Day 426 2:20 PM
“Happiness is meeting an old friend after a long time and feeling that nothing has changed.”
— Unknown
“Lady Manuella, Lord Aang,” Vatten greets us with a smile, then his gaze focuses on my face. “Why are you wearing a mask?”
In our letters we had informed the old villain that I have lost an eye, but never explained the extent of the damage I had suffered. Then again, other than Doc Thunderwax, nobody knows how horrible my scars are.
Why the hell not? I decide to prank him.
“Manny please turn around.” I still haven’t shown my disfigured face to my wife, and I have no intention of ever letting her see it.
Manny turns around, aware of my discomfort with my new appearance, and I remove the mask. Vatten jumps back, gaping at my grotesque visage. Two large holes split my cheek, my flesh healed to forever reveal my jawbone and four golden teeth, which replaced the original ones broken by Grif. My cheekbone is a shattered mess and has healed into a misshapen lump of flesh, my eye socket is empty, with nasty depressions where Grif lacerated the bone.
Vatten is pale and silent even after I cover my mutilated face.
“I don’t regret it a whit.” I say, still grinning. Hopefully, my smile gives him nightmares.
“You are lucky to be alive,” he whispers. “How did you drive the griffon away?”
“Hit him in the nuts with a hammer.” Vatten’s mouth cracks open, and I smile, glancing at my black replacement weapon. “Right, where’s Batsy? Did my plan work?”
Vatten takes a moment to process what I just said, and I address Manny, “Honey, you can turn around.”
Manny turns around, and Vatten waves Garny over. “Garny looks more or less like you from a distance, and he just scowled at our hosts whenever anyone asked him anything.”
Garny bows, presenting Batsy with both hands. I can’t help but smile as I take my staff.
I actually missed a stick.
“It was quite refreshing being you, Sir,” Garny says with a cheerful smile and salutes, pretending my mask doesn’t exist. “Having nobles look away when you frown at them is a thrilling sensation.”
I wink at the vet, and a morbid question crosses my mind.
Am I winking or blinking?
“Have you heard about the new king, or should I say kings?” I ask Vatten, nodding in acknowledgement at Garny, and the vet takes the cue and leaves.
“I have. Unfortunately, crown prince Corvein’s eldest son had struck at his uncle early, probably within hours of the rushed coronation. Otherwise, Garashes losses in a civil war would have been greater.”
“Yeah. It’s a real shame no new kings ascended to the throne during the four weeks of our march on Garagord. Truly a pity. Garashes exterminating themselves and spreading bad blood while fragmenting their loyalists into small opposed camps would have made our job easy. I guess they figured it out and stopped killing themselves.”
“I am not convinced it was the royal family being rational. From what I know of the new king, he had his grandfather’s wit. He might have even allowed his uncle to take the throne so he could weed out all opposition in one swoop.”
That’s not a bad plan. Let them flock together then cut them down at the same time under a single charge of treason.
“Have you scouted out Garagord?”
Vatten nods. “The capital’s gates are sealed, troops man the walls, but it should be an empty show of strength. I think.”
The old man pauses for a moment before continuing. “The last part is just a guess and my personal opinion. You have defeated most of the capital’s standing army, inflicting grievous losses. They should still have seven knights and a thousand professional soldiers left, mostly infantry, but their morale should be low, and they almost certainly fear you. They are a mere shadow of a griffon, a play of light.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
I agree. “You’re probably right, but we can strangle them slowly.”
Since there’s no imminent battle, I focus on something which was of secondary importance up until now. “What of the peasants? Have they abandoned their homes and fields?”
“Local population has fled to the city, fearing our army.”
“Have your scouts found some dilapidated farms?”
Vatten frowns, but nods.
“Yes?” he says, stretching the word into a question.
An hour later, I’m walking around an abandoned barn and setting it on fire, a chicken under my left arm, a torch in my right. The timber is old and dry, it catches fire after flames lick it for a few seconds, and in a matter of minutes, the building is a blaze, the dusty old cobwebs dancing in the loft.
While my level up condition is vague, and the building is already on fire, I wait for the things to turn really dangerous before evacuating. I dash outside with my principal, jumping out the flaming doorway, and the level up notification appears.
[You have leveled up.
Select a skill within sixty seconds or a random one will be assigned to you.
Initial Snatch Missile - You are able to snatch missiles flying within your reach.
Initial Combat Tactics - You are able to read the flow of battle and direct your troops efficiently.]
Damn.
Both options are good. Snatching missiles aimed at me and Manny is another layer of protection against ranged attacks, but Initial Combat Tactics should prove of great help in the battle ahead.
Manny was shot twice, while I haven’t directed troops once so far. In battle I have always acted alone, or at most in a small squad with my bodyguards. Besides, Vatten almost certainly has that skill, given his renown as a general.
I bite my lip and let go of my panicked feathered principal, who is vainly pecking at my hand.
There’s at most one or two battles before we take the throne. Then, even if there are any wars in the future, generals will lead them while I, the king, protect my capital. And I don’t think I’ll be able to live with myself if an arrow kills Manny or anyone else within my arm’s reach.
Why didn’t I get one of these on my previous level up? I grumble silently while selecting Initial Snatch Missile.
I put another point in wisdom, and check the new level up condition.
Become critically wounded while protecting my principal? What is the criteria for being critically wounded? Does losing an eye count?
Unfortunately, I don’t think so. The status I had after losing an eye was just wounded.
It has to be something really serious, if a lost eye doesn’t count. Probably something close to dying. I don’t think I can cheat my way through this one. If my allies injure me, Rage will activate, and I’ll kill them, and even if I get a level, I won’t get to pick my skill.
Come to think of it, if I get critically wounded, I won’t get to pick my skill either way because of Rage.
“Anything interesting?” Manny asks, her gaze following the shrieking chicken dashing away from me in panic.
The abandoned barn behind me cracks and collapses, sending a shower of sparks into the air.
“I can snatch arrows from the air now. We can test it later, if you want.”
“I believe I will pass. You mentioned you have switched your occupation once before. I believe it would be wise to change it again to something more appropriate for our situation. Something akin to Lord, General, or Commander.”
She is right. She often is, but I shake my head. My focus isn’t on doing what I do better, but on keeping her safe from all danger no matter what. “I don’t want to. I have never selected the Select Principal skill, and I’m afraid I will lose it if I change class. Then I won’t be able to protect you if something happens.”
She opens her mouth to say something, then closes them and gives me a sweet smile. “Thank you. I can tell you are not going to change your decision regardless of what I say. What is your advancement condition this time?”
“Receiving critical wounds while protecting my principal from harm.”
She taps her lips with her finger, thinking.
“I cannot see a way to cheat around that condition, and you suffering serious injury for the sake of gaining another skill does not seem worth it.”
Her analysis is correct, but then again, I was certain I would never meet the condition of being vastly outnumbered while defending Manny, yet it happened on an absurd scale.
“I promise not to actively pursue this particular level up condition, and I hope I never level up, but what happens, happens.”
Manny pecks me on the lips, a hundred soldiers standing a respectful distance away, out of earshot, and probably wondering what the hell I’m doing.
Vatten is with them, tugging at that villainous goatee of his, deep in thought. He knows Manny wouldn’t be speaking with me so calmly after I’ve set a random abandoned building on fire just so I could escape it with a chicken in hand.
We lock gazes, and he approaches.
“Are we done here? Can we start the siege?”
I nod. “It’s about time we end this civil war.”