Death, Devotion, Dissonance - Chapter 235: INTERLUDE III: Sorry

Sorry knelt under her mother’s altar, praying.

“The war is turning towards us. After years of defeat and suffering, the Alliance’s troops have captured the human’s ketricite factories. Even if the kingdom sends overwhelming force to take them back, they’ll only be met with rubble and fire. And us… we’ll leave with the technology to turn the war towards us once and for all. Our… sacrifice. It was not in vain.”

Empty words. Sorry would be forced to sacrifice more and more. But she hoped at least her mother would rest calm knowing that her suffering wasn’t for nothing.

Her crimson, almost gleaming fingertips felt the name etched onto the altar.

[Shame]

A brutally honest name. But that was the tradition of her family, as her mother always taught her.

‘When your name shows the deepest truth about yourself, then your actions will be truthful as well,’ she would say.

‘Then why did you name me ‘Sorry’?’ her younger self would ask back.

Her mother could only reply with a sad smile.

Back then, Sorry hated her and her mother’s name. Seeing the other names etched on the other seven altars built inside the mausoleum, she’d want something more queen-like for herself and her mother.

Regalia, Serenity, Sagacity, Luxuriance, Herald, Tenacity, Hope.

The great queens of the past. And even their name made it obvious. Nothing like the last two in the line.

What princess was named Sorry? What kind of queen was named Shame? What subjects would want to serve these names? Wouldn’t Arslan be ashamed to be the Champion Protector of such royalty?

Those were good times. To live in a world where her only worry was the outlook of others. Sheltered by her mother from the shameful truth of her race.

But Sorry could not stay young forever. The Myrmi Queen only gave birth to an heir when they were close to their death, after all. The queen’s abilities would slowly switch owners while she taught the future queen everything they knew of.

And Sorry learned many things. The birth of the Myrmis, the glory they pursued, the cowardice they needed to learn, the knowledge and wisdom they needed to accrue, the time of great progress they enjoyed, the foreboding signs they noticed coming, the suffering they needed to endure, the struggle for the promise of better days, and the price of failure they needed to pay.

Regalia, Serenity, Sagacity, Luxuriance, Herald, Tenacity, Hope, and Shame.

The whole history of the Myrmis, depicted as eight altars in an empty tomb.

And what was Sorry’s part going to be in all this. What would be the significance of her name? Who knew? The only thing she knew was that she felt sorry. For her children, for her mother, for her carved-up heart.

And today, she had to do something that would scar it even further.

Her face a grimace, she got up on her feet and walked outside.

Her slim, yet dense feet clicked against the marble floor of the tomb. It was almost as if she was wearing high-heels. But the fancy laces of the previous Myrmi queens were not Sorry’s cup of tea. She was happiest if she did not need to wear any clothes like the rest of her children, but as royalty, she knew she needed to maintain some form of decency.

People would have to be satisfied with the long cloth wrapping around her from neck to knee.

“Your majesty,” Arslan met her outside the tombs.

“Call me by my name.”

There were too many royalties in the world. Especially in the South. The title was meaningless.

But this Champion Protector of hers, the four armed swordsman that served two generations of queens, he always reminded her that she was something more.

“Your majesty is perfection itself,” Arslan insisted. Which meant he was in a bad mood. Most likely because of Sorry’s upcoming duties. “Us lowly ones should not utter your name so lightly.”

“Sorry – is perfect.”

She truly felt so. The name she hated oh-so-much… it turned out to be the greatest gift she received from her mother.

No other words exchanged, the two walked away from the tomb. Their destination, the Birthgrounds.

The Birthgrounds was a large empty space There, the son of the Colossus king met her. His towering, obsidian body marked with runes and scars reserved for Colossi royalty was always the harbinger of spiteful, worthless words to come out from his mouth.

“You’re late, woman,” Thoth grunted.

“Watch your mouth, whelp,” Arslan replied in Sorry’s stead.

“We’re all busy people here. Do your job first, then you can waste your time however you see fit.”

Arslan revealed one of his swords, his crimson armor clattering noisily.

Sorry would’ve loved to see Thoth missing his head, but that wouldn’t really help her problems. She put her hand on Arslan’s and helped him sheathe it. She could only ignore Thoth’s mocking smirk directed at Arslan. The fool would get what he deserved. His type tended to get a wake-up call sooner or late. She could only hope she would be there to witness it.

“How many?” she asked simply.

Thoth brought out four lodestones twice Sorry’s size.

“Two thousand.”

Sorry nodded and walked up to the first lodestone.

The magic of the Myrmi Queens appeared inside her head, reacting to the vast source of mana she was touching. A part of the World of Life reserved only for Sorry and her bloodline.

She found herself almost smiling, as she was finally about to have her children. It was so long since the last time… but she could not allow herself the joy. What were her children going to be born into? Nothing but a quick death at the hands of the South’s enemies, or worse, a slower death starving after their use is exhausted.

There can be no joy in this process.

The shape of a Myrmi appeared inside her head. As always, Sorry cut out the part of their brain that allowed for complex thoughts plus the part that made them feel pain, and activated her magic.

The giant lodestone was used up almost immediately, its energy spreading all around the Birthgrounds. Slowly, they assumed the shapes of Myrmis. Five hundred living, breathing individuals, born only to die.

Each and every one of them turned their heads to Sorry and knelt their allegiance. Their undying love and loyalty oozing from their eyes. Sorry could not bear to look at it.

“Follow his orders without fail,” Sorry pointed at Thoth.

The same process occurred with the three other lodestones. An army of 2000 ready in the span of ten minutes. The despisable prince of the Colossi walked away with a smile on his face.

Arslan picked the drained Sorry in his arms, and headed towards her chambers.

Silently, Sorry sobbed on his shoulder. She could never get used to doing this. Wasn’t she the queen that was supposed to lead them to glory? Wasn’t she supposed to fight for their better future?

Sorry could only cry.

She remembered the stories that the South’s enemies had about Myrmi Queens. They imagined her as a gigantic, otherworldly monstrosity, that spent her days laying countless eggs that would hatch into Myrmis. A foul beast that knows only two things. To eat and to breed. Unfeeling and unthinking.

No feelings, no thoughts. Sorry could only hope to become such a monster.