Dagfinn stood outside the Dreyark’s parlor room wondering if he should wait a bit longer before entering. It was not that he disliked his family, it's just that they were quite strange and hard to deal with, especially for him, the child of the family. Him also not being born with the family focus only made things worse, not that they wanted him being born with the burden.
Collecting himself, he opened the door. “Finny!” yelled several people in the room.
Before he had a chance to answer, Dagfinn was swept off his feet by overpowering force that tore through his defenses.
Feeling helpless, he was dragged across the room into a tight embrace. She swung him back and forth in an excited hug crushing him to her chest like a child with a stuffed animal. He was powerless to break free. The woman, his great aunt, seemed to have forgotten to release her crushing mana not to mention her dainty-looking arms that threaten to break something.
“By the gods, you’ve got so big!” she beamed. “Where did my little boy go? I miss him!”
Dagfinn wheezed out his words as best he could. “I missed you too Catarina, but can you let me go? I can't breathe.”
Catarina eased up but never let go so she could get a look at her great-nephew. Dagfinn looked at her as well, not seeing much of a change in the old woman.
Catarina’s face aged as much as she ever would, her magic leaving her looking around 30. Her age only showed on the gray tips of her black hair. One of her light brown eyes was missing, replaced by an amethyst stone. Despite the oddity, her fanciful dress and jewelry made her look like a true courtier.
Dagfinn felt someone else pulling at him.
“Oh no you don't,” Catarina said, gathering mana around herself and Dagfinn so thick it might as well be solid stone.
The invading presence intensified as a man started complaining. “Come on gran, stop smothering the lad and let him go.” The man’s power cut through Catarina’s magic like knife then spread over Dagfinn, yanking him free and placing him under the man’s arm.
“Hey Viktor,” Dagfinn groaned. He didn't bother forcing his way out; someone else would be grabbing soon.
Viktor wore a long black coat with a hood and simple tunic. Unlike Catarina, he dressed in the family colors of black on black.
Like a prophet, Dagfinn’s thoughts came true. Viktor’s body went rigid and was forced to turn to his mother who held the same position as her son. She lifted her arm forcing Viktor to do the same, freeing Dagfinn for just a moment before he was pulled by her less potent but still overpowering mana.
Tired of being manhandled, Dagfinn shot mana threads into the roof using them to pull himself free of his family’s private war.
“Nadia, don't you even try it,” Dagfinn said, daring his aunt to try taking control of his body.
Nadia looked more like her son’s sister than anything else. She also wore nothing but black and kept her hair short. She had black runes tattooed lower jaw that meshed awkwardly with her youthful face that seemed almost childlike.
“Our little finny got skills!” Catarina cheered.
“I'm a striker now,” Dagfinn said, lowering himself to the ground. “If I had to, I could take any one of you.”
“Let’s see about that,” Nadia offered playfully.
Dagfinn’s head jerked suddenly as he felt his mind being invaded. With a tolerance built up over the years from what some called pranks and skills learned through striker training, he expelled her with such force her head whipped back as if struck.
Nadia recovered quickly her glowing purple eyes wide with excitement. She ran up to Dagfinn squealing in joy. “He’s got the stuff alright. Mind’s like a steel trap without a key.” She smacked his chest lightly. “It's about time you learned to keep us out like a good little striker.”
“You’re the ones that didn't want me to be a striker,” Dagfinn accused.
“And you shouldn't be,” Catarina interjected with a disapproving stare. “It's been generations since one of us wasn't born with our focus so why waste the freedom you've been gifted by becoming a striker?”
“Maybe I refuse to do nothing while my friends and family work to keep Vellia safe and decent.”
Viktor whistled to get everyone’s attention. He walked to a table filled with food picking up a tray for himself. “Gran, Dagfinn can do whatever he wants, which includes being a striker. Now let's forget about that and eat.”
Catarina seemed to not want to drop the subject but everyone else took seats to eat forcing her to do the same.
A few minutes into the meal, Dagfinn realized someone other than his mother and Makarov was missing.
“Where’s Dmitry,” he asked the room.
Everyone else shrugged but Nadia huffed in irritation. “Dmitry are you here?” she asked.
Seven masked figures appeared by the edges of the room all dressed in black leather armor and skull masks. They all held swords, hammers, bows, and more but a particularly large one only held a half-eaten cake in one hand.
“Yeah, I’m here,” said the shadowy figure with the cake in a flat tone. His skull mask was inched upward so he could eat revealing grey skin under the mask.
“Is that a human you’re wearing?” Viktor asked.
Dmitry’s reply, stayed monotone not conveying a hint of emotion. “No, it’s a jötunn. And don't worry, I won’t bring it to the castle.”
“Actually, non-humans can learn magic now,” Dagfinn announced. “It's one of the last decrees of the late king.”
“I bet they’d still make me pay for my weapon’s right to have magic.”
“Well, your weapons are kind of alive.”
The possessed jötunn smiled. "Depends on how you define alive."
One of the smaller skulled figures walked over to the big one taking the cake from him then found a seat at the table. Taking the mask off revealed a woman with eyes shining with purple magic and blonde hair so short she might as well have been a man.
“I didn't know you walked around in women's bodies,” Nadia giggled.
The woman spoke with her own voice, but with the same flat tone as the previous masked speaker. “She is less comfortable for me, but I do wear women from time to time. This one's a healer so she can drink more spirits than the other and still be ready for, well I don't really know. I wasn't around when the last king dropped dead.”
Everyone looked to Catarina, she being the only one present for the last king’s death.
Just then, Makarov entered with Rova right beside him. As he walked up to the table she scampered off to the side and went invisible intending to surprise Dagfinn.
“Ma, I know you're there,” he said looking directly at her.
“Well shit, I can't sneak up on you anymore,” she complained, dropping her stealth and wrapping him in a hug. “Ha, my boy is bigger than me now.”
“So Big Brother, what’s the plan?” Catarina asked Makarov.
“Same as last time. Our oath gets transferred to the new king and we hope he doesn't ask too much of us before he gets bored.”
“If that's it, why do you all need to be present?” Dagfinn asked.
Catarina was the first to offer an explanation. “We’re here to protect the oath itself. I can't go into details because of it, but if any Bryer tries to grab for power, this is the one time we’re allowed to kill them.” She raised a glass of wine in celebration. “So here's to hoping we get to slit more throats this time around.”
Makarov poured himself a drink raising it along with everyone else. “May we be so fortunate.”
****
As the sun dipped beyond the horizon, Makarov and the rest of the Dreyark clan left for the royal palace. One by one, they vanished, each taking a different route to reach the same destination.
Dmitry was the first to disappear. He only kept one of his bodies visible throughout the day, cycling through each to fill their bellies. After the last finished, he vanished completely telling everyone he’d meet up with them at the castle.
Catarina and Viktor took the time to weave an intricate spell around each other causing them to float a few inches off the ground. With a small flex of their power, they flew much faster than they could run over the streets soaring past those ignorant of their presence.
Makarov kicked off of balconies and loose tiles, not disturbing the sleeping cats or nesting birds as he passed. Rova, on the other hand, disturbed all close by with her unseen laughter as she floated behind her father, pulled along by a thread of magic tied around him.
Despite this added weight thanks to Rova, Makarov was the first to make it into the royal courtyard. Remaining unseen, he stood silently until surrounded by the rest of his family.
“Nadia,” Makarov said. “Clear the way.”
“Sure thing, Uncle,” she replied as a purple hue gathered around her tattoos. “Move!”
As if struck by a physical force, the crowd shuddered before exploding with motion. Some fell to the cobblestones with their eyes rolled back from the sheer force of the compulsion. Others stumbled out of the way on quaking legs while those of higher cultivations ran for their lives. A few flew into the sky like frightened birds crashing into walls in their mad dash bringing a smile to Makarov and his family.
“Dreyarks, stop this foolishness,” said the only noble holding his ground against Nadia's word.
“A strong one,” Nadia said with a laugh. “Or just stubborn.”
She released her focus, appearing with a flair of dancing purple magic and a toothy grin. The noble's face, filled with insult and pride, paled as the resolve steeling mind shattered at Nadia's words.
“Prostrate Yourself!”
The noble's knees buckled, striking the ground like hammers. A moment later, his back arched, an inch of a time as his growl of resistance gave way to a whimper. He lasted longer than most when attacked directly by Nadia's magic but his strength eventually failed as his head shattered the cobblestones in a spray of dust and shrapnel.
"That was a bit much, don't you think," Katarina said as they walked past the prostrating man.
One of Dmitry’s bodies scoffed as his fingers slid across his sword handle. "I wouldn't have done worse."
"I would have left him not knowing who he was for a few days," Rova added.
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"As long as they know not to test us," Makarov said as he enters the empty gates of the late king’s castle.
Once in the throne room, the Dreyarks parted ways, each taking up a different position among the king candidates already inside. Some went to the roof, some stayed in the crowd of gossiping Bryers while Makarov himself sat on the stairs right in front of the empty throne.
He looked from on high with clenched teeth at the family of summoners, each hoping they’d be picked to wear the crown.
Sparks of pain stabbed at his mind hearing their idle chatter. None understood the burden being king should be. None planned to serve the people, they didn't even think of the millions bordering the king’s Road as their people.
To them, like the last monarch, the kingship was a way to eliminate enemies and outdo the last ruler’s achievements by building more of Vidar’s road than their predecessors.
Makarov’s blood boiled as his father and brothers came to mind like a reopened wound. They died for such foolishness. Not a full day after the last king’s coronation, they were tasked with exterminating three powerful noble houses.
Their targets of course knew they were coming and thoroughly prepared for the attack. Makarov’s father urged the king to wait, that in time a safer plan than a full-frontal assault could be found, but he would not listen and no Dreyark could refuse his wishes.
Within a day, the noble houses were defeated, and their children put to the sword. But Makarov’s father and brother died in the attempt but he, his aunts, and uncles finished the job. Enthused by the victory, the king gave more outrageous missions.
At a mere 30 winters, Makarov was forced to lead as his betters died in droves.
The last of Makarov’s uncles died slitting the throat of a Gridanian king. His brother died trying to steal a long-lost artifact from a power mystics calling themselves witches. More died, losing battles over expanding the King’s Road when calling on the gods did more harm than good.
“And so the cycle continues,” Makarov said to no one.
Today, some new king would be crowned then use the Dreyarks as weapons to enforce his rule. Then after several victors but many more losses, the foolish king’s ambitions would be tempered leaving him to enjoy his life until the silent death came for him.
Makarov couldn't help but chuckle at his life and family's faith. They were what truly made a king the ruler of Vellia. Without them, the king would be toothless. Without them, he’d just be one of many powerful summoners with more bastards than legitimate children with the family focus.
Unlike invisibility, summoning rarely passed from parent to child creating hundreds of unnamed nobles with Bryer parents. Without the Dreyarks, only the strongest would be crowned leading to a blood bath within the royal family.
That thought brought a smile to Makarov’s face, but it quickly vanished a moment later. Now was not the time to dream of such things. Most likely, no noble houses would be marked for death this time, but the new king may still make ridiculous requests. Thankfully, Makarov, over the course of decades changed how many saw his family.
Before, they were unstoppable killers in the eyes of the public. Now they were known more for espionage and making trouble on the king’s behalf. They were still known as strong but not unbeatable nor did rumors reflect their true strength enticing challenge every once in a while.
Even if they were given an impossible task, with striker assistance, there wasn't much that could not be accomplished. But no one needed to know that.
A blast of thunder shook the walls ushering in a long moment of silence. When the second explosion of sound sent a shudder through the room, several people coated themselves in shimmering colors.
Makarov snorted, "Cowards."
Not wanting to be pelted with glass, he sent a sliver of mana to the largest window in the room forcing it open.
He waited and hoped almost prayed for a fight, but no one moved, some not even breathing, not giving any reason to die that day.
If any Bryer dared summon a creature just in this day Makarov could kill them without the oath interfering. In fact, it would urge him to do it. Right now, summoning was the same as drawing a sword so all knew it meant death to do so, but that would chance soon.
Following a thunderclap larger than any before, a white cloud entered the room filling the air with the smell of rain. The mist gathered in front of Makarov, a soft laugh coming from the watery cloud as it shaped itself into a woman.
She was tall with marble white skin blending with her white fur along her fox tail and ears. Her hair was also white accentuating eyes glowing with energy that lit the veins on her face, strangely only making her more striking.
The depth of her creator’s love shone through by how beautiful and even more so how detailed she was. No matter how much some were outraged to have a beast kin summoning in charge of the coronation, none could deny how well she made.
A tall man wearing the slightly younger-looking face of the previous king broke from the crowd and gave the woman a respectful bow. “Welcome lady Revna-.”
“You’d be the last I’d give my husband's crown to,” Revna spoke in such a soft almost loving voice the man needed time to realize she outright denied him.
She walked past the stunned man to look over the dozens of would-be kings. “Now who should I choose.” She pointed from one to the other giving her answer immediately. “Not you, not you, definitely not you.”
One of the men she pointed at shouted in anger. “You can't even pick if the Dreyarks aren't here!”
“Not like they could change my mind.” One of Revna’s fox ears twitched slightly. “And they are here.”
She looked around the room, pausing slightly as she looked in Makarov’s direction but looked away soon after. Revna being mana taking on a living form had a much better chance of seeing through invisibility, but Makarov's psychomancy kept him undetected.
Unable to see who she was looking for, Revna used the power she was tasked to give away. “Dreyarks, show yourselves.”
Without the smallest bit of resistance, every Dreyark in the room showed themselves. Some fell on their own feet seeing Catarina, Nadia, Viktor, and Rova standing among them but many screamed when they saw Dmitry.
The psychomancer held 30 bodies under his control. He outnumbered the Bryer’s 25 without them even noticing. Worse was that their weapons were already drawn, ready to strike when needed.
“I guess we can start then,” Reina said. She backflipped onto the throne, lounging sideways with her bare feet hanging off an armrest. “Now seeing how I am the only fully sentient creation of my late husband, it is solely up to me to decide the next king.”
Many in the crowd could not hold back their frowns at Revna referring to her creator as a husband, although she seemed not to care. “He left me no instructions. Not one of you impressed him enough it seems, but he did leave me a gift.” She rubbed her stomach gently. “The gift of a child.”
Hushed whispers and gasp of surprise filled the room as many instantly knew who was sure to become king.
Amongst the chatter, two men laughed. One was Makarov who was thoroughly impressed that the late king put so much effort into adding white-furred beast kin to the world. The women in his harem dyed themselves to appease his desires but creating a summons that could hive a child within one's lifetime took the better half of that life to achieve.
The near 70-year break in which Makarov had time to create the strikers suddenly made sense.
The second man laughing was actually quite young compared to most that thought they deserved the crown. He found himself quite lucky. The birth of his youngest child lost him many allies that he would no longer need now that Reina was looking directly at him with a smile.
Revna continued talking, her amusement growing along with many noble's anger. “I want my children to be born into a kind world, one where they can be happy and not killed for inheriting a royal bloodline.” Her tone grew angry and dripped with accusations. “I wonder how many beast kin summoners have been killed over the years and how many of you did the killing.” The room went silent; nearly all the men present seeming to lose the ability to speak. “There is one man that I can say definitely hasn't. He came to my husband asking for his precious daughter to learn magic. Now, what was her name?”
“Tanya,” Elbert said, trying to hold back his excitement. “Her name is Tanya”
Elbert broke from the crowd that stared daggers at him. He proudly walked past Makarov and up to the throne to the relaxing woman holding Vellia's fate in the palm of her hands.
Once he reached her, Revna opened her right hand. For a moment it was empty, then a purple orb similar to a glass eye appeared. Its presents seemed to radiate authority filling Elbert with the need to bow. It was the same feeling Makarov felt whenever in the presence of the king; a disgusting feeling casting away his free will as if he were simply a tool.
The room went silent as the physical form of the oath was freed from its living vessel. Now was the only time it could be stolen. Now was the time for blood.
Makarov himself wanted to steal it, but touching the purple orb meant death for any it held power over. Everyone else present had no such limitation. In theory, if they could get their hands on the jewel, the Dreyark's would be under their control making them the ruling monarch. All they had to do was get past them alive.
Elbert quickly snatched the jewel from Revna's hand knowing any hesitation would be paid in blood. As he palmed it, his hand began glowing telling all the transfer of the Dreyark's oath had begun making a few leave the room to avoid the looming violence.
Rova reached out to Makarov with her mind. “Anyone we need to look out for, Old Man?”
“None that I can see for now, but we have five minutes to go and last time the killing started around three minutes in. There’s also that trick most Bryers try thinking it clever.”
For a long moment, everyone remained quiet. Several nervous faces glanced at the Dreyarks. Makarov supposed they needed to build up the foolishness needed to steal the oath.
Elbert also gave Makarov a nervous glance. Even though he was chosen to be king, he couldn't call forth his summoned creatures to defend himself. If he did so before the oath was truly his, he would be killed. So it was up to Makarov, the unwilling protector, like he'd been his entire life.
“Why aren't you protecting me?” Elbert blurted out breaking the silence of the last minute.
“I am protecting you,” Makarov said sitting on the stairs instead of standing ready for an imminent attack.
Elbert opened his mouth to speak but a tremor cut him off.
From beneath his feet, a creature burst through the tile of the throne room's floor positioned perfectly to swallow Elbert whole. Before the snake-like monster with far too many teeth could bite down, it was sliced to ribbons drenching the throne, Elbert, and Revna in conjured blood.
A man towards the back of the room did not react in surprise like most of the crowd. He winced in pain from the spell backlash of his summoned creature being utterly destroyed.
Makarov marked the man in his mind sending the mental image to his fellow unwilling protectors. Before the last drop of snake blood touched the floor, its master was beheaded by an invisible Nadia then blasted into red mist by a terrifyingly powerful spell that twisted through the room from Catarina’s wand.
“Why do they always think that will work?” Makarov wondered to himself while standing unseen next to Elbert.
The illusion of himself shook his head in disappointment speaking words for him. “I don't think there has ever been a coronation with someone that hasn't tried that.” His voice grew excited as if looking forward to something enjoyable. “Let me guess.” He looked to the windows in the room. “Here come the flyers.”
Glass showered down as every window shattered followed by a stream of creatures. Small dragons, gargantuan birds, and what looked like winged men in shining armor headed for Elbert as he hid behind the throne counting the seconds until the oath would be absorbed into his body.
Four beast cores appeared in Makarov's right hand. He tossed them into the air at the summoned army then used his dagger to erect a shield around Elbert and the crowd of Bryers from an explosion that shook the castle walls.
As a bright flash of light accompanied the explosion, three men died within seconds after flinching from the spell backlash of their small army of summoned monsters being destroyed.
Screams of horror erupted through the crowd as blood-drenched the floor. Some of the men and women Makarov was sure to try their hand at the throne suddenly found the idea of testing the Dreyarks suicide, all except one.
The first man Revna refused to even consider for kingship, one of the king's many sons, flared his mana to life creating a monstrous creature around himself for protection. It was simply a blob with long tentacles and a large toothy maw on its body.
By this point, those without their eyes on the crown were running from the bloodshed with everything they could muster allowing the long tentacle monster to easily seek out the Dreyarks. They all laughed at the purple-eyed man without moving an inch as the tendrils whipped back around stabbing their surprised summoner through the chest. He fell back hitting the ground with a wet thud and quickly added to the growing pool of blood.
“Only five,” Revna said, a bit surprised. “That's almost half of last time.” The summoned snake blood covering her from head to toe gradually dissolving into mana as well as the blood of every summoned creature.
Albert suddenly jumped up shouting happily. “That's it! It's gone! I'm the king! I'm the king!” He looked at the carnage noticing Makarov and the rest of his clan still stood in the same spot they’d been in before the killing began. “Dreyarks, show yourselves, and remain seen.”
They all appeared in different locations from their illusionary decoys, Makarov appearing just in front of him speaking in a neutral tone. “Long live King Elbert.”
****
Makarov leaned against a wall next to Elbert as he rummaged through the old king’s personal collection of arcane supplies. “Did you have me protect Tanya knowing this would be the outcome?”
Elbert answered without turning from the rear ingredients he was inspecting. “I thought there was a chance she would help my chances of being chosen which is why I showed up at all, but I kept Tanya initially because this kingdom needs more summoners.” Elbert sank into a chair making a victorious chuckle. “We are on the precipice of becoming a multi realm empire. A few hundred miles from the Alfheim rift are rifts leading to Jotunheim and Svartalvheim a ways after that. The only thing stopping us from building the King’s Road into those worlds are not only the monsters occupying the rifts, but there is a beast kin city sitting right in the middle of it all.”
“You’re talking about North and South Bastion,” Makarov said. “Well, South Bastion in particular if I remember correctly. They’re not much in the way of an obstacle if you just call on one of the gods.”
“If we call on the gods, the city will all be destroyed,” Elbert said. “South Bastion has artillery we can't match. They could defeat any army with a tenth of the men if they hide behind walls and rain down death from the city wall.”
“And yet you don't want a god's help?”
“What I want is to have such weapons for ourselves. I also want the city itself. It’s a trading hub that’s larger than Vellia and more fortified, a perfect staging ground to invade Jotunheim. That’s where your family and Tanya come in.”
Makarov clenched his teeth. He was sure now the ridiculous demands would start.
“Unlike my predecessors, I won't burn down farms just to spend a year trying to regrow the crops. I want you to do whatever it takes to get South Bastion to surrender to us and become a vassal state. Then I’ll place Tanya as its ruler, which would be easier than appointing a human to govern over a beast kin city.”
“And what of the magi within the city?” Makarov asked.
Elbert grew a wicked smile. “I’ll use them as fodder against the jötunn then band the use of magic when there aren't enough of them to cause problems.”
Makarov kept his thoughts to himself. Elbert was still looking forward to carrying on Vellia’s bloody conquest, but at least his plan got fewer people killed. Sadly, those left would most likely end up in slums making up the Null Road. Either way, at least he wasn’t being sent on a suicide mission.
“How long do I have?” Makarov asked.
Elbert shrugged. “How long do you need?”