Three's a Crowd

David

David had never particularly cared for people.

It wasn't personal. It was just…

He just saw the lives of mortals as something pointless to get worked up about.

They'd die anyway. Why did the when matter?

He had been born… sometime around the height Volan Empire. He didn't remember—he'd been a newborn back then, little more than a wind spirit weaving war under the ballad of the Queen of Spring. He'd died and been reborn a few hundred times since then, but really, who was counting? The Fey were eternal, and he was a Fey. They'd danced to the Cycle of the Seasons for countless millennia before, and they would continue to do so up until the end of the world.

And then the Woman-Serpent came and sunk his home into the sea.

It had been a shock, to be sure. Doubly so when the new King came along and unified them, but hey, he rolled with it. The new Drowned Court was formed in the flooded crater of Albion, the Fey united for the first time in history under a single ruler.

Except, there was an issue.

David had begun to grow restless. His will was not sapped by constant fighting, but rather, the lack of it. The new King held Court every day and every night. Singing and dancing and drinking. For such was the nature of the Fey Courts, and though there was now only one that did not change. If anything, it made it worse.

But the Woman-Serpent still remained at large, and so the Drowned Court plotted revenge.

Slowly.

They'd get to it eventually.

…What year was it again?

David, along with many of his fellow restless kinsmen, grew tired of the nothing. He was a soldier—or more accurately, a thrill seeker—and the years of nothing began to wear on them all.

So they left the Drowned Court, in search of battles afield. Against Demons, Angels, and even those few mortals who could put up a decent fight.

And then, eventually, David met his match.

It was a mortal, amusingly enough. A young Paladin, following in the footsteps of his teacher. And when he heard of the Drowned-Man causing trouble down on the coast (David had enjoyed a few years of hunting mortal ships for sport) he had no choice but to come and stop him.

David had thought the boy an idiot.

So he made him a deal, as a joke more than anything. It was something all the Fey did, make deals with mortals that they could not possibly lose out on.

It had been years since he'd had a mortal slave, after the last one had died in a tragic hunting accident. (Who was hunting what shall not be disclosed here). So he made the boy a deal—if he could land three cuts on him, then David would 'repent' his 'evil ways' and join his fight against the demons. But if David landed three cuts on his body, then the boy would become his slave, to serve him for the rest of his life.

David laughed when the boy took the deal. What a stupid little mortal!

Then he got his ass handed to him. Badly.

And that was how he met Sinbad, the self-righteous little brat that slowly grew on him like a clump of overzealous mold.

David fought for his new 'Boss' for years, first against the weaker demons which prowled the borderlands, and then as they grew stronger against even Demon Lords, such as the Lich-King and the Woman-Serpent herself.

This wasn't a bad deal for him, to be clear—he never made a bet he could lose, and either way he'd get to fight. If anything, this was better than he could have ever imagined. Who would have thought that little brat would become one of the most powerful fighters of his generation?

They gathered more companions on their adventures. Rosalina, the priestess, who wielded divine flames. Geronimo, the dwarven warrior, with his great hammer. Hildegard, the Red Scholar, who knew near everything there was to know about demons. And others still, new allies who helped them along their journey.

They even managed to slay one of the Demon Lords, the Lich-King himself!

Unfortunately though, it was around this time that David came to a dreadful realization.

His new companions—his new friends—were mortals. They could die. They would die.

And then he'd be alone.

Again.

Well, that couldn't stand!

So he began looking into the various ways mortals could gain immortality. He looked into potions and elixirs, but few seemed to grant true longevity and most just seemed increasingly creative poisons. He studied necromancy and similar such arts, but he just couldn't wrap his head around the concept of death enough to figure it out. He even looked into vampires, but no matter how hard he looked he couldn't find one, let alone figure out how to turn his friends into one! At this point he wasn't even sure they existed!

However, one day a solution arrived from the most unlikely of sources.

The Woman-Serpent Edda spoke to him, on a craggy rock jutting from the sea, the only remains of an island she sunk. She told him thusly:

"Hear me. I am Queen of the sea, the ocean, the rivers. I am Queen of all that lurks beneath the surface. Each day my domain grows, as I drag more and more of the land into my depths. Yet you, who are of the sea, fight against me. Why do you betray me so?"

And David responded, "Well, I just don't like you."

The Woman-Serpent brought her head low, so her eye—of which the pupil was of equal size with him—could stare at him clearly.

"What would I need to do to get you to like me?"

And David pondered these words. For a few minutes. Then a few hours. Then a few days.

But they were Fey and Demon, immortal both. They were patient.

And eventually he responded.

"Could you grant my friends immortality? I don't have many, and yet it seems every day that passes that number dwindles even more. If you could guarantee them to live, not just for now, but forever, I think I would come to like you."

The great eye blinked, its three eyelids closing and opening.

"Very well. I shall sink the islands. I shall sink the continents. I shall sink it all into the depths of the sea. But in my mercy, I shall leave but a single island, which those you care for may live out the rest of eternity with you. But only for them, and not a soul more."

And David, hearing this, smiled.

"Then it seems we have a deal."

Never let it be said David ever made a bet he could lose.

--

Sinbad

Sinbad was tired and angry.

This wasn't a particularly unique state for him to be in, these days. Sometimes, it felt like an eternity since he'd been young, full of vim and vigor. When he'd been able to look another person in the eye and claim to be a good person.

But as he'd come to realize, the world was full of bad people. One of them was even in front of him, right now.

"Okay, so we've got a choice of human, elf, or orc," Tintinnia hummed, setting a head from each of those races on the table between them, splattering it with blood and gore. "Orc might be a bit too big for you, but luckily I got a younger one, so it should fit! It's the elf I'm more worried about—they age a lot slower than humans, so what if that causes you problems when you're older? I think it's best we think about these things now, rather than later."

Sinbad gave her a tired glare. Why did she have to kill three people for this? He only needed one tongue, she didn't need to give him options! Just get him a human one and be done with it!

But he supposed that was just in her nature.

Tintinnia was a cursed child. Whether she was born that way or became such later didn't matter, as it didn't change what she was now.

He should have lopped off her head back when he found her, just as he had all the others. It would have been kinder that way—for the rest of the world, if nothing else.

But he was too sentimental. If it hadn't been for the girl's grandfather, none of them would be here to continue the fight today. So he felt he owed it to the man, to make sure his only remaining family grew up healthy and cared for.

Now if only she would stop killing innocent people, maybe he wouldn't have to feel so damn guilty about that.

With an annoyed sigh he rolled his good eye, pointing at the human head, cutting off Tintinnia's ramblings. She pouted at him—she'd been subtly trying to convince him to take the orc one, but he wouldn't even consider it—but reluctantly shoved the other two heads off the table. They bounced once they hit the ground, splattering his shoes with blood.

His eyebrow twitched. Couldn't she even have the littlest amount of respect for the dead?

As the cursed child began dismantling the jaw of the unfortunate human, Sinbad leaned back, silently mouthing a prayer for the deceased.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

He wished, in that moment, that David hadn't turned against them. That their greatest warriors didn't keep falling to the whispers of Demons. Maybe if his old friends were still here, they'd have had better luck teaching this child morality.

Thinking of his old friend brought some of the anger back. The betrayal still stung, even after all these years. He longed for the day when he could finally bring down those traitors, and could turn his attention back on the true threat.

But he was getting older. His age was swiftly catching up with him, and he was growing weaker with each passing year. Soon he worried that he wouldn't be able to keep up with David, and once that day came, the rest would fall soon after.

If only there was some way to live forever.

Sinbad snarled as pain laced through his face. His hand shot up to clench around his eyepatch, as what was under it throbbed.

Yellow pus began to leak from beneath the eyepatch, burning his hand where it touched. He felt something poking his brain, and it was only thanks to the protections he'd had Tintinnia install that it didn't go any further.

He opened his mouth to pray, only to remember his lack of tongue. So instead he clenched his teeth and rode the pain out, one hand on his eyepatch and the other on his blade, just in case.

And eventually, slowly, the pain began to subside.

Not today, he swore, ignoring Tintinnia's concerned look from across the table. He slowly lowered his hand, feeling his body relax.

He wasn't that far gone yet.

--

Roselina

"The mortal races have always been creatures of Sin."

A congregation had gathered in an olive field on the outskirts of Firozzi. Dozens of pious men, women and children flocked to the field, to the woman who stood in the center. A Priestess of world renown, a Saint blessed by the Goddess herself.

The Priestess stood at the head of the congregation. Her voice was soft, yet all could hear it, as though she were whispering directly into their ears. Her smile was kind, even as she spoke to them of their damnation.

And yet none left—for who were they, to deny the Goddess?

"It is because we are young. It is because we are frail. We do not realize the weight of our own actions. As a child does not yet understand the world, we do not yet understand the divine."

As she spoke, grey clouds began to gather on the horizon. The rumbling of distant thunder sounded.

"And so the Goddess sent down her Daughter to teach us. To teach us as a mother teaches her children, so that we might learn the Proper Way."

The clouds grew closer, slowly covering the congregation in darkness. Those less pious fled the olive field, while the true believers stayed, even as the first drops of rain began to fall upon their sinful shoulders.

"But we did not. We could not. For we were young. We are young. Too assured of our own innocence, of the protection of our immortal spirit by our mortal flesh. The Goddess sent us a teacher, and we sent her back a martyr."

The clouds grew darker, and rain began to pour down in sheets. The field the congregation stood in turned to mud, and thunder rumbled ominously above.

Except for one spot, where rain refused to fall, where the clouds refused to darken.

The Priestess stood in a circle of light, dry and warm, as the sinful around her were cleansed.

"The Sin of the Elf is Arrogance. The Sin of the Dwarf is Avarice. The Sin of the Orc is Anger."

Lightning crackled across the sky. Thunder rumbled ominously. The storm grew worse, and yet still they remained, suffering in silence as their sins were cleansed.

"Yet such Sins are petty. For when the Goddess decreed the Rules of the world, only one race sought to challenge her. When the Goddess built her Heaven above the clouds, only one race tried to match her. And when the Goddess sent down her Prophet, only one race denied her."

The rain was now falling to fast, the wind blowing so hard, and the dark clouds rumbling so loudly, that no other sound could be heard above the storm.

None except the Priestess, who continued her sermon undaunted.

"And so it was as the Goddess decreed, Ambition was the Sin of Man."

The sky rumbled and lightning flashed, blinding all who were witness. A darkness followed it, so absolute that none could see through it, consuming the whole of the congregation.

But only for a moment. The darkness faded as quickly as it came, and light returned to the olive fields.

The Priestess stood in an empty field, the sun shining down upon her shoulders, with not a cloud in the sky. Not a soul to listen to her silence.

Rosalina opened her eyes. She smiled, refreshed. It had been too long since she last led a prayer.

Turning away from the fields, she began to make her way into the city. She was here for a reason, after all, though she worried she was too late. David had been in the city earlier, from what she had heard, and he was always ruining her plans.

He was such a goody two shoes.

But it was okay. When the time came, she would forgive him, just as she would all the others in this sinful world.

Because Roselina was, and always would be, a pious woman.

As she returned to the road she came across Geronimo, standing sentinel as he always did. He didn't talk much these days, but that was fine—she could do enough talking for the both of them.

"It's been years since I was last here," Rosalina mused, as they made their way through the city of Firozzi. "It's remarkable how much has changed."

Geronimo remained silent.

"Ah, I suppose you're right," she chuckled, placing a hand on her cheek. "Time changes everything, no matter how much we may wish it won't. I suppose that's just part of life!"

When she'd last been here, the city had been overrun by poverty and homelessness. It seemed that since then, that problem had begun getting fixed.

How wonderful! It warmed her heart to know that even in communities such as this, there were good people working to make the world a better place.

Though the people of the city did seem pretty tense now that she was looking closer.

Had something happened?

Rosalina worried her lip, wondering if she'd have enough time to help solve whatever issue was plaguing them. She had a schedule to keep, but surely there was something she could do.

She shook her head. She'd planned to distribute alms to the poor later today—perhaps she'd learn what was going on then? After that she could begin helping, yes.

Nodding to herself, she smiled again, happy she could find ways to help people, even now. That was the purpose of a priestess, after all!

Soon she found herself at her destination—a small graveyard, hidden between some older buildings and the remains of the old castle wall. Though they seemed quite damaged, and the ground was surprisingly muddy.

Had something happened here?

Ah, she supposed whatever it had been wasn't a concern of hers. Nobody but her was visiting today.

She made her way to the mausoleum in the back, snapping the lock off the door with ease. Entering, she made her way inside the small crypt, grimacing at how damp it was. Had it flooded recently?

Well, at least the dead were unharmed. Though their souls may have long since ascended, there was no need to sully their bodies with mold.

Soon enough she'd reached the back of the crypt, where a single stone tomb sat atop an altar.

With a joyful smile Rosalina stepped forward and quickly shoved the lid of the coffin off of it, not caring as it landed on the ground with an echoing boom.

Instead she only had eyes for the body within, the body of someone she'd long ago lost.

Someone who would now be returned to her.

Rosalina smiled, stroking the corpse's cheek.

"It's been so long, teacher," she whispered in the darkness of the cave. "Too long. But don't worry—the Goddess rewards faith, and there were few more faithful than you!"

The corpse did not respond.

At first.

Slowly, in the darkness of the crypt, Rosalina watched as the head began to turn. It moved from its place of rest, until its empty eye sockets locked onto her own. Its jaw moved up and down, as though it were trying to speak, but no words came out.

"Shh, teacher," Rosalina shushed him gently. "It is alright. You've slept for a long time, but now it's finally time to get up. Can you do that for me? Can you stand up?"

The body shuffled some more, moving faster with each moment that passed. Until, finally, rotting hands gripped the side of the coffin, and her teacher pulled himself up and out.

And Rosalina smiled, overjoyed. "Wonderful, my teacher! Oh, thank you Goddess! Thank you for blessing me with this greatest of miracles!"

For that was the way the world worked. Above all, the Goddess rewarded faith.

And who was more faithful than a Priestess?