Mageblood

by Christopher Johns

  “I know I would have, you jerk!” She shot back, her face suddenly inches from mine, her warm breath smelling like honey and some kind of grain. “But I wouldn’t have given anyone the chance to get me in trouble. And I only would have stepped in if it looked like they were about to really do some damage.”

  “Well, we both know how impatient I am, and they had.” She was still close, so I whispered, “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk lately, unknowingly as it is. I don’t know what to do anymore about a lot of things, but I know I’m glad you’re here with me, Mona.”

  She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again then frowned. “We will talk later.” A statement from her, and one that settled around my neck like a noose.

  “We’re here.” Gage rumbled, opening a door at the end of the hall into a small chamber, with a bench and a raised floor where an uncomfortable chair ominously stood. “The courtroom. This is where many have come to face their fate, and where yours shall be decided today.”

  “Way to make it sound less potentially crushing, big guy,” Albarth muttered from his spot on the bench.

  “I do not make it a habit of lying to people I like.” Gage raised his chin. “I am sworn to uphold the laws of this land.”

  “We understand,” I stated for the others, and a tense, quiet wait kept us company until a discordant fanfare erupted in the room, and the prince bolted in.

  His golden cloth trousers swished and his white and gold-trimmed jacket flared behind his white-cloth-wrapped core.

  “You’ll have to do better than that next time, Crenshaw!” He looked happy as he sat in his chair, cutting a drastically different sight than he had earlier. His dark hair was braided with colorful beads and metal trinkets. His skin darkened against the clothes he wore, still handsome, though cleaner than before. The outfit worked for him.

  All of us stood, and I tried to bow, but Gage stopped me. The prince nodded his head once, motioning for us to sit.

  An older man, balding with gray hair and almost graying features in black butler attire carrying a bugle, walked in a side door. He looked sufficiently harried as he announced, “His Majesty, Prince Klemond Alaric, acting judge of this day’s trial. The accused may stand.”

  I fought not to roll my eyes and stood, stepping toward the chair, then stopping when the elderly man held a palm out toward me.

  “The accused is guilty of having attacked another wanderer within city bounds outside of a dual and training circle.” He held a scroll away from his face at arm’s length, then squinted, struggling to read. The prince smirked and pressed the man’s hands closer to his face. “Ah, quite right, Highness, thank you. The punishment for such a crime is banishment from the city bounds for 7 days, dependent upon the circumstances, or death by hanging from the neck at his Majesty’s command.”

  Seven days? Was that like a ban or something? Shit, the stream would be all kinds of late if that happened.

  “I also hold the right to have this death be any number of other pleasant or unpleasant things.” The prince waved a hand to stop the elderly man from repeating his statement. “We’ve discussed this Crenshaw, my word is law, but you need not repeat it for it to be so.”

  The man bowed at the waist but said nothing.

  “How does the accused plead?” Prince Klemond raised his voice, drawing my attention back to him. I had heard movement behind me, small gasps from my friends, and terse words bordering on treasonous plotting.

  “Guilty, your Highness.” My honesty made him smile, it was a good smile. The kind of smile you would see from an old friend you had met at a bar or something, I imagined.

  “Highness, if we may?” I heard a reedy male voice behind me but ignored it.

  “Lord Foster, you absolutely may.” The prince smiled wider, wrinkles gathering around his eyes in familiar smile lines. I knew this face. How?

  The same bruised and beaten man who had laid on the floor in his home stepped up next to me, his torn and dirtied clothes traded for swankier duds, a nice set of breeches and a fine blouse in pastel colors that made him seem a little darker complected than he was. Bruises covered his otherwise drawn, handsome features, strong jaw, and sharp cheekbones. Blood vessels had burst in his left eye, the one that I could see as he stepped to my right.

  “This wanderer likely saved my life, and the honor of my beloved wife, your second cousin, this very morning,” he stated simply before bowing deeply, though with a grimace of pain.

  “You have yet to see a healer, Lord Foster?” Prince Klemond observed, though his tone held a question.

  “I could not, in good faith, leave this man unrewarded for his kindness and courage.” Lord Foster raised himself from his show of prostration, a little relieved. Pitter pattering footfalls echoes behind us, and the door we’d entered through burst inward.

  Two tiny raised voices cried out, “Wait!”

  The two boys I had seen cowering behind their mother sprinted in front of their father and I protectively, the man reaching down to grasp at his children in futility as they danced out of his reach.

  “Ah, the young lordlings Foster!” The prince’s face took on a serious cast, a scowling, with his eyes narrowed in their direction. “Is this how we greet nobility, now?”

  They shook their heads before mimicking their father’s deep bow, the youngest one bending far too far, somersaulting onto his back.

  Prince Klemond roared, at first, I thought in anger, but he slapped his knee and bellowed, “Well come here then, boys!”

  The two children giggled and sprinted forward to greet him with a flying hug, him picking them up, and Crenshaw muttering evilly.

  “Why do you two interrupt my court, little ones?” The royal tousled their hair playfully as he sat with them standing on either side of his knees. “Lord Foster, I beg you, please sit while Crenshaw fetches the castle’s healer.”

  “Maj—oof,” Sundar started, then grunted, and fell silent.

  “But, Highness, this is a grave matter, I can send a servant,” Crenshaw complained, his face reddening slightly as if offended.

  “Nonsense!” Prince Klemond barked and waved a hand. “My dear man, this is a matter of the court, and who better to fetch the finest healer in all the castle than the finest steward in the castle?”

  “The damned servants!” The old man howled, shaking his fist at the prince.

  “Crenshaw, mind the young ones,” the prince tutted pointedly at the older man.

  “You are the young one,” the steward began, then growled and turned on the spot to leave the room. He bumped into a guard on his way out and snarled, “Step aside, you blundering tin can!”

  Once the door slammed shut, the prince chuckled and sighed as if in relief, “Please, everyone relax. He reports to my family, and this is the second time this week, I’ve done this to him. He’s such a stickler at times.”

  Gage rumbled behind me, “He means well, Highness.”

  “He means well but stands on too much tradition and perceived need for rigmarole that he bars true progress.” The prince motioned for the boys to join their father, and they did so. “I take it the two of you precede my lovely cousin, Tethin? What have you to say, boys?”

  “He helped our father, cousin Klemond,” the oldest boy, about ten years old with short-cropped brown hair affirmed. “And his bravery sparked our own!”

  “Oh?” Prince Klemond leaned back in surprise.

  “Yup!” The younger boy, maybe six, hopped and accidentally landed on my foot. “Sorry, sir.”

  I grunted, he wasn’t heavy, but it had been my little toe, and it hurt. “Think nothing of it.”

  “Please explain, Darin and Bren, you’re growing discordant again.” Their father stated knowingly as the boys fidgeted.

  “We’ve decided to take up arms and defend our country!” Darin raised a fist and put it to his heart as he clicked his heels together.

  “And I’m gonna join the Kings Guard!” Bren tried to follow in his brother’s smart manipulatio
n of his body but hit himself hard enough that a small, “oof,” escaped.

  “Well, I’ll be…” Klemond raised a hand to his face to try and hide another smile. “This is a serious commitment boys, and your mother would see me flogged for even allowing you to entertain the thought without her knowledge.”

  “You give too much credit, beloved cousin,” a strong but light voice reached my ears. I turned to see the pale woman from before, her dress matching the same pastels and fine make of her husband’s attire. She seemed to float forward until she stood beside Lord Foster, curtsying gracefully.

  “Tethin.” Prince Klemond stood and rushed down to give her a hug, looking her over before deciding she was all right. “I would hear all of your testimonies.”

  They each spoke about their morning horror. Waking for breakfast only to find that their home had been invaded and was being lazily looted by two would-be thieves turned violent thugs when confronted. They had beaten Lord Foster into telling them where his personal valuables were and would have gotten to much more valuable items provided I hadn’t stepped in.

  “I see.” The prince’s demeanor was withdrawn, thoughtful as he considered the evidence he had been given.

  It was at this time that Crenshaw returned with an older man who whisked into the room in a rather lively spirit, his huge bushy eyebrows sagging as he regarded us all.

  “Lord Foster, sit on the other bench, rather lay down, son.” His wizened voice was cheerful, though concerned, and as his patient did as he was bid, he set to work with a flare of golden energy around his hands.

  “Thank you for coming, Heathcliffe,” Prince Klemond called out, and the old man just nodded and went about his business.

  He turned his attention back to me. “In light of recent events, evidence collected, and the gaining of two potentially fine men to add to our forces, I believe I have reached a verdict. Is there anyone else who would speak on behalf of the accused?”

  Accused debuff received – all stats dropped to 5.

  I watched in horror as all my stats dropped, and my health sank, my Aether disappearing with it all.

  “I will, Highness.” Gage stood where he was and spoke loudly for all gathered to hear, “Kyvir Mageblood is one of the four members here before you today who killed a man-eating Hell Cat that had taken the miners of the West Mine hostage this week. In the time I have known this group, they have proven forthright and friendly to our cause, even going so far as to protect the citizens that other Wanderers treat as ghosts until they are needed or want something.”

  Crenshaw frowned, leaned forward, and whispered something to the prince that made the man frown, “And this is why you had requested a stipend from the castle yesterday? As a reward for their feat?”

  “It is as you say, Highness,” Gage said, his voice a deep rumble.

  “It is granted, with a bonus of fifty gold to Kyvir for his bravery today,” though he sounded happy, there was still a look of mighty displeasure on the prince’s face. “Though I cannot speak for my cousins in this matter, I would urge you to seek them out upon your return to our world.”

  “After he returns?!” Mona shouted, the others having to fight to restrain her. “What do you mean?”

  “Our law is strict, and though I am capable of lenience, the minimum is required.” He looked genuinely sad, and once again, I found myself reaching for a familiar memory trying to puzzle out why he was so familiar. “The minimum for a wanderer being… death, and restriction from returning for three tolls of the bell. I am sorry, Kyvir Mageblood.”

  I tried to sound cheerful, though it would put a serious damper on my being able to catch up with the others as far as gear was concerned.

  My heart thundered, and I could hear the others whispering furiously behind me.

  “Your manner of dispatch shall be swift,” the prince stood, his voice rising over the others, and stepped toward me with his hand held toward me. I took it and shook it. “I do hope you can forgive me in this and not hold the city responsible.”

  “I won’t, you’re doing your best at a job you seem to not really care for.” I smiled sadly. “I know how that can be sometimes. It’s not your fault I broke the law.”

  “Honorable and honest.” Klemond squeezed his hand gently around mine. “When you join the guild, send word to me, and I will see if we cannot reward you further for this service you unwittingly have done us, so soon after the first. And do seek out my cousin, the Lady Foster. She will likely have something for you as well. Goodbye for now, Kyvir.”

  He lifted a vial from his breast pocket, a dark liquid, and handed it to me.

  Bane’s Match – A fast-acting poison known for painless dispatch. (1 dose)

  “Thank you, Prince Klemond.” I looked to the others. “Get things done here for me, okay? A sword or glaive to help me fight, and then I’ll be back before you know it. Counting on you all.”

  They looked to be resigned, though Mona had an air about her like she was ready to fight me and everyone else.

  I unstoppered the poison and tipped it into my mouth. A hint of black licorice coated my tongue, and I gagged. Never could stand the stuff.

  You have died.

  Warning: You are close to a milestone level. After passing it, death’s consequences are much harsher.

  Be more careful, wanderer.

  The screen inside my mind that stats seemed to play on when the game was loading flashed twice, then was replaced by the same voice that had greeted me when I’d first gotten into the portal.

  You have been suspended from the game for three in-game hours, or one hour in real-time.

  00:59:46

  Chapter Twelve

  The same clock ticked in the outside view of the portal door as had inside, so I just got out and moved into the shower real quick. Grabbed a bite to eat from the fridge and decided to scroll through some social media. The punishment had really only been a minor inconvenience, which was nice, considering it could have been seven days.

  A lot of positive news at the moment. Pollen counts were low, and life on the planet seemed to be thriving.

  I watched a video of fox kits playing on a trampoline as a flock of swallows flitted overhead.

  A woman’s voice off-screen gasped and said, “This literally never happens!”

  I grinned and scrolled down, seeing some excitement about Mephisto’s and the coming streaming we would be doing. I tried to gauge how it would go for us that all our roles seemed to have been changed, but the crowd was in a frenzy over the latest news. Apparently, the servers for Blood and Gore had gone down for emergency maintenance, so I couldn’t even hop on for a minute to stream for them really fast for an update.

  Some folks still seemed a little irked that we weren’t playing Blood and Gore, but that was to be expected. Normally, I’d just let the stream speak for itself, but I decided to post something to the web for once.

  Hey guys!

  We haven’t forgotten about you, and MMO is a blast! The world is so fresh and new, and the nuances of it are breathtaking. We cannot wait for you to join us, but that’s all I can say since we want the stream to speak for itself.

  Magically yours,

  Mageblood

  What would it say? Time would tell, but people would like it, or they wouldn’t. I just had to hope that was enough to keep them happy.

  We would be playing a game together, and that would have to be what mattered.

  Scrolling past that, I saw something of interest. More attacks from shadowy figures. In the photos, they looked blurry, and a thicker halo of darkness coalesced around them in the videos, but the footage was… garbage compared to how I knew technology was.

  We had cameras that could capture motion from a fly and still the wings with no motion or blur whatsoever. This looked like it had been taken on an ancient camera phone from the early twenty-first century.

  It was blurry, spotty, faded in places, and then fuzzy altogether, then the figure left the frame, and things were a
lmost crystal clear once more.

  Victims appeared to consist of the ill, infirm, young, or elderly, where they gathered or populated the most densely. Hospitals. Parks.

  Each time, the police couldn’t find the weapon they had used to enact their hellish act of terror. Dozens wounded and dead each time.

  It had gotten to the point that there looked to be a movement of former military going to guard over local hospitals and senior centers. Cops patrolling areas on higher frequency and calls for people not to go places alone and if they see anything strange to contact authorities immediately.

  One anchor reported an unprecedented crop growth in Utah, while another video showed a group of teens who had planted trees weeks before in a town in Texas that had grown to more than hip height in days.

  “What in the world is going on?” I grumbled to myself. The demons are supposed to be in the damned game, right?

  What was the world coming to these days?

  Hopefully, I never had to use those weapons I’d ordered to protect myself here in my own home.

  My door swung open, banging loudly and I looked up to see Mona standing in the afternoon light, glaring daggers at me.

  “What are you doing here?” I stood and walked toward her. “Why aren’t you in the game, right now?!”

  “Shut up!” She snarled, and I shut my mouth. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Well, I was scrolling some social media, getting an outlook on the world around us if you must know.” I showed her my phone, but she only advanced on me.

  “I leave you alone for one minute, needing time to myself to think and sort through what I’ve been dealing with and going through, and you go and get yourself expelled from the game?”

  “I didn’t do it on purpose!” I shot back, tossing my phone onto the beanbag chair, I wanted my hands empty if we were going to be upset with each other. “You heard those people, Mona. If I hadn’t stepped in—”