Chapter 182 Renner’s +18 plan. Re-Estize request to meet.

You thrust deep into Doppel-Renner while your mouth finds Renner's breast, tongue circling her nipple before sucking hard. She gasps, her fingers tangling in your hair, hips rolling against nothing as your hand slides between her thighs to find her already slick and swollen from her first climax.

"Look at her," you murmur against Renner's skin, your hips driving forward into the doppelganger's tight warmth. "That face. That is you when you stop thinking."

Renner's breath hitches. Her blue eyes watch her own copy arch beneath you, mouth open, expression twisted in programmed ecstasy. Your fingers curl inside her, finding that spot, and she clamps down hard.

"I am not," she starts, then loses the words as your thumb presses her clit in tight circles while you pound into Doppel-Renner with increasing force. The doppelganger's mechanical moans fill the room alongside Renner's sharper, more genuine sounds.

You bring them both to the edge simultaneously. Renner breaks first, her entire body seizing, thighs clamping around your wrist as she cries out. Doppel-Renner follows a heartbeat later, her walls clenching around you in perfect synchronization, and you finish inside her with a groan.

You ease Renner down gently, kissing her breasts, her collarbone, the curve of her jaw. She trembles against you, aftershocks rolling through her while your softening length remains buried in the doppelganger's warmth.

"Dress," you tell her quietly. "Head to your father. I will arrive shortly."

Renner rises on unsteady legs, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sharp despite the haze of pleasure. She pulls her clothes from the floor with deliberate movements. "I will be standing at his right hand when you descend from the heavens."

You withdraw from Doppel-Renner and rise, dressing yourself with a thought. The doppelganger lies still on the bed, awaiting instructions. You leave her there with a mental command to obey Renner.

The Gate to Nazarick opens and you step through to the throne room, then immediately scry for Gabriel. She is not in her quarters. You find her in the Elven Kingdom, standing before a gathered group of elves near the palace courtyard, her six wings folded behind her as she speaks with gentle authority about the sanctuary demiplanes.

You Gate to her location. Gabriel turns, her silver eyes brightening.

"Blank. I was just explaining the agricultural benefits of the light demiplane to these lovely people."

"I need angels for a theatrical entrance into the Re-Estize capital. Lightning, meteors, the works. Would you like to be among them?"

Gabriel's smile spreads wide. "Descend with you into a mortal kingdom's throne room? Oh, I would be delighted. The expressions alone will be worth centuries of boredom."

"Meet in the throne room, five minutes." You Gate to find Ikaros next. She stands in Albedo's office on the ninth floor, sorting artifact appraisal documents into categorized stacks with mechanical precision.

"Ikaros. I am making a dramatic entrance at the Re-Estize Castle. Angels descending. I want you among them."

Her pink eyes lift from the documents. A faint blush colors her cheeks. "You want me to be seen? Publicly?"

"Visibly divine. Yes."

She sets down the papers carefully. "I will prepare."

"Meet in the throne room, five minutes." Finally you Gate to the library. Jibril sits cross-legged on a floating platform surrounded by books, Mira's sidearm disassembled before her, her blue hair swaying as she examines a component under magnification.

"Jibril. I need angels for a theatrical descent into the Re-Estize throne room. Are you interested?"

Her wings snap open with excitement, scattering papers. "A performance? A demonstration of divine authority before mortal royalty?" She sets down the sidearm component with trembling hands. "I would not miss this for a thousand years of study."

You take Jibril's hand and Gate to the throne room. The vast chamber stretches around you, its obsidian walls drinking the ambient light. You gesture toward the open space before the throne and a massive scrying window materializes, ten feet across, showing the Re-Estize Royal Castle in perfect clarity from an elevated angle. White spires catch the afternoon sun. Guards patrol the walls. Banners flutter in a gentle breeze.

"Preparations first," you say.

You cast Control Weather.

The effect begins subtly. High above the castle, wisps of cloud gather where none existed moments before. They thicken, darken, spreading outward in a slow spiral that tightens around the castle like a noose being drawn. Within thirty seconds the first true thunderheads form, their undersides bruised purple and black, lightning flickering between them in silent arcs.

Through the scrying window you watch guards point upward. Servants in the courtyard stop mid-task. A wizard in blue robes on a balcony raises his staff, attempting some form of divination. His face twists with confusion.

The clouds continue their circular descent, tightening the ring until the castle sits in a cylinder of clear sunlight while darkness surrounds it on all sides. The contrast is stark and impossible. Sunlight falls only on the royal grounds. Beyond the cloud wall, the far horizon glows with normal afternoon brightness, visible through gaps in the rolling thunderheads.

Lightning strikes between the clouds with increasing frequency. Thunder rolls across the region, audible through the scrying window as a deep bass rumble. The blue-robed wizard on the balcony has abandoned his divination and is running inside.

Gabriel arrives first, her six wings folded tight against her back, silver eyes widening as she takes in the scrying window. "Oh my," she breathes. "You are making an entrance."

Ikaros follows seconds later, her pink eyes fixed on the phenomenon with quiet fascination. She says nothing, merely nods.

You make your second alteration. A layer of cloud above the castle reflects the sunlight downward, dimming the illumination to something twilight-soft while remaining clearly visible. Then the sky directly above clears completely, opening a circular window into the heavens beyond. Stars become visible in broad daylight. The effect is profoundly wrong, deeply unsettling, and absolutely deliberate.

You set a delayed meteor shower to trigger on your arrival, then turn to face your three angels.

"The plan is simple. I arrive, taunt the old king as his title deserves, nothing cruel but nothing gentle. Once we enter private conversation, Renner will be present at his side. She will correct his ignorance ruthlessly. We support her. When it becomes clear they want her removed from the room, we take her and leave through a Gate."

Gabriel's smile is radiant and sharp. "I am ready. The mortals will remember this day for generations."

Ikaros inclines her head. "Ready."

Jibril's wings snap open, scattering papers from a nearby desk. Her blue eyes blaze with theatrical hunger. "More than ready. I have been waiting centuries for an opportunity like this."

Through the scrying window, you watch King Ramposa III himself emerge onto a balcony, flanked by guards and advisors. An old man with a weathered face and silver crown, staring upward at the impossible sky with an expression caught between awe and dread. Beside him stands a familiar golden-haired figure in a courtly dress, her princess smile perfectly in place.

The illusion first. Through the scrying window you watch the clouds respond to your will, their edges curling inward like petals closing around a flower. A vast circular portal takes shape in the thunderhead wall, its borders burning with false celestial fire that casts prismatic light across the castle rooftops. The illusion is enormous, easily two hundred feet across, its interior swirling with impossible colors that no mortal spell has ever produced.

Then you open the real Gate in its center.

You step through with Gabriel at your right, Ikaros at your left, Jibril floating just behind. The descent begins slowly, deliberately, your feet finding nothing but air as you drift downward through the cloud eye toward the castle courtyard. Stars wheel overhead in impossible daylight. The meteor shower triggers behind you, streaks of burning rock arcing across the darkened sky like a crown of falling stars.

You amplify your voice through the thunder itself.

"King Ramposa the Third of Re-Estize."

The words roll across the capital like a drumbeat, resonating in every chest, rattling every window. Gabriel's six wings spread wide, catching the false portal's light until she blazes like a second sun. Ikaros drifts beside you with quiet serenity, her own wings folded elegantly, pink eyes surveying the mortals below with detached curiosity. Jibril's pink hair streams behind her in the wind, her expression one of barely contained theatrical glee.

"You requested this meeting. I have answered."

Another roll of thunder punctuates the sentence.

"I do hope you have a worthwhile reason for calling."

The courtyard below is chaos. Guards have formed a perimeter around the king's position on the balcony but their spears shake visibly. Nobles who fled earlier now press against windows, their faces pale circles in the gloom. A dozen court wizards stand in a semicircle near the courtyard fountain, staffs raised but uncast, their training screaming at them to do something while their survival instincts demand stillness.

Gazef Stronoff stands at the balcony railing. He alone does not tremble. His hand rests on his sword hilt but does not draw. Recognition flickers across his weathered face. He has seen you before at Carne Village. He knows what you are capable of.

King Ramposa III grips the balcony railing with both hands, his silver crown glinting in the strange twilight. He is old, seventy-three years written in deep lines across his face, but his spine is straight and his voice does not crack when he speaks.

"We welcome you to Re-Estize Castle." He pauses, swallowing visibly. "I am King Ramposa Rune Farlord El Nix the Third. I sent a request for diplomatic meeting through proper channels. I did not intend such... grandeur."

Beside him, Princess Renner smiles her princess smile. Golden hair perfectly arranged. Hands clasped before her. The picture of courtly grace.

You touch down in the courtyard. The flagstones do not crack beneath your feet. The impact is silent. Gabriel, Ikaros and Jibril settle around you like attendants to a god.

"Proper channels," you repeat, letting the words carry. "Your request arrived requesting an audience. I have granted it. Shall we proceed indoors, or would you prefer to conduct diplomacy while your courtiers soil themselves?"

A nervous titter runs through the assembled nobles. Gazef's jaw tightens.

Ramposa straightens further. "Indoors. The throne room is prepared. Please. Follow me."

He turns and walks through the balcony doors with the measured dignity of a man who has ruled for forty years and refuses to show fear even when standing before something that could unmake his kingdom. Renner follows at his right hand, her steps perfectly measured, her golden eyes catching yours for the briefest moment with cold satisfaction.

The throne room doors swing open before you without being touched. You stride through with Gabriel, Ikaros and Jibril flanking you, their wings catching the torchlight in ways that make the assembled nobles shrink back against the walls. The chamber is vast, pillared in white stone, with a red carpet leading to the throne where King Ramposa III sits in his silver crown. Gazef Stronoff stands at the foot of the steps, hand on sword but posture relaxed. Recognition passes between you. Princess Renner stands at her father's right hand, golden hair catching the light, her smile perfectly placid.

You do not bow. You do not kneel. You walk to the center of the room and stop, letting the silence stretch until it becomes unbearable.

Ramposa clears his throat. "Lord Blank. I thank you for answering my request. The Kingdom of Re-Estize seeks your counsel regarding the Slane Theocracy's aggression. We believe that with your demonstrated power as a deterrent, we might prevent war from reaching our borders."

You tilt your head. "That is your request? Deterrence?"

"Among other matters," Ramposa continues, his voice steadier than his courtiers deserve credit for. "The Theocracy has been a threat to regional stability for generations. If they knew you stood with Re-Estize, they would be forced to reconsider any military action. We also wish to discuss the matter of the elven slaves currently within our borders. We are prepared to comply with your declaration regarding their return."

Renner steps forward.

"Father." Her voice cuts through the room like a blade. "You are asking Lord Blank to serve as Re-Estize's shield because you cannot protect your own kingdom. That is not diplomacy. That is manipulative begging."

Ramposa's face goes pale. "Renner, this is not the time for"

"It has been three days since Lord Blank's declaration reached every nation." Renner's blue eyes burn cold with something predatory. "Where are the elven slaves you declared we would return? Where is the caravan? Where is the single document demonstrating compliance?"

Silence.

"The Theocracy's entire economic foundation rests on at minimum sixty percent elven slave labor," Renner continues, her princess smile never wavering while her words disembowel. "Without that labor force they cannot function as they have for centuries. Their society will collapse into civil rebellion when humans are forced to do manual work. Lord Blank's declaration does not offer them a choice between compliance and inconvenience. It offers them a choice between crippling themselves or being removed entirely."

A noble near the back, a thin man in embroidered velvet, whispers something to his neighbor. Renner's gaze snaps to him.

"And you, Marquise Raeven. You sent the emissary back with a statement of agreement and a request for diplomatic meeting. You should have sent the emissary back with every elven slave chained in Re-Estize territory. Three days wasted while Lord Blank waits for compliance that should have been immediate."

Raeven's calculating expression flickers with genuine surprise. He opens his mouth, then closes it.

Ramposa rises from his throne. "Renner, enough. You do not understand the complexities of"

"Tyrant Hougan was named such after dominating the Elven Kingdom forest for generations," Renner says, her voice rising just enough to carry. "Lord Blank captured him alive in his own castle. You received an open declaration from someone capable of that, and your response was to request a meeting? To talk?"

You let the silence that follows settle like a weight. Jibril's lips curve with barely suppressed delight beside you. Gabriel and Ikaros maintain their serene expressions, though Gabriel's silver eyes hold quiet amusement.

"Your daughter," you say to Ramposa, "is clearly smarter than every nobleman in this room combined. And you have wasted her in a kingdom this small."

Ramposa's jaw works. His hands grip the throne's armrests. Renner stands at his side, her princess mask flawless, her eyes meeting yours with cold vindication.

Ramposa's face cycles through shades of crimson. His hands grip the throne's armrests so tightly his knuckles whiten. The assembled nobles exchange desperate glances, their whispered consultations growing louder.

"Renner, you will be silent," the king commands, his voice cracking at the edges. "This is a diplomatic proceeding, not a family argument."

"It became a family argument when you wasted three days requesting meetings instead of returning slaves," Renner replies without hesitation. Her princess smile does not waver. "Lord Blank declared his terms to every nation simultaneously. The Theocracy received the same message. The Empire received the same message. Re-Estize received the same message. Yet only Re-Estize responded with words instead of action."

Marquise Raeven steps forward from the noble cluster near the pillars. "Princess, with respect, the logistics of identifying and transporting elven slaves across multiple territories requires"

"Three days, Marquise." Renner's blue eyes fix on him. "Three days to inventory. Three days to organize caravans. Three days to demonstrate that this kingdom takes external threats seriously. Instead you sent a messenger requesting a meeting with the entity that captured an eight-hundred-year-old tyrant in his own castle."

Raeven closes his mouth.

A heavyset noble in embroidered gold pushes forward. Baron Aldric Voss, recovered from his magical exhaustion, his face still pale. "The princess is clearly distressed. Perhaps she should retire to her chambers while the king conducts"

"Remove her," another noble agrees. A chorus rises. "The princess is overwrought." "She does not understand the complexities." "Remove the princess from the proceedings."

Ramposa looks at his daughter. Something passes between them. Recognition, perhaps. The old king's jaw tightens.

"Renner," he says heavily. "Please retire to your chambers."

Renner does not move. She looks at you.

You raise your hand. A gentle telekinetic force wraps around Renner's waist and lifts her from the floor. She rises with perfect grace, her courtly dress fluttering as she floats upward toward the vaulted ceiling. The nobles gasp. Several scream.

You rise with her, Gabriel and Ikaros and Jibril ascending in formation around you both. The throne room's high ceiling approaches. You open a Gate in the painted plaster above, silver-edged light cutting through centuries-old artwork.

"King Ramposa," you call down, your voice echoing through the chamber. "Your brilliant daughter is much prettier than you."

Laughter escapes your lips as you float through the Gate with Renner in your arms, her golden hair streaming behind her, her expression one of cold triumph directed at the tiny figures below. The portal closes behind you, and you are standing in Nazarick's throne room with three angels and a princess who has just burned every bridge she ever pretended to cross.

Renner's breath comes fast against your chest. "He looked so small," she whispers.

You release the Control Weather spell with a thought. Through the scrying window you watch the impossible thunderclouds begin their slow dissolution, the unnatural darkness fading, sunlight returning to the capital in stages. The meteor shower ceases. Stars vanish from the daytime sky. The process will take hours, perhaps a full day, as natural atmospheric patterns reassert themselves.

The throne room of Nazarick stretches around you, familiar and vast. Jibril's wings fold with satisfaction. Gabriel smooths her feathers. Ikaros stands quietly, her pink eyes reflecting the scrying window's fading image of a kingdom's court in disarray.