I rested a boot against the base of Karalti’s neck. “It’s a number higher than six, but below the number of inches of dick you sucked to be here today, ‘Wing Captain’.”
A ripple of laughter made its way through the ranks around me. Lucien’s face purpled. I’d have basked in the burn, but terror radiated from Karalti in waves. Her scales, horns and wings had flattened to her body as she made an urgent huffing, barking sound, trying to get her siblings to acknowledge her. Both dragons simply stared right through us.
“Hmph.” Lucien snootily regarded his fingernails, even though he was wearing gloves. “Well, Baldr Hyland, the Warden of Ilia, has sent us to follow up on a letter he sent the king a week ago. He also wants to make you an offer. A good one. Do you want to hear it?”
“I’m all ears,” I called back. “But can you at least acknowledge His Majesty first? Guy’s been standing there for like ten minutes now.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ignas arch an eyebrow.
“Why? He’s an NPC. We’re the players. He’ll do what the story we make forces him to do,” Lucien retorted. “Baldr is giving you a real chance, Hector. Did you know that there hasn’t been a queen with a rider in the Eyrie in close to seven hundred years? Traditionally, the Queen’s rider is the one to take command of the Eyrie, which means that if you come with us, you’ll be named Knight-Commander of the Order.”
My mouth opened, then snapped shut. Of all the things I’d expected him to say… well. “I thought Baldr was the Knight-Commander?”
“He is. For now.” Lucien’s burnt orange eyes simmered with envy and disdain. “But his plan all along was to take control of Ilia, and he has. Besides that, the Eyrie needs a queen, and that is almost ready to breed.”
He pointed at Karalti. She pulled her lips back over her gums, flashing all her teeth, and snarled.
It took every ounce of willpower I had not to hit my Jump ability, leap up there, and try to snap Lucien’s lily-white neck. My mouth sloped to one side in a hard, thin grimace. “I’m… genuinely offended that Baldr thinks I’m that stupid.”
“He’s serious, Hector.” Some of the contempt left Lucien’s expression. “Baldr isn’t just a good player. He’s the best, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned since we started working together, it’s that whatever he wants, he gets. You really should consider his offer. I mean… it’s even lore-friendly.”
I stared at him. “Dude, no. I’m not flying my dragon to your supervillain headquarters and joining your stupid cult. I don’t care if Baldr eats coal for breakfast and shits diamonds by lunch time: he’s evil, he’s a cheat, and whatever hack he used to fuck up your dragons has also fucked with you.”
Lucien’s smirk slowly faded. He sighed. “Look, I’ll try and put this in the kind of simple language someone like you can understand. Baldr is willing to give you, Hector, the second-most powerful position in the Hercynian Empire, if- “
“Pardon me?” Ignas finally stepped forward. “The ‘Hercynian Empire’? Ilia is a single nation and a signatory to the White Sail Alliance. There is no ‘Hercynian Empire’.”
“There is now.” Lucien shrugged and flashed him a rakish smile. “Which leads me to the stick at the end of the carrot. Hector stole this queen dragon from the Order he vowed to serve-”
“I didn’t.” I rolled my eyes.
“-AND he abducted our property to your kingdom, ‘Your Highness’,” Lucien finished. “Which means you’re sheltering an outlaw, and if Hector doesn’t accept your future Emperor’s extremely generous offer, your refusal to extradite this traitor and his hatchling will be treated as a declaration of war.”
“It’s ‘Your Majesty’, and I did, in fact, send a reply. He sent the letter to my brother, who is now deceased. I informed the Warden that Vlachia is not part of Hercynia, and that I consider him to be an illegitimate ruler,” Ignas replied crisply. “So kindly take yourself back to your self-styled ‘Emperor’ and tell him that he can shove his offer all the way up his hooyeh until it comes up his neck and he chokes. I will be contacting the other Alliance members about this proclamation. Be assured we will take appropriate action.”
Violetta’s eyes narrowed to pale slits. Rutha was still draped in her arms, unconscious. A trickle of blood ran down her neck, soaking into the ragged hem of the shirt she was wearing.
“Alright. Suit yourself.” Lucien jerked his head toward Rutha. “Throw the knife-eared whore off your dragon, Vi. Then torch the place.”
Chapter 3
Violetta shoved Rutha forward. The unconscious woman tumbled over the blue dragon’s frosted scales, slid off his shoulder, and plummeted bonelessly toward the ground.
“Stay back!” I snapped at Karalti and sprung from her back like a cricket.
At the peak of the Jump, I triggered Shadow Dance. They were two of the essential mobility skills of a Dark Dragoon, with Jump allowing me to leap fifteen feet in any direction, and Shadow Dance allowing me to become immaterial and dash forward at the cost of a tiny amount of health. With the right timing, the two maneuvers could be chained together like a ghetto airdash. I vanished in a swirl of shadow, reappearing under Rutha to catch her in my arms. It was a dumb thing to do, a stunt that left me wide open and defenseless. But it was the only thing to do.
I didn’t even see Lucien move. One moment, he was standing on his dragon’s back, smirking away, and in the next, he was up in my face. Swords drawn, face split in an insane, heartless grin.
“Oops.” He drove both blades at my exposed ribs.
[Barrier Shirt negates Heartstrike!]
[Lucien lands a glancing blow!]
[You have taken 1101 damage!]
[You are poisoned!]
[Warning! Your Armor durability is critically low!]
The ancient Tuun chain shirt burst, and splitting pain wracked through my torso, stunning me. Most of my HP vanished like a bad dream. Lucien kicked off my chest, sending us tumbling through the air. I oriented just in time to land on my feet, but stumbled under Rutha’s weight and fell back with her onto my ass. Karalti bounded forward with a roar, shielding me with her body as the pair of dragons drew deep, magically charged breaths.
And Ignas began to laugh.
At the same moment that Lucien vanished and reappeared on his dragon’s back, hundreds of hidden murder holes opened up around the Parade Ground all at once. A forest of cannons and rifles emerged, every one of them aimed squarely at Lucien and Violetta. The dragons froze in place.
The Volod crossed his arms, raising his voice to be heard by the riders. “I don’t know if your enlightened liege is much of a historian, but Vlachia is one of the oldest civilizations in Artana. You really think we’ve stood for three thousand years without being prepared to defend ourselves from a couple of dragons?”
“We’re Level 55. We can tank it.” Lucien sneered. “Vesper!”
“These are Wyrmsbane rounds, boy.” Ignas jerked his head toward the nearest row of cannons. “You’ll get out of the way, but that decrepit beast of yours won’t.”
His words hung in the air. Suri and Rin stood side by side, weapons in hand. The soldiers and knights held their ranks, faces pale, but determined. Fighting the cramping pain from the poison on Lucien’s swords, I stood up with Rutha in my arms.
“Wyrmsbane?” Lucien’s nose wrinkled. His expression turned distant as he consulted his unseen HUD. “Violetta, is that even a real buff?”
She gave him a curt nod, but remained silent. The raspy breathing of the two mutated dragons was the only sound for nearly a minute.
“So, now that we have an understanding, I will ‘advise you as to how things will work going forward’, as you put it,” Ignas finally said. “You, Lucien, will run back to your master like a whipped dog, and you will tell this so-called Emperor of Nothing what I said. I give you my thanks for alerting us to his intentions.”
“Oh, we will. And when we come back with a legion of dragons, you’ll wish you’d never insulted us.” Lucien spat down at me. �
�Come on, Vi.”
The female rider stared me in the eye as her dragon spread his wings and bunched, then kicked off the ground. The frigid downdraft blasted the courtyard, knocking down the nervous soldiers and forcing the Volod to one knee. Shielding our faces, we watched the twisted creatures rise into the sky before vanishing into a dark nimbus.
“Hector!” Rin’s anguished cry came from behind me. I turned to see her running for us, her turrets flanking to either side. “Are you okay?!”
“I’m mildly poisoned, mostly dead, and I have a cold, but I’m alive.” In all honesty, I was rattled. I hadn’t seen Lucien move. His Dex was up to god-tier levels now… and who the hell knew how powerful Violetta and Baldr were. His ‘glancing blow’ had ignored my armor and would have killed me if not for the improved Spear of Nine Spheres and its +300 HP bonus.
I pushed the pain aside and knelt with Rutha, looking over her injuries. She was slashed with deep lacerations – many of them infected – poorly healed bones, bruises and old blood.
“My god. This poor woman.” Rin crouched down on the other side, reaching out to smooth her hair back from her face. “Who were those people?”
“We’ll talk about it later. Here, Hector. Drink.” Suri held out a fan of potion vials to me: three green and one black. I took them and threw back the [Common Antidote] like a shot, then drank one of the green [Concentrated Moss Tinctures]. The next one I tried to give to Rutha, but it was hopeless. She couldn’t swallow. I took the rest.
[You have healed 450 HP!]
[You are no longer poisoned!]
[HP: 632/1283]
I was still in the orange after all that, but the crushing pain in my sides lifted. The humiliation? Not so much. I flashed Suri a small, wan smile. “Thanks.”
“She’s been beaten with a razor whip.” Suri pointed at the lacerations on Rutha’s skin. “Used to see that in Al-Asad a lot. Whips that had shards of metal knotted on.”
Rin’s eyes were tearing up. “I knew that players wouldn’t always be kind to NPCs… but this is terrible.”
“Strange as it sounds, I think whatever happened to Violetta was worse.” I gathered Rutha into my arms and stood. “She used to be okay, you know? She wasn’t part of Baldr’s clique. Lucien was. He was a weak coward, and now he’s a vicious, nasty weak coward. And Baldr… Jesus.”
Ignas strode up to us, cloak billowing in the wind. “Power is like a magnifying lens, Hector. If you are a good person, it will bring out the best in you. If you are a coward, a fool, or a sadist, having power only makes you more so.” He motioned with a hand to one of the Knights of the Red Star, who bowed and went to one knee. “Rytier, take Lady Rutha to the infirmary, and tell Masha that I command she attend her personally. The Lady was Ilia’s frequent emissary here... I wish to know she is being well taken care of.”
“Hemen, Majesteri.” The tattooed knight saluted with a fist over his heart, then rose and barked orders in Vlachian to his squad.
A pair of soldiers came forward to take her up and bear her away, but I ached with suspicion. “Your Majesty, we must be careful. As much as I care for her, Rutha is mixed up with Baldr. She could be compromised.”
“You question the lady’s honor?” He furrowed his brows.
“No, not her honor. Baldr’s. The Architect that’s possessing him… he’s like a disease that corrupts people, like those two people we just saw. And your brother.”
Slowly, Ignas nodded. “I see.”
I jerked my head toward the retreating soldiers. “Rutha might not be working for Baldr intentionally, or even willingly, but she could still be infected. There’s something about this that feels like a trap. Like it was staged.”
“Hector’s right. There was no reason for them to give us Rutha,” Suri said. “If that little blond cunt was tellin’ the truth and they’re really Level 55, that sorceress probably could’ve waved a hand and killed the lot of us without too much trouble.”
“Curious you say that.” The Volod rubbed his hand over his mouth, thinking. “She lied.”
There was a pregnant pause.
“About the Wyrmsbane?” I asked.
The Volod nodded. “Yes. There’s no such thing, not as such. I mean, there are magics that affect dragons, but they are decided by element. The ruse was a last-minute gamble on my part.”
“Well shit.” Suri looked to the sky. “We’d have been fucked if she hadn’t fudged it.”
Ignas shook his head. “Not necessarily. Ebisa is a match for the sorceress.”
As if summoned, ghost, the unseen assassin stepped out of her Stealth cloak and fell in by Ignas’ side. Ebisa was a Mercurion like Rin, but she was her physical opposite. Most Mercurions were beautiful works of art, but Ebisa was more like an unfinished sculpture. She was rail-thin, her skin a matte flat gray. Her sharp features were hard and hawkish: instead of eyes, she had four gemstones in a band across her face. She always wore a mask in public.
“The riders are not as powerful as their dragons. If they were, they would have detected my position.” Ebisa’s voice was as harsh as a crow’s, rough and husky. “But the Tuun speaks true. This elf was their bargaining chip, and they threw her on the table and left with their tails between their legs. It was too easy.”
“You are a cynical shrew, Ebisa. But yes, indeed.” The Volod seemed entirely unsurprised by her sudden appearance.
“A cynical shrew who has protected your bony Sang’hi ass for long enough to have gained some wisdom,” Ebisa replied wryly.
Ignas snorted. “True enough.”
“You aren’t putting Rutha in the dungeons or anything, are you?” I asked quickly. “If she’s been turned into some sort of trojan, it’s not her fault.”
“Of course not. I will warn Masha of this disease she may be carrying. We will place the lady under guard in the hospital and keep her isolated for the duration of her coma,” Ignas replied. “Much as it pains me to do so.”
Ebisa flowed like a ribbon of smoke to join Rin, who was starting to look dejected. She patted the Artificer on the hip, and the girl perked up, blushing bright blue. “We could keep watch over her for you, sire. Mercurions fear no human disease.”
“You could, but I have need of you elsewhere. Your gift for strategy will be of great use to us. We must have the briefing on Myszno. I’d planned to have it tonight after the Dark Moon festival, but we will have to move it forward.”
“How are things in Myszno looking?” I asked. “The Unto Death quest?”
Ignas gave a little shake of his head, lips pressed together. “The messenger who staggered into the Great Hall this morning carried dire news, now made more dire by the need to deal with this Ilian whelp. I won’t explain out here – we shall adjourn to the War Room. I want all four of you there. Karalti, too, if she can stick her head in through the window.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” Suri dropped into a courtly bow.
“Sure.” I looked back to Karalti. Her wings were drooping, the tips almost trailing on the ground. She was still staring up at where her siblings had vanished. “If it’s alright with you, we’ll meet you there in twenty.”
Ignas gave Karalti a shrewd look, then inclined his head. “You have my leave. Do what you must. And do not fear these threats of war, Hector. As I told you during my coronation, I will not be extraditing you or Karalti to Ilia. You have my solemn word before these witnesses.”
I turned back to him. “Even if it means going up against Baldr?”
He nodded. “The White Sail Alliance will never allow this Starborn whelp to muster beyond his own borders. Ilia is not a large country, and soldiers march on their stomachs. We will freeze trade, enforce sanctions, and starve any aspirations of his ‘empire’ even forming.”
I ran my tongue over my teeth, considering his words. Even though I could open my HUD and view my Reputation in Western Vlachia – it was up around the +1000 point mark now – I still had to ask the question for my own peace of mind. “Why are you protecting us
?
The Volod drew himself up like a dignified heron. “As I told you the day of my coronation, it is a matter of honor. You and your queen brought a murderer to justice and helped to restore me to my rightful throne, and now you prepare to ride to our defense. Vlachia is in your debt.”
“Then thank you, for both our sakes,” I replied. “I mean it.”
Ignas bowed his head, then turned to confer with Ebisa in Vlachian. Suri squeezed me on the shoulder as I walked by her, and I clapped her forearm before moving on to join Karalti. Her nostrils flared as I approached.
“Come on, Tidbit. Let’s fly and talk,” I said, switching back to our silent speech.
“I don’t want to talk. What is there to talk about?” My dragon hissed and snapped her jaws, flexing her talons into the grout between stones, but she dutifully positioned her wing so I could climb it.
“I know you don’t feel like it, but you need to. What’s eating you?”
“I dunno.”
She didn’t say anything else during takeoff, but I could feel the tension in her body as she took wing. Only once we were in the air did she speak again.
“Those two dragons… they were my brothers. I could tell by the way they smelled. What happened to them? I don’t understand.”
“I told you about Baldr, from Ilia. He’s been possessed by one of the Architects, the beings who created this world, and that being – Ororgael – has corrupted them with Void magic,” I replied, leaning with her as she dropped a wingtip and headed back the way we’d come.
“Like the bad king. Andrik.”
“Yup.”
Karalti flew in pensive silence for the rest of the trip to the War Room. Fighting the urge to press her, I tried to relax into the quiet, to make it less awkward, but I was also pretty wound up. We’d been in Archemi six weeks, and Baldr was already the ruler of a nation. Lucien was his high-ranked lackey. If the lackeys and their dragons were Level 55 already, how powerful were Baldr and his mount?
Trying not to sneeze into my helmet, I bought up the EXP table in the ArchemiWiki to check how much experience a dragon needed to reach Level 55, and blanched. Fuck me. That was a big number with a lot of zeroes. Even if Karalti and I had trained from the minute she was born until this moment now, fighting mobs all day and all night, we wouldn’t be anywhere near that. It wasn’t fair, and it made me feel just a little more hopeless about those seventeen points I still needed to level up. But what was the point, when my opponents were so overpowered?
Kingdom Come Page 3