Day 23423 11:50 AM
“What's the name of the word for the precise moment when you realize that you've actually forgotten how it felt to make love to somebody you really liked a long time ago?”
— Delirium
It has been nearly sixty-four years since I arrived in Arborea. Every now and then, thoughts of Mary crossed my mind. How is she doing? Is she alive? What of the children?
Writing my memoirs for my children and grandchildren to learn from and to understand that I was not the living god of war most believe me to be has gotten me thinking about Earth and Chillago more often than usual. And the day I feared has finally arrived. Mary has become a name.
Her face eludes me, I forgot her scent and the color of her voice. My heart aches. I remember I loved her, I loved her for years after my first death, and yet, at some point, the feeling had eroded to cold intellectual awareness of the fact, rather than true emotion.
Manuella’s face, scent, and voice had replaced the memory, and I do not even feel sad. It is regrettable, a part of me aches, but given I am around one hundred years old, I have come to understand some things, and one of them is that people pass away, both from the real world and from the memory of the living.
My hand stops moving, and the quill stops scratching at paper. I look at my regal, flowing handwriting, but fail to see it. My thoughts are with people who were with us in the early years, yet passed away, probably to wait in the eternal line.
Vatten was with us during the campaigns against Dolacia, Elisia, and Korm. I still cannot believe he did not betray us, he had such a villainous bearing, yet remained a true friend and ally until he died of a heart attack during the siege of Kormborg. Master Thunderwax helped Manuella recover from three childbirths before passing in his sleep, cause unknown.
Even his son is long dead, his grandson the current royal physician.
I put my quill down and stare at the ceiling, no longer in the mood to write. I trace the pattern of wood on the beams with my gaze, thinking of days long gone.
Kormborg was almost as absurd as the Dolacian attacks. All our neighbors attacked us simultaneously, and we fended them off and conquered them in four years. Then their neighbors attacked, thinking us weak.
It took eight years, and warring against six countries, before we finally had temporary peace. Temporary, such a strange word, especially coming from me. I reloaded only once in all these years, when Kelly fell off a tree and broke her neck.
It was a long, hard talk with Manuella. If the universe continued for her, would she prefer to live without a husband and a child so that another her would have a daughter, or to live without her daughter in all universes? She is a great woman. I believe she chose the former for my sake, not out of compassion for her other self.
Thinking of Kelly makes my heart ache. I failed Vic and Nate. They died too far away for the word to reach me in time. Their deaths cemented my reputation as god of war, because I descended on Laria and Melakform like the wrath of god after my sons’ deaths.
The rest of the continent offered only token resistance when my children went to conquer them to impress their father. Nobody dared fight them for real, and most kings voluntarily demoted themselves to the status of dukes, welcoming the invaders.
As I think of all the ripples I have caused, my heart flashes with pain.
Is this it? Despite looking like I am forty-years-old, my body is over eighty, a heart attack is a good way to go.
A moment passes, and I feel empty, like a piece of me is missing, but otherwise I am breathing normally. My heart starts beating faster and faster, but it keeps beating.
I check my status screen.
[Name - Aang Ree
Class - king level 0
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Health 18/18, Strength - 20, Agility 21, Physique - 21, Wisdom - 25, Intellect - 26, Willpower - 23, Presence - 20, Charisma - 23, Composure - 15
Abilities - Literate, Initial Grappling, Bargaining, Sense of Danger, Master Rider, Watcher, Initial Emergency Treatment, Initial Staffsmanship, Initial Spearmanship, Initial Swordsmanship, Initial Axmanship, Initial Clubmanship, Initial Throw Dagger, Initial Throw Sword, Initial Throw Ax, Initial Throw Hammer, Initial Slingsmanship, Initial Poison Tolerance, Initial Snatch Missile, Initial Strategy, Initial Tactics, Initial Troop Deployment, Initial Siege, Initial Diplomacy…
To see the full list of skills, open the skills window.
Attribute points remaining - 0
To level up, rule a kingdom for a year.
Statuses - none]
King? I gaze at the translucent layer of blue, and finally I frown. I have been king for half a century, and my class had remained bodyguard all the while, for which I am thankful. What changed?
I check my skill screen, glancing at sixty years’ worth of hard effort made manifest as hundreds of skills, but find no answer save for the fact that Select Principal is gone.
Probably a class skill which disappears after you are no longer a bodyguard. But Watcher is still there, even though it should be absolutely useless without the base skill.
I pick up the sound of hurried footsteps. Nobody hurries around me. All servants and officials know that I insist on quality and tasks performed well, without taking speed into account.
My mouth runs dry, and I catch myself trying to swallow. Something has happened.
The nervous knock confirms my guess.
“High King Griffonrider,” Mathias says, and I know things are worse than I assumed. My assistant’s voice shakes, and he is calling me by my pompous title, rather than simply, ‘Sire.’ “I bring urgent news.”
I can feel my skin turn cold as beads of sweat form on my forehead.
“Yes?” I thought I would not find my voice, but the words leave my mouth in the usual, calm and commanding tone I adopted fifty years ago.
“The Queen.” I hear him licking his lips. The man is terrified. “The Queen has collapsed.”
“What!” The tower shakes from my roar. I hear the echo, it is not the voice of a man, but a furious beast.
“She collapsed five minutes ago. The servants have summoned Master Thunderwax to heal her.”
“Out of my way.” I jump to my feet and rush towards the door. I rip it off its hinges and toss it aside.
“Where?” I ask the man sitting on his ass, his back against the wall.
“The pond garden.” Not a whit embarrassed for throwing himself out of my way.
I sprint through the castle complex, jumping stairs and startling the servants. While I am eighty years old, my mad dash would put most of my knights and squires to shame.
Manuella’s favorite garden appears before me as I spring through the inner gate. A crowd is gathered, but they all turn when they hear me stomping like an elephant. They scatter, probably scared by their barefooted mad king in a bathrobe.
Young Thunderwax raises his gaze away from my wife and looks at me.
“My Liege,” he stammers, “there was nothing I could do. The Queen was dead before she hit the ground.”
He keeps talking, but I cannot hear him. My ears are buzzing, and the world fades, leaving nothing before me, but a pale, beautiful face.
Her eyes are closed, but the tight line at the edge of her lips tells me she was in pain when she died. I go down on my knees, and cradle my goddess’s fragile form. She is so thin and frail.
There are so many things I wish to say. So many things I should have done with her while she was alive. Who cares about my memoirs? She loved watching sunsets from the walls, we should have watched more of them.
We will. I grit my teeth and stand up.
“My children already know this, but I will repeat myself. Luck inherits our holds composed of old Garacia and Dolacia. Everyone else keeps their kingdom. I will die without a grave and without a funeral, my wife will get all the honors and respect possible. Is that clear?”
Around fifty people in the garden nod. Servants, guards, the doctor, and Manuella’s attendants stare at me, but I cannot read their emotions in my current state of mind. Fear, puzzlement, worship. It could be all or none of them, but I do not care about them.
“Your sword,” I tell the guard, who offers it without hesitation.
“My Liege?” Doctor Thunderwax says, but I cannot bother with him. Every second I delay might be a second less I spend with Her.
“Those who follow me will die,” I run towards a far corner, to open some twenty yards of space between me and everyone else. To my surprise, one of the guards follows me.
“Sire, please don’t,” the young man shouts.
I try to recall his name. I think his name is Faren. Others follow his example, but freeze when I shout, “Stand down!”
The only one still chasing after me is Faren, whom I will promote and send on a month-long vacation as soon as I regain consciousness.
I raise the sword and cleave my head in half with it before Faren and I explode.