Anger can fester in people for a long time, sort of like a compost heap. Now anger, fear and many other emotions are not exactly bad in themselves, but once they fester inside of a person a part of them becomes something utterly disgusting and vile…and that poison inside can be created just as easily by hope just as much as it can hate.
Drwc did not consider himself an angry person. Sure, as a child he was left by his busy noble parents to suffer the beatings of his caretakers, but he had long gotten his revenge on them through some of his darker magic. In fact in learning magic all those years ago he had discovered many paths to power, some maybe unnatural but who was anyone else to dictate what was natural and unnatural?
It's why he had stealthily requested a contingent of soldiers led by three captains to escort him across the ocean on something of a secret mission. Sure, he may have been going rogue to do it and could possibly face flak later…but that would not matter in the long run to the fat, sneering priest.
After all, if he was successful…it wouldn't matter what anybody would think. The world would be reshaped by a newer, darker power that the empire could harness…with Dwrc at the helm of it, serving faithfully under the demonic king he was aiming to resurrect.
"Uh, sir…are we…almost there?" A groggy voice growled from the side of the large boat they were traveling on. The priest turned to see one of the captains evacuating just about everything he had eaten earlier out from the boatside out of his lips.
"Ugh, damn up jumped grub of a soldier, conduct yourself better!" He roared. "Just because you are a newly anointed captain does not mean you can act in such a way!"
"He acts like I chose to be sick…ngh…" King said to himself after staring down at the dark water. It's not that he wasn't trying to keep his composure, it's that they had been sailing for so long and his body was simply not used to the feeling at all. It was a terrible feeling and it made it impossible for him to stand on his feet.
Dwrc tried not to pay it too much mind, he would simply leave the newly promoted fool to guard the boats while he sought out the true prize, by then none of it would matter anymore. Not the Empire, not any earlier prestige, and not some puking soldier, all that would matter is his new place in the world.
Meanwhile, at the moment…King was beginning to wish he was back home, playing video games. Even if he was in constant danger at the very least he wasn't goddamn sick…and worse yet now he was a Captain too and that came with its own list of headaches.
First came a change of armor, since as a higher ranking officer he was given a much more comfy suit of plate to wear…that was still taken out of his earnings. He was given a comfier room and office…that was still taken out of his earnings. Better food and access to clean water and other facilities…taken out of his earnings.
He had moved up in the world, and yet he was still making peanuts. It was frankly ridiculous, and his new office smelled of strong medieval paint to keep the walls white and clean while he wished he could go back to when his office was smaller and smelled of a larder.
King's job became hard to figure out as well. Apparently he would take orders from commanders who spoke to Gaius, but he wasn't making any moves so the commanders didn't want anything other than things to be kept ship shape. This meant that King…was left with not much to do really, so much so that Nash, now being his second in command, basically took care of all the orders for him while trying to emulate Dekimus of all people.
That alone might make some think that King wasn't the real captain here, but stopping that was the low rumbling of rumors that circulated among the soldiers going beyond even his own men.
They spoke of how he might have killed a bear, saved an important noble…and stood up to Gaius even with a blade at his throat. One of those things alone may have made people respect him, but three rumors like that were enough for people to respect that man like Nash who spoke for him most of the time.
At the very least it was working out for the moment and he frankly didn't care if people saw him puking off to the side. Made him seem a little less heroic so it was always a plus. Now all he had to do was try to stay as low profile as possible.
That wouldn't be hard, right? He just had to make sure he didn't stick their necks out on this…island of Erin or whenever they were heading to.
"I think we need to stick our necks out on this one." Nash sighed.
For hours, King and his men had secured all their boats on shore. He had nearly kissed the damn ground after what felt like an age of sleeping, eating and trying not to puke on the boats. Dwrc and the other captains had already gone ahead to look for some village while they made sure to keep the shoreline secure…but someone should have sent back a messenger by now, or at least some kind of signal.
"Look, maybe they're just…late or something." King suggests, trying in every way possible to stay out of danger.
"Sir, we weren't told much about this task…maybe it was more dangerous than it seemed. I suggest that you head a search party to find our men."
"What? Me? Why should I?"
Nash crossed his arms. "You're the Captain, our leader right now. If something goes wrong out there it would be better for you to call the shots directly, besides…I'm not experienced with stuff like this."
Neither was King, and while he wanted to shout that back in his subordinates face he didn't want to look like he didn't have a handle on things either, after all…mutiny could still be a thing. Besides, until they got some kind of word back to what was going on they couldn't leave…so whatever was making Dwrc late would be keeping them here as well.
"Okay…uh, you stay here I guess." King says, scratching his head. "Pick like, ten guys to go with me."
"Do you want our best fighters or more stealthy sort of guys?"
King shrugged, not knowing how much either could really help right now. "Surprise me Nash, now just give me a moment to myself before we head out."
As Nash gathered the men, King made a deal with himself. He would end it here, whatever happened he wouldn't fight what was coming. He would let the chips fall where they may. He wouldn't get involved in some big heroic moment only for people to misunderstand…so if anything went wrong he would remain stoic and strong in the face of it and do absolutely nothing.
"Alright universe, let's see what you got."
Tracking their soldiers was by no means hard. Their grieves made enough footprints in the ground for children to follow the marched out path of the soldiers. While a lot of tracks lead to the village, there was an even larger amount that led outside of the village…as if Dwrc and the soldiers had found something there and had left only to head somewhere else.
By torchlight they followed the tracks all the way to the side of a mountainous area. There the path carved out by their fellow soldiers led into the mouth of a large, deep and dark looking cave.
Now usually, King would be scared of going into a place like this, but he was letting the chips fall where they may. He didn't care anymore, the place could be on fire or about to explode, it just didn't matter.
"Sir…are you sure we should follow the exact path inside?" One of his men asked, annoying the young Captain.
"We're here to find that priest, so let's find him so we can get the hell out of here…" He said bitterly. Who could blame him for being a little bitter, after all…no matter what he does he can't win, things only escalate and escalate until his life is one of horrendous danger and stress…plus even if they do find the guy, he can only expect to go back on the boat and be sick for another couple of days, so that will be fun.
It was that growing, uncaring, bitter cynicism in him that kept him leading his men deeper and deeper as the cave walls started becoming rather different. At first the surfaces were rough, then became smoother by the torchlight…and soon came flat walls made out of stone bricks.
Even King could notice that they were heading deeper into a place made by the hands of man, but the deeper they went the more he wondered how a small tribe could have made a place like this. That question only got louder in his mind as they stepped out into the larger catacombs.
There was a wrongness to the architecture, as if the stone tomb hallways had been built for creatures fifty feet taller than any human. The walls were made of stones stacked higher and larger than any group of people together could manage, not to mention the general air of otherworldliness to the place.
The tracks they had followed to the mouth of the cave were long gone so now they were simply poking their noses in where they didn't belong.
The men were starting to feel a little more than tense in the dark…and that only got worse when they began to hear a heavy, loud thumping sound ahead of their captain. It only grew louder and faster as they went deeper…and while they wanted to say it aloud and ask if anybody else could hear it they wondered if it would give it more power over them somehow.
In reality, it was simply the King's Engine.
Yes, despite his stance on letting the chips fall where they may, the young captain's heart was still thundering loudly. He once again thought back to his life in the other world…at least there he wasn't expected to lead people. Sure, he got into life or death situations, but leading others when they were scared just wasn't his thing.
However, danger would find him when they found tracks in the catacombs, though it was a fair mix of them, soldiers…and thin ones too. King had waved his torch about to look around and saw some more torches on the walls. He ordered his men to light them up so that at the very least they could mark the path and see more.
That ended up being a massive mistake, for as soon as he saw his soldiers bring their lights close he saw ancient writing upon the walls. Thanks to Folso and the work he had done for the man, deciphering it wasn't too hard…the problem was he didn't do it in time to stop his men from lighting the torches.
The writing had been a simple warning; Only a thief needs light to see along this path, and so those who seek light will be devoured by those who cannot feel it.
One torch being lit had been enough to activate dozens of them along the catacombs that nearly exploded with blue flames that lit up the area, allowing King and his men to see the ground beginning to shift around them.
Brittle, tainted bones began to rise from the dirt, dry marrow holding onto dull edged swords as skeletons rose. A trap no doubt created by magic compelling the creatures to some form of life beyond understanding.
His men didn't even wait for the order to draw their weapons as terror cut into King's mind. They began to attack the slow moving and stumbling creatures, showing quite a bit of courage and valor…for a few moments at least. They began to get slowly pushed back despite their gains because of one simple fact.
Numbers, it beats out armies and it beats you out even in video games. Those skeletons may be weak and his guys could take one out easily but more and more seemed to rise. Even if he had more men to fight the boney bastards back he had no doubt that the thin limbed remains would simply climb over one another to get to them.
King wasn't sure what to do…the path they had come through was swarming with them, and in such an open area they would be screwed.
He looked up, ready to curse the universe…when he saw a symbol on the wall above, pointing down the catacombs behind him.
"Seriously…screw my luck." He growls to himself before clearing his throat and pointing the way. "Fighting ain't gonna cut it here! Try to clear us a path that way men! It's our only chance!"
Nervous and with his heart thundering he got out of the way of his passionate men as they did what he asked of them. He was actually sort of proud a bit as they began to make their way through the multiple skeletons…but they were slowing down a bit as more and more of them erupted from the ground.
King made sure to keep looking up as the symbols kept pointing farther down the mausoleum…but then came a simple, but gargantuan problem.
A big, fat dead end lit by a single torch with few skeletons around it, the men weren't able to see the dead end until they cut their way to it…and by then there was no escape. The horde before them was ready to unleash dozens upon dozens of waves of weapons gripped by brittle bones upon them.
Even if they all fought at peak proficiency it could take days to defeat all these undead piles of bones…and yet still the men tried to stand firm, comforted only by the fact that they would die in the service to the Empire and to their captain.
That Captain in question, was however, ready to piss himself.
He admitted it, he didn't want to die. He didn't want the chips to fall where they may, he just wanted to live! Otherwise it would all end here and he would never have a chance to do anything again.
As his men prepared to fight to the death, away from them he was banging on the wall near the solitary torch, almost as if he was trying to break it down out of pure desperation.
"I get it…okay…I get it…just…" He didn't even know who he was quietly pleading to. God perhaps, or maybe just the universe…or maybe Rathty. It actually felt kind of good to think he was asking a friend for help.
With a broken little smile on his face, he slammed his fist against the wall one last time with barely any strength to it at all…and yet, because of that or possibly all the other hits he had done, a large clump of dirt fell off the stone…revealing carved in symbols underneath hidden.
Desperate with tears nearly in his eyes, King dug his fingers in, clearing the clumps of dirt away as the clangs of sword against sword began to ring out louder and louder around him.
"Come on…come on!" He slowly starts to get a full picture of the words and what they say. "If…if one is not a thief, and that path out is one's way, then be quick and brief, and use fire and a sword to light your way…what?"
It was stupid, but the only thing he could think of was to pull his sword out and grab the torch before him. It was differently lit than the others, showing more of a natural yellow and red fire than the soft blue of all the other torches…so maybe it was different?
Holding hsi heavy blade up, the young captain put the torch flame under it…only for the fire to transfer directly onto the blade as if it were a rabbit hopping onto the metal. He wanted to let go of it only to feel the blade pull at him, jerking him forward.
"Get out of the way!" He shouts, getting the attention of his men as his arm is jerked upward, the flaming blade's fire twisting into a tornado of air that twists King's arm around, almost pulling it out of its socket before it's forced down to make a long, wide slash.
Halfway through the slash, the fire on the blade goes out, leaving what appears to be a wave of smoke that launches through the skeletons before them, making them all take pause.
For a few moments, King stands before his men in silence save only for the thudding engine that is his heart.
The torches of the mausoleum begin to burn a bright red and yellow, lighting the place up properly as the skeletons break apart, falling into pieces as the threat of them is now gone.
King was speechless, his men were speechless. What was there that could really be said by them?
One of them did break the tension finally as he noted something they all wanted to ask. "Hey…is anyone still hearing that sound?"
King, knowing what it was…decided that if he was gonna go along with things, might as well go with the excuse he made in the other world of heroes.
"That sound is coming from me." He states as he sheathed his sword, trying his best to keep his hands and knees from shaking. "It happens when I…get serious about things, that's all."
His men didn't really know how to take that and frankly the young Captain didn't care to give them the time to do it. "Enough about that, we're getting the hell out of here and back to the boats, double time!"
He starts to head out quickly, his men trying to keep up behind him as they run back to the entrance.
"Ah…it feels good to run away again…" King mutters to himself.
On one hand, failure was one thing the Empire hated above all else.
On the other hand, they liked men of theirs taking initiative and working through tough situations on their own.
Dwrc was a failure however, something King had even found out when he had returned to the boats and casted off thanks to a few soldiers that had actually made it back not long after they left to go searching. Apparently the priest had been trying to resurrect some grand, stupid devil king and only ended up getting killed. Worse yet, this ended up pissing off the inhabitants of the island, the Gael clan. Apparently they were planning to fight the empire…which was one problem among dozens.
King, upon coming back to the capital was made to report directly to Gaius, who gave him quite the earful about him and the other captains heading off because of the priest and a single commander's stupid actions. However, the commander did find something of a silver lining in all this…since the Gael clan was now an enemy that gave him something to fight and prove his valor against, and besides that…what happened wasn't King's fault, he had followed his orders and in the end got his men home.
Gaius would speak with the Imperial Senate about what was to be done about the Gael clan, meanwhile King wasn't exactly sure how things were going with him. He had been back for more than a week now and he hadn't been promoted or demoted, so at least that much didn't change.
However, his little stunt in saving his men hadn't gone unnoticed one bit. Nash had regaled him with half a dozen stories about what he had apparently done. Some say he summoned smoke to defeat the skeletons while others said his mere presence destroyed them when he got serious, others said he summoned the spirit of a bear to defeat them which he attributed to the pelt he wore…and others even made up stories about other parts of the journey, like how he was only seas sick because he had spied upon the ugliest of mermaids in the waters of the night as they traveled.
Okay, admittedly, that one was sort of funny…but it was making him uneasy still. Much like in the village he was building up a reputation again. Already some were comparing him to Gaius and wondering if they would be an even match up.
He wondered about that as he sat at his desk, eating some well made soup for lunch with well shined silver utensils allowed to be used by him simply for the privilege of his position.
Maybe he could challenge Gaius? End up losing and showing he was a coward, then all the rumors would end?
No…with his luck, some bolt of lightning would hit the guy and he would end up becoming the leader of the army. The problem was that any solution that proved his cowardice would have to be a situation where he was in some sort of danger…which always ended up with him somehow getting credit for beating said danger and failing upward.
"Heya sir," Nash states as he comes in, dragging with him a rather large and familiar bag. The same he used to carry books and letters for him.
It almost made King smile to see it strangely enough. "Nash, please tell me that you're here to dump all of that on my desk."
The soldier shakes his head. "No no, most of this is for another scribe they got after you were promoted. I'm gonna see them after, but you got a package."
He reaches into the bag, handing King a small letter. Yet, attached to it was a cloth wrapped with rope. He opens the letter first, seeing Folso's writing…but Rathty's words.
Dear big guy.
Happy to have gotten your last letter. They feel like they're coming in slower though. So either start sending more or get some guy to run them to us faster. You know guys in the army, maybe a captain or something, start pulling strings.
The village is doing well. I took your advice and helped them make some stoves. They cook for me a lot now and I'm sort of living in the area now. Though they keep calling me a little girl and sometimes I wish I had a soft hammer to plonk them with, ya know?
I got the goggles you sent. Thank you a lot, really. Now I won't get dirt in my eyes, though that wasn't much of a problem…but either way, thanks for putting some thought into it. In return, I sent you over something as well. The iron I used to make it was a little rough, but it should work for you.
Hope to see you soon.
Rathty.
His hands slipped around the ropes, undoing them and letting the cloth fall away to reveal a small, metal utensil. Made like a spoon but with points on the end.
"What is that?" Nash asked, confused.
"It's a spork." King smiles before pushing the other, polished silver utensils away.
"Sir, that doesn't exactly look well crafted…"
"Nash, you may not know it, but I had a life before all this, even a life before the life before this, and I can tell you one thing I learned; Gifts from girls are special, and the one who gave me this…worked hard on it, I can tell." He states, looking over the spoon as he finishes dealing out wisdom he had learned from playing dating sims.
Rathty wasn't bad at her work, but small little things weren't what she was good at. She probably had to use stronger iron and take her time even to make something as rough as this with its size.
It was this little thing that made him feel better than any rank or any of his luck surviving. He realized that at least somewhere out there…someone cared about him and he cared about them.
It was an odd feeling, but sometimes even a king is not a king if no one feels for them…but once someone does, well that changes everything.
Even if the proof of that is nothing but a dented, iron spork.