“There is nothing okay about this.” I reopened my Message Center and brought up a new P.M. window with Rin. “Hey Rin – hopefully you’re doing alright. I don’t know if you got the World Alert about Ilia, but this is really really bad. Baldr is the guy I told you about in regards to Ororgael and the buggy quest. Get in touch when you can. Shit’s going down.”
I sent it off, and peeled myself out of the pile of furs. Karalti heaved a little sigh, tucking her snout under her foreclaw, and I reached back to lay a hand on her thigh, willing myself to breathe. She was here, unmolested, and far beyond Baldr’s reach. The knots in my shoulders had just started to loosen when someone banged their fist on the door and I just about shat myself.
“Fuck!” I jumped about a foot in the air, fumbling for a weapon. Karalti reared her head up out of a dead sleep and swiveled it to point her nose at the entry to our quarters, hissing.
“Who is it!?” I called, once I’d clapped my hand down on my spear.
“It is Petko. Father Matthias.” The voice was muffled, but recognizable.
Oh. Good. It wasn’t Baldr, come to steal my dragon while I was in my pajama pants. I climbed over Karalti’s tail and slid to the floor, stumbling over to where I’d left my shirt, and began to dress manually before remembering that I could just equip shit. I did so - my Nazari armor and the Steel Militia Spear, both of which now felt completely inadequate.
I opened the door to find Father Matthias standing there, fresh and tidy, but with the kind of strained pleasant expression I read as ‘outwardly calm, but internally screaming’. He was smoking, as usual, and smiled around the stem of his pipe. “Good morning, Rytier. Is something the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Well, my mortal nemesis just became the Warden of Ilia and the Commander of the Skyrdon of Saint Grigori.” I adjusted my belt. “That was a thing that happened.”
The priest’s lips twitched in a small wry smile. “Believe me, your concern is shared by many. Andrik just called an emergency meeting in the great hall and is holding audience with a number of very tired ministers, diplomats, and Suri.”
“Guess I’m not in ‘adviser’ territory yet,” I replied.
“His Majesty may wish to discuss the Ilian problem with you in private later on,” Mattias replied tactfully. “I don’t suppose you would be up for an early morning walk?”
I looked back at Karalti. She had flopped her head down onto the pillow I’d vacated and was snoozing away. “Sure. Why not?”
Ten minutes of walking later, Matthias led me along a marble path that went down into the natural cavern spring behind Vulkan Keep.
“Karalti is growing incredibly fast,” he remarked, “I had no idea the Solonkratsu matured so rapidly, given that they are said to live so long. This is an incredible observation opportunity for someone like me. We have not hosted a true dragon in Vlachia for a century or more, and never one as young as Karalti.”
“She just about doubles in size with every level. I think she’ll slow down from this point on, though.” I had my spear resting over one shoulder, swinging it from side to side as we walked. “And I guess it makes sense. Most baby animals don’t stay babies for very long. Humans are kind of an exception to the rest of the animal kingdom.”
“True enough.” Matthias drew on his pipe. He had been hitting it continuously since we left my quarters, burning through the entire bowl of tobacco. Worry lines were etched around his eyes. “Speaking of the dragons – we never did have our talk about Matir.”
“Nope.”
“What do you already know of him?”
I thought for a couple of minutes. “I know he’s one of The Nine. God of Darkness, old as dirt... and that’s about it. I know his basic portfolio, but he didn’t really enlighten me very much. I can only guess why he wants me to go to Myszno. Do you know anything about a Draconic prophecy regarding the ‘Herald of the Hidden Seed’? He keeps calling me that.”
“Unfortunately not.” Matthias shook his head. “The dragons did not record their stories and prophecies in written form. They transmit their knowledge through oral traditions and the sharing of their blood. As with the Mercurions, blood has great power and meaning for them, being the stuff of magic.”
I frowned. The dragons of the Eyrie had known of the prophecy, but they hadn’t been able to talk about it because of the geas that kept them enslaved. “I’m pretty sure it relates to the Dragon Gates. I have two ongoing quests that touch on it.”
Matthias nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I can’t help you with those, but perhaps the history and mythos of the Black God will be of use to you.”
“Hit me.”
“Matir is the second eldest of The Nine. The eldest is Veles, the Lord of Time and Magic. Matir is the God of Darkness, and his twin sister, Rusolka, is the Goddess of the Ocean and the ruler of the Deep Hells. Matir and Rusolka were born without a mother, brought into being when Veles first manifested the 87 Names of Darkness by mixing his blood with the shadows cast by the moonlight spilling onto the earth, which bore Matir, and the sea water, which bore Rusolka.”
“Huh. Neat.” I nodded.
“Matir and his sister represent the two sides of the Darkness element. One is creative; the other, destructive. In all the myths and stories I’ve heard, Matir is demanding, mischievous, quixotic, and paradoxical. He was easily the most commonly revered god among dragons, though his worship was rarely conducted in the open. There are mystery cults dedicated to him here as well. We do not only worship Khors in this land. The preeminence of the Forge Father is a relatively recent occurrence in Vlachia.”
I pondered that as we veered down another path and left the Keep’s sculpted gardens behind us, passing into the humid grotto. Water trickled in thin streams down the walls, flowing into gutters that kept the path clear. It was as warm as a steam bath. “Are you hinting that you’re part of one of these cults?”
“If I were, would I ever admit it? Matir is the god of secrets, after all.” Matthias replied.
I was briefly taken aback by the sudden note of bitterness in his voice. “Something is stressing you out. What is it?”
“Nothing.” He jerked his head toward the corridor, arched his thin brows, and kept walking.
As we pushed on into the caves, the sound of water got louder – loud enough that anyone would have trouble hearing a quiet conversation between two men. Matthias held up a hand when we reached a particular spot, and I slowed my pace.
“Here,” he said. “One of Vulkan Keep’s many small secrets. The steam and noise here makes eavesdropping difficult.”
“I figured this wasn’t just a social call,” I said. “What do you need to tell me?”
Matthias sighed. “Where to begin with this rosszarcú…? Ugh. The short of it is that while you have been hunting the Slayer, I have been observing at court and counselling the Volod. The Slayer’s motive is now utterly obvious to me.”
“Go on…?”
“You should know, Rytier Hector, that I am a pious man.” Matthias regarded me with wise, piercing eyes. “I began studying at the seminary in my teens, and dedicated myself to the path of the sage, studying medicine and crafting, the ways in which magic and machines interact with the body. In doing so, I traveled the country, and came to believe that the best expression of faith is when we act in a spirit of acceptance and kindness. All of the Nine are popular in the country… Khors is the god of the city, because the city is where most industry takes place.”
“Okay.”
“I have learned that His Majesty has been taking steps to use the Church of Khors – and only Khors – to cement his rule of Vlachia.” The priest looked down. “Each of those murdered men was part of a secret ecclesiastical council the Volod established to plan for a takeover. He wishes for us to be monotheistic, and intends to enforce this on his nation.”
Nothing like a good political conspiracy to start the morning. “But why? He’s a Corvinus. He already has the throne. It’s not lik
e he’s illegitimate.”
“Yes and no. Andrik is not the Corvinus who was intended to rule,” Father Matthias said. “Andrik is young, and his coronation was beset with controversy. He is city-bound, and he has still not wed or even produced an illegitimate heir - and not for lack of trying.”
“I’d have thought that would be a mark against him, if he had fathered a kid outside of wedlock.”
Matthias shook his head. “Bastards are entitled to inheritance in Vlachia. Historically, our kings rarely married. They had a harem of courtesans who competed for his favor. The first one to bear a son became Queen. We have adopted more continental habits of marriage and succession during these last few centuries, but the laws of inheritance have not changed. Even an illegitimate child is better than none, and given the number of affairs Andrik has had, the lack of an heir is disturbing.”
I rubbed my jaw. “Hmm.”
“Besides, that, a number of the Voivoidar are not happy with his decadence, or how he pushes the Church above all other estates.”
“So this council is the target. We know that Kanzo is killing priests in line with the virtues of the Church,” I replied. “I guess that symbolism could fit in with a political motive. What do we know about each one of the members?”
Matthias looked distinctly troubled now. “Yes. Father Abel was the court tutor and one of the greatest sages of the Church, though he was an extremely conservative man. Father Darko was a firebrand and would surely have supported a monotheistic takeover by Khorsian faith. Orban represented the Forge Brothers and was the Forgemaster’s protégé - and Forgemaster Toth is very much an idealist, the kind of man who believes heart and soul in the benevolence of the church-as-ruler. Father Erik was a young and passionate priest known for his ability to fundraise and motivate crowds, and he was involved in the shaping of young minds. A lot of our junior clerics are recruited from orphanages. There are only three other members of that council who yet live: High Forgemaster Agoston Toth, whom I just described; Voivode Janos Lanz of Czongrad, and the king himself.”
“The same people he named to me and Suri last night,” I said. “Why don’t you think he told us about this council of his?”
Matthias pursed his lips. “He has been clandestine, because it is not the sort of policy that will be readily approved by the lords of the land. You must remember that a king’s rule is not absolute - it depends on the loyalty and consensus of his vassals, and they are nearly all older than he is. Besides that, you and Suri are foreigners, and I doubt he sees any reason you should know.”
“Huh.” I took a moment to digest it all. “If we’re right, and they’re being murdered according to the virtues, the first three men were killed in defiance of the virtues of wisdom, honor, and courage. My bet is that Father Erik’s murder was a rebuke of hospitality.”
“Yes. Leaving discipline, self-reliance, and honesty,” Matthias finished.
“Yup.” I grimaced. “What is Andrik trying to do?”
He turned his extinguished pipe in his hand. “The gist of Andrik’s plan is this: he wants all the smiths in the country to be press-ganged into the clergy. That way, they would be oath-bound to be his eyes and ears in the provinces. He wishes for the Church to become the sole trader of metals and other products in the land, so that he can indirectly control the production of farming equipment and weapons. He also wants to deport every Meewfolk and force Mercurions into indentured labor. Given that he has been building our army and increasing the numbers of Khorsian faith-militant around the country, one can only imagine how he plans to execute this.”
“That’s, uhh, awfully totalitarian of him,” I replied. “Why does he have such a hate-boner for non-humans, anyway?”
“His Majesty claims it is because it is because of the scandal that caused his brother to commit suicide,” the priest replied. “Andrik did not originally wish to become king. His elder brother, Ignas, had been groomed from birth to take over from their father. He was well-suited to the role. Ignas was a tall, sober, serious man, not prone to excess or frivolity. Despite this, he was a great patron of the arts and sciences, open-minded and wise, and supportive of our diverse polytheistic traditions. It was known that he would be an excellent king.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sure this guy killed himself?”
“They recovered his body and held a state funeral for him. I wasn’t there to see it, but I have no reason to suspect foul play, given the nature of the scandal that triggered it.” Matthias shrugged.
Why? What did he do?”
“It is a stakeable offense to discuss the details of Ignas’ fall,” Matthias replied primly. He glanced at the walls. “Quite a bit more serious than my speculative gossip.”
“Oh. Well... So, how about Matir, then? Because getting staked is definitely on the ‘Top Ten Ways I Don’t Want to Die’ list.”
Matthias laughed. “And fair enough, too. Anyway... you mentioned that the Black God has summoned you to Myszno. It is the Eastern-most duchy of Vlachia, nestled at the base of the Falker Mountain Range. The Range separates our southern border from the desert nations of The Shalid. What I have heard at court is alarming. The duchy is effectively under the control of some undead robber baron.”
“Fantastic,” I said flatly.
“It is a great embarrassment for Andrik. Our army has been sieging the borders of the ruined land, but to no avail. Surely another reason he is trying to consolidate his power through religion,” Matthias continued, gesturing expressively as we approached the end of the cave and broke out onto a bridge across a small, steaming chasm. Glowing mushrooms lit the walls with soft blue light. “Still, when you told me that was where you were headed, I immediately knew why.”
“Why?”
“Matir loathes the undead,” Matthias replied. “They are an affront to everything he stands for. Myszno was also the site of one of the few immigrant worker towns in Vlachia. It was a Tuun settlement, actually, and the Tuun who survived have been passionate opponents of the monsters who have blighted the land. They have also been effective opponents, mostly because they host several of the Kara Ay Tuugandar.”
It still felt weird that I understood that. The Kara Ay Tuugandar were the Brothers of the Dark Moon. Warrior-monks... worshippers of Burna, the fly-headed god, who was an aspect of Matir. “They’re the order that produces Baru, aren’t they? Those doctor-assassin-midwife monks?”
“Indeed. There are about twenty of them holding the line against this vampire that has taken over the place. They say one Baru is worth fifty normal soldiers..”
I reached up to rub my jaw. “That has to chafe the Volod’s panties a bit... knowing that foreigners are holding off an undead invasion.”
“Yes. Though they are human, so...” Matthias rubbed his forehead nervously. “It is the Meewfolk and Mercurions he despises. Anyway, I’d advise you to keep this information to yourself until the Volod willingly divulges it. I have good reason to suspect that the female Mercurion you spoke of, the apprentice, is correct – that her master is being blackmailed by someone who is opposed to a theocracy under a barren king and an iron-fisted Church of the Forge Father.”
“Well, my lips are sealed,” I said. “Anyway – heard about the plan for tonight?”
“Do zla boda,” Matthias muttered. “Yes… I am going with you, as is Ur Kirov.”
I mimed a little jig. “You sound about as excited as I am.”
The priest’s mouth flickered with a sneer, but then he sighed. “When I left my country to travel and teach, Andrik had only been Volod for half a year. Now… I believe that he does not possess his brother’s acumen. He is putting himself and the lives of everyone at the auction – not to mention the kingdom – at risk by making this big scene.”
“Not going to try and talk your way out of it?”
Matthias shook his head. “Of course not. I am a capable mage, and the High Forgemaster and my king have need of me. I will be there. Though… I have an odd request for you
.”
“Oh?”
He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “From what I overheard at court this morning, you and Ur Kirov have been assigned to guard the Voivode together. His Majesty wants Suri by his side – I shall give you one guess as to why – and I shall be assisting the Forgemaster. I would like for you to watch out for Kirov.”
I frowned, confused. “Watch out for him? He’s like… nine levels higher than me.”
“Perhaps. But he has a naïve streak,” Matthias said. “And while I count him as a dear friend, I fear he is overconfident about the wisdom of His Majesty’s plan. Unlike you, he cannot come back to life if he perishes…”
“I get it,” I said. “And sure – I’ll keep an eye out for him. You guys saved me and Karalti back in Bryos. I owe you one.”
Matthias smiled and patted me on the arm. “You owe me nothing, rytier. You are the caretaker of a very special young Solonkratsu and have already been indispensable. But come – let us break our fast together. I suspect we will be more likely to live out the day on full stomachs, don’t you?”
Chapter 25
The first thing I did after leaving Vulkan Keep was buy a stock of herbs for health potions and a new weapon. The need for improved steel was kind of irrational, given that Baldr was now the literal fucking ruler of Ilia, but upgrading my gear made me feel better. It was kind of like buying comfort food, but the comforting part went into other people’s bodies.
The best spear I could afford was the unfortunately named Alpha Rod. Yes, really. I wasn’t sure exactly who had named this thing, but whoever they were, they definitely had something on the brain when they entered the item description:
Alpha Rod
Common Weapon
Slot: Two-handed
Item Class: Weapon
Item Quality: Excellent
Damage: 121-130
Trial by Fire: A LitRPG Dragonrider Adventure (Archemi Online Chronicles Book 2) Page 22