Chương 128: AF Chapter 127 – Pardon me Intrusion, Yer Majesty

King Borelean Strathelar had long developed a sixth sense for being observed by those who thought themselves hidden. After the Green Hunter Oswald had barely failed to assassinate his mother, he had worked hard on his awareness of those stealthy stalkers who watched him, seeking chances to reach him as they had his mother, trying to remove him from leadership of the surviving members of the Vesayan Kingdom of Freehold, such as it was.

He knew there were plenty of 'adventurers' who did not respect his position or the work it entailed. They who lusted after the power and authority of it, caring nothing for the responsibilities of such work. So many of them were rooted in Ithaenc now, cowards unwilling to venture out and fight those that had nearly slaughtered them all, only wanting an easy prize delivered to them, the power to order others to do what they could not bear to do themselves.

At least they'd not gone after his daughter like they could have, although there definitely were plenty of the empty-hearted cowards who had tried a hand at seducing her. Fortunately, she was at least as wise as her mother Hoshino had been about such things. Thus, even in his sleep, he was aware when someone entered his rooms. He woke silently without moving, giving no sign he was awake as a presence entered through the window with sure speed and skill, not even scraping on the stone.

He considered the sword lying next to his bed, the dagger under his pillow, and drew breath to shout for his guards outside the door, a luxur ious waste of manpower that was unfortunately required in his position. He heard a blade rasp from its scabbard, which startled him. It was not a mistake an assassin would make. He also heard the crink of a steel point firmly meeting the stone of the floor, and a sigh escape the wielder of it. Taking a risk, he opened his eyes and sat up in his bed.

Clearly illuminated in the faint light through the window, the Lord Mick was down on one knee, leaning on his Claymore, the Runes on the long Blade glowing softly and unmistakably there.

"Lord Mick, if you're here to kill me, you're doing a damnably awful job of it," the King said dryly.

"There be blood on me hands this night, me King, but nae yours be what I sought or am seeking," the older Black Aluvian reported back in that hill-folk brogue he'd never bothered to rid himself of, incorrigible as all his clan seemed to be and determined to live up to that reputation.

"I be here to be dismissed from yer service, if that be yer will, an' t' report what I did, an' why I did it.

"Ye need not worry about the guards. They cannae hear us." Borelean glanced at the door at that foreboding statement, but chose to take the statement on the face of it. Since the Fall, Lord Mick had become infamous for his blunt tongue and lack of giving a damn about the lies and politics that swirled around the nobility new and old. It made him a remarkably trustworthy vassal in many respects, although he doubtless would object rather violently at being referred to as a 'vassal'. It was what it was.

Once an adventurer, always an adventurer. Even his mother still thought like one, after all these years. The King swept his covers off and got to his feet with a sigh.

"I'm not going to like what I'm going to hear, am I, Lord Mick?" he asked rhetorically.

"Well, if'n yer wantin' t' be rid o' me, now will be a fine excuse t' do so," was the considerate reply. Said with great cheek and absolute disregard for the consequences.

"Make your report, then, Lord Mick," the King finally said, shaking his head.

"At the very least, make it as entertaining as they usually are." The moonlight flashed off a white smile.

"Aye, then? Well, I'll not be disappointing ye, me king, Yer Majesty. Because this has been a mighty entertainin' last week or two, aye, an' that be truth.

"Let's be startin' with the good news. I be stumbling across two fine lasses from Ispar. First newcomers from there in nigh a generation, I be thinkin', an' after the tale they told, I could see why. Seems the olthoi an' thrungus been eatin' all the newcomers all these years up in old Holtburg." Borelean hadn't been expecting news like that.

"Is that so? Well, I doubt that means any new influx of arrivals, Lord Mick?" And the reinforcements they represented.

"Ah, me king, 'tis the truth. T hey be sayin' that they might be the last o' them t' ever come, unless Asheron himself hauls himself out o' his grave an' sets up the whole thing from scratch once again. Seems the powers on the other side aren't particularly happy with the Portals snatching people all these years, an' fair will shut them down again.

"Oh, and the Viamontians were kicked out o' Aluvia, Roulea, Gharu'n, were chased back t' Viamont, half their country was slaughtered, an' a new Empire has been founded back there, if the two lasses are t' be believed." King Borelean blinked in shock.

"Are their words trustworthy?" he asked in some disbelief. He'd never seen the old homeworld, having been born here in Dereth, but the Lord Mick was a peer of many, many survivors who remembered Ispar, and the histories of the many peoples he ruled had naturally included a lot of histories he had perused many times. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Me king, when ye meet them, ye'll believe every damn word they speak, an' that be no lie. The younger lass holds a completely new tradition of magic that the Isparian Empire is spreading, an' it fair has power like nothing o' the magic we knew before or now, an' she be intending t' teach it to students o' good heart willing to use it f e r the good o' the people." Borelean rocked on his heels.

The failure of their magic, and the long, slow climb back for those wielding its power was a huge weakness still, compared to the power of the many adventuring mages from before the Fall.

"Well… that is extraordinary," he breathed out at the good news.

"I trust you've witnessed its power yourself?"

"Aye, multiple spells I nae seen before, an' that be truth. The lass calls them minor tricks an' spells, but I be thinking the power t' fly an' become invisible be not minor… but I dinnae know what greater powers she be able to call on later." Flight! Invisibility! King Borelean's thoughts whirled at the implications of such legendary powers come to life. The tactical ramifications of those powers alone, let alone the strategic, were incredible!

The ability to assail others regardless of their defenses, to strike with absolute stealth and power… Very, very dangerous abilities, he realized equally quickly.

"And the other woman?" he asked carefully.

"Her Imperial Highness, Kristie Rantha-Briggs, second daughter o' the Imperial Clan of His Imperial Majesty Briggs, Emperor o' the Isparian Empire, an' one of the deadliest women it hae been me pleasure t' ever meet." Lord Mick paused significantly at the expression of the stunned King.

"If ye were from Aluvia-born, Yer Majesty, ye'd know of Commander Briggs o' Celdon, an'd mayhap his throat-cutting hag of a woman. Me uncle surely did, for they were the reason he ran all the way t' Dereth, just t' get away from her.

"They did seem t' finally get too pissed at the Viamontians, built an army up, slaughtered them all the way back t' Viamont, an' did break the Portal system Asheron did set up completely as part o' it all. Then they got themselves crowned Emperor an' Empress an' hae set about t' ruling Ispar.

"Been with them most of a tenday, ever since they stumbled inta Hebian- T o, fearless as the sun in the face of all the undead there.

"Oh, an' Princess Kristie did claim t' slit the throats o' half the drudges in the ruins o' Cragstone, too. Thought ye might want t' know that," he added as an afterthought.

"Half the drudges…?" the King repeated, and then smiled slowly.

"And she's an Imperial Princess? Obviously she's not a knight or anything with a resume like that…"

"Nae, she be like her mother: ruthless, pragmatic, practical, an' fearless as the battle-born. Slit your throat or kill ye in a duel, all the same to this one, ye'll still be dead an' not her problem anymore."

"I… see." His hands clenched tightly.

"And has she… ambitions?"

"Well, Yer Majesty, she be a good person, under all the blood and gore. She not be one t' give up bein' what she is, but if ye be thinking she would like yer throne… nae, I be thinking not. Just ask t' her face, an' she'll tell you, blunt as a hammer to the skull. All I be seein' is that she wants t' kill everything threatening us, an' the sooner, the better."

"I… see." That was now, of course. Who could tell what the future held?

"And is that the extant of your good news?"

"Oh, well, the magic alone I could go inta more detail, but belikes ye should hobnob with Her Highness an' find out more yerself, when she comes t' visit. Good news, mmm. We found Ian Ninetoes." Borelean had to think for a moment to recall the name, one of the most adept of his Scouts, and one truly committed to the people and the cause.

"One of your compatriots? Wasn't he lost to the undead?"

"Nae, Yer Majesty. He were murdered by assassins, likely sent by the Filinuvekta." Borelean clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking. He was a warrior-king, not a soft persimmon, and he loathed assassins and their ways a great deal.

"I see. And how did you come about that information?" he asked, his expression showing that now he knew it was bad news time.

"Well, the assassins did bribe the fair Lady Swiftfoot inta giving up details o' Ian's last mission an' the stopping points, such as it were. Then they offed Ian at the Vesayan Overlook settlement, an' did bid his companions t' bury him. As they'd offed Ian while he was on watch, an' the other three had nary a chance when asleep, they were properly terrified an' happily did bury him deep enough ta not be found.

Then they made up the whole story of being ambushed by the undead an' losing while they sat around at a safe cave in the hills until the mission he were going on 'failed', an' they could hurry home an' loudly proclaim their bravery and heroism." King Borelean closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"And have they done this… multiple times?" he asked faintly.

"Lady Swiftfoot did, that were certain. She does extend her regrets to yer mother from the afterlife, wishing she had been able t' take revenge on those who so betrayed our people, not realizing she was one of the reasons why we've been failing."

"And the members of his team?" the King asked, unable to keep the scorn from his voice at the last regrets of a traitor.

"If the files Lady Swiftfoot left behind are true, they've been hired out t' assist in a few operations by the assassins to, eh, supplement their pay, after proving their flexibility o' mind an' purpose. Turning fear inta profit, ye might say, Yer Majesty."

"Is that so." Borelean was not surprised. The adventurers had always been opportunists, taking jobs and rewards from anyone who would pay. That they'd do so in spite of their oaths and what their likewise duplicitous paymasters had done to so many innocent civilians really shouldn't have depressed him like it did, as he knew it would happen eventually, and repeatedly.

"The undead still have money, magic, an' temptations a-plenty, Yer Majesty. That they killed o'er half the survivors of the Fall is just water under the bridge when there is new business ta be done, be I right?" Lord Mick said laconically.

"Indubitably so, Lord Mick, indubitably so," the Vesayan King answered dryly.

"So, the industrious and hard-working Lady Swiftfoot has passed on."

"The Shoreward don't stop corpses, an' the things o' the Deep, they be hungry," the Mick informed him sagely.