accessories.

“My Lord! To think you would come here personally!” A shop like this one naturally had someone watching the counter at all times. The attendant at this time was a High Goblin, someone who could handle the merchandise gently and drive a good bargain. There were two Fomors hanging around nearby as hired muscle. The owner of the shop spent most of his time working at the forge in the back, and Balig would probably be there with him.

Vyra looked around and saw the few other customers inside stop what they were doing and lower their heads, while the guards dutifully kept observing everyone. She turned to the clerk and smiled.

“I hope you don’t think I’m such a stuck-up person. I would do my own shopping if only I had the time for it. That said, today I have a bit of a special request. Is Balig in?”

“He is. He’s in the back, helping master Bazarath operate the forge. Nobody else we’ve tried to hire can do it better, after all.”

“Could you check if he’s available to talk?”

“Of course, right away.” The clerk ducked into the back. He returned shortly with an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry, they’re quite busy at the moment. Shall I take a message?”

“Yes. Please tell him I want to commission an accessory. Direct him to the palace when he has time; I’ll tell him the details in person then.”

“I will be sure to let him know, my Lord.”

Vyra exited the shop and let out a small sigh. Even though I was complaining about the contents earlier, missing a lesson still makes me feel anxious.

[The queen returned to her palace and the disgruntled face of her tutor and promptly got down on her hands and knees.

“I will not teach such a flippant student!”

“I’m sorry! Please let me learn!”]

That overblown fantasy vanished like mist when Vyra opened the door to her study. Oolga was long gone, and Surumi was seated patiently in a chair. He stood up when he saw her and handed over a metal tablet carved with notes from the parts of the lesson she’d missed.

“I’m not accustomed to teaching people who are already effective heads of state. Keep up your duties, but please have this material memorized by the time of our next lesson.”

“Yes,” Vyra stared at the tablet, her words and thoughts trailing off into stunned silence. Surumi left the room and she still didn’t move from her spot. Nerun, standing near the door, prompted her.

“My Lord, there are some requests from the research institute, bank, and school which require your attention. Also, the national library is requesting a stipend to help purchase the latest tablets.”

“Ah,” she slowly returned to her senses. “Yes, of course. I approve of the library stipend, but only enough to cover one hundred of their most important works. These tablets are a new product and production is limited. I can’t have the library hogging them all before the citizens and business owners can even catch a glimpse. Have the librarian’s accountants report back how much they need and tell mother to fit it into the budget.”

Vyra had fixed her bearing and now sat behind her desk in her throne-like chair. “Prepare a slot before dinner for me to visit the prisoner in the dungeon.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Now, tell me about these requests.”