Chapter 79: Epilogue: Start of Something New (1/2)
Morris leaned against the walls of the chapter house, taking what brief respite he could between the waves of demonic invaders. The fortress had not been the salvation he had been hoping for.
He and his forces had cut their way into the breach, and had been welcomed with open arms by the inhabitants. However, even the Order of the Shield was hard pressed to defend against the onslaught, and the remaining members of the Dark Guilds that had survived the retreat were recruited into the defense, Morris included.
After catching his breath, he realized that it had suddenly grown quiet. He was standing in line with the rest waiting for the next batch of demonic enemies. Not much rest had been available between the waves, but now it seemed that it was finally slowing down.
There was a shout from the wall, ”It the guards! They're moving this way!”
One of the civilians that had been forced to defend the chapter house broke down at that. ”Oh, thank the gods. We're saved!” He cried while falling to his knees and dropping his crossbow.
The fatigue of the night hit Morris suddenly, and he sat down against the wall with a groan, feeling all of the minor injuries that he'd accumulated. A looming shadow fell over him.
”Looks like we've survived.” Captain Richard Treston commented in a weary voice. ”I don't believe we would have made it without your 'troops,' so regardless of their origins, you all have my thanks and the thanks of the Order of the Shield.”
Morris chuckled at that. He stood and shook the captain's extended hand. ”It think it is us that owe you thanks. If not for your chapter house, we would have long ago been overrun and killed. Even though it seemed to be a bit lacking as far as fortress's go. What with the gaping hole in the wall and all.”
The knight laughed at that, ”Yes, we really need to fix that sometime soon.” He paused, as if suddenly remembering something. ”I don't believe I ever caught your name. I understand if you don't want to share it, considering the nature of the company you keep, but I would be grateful if you would.”
The young man hesitated, then, with a slightly mischievous smile, answered. ”I am Morris of House Graveston.”
Captain Treston blink in surprise. ”You mean the count's...” He left he question unsaid.
Morris nodded, his smile now a little melancholy.
”Hmph, never would have guessed.” He waved his hands in a consoling manner, even though Morris didn't react. ”I believe you of course. I doubt anyone would have the balls to pretend to be related to the Serpent. Anyway, it looks like the guards have finally arrived. Let's go thank our 'rescuers,' eh?”
Dropping the bent and dulled piece of metal that had once been a sword, Morris followed after the amiable knight captain. At the very least, he had survived the night.
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”GET OUT!” A slurred cry echoed around the throne room, accompanied by a hurled goblet, still dripping with wine.
The terrified messenger took this as his cue, and left quickly, taking care to not disturb any of the distinguished guests that were watching him curiously.
The feast had been interrupted by the King's outburst, and now the multitude of courtiers, servants, and entertainers waited for some sign of what they should do.
”I do not believe that was wise, Your Majesty.” A dry voice broke the silence.
Prime Minister Faril Couthbotan spoke from his seat to one side of, and a few levels lower than, the the throne. He was a slightly plump man, with the kind of long flowing beard that was often associated with the scholarly. Dressed in fine robes, he swirled the contents of his own goblet while looking at his lord out of the corner of his eye.
”I don't care. This is a FEAST for gods sake. Here we are, celebrating the 242nd anniversary of our victory of those damn Tennundians, and that cursed messenger dares to bring me that kind of news!” King Gregory II of Almirn, sovereign lord of the Kingdom of Almir, wiped a trail of spittle that had fallen from his mouth during his ranting.
He glared around the chamber and commanded, ”Why is it so quiet? Go on talk! Play!” He swiped another goblet from a servant and downed its contents before demanding it to be refilled. Excess wine replacing the spittle dribbling down to his second chin.
Once known as one of the greatest political and military minds the kingdom had ever seen, King Gregory II had suffered a major defeat, and was himself injured, in the most recent war against the Necrocracy of Lacot. Ever since, he had been a shell of his former self. Often drinking to excess, and breaking out into bouts of uncontrollable rage with little provocation.
The Prime Minister sighed, lamenting the man his friend had become. He quietly excused himself from the feast, not that the King noticed when left, and began making preparations to deal with the disquieting news the messenger had brought.
The situation was fragile, and therefore needed to be handled with care. The sooner he took the necessary actions, the less likely his liege would be able to interfere with them, intentionally or not.
The nobles had mostly remained loyal to the King despite his ailment. It was partially because of his former glories, but mostly because the status quo suited them fine. However, there had been growing disquiet among them for years. Neglect and mismanagement had come to characterize the current reign, and there had been whispers of abdication in favor of one of his heirs.
Luckily for Almir, the King had a well acknowledged, and well favored heir apparent in the form of Prince Johnathan. A gifted warrior in his own right, the prince had won the acclaim of the populace by slaying a Wyvern in single combat.
That the King's three other children were well distinguished in their own fields certainly helped cement the royal inheritance. Prince Nathaniel, the middle child, was a widely acclaimed statesman, and had recently won renown for his part in negotiating a highly favorable trade agreement with the Ateshi Commonwealth. The youngest of the royal children, the twins Princess Andrea and Prince Matthew, were gifted mages. The pair was currently studying at the University.
Unfortunately the King seemed to have no intention of giving up the throne any time soon, and factions had begun to form that sought to place one of the two eldest princes on the throne. The Prime Minister had been working to head off such eventualities, but it was becoming increasingly difficult in the face of the King's escapades.
While contemplating the future, the Prime Minister finished the first of the many letter he'd be writing this night. Word had come of a demonic invasion in the city of Wyrport. He hoped the event proved to be a fabrication or overblown rumor, but Count Graveston had been warning them of this exact situation for months now. Warnings that unfortunately went unheeded.
Depending on the outcome of the battle taking place tonight, the Kingdom of Almir may be faced with a war. Whether that might be a civil war or one against a demon horde remained to be seen. In any event, he needed to work quickly to contain the damage.
There was a commotion in the hallway outside of his office. Wondering idly if the news of the attack had already spread, he called to his trusted secretary, ”William, what's going on out there?”
The young man went to the door to inquire about it from a few of the passing servants, before returning, ashen-faced. ”Its the King, sir! He's been poisoned!”
”What?!!” The Prime Minister leaped to his feet.
This would change everything.
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Mike collapsed into his bed at the inn, thoroughly exhausted. Thankfully the building was south of the established defensive line, and had therefore survived with little in the way of damage during the events of the night.
He returned to the inn shortly after visiting the Guild to file his report. Apparently, all the adventurer's that had participated in the emergency request needed to return the following day for an award ceremony, where they would receive their reward. Something that he was already not looking forward to.
He'd been concerned when Morris was not at the inn when he got there, but the innkeeper had passed along a message from his friend. Apparently the bard had survived the night, and was staying with some family members in order to take care of some business.
Reassured that all was well, or at least as well as it could considering, Mike briefly checked his [Status] before drifting off to sleep, leaving a through examination of the new entries till tomorrow.
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In a humid jungle a great distance from the city of Wyrport, the quiet of the night was suddenly disturbed.
Without any warning, a naked young man appeared in the center of the clearing. He was slender, and relatively handsome in a boyish way. Shaggy black hair hung in thick locks from his head, nearly covering the pair of red colored eyes that now swept his surroundings.
He growled in displeasure. ”That damn goddess sent me into the middle of f****** nowhere! I knew I should have specified that it needed to be near a village at the very least. I guess that's what I get for trusting that useless b**** to do her job.”
The youth examined his body, ”Hmph, at least she put me in a young, thin body. I bet I'm pretty good looking too.” He remarked with a salacious grin. ”Now lets see, I need to think the word [Status].”
He stood there, mentally examining the sheet while his grin grew ever larger.
There was a crack of underbrush nearby. He snapped his gaze in that direction and activated one of his skills. Even though the beast was not visible to his sight, information flooded into his brain.
[Hm, a Greater Smilodon, is it? Lets see how these other skills work.]
He raised a hand in the direction of the creature, and uttered a single word.
”Die.”
There was a soft thud as his target collapsed lifelessly. Keeping his hand raised, he activated another skill.
”Consume.”
A thin trickle of white smoke was drawn from the underbrush, and entered into the youth's mouth.
Making a satisfied noise, he examined the fruits of his efforts. ”Not sure how useful Minor Strength Enhancement is, but I guess I'll take it. I wonder if there are any more of those things around. With a few more tries, I might even pull a rare skill.”
He laughed, and started walking into the jungle, looking for some sign of civilization. Exploring this world was going to be fun.
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Below is Mike's [Status] Update. Please feel free to skip ahead if you aren't interested.
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[Status]
Michael Rasmussen
Race: Human
Age: 15
Class: Skill Master
Tier: 3 (Mid)
Title: None
Multiverse Traveler
Blessed One
Hunter of Renown
Battlefield Healer
Kal'Thel
Philanderer
Hero
Dungeon Savior
Undinekath
Saint of Healing
Nemesis of Demons (NEW)
Antagonist (NEW)
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Skills
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Primary Skills:
Communication Magic (Rank 3)
Intermediate Healing Magic (Rank 5) (RANK UP)
Analyze (Rank 2) (RANK UP)
Journeyman Almiran Military Swordsmanship (Rank 2) (RANK UP)
Intermediate Water Magic (Rank 2) (RANK UP)
Intermediate Fire Magic (Rank 3) (RANK UP)