The Chimeric Ascension of Lyudmila Springfield

Chapter Eighty-One: Priming The Rebellious Spirit – Part Four (Illustrations!)

“Commander...” The mage’s voice quivered like glass under pressure, barely containing his rage. “Surely... You’re not thinking of going against our creed...” An archer and another soldier echoed similar statements as Lysander stood. He turned around and approached.    

I merely sat back and watched the deliberation unfold. Loyalty to Atrix clashed with the unsettling truth—that Little Gregory would throw them away the moment it meant he’d survive a second longer.  

"Commander, we pledged our lives to defend Atrix, not to entertain the whims of a supposed savior," asserted the mage with a touch of defiance.  

An archer chimed in, her voice carrying the weight of allegiance, "This man speaks of revolution, but how can we be sure he won't lead us into chaos? We need stability, not reckless change."  

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, torn between the ingrained creed they swore to uphold and the tantalizing promise of a better future.   

Nationalism has really been instilled within them, huh? It’s totally cultish. I wonder if Verdant would give up her life for Gretchen if she was a ruthless tyrant?   

I leaned forward, meeting Lysander's gaze with unwavering intensity. "The choice is yours. The shackles of blind loyalty or the path to genuine change for a better tomorrow. Atrix can rise above its tarnished history, but only if its defenders recognize the need for a new era forged by the people."  

Lysander's eyes flickered with uncertainty as the weight of responsibility pressed upon him. The murmurs among his soldiers intensified, reflecting the internal struggle within each Reaper. Tradition clashed with the promise of a better tomorrow.  

I stood, addressing them with a calmed authority. "Your loyalty to Atrix is commendable, but blind devotion can be a chain that stifles progress. Consider the fate of those who fought his dangerous war only to be discarded by the man they swore to protect. Need I remind you of Atrix’s method of dealing with failure?” I recalled what Verdant had told me—how soldiers returning from a failed conquest ages ago were killed and hanged for losing. “When you have someone like Captain Max running around… Well, that madman will be the first to carve whoever his ‘owner’ wants him to.”  

A hushed tension filled the air, and Lysander spoke softly, breaking it. He turned around and defiantly stared at my eyes, never breaking contact.   

“’In the shadow of the reaper’s blade, eternal allegiance to the land of Atrix, the undying beacon of our loyalty.’ That is our creed. Our organization was created to safeguard this beautiful land from all threats, yet our true purpose has been lost throughout the years. We weren’t meant to bodyguard our lord—we were meant to die to ensure the prosperity of our land, even if the two paths crossover.”  

“So, I was right. It’s less about loyalty to the man and more about the office and city-state. The differences can be minor, but they are there,” I replied. “A sane man would have allowed at least half of you to help the city instead of keeping you locked in his neighboring room to serve as meat shields.”  

“That they are, Rio.” Lysander turned around and addressed his soldiers. “This is our chance to regain our reason for existence. Throughout the years, Lord Atrix and his family... His ancestors twisted the meaning of our organization to suit their selfish needs." 

Mikel dropped to his knees. “Don’t tell me… Commander! Don’t tell me that…you’re going…”  

“My true loyalty has always been with the land. If I thought serving Lord Atrix was the best way to ensure my dream came true... I would refuse. I would fight Rio to the bitter end and face my death, dying as a Son of Atrix—as the wielder of [Guardian of the Atrixian Flame]. But my trust in our lord has always been fickle.”  

“You’re a traitor, commander… A dirty, rotten traitor…” Mikel gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. He stood as hatred flashed across his strikingly orange eyes.   

“I won’t deny it. But… This land has given me so much—more than you could imagine.” There was a story behind his words. Lysander was a complicated man underneath that wrinkled, middle-aged shell.  

“And just who do you think gave you this land?! We’d have nothing if not for Lord Atrix and his ancestors! We all love this city-state, commander! And we would all die for our motherland to blossom for centuries still yet to come! Yes, things are dire, but is it not the Atrixian way to forever rise from the ashes and come back stronger?!” Mikel argued. He pushed Lysander, who didn’t move an inch. Scoffing, the unhappy mage spat his distaste and threw his arms up in resentment.   

“Plymoise will fall! The rebels will be killed. Lord Atrix’s bastard son will face his rightful end! We swore oaths, commander! Oaths we cannot break!” An archer growled, stomping the ground twice as he continued to pour into his commander.   

“Ah, allow me to say this. Whatever happens... I’ll protect your families. I won’t allow them to die. And really, I don’t want you to die. I’m not saying that loss is inevitable—it is. I predict the rebellion to be a hard-fought one—but your loved ones will not come to harm. Perhaps things will look dire, but that’s merely the nature of the beast. But again, I shall safeguard their lives.”  

“Shut the hell up!” The archer readied his bow and raised it at me. “You can’t be trusted. Nothing you say can ever be worth an ounce of what you want it to be! You’re just a villain! You’re probably from Terokai or Indiko! What guarantee do we have that you won’t turn your armies upon Atrix the moment this ‘supposed’ revolution has finished.”  

“What else can I say other than I have no contact with them?”  

“I know your kind...” Lightning flashed around Mikel’s arms and gathered at his palms. He had been quietly chanting. “You take, and take, and take. There is always something more... People like you are never satisfied with what you have. You see our lives as playthings—to manipulate as you see fit. You don’t care. You never did. I know you don’t give two shits about our land. You desire the sick thrill of manipulating behind the scenes.”  

“...”  

“End your spell, Mikel. That’s an order.” Lysander raised his shield. “Don’t do something you’ll regret.” 

“Regret?! Commander... You’re the last one who should say that! You took the creed! You bear our most valuable title! No one except you should ever be the [Guardian of the Atrixian Flame]! And now you wish to extinguish the love and pride Atrix has instilled within you?!”  

“Are you really going to fight? Don’t you think that’s...kinda foolish?” I asked. “You won’t win. You’re throwing away your lives for nothing. Allow me to clarify myself. The rebellion will happen. I shall not let it be stopped. Forces beyond your keen are working around the clock to erase any potential problems that may arise.”  

“I...” Suddenly, the gnome spoke. Rykla gathered her courage and stood, and she looked at her allies. The swirling lightning descending Mikel’s arms never stopped. “I don’t want to die... I don’t want to kill for Lord Atrix anymore. He’s made me...do his dirty work a hundred times. It’s just like what happened to you, commander. Lord Atrix lied to me about a threat and sent me to handle it with my [Shadowmerge]. But there was no threat... Just...innocent people trying to live their lives. But it kept happening...and happening...and happening... When he scouted me, he never told me I’d be forced to do this. And I can’t stop because I know he’ll hurt my family. It...” The gnome dropped to her knees and cried. “I wished I’d never join... I hate... I hate Lord Atrix so much! But the thought of going against him... It scares me... I feel my bones quiver, and my throat tightens up...”  

“Then join me, Rykla. You will never have to assassinate another soul. You love gardening, don’t you?”  

“What? How did...”  

“Your sister keeps a diary hidden under her bed. Her favorite memory is when you two started a little flower garden in the backyard on the veranda on her 7th birthday. Even now, she tends to it every day without fail. She wants to be a florist, you know. Her room’s decorated with pressed flowers arranged the way you taught her. And you, Mikel. Your son uses your old stave. He’s delving deep into your tomes and has successfully learned to cast [Lightning Spark]. The spell’s weak. But it’s a head start. You were known far and wide as the Thunderlord Avenger before your ‘death.’ Be happy. He wants to follow in your footsteps.”  

I expected Mikel to flash with anger. [Thunderlord’s Wrath] was an install-type skill to coat the user’s body in lightning, granting them various buffs, including short-range teleportation and other lightning-related abilities. It was mana intensive and very draining, so most couldn’t use it for longer than a few minutes.   

But no. Mikel canceled his spell. And one by one, I continued, speaking more about the family the Citrine Reapers left behind after being coerced with false words spoken by a man who didn’t deserve the loyalty he received.   

“Think of the ones you left behind. This is the only way a reunion is possible. Regrets? I know you harbor them. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve repeated myself, but this is your chance to make amends. It’s to fix a mistake that isn’t your fault. How were you to react when Gregory approached you, using his twisted words to reveal the existence of the Citrine Reapers, and in that same breath, lied to get your loyalty. He’s a crook. He’s someone deserving of death. But it must be symbolic. For this city to thrive in the future, it must be properly reined in by the only man who can do it. Ayroix Atrix must become the savior this city needs. He must become the cornerstone of the rebellion. And once that is done, you can leave this lie. Or you can reforge the Citrine Reapers into what they were meant to be and reclaim their original purpose.”  

The group now had new emotions swirling around them. Seeing Mikel sheath his magic went a long way to getting my point across, and the group began conversing amongst themselves for a second time. I leaned against Surtr and watched until Lysander broke rank and approached.   

“You’re the most mysterious of them all,” I said as he crossed his arms and stood beside me. 

“Really? From my eyes, you’re the unknown one.”  

“True, but I mean about you as a person. I have a strong grasp of Mikel and the others from observing their former lives, family, titles, and abilities, but you... Information on the commander of the Citrine Reapers is impossible even for me to find.”  

“But you’re aware of my farming and hunting-related titles?”  

I nodded. “And from that, I can assume you love nature. Perhaps even more than an elf, but that’s all.”  

“Are you curious, Rio?”  

“No. Not particularly. But I want to know why written records of you don't exist. People don’t realize how much information there is to glean from unrelated sources. A tidbit of knowledge hidden in someone’s journal could be amended to what you discover on the other side of town. If you think of it like a puzzle and find all the pieces, you can work backward to put everything into place.”  

“That’s...”  

“Information, Lysander... Information reigns supreme in almost all aspects of life. It cannot be underestimated, but there is nothing about you.”  

“So, it seems. But I don’t exist. I belonged to a family that always hid in the shadows. It matters little if I tell you since the Veilrider family was nothing but a murmur before it was extinguished for good.”  

“But you would tell me? Even after knowing how I use even the smallest truth to uncover the largest secret? Whatever you say will be used in my information-gathering network.”  

Lysander laughed. “I don’t see why not. It’s not like you can blackmail me with it. My loved ones have already returned to the earth, Rio. My only friends are the fourteen other members of the Citrine Reapers. I have no acquaintances other than them.”  

“Too much baggage?”  

“No. I wouldn’t say that.” Lysander turned to the sky and reached a hand at the moon. “I’m...not exactly what one would call normal. Crafting friendships? It’s difficult for me due to how my mother raised me.”  

And so...  

Lysander told me his story.   

He was born to a noblewoman who had thrown away a life of luxury to chase her freedom. Lysander didn’t learn the truth until after her death, but the man she was married to was a pig. He preferred the company of whores, and Lysander’s mother didn’t want to be the wife of a man who didn’t respect the ‘sanctity of marriage.’  

Lysander didn’t say it, but I read between the lines.   

“My mother said she felt like a rented womb. No one cared about her. She was just there to give birth to that man’s heir. He had promised her food and warmth, but it was a lie that he told anyone else he fancied,” said Lysander, his voice solemn. His tone was flat.   

“My mother didn’t want to be rescinded to the gilded cage, so she eventually ran away in the middle of night to live her destiny. Eventually? My mother found a nice, quaint little village on the border and happily integrated herself into their life. Once I was born, she departed for the nearby forest and built a lovely little log cabin. It’s still there, you know. I visit it yearly after telling Lord Atrix I’m going on an extended patrol.”  

Lysander told me she passed away on his eleventh birthday. His mother had spent the previous years teaching him how to live off the land-- farming, hunting, and giving thanks to the bountiful nature that provided them with everything they needed. In time, she acquired the freedom she desired, and Lysander's mother wished to impart those skills to him so he wouldn’t ever be forced to accept a cruel offer to live.   

She would’ve died hungry, cold, and alone hadn’t she refrained from taking that awful man’s offer, and she wanted her son to be more prepared.   

“I still remember her final words to me... ‘This isn’t the end, my son. It is but a new beginning, for I will return to the earth to be without ancestors. Be proud of who you are, my little Lysander, and forever remember the freedom sowed in your heart. We will meet again, but do not hasten that process. Enjoy your time before our land warms your body.’”  

She went a little overboard with the freedom thing, but I can’t fault her.  

Lysander said he buried her under the Atrixian lilies she loved so much. “I told her I loved her, and then I was...off. I was but a child, yet I wasn’t afraid. And as I looked around, I knew I wanted to do what I could to protect this beautiful land. It was all I had ever known, so my life course was clear. Do you remember that village? The one that took my mother in?”  

I nodded.  

“I told her what had happened, and she offered to look after the cabin and grave.” From there, Lysander was off on a journey. “It wasn’t easy, but I knew it wouldn’t. And I couldn’t skip a dozen steps, so I began small and joined the adventurer’s guild.” Small tasks here and there built up his wallet, and he saved more money than most since he knew how to survive off the land.   

“I was there for a few months, and word spread of some, and these aren’t my words, of a ‘miraculous boy with knowledge of the earth and land far beyond his age.’ Soon, a certain noble arrived at the village disguised as a hunter. Lord Veilrider... He’s the man I truly consider my father.”  

He added that Lord Veilrider didn’t have a wife or children. They developed a fast friendship on a hunting trip, and adoption was eventually brought up.   

“He said my path was noble. Protecting this land was a just cause, but I couldn’t do it alone. He liked the spark in my eyes and wished to see it foster. The world’s kind, gentle, harsh, and that's why it's so beautiful. And Lord Veilrider had said we were a dying breed. He feared that one day, man would forget to look around. He would look at the wondrous sights and abandon them for material greed." 

“So... He offered to train you?”  

“More or less. I needed to better myself. A few days later, I arrived at the capital city. My life changed, and the next twenty years saw me experiencing... Everything, really. The unique smells gallivanting together in the market? Or the blisteringly loud forges that roared alive in the early morning? I’ve never seen so many people packed into one area. It was a drastic departure from what I knew.”  

Under Lord Veilrider's patient tutelage, Lysander blossomed, mastering not only combat but also etiquette and the intricacies of politics. Despite his rise in the guild and military, he remained grounded in his humble beginnings, making annual pilgrimages to his mother’s grave. The passing of his adoptive grandmother marked another poignant chapter—something he discovered when he stopped by the village— affirmed by a heartfelt note expressing pride in his growth—which he handed me.    

You’ve truly become the man she wished you to be. Take pride in that, Little Lysander, and know your dear mother is smiling upon you.   

“She’s waiting for me, too,” Lysander said after I returned it.   

“Why didn’t you marry before knowing about the reapers? You’re not a bad looker." 

“Because… It’s difficult to explain, but carnal companionship does nothing for me. I don’t feel what a man should feel when he looks at a woman. But I’m glad I don’t have children. If I did, I don’t think I could’ve ‘died’ for them.”  

“What about your father? Find anything out about him?”  

“I did, but it was after he returned to the earth. His name matters little, and his victims are at peace. His former estate was sold by Lord Atrix’s parents, and the money was given to the ones he tormented.”  

“Then I won’t pry any further.”  

“But Lord Veilrider made that sacrifice.”  

“The sacrifice? So...”  

“That’s right. He was the commander before me. His wife and children didn’t take his ‘passing’ well and moved away from the capital. He never did follow or send scouts after them. Lord Veilrider was in his thirties when it happened, and he died when he was 82.” 

Tris, is there anything you can do about Veilrider’s children?  

I found his grave in the city. It’s near a church in the noble district. And his mana signature has already been memorized—but it is faint and damaged. I’ll deduce its roots and begin a passive scan. But the chances of finding his descendants aren't high, my lord. I do not think this endeavor will bear fruit.   

Neither do I. Don’t devote too many resources, but keep it in the background.   

As you wish, my lord.    

Lysander continued. "Poor diet, alcohol, and tobacco never made for a healthy combination,” he said. “But a better lifestyle wouldn’t have added more than a month or two. Lord Veilrider had reached his end, and our motherland was calling him back. I remember it so clearly. The winds were howling like the wolves we idolized, and the air was deathly still with a tinge of patience. With his final breath, he told me about a secret unit that, to my knowledge, was a bogeyman designed to keep the unruly in line. One week later, Lord Atrix scouted me, and Lord Veilrider’s glowing recommendation gave me an instant promotion to commander, and I’ve held that title for eleven long years.”  

“And he lured you in with false promises?”  

“Like a moth to a hungry flame.”  

“Why would Lord Veilrider do this? I’m confused.”  

“I believe...he did it because nothing is tying me down. I have no mother or father. I don’t have a wife or children. I don’t have any aunts, uncles, cousins, or other living relatives. I’m the last of my name, and my lineage will end with me once I give my last breath for Atrix. This great land is what I want to leave behind for the next generation. Perhaps he thought I would be the one to reclaim our original purpose.”  

“And you will. Once this perilous time is behind you, reclaim the Citrine Reapers’ original motivation. Become a force for the land you all love and emerge from behind the dagger’s shadow as the Citrine Rangers. The name can change. It doesn’t have to be that.”  

Lysander went quiet for a moment. He looked up at the moon and sighed softly. “Wouldn’t our new lord require bodyguards? People to die for him?”  

“Perhaps, but does that have to be you? Or your team? Why not allow the military to handle it?”  

“I take it the General Blackthorn is in on it?”  

“Take it as you will.”  

“Playing coy, huh?”  

“A few secrets here and there are good for a friendship.”  

“That must go both ways. You know everything about me, and I’m not naïve enough to take your name at face value.”  

“You’re right. Rio is an alter ego I sometimes use," I replied. “But I don’t know everything. I don’t know your mother’s name. Nor do I know that village’s name. And your childhood cabin’s location is a mystery. There’s knowledge that even I don’t possess.”  

“I wonder if that’s true.”  

"It could be. But I didn't think you'd be this open about everything."

"I'm surprised myself," admitted Lysander. "Once I started speaking... I found it hard to stop. I'm not sure why I kept going."

"That's a mystery only can solve, but I enjoyed our conversation." I cracked a grin under my helmet. “Oh? It seems like the rest are finished with their deliberation.  

“We’ve talked it over,” said Mikel. “And we want to put our trust in you.” Rykla wiped her teary eyes. I didn’t know what she endured to learn a powerful ability like [Shadowmerge], but she didn’t want to use it for nefarious purposes.    

“And you will not regret it.”  

“But what do we do now? What’s the plan?”  

“Well, you can’t return to Little Gregory empty-handed. Why not assuage his fears?” I tossed a stray fireball to the ground and produced a mimicked copy of my current appearance’s head.   

“I have a feeling that’s not your true identity,” said the commander.   

“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. But take it back and proclaim it belongs to the lion’s summoner.”  

Mikel grabbed the severed head and posed another question about the ones who remained behind. “Convincing them is your task,” I said. “Consider that your homework. Oh, and while we have this agreement, do not go behind me and try something cute.” I tossed fifteen flaming spheres to mask Tris crafting fifteen [Skyview] windows that showed the town. “This city is under the flames of my all-knowing eye. I can see everything and follow everyone and everywhere at any time. And yes, that includes you.” The [Skyview] windows’ targets changed to the Citrine Reapers. An archer slowly raised an arm, observing himself from a top-down perspective.   

A round of nervous gulps later, I shattered the tension with a joke about not being a perverted voyeur. “And should I need to contact you, you shall see this.”  

Tris wrote fifteen sentences behind me in waypoints masked, altered, and colored to look like flames were leaking from an invisible wound. “You’re all reading something different. This flame-elemental illusion spell can be configured to only be visible to a specific individual or a group of people. We shall not meet again until the chosen day, so please do not panic if you see the skies bleed molten magma.”  

“You…can really kill us, can’t you?” gulped someone who hadn’t spoken. The woman's voice was soft like sand.   

“That’s right. It won’t be hard. My lion often fights for me since my true strength is enough to set aflame to the entire city if I’m not careful. But we’ve been over this. I don’t want to kill you. This revolution will leave bodies on the streets. It will not be bloodless.”  

“…” The soft-spoken girl gulped again and tried to be brave, but those trembling eyes and clenched fists revealed the truth.   

“And with that… I think we’re finished.” I canceled the crystalline waypoint. “Little Gregory should stop soiling his breeches, so don’t keep him in suspense for too long.”  

“We understand. Stay safe, Rio. I’ll be awaiting further information. Mikel.”  

“Got it.” The bald mage met my eyes for a moment before he grimaced away. He still felt uncomfortable with me, but that was fine. The others gathered around, and I asked Rykla if she felt any pain as arcane circles etched themselves below their feet. She shook her head and tried to smile, but it was forced.   

Honestly?  

Tris and I didn’t think all fifteen would reciprocate the idea. 

A few would be backstabbers.   

It just seemed inevitable.   

And perhaps I was the villain in this situation. I couldn’t deny how antagonistic I must’ve looked. But that was a problem for the future, and it was time to put this night behind me.  

“Well,” I said, holding a hand to Surtr’s chin. “You didn’t get to fight. Sorry about that.”  

“It is no problem.” Surtr bared his fangs and sat before licking his massive paws. “Showcasing my power and instilling fear was enough, Lord Springfield. Shall I return to Plymoise?”  

“Yeah. Want me to send you there with [Conferment]?”  

“That is not needed.” Surtr stretched and stood. “I can make it to the city before dawn. As always, call upon me whenever you need.”  

“Got it. Thanks again, big guy.” I rubbed his head and watched black flames ignite his feet. Surtr took a running start and leapt high on his powerful legs before galloping across the skies. Sshen snowflakes dropped behind him. Tris marked the inn and shared the waypoint with Surtr. He wouldn’t need it, but Tris enjoyed using her abilities.   

I transformed into a bird and took flight, arriving at the hideout before long. Little Gregory was popping open bottles of his most expensive win and celebrating alone—in private—as the Citrine Reapers returned to their hidden homes and secluded jobs that kept them away from their family.   

They kept looking up, though. And most seemed hesitant to do anything. I mean, I did invade their privacy. The world’s best security system and information analyst always had her eyes on them.   

Maybe I could apologize? When this was all said and done? I’d have to reveal myself as Lyudmila Vredi Springfield eventually.   

Verdant and a few others were up when I entered the hideout.   

“Don’t say it,” I said, raising a hand. “I know everything went off without a hitch. Kull and the others are asleep?”  

“Yes. Today was perhaps our most exhausting day. What about you, Mila? We sensed movement from Lord Atrix’s estate. And we’ve heard murmurs of dead and missing soldiers at the guildmaster’s and general’s mansions.”  

“The whisperings are true. I did what I must, and the plan is in motion.”  

“And the Citrine Reapers?”  

“Better than you think,” I said, pulling up a chair. I told the spies about our new co-conspirators as Tris readied a detailed report. I’d hand it in tomorrow once we were at the breakfast table.