For the Record

Olive seems to have chosen even more opulent attire for me than usual this time, but for once I don’t particularly mind. I want to appear as intimidating as possible, and this certainly won’t hurt.

Although… Dispersing to ash and towering over the pooka in my natural state has a certain appeal.

…

Well, no one ever said I had to choose.

Although, hmmm…

I thoughtfully glance at Izahne, a gesture she doesn’t miss. She turns toward me with an inquisitive look on her face.

“You know, nobody would recognize you as that headstrong light-pantheon paladin anymore. It’s kind of funny in a way.”

She blushes deeply and looks at her feet… Ah, she’s fun to tease, but I suppose I shouldn’t take it too far.

After all, she isn’t the one I want to break today. Maybe later.

(You’re an asshole,) Nyx scolds.

Oh I know. You’ve told me repeatedly.

Anyway, my purpose in addressing my wife wasn’t just to tease her.

“Hold still. I’m going to try something.”

She continues looking confused as I disperse some of my ash, wrapping it around her firmly and then reshaping it bit by bit.

Meanwhile, Olive looks on with envy. I swear, why are all my consorts weirdos?

(Who else would be a consort to a bizarre monster like you?)

Touche, I guess.

As the others look on, I finish reshaping the layer of ash into a fine set of matte black armor, covered in stylized spikes and offering a decent amount of coverage in a way that probably won’t slow her down – she’s a speed-based fighter now after all.

“There. This is more appropriate than any set of leather armor, no matter what dragon or whatever it came from.”

“I…” Izahne trails off.

“You?”

“I… Do I…”

I sigh. “Come on, Izahne. You do this every time I do something to you.”

(Can you blame her? Between you forcibly wedding her, saving her from Themis, and all those wonky titles, she’s all messed up in the head!)

Heh? How so?

Nyx sighs, because of course she does. (You still have no idea how mortal minds work.)

I shrug, drawing the attention of the others.

“Don’t worry about it I guess.”

After Olive finishes dressing me, which… I guess I’ve just accepted at this point, we make our way toward my throne room. And while I can tell she’s trying not to be noticed, True Sense is potent enough that I can hear Izahne mutter, “Nemesis is protecting me personally,” while touching the chest plate of her new armor.

And Olive is radiating envy.

It is one of my Domains, after all.

***

Yeah, True Sense is probably too strong, at least now. Even sitting on my throne, I can hear two of the maids cleaning the bath, complaining about the ring of ash and plant matter.

Which… isn’t really something I can do anything about, I’m pretty sure. I’m made of ash, and it gathers on and around me. Rose, meanwhile, is a literal plant thing. They’ll just have to get over it.

“Discipline, this one disperses,” Olive mutters with a bow I can sense without looking.

“Good.”

…

Well, whoever is bringing Boz here is taking their sweet time.

…

…

“Why is this taking so long?”

…

Right as I start to stand so I can go investigate myself, the main entryway starts to creak open. So of course, I quickly sit back down as if nothing had happened!

As the double doors finish their travel, a procession of vampire maids primly treads along the deep blue carpet, stopping a few paces from the stairs and separating to form a column on either side.

And behind them, one well-dressed and very confused pooka.

Well, at least he has the sense to wait for me to speak. To be honest, I’d expected him to blurt out something –

“Uhhh, where ‘m I? Why ‘m I here?”

…Stupid.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, but before I have a chance to berate the absolute idiot, Vivianne vanishes from my side and reappears behind him in the full glory of her war form, pressing his head to the ground.

“You WILL show proper deference, FILTH!” she snarls, echoing in the chamber.

I clap politely. “That will do. Thank you, Vivianne. You may return.”

“Yes, my queen,” she replies before undulating rapidly to her previous position and melting back into her usual androgynous form.

I let the silence settle for a moment before speaking again.

And I begin with a chuckle. “The passage of time is a strange thing, wouldn’t you say? It feels like only yesterday I found you shaking down some poor sod in a back alley. Now tell me, Boz. Do you understand the position you are in now? I will permit you to raise your head and answer.”

The quivering pooka slowly raises his head to look at me, but clearly doesn’t dare make eye contact. “N-n-n-not really, y-yer highness…?”

I sigh. “Well, at least you’re trying I guess. Do you at least remember who I am?”

To jog his memory, I disperse my body to its full volume. With how many of my kin I’ve absorbed since returning to my plane, I can fill this room and then some, but I choose to instead fill only the space around my throne.

And the rest of the room, basically everywhere except the carpet and its view of the royal landing, leveling my glittering blue gaze down at him.

I can feel his terror building, but… no, it’s not enough. Not nearly enough, not yet.

But I know what can help that.

Show him your true forms, I intone through the bonds with my retainers.

The least unexpected at this point is Vivianne as she shifts again into her war form, massive silver trident in hand and mandibles quivering.

A sea of vines erupts from Rose, several of which are tipped with maws of gnashing teeth, every inch of its body covered in thorns dripping poison. Probably the same poison that now hangs around it in a haze.

My head maid, meanwhile, bids the ground goodbye as she lifts into the air, her tails bristling and spreading behind her to form a near-wall of fluff as she ripples with blue fire and lightning. In her hands she holds a pair of long black daggers with cruelly barbed edges. Her eyes burn with a baleful fire, teeth suddenly long and sharp enough that I’m surprised they fit in her mouth.

With a flourish of black steel, Omorth stabs his tip into the stone before him, his false body expanding to three times his normal size and taking on a hazy appearance.

For her part, Izahne… doesn’t really change much, though she does bare her fangs and form her shadow blade… and another… and another… until she holds one in each hand and seven more drift around her in the air.

I’m not sure if I inadvertently compelled her or if she wanted to join in the fun, but Nyx chooses now to materialize as well, black robes rippling in nonexistent wind and eyes flaring a brilliant green…

And then a huge pair of wings spreads from her back, scattering black feathers to drift across the room like falling leaves.

Huh. That’s new.

(No it isn’t,) she echoes in my mind. (I’m literally your own personal angel of envy. This shouldn’t be a surprise.)

I see.

I turn my attention back to the prostrated pooka, to the chorus of my retainers’ hissing, chittering, and grating, and the concerted hiss from the vampire maids as well.

And for the finishing touch, I apply both of my Auras at full force, and a gentle touch from Consume. After all, I don’t want him to die.

Not yet.

YOU SEE, BOZ, I project into the minds of all present, I HAVE BEEN MADE WHOLE. AND YET YOU, YOU POOR FOOL, NOT ONLY WANDERED INTO MY HOME, BUT DID SO WITH INTENTIONS OF PREYING ON MY PEOPLE, VIOLATING MY LAWS.

Manifesting as many feelers as I can manage – somewhere around fifty now, with my ongoing practice – I flutter them around the room as well, reaching from my ash to lash around as if in search of meat.

I can feel from his will that he’s about to pass out, so I grip him with Dominate, just enough to keep him conscious. NO. YOU WILL NOT. I WILL NOT ALLOW YOU AN ESCAPE.

Part of myself drifts down from my royal landing to settle in front of him, and I speak much more quietly than before. “Tell me, Boz. You aren’t smart enough to come up with a plan like this, and you wouldn’t have the funds to try. So… who is backing you? Who put you up to this?”

Despite everything I’ve just done, I don’t feel even a twinkle of disapproval from the rabbit god – although I can definitely feel him watching.

“S-s-some guy!” Boz whimpers.

I raise an eyebrow – or would if I had my body manifested. “Go on.”

Ah, he’s starting to cry. I wonder if he’s about to break?

“Th-this guy! In-n-n a weird colorful sh-shirt! He talked weird! Kept f-followin’ m’ around, evry time I t-turned around he was th-there! Said he’d s-stop if I did a th-thing, and he’d p-pay me for it too!”

That makes me pause. And blink.

…

He didn’t.

He motherfucking didn’t.

I gather my ash, reforming my body to stand in front of the limp idiot where I let him collapse. And I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Gods dammit, Dolos…”