Gentleman's Wars 2: A Tower Defense LitRPG Series

by Andrew Karevik

  A silence fell over us both and I saw a curious smile emerge from Esha. “You ask for nothing?”

  “Anything I’d ask, you’d be forced to give,” I replied. “Not a particularly honest way to bargain. And besides, you’re my neighbors. Every man should not only look after his house, but the house to his left and right.”

  “A wise quote. Did a holy man say it?”

  “Not er, not quite,” I said. That had been one of Malphius’ slogans for selling his ill-fated neighborhood defense golems. I won’t get into the disaster that product had caused. “But a very wise, very…ingenious man.”

  “There are some things I must prepare first, to accept you into our fold,” Esha said, suddenly stepping away from me. A joy was in her eyes and she clapped her hands together. “You’ll enjoy the ritual, greatly!”

  I nodded at that and yawned. As my senses had slowly returned to the waking world, so too did my exhaustion. I had been awake all night and having just finished a major battle, I felt as if I could sleep forever. I found myself mostly nodding to Esha as she began to explain a few things, but eventually I found darkness falling over me as I promptly passed out from exhaustion.

  Chapter 12

  I awoke in the middle of the night with a great start. For a moment, I had forgotten everything leading up to ending up in this luxurious, gigantic elven bed. But as the grogginess of sleep faded, so my memory returned. The elves, the bandits, the strange golem that had appeared at the end of the battle…it was all like a dream. Was it? No, no, it couldn’t have been…

  “About time you woke up,” said a cool, calm voice in the darkness. It was a man’s voice, strong and confident. “I was starting to think you were dead.”

  “Who’s there?” I said, sitting straight up. I was still in my regular clothes, so I still had…a few scrolls and some pocket lint. Damn, where’d my knife go?

  “Relax, I’m not here to kill you,” the man said. I could sort of make out his silhouette in the darkness. He was sitting in a large chair by the window. Only a sliver of moonlight was coming in, slightly giving him a figure. “But I do have a request. A big one.”

  A gas lamp was sparked and my eyes shuddered at the sudden appearance of light. I squinted, resisting the urge to fully close my lids. Sitting across from me was a very well dressed man in his mid-forties. He was wearing a black military coat, tightly buttoned up. In one hand was a Karrack pistol and in the other a small amber bottle. The liquid within glistened from the light. I swallowed hard as he smiled at me.

  “Don’t mind the pistol. Never much cared for these things. No sport in aiming and clicking a trigger,” he said, slowly rising, making a point of how long it took him to get up. “Now, let me explain. I work under the authority of the Crown,” he said, pointing to a round metal disc hanging off of his belt. It had the outline of the Queen’s head on it.

  “You’re one of the Queen’s Men!” I said. Was he here to question me about the illegal attack? “Perhaps you can—”

  “Shut it,” the investigator replied. “I am not here to talk about anything other than my mission. Here’s the situation. You saw something you should not have earlier today. Something that is not supposed to even exist outside of certain circles.”

  “The giant,” I whispered.

  “Exactly. That device was stolen a long time ago. When you observed it in the Grid, it triggered an emergency protocol, allowing us to finally return it. Now, big golems aren’t particularly special, but you witnessed it being zipped out like lightning. And more importantly, you witnessed the Grid informing you of the restricted class of the weapon.”

  I shrugged. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “I know,” he said, causing a chill to run down my spine. I eyed the pistol once more. The gleaming crystal was only good for one shot. The weapons were too unstable. A single shot would cause the mana crystal to crack permanently, releasing all of its magic. But at the same time, a single shot would be more than enough to kill a bag of meat and blood like me.

  “I’m loyal to the Crown,” I said. “I’d never give up a state secret!”

  “And I am here to ensure that, one way or the other,” the man said, holding up the bottle. “This is a special little brew we cooked up. Makes the last day a little hazy. A little hard to remember. But memories of the Grid? It purges them. Completely. So you might feel fuzzy about what you had for breakfast, but you’ll remember you ate eggs and ham with a little concentration. But the battle? You’ll have no recollection.”

  “Amnesium,” I remarked. “You need actual magic to make a potion like that. Not just alchemical components.”

  “We have plenty of wizards working for the Crown; you can be assured of that. So, you drink this, forget everything and enjoy your life. I leave a little bag of silver as a sign of the Queen’s thanks and we both get to go home without blood on our hands. And in your case, that blood would be literal. These pistols do not kill clean.”

  “Well, when you put it that way, I’m rather thirsty,” I said, prompting a chuckle from the man. What had I witnessed on the battlefield? Some secret weapon? A grand conspiracy? Who knows? All I knew was that if I didn’t drink the potion, this man would kill me without hesitation. Hell, I was fortunate that he didn’t pull the trigger already.

  “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said. “Your Queen wants you to know she is grateful for your service. Now, be a good boy and drink up.”

  There wasn’t much choice to be had here, so I complied with his command. Well, I complied with the letter of his command, not the spirit. For while we were talking, I managed to slip my fingers in my pocket, grabbing another tiny bit of silver. This was foolishness, I knew, to play such games with one of the Queen’s Men, but at the same time, I had just stumbled across a great state secret! How could I possibly just agree to losing my memory? To forgetting the strange and curious greatness that I had witnessed? I was certainly not a blabbermouth, nor would I betray such a secret to the world…but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to do some research on my own to find out what that great colossus was for.

  I reached out and grabbed the potion from the man, making a show of uncorking it and raising it to my lips. Carefully, I angled the silver bit, the tiny little sliver, to drop into my mouth along with the potion. The taste of fresh oranges greeted my tongue as the amber liquid rushed down my gullet, fizzing and bubbling violently as I swallowed the whole draught in one go. I swallowed extra hard, in order to convey that I truly had consumed the concoction.

  “You should find yourself growing quite sleepy,” the man said as he tossed a bag of silver onto the bed stand beside me. He bowed with a hand on his chest. “Your Queen thanks you for your service to this country. Rest well.”

  There was no heavy lid of sleep that came across me, however. Instead there was a violent, churning pain in my stomach as the silver began to cause a negative reaction with the potion. But I merely lay back, as if I were falling fast asleep. Some heavy breathing and lack of motion was more than enough to convince the stranger that the job was done and he was quick to climb out my window, hardly making a sound as he left.

  I lay in darkness for a time, my stomach growing more and more agitated. Silver was handy for accidental potion ingestion or overdoses, for magic did not much care for silver and wanted to get as far away from it as possible. And in this situation, the magic of the potion wanted to leave the same way it came in. I held onto my guts for a solid minute before finally, I leapt up and spewed the whole damned potion out onto the ground.

  Panting and gasping, I wiped my sweat-soaked forehead, waiting to see if my gambit paid off. No sleep came to me, nor did my memories fade. I could still remember the curious colossus and the government man who wanted me to forget it all.

  Chapter 13

  Compared to the boring, academic parties we used to hold back at college, this elven feast might as well have been a coronation ceremony for the Queen herself! I had never seen anyt
hing quite like it before, an entire grand hall filled to the brim with banners, colorful birds flying about and grand tapestries showing elven battles and victories. And the food! I had never encountered such a wide variety of foodstuffs, from exotic cheeses that were grey on the outside and blue within to fantastic platters of meat cut into brilliant cubes, so packed with flavor that each tiny morsel tasted like a full steak dinner.

  The music was lively, though certainly something to get used to. There was no band, per say, rather a few flutists wandered about, playing whatever tune they liked. No musician played the same tune, but somehow, the songs all seemed to blend together into one great medley, with each flute playing a different part. It didn’t sound bad but it took some focus before I could find the music within the noise.

  “This is the induction ceremony,” Esha said as she approached me, bowing deeply. She was adorned in a regal robe lined with gold, a crown of flowers atop her head. These flowers seemed to be blooming as she spoke, opening for a moment, spreading their bulbs wide, before retracting back into their previous position. She was saying something, but my mind wandered as I became entranced with such a beautiful crown. How did they work? Was it an alchemical compound used? Magical energy? Or perhaps the elves had flowers that lived in a permanent state of bloom! What would their properties be, I wonder?

  No doubt you realize now why our parties back at school were so boring. Imagine a room full of people more interested in plants than in festivities. My focused returned to Esha as she finished her sentence. “You will find the table over there,” she concluded, pointing to a table that was behind a small rope barrier. Upon this table were several large cakes, each one towering four layers high. Such a delicacy! I didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, mind you, but it would be rude not to enjoy these specially prepared meals, right?

  “I apologize, ma’am, I’m a little distracted by all of this…wonder,” I said, still looking around. Many elves were present, mostly women with a few men scattered here and there. They were all dancing about, moving with hypnotic rhythm. “What did you say?”

  Esha laughed and took my hand, leading me to the table of cakes. “This whole festival is for you, Blake,” she explained. “We cannot have outsiders representing us, nor taking the task of defense. So we are bringing you into our family, through a basic ritual. After this day, you shall forever be an elf to us.”

  I nodded while eyeing the chocolate cake in the center. It was frosted with deep brown icing, with alternating white and black checkers upon it. A little pink bow rested in the center of the cake. It looked quite inviting. “So, what does the ritual entail?”

  “Just for you to enjoy the festivities, eat the binding cake and have some of our bloodwine,” she explained. My eyebrow shot up at the word bloodwine.

  “That doesn’t have actual blood in it, does it?” I asked.

  “Wine derived from blood oranges, actually. Though our enemies in the homeland often claimed we made wine from our infants’ blood,” Esha replied with a heavy sigh. She shook her head and tried to force a smile. “Sorry, I shouldn’t bring up the homeland, it’s such a gauche thing to do at a festival. Please, enjoy your cake. I need to find the master of ceremonies for the wine drinking…”

  And with that, she wandered off, leaving me alone with the four cakes on the table. Each cake was uncut, but knives were next to each one. I glanced behind me, watching as the elves danced. I noticed no one else was eating anything. Perhaps they were waiting on me to be the first to cut into the dessert, so they could join afterward.

  “No reason to keep everyone waiting,” I eagerly mumbled. My stomach was rather empty, for I could find no one to serve breakfast this morning. Perhaps fasting up to the feast was a tradition as well. Without any maids or butlers to scold me for eating dessert first, I would make good use of this extra room in my stomach, that was for sure!

  I took three pieces from the different cakes, heaping them on my plate and making a point to turn so that everyone could see that I had gotten my fill. But the elves seemed not to care about my gesture. Perhaps I had misread them. Oh well, more for me.

  The morning blew by as I enjoyed the festivities. I listened to the music, ate the food, learned some interesting dance moves (most too spinny for me to properly perform on a full stomach) and learned the great joy of silence. For the elves did not speak during this festival. At first, I found the lack of words to be off-putting, but learned quickly that it was the body that spoke during this time. Dancing, laughing, eating, all of these things were far more expressive than simple words. What I thought was awkward at first became a deep pleasure the more I learned to simply express my emotions through exaggerated gestures and facial expressions.

  Eventually the dancing died down as a large barrel was rolled into the center of the room. People cleared the dance floor, joining in a circle around what was clearly the bloodwine. A few young girls, the only children I had seen thus far in my journey here, appeared with cute little roses in their hair, holding silver cups in their hands. I had no idea how old these children were, for if elves were long lived, would their children stay young for decades?

  Silver cups were handed to every member of the feast, though no child approached me to give me a chalice. Instead, a taller, comely woman walked up to me, trying to control her giggling. She was barefoot, adorned in a dress made of golden silk and wearing a crown of perpetually blooming roses, just like Esha’s. In her hand was a golden chalice, studded with rubies the size of grapes.

  “For me?” I asked as she presented the goblet, raising it up in the air. She chittered in her strange elven tongue, too quick and breathless for me to understand, but I figured she was offering it. I bowed a little then took the cup. As I grabbed hold of it, the woman lunged forward and seized my arm, pulling me and the goblet to the large barrel of wine.

  Standing beside the barrel was none other than Esha, as well as Molen, her husband. Molen wasn’t dressed particularly well, still wearing the traditional clothing of a farmer. He smiled at me and nodded as I approached, goblet in one hand, elven maid in the other.

  “I apologize that the master of ceremonies won’t be able to officiate in your language,” Esha said. “The Velecian tongue is…difficult for our kind to learn. Only Molen and I are able to speak it fluently. So please, allow her to conduct the ceremony. I’ll prompt you to drink when you are to drink.”

  Ah, so the elven maid was the MC. No wonder she was dressed so extravagantly. The master of ceremonies began speaking in her native language, loudly addressing the crowd. I figured the speech would be short, but as the minutes passed, I started to realize that this would not be the case. No matter how wonderful a speech she was giving, when you don’t speak the language, it feels like little more than gibberish.

  Noticing the dullness in my eyes as the woman continued speaking, Molen shuffled up next to me. “Three cakes, huh?” he whispered.

  “What can I say,” I replied back with a smirk. “I am a man of appetite.”

  “I can see that,” he said, clapping me on the back. “You made some good choices too.”

  “The vanilla bean was the best, I think.”

  This caused the elf to chuckle greatly. “Yes, she is a delight to behold.”

  “You had some too?” I asked.

  “Some what?”

  “Cake,” I said. Was he drunk? Maybe he had used his status as husband to the Matron to get into the bloodwine early.

  Molen went to say something, but was interrupted by the master of ceremonies. She barked some loud command, prompting everyone to raise their silver cups high.

  “Oh, this is where you drink first,” Molen said, gesturing towards the barrel. The MC smiled widely at me as she gestured towards the spigot on the wine barrel. It was an odd thing to serve wine out of a barrel and not out of a bottle. At least the taste would be quite fresh.

  I lowered the goblet and allowed the host to fill the cup to the brim. She then aided
me in raising it up to my lips. “Re…peat,” she stammered to say in my own tongue. Once it was clear I understood her, she slowly spoke in elven, prompting me to repeat after each line. I was a little hesitant to speak without knowing what I was saying, however.

  I glanced at Esha. “I apologize, but what does she mean for me to say?”

  “You pledge to serve the Kinteli as your own and to render aid unto all elves as they will render aid to you,” she said. “And that you will protect us with your power until we are able to stand on our own.”

  Fair enough, I suppose. I repeated the words, one sentence at a time, trying my best not to butcher the elvish language (though failing miserably.) Once the MC was satisfied, she raised the cup to my lips, prompting me to drink. And drink I did! The first gulp was…wretched. Absolutely awful in every way. I am no snob, but having a family vineyard gave me a clear understanding of what good wine was supposed to taste like and this was not good wine. It wasn’t even bad wine. It was wholly other, something that even the most desperate of drunkards would hesitate before downing.

  But I put on a brave face, drinking the vile concoction as she continued to hold the cup to my lips, not satisfied until I had put away the entire amount. If it tasted this bad, the buzz better damn well be amazing.

  Once finished, the host turned me to face the rest of the crowd. They all raised their cups and drank heartily as well; their glasses having been filled by servants who had carried out additional barrels during the speech. The crowd had no trouble consuming the beverage and indeed, as soon as they finished, a few motioned for their cups to be refilled.

  The master of ceremonies called out loudly, producing a pink bow from a satchel at her side. Wasn’t that decoration part of the cake I had eaten? From the crowd there was a loud squeal, a clamor of giggling and laughter as a young woman emerged. Around her neck was a bow of the same color and style, fashioned into a collar of sorts. She was blushing greatly, but her smile was wide. Her hair was auburn and long, flowing freely like the mane of a lion. This maiden bowed to me deeply, clutching her hands together with excitement and anxiety over something.