Over the next month…   

Shit hit the fan. But in a good way.    

Attacks on the harbors, ships, government offices, and other military locations happened daily, but it wasn’t thanks to the guard patrols Tris had acquired. The fools in charge were sharp enough to notice that someone must’ve gotten ahold of the documents, so they implemented a new system.   

Orders concerning the day would be given to the field commanders and unit leaders at midnight via sealed letters in front of their respective captains, and then the notes would be burned in front of them after they were committed to memory.    

But that didn’t do much to stop us because I had a Fragment of Wisdom.   

It did change things, though. When it was time for Verdant’s spies to act, I created five wooden puppet birds and had them sit on their shoulders. The plan was for me to use [Skyview], and the birds would relay specific orders to the spies to warn them of any enemies or other concerns.    

That was an impossible task. Tris was on standby to take over for me, but I wanted to do this because I needed to get better. She said I could always and forever rely on her, but I didn’t want to be a burden without having the independence to handle this much.   

The mana and biomass drain were another concern. Before implementing this tactic, we collected and stole as many mana potions as possible from the city’s guard while obtaining a couple dozen from Lysander’s and Mikel’s personal stash. This problem was solved after I found a horde of potions hidden in a noble’s basement. I needed food to sustain the added biomass drain of disguising them as wooden puppets. Luckily, there was enough suitable for a High Elf to eat, so that was settled.    

But I couldn’t handle it. Tris took over for me before the day was even halfway through. She reassured me later that night and admitted she was nearly maxing out her processing abilities to handle the flow of information.   

Keeping track of five different [Skyview] windows, analyzing the data, predicting patrol paths via comparing them to the orders we had stolen to see if anything had changed, and speaking via five clones, in addition to receiving queries from the spies and outputting an answer, put pressure on her.    

And that was on top of keeping a strict eye on Guildmaster Thornbrook, General Blackthorn, Chief Justice Darkfeather, Little Gregory, the Citrine Reapers, and their families. I was true to my word—I wouldn’t let a damn feather harm their heads.  

Tris couldn’t even move when she did this. But she didn’t want to enter her maxed-out mode and go on cooldown, so she endured it—going so far as to remain in a stasis-like sleep. She didn’t even budge a single inch. Irisa and the others were worried even after Tilde explained it. But Tris was back to normal when night fell since there was less to keep track of, so she enjoyed dinner with the family, chatted with Erin and Niva, and helped keep a smile on Irisa’s sweet face.  

So, if she—the woman behind [Hermes Trismegistus]-- had trouble, it put things into perspective.    

Our group got results, though.    

The night and morning skies were filled with smoke and ash. Soldiers were killed throughout the month from our various attacks. Reinforcements from the punished outside the city walls had to account for the losses.   

Likewise, men and women from the rebellion were caught and killed in failed ambushes and amateurishly pathetic schemes when they tried to branch off and do their own thing. Splinter groups always broke off after arguments, and we didn’t need anyone who didn’t want to listen to orders.   

Captain Max totally lost his mind. He went on a dangerous tirade of violence, executing 30 people because his paranoia made him see and hear things that weren’t there. Neither Tris nor I knew because we were preoccupied with the spies’ sabotage. Her processing was stretched thin, and I was busy setting up schemes.  

The loss of life could’ve been prevented, but it worked wonders in firing up the people's hearts. Even the men loyal to Captain Max questioned his orders the following day. He had lined up 30 more people and wanted his guards to choke a crying infant, but they refused. A fight broke out, and the watching crowd picked up rocks and joined the brawl.   

Ironically, it ended with Captain Max being suffocated by the father of the infant he wanted to kill. A clone of mine swooped in and stored the body, and later that night, I left a stark warning in Guildmaster Thornbrook’s room when she returned from a bath. She favored Captain Max. The two even had a sexual relationship I unfortunately saw in happenstance. But his death was what she needed.    

The dumb bitch had truly trusted me when I told her General Blackthorn was responsible for filling the crowd with people loyal to him.  

Likewise, I told General Blackthorn that this was a present when I showed him the corpse a few hours before I visited the Slugfolk.    

I had the two on my side more than ever. General Blackthorn agreed to keep Lord Atrix away from wanting to investigate the rebellion—the general knew about it—and at this point, rumors were spreading.   

Thanks to me.   

Likewise, Guildmaster Thornbrook agreed to fund the rebellion because she wanted to see General Blackthorn suffer for killing her lover. I manipulated her with sweet words and carefully navigated the shaky moment as a friend. Her anger was ‘justified.’ She’d be ‘wrong’ to not feel that upset...  

It was easy to manipulate others into doing what you wanted when you told them what they wanted to hear.   

The guildmaster leaked info and arranged for supplies to be delivered. The specific locations were shared via dead drops.   

The only outlier was Chief Justice Darkfeather. But the man was a coward. He knew the blackmail he had collected was stolen, so he wouldn’t act without my permission.   

As the days passed, a few merchants who agreed with Ayroix’s growing influence stopped selling to soldiers. Fights broke out between those excluded, but by now, roving bands of defenders were patrolling the southern part of town.   

It didn’t take long for General Blackthorn to order a retreat, and the southern side basically became lawless. But there was order. Cid, Verdant, and the other spies worked hard to groom Ayroix into a just leader. His influence spread fast and far.  

The city had different factions. You had the nobles, the farmers, the dockworkers, the merchants, the crafters…   

And the slaves…   

Yes, Atrix had a thriving slave market. It was popular. The women and prettier males were forced to work in the shady brothels.    

Unfortunately, only Sekh could break their seals with [Tyranny Control]. [Conferment] was an option, but I didn’t want to waste that resource when there was a better way.    

So, I used clones and transfiguration to kill the most powerful slave master in Atrix during her sleep, assimilating her afterward.   

I spent the following two weeks destroying the market. I ruined the slave master's connections, implemented new rules that only served to piss off the customers, and spread false lies about the health and cleanliness of the prostitutes at the remaining brothels.    

Bleeding, disgusting pores, deadly boils, and a few false cases of leprosy, courtesy of transfiguration and disguised waypoints, elegantly destroyed another source of money for Atrix.    

In return, they were granted asylum in Plymoise. Gretchen immediately agreed with my plan and worked with Tris to handle the logistical problems of welcoming a few hundred sex workers.  Food was a problem, but Atrix specialized in farming. They had dozens of grain storages scattered around the countryside. 

I had filled my storage with the well-needed food until it was at its capacity, and Tris opened a ‘wormhole,’ as she described it, and poured the grain into Plymoise’s sheds, thereby mitigating the food issues. A little bit, at least.   

Seriously, Atrix was wealthy. It had its poor sections—much like any other country—but it was overall more affluent than Plymoise. I wasn’t sure how it had so much money other than the guildmaster being very, very good at her job.  

Plymoise’s supply problems were solved, but I didn’t leave the Atrixian citizens out to dry. The last thing we needed was for the residents to use their hungry bellies as fuel to turn against Ayroix once he commanded the city.  

Soon enough, every slave owner was dead… It was a valiant, monumental effort requiring expert planning, but my darling Fragment of Wisdom masterfully orchestrated it. It was a wild night-- it took over twelve hours and a ton of support from Verdant and her spies.  

Things had gone wrong, of course. Nothing was perfect. But nothing catastrophic happened. And Verdant’s spies were there to escort the freed slaves to safety, where they explained the plan. A quarter joined Ayroix’s rebellion, but the rest wanted to leave.    

Several slaves were branded for a reason. Some were despicable people with truly violent crimes on their hands… It wasn’t even their criminal-related titles that tipped me off, but their actions and rage-inducing nature to merely kill in cold blood when they didn’t think anyone was watching.    

So, there was yet again another faction to worry about, but they somehow encountered a violent, giant snake that ripped them to shreds…   

Without any brothels to serve as an outlet for the soldiers to vent their stress, the only available avenue were the bars in the noble districts.  They refused to serve the military rabble until they were forced open by Chief Justice Darkfeather and Guildmaster Thornbrook after I ‘strongly’ encouraged it.  

They tried to stage a protest, but it ended in failure.   

The amount of control I had over the city was...merely astonishing...   

But I was using this to my advantage.   

I was there—subtly poisoning their drinks while me and my clones masqueraded as bartenders in the various establishments. For the most part, I just wanted to weaken them and spread rumors about the poor-quality alcohol, but a few drunken soldiers at the one I was at turned violent. Four soldiers grabbed all the women and threw them to the table, ripping off their clothing. Before I acted, the rest of their unit restrained the horny bastards while the girls ran to the backroom.    

My sweet words convinced them that Atrix was nearing its end. Change was coming, and it was approaching faster than ever, carrying a whirlwind of revenge. The barmaids left through the backdoor, along with the cooks, and I emerged alone to face the soldiers.  

Ten seconds later...   

They were slumped over dead after I used [Lavender Kiss] and [Wilted Rose] to fill the bar with deadly poison.    

The chaos this caused couldn’t be understated. Forty men died on noble grounds. General Blackthorn, Chief Justice Darkfeather, and Guildmaster Thornbrook acted as I needed. Their squabbles happened the following morning during an emergency session, and the day ended with all bars being closed for good.   

And that only added to the drama.   

But what about Little Gregory?   

For him…  

The best option was appeasement. We had to make the cowardly bastard think his precious reapers were accomplishing something by giving them ‘proof’ to return with. And to my surprise, all fifteen were on board. I hadn’t met them since our first encounter, but I often spoke to Lysander via waypoint writing when he was alone.   

Whenever our group got too active or rowdy, I’d make a few clones and have them purposely get caught by the guards and executed. Or I’d have Lysander or Rykla ‘meet’ with their ‘informant’ on the inside and return with the time and date of a ‘deal.’   

Gregory, high on his success, would send a squadron to crash the weapon swap, and the forthcoming ‘successes’ relieved his worries and made it seem like he stood a fighting chance.  He gave these grand speeches—while being ‘protected’ by Mikel’s magic and Citrine Reapers in disguise—about how the ‘gutter trash’ infecting his beautiful, strong, and valiant city-state was meeting its end soon.   

Little Gregory was given false information about the status of Plymoise to make it appear as if he was destroying it from the inside. Tris assisted in rounding up Atrixian spies trying to start something and watched them hang. That clean-up operation had occurred under the cover of night with Captain Caulk leading the charge.  

But Little Gregory... He only heard what he wanted to hear. The man refused to believe the obvious was fast approaching like a speeding bullet. He could see the chaos with his eyes—he saw the smoke! He saw how the city teetered on the edge! He heard the regular explosions that went off like clockwork. Specifically, houses filled with my puppets were being blown up. The allegiance of those inside differed depending on whatever message would benefit us the most. 

One day, we needed to appease that slimy bastard, so Lysander informed him of a meeting in the noble district. The next? To infuse courage and a sense of loss within the rebellion, making them vow to fight harder.  

I had to play both sides, influencing the two to act the way Tris and I needed for the rebellion to be the most successful it could possibly be. Losses were inevitable, but I tried to keep the innocents alive. Likewise, we attempted to make our forces lose as few as possible, but it wasn’t always possible.  

People always wanted to be the hero. They would refuse orders to retreat and go out in a blaze of glory, but I didn’t let their bodies go to waste. I always had a stray slime or two near any battle to slurp up the dead, and the corpses’ disappearances would come into play later when it was time to reveal something during the climatic finale.    

And those standing outside the city gates?   

They couldn’t do anything. Half were loyal to the general. The other half to the guildmaster. They each didn’t want to make the first move. My orders, of course.  They had commands to stand outside the city and merely remain on standby. Those still within Tiran’s Crest were similarly divided into opposing forces. The two sides had orders to start the fighting when they saw signals from the general and guildmaster.  

Little by little, Lysander, the guildmaster, and the general slowly removed the mask covering their reports and forced Little Gregory to see the truth for what it was three days before everything was set to happen. After that, he returned to his room, locked the door, and forced the Citrine Reapers to stand guard at all hours of the day. He used them as servants, cooks, and errand runners and quickly delved into insanity and depravity. That madness I saw when Clone!Surtr showed up returned, and it didn’t leave. The only cure, in his mind, was alcohol and drugs. He’d be trapped within a false reality than see the world for what it was.   

All according to plan...  

But I had done a lot of assimilation during this month. Tris believed I was very close to the life force needed to remove the curse inside Sekh’s body. Erasing it from her soul was another thing, but it was baby steps.    

It was one foot in front of the other.    

It was progress.     

Two days before it was all going to go down…   

I made my move. General Blackthorn, Guildmaster Thornbrook, and Chief Justice Darkfeather were told what they wanted to hear. That the fateful moment was going to happen within 48 hours. They all believed they had the support of the rebellion and would come out on top.  

But only General Blackthorn had it.    

Cid had shared a few revelations with Ayroix throughout the month. He disclosed the existence of a mastermind-- one orchestrating the unity of people and rectifying the situation for him. This individual was also the source of Cid's knowledge about Ayroix. Cid was why the High Elf of Liberation began circulating as an ethereal whisper days after he met Ayroix.    

And the news swiftly caught on...   

And I didn’t have to do anything. It naturally spread like a leaf dancing in the violent winds of a hurricane, and you couldn’t go two feet without hearing speculation as to who or what the High Elf of Liberation was.    

Tris even told me that word had reached Plymoise. It must’ve been one of the prostitutes or slaves that did it. And that was fine for me. Tris, Tilde, Surtr, and I had discussed what this added fame would bring me. Those sharp enough could link the High Elf of Liberation to Lyudmila Vredi Springfield, but only if my full name had leaked.    

If it had? That would be fine because the world must accept me as Lyudmila Vredi Springfield.   

If it hadn’t? That was also fine.     

But Little Gregory had a different nightmare. He no longer feared the demonic lion with raging flames since Lysander had brought him the lion’s ‘head.’ No. It was the High Elf of Liberation. In his rare moments of sobriety, he feared every sound and shouted at the shadows for the High Elf of Liberation to show themselves. His mindless ramblings became more and more commonplace. But there was more I could do, but the returns were diminishing. He was already a broken, shattered piece of shit, so I left him alone.  

Ironically, that probably inflicted more mental damage than me doing anything.   

But…   

It was almost time…   

The plan so carefully, meticulously guided by a Fragment of Wisdom's guiding touch, was in the final stages.    

And it would be worth it.     

The SP… The life force. The strength. The dexterity. The stamina. The mana. Everything…   

It was about to be mine.