“You speak as if you've been there, Lady Ofelia,” said Titania.
“We haven't,” said Era. “But I think we will soon enough.”
“So, what was the 'House of Tit Anus,' then?” asked Liv.
“Indeed, it was my house,” said Tit Anus Titania, who will never be addressed as such a second time.
“I ruled as my father, King Fraldek the Easily Amused, did, ‘bearing the Four Virtues in mind with my every decree’—a similar oath of rule to your own. Remind me—what are the Four Virtues of the Church of Aries?”
“Truth, Wisdom, Justice, and Love,” said Noah.
“Right. Ours were a little different: Food, Laughter, Story, and Song. We lived for those most attainable pleasures and worked to perfect and protect them.
Not to say we had a shortage of your virtues (and flaws), of course—things like war and cruelty were generally frowned upon. They got in the way of a perfectly good feast. But the stories and songs told around the fire, while eating our enchanted pastries and cracking cheap jokes about body parts... When one's lifespan averages on 10,000 years, you'll go to extreme lengths to keep yourselves from growing bored. But we were never bored.
I do hope to see my home again, even in its current state.
As there are different races of humans, so too were there different varieties of kobal. Centaurs, nymphs, satyrs, fairies, just to name a few…all were the same species, shaped by our homes and our experiences.
There was no word in our language for ‘machine.’ Where humans had tools and vehicles, we had monsters—non-living creatures meant to carry out our commands. With our enchanted creation rings, we wove them from the energy of our own emotions.
I'd call them slaves, but they can't think or feel. No magic in existence can intentionally create a self-aware, living creature with free will; that kind of power belongs to the Gods alone.
Stone giants built our cities, sandworms grew and fertilized our crops, and water elementals put out our fires. Dens of giant spiders wove our clothing. Only one breed of monster was designed for warfare from the start: dragons.
The oldest and strongest monster of all still lives today, permanently fixed to the top of Kobalheim's tallest mountain. I think you may be familiar with it, Mystic Liv. ‘Kuhall’ is the Kobal word for lighthouse, and ‘Kuhallen,’ the definite article.
“You guys made the Mystic Spirit?” asked Liv, her voice growing cold. “Did you tell it to burn little kids' eyes out, too?”
“Not at all! My forefathers made Kuhallen to guard the Cosmic Torch, from which all magic is drawn. Unfortunately, it was neglected for so long that it became self-aware, then bored, and finally, curious. When Kuhallen gives a share of the cosmic torch to its host, it sees the world through their eyes in exchange.”
Liv folded her arms, running out of valid reasons to be miffed. “Still could've asked first, at least.”
“It's the strongest and oldest, Liv—I never said it was the smartest.
But I am in no place to blame Kuhallen for its wanderlust—for that same reason, I brought ruin to Kobalheim.
My curiosity to hear another world’s stories and songs led to the creation of a monster that could dig tunnels between dimensions. It carved out the Obsidian Gate, the link between our worlds.
I was fascinated by my scouts' reports of these “hyu-man” people on the other side. Though they didn't have anywhere near our level of prosperity and were governed by cruel tyrants, they could still make time to laugh and sing. They built their own ‘monsters’ out of inanimate materials without any need of magic.
It wasn't long before the humans found us, as well. Soon, King Horatio of Aries —may his ashes be forever cold and forgotten—heard about us. He was an old king, unpopular with his subjects, and very ill from a lifetime of drinking poorly-made wine. His illness gave him a newfound fear of death, which became paranoia, and, when he heard about our long lifespans, obsession.
Horatio grew desperate to find a way to cheat death by ‘borrowing’ our inner workings. His court wizard, a spineless flatterer of a man named Ilya Koschei—may his name forever be as molten brass upon the lips of his weeping kinsmen—was put in charge of this little immortality project.”
“Now, wait,” said Liv, “is he that ‘Ilya the Wise’ bastard that King Gregor refuses to shut up about?”
“Wise in name alone—but yes. Ilya Koschei’s descendants honor him beyond reason.
One brisk summer’s eve, Ilya came to my palace with his train of attendants. His eyes were balls of fire, and he wore a mask of bronze that covered his whole face—he was a Mystic. (No small wonder that Kuhallen discovered your world before us.) The Great Midsummer Feast was disturbed by his presence, but a guest was a guest.
“Welcome to my palace, human,” I said, having learned your language a while before through the appropriate magicks. “Come sit with us, there's more than enough Kirèn for everyone.” (...that's a sort of monster we used for meat, a long-necked creature that could cook, prepare, and season its own flesh.)
“We're not interested in your food,” said the wizard. “We have more than enough in our world. But my people exist for only a short amount of time compared to yours. Our king is dying, and to save him, we demand to know the secret to your longevity.”
“Alas,” I said, “to give you such a thing is impossible. The laws of nature made you one way, and us, another. In your short existence, you can create wonderful inventions, songs, and stories that would take our kind decades to conceive. That in itself is a blessing, and I envy you in that regard.”
“Enough of your lies, goblin! You sit on your couch, glutting yourself on an infinite supply of self-slaughtering meat while a band of badly dressed prostitutes sings and fiddles for you—”
[Vrae — Throw Drink]
Just as he said that bit, one of the nymphs in the band threw a tankard of beer at him. He ducked away, and it landed in the eager arms of a particularly thirsty imp.
The Mystic continued, “—while our king lays in a cot, convulsing and vomiting blood, as he tirelessly works day and night with his general to end the third slave revolt this year. And even then, as you cruelly deny us that which will save his life, you have the gall to say that you envy our 'blessing!’ This is a direct insult to His Majesty King Horatio of the Holy Ariesian Empire, and—stop laughing at me!”
We did not, and neither did his attendants.
He left for his world the next day, but so did three of my subjects. Three orcish children, two boys and a girl born to the castle's cook, were reported missing. Gods, they were scarcely more than 700 years old. Fearing the worst, I sent a few orcish spies to Horatio's castle.
A month later, the spies returned to the Pyrite Palace, shaken and sobbing. They did find the three orclets—dead, and being dissected and researched in the court wizard’s laboratory. Cruel alchemists burned, boiled, and bleached their organs over and over in a demented search for a life-extending potion. The only “remains” the spies could recover for burial were a few vials of brownish-yellow slime.
My advisors and I met for a kind of meeting we hadn't held in ages and dreaded holding again—a war council. What was to be done about this murder? What could be done?
The ogre minister wanted to launch a full-scale invasion to avenge the children, but the minister of succubi reminded him a long period of peace had lowered our guard, and our army was ill-prepared to start a war. We debated and argued for hours, and finally, after consulting the orclets' parents, I made my decision: we would recall my scouts from Luminar, ban humans from Kobalheim, and find a way to shut the Obsidian Gate forever.
For weeks on end, I stood with my royal sorcerers at our side of the gate, trying time and again to close the doorway. We brought back the Obsidian Tunneler who opened it, but it could only expand the hole. We invented a Giant Eagle of Portal Severance to do the job, but it would only attack the doorway and try to kill it. We even made a Turtle That's Somehow Capable of Closing Literall
y Any Dimensional Gateway—that was its whole name, mind you, we were rather desperate—and it simply hid in its shell.
Then, I approached the problem from another angle—rather than close it, I had the gateway walled up with crystal bricks. In retrospect, I should have chosen a stronger material.
As bronze giants laid the bricks and treants spread the mortar, I reclined in my carriage, clung to my lute, and mindlessly played a tune from my childhood. I was desperate to take my mind off the plight of the three orclets, or the possibility of one of my scouts being left behind. Gods, I must have done ten separate roll calls of the 53 returning explorers.
[Ilya — Blazing Meteor]
An explosion of red light startled me away from my lute—the half-built wall crumbled before one of Ilya Koschei's terrible spells. As my guards scrambled to defend me, the Mystic rode in on his thin, mangy horse. Guarding him were a handful of cheap mercenaries, rather than slaves or knights—any noble position he held in Aries had clearly been lost.
I descended from my carriage, mounted a small wind drake, and met with the wizard face-to-face.
“Leave this place, Mystic,” I said. Part of me believed that would have been the end of it.
“His Majesty lies dead from his illness,” he said, “and for this failure, I face the gallows in Aries.”
“And you're coming here to escape death? I suppose I could find a shallow grave for you to permanently hide in.”
“A true son of House Koschei never hides!” In retrospect, I don't think he understood my joke. “I will die with my honor intact after having my revenge on you and your kingdom.”
“Revenge? That's odd. I don't recall kidnapping, killing, and mutilating the corpses of three of your cook's children.”
“I came to you for aid, and you mocked me.” In retrospect, I don't think he had a sense of humor to begin with. “I took specimens to study, and you stole my research and banished my people. You held the secret that could have saved His Majesty, and through your refusal, you are the indirect cause of his death—and mine!”
“If it would make you feel any better, I could always have my monsters here kill you directly.”
A sickening black aura of vapors surrounded the wizard as he raised his jagged staff. His skin glowed, and he let out a scream of anger and pain. His own flesh seemed to peel off into the orb on the tip of his staff, and as he pounded it into Kobalheim's soil—
[Ilya — The Fundamental Corruption]
—he melted into a puddle of dark green sludge.
[999,999 DMG to Ilya]
[999,999 DMG to Ilya's Horse]
[999,999 DMG to Ilya's mercenaries]
His horse and his mercenaries shared the same fate—they unknowingly served as additional blood sacrifices for his spell.
The staff stood silently in the grass. I thought he had committed some kind of suicidal ritual rather than face execution, and believed the whole sordid affair was over. But my sorcerers pounced on me, forming a pile of bodies over me as I struggled.
“What's this, now?” I asked.
At the bottom of the pile, the Sorceress Engorel, a centaur, and my dearest friend and lover for two centuries, stared at me with tears welling in her eyes. “That man just transmuted his own soul into pure energy,” she said. “Whatever he just did, we need you alive for it.”
With that, she kissed me, and braced for her coming fate.
I closed my eyes. There was a sound like the Gods bashing two mountains against one another, and all of Kobalheim was heat and screaming for five long seconds.
[0 DMG to Titania]
[
When I opened my eyes, Engorel stared back at me with cruel spiral horns sprouting from her eyes, unhinged her jaw of rotten, venomous fangs, and roared.
As I would discover on my way back, Ilya's curse had transformed the entire Kobal race into hideous, malformed beasts. All of their emotions, thoughts, and memories were torn from their minds, everything but hatred and desperation.
Thanks to Engorel's sacrifice, I alone was spared, as the only Kobal left in existence.
Everyone else...
...had become goblins.”
The sun had begun setting further into the desert. The wind had died down. The only sound was the crackling of the campfire.
Titania stared into the campfire, unblinking. “Have the humans told you what happened next?”
Only Liv could find the courage to speak. “You...tried to destroy the human race with an army of monsters, killed tons of people, then enchanted the Jade Crown to assign a new Dark Lord every five years to finish what you started. Then you were killed. How much of that is true?”
“Save for the 'you were killed' bit, all of it,” said Titania. “If anything, historians have probably watered down the most evil parts of what I had done.
I was so overcome with anguish and hatred about the fate of my people, I decided to reform our monsters into weapons and force humanity to share in our fate. The Jade Crown is one of our creation rings —I modified it to become an instrument of war.
When I began the invasion, I took the name 'Saràstro', which in my tongue means 'revenge'. It became ‘King Saràstro’ before long—the humans believed me to be male, as that was the only way they could logically justify the destruction I had caused.
Finally, when the original Chosen Three defeated me, I was taken prisoner. Ilya Koschei's son, Dobrynya, had the Casket of Eternal Agony built to confine me, torment me, and make it easier to forget about me. Have you any other questions?”
“Do you still...hate humans?” asked Noah, trembling.
“I'd be lying if I said I didn't have some lingering hatred, especially for the Koscheis. But, well, 52 centuries is a very long time to stand in the corner and think about what I've done. I do regret my actions during the Goblin War, and I want to atone for my sins, but if that's not possible, I'd at least like to end the curse.
And therein lies the worst of my problems: to do that, I would have to destroy the Jade Crown —and the Jade Crown is indestructible.”
“Flush it down the toilet!” blurted out Era, almost on instinct. His face turned beet red, and suddenly he found the whole camp glaring at him at once.
Dammit. That sounded a lot better in my head. How was I gonna say it?
“I'm just saying,” he said, “the Doomwagon's got a bottomless pit for a toilet. If we can't destroy it, maybe we can drop it into a place where no one can find it.”
The glares from his friends decreased by a factor of four, at least.
Titania stood up. Her old, dusty face began to look like a stone carving of an ancient, powerful heroine, filled with determination and ambition. She raised a finger, and with a mighty, queenly voice, she called out, “Take me to your toilet.”
Chapter 23
To Kobalheim!
After Mischa gave his son the riot act about the importance of knocking first, Titania had a good look at the Doomwagon's toilet. She was in there a good thirty minutes, testing the bottomless pit's abilities—and throwing a few of her indestructible enchanted rings and earrings in there. To her delight, they careened off into the empty black void, all traces of their power vanishing from this world.
Destruction of the Jade Crown, and the Dark Lord Cycle with it, was possible—even if damn near everything else wasn't.
[Current Roster:]
[Era — Fencer — Level 73 — HP 6500 — MP 720]
[Liv — Mystic — Level 75 — HP 5640 — MP 1550]
[Noah — Healer — Level 71 — HP 4700 — MP 2300]
[Ofelia — Paladin — Level 72 — HP 7400 — MP 800]
[Branwen — Berserker — Level 73 — HP 14,300 — MP 0]
Before anything could be done about the Kobalheim/Ulfenstadt/Pyrite Palace/Jade Crown/Breaking the Cycle problem, there was a pressing emergency that the heroes had to deal with: getting snacks.
In a highway mini-mall sticking out from the desert a few mile
s east of the Imperial City, Mischa made a few last minute modifications to the Doomwagon. Allegedly, it was a magnificent and game changing surprise, involved four cans of teal green spray paint, and required Noah to stand out in front of the bus holding a cardboard sign that said, “DLNI ACT—COPS VOG OFF.” Noah agreed, on the condition that he could write in a “please” at the bottom of the sign.
Titania, meanwhile, sat in the bus with Noah's Astral Flute. With a glowing fingertip, she added the overdue finger holes and mouthpiece. As she had explained, the flute and the bells were Kobal instruments, and their only function—save for a few seal-breaking enchantments and what have you—was to spread joy with delightful Kobal religious music.
This would have been nice, if the heroes hadn't been working under the assumption that they were legendary magical superweapons, but life isn't fair. Still, they were both indestructible, and smacking someone in the face with the flute really hurt.
As for Everwake, it was indeed a powerful sword—that only hurt Kobals. Still, Mischa knew it would have been even more magical on the black market, so he kept it around.
Liv was in the gas station, stocking up on as much junk food as possible. If Titania's misgivings were any indication, the road ahead would be a long one without so much as a LeChokey's for miles. Though she left her wallet in the bus, she managed to pay for two armsful of empty calories and helpful magical trinkets with pocket change and threats—so long as one had both, she surmised, one could pay for anything. In time, this would come to be known as the Liv Matapang School of Economics.
Branwen and Ofelia were off in the coffee shop, having a heated debate about religion. Ofelia insisted that Galgalim was still an important figure in the dwarven Church of Rafeth as a lesser angel of the Sun God. Branwen, on the other hand, didn’t think an elf had any right to Rafeth-splain to a dwarf; but also knew the undeniable truth that Captain Hook died in the Crocodile's maw for the sins of all landlubbers.
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