Marlin was tossing and turning on the bed, the room dimly lit by the dying embers in the fireplace. His sleep was restless his dreams, fractured, and strange. Marlin saw flashes of a battlefield—men clashing, swords glinting under a blood-red sky. The images were disjointed. He saw his father, Bradford, leading a charge, his armor glowing with historical light, cutting through the enemy with righteous might. Marlin was in awe with the immense power of his father, he felt drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. For a moment the restless sensation is gone.
After a while Marlin’s mind tried to pull away from the dream, but the visions persisted. He saw elite looking forces moving with deadly precision, archers releasing a torrent of arrows into, what he assumed, Avalonian ranks. The ground shook with the thunder of hooves as cavalry charged, smashing into the enemy lines. The noise of battle grew louder in his mind, making it impossible to ignore.
The dream wouldn’t let go. His mind was caught in the ebb and flow of the battle, the flashes growing more intense, more vivid. He felt the tension, the pressure, the stakes of the fight. He saw his father again, this time battling a figure cloaked in darkness, a presence that sent a shiver down Marlin’s spine even in his dreams. He could feel it. Thror, the late dark lord, was a weakling compared to what his father was fighting. He saw how his Father was exhausted, how he was pushed to the brink.
he jerked awake, sitting up on the couch, heart pounding. For a moment, he was stuck halfway between the dream and reality, the sounds of battle still echoing in his Mind. He tried to clear his mind, the disorientation lingered.
He rubbed his eyes, glancing around he was in his ‘new’ room, it was eerie how Betty, his mother, had managed, the addition of a few chairs sofa and hearth not withstanding, to make it look, feel and smell almost identical to his old room.
Marlin sighed, pushing himself to his feet. He walked over to the window, leaning against the frame. The night air was cool. He stared out into the night, his gaze distant.
The remnants of the dream still tugged at him, the sight of his father clashing with the Dark Lord, and the connection he felt to it.
His thoughts drifted as he looked down at the bed, where Milly slept soundly, her dark hair splayed across the pillow. The sight of her brought him a sense of calm, the emotional relief settling into the tightness of his chest, he latched onto it, he knew his dad lived, but he saw how close it was, how close it had been.
Marlin smiled faintly, the tension easing as he watched her.
He looked at the night sky, pondering his future. The war had officially started. His dream-vision left no doubts about that. He knew it to be true. The Dark eddies that infused him stirred, beckoned, called out to him to participate. A conversation he had with his Father many years ago. Brought back to the forefront of his mind.
”war is a costly endeavor, and ultimately, a loss of our most precious resource on both sides. people with hard earned levels.”
Marlin experiencing the war through his mind’s eye first hand knew now that to be not true. The Dark lord that His father had fought, had been in possession of an artifact, or more precisely. A golden ring, vague images of several of these scattered among the Avalonian forces, that allowed her and others to control, whoever wore a silver ring, somehow attuned to hers. Control them as her Minions. The entire army had been under controll like this. The result? Massive experience gain for the several Dark Lords. Many of them slain and lost but not all.
The significance that Dark Lord’s had lead the Avalonian army, wasn’t lost on Marlin. something he expected, with his basic historical knowledge, hadn’t happened in a long, long time. This was the makings of a calamity war. In a world of Magic. When rules of war were off the table, the destruction was catastrophic. Magic was very much the equivalent of a nuclear deterrent in this world.
Marlins observations during the dream showed him that the reason This particular Dark Lord had lost to his father, although superior in levels due to the massive influx of XP, could not put any of it to good use due to a lack of practice. Causing her to make fatal mistakes, brutally punished by his father who was a veritable force of divinity.
His heart swelled with pride, every time he replayed the near flawless, beautiful dance of death his father put out with his immense prowess. Yea he was powerful but holy hell it was the cunning the skill and the sheer unstoppable relentless.
It dawned on him how large the difference between him and his father was.
His mind wandered back to the fact that he could tell, that he himself would have gained so much experience from The ordeal. It put a notion into his head.
Evil, as it were, had positive gains for things that were considered a net los for those of the light. It started to make sense to him that evil forces, dark forces, sought out the conflict, when everyone else avoided it.
A simple matter such as XP gain shaped a society, guided it towards righteousness. And why wouldn’t you? You were rewarded for it in more ways then one.
Marlin however, was forever going to be on the crossroads of evil and righteousness. Never capable of truly dedicating himself to one or either cause. The reason the social people of this world kept him at an arms length was all the more clear. He didn’t feel like he wanted to even mention his current findings to anyone. He trusted them but he didn’t want to burden them with this sort of knowledge.
“Fuck you Sadanis”. His mantra of life slipped past his lips.
Marlin and the group had decided to take a break from goblin hunting. The precipice of the war, stirred the forces widely considered evil. Goblins had started to gather in larger groups.
The honorless that Marlin kept a close eye on over the last month within North Haven grew restless. Many of them had packed their things over the last month. He asked Milly. Apparently the temptation of their curses became bigger, more profound. Whenever bad omen’s like war came around the corner.
Many of the ones set on cleansing themselves, had chosen voluntary solitude and/or exile. trade with the honorless settlements had all but halted.
It wasn’t just the Honorless, Many of the merchants especially the Hjabb, the tree folk, which was to be expected of the pacifist species. Had left North Haven.
As the first light of dawn crept into the room, Marlin pulled away from the window. The night had been long, the remnants of his dream still lingering in the back of his mind. He could hear faint noises from the kitchen, a soft clattering of dishes. Milly stirred in the bed, her eyes opened slowly as she caught sight of Marlin standing by the window.
“Morning,” she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.
Marlin smiled. “Morning Milly.”
She stretched and sat up, brushing her hair away from her face. “Did you sleep at all?” she asked, her tone laced with concern.
“Not much,” Marlin admitted, glancing back at her. “Too much on my mind.”
Milly nodded, understanding without needing to say more. She slipped out of bed, her feet touching the cool floor as she walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his back.
Marlin placed his hand over hers, appreciating her warmth and the quiet strength she offered.
“Come on,” he said after a moment. “Let’s get some breakfast.”
The kitchen was as cozy as ever, filled with the comforting smells of food. Betty, Marlin’s mother, bustled around the room, a whirlwind of energy despite her small frame. Her light brown hair was tied in a loose braid draped over her shoulder and she wore a bright apron that added to her cheerful demeanor. As they entered, she looked up and beamed at them.
“Good morning, my loves!” she greeted, her voice as warm as the sunlight streaming through the window. “I’ve made your favorite—blueberry pancakes!”
Marlin couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her, his worries momentarily forgotten. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Smells great.”
Milly echoed his sentiment, her own smile growing as she accepted a plate from Betty.
Before they could sit down, the sound of scuffling paws and low, excited murmurs announced the arrival of Marlin’s three gnoll minions. Barry, the spearmaster, was the first to appear, his broad, muscular frame trudging through the doorway. Gary, the hunter, followed closely behind, his keen eyes darting around the room as he sniffed the air as always dead set on making sure the room was clear of traps. Last was Jerry, the assassin, moving with a quiet grace that contrasted with his usual intense energy.
“Mastah! Wes ‘sniffs da brikfust smells” Barry declared, his rough voice full of enthusiasm.
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Yes, wes smells da brikfust!” Gary added, his nose twitching as he caught the scent of the pancakes.
“Mmmm…betta dan gobbos, dat’sh for sure!” Jerry chimed in, his tone conspiratorial.
Betty laughed, her eyes crinkling with joy as she set down extra plates for the gnolls. “Well, you three sit down and eat your fill,” she said, patting Barry’s arm affectionately. “There’s plenty to go around.” Even though she didn’t understand a word of what they had said, she could infer from their drooling faces what it had been about.
The gnolls settled in quickly, awkwardly squeezed around the table, but they were too excited to care. As they dug into the food, their chatter filled the room.
“Mastah ish strong, gonna leads us to much victories, huh?” Barry said between mouthfuls of pancake.
“Oh yesh, Gary thinks we go bash da gobbos, makesh them flee!” Gary agreed, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
“But no touch Mastah’s pancakes! Dey his and dah missus!” Jerry warned, wagging a clawed finger at his companions.
Marlin chuckled at their banter, but his thoughts turned serious. He glanced at Milly, who was already looking at him with the same contemplative expression.
“Things are getting more complicated,” he said quietly, his voice low so as not to disturb the gnoll’s conversation. “Goblins aren’t just small packs anymore. They’re gathering, into big groups, It’s making hunting them nearly impossible.”
Marlin leaned in closer and almost dropped to a whisper.
Also i had some conversations with some of the priests and I overheard some very disturbing rumors about the Honorless settlements. their transformations towards becoming orc or succubi going much faster. The churches are begging for donations now to send priests into the settlements to stem the tide of curses going rampant.
Milly nodded, her brow furrowed in thought. “I heard the same and if the goblins or honor-less, become a proper horde one way or another…” Milly trailed off, her mind conjuring images of the devastation a either horde could bring. “It’ll be a disaster.”
“We could join either expedition,” Marlin suggested. “They’re putting together a group to strike at the heart of the goblin gathering, try to break them apart before they become a real threat.”
Milly nodded. “Personally i feel we should help out the priests. Many shamans of my tribe will join them and it’s expected of me to attend and support.
Marlin considered her words, his gaze distant as he weighed the options. “He couldn’t come to decision”.
Milly reached out, taking his hand in hers. “We can do this, this is part of our calling and duty.”
“Wes join too!” Barry suddenly declared, his ears perked up as he listened in on their conversation. “Fight da gobbos, smashes dem gud”
“Wes protect Mastah, fight lots, gets strong!” Gary added, his tail wagging in excitement.
“Yesh, weez make sure no gobbo escapesh! Or orc. Ooo orc meat.. yum! i mean nasty nasty orc meat!” Jerry agreed, his eyes narrowing with a fierce determination, a feigning ignorance.
Marlin smiled at their eagerness, feeling a swell of pride for his, strangely loyal companions. He looked back at Milly, his decision made.
“Alright,” he said, a note of resolve in his voice. “We’ll join the church in their efforts.”
Betty, who had been quietly listening, came over and wrapped her arms around Marlin in a warm hug. “You be careful out there Marlin,” she said, her voice soft but firm.
Marlin hugged her back, his heart heavy. “I will, Mom. I promise.”
As breakfast wound down, the gnolls’ chatter faded as they focused on finishing their meals. Milly began clearing the table, while Marlin sat quietly, the weight of the previous night’s dream still pressing on him. He watched his mother, Betty, as she moved around the kitchen, her usual cheerfulness evident in the efficient way she worked. But beneath that surface, Marlin could sense the tension.
“Mom,” he said quietly.
Betty turned, her eyes sharpening as she caught the tone in his voice. “What is it?”
“Can we talk? Outside?” he asked.
Betty looked at him for a moment before nodding. She gestured for him to follow her out to the small garden behind the house.
They walked in silence to a wooden bench beneath an old oak tree, where the morning light filtered through the leaves, casting shadows on the ground., Betty turned to face him, waiting expectantly.
“Go on,” she said, cutting to the point.
Marlin took a breath, then stumbled into an account of the dream—or whatever it had been. He described the battlefield, the violence, and most of all, the sight of his father, Bradford, locked in a brutal struggle with a figure cloaked in darkness. As he spoke, Betty’s face remained impassive, but her silence urged him to continue.
“It felt visceral as if i was there.”Marlin said, his tone hardening as he tried to make sense of it, he kept the whole xp theory he had, to himself.”
Betty listened without interruption, her eyelids trembling as he mentioned the dark presence that had overshadowed even Thror. When he finished, she let the silence stretch for a few moments, as if weighing what he had said.
“You’ve always had a strong connection to your father,” she finally said, her voice measured. “And you received the blessings of Artis the god of righteous war, have you not?”
Marlin frowned, he hadn’t considered that. “You think that’s why i had the dream? The vision?” He noted how his heart jumped at the possibility, that for once it wasn’t his darkness responsible.
“Possibly,” Betty replied, her tone noncommittal.
Marlin’s jaw clenched, frustration mixing in his chest. “I want to believe what you say mom”
Betty met his gaze, her eyes steady. “Then believe it”
Marlin nodded,
Betty gave him a nod, the conversation already closed in her mind. “Just remember, Marlin—this isn’t about proving anything to anyone. It’s about how you handle life. Yours, his, and everyone else’s. So be smart about whatever you decide.”
“I will,” Marlin promised, his resolve hardening.
They rose from the bench, and, headed back into the house.
Empress POV
In the heart of Avalonia's capital, the grand Hall of Divinity, was an imposing structure. Its vast, vaulted ceilings were adorned with intricate carvings, depicting the rise of Avalonia's power and the divine favor that its rulers claimed. Torches flickered along the walls, casting shadows that danced across the stone floor. The air was thick with the scent of incense.
At the far end of the hall, seated upon a raised dais, was the Empress of Avalonia, her presence commanding and austere. Draped in robes of midnight purple and silver, unyielding, enigmatic, and undeniably powerful. Her crown, a golden, circlet, seemed to radiate the light, casting her face in a perpetual sheen of white aura, which only enhanced the piercing gaze of her vibrant green eyes.
Before her stood her officers, the commanders of the Avalonian forces who had survived the recent battle. They had traveled back to the capital on the backs off griffons cutting the months worth of travel down to a couple of days. leaving their beated forces behind, their armor still marked with the blood of the battlefield. Despite the exhaustion, they stood at attention, their expressions a mix of grim determination and barely concealed fear.
The Empress studied them in silence, her gaze cold and calculating. She had been informed of the outcome—the disastrous defeat at the hands of the Valkorian forces, the loss of nearly half the men and women, and the death of the most pivotal of all Dark Lord’s and her secret lover. who had been instrumental in turning Avalonia the way it was now, under iron clad rule. The champions of old executed or in hiding. The church all but usurped, slowly turning the masses into drones for her plans.
Finally, she spoke, her voice a low, controlled cadence that carried easily through the hall. "You have failed me."
The words hung in the air, heavy and ominous. The officers began to sweat, none dared to speak.
"The Valkorians were outnumbered," she continued, her tone sharp with accusation. "Their forces were soft from peace, their morale weakened and their heads filled with fear of never seeing their loved ones again. And yet, you ‘allowed’ them to break our lines, to slaughter our men. How do you explain this?"
One of the officers, a seasoned general with a long scar running down the side of his face, stepped forward. He bowed deeply before the Empress, his voice steady but filled with a note of hesitance. "Your Majesty, the Valkorian forces fought with an intensity and coordination we did not anticipate. They were led by a Crusader of immense power, one who wielded divinity that none of our forces could withstand. His Sanctus Ultor was absolute and unbreaking.
The Empress's eyes narrowed. "You expect me to believe that one mere mortal, even blessed by their gods, could overcome the might of Avalonia's legions?"
The general swallowed, but held his ground. "It was not just their strength, Majesty. Their tactics were unorthodox, their timing precise. They exploited our every weakness, created openings where there were none. with a cunning that bordered on preternatural. We made no mistakes. And... our commander... the Valkorian champion targeted her specifically. He fought with a fury that could only have been driven by divine purpose."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the ranks of the officers, but it was silenced by a sharp gesture from the Empress. She leaned forward, her eyes boring into the general's. "And what of the Dark Lord? How could she, with all her power, fall to a single man?"
Take my memories if need be. Her power was immense but unfocused. His were focused sharper, then the edge of a blade.
The room fell silent again, the officers exchanging uneasy glances. Finally, another commander, a woman with short-cropped hair and a commanding presence, spoke up. "The Dark Lord underestimated the Valkorian champion, Majesty. She believed him to be another softened champion of peace , not realizing until it was too late that he was something far more dangerous. Her fall was... unfortunate but inevitable with that champion’s presence."
The Empress stood abruptly, her fury mounting, of course she Knew these officers spoke the truth. She had taken decades to psycho-indoctrinate them personally. They were precious pawns. Her robes flowing like dark water around her. She descended, the dais with a predatory grace, her gaze never leaving the commanders. As she approached, the tension in the room became almost unbearable.
She had lost her lover and was Seething.
"unfortunate?" she repeated, her voice deceptively soft. "Is that the excuse you offer for the death of thousands of my soldiers? For the loss of one of our greatest?"
The woman bowed her head. "No, Majesty. There is no excuse. We failed.” She trembled.
For a long moment, the Empress said nothing, her expression unreadable. Then, without warning, she raised a hand,
But just as the Empress raised her hand to strike the bold officer down, the general with the scar, sensing the impending doom, quickly spoke up. "Majesty, if I may..."
The Empress paused, her hand still raised, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Be quick with it," she snapped.
The general bowed his head, but continued. "Though our defeat is undeniable, there is one aspect of this battle that may warrant consideration."
The Empress lowered her hand slightly, signaling him to proceed.
"Despite the losses, and despite the fall of our commander, those who escaped the wrath of the Valkorian Champion. Have gained considerable amounts of levels to offset our loss."
The Empress's expression shifted subtly, her piercing gaze now one of calculation. "A net gain, you say?" She lowered her hand. “by how much.
"across the board, 1 level, Majesty," the general.
The Empress considered this, her expression inscrutable. After a long moment, she chuckled. "A rather pitiable gain wouldn’t you say ," she said, her voice icy but measured.
“Compared to the loss of 3000 men and women on the Valkorian side, with pitiable, catastrophic loss in levels… off course the loss of off precious life cannot be understated. Such is war.” the General let his case rest with that.
The Empress turned and ascended the dais once more, her back to the commanders. "See that you don't lose the advantage, much rides on it," she said, her tone brooking no argument. "Now leave me, and prepare for the next phase."
The officers bowed, then turned and left the hall, closing the heavy doors behind them.