The room fell silent at the announcement. My [King], two of his [Generals], a [Military Analyst], and the poor schmuck of a [Horse Messenger] who had just delivered the message that the warband attacking the north of our nation was in a far, far different position than we had expected.
And, of course, me.
There we stood around the strategic table, a map of the country and nearby lands. Small gem figurines representing both our strategic assets and our enemies’. As the seconds stretched longer, the [Analyst] surreptitiously used a small staff to adjust the location of the warband in question, moving it from the far northeast of the country to the far northwest.
“[General] Madine,” the [King] sighed in resignation, his whiskers rippling, “say what we’re all thinking.”
The [General] frowned a little at the subtle implication, but spoke anyways. “Based on standard messenger travel time, the Third Army should have received orders yesterday to redeploy from Waypoint Gamma towards the northeast in order to intercept the warband. Except the warband is actually in nearly the opposite direction. The sub-problem is that even if we were to deploy messengers at emergency travel speed, they wouldn’t intercept the Third Army for ten days. They would then need to backtrack the distance they had already traveled, and then move in the right direction towards the warband. They’d arrive three weeks from today, but the warband would arrived at Newport ten days from now.”
“So Newport is doomed?”
The [General’s] hesitation was so brief that an acquaintance or stranger wouldn’t have noticed it. “Yes,” she hacked out, then cleared the phlegm in her throat. “We’ve been outmaneuvered and now we can’t react in time.”
The [King] sighed even more deeply as he turned to look out the window over the capital, blazing in the morning sunlight. A soft bell chimed in the distance, as the [King] removed a small object from his vest pocket and began fingering it.
It was incongruous to say the least. Such tranquility contrasted with the deaths, rapes, and enslavement that were now certain to fall upon the city.
“And if we could get a message there in time?” the King asked quietly, with a bit of hope. “If the Third Army received a message tomorrow?”
This time, the [General]’s pause would have been noticeable by anybody, even from fifty paces away. “Hypothetically,” she began, paused, then began again, “if such a thing were to happen, the Third Army would be able to fully engage the warband before it hit Newport. It’d be a total victory, most likely.”
The King gripped even tighter the small, unseen object in his hand, his knuckles whitening. “Jasper,” the King called me and I straightened imperceptibly in my full plate armor.
“Yes, my liege?”
“Come with me,” he whispered before he cried, “To the vault!” and turned to walk briskly towards the exit. Over his shoulders he called before exiting the door, “[Generals], we’re using the artifact.”
The [Generals] both gasped, but the [Analyst] and I just looked puzzled. “But sire!” the other [General] cried. “We can only use that once!”
The [King] paused, and turned on his heels. “And in twenty-five years, never have I seen a situation better suited for its use than right now. There is no debate, Arturo,” he concluded, swiping an arm to emphasize the finality.
[General] Arturo grimaced, but nodded away, “Yes, my liege.”
A few quick steps brought me behind my lord as we made our way through the castle and deep into its dungeons.
----------------------------------------
My [King] and I stood before an immaculate, intricately carved door deep in the castle dungeons, lit only by magic crystals, daylight having been left far behind. I had never been here, though I had seen it on various security maps.
The Royal Vault.
My [King] placed a flat palm dead center of the door, then placed the object in his hand—it was a key after all—into a keyhole just to the right of same. He began uttering an incantation in a language I did not know, while pushing mana into the door.
A soft crack echoed against the stone walls—almost like a gasp of air—as the door pushed open two centimeters and a handle folded out from the door. My [King] gestured, and I grabbed the handle and—with my 350 STR—easily opened the door.
My [King] entered, but the room was little larger than a water closet, and so I waited outside as he searched for what he was looking for. “Ah ha!” he cried, as he pulled out a small scroll and a brilliant red gem. We quickly locked up, and then made our way back up into the keep.
“Jasper, listen closely,” my [King] began. “This scroll contains detailed instructions. Exit through the north gate of the capital, then walk three miles. Once you have done so, hold the gem in your right palm and read the scroll. It’ll tell you what you need to do. Follow the instructions pre-cise-ly!” the [King] emphasized, raising his voice. “When you arrive at the Third Army, you should be able to pass along the message.”
I was very confused and my face showed it. “When… I arrive at the Third Army?”
“Yes. I can’t explain it, but you’ll be able to travel extremely quickly, and should be able to reach there within twenty-four hours.”
“Shouldn’t—shouldn’t a [Messenger] be sent then?”
“No,” my liege shook his head, his jowls flapping. “I was given very specific instructions when I received this boon. Follow the scroll exactly,” he raised a finger, then a second, “read the scroll while holding the gem; and,” he raised a third finger, “make sure whoever is using it has at least 300 CON.”
“Three hundred CON!” I exclaimed. “There can’t be more than twenty or thirty people in the kingdom who meet that requirement!”
“So I figure. But you’re my knight in shining armor, [Personal Royal Guard]. You can’t let me down or the country’s done for!”
I licked my lips carefully at that. “I’ll do my best, sire.”
----------------------------------------
Achoo!
Not too long later, I found myself tracking through a tall field of corn as I followed the bizarre instructions on the scroll. The corn was just flowering, and despite my high stats, the stamen, pollen and occasional leaf was remarkably keen to get into my face and disgruntle my olfactory system.
That is, I was sneezing a lot and easily bothered.
The sun was beating down into the bright, golden—
Suddenly, a bank of fog rolled over top the field of corn I was in, the sun winking out and the temperate dropping to humid and chilly. It was nice, if bizarre, but no sooner had I begun to enjoy it that I remembered the sign and scrambled to unroll the scroll to review the next step after the fog appeared.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
I had read it thrice already, but I still wasn’t keen on it. Nonetheless, I cleared my throat,
And sang:
> Oh where, oh where
>
> Has my little horse gone?
>
> Oh where, oh where
>
> Can he be?
>
> With his mane so short
>
> And his tail so long
>
> Oh where…
As my voice carried thinly into the fog, I began to hear a rustle in the cornfield of something large passing by. As I finally ended after twenty four lines of verse, a great cawing echoed in the field, drowning out my voice.
My ears ached as the echoes faded away, but they still strained for any bit of noise in my surrounding.
Finally, a great wind arose and I found myself battered by the corn stalks. When the gust subsided, the fog had dispersed in a thirty meter circle, the corn itself flattened to the ground. My mind was bewildered at this turn of events when, with a great snort, a [Horse] appeared in the circle. It did not enter the circle, nor did it pop into existence then. Rather, it was as if it had always been there, but I simply had been unable to perceive it until just that moment.
The [Horse] was a thing of terrible beauty. Twenty four hands high, thick powerful legs, and a deep shaggy coat in burnt umber, with white markings on the snout and around the eyes. Upon its back sat one of the largest [Ravens] I had ever seen, nearly a meter in length, though upon the back of such a ferocious steed, it seemed oddly proportioned.
Butterflies fluttered and died in my stomach as I steeled myself within my plate armor.
“I come bearing a gift and to call a favor owed,” I said, holding out the gem. “Friedrich sends his regards.”
As my voice faded away, the mammal and bird just looked at me dumbly.
As the ridiculousness of the situation settled upon me, doubt began to creep into my mind. Was this a trick?
No sooner had that thought whispered itself in my skull though that a melodious voice of the feminine persuasion carried itself to my ears with a not-so-small hint of mirth. “Sooo,” the first word was drawn out, “where’s a young buck like you need to go?”
“Uh—” I stammered, caught by surprise. “I, uh, I need to meet up with the Third Army. North of here. By the northern mountains. Uh, not too far from the military fort there.”
“Oh, yeees,” again the word was drawn out. “Fort Montpasse. I’m familiar with it.”
“You—you, are?” I stuttered.
“Oh, quite. Well,” the [Horse] knelt as the [Raven] cawed and flapped its way into the sky. “Get on,” she instructed cheerfully.
Swallowing deeply, I stepped forward with deep trepidation to this magnificent animal of power. Unconsciously, my hand brushed along its coat. Under my fingers, it felt rich and velvety, but unyieldingly strong.
“Hey!” my misplaced thoughts were interrupted by that again-mysterious voice. “No petting a lady until you buy her a drink.” My hand jerked back, though I could not say if in shame or fear.
“Sorry,” I mumbled quietly, then lifted my leg over and mounted the mare, which readily stood up despite me and my heavy armor. I keep perfect posture as the [Horse] turns and starts heading north through the corn field at a walk. We hardly go more than thirty meters when:
“Hold onto your butt,” she mocks me and an instant later, we’re moving at a trot. But already the wind is whistling in my ears and is beginning to buffet my plate. I’m pushed back by the wind, even as the horse’s gait is smooth as a still pond. She’s right: [Ride] isn’t working.
Soon, we hit the road from the cornfield and I’m jostled as the mare turns thirty degrees to face up road. Almost immediately, the two beat of the trot is abandoned for the staccato tuh-tuh-tuh of a canter.
The wind almost knocks me off the [Horse]. I sway back and forth, barely catching my balance. In desperation, I lean forward—a terrible position for riding—and wrap my arms around the mare’s neck. The wind is howling in my ears, my eyes are tearing up. I’m being battered around. I’m all shook up and it’s almost as if I’m being assaulted by a [Wind Mage]. Over the commotion, I yell, “Slow down! A canter is a short distance pace! We’ve got hundreds of kilometers to go.”
“Ha! You can with the right Skills! What’s the point of full speed if you can’t maintain it?”
The question barely reaches my ears before the mare breaks into a gallop and everything fades to black.
----------------------------------------
I gasp and try to sit up straight, but immediately regret it and fall back down. Nearly every bone aches from bruising; every joint inflamed; and my skin irritated and red. But it all just suffuses through my mind as a strong if unfocused pain.
“Ow,” I say and only just notice the [Priest] standing over me trying to heal. I gather my wits and try and make sense of where I am. I’m on my back apparently, on the ground outside. The sky overhead is filled with the deepening oranges and purples of dusk. After a minute or two of careful, painful breathing, I grab the [Priest]’s hand. “Sister, where am I? I need to get to the Third Army.”
Her eyes widen just a fraction at seeing me move far earlier than she expected, and then an eyebrow raises as the rest of the question is processed. “Well, you found us. You’re with the Third Army.”
“The Third? How long was I out? What day is it?”
“It’s the 14th day past the summer solstice.”
“What?! That’s can be true,” I whisper in unfocused anger, my mind still clouded in pain and discomfort. “I left the capital on the morning of the 14th.”
The [Priest] glances up at her companion, who I only just noticed. “Clark, what do you think?”
“Hmm, definitely the 14th day past. Though, given how that [Horse] was moving. I’d might believe it.”
“What?” I ask befuddled.
“For a whole hour, we heard a great rumbling roar. At first, we thought it was a landslide in the mountains behind, but it never stopped. Then we thought it was a [Mage] attack, but we were safe. And then a plume of dust rose in the distance. And, next thing we know, there’s a [Horse] dodging the entirety of the Third Army. Ran to the command battalion and dropped you off. We poked you with a spear for 10 minutes before we even let the [Priest] approach.”
“What!?!”
----------------------------------------
> ….
>
> Cus’ she ran, ran, ran
>
> Like the spirits were on high
>
> The system was on fire
>
> The night was deep
>
> The Third Army marcheth on
>
> Up until they were met
>
> And her name, was Charlotte
>
>
>
> But who could say her name
>
> And ride her all the same
>
> Left behind, straight ahead
>
> You’d soon wish’d you dead
>
> Cause a [Spirit Horse] she be
>
> And no riders were the key
>
> And none would take the bet
>
> To riiiiide Charlotte.
>
> …
----------------------------------------
As the [Bard] quietly packed up well before closing, anyone who knew him—like, actually knew him as a person, not a performer—would have sensed the deep anxiety weighing on him. Nearly sober he was and, as he walked out the back of the tavern, as skittish as a dormouse.
He hadn’t taken two steps into the darkness of midnight before a caw froze his blood and his motions.
Caw!
A second one! his mind reeled in fear.
A heavy thunk landed at his feet, and the muffled ring of metal reached his ears.
“You did good,” the [Bard] physically rocked back as a half dozen social Skills washed over him in a thrumming baritone. “A little lacking in enthusiasm, but I’m a generous… benefactor.”
The [Bard] kept his head down, refusing to look at the beast as he stooped down to pick up the moneybag.
“Yes,” his voice cracked slightly, and he pulled at his suddenly too tight collar. “Gen–generous, sir.”
The long dark of the night pressed down on the [Bard] as he stood blind in the dark alley. As the silence pressed on, for just a moment, he thought he could hear the flap of wings. And then, he was alone.