Duke Darmit- Hopes Hold

  The duke leaned back imperiously in his ivory seat, making sure that the red velvet backing contrasted properly with his black-dyed fur mantle. He was waiting for the latest status report from the archbishop and knew he couldn’t show any sign of weakness or imperfection. The crusade had been in full swing for over two months now, and he eagerly awaited the scouts' plan of action.

  And if he was truly fortunate, they would be delivering word of the blessed death of the paladin. The man was nothing but a cutthroat with an impressive reputation as far as the duke was concerned. But if he was standing against the church, he was standing against the duke. Not to mention his meddling in the dungeon was utterly unacceptable.

  Bishop Candor strode into the empty dining hall, his immaculate white robes vibrant against the dark carpets he shuffled across. The wooden doors echoed shut behind him as the servants closed them. This was not the kind of meeting you had with your lessers present. Candor gave a respectful nod before sitting in a chair next to the duke and accepting an offered chalice.

  The duke let Candor fill his plate from the exhorbitant spread of imported cheese and finely prepared meats, even filling his chalice once more with wine before speaking. “My valued ally, what news do you bring? I have kept the duchy’s men away from your movements as asked, so I find myself ravenously curious.”

  The dark expression that crossed Candor's face caused the duke to almost flinch back, but he held firm and took a gulp of his wine, waiting for the ancient, deadly holy man beside him to speak. Candor began slowly after stripping a bone down to the marrow with a satisfied sound. “The border’s withdrawal has been halted through the valiant sacrifice of nearly fifty of our fine warriors.”

  The duke almost stood in sheer excitement. “You have already struck? Is the town governed by your men now?”

  Cador looked at him with a withering amount of disgust. “You misunderstand, Duke. You let something evil fester unchecked in your lands for years. Fifty men died simply stopping the expansion of the forsaken lands. The Forsaken Paladin has created strongholds of the vilest sorcery throughout the forest. Fifty men gave their lives just to stop his spread!” Candor angrily stood at this pronouncement.

  The duke tried to stammer a response. “But we didn’t know about him! We still don’t! I…”

  Candor interrupted him with a flash of rage that ignited every candelabra in the dining hall at once into a hateful red fire. “You did NOTHING, DUKE!” He spat out. Before visibly contorting his face back into the facade of calm that he carried out in the world. “Our deal no longer stands; if you want us to continue, you will be doubling our tithe.”

  The duke shamefully dipped his head towards his cup; he was too afraid to argue about how unreasonable this was. “Deal...but only if the paladin is gone in addition to all the previous agreements.”

  “You aren’t in a position to make more demands, but this has attracted the attention of the holy one now. He personally asked what I needed to avenge our men.” Candor said with a barely hidden crazed smile.

  Darmit blanched. The head of the order of Rembrand was more a myth than a man and a deeply vengeful figure. Things might be escalating beyond his control and quickly. He grasped at straws to try and regain some measure of control over the situation. “My men will move to assist you!”

  Candor sneered slightly. “Certainly send any you don’t mind losing, or the few that might be strong enough to survive. The reports from the handful of surviving scouts are...concerning even to the Holy One. The Forsaken Paladin single-handedly fought off fifteen men with barely more than a glance as his horrors descended on fully trained warriors. Some were eaten, others were taken, and both of the inquisitorial assets sent to deal with him are just gone without a trace. One disappeared after the assault; another hasn’t been heard from in weeks.”

  Darmit slammed his goblet down. “How! I should have known if someone that strong was rising in my lands.”

  Candor offered a slight olive branch. “It isn’t entirely inexcusable; there is a handful of undeniable talents in that area that could...obscure...the rise of such a man.” He took another generous bite of a fine meat covered in a honeyed sauce.

  “That isn’t even the worst of it; a paladin captain along with his full cadre were among the men that gave their lives. After the first assault on the paladin, they went out to hunt him in full force; none were ever seen again, no survivors, not a single trace….” He let the implications of a second-tier warrior accompanied by that many others simply disappearing linger in the air for a moment.

  “You will have my full support!” the sycophantic duke said with a tinge too much enthusiasm.

  “I know…” There was a pause. “What other choice do you have…” Candor tucked back into his feast as the duke watched. His face betraying his fear, his lands slipping further into the clutches of the church by the second.

  Vraxious-Folstein Village

  Vrax looked at the notification in astonishment. Then at Jonathan, who had to have gotten a similar notification because his bushy-ass eyebrows looked like they were trying to escape his face, and a strangled squeak was coming from him as he tried to stammer something out. “Oh fuck...Torvald Knock out the mind fucker NOW!”

  Jonathan immediately started talking. “Wait, how the fuck are you—wait, never mind, who cares! Accept my…”

  The sound of Torvald slapping a man echoed like a lightning bolt had landed next to them, actually ringing their ears a little. Torvald looked up with a big grin. “Got em! He’s definitely sleeping now!” He shook the very limp form of Slev slightly to prove it.

  Jonathan looked at Vrax. “I don’t care how; I want in! You have seen me fight; hell, I kicked your ass!”

  “That’s not a glowing review, man! Why would I want to…aaghhh, I’m not saying no…but.” Vrax shot back, slightly unsure how to respond to Jonathan's sheer enthusiasm.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Torvald interjected. “We could always trial run him during our dungeon run! It might be nice to have a full party for once instead of just us. We are going to grab Stereos Too, right? I kinda miss that fucker; he was hilariously unflappable.”

  “Hell yeah, trial run me, I’ll murder the shit out of anything we fight, even as just a fucking farmer!” Jonathan shouted with unbridled excitement. Then paused, “Wait, who is Stereos? Is he my competition for the gig?”

  Vrax let out a long-suffering sigh, starting to look around for his “reward” for saving the town. “No, he isn’t your competition; he is a bloodmage we are friends with. I really doubt he would want a class change.”

  “Ohh, a blood mage. Those guys are the best.” Jeff squeaked from the back of Torvald's hand.

  “Holy fuck, what is that!” Jonathan screamed, leveling his spear at Jeff.

  Vrax rolled his eyes as Torvald laughed. “First things first, Jonathan, if you really want to do this, you have to bring down that jumpscare reflex of yours a whole lot, or the fucking squirrels will get you the first time you point a spear at one. Now help me find a fucking chicken; there were a ton of them here earlier…”

  Jonathan looked utterly confused. “Uhh, got it…assume the scary shit is on our side...why do we want a chicken?”

  Torvald smiled. “Oh hell yes, I forgot about that. I want to see Duchess’s reaction to one as scary as she is.”

  Jonathan started looking like he was getting conversational whiplash. “Who’s Duchess...?”

  Vrax smiled. “The hell dragon—she really likes poultry.” Jonathan’s face said he was suddenly violently questioning his dedication to getting a class change.

  Vrax finally caught a chicken and carried it back to the rest of their equipment hanging from Torvald's mount. Torvald had left his mount hidden in a dense stand of trees. They weren’t overly concerned about anyone finding it, much less trying to steal from it; the bear was a higher level than either of them even were.

  Vrax stuffed the chicken in a spare cage dangling from a saddleback and patted the bear fondly, walking around to the other side to check on its precious cargo. The Spriggan sapling was happily hanging in its armor pot next to the bear's head, nibbling at the bear's ear playfully as the bear occasionally gave it a lick. “Well, good to see that you two are still getting along great.” The sapling extended its little claws towards Vrax; he chuckled and handed it a watering jug.

  It gave a joyful creak as it watered itself. Jonathan's face had gone so white it was comical. “This…this is just how you travel, a fucking spriggan hanging from a bark bear…”

  Vrax snatched the watering can from the sapling, saving some water for later. It creaked angrily, wobbling at him, trying to snatch it back. Vrax looked at Jonathan with a genuine smile. “Last chance to get off the ride, man; you haven’t seen anything yet.”

  Jonathan let out a gulp and shook his head. Then, to prove a point, he walked over to the spriggan and offered it his canteen. It cautiously took it from him and gave a coo that sounded uncomfortably like it said, "Thank you." “Bah...I’m a farmer; a few plants won’t scare me off….” The way his eyes were locked onto the Spriggan, like it might suddenly eat him, told a different story, but Vrax just let that slide for now.

  They continued on the king's road after letting Jonathan collect his belongings and, surprisingly, a horse. Vrax grumbled as he walked alongsidehis mounted companions. Slev was currently hogtied to the side of the bear, disconcertingly still unconscious. They continued this way through the night and into the morning. Everyone’s stats let them do it without much difficulty.

  The three of them trotted to a stop as they came upon a bizarre sight: the duke's men had erected a barricade across the king's road. A red banner flapping proudly over jutting, jagged hunks of stone that pointed in both directions, probably erected by an earth mage. Vrax could see a small trail of caravans being searched before being sent back towards Hope's path. “What the fuck?” Torvald said angrily.

  “Well, it looks like they graduated from sneakily waylaying our shipments to just straight-up blockading the town. It won’t be great, but we shouldn’t starve... Things will get fucking ugly when the town runs out of booze though…”

  Jonathan looked personally offended. “What the fuck is the point of that?” He gestured at the men on the wall, trying to wave them over.

  Vrax made sure to pull his cowl up before summoning his armor. “Well, the point is probably to get someone from my neck of the woods to pop over and break it. If my pappy or Gregory did that, they would fully have an excuse to arrest them, and of course anyone fighting back would be criminals as well, best case, or rebels, worst case, depending on how they framed it. Unfortunately for them, I’m like fifty percent sure I have diplomatic immunity as a visiting sovereign…”

  Torvold looked at him in shock. “For real?”

  “What? No, probably not, but what are they going to do, put out a bounty on the paladin?” Vrax pantomimed panic. “Oh no!!! Another one! Bah…”

  Jonathan nodded. “God, why is this so complicated? Can’t everyone just fight and be done with it?”

  “No,” Torvald and Vrax said at the same time.

  Jonathan gestured with a “go on…” hand motion.

  Vrax sighed. “Hope’s End has at least three Tier-3 combatants I know of, and I’m not even sure how many Tier-2s—probably around ten.”

  “What the fuck? That town has less than a thousand people.” Jonathan said in shock.

  “Yeah, exactly. If that fight really started, the king is going to intervene fucking immediately, and then we are all fucked.” Vrax gave a wink, forgetting no one could see it with the helm. “But me...I’m just a foreign criminal and don’t hold any official position in town other than pain in the ass.”

  Vrax walked amicably towards the blockade, making sure his armor was well covered, and he waved. And made it all the way within ten strides before the man on this side called to him, “Halt, traveler! The road is closed on order of the duke!” Submit to inspection and you will be sent on your way.”

  Vrax eyed the defenses; they were hasty but solid. A handful of men patrolled back and forth on a wooden platform set between the fangs of stone. A small military camp to the right of the road held a dozen tents. One of which held the imagery of the church; another was emblazoned with the closed stone fist of the Stonerise mage’s guild. Hmm, nearly a dozen men, possibly a paladin, and almost certainly a mid-tier-1 earth mage. Just have to make sure the paladin isn’t stupidly powerful, rough but doable.

  Vrax’s scheming was interrupted by a panicked shout from the wall: “They are back! To arms!” Vrax craned his neck to see what they were shouting about; he couldn’t believe his eyes. Off to the right of the road just past the forest edge crouched a figure shadowed in draping black fabric. In one warty hand it held a crooked bone talisman as tall as it was. The top of its bone staff was adorned with a mark of Vurune painstakingly shaped from broken dragonfly wings.

  No, it can’t be…I can’t do that with Adapt…that’s too much… The figure’s dozens of eyes were visible through rough slits in its blackened shawl. It raised the staff, and the forest nearby trembled in response as the nearby trees bent forward protectively, shaped by the Toad’s skill into bulwarks of branch and leaf. The air shimmered with green mana as another figure farther down bent more of the forest to its will, and then another.

  The first figure spoke in a halting, croaked voice that had a dark echo to every word. “You, Trespass. Upon Our Home. Leave, or be returned to the cycle.” There was a moment of absolute stillness followed by a haughty laugh.

  A man in golden scale emblazoned with the bowing man leaned over the earthen defenses, dismissively gesturing to the Toads. “Begone, abomination. This is a bad joke at this point. Frogs with delusions of civility.” The man's golden hair spilled about madly as he actually started heaving with laughter as the Toad stiffened. Vrax used the distraction to slip from the road into the tall brush and slink towards the defenses from the side.

  Well, I actually fucking have to help the toads because holy shit, how could I not? Don’t worry, my little abominations, your father is coming to the rescue.