Story by Ekroth Ekronicus
Written NOT by me, but by [Joe D Mercala, also known by his alias JoeTheMercenary on fanfic. If you like his writing here, go check him out, commision a fic or two and support his activities. His discord is: Joe D. Mercala#8764
Divinity is a strange thing, a sort of aura worn by kings, emperors and rulers that go back farther in time than most could ever know. Ever since the first asshole could grab up a rock and beat his friend to death with it there would always be those who would see the man in a better light simply because he took the initiative to do so…but was there really divinity to that?
Was it like the old story of the Emperor's New Clothes, an invisible set of garb that truly did not exist only for people to pretend it's there for their own selfish reasons and fears? Did people want to bestow divinity and the title of hero upon others just to pretend that there was someone in the world who could live in the service of god's will?
King pondered that thought for all of a few moments while he sat in a dingy, terrible smelling outhouse, trying to get what passed for food out of his system.
"Ungh, I can't take another month of this crap…" He groaned to himself after got up. He reached over and began to put his armor back on. Heavy stuff but at the very least it looked somewhat intimidating…though he didn't like carrying a sword.
He had also kept the pelt given to him by the village, wearing it over his armor as a way to sort of represent them, though mostly it was because it was the only thing left to him that was really his and his alone.
Life in the Imperial army wasn't exactly sunshine and rainbows. This morning alone there were over half a dozen marching drills and battle prep exercises. The Empire itself didn't seem to be at war with anyone directly but that didn't mean they didn't like to keep themselves sharp.
At the very least King was able to keep something of a low profile. Despite being forced to join the army didn't exactly suit his natural skillset. Luckily for him though there was a shortage of scribes that could effectively do their jobs fast enough, allowing him to squeeze into that little niche and work for the army that way instead of readying himself for battles he had no business fighting in.
Sure, he still had to look the part…but that was a small price to pay, plus being a scribe allowed him a few extra privileges. He was given a desk and a work area in a larder room down near the barracks in the capital. Every few hours some soldiers would come in and pass him orders to be copied but he would also get some guys who wanted someone to write letters to their family for them.
Though that little perk offered him something else as well as he came into the larder, letters from the village. His own had always been left by soldiers on a barrel to the side of the greasy table that would be his desk.
The village was proud of him, so many of them would send a few letters, cheering him on. Some would say they sent food but that sort of stuff would never make it past the army guys…however the most delightful letters didn't come from most of the village, they came from Folso.
Well, not exactly…the old man had indeed kept in contact with King the past few weeks, but it wasn't really him that wanted to talk.
Apparently, that girl he met, Rathty…she felt bad about the guy being sent off to work for the Empire because of what she did, so she would have the old scribe dictate her words. Mostly she would tell him things about the village as she had been spending a lot of time around that area, apparently making tons of pots and pans for them, though in her most recent letter she wondered what she might make next for them.
Her letters were always a delight because she was always doing something and asking about his opinions. It was sort of strange for someone to actually listen to him, much less having it be some strange elf girl.
Before he started work, he made sure to take care of her letter back to her first and suggested one simple thing; stoves. Folso and all the other villagers mostly used clay or stone made stoves that tended to break down and get dirty pretty easily. If Rathty could make pots and pans, making a simple stove out of something like copper or iron should be easy enough, right?
"Ya know King, if ya weren't sitting in a larder like this you might actually look like a lord writing at a desk."
The man saying all that was a rather thin soldier by the name of Nash, who was dragged in a whole bag of books and letters that he handled with the care of a man loading cannonballs, pouring the items over King's desk in a flurry of chaotic spilling over documents.
"It's not too bad. I get a bit of privacy. I get away from hauling equipment around…" King mutters while sorting everything that comes upon his desk. It would be a hard, long day of work with this much of a pile to do but it was better than the alternative.
"Eh, I don't know…only perk I see here is the smell, but then again I might get tempted to eat something here." Nash states while looking over the contents of the larder while licking his lips over the thought of scarfing down some of the cured meat hanging off the walls while drinking some wine from one of the casks below.
"Ya, and then what? Get hanged?" King sighs darkly before leaning back on his chair. "Who was it last week, the guy who stole a handful of grapes off of a lord's finished plate of food and was seen?"
"Oh Clancy? Ya…ya think he's gonna have trouble holding his shield after losing all the fingers they cut off?"
King didn't really have an answer to that, and really he didn't want to think about it. He came from a time where justice wasn't delivered by execution or harsh punishments…but also a time where laws could much more easily be enforced.
Sure, the Empire was goddamn harsh and brutal…but from what he had heard it was brutal all over and had been that way for a long time. It wasn't exactly right for him to judge this world by the mindset of someone who lived in a more technologically and socially advanced world…though, thinking about it, maybe this world was a lot less dangerous without big heroes and villains around.
"Hey, after this, you and I should peruse the streets of the capital. I've heard about this place where the girl's are just-"
Something to ponder at the least while Nash talked his ear off about trivial things.
It was strange to King to know that he got paid more working in the village for a small amount of time compared to the half days he would put in working for the army. They were almost goddamn paid in peanuts, the excuse being that their armor, weapons, food and housing were taken care of so the rest of their pay was garnished considering that.
No one could really live off a soldier's wages, at least not when a war wasn't going on. It was probably a way to keep the men stuck in the army…or maybe it was a matter of nobles hoarding money for themselves.
Either way, it didn't bother King THAT much, it was more an issue for soldiers around him that got a pittance of money to themselves. Meanwhile, the man from another world had the issue of…well, what the heck would he spend his money on anyways? There were no video games, no food that wasn't oversalted or brined. The wine tasted like ass and in some cases so did the water. The only thing he could think of was maybe getting some decent utensils that wouldn't break so easily when he ate.
There were books, but he had easy access to any he wanted. He could simply request Nash grab something from either the city or to send a request up the chain for a certain book to help him translate or something. It didn't really matter if it wasn't for it though, 95% of the soldiers couldn't read what they were giving him anyways, so he could pretty much request anything and not get a strange look.
Either way, there wasn't much for him to work towards…other than basically leaving the imperial army some day and going back to the village.
"Huh, I guess…I do have Rathty to look forward to." He states while looking over the letter he had written for her. He was about to seal it but paused when he thought about the girl. Besides Folso…she was the person closest to him. The only one who seemed interested in what he was doing…maybe it was all because of her guilt that he was here, but it was also the only thing even close to a friendship he had with a girl.
He takes the letter, stuffing it into his armor before he cleans up and organizes the rest of the documents he copied and worked on that day. The evening light was beginning to wane with the setting sun…soon the shops would be closed. If he headed out quickly he might be able to get something for Rathty to mail her along with the letter.
The Bazaar wasn't that bizarre of a place for King. Actually, out of everywhere in this new world it felt strangely nostalgic. Street vendors sold their wares, people cooked and sold their food…it reminded him of districts back at home that would sell electronics, games and other nerd stuff that always seemed pretty lit up. It also helped that the market was built almost right outside the grand imperial castle, making it a hotspot for people both in and outside the castle to get goods.
There was an issue with the crowds though. Even now late in the day they had flooded the streets trying to negotiate prices while King tried to look around them for something Rathty might like within his price range. He figured she might like some kind of mining equipment but that didn't seem right to buy as she looked like she could smelt and make her own items for that sort of thing.
However…what he did come upon was something a bit more interesting…a glassblower. He was trying to sell pairs of glasses to anybody who needed them, and while they were a hefty price they weren't exactly what King was looking for, but it did give him an idea.
"Hey…can you take two lenses and form them into something like a pair of goggles for mining work?"
The glassblower smiled, telling him that it would be easy to do. He would just have to make the goggles while King selected and held the lenses. It was pretty easy for the young man to select them since there were only a few lenses not meant to focus one's vision.
One problem did come of it though, his luck. As he picked up the lenses, someone bumped into him from behind, nearly making him fall over, but the lenses ended up slipping out of his hand to sail through the air and land in the pocket of a man walking with a group of others wearing red and black robes.
"Crap! One sec! I'll be back!" He shouts as he starts to try to navigate his way through the people as his armor slows him down, it shouldn't be so hard to get some goggles made after getting some lenses back right?
It's not like the situation could escalate out of nowhere and become a major incident…right?
In some ways, there are people with just as bad of luck as dear King. People who fate have cursed for offending the gods and making certain choices.
Taliesin, newly made Chieftain of the Brigante clan, felt the wait of destiny upon him every day. For the sin of becoming the leader to his people it is said that he will meet a gruesome end because of the hunger of a terrible beast.
However, he did not carry such a burden with sorrow. In fact, knowing one will die one day gives…clarity. It's a good way to take stock of the situation around you once all the fluff and worries of life fall away.
It was for that reason that he had traveled to the capital to meet with the Emperor's council. They were looking to extend their power into more rural territory…while Taliesin was simply looking for a way for his people to survive.
The world was changing after all. There was no one in the clan fit to lead at the moment and if he died right now there would be no direction for them in the face of progress. He would rather his people be subservient to the Empire than to be utterly lost to history…at least in a situation where he was the closest thing they had to a leader.
However, that didn't mean it would be easy. There would be enemies of both the empire and the Brigante clan that would do nearly anything to stop such a union from happening, enemies like the men in black and red robes following the dear leader through the crowded streets toward the castle.
The Order of the Red Glass Blade were a small group of fanatic assassins who once had a secret hideout in Brigante lands, but were chased out long ago for being bloodthirsty, cultish fools. Since then they've sworn a sort of half baked revenge against the Brigante clan that they have been waiting to act on for years.
Taliesin did have guards of his own. Five in fact compared to the three men following them, however they believed that this would all be about slipping past the escort quickly and getting at the Brigante clan head and slitting his throat in an instant.
So, they waited patiently, moving along with the crowd…getting closer and closer, waiting for the moment he and his men would separate near the front of the castle gates. The moment the crowd thinned they struck. Two of them had been nervous amateurs and instead of attacking the boy they struck at two of his guards, wounding them with red, glass daggers that they tried to plunge deep into their opponents only for them to break.
That wouldn't stop the last one though, he was a real assassin, born, raised and experienced. He slipped past the two guards and was ready to slit the boy's throat with a single, well aimed slice.
At first, in the instant he dashed forward, Taliesin looked at him and knew what he was and why he was here…however he was not worried for an instant, until a tall, dark and hairy shadow moved in behind the assassin. A great tall beast with desperate eyes that moved even faster than the assassin could.
The beast reached for the attacker. In grabbing him the assassin tripped over his robe. He was twisted to the side and all his momentum launched him straight into the closest wall, smacking his head into it and breaking his glass dagger into a thousand little pieces.
As the killer fades into unconsciousness, he gets a look at the great tall beast that stopped him. He sees a scarred eye looking down at him, judging him…looking into his very soul as whoever it is reaches down. The assassin's consciousness leaves him before he believes whatever had stopped him can snatch his soul away.
In reality however, a hand pushes into his pocket, pulling out a small pair of lenses.
"Oh boy…that was tough." King said to himself, standing back up. He had spent forever chasing this guy through the crowd. He figured with the robes and where the guy was going that he would be trying to get into the castle so King had to head him off to get the lenses back…but that only ended up with him having to try to grab the guy from behind which…lead to this.
He probably would have felt worse about accidentally knocking the guy out…until he realized that this was another very familiar situation. Looking behind him now he saw the guards and Taliesin looking at him as his people finished knocking out the two inexperienced fools before addressing him.
"My…and here I thought you were a beast with that bearskin you're wearing." Taliesin sighed as he slowly approached, mocking his own fear in just seeing some fur on a man. "It does help you cut a much more imposing figure as an imperial soldier, though you hardly seem to need the help."
"Oh…uh, thanks I guess…" King looked around, seeing the small escort of guards. Even from a month of being a soldier he had seen enough details guarding nobles to know that this guy was important, but not too important…plus his guards weren't imperial at all. "So…are you some sort of noble from another country?"
The young man chuckles. "Consider me…just a passing bard, looking for new songs to sing and great stories to tell. Might I ask, brave soldier, what is your name so that I might sing of your praises?"
Ha, well that was going to be funny, at least to King. "My name is King, just King…so if you sing my praises to anyone, I don't think they'll get the point, but uh…it was good to meet you mister bard. I have to go get some goggles made for a girl but…have a good time in the capital I guess."
The young, scarred man walks away, his bearskin flapping in the wind of the setting sun as he heads off to get a pair of goggles made for a girl after saving the leader's life.
Oh yes, Taliesin would make sure that story would be heard.
No good deed goes unpunished and in the end we all get what we deserve, some faster than others.
For a man like King, he would simply get punished for his good deeds faster than most.
That punishment would come at the hand of Commanding General of the Holy Empire's army, Gaius, first of his name. A straightforward sort of man, older than King himself and yet young for his position. He had far greater ambitions though, to ascend to royalty through his strength and valor.
That however, was a tough sell considering that there were no real battles to be had at the moment. Even now his people had made a sort of relative peace with the Brigante tribe, extending their reach but giving the general no real chances to triumph over anyone, worse yet was the fact that all his good soldiers would get picked out by Lydia on the promise of higher wages so they could join her elites.
How the hell was he supposed to win anything if there were no battles to fight and no good men he could use to fight them?
He pondered that question as he sauntered down to the barracks, his subordinate Dekimus in tow.
"Sir, may I ask why we ourselves are coming down here?"
"I need to see something…" Gaius answers. "Back during the little peace meeting, that shifty Brigante head told us about a soldier that saved him…some guy named King. I want to see him for myself."
Gaius understands and wants only one thing, to be king. 4 years ago, he had been told that he would understand what regius, their word for royalty, truly means…only to face his death. To hear that a man with the name of King under his command was both nerve racking and exciting. He knows that he might perhaps learn the meaning today and it excites him as much as it terrifies him.
Upon reaching the front of the barracks the two guards who had been lazily looking about suddenly realize who is before them and stand at attention like someone has shoved a sword up their rear. "Sir!"
"At ease." He states as he passes the men, walking into the barracks he sees that all the men are sound asleep in cheaply made hammocks, snoozing without a care in the world.
Dekimus, always being one for protocol, stands forward and takes care of that.
"CAPTAIN IN THE BARRACKS! EVERYONE LINE UP AND STAND AT ATTENTION!"
Two dozen men's eyes all crack open at once as more than half of them fall out of their rope hammocks onto the dirt floor, scrambling to get up as their hearts beat hard and the adrenaline takes them over. In moments all of them are soon standing side by side at attention…well, except for one.
"Hmm, there are supposed to be 25 men here, I only count 24 at attention…who could-"
"Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!" I deep, cutting snore sounded out, cutting Dekimus off as all eyes turned to the only man still in his hammock.
It wasn't King's fault he had to sleep late. After dealing with the whole goggles debacle he had spent hours trying to find the soldier who takes care of the mail as he was running around the city picking up letters into the night. By the time he got back everyone was long asleep and he didn't even have time to take off his armor.
That was just fine with Gaius though, he thought it was rather impressive for even he didn't sleep in his armor. He marched over with Dekimus as his subordinate moved to King's side, delivering a swift kick under the man.
"You! Get up and stand at attention before your Commander General!"
King was jostled a little out of his stupor, but felt beyond sore and tired. Frankly he thought he might still be dreaming a little as some people do when they awaken. He took a moment to get his footing off the hammock before he got up to stand before Dekimus.
"Mmm? You the Commander?" He asks as the subordinate has to look up at the tall man. King's eyes haven't gotten enough sleep, looking cranky and annoyed…combine that with his scar and the massive bear pelt on him and he cut something of a pretty intimidating figure, so much so that even the subordinate Dekimus could not find the words to correct him.
"No, I am." Gaius states, stepping forward to look over the man who was slightly taller than him. It was also true that he had an intimidating look at first glance…but sometimes looks could be deceiving.
Reaching for Dekimus's hip, he pulled his sword out and took it in his hands to aim a blow right at King's throat, stopping barely an inch away from the man's neck.
Yet, there was no reaction from the man at all…but that was mostly because he simply thought he was dreaming. After all, no Commander would ever come to see him…this was simply like the kind of dreams where one was wearing nothing but their underwear in school or something.
Gaius however felt something akin to a stronger fear as he looked at King's eyes, thinking that tired, cranky look was also somehow staring deep into him and instilling fright…but also a certain kind of admiration.
"Yes…you are exactly what I need." He pulls the sword away, pushing back into Dekimus's hands before he gets ready to head out. "To everyone in this barracks, you are now under the command of King, he will be raised to the title of Captain. Serve him well…for I do not think he shall be a merciful one if what I heard about him nearly breaking an assassin's skull has any truth to it."
Gaius, satisfied with what he had done, walked out as Dekimus put the soldiers at ease. Once they could look around again all eyes snatched upon the tired King as he sat back in his hammock, letting sleep take him quickly as they wondered what they should do.
Only Nash was smart enough to use the situation to his advantage. "I call being second in command!"
While the soldiers began to quietly argue about the protocol of who would be his second in command, the dear King slipped into a happier slumber…not knowing the nightmare that would greet him when he awoke.