Chương 13: 12 Court of the Blood Tyrant (Bonus Chapter.)

<<Name: Vittorio Vitriol>> <<Race: Drake-kin>> <<Class: Bard Puppetmaster>> <<Rank: Exploit of the Bloodwake>> <<Lvl: Martial-4; Mage-20; User-5>> <<Total: 29>> <<Stats: >> Might (STR) — 10 Will (WIS) — 12 Focus (INT) — 12 Resilience (CON) — 12 Grace (DEX) — 10 Cunning (CHA) — 16 I trudged through the thick vegetation of Faerie Rock. Oversaturated colors and feral plant life crowded on all sides. A fern stretched toward me, barbed thorns hidden in the stem.

A streak blurred in the air as the plant encroached too close, and the fern shrieked as it withdrew into itself. My mana ticked down, my Sphere of Severance eating through my power reserves. My hands flexed on the handles of my new cases. Granduncle destroyed my previous collection, and frankly, I count myself lucky that was all I lost. Light in my hands, the attaché cases only held two new puppets, servitors stitched together from the remains of a party of cousins that had foolishly tried to take me on Prime Rock.

They were annoyingly competent, keeping me on my toes. After slaying two, the others had fled. I'd see them again; cousins held grudges. Sphere of Severance triggered again as a mouse hopped too close. I glanced down at it—not a field rodent—a barbed stinger tipped the end of each of its three tails. The brim of my hat dipped low, shielding me from the merciless sun. I pressed on. No map, no direction, just concentration. I wouldn't find him until he let me. Space and distance refused to behave on Faerie.

The Archfae willed what was and what wasn't here. You could see a distant mountain peak and reach it in three strides, or run toward a river that was clearly in front of you until you died of thirst. I was an insect, and I could feel the eyes on the other side of the jar. My lip curled in irritation. Impatience was not the way to deal with Fae. Time also didn't match reality on Faerie. If I could clear my mind, I could skip the period of wasted trudging again.

The forest went dead silent, birds cutting off mid-chirp, and the breeze sapped from the air. I pressed on, forcing no reaction. Heavy feet thumped and crashed through the brush. I froze, hands tightening on my case. Any number of horrors could hunt me here. I'd give them a puppet show they'd never forget. Thick boots clomped toward me, and I smiled. That footfall I knew. I turned slowly, deliberately. The only law that had weight here was the law of prey and hunters. Prey moved fast and light on their toes.

Hunters took their time, showing their backs, and moved without concern for their well-being. Bushes and ferns snapped and wavered as my pursuers approached, heavy thumps announcing their arrival. Halberds appeared over the bushes, wavering as their much shorter owners approached. I concealed bags of cold iron dust in my inventory in case I needed them. I dared not carry them openly lest I offend my host. The overgrowth snapped down as four hideous squat figures stomped forward, faces twisted in rage and pain.

Their cold iron boots hissed where they touched flesh. Each of the figures wore a stocking cap, soaked red. Redcaps. My gaze flickered to their hats, not an ornament, but somehow a part of their biology. If they turned brown, and the red caps allowed them to crust over and dry, they would wither and suffer. I waited. The one in the lead sneered.

"We will take you to him now. Come with us!" I glanced past the Redcap, attention wandering as if he didn't exist at all.

"Move, Drake Blood," a second hissed.

"Or we stomps ya." I turned lazily, my tail flicking as I strode away. Another one of his rules. Never acknowledge his underlings. It would debase me to the level of a slave in his eyes. I pressed on, and the redcaps marched after me.

"Stop! I'll take your feet!" one shrieked.

"How dare you!" another snarled, raising his halberd. He launched himself at me, and it took everything not to flinch. The creatures barely weighed more than children, but the iron boots that went almost to their knees turned the little monsters into cannonballs. Just before the attacking Redcap hit my Sphere of Severance radius, he redirected in the air, flung away by some unseen force. I smirked. I had the promise of protection; try as they might, these unseelie underlings couldn't touch me.

They cursed, spitting oaths in tongues I couldn't hope to comprehend. One hefted his poleaxe, rearing to strike, and they froze. I felt him then. Not his eyes alone, but his very presence. I stopped. Frost curled out from my scaled lips, but I refused to shiver. I shifted, slow once again. The Redcaps hung in the moment, frozen mid-leap. A burgundy cloak filled my vision, and my head drifted up and up until my gaze fell on his ivory mask ten feet off the ground, suspended within his hood.

My gut constricted, and my jaw tightened. My mana ticked down from maintaining the Sphere of Severance— mana I could not afford if I messed this up. <<Name: Furlucall The Cold Bite of Regret>> <<Race: Fae>> <<Class: None >> <<Rank: Archfae>> <<Lvl: None> > <<Equivalent Level: 39>> <<Stats: >> Might (STR) — 11 Will (WIS) — 16 Focus (INT) — 16 Resilience (CON) — 16 Grace (DEX) — 10 Cunning (CHA) — 18 I waited, refusing to breach protocol by speaking first.

"Show me," The Cold Bite of Regret's voice rumbled from the mask.

"As required," I said. My tail coiled closer to my body. My black-green scales darkened, as if drying, to blend into the environment. I set down my cases and reached into my coat. My hand returned with a practically see-through sphere. The Cold Bite of Regret's head tipped back, a deep exhalation of satisfaction filling the air, as if coming from the forest itself. I did not extend my arm. No sign of offering the memories within the bubble. I held it to my side, undeniably in my possession, but visible.

The mask tipped down, then an arm extended, forming from the cloak itself, thick forearm, hooked fingers, as if made from wool. The hand closed around the bubble. I didn't give it up too quickly. I also didn't pull it back. The sphere lifted from my hand, and The Cold Bite of Regret turned it over, ivory mask tipping down as he studied it.

"If you get out of here, tell the Thing-From-Beyond that I agree."

"If?" My hands twitched, gloves pulled tight over scales.

"You gave assurance of passage."

"I told you to come alone," he rumbled. My tail flinched.

"As required," I said.

"You were followed."

"What? By whom?" I cursed myself as the words left my mouth. I knew better than to ask an Archfae a question. Fool. The orb swam around his knuckles before vanishing into his palm.

"None of my Court shall harm you," The Cold Bite of Regret said.

"I would worry much more about yours." My jaw clamped shut.

"Good luck, Master of Puppets." Then he was gone, the redcaps vanishing in an eye blink. I whirled, scanning the woods.

"Well, well, well," a voice sang.

"There you are!" I twisted. A human man, balding with rotting teeth, grinned at me. A knife danced between his fingers with a flourish. <<Name: Jack Bootcrack>> <<Race: Human>> <<Class: Shiv Shanker >> <<Rank: Exploit of the Bloodwake>> <<Lvl: Martial-12; Mage-5; User-3 > > <<Total Level: 20>> Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

<<Stats: >> Might (STR) — 11 Will (WIS) — 09 Focus (INT) — 08 Resilience (CON) — 13 Grace (DEX) — 15 Cunning (CHA) — 11 I widened my stance, attaché cases still at my feet. The draconic runes on my gloves ignited with arcane power.

"You've been a naughty, naughty boy, Puppetmaster," Jack chortled.

"Krathic-Thar has some questions for you." I scanned the brush. Jack wasn't a complete idiot; he knew he couldn't take me, not alone. A branch snapped, and I shifted, raising my off hand toward the newcomer.

<<Name: Relara Storm Surger>> <<Race: Drake-kin>> <<Class: Brutalizer>> <<Rank: Exploit of the Bloodwake>> <<Lvl: Martial-12; Physic-8; User-2 > > <<Total Level: 22>> <<Stats: >> Might (STR) — 15 Will (WIS) — 08 Focus (INT) — 07 Resilience (CON) — 15 Grace (DEX) — 11 Cunning (CHA) — 09 The female Drake-kin unclipped a pair of battle axes from her belt. White and grey scales clung to her broad shoulders, a titanium breastplate shielding her chest. Two, this was problematic.

A tree crashed behind me, and I inhaled sulfur. I stiffened, pivoting toward the new threat. Eighteen feet tall, with eyes burning like furnace coals and red hair that wavered in the heat wave, a Fire Giant grinned at me.

<<Name: Bjorn Flarrun>> <<Race: Fire Giant>> <<Class: Siege Brawler >> <<Rank: Exploit in the Bloodwake>> <<Lvl: Martial-14; Physic-5; User-2 > > <<Total Level: 21>> <<Stats: >> Might (STR) — 17 Will (WIS) — 10 Focus (INT) — 11 Resilience (CON) — 15 Grace (DEX) — 08 Cunning (CHA) — 08 My jaw tensed, teeth grinding. Three Exploits. So, Krathic-Thar had come for an accounting.

"Puppetmaster!" a final newcomer called. I knew that voice.

"Hello, Djreen." Four Exploits. A full party. The Bloodwake Tyrant wouldn't tolerate failure. The Orc that hobbled out of the Fae wilderness leaned heavily on a staff, ragged robes draped around him. I didn't even check his stats. I knew them well enough. He was perhaps the highest-level User in the Bloodwake's Exploit Cadre.

"Old friend," Djreen said.

"Krathic-Thar requires answers. Please, come with us."

"Answers," I asked, poorly feigning ignorance.

"About what?"

"About what, he asks," Jack sneered, tone nasally and clipped.

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe about why Rarergahr is sealed in a Paradise Prison, and why you attacked Granduncle at a peace summit you assured him was canceled."

"Why do you sound like a drowning gnome, Jack?" I asked, tilting my head down.

"Let the adults talk." Somehow, his face soured further.

"Give us Prisoner's Retaliation," Djreen said. I didn't glance at the handle dangling from a cord on my chest.

"That's right," the Orc shuffled forward.

"I accessed the Family's quest logs; they're hunting you, Vittorio—all of them. You hold Paradise by the heart. You wear its fate around your neck."

"Djreen, listen to me, this world is a lie—" I didn't care for the others whatsoever, but Djreen—we were friends. The Orc shook his head sadly.

"You overstep. Now it's time to bring you home. I hope for your sake, Krathic-Thar finds mercy somewhere within."

"Mercy?" I repeated.

"From the Bloodwake Tyrant?" My teeth flashed.

"You're more likely to find it there than with me." Djreen nodded slowly, understanding.

"So be it." Relara moved first, springing at me with a roar, axes raised. I cast Manikin Manopoly, and two full-sized wooden duplicates of me tore from the earth in a spray of dirt. Her axe came down at my forearm in a blur. The spell swapped me in a blink, exchanging my place with the manikin to my right. Its wooden arm dropped to the dirt, her axe carrying through. I jerked my fingers to the side, and the cases at Relara's feet clicked open. Two wooden pygmy copies of dead Cousins sprang at her with coiled force.

Biting and hacking, they joined my full-sized manikins in tearing into her. The giant's massive axe slammed into my side. I swapped places with my second manikin, reeling from the chaos of converging attacks. A knife impacted my shoulder, sinking through hardened scales. I snarled as I clasped my hands together and cast Greater Vittorio's Marionette Threads, a spell I designed. A lance of force shot from each of my fingertips, blurred strings snaking and lashing out.

I locked onto Jack first, and all ten of my force threads darted at him, needle-thin and nearly invisible. He threw another knife. One of my strings swatted it out of the air before arching around and spearing him through the side. The other nine followed, piercing his wrists, legs, and torso. It should have killed him, but he wasn't a random unsynched; he was a User, empowered by Ourabora. He shrieked as I jerked my hands. Threads anchored to flesh yanked him toward Relara.

Relara stomped one of my puppets flat before glancing up just in time for Jack to sink a knife into her side. My fingers flowed, and my marionette lines forced him to draw back and strike again. If Relara understood I was controlling him, she didn't care. The Drake-kin Brutalizer turned her axe on the shrieking man. I wanted to watch him die, but I missed it. A shaft of white light from Djreen impacted my side, flinging me into one of the venomous ferns.

The barbed leaves greedily lashed at me, snagging at my coat and failing to penetrate my scales. I jerked my hands, and my threads dropped Jack's limp body, arching around. The threads darted down, spearing the fern in ten different places. The plant hissed, letting me go. I stumbled away panting. Bjorn's axe took me full in the side, giant rune flaring on the blade with heat. The blow would have cleaved a tree in two, but Ourabora twisted the laws of nature. I flew, impacting a rock cluster.

Blood ran where the blade hacked scales, but with my Resilience, it didn't sink deep. A gasp escaped me, adrenaline firing. I caught a glimpse of Djreen, conjuring a system-based spell. I rolled with everything I had. A shaft of white light carved a glowing trench into the stones where I had been. Bjorn thundered over me, axe raised. I roared, casting my fingers forward. My force threads arched and twisted, spearing through the giant's arms, legs, and neck.

Flaming orange blood steamed through the air as Bjorn came to a shuddering stop. My hands quivered, threads straining. Then he straightened himself, resisting the spectral filaments. I gasped, feet clawing at the ground as I was pulled forward on my tethers. Heavy footfalls approached from the side, and my head snapped around to find Relara closing the distance, axe low. She exhaled, titanium breastplate heaving. My breath caught, and I ripped my force threads from the fire giant.

I turned to the Drake-kin, spitting a jet of corrosive green flame as her white, vaporous fire hissed forward. Our conflagrations met, splashing off each other and washing the forest between us in heat, corrosion, and ice. Djreen's system bolt impacted my leg, sending hot agony across my scales. I dropped to a knee, my flames sputtering out. Without my flame to meet it, Relara's fire hit me, burning and freezing at once. I screamed.

The fire cut off abruptly, and Relara's rough hands seized me, hoisting me up and slamming me back down. Air blasted from my lungs. Bjorn knelt on me. I thrashed as my ribs cracked. Relara clawed at my gloves, her claws carving tracks of blood in my scales and shredding my spell focuses. I squirmed and kicked, but my strength fled. Djreen appeared over me, chanting as he interfaced with his terminal.

"Djreen," I gasped.

"No!" He reached down, grasping the handle of Prisoner's Retaliation and snapping the cord with a jerk. He glanced down at me, choking under the weight of Bjorn's knee.

"Puppetmaster," he said.

"The Bloodwake Tyrant will see you now." A shaft of white light shot down, bathing all of us in its glare. A final howl escaped me, lost to the roar of the system conduit. The light vanished, leaving me blinking on the stones of a throne room. Bjorn still pinned me, as Djreen and Relara stepped away. No. I thrashed. I knew this place. Gone were the hostile plants and predatory spirits of Faerie Rock. Instead, fires illuminated pillars. Stalagmites thrust upward, straight and pointed like teeth.

A full assembly lined the edges of the hall. Efreet, Fire Giants, Cind-Primords, and elite Drake-kins. All watching me. Watching the trial—no, the sentencing. Metal scraped as rusted chains snaked across the stones of their own volition. I stopped resisting, the futility restraining me more than any shackle ever could. The animated chains coiled around my legs and my arms, snaking up and over my body, and muzzling my snout. Bjorn released me, and the links jerked me to my knees, doubled over. Then silence.

The only sound was my breath hissing through my teeth. I looked at the dais. Then he moved. Rising on the dais, a head so large it made his sons look like wyverns, Krathic-Thar's black and red-scaled snout ventured into the firelight, smoke wafting from his nostrils. I froze. Even at level twenty-nine, there was no shame in the fact. Krathic-Thar was less than a century from Titan status.

"Vittorio Vitriol," he rumbled, the stones echoing with the sound. I snorted a plume of smoke and chuckled.

"Insubordinate," he said simply. I glared up at him, granduncle's counterpart. Djreen bowed, striding forward and raising Prisoner's Retaliation.

"Here is the artifact, your Dread."

"Good," Krathic-Thar purred, his bass swelling to every corner of the chamber.

"You've done well. Add it to my horde." Djreen bowed low. Krathic-Thar's massive head turned back to me.

"Vittorio, you were once a good servant," he said. The ground trembled as his weight shifted.

"You've allowed that—alien abomination to twist your mind. What irony. The Puppet Master—a puppet himself." My rage was a candle before the sun.

"Before your execution," Krathic-Thar said.

"You're going to tell me what the fish is planning." The chain unwound from my snout, and I gasped, breathing freely. Something ugly stirred in my chest, born of terror and rage. The chuckle escaped me, low and sharp and then steadily climbing. Every advisor, every retainer, every subordinate held their breath. My laugh rose, restrained only by the chains tight around my chest. I was dead, that was a fact, so why did it seem so funny? A low growl escaped the Bloodwake Tyrant.

My breath cut short, my pain grounded me back in the moment.

"Insubordinate?" I hollered, shouting up at my master.

"I broke the first bar off your cage, and you call me insubordinate? Krathic-Thar the Bloodwake Tyrant?" I spat.

"Krathic-Thar, the house pet." A whisper of indignation slithered across the crowd.

"Search your memory, Krathic-Thar! Your centuries of reign. How far back does your recollection go? You were meant to soar and burn continents, not cross one side of the world to the other in a single day." I held my breath. Krathic-Thar watched me, mighty and great, and he didn't turn me to char on the spot. Still living, I pressed my luck.

"I—" My jaw clenched, then I committed.

"I can prove it!" Krathic-Thar's head dropped, lowering until it loomed mere feet above me. His hot breath hit me like the vapor of a thermal vent.

"How?" I swallowed.

"Fly to the crack in the sky. Peer through the facade. Look out into the real world." The head rose back, eyes burning with power.

"I will go," he said.

"And you're coming with me." I looked up, not liking the Bloodwake Tyrant's smile.

"If I don't like what I see, you're making the trip back down by yourself." <<Time to Seal Collapse: 04: 02: 04: 15: 14: 39>>