Legacy of Chaos

by Jackson Bale

  This man is the [Grand Chancellor] of Odin, a mortal being who serves the great god. Over three hundred years old, the man looks as though he is in his mid-fifties, his third tier class drastically increasing his vitality, allowing him to age significantly slower.

  The city he stares at is called Aesir, named after God Odin's own home. Turning away from the city, he walks towards his seat, a throne made more for [Kings] than a religious leader. His piercing gray eyes scan the room, ignoring the several high level [Assassins] hidden within his chambers. He sits on his throne, eyes focusing on the double doors with expectation.

  The doors open and a [Archpriest] enters his chambers. The man, short, with curly long hair, bows forward.

  “You called chancellor?”

  The chancellor focuses his eyes on the priest, reading all there is to know about the man.

  “[Archpriest] Jacob, tell me… how are the new [Heroes] coming? I have heard we summoned four and lost three of our [Archmages].”

  The man looks up, his eyes avoiding eye contact with the chancellor. ”Correct, we were unprepared for the sheer cost in summoning multiple heroes. We had lost three of our twelve [Archmages] in the process of summoning them.”

  He stops… choosing his words carefully, ”We did not expect the [Archmages] to die… or anyone to die for that matter. Several enemy [Assassins] had attempted to enter the summoning chamber, to kill off the newly summoned [Heroes], but they were easily taken out beforehand. It was, for this reason, we did not feel the need to hire house Carpe Diem from the neighboring Kingdom.”

  The chancellor nods, remembering house Carpe Diem, a powerful house solely known for having a bloodline which gives the skill [Resurrection]... Unfortunately, a rival house had sent [Assassins] which had slaughtered many of the members. Now, due to the low amount of people who have the skill, their services are exceptionally expensive.

  “Raise your head [Archpriest], it is no fault of yours. The dastardly backstabbing gods of Olympus had interfered with the summoning process, drastically increasing the mana cost for the spells.” He shakes his head, a sad smile on his face. ”We were expected to summon seven, but I guess we should be thankful for just four. Tell me, how are the new arrivals?”

  The priest nods, his confidence returned, fear of being punished forgotten. ”Yes, the [Heroes], two women and two men, are well. They do indeed have the [Hero] class as we have checked using [Advanced Analyze]… but one of them…” the priest goes silent.

  “Speak freely.”

  “The one named Franky… his reactions are very different from the others. While the other three are crying, yelling, confused, asking questions as would be expected of someone forced from their world, he alone just looks around warily, seemingly untrusting of everything. I do not believe we will be able to manipulate him easily. I believe it would be best to collar him.”

  A frown forms on the chancellor's face, ”We cannot. The [Hero] class will allow them to level any other classes at extreme speeds. If they are to be useful to the gods, then they must become extremely powerful. And there lies the problem. Their strength will eventually exceed the capabilities of the collar. We cannot directly control them, only manipulate them.”

  The chancellor bends forward, looking the [Archpriest] in the eye, ”Do not do anything that would make them distrust us. I fear the wars between Grandon and Donason will escalate quickly and their services will be required.”

  The priest, confused, looks questionably at the chancellor, ”But they have always been at war, constantly taking and giving territory. Why would this affect us?”

  The chancellor clasps his hand, his elevated position giving any who look at him to feel a state of awe.

  “The two countries had always had equal military strength. Neither side has fully engaged for fear of weakening themselves too much… but my [Spies] have told me of some important information. It seems Grandon had lost their [General].”

  “He was killed?” the priest asks skeptically. [Generals] tend to be one of the hardest people to assassinate, especially when surrounded by powerful soldiers.

  The chancellor shakes his head, ”No, he abandoned his kingdom. [General] Rathic, a man whose impressive [Skills] focusing on countering movement and defense, had taken his daughter and disappeared. I had tried to locate him, to invite him to our kingdom, but he had eluded my [Spies] exceptionally well.”

  The chancellor goes silent, frowning, ”Rathic was the kingdom’s most powerful and highest level [General], his loss will be an extremely powerful blow to Grandon’s military strength.”

  The priest shakes his head, ”What reason would Rathic leave? I can only imagine that he was treated with utmost respect by his peers and his [King].”

  “And that, dear Bernard, is only half true.”

  The chancellor quickly flicks his hand, pointing at a stand of wine. Immediately two beings wreathed in shadow appear, they open a bottle and pour the liquid into a glass cup. Grabbing the cup, they disappear and reappear next to the two robed men, handing them the glass of bright red liquid.

  The two shadows disappear.

  “Thank you,” the priest voices out, looking at the glass.

  “To understand the situation, you must first understand the underlying problem… which is Rathic’s origin.” he starts, swishing the liquid in his hand, mind focusing on all the information he has available to him.

  The chancellor smiles, eyes looking at his reflection off of the wine glass, enjoying it.

  Then he slowly brings the glass to his lips, taking a small sip, ”Rathic... was a loved and respected man of humble origin. He was a mere [Mercenary] when he was younger. Eventually, he gained the class [Mercenary Captain] after the old one died to a goblin ambush. Smart and Intelligent, the Red Wyverns, his mercenary group, prospered immensely under his leadership, eventually being hired by the [King] of Grandon for an entire year. During that year, Rathic fell in love with a noblewoman by the name of Nafisa, a person who had supported orphanages all across the kingdom. He married her and left his mercenary group, joining the [King]'s army. Several years later, Rathic leveled and obtained the class [General] after a truly impressive victory against a force far larger than his own.”

  The chancellor looks to his hand, admiring the red liquid, ”It was on that same week that his wife Nafisa had given birth to a young baby girl… but his wife did not survive the birth. Apparently, all of the [Healers] and [Priestesses] were being used in the war effort.”

  “Rathic, angry, took to the war with great fervor, blaming himself for being so weak. For needing to use so many resources. For needing [Healers] to keep the [Soldiers] alive. Within months, Rathic gained levels and skills rapidly. Even our [Tacticians] and [Generals] say that if we go to war, defeating Rathic would be a costly task as his defenses are exceptional.”

  “He gained the trust and love from the [Soldiers] and respect from the [Nobles]... unfortunately his [King] despised and feared the man. Rathic had too much power, too much respect, so much so that the [King] feared being overthrown.”

  “So [King] Stranos, a man who had become king through butchering his brothers, found out about Rathic’s friend and long term [Cavalry Knight]. The [Cavalry Knight] had disobeyed orders from a [Tactician] to slaughter a village near Donason. [King] Stranos had called the knight to the throne and publicly executed him under the guise of treason.”

  The priest, looks towards his empty glass, not realizing that he had drunk the wine.

  “So tell me, Bernard, what do you think happened?”

  The priest Bernard, looks at the glass, watching his own reflection, ”[King] Stranos ordered the [Tactician] to attack and kill the village.”

  The chancellor nods, smiling at Bernard while taking another sip of his wine, ”Precisely, that [Calvary Knight] was a strong supporter of Rathic, one of his most outspoken and loyal friends. In his jealousy, [King] Stranos had wanted to weaken Rathic’s political strength. From there, I believe Rathic most likely f
ound out and took action. I can only imagine that he feared for his daughter’s life and had thus run away.”

  The chancellor takes his glass and gulps down the wine, ”Which is why I believe that once Donason finds out, they will escalate this war. Grandon will be forced back and will ask for help from the neighboring kingdoms. To counter that, Donason will ask for help from their own allies.”

  The glass in the chancellor’s hand shatters, causing Bernard to jump.

  “A massive war is coming, Bernard, we will need those [Heroes] if we are to survive unscathed.”

  Bernard looks at the [Grand chancellor], the voice of Odin. His eyes watch as the cuts on the chancellor’s hands quickly heal… “I will prepare the [Heroes] for training as soon as possible.”

  The priest quickly bows again and runs out of the chambers, taking the empty glass of wine with him.

  The [Grand chancellor] watches as the door closes. Once the door closes, the chancellor left eye turns completely white, a confident smile forms on his lips.

  “Odin… your plan is coming into fruition. A new age of power will begin, and you will be its leader.”

  **********************

  On a trail heading through dense woods, several wagons and carriages are carrying supplies while an entire battalion of [Mercenaries] rides alongside them. On one of the carriages, a man sits, talking to another man on horseback, while a young girl of six years old sleeps soundly in the arms of a woman with fox ears and a tail inside the carriage.

  “Rathic, are you sure about this? The borderlands are a violent place filled with both [Bandits] and monsters. I don’t think it would be a good place to raise your daughter.”

  Rathic looks at his old friend, a former [Mercenary], now a [Mercenary Captain] after many years.

  Shaking his head, Rathic scratches his beard, a rather uncomfortably long length. ”Gen, I told you to call me Roth.”

  Gen, a dashingly good looking man, fit, tall, and sometimes intelligent, rolls his eyes at his former mentor, ”Right… like the name Roth clearly doesn’t sound like Rathic. I’m sure nobody would ever think that you might be a [General] from Grandon,” he says sarcastically.

  Rathic eyes turn to Gen, appraising the relatively middle aged young man, ”Gen, how many times have I told you to think before you speak, act, or do?”

  Gen’s face quickly takes on a brighter shade as he turns away from Rathic, ”Quite a bit… almost every day when you were mentoring me.”

  Rathic mouth twitches upward, remembering how many times he has had to bail out the young [Mercenary] because of his inability to keep his mouth shut.

  “Alright then, if someone heard about a supposed [Trader] by the name Roth, a name sounding similar to Rathic, do you believe that people would think that an experienced, high level [General], who is on the run, would change his name to something so strikingly similar?”

  Gen raises an eyebrow, “That doesn't make sense. They are going to still look into you just because of your name.”

  *Sigh* ”Kingdoms have limited [Spies] in their disposal Gen. And these spies have to pick and choose who to follow and who to ignore. I have allowed my beard and hair to grow out. I have dressed in clothing to fit in as a [Trader]. I have taken a name which would not be expected of my stature. And finally, I am heading towards the borderlands.”

  Rathic’s eyes look forward, scanning the trees as he watches the birds flutter by.

  “The borderlands have few kingdoms and lots of low level [Lords] and [Ladies]. The place is poor with levels averaging about ten. Nobody would expect a [General] to be heading in that direction.”

  Scratching his beard once more, Rathic flicks the reigns on the oxen, telling the animal to walk faster.

  “In short, a combination of these reasons will confuse the [Spies] long enough to allow me to enter the borderlands. From there, I believe I can make myself scarce, which should allow me to escape deep into the borderlands and be forgotten.”

  “I...I see Ra-Roth. Heh, I guess I still need more training. Leave it to you to think so many places ahead,” Gen shakes his head, ”I guess that's why you’re a [General] while I’m just a mere [Mercenary Captain].” he says jokingly.

  Rathic shakes his head as he looks around, watching the 40 something odd mercenaries on horses.

  “Don’t sell yourself short, your [Mercenaries] are very well trained, albeit very talkative. They are well armed with good steel weapons and leather armor. They all have the riding skill, which I can only imagine because you have some skill they can take advantage of.” Rathic explains calmly, appraising the [Mercenaries] as he would his [Soldiers], noticing the slight differences and stature.

  [Mercenaries], compared to [Soldiers], are relatively stronger with a higher diversity of skills. They are also gained at the same time as the [Soldier] class. Unfortunately, their weakness is the inability of a second tier class upgrade. [Mercenary Captains] are unfortunately the highest class you can get without leveling another class.

  Gen’s mouth opens and closes several times, not sure how to react to the unexpected praise, especially from a man who has high expectations from just general [Soldiers].

  A couple of seconds go by and Gen starts to chuckle, which turns into full-blown muffled laughter.

  “I-I can't,” he says, holding his horse's reins with one hand while the other attempts to cover his mouth. Gen’s horse, a muscular black mare, continues walking normally, ignoring the rider who is having a hard time sitting still.

  “Roth, I just, ughhhh, you figured me out perfectly.” Gen says with a smile, chuckling softly. ”God, this feels like old times. Me doing something stupid, you explaining to me how much of an idiot I am, except for the praise. That's actually pretty new.”

  A smile finally forms on Rathic’s face for the first time since he left his kingdom, ”Still an idiot Gen, just a more capable idiot.”

  *Chuckle*, ”It's nice to hear you insulting me. Makes me feel all tingly inside.” Gen says rubbing his stomach.

  “Ughhhh,” Rathic groans, rubbing his forehead, remembering the last time when Gen had said such a thing. The entire company had been forced to abandon the tent because of the sheer amount of gas Gen was creating.

  Gen just smiles cheekily at Rathic, enjoying the unhappy expression on the [General]’s face.

  Rathic, finally smiling, turns back behind him and looks through the window, watching Henrietta, a fox demihuman [Slave], gently hold his daughter’s head while she sleeps.

  Gen, noticing Rathic looking behind, speaks up.

  “For someone who has despised the slave trade, you have quite a few of them,” Gen speaks up, pointing towards the wagons following the carriage, all being ridden by demi-human [Slaves].

  “I still hate slavery,” Rathic quickly answers back, ”but it’s not something I can do anything about. It’s horrible… what they do to people…” he shakes his head as he turns away from his daughter, looking forward again.

  “Kana.”

  Rathic quickly straightens, his hands turning to fists as he looks forward, his smile completely gone, ”So you knew.”

  Gen bites his lip and nods slowly. ”When I started working under you, you were always cranky. It always seemed like something was bothering you… so I asked the others and they told me to leave you be.”

  Gen places his hand on the back of his neck, eyes roaming the woods, ”But that just got me more curious.”

  *Sigh* ”So instead of not looking into your personal life, I took the boys out to a couple drinks and loosened their tongues a little… and they told me your story.”

  Rathic, a powerful high level [General], a man who has taken several lives on the battlefield, starts to cry.

  Gen just watches silently, cursing himself for bringing it up, for making one of the people he admires most cry.

  But Rathic speaks.

  “Her mother, a sick demi-human catkin, walked up to me with her ten-year-old daughter, her body barely holding together, and sh
e begged. She begged me to take her daughter, to care for her…”

  He shakes his head, blinking, tears welling up on his face.

  “Me… I just became a new [Mercenary captain], I had my own group, my own men… and this random woman saw something in me. She had come up to me, offering her daughter… and I accepted… I don't remember why… but I accepted her.”

  Droplets of tears start to pour down his face as he forces a smile, ”Kana… was the pride of my life… seven years she had been with me… fighting alongside me. A prodigy with the sword. I was so proud when she had gained the [Mercenary] class. I thought of her as a daughter… even though she was a demi-human, she was a daughter to me. I loved her, my men respected her, and I thought that nothing can go wrong.”