The Wandering Inn_Volume 1, page 174
“We have a few veterans from old wars, and the staff within the palace can aid us. But they hardly constitute a battalion. I tried to hold on to some soldiers, but there was no food or pay for them. If our King has asked it, they might have stayed but I alone…”
Orthenon sighed, shoulders slumping. Mars patted him on the back and even Gazi shook her head.
“You kept him safe and the kingdom intact. We must simply restore what has been lost. And we are four, here. Enough to defeat any army.”
Mars nodded cheerfully.
“Who could stand against our lord at the height of his power? He could rally the people here by himself if need be. Even now, between us, what force would be able to overwhelm us? That’s what we should be concerned with.”
Orthenon began listing names as the others nodded or shook their heads.
“In terms of major powers? The Four Companies of Baleros, Wistram, a coalition of Terandrian kingdoms perhaps, the Blighted King, the House of Minos…”
“Foreign powers. What about this continent?”
“There’s an alliance of nations to the north that formed after the empire fell. They’ll come for us.”
“But they’re fearful. Hm. We might have time there. No, I think it’s the Empire of Sands.”
“I heard of a growing nation before I left. What is the Empire of Sands?”
“A new [Emperor] emerged a while back. He absorbed many of the nations in our lord’s empire and created a vast army. He’s sweeping across the continent, and his soldiers are strong.”
“And our armies are all scattered or gone. That may be our greatest loss.”
Orthenon spoke the words quietly, and the other three nodded. He looked at the twins, explaining.
“The might of our lord never lay with one particular army, or even his generals. At the height of our power we had countless armies and individuals fighting underneath our banner.”
Mars nodded. She counted off on her fingers.
“The Rustängmarder, the Forgotten Legion, and the Silent Marchers are lost to us for now. But the Sunless Ghosts might rejoin us if we take the coast. And the Grave Wardens—“
“We don’t have the gold to hire them.”
“They owe us a debt. Is honor nothing to them?”
“No, but they swore a vow. And fighting wars isn’t part of that. If we could offer them support as well—”
“What about the Mad Ones? They’re staying in…Averach? They would surely sent a delegation if asked. No other ruler puts up with them as our lord does.”
“Mad Ones? Who are they?”
Surprisingly, it was Teresa who asked that question. Orthenon nodded.
“[Alchemists], mainly. But also a new class—[Engineer]. They’re a group of walking disasters that create wondrous inventions and chaos. Having one of them in your city practically guarantees destruction and loss of life, but under our lord they worked to create miracles for us.”
Mars looked distressed. She tugged at her long hair.
“I can’t say I’d look to them first for help. Maybe some of them might provide funds, items—but they’re hardly the army we need.”
“What about—”
Takhatres broke off and looked towards the door. The other three fell silent, and then the doors opened.
Flos strode into the room, smiling as he rejoined the group. And the discussion was suddenly over. His vassals put aside their concerns to listen to the words of their king. And more—
“My lord. I had not the chance to offer you this earlier, but I wish to present you with the labor of my travels.”
Mars spoke first, bowing to Flos and withdrawing a strange black bag with glowing symbols etched on it. Flos blinked, and smiled.
“A gift? You alone are one. But if it will help my kingdom, I will accept with gratitude. What have you found?”
“Weapons, my lord. Weapons, and armor and magical items for an army.”
The woman reached into the bag and pulled out a sword. It was curved, like a scimitar, but double-sided and it glowed purple in the light. Flos took it and admired the blade, talking with Mars.
Trey was captivated by the magical blade—and the other weapons Mars began to pull out of the magical bag, but Teres nudged him and he looked and saw what she did.
Gazi was staring at Mars and so was Takhatres, and Orthenon for that matter. They didn’t look…angry, but there was a hint of challenge in their eyes. And then he understood.
It was not a contest, and yet it absolutely was. Each of the four wanted nothing more than to please their King, and be the one who did it best. For Orthenon, he had nothing to offer, and yet his contribution—staying loyally by Flos’ side these long ten years—was a heavy thing to surpass.
Mars kept pulling magical weapons out of the bag until she had a small armory at her feet.
“It will be enough to give to lieutenants and officers, or make one small group. I offer it to you for war, my lord.”
“More I could not ask for. Thank you Mars; it is a foundation to rebuild our armies upon.”
Flos smiled again at Mars and she bowed her head, blushing. Takhatres cleared his throat; it was his turn now.
“I have brought my tribe, and we have quadrupled our numbers since I last led them to war. Now my warriors are trained to fight fiercer, harder than before. We shall fly from the skies and blot out the sun on your enemies, my King.”
“I remember your tribe’s power before. I would not trade five armies for them, and I know they will spearhead the war. Takhatres, I offer you my thanks.”
Flos traded an arm-claps with Takhatres and bowed his head slightly. Then it was Gazi’s turn. Trey could see the other three watching her, but the half-Gazer had not taken anything out. The half-Gazer spread her hands wide, smiling slightly.
“My lord, I regret to say I have brought nothing. What magic I have found, what treasures I have brought are not worth bringing to your attention. I can offer nothing but an amusing tale.”
“Oh?”
Flos’ brows shot up as Mars smirked and Takhatres covered his mouth briefly with a wing. They thought they’d won the contest, but Orthenon was frowning slightly at Gazi. And she had that slight smile on her face.
“Yes, my lord. You may know that I left this kingdom, and indeed this continent, to search for something that would wake your passions once more.”
“Indeed. And did you find it?”
“No, lord. Not at first. I searched countless places for creatures and monsters, but found nothing worthy. Until I came to a small inn in the city of Liscor on the continent of Izril.”
Trey listened with keen interest as Gazi described her first encounter with Erin. And he noticed that Flos was hanging on the half-Gazer’s words, his eyes alight with interest. And that Mars and Takhatres were growing less smug as the story went on.
“She—like the two here—comes from another world.”
Gazi gestured to the twins, and Trey and Teres exchanged a glance. Was she one of the people in the call? Could they meet Erin Solstice?
“A young woman who would leap into a burning pit to save a spider. And then toss it back.”
Flos stroked his beard and shook his head.
“—But I know you, Gazi. There is more to this story, is there not? Something about this girl is even more unique.”
The Gazer smiled.
“Yes, my King. When I looked at her, I saw that she had one skill I had never seen in my many years of travel. It is called [Immortal Moment].”
Now Flos’ undivided attention was on Gazi. He grinned, eyes alight with curiosity.
“[Immortal Moment]. An odd name for a skill. And…intriguing. I wonder what it does. Did you ever see her use it, Gazi?”
“I did not. I am not even sure Erin herself knew the nature of her skill.”
Flos frowned, and began to pace across the wide room, walking past the group.
“I know something of the nature of this world and classes and levels, and take a keen interest as you well know, Gazi. When one creates that which has never been before, they learn the skill automatically. It may be this young woman discovered a skill not of this world, and by doing so, earned it. If so—”
Gazi nodded.
“She is special. She alone has befriended Antinium and owns a skeleton as a servant. She talks with Drakes and Gnolls as equals, and she weeps to kill monsters. In and around her inn, she has forbidden slaying Goblins, and she teaches one how to play chess. And—”
She smiled, and touched her crusted eye gently with one gauntleted finger.
“—And she is the one who injured my eye.”
The others stared at her. And then Flos burst out laughing.
“An [Innkeeper]? A girl below Level 20? She struck you?”
Mars looked incredulous and Takhatres was frowning, but Gazi smiled with her lord.
“Yes. The other girl I mentioned who went to rescue the doomed adventurers—Ryoka Griffin—she told me you lived. I hesitated, but it was Erin who dared strike the blow.”
“A girl who blinded one of my Seven, who slew a Flesh Worm, who comes from another world and befriends even monsters and plays chess…”
Flos shook his head and then laughed again, long and loud. He stared up at the ceiling, and then sighed, slowly.
“What a fool I have been. That so many people and wonders were right under my nose while I despaired.”
He looked at Gazi, and chuckled again.
“you have given me no arms to fight with, nor a soldier to raise my banner. But your story has lit a fire in my chest Gazi, and for that I thank you.”
She bowed her head, smiling wider.
“Thank you, my King.”
“But even if you had brought nothing but yourself and host of enemies to my gates, I would have welcomed you with joy beyond joy. I trust you know what, Gazi.”
Flos looked at Gazi, and she raised her head. The look she gave her King was open, honest, and sincere, and Trey understood then that this was a side of Gazi few saw.
“I do, lord. I do.”
“Then let us celebrate!”
Flos whirled, and threw his arms out wide. He looked at Mars and Takhatres and then whirled both into an embrace.
“Two of my Seven have returned to me on this day; this is cause for feasting if we had food. But without, we shall simply drink of each other and let the stories of the past be our banquet. The council may wait. Let us sit, friends, and you will tell me all that has passed.”
He nodded at Orthenon, and the man moved smoothly into action. He gestured Trey and Teres towards the doors; they often helped him organize the staff. Trey already knew they would be using one of the smaller dining rooms and telling the chefs to prepare the best meals they could with what they had.
Orthenon opened the doors and paused. Trey nearly walked into him. Someone was waiting—a travel stained Courier who spoke quietly to the King’s steward.
Trey and Teres didn’t hear what was spoken, but Orthenon’s own smile promptly vanished. As he confirmed the delivery, he slowly accepted the package the courier had brought.
It was a large box of plain wood, nearly the size of Trey’s chest. And it was heavy, judging by the way the weary Courier held it.
Orthenon took the box without any difficulty, and slowly walked back towards Flos. The King paused in his laughter and let go of Gazi as his steward approached.
“Orthenon. What is this?”
“A delivery, my King. It came just now by Courier. It is from the Emperor of Sands.”
It was as if he’d poured cold water over a fire. Mars and Takhatres immediately lost their smiles, and Gazi’s eyes focused on the box, and she touched the sword at her back.
Flos’ smile slowly faded, and he stared at the box in Orthenon’s hand. Slowly, the king took it. He had no fear of a trap, but he studied the plain wood and heavy box with a troubled expression—one of the few Trey had ever seen on his face.
The box was plain wood, but it had a hairline crack around the top. Flos put his hand to the lid, and hesitated.
“Perhaps it is only a figment of my imagination. But Orthenon—I fear to open this box.”
The steward looked at his King. Flos returned the stare gravely.
“I have never met this Emperor of Sands. But it is no difficult thing to imagine that he bears me no good will. And this box—”
“My lord. I cannot see into it with my lesser eyes. Let me open it. It may be trapped.”
Gazi reached for the box, but Flos stayed her hand.
“No—no. It is not that I fear. This Emperor is not such a petty man, I think. But I do not believe he is kind, either. No…my instincts tell me I will regret knowing what is inside of this.”
He gestured to the wood box, and then sighed.
“And yet, I must open it. If I were ruled by fear, I would not be a King. So. Let us see what this Emperor of Sands sends me.”
Slowly, he put his fingers on the lid and slowly pulled the wood upwards. Trey saw the wood come away, and then…was it ice?
Yes, it was ice! Slowly, the box slid off of a cube of ice, perfectly fit inside the wooden frame. It was clouded from condensation, but slowly it slid away from the rest of the box as the wood fell to the ground.
Flos held the clouded cube of ice in his hands and looked down at it grimly. Trey was confused. It was just ice. Was it a gift of some kind? Magical? But then he noticed the others had gone silent, and Gazi’s eyes were fixed on the block.
Slowly, Flos wiped away the clouded front of the block of ice. Teres screamed. Trey thought he would puke.
Encased inside the block of ice was a man’s head. His hair was short and wavy, and his skin tanned and dark. He had grey hair, and many wrinkles, and stern features. They had been made even more stern with his last expression; one of bitter, deep regret. His mouth was twisted sideways and down, and his eyes were closed.
Flos looked at the head and said not one word. Takhatres, Mars, Orthenon, all were silent. But Gazi spoke. She said one word. A name.
“Drevish.”
The Architect. One of the Seven. Now Trey realized the significance of the message, and his stomach roiled even harder.
“Oh my friend. Oh, my dear friend, builder of marvels.”
Flos whispered the words as his hands shook. He stared down at Drevish’s head, his face twisted in anguish and grief.
“What have they done to you?”
Drevish had died to a swift chop to the neck. The blood still flecked around his neck as Flos slowly held the dripping cube of ice. Everyone was staring at him. Mars was gripping her sword, tears falling from her eyes even as they burned with rage. Takhatres bowed his head, crossing his wings together and murmuring what sounded like a prayer. Orthenon’s hand was clenched so hard Trey saw a streak of blood running down and staining his perfect clothing. And Gazi—
Gazi watched her King. There was no smile on her face. Only expectation. She was waiting.
Slowly, Flos sat down on the ground. He sat cross-legged, ignoring the water staining his clothing. He paid no attention to the melting ice block; he just sat, staring at his dead friend.
He spoke quietly.
“We are not ready.”
His vassals stirred. Flos spoke on.
“We are not ready. Not to cross swords with the Empire of Sands. We have no army; we barely have a garrison here. My people still starve. That is why we must wait.”
He slowly lowered his head until it was touching the block of ice.
“Even this greatest of insult must be born, for our army is not even gathered. Those vassals who might join us still waver, and our old allies still know nothing of my return. Wisdom dictates we wait.”
Trey held his breath. He’d never seen Flos look so dispirited. Only once—only when they’d first walked across world and into that room and seen the man sitting in the small chair, weary and old.
Now Flos looked the same. He looked aged, grey and tired and weary. He stared at Drevish’s head and sighed. And then he spoke one more word.
“But—”
The word was everything. The word was more than just sound. It echoed in the vast room, and Trey felt the same thunder in the air he’d heard once before. Flos slowly stood up, and looked down at the melting ice in his hands. His voice rolled and broke over those listening.
“But I hold in my hands, in my hands, the head of one of my dearest friends. A man I loved as much as any son, slain. On this day of great joy. And I am to bear this insult quietly? No, no. If I did not act, I would not be worthy to live, much less a King.”
He stared down at the head in his hands, and tears fell from Flos’ eyes. But his voice was steady. And it was growing louder. It was beginning to echo across the palace, through the kingdom.
“My friend, my brother, my comrade in arms. Drevish. You built me my cities and weapons of war when you desired naught but to create works of art. And now you are slain. I will meet this Emperor of the Sands and take his head for this, I swear it.”
Trey felt something trembling. He wasn’t sure if it was the ground or—himself. He clung to Teres as Flos slowly walked back to his throne. He placed the block of ice on the golden throne, facing him. The King bowed his head once, and when he turned, his voice was a roar.
“The Emperor of Sands has spilled my blood! He has taken from me, and so I will bring him to his knees. He thinks I will bear this insult and wait, but he does not know the nature of a King. He does not know me.”
He stood on the dais and pointed down at his four vassals and the two cowering twins.
“Tell me, my Seven! Does the King of Destruction suffer an insult to his people?”
“No!”
They shouted the words as one. Flos nodded.
“Does he run and hide from any enemy?”
“No!”
“Does he fear any being under the heavens?”
“No!”
They roared the answer as one. Gazi, Orthenon, Takhatres, Mars—their eyes were fire and they shuddered with rage.
The King drew his sword, and then his voice boomed through the castle; fury made incarnate.
