King Lysander was the last remaining person at the table, his eyes were closed, and his chin was resting atop his hands.
The room was cold and quiet, merely his breathing could be heard, “Oh brothers, oh sisters... the election begins anew, that which caused us to turn against another, that which made our blood boil with the desire to slay another... This tradition that breeds a ruthless ruler... It is a burden more than it is a blessing.”
“My dear children, born for this very purpose, raised to usher humanity into a new age, a never-ending cycle of despair, of innovation, of construction, and destruction... you believe that attaining my position will bring you power, that you will be free like a bird, but you do not know that I too am just another cog in a machine.”
“The truth is cruel, and knowing it would destroy your aspirations, your drive for achieving the impossible, your hunger for more... These trials and tribulations your siblings will cause you to face, they will mold you, harden your resolve, and dampen your empathy... It will allow you to retain your sanity. Then I can rest easy, knowing that I have done my duty, my responsibility as king. That humanity’s future lies in safe hands.” his eyes opened, he looked up at the large door at the end of the hall, “But I guess that day is not today...”
Three loud bangs came from the door, a dull knocking interrupted the quiet ambience of the room, “You may enter.” His Highness spoke.
Two tall and armoured guards pried open the doors, in their midst stood a man with golden-red armour, he held his helmet in hands, his long blond hair reached down to his chest.
The man lowered his head and took some steps into the room before coming to a full stop.
King Lysander squinted his eyes, he recognised that the man belonged to the church, yet his identity and purpose was unclear, “You may speak.”
The church’s member placed his hand onto his heart and nodded, “Thank you Your Majesty. I am Bishop Lanester of the church’s Order of Purity. Forgive my intruding, but I have a grave matter to report.”
“Order of Purity? Does this have anything to do with our planar efforts?” King Lysander questioned; the Order of Purity was well known for being in charge of a majority of the ongoing explorations into unknown planes, they usually tightly cooperated with his own forces.
Bishop Lanester nodded again, “You are correct. I was sent today as a messenger of bad news... I must regretfully report that the portal that connected to the Sunless Mire has been disrupted...” he lowered his head further, “We are still investigating the reason, and our experts are trying to stabilise the portal again, but as of now, the flow of time between our two planes has started to desynchronise...”
King Lysander calmly rose from his seat, “Take me there.” he ordered, stern but patient, then followed the bishop into the lower parts of the castle, where all the portals were gathered.
The guards saluted their king, while the members of the church bowed their heads at his arrival, his presence alone managed to calm the hearts of many.
He scrutinised the portal, looked it up and down; its hue was no longer as many shades of green as before, it lost much of its lustre.
His gaze then turned to the two tattooed figures that were surrounding the portal, dark blue lines covered most of their body, even their bald heads, as well as the other men around them, who looked like priests, that were channelling some kind of visible energy into the two.
Their tattoos were glowing brightly, they turned into ribbons, extended outwards from their skin and lightly wrapped around the unstable piece of space.
Bishop Lanester stood next to King Lysander, he gestured to the two strange men and opened his mouth to explain, “These are the experts I mentioned. The church has made it a priority to nurture priests adept in varying fields. These two are among the first successful batch of priests pertaining our gods’ grace of wielding space.”
King Lysander looked at the man with a strange gaze, he looked doubtful.
Bishop Lanester began to sweat bullets; was His Majesty not convinced by their results?
The royal family’s support meant a lot to the church, they were descendants of Astafor, a god whose legacy was counted among the better documented ones.
But it wasn’t just spirituality that caused the church to respect the king of humanity, that title wasn’t just baseless blabbering to stroke the current ruler’s ego.
If the king or queen was incapable, or otherwise lacking, the many noble families, along with their mages, would tear the royal family to pieces and eat them up, then fight amongst themselves to replace them.
Yet in all those centuries, not a single family or any allied forces managed to topple this giant.
Every remnant of those who tried was snuffed out from existence.
And the church wasn’t exempt from that; the church was founded to protect humanity, to worship the gods and spread their grace.
There used to be fools among the church’s ranks that overestimated their power and influence and thought themselves in a position where they didn’t need to show any respect or courtesy to the ruler... but those fools had since been publicly lynched, and as the church’s spiritual leader, the pope, sought no retribution from the royal family, this had become a wakeup call to the conceited members of the church.
“Your Majesty?” Bishop Lanester carefully spoke to the king, who was seemingly absorbed in his thoughts.
“I trust that you and your Order of Purity will do your utmost to remedy this situation... there are valuable assets in this plane that must not be lost.” with those words King Lysander turned around and left.
His words caused Bishop Lanester’s mood to hit rock bottom... he had been chosen to act as a scapegoat to suffer His Majesty’s ire, should they be unable to restore the portal’s functionality.
... ...
Frey was squatting next to a giant tree; it was thick enough to hide several with his stature with ease.
His hands were pressed against the tree’s bark, his eyes were closed.
He was breathing calmly; his focus was entirely on the happenings inside of the tree.
Nature particles were reacting to one another, strange impulses hit the tree’s roots, which travelled throughout the entirety, up to the leaves and back down to the trunk.
The tree acted as a sort of relay point, picking up these impulses and then passing them on to the surrounding trees.
Frey was carefully observing these interactions, feeling their intents, trying to make sense of the impulses’ meanings.
There were several patterns he had noticed from all his previous interactions, among them was one important realisation... the closer Treemen were, the more frequently these impulses would get spread among the trees.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
He also managed to guess that the more Treemen there were, the greater the reaction the nature particles had to another.
The reaction he felt slowly calmed down, the frequency of the impulses lessened; Frey opened his eyes and sighed in relief, the air was clear for him to continue moving.
With a grunt he rose to his feet and supported himself by walking with a branch he found lying on the ground.
The clothes on his back and arms were still ruined, portraying his wounds for all to see, that was, if anyone were around to look.
Although the flesh that was affected by the acid looked horrid, it had already healed by a margin, and at least the immediate pain Frey felt was gone.
He walked for a short while before stopping at the next tree, where he repeated the process, only after being fully convinced that nothing was waiting for him did he decide to continue.
This took time and a lot of concentration, but it was a far better alternative than for the locals to find his weakened and vulnerable self.
The longer he trudged through the swamp, the more he learned about how it all worked together, every ripple in the water, every Delightful Death on the trees, every movement of the locals nearby, it all and so much more he had yet to figure out were being transmitted through this network of trees.
Where did this information lead?
Frey’s curiosity peaked, perhaps it could have something to do with that long tunnel... but he shuddered as he remembered all of the locals that were lying in ambush when he tried to leave, as well as the trio that threatened to kill him.
A thought shot into his mind; if he managed to get back to the camp and report those three, surely there would be some kind of punishment for them!
The only problem was getting there... at the speed he was going, he could possibly take several days, maybe more.
And if he took too long, and the trio returned before him, then they could wait for him, lie in ambush and stop him from even getting to report the truth!
There must be something, someway, somehow, that he could use to speed up his travels...
His gaze fell onto the water, its surface was very still, only a rare leaf that fell from the nearby trees that could make it ripple.
Frey immediately thought of a boat, those things he had seen at the harbour of Astafor, but not only did he not know how to build one, but the next problem were the many trees that would notice and relay the commotion he would make.
What would that cause?
Frey didn’t know, but he had a feeling that not having to find out was the better decision.
He continued marching, his head was working on a solution, but nothing sensible came to him.
A lot of time passed, between observing the particles within the trees, gathering and eating Delightful Deaths, and sleeping on some low hanging branches for however long he managed to keep his eyes closed, there wasn’t much else going on.
The only one Frey could speak to was Lu, his trusted companion and loyal friend, who Frey tasked with keeping watch whenever he went to sleep, but Lu couldn’t speak back to him, so even those conversations were entirely one-sided, monologues.
This silence gnawed at Frey, he was used to being reclusive and isolated, but at the end of the day there was Agnes and Cykrus who would sooner or later talk to him... but this... being all alone, that was a first.
That time he spent deciphering his first rune, he was absorbed in the process, his state of mind was different, he had no time to realise just how horrible it could be to feel lonely, but in this plane, for the last while, this loneliness started to seep in.
Time was an element that couldn’t be observed in this world, with no sun to set at dusk or to rise at dawn, one was left to guess how long they spent travelling.
Humans generally had an internal clock, a gut feeling that told them when it was time to go to bed, or to rise and shine, when to eat and drink, but this gut feeling had been through the wringer ever since he had first set foot onto this world.
Frey’s right hand held onto the branch he used to walk with, at irregular intervals he would try to repeat the healing process onto his wounds, his strength slowly returned to him, but while he wasn’t at his peak he chose to rely on the aid, whereas his left hand was holding the stem of a Delightful Death, he used the glowing fruit like a lantern to aid him in traversing the thick mist.
He stopped walking at what looked like the edge of a clearing, “This should be it... right?”
His brows wrinkled; he had been rather sure that this was the location of the camp, but for some reason the fog did not clear ahead of him...
Frey leaned his walking stick against the trunk of a tree, then placed his hand against the bark.
Then he gasped, his head shot back to the direction of the human outpost, “Why does this tree connect to the centre of the camp?!”
“Hm?” he noticed another odd thing on top of that, there was an entire chunk of the swamp up ahead that he couldn’t feel any connection to.
Frey’s gaze alternated between the two sources of unease, then looked down and rummaged through his pocket, before pulling out the coin-shaped artefact.
He once again caressed its surface, feeling the small cracks; he looked at the direction of the camp and spoke, “Heads if it's safe to head to the camp... tails if it’s not.”
His thumb flicked the coin into the air, he caught it and slapped it onto the back of his hand, then revealed the result... tails.
Chills ran down Frey’s spine, “What happened here?” he involuntarily took several steps back.
This time the coin audibly cracked, Frey quickly inspected it, holding it up to his eyes, it looked nearly broken, but it still appeared intact.
The Delightful Death’s glow helped him see in the dark, but the dim orange hue only served to make for a more unsettling feeling.
Frey glanced back at the camp’s direction one more time but adhered to the coin’s outcome... the camp wasn’t safe, the fog and the lack of light coming from that direction further assured him of that fact.
Whatever happened to the people in the camp, whatever caused them to suddenly disappear, there was no way he would be the only person left... for now it was best to leave, lay low, and observe.
... ...
The sound of footsteps and the crunching of dried leaves could be heard as Marquis Gomon and the rest of his group were stepping through the newly dead part of the swamp.
A majority of the trees around them had fallen to the ground already, while a lone few managed to stay standing; all of their leaves had fallen off, and even those that still stood looked very brittle and dry.
“Hm. This might actually make for a good bit of defensive terrain, with all the felled trees to act as walls and whatnot.” Marquis Gomon remarked but halted his steps.
He raised his hand into the air, gesturing for the others to stop and listen too.
Reyna’s flame illuminated a good range around them, the dead bits of nature served to strengthen her flames, she felt much more at ease compared to the lack of fire particles down in the cave.
“I am a human.” a figure stepped into the circle of light, his golden armour, tainted by dirt and mud, as well as both of his hands raised in surrender quelled the group’s suspicion.
“...You... you are from the competition, right?” the man continued.
“We are. And you must belong to the church, or rather, the camp.” Marquis Gomon answered.
The man nodded in response, “I am, though the camp is no more...”
“What?!" the group erupted in shock, “What do you mean?” Plamus stepped forward.
“This... it might not be best to hear this from me. Come.” the church’s warrior gestured for them to follow his lead.
The group exchanged a round of glances, but they agreed to follow the man.
Along the way they encountered tens of people like him, scouts that were surveying the area, just the numbers were upped by a great amount when compared to the former set-up around the camp.
Marquis Gomon curiously observed all of them as they passed, each one was covered in mud, leaves, or was otherwise camouflaged; the golden shine of their armours was gone, he was musing whether this was done by choice, or forced upon them...
Some time later the group arrived, the scout that had led them stepped aside, and gestured for them to continue on forward, where they spotted a bunch of flames that brightly illuminated the makeshift camp.
One person in particular stood out to them, they swiftly noticed the turned back of a figure of great stature, the leader of the expedition, Kassan Horun; his helmet, his armour, his mace, and his shield were gone, however.
“Sir Horun, what is going on? We just returned from-” Plamus stepped forward attempting to represent his group, but his words got stuck in his mouth as Kassan turned to face him.
Kassan’s eyes were closed, one deep slit went from one side of his face to the other, his eyeballs directly on the path of this straight line.
“Sir Horun, this is Marquis Gomon speaking, observer of His Majesty’s competition... what happened to the camp, and to you?” Marquis Gomon interrupted Plamus.
Kassan sighed, “We were overrun... no, it wasn’t a matter of numbers, just that could have been dealt with... We have severely underestimated this plane. The portal back home has been destroyed.”
“You are omitting too many details! How could that be possible?!” Marquis Gomon raised his voice, the green goo on his clothes had already dried, a smell he would never be able to get rid of.
“An unknown creature attacked the camp; it was strong enough to block attacks of rank three. In an attempt to stop this creature from destroying the portal, Sir Horun lost his sight. We were forced to evacuate the camp and are in the process of turning this part of the swamp into a new outpost.” Daren stepped in on the conversation.
“I could...! ...Uhm, try healing him.” Marv raised his hand, all that heard him turned to him, not just the group he was with, but every warrior in the vicinity, their gazes were hopeful, the recovery of their leader was sure to uplift everyone’s spirits!
Kassan, although blind, looked into the direction of Marv, “I recognise your voice. You are one of those two boys who approached me. What happened? Where is the other one?”
“Where is Frey?” Daren’s gaze turned unkind; his own assignee had sneaked off, Reyna, and now returned with Frey’s observer, all of them covered in blood and bruises.