“Hmm, you’re sure they followed you?” Deas asked as a chill radiated from his body, lowering the temperature in the chamber by a few degrees. “You did well to return with this news.”
Why would the knights follow them? And why would they ask about me? I haven’t been here long enough for this to be normal. I need to check the forums. Perhaps the other players can give me some insight into this matter.
QueenSlaya69 shivered while watching Deas. It seemed to her the mysterious Risen NPC was on the verge of lashing out. What worried her more was how still he had become. Little did she know, Deas was simply taking his time scanning the latest posts.
I see now. So that’s what happened. Deas mentally sighed as his eyes narrowed dangerously. He had gained a lot of solid information he could act on. Now, how should I handle this?
“It seems you crossed paths with the Lord of this region,” Deas said, shattering the overwhelming silence. “What you experienced is the typical behavior of nobles. They feel privileged, safe in the knowledge they’re unlikely to face consequences for their actions unless a higher ranked noble is involved. Fools that they are.”
FlameEmpress swallowed as an itch appeared in the back of her mind. Her lips tugged upwards at the corners of her mouth as she secretly activated the in-game recording function from her interface.
Deas raised an eyebrow as the recording symbol appeared above her head. She thinks this is part of the game’s main story? Haha, I can use this. Deas coughed to clear his throat, though why a bag of bones like him would need to do that in the first place was beyond the players’ comprehension.
“You’re sure these knights are coming here, are you?” Deas continued while pretending to be oblivious to FlameEmpress’ antics. “I look forward to giving them a warm greeting.”
QueenSlaya69 tortured her lower lip as she watched Deas. “But what should we do? Deas, if they followed us… you could be killed.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Deas silenced her before she could say anything more with a wave of his bony hand. “You two should return to the village. Find somewhere to rest and lay low. When we next meet, I promise you will discover this problem has been—dealt with.”
FlameEmpress’ eyes flashed with intrigue, her player senses were tingling, telling her there was definitely a story to be found here. However, before she could question Deas further, he shot her a gaze that rooted her to the spot.
“I will not repeat myself. You’re smart enough to know this is not something you are able to interfere with. Do as I said, and return to Greystone. I shall handle the rest.”
With those parting words, Deas gestured toward the door behind them. The two women wore expressions full of reluctance. Especially FlameEmpress who clearly hoped to get more of a scoop. However, both of them obeyed his command, their heads full of doubts as to whether this was a planned event or if they had somehow caused it.
As the door slammed shut behind the downcast pair, Deas’ expression darkened. He trained his gaze on the Farseeing Crystal and took slow steps toward it. His skeletal fingertips brushed over its surface with great care as Deas planned out his next steps in his head. After injecting his mana into its enchantments, the crystal ball showed the surrounding forest.
Deas took his time navigating the display until he found the knights from FlameEmpress’ report. Hmm, they’re closer than I thought they’d be. Deas mused as he zoomed in on them. They’re setting up an encampment? Are they expecting an attack? Or just being cautious?
Still, Deas paid no particular attention to these stray thoughts of his. His eyes dimmed in the darkness as he watched the humans roast meat, and go through practice drills. It was obvious they were keeping they’re combat skills sharp—even at a glance. The question was, were they preparing to face Deas and the players? Or something else?
“Impatient, aren’t we?” Deas muttered as he studied the knights’ formation throughout the camp. “No matter. It’s not like they can stop me.”
***
On a hilltop close to the encampment, Deas observed the figures milling around within. The entire camp was under the cold, calculating scrutiny of his gaze. Deas snorted as he spotted a knight dropping his blade during menial practice swings.
“These are his best?” he sneered as the ghostly orbs in his skull flickered. I think it’s time to put this little Baron in his place.
Yes, a Baron. It was one piece of information Deas had gained by combing the player forums. His gaze settled on Baron Rhyon’s banner fluttering in the breeze. The fabric was emblazoned with a majestic silver eagle mid-flight while clutching an arrow in its talons. Deas shook his head as he pulled his hood lower before beginning his approach.
At the foot of the forest hill, two of Baron Rhyon’s men—muscular with a few days of growth on their faces—noticed Deas. Which wasn’t difficult as he wasn’t trying to hide his presence. The pair on guard duty immediately stepped forward to bar his path. Their suspicious glares studied Deas’ figure, contempt evident in their eyes.
“Hold right there, stranger!” the guard on the left barked roughly as his hand went to his blade’s grip. “Are you blind? This is Baron Rhyon’s camp. What business do you have here?”
“Ah, the Baron’s camp is it? Good. I’m simply here to acquire something I’ve heard your lord has recently come into possession of,” Deas replied in a calm tone while feigning ignorance. “I’m told it’s a particularly impressive specimen of an Alpha Direwolf. I would like to negotiate with your lord for it.”
The guard who had spoken scowled as he exchanged a glance with his comrade. “The Direwolf you speak of belongs to the Baron. I’ll tell you now, mage, you’ve wasted a trip. I doubt he’ll ever part with such a prize. Now, be on your way before you force us to arrest you on suspicion of being a spy.”
Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Deas grinned beneath the cover of his hood. “Ah, I do believe you’re wrong in your judgment. I’m confident the Baron will happily concede the wolf to me. Let me show you why.”
Without giving the guards a chance to digest the subtle threat poisoning his words, Deas released his passive skill, Aura of the Dead King. In the next moment, the guards’ complexions turned ashen as a tremendous pressure bore down upon them from nowhere.
These mortals are weak. The only reason they beat FlameEmpress is because they’ve had the time to learn and get used to more skills. Deas scoffed. Though, I suppose that would make them appear powerful in the eyes of the players.
The terrified guards tripped and stumbled as they attempted to put some distance between themselves and the monster before them. Deas shot the guard on the right a grimace of disgust as the scent of urine permeated the air. Pathetic!
Deas’ voice dropped to hardly a whisper as he stepped closer to the pair. “Bring me to you lord. Now!”
Like a duo of baby chicks, the guards nodded their heads hurriedly. It was already clear to them they had completely lost control of the strange situation. Their confidence quickly crumbled and melted away like the fading warmth of the sun.
***
Outside the Baron’s tent, Deas cast an analytical gaze over the gaudy display. It was a grand display of wealth due to its unnecessary size and the silver thread stitching. Deas saw no practical reason to have a tent designed in such a way. So, he’s one of those types, he sighed. The Baron is more concerned with appearances and his prestige. That could make things—difficult. At least I know his weakness now. I can exploit that.
As the trio—Deas and the two guards— stepped inside, they were greeted with the sight of Baron Rhyon seated at the head of a long, rectangular wooden table. Deas frowned as some wine from the Baron’s goblet spilled over, splashing on the maps spread out between him and his advisors.
Deas silently took in their grim, troubled expressions as they poured over the maps, moving small wooden figures around on it as they did so. He couldn’t help but smirk at the small signs he picked up. Excellent. It’s just as the forums said. This is a grand opportunity.
One of the guards standing beside him coughed to clear his throat. His face was twisted in a nervous expression as he prepared to intrude upon these important individuals. “My lord… someone has come to discuss an important matter with you.”
Rhyon looked up from the maps, annoyance plastered all over his face at the guard’s interruption. His cold, gray eyes squarely landed on Deas, taking in the stranger’s hooded appearance and the staff firmly in his grasp. The Baron raised an eyebrow at the sight, evidently unimpressed with the rogue mage’s appearance.
“A mage, hmm,” Rhyon’s voice was gravelly and condescending as he gestured for his guest to step forward. “I don’t remember sending any requests for the services of any conjurers.”
Deas stepped forward into the flickering light of the surrounding candles and torches, allowing the Baron and his men to take in his visage. Rhyon’s guards, dotted around the tent, eyed him warily. The looks they gave him did nothing to hide their obvious disgust at his race.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
“I assure you, you did not,” Deas replied with a casual yet authoritative tone in stark contrast to his humble appearance. “I’m here for an entirely different matter. Currently, I’m here representing a certain group of adventurers.Perhaps you or your men will remember them? They are the group who slayed a powerful Direwolf not far from here, only for your men to steal the corpse from them.”
Baron Rhyon’s expression suddenly darkened at Deas’ words. He casually leaned back in his chair, making it creak, as his eyes narrowed. “Ah, them. Is that what this is about? They didn’t know their place. Everything on my land belongs to me. So, if I want it, I shall have it. Nobody can blame me because a bunch of commoners didn’t understand this simple rule.”
“Besides,” Rhyon continued with a snort. “My men brought the beast down after those cowards ran from it.”
Deas slowly shook his head while fixing the Baron with a deathly stare. “No. Your knights seized the corpse and murdered a few of the adventurers only after they killed the wolf. As far as I’m concerned, you and your men are nothing but thieves. I see no noble here who should be honored.”
Rhyon revealed a savage sneer as he glared at Deas. “So, you interrupt my battle plans to merely whine about some dead animal? Shouldn’t a mage have more pressing concerns than a trivial matter such as this?”
As only a noble could, the Baron sipped his wine in a manner that spoke of his confidence. Carefully projecting the image of a leader who was entirely in control of everything around him.
Deas’ smile remained, despite the obvious provocation, but his eyes glimmered dangerously. “This is the final warning I’m willing to extend to you. Grant me what doesn’t belong to you. The Direwolf, if you please. Now.”
A suffocating silence descended inside the tent at Deas’ overbearing command. Every human within could feel an invisible tension growing between the pair. At the same time, the advisors grimaced. They were smart enough to recognize the unseeable shift of power from their lord to the strange Risen. Unfortunately, there was one among them who failed to notice this. Rhyon, believing the mage was attempting to bluff him, casually waved his hand as though to dismiss Deas.
“Stranger, I don’t think you fully comprehend your situation,” the Baron growled. “This is my land! These men you see answer to me! You have no power here!”
“No power? Is that what you truly believe?” Deas let out a chuckle, making the advisors and guards shiver in response.
Then, for the second time that night, Deas released his Aura of the Dead King.
In the eyes of the tent’s occupants, the fiery light from the candles and torches flickered furiously. The shadows surrounding Deas appeared to thicken and grow, stretching like some unnatural creature reaching to grab ahold of them. Without exception, every human recoiled at the sight.
Everyone reached for the comfort of their nearby weapons. However, not a single one of them dared to make another move beyond that. Mortals. They break so easily. Deas mentally sighed as he cast his gaze over the gathering.
Baron Rhyon’s smug grin faltered as the pressure from the skill fell upon him. At that moment, he felt as though he could see the moment of his own death, and it was staring back at him. His goblet slipped from his fingers, spilling its contents all over the already stained maps, but Rhyon barely noticed. As Deas took a measured step closer, a primal fear rose within the Baron’s chest. His heart hammered as though it wanted to burst free and escape from there.
“Enough with the games and excuses, Baron Rhyon,” Deas’ voice cut through the noble’s fear like a dagger aimed at his throat. “Hand the Direwolf over to me, and perhaps we can come to an agreement. It seems to me that you’re in a spot of trouble. If you do me this favor, maybe I can help to solve your own issue.”
Rhyon, now pale with sweat pouring down his face, glanced around his tent. None of his advisors dared to meet his desperate gaze, abandoning him to deal with the anomaly alone. He gulped loudly as he tossed his shallow pride aside.
“You… you would help me?” Rhyon mumbled, his earlier arrogance nowhere to be seen.
“You have my word. But only after you’ve shown me some sincerity.”
Rhyon, realizing there was no other real choice, nodded. “Take the Direwolf. It’s yours with my blessing.”
“An excellent decision,” Deas chuckled as he withdrew his aura and took a seat directly opposite the Baron. “Now, we can discuss some business. Tell me, what’s troubling you so much that’s brought you so far from your manor?”
The Baron squirmed in his seat under Deas’ scrutiny. Meanwhile, the gently flickering firelight cast long shadows around the tent. Deas, with his eons of wisdom, relaxed and projected an air of calmness as he continued to study the Baron. Power is best seized when your opponent is vulnerable.
Rhyon couldn’t take it anymore and diverted his gaze to the light of a nearby torch. Deas didn’t fail to notice the Baron’s muscle twitching as he clenched his jaw.
“I don’t trust you, Deas,” Rhyon said in a low voice. “That should be obvious. But it’s true that I also need help. This is a delicate matter that requires discretion. Do you understand? I need assurances before I go any further.”
“You may not believe me, Baron, but many influential people have trusted me with their greatest secrets and regrets.” Deas replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And I guarantee you, if they were here with us now, they would confirm that doing so is the same as taking them to the grave with you.”
Baron Rhyon sighed as his shoulders slumped. To Deas, the man looked as though he had aged considerably in that brief moment. Almost as though the weight of the noble’s troubles had at last become too much for him to carry alone.
“It’s Baroness Katrall,” Rhyon groaned as his advisors displayed aggrieved expressions. “That scheming witch has been encroaching on my lands for the past few months. At first, it was the usual attempts us noble’s make. Petitioning the court to change our border lines and trying to leverage favors owed to her to make it happen. But lately…”
“Let me guess,” Deas cut him off. “I assume she’s launched an offensive to take your lands by force. Raiding parties, burning farmlands to cut off your supplies. Incidents like that?”
“Exactly,” Rhyon sighed as he glanced at the maps. “It’s impossible for my men to be everywhere at once.”
Deas raised an eyebrow as he followed the Baron’s gaze. Luckily, he was already several steps ahead thanks to the forums. The players in her territory have already posted what’s going on over on that side. With that information I can counter her plans. I just need to lead Rhyon in the right direction.
“So, she wants to make your territory a part of her own,” Deas replied as he feigned a thoughtful expression. “Why? What’s changed to give her the confidence to do this?”
“It’s complicated,” Baron Rhyon groaned while running a calloused hand through his thinning hairline. “My hold over these lands has never been great, Deas. The Katrall household held these lands and many others in the past, so most of the commoners still view them as their true lords. Essentially, she wants to reclaim her bloodline’s lost glory and position.”
I see, Deas hummed as he studied the positions of the figurines on the maps. “Can you not repel her attacks?”
“Of course I can,” the Baron replied, though his tone clearly showed how frustrated he was. “It’s the cost of dealing with her that’s killing me. Every time I deploy my men, every battle they fight, do you get it? The sheer cost of the supplies and in terms of lives is chipping away at my power to hold on. At this rate, we’ll crumble under an all-out invasion if she launches it in the next month or two.”
“This is certainly a difficult situation,” Deas said as he rubbed his chin. “What of your allies? You must have some you can call upon for help. Or the kingdom’s court?”
“You’ve got to be joking,” Rhyon snorted. “Those who aren’t fighting with their own neighbors are watching from the sidelines. They’ll pick up the scraps left over from this. As for the court, they encourage this. Keeps the noble’s on their toes, they say. Keeps the soldiers ready for war with our neighbors, they say. Bah! Useless!”
“Then it seems to me you need an edge over your opponent,” Deas met the Baron’s eyes as he replied in a low voice. “Something—or someone—that can turn this whole affair around. And it should be done in a way that doesn’t further strain your finances or force this into a war of attrition.”
“And you believe you are capable of this?” The Baron asked, hope flashing in his desperate eyes.
“I may be able to,” Deas nodded while showing a knowing smile. “But I need to understand what resources she has at hand.”
“Resources, eh?” Rhyon sighed. “Well, she’s seized or bought a number of lands from other nobles over the years. Technically, at this point, her lands are already beyond what a Baroness should hold.”
“That means plenty of farmland and tax.” Deas nodded for the Baron to continue.
“The real problem is the people she’s hired to expand her forces. Assassins, mercenary companies, and there’s rumors she’s hired dark mages, warlocks.”
“Deas’ eyebrow twitched at that. “Warlocks? You’re certain of this?”
“If the rumors are true,” Rhyon nodded with a grim expression.
Deas leaned back in his chair, the gears in his mind turning. If she truly has warlocks at her command, this will be more dangerous than I thought. If it were anyone else, the outcome would’ve pretty much already been set in stone. However, he was Deas Thalios, and he knew more on this subject than any warlock possibly could. The only problem is that I haven’t expanded my skills yet. I’ll need to rectify that issue. There should be other tomes in the crypt. Looks like I need to speed things up.
“Am I to take it that you believe these rumors?”
“Personally, I do,” the Baron replied to Deas’ pointed question. “Too many strange reports have been coming in from across my lands. Soldiers have disappeared only to turn with no memories from the time they were gone. Cattle and other livestock have suddenly taken ill and died as though a plague is passing through. Honestly, with everything that’s been happening my people have begun whispering that my domain is cursed.”
“I see,” Deas hummed. “The evidence would point towards these rumors as being true then. However, there’s a cost to using this kind of magic. It would not surprise me if the good Baroness is overreaching. That means there’s an opportunity for us to exploit her situation.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s simple,” Deas chuckled. “If her situation is as I believe it to be, we only need to push her closer to the brink. Soon enough, she’ll jump over the edge on her own. She’ll collapse under her own overgrown ambition the moment we destabilize her foundations.”
“And how do we make that happen?” Baron Rhyon asked as hope eagerly returned to his eyes.
“I have my ways, dear Baron,” Deas replied with a cold, calculating expression that made Rhyon and his advisors tremble. “I can offer something greater than mere warlocks. If she wants to play this game with me, then let us play.”
“Earlier you said there’s a price to pay for the warlock’s magic,” the noble said with a deep frown. “If your magic is greater, then what price would I need to pay?”
“Ah, the cost,” Deas nodded. “I only need two things from you. First, abandon your reactive tactics and take the fight to her everywhere but here. Hit her hard, fast, and end the battles decisively. But do not overextend your reach into her lands.”
“And the second thing is?”
“You must be prepared to, shall we say, look the other way in how I deal with Lady Katrell and her army when they come knocking here. I give you my word, that by the end, you will never have to worry about the Baroness again.”