Arrival VI

I awoke with a start, heart pumping erratically. It took a few minutes for me to work out why I wasn't lying in my king-sized bed at home, but instead was lying on a cot that was barely wide enough to fit me. My next thought was that I had fallen asleep at some point when we were traversing the secret passageways, this was not the case of course.

The secret passages that tunnelled through the Imperial Palace were just as long and winding as the hallways had been, if not longer. They were also darker, mustier and far more cramped.

We'd spent almost thirty-six hours in the passages, unable to rest for any period of time before our pursuers inevitably caught up with us. Often resulting in a backs-to-the-wall fight that we just barely got through. And even then we'd lost the healthy male guard – a dwarf named Justin – sometime around the twenty hour mark. I was able to track the time down to the second thanks to the Garb's countdown clock. I checked it to see how long It'd been since I'd lain down - [28:46:12], I'd slept for about five hours, not really long enough for the others to recover properly.

Justin's death marked only the beginning of our trials.

Up until that point we had only been facing average leveled men and woman, though they varied somewhat in race and class, they were all in the 30-40 range. The Imperial Guards lowest recruitment level was 50, so the two healthy Guards could fight them without too many problems. The High Dukes that could fight, were also much higher in levels, Freylder was a level 67 [Dwaven Shieldbearer], Fenrick was a level 65 [Monk] and level 19 [Archer] – his second Class not of much use in the close confines of the passageways – and Verrick was a level 100 [Shadowdancer]. They all had some form of aristocratic non-combat Class as well of course. The rest of us, with the exception of Sarian didn't have any useful Classes. When pressed the Emperor even admitted that in terms of combat, he was only a level 12 [Duellist]. Though his impressive and powerfully enchanted armour and rapier probably added around fifteen levels to his actual fighting effectiveness. A level that barely matched the lowest of our opponents, much to his unending frustration.

So for around twenty hours the Guards and High Dukes traded off their defensive duties, and when we found some space and time to rest; Verrick would go hunting and scouting, often killing as many as the rest of us combined.

Still, the continued fighting and the lingering effects from the High Dukes power inhibiting seals, finally told. Even Verrick, with his rare Class maxed out and his impressive abilities could only do so much in those conditions, never able to fully recover, or even get any rest as he fought alongside the others alongside his scouting duties. He was not able to maintain an acceptably – in his words – high enough level of awareness and capacity.

Considering this however, we probably would have managed without any actual loss of life, though with plenty of injuries, even after the attacker's leaders realised what was happening and sent in their higher leveled soldiers. Soon we were facing groups of level 50-60 opponents, though far less of them overall, the massive difference in level proved too much for us. This too, might have been dealt with, as there were less invaders and we were able to rest longer between battles, but each group of a dozen had a much higher leveled person leading them, this would take Verrick out of the fight for a few precious minutes, leaving the rest of our group, though having rarer Classes compared to our opponents, they were now of a similar level.

When one of Freylder's scavenged shields broke during the first of these battles and a large shard of ice bore down on her, Justin jumped in the way, taking the hit himself and saving Freylder. We realised the game had changed. Verrick had to spend less and less time out scouting, because despite having longer to rest – usually anyway – between bouts, he was fighting opponents of a far higher calibre. This of course meant that we were ambushed more frequently.

Fortunately, a couple of adrenalin-pumping hours later Sarian finally woke up. Apparently the act of creating a barrier whilst still sealed - minor though he claimed it was – had been far more draining than he'd let on. He explained he'd used a Class Skill to 'borrow' power from his future self in order to erect it, in doing so he used far more of his future power than he received and he said he'd be paying for the use for days to come. Even at reduced power, his level 76 [Wardcrafter] and level 42 [Lightning Mage] were beyond useful to us, he focused almost all his depleted energies on his [Wardcrafter] Magics, forming countless barriers and Magical defences that made the difference between life and death on numerous occasions. Our only other defensive or utility magic – other than hiding in Verricks shadows wherever possible – had been a [Weak-Heal] Spell Leris had learnt in her youth. Not having any Magic Classes or Affinities, this Spell was even less effective than normal, and it only really had acted as a minor boost to our natural regenerations.

Besides, everyone knows that not being hit in the first place is a much preferred outcome than being hit and then healed afterwards. Even in its reduced capacity, I could see just how effective having a [Wardcrafter] or similar in your Party could be.

I was broken from my thoughts by Fenrick grumbling at me about hogging the cot, so after I graciously ceded the mouldy mattress to him, I shuffled over to the rickety table in the middle of the room. Once I had sat down on one of the mismatched chairs available, Verrick slid a cup filled with a dark liquid towards me.

“Here, I found some coffee in one of the sacks. Most of the beans had rotted away, but I managed to salvage enough for a few cups. It's terrible, but strong enough to wake a [Demon-Bear] from its hibernation.”

“Thanks,” I paused to take a sip, momentarily forgetting the Garb I was wearing, “Gah, that is disgusting...” I blinked in shock, staring at the coffee. How did I drink that without the veil getting in the way? Has the Garb been removed... nope still there and covering me entire. Then, I wondered, what had happened? If the covering had disappeared then surely my companions at the table would've noticed.

Obviously misconstruing my reaction and following silence as me disliking the brew, Verrick opened his mouth to say something, or apologise. But I cut him off with a raised hand, then quickly downed the rest of the cup, noticing that the veil parted around my lips to allow the liquid entry as I did so.

“Ahhh... that hits the spot. Got anymore?” I questioned, slamming the now-empty cup back down in front of the [Shadowdancer]. He sighed and shook his head, but he reached for the pot sitting on the table by his elbow to refill my cup, without further prompting.

“How's it looking out there, Verrick?” Our other table companion asked, once we had finished with our antics and I had another cup of coffee clenched in my hands.

“It's getting quieter out there, Geral. I think the attackers are finally running out of men, especially those of a higher level. I'm fairly certain I spotted some Imperial Guards too. Though, they were only in the main halls. I am hopeful that they will start clearing the secret passages soon however. They'll have to, otherwise the attackers will simply slip past them.” Verrick sounded exhausted, unlike the rest of us he hadn't had any sleep. His constant control of shadows the only thing keeping us from being found, that and the ancient enchantments protecting this hidey-hole.

“Where do you think they found so many capable individuals? I didn't recognise any of them. Which I found surprising, anyone above level 75 are usually well known, by their descriptions at the very least, and I don't think my Duchy's intelligence service is that incapable...”

“I wouldn't worry too much on that count. I'm pretty sure I recognised the man leading the mages back in the Throne room. If I'm right then the attack is being led by Colloc Ettersson, a level 94 [Illusionist] and Guildmaster of the Crimson Edgewalkers, a fairly large Adventurers Guild from Drugansfall, known for taking on questionable jobs... Of course if it is them, then the level of betrayal in this attack is much higher than some Guard Captain giving them access to one of the armouries.”

“From the mainland? I guess that would make sense then. Still, smuggling an entire Adventurers Guild across our country without any of us noticing? That is extremely worrisome.” Geral turned his lips down at the thought, and his frown-lines deepened.

“If it were only an Adventurers Guild then that'd be bad enough, the Crimson Edgedancers are known to be a fairly tight knit group filled with higher leveled individuals, no more than 100 strong, at most. However, they somehow managed to sneak thousands of average leveled people into the Palace as well, and judging from some of that tattoos I saw, these weren't local hires. I'm pretty sure that whoever is behind the Crimson Edgedancers also hired a legion or two from the Ashen Regiments, the leftover remnants of the fall of Ashpell, who – in case you've forgotten - swore, by any means necessary to gain strength enough to avenge their fallen brothers and kill the [Dragon] who destroyed their country.”

“Those murdering scum-bags who reigned terror on the River-lands for centuries? I thought the last of them were finished over two decades ago, when Terrius the Second took the Watchtower Legions to support the River-King's coalition?”

“Yeah... apparently not only are they back, but someone managed to smuggle a couple of their legions across the Ald Lake and then through our lands to the capital.

“If it were just an attack on the Palace by locally-sourced men that'd be bad enough, let alone if it were a group brought across the Lake... But for it to be a Legion of the Ashbringers... Well, we can only hope they were but hired for the job, and not that they are the perpetrators of the attack themselves.”

Verrick seemed almost more worried about these legions from the 'Ashen Regiments' than the well organised invasion of the Imperial Palace, if that were at all possible. I spent their discussion slowly sipping my coffee, taking in as much background lore about this place as I could, and I did manage to pick up a few titbits.

“You think their aim was not the for the Emperor, but actually to take control of the Watchtower?” Geral asked, his brow now so scrunched that I could hardly see any trace of his eyes beneath his gnomish epicanthic folds.

“It's a possibility,” Verrick replied, “Obviously anyone attempting to take the Watchtower would need to kill the Emperor first, otherwise they'd be unable to get in. So any attack on one would be an attack on the other... Still if the Ashbringers have finally resurfaced after all these years, and here of all places... I fought beside the Emperor's father during that battle, the things they did to their own people in the name of power... If they are truly aiming to use the Watchtower for their own ends then I dread to think what their goals may be.”

I let out a sigh when they finished their discussion, both deep in thought after the conclusions they'd drawn. As enlightening as that was, I now have even more questions than before!

Taking another sip from my cup, and happy with the buzz it was causing, I peeked over the rim at Verrick, he'd just claimed he'd fought these 'Ashen Regiments' - or was it 'Ashbringers'? - over twenty years ago.

Going by how he looked, and how does he look... rrrrr... I could get lost in those eyes for hours... God-damn was that man distracting, still he barely looked twenty right now, but if his claim was true and he fought side-by-side with the previous Emperor then I doubted he did it as a babe-in-arms. That and the fact he was level 100 in at least one Class let me now there was a lot hiding behind those beautiful baby-blues of his...

“Verrick, you may want to turn off that Aura of yours, it seems you've trapped our fair Empress. And we wouldn't want rumours of impropriety to start before they've even consummated!”

What... nonono... I felt a blush come over me as I was caught staring, made worse by the smirk that crossed over his weary features.

“My [Bedevilling Aura] is already off Geral, any attraction she feels toward me is all natural. Though I do admit to some surprise, I always thought our dear Empress felt only hate towards me. Clearly that Garb has blocked any self-control abilities she was using in the past!”

I'm right here you know! Please stop talking like I'm unable to hear you! I was glad the Garb – currently shifted into some form of shear nightdress that was only just concealing my body, much to my increased mortification – hid my face, and not just because I was obviously not who they thought I was – not even close – but also because I'd look very much like a tomato right now.

Status Quo Activated.

Congratulations, one negative Status Affliction will now be removed!

Negative Status Affliction: Caffeinated. Has been removed!

Nooooo... stupid world, stupid System! Being caffeinated isn't a negative effect! I can't survive without coffeeeeee!!

My head thumped down on the table, causing it to shake and almost fall over, “I... hate... my life...”

“What was that Empress?” Verrick asked cheerfully. As if I hadn't just found out that my life had ended for the third time in as many days!

No, that's still not an exaggeration! Liquid Life no longer works for me, the Elixir of the Gods denied to me forever! … Okay yeah, maybe I am over-reacting... fuck it, I don't care... my beautiful coffee...

“Geral, I think you broke her!”

… “This is clearly your fault Verrick. I'll leave you two love-birds to it.”

“We're not... nevermind,” Verrick did a poor job of denying the accusation, before quaffing the rest of the coffee... nooo not my coffeeeee~♡! “I feel more refreshed than I have in hours... I think I'll go for another scouting trip, let Fenrick have a couple of hours sleep while I try and find us a way out of here.” He announced to the room at large, then slipped out the door into the secret passages beyond. Leaving me to my woes.

Once I'd collected myself for what felt like the hundredth time since I'd appeared knee deep in some Noblewoman's bath, I picked my head up and looked for something to distract myself with.

Fenrick and Sarian were currently taking a turn sleeping on two of the cots we'd found in this room, the other two cots were currently occupied by the two remaining guardsmen, the one with a missing leg – Alfred – a permanent and fevered resident on one, the other was the female guard – Deliza – who looked like she was struggling to rest in our current conditions. I didn't blame her.

I'd doubted I'd be able to sleep too when it had been my turn to lay down, thankfully it appeared that no longer feeling fatigue made it easier to fall asleep, not harder. When I'd lain down - expecting to have to fake sleep for hours as I was still wide-awake – all I'd needed to do was will sleep to come, and it came. If only it'd been that easy when I'd actually needed rest.

None of those four could alleviate my boredom.. not unless I had a marker pen, and this world had been strangely free of such items thus far.

I flicked my eyes around the room once more, letting them fall upon the dwarven High Duchess who had taken her armour off and was attempting to wipe off the dirt, grime and blood that had stuck to it during our flight through the Palace.

Mmm, yes, her body really does match that angelic voice of hers, her large bosom and derrière working delightfully for her short figure. Maybe if I talk to her she'd be interest- I slammed my head back down on the table as hard as I could, causing one of the chairs leaning against it to fall over. What is it with me since arriving here? I'm not normally so ruled by my hormones. It's like my body has reverted to that of a horny teenager... I wondered whether it was a side affect of my Race change, or if [Status Quo] had decided I should remain randy until the end of time.

I dearly hoped it was the former, being on the edge of arousal all the time could not only be uncomfortable but, in the current situation, it could give the game away... certain things pressing against the Garb may easily give away my identity. Although, maybe I was worrying on that account for nothing. I'd lasted for almost 48 hours now since accidentally murdering the Duchess.

I was under no compunctions that it was due to my acting skills however, it was only because the invaders had no doubt blocked any reports of her death reaching anyone. If anyone had even bothered to check her rooms anyway. Which seemed unlikely, any sane person would be looking to escape, not take a bath.

I let my gaze wander past the dwarf, lest she notice my attentions, and make my earlier mortification seem as akin to nothing.

Geral had taken out a pack of cards that I didn't recognise, corralling Leris and Freylder into joining him. I was sorely tempted to join in, but I feared my unfamiliarity with the cards would give my ruse away. Which left only one option. So after procrastinating for as long as possible, and checking if Verrick had left any coffee – he hadn't – I made my way over to my 'husband'.

“Hi,” I said, as I kicked back on a chair next to him, leaning against the wall. He glanced at me, which caused a blush to creep across his skin.

Gods, just how young is this Emperor anyway? He's blushing like a bride! Heheh.. I was clearly correct about my assumptions. Seeing him up close, now that he'd removed his helmet, I could see that his puppy fat had yet to leave him, softening his orcish features. He had pale blue skin, almost like ice, and violet eyes. I'd guessed right about the tusks too, though they were somewhat smaller than I'd have expected for an orc.

An expectation created not by fiction but by the few orcs I'd seen in the crowd back in the Throne Room. Those orcs had tusks that reached up to the tops of their cheek-bones and down to the tips of their chins. In comparison, his upper tusks barely reached past his bottom lips, and the lower tusks extended to the bottom of his puggish nose. Their short length either another sign of his youth, or perhaps, alongside his odd skin colour, a sign of him being a different orc variant. Or perhaps a half-orc?

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled.

Really? You're the flippin' Emperor, stop mumbling and feeling sorry for yourself already!

“I know it's now my job to protect you...”

Errr, you wouldn't be saying that if you had any inkling of who was actually sitting next to you...

“And,” he continued, blissfully unaware of my internal monologue. “I failed in doing that. We were barely married when we came under attack-”

“That's hardly your fault.” I quickly interrupted, lest he continue down the dark mental path he was following. Not because I truly cared mind you, but because I'd come over to be entertained. It was boring in here after all, but I'd still prefer to be bored than deal with his whining. “Someone high up clearly betrayed you. Someone close enough to you to hide what was happening.”

He sighed, long and slow, his lips rippling. “I guess. It just feels like I should've been able to do more. I'm pretty sure you were protecting me more in the fights earlier too, even considering that stupid Garb's restrictions.” It was nice to hear someone else agree with my assessment of the Ceremonial Garb. It was stupid. It was currently in the form a fucking penguin suit for fucks sake.

“In a close fought environment like that, everyone was protecting each other. And you didn't do so badly yourself.” That was actually the truth, especially considering his low levels. I could only assume his armour and weapon was as well enchanted as it had looked out there. Or that he was a prodigy. Though, considering his demeanour I figured it was more the former than the latter.

“Maybe, but if it weren't for your quick reactions when Justin fell, I probably would have died.” I quickly realised he wasn't listening to me, so I got up after giving him an awkward pat on the back, and made my way over to the burgeoning card game. I was sure I could learn the rules after a few rounds.

In truth, my saving his life had been a complete accident. I'd seen one of the attackers turn his back to me, leaving himself completely unprotected, so I'd simply reacted and stabbed my recently acquired spear through the back of his head, producing a satisfying squelching sound that I'd come to love. I hadn't even noticed the Emperor lying on the floor, moments from being skewered until I'd come down from the ermm... excitement of my latest kill. I couldn't let him know that, of course.

I'd found after a few experiments, a spear made the best noise when applied to someone's head. Many weapons had made their way into my hands during the running battles in the secret passages, I'd broken a few on the invaders armour and shields, and had a few knocked from my hands. Or in some cases had the Garb shift into something that wouldn't allow me to hold a weapon. Axes, swords, daggers and arrows were all appropriately thrust, fired, smashed and stabbed into the attackers heads. And while I'd found a nice hefty mace made for a satisfying head-smasher, it only came a close second to the spear's squelch.

Damn. I'd always enjoyed a good fight during my AoH days but it hadn't felt quick the same as the real thing. I wondered if my new-found blood-lust was something that had always been hiding away in my psyche or if it was another side-affect of my Racial change. I also felt worried that I didn't feel worried about killing, that wasn't normal.

“You joining us or are you just going to stand there and stare at my tits, Empress?” Freylder said, breaking me out of my reverie.

“Hah!” Geral exulted, “the newly-wed is feeling anxious about her delayed consummation. So much so that she's already been distracted twice since waking up!” I didn't dignify his accusations with a response, instead I sat down and inspected the cards laid out on the table.

I picked up one of the wooden chits they were using instead of currency and threw it at the gnome, who was laughing so hard he was having trouble breathing.

Yeah okay, I lied. I totally responded.

Unfairly, even in his compromised position he still had no trouble catching the piece of wood. An action I felt was only adding insult to the injury, with my unbalanced stats and after increasing my level twice earlier I'd thought tossing the chit into his wide-open mouth would be child's play. Bastard. It's lucky we're only playing with bits of wood and not the much heavier coins...

“So,” I said, ignoring the gnome, who was busy tossing the chit from hand to hand, “how do you play this game?” I gambled that I could get away with my ignorance at the game. Surely a Duchess wouldn't be thought to know how to play a common card game?

“To begin with,” Freylder said. Also ignoring the gnomes antics, “you look at the cards you've been dealt.” Here she pointed at the table in front of me. “They're there, not down my cleavage by the way.” Proving that, perhaps, she hadn't been ignoring the gnomes antics after all. Which caused the reprobate to laugh only harder.

Damn it, wasn't I just complaining about my hormones? If I don't get this under control it could give the game away! Especially if I keep getting so... errm... excited... when presented with the sight of blood, brains and boobs...

“Well, if you're going to flaunt them so,” I responded, referencing the fact that the material of her under-armour barely covered the straining beasts in question. “Then you shouldn't be surprised when people stare.”

“Oh, I'm not complaining, Empress,” a saucy wink accompanied this statement, “I'm flattered, but this is hardly the time or the place.”

“If not now,” I flirted, spurned onwards by her comments, “then whe- … Ow, Fuck! That hurt!” I shouted, rubbing my temple where the gnome had thrown the wooden chit back to me.

“Serves you right,” he grinned. “Straying so soon after your wedding. When the groom is in the same room no less!” I winced at his reprimand. And at the pain in my head. He was right, I needed to get control of myself forthwith. I really hoped this was temporary. I didn't want to have to live for eternity, so ruled by my emotions.

“Here,” Leris said while sidling up to me, who up till now had ignored the rest of us, “I'll play with you for the first few rounds.”

I smiled at here in gratitude, for changing the topic. Even if it wasn't exactly done smoothly. “Thanks for taking pity on me, Leris.”

“No problem, I suspect these two would only take advantage of you anyway.”

Looking at the much larger pile of wooden chips that rested in front of her position on the table, I could only wonder who was taking advantage of whom here.

*