Chapter 9: Father's Present

Twenty-Seventh Day, First Month of Year 1737, Impius Divisux

“This Skull Island we have set out for, I had always figured it to be merely an island with precious veins of metal. Iron, gold, quartz, copper, and what not.” Quintus said, a hand in his hair as usual. “I would never have thought Father would have hidden something there.” He frowned a little, then sighed. “I suppose one should never take things for granted even in books made by supposedly honest scholars.”

“You should have guessed from the name alone,” Tertius said. “Skull Island. What a distasteful name. Why not name it Precious Island. Or perhaps even Treasure Island. After all, the metals from that island is what is funding a sixth of Father’s war.”

“Both Favron and Ascal Kingdom have already shed any pretenses of neutrality and along with that, trade between the kingdoms have stopped. The “bandits” in the Beast Woods have also increased,” Quintus said. “I have to hand it to Father though. He did well suppressing information from coming out of our borders for well over a year.”

Tertius nodded. “Now, we only have to accept Father’s gift waiting on Skull Island and off to war we go. Most of the armies have already assembled at the northern and eastern borders while the enemy armies are still marching.”

“I do not fancy traveling to Skull Island.” Secondus said. “Five days of being stuck on a damn boat. What if we are attacked by some sea monsters? Or if there is a leak and the boat capsize?”

Tertius smiled gracefully. “Then Omnus will have to rely on your determination and will to survive, Secondus. Of course, we will also be relying on Sextus. Who knows if we have any aptitude regarding swimming?” He grinned. “And if need be, I will flail my arms in the waters with some small grace.”

“Hah. It’s a shame we are called the Crown Prince when we have never even stepped foot outside of Castle Noxus and its city,” Quintus said, smiling amusedly. “To add to that matter, I have always wanted to see the Endless Ocean.”

Quartus snorted. “I would love to fight a sea monster. Netherals know you have read at least a dozen books on sea dragons already, Quintus. You have even made me intrigued.”

Sextus made a brief smile. In the past three years, he had never once smiled before, always off on his own training. But now, he felt something changed inside him. “I would like to fight a dragon. Test both blade and magic on such a famed creature.”

“Perhaps later in our olden years when we are wrinkly and grey. A smart man never seeks out his death, especially for such a stupid reason,” said Secondus. “I should know too, especially since I am the one out of Omnus who wants to survive the most.”

“That said and all,” Quintus cut in. “Shall we test the limits of our merging? It has already been two months since we last tried.”

“Very well, we will go in order,” Tertius added, making a move toward Secondus who had began mirroring Teritius.

The two of them walked into each other, their bodies never once colliding. “You know. I have always found the process of merging to be quite strange. Even when merged, we maintain a dim awareness of ourselves.”

Quartus moved next, merging completely. When Quintus turn came, he managed to merge only halfway through, an arm, a leg, and half of his head poking out.

“I suppose we have a few more years to go before we are successful,” Quintus said, separating himself from the merged Omnus.

Omnus separated. “We will let Perfect Gentleman take over now.”

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The shipmaster was a piece of work, his face so tanned that Zane figured he could have mixed in among with a group of seals and none would know better. Then again, Zane couldn’t really speculate on the intelligence of such beasts having never seen one for himself. Nor for that matter, of the shipmaster. He looked to be too quick to smile, and too prone to groveling in front of King Balan.

“Say, shipmaster. Why is the island named in such a way?” Zane asked, wetting his lips. There was the taste of dampness and salt on the breezes that blew past him on the deck of the ship.

The shipmaster turned on his heels and smiled, showing off the yellow of his teeth. It wasn’t a handsome smile, missing a few teeth here and there. But even if he had a handsome smile, it would have been offset by the other more noticeable features of his face.

“Ah, you be looking at my nose?” He rubbed at the mass of scars and two holes where his nose should have been. “Had me a few fights when I was but a lad still at Cape Skull. The other lad pulled a dirk on me. Shaved away a piece of my nose in the process.” He smiled once more into his salt and peppered beard. “I gave as good as I got though.” He laughed grimly, making a perverse smile. “If ya know what I mean, my prince. That lad won’t be father to any children anytime soon.”

“An amusing anecdote, shipmaster,” Zane said. “And if I ever become king, I will have it made into a ballad.” He smiled. “What I want to know, however, is the story behind the name of the island.” Books and maps could not tell as well as mouths, Tutor Beldin always like to say.

The shipmaster shrugged. “A simple story is all. There are reefs around these parts here and around most of the island. The waves there are strong enough to draw in a ship. I have seen many a ship that have crashed into those reefs. Not even one man will survive then. Many skulls have sunk into the waters of Skull Island.”

A hesitant look on his face then, Zane noticed. “What is it?” he asked.

“Miners and the folks there say that when night falls, they sometime have dreams. And by dreams, I mean nightmares. Evil ones too.” The shipmaster shuddered as if a chill had seeped into his bones, paying no heed to the glaring sun.

Just what has Father hidden on that island? Zane nodded. “That is interesting, shipmaster. You have left me much to think upon.”

The afternoon passed by as Zane explored the ship, speaking to its many sailors. And when night fell, Zane went back into his cabin. Not once in the many hours that had expired had King Balan left his cabin. His Father had ordered Commander Thorion Solus to bring food into his cabin. No one else was allowed inside.

To Zane, Thorion Solus was a dull man. He had a somewhat handsome face though the grey had begun to seep into his black hair and beard. As the head of the Royal Magus Guards and their four captains, Thorion always wore a grim mask.

He was straight to the point and blunt as a hammer. His priorities were simple. Absolute loyalty to the Noxus family, and to the king the foremost. As each and every previous head of the Solus House had served the Noxus kings, so too would Thorion Solus. The Solus House had once been one of the Four Great Houses before they became the buried light to the Noxus’ darkness.

A loyalty that surpassed death. It was the creed of their House, and none could make a Solus ever abandon his creed.

Inside the cabin, Lina stretched her cold arms into the air. A full scholar she had become. She was always reading books these days. Even at her first time at sea, she was still reading a book. Nowadays, she barely lashed out at him. Perhaps Lina had finally settled into her position as his lich. And strange as it seemed to Zane, he somewhat missed her foul mouth.

In the time he had spent with her, Zane had never once harbored any misguided notions of himself and of her. He was a bastard who had stabbed her original body to death. Both killer and master. And neither had he touched her again in the two years that had passed by.

If in battle, were a stray arrow or a stray magic spell shot at Zane, Lina would be the first to die. She had been ordered to sacrifice herself for Zane. A lich was hard to kill. Wounds to the flesh were nothing to liches. Even if all their limbs were chopped apart, the lich would still live on, even growing their limbs again. The only possible way to kill a lich was to destroy both heart and brain.

It was the soul that mattered and not the body. With such benefits, why did most Magus choose to not become a lich? The main drawback was that a soul that had become a lich could never make its way into the Netherals again, its final resting place. A lich could only progress very slowly, a new Foci every few years.

And eventually, even a lich’s soul will disperse from time’s unrelenting assault. The dispersion could only be somewhat slowed if the soul was transferred into a different body at the time of its making. Near the end of its dispersion, the lich will continue losing his memories until no traces of its former self is left. A slow rotting of both body and soul.

As Zane settled onto the bed, into the rhythm of the swaying of the ship, into thoughts of Skull Island and his father, he drifted his way slowly toward the land of dreams.

Back in the Magus Domain, there were four of the Omnus to be seen gathering around the five white circles. When Zane slept, there was always to be one of the Omnus in control. Otherwise the end result would be unthinkable.

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Second Day, Second Month of Year 1737, Impius Divisux

Skull Island had only one safe entrance to enter from and that was from its east side. Any other side and a ship would crash into its reefs, its sailors either gored to death or forever sinking into the water depths of the ocean.

As the dockside came into view, Zane saw many people milling around. Sailors from other ships carrying out large wooden boxes full of supplies, the captains shouting out directions, and the master of the Skull Island preparing to greet King Balan. With him, he had brought his entire retinue.

Among the retinue, Zane noticed three women lingering closely to the noble in charge of Skull Island, one woman blonde, another with mousy hair, and the third with raven hair.

His three wives probably. There were no religions or laws in the kingdom which stated a man couldn’t take more than one woman as his wife. The same consideration extended toward the women; they could take as many husbands as they liked. An exception to the rule was that there was a main wife and a main husband. It was done so that the nobles could not take advantage of the rule and turn the lands into a chaotic brothel, exchanging husbands and wives, and gifting multiple dowries.

Succession to the noble Houses were decided by the former heads and not by the oldest born. A woman could theoretically become the leader of a House. King Balan had never bothered to change these laws that had come about three centuries ago. In his mind, there was only one factor he took into compensation: competency.

There was one law that never changed however. Only a king may rule the lands and succession went to the oldest born. And if the oldest born son was not a Magus, he would die. Only a Magus king could rule the lands as did the very first Noxus king.

Zane noted the three women staying near the noble standing atop the dock. He could make use of them in case he needed to extort information. The blonde woman was most likely the main wife, for she stood the closest and wore the most expensive set of clothes and jewelry. Then again, she could have also been the favorite wife, for she had a bodice that the noble probably hungered for every night.

The first to climb down from the ship as soon as the walkboard had connected was Commander Thorion Solus. Immediately following behind him were forty Royal Magus Guards. They formed into two parallel lines, leaving only enough space of two people to walk through the middle.

With the formation set, and the Royal Magus Guards protecting every possible direction of attack, King Balan strode down the walkboard, stepping neatly onto the wooden dock.

Baron Narvex Skull went down onto his knees and his retinue followed. “To what honor do I owe this visit, your Grace,” he said, his voice smooth and not the least bit nervous. Ever since the king had been spotted in Cape Skull by one of his spies, Narvex had already prepared for his arrival.

Zane measured the look of Narvex from behind. A slim man that was clean shaven except for his whiskers. Ever since knowing of his trip to Skull Island, he had combed through every single bit of information related to the island.

Zane knew that Baron Narvex Skull was a man that was not to be underestimated. Ever since he had taken control of Skull Island, production had risen by thrice the efficiency. He was the main cause behind the lower crime rates in the kingdom. Any person who was convicted had to serve on Skull Island as a miner.

Give Baron Narvex a golden skull, and he would produce two more skulls. A Magus of gold he was. From his base in Skull Island, he had dipped his spidery fingers into almost everything. Inns, brothels, wagons, shops, grains, wheat. Name it and he would have at least one of his pinkies in them.

Even after long seconds had passed by, King Balan still had not answered the question Baron Narvex asked. He stood in front of the baron, looking calmly around the dockside. Another long moment passed by. “I give you leave to rise, Baron,” he finally said.

“Thank you, your Grace,” Narvex said, standing up somewhat shakily. Like his body, his mind was also shaken. Why had the king forced him to kneel for so long? For so long that he had lost face to his retinue, and even to his wives.

“I am not displeased with you, Baron Narvex. I was simply expressing my satisfaction at the efficiency you have shown since taking over Skull Island. Like a newly bird that has spread its early wings and soared into the skies, having its first taste of the golden heights. Sadly, too many of these newly birds die all too soon, not knowing that there were far older birds flying above the golden heights. A shame too since they were so talented and still so young. They should have bided their time instead of spreading their wings so widely.”

Baron Narvex was not a stupid man. He recognized the meaning behind the words. King Balan had told him it was best to curtail his ambitions for the war that would start soon. That it was best to not manipulate the prices of goods for his own benefits. “Thank you, your Grace.”

“Time is a precious commodity that should not be wasted,” King Balan said. “We will head out as of this moment. I trust you have prepared our horses, Baron Narvex?”

Narvex paled at that. Just a few fortnights ago, he had been visited upon in the privy by a masked figure wearing all black and carrying two daggers strapped to each side of his waist. Four daggers total. The man had left after giving instructions to prepare twenty horses and to close off a few areas.

Never had Narvex been so frightened in his life as the masked figure calmly placed a black dagger to his throat, drawing a line of blood. Whispers among the noble circles were that the masked men who carried four daggers were the king’s own spies. They also served another capacity—assassination. Spies and assassins the Four Daggers were.

Narvex had never believed such rumors, for gossips and whispers among the nobles were to be taken with a large serving of salt. Some whispers could result in rubbing salt at your still-raw wounds if one wasn’t careful enough.

Now, Narvex was inclined to believe the rumor of Four Daggers. The king himself had confirmed it, after all. Luckily, he had prepared all twenty horses. Baron Narvex may have taken rumors with a large serving of salt, but he was cautious. He had quadrupled the guards since that night and even when he was in a privy, there would be at least four guards waiting outside.

“Yes, your Grace. The horses have been prepared,” Narvex said, attempting a smile.

King Balan nodded. “We shall leave now and head west. I presume you have closed off all the areas I asked for too?”

“Of course, your Grace,” Narvex said.

Zane listened closely to the conversation between his Father and Baron Narvex, watching their every gesture, every movement. King Balan was not indeed to be underestimated. He had eyes and ears everywhere. But most of all, he had daggers to all the throats of the noble.

For the first time since Zane had made up his mind, a thread of doubt entered his mind? Just why had Father not killed him yet? Was he kept alive simply because he was his Father’s heir? And could he even defeat his Father?

They set out then, Zane and King Balan at the forefront, riding two marron horses along with eighteen Royal Magus Guards following closely behind. Commander Thorion Solus rode just slightly behind, his bronze eyes casually inspecting each and every direction. As for Lina, she was left behind by King Balan.

For the whole of two days, they cut across to the west of Skull Island, passing by many convicts, slaves, and workers mining the areas. After they had crossed into desolate areas where no more mining occurred, King Balan left two Royal Magus Guards at an area every few miles or so. Zane figured it was to stop any followers. He could only think that Father never left anything up to the fates. He covered all of his tracks.

At the afternoon of the third day, his Father finally broke his silence. “I do hope you are learning your lessons, Zane. Fear is but one of many tools a king may use. Make no mistake, it is a good tool, for fear cuts deeper than any blade can. But take fear too far, then you are stabbing your own toes.”

“Yes, Father,” Zane said.

“And distrust is but another one. It goes hand in hand with rumors. How the nobles love their rumors, gossips, and facts. Pay a man or an enemy’s spy to twist a fact, change a rumor, or create a rumor and you can build small fires in the hearts of men.”

The afternoon soon passed by and night fell. His Father stopped then as they arrived at a small range of mountains, four of them lined up together, all of the mountain bare, hardly a single blade of grass in sight. On the mountains there were multiple ridges like the knobs of a human spine.

There were only five of their previous twenty left; Commander Thorion Solus, two other guards, the king, and Zane.

“The ancient mountains of Skull Island. It is here that the Noxus kings have prepared presents,” said King Balan, gazing at all four of the mountains.

Those words sent a cold shiver straight to his stomach. He didn’t miss the words Noxus kings and presents. Had the present his Father prepared for him lurking in these mountains for many centuries already? Maintaining his calm façade, Zane inspected the four mountains. “I see nothing of importance here. Is it underground? Or hidden by some means I know not of?”

King Balan rode on, paying no heed to his words. Zane followed until his Father finally stopped once more at the base of the outer right mountain. The ridges of the mountain stretched abruptly, walking one moment and the next step, meeting its incline.

Leaving the horses with two of the guards, the three scaled the mountain for probably more than an hour before King Balan finally stopped at a divide between two mountains where another ridge extended upward.

“Commander Thorion. If you will,” King Balan said.

From his boots, Thorion unsheathed a small dirk which he quickly pressed against his left forearm. Sharp from hours of honing the steel, the blade quickly drew blood, dripping onto the ground.

The ground trembled and suddenly the ridge of the ground split apart, revealing a wide hole large enough for a man to go through.

“An undetectable enchantment, made by the very first of the Noxus kings, lies in these mountains. The secret entrance can only be revealed by the blood of a Noxus.”

Calmly and still in control of himself, Zane curiously watched Commander Thorion Solus.

“You hide your surprise well, son,” King Balan said. “House Solus has always been tasked with guarding the Noxus kings. But such a task requires the utmost trust. Yes. Such a trust requires an unbreakable oath that passes down to each generation and can only be entrusted to a Noxus. Throughout the centuries, however, the Noxus bloodline has become thin in House Solus, but nonetheless, they still hold a trace of the Noxus blood. Not enough for them to be born with a Noxus Surge, but still enough to be counted as kin.”

“That is indeed a startling revelation,” Zane said, following behind his Father who had already entered through the hole. Behind Zane, Commander Thorion was as grim-faced as ever.

For more than an hour, they traveled downward through the tunnel, the darkness in front lit up with a few fireballs. The descent was long and arduous. Zane almost tripped on a rock having not seen it until it was too late. The tunnel ended suddenly, widening into a massive underground cavern.

The sight and smell of the cavern told Zane that they were no longer inside the mountain, but far deeper underground. Following his Father further inside the cavern, Zane saw a myriad of small altars atop which lay various objects. Orbs that shone with a soft light, ancient swords whose only purpose seemed as if to gather dust, and shields that looked rusted but on a closer glance it was only the faint sheen of its red enchantments. Each of the altars were all surrounded by a circular perimeter of black stone upon which were glinting red runes.

Runes were a diverse language made by Magus long before the time period of Impius Divisux, before the chaotic breaking of HavenFall a few millenniums ago. At least that was what had been passed down from stories that had survived. It was a language made for when the Magus needed more power. The runic language tapped into the power of the Essence Realm itself, giving more focus and magic to the Magus.

“This place here is called the Penitentiary,” King Balan said. “This was where the very first of the Noxus kings imprisoned a few entities from the Netherals.” He curved a smiled. “They are called by many names. Demons, soul devourers and reapers. A harsh place the Netherals are, especially its deeper layers.”

As Zane moved to give a closer inspection at a nearby altar, a sharp twang resounded and he found himself stupidly staring at his right arm—at the red stump it had become. Zane looked to the ground and saw that his whole hand up to half of his forearm had been sliced off cleanly by Commander Thorion Solus.

So fast had the greatsword descended and pulled backward again in one swift motion that Zane could only mutely stare at the stump of his right arm. Then the throbbing pain hit him and Zane began groaning, falling to the ground while nursing at his bleeding stump.

Zane glared at both his Father and Thorion who stood grim-faced as ever, and had already sheathed back his greatsword. “What was that for,” Zane said through gritted teeth, the words coming out harsh and slow.

King Balan bent to pick up the hand that Thorion had chopped off. Two white bones peeked out from the bloody end. He looked down at his son. “You hide it well, Zane, but I can feel the hatred from you. You wish to kill me?”

Another curled smile. “Do not worry, Zane. Although you wish to kill your own father, I am not going to kill you.” He frowned at the hand he was holding, the blood staining his palm. "Human bodies are such fragile things. So prone to breaking. Instead of having such a useless hand, I shall gift you a new one.”

King Balan chuckled, a small laughter that clung onto the walls of the cavern. “Trust me. It is the greatest present a father could give to his son.” He glanced at Thorion who was standing beside Zane. “Commander, put my son out of his misery.”

Startled at those words, Zane attempted to open his Surges but before he could even attempt such a thing, the heavy leather sheath of the greatsword struck his head, and he fell to the ground, his vision blurred with edges of black. Zane attempted to Mind Accelerate but a splitting headache suddenly struck him. Realization hit him. The food! It had tasted strange this morning. Something was preventing him from entering and using his Magus Domain, his Surges.

“The years have been harsh on you, Commander Thorion. You are lacking your touch now. Usually, it would have taken you only one strike to render someone unconscious.”

“My apologies, your Grace. It must have been because he is your son and has inherited your great will.”

“Hah. Flattery from you, Thorion? I feel as if it will rain on such a beautiful day now.”

All the while Zane listened to their conversation, he kept attempting to open his Surges. But it didn’t work. Neither could he travel into his Magus Domain. Nothing worked. His magic had failed him.

Zane watched the descent of the sheathed greatsword again. So quick it was that all Zane could see was a blur. Then all was darkness.

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Seventh Day, Third Month of Year 1737, Impius Divisux

The fire lance struck at the goblin, carving the entirety of his chest into a hole and setting his whole body to fire. The force of the lance carried the goblin so far that he was knocked back into a tree ten feet away, all the while screeching.

Damn Netherals, Zane cursed. Right from the get go, he had already chosen the wrong route to enter the Beast Woods. Barely five days inside into this dangerous chain of forests, and already he had met a village of goblins.

“Thankzz, Prince Zane,” the Darkblood hissed in his guttural voice. All of the stresses of the words the Darkblood pronounced came out as guttural hisses. It took Zane a moment to understand even some words the Darkblood spoke. “You chose best route through woods. Such luck meeting goblins. They make tasty morsels. The females taste best.” The Darkblood showed off his multiple fangs, drool tracing the edges of his black lips. “Yezzz, we have good harvest today. Then we harvest their kingdom, my Prince. Humans tastiest after all.”

Father is insane, Zane thought to himself. The appearance of the Darkbloods gave even Zane shivers down his spine. Even Tutor Beldin had blanched at them.

Zane sighed to himself, creating another fire lance to throw at a goblin that had come charging at him with a rusty round shield and an iron short sword. “Just my day.”

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AN: Thanks for the comments, guys. They are a source of motivation :)