Solveig the Great, Pt. 5

The reports of Solveig the Great's death were greatly exaggerated.

Oh, her killers tried their best, no doubt! They had a whole council dedicated to making sure she stayed dead forever.

Their reasons were as B.S. as their competence. She saved the whole world, and how did they thank her? Well, they didn't. They went straight to murder, under the guise of 'safety' and for the 'good of all.'

At least come up with a better lie!

Did those Elders even know what it was like to be bred for war?

People bred for war didn't get the chance to make friends. She never went to a tea party, even though she heard all the other girls her age were going to them. She never got to pick wildflowers, or raise a pasture of goats and sheep, or name every single one of them and cry when the grumpy one ran off. She never got to braid anyone's hair, or have her own braided, or stay up whispering secrets past bedtime until somebody's mother told them to shush either.

She got a sword instead. Then a bigger sword.

And then a war. The biggest one there ever was.

When the war was over, and there was finally time for all the things she'd missed, she found out nobody had saved her a seat at any of them.

Yes. Sadly, Solveig ended up all alone...

...

But you know what they say. You can't keep broads like her down for long!

That's right! She beat death itself!

And now she's in a new world; looking to cash in.

So her new journey starts where it should have started all those lonely years ago.

On a throne!!!

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SOLVEIG THE GREAT

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“Ha ha ha! Oh, you shouldn’t have, I couldn’t possibly take any more…!”

Solveig only took the gift because the priestess had all but insisted, and that it would've been terribly rude not to.

She weighed it in her hands for a moment, before her eyes grew three times their size. “No way… a crown?!”

The priestess beamed. “For you, our savior? Our goddess? Even our highest honor is practically nothing!”

Solveig sniffled. “Aw, you guys are too much...”

As if on cue, the tribe members in front of her gifted throne prostrated themselves once more, their whole backs and wills bent to the ground. There must have been hundreds of them at the base of the stone pyramid where she sat perched at the top.

“Praise be, Solveig the Great," they all cried. "Praise!”

Heh…

Hehehehehe~!

Solveig had apparently lived under a rock her entire life!

Was THIS how heroes were supposed to be treated? With gold and trinkets?! This—THIS was the reception that should have happened after she made the Demon King eat dirt!

“Oh shucks, Priestess lady, you don’t have to call me a god. Really! I’m just doing what any hero would have done.” Solveig paused. “Though I suppose it can’t be helped when a savior is just that extraordinary…”

Then, with shaky, sweaty hands, she put the crown atop her head.

The crowd erupted into a deafening roar.

And soon enough, the festivities below her began in earnest. Dancing, frolicking, excess and revelry of all sorts…

Solveig leaned back on her gilded throne, letting out a deeply satisfied hum as servants on either side fanned her with giant palm leaves.

Ahh, heroes like her deserved this, you know?!

After a lifetime of being treated like cow dung, it was nice to finally enjoy the fruits of her labor, so to VERY MUCH speak.

And all she did was kill, what, one Great Beast? This was what should have happened before she got… kicked out of her old tribe! Yeah. Kicked out. Let’s go with that…

“Make way, make way!”

Solveig’s eyes perked up. Huh?

A lone old lady came tearing out of the woods, face contorted with something awful. A wave of murmurs cascaded through the festivities as they watched her stumble all the way to the jagged base of her stone pyramid.

Solveig sat up. “What is it, my lovely subject?”

“Duke Cunningham…” the old woman wheezed. “He’s here!”

Solveig let out a deeply suffering sigh as the crowd’s murmurs worked their way to a fever pitch. Of course. Of course her life dictated that she wasn’t allowed to rest for more than sixty consecutive seconds!

“Hey, priestess?”

The priestess bowed. “Yes, Solveig the Great?”

“Who’s this Duke guy? Sounds like a real piece of work…”

"Duke's not his name, my lady,” the priestess said calmly. “It is his title."

Solveig didn't get to ponder that for long, because right then, three men came riding in on three horses, banners fluttering behind them.

Then soon enough, a garrison of soldiers behind them as well.

The crowd parted for them as the main three slowed toward the pyramid’s base.

One had a beard, wore glasses and boasted a hundred micro-scars. One had the greyest hair she'd ever seen on a living person with an equally ridiculous staff on his back. And one, riding just slightly behind from the others, was young. Blonde, wavy, with a soft, baby-skin face that accompanied an angelic pair of eyes…

Wait, what?

Then, the one with the beard spoke.

“Would you perhaps be Solveig?”

A normal person would respond to this question, well, normally .

But heroes couldn't be normal.

Solveig did this thing where she liked to let the silence stretch a beat too long; really let them settle in their own heads for a few seconds.

And only then, she'd respond.

“And who’s asking?”

The man looked at her for a moment.

“...His Majesty, the Emperor,” he said eventually.

Huh? Why didn't his voice go all wobbly as he backed away in fear?

Agh. No matter.

She wouldn’t let herself be cowed by some… miscreant in shiny and colorful attire.

"Then you're either very brave or very stupid coming here thinking this 'emporror' of yours holds any sway over me."

The Duke's brow furrowed.

"This 'emporror' certainly didn't raise a finger when these poor people were about to be slaughtered by that Great Beast," she declared. "So I can only assume he’s utterly useless. And probably also a lazy fatso!"

The bearded man stared at her, wide-eyed.

"The Emperor," he said slowly, "is your ruler. He is the person you and I answer to. The person… everyone answers to, for that matter."

"Poppycock! I am no henchman!"

"I am certainly not a henchman—"

"His minion, then."

"That is somehow worse, and still entirely incorrect."

Solveig frowned, leaning forward. “Then what is he?”

“The sovereign ruler of the nation you are currently standing on.”

Sovereign ruler…

Like… a High Chieftain?!

Oh, crud. Did she just insult a—?!

Okay, think!

Solveig just needed to do something drastic to assert dominance and regain control of the situation.

Easy!

So, reaching deep within her soul, she channeled her mana and cast a simple null spell.

[Aura: Pressure]

A violent wave of psychic weight slammed down upon the clearing.

The Duke's horse reared back, and his steady composure shattered. "What manner of sorcery is this?!"

"Mighty bold of you to use such a tone with a great hero such as I!" Solveig amplified the pressure further, reveling in the sight of the three intruders struggling to breathe. "But you were foolish to think your little 'emporror' holds any power over my realm!"

The weight doubled. Earth cracked beneath the horses' hooves.

“Ghk…!”

“For I…”

Solveig threw her arms skyward.

“AM SOLVEIG THE GREAT!”

Through the crushing weight bearing down on him, the Duke gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning white as he drew his silver blade.

“We will not bow to tyranny, no matter how vast your power! So long as our courage stands, even a wicked sorceress like you shall fall!” He pointed the glowing edge directly at her. "Your villainy stops today!"

…

"Eh?"

The crushing aura instantly snapped and vanished into the ether.

"That's... that's not how's supposed to work! I'm not the villain; I'm the hero! You guys are the villains here!"

"We were dispatched by royal decree to liberate the Water Tribe from your reign."

"W-Well... well...!" Solveig gestured wildly toward the tribespeople. "If I'm so bad, then why else would all of them worship me?!"

"...Because they're terrified of what you'll do to them if they don't?"

Guh…!

It was like an invisible dagger had plunged straight into her heart.

"That's... that's not true!" she stammered. "I saved them! I slew the Great Beast! I took care of their problem, so they gave me a throne, and a crown, and—and..."

Then she looked. Really looked.

At the tribespeople, all still trembling face-first in the dirt, terrified to move. Soon, she spotted one of them: a little boy, his forehead pressed so hard against the dirt that it had gone white. His mother's hand was on the back of his head.

The mother was holding it down.

Then Solveig noticed other things, like how the servant to her left, one she thought fanned her, was in fact struggling, his arms shaking with every repetition.

No... no...!

Solveig would never have forced anyone to fan for her if they didn't want to.

So how did she not notice? Was she so euphoric about being appreciated, finally, for once, that she ignored everything around her?

...Things really never change, do they...?

The crown felt a lot heavier than it had a minute ago.

"And on behalf of the Emperor of the Concordat," the Duke announced, raising a set of enchanted anti-magic shackles, "I am placing you under arrest."

"O-On… what charge?" Solveig squeaked.

"Impersonating a sacred Illustrian deity: that of Solveig the Great."

"WHAT?!"

The soldiers behind them got off their horses and started crawling up the stairs.

No...

No...!

Solveig's hands shook as she failed to conjure even the slightest bit of magic. Tears started to well. Her knees threatened to buckle.

This was supposed to be a fresh start!

To begin again, to become a true hero this time, one who didn't need to bargain and compromise and beg for even the barest scraps of gratitude... a hero the people actually wanted around, who they'd remember on purpose, not because they had to.

One good enough that she'd have the biggest hut in the village—plus all the servants, and all the gold, and all the praise that came free with it because she'd earned it fair and square!

But Solveig blew it again, didn't she?!

This was just who she was now, who she'd always be, in whichever universe—Demon King or no!

What else was more appropriate than to shriek in despair for the future she'd just stolen from herself? Hells, will she even have a tomorrow to begin with?!

"NYOOOOOO!!!"