by Rick Scar
“Can you believe it?”
“I wish I could.”
“Wanna come with?”
“We’ll have to ride the whole night. Do you think there’ll be enough room for everyone?”
“I’m sure you’ll regret missing on it.”
“You’re right. Just give me a sec to let my parents know.”
The execution was discussed everywhere. Riding in the company of several other Latians, Tess was spurring his horse mercilessly to reach Kadil on time.
Night was falling.
All of Adamarona’s gates had been locked since dawn, with no one but the city’s residents being allowed in or out, and only after a thorough check. But that couldn’t keep the newcomers from pitching their tents and making fires six hundred feet from the city walls. Almost all the city guards, including even the new recruits, were put on watch around this temporary camp by the king’s order.
Each visitor was prepared to put up with the poor living conditions for one night to see what no one had ever seen. Many connected that to the rumors coming from the border. Some doubted that the execution was real, but still came to make sure. There were concerns about how the Holy Empire, as the Swarm’s long-standing ally, would respond to this. But what everyone agreed upon was that they were about to witness a turning point in Adamarona’s history.
Those who came here out of duty, not curiosity, couldn’t just sit back and wait. Several groups of Latians, including Tess, stood next to their tents, working out a plan in low voices, when a guardsman approached them. The Latian who was the first to notice him warned the rest, and the conversation changed to regular small talk.
“Good evening.” The guard in full armor and helmet, with his visor up, a sword in one hand and a basket in another, gave them a close look and asked flatly: “Is everything all right? If you’re tired from the journey, you can use our strength-restoring potions. We were ordered to provide them to everyone.” Removing a piece of cloth from the basket, he showed that it was full of vials with a transparent liquid that looked like water.
“No, thank–”
“We’d love some, thank you,” a woman interrupted the speaker and added in a voice too low to be heard by the guard: “We don’t have a stock of ours. You know why. They might come in handy.”
“Sorry. We’ll have a few.” The male Latian reached out to take five vials, then took the sixth one and thanked the guard. “May I ask you something, sir?”
“Yes?” The guard glanced at the other newcomers. He was apparently unwilling to spend any more time here.
“Do you know when… when the queen was captured?” The leader of the group was watching the guard’s face closely for any emotions, but all he could see was weariness.
“You’ll find out tomorrow. I hate this question. Every motherfucker is asking it.” The guard turned his back without saying goodbye and headed toward another group.
“I don’t think anyone knows if it’s true... And sending a messenger would take too long. We’ll have to wait till night. I’ll go find the other groups. I don’t know all the officers, but I’m sure that we’re of the same opinion. Ssessi, you’re in charge while I’m gone. Anyone who disobeys her will face the court. Is that clear?”
Nodding, they all sat down on the ground, took out all the food they had, and prepared for a night sortie.
The camp was patrolled by soldiers and guardsman offering revitalizing potions to everyone.
Three hours later, snores could be heard all about the camp, and the last gleams of fading coals were barely discernible in the dark. Only two or three fires were still burning bright. In their light, one could see the patrolling soldiers.
Several groups of Latians were stealing along the camp’s edge, avoiding the soldiers and guardsmen that walked in the dark in groups of four or five. There had been no way to get rid of a guard during the day as all of them had been staying within the crowd’s sight. Now, the Latians could only use their eyes and instincts to avoid getting detected.
At last, the most dangerous area was behind them.
“That’s weird.” Tess’s boss frowned. His face transformed quickly, revealing the compound eyes. “I can’t see the two groups that I agreed to meet here. Are they late?”
“No time to wait, Ressir. We must see if the queen needs our help,” the woman hissed and pushed him from the back. After that, she spread her wings and took off. The rest of the group followed.
Only a very sharp eye could detect the flying enemies in the pitch-black sky. But when they approached the barely lit wall of the capital, a sudden gust of wind came to their backs from the camp, carrying a strange smell.
“What’s that?” one Latian wondered a moment before his neighbor got pierced by arrows and crossbow bolts and, wriggling in agony, collapsed to the ground.
A dense curtain of arrows covered the sky, and the group felt magic pulling them to the ground.
An ambush?!
Layer after layer, the illusion revealed the true identities of the Latians. They weren’t elite spies but they were still seasoned warriors. The problem was that the relaxed “country life” they had been leading had dulled their instincts. Shocked by the news, they had no choice but to rush to find out the truth – and walks straight into the trap.
Tess realized that, but he had no intention of rolling over and dying without a fight. Dodging the attacks, he flew toward the camp, shouting to draw the attention of the awake Latians.
As he and his wounded comrades, breathing their last, approached the camp, they saw more and more bonfires come to life. In the bright light, the guards were dragging the limp Latians from their tents by their legs, arms, or hair. Each of the captives was dropped on the ground and beheaded like they were nothing more than cattle brought to the slaughter. Then, their heads were impaled and their bodies tossed into the fire.
This sight was unseating, to say the least. Tess couldn’t help but remember himself ripping off the head of his prey in the same fashion.
Hundreds and hundreds of heads were put onto the long spears and paraded like war trophies. When a scream came from the dark, the guards just glanced up and continued to dig their spears into the ground, one after another, as though to make a fence. They had no reason to worry. No one would hear the screams thanks to the strong sleeping potions they had given to all the guests.
Why are they so still? What’s going on? Why have they revealed their true form? We crossed the camp unnoticed. How’s this possible? the spies wondered, unaware of the effects of the potions that they had politely accepted but saved for later in case they needed them during their retreat.
The other thing they were unaware of was the Reflective Powder created by the Alchemy Queens that worked hard day and night to perfect their newest creation.
The last thing Tess saw before a crossbow bolt pierced his skull was a man standing among the bodies being burned and heads being impaled, and his golden crown glimmering under the light of the bonfires.
Chapter 247. We Can’t Save Everyone
W hen the last Latian head was chopped off, Raven, who stood among the fires and dozens of mutilated bodies, received a message.
Attention!
Title awarded: Unmasker
Description: Once again, you have unmasked and killed the spies. Now you can sense them approaching.
Effect: +22% chance of detecting an enemy
Having read it, he closed it and looked around. Those who hadn’t drunk the potions were now standing next to their tents, cuddling up to each other and covering their noses and mouths to shield themselves from the stench. Unfortunately, the rancid smell was overwhelming. There were too many bodies. No firewood was added as it was too scarce.
I promised an execution. It wasn’t that of the Latian queen, but it did the trick.
One goal had been completed. His soldiers, with their faces wrapped with cloth to block the stench, were now completing the second one.
Having come back to the game seve
n hours later, Will saw the dawn. Like a rising curtain before a performance, the dawning sky revealed a creepy sight. About fifty wooden stakes adorned with heads were flanking the way to the capital. Each head had an arrow in its mouth, with a tiny flag flapping in the wind.
It was a declaration of war.
This purge was a message to everyone who had the ears to hear: Adamarona has risen from its knees. God help those who dare cross it.
The camp was buzzing. The faces showed a variety of emotions: terror, delight, determination, and uncertainty among many other. A breeze rustled the hair of the severed heads, moving it from their eyes that either stared with malice or were closed in peaceful sleep. Raven’s danced in the wind, but he just closed his eyes and turned his face toward the breeze – and the crowd of his subjects. Time would tell if he was right, but now he had to talk to them.
Everyone was waiting for the king to speak. Adjusting his cloak that was fighting its own battle against the wind, Raven spoke. His voice, soft at first, grew stronger with every word, like a fire roaring up in the furnace.
“My people! The time has come to open your eyes to the truth! All these fires are proof that our land is filled with those who see us as nothing more than their next meal! I dare not imagine the number of those who fell prey to their hunger! To their entertainment! To the Swarm! They were all spies! And they–”
“No! You! You’re not a king! You’re a butcher!” A scream of pain from a man elbowing his way through the audience interrupted the speech. Looking into the man’s eyes, Raven saw blazing fury, and swelling tears. “My wife! You… You killed her! My God! No! Nooooo!” He was running up to the stakes but got intercepted by the guards who prevented him from coming any closer to the king. “Get away from me! Oh my God! No!”
“Let him go.” Raven waved, and the guards released their grip on the man. He plodded up to one of the stakes and collapsed to his knees, staring at the head of a Latian woman.
Up to the moment when he saw his love’s face with a flag-bearing arrow in her mouth, he had harnessed a hope that this was all but a bad dream. Tears ran down his cheeks and chin, pooling in the bloodied grass below. Weeping, he clutched at the spear and rocked it to pull it from the ground, but the guards stopped him.
“You’re a monster!” he screamed as he struggled to break free, waving his hands. “You’ve trapped them and killed them all! You don’t care about the truth! She was innocent! I hate you! To hell with you, messenger!”
Attention! A random event has been started: The Widower
Description: Decide what to do with Mifol’s attempted attack on the Crown. Remember the consequences for they are sure to follow.
A shadow fell over Raven’s eyes. Pressing his lips as he listened to the grief-stricken screams, he realized that he could do nothing to compensate for Mifol’s loss. He had expected something like this to happen, but he had had no time to consider each case separately. Sacrifices had to be made.
He remembered the day before, when he had shared his plan with his wife and friends.
***
“I don’t understand.” Daltaro, whose HP had been fully restored, frowned at the rogue. “What makes you think they’ll buy it? A lie like that is too blatant to be believed.”
“My goal isn’t to make them believe it.”
“But…”
“I want them to come to make sure.” Passing his eyes over everyone at the table, Raven saw Nanel staring down thoughtfully. “Nanel? What’s wrong?”
She stood up.
“May I have a word with you in private? Please, excuse us.” Having said that, she came out onto the balcony, inviting Raven to follow.
“What are you worried about?” Resting on the rail by her side, he stared ahead, over the city’s rooftops.
Nanel fixed her hair and crossed her arms before answering: “Your plan is full of hate. I understand that you have reasons to feel this way as I know this feeling too well, but you risk killing innocent people.”
Raven turned his head to stare at her with astonishment. “Innocent people? Were you not listening? My plan is to kill spies. Do you think they deserve to be spared?”
“No!” she screamed. Breathing out, she curbed her emotions and continued in a lower voice: “It’s not only about the spies. You want all Latians dead. Every single one of them.”
“And?”
“Are you blind?” She stared at him, wide-eyed. “That’s genocide. You’re going to kill civilians. You’ve changed...”
Will froze at hearing that; then a realization dawned upon him. Like a monk breaking his vows, he had been oblivious of the turning point when he had gone astray.
I… How have I come to be like this?
He was a soldier, and he acted like one. Killing the enemy felt like the right thing to do, but he had forgotten that civilians weren’t to be treated as combatants unless they attempted to kill him.
Protecting the lives of others was the reason he had joined the ranks. But the current situation… The current situation was different.
“You understand that we must get rid of them, don’t you? They’re like weeds. They’re a nuisance. Why you are even worried about that?” he asked.
“Didn’t it occur to you that some of them might’ve escaped the Swarm to live a different life? That they don’t want to be the queen’s loyal servants? Or her soldiers? That they left to live the peaceful kind of life they always wanted?”
“That’s nonsense.” Will refused to believe that such a thing was even possible. All of the Latians he had met had been determined to kill him and destroy his kingdom. They would’ve done anything for the Swarm.
“Oh, really?” Nanel extended her arm and it started to morph, reminding Will that she was a half-blood. “I’m proof that such a thing is possible. You think that there aren’t other people like me out there?”
“That’s different.” Raven ran his finger over her hand and took it. “Even if I meet another woman like you, how can I make sure she’s not serving the Swarm?”
“We have potions.” As Nanel’s arm transformed back, she clenched his fingers affectionately.
“But not the time to use them.” Raven looked into her eyes with a bitter smile on his face. “We can’t save everyone.”
***
We can’t save everyone...
Heaving a sigh, he started toward Mifol, gesturing for the guards to let him go and remove the spear.
As he came up to the widower and got his attention, Mifol glared at him and attacked. But Raven didn’t move or dodge. When a blow landed on his face, he said: “I can’t bring her back to you.”
The next blow hit him in the jaw.
“All I can do is–”
Mifol’s fist found his stomach.
“–accept your pain.”
Punches and kicks rained upon him. None of them were powerful enough to lower his HP, but they were still painful. Not that they were really difficult to endure; not after all the torture he had been through.
“It’s my fault.”
The people watched a peasant bash their king, unsure of how to react. Nothing like that had ever happened before. But the king didn’t order the man killed or punished, nor did he make any attempt to defend himself.
The murmurs from the crowd were stopped by the king’s next words: “I’m not asking you to forgive me. Curse me as much as you like. You have the right to be angry.” His calm voice carried no malice, and was as soothing as wind blowing over the plains. “But I want you – and everyone – to understand that this was for Adamarona’s good.”
He didn’t move or look down as blows continued to rain upon him, moving lower and lower as Mifol grew more and more tired. His blows were becoming less vigorous, and farther in between, until he could only cry. Drained of strength, he stopped and, wiping off his tears, stared at the king.
Power and unbendable will. That was what he saw in his king’s eyes. Before him towered a mountain that he had been trying to destr
oy with fists.
When his wife’s head was brought to him, Mifol took it into his arms and cradled it like a baby.
“I… She didn’t suffer, did she?”
Raven had no idea, so he said nothing. He preferred not to lie. Not now. Instead, he unsheathed his sword and handed it to Mifol.
“Take it. I don’t know what her death was like, but you may kill me if that’ll help ease your pain.”
“What’s the point?” Mifol glanced at the fine short sword and turned away. “A messenger can’t really die. Everyone knows it.”
“That’s true. But the pain will be very, very real.”
Mifol pressed his lips together as he examined the sword. Then he slowly reached for it but stopped his hand mid-way and shook his head.
“No. It won’t bring her back. But… I’ll remember it.” Having wheeled around, he walked away through the crowd that parted before him, following him with eyes filled with various emotions.
Chapter 248. A Typical Day in a King’s Life
“M y king?” Emin came up from behind and said through gritted teeth: “You didn’t have to endure that.”
“It was entirely my fault. My order.”
“Are you sure he’s not a spy escaping our trap?”
Raven smirked.
“Even if he is, it did us good. Look around. Reputation, like respect, is earned. People will be more willing to obey the king whom they consider a worthy leader.”
As Emin took the crowd in, he saw hundreds of eyes blazing with admiration. People were now seeing Will as a ruler who was willing to pay for his mistakes with his own life. Although he couldn’t really die, he was still willing to be killed to atone himself.
Emin watched Raven step ahead to continue his interrupted speech.