Hello Everyone,
My brother is looking for feedback on a story he wrote a while ago on Royal Road called the New Guild Master. He plans to re-write and relaunch the story next year to make the each chapter shorter and more exciting. But in the meantime we would love some feedback. If you do like the story then please upvote this post and subscribe to his Zakyrie profile on Royal Road. We are planning to write another story in a few months on Royal Road, so consider this a sample work.
{ Two Years after the Massacre at Bordna }
"An infestation of goblins has overrun the fields in my demesne!"
"So what?"
"S-so your majesty, I humbly request your support during the spring harvest."
The King opened his eyes and glanced lazily at the trembling noble bowing before him. He was a roguish youth with eyes as blue as the mid-morning sky and hair tinted gold.
He yawned, and lifted a leg over one side of his crimson throne.
"Hmm?"
The noble, a scrawny figure, whose black velvet clothes hung loose, bowed more deeply, his chest now parallel to the floor. "I-I request his gracious majesty,'Fabian the Bold' grant me aid, to cull the ranks of a growing goblin horde."
The boy King fingered his blue cape and occasionally scratched at his stuffed buff coat. The mithril armor underneath his vestments chaffed his skin, worsening his already sour mood.
"Why not set a bounty? Why bother the Crown?"
"Y-you see, I fear the goblins have begun to evolve."
The King's eyes shone with interest.
"Do tell. What have they evolved into?"
"I-I have received several reports of bands of hobgoblins!"
Fabian leaned back and sighed.
"Corlin?"
On a smaller throne, reserved for the 'King's Right Hand' sat the Alokai Kingdom's most powerful mage. He was draped in a white robe, lined with elaborate floral patterns of gold silk.
Corlin scratched his short, graying beard. "My Lord. Baron Flintwood..."
The noble turned to meet his stern visage.
"... the King has granted your request. Please make way for other petitioners."
Baron Flintwood bowed and strode away in haste.
"What more 'Kingly' duties await me Corlin?"
At least make an attempt at feigning interest my leige. The noble court is watching!
To the King's left were a dozen rows of padded seats populated by finely dressed noble men and women. They heard every supplication, whispering and giggling at each turn of events. Alokai's nobility, as benefactors of the Kingdom, were thus permitted to sit in during the court's proceedings to observe the machinations of the state.
Corlin produced a thin scroll from his sleeve and quickly scanned its contents.
"This final petition comes from Tristan, the former Guild Master of the now defunct, Liberty Guild."
"A guild master? Is it some old prick?"
"No, my Lord. He is a youthful one. Only two years your senior."
"Interesting... bring him to me."
Corlin waved at a knight dressed in gold plated mail, with an hawk-shaped bascinet. The Golden Knight plodded his way to the gate of the King's court and silently instructed two other knights to usher in the last guest.
"Your majesty!" The Golden Knight bellowed. "Former Guild Master and Famed Adventurer, 'Tristan the Terrible' approaches."
What an awful nickname.
A tall, dainty man, dressed in the traditional livery lent to noble guests of the Kingdom, walked the length of the court's red carpet and upon reaching the throne, bowed to one knee.
Fabian raised an eyebrow, when he noticed that half of Tristan's boyish face was shrouded by a jester's mask.
That is throwaway garb, lent out at the court's behest, meant only for the poorest of nobles. Why is a renowned adventurer wearing such a thing?
For a moment, a hushed silence settled upon the court before a torrent of whispers broke out.
"Is that a man or woman!?"
"He's beautiful!"
"Such fine nobility!"
"From what land does he hail?!"
"What is the meaning of that mask?!"
"I have found my betrothed!"
"Silence!" Corlin yelled. His lips pressed into a thin smile.
Surely, this will amuse the young King.
"Rise Tristan. To what do I owe this honor?"
"You flatter me, my liege. I am but a humble servant. A mote in the eye of a mighty King. I have come to beg your majesty, to hear my request."
Fabian glanced at Corlin, his curiosity peaked.
"While your reputation precedes you, it does not warrant the ear of this court. What do you offer the Kingdom of Alokai that we may hear your request?"
"As expected of your majesty, your wisdom is infallible..."
Careful. Nothing bores his majesty more than meaningless ass kissing.
"... but I have not come empty handed. I present to you the head of the Demon Lord, Belgool."
The Golden Knight stepped forward, and pulled a large sack out of thin air.
Receiving the gift with a grunt, Corlin undid the knot of rope and examined the remains of a beast whose head was shaped like a ram.
"Indeed, these are the remains of the 'Evil Goat of the East'. You have done a great service to this Kingdom, young Tristan."
"Hmm? Let me see."
"It is a foul sight your majesty." The Golden Knight interjected.
"I will not repeat myself!" Fabian growled.
The Golden Knight retrieved the sack from Corlin and presented it to the King.
Fabian's cheeks pinched upwards in a wicked smile. "Oh my! This is indeed a 'foul sight'. Please put it away. If you don't, I may very well puke." He winked at Corlin.
Ugh. Yet another mounted head added to his hideous collection. I wish there was some way to stave off the King's more unpleasant habits.
"I hope this small gift pleases you my liege."
"Hmm? Yes. I'm satisfied and all that." he waved his hand. "Corlin."
"The King will allow your petition to be heard."
"I am most grateful." Tristan bowed. "I-I... ask for the King's blessing to wed my fiance, Jamilla."
Fabian inclined his head. "It seems you have me confused with a vicar. Such blessings are the purview of the Church."
"I ask that..." Tristan hesitated. His hand clutched at his chest as if to still a wave of unbidden emotion.
"... that you make an exception my liege. For Jamilla is a Noble Goblin."
A collective gasp echoed throughout the court.
"D-did you say Noble Goblin?" The King was on the edge of his seat.
"Y-yes." Tristan squeaked.
"That is an impossible request-" Corlin began.
"-You have my blessings Tristan! Now bring this creature to me- I mean bring your bride before this court. I wish to uh... examine her worthiness."
"Such a thing cannot be allowed!" Corlin leapt to his feat.
_How can a beast be permitted to present itself before the King's court?! There is no greater blasphemy! _
"Surely an exception can be made." the King retorted, unfazed.
"I hesitate to bring her before this court my liege. I do not wish to sully your reputation among the All-Father Church." Tristan maintained a conciliatory tone.
If the Pope learns of this, he will have a seizure!
"Ah, yes." Fabian rolled his eyes. "There is that consideration... well then. Describe her to me."
"She is... kind, but stern to those that would oppose her. Bold, and yet her beauty is plain to see. She is willful, but fair in her dealings. She has captured my heart and locked it away within a treasure trove of beloved memories. My only desire, is that she would throw away the key."
Tristan bowed deeply. When he raised his head, a stream of tears had stained his dress shirt.
"Hmm... ah, yes. Compose yourself Tristan. I am touched and all that. Corlin. Do your thing."
"I hereby decree that Tristan and Jamilla have bestowed upon them the King's magnanimous blessings. And so, by the will of Fabian Primum Solum Corodus, twenty-third King of Alokai, their union is sanctified by the Church of All-Father's on this day."
What have I done?
"And now." Fabian wasted no time. "My patience is at an end, and I will wait no longer. Take off your mask!"
Several moments of complete silence passed and yet Tristan did not stir.
The Golden Knight unsheathed a bastard sword. "You will comply. To refuse the King, is death."
"Merran!" Corlin shouted. "Restrain yourself. He is an honored guest. If he has reasons for refusing the King's command, he must state them now, or be ejected from this court."
Merran withdrew the glimmering sword to his side, but did not sheath it.
"Do not worry Tristan. I will hear your reasons. But be warned. You must not bore me."
The Adventurer shifted awkwardly in place.
"T-this mask keeps a terrible curse at bay. For whomever looks upon my cursed eye will..." his voice grew too faint to hear.
"Die...?" The King queried. "That sounds like a child's fable. I may appear to possess a youthful countenance, but I am one month shy of sixteen. I have practically attained manhood. And so, such things do not amuse me. Take off your mask... right. Now!"
Tristan stood his ground.
The King sighed. "Merran. What the hell are you waiting for?"
The Golden Knight suddenly swung his blade at a cross-angle, intending to behead the Adventurer with a single, powerful slice.
This time it was the King who gasped, while the rest of the court sat in stunned silence.
"Corlin."
"Yes, my liege."
"Am I in any danger?"
"No, my King."
"Okay. Just checking."
Merran was rattling within his plate mail. Both his arms were clutching the bastard sword as he drove all his strength into his stopped blade. Incantations could be heard whispered through his bird-like helmet. Jets of lightning began to curl around it's steel frame. The noble members of the court shuddered as resounding thunder echoed across the hall moments later.
Tristan appeared perfectly calm, having parried the deadly blow with the bare tip of his index finger. And no matter how much sheer force or lightning magic Merran applied, his blade could not even faintly pierce the Adventurer's skin.
Hmph. I expect no less from a former Guild Master.
"Corlin!"
"Yes, my liege."
"How about a wager?"
"As you wish, my King. I wager that Merran will exhaust all his strength and mana... to no avail."
"What?! You stole my bet Corlin! Alright, never mind. Merran! My money's on you now. All I ask is that you bloody his finger. You can at least manage that?"
"M-my King!" Merran's teeth had began to chatter. "I will protect you unto my dying breath!"
"Yeah. Whatever. Just cut him!"
A swirl of flames appeared at Merran's feet and slowly enveloped his imposing figure until his armor was bathed in a red glow.
Tristan's finger began to tremble, his forehead dampened with sweat.
"Corlin. Are you helping Merran? Do you really intend to spoil my game?!"
"No, my liege. He has invoked a physical enhancement spell."
"Hmm? Is it working?"
"Yes, my King. It appears to have some effect but-"
"-But what? C'mon Merran! My reputation is riding on this. You've got to try harder!"
"Aaaaaaah!" Merran had inched his way forward.
At the sound of the knight's battlecry, the nobles began to wail in despair, fearing that their own lives may be in peril.
"My King. Please listen."
"What?! He's almost there. One more step Merran! I'll give you a castle if you win. No. Make that two castles!"
"Fabian." Corlin had lost his patience. "Merran has invoked [Last Breath]. The spell increases the user's strength tenfold, but draws its sustenance from one's vitality."
"Hmm... so what?"
"If this continues, Merran will surely die."
Why do you pretend, my King, to not see his soul lingering on the precipice of the afterlife?
"Can't you revive him or something?"
"I'm afraid, such magic is beyond me. And I do not know of any within Alokai that can cast [Resurrection]."
"Ah, well... you know... he might still cut him. Let's wait a bit. I think Merran is just about there."
"No, my liege. You have given Merran an impossible task."
Merran had eased himself slowly to one side until he faced Tristan straight on. His sword was still pressed against the Adventurer's fingertip in a forward slash intended to strike the neck. But muscle spams had forced him to continually readjust his position.
"Any second now! You'll see!" Fabian chewed the nail of his pinky.
"Merran is a much loved knight of the kingdom. His death would surely weaken your influence... and there is a possibility that without him to guard your person, the nobles may insist you restrict yourself to the confines of the Citadel."
The King balled his hands into fists, smacking his thighs. "Alright! You win this one Corlin! Dammit all."
In response, Corlin waved his hand. "[Fulgur Lotus]."
A cloud of electricity descended upon Merran, coursing through his body and armor. He collapsed in a heap, drowning the hall in an unexpected silence.
"Corlin. Did you just kill Merran?"
"Merran is a hardy soldier. He will yet survive."
The King crossed his arms and began to pout. "So... what now? Are you going to kill Tristan?"
"No my King, that will not be necessary. So long as Tristan removes his mask." Corlin gave the Adventurer a steely glare.
"I-I will comply." With a trembling hand, Tristan took off his jester's half-mask.
How can this be?!
The jaunty outline of his skull lent him the air of an undead creature, but the maggots moving between cracks of rotting flesh made it clear that Tristan's cursed half was in a perpetual state of decay.
"Woah." Fabian stood up.
Corlin instinctively began an incantation that would incinerate the horrifying figure before him.
"Wait! Do not look into my-"
The glare of a throbbing red orb began to grow. It's warm radiance had a hypnotic effect, silencing all who gazed upon it.
Corlin attempted various chantless spells but none were realized. The ominous eye became a fiery fissure, eclipsing Tristan's slim figure.
And yet it continued to grew.
Panic seized Corlin's thoughts as the fringes of his own vision suddenly narrowed and twisted into a kaleidoscopic tunnel that drew him towards the depths of what was now a bloody sun.
His arms and legs soon dissolved. He screamed. But his voice was lost. And his mind along with it.
"Is this a dream?" Corlin heard himself say.
He was standing under the shade of an elm tree. Soft rays of light dotted his grey coat while the frigid carved bark of an undead ent stole the sensation of his hand.
The [Onoci Staff]! Why am I holding this?
"Have you gone senile already?"
Corlin nearly leapt at the sound of his Master's languid voice.
"M-my King!"
Fabian brushed away stray leaves that clung to his lace shirt and dust-brown breeches. He plopped himself down on yellowed underbrush, and rested the back of his head on a buttressed root.
"Indeed. I was your King this morning and so I am now in the afternoon."
"The Castle? The Noble Court? I was- you were- how did... are you really King Fabian?"
"Who else could I be?"
"A demon in disguise perhaps...? D-do you intend to torment me?"
Fabian sighed. "If I was a demon, I'd consider my work almost done. Old age will take care of the rest."
His speech. His mannerisms. All reflect the King's nature. Could I have dreamed up the nightmare that took hold of the noble court's proceedings?
A rumble beneath his feet lurched Corlin away from his reverie. The sound of stamping hooves and creaking iron grew steadily louder.
"Where are we? And who approaches us?"
"Why do you test my patience old man?" Fabian pursed his lips. "We are in The Widow's Snatch. What you hear now is our vanguard. They have nearly arrived... don't tell me, you wish to abandon the Fox Hunt? Well, even with that simple ruse of yours, I will not relent. Not when we're so close to the Monster's lair!"
Merran's unmistakable suit of armor came lumbering out of a clearing to join them in the shade.
"My liege! A perimeter has been established." The Golden Knight bent a knee. "Shall we begin the chase?"
"Finally." Fabian climbed to his feet, stretched his legs and crinked his neck. "Merran. Is the trail still warm?"
"Indeed, it is."
"Excellent. Then lead the way. And Corlin. Do not tarry."
Perhaps I was caught in the haze of a succubus. They are known to waylay travelers around these parts.
"F-forgive me my liege, for I have wasted your time. I will not do so again."
"Corlin."
"Yes, my King?"
"You bore me."
The fox hunt is an annual tradition. The Alokai King is asked to choose an elusive creature to pursue. Armed with a company of one hundred elite knights, they set out to apprehend or kill the chosen fiend in order to serve a two-fold purpose. To amuse the nobility whose caravans trail the troops at a comfortable distance; and to eliminate a public threat that has begun to sow dread in the hearts of the common folk.
For this hunt the King had chosen 'The Cyclops'.
A rare breed of one-eyed Ogre, the Cyclops had taken it upon himself to build a peel tower at the center of The Widow's Snatch to block the only passage between the Alokai Kingdom and the northern territories that belong to the Freemen.
His purpose was unknown. And because the journey between the Alokai Kingdom and the northern Freemen territories was already precarious, the Cyclop's presence had little impact.
But Fabian had considered this creature an obvious choice for the Hunt.
"What do you think will happen if we poke it in the eye? Will it cry? Do you think it possesses tusks or horns? Oh, and before I forget, remind me to take off it's clothes first... but do such beasts even wear clothing? Perhaps a loin cloth? Yes, that does seem to be the fashion among creatures of the wild."
They had begun a slow but steady march towards the Ogre's Keep with the King's vanguard orbiting at a distance beyond Corlin's line of sight, so that Fabian could make a hasty retreat should an unexpected foe breach their ranks.
"It has built itself a formidable base to impede the trade of merchants. I am sure the Beast has been able to manage the acquisition of suitable apparel... but my liege, if you would permit me to ask, why must you undress this filthy creature?"
Fabian was taken aback. "How else will we determine whether it has one or two testicles?"
They had reached the base of a gentle hillside. A stone tower imposed itself between them and the surrounding forest. The path to its wrought-iron gate was marked by impaled corpses.
"Did we bring catapults?"
"No, my liege."
"Why not?"
"The nobles had felt the din of machinery would disturb their afternoon siestas."
Damn those nobles. They have turned this expedition into a farce!
"Well, that seems reasonable. Do we have some other means of breaking down the gate? Or perhaps we could smoke them out instead?"
"If we were to approach the Keep carelessly, we may suffer a barrage of arrows fired from the platform at the high-point of the donjon."
"Hmm. That would be troublesome."
"May I suggest we rally the company and prepare an assault upon-"
"Merran! Your King needs you!"
Merran raced back from his scouting position further ahead to kneel at the King's side. "You beckoned, my liege?"
"Yes, I'd like you to infiltrate the tower and capture the Ogre that resides within. Preferably alive and in one piece. And take care to preserve it's sexual organs."
A moment of confusion stymied his otherwise brisk reply. "For honor!"
Merran bowed and left at once.
"M-my King. I-I advise against such a brazen tactic! Please recall Merran immediately."
"You dare give me orders?" Fabian's cheeks were flushed.
"N-no my liege. I merely misspoke. I believe that there is another, more prudent course of action. If we regroup the company we can stage a siege-"
"Why? I think my way is the fastest. After all, isn't Merran the strongest knight in the Kingdom?"
He's actually the weakest! If not, the most zealous. Isn't that obvious? What sort of knight would choose to be the King's pet over a lucrative position in a guild of chivalry?
"Please, allow me to summon the knights to our position."
Fabian twirled his wrist. "Very well."
Corlin lifted a hand into the air, his palm facing the sky. "Breath of the Dragon. Wisp of the Willow. Gleam of the sunflower. May you break forth and let your [Flame Surge]."
A spike of amber flame erupted upwards to a height of several dozen meters and at it's crescendo, burst into a mushroom cloud of roiling smoke.
Corlin could hear rattling armor as the members of their vanguard were drawn to their location.
"Seems like that won't be necessary." Fabian pointed into the distance.
Merran had charged full speed ahead despite the weight of his heavy plate of armor, while arrows with steel shafts had begun to rain from above. But the Golden Knight could not be slowed. He ducked and dodged the onslaught until he reached the barred gate of the Ogre's Keep.
Merran clinked apart his gauntlets and attempted to pry open the iron hinges at it's center with brute strength alone. The metal frame howled as a man-sized hole began to take shape.
As the Golden Knight slowly wrenched open the crudely fashioned gate, he stood prone to felled arrows. It was not long before a few well-placed shots hit him squarely on the metallic joints of his arms and shoulder, but he broke off the arrow heads without a moment's thought and pushed through the entrance he had carved open with just his bare hands.
Corlin, with Fabian close behind him, followed Merran's wake. The arrows that targeted them were incinerated by gusts of flame before they could reach their mark.
"Look at him go! At this rate, we'll be done before lunchtime!"
Merran pushed through the only door leading to the Tower's upper reaches. They lost sight of him as they began to climb up winding stairs.
With Fabian now in the lead, they could hear the sound of scuffling armor ahead. Every now and then they would recognize Merran's agonizing grunts but not the strange high-pitched wails that followed shortly.
A few minutes into their ascent, the King stopped at a black-caped figure sprawled on the stairs above them.
"What manner of creature is this?"
"That is a [Prowrie]. A rare breed of purple-skinned goblin. They are intelligent and able-bodied. They specialize in close combat by utilizing their razor-edged teeth and wicked claws. Indeed, their incisors have great value. As many lords seek to adorn coronets that incorporate their distinctive sharpness."
"Do we... have to give 'all' that we find to the nobles?" Fabian looked up at Corlin, his eyes pleading.
Why does that foul monster menagerie bring him so much delight?
He sighed. "They too, shall become a part of your collection."
In return, Fabian smiled warmly before abruptly continuing his climb upwards.
They passed several more prowrie, some dead, some dying, as they journeyed to the Tower's peak. The few that clung to their final moments of life were playfully stomped on by the King until they perished.
"Corlin."
"Yes, my liege."
"This black ooze lining the walls... is it the blood of those prowrie?."
"Indeed, it is."
"And what of these red splashes here and there?"
"Those likely belong to Merran."
As they reached the pinnacle of the stairway, Fabian paused his advance and turned to address Corlin. His face etched with concern.
"Should I have told him to count the testicles?"
There were no windows at the head of the Ogre's Keep. Instead, the room was decorated by a concentric pattern of embrasures at the walls, with inset arrow slits. A crystal chandelier shone above. It's magical glare was stifling.
Two dozen dead prowrie littered the circular hall. And at its heart lay Merran's glinting armor. Flesh and metal were rendered in waves of breached claw marks. His legs were splayed apart, pointing in awkward directions. While his arms were mashed into a pulpy mess of yellow and red.
Next to Merran's dormant figure was the Ogre. It had the look of a particularly pale man with every aspect of his body exaggerated in size. His head, which now bore a look of sad defeat, was bald and egg-shaped. A row of pearly, misshapen tusks curled over and under a fierce grimace. His single eye was glazed over, as he absentmindedly nursed a grievous stomach wound with one hand while the other held a bone-white ball club.
"We must hurry! You need to heal him before its too late!"
Corlin rushed to Merran's side and began to chant his most powerful healing spell.
"Corlin! What the fuck are you doing?!"
"M-my liege?"
"The Ogre could die at any moment!"
"I-I see..."
This man threw his life away to appease your whimsy! Have you no heart my King?
"... what of Merran's injuries? These wounds are fatal."
"Oh. Yeah. Heal him too. But first ensure the Ogre's survival!"
Corlin straightened and drew closer to the Ogre, who, noticing his approach, flinched away.
"Calm yourself. If you wish to live, allow me to tend to your wounds."
Between the scarred fingers on his belly were the Ogre's lapping entrails which threatened to spill forth at any moment from the bulging tear in his gut.
Corlin made a brief, cursory examination of his physical state which he then confirmed with [Appraisal].
The Ogre either understood Corlin's intentions or lost his will to resist, letting the club slip out of his hand.
A simple incantation should suffice. I must hurry on for Merran's sake. For this beast's monstrous metabolism will likely facilitate a swift recovery.
Corlin made a drawing motion with his hand. "[Heal]."
As if woven together by an invisible string, the flesh around the gaping wound knit itself shut.
"It is done. His strength is not entirely recovered, but the Ogre's life is in no present danger."
So when did I become my Master's puppet?
"Excellent. You may tend to Merran now..."
Fabian turned to speak to the Ogre, who had sat up and begun to examine himself.
"... what shall I name you? Hmm. How about something strong like Maximus...? No, you're too ugly for that. How about Numnum then? Well, that's what I called the baby griffin gifted to me when I was three. Dammit. I miss that bird-dog! Who would have thought that even though it had wings, it still couldn't fly? I had only pushed it out the window because I believed it could. It's not my fault Numnum died! They should have told me it was a giant chicken or something-"
"-My liege!"
"What is it? Can't you see I'm busy?"
"I'm afraid that..." Corlin's voice drifted away, his head hung low in shame.
"Out with it old man. I don't have all day!"
"M-Merran cannot be healed. That instrument. The Ogre's Club. It possessed some sort of curse. The [Status Effect] called [Dreadmore] has resisted all my spells. I'm afraid that he won't recover naturally... and he does not have long to live..."
Fabian was dumbfounded.
"... so we had best prepare for his imminent... departure."
"Are you trying to say that Merran is going to die?"
"Y-yes my King. I cannot save him."
Fabian shrugged. "Oh, I guess it can't be helped then. Might as well make the most of it." He knelt down at Merran's side and gently peeled off the mangled armor.
"M-my liege... t-they are... I-I saved them."
"Hmm? What do you mean Merran?"
"T-the test... the testicles are... intact!"
"Ah. That is quite an achievement!" Fabian made a cheerful clap. "I want you to know that you have served me well thus far. But Merran, my faithful knight, I must ask you for one last thing."
Fabian withdrew Merran's damaged helmet. Waves of coal-black hair flowed freely.
And then the King's free hand dove into the recesses of his exposed gut. Merran shuddered. Beads of sweat lined his sickly face.
What in God's name is he doing?!
"M-my King, w-why... do you treat me so?"
"I am conducting an examination. The more we learn of the curse that has disrupted Corlin's healing magic, the more prepared we will be in our next encounter. Your sacrifice may well save the lives of many others."
That is utter nonsense!
A hand shot up and caught Fabian by the shoulder.
"K-king Fabian! It has... b-been an honor... s-serving you. I-I only ask one thing... m-my mother... Giselle. P-please care for her!"
Fabian took the outstretched arm in his hand. "As the King of Alokai, I swear upon the honor of my name, that from this day hence your mother will not know any misfortune. Her life will be one of comfort and exquisite luxury. This is my gift to you."
Merran smiled, as the light faded from his eyes.
A few minutes later, Fabian retrieved his blood-soaked hand.
Corlin could not hide his agitation. "For what purpose did you conduct that 'investigation'?"
"Hmm? No, reason really. Haven't you ever wondered what it would feel like to grope the insides of a living person? I even touched his heart! It was quite the sensation. Although not unlike that of a deer or calf."
H-he has done this before?!
"Oh, and Corlin. Do take care of his mother... Jessica or whatever. Invite her to live in the castle. If she refuses, give her enough money to absolve us of this duty."
"You need not worry yourself my King, I will personally take responsibility, and care for Madame Giselle."
"Yeah, sure. I am grateful and all that... do you hear something Corlin?"
The sound of clanking metal preceded a stream of red-armored knights that entered the Tower's utmost chamber.
An unusually short knight with a lion-shaped bascinet approached the King and bent a knee.
"My liege, please forgive our late arrival. There were some 'pests' lingering on the outskirts of the forest. They have all been disposed of and the Ogre's Keep has been secured... w-we also found a hidden door a small distance from the Tower... at first we thought it was a secret burrow, to hide their retreating members in the event of an indefensible attack on the Ogre's Keep. Instead we found a dozen women lying naked within its compartment. Unfortunately, they were already dead when we arrived. Though they had suffered terrible injuries, I believe the cause was starvation."
"Hmm. That's really sad and all that. Nevertheless, excellent work and um... what was your name again?"
"Your servant is named Leona."
"Are you a woman?"
"Yes, my liege."
"They have female knights these days?"
"We are a recent addition."
It seems Bishop Culio has managed to reform many of the old traditions that plague the All-Father Church.
"I see... well that's convenient. Remove your helmet."
She did as commanded. Her hair was a light ginger, in a well-trim crew cut. And beneath her round eyes was a pointed nose and puffy lips that were curved into a cordial smile.
"Good. Now take off your armor."
Once again, she did as commanded. Underneath her armor, she had worn high boots and an ill-fitting shirt tucked into a loose pair of pants. Noticing Fabian's inquisitive look, she began to explain her attire.
"I-I had burrowed the Gromber Guild's trainers because um... my background does not afford me the luxury of personal clothing." She looked to her feet, and blushed.
"No matter." He turned to address the Ogre. "Bobo..."
The Ogre glanced up at Fabian.
"... that will be your new name. Bobo. I hope you like it... and now, tell me. What emotion does this women arouse in you?"
Bobo's eyes grew wide, but it did not respond.
The King looked up into the air and spoke wistfully. "Ah, if only this beast could understand your words Leona. He might be able to respond to your forbidden love."
"Uh... yes, I am enamored by his um... strong, beefy arms. And what magnificent neck muscles! H-his eye too. I-it's so big! And gorgeous too!" Leona threw back her hair and crooned. "I-if only Mister Ogre could understand my true feelings. We could celebrate our love together... i-in wild fits of passion!"
Neck muscles?
The Ogre had begun to drool. He stared longingly at Leona's well-endowed bosom.
"Alas!" Fabian touched his brow with his wrist. "For their love can never be! How sad it is for such a beautiful woman to be spurned by a stupid beast!"
"W-wait!" Bobo bellowed. "I want her. Yes." He licked his lips. "I must have her!"
"Ah. So, you can talk." Fabian laughed lightly. "Corlin. Interrogate him."
Corlin stretched out his hand, palm up. Jets of electricity danced between his fingers. "You will tell us of your purpose. Any deceit will be met with a swift end."
The Ogre fell to his knees. "F-forgive me! I wanted to please Master. He gave me [Cursed Oak Club]. I grab this land. To win favor. I surrender. Boy. You my master now- oomph!"
Bobo keeled over in pain. The blow that Leona had dealt him was not that devastating, but it rekindled the memory of Merran's wild slash to his gut.
"You will address his majesty as 'my liege' or 'my King'; to each of the Knights of Gromber, 'Sir', and to the Chief Magus, you will use 'My Lord'. Is that clear? Or do you need me to help you understand?" She curled a hand into a stern fist and waved it in the Ogre's face.
"W-what about our love?"
"I love none other, than my King and Country!"
Fabian glanced at Corlin. "I like her. She's feisty."
"And who is your master?" Corlin had not forgotten about the interrogation.
"The Demon King, Luscius Morti Wardo Feldhart, Grand Ruler of the Kingdom of Canaan."
Corlin's jaw fell open.
Fabian noticed his reaction, and was not pleased. "Corlin."
"Yes, my liege."
"Has the Demon King encroached upon my territory?"
"No, my King."
"Does he plan on attacking the Alokai Kingdom in the future?"
"There is no evidence to suggest that he has such plans."
"Is this Ogre's Keep not evidence of such an intention?"
That cannot be denied!
"I do not believe that to be the case. His power is but a trifling compared to the immense military might of the Alokai Kingdom. This creature likely acted alone in an attempt to curry his King's favor."
"Hmm. Even if that's true, when we return to the Citadel, I will have you summon the War Council before me."
If we anger the Demon King, he will surely destroy us all!
"I do not believe such a course of action to be necessary, my King. But I will remember to do so upon our return."
"Alright... Leona."
"Yes, my liege!"
"Is the Noble Entourage close by?"
"Indeed. It is."
"Go out to the carriages, and kindly ask for some volunteers. Women only. Attractive, if possible."
"M-my King!" Corlin interposed. "May I ask for what purpose do you require volunteers?" A sinister foreboding clutched at his heart.
"Hmm? Don't you like surprises?"
"Dianne? Ursula? What are you two doing here?!"
"Hello Father!" Dianne said sweetly. Her frilly, champagne-colored hair wafted about as she shook her head.
"Are you not glad to see us Father?" Ursula's voice was a haughty treble. "We have volunteered ourselves so that we may be of use to the King."
Ursula stood head and shoulders above not only her diminutive sister, but also above the crimson knights that guarded the Tower's high chamber. Both sisters were dressed in colorful frock typical among noblewoman, as they looked upon their father with loving admiration.
"O-of course I am pleased to see the both of you!"
But what dreadful thing could the King be planning?
Fabian whistled. "Good job Leona. Since your part is done, you can put your armor back on."
"It is my pleasure to serve you." Leona donned her helmet and mail.
"Oh, and I almost forgot. We need furniture."
Four knights stepped forward, drew padded chairs from their [Storage] and arraigned them in a neat circle.
"I don't think we'll need that many chairs. But we will need a bed of some sort."
Leona, her face now hidden beneath her lioness helmet, made the provision by withdrawing a thick roll of straw from her [Storage]. The soldier's pallet was placed unceremoniously before the King and Corlin, both of whom had taken seats while Dianne and Ursula stood at their side.
God. I have rarely called upon your name. But in this moment I beseech your mercy. Please! Let this not become what I have envisioned.
Fabian's hand reached out into empty air, disappeared for a moment into his [Storage] and returned clutching a brown lunch bag.
What is this strange meal? I have never seen garlic cloves like that. And does he intend to eat it raw? Skin and all!
The King was munching happily on his snack, when he noticed the shocked expressions on the faces of Corlin and his comely daughters.
"Mmh. Nyum. Nyum." He stopped momentarily, to quietly burp. "Mmh. Yeah. This is good stuff. It's this thing called 'Popcorn'. It's actually just a special corn, super-heated until its innards pop open."
"My King, how did you acquire such a rare treat?"
"Nyum. Nyum. Nyum. Mmh. Ah. What? Oh, right. Keirima gifted it to me. I offered him a position in our vangaurd. He declined. I almost had him hanged, but for this delicious popcorn. When topped with caramel, it has this strange blend of salty sweetness and... hmm... maybe I should have asked for more?"
The hero from another world! If only I knew of a means to traverse our realms. With my family in tow, I would have fled long ago.
Fabian licked his fingers and let the paper bag slip carelessly from his hands onto the floor. "Alright! Let the entertainment begin!"
The King leaned back and waited as silence dwarfed the Tower.
The Ogre scratched it's head. Corlin rubbed his staff. Leona coughed loudly. And the noble sisters began to hum in anticipation of the upcoming entertainment.
The King, noting the lack of activity, but still oblivious to the discomfort of those around him, brought his hands together in a steeple. "Now, I'm not entirely sure how this works. But I imagine it's something similar to the 'Pillow Sport' that cousin Cecilia and I practice on occasion..."
Pillow Sport? The royal concubines will only visit his private chambers when he has attained manhood. And that's still a month away. Could Lady Cecilia have...?
"Bobo. Take off your clothes and lie down on the pallet, with your chest facing up. Brianne and Stella. You two will take turns riding him. And make sure you impregnate yourselves properly. I want a litter or pack or whatever you call a bunch of them. The first batch you deliver should have at least one female among them. Brianne, you don't have much of a physique, so I suppose you may choose to carry no more than two. But Stella, you are the tallest woman I have ever seen. So, I have great expectations from you. Give me at least five runts and I will reward you handsomely!"
"M-my liege!"
"What is it Corlin? Can't it wait? The show is just about to begin."
"Y-you can't be serious?! Those are my daughters!"
"Oh. Right. It might be strange of you to watch then. I don't suppose you're into that? Then I shall allow you to avert your eyes."
"M-my liege. Please permit me to speak."
Finally! A voice of reason.
"You too Leona? What's wrong now? Or is it that you also wish to participate?"
"I-I am not experienced in such matters. But I believe that women cannot ordinarily control the process of gestation."
"Is that so? Cecilia assured me that she wouldn't get pregnant unless she wanted to. Are these two women somehow deficient?" He pointed a finger at the sisters, who lay huddled in a corner, sobbing quietly.
The King has fornicated with his own blood relation! News of this must never reach the All-Father Church!
"S-she may be a special case..." Leona explained. "... and forgive me your majesty but I must also inform you that is it not possible to control the number or alter the sex of children when they are incubated in the womb because um... the process of bearing children is usually a gamble."
"A gamble? Why would anyone gamble with their own progeny?!" He smacked his face. "Ugh. Why is this baby making stuff so hard? Bobo."
"Yes. Master."
"Do you have any knowledge of the reproductive process of your kind?"
"Forgive me, Master. This one has only had humans. And you already found those humans I had... finished using. None of them bore children."
How can you let that foul creature touch my innocent little girls!
"M-my King." Corlin pleaded. "Let us put aside this matter for now. When we return to the Citadel, I will organize a special council to research the medical intricacies of pregnancy among humans and between different races. As this endeavor will likely prove fruitless, I suggest we postpone such experimentation until later, when we have sufficient knowledge."
The All-Father Church would never allow such plans to ripen. But that does not concern me. Because when this Fox Hunt is over, I will seek out Keirima and acquire the knowledge of the [World Traveler] - no matter the cost!
"You may have a point Corlin. But I'm bored. And besides I think there is a lot I can learn from watching. I might even try some tricks on Cecilia!"
Bobo grunted with satisfaction. "Yes, Master. There is much I can show you."
"Very well then. You may begin the warm up exercises."
What should I do?! I can't allow Dianne and Ursula to suffer such humiliation. I must find an escape!
"Warm up?" Bobo furrowed his brow. "I am not sure what Master has in mind. But please permit me to do things my way." He slapped his chest with a meaty hand.
"Hmm. I suspect Cecilia's methods may be unique to nobles. Whatever. Just make sure they live through the experience."
Bobo, in his excitement, lunged at the noble sisters. They screamed in protest, but he caught them each by the hair, tearing at their scalps. He dragged them to the pallet, and kept one hand pinned on Dianne, while he tore Ursula's dress to pieces.
"I'll start with the big one Master."
"Good. And before I forget. Leona. Send a messenger to Keirima with the following request: I am in dire need of the confectionery you call 'Popcorn'. I require at least ten barrels of these special corn kernels. Your reward will be quite generous."
"Enough!" Corlin roared. "Unhand my daughter you wretched beast!"
Bobo looked up in confusion. "You prefer I use the small one instead?"
A torrent of electricity shot out of Corlin's hand.
"Corlin! What have you done? Dammit..."
Fabian had left his seat in an instant and placed himself between the lightning bolt's path and the frightened Ogre.
"... you ruined my shirt! You know Cecilia knitted it herself."
The center of Fabian's shirt was singed away. A fist-sized hole exposed his bare chest.
How can he move so fast? And why is he unharmed?! Does he possess a natural resistance to the base elements?
Before Corlin could engage in further contemplation, Leona had appeared at his side and swung her flame-wreathed sword at his neck. He blocked the blow with his staff. And as he jumped back to assume a comfortable distance, jetties of flame were absorbed into the gnarled piece of wood in his hand, until the blaze that consumed Leona's blade was entirely extinguished.
With the [Onoci Staff] I might yet survive this ordeal.
"[Efreet] protect my daughters. And [Efreet] waylay the knights so that I may prepare an escape."
Acting as a catalyst, a ring of flames appeared at the head of his staff, from which a pair of giant Efreet were born. Each a towering inferno of elemental power.
The first Efreet struck at the cowering Ogre, but the King intervened, swatting away it's flaming claw with a flick of his wrist. Its forearm disintegrated, but a new one steadily grew in its place.
"I will not allow you to spoil my fun!"
The rumors must be true. With just those occasional 'dalliances', he was able to attain the strength of an 'A' rank adventurer!
The second Efreet spewed flames from it's mouth, bathing Leona in a mist of flames. When the haze finally dissipated, Leona's suit of armor appeared unscathed, but her feet were trapped in the molten rock of the floor.
The Gromber Guild is known for their flame wielding knights. While the blaze will not likely harm them, their own attacks will also prove ineffective.
A squad of knights had assembled, with their hallmark griffin-shaped bascinets. They struck at the Efreet and deftly dodged its broad swings. But for each successful strike the Efreet simply regenerated and continued its unceasing assault.
In just a few minutes several knights had been defeated. For when they were caught in the Efreet's sweeping grasp, their bodies would be flung about, flailing for a moment before crashing down into blood-soaked piles of crunched metal.
The knights had already begun to sound their retreat. Leona, now free of her plated mail, had gone to aid the King, by pinning Corlin's daughters to the floor while Fabian played with the other Efreet.
"Leona."
"Yes, my liege."
"Where is Bobo?"
"I-it seems that in the ruckus that ensued, he had made his escape."
"What?! Then go after him!"
"Yes, my King. But what of the Efreet?"
"Don't worry. I'll take care of them." Leona let go of Corlin's daughters and dashed to the stairs, exiting the fray.
Now is my chance.
"Come to me!"
Corlin's daughters got up and raced towards their distraught father, tears drifting in their wake.
"Hmm. How did it go again? Water, something, something. Um. Seeping, roiling. Uh... whatever. [Flood Water]."
The moisture in the air thickened, while droplets of water formed on the stone surface of the floor. An unnatural dew appeared, and slowly turned into an omnipresent leak.
A lake had begun to form in the high chamber of the Ogre's Keep. The Efreet were swallowed in it's wake. Their feet dissolving in a frothy mist.
The Knights had lost their footing, and struggled to remain afloat in their heavy suits of armor.
"Make for the exit my dears." Corlin fired off reams of lightning bolts at the disarrayed soldiers while his daughters waded towards the stairway. The pair were soon swept away, down the Tower stairs, by the growing current of water.
Thank goodness!
"Corlin."
"M-my liege!"
Fabian struck Corlin's chest with a clenched fist.
The air blew out of his lungs as his bent frame was launched into the air. His back splattered against the water, several meters away.
With his vision blurred, Corlin barely dodged a punch aimed at his face by paddling to the side.
Fabian clutched the back of his neck. "You will pay for your mistake. With your life." He shoved Corlin's head into the pool of water.
I can rest in peace, knowing that my daughters are safe.
"My liege!"
"What is it Leona? Did you capture Bobo?"
"Yes, my King. The Ogre is in our custody... but the noblewomen... were caught in the flow of rushing water. They are impaled upon the iron gates that protect this Keep."
What?!
Corlin struggled feebly under Fabian's firm grasp. His lungs were already filled with blood and water.
"How inconvenient."
"Shall I call for more volunteers among the nobles?"
"No need. We will continue this experiment in the confines of the Citadel and... hmm... does Corlin not have a wife?"
"I believe they are separated."
"Ah. Yes. I had heard of something like a religious dispute. Katrina was it?"
Kimberly!
"I will have a squad restrain her in the prison that lies beneath Norquid Castle."
"Splendid. Judging by the looks of Cornelia-
"-Could you perhaps mean 'Ursula', my King?"
"Mmh. Yes. Given her child's stature, there's a good chance Katrina can produce a healthy stock of..."
Corlin felt his mind drawn into a kaleidoscopic tunnel. He cried out in despair but heard nothing as the cold embrace of eternal silence engulfed his soul.
"I-I tried to tell you!" Tristan dropped to his knees and placed his palms on the floor. "I did not intend for this to happen! Please forgive me."
Corlin, his head whirling in confusion, took several moments to acclimatize his new surroundings.
He first noticed that the Nobles had become a ghastly sight to behold.
Most were crying. Some had fainted. Others tore at their own hair and clothing, muttering incoherently. A few sat stunned, as speckles of drool crawl down their lips while they stared ahead, their faces blank.
And strangest of all, there was one noblewoman that stood among her peers. Her face was fraught with terror while her arms were arched back as if she were about to fall over.
One by one the nobles began to take notice of the pristine statue in their midst. And when the sad realization that one of their members had turned to stone finally dawned on them, they screamed.
What happened?
Corlin turned to his King.
Fabian sat on his throne. Perfectly still. His eyes constricted in a faraway look, his lips quivering.
"This reverie." Corlin whispered. "Could it be a spell of some sort?"
Tristan was in tears, his face planted on the floor. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way! What should I do? What will happen to Jamilla?!"
"Hmm? Isn't this the Noble Court? Wasn't I just-"
"-Fabian! M-my liege! You have returned to us."
"Did I fall asleep...? You know Corlin, I think I've just had my first nightmare."
Tristan looked up at the King, the eye of his cursed half appeared to shrink, it's feverish glow, now slightly diminished.
"What's going on? Why are the nobles in a panic? And why is there such a life-like statue over there? I don't remember ordering one... and do you smell that?"
The stink of shit and piss had begun to suffocate the court. The knights in attendance stood stock still, but the source was unmistakable.
"Did everyone just have a nightmare?"
"So it seems, my King."
"P-please forgive me!"
"For what? Did you do this?"
Tristan lowered his head and groaned. "Indeed, I am to blame. Though I had hoped to keep it concealed, the effect of this cursed eye was known to me before I entered this court. I will accept any punishment. But please spare Jamilla's life! She has had no part in this... disaster."
Fabian began to cackle loudly. He twisted and turned in the seat of the throne, his merry laughter drowning out the wailing nobles. "T-that is amazing! I must have you over for dinner one of these days! What an awesome party trick that eye would make! And the mask too! What wonderful theatrics!"
Has he gone made?
The King's bubbling joy soon subsided. He sat in relaxed poise as Corlin and a few knights attempted to calm the nobles. Most felt it necessary to recuse themselves, while some who remained in a disheveled state, along with Merran, had to be lifted out of the room, unable or unwilling to move themselves. A few were even dragged out forcefully, as their mad ravings dampened the spirits of those around them.
"This power of yours..." Fabian began. "Is it something you can control? Can it be wielded?"
"No, your majesty. I have not discovered a means of controlling its effects, beyond concealment."
"And... what of the statue? Corlin has informed me that that woman was once very much alive. Now she is no more than a block of stone. Is this your doing also? And can it be reversed?"
"Forgive me your majesty, but I must carry the burden of taking her life. For though it seldom occurs, there are a few, that when first met by the evil glare of my cursed eye, turn to stone... and the condition is permanent, for reasons unknown to me."
"I see... worry not Tristan as I will not punish you for this mistake. For I bear some responsibility in this matter. I had disregarded your warning and unleashed this curse upon the wards of my state. Some, nay, all will ask for reparations. But I will cater to those demands. In return, I ask that you tell me the source of your power- I mean the cause of this curse."
"I... cannot."
"Hmm? Even with the threat of death?"
"Even so."
Fabian smiled. "Oh, my. Such obstinate courage. Perhaps in time, I can persuade you to share your secret with me." He clapped his hands together. "This court is adjourned!"
Corlin held his hand inches from the door.
Am I really doing this?
He made to knock, but hesitated.
Can I trust a man that would willingly marry a creature as repulsive as a Goblin?
"Do you plan on eavesdropping all day?" the husky voice had emanated from the other side of the door.
"Erm. It is I, Corlin. Chief Magus of the Kingdom of Alokai. I bid you open this door at once."
The door swung open. A woman hefting a battleaxe blocked his entry. Her face was obscured by a priest's shade, a black mask depicting a crescent moon.
To bear arms before the King's Chief Advisor. How foolish.
"What business do you have with my Master?"
"It is quite likely that Tristan has been expecting me."
"Do you presume to know my Master's thoughts?"
"Easy now. Let him through Jamilla. I had expected him to pay us a visit after yesterday's debacle. But perhaps not so soon."
She stepped aside, letting Corlin enter their guest room.
"Please have a seat." Tristan offered him the only chair available, drawn from the side of the nightstand. He was sitting on an unused bed, wearing his half-mask, while Jamilla stood aloft, her double-sided axe held askance, with obvious unease.
Corlin glanced at Jamilla's attire. Every inch of her skin was concealed by a thick gambeson, the color of midnight. And what would have been exposed neck was shielded by an aventail. Even her hands were protected by silver gauntlets.
"Is she truly so hideous that you will allow no aspect of her person to be seen?"
Tristan laughed heartily. "On the contrary. If it wasn't for such precautions I'd have no time for anything but beating back a horde of suitors!"
"I suppose that is true. There are many among our noble ilk with such... fetishes."
Jamilla stiffened.
"So. My Lord-"
"Please. Between gentlemen and..." he batted an eye in Jamilla's direction. "And beast. Let us address one other as equals."
"I take it you do not begrudge our unfortunate encounter at the Noble Court?"
Images of yesterday's nightmare flashed before his eyes.
"I... am willing to let the past remain so."
"And what of King Fabian? His unusual mirth was entirely unexpected. Could it be that his mind was... unsettled by the experience? I can't even begin to imagine what horrors he may have seen!"
I am certain that, to Fabian, there is no greater horror than being locked in his bedroom with nothing to play with.
"There is no need to be concerned, for The King does not know fear."
"How can that be? Is he not human?"
Corlin chuckled. "I have my doubts."
"And how can I repay this sudden generosity?"
"With information."
"Of that I have plenty. Except for one subject that has eluded me for some time."
"Your cursed eye?"
"Yes. Can you appraise it?"
"With [Appraisal] at only [Lvl. 4], I am afraid that I won't be of much use. But you are in luck. I have heard tell of such a curse. Although only in passing. And unfortunately, I had not taken the details to heart for I thought the tale to be a fiction when I first heard it."
"Then tell us what you do know." Jamilla's patience had come to a swift end.
"I shall." Corlin intoned. "But first, tell me what you know of an adventurer named Keirima."
"A two-faced scoundrel!" Jamilla spat.
"Enough."
"F-forgive me master."
Tristan sighed, and made to speak but fell silent instead, lost in thought.
What is this atmosphere...? Are they not lovers? While this ruse may have staved off any questions her presence in the castle may have incurred, the King's blessing has made such covert behavior unnecessary. So. Why do they continue to pretend to be Master and Servant?
"I have encountered him... on more than one occasion... i-is there something he has that you want?"
"A means of traversing between worlds."
"I see... well, I can confirm that Keirima is not originally of this world. He was born of Earth. And that is where he met an untimely end. But the God of this world saw it fit to give him a second chance at life, and so he was reborn as a human child close to twenty years ago."
"Reincarnation?! Impossible. All men who die are lifted to heaven or damned to hell. And those that straddle the line of good and evil are purified of their sins in purgatory."
"You don't need to recant the All-Father's doctrine to me. I know it all too well."
"Then you know your own words to be nonsense!"
Tristan folded his legs and tilted his head back.
"I'm surprised Corlin. I had heard much about you. But none spoke of such dogma."
"I told you Master-"
"-Please call me Tristan. If only to appease me."
"Y-yes Tristan. My point is that this man is nothing more than a religious nutjob. Kimberly had said as much."
"I will not allow such vermin to speak her name!" Corlin raised a flaming fist.
Jamilla gripped the shaft of her axe with both hands and let out a low hiss.
"Watch your tongue Jamilla. This is a negotiation not a war of words."
"F-forgive me Master."
"Please. Just call me Tristan. We're going to be married soon. So you need to get used to it."
And here it is again. This strange tenderness.
"I-I will. In time."
"To properly answer your question Corlin, I must inform you that while Keirima was born to this world by the will of your God, it was done with his consent. I don't know the details of their actual conversation, but it seemed to have left a positive impression on him."
That is preposterous!
Corlin's knees buckled. "H-he spoke... t-to God?!"
"Yes. He did... I assure you, that in this matter, Keirima spoke the truth. Or at the very least, he believed his own words. And I for one acknowledge that his telling of it is more than plausible."
"H-he speaks directly with God?! How can this be?" Corlin's face had gone deathly pale.
"They haven't spoken since his rebirth. But I believe he has a hidden purpose that he would not disclose... a mission that he must carry out at God's behest."
"Keirima is a prophet!"
Tristan gave Jamilla a worried look.
"I-I think you're taking this the wrong way."
"I must do all I can to protect God's emissary!"
"You are mistaken." Jamilla interposed. "He is not a man of God. That bastard-"
Corlin slapped her. The mask fell to the floor.
Unbelievable.
Her dimpled cheeks were flush with rage, the nostrils of her round nose flared in anger, and her soft chin jutted outwards as she gritted her teeth.
"You son of a-"
"-You're beautiful!"
Her anger evaporated. "T-thank you."
"I-I thought that you would be more like... a goblin actually. Your skin is green. But it's so pale. Under a certain light you could almost pass for-"
"-A human being. A person. Just like you and me." Tristan had a wry smile. "I'm sorry Corlin, but she's already taken."
"A-and please, stop looking at me that way." Jamilla hid her face in her hands.
Corlin was surprised that he had to exercise his will just to avert his own gaze.
"I will tell you what I know about [Medusa's Eye]."
"Wait. Let me check my [Status]." Tristan paused for a moment, before nodding in Jamilla's direction. "He's telling the truth, the string of question marks have now been filled in. Please continue Corlin."
"I heard this story from an old Guild Master. Tiberius. God rest his soul... so, there was once an Elven Queen, known as Solei, that ruled a small tribe somewhere within the vicinity of what we now call the Freemen Territories. She had reigned in peace for a long time when her territory was attacked without provocation, by a human ruler. King Herron. He led a war-like state that fought against the tribe of elves in order to enslave their race. And though the elves staged a fierce resistance, their numbers soon dwindled. The war ended with King Herron claiming himself the victor and the Elven Queen and her kin, the spoils."
"Solei." Tristan whispered.
"The Queen became his personal slave. And for a time, she was no more valuable than any one of his many concubines. But as the King approached old age, she still retained her ethereal beauty. None could fault him for falling in love with her. And in accordance with her desires, he freed the elves from their slavery, including Solei herself. But rather than return to the enclave of the forests, she stayed by his side and became his Queen in all but name. His demise arrived just when she had begun to bear his child. And so, King Herron was assassinated by his own son. Which one? I do not know. For he sired many children and had yet to name an heir. Solei, whose beauty was still matchless, became a concubine once again."
"That's it?"
"Oh-ho! The story does not end there. To the surprise of all, Herron returned. No longer a man, but a demon instead. Evil incarnate. He may well have been the first Demon King, but for the fact that he did not desire a throne."
"He just wanted Solei back?" Tristan concluded.
"Indeed. He sought their reunion and was willing to kill his own son that had claimed his old throne. But with a knife at Solei's throat, he agreed to die once more, so that his beloved and the child she still carried could live... and die he almost did. The young King cast a banishment spell that would have sent Herron to the depths of hell had Solei not intervened. His life was spared, but she was caught in the darkness of a terrible mist. A curse settled on her body. Killing the child in her womb and imbuing evil into her very soul. Such that where her hair had once been, was now a head of snakes. And whomever met her gaze was instantly turned to stone."
"But why is the curse known as 'Medusa's Eye'?"
"There is a rare serpent whose cursed bite petrifies the soul, turning the body to stone."
"And you're saying that weird [Medusa] snake grew out of her head like it was hair?"
"Yes. That is how the story is told."
Tristan was visibly shaken.
"It seems that you have acquired a less potent version of this same curse. But what I find curious is why so few of your victims turn to stone."
"Please don't say it that way. You make me out to be a villain..."
Tristan removed the jester's mask that covered one side of his face.
Corlin flinched, diverting his eyes.
"... it only works the first time you see it... and Jamilla has a theory about why most people awake from a dream while others turn to stone."
"Is that so? Then if you will, Jamilla. Please elaborate."
Such a fine maiden. Perhaps there is some way to purify her Goblin blood? I'm sure that if there is, the Pope would know of such means.
"I-I believe that one can only escape the dream by dying. It matters not how. The dreamer could even die by their own hands... I-I have already confirmed this much."
"What would happen if the so-called dreamer were to somehow avoid death?"
"This is only conjecture." Jamilla confided. "But it makes sense that the dream would repeat itself. Perhaps as a variation of the dreamer's 'worst nightmare'."
"And for how long would this go on for?"
Tristan swallowed hard. "Some people have reported dreams lasting only minutes. Others, days. Some weeks. And for those unable to recover from the trauma, we suspect it had been years."
"C-could it mean that..."
Corlin felt faint. And Tristan's grave demeanor did little to ease his anxiousness.
"... the woman that became a statue?"
"S-she may still be in a dream a-and..." Jamilla had begun to shed tears.
"And she will likely stay in that nightmare... forever." Tristan bit his lip hard, his face plastered by harrowing guilt.
"This... this truth, must not be made public. It would cause a panic. And you Tristan." Corlin pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You will be labelled a demon. It is only a matter of time before the Church puts a bounty on your head."
Tristan seemed relieved. "This is most unexpected. I had thought we would make an enemy of you once you learned of the true nature of this curse... but it seems you have some greater purpose in mind than to please the fat saints of the All-Father church?"
"I desire only one thing. An escape from this world. I will do whatever it takes to rid my person and my family from the King's grasp... and so 'Tristan the Terrible', will you help me?"
"I swear to protect your family and not rest until I find a means of transporting you and your kin out of this world... in exchange I ask that you help me lift this wretched curse and... that you aid me in my quest to kill the world's most foul demon!"
Corlin's heart began to pound furiously.
"Y-you want me to help you kill the Demon King?!"
"No. Our opponent has not yet attained such power. He is a demon lord called Nejima."
Corlin laughed. "Then it would be my pleasure!"