Chương 28: 27. Tiren's Messenger

Tavian willed himself up atop the wall. A page brought him a sword, which he buckled around his waist, letting it hang loosely to avoid the injury in his side. Mages launched magical projectiles down at Anarvian men on horseback. A man in a silvery cloak staggered toward Tavian's claimed tile. His horse lay on the ground behind him, leg broken.

"Someone get out there!" Tavian ordered, "Help him!" Braun sprinted for the Life Gate, shouting orders to his men. The man's light colored garment was splotched with patches of red. He stumbled, fell on his face, then dragged himself back to his feet. The pursuing Anarvians took shelter from the attacks of Tavian's mages, but a few returned fire. Mostly they targeted the injured man, struggling toward the Life Gate. He made it to the Tar Corinath controlled tile and collapsed.

"Lea!" Tavian exclaimed.

"On it," she said.

"If he accepts and becomes a subject, he'll benefit from your kingdom's Influence, rather than being treated like an outsider." A moment later Tavian's interface pinged. ⬣ New Subject ⬣ ⬣ Valliroth Tiren ⬣ ⬣ Kingdom Population: 113 ⬣"Val!" Tavian exclaimed.

"Valliroth!" He shouted down to Braun, who ran with a fist of men out to the injured man.

"Protect him! That's Lady Tiren's son!" Arrows and darts flew in both directions. Tavian aimed a blast of his own at a mage who'd ventured too far out of cover. The projectile hit the man in the leg and sent him scrambling back to safety. Adding Valliroth to the kingdom helped the man, and he pulled himself back to his feet. A magical projectile struck him in the back, spinning him around and knocking him to the ground. Tavian cursed, then realized he could still help. ⬣ Assign [Fortify II]? Cost: 6 essence.

⬣ He paid the cost and assigned the [Fortify II] class to Valliroth, just as Braun and his men reached them. Magical blasts and arrows rained down around Braun as he helped Valliroth to his feet. The soldiers around lifted large shields, turtling up as they hurried back to safety. Tavian gritted his teeth as he walked down the steps, not letting his injuries show.

"Lea," he muttered, "How many tiles do I have to claim to get Tier III?"

"One hundred and forty four," she said. Tavian cursed. He wasn't even close.

"And how many stat points do I get? Three?"

"You'll get four new stat points," she said.

"The formula is two to the power of tier minus one."

"Great, thank you," Tavian grunted. He was going to put all four of those points into constitution. He reached the bare earth of the stripped courtyard as Braun helped Valliroth along.

"Tavian?" Valliroth gasped, clasping Tavian's hand and making him wince.

"My mother sent me. I have to tell—" Before Valliroth could deliver his message, he teetered. Braun caught him.

"Not now, not now," Tavian said.

"Alisa!" he called for the medic. The man had two arrows stuck in his side. It was incredible he was still alive. Alisa treated the injuries as best she could. She was about as good as a field medic, deftly pushing the arrowheads through Valliroth's side and bandaging the open wounds. Tavian wondered where she'd learned to do that, and how she'd ended up here, serving Calli. Valliroth passed out during the operation.

"I can't believe that Anarvia is attacking Tiren's messengers," Braun said.

"Surely the other Houses will not stand for this."

"Things are different now," Tavian said. He spotted Calli beside one of the other soldiers with a miasmic wound, trying to [Extract] the miasma out. The frustrated look on her face concerned him. His own side was stiffening further, as the miasma spread. Valliroth groaned, and stirred. He was a few years older than Tavian, and as handsome as his sister was beautiful. His golden hair was slicked with sweat, but still managed to fall in effortless curls around his shoulders.

Braun seemed anxious, and Tavian remembered seeing him talking to Valliroth's sister at the welcome back party. That seemed like so long ago. Alisa looked at Valliroth with genuine distress. She couldn't keep her hands off of him; and kept dabbing his forehead with a damp cloth. Tavian rolled his eyes at the girl. Valliroth opened his eyes.

"Tavian," he breathed.

"Old friend." He cracked a wry smile.

"I'm here," Tavian said, clasping his hand.

"Sorry to come calling like this," Valliroth joked. He winced as Alisa adjusted his bandage.

"Just breathe, relax," Tavian said.

"My mother sent me to warn you," Valliroth said.

"The other Houses think Veros is destroyed. They are afraid of Anarvia." The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"But she saw me," Tavian protested.

"She knows we still resist."

"Brask, Donath, and Calenor," Valliroth said, a bit of color returning to his pale face.

"They are treating with Anarvia, assuming that you are all dead."

"But why?" Tavian asked.

"Surely they believe your mother?"

"She cannot speak to them. Anarvia has surrounded the Temple. He has claimed the hextiles of our home. He has captured or killed any messengers we've tried to send out. She didn't think he'd dare, if I went…"

"Is your family safe?" Braun asked.

"Are they in danger?"

"So long as we remain in the compound," Valliroth said, and Braun relaxed slightly. Tavian tried to block out the pain in his side and focus on Valliroth's words.

"If the other Houses knew about this, they would never join him," Tavian said.

"He's making a dangerous play."

"It is working, though," Valliroth said.

"If we could get through to the others, my mother is certain that they would rally to your flag, and abandon Anarvia." Tavian pursed his lips. He pressed a hand to the hard, miasmic flesh on his side and grunted.

"Will he make a move against you?"

"He wouldn't dare strike at the temple," Valliroth said.

"The other Houses would certainly turn against him then. He simply contains us, and prevents communications."

"We are as enclosed as you are," Tavian said.

"We can't get messengers out either." Braun pointed to the tower.

"What if we hung banners from the windows?" Tavian nodded.

"If we haven't burned them all for essence…" He waved a page over.

"See if we have any green banners anywhere," he said. The boy nodded and ran off. Braun shifted uncomfortably, like he wanted to ask Valliroth something, but Tavian spoke over the moment.

"There's no use trying to escape through the dungeon. Even if it wasn't dangerous, the only exit we know of outside the walls is controlled by Anarvia." The page came back with a few scraps of cloth.

"The tapestries and banners were all sifted by Lady Calli, my lord," the boy said.

"Even if we did have banners, the keep tower isn't visible from much of Tar Corinath," Tavian observed.

"They may not even notice." His side throbbed, and he gritted his teeth. Braun nodded, sagely.

"Besides," he said.

"It's not just about showing that we still live," he said.

"It's about showing that we still fight. If we demonstrate to the other houses that Anarvia is not inevitable, they will join us more quickly." Tavian agreed. That was sound tactical reasoning. But what could they do? He pulled up his tactical map and examined the situation. Anarvia had claimed large swaths of tiles within the fortress, mostly on the inner wall. He looked to be slowly moving toward another surround.

The outer wall was largely undefended, but also unreachable without fighting through enemy territory. Tavian's heart stuttered, and he felt a wave of nausea. He feared that if the miasma spread into his chest, his heart would stop beating. Where was Calli? He had too many problems. Too many things to deal with, and, even individually, they had no solutions. He couldn't stop Anarvia from finding and escaping with the relic. He couldn't stop a flood of ghouls from escaping the dungeon and pouring into Tar Corinath.

He couldn't get a message out to his allies. The ground tipped up. It struck Tavian in the side. No, that wasn't right. He'd just fallen over.

"Tavian." He blinked his eyes. Lea floated in front of him, glowing against a black void.

"Tavian, you're dying. The miasma is spreading."

"I don't feel like I'm dying." The darkness around him begged to differ.

"You'll become a ghoul if your body is possessed by death essence."

"Any special anti-miasmic Perks that I need to know about?"

"I'm sorry," Lea said.

"I wish I had a solution to offer you."

"If I die, what happens to the kingdom? Who becomes the ruler?"

"Your nearest living kin, unless you designate someone else," Lea said.

"Calli, then," Tavian said.

"She would hate being ruler," Tavian said.

"It should be Braun."

"Noted." A rush of feeling pounded in Tavian's body. Pain. Mostly pain. But also… life. Vigor. He wasn't dead yet. Alisa yelled. Tavian blinked. His perspective had shifted. Calli's face peered into his.

"Tavian," she said.

"Wake up!" She sounded desperate. His shirt was missing. Calli was sifting at the black wound in his side; a patch of blackness which had spread, now stretching from armpit to hip. The skin looked cold and dead, like a severe case of frost bite. Calli extracted a small puff of black miasmic essence. The cold pressure eased slightly.

"You're doing it," he breathed, appreciative of her efforts.

"That feels better." Pins and needles burned at the edges of the injury.

"It's not enough," Calli said.

"I'm barely slowing it down!" Tavian knew that tone in her voice. She was afraid that he was going to die.

"I'm going to be fine," he said, sitting back up. He still felt dizzy.

"You're going to figure out how to do it faster."

"The others weren't nearly as bad as this," Calli said. Tavian could think of only one thing that might help him against the spread of miasma in his body. Four more constitution. To get that, he needed to claim one hundred and forty four tiles. ⬣ Kingdom Status ⬣ Core Essence Tiles Claimed Influence 203 23 8. 8 He could do it. He could simply start claiming neutral tiles; there were enough of them around that he wouldn't even have to contend with Anarvia's claims to reach 144.

But that would drop his Influence down to 1. 4, and expose him to tiles flipped by miasmic turbulence. It would make it easier for Anarvia to search the dungeon. But if it saved his life… was it worth it? Or should he preserve strength for the future? Tavian exhaled slowly. If only he had more essence, maybe he could do something. Right now, it felt like his only choice was to sit tight, and focus on stopping Anarvia.

Keeping his Influence concentrated, hunting down and blocking off access to the dungeons—keep doing what he was doing. If he did that he would die. Braun would have to finish the job. Braun as ruler might be able to stop Anarvia from getting the relic; he might be able to collapse the dungeon tunnels and stop the ghouls from getting out into the city. There was something he'd been avoiding. His gaze landed on the massive throne, sitting beside the Air Gate. Gems and precious metals sparkled in the sunlight.

Tavian felt a pang, remembering the harsh accusations he'd flung at his father just—how long had it been? a day? two days ago? But if he sifted that throne… Could he seize the outer walls? He checked his map again. The fortress covered 326 hextiles. Claiming the entire outer wall would create an encirclement, destroying all of Anarvia's claims and flipping all the neutral tiles. Anarvia's men in the fortress would still need to be dealt with.

But if he held the whole of the fortress, the other houses would see that he meant business. He used his Appraising Eye and inspected the throne. It would get him around 150 Essence if he sifted it. That would be enough. Barely. Then they could sift everything in sight; all the furniture, decor, every elegant thing in every nook and cranny of the fortress. It might not be enough to prevent the miasmic turbulence from bleeding off his essence, but it could offset that. Other kingdoms dealt with burn rates every day.

And he'd reach Tier III. It would likely mean conceding the dungeons to Anarvia, for the time being. They might be able to hold the fortress against ghouls from the dungeon, but they would be stretched too thin if the ghouls attacked the city. He could save himself, or he could stop Anarvia. Tavian inspected his wound as Calli worked on it. She was being dramatic. The miasma was receding with each [Extraction]. Given time, she could purify it. But she was slowing, looking faint, and pale.

"Can Vanal do it?" Tavian asked. Calli shook her head.

"He'd need to practice," she said.

"It's more difficult than just extracting essence from an object." She paused for a moment, then added.

"We need to find the blade that did this to you."

"Would that help?"

"It might," Calli said.

"We can go back and look for it. Keep me alive as long as possible," Tavian replied.

"But don't kill yourself."

"Do you need my help?" Braun asked, grimacing at the sight of Tavian's injury as he approached.

"Well," Tavian snapped as his side tinged with pain, "Seeing as how I can barely stand, yes, I'm going to need some help." Braun blanched. He blamed himself for Tavian's wound. Calli [Extracted] some miasma out of his side. Braun wasn't ready to lead. Tavian wasn't ready to die.

"We're going to sift the throne," Tavian said.

"We've been cowering in this courtyard for too long. We're going to seize Tavirost Fortress back." Calli looked aghast.

"You can't!" she exclaimed.

"It's… it's our history! Our heritage! The throne is a work of art!" Tavian felt her words, like a knife.

"It's just a chair," he said, but the words felt hollow. He remembered sneaking into the throne room when his father was absent sitting on it, imagining what it would be like to rule.

"We'll get another," he said. He'd expected ruling to be more fun.