Chapter 30 – Call to Arms

A young woman sat on the desk at the back of the office. “I was close by, so I came to make sure you’re not getting in anymore trouble.” She brushed a strand of her black hair behind her ear and pushed herself off the table.

“Nice to see you too, Grim.” He gave her a tired smile and dropped into the chair next to her.

She cocked her head and rubbed her chin with her thumb and index finger. “Wow, you look exhausted.”

He pressed his face into his palms and said through his fingers, “Little bit.”

Grim sighed and the mischievous spark in her eyes was replaced by a heavier gaze. She put her hand on Hall’s shoulder and pressed her lips together. “I know I’m asking a lot,” her head turned toward Lily, “from all of you.”

The familiar only shook her head and Hall waved her off. “Please, this is nothing. You should have seen me back in the army after commando training. I was so exhausted that I missed a camouflage exercise because I fell asleep in the woods. Was even awarded because they couldn’t find me.”

Grim and Lily both gave him a strange look and Moira remained suspiciously quiet.

“Anyway,” Hall coughed, “weren’t we just comforting me?”

“That moment’s passed.” Grim leaned against the desk and Lily soared next to her.

“Totally killed it,” his familiar said, folding her arms in front of her chest.

“Alright.” Hall smirked, stood up and took a metal rod out of his inventory. Instantly, a black glow, accompanied by a sickening aura, emanated from the staff.

Grim’s eyes widened and she snatched the pole from his hands. “Where did you get this?”

“You remember the tree down in the labyrinth? The big, black and scary one? Well, once it had crumbled to dust, this thing was left stuck in the ground.”

She groaned and lifted her hand to her forehead. “That makes sense. I should have known, but…,” she gave the pole a closer look, “whoever did this has power and knowledge beyond any mortal I can think of.”

“Not to stir up old wounds,” Hall said carefully, “but the last harbinger should be involved, maybe it was her who did it? Whatever it was.”

After a moment of contemplation, Grim shook her head. “She didn’t have the power. This is—or was—an artifact I gave her. But somebody cursed it, distorting its purpose.” She furrowed her brow and looked down. “What a terrifying thought,” she murmured.

“Last time it took a fallen angel and decades to corrupt one of your tools,” Hall said, suppressing a tone of concern.

“Yes, but the scythe was merely stained.” She tightened her grip around the pole. “This is a perversion. It actually created a rift in our world and forcefully drove the darkness toward us.”

“What was its original purpose?” Lily kept her distance from the black glow and her narrowed eyes darted between the staff and the one who carried it.

“It’s… complicated,” Grim said. She licked her lips and turned the metal in her hand. “It creates a powerful area effect.”

A shadow rose from her hand and enveloped the artifact. Within seconds its eerie aura had disappeared, replaced by Grim’s dominating but gentle air.

Her expression softened and she dispelled her magic. Yet in an instant, the oppressive glow returned, even stronger than before. Lily gasped and Grim furrowed her brow. “This might be harder than I thought.” She raised her eyes toward Hall. “I’ll return this to you once it’s cleansed. As it is now,” she said, shaking her head, “it would cause only harm.”

Hall nodded and grabbed a portion of dried meat from his inventory. He offered some of it to Grim, but she declined and instead took out some sweets. The black wrappers held small balls of hard candy which she threw in her mouth. “Sour,” she squinted her eyes and trembled, “but delicious. Have some.” She pressed a handful of sweets into his palms and then quietly ate her own candy.

“Grim… why did you come?”

She lowered her head and dropped her shoulders. “Why? Can’t I visit just because I’m in the mood?” She hadn’t raised her gaze and still stood close to Hall.

“You could, and I’d like you to,” he placed his hand on the head of the girl in front of him, “but today you aren’t, right?”

Grim exhaled deeply and chuckled. “You are a brave and daring man.”

“I’m a harbinger after all. And not just any.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

She took a step back and, for a moment, they said nothing as only the wind howling outside the old church could be heard. The thin glass windows did little to keep the warmth inside and a little stove in the corner of the room fought its hardest against the freezing night.

Grim straightened her back and grabbed a pawn from a chess board sitting on the desk. The wooden game had seen better days, its worn figures barely recognizable.

“They say war is like chess.” She stared at the small figure between her fingers. “Strategy and tactics. The ability to think ahead and see your enemy’s movements. But I never really liked the comparison, because people forget another thing it represents.”

Hall leaned against the armrest of his chair, his eyes resting on Grim.

“Sacrifice,” she said. “Unquestioned, undoubted sacrifice and the deep faith that those at the top are better. Of a higher value. Worth the lives of their subjects. Queen, pawns, knights. How little, or how much their lives count.”

She closed her palm around the piece, showing Hall her small back. “If I have learned anything over the millennia, is that no matter if beggar or lord, every life, every soul counts. I’ve watched so many be sacrificed in the name of gods and kings. And what’s even worse than people believing in their superior value, is that there are those who believe in their own inferiority.”

The girl placed the chess piece back on its board and turned around, a solemn look on her face. “But that doesn’t mean that we won’t take lives. It doesn’t mean there aren’t those who don’t deserve the life they have been given or those who have forfeited the right to it. There will always be those asking who gives you the right to judge. The right to decide.” Her gaze pierced him. “Remember, I granted you that right. You have the responsibility, the duty to use it wisely or it will be taken away. And you will have to carry the weight of those you kill with you, because their lives, no matter how they lived them, still count.”

After a few tense seconds, Grim relax and her gaze softened. “I’m telling you this because tomorrow, even more so than before, you will have to face your responsibilities. You may doubt, you may hesitate, but trust in yourself and know that I have faith in you.”

“No worries.” Hall suppressed his exhaustion and showed her a small, but confident smile. “And thanks.”

“Don’t thank me.” She stepped toward the window and peered into the night. The first snow of the night fell on the empty streets and abandoned homes. “I wish I could tell you that we are going to save this city, protects its people, but…,” she turned toward him, “I am death and you are my harbinger.”

“I know.”

“No,” cold moonlight illuminated her figure, “you don’t. But for now, it’s alright. I want you to be careful though. There may be other parties involved in this conflict. More… powerful individuals.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Shep called from the hallway.

“Lily, Moira, keep this guy safe and I hope we’ll meet again soon,” she whispered.

Distracted by Shep, Hall had only looked away for a second, but Grim had already vanished and left an empty spot beneath the window.

“Were you talking to somebody?” Shep entered the office, carrying two cups. The scent of coffee spread through the room and the bald man handed Hall one of the cups. “Coffee with a little something extra. Made it myself.”

“Thanks. Was just talking to myself.” Hall took the cup and sipped from the brown liquid. The warmth dispelled the labyrinth’s lingering cold from his bones. But Shep’s little extra soon kicked in. Hall’s eyes widened and he sucked in air. “Smooth,” he pressed through his teeth and coughed once.

“I know, right?” Shep swallowed half of his coffee and shook his body violently. “So refreshing.”

Hall placed his drink on the table and sat down again. “So, what’s the matter? Why am I here? Not that I don’t appreciate a safe zone.”

He could have sworn Shep’s monk robe swallowed the moonlight when the bald man circled around his desk and sat down.

“Listen, I don’t think you can save this city.” His deep voice fit the room’s grave atmosphere.

“That seems to be the general opinion,” Hall said and when Shep raised an eyebrow, the harbinger shook his head. “Forget it.”

“Not just you. Nobody. I don’t believe this city can be saved.” The metal cup in his hand dented under his grip. “Damn, I’m not even sure if it should be saved.”

“I take it you won’t return?” Hall asked.

Shep leaned back in his chair and shook his head, eyes fixated on the cup he held. “This is no place for children to grow up. Not anymore. A few people in the surrounding villages owe me a favor or two so we’ll be fine. Should have left long ago anyway.”

The silence between them grew deeper and, for a moment, Shep seemed lost in thought. “You know, it wasn’t always like that.” He gazed into the past and his voice grew solemn.

“This city was safe once. Hard to believe, but the former king was a just man—unlike his son. He was cruel too, but never without reason. He rewarded those that served him well and punished those that failed him. And his son, the current king, failed him often. Back then—believe it or not—I was a member of the royal guard. A captain even. Had my own command.” He chuckled weakly. “Damn, I was so proud to serve.”

“So, what happened?”

“The inevitable, I guess.” Shep shrugged and put his coffee down. “The former king’s son snapped. Hired a small army and laid a trap for his father and his closest knights. I was the only one to make it out alive.”

“And everyone just accepted it?”

“Most didn’t know the truth. Of course some suspected it, but there was no proof and my word didn’t matter compared to his. The people were ignored and the nobles supported the son. The former king held a firm grip on them, but his son… not so much. And from then on, things became worse.”

“So, you were a knight once, huh?” Hall scratched his chin, grinning. “Hard to imagine.”

Shep only snorted and waved him off. “That was a lifetime ago. My point is, this city is not worth dying for. But if I can’t keep you away from the battle, I might as well ask you a favor. Give you something worth fighting for.”

He opened a drawer and took a golden badge from the bottom. “I want him dead. I made my peace long ago, but after all he did, the king needs to die.” He placed the badge on the table in front of Hall. “Our old knight’s symbol. Show it to him before he dies.”

Quest: Kill The KingShep has asked you to kill Bredon’s king, Malreg. Before doing so, show him shep’s memento. Currently the king resides in his palace in Roselake and is surrounded by his personal guard.

Difficulty: B

Quest requirements:

High intimacy with the former knight captain, Shep

Rewards: Unknown

Failure:

The king survives

Not present when the king dies

“Be careful though,” Shep said. “Malreg may be mad, but he’s no fool and he will sacrifice all his men in an attempt to save himself. I don’t care how he dies, just make sure he knows why.”

“Don’t worry,” Hall took the badge and placed it in his inventory, “I’ll take care of it.”

“Good.” A hint of of relief showed on his face, but Shep’s serious demeanor returned immediately. “You’ll meet up with Jorn soon and I want you to be prepared. You probably already know, but he’s more than a simple merchant. I doubt you could take him in combat.”

“Good thing he’s on my side then.”

“He is.” Shep scratched his chin and leaned back, the chair groaning under his weight. “You helped and if nothing else, he’s grateful. As are many of those fighting by his side. But their loyalty lies with themselves and the city. And don’t get me wrong, but your presence might frighten them more than the royal guards’.”

“Uncle Shep,” a tiny voice outside the office said. “I can’t sleep.”

The dark bags under Shep’s eyes told a story of constant struggle. He rubbed his closed lids and stood up. “I’ll be there in a minute, go to bed.”

Hall heard the patter of small feet on the wooden floor. “Do you need any help? Getting out of town I mean.”

“Thanks, there’s no need though. But listen,” Shep grabbed an oil lamp from a shelf and used a flint to light its wick, “you have to take care of yourself. Be vigilant, and watch your back. You’ll fight alone.”

He walked past Hall and stopped in the office’s entrance. “You can stay as long as you want. I’ll go take care of the children and then catch two or three hours of sleep myself.” His grip tightened around the wooden door frame and, with his back turned to Hall, he lowered his head. “Good luck.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” Lily said. She watched the oil lamp’s light disappear around the corner of the hallway and wrinkled her nose. “I really hope he’s wrong.”

“Me too,” Moira’s voice carried little optimism, “but considering Grim’s words and that man’s warning, I’d say we have a few exhausting days ahead of us.”

“We should get some rest then.” Hall stood up and left the office. Only the moonlight illuminated the hallway, but the darkness posed no obstacle to him.

On his way to the entrance hall, a warm glow spread from a room from which he could hear Shep’s voice. “Alright children, one story and then you’ll go to sleep.”

Hall’s gaze met Lily’s and they both chuckled. The scarred giant, former captain of the royal guard, now told bedtime stories to orphans. It was a nice thought. He quietly passed the bedroom, trying not to disturb the children.

“A long, long time ago, before grass grew on the earth, before water ran in our rivers and before night changed to day, there was a goddess. The first and the greatest. All powerful and all knowing, but… all alone,” Shep began his story.

“Wait a second,” Moira said. “I think I’ve heard this story before.” Hall halted in his step and listened.

“She was lonely,” Shep continued, “and so she split her strength among her children. One was pure light, the other dark, darker than any night you’ve ever seen. They could only exist together, in a balance. The goddess was happy to see her children create their first world. They split their reign in day and night and shaped life itself. Her children’s kin in turn ruled the races inhabiting this world. These gods had many names and many powers.”

Hall leaned against the wall next to the bedroom door and listened to Shep’s steady voice that carried through the dimly lit orphanage.

“The great goddess loved all of them dearly, but most of all she loved her first two children. But darkness grew envious of its sibling. It didn’t understand that their mother could love them equally. So darkness tried to conquer light. Its children went to war and the world drowned in blood.”

Hall raised an eyebrow. “That’s one hell of a bedtime story,” he mumbled.

“And the great goddess cried.” Shep’s voice grew heavy. “Grief and anger overwhelmed her when she saw what had become of her children and in a fit of rage, she swallowed the heavens and the earth, the gods and all the races. Even her own children. And when she realized what she had done, she cried for a thousand years.

“But when her grief subsided, she followed her children’s wishes and created another world, similar to the one before. Our world. And because she couldn’t forget her two children, she placed a small piece of them in each and every soul.” He stroked the children’s hair and showed them a warm smile. ”So there’s a little light and a little dark in every one of us.”

“But why not make everyone out of light?” The girl from before asked with a sleepy voice.

“Because she knew there needed to be balance. In her, in the world and in everything. But she also gave us free will. Choices. And the balance is tipping. So there need to be brave heroes out there. Heroes who fight for us. Fight against the growing darkness.”

“Tell us about them.”

“Another time, children. Sleep for now. Tomorrow will be exhausting.” Blankets rustled and the lantern’s light vanished.

Hall left them to rest and sat down on a wooden bench in the entrance hall. “Moira, did it sound about right for you? The story?”

“It’s a famous tale, widely regarded as the story of our creation. Or one version of it. It probably holds a kernel of truth. Grim told you, didn’t she? The balance is threatened and if it isn’t fixed… bad things happen,” Moira said.

“Don’t worry,” Lily hovered around Hall, “we have the light on our side.”

But he only laughed quietly. “I don’t see any knights joining our ranks. No priests rushing to help us. We stand alone in the shadows.” Lily sank to the ground, but Hall didn’t sound dispirited. “At least that way they won’t see us coming.”

He logged out and after a few bites to eat and a shower, he went to bed. Sleep soon overtook him and, even though it wasn’t even midnight, he fell into a deep slumber.

Only hours later did his alarm clock wake him up. The sun hadn’t risen, but if it had, the silence in his neighborhood wouldn’t have been disturbed. Saturday mornings tended to be rather quiet after all.

Frank stood up with a groan and rubbed his face. He stretched his arms and switched on the lights. These last few weeks, he had neglected to clean the place and it showed. A pile of worn clothes and dirty dishes screamed for his attention. But they had to wait a little longer.

----------------------

Once again he was summoned before the king. Bale swallowed the curse on his lips and entered the throne room. Polished marble reflected the light of candles and lamps and gold and silver ornaments painted a picture of exuberance.

The king leaned above a massive table and brooded over countless maps and documents. “Come closer, we’re almost ready.”

Bale approached him and glanced over scattered papers. “Your troops are in place?”

“They are,” the king nodded, “and so are yours, right?” He looked up and eyed Bale.

You know they are.

Malreg was a nuisance, but he was careful. His spies had followed Bale, at least when the warrior had allowed it. “Of course, your majesty. I moved my troops according to our plans.” At least those you know about.

“Good, good.” He nodded frantically. “The streets are empty. We secured the market place, the noble and trading districts. The slum and parts of the commoner areas are locked down. I say, let them come.”

“Indeed, we are prepared. But even though the slums are under lock and key, there will be resistance. Their soldiers want to fight.”

“Soldiers.” Malreg spit out the word. “Rebel scum. They want to take my city from me. My kingdom. But we’ll silence their incessant cries. They’ll only plead for their mothers when their guts spill from their ripped stomachs and when they choke on their own blood.” He licked his lips and giggled, a glint of madness flashing in his eyes.

Bale stayed quiet. Madness turned men careless, but also unpredictable. And lately Malreg’s outbursts had become more and more frequent. “Everything is taken care of. Now we just have to let it play out.”

“Yes, yes.” Malreg downed half a cup of wine, dyeing his beard red as he spilled the other half. The corners of Bale’s lips twitched as he imagined it to be the king’s blood that painted his neck.

“Remember, Bale, if you succeed in suppressing the rebellion, you’ll be rewarded with land and riches. Should you fail,” his voice darkened, the wine still dripping from his beard, “I’ll have your head and the heads of your friends. You won’t be safe anywhere in this world. No matter how often I have to kill you…” He growled and green mist rose from his fingers.

Bale could only sneer at Malreg’s threat. The king’s level was high and his skills formidable, but Bale had seen him fight. He had little experience in battle and his knight’s lacked loyalty and numbers. “Of course.” Bale bowed his head, suppressing a mocking laugh.

“Then go and conquer the slums. Take back my city and,” he gestured at the sword leaning besides the throne, “use this to make an example of those opposing me.”

Bale walked toward the throne and picked up the large blade.

Roselake’s Brutal Executioner Damage:90-120Durability:200/200Type:Two Hand SwordQuality:UniqueHaving been in possession of the royal family of Bredon for generations, this sword has become the symbol of law. For centuries it has been used to execute criminals and enemies of the kingdom.

Effect:

Within Roselake’s market place it can kill with a single strike

Requirements:

Royal permission

300 Strength

“That’s… quite the sword, thank you,” Bale said, never taking his eyes off the blade. But the king didn’t react to his words. Instead, he had lost himself in his maps and papers again.

“Works for me.” Bale shrugged, bagged the sword and left the throne room.

The two girls and the twins awaited him outside. “So, what did the old fart want?” Balinda asked without any regards for the poisonous glances of the guards around them.

They walked down the wide hallway of the castle, past rows of soldiers ready for their orders.

“Nothing important,” Bale said. “Get your men ready, we’ll attack in two hours.”

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When Hall logged back in, almost a day had passed in the world of Novus Vita. The sun had already set and a layer of fresh snow covered the deserted city. Silence reigned in the empty orphanage, only disturbed by the freezing wind that struck the windows.

He grabbed the iron handle of the massive entrance door and turned to Lily. “We’re about to go into battle. We might have to kill those not necessarily evil and maybe not only voyagers.”

She halted for a moment, but nodded. “I’ll trust your judgement.”

“Good,” Hall pressed down the handle, “you too Moira?”

“Yes,” the grimoire said. “I won’t run from our fate.”

He pushed the door open and walked into the night. Even now only few sounds reached their ears. Flickering lights behind several windows in the decaying buildings of the slums showed that not everyone had left. Many warriors—rebels that stood against the king and his army—found shelter in the abandoned homes of Roselake’s civilians.

Hall tightened the heavy cloak around his shoulders and pushed through the cold. The darkness helped them evade the guards and they soon reached Jorn’s store. The moment he stepped in, a dozen armed men standing around a table greeted him with drawn swords.

“Stand down,” Jorn said in the background. “He’s one of us.”

The men’s eyes scanned Hall and though they carried doubt and irritation, they showed no fear. Their faces, worn from weather and scarred by battle, remained tense.

“This is Hall,” the merchant said. “I told you about him. He’s the subject of the latest rumors. We have to thank him for decorating the market place fountain in such a colorful way and for bringing us the documents from the oh-so noble house Keslak.” The men chuckled and their expression relaxed—slightly.

“So you’re the one the people of Roselake call a hero. Sure don’t look like one,” a tall man clad in dark leather said. “Though others call you a cold blooded killer anyway. More fitting if you ask me. Celebrated and hated. In any case, you sure made a name for yourself. I’m curious to see if and how your name will be mentioned after all this.”

“Hall, these are my officers,” Jorn moved his arm in a wide arc, “they will lead my soldiers in the upcoming battles. I’m unsure if you can tell, but three of them are voyagers, just like you.”

The group split and allowed Hall to approach Jorn. “Old merchant, you’re more than meets the eye. Actually leading these troops. Impressive.”

“You’re one to talk.” Jorn’s grinned and placed his hand on Hall’s shoulder. “Boy, look at this.” He pointed at the large map city on the table in front of them. It showed Roselake in detail while red markings displayed troops and movement routes.

The city itself was arranged in a circle with its streets aligned like the grooves of a fan. They began at the city’s edge and met up dead center—right in the middle of the market place. A main road led from the west entrance to the east and from the south to the middle.

Most of the city’s north was painted red. Noble districts, luxurious shops and the castle itself. Gardens and entertainment for the nobility. But many red spots also marked the trading districts in the center and in the east and west. The king’s troops had established a firm hold on the city. Only the fairly large slum and commoner area in the south was marked with black and grey symbols—rebel troops or neutral points.

“Hall, you’ll accompany Kron here,” Jorn slapped one of his men on the back. ”You’ll conquer the commoner areas in the east. Then you’ll make your way through the trade areas, leading up to the noble districts up north, and push back the enemy. Meanwhile we’ll advance from the south and east. Once we create a buffer zone, we’ll circle back,” he said, slamming a dagger into the middle of the map, “and meet in the market place. The king currently resides in a royal estate at the north edge of the city’s center. We’ll strike hard and crush him once and for all.”

Event Quest: War of WrathAfter decades of oppression, those willing to fight for their freedom have risen against Bredon’s ruler and his army. Support them in their fight, repel the king’s troops and conquer Roselake.

Difficulty: B+

Quest requirements:

-

Rewards:

Based on your actions

Failure:

The uprising fails

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They then discussed more detailed plans, but Hall had already fallen deep in thought. He was unfamiliar with the area assigned to him, but it didn’t really matter. However, the men who would be fighting by his side worried him.

His ‘Soul Perception’ revealed darkness in the souls of the men around the table. Yet the one appointed to him carried so much more darkness than light. Guess I have to make it work somehow.

Hall possessed little sway with the rebel forces, so he had only made little suggestions to adjust Jorn’s plans. The situation seemed dire. They were outnumbered, their soldiers outleveled. But Hall had his own goals in this fight and one of them was Malreg’s head.

“Listen, men,” Jorn raised his voice, “today we’ll take back our city. All our suffering. All our despair. We’ll put it into our blades, into our shields and we’ll obliterate the king and his forces.”

The men around the table roared and smashed their fists against their chests.

“By all means,” Jorn continued, “we’ll fight. And if necessary, we’ll die.”

Grim expressions appeared on the faces around Hall as they drew their weapons.

“Let’s march!” Jorn yelled and together, they left the store.

Kron, the man who Hall was supposed to accompany, motioned him to follow behind. In a side street, thirty men awaited them. Most wore simple leather armor and old blades. A handful carried bows, but none of them wore any metal protection.

“Those are not soldiers,” Moira said with disdain in her voice. “They are thugs.”

Lily nodded and followed behind Hall, regardless. He would have liked to say something, but they spoke the truth. His ‘Soul Perception’ told him enough about them.

“They are scum,” Hall whispered. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t use them. Fight fire with fire and such. We’ll see about cleansing them later.”

“Let’s go.” Kron raised his spear and pointed toward the darkness ahead of them.

“I guess it’s time to go to war.” Hall waited for the group to march on. Only when they vanished around a corner, did he follow them. The snow silenced his steps and the shadows of the night soon swallowed him whole.

The cold wind carried the sounds of clashing steel, of barking dogs and screaming men. A scent of blood filled the air and murders of crows sat atop the city roofs, waiting for the start of their feast.

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Author’s Note:

Hope you enjoyed the new chapter :grin:

As always, if you spot any mistakes, have suggestions or questions, just let me know

Thanks to Requizition (Author of Prism here on RRL) for proofreading.

And a very special thanks to Anthony for sponsoring this chapter

:bye: