Chapter 4
Out of this World
A new world, high, high above the clouds, them looking like a world of snow and eternal winter down below. It did not seem possible, yet there it was. Frisk looked down at the lands, feeling as free as the birds.
They could make out the surrounding lands. In the distance, beyond the scope of the castle's peak, stood a mountain draped in snow, with acers of white trees at its feet like needy children.
To the left, at the western side, was an island that was half beach and half ocean, sand so pale that it appeared like ivory, clashing against water that looked more suited to a bathtub that the open sea. The ocean poured from the corners of the island and constantly evaporated in the open air.
To the east, a desolate island of barren, brown rock, yet from up high, Frisk could make out the roofs and smoking chimneys of houses and homes. It must have been a working town since they could make out the black skeletal structures of some kind of factory, a quarry maybe.
In all, Frisk counted seven islands; the castle island in the centre, surrounded by six others of varying conditions.
Frisk flew over the islands, drawing closer and closer to the grey stone castle. It was a sight to behold. It took up most of the island it occupied, to call it 'big' would have been an understatement. To call it such could likely earn someone a swift execution from the owner. Five towers – four on the corners and the tallest off-centre – added to its height. Light flickered from stained-glass windows, making them glow in luxurious colours. The entire castle had a perimeter of high, solid stone walls. It even had its own moat, except it was not a moat, it was a river; except it was not a river, it was a rapid. A castle guarded by high walls and raging river rapids, good luck to any aspiring invaders out there.
As Frisk hovered over the wall, they spotted the guards patrolling it, all armed and dangerously protected in heavy, silver armour. The guards peered up at the human above, then began to whisper amongst themselves. They had probably never seen a human in their lives and had heard terrible things about them. In that case, Frisk would need to make a great first impression.
Frisk began their descent, down toward the slanted roofs – with tiles so deep in red that they looked like they had been paved mere minutes ago, as if to welcome the human's arrival. There was a flat section that opened up and the human child sloped into it.
The light was taken away as Frisk dropped down a well of black, darkness cutting deep. They floated in a sea of black for what seemed like forever until they felt the soles of their boots make contact with a hard surface, hopefully the ground. The package had landed, it seemed. In the darkness, all the kid had as any kind of security was the magical bone that Sans had materialised back on Earth. The piece of collagen was cold in their hands.
So cold, in fact, that it chilled them down to the bone.
Ba-dum pish!
Frisk had made a skeleton pun and a lame one at that, Sans and Toriel would be proud of them. The thought of their friends and family also brought some degree of comfort at a time like this, but also dread. Frisk hoped that they were alright and that they were not panicking in the wake of their unforeseen departure.
Frisk staggered forward in the dark, blind, holding the bone out in front. Its whiteness almost illuminated the way ahead. After a few wary steps, the bone clanked against a solid bar, vibrating a metallic drone through the hollowness. Frisk waved the bone to the right and felt it clatter against four more bars, identical to the first. The human child followed it across for a few steps before they hit a corner. The turned and followed the second wall of bars before hitting another corner. Frisk repeated the process a further two times until they were back to where they started. Metal bars all around. They were in a cage, trapped like an animal.
Suddenly, a door opened from the oblivion. Light poured in from the open passage, casting long shadows from the bars. From the door, a lanky figure was shrouded in shade. Frisk stared on silently as the shadow took their first steps inwards, each one clapping sharply against smooth stone.
"My, oh my, is it dark in here," the shadow spoke with a shrill voice. He adjusted something in his hands then clapped them twice.
Two sharp claps filled the room with light, revealing everything. Even after spending all that time draped in darkness, the light did not hurt Frisk's eyes. The first thing they realised was that, on all sides outside the cage, they were surrounded by a line of monsters of all shapes and sizes. Cats, dogs, bulls, horses, rabbits, fish, tigers, lizards; all outfitted in heavy armour and pointing spears and swords in the human's direction.
Frisk turned to the stranger who happened to be another monster, this one with the face of a white rat. His eyes were violet, his hair combed to one side, and his whiskers formed a mustachio that looped twice below his chin. His skinny body was clothed in a loose, umber robe, trimmed with black threads. In his thin arms was a clipboard and a nib.
The rat monster's eyes travelled all around the room, to those surrounding the cage. "Excellent work guarding the subject, men. You'll all receive commendations for this." His praise was met with silence as if he were not even present.
Daring to get closer, the white rat leaned down to get a better look at the human. "So, this is what a human looks like up close. How fascinating. I must write this moment down for the records." He scribbled frantically on the clipboard while whispering to himself, describing Frisk's appearance, noting the date and time of their arrival, the temperature in the room, the number of guards present, the number of bars comprising the cell, even pointing out the bone that Frisk was holding, which made their grip around it tighten.
"I believe introductions are in order," the rat said, pulling away from the board. "I am Rickard, master scribe of Castle Highkeep and of the Outerworld Empire." While Rickard spoke, the presence of a large threat marched down the hall. Every step was an earthquake, getting nearer. "I feel I must apologise for the crude methods in which were used to bring you here, not to mention contain you. Professor Haze's technology have never displayed the greatest of tact. Nevertheless, on behalf of the citizens of the Outerworld, I would like to welcome you—"
"Make it short, Scribe," a booming voice echoed from the door. A frame of massive proportions eclipsed the light coming from there.
Scribe Rickard snapped upright. "Without further ado…" He stepped to the side, graciously waving to the brute by the door. "Lord Maxus – Emperor of the Outerworld and successor to the late Emperor Juhi – shall see you now."
The brute shuffled his way in, all without tearing the doorframe from its rivets. The two silver eyes of the lion monster locked onto Frisk and refused to let go. His golden crown of hair rustled soundlessly as he took short, slow steps, closing in on his prey. A regal, red suit with gold trimmings – with a black cape, belt, gloves and boots – hugged his body tightly, accentuating his frame of pure muscle. There was not an ounce of fat on him.
The loyal soldiers all dropped down on one knee while keeping the pointy ends on the human. Master Scribe Rickard went even further: he went down on both knees and slammed the palms of his hands and his forehead on the cold floor. Frisk stood their ground, unmoving, watching as the lion emperor approached. They did not run away, nor could they.
The second ruler of monsters Frisk had encountered, they remembered vivid memories of meeting King Asgore Dreemurr for the first time. That greeting and this one formed a deep contrast. All of Frisk's senses were telling them one thing – from the way Emperor Maxus carried himself, from the way he spoke, and how he stared at them with those shiny eyes – this guy was bad news.
Maxus stopped. He glared at the human as if he had just heard an incredibly sick joke. All Frisk could do from the comfort of their own holding cell was stare back.
"This is Frisk?" Emperor Maxus hissed out. "This child is the creature they call Frisk? This is the thing my father placed in high regard before he died? This thing's name was the last thing in which he said? Is this some kind of joke?"
Rickard crawled up close to the cage and whispered from out the corner of their mouth, "Excuse me, human. It's customary to bow before the emperor wh—"
Maxus snapped around. "Be silent, Master Scribe," he commanded. Rickard instantly shut up and resumed his pose on the floor.
For all this shmuck and Asgore were rulers – or were rulers at some point – that was where the similarities ended. Within the first minute of meeting King Asgore, Frisk could tell that he was no diabolical villain, he was a friendly and caring guy. Emperor Maxus, on the other hand, was none of those things. Perhaps Frisk was judging too quickly? After all, Undyne started out mean, serious and mysterious, but after some digging around, she showed that she had a softer side. Perhaps this grumpy emperor could become their friend?
Maxus turned back to Frisk. His head hot and confused. "Creature, you were brought here because you have something that I want." He pointed at the human's chest. "Locked away in that soul of yours. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to tear it out of you, but…"
If this child was the one his late father spoke of, then he expected something more than that. If this human child held the key to his people's salvation, then why was he hesitating? Emperor Maxus wanted nothing more than to step inside the cage and take the power of their soul for himself.
"Promise me…" Emperor Juhi whispered in Maxus's mind. "You'll not act out of aggression or vengeance… you'll only do what's best for the empire… what's best for our people."
Maxus looked away, clenching his eyes shut, seeing his father dying in his bed. "I… give you my word, father," Maxus echoed the promise he made.
Snapping back to reality, he faced the human once more. "Tell me, are you truly the thing that the monsters on the surface speak of? The thing who escaped the Underground where all others failed?" he questioned. The human child stood there, staring back, clutching the bone in their hands. "Nothing to say?" Further silence followed. "No. You don't have to say anything. There's something special about you. I can feel it. Now, the only question is how to proceed…"
Maxus went to walk out, his heavy stride heavier, yet faster. "Scribe Rickard, I am to be given time to reflect on my options until I can come to a firm conclusion on how to deal with… it." Maxus glanced back at the human upon saying 'it'. "And assign the guards to duties elsewhere."
The scribe shot a look at his ruler. "Assign the guards, my lord? But the human…"
"I will not waste more manpower needed just to guard that thing, not when a greater threat could appear at any moment. Issue one guard if it will make you feel better."
Emperor Maxus heaved himself out the door, the frame survived for another day. Scribe Rickard stood up as did all the others.
Rickard reached under his robe and pulled out a single key on a hoop. "Okay," he said to the soldiers, "which one of you wants to do the honours?"
One guard spoke from the line. "Get Private Perro to do it." Followed by a unanimous agreement from the rest.
The guards marched one by one out the door, all except the one who stepped up to the scribe. Private Perro was a hulking, grey and white husky, outfitted in silver armour that made him a bigger presence than he already was, wider than taller.
Scribe Rickard held the key up to meet Perro's mouth and said, "Open wide." The Private opened his maw for the hoop to enter. "Now stay here and guard the human. Good boy."
Now it was the scribe's turn to leave. Only two people stood in the cell room now: Frisk and Private Perro.
It was almost as if they wanted the human to escape.
Emperor Maxus took a few breaths, choosing his words carefully. "I have encountered the human my father spoke of," said he.
"And?"
"It is not what I expected."
"How so?"
"It is a child. A hideous one, but still a child."
"And you are troubled by this. Why?"
Maxus hesitated. His words formed a dam in his throat. "I promised Dad that I would do only what's best for my people, but I find myself wondering whether my actions are truly just or if I'm still acting out of hate. I hate humans with every piece of my soul, but is it right to eradicate one child for the sake of thousands?"
"Were there not children on the day of the great war, my lord? Did thousands of them not suffer the same fate as thousands of others, for reasons less justifiable?"
Maxus sighed. "Yes, but this is different."
"On the contrary, this is more the same than you know."
"I don't understand. Explain yourself."
"One human, child or not, has the strength to wipe out an entire monster kingdom. So you see, that human is as much an army as it is a child, an army that could bring unfathomable destruction to this great empire. Them just being—"
"It," Maxus interrupted. "That thing is an 'it'."
"Then… it… just being here is a threat to us all. My apologies, my lord."
Emperor Maxus paused, allowing the newly gained knowledge to sink in. Something lingered deep down, something that he did not like.
"Emperor Maxus, now is not the time for hesitation. If this child holds the means in which to free us all from the tyranny of mankind, then there is no easy way around it. Right and wrong have no meaning here, only what must be done for the future of this great empire. You must be as ruthless as those from the war, as those who destroyed families… including your own."
Maxus remembered those that he had lost, their lives so easily taken, and for no good reason at all.
Maxus nodded his head as he rose slowly. "Yes… Yes, you are correct. I know now what must be done." He bowed his head down. "Thank you for your guidance, Advisor."
"It was my pleasure, Emperor."
All of a sudden, a guard burst in. "My lord, my lord!"
Maxus shot the guard a hard stare with bared teeth. "What is it? I'm not to be disturbed when speaking with the advisor."
The guard heaved his laboured breath. "My… my deepest apologies, my lord, b-but…" He swallowed hard. The sweat trickled down his armour. "The human has escaped from their cell."
"…Bone…" Private Perro murmured trancelike. "…Bone… Bone…"
Frisk held the skeleton piece out between the bars, while whistling in a beckoning manner. The husky edged closer with small steps, eyes mesmerised by the bone. Drool dripped from the key's head. Private Perro came within inches of the bone. His snout flared, savouring the fresh smell and catching some of the human's as well.
Frisk offered to trade him his key for their bone.
The private snapped back, suddenly looking alert. "Wait, what am I doing? I-I can't do that… no matter how much I want to."
Frisk flashed a devious grin. Taking the bone back, they traced it under their nose and took a long, deep sniff, followed by a sigh of satisfaction. The sweat trickling from Perro was so intense that it fazed through his armour. His muscles trembled from his head to his toes. The human kid opened their mouth and hovered the bone between their pearly whites. The tension was more than the husky guard could bear; the bone was so pure and untouched, nobody could have the first bite except him.
Private Perro yanked the dribble-covered key from out his mouth. "Okay, you broke me, you broke me!" He inserted the key into the lock, twisted it and then swung the door open. "Just please, please let me have that bone!"
Frisk pulled the bone away from their gob and hung it loosely beside them. They span in gently, paying close attention to how fixated the husky was to it, then tossed it into the far corner of the cage. While Perro charged for the bone, Frisk ran out the open door. They crashed the barred door shut and twisted the key, spreading husky dribble onto their hands. Private Perro was oblivious to his imprisonment as he sat in the corner and happily sank his teeth into his prize. While Frisk walked toward the door, they dropped the key and wiped their hands on their shorts.
Poking their shaggy head out, Frisk peeked up and down the hall. Empty. High ceilings and walls decorated with tapestries, coats of arms and suits of armour. All the basics of a medieval castle, apparently. Up and down, a selection of branching hallways and doors to choose from; they stepped carefully to one end and found more hallways and doors, but no windows. There were no candles either, but the place was full of light. Frisk felt as lost as a rat in a maze.
The human child took the route to their right. The idea being that if they travelled in one direction, eventually they would hit something.
On the sixth monotonous chute of stone, they stopped, having seen something different. It was a suit of armour, but it was much, much smaller than the ones they had passed or the ones worn by the Emperor's loyal sentries. This suit was either built for a dwarf or a youngster, with it being no bigger than three-feet-tall. It was dredged with rust and dust, yet it stood straight and dignified. It came complete with a blue and red, triangular shield and the empty gauntlets were clutched around the hilt of a dull broadsword.
Just then, Frisk heard approaching guards. They needed to hide.
The two guards marched down the hall, the same one that they have walked down countless times. Sometimes, being part of the Monster Military was boring work, but the pay was good and there was always the unexpected factor to take in, like they were soon about to learn.
"Ah, look," guard number one said, "the Emperor's practice armour from when he was just a cub."
The guards stopped and inspected the armour. Two days ago, they were calling it the prince's armour, now, the emperor's. They both recalled memories of when they were young, out on the field, watching as the headstrong and hot-headed young Maxus swung, dodged and stabbed in the training circle, giving more hits than he was taking.
"I can still remember when the emperor could fit in this," guard number two recalled. "It feels like only yesterday. Funny how little he's changed."
"You can say that again. I feel sorry for his armour, though. It's took some serious beating over the years."
"Don't feel bad, it's done what it was meant to do. This armour needed to be tough and durable for something like him, see?" Metal met metal as guard number two knocked his knuckles against the helmet. The armour rang a hollow thud… then fell to pieces. "I guess they don't make them like they used to."
There was a pause.
Guard number one said, "I didn't see anything if you didn't."
"Let's get out of here!"
They were about to sprint down the hall, but got as far as two steps before stopping again.
"Hey, what's this?" asked Guard number two.
A metre away from the disassembled suit stood the strangest taxidermy statue they had ever seen. A short, funny-looking thing with scruffy hair and a striped shirt. The stuffed statue stood straight with one arm bent across the belly and the other pointing to the sky. The eyes blankly stared ahead.
"I have no idea." Guard number one got closer. "I don't even know where something this ugly could come from?"
"It's got me beat." Guard number two prodded it in the cheek then recoiled in disgust at how squidgy it felt. "But it's so lifelike. It's freaking me out, man!"
Guard number two picked up the pace. "I'm leaving. I've had enough strangeness for one day."
The first gave chase. "Wait for me!"
When the two clanked out of sight, the statue exhaled. Frisk rubbed their cheek to rid it of the crevice left by that guard's finger. Thank whatever almighty force out there that they did not choose to hide in the armour.
Before Frisk continued on their journey through the labyrinth, they glanced at Maxus's childhood plate armour and realised that they needed to be prepared for anything. Frisk pushed back the breastplate to find the sparring sword lying flat on top of the shield. They picked up the sword first, then the shield, surprised by how light they were. The sword in their left hand was the perfect size, and the edges were blunt, designed to cause minimal damage. All the better for Frisk. They had no desire of hurting anyone, but it would come in handy for if the bullets fly. They felt much safer with the shield strapped to their right forearm, thankful to have protective equipment more capable than tutus, aprons and lockets.
Whatever it took, it was paramount that Frisk survived for the sake of their family and friends. They wondered what they were doing now, wondered if they were capable of finding their way up to the Outerworld.
After a few more minutes of blind wandering, they found a walkway. It was surrounded on both sides by windows. As they crossed it, they peered out and found a garden. It was more extravagant than anything from the Underground. In the centre of the garden, standing on a circular podium of white marble, was a strange monument. The rectangular pillar, cold grey with heavy erosion and barely legible engraved shapes and symbols, looked out of place in a land of perfectly divided flowerbeds and high archways.
The peace of Castle Highkeep was shattered as bells began to ring throughout the walls. It was either one of two things, an alarm or a dinner bell, and something told Frisk that it was the former. Their escape could not have gone unnoticed forever, unless the monsters believed that they – in the span of fifteen minutes – had grown three feet, gained five hundred pounds, and developed fur out of every pore. From all around, Frisk could feel it. The quake of metal against stone and the slamming of doors. Time to up the pace.
Frisk sprinted through the halls. Whenever they tried to go left, they hit a locked double door. Whenever they tried to deviate right, they hit another. Things started to look bad after they hit the fifth locked door, worse when they struck a tenth. Once, they found an open door, but a lone guard slammed it shut. Frisk was being forced down a certain path.
Eventually, the human had been channelled to a final stretch of stone hall. The double door at the end their only and final route of escape. The hall had no windows yet was somehow full of light, just like most of the places within this maze. Frisk was halfway toward the door when the metallic shift of many iron greaves came from behind.
A dozen guards, all armed with spears and large shields, formed at the bottleneck. They levelled their weapons on the human child and started their slow advance, treating Frisk – a three-foot-tall kid with the blunt blade and a dinky shield – like a humongous, fire breathing dragon.
Outnumbered and outclassed, Frisk turned on their heels and bounded for the door. The battalion continued at their pace, refusing to give chase, but why? When Frisk tested the door and found it to be open, the reason became apparent.
Frisk did not need to be a castle connoisseur to know which room this was.
It was the throne room. A vast room that ebbed with a royal power. Two great windows shone with light the colour of caramel, casting macabre shadows from the six pillars. The Emperor's throne stood elevated on a three step platform. A sparkling, thick golden frame, ten feet high and cushioned with thick, red velvet cushions. Two lion heads were carved into the armrests. The back rose like molten fire. Only someone of the highest calibre was worthy of sitting upon that seat… and he was on it right there.
"You cannot escape, creature. I know every square inch of my domain." Emperor Maxus's hair was almost white in the light, but his eyes were emphasised by the shade on his face. "My men know every route and passage." His gaze narrowed. "But, you, creature, do not."
The guards behind Frisk reached the threshold of the throne room and stopped. There were a further two exits on the left and right walls, both were also guarded by heavily armed troops. They had front row seats to a showdown that would determine the fate of two entire races.
A nervous bead of sweat tingled on Frisk's forehead as the emperor rose and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of a greatsword leaning against the side of the throne. It was as large as its wielder was tall. A thick blade of reflective metal, so shiny it could double as a mirror, yet sharp enough to slice through stone like parchment. The greatsword, named Heaven's Shard, was his father's. It had felt the fury of many battles, yet never suffered so much as a scratch.
"Your determination is for me and me alone," Maxus said, approaching. Holding Heaven's Shard in one hand. "Give it to me or I will tear it from your soul."
