Authors Note: Finally some fighting. I'm as relieved as you are. Not to mention, we have some very interesting enemies... I've decided this will not be like some other monotone minecraft fancfiction. The heroes won't just be fighting skeletons/zombies/creepers, expect to see nether monsters, endermen, and a frustratingly indestructible slime, but perhaps I've said too much.
Without further ado,
[-I-] Chapter Three [-I-]
The front gate to the castle was surprisingly deserted. There was no guards in sight, and the small, wooden portcullis was raised, allowing anybody access to the castle.
Blake walked through the lifted gate, and stopped at the front of the castle. The castles doorway was ridiculously huge, being crafted from heavy wooden logs, and standing nearly eight blocks high. When compared to the rest of the gargantuan castle, a giant doorway did make sense.
Blake knocked hesitantly on the doors, but then noticing he had barely tapped, struck the doorway much harder than he had planned.
Blake hopped around, flailing his bruised hand, as a man called him from the other side of the door.
"Who goes there?" Said the voice. Blake noticed that the voice sounded as if it were echoing, and he was prone to bet that the man was wearing a full-face helmet.
"Uhh my name is Blake! William sent me!" Blake shouted at the top of his lungs.
The man on the other side of the door coughed violently then responded. "You don't need to yell, I can hear you just fine through the air ducts."
Blakes face flushed, and he realized that it was indeed true; there were a couple odd holes in the castles exterior, which probably brought air into the castle. The closest hole seemed to be merely three blocks of the ground.
"And you said William, right? Do you mean Prince William?"
Blake gazed at the door stupidly, Will was royalty!
"I-I guess so. I had no idea he was a prince."
The man on the other side of the door was silent, and stayed that way for a long while. No response came from the other side of the door that Blake contemplating leaving, but the mans voice came back.
"I'm going to let you in. Look out though, the doors open outwards!"
Blake heard the man walk away, muttering to himself about idiotic design flaws, and heard a lever be pulled.
The great wooden doors swung open quickly, nearly smacking Blake in the face.
Blake peered inside, and was shocked at how beautiful the castle was on the inside.
Great tapestries, flags, and magnificent embroideries hung from ever perch and decorated every wall. Long dining tables filled the room, epic statues were situated in every corner, torches lit up the dark areas, and at the very end of the hall, was a throne.
Blake took a fearful step forward, and heard the man chuckle.
The speaker was a knight. That much was made obvious by his iron armor, full face helm, and chestplate. Thrown over his iron chestplate was a large piece of cloth. The cloth piece held the picture of a golden tear that seemed to drip from the sky.
The knight laughed heartily and smacked Blake on the back in a gesture of friendship that probably cracked his bones.
"I am Sir Bicer, welcome to the Tearstone Castle!" The knight said enthusiastically.
Blake smiled and gave a weak nod. "My name's Blake" He said, as his back muscles protested, causing him to wince.
Suddenly, a great horn sounded, and Sir Bicer snapped to attention.
"The royal meeting is under way, follow me Blake."
Sir Bicer moved towards the throne surprisingly fast for a man in full armor, with Blake in tow.
A door behind one of the long tables opened, and twelve knights in armor similar to Sir Bicers' jogged out in formation. They made a semi-circle around the throne, and simultaneously fell to one knee, bowing to the empty chair.
Behind them, four more knights entered the room. Whereas the previous knights walked in a brisk, military formation, these knights moved with grace and confidence. The four knights wore bright golden armor that seemed to shimmer with an arcane power. Each knights stood at a corner of the throne, and planted their golden swords into the ground, and bowed their heads.
"Those golden knights are the Praetorian Guard," Bicer whispered to Blake, "They're the deadliest soldiers we have. One of those knights could take on an entire enemy squad unarmed!"
"Why aren't you with the knights that look like you?" Blake whispered back.
"Uh you see I was- Hey look! Here come the princes!"
Two men walked out of the door, both wearing ceremonial black clothing. Blake instantly recognized Will. The second man looked very different.
He had a strong, scarred face. One scar started at his lip and traveled down to his chin. The second scar started above his right eye, and traveled down at an angle so that it barely missed his eye.
"The second prince is Prince Robert, he's sort of like the polar opposite of Prince William." Bicer whispered, and Blake had to agree. Prince Robert was large and muscular, while Prince William was skinny and weak-looking. The two princes may have been brothers, but their incredible differences made it hard to see them related.
The princes kneeled at either side of the throne.
A moment of silence passed throughout the castle interior. Then, the king entered the room with incredible modesty. The king shuffled towards the throne, and sat down.
The king wore a heavy snow-white robe and cape, and carried a sturdy gold scepter. He wore a large golden crown imbedded with diamonds and emeralds, symbolizing his rank and power. His face was old and weathered, and his silver hair matched his age accordingly. Surprisingly, the kings face was entirely clean shaven, with no hint of a moustache or beard to be seen.
One of the iron-clad knights rose from his kneeling position and announced: "ALL HAIL THE KING OF TEARSTONE, LORD FYRON THE INDESTRUCTIBLE!"
King Fyron winced at this startling loud proclamation. "Perhaps, in the future, you should realize that we are indeed inside a castle. Your voice will carry much further then you may know." Fyron said passively.
The knight nodded his agreement, glad that his full-face helmet hid his embarrassed look. "Sorry M'lord. All may rise! This meeting is now in session."
The group of knights, Praetorian Guard and princes found their appropriate seats at two of the long tables, the princes and Praetorian sitting closest to the king, with the ordinary knights sitting further back.
Sir Bicer grabbed Blakes arm and brought him to one of the tables, and sat him down between two knights. Bicer sat opposite of Blake, and motioned for him to listen to the king. Blake dimly realized that King Fyron had been speaking the whole time, and only now heard what he was saying.
" nd so if we divert more forces to our south wall, the zombie horde will be repelled for long enough. But we must remember that this will not solve the problem, for as long as the Tactomancer lives, our problems will merely grow."
"Tactomancer?" Blake asked aloud, then felt blushed his face furiously as all assembled turned towards him. Blake could only see Prince Robert, Prince William, and King Fyrons faces, but he could feel the burning gazes of all the knights from behind their helmets.
"Tactomancer indeed. Could it be that our new player does not understand the situation we are in?" King Fyronsaid, causing Blakes already red face to turn a darker maroon.
Prince William stood up, brushed himself off, and gave a short bow to King Fyron. "Yes, just in case it isn't obvious, this is the new player Blake, and a potential Meister. I discovered him deep in the forest as it was foretold, and I brought him here myself. Unfortunately, I haven't had the time to explain our… curious… situation to him. I thought it best if you were to explain this, M'lard. Excuse me, M'lord*."
King Fyron breathed in deeply, then folded his hands and switched his gaze to Blake. "As you are probably aware of, this is the Kingdom of Tearstone. We are the remnants of a once great empire that mysteriously vanished more than four hundred years ago. Nearly twenty years ago, a man known simply as the "Tactomancer" began summoning the dead and using them to assault our villages. We were unprepared, and lost nearly all our villages, so we retreated deeper in the forest, and reached remarkably large clearing. We began to build a stronghold with great walls to… to…"
King Fyron began coughing uncontrollably, his story postponed for the moment. Several of his knights stood up, speaking loudly amongst themselves, trying to help him. Prince Robert came to his fathers side and held his shoulders, while Prince William looked upon the whole issue neutrally.
The old king coughed for perhaps the twentieth time, then ceased, and took several deep breaths.
One of the knights handed King Fyron a handkerchief, which the king gratefully wiped his mouth with. Blake noticed with some dread that the handkerchief was stained black when Fyron pulled it from his lips.
The knights continued to look at Fyron with concern hidden behind their helmets, until Fyron finally relaxed in his thrown and waved his hand angrily.
"I'm not dead yet!" Fyron thundered, causing the knights closest to him to shrink back. Robert and William smirked at the knights for being so easily frightened.
Fyron sighed, and ran a hand through his silvery hair absentmindedly.
"As I was saying," King Fyron continued, "We constructed the stronghold to protect ourselves from the undead legion. The walls are being built rapidly, but I fear that this will not save us. For one thing, I am dying from a terrible curse. You see, when I was a young man I met a primordial spirit, who I angered with my arrogant and boisterous remarks, causing the spirit to curse me. I will soon be dead if the curse is not lifted."
"So how do we break the curse?" Blake asked, causing several of the knights to groan and mumble to themselves in odd languages.
King Fyron laughed, which Blake thought was odd for a man who would soon die from a curse. "That's just it, we know not one soul with any significant arcane knowledge! All we've been able to deduce about the curse is that it is slow acting, which is obvious since I was cursed nearly forty years ago. I am sixty-four now. We also know that the curse has produced a buildup of black gunk within my chest. It occasionally rises to the surface, as you were unfortunate enough to just witness. Aside from these two subjects, we are at a total loss. I'm afraid that if we do not conjure up a solution soon, Prince Robert will succeed me as the king of Tearstone."
The knights groaned at the foul wordplay.
Blake sat silently for a moment, then spoke up as an idea hit him.
"Why not see the Tactomancer? If he really can raise the dead, then he should know plenty about curses and magical stuff."
King Fyrons face changed expressions slowly. At first he was confused, then dismissive, and then genuinely happy.
"Blake you… You may be the wisest man here! We never even considered such an idea! To think that the solution was so close all along!" Fyron said with glee.
Prince William cleared his throat loudly.
King Fyron turned towards William with some weariness.
"Yes William, do you have something to say?"
Prince William rose up so that all the gathered knights could see him, and spoke his mind.
"Seeing the Tactomancer is a serious mistake. Not only has he proved unresponsive to our diplomatic tactics in the past, but he will surely destroy any who enter his domain. I simply do not believe any man would be foolish enough to undertake this venture."
"I'll go talk to him." Blake said instantly, causing as uproar among the knights.
King Fyron silenced the knights by striking the floor with his scepter.
"Blake," King Fyron said seriously, "You are new to this land. You do not know the powers the Tactomancer has at his disposal. Entering his domain is surely suicide. Are you sure you would wish this fate upon yourself?"
Blake looked around the room slowly, saw the empty gazes of the concealed knights, the worried look on Prince Williams face, the confused look on Prince Roberts, and finally looked into the hollow, sleepless eyes of King Fyron.
"I'll do it." Blake quietly, then realizing his voice had cracked, spoke louder so all could hear. "I'LL DO IT!"
The knights gave shouts of encouragement, and began banging the tables with their gauntlets, chanting Blakes name.
Sir Bicer stood up and folded his arms behind his back. "I'm will escort young Blake upon this mission as well."
The knights were silent, and one of the few female knights in the room stood up and shouted: "That's right Bicer, get your honor back and save the king!"
This caused another bout of joy among the knights, which lasted even longer than the previous.
Blake and Sir Bicer stood up, and looked to Fyron for consent.
The king simply cracked a boyish grin. "Off you go then. We'll provide you with whatever you need tonight, and tomorrow at the crack of dawn you'll be on your way!"
The knights cheered again, and were silenced when Blake spoke up.
"Do you mind if I bring some friends with me? They're brave, honest, and pretty tough-looking."
King Fyron raised an eyebrow at this last statement, but allowed them to bring whoever would join them.
One of the knights motioned for them to come closer so that he could show the two heroes to their rooms for the night.
Just as they were about to move, Blake heard a TWANG and a HISSSSSS.
Without thinking, without even considering, Blake leapt in front of King Fyron.
Blake felt a burning pain, and suddenly understood that the wound was burning! He had been set on fire!
Years of annoying children chanting STOP! DROP! AND ROLL! Forced Blake to snap into action, hitting the ground and rolling like an idiot before the assembled knights and royalty alike.
Rolling may not have been the wisest idea, as Blake felt the pain intensify, and realized with a start that something on his back snapped. When he looked at the feathered stick lying on the ground, he discovered that someone had shot him in the back with a flaming arrow.
Sir Bicer picked Blake up off the ground, ripped the arrow shaft from his back, and force fed him a purple liquid. As the liquid traveled towards his body, Blake felt all the pain go away as his wound closed up and his mind became clearer.
One of the knights drew his sword and gave a fierce battle cry, and charged towards the assaultant.
Once the pain faded away, Blake saw the man who shot the arrow.
Calling the creature a man may have been a bit of a stretch, since this particular "man" had no flesh at all. The creature looked like a goofy plastic skeleton from an exhibit, but Blake saw the creature move, he could hear the scraping noise as it awkwardly moved away from the charging knight.
Blake couldn't help but notice one more thing about the skeleton: Its bones were blood red.
The red skeleton knocked an arrow to the oddly gleaming bow it held, causing the arrow to instantly burst into flames. The red skeleton fired the arrow, and Blake watched in a dim sort of horror as the arrow plunged through the knights neck, right above his chestplate and right below his helmet.
The knight couldn't even comprehend his own death as he slipped out of the light and into the darkness.
King Fyrons face was transfixed with fury, and he struggled as two of the ordinary knights pulled him from the room.
Behind the red skeleton came a long groan.
Blake couldn't believe his eyes as he saw another creature stagger into the room. This creature was obviously a zombie, who wore a tattered teal shirt and torn purple pants.
Most stories about zombies, usually told by veteran monster hunters around an inns fireplace, always depicted the undead fiends as having green, peeling skin, but this particular zombie must have been some sort of exception.
As the zombie shuffled into the room, Blake saw that its skin was not green, but instead appeared to be a bright red.
This red zombie began stalking closer to the group of knights as the red skeleton knocked another arrow. Two of the iron-armored knights sprinted into battle.
Blake suddenly felt his instincts command him, and Blake quickly drew Sir Bicers sword before the knight could react, and sprinted after the two knights.
The red skeleton launched an arrow, which deflected off the first knights armor harmlessly. The second knight reached the red zombie, and swung her sword in a wide arc.
The red zombie moved incredibly fast, ducking the blade and punching the knight in her chest.
The knight hit the ground screaming, her iron armor melting onto her chest.
The red skeleton knocked another arrow and fired.
The arrow struck the first knight through the wrist, causing him to drop his sword in pain. The red skeleton suddenly leapt forward, and struck the knight over the head with his bow.
The knight struck the ground with a CLANG and grabbed his head with his hands. The ringing sound caused by the force of the impact must have been ten times worse within his helmet.
The red zombie lowered itself, and prepared to devour the second knight.
Blake reached the battle just in time, and lunged forward with Bicers sword and ran the zombie through. Blake shoved the red zombie back, and jumped forward. As Blake fell, he wrapped his arms around the red skeleton in a violent hug, and brought the animated pile of bones down to the ground.
The red skeletons skull shattered when it hit the ground, the rest of its body lay still.
The first knight stood up painfully, and assisted Blake in helping the screaming second knight up.
The female knight had one arm over the male knights shoulder and the other arm over Blakes. They began to walk towards Bicer, who was fiddling with a potion of healing, when Blake heard an unearthly moan.
The red zombie rose from the ground, Bicers sword still implanted in his chest.
Blake dropped the second knight, wincing when he heard her strike the ground. The female knight cursed his ancestors and his future children, making Blake wonder why he was helping these people in the first place.
Blake turned towards the red zombie as the two knights walked slowly away.
The red zombie pulled the sword from its chest, and seemed to look it over with his… empty eye sockets. The red zombie then gave the sword a few experimental swings, and faced Blake.
Blake wasn't sure if he could beat this foe, heck, he wasn't even sure how something that walked so slowly could dodge attacks so quick, but he told himself it didn't really matter anyways.
Blake pulled his throwing knife from his right shoulder and faced the red zombie.
The red zombie lowered its guard, and walked forwards, the sharp sword grating against the cobblestone floor as it came closer.
Blake dropped into a classic knife fighter pose, and walked towards the red zombie.
The red zombie swung his sword high above his head, and Blake saw the world very differently.
Blake perceived Bicers sword falling much slower than it should of, he saw the red zombie in perfect clarity. The monsters arm was outstretched to bring the sword down precisely on Blakes head. The red zombie also held out its left arm to counteract the weight of the sword in its right hand. Blake noticed that the red zombies posture was totally incorrect, the creatures feet were turned inward and it was leaning to far forward.
As the sword came ever so closer, Blake simply stepped to the side, the vertical cut missed him entirely and struck the ground with a CLANG! The red zombie was thrown of balance by the missed blow, and Blake took the opportunity to shove the monsters with all his might.
The red zombie fell backwards and dropped the sword. Blake switched the throwing knife to his left hand and grabbed Bicers sword with his right. The red zombie rose up for round two, but Blake threw the dagger.
The knife implanted itself between the red zombies eye sockets, causing it to falter. In that moment Blake gave an impressive horizontal strike with the sword, decapitating the red zombie cleanly. No blood came from the wound, whatever insides the monster had must of dried up years ago.
The red zombie fell without a sound, as useless and powerless as a broken puppet.
Time sped up, and Blake saw the world clearly again. He had no idea what just happened. How did he know how to fight so well? Why did time slow down? Why were these things red? Did the Tactomancer send them? Or were they affiliated with this "Black Knife" group he'd heard whispers about?
Either way, the creatures were dead and Blake was dimly aware the knights clapping him on the back and cheering his name.
This would have been a great, heroic moment if Blake hadn't suddenly lost consciousness and hit the ground like a bag of bricks. Blake had always found that simile to be incredibly stupid, but right before his vision faded he understood how painful it really was.
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