Alexander saw a boy being carried on the shoulder of a larger man. Man was the wrong word. He was clearly something else, and that amazed Alexander, but he didn’t want to stare. He knew staring pissed people off, and the last thing he wanted was this man’s anger, although he couldn’t help but focus on him in his peripheral vision.
The man’s skin was a mix of grey and brown, his nose was large, thick and pressed up against his face. Alexander saw two canine teeth sticking out of his mouth, and the man's height was some taller than two metres. He wore a thick, black cloak, and a large sword hung off his waist. One that Alexander knew was too heavy for a normal person to carry.
He wondered why he had a sword in the first place. Killing anybody was strictly prohibited in the area, yet harm must have been allowed. Torture was allowed. Alexander thought what would happen to the kid that punched and jerked and desperately tried to get out of the man’s iron grip.
Floor 0 of the tower was a merchant hotspot, and that meant a thief hotspot. The kid was one of the worse thieves and had tried to escape by running. He would be taken back to the store, flipped outside down and dunked into a barrel filled with Grimshire Moose saliva, a substance which burned against the skin, particularly the eyelids, yet left no marks. Ten dunkings, three seconds each, that was the standard punishment for thieves.
The reason they didn’t cut off his hands or do something more mentally scarring such as crippling him mentally, like dousing him up on drugs, was primarily because it cost too much, and secondly, because the boy could go and complain to the admins. Then hell would be unleashed on top of them.
That was at least what Arthur thought and told Alexander.
“Morticous has broken the rules many times.”
“You mean he’s killed.”
“Not only that. He’s flagrantly breaking the tower rules. There’s only a couple of tower admins with the strength to deal with him, and then there’s the tower itself. And this is at 50% power.”
“What do you mean?”
“Any creature of enough strength, which does not participate in climbing the tower, constantly has their strength decreased. It’s like magical suffocation. It’s to make them easier to control.”
“That’s crazy.”
“You think? Do you even know who Morticous is outside of the tower?”
“No.”
“All liches try to take over the world at some point or another. They always fail, except for Morticous. That man killed everybody on his home planet. Everybody who had not fled that is. Now he’s on a more powerful planet. To be honest, I don’t know what he’s planning to do here, but if I know him, it’s going to bring a lot of destruction to this tower.”
“He’s been training me in chess.”
“Well. Trust him kid, he knows exactly what he’s doing, anyway, keep an eye out for a man lengthened ferret. That’s the merchant we’re looking for. We’re going to come to the main merchant area soon.”
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you two become friends?”
“Oh, easy. I was the first general of his army.”
They turned a corner, walking into another street, and Alexander realised that it was much more populated then the others. He saw more humans his age, but also some other bird-like creatures. There were many more merchants here, and they sold weapons and gear targeted towards tower climbers.
“The merchant we’re going to meet owns the biggest tent,” Arthur said, and started moving towards a tent which towered above all the others. Whilst the others were a light blue, this one was yellow and blue, painted in lines like a circus. It was a pattern which struck the eyes.
The crowd grew thicker all of a sudden, they had to push their way in, trying to walk through the small empty spaces in the crowd. Alexander found many of the trainers which stood around him really cool. He saw a shaman with a little girl. He wore a real-sized skull, hanging as a necklace. Alexander didn’t doubt that it was real.
“Hey, watch where you’re going punk!” A large bald man said, which made all the other men in his group jerk their heads around and stare at Arthur. They seemed to be as old as Alexander, and all in the same group. Their trainer was somewhere else though. He had gotten quite a few people to train. Alexander had to remind himself that other trainers didn’t have only one student. It seemed this particular trainer favoured a certain form.
“My bad,” Arthur said and shifted the wheelchair to go around them. They stared daggers at him as he did it, but Arthur didn’t seem to be affected, although Alexander couldn’t tell if that was just for show. So far he had seemed really weak. Kind, but weak. Alexander didn’t quite understand how he had been a general in Morticous’s army.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Another, much deeper voice said. “Apologise properly.”
Alexander looked and spotted the trainer of the group of skin-heads. He was a man almost three metres tall, also bald, and carrying a huge axe of almost two metres. He pushed his way though his own students, until he stood right in front of Arthur. Alexander’s hand shook without him even noticing. The man smelled of blood.
“Apologise.” He said once again, his eyes wide, almost in fury, and staring right at Arthur.
“My bad man,” Arthur said. “Didn’t mean to walk into you.”
“Get on your knees and apologise properly. Last warning,” The large barbarian said, his hand, bulging of muscles and veins reached back to grab the handle of his axe. An aura emitted off him which made Alexander sweat.
“Man, you don’t need to do that. You’re scaring the newbies.”
“I’m really so-” Alexander began, but was interrupted.
“No kid,” Arthur said, “you’re Morticous’s student. You don’t apologise to trash like this.”
Once again, Alexander heard the tone in Arthur’s voice. There was a deep sense of apathy hidden just behind those words. He sounded like the large man ready to maul them simply wasn’t there. Alexander saw a flash, and all of a sudden, the large barbarian’s hands were on Arthur’s shoulders, and they were clenching.
“You. Are. Dead.”
Arthur sighed.
He sighed.
All of a sudden, steam seemed to emanate off his body. In the corner of Alexander’s sight, he saw the small man’s size grow, and continue growing until he towered above the barbarian. The small dagger, which seemed enchanted with magic, also grew until it was a sword half his length. Arthur’s face changed, his jaw growing longer, his eyes into slits, his hair blacker. His arms and legs bristled and popped with muscles. There was a smell to him now. One that simply couldn’t be ignored. He stank of death.
Arthur’s hand reached up, and grabbed the wrist of the large barbain's hand which gripped his shoulder. A terrible crack sounded, the sound of bone snapping. The barbarian yelped.
“I. Am. Going. Now,” Arthur said, the apathy which had been hidden was on full display now. He sounded dead. He sounded like death. All of a sudden, it was clear how this was the first general.