by Aaron Oster
Morgan turned just in time to catch a massive fist to the face. He felt the impact and registered the force, but it didn’t actually do anything to harm him. It didn’t even force him back a step. If he were to describe how it felt, he would have to say it would be akin to being hit in the face by a pillow, and one thrown by a toddler at that.
The force of the impact rebounded back into the man’s arm, the small bones in his fingers giving way under the immense force. The bones in his forearm broke as well, the sickening popping and crunching sounding so loudly that he was sure everyone in a fifty-foot radius could hear. The man was now in a true rage and pulled the injured arm back, roaring like a wounded animal, and prepared to throw another attack.
Deciding that he’d had enough of this man, Morgan extended his own hand. He curled his middle finger behind his thumb and lightly flicking him in his chest. He’d been trying to stagger the man and perhaps lay him out, but it seemed he’d let a little too much of his strength go.
There was a sharp crack as the man’s ribcage caved in, and he was subsequently sent hurtling back, slamming into his cart. The cart itself shattered under the impact, sending goods rolling all over the road, and his donkeys into a panic. The giant man stared wide-eyed, his mouth hanging open as the wagon momentarily propped him up. Then he dropped limply to the ground, landing face-down and not uttering so much as a peep.
Whoops, Morgan thought, wincing inwardly. He really hoped he hadn’t killed the man.
Sure, he’d had it coming, but he’d never really posed any sort of threat. Killing a peon like that would feel like killing a child, even though the man was likely thirty years his senior.
When he turned around, he found that everyone had moved aside, leaving a clear path for the city gates.
Well, he thought grimly. At least something good came of it.
14
The guards standing by the gate must have heard what had happened, as by the time Morgan arrived, there was a small force already waiting for him. Judging by their cores, they were all in the upper 20’s, enough to take care of any rowdy intruders. However, they wouldn’t be able to do much more to him than the overzealous merchant lying in a heap of broken limbs.
“Halt!” commanded one of the guards, a woman with three red stripes on her shoulder. “Not another step closer!”
Morgan inwardly rolled his eyes. Still, he did as he was told and stopped where he was, around ten yards from the open gates.
“I’m here to see your Queen…” Morgan began.
“Do not speak!” the woman yelled, her face going red from straining her voice.
“Um…then what am I supposed to do?” Morgan asked, trying to stay civil.
“Turn around, and leave! Do not take another step closer! You are not welcome here!”
“Do you even know who I am?” Morgan asked in exasperation. “If you could just…”
He trailed off as the guards all leveled their weapons at him, their cores beginning to grow active as they prepared to use their skills.
“I don’t know who you are, and I won’t warn you again!” she yelled.
Morgan lost his patience then. He’d tried to be diplomatic, and that hadn’t worked out for him. At all. He’d tried to do things the right way and that had failed.
Fine then. I guess it’s time to do things my way.
He figured he should at least give them one last warning before he acted, just to give them a chance.
“I came in all the way from the North Kingdom to speak with your Queen,” he said, rolling his neck to limber up. “Now, you can either let me in to see her peacefully and without any fuss or I can bust my way in and cause a lot of collateral damage.”
He fixed his eyes on the lead guard, who seemed to hesitate for a moment. He could almost see the thoughts whirring behind her eyes as she tried to decide what to do. Clearly, he wasn’t afraid of facing down ten high-ranked guards, and from what she’d heard, he’d completely destroyed one of the tougher merchants without getting so much as a scratch.
She wasn’t sure how powerful he was or if he was simply bluffing in an attempt to get through. His story would hold some credibility, as he was very obviously foreign. Morgan could see it, though, the moment she decided to call his bluff instead of doing the smart thing. He sighed inwardly and prepared himself for what would inevitably come next.
He would do his best not to kill anyone or even injure them badly enough that they couldn’t fight, but in the heat of battle, he knew that there would likely be some pretty nasty injuries. Simply bowling through them wasn’t an option as he would likely kill them, so he’d need to incapacitate them all one by one to mitigate the damage.
Morgan was here to make an alliance, and breaking their best fighters wouldn’t exactly start him off on the best of terms. Not to mention, fighters like these would be invaluable in the war effort. The woman raised her arm to signal the attack, and Morgan shot forward, covering the intervening distance in a blink.
His hands flashed out, knuckles extended, targeting the temples of each of the fighters. Had they not been wearing helmets, he’d have struck their foreheads, but this was a much faster and easier knockout without the risk of cracking their skulls. He whirled between the soldiers, his fingers tapping out a rapid staccato, and when he emerged inside the gate, all of the guards fell in unconscious heaps.
Morgan didn’t even look back, walking purposefully into the city. While outwardly calm, inwardly, he was congratulating himself for managing to keep himself from killing anyone. This made him think that he was perhaps finally getting some semblance of real control over his strength.
It seemed he’d gotten some attention with his little show, as dozens of bystanders were now watching him. Morgan did the only thing he could do and ran. With his Agility high as it was, he was gone before the people even realized what had happened. Though Morgan didn’t exactly know his way through the foreign city, he could see the palace, built of grayish-blue blocks of stone and standing tall amidst the other buildings.
Some things seem to be universal, Morgan thought, noting the similarities between the architecture of this palace and those in every other country he’d been to.
No matter the Kingdom, it seemed that all rulers liked to live in big, fancy houses that stood out from the rest. He could only hope that the ruler of this country wasn’t as bad as Queen Hu Vah had been before he’d killed her.
Now that he’d made it far enough from the gates, Morgan slowed to a walk. This was in part due to the increased volume of people and partly because all of the dodging around was making it difficult to actually get anywhere. The layout of the city was confusing, with short, straight blocks and buildings all over the place.
The buildings appeared different than one might expect in a city of this size. They were all oddly low to the ground, with heavy stone tile instead of the usual slate or tarpaper. He wondered if the climate here might be more prone to producing storms. Something like that would explain the odd building shapes, as well as the layout.
But he wasn’t here to admire the architecture. He was here to try and convince a complete stranger to join Katherine in a war they may very well lose. He had no idea how he was going to do it, and no matter how hard he thought, an idea refused to come. He still didn’t have a single good idea when the narrow streets came to an end, opening into a sprawling town square. On the other side of the square stood a pair of tall steel gates.
Morgan could see that the single entrance was guarded by two women, both ranking in the mid 30’s. Inside the gate, on the other side, stood another eight guards of about the same rank. They were keeping their eyes on the moving crowds and assessing whether or not they posed any sort of threat to their ruler.
Judging by the overall feel of the crowds, Morgan doubted that very much. Most were only average citizens, ranking between 2 and 4. Sure, the occasional person was a rank or two higher, but that was no different than in any other city. With security like that, Morgan k
new that he’d once again need to fight some overblown idiot with an inflated sense of self-importance.
He wondered if he would be better off just bowling his way through, but decided to once again try and present himself as an ambassador before resorting to violence. This decision was really against his nature. He could feel that small part of him, his bestial side, wanting to break free, to rage, kill, and destroy. But Morgan had long since tamed those urges, reserving them for when real fighting was necessary.
The guards, vigilant as they were, noticed him approaching from all the way across the square. As predicted, one of the guards on the outside of the gate called to the others standing inside, while the other kept her eyes locked on him.
Morgan wasn’t sure if they could sense what kind of threat he posed, but the fact that he was a foreigner and dressed in very obviously expensive clothes told them that they should be keeping an eye on him, especially seeing as he was heading right for them.
“Stop where you are. Not another step closer.”
Morgan, once again, was forced to stop thirty feet from the gate. Luckily, he could immediately tell by the woman’s tone that she wouldn’t be nearly as unreasonable as the first guard.
“What business do you have here, stranger?” she asked as the other guards moved to block off the entrance.
Though they appeared to be outwardly calm, Morgan could feel their suppressed violence. They were prepared to attack at a moment’s notice, to spring into action and defend their queen. He did his best to appear non-threatening, though he did inject some authority into his voice, so they’d take him seriously.
“I am here on behalf of Queen Katherine of the North. I want to speak with your queen, Queen Le’vine.”
“That is quite the claim,” the woman said. “Do you have any proof of who you are?”
Finally! Morgan thought, someone with a brain!
He nodded, reaching to his pack. As soon as he did, the others tensed, as though fearing he was reaching for a weapon. But the woman waved for them to relax, and Morgan gave her a grateful nod. Unslinging his pack, Morgan removed the small, gleaming seal from its wooden case. This was the only item that Katherine had specifically warned him not to lose.
A ruler’s seal could be used for all sorts of nefarious purposes if it fell into the wrong hands. Especially in times of war. Morgan held the box out, but the woman shook her head.
“You open it, then set it on the ground and step back.”
Morgan shrugged. The woman was professional, so he wouldn’t begrudge her following what was likely protocol. He passed his hand over the lid, injecting it with his reiki. This security measure wasn’t a really good one, as anyone with a modicum of control over their cores could open it. Still, it would prevent a common thug from cracking the box, so Katherine had deemed necessary.
The box opened with a sharp click, revealing the gleaming seal depicting a raven twisted into a circular pattern. Morgan set the small box on the ground, then backed up a few steps, just as he was bid.
The guard cautiously stepped forward, while the others kept their eyes and weapons trained squarely on him, should he attempt to attack while she was distracted. Though he wanted to roll his eyes, Morgan kept his features schooled in a neutral expression, waiting for the woman to lift and examine the seal.
He had no way of knowing whether she’d be able to authenticate it or not, though he doubted she could. Still, he said nothing as the woman turned the seal over, closely scrutinizing every crevice and ridge, as though checking to make sure it wouldn’t blow up or anything. Finally, she turned and motioned one of the guards over.
“Bring this to the Queen,” she said, handing the man the seal. “We will wait here for your return.”
The guard saluted, then turned and marched back through the gates, where his form was soon obscured by tall hedges planted to give those living within some privacy.
“How long will I be kept waiting?” Morgan asked, already extremely impatient due to all the hold-ups he’d been forced to endure.
“As long as is necessary,” the woman replied, then settled in to wait.
The guards behind her didn’t move either, staying where they were with their eyes trained on him the entire time. After twenty minutes of simply standing around, Morgan was starting to lose his patience once more. If one of the nobles of the North had come, there was no way they’d make them wait this long, nor put them under such scrutiny.
“You know,” he said, breaking the silence. “If I really wanted to do your Queen harm, I’d have sent others in to do so while the lot of you were out here staring at me.”
That comment did not go over well, as the guards reacted predictably. One of them, a red-faced youth, stepped forward, raising his arms in a threatening gesture.
“Calm down, Shul, it’s not like he’s going to attack or anything,” the woman said, holding an arm out to stop his advance.
However, that name sparked a memory within Morgan, and he looked at the young man a bit closer. Though he’d aged a bit since he’d last seen him, he could now recognize the man for who he was. Shul had been the second-highest ranked student in the super class back at the academy. Morgan had nearly lost to him in the preliminary matches to get into the final eight in the academy’s tournament.
While Shul hadn’t really changed much in appearance, Morgan had. He’d grown nearly half a foot taller, his skin tone had darkened, his features sharpened, and his eyes had completely changed color. He also had a shitload of muscle mass that he’d previously lacked. That, coupled with the fact that Shul wasn’t at all expecting to see him there of all people, ensured his anonymity.
His sister, Hilda, had been the top-rated fighter in their class, and Morgan had needed to face her in the first round, where he’d nearly killed her by accident. He didn’t see her with these guards, which made him wonder what she was up to now. Before he could ask, the guard they’d sent to the palace came jogging into view.
“What did she say?” asked the head guard.
The other guard, instead of speaking out loud, instead leaned in and whispered something into her ear. This was likely in an attempt to stop Morgan from hearing, but despite the distance, he had no trouble at all listening in.
“She says to turn him away but to be careful. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
“Is it a legitimate seal?” she asked.
“It is, which is why she’s going to hold onto it. Now we just need to find some way to get rid of him.”
“So, we tell him she’s agreed to see him, surround him with the excuse of an escort, then take him by surprise,” the woman whispered. “If we move quickly enough, we might not even have to kill him.”
“You know,” Morgan called out in a very loud and carrying voice. “If you’re going to plot my downfall, you’d probably want to make sure I can’t hear you first.”
The two of them started, their faces a mixture of guilt and annoyance.
“Now,” Morgan said, getting into a relaxed stance and beginning to loosen up. “I didn’t come all the way here to be turned away. So, I’ll give you the same option I gave the last guards who tried to get in my way. You can either let me in, or I can break in. Your choice.”
15
The head guard’s eyes narrowed at that, looking past him and into the throngs of people wandering through the city square just thirty feet behind him. Morgan knew that she was likely considering whether they could subdue him quickly enough to avoid collateral damage, which meant that they at least valued the lives of their citizens. At least they had that, unlike other places he’d been.
Morgan continued making a show of limbering up, twisting his back from side to side, swinging his arms in circles, and stretching his legs. He wasn’t worried about a potential fight at all. The highest-ranked here was the head guard, and she was only at 38. While it was a respectable number, one that 99.9% of the population would never reach, his rank of 51 was in a league of its own. And that wa
sn’t even factoring in the Advanced stage of his ability.
No, what he was worried about was hitting them hard enough to kill them. With the previous set of guards, a simple tap on the temple was enough for a knockout, but with people in the 30’s he’d need to hit a bit harder. The problem was that he didn’t know exactly how hard.
“Last chance,” Morgan said, breaking the silence. “Either get out of my way, or I’ll just have to embarrass you all in front of this huge crowd.”
That seemed to be the deciding factor. Even as the woman’s face hardened, Morgan was already moving forward. He couldn’t use any skills for fear of killing them, but even if they all unleashed their most powerful skills at once, he doubted they could do much more than ruin his outfit.
These guards were much faster than the ones by the city gates, though still not nearly fast enough to keep up with him. Seeing as she was the leader and the closest, Morgan went for her first.
Take out the chain of command, and the rest will fall into disarray.
He was inside her guard before she could even bring her spear to bear and smacked an open palm into her midsection. There was a loud crack as something gave, and she was hurled back, blood streaming from her open mouth. That one blow was enough to tell him that he hadn’t killed her, and seeing as she was a mage, he was pretty confident he could get past the rest without any issues.
Morgan darted to his right, going for Shul next, who seemed to be moving in slow motion, even with the familiar lightning coursing over his body. A violet glove formed over Morgan’s hand as he brought his hand down on the base of his shoulder, attacking with a slap more than any specific technique.
It was enough to wrench the shoulder from the socket with a sickening pop, sending him slamming into the ground. But, by the time his body completed the trip from standing to lying, Morgan had already taken out the rest, aiming for non-killing attacks that would disable. He inwardly winced when he accidentally broke one of their collarbones, knowing it would be an extremely painful recovery.