Spooky quickly flew between Joe and the nobles.
“Player Vasili, I entreat you. Be careful that you not allow your pride to endanger your people. You are correct in believing that you could kill some of us, but your force is much too small to overwhelm even the yetis you see before you. Open your magical senses. Surely, you feel a Master Mage behind that mound, buffing the yetis as we speak. A yeti force that numerous, supported by even one Master Mage, would cause your company serious grief. I am confident that your senses are telling you that there are many dangers here you cannot see. Your baron was given orders to let these slaves die. I heard him, and he told the truth. To your king, these slaves are disposable, and a small price to pay to guarantee he learns about what has happened here today,” she turned around to face Joe, “Please, do not allow your frustration with me to affect the outcome of these discussions. I am sorry for how much of an idiot I have been. Even one dead yeti is too high a price to pay for letting my arrogant decisions affect your state of mind.”
Again, she turned back toward the earl, but this time in a more formal tone.
“The king offered five ounces of mithril for all of the tackle, sleds, and beasts that accompanied the slaves. However, he was forced to reveal that he has power far beyond his own level. That information is currency which he has already paid to you. Since, however, it was not you who chose to acquire that information, we will not overly penalize you for it. The king now offers two ounces of mithril for all of the tackle, sleds, and beasts that accompanied the slaves,” Spooky said, then turned and looked back questioningly at Joe who shrugged his acquiescence. The earl looked at the baroness who gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.
“Your offer of two ounces of mithril for the beasts, tackle, and sleds that accompanied the slaves here is accepted. Unfortunately for us, this means I will not be able to transport the slaves back to the Kingdom of Dollmar, so I will be abandoning them here. Is that acceptable?” the earl asked.
“I don't see any slaves. If you mean that large group of free individuals, well, I guess…” Joe began before Spooky quickly interrupted him.
“Semantics aside?” Spooky pleaded.
“Yes, that is acceptable. We will give you the mithril now, then we would like you to withdraw your troops behind the slaves so that we may then lead them forward and into the castle,” Joe said with formality.
“Your conditions are acceptable,” the earl returned.
“One platoon must stay with the earl until the rest of us withdraw,” the baroness amended. Joe reached in his Holdall and pulled out a two-ounce coin of mithril and tossed it to the earl.
“A wise amendment, Baroness,” Joe said. The baroness quickly gave instructions to her subordinates and two platoons began an ordered trot down the slope toward the valley.
“I am glad we found a way to end this conversation without more bloodshed. Once again, on behalf of my king, I must condemn the murder of his two hunters,” Vasili intoned.
“If we're condemning, then I also strongly condemn the continued hunt and murder of the yeti children in these mountains. I will not allow it to continue. But, on the other hand, I'm glad that today I wasn't forced to kill all of you,” Joe said.
“Joe, be honest. You know we wouldn't have killed every soldier,” Spooky retorted.
“Forgive my winged friend’s lack of courtly etiquette, but she does have a point. Earl, you are a player, so we would have just locked you up indefinitely,” Joe said.
“That is not the first time you've referred to one of us as a player. Your Majesty, I must admit my ignorance of this term,” the baroness entreated. The king's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
“Vasili, forgive my impropriety, but you've been keeping secrets from your people. Why do they not know that you're a player, nor that they are NPCs?” Joe asked.
“King Joe, if you'll forgive my impropriety, my business is my own. Unfortunately, you have let the proverbial cat out of the bag. I would have preferred it stay a pig in a poke,” the earl said and then paused briefly to contemplate. Although those idioms were beginning to make sense to him, he was acutely aware that they originated and were influenced by this new magic that had so recently designated him as a player. Snapping back to the present, he turned toward the baroness.
“King Joe is referring to a new magic that appears to designate some people as players and others as NPCs. There’s really no rhyme or reason to it, as far as I can see, it’s just arbitrary and doesn’t mean much. I was planning on waiting until I had an opportunity to inform the king before I began talking about it with others. You never know what he might wish to keep under royal seal,” the earl defended.
“You may be a newly raised earl, but you’re certainly quick on your feet. I almost believed your rationale for maintaining the nobles’ ignorance of the UI,” Joe said.
“I agree, my king. He is an exceptional liar, even when caught straight out, he has very few tells,” Spooky concurred. Vasili’s jaw firmed and his eyes narrowed.
“I don't understand, Earl, why would they be inferring this?” the baroness questioned, but the earl ignored her.
“Your Majesty, this diplomatic parlay is at an end. We will be withdrawing all of our troops and returning to the Kingdom of Dollmar forthwith. My hope is that my king will be able to find a way to repair the grievous injury your actions have done to our newly-formed relationship,” the earl said.
“And it is my hope that your king will find a way to pay true reparations to the yetis of the Wild Mountains. Go in peace, but I caution you. If I am further provoked by your kingdom, I will push back your troops myself. Do not assume I will stop at my own borders if my kingdom is threatened. You saw with your own eyes that I am a Portal Mage who can execute an extraplanar beast with one punch. Imagine what I could do to the court of Dollmar, if I allowed my fury to go unchained,” Joe emphasized.
Vasili raised his right arm and signaled his platoon. With crisp and highly-trained precision, his knights trotted down the slope. Joe stood in front of the bridge and watched the Dollmar platoons retreat. A message popped up in his HUD.
Congratulations!
You have successfully defended your authority as rightful masters of this castle three times.
Plus 2% to castle’s structural integrity.
XP received:
Base- 257, Voice of Monty Ring bonus- 257
Total XP- 514
Spooky visibly shuddered. “Yes, I agree, that was different, I got chills. The walls grew a few inches thicker,” she spoke, seemingly to herself.
Before the platoon had gained much distance, Joe began to smile. Spooky looked down at him suspiciously.
“I don't know what you're planning on doing, but don't do it,” Spooky pleaded. Instead of complying, Joe cleared his throat and began to sing.
“So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good night
It's time you go and leave this snowy sight
So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, adieu
You stink, you stink, you smell like poo poo poo
So long, farewell, au revoir, auf Wiedersehen
I'd like to give your king so much pain
So long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, goodbye
You leave, you leave, or else you'll surely die…”
Joe continued to perform the poorly thought-out parody as the last platoon withdrew.
Drusilla looked over her shoulder, back at the singing king, as they continued down the slope.
“This is all becoming more and more confusing. I can't understand the language he's using, but his voice is magnificent. That tone is unrivaled,” Drusilla marveled.
“Agreed, I've never heard his equal. Unfortunately, I can understand the lyrics, and they are neither kind nor complementary. There is, indeed, a great deal of mystery to this campaign. I wonder if the king knew, at least in part, what we were going to find here. And if he did, why wouldn’t he have warned us or sent us with more soldiers? This castle, this king, and t
his dark fairy will change the balance of power for every kingdom that surrounds these Wild Mountains,” Vasili replied.
“What is this UI the barbarian king referred to?” Drusilla asked. The earl looked over at the bloody mouth of the baron and decided that there had already been enough said on that subject.
“We shall leave that for the king. Although I am beginning to wonder if he is already privy to that information. My orders are that we expedite our mission back to the capital. We’ll split our normal rest time in half and proceed at a double-quick pace. We won’t kill the horses with exhaustion, but we will ride that edge. Our intelligence for the king is urgent and we can’t afford to be ambushed from the rear,” the earl ordered.
Chapter 3 - One, ah ah ah! Two, ah ah ah!
The caverns claimed by Clan Malgam.
Southwest of the city Rodan.
Day twelve.
Rook was a catalyst and, as a catalyst, he understood his primary aspect better than anyone on the Moon. He understood what contention was: how it functioned, its brilliance, and its destructive yet creative nature. It was the most powerful force in existence. Sure, gravity pulled one mass toward another mass, but could one get more boring than that? Contention said no. Want to lay down? No. Want to get up? No. Feel like saving the world? No. Feel like destroying the world? No. The power of no could not be denied.
For this reason, Rook was beginning to feel more confident than he had in ages. He still hated King Joe, but he could not remember a time when he had felt more motivated. Rook had plans for the little king, and they were already in motion. The catalyst had not been idle, for he had met with many, some of whom he owed and some who owed him.
Initially, Rook had feared that Joe’s actions had destroyed all of his schemes and, to a certain extent, that had been true. Once all of Rook’s best laid plans had been wiped away, however, the canvas had been made clean. And, with Rook’s newly acquired access to the UI and list of debts, his capabilities had never been more evident. In spite of Joe's meddling, the contention Rook would orchestrate on this reality would be his finest master performance in the history of his existence. The best part was that the chaos and contention generated would swirl all around King Joe himself. We'll see how much he likes being a Servant of Rook then, he thought to himself.
The next meeting on Rook’s agenda would be with one of his debtors. This particular debt owed to him was over 300 years old. Rook was going to collect on a clan of extraordinary mimics. Normal mimics were unthinking monsters, but long ago something had happened to this clan to give it sentience and rationale. Over 300 years before, when Rook found them, they were about to be exterminated. A significant contingent of the Third Elven Kingdom’s army had almost pinned them down. Using subterfuge and a great deal of magical deception, Rook had caused the elven army to veer away from the mimics. But his unsolicited assistance to these beings did not end there, his rescue went even further.
The group of mimics did not understand how to organize, for when he found them they were all mimicking a different species. Some of them were even mimicking furniture. Like a wise father, he explained to them how society worked and told them about the benefits of community. He then led them down underground where he connected them with a small clan of dwarves who had owed Rook a sizable debt. On Rook’s insistence, the clan of mimics and the clan of dwarves became one. He even forced a new name on this newly-founded clan, “Malgam.”
Rook had believed that by making this new clan he could insert a new type of conflict into the dwarven race. Eventually the mimics were bound to be discovered by the other dwarven clans and it was Rook’s hope that the dwarven communities would then suspect even their closest friends of being imposters. He was going to make sure it happened, but as was so often the case, he hadn't followed through.
Before he had access to the UI, he would constantly start new projects, leaving his old ones unfinished and abandoned. In this particular case, his former inattention to detail had given the new clan, Malgam, the time it needed to teach their mimics how to not only behave as dwarves did, but to think like them as well. Their small clan was careful to keep their secrets and because of the versatility and strength brought on by the mimics, their clan flourished.
Unfortunately, for both the mimics and the dwarves of Clan Malgam, Rook was now incredibly organized. Because of the list of debts and debtors, he now understood how many projects he had begun, only to let slip away. Using his HUD, he began to develop new plans. No longer would he twist at the whims of fate. Fate would now bow to his spreadsheets and cost-benefit analyses. However, even with all his newfound data management, he recognized it was still impossible to account for every variable.
Making his way through the well-manicured underground cavern, Rook was forced to scrunch his body so as not to knock down the well-crafted lampstands. Clan Malgam had readily acknowledged their debt to the being of contention but had requested that he come to collect it in their main hall. Rook was not a fool. He understood they believed this gave them more security. To some extent, they were correct, but they didn't understand his full capabilities. The conflux had just occurred, and he was almost at full strength. When he had helped the mimics hundreds of years before, he had been a much weaker version of himself. They had no idea who he truly was. As he approached the oversized doors to the hall he performed a mental calculation and was thrilled to discover he could fit through.
The doors slowly swung open as if acknowledging his arrival. Cautiously, he cast his Entropy Magic and allowed it to steadily seep into the ground he stepped upon. Hundreds of dwarves and what-appeared-to-be dwarves sat on raised bleachers surrounding the center of their Great Hall. Normally, dwarves were a rowdy bunch, hackling and jousting incessantly, but this gathered crowd sat in silence. A small sampling of the attendees studied Rook closely as he slowly crossed over the threshold. They were confused by his meticulous gait. What they did not know was he was only allowing them to see an illusion. To them, he was a dwarven knight in shining armor. He had frequently taken this form before, but it was not his most powerful physical manifestation.
The observant dwarves were in the minority, as most sat staring toward the center of the large arena. There, on a specifically designed pallet, lay several stacks of mithril bricks. All of their clan’s hard-earned wealth, a ready offering to release them from their debt.
When collecting on a debt, one typically needed to be prepared to receive it in whatever currency was most appropriate. Being a catalyst, Rook was fairly certain that, on this occasion, some of the payment would need to be collected in blood. Walking carefully into the arena, Rook made sure not to reveal the true form he had taken. If he was going to be forced to exert himself, he had already decided he would not do so sparingly.
Rook reveled in his excitement, the contention in the air was palatable. Carefully, Rook counted the attendees on the surrounding bleachers. If his estimates were correct, the stands lining the Great Hall held nearly all of the current clan members. It was exactly what he had hoped for, a crowd of witnesses. For contention to thrive, it must feed in the dark and the light.
Glancing over at the center of the rectangular hall, Rook noticed the small pallet of mithril bars. A clan this size should never have been able to acquire that much wealth. Apparently, civilized mimics were industrious. He would accept a portion of the bars in partial payment, as mithril could always come in handy. Most of the debt, however, would need to be redeemed through action. After the whole of his hidden body had cleared the doorway, he stretched. The high ceilings in this Great Hall were spacious, allowing him to fully extend his neck and let out all the kinks. It was strenuous for him to both maintain the illusion while still compelling the Entropic Magic to seep into the ground, but Rook was a master of balancing destruction with deception.
On the far side of the hall, seven elders stepped forward into the arena. They were the leaders of Clan Malgam and dressed in dark green statesman's robes. Before the councilman cou
ld address the catalyst, Rook took the initiative.
“Great elders of Clan Malgam,” Rook began in his high-class British accent, “I have come to collect on a debt owed to me by the mimics hidden within this assembly. I'm glad to see that my assistance has caused your once stumbling tribe to flourish. The amount of mithril I see before me clearly demonstrates that mimics and dwarves are much stronger together than they are apart. However, I have not come here to boast of my legendary wisdom and foresight. I have come here to grant the mimics an opportunity to discharge their debt. Because of my magnanimity, I indulged your lack of urgency in fulfilling your commitments to me. I arrived in person so I might ensure that all understood the form in which payment would be collected. Unfortunately, the debt is too great to be paid by mithril alone. To discharge a portion of it, I will accept a tenth of the mithril arrayed before me. The bulk of your obligation, however, will be redeemed by your service,” Rook announced via his illusionary dwarven knight body.
Six of the elders opened their eyes wide, but the seventh stood up straight, tightening his lips and shaking his head. The lead elder of the council of seven stroked his perfectly manicured white beard.
“My name is Tempered Granite, this council has chosen me to negotiate on behalf of our clan. We welcome you, Rook, and we look forward to paying you what you are due. You spoke rightly when you said dwarves and mimics are stronger together. As you look around this Great Hall, you can see that we are now one people. Though at the beginning we were a clan made up of mimics and of dwarves we are now a clan composed of people. And, as one people, we will all pay this debt. Not for one moment during the centuries after our clan was formed did we forget that one day this debt would be called in. For this reason, we have researched and studied every known precedent so that we would know how much should be paid when the time came.
The Sleeper Must Awaken Page 3