He swung the practice spear in a mighty arc, his frustration burning through each swing, his anger felt through each thrust. Twelve of them had been summoned into this damn kingdom and 6 of them had their true natures revealed.
The Kingdom of Narminia was a shambled mess the King refused to see. Despite all of John’s advice, the King wilfully ignored the problems of his people in favour of prolonging an endless war with starving and hungry people. And Jeremy and his cronies fed fuel to the King’s greedy fire. John threw his spear at a straw figure with a might lunge, imagining the face of the figure to be Jeremy’s. The wooden practice spear pierced the head, spilling down the figure’s straw entrails onto the floor.
“Nice throw,” said a familiar voice. “If only you were that good at javelin during the interschool competitions.”
John turned to see Cal, his arms crossed and a grin on his face.
“What’s up?” John asked.
“The King wants to see you,” Cal said. “Said he needs your advice on something.”
“Advice he isn’t going to listen to,” John spat. He walked over to Cal and picked up his towel, wiping the sweat off his face.
Cal scratched the back of his head. Back in their old life he always kept his hair long, here with most of the good barbers either dead or fleeing, his hair grew all the way down to his shoulders.
“Your presence is just a formality at this point,” Cal said. “We all know who he really listens to.”
John clenched his fist. “Jeremy and his group of assholes.”
Cal scratched his hair, head hung low. “You think you know a person.”
“We’re not the best either,” John said. “We’ve killed too. Both people and monsters.”
“Yeah I know but at least we don’t,” Cal reached his moved his hand out as if he was trying to reach for the word. “Enjoy it.”
…
They stood by a small dingy room separated from the throne room by a wooden door. Over there Jeremy was surrounded by his goons. Rob was in the corner with his arms around Catelyn’s and Jeremy and Selina overlooking a map and muttering something to the king about his plans. John activated his skill.
Jeremy Evans
LEVEL 15
STR 19
DEF 15
MAG 6
AGI 10
LCK 2
PATRON GOD: Baldur.
He’d been specking his points into Strength as usual. John’s patron God was Odin and one of his skills was Eye of Odin, a skill that allowed him to see the levels, stats and patron God of anyone he chose. He’d keep occasional tabs on Jeremy and his goons to see how strong they were just in case they decided to turn.
He’d been specking his points into strength as usual.
King Narminia the 8th stroked his white beard and sighed. For a king in the midst of five wars against various kingdoms he looked very calm. His cheeks were still fat, his face glowed a healthy red and his eyes didn’t have any circles underneath them.
“My liege,” John said, placing his arm over his chest and bowing. “You called?”
“Yes, John,” King Narminia said. “There’s something I want your advice on.”
Jeremy grinned. “Mr. Head Prefect,” he mouthed at John. Selina snickered. Catelyn and Rob started making out.
“What is it?”
“The Elven Army has declared war,” the King said. “They don’t mind peace talks but they’re preparing for war. They have a Hero among them.”
The atmosphere on the table was silent except for Catelyn and Robby giggling in the corner.
“One hero compared to our twelve come on its…”
“Declaring war is suicide,” John said. “The Elves have an alliance with the Dwarves of the Wall and the Beast Men. We’re no match for…”
“150 kills,” Jeremy said. “Our group has killed 150 people. Most of them weren’t chosen by the Gods but some of them were. You really think the Elven Army and their one measly hero stands a chance against us?”
John clenched his fists. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if you didn’t kill the Elven residents at…”
Jeremy turned to Selina, flapping his hands.
“Stop trying to boss us around Head Prefect,” Jeremy said. “You’re no longer a teacher’s pet here.”
John’s nails dug into his palms. “That doesn’t matter.” He turned to the King. “My liege of the twelves heroes, myself included only 9 of them are fit for battle. One of my class…” John bit back the word. “Companions. One of my Companions got poisoned. The other 2 aren’t used to the killing.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that we have 9 perfectly capable heroes to face off against the Elven army,” the King said.
“What of the revolt?”
The atmosphere of the room shifted.
“What revolt?” the King asked. For the first time in his life the king actually looked distressed.
“I’ve heard whispers of…”
“There you go!” Jeremy said. “Rumours. Patrick he’s going to stop your great conquest over rumours.”
Jeremy was the only one who called the King by name.
“Rumours or not,” John said. “Your people are starving and the Waves aren’t making things better. There’s talk of fleeing and the nobles are the only one benefitting from the war. My liege please…”
“Enough John,” the King said. “Go ahead and visit my son. He requires your presence.”
“But my liege…”
“Go ahead and babysit,” Selina said. “It seems it’s the only thing you’re good at, babysitter.”
John clenched his fists. Selina and Jeremy waved at him. He yanked the door open and slammed it behind him.
What he’d do to wrap his hands around Jeremy and squeeze the life out of him. Yank all the gaudy jewellery him and his band gathered and bash their grinning faces with them. But John couldn’t do that. Not as the King’s advisor. Not as a hero. Despite having the power to do so. John made a promise to himself, to his Eliza not to kill another classmate no matter the circumstances. A promise that was getting increasingly harder to keep.
…
The King’s son, Christopher was a young boy hunched over with the weight of expectations on his shoulders. For that reason, both John and him were very much alike.
Being a son of a politician, John was put under enormous pressure to act a certain way in front of the public because his father saw him as a political opportunity rather than a son. What he ate, drank and spoke when a camera was trained on him was scripted. For a while, John didn’t know who he was and who he’s friends were. Any opportunity to make something real was taken away from him when his dad had to move to another town or city to further his political campaign. He was seen as uptight, spoiled, a douchey rich kid. Nobody really got John and despite hating his father’s expectations, he always felt compelled to meet them. Getting the highest grades, sticking closely to the rules and even getting the highest status his school had to offer, student council president, head prefect, class representative, John had to get a high position no matter the cost. Like father, like son he supposed.
It was why he owed a major debt to his classmates for easing the tension and rigidity his father drilled into him and why the thing that separated him from Prince Christopher was John’s ambition.
Christopher was in the yard practicing swordplay with a young knight.
“Excellent, your liege,” Cicero said with a forced smile on his wrinkled face. “Your swings and might is unprecedented. Keep up and you’ll be the greatest knight in the Kingdom.”
Cicero Cecil, the Prince’s caretaker and a man with a silver tongue. Old Cicero wanted to rise up the ranks and would kiss just about anybody’s ass to do it. John had experience with ass-kissers, he’d met plenty of them having dinner with his father.
As soon as the prince saw John, he dropped his sword and armour and ran towards him. The young Prince of 10 wrapped his arms around John and John hugged him back.
For a brief moment, John saw venom flash across Cicero’s silver eyes before he walked over with him with that dry-lipped smile of his.
“Ah yes, the King’s Advisor,” Cicero said with a small bow. “It’s an honour to meet you.”
It was said Cicero was to be the King’s Advisor before John was summoned to this world. In any other circumstance, John would have relinquished his role to someone more deserving but unfortunately, Cicero, much like Jeremy would’ve made the situation in the Kingdom much worse than it had any right to be.
“I want to show you my drawing!” Christopher said with a bright expression on his face. “I think you’ll love it.”
“Let’s go,” John said. “I’m just as excited to see it.”
“Wait,” Cicero said. “Shouldn’t you be practicing your swordplay, young prince?”
“Swordplay is boring,” Christopher said. “Besides Sir Judge says I’d make a much better horse keeper than a swordsman.”
“Such blasphemy,” Cicero said. “It is usually the incompetent that spew such nonsense. I shall find you another teacher.”
“But that’s the 10th teacher this week,” Christopher said. “Besides doing that will make Father angry.”
“Very well,” Cicero said. “But are you sure you should be spending time with the Advisor? He must be very busy.”
Christopher looked up. “Are you?”
“He isn’t,” John said, turning to Cicero. “I checked my schedule and I should be free for the rest of the day.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“But as Advisor you should always be alert and…”
“If I wasn’t alert I wouldn’t be advisor now would I?” John said. “Besides, I’d love to see Christopher’s drawings. He’s a wonderful artist.”
“Yay,” Christopher said with a giggle.
“Very well,” Cicero said with a smile. “Be on your way.”
Christopher pulled John up to his room with excited thugs. John didn’t need to see to know that as soon as he turned around, Cicero’s smile would be replaced with a scowl.
…
Sir Judge was right about Christopher being more suited to be a horse keeper rather than a knight. In his room, young Christopher hung paintings and poems of animals. His swordplay was rough but when he moved his paintbrush it was like looking at a Master of his craft, as he commanded the page with deliberate movements and a deft hand.
“I drew this after my swordplay lessons,” Christopher said, handing him a role of parchment. “I didn’t have much time to touch it up but I hope you like it.”
John unrolled the parchment and it was like looking in a mirror. Christopher modelled his wavy blonde hair, his sharp jaw and blue eyes with such a fierce accuracy that John started feeling a tiny bit insecure.
“My forehead isn’t that big,” he muttered under his breath, luckily Christopher didn’t pick it up.
“How do you like it?”
“It’s amazing,” John said. “I really like the blue background too.”
Christopher’s face brightened. “I’ve never heard anyone call my art amazing before. Not even my own father.”
John smiled. “You’re much better off being an artist rather than a knight.”
“Really?” Christopher said his bright blue eyes glistening.
“Really,” John said.
“Mother used to love my drawings too,” Christopher said. “Before she,.. before she…”
Left. It was said the Queen fled before the war started and was presumed missing. However, rumours were circulating that she ran away with a handsome young Noble leaving both Christopher and the King behind. Christopher didn’t take it well and judging by the King’s how the King was acting, the rumours were true.
Christopher started sobbing.
“My liege, what’s wrong?” John said, running towards him.
“John… am I… am I… enough?”
Christopher said this through heavy sobs. Tears were streaming down his face and his body shook with each sob.
“Yes you are my liege,” John said. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not good at swordplay,” Christopher said. “I’m not a good fighter and I don’t know anything about magic. I’m useless. That’s why mother left… that’s why father hates me.”
John gave him a hug, Christopher held onto him tightly. “You are enough, my liege.”
“B-But my father says I’m useless,” Christopher said. “Even the Knights say I’m incompetent and not fit to be a King. Only you and Cicero believe in me.”
John rubbed his back. “You’re not useless. Your father just expects too much of someone so young.”
Christopher shook in his grip. John pulled apart from the hug.
“Listen to me, my liege,” John said. “I too had a father who expected too much of me. I would’ve been paralysed by his expectations too if it weren’t for my companions.”
He ruffled Christopher’s blonde hair. “If you have companions around you, companions who know your worth, companions who know your talents they’ll convince you, hell remind you that you’re not as useless as you think you are.”
Christopher looked up at him. “Are you my companion?”
John smiled. “You bet I am.”
It was that moment the door burst open. Eliza looked out of breath and her heavy, barely fitting armour didn’t help. Her dark face was pale and her brown eyes were widened in fear.
“John,” she gasped. “It’s… it’s Andy.”
“What about him?” John asked, perking up.
“The poison’s killing him,” Eliza said. “He might not survive tonight.”
…
Andy was on the bed, his hair a ruffled mess. His face was pale and he was groaning in pain. His white bedsheets were bloodied and he wailed in pain, sweat falling down his face in thick layers like wax.
By his side was his girlfriend, Tanisha. They never quite hit it off before but forced into dire circumstances, Andy’s feelings for her shone through and they found each other despite the atrocities they were forced to commit.
“I managed to slow down the flow of the poison,” Eliza whispered. “But if we don’t get the Phoenix Antidote I’m not sure if he’ll be able to survive.”
Her patron goddess Airmed gave her the skill to find out the cure to any wound just by touching it. During a skirmish with one of the other Kingdoms, one of the mercenaries the army had hired used Basilisk Venom on Andy and the only cure for the poison was high level spells that Eliza didn’t have the magic stat to perform or a Phoenix Antidote. But the problem with Phoenix Antidotes was that the main ingredient in them, Phoenix Ashes were only found during Waves.
“What happened to our supplier?” John asked.
“The antidote was supposed to come today but the supplier said somebody already took it from him but…” Eliza looked at John with pleading eyes. “I can’t leave this place. If I do…”
“Nana,” Andy murmured, staring at Tanisha. “Nana is that you.”
Tanisha stared at Eliza, her chocolate brown eyes red and tears falling down her cheeks.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she cried. “I…”
“I’ll handle it,” Eliza said. She rushed over to Andy’s side and placed her hands on his wound, a green light glowing from her palms.
Tanisha rushed past John into the bathrooms. He could hear her gagging.
“Look I don’t know what damage will be done to him if we don’t get the antidote soon,” Eliza said. “Go to the apothecary I ordered the Antidote from, it’s on the outer ring.”
John nodded. “Got it.”
“And John,” Eliza said staring at him. Her eyes were determined and fiery but in them John could see that she knew something he didn’t. “Remember, no matter what happens…”
“We should always be better,” John said. It was their motto, their code. Thrown into a world where they had to murder and kill to get by it was what John and the rest told each other to keep sane. So that no matter what happened, they would stay firm and never waver despite how awful their enemies could be.
John loved the rules. It was what his life had been based upon being the son of a politician. It was what he believed in, what made the world made sense.
“Mummy, daddy,” Andy cried. “Where are you?” His body wriggled and there was an awful smell in the air.
Call him a blasphemer, but John was slowly starting to lose faith in the rules that defined his life.
…
The city’s deterioration could be felt the further you went out of the castle. The kingdom of Narminia was made up of 7 areas, separated by walls called Rings. The first ring was where the King and his grand palace was located. The second ring was where the barracks and where the Knights of Narminia made their homes. The third ring belonged to the King’s servants and the fourth ring belonged to the nobles and the rich and where the world-renowned University of Narminia was located and the fifth ring was the market district. The fact that the apothecary that had the Antidote belonged to the outer ring meant that Eliza had to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find the Antidote.
The outer ring was a far cry from the high rooves and shiny buildings of the first to fifth ring. For one the buildings were derelict with their paint peeling and patchwork roofs. John had to get off his horse as the paved roads were chipped and uneven with large patches of grass and puddles separating them. Wind blew through the empty houses and the only people he saw were thin people dressed in rags staring at him with hungry eyes. Many of the residents of the seventh ring had fled when the war started which would explain the food shortages. The seventh ring was home to university students, immigrants, knights trying to make a name for themselves and the farmers. The farmers and immigrants who had made up most of the seventh ring had left leaving only the destitute who couldn’t afford to leave, orphaned children and disillusioned knights starting small time mercenary groups to feed themselves. Mercenary groups that didn’t take well to strangers or the King’s men.
John covered his face with a hood as he made his way to the apothecary. He asked around in hushed tones, offering small pieces of gold to the people who answered him.
“The apothe-what?” said one of the kids.
“Apothecary,” John said. “They sell medicine and the like.”
“Oh, you talking about old Sonny’s shop,” a kid with missing teeth and dusty hair asked. “It’s round’ the city circle. It’s the only shop that looks repaired so you can’t miss it.”
“Thank you,” John said.
“Where’s my coin?” the kid asked.
John smiled. “I almost forgot.”
The kid’s eyes widened. “Thas real gold.”
“My treat,” John said.
John could hear the kid flipping the coin behind him as he made his way to the apothecary. Above him, lines of clothes blocked out the sun. He could see children running about and old men and women selling cheap scraps. Many of the Nobles elected to take a longer path through the marketplace when they went out of town, ignoring the seventh ring altogether. John could bet good money he was the only person from the castle who saw this place with his own eyes. He’d make a fortune too.
The apothecary was barely held together. There was a crack on the window and the words medic was written atop the dingy building in uneven paint. The door creaked as he opened it and dust riddled the counters which were packed with odd smelling bottles and odd smelling ingredients.
The shopkeeper reeked of wine. He had a soggy beard and a balding head with skinny legs over the counter and a dirty white shirt and brown pants.
“Welcome to my humble…” the old man squinted his grey eyes. “You’re a noble, ain’t ya?”
“I don’t care about that,” John said. “What happened to the Phoenix Antidote…”
“This here place is guarded by the Black Goblin mercenary band, y’here?” the old man said. “I can just whistle and…”
John launched a bolt of lightning, charring the wall to his side and the man stopped in his tracks.
“You’re a…”
“Hero, yes,” John said. “One of my friends placed an order for a Phoenix Antidote and…”
“I don’ have any obligation to tell you,” The old man said. “Now git.”
“You seem to be forgetting who I am,” John said.
“And you seem to be forgetting that I don’t give any of my buyer’s info to no one,” the old man said. “Not my ma, not my pa and sure as hell not to any Hero.”
“You seem to be in possession of fairy dust,” John said.
“I originally had this order for some pretty girl,” the old man said. “Never seen skin like hers before but I’d be damned if I didn’t say she was gorgeous. She offered twenty gold pieces for a Phoenix Antidote. TWENTY! So, I said okay, I’ll see what I can do. A while back a kid, same age as you came in, said he was the King’s general, said he needed the Antidote. I said no but he insisted, almost tore up the place before I gave it to him. He…” the old man paused. “Hey kid, where you going? Kid?”
John stormed out of the apothecary, slamming the door behind him. Anger burned through his body and lightning crackled on his fingertips. Only one word, one name echoed through his mind. Jeremy.
…
John slammed on his door.
“JEREMY OPEN UP!” John shouted.
“JEREMY!”
Jeremy being the general had the biggest room in the palace. Located up one of the towers, John had only been in it once and that was when the King brought John along for an urgent mission and they caught Jeremy in an uncompromising position with one of the maids.
“JEREMY OPEN UP YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”
John slammed against the wooden door causing a giant dent. He placed both his hands on the door and summoned a large jolt of electricity cracking the door to splinters.
“I am going to have your head you piece of…”
John had no time to react as a bright light burned through his eyelids. Before he could even blink out the bright spots in his eyes Jeremy punched him in the stomach, launching him backwards and sending him stumbling down the staircase.
“Leita,” John muttered and the flashing dots in his eyes cleared. He climbed up the stairs and Jeremy stood in front of the door, towel wrapped around his crotch and a grin on his face.
“Oh, it’s just you, Advisor,” Jeremy said. “Sorry for the violent reaction, you were scaring the girls.”
John saw a group of 8 nude girls tucked away on Jeremy’s oversized bed, cuddling next to each other.
“Your classmate is dying and you’re…”
“Oh, Andy,” Jeremy said. “It’s a shame what’s happening to him and all but that Phoenix Antidote sounded very tempting.”
“How do you…”
“Sonia told me all about it,” Jeremy said. “At first I didn’t care about it but then I found out they really gave you a kick, you know what I’m saying… like…”
Jeremy put a hand on his crotch and thrust. “Like…” Jeremy clenched his fist. “Fuck yeah, you know?”
John’s hands limply fell to the side. “You used the Antidote as… as Viagra?”
Jeremy nodded. “Hell yeah. I kept some for Andy though. It’s on the table.”
John walked towards the table with shaking steps, the girls on Andrew’s bed staring at him with fearful eyes.
The bright orange antidote was on the table, from the tiny vial, only a quarter remained.
He took the bottle and hung it on his belt.
“You should take one of the girls,” Jeremy said. “You need to ease up a little once in a while you know? You’re always so uptight.”
John gave Jeremy a weak smile. “No thanks.”
Jeremy walked over to his side table and poured himself a glass of wine.
He flicked the glass to attract John’s attention.
“A toast to the Advisor,” Jeremy said, looking at the girls. The girls nodded a shaky agreement. “And a reminder that as long as the King’s around I can do whatever the hell I want.”
Jeremy paused and gave John a smile. “And Mr. Head Prefect can’t do anything about it.”
Jeremy winked.
…
The wound started to close up when Eliza fed the potion to Andy but the damage was already done. Andy’s mind was a fragment of what it once was and there was no telling if they would ever be able to get it back.
The King’s reaction to losing one of his prized heroes: restart the summoning ritual.
That night, John summoned Cal to his room.
“What do you need?” Cal said.
“How’s Bailey?”
“She’s… still locked up in her room,” Cal said. “She didn’t take it well after the first war. Killing those men… it takes a lot out of a person you know. We don’t think we should say anything about Andy.”
“We shouldn’t,” John said. “Let her stay there. Eliza will take care of her.”
“We’re the only strong ones, huh?” Cal said. “Me, you and Eliza.”
“You mean psychopathic ones?” John said with a smile. “The ones who don’t feel anything killing someone.”
“Is something bothering you?” Cal asked.
John sighed. “Did you perfect shadow travel?”
“Still a little wonky but…”
“I need you to kill the King,” John said.
Cal looked back to make sure nobody was listening. “Dude what the fuck? What if…?”
“I don’t care,” John said. “Jeremy has been doing whatever he wants for so long. It’s time someone put a stop to him.”
“But… dude, killing the King,” Cal whispered. “That’s like insane. And like I owe you a lot for helping me out back then but…”
“I have a plan,” John said. “I know…”
“I know and I trust you,” Cal said. “But like… dude. The King and I know you hate Jeremy but what happened to…”
“Be better,” John said. “Be better? I’m tired of being better. We’ll do this after we meet the Elven Envoy. Whatever happens we can be guaranteed that the appointment of the Prince will be quick so that there’s a leader during wartime. The Prince won’t know what to do so he’ll turn to me.”
“I know but my God,” Cal said. “Al Qaum or whatever, he’s more a God of War. Ain’t no way I’ll be able to shadow travel for so long and I can only do this at night. There’s no way…”
“There is a way,” John said. “Spending all this time with Jeremy has taught me something. If you want to beat someone you shouldn’t ‘be better’ than them, no.” John smiled. “If you want to beat someone, you have to beat them at their own game.”
John stared out his window, at the Kingdom of Narminia beneath him. “And that’s what I intend to do.”