Fjorgyn: A Rebel Rises

by RJ Castiglione

  Congratulations! Your expression of selflessness has inspired Baridorne to no end. You disposition with him has increased from Neutral to Trusted. Continue building your relationship with him and you will gain a true ally.

  I was left alone in the room with Vindur. He was drinking from the basin in the back of the room, struggling to reach the water.

  “Vindur, why are you a crow?” I asked him.

  “Because I wanted to be.”

  “Can’t you be something else?” It was an honest question. A bird wasn’t the most useful form in the world. He couldn’t climb things, he couldn’t eat or drink easily. I massaged my shoulder thinking of his nails biting into my skin.

  “Absolutely.” A cloud of smoke envolved him. Feathers gave way to fur. His beak was replaced with a nose and whiskers. When the smoke vanished, he was now a black cat. Pleased with his transformation, he was now able to easily reach the water.

  “That’s not any better. How about something more? How about a lemur?”

  Vindur shrugged in response to my question. “If that will make you happy.” The process repeated again. The results were more pleasing to me. He was now a gray lemur with a white face and a black and white, striped tail. His ears also matched mine, forming a gentle point at their tip. I could now read the expressions on his face as well. And he looked both bored and frustrated.

  “Much better. Thank you, my friend.”

  Chapter 7

  This is the second time I have been in Clifford’s study. It was the largest room in the house. Three walls were dedicated only to book storage, broken down into an endless number of categories: spell work, herbalism, enchanting, religion and religious history, politics and law, history, and even a section dedicated to fiction. The She-Elf and the Pixie King was one title that caught my eye. I wonder if Fjorgyn has developed fantastical erotica since my rebirth. What did fantasy erotica look like in a fantasy world?

  The front of the room was furnished with sofas and a coffee table stacked high with recently used books and a bowl of fresh fruit. Behind it, two chairs faced an oversized desk where Clifford was sitting. Behind him, there was a fireplace so large that one could walk into it. If it weren’t on fire, that is.

  Vindur jumped off my shoulder and started stuffing his face with grapes. I was pleased with his new form. A lemur was much funnier than a crow. I let him indulge himself and stepped further into the room, attempting to hide my amazement with the sheer number of tomes available.

  “Michael, good morning.” Clifford motioned for me to sit down. I hesitated, tugging on my leather collar. The thing itched my skin something fierce, like a horny frat boy with crabs.

  “No, master. I’m fine standing.”

  “I’ll have none of that. I thought we agreed last night. There are no masters here.”

  “We did. And I am grateful, but I want to maintain the pretense. Prying eyes and all.” I gestured to the window. Even with the walls, there was nothing preventing people outside of them from seeing into his study.

  “So be it. Michael: I have two tasks for you today that will help both of us. First, I have need of an escort to a High Protectorate meeting. Not only will this give me a safe excuse to give you some armor, but it will shed more light on how things work here in Elatha – something you somehow seem completely oblivious about. And you have been walking around barefoot for a week now. It’s embarrassing.” He pointed at a pile of armor resting on a nearby chair.

  Rough Leather Chestpiece. Quality: Good. Class: Uncommon. Armor: Light(15). Stats: +10 HP

  Homespun Pants. Quality: Good. Class: Uncommon. Armor: Light(10). Stats: +20 MP

  Leather boots. Quality: Good. Class: Uncommon. Armor: Light(5). Stats: +10% movement speed

  Leather bracers. Quality: Good. Class: Uncommon. Armor: Light(5). Stats: +10 HP

  I must have drooled because Clifford started laughing again. Unbecoming of his station, he helped me put the armor on. I took care of changing out of my pants, folding them gently and putting them in my inventory. They were still a gift that could be put to a purpose. And every gamer was a secret hoarder.

  “I’d give you a weapon as well, but we would both be killed if I were to provide one to a slave. I am, however, making you my valet. If anyone should ask your position, that’s it. Now let’s go. The meeting is in an hour.” His behavior had changed. He is less formal than yesterday. The young man is more relaxed and more familiar with me. When he was helping me with my armor, I had felt like a knight and him my squire.

  You have received a quest! “Errands, errands everywhere!”

  Clifford Grey II has asked you to accompany him while completing two errands. He is your master. This quest is non-optional.

  Reward: Experience gain and disposition gain with Clifford Grey II

  As we were walking, I asked about the second task. Clifford dismissed my questions like a master would in public. I would have to wait and see. Instead, he explained more about the meeting.

  “It’s unusual for slaves to be included in these meetings. When they are, the tendency is to armor your slaves temporarily with the same armor provided to initiate guards.” I must have looked sad while I rubbed the soft leather of my new chest piece. Clifford chuckled. “Don’t worry. Those are yours to keep. They’ll come in handy later.”

  “Anyhow, this meeting is for all of the masters in the city. The High King, head of the Wraithheart company, will be issuing an edict. He doesn’t do this often. When he does, attendance by one member of the each master’s household is compulsory. My father is away on business and will be gone for the next few months… this also works in our favor.”

  He stopped at the base of the stairs to the central palace as masters and slaves filed by us. The building was massive. Easily eight stories tall and a thousand feet wide. It loomed over the city as a symbol of unchecked power. The staircase leading up to it was at least five stories with guard stations posted at each landing. It reminded me of the Vatican City, although I only know from pictures.

  “Michael, this is important. You will be asked to show your mark. Do not hesitate. When we are inside, you must always stand behind me and to my right side. You must not speak to me unless spoken to first. You must look to me for permission should anyone ask you a question beyond 'Show me your mark.' And you must not, under any circumstance, talk to another slave.”

  I nodded my understanding although his instructions triggered apprehension. I was about to enter the heart of darkness. Quite literally. The power within fed the barrier that clouded the entire city in an endless night.

  “And before I forget, you need to carry this.” He handed me his inventory bag and willed it into my possession. I examined the contents with my mind – second nature whenever receiving a new item. It contained various herbs, potions, scrolls, armor and weapons, and leather bound books. He had an 80-slot inventory! To my 20.

  “A master cannot be seen carrying anything within the place with a slave present. And this,” he tapped on the bag, “I expect back.”

  The thought never crossed my mind. Okay. It crossed my mind once. But I wouldn’t steal another person’s inventory. Your inventory is an extension of yourself. It would be cruel.

  Hiking up the stairs with two inventories and the weight of leather armor was terrible. My stamina decreased. My fatigue increased. The walk up did get easier, however. I had adjusted both inventories appropriately and saw notifications pop up in the corner of my eye.

  Congratulations! Your skill as a Creature of Burden has increased to rank 6. Heavy loads are now 3% lighter.

  Congratulations! Your skill as a Creature of Burden has increased to rank 7. Heavy loads are now 3.5% lighter.

  I could feel the muscles in my back and legs strengthen when my skill increased. My stamina decreased at a much slower rate. I no longer felt out of breath when we reached the top and my fatigue amount had begun to decline again.

  ”Vindur, what’s the difference between stamina and fatigue?”
>
  Vindur obliged with what may be one of the first world-related questions I asked him in a while. I could no longer blame him for tardy information. I had to begin asking more. This was not the game. Things in this world were different.

  “Stamina reduces. Fatigue increases. You use Stamina when you run, exert yourself, or fight. If you run out of it, you can collapse. Fatigue increases through regular exertion or from not eating, sleeping, or drinking. If you reach 100% fatigue, you become over-encumbered. Walking can be a chore. Stamina and Mana do not regenerate, and health will not regenerate over time until you solve whatever is causing you to fatigue. The more fit you become, the slower your fatigue increases.”

  His was a perfect explanation. I scolded myself for not thinking of asking before.

  At the top of the stairs, massive wooden doors stood open. They had to be thirty feet high. The inside of the building was lit by enchanted torches that illuminated a white light, almost as though they were operating on electricity. For the first time in a week, I felt as though I was walking into daylight again. I silently cursed the masters for what I saw was another sign of oppression. They allowed themselves to live in the light while the people they should be protecting served their interests while existing in darkness.

  The décor was red and gold. It was tacky and stunk of self-importance. We shuffled through the main corridor into a central chamber. In the front of the over-sized room, there was a row of nine chairs all decreasing in size and comfort. The central chair was a pillowed throne cast in gold. The outer seats were wooden kitchen chairs with red leather backing and seating.

  The room itself was an auditorium split into four levels; a ringed auditorium within a ringed city, another way to divide people into groups within groups. This was another sign of company oppression. As we were walking, a guard stopped us and had me show him my mark. Pleased with the size and severity of it, he waved us on.

  Clifford led me to his assigned section in the second ring. The room was at capacity. Thousands of masters and slaves congregated, all of us wearing some semblance of leather armor colored to match the sigil of the house we served. My armor was green with silver thread and had a silver owl printed on the chest piece. The masters of the outer ring wore everyday clothes. Many of them were dirty. I assumed they had purchased slaves after a significant amount of saving to supplement their workforce.

  The third ring consisted of merchants and those of higher-paying professions. Even then, their clothing was unremarkable.

  The second ring consisted of minor aristocrats. The masters of this ring, save Clifford, were mostly older and more rotund. The inner ring consisted of fat men in fancy dress with slaves adorned in various degrees of impractical armor – meant more to show off their wealth than to provide protection. They were the one ring with chairs to sit in. Many did sit out of necessity, weighed down by years of gluttony. Some slaves were fanning their masters. Others were holding goblets and silver or gold chalices. I could swear that I even saw a few powdered wigs. These were the top of the aristocrats who had accumulated more money and wealth than the rest combined.

  The room grew silent when a gong resounded through the chamber. Older men filed in from behind a curtain and took their place in the outer chairs on the stage. Trumpets sang when a young man walked out and took his place on the throne. He was dressed in black robes that glimmered like the evening sky. I thought I saw shooting stars fly across the fabric. A red collar poked out of the top of the robes to match his blood-red hair. It all stood in stark contrast to his abnormally pale skin, broken only by some runic tattoos on his forehead and cheekbone. He carried a staff that was thin, smooth, and black. Affixed to the staff was a cradle that contained a diamond the color of midnight. I analyzed him quickly:

  Name: Ankou Levent

  Title: High King of Vros

  Race: Trisian - ???

  Age: 143

  Class: Mage

  Talent: Necromancy, Elemental

  Level: ???

  Health: ???

  Mana: ???

  Stamina: ???

  Alignment: Lawful evil (+100)

  Profession: Herbalist, Enchanter, Crafting, Inscription

  Disposition: Unfriendly

  Company: Wraithheart (Leader)

  I retreated after analyzing the high king. Clifford gripped my arm and pulled me closer to his side, silently instructing me not to waver in Levent’s presence. The High King inspired many questions. Why couldn’t I see his level? Why was his biracial status hidden? How was he so young in appearance while so old in age? How did he secure multiple talents and professions? I was afraid of this man, more afraid than I have been of anything in my entire life. And I knew nothing about him beyond his aura of death and destruction and power.

  With High King Levent seated, the room fell silent. You could almost hear the beads of sweat hitting the floor from nervous masters and slaves alike. Levent slammed the bottom of his staff into the ground, reverberations echoing through the auditorium. The white-flame sconces on the wall extinguished leaving only the middle of the room illuminated. The area in front of the high king slid open and a platform ascended. Chained to the floor was a Trisian man, woman, a little girl, and some slaves. They cowered before their king. The scent of them filled the large auditorium – one of shit and urine and sweat and musk.

  Without standing, Levent spoke: “My compatriots, I’ve called you here today to raise charges against a fellow company member. The man you see before you was one of my chief advisors and my friend. I need not give you his name. It has been stricken from history. He and his entire household are charged with high treason. Their crime? Attempting to skirt the natural order of our great and powerful nation by plotting to escape to another country.”

  The audience gasped at this revelation. I didn’t understand it until I realized that this was a police state that forbade foreign refuge.

  “Nameless man, how do you plead?”

  The man was shaken to his core, unable to look up at the high king who was lounging lazily on his throne. He whispered something for his king to hear.

  “I don’t think they heard you. Louder.”

  More mumbling.

  “Louder!”

  The man’s head shot upright, and he screamed for all to hear.

  “Mercy!” Levent exploded from his chair and slammed his staff into the ground. Shockwaves rippled across the room, and many fell to their knees. I almost would have if Clifford were not still clutching my arm. At this point, we were trembling in unison.

  “You are my child! You are all my children! I have given you everything in exchange for obedience! You,“ he pointed a bony finger at the man and his family, “sought to take that away from me! You shall have no mercy!”

  His slender hand waved over the prisoners. They all went stiff as the king’s dark magic washed over them. One by one their bodies straightened, and they lifted off the ground with only the tips of their toes touching.

  “I am your Lord! I called you my friend only for you to betray me! I am the black of night! I am the Lion of Elatha! I am judge, jury, and executioner! You, nameless-one, and your family are hereby sentenced to undergo my death rite. This is my judgment, and as such, it is beyond contestation!”

  The crowd began to erupt in chants and applause. Some shouted at their lord and master “Great is the lion!” and “Our King is just and wise!”. The masters in the room began beating their hands against their chests, Clifford included, chanting “Lion, Lion, Lion.”

  After a minute of chanting, Levent raised his staff. The crowd grew silent. Still gripping the prisoners in the air, he pointed his staff at them and whispered inaudible words of dark power. A plume of black smoke billowed from the diamond and enveloped them. I caught glimpses of them struggling and screaming as the smog enveloped them in a small cyclone. I could hear no cries. First, they were clothed. Then they were naked. Then the flesh eroded from their bones. The bones began to crack and break leaving only a pure, bl
ue light. All the while, the dark magic kept them aware and alive, writhing in inaudible agony.

  The smoked stopped spinning and retreated into the staff again. All that remained of the prisoners were their souls. With the smoke gone, I could now hear their cries again, leaving my heart shattered. Tears began to form in my eyes. One by one, the blue lights began to fade. That is until Levent stepped forward and prodded them with his staff, absorbing each spirit into the diamond. The last orb was the smallest. The king walked circles around it. I could hear it calling out. “Mommy? Mommy where are you? I don’t know where I am. Where are you, mommy?”

  The king was taken aback by the child’s cry for help. He watched the light grow dimmer and dimmer until he placed his free hand on it and lifted it up to the sky, releasing the soul to the gods.

  “Know this,” he said after the ritual was complete. “I love you all. You are all my children. As such, you should be aware of the truth. The world outside of Vros is dark and dangerous. Demons and monsters roam Fjorgyn. These foreign invaders will seek to destroy us. This morning I learned that we are the last great and powerful Trisian empire. We must remain faithful and unwavering. I command the borders to be sealed. The first-born son of every household is hereby conscripted. There will be no exceptions. We will meet this alien threat. We will see victory.”

  The room erupted again with praises of their Lord, lover of innocence and children: protector of all. The applause continued for ten minutes, long after Levent and the High Protectorate filtered out of the room.