Nearly half an hour passed as Liam continued to regrow Iain’s arm. It was exhausting work, and Liam often was forced to step away, his magic depleted. As he waited, he answered many of the questions that arose from the nobles and the King.
Most of the nobles were curious about his healing abilities, but when asked by the King, Liam agreed to show some of the other magical abilities he had learnt. For him, the magic he used was simply another limb, something that he’d grown accustomed to using without thought.
Looking around, he saw the awe and fear on the surrounding faces. They reminded him of the nervous faces in the gatehouse in Glasgow. These people were not as comfortable with his abilities as he’d become, but they'd need to learn.
Worse than mere magic was coming for them.
Clusters of nobles had formed after his display for the King. Soon, a hubbub of voices filled the hall as they discussed what they’d seen. From the snippets he could hear, they were weighing their options politically.
The King, well aware of this, decided a few of the groups as he publicly thanked Liam for the display.
Others continued to stare his way in pious indignation, and still more ignored him entirely. These seemed rather focussed on what it would mean for their power and land. Liam could see that they were the ones the King kept a wary eye on.
One of the more vocal nobles openly worried about what would happen if the peasants became more powerful than his knights. A sentiment that was clearly of concern, as this seemed to sway many listeners.
The Bishop of St Andrews, however, was amongst the worst of the naysayers. When the King asked him to display the fire magic once more, the Bishop openly called it a type of magic that evoked the realms of hell.
Liam heard the comment, and shook his head as he tried to explain. His efforts were in vain as the nobles drowned his words beneath the fresh discussions that erupted following the Bishop's comment.
The King, however, was not about to so casually dismiss Liams words. He demanded silence, and Liam explained into the sudden silence that Magic came in many forms, but the evil of it - just like with a sword - came from the use to which it was applied. King Robert nodded his agreement, and Liam could see his amusement. “Besides, were the magic derived from hell, Bishop, would it not have simply bounced off that monster’s skin?”
“Who can know the level of deceit that the Devil’s minions will go to! What is to say it was not simply acting and that this ‘fellow’ was in league with it?”
The King frowned. “I understand being concerned with this ‘Magic’ Bishop, but the lad clearly just saved Sir Iain, killed a monster that lurked, spying within my halls; and is now performing what–from anyone else–would be a miracle. I am certain the lad is not some devil. Is that not plain to you?”
The bishop was about to answer but was interrupted as the King turned to address the gathered nobles. “While caution is a virtue when delving into the unknown, it is also prudent that we understand this new power in our world. If people feel they can take justice into their own hands or seek to usurp the powers of their Lord or the King, we must be powerful enough to stop it. Fear of magic might have been wise before the tribulation, but if we don’t understand it, we will fall to it.”
“That is the reason for the tournament. If we seek to bring Balliol to battle, we will need whatever advantage we can attain. As our not-so-young Page has said, magic is simply a tool. We must treat it as such, and learn to use it. The Kingdom depends on it, and if the Pope disagrees, he may excommunicate me again. But at least there will be a Scotland.”
Liam saw that Lord and Lady Douglas paid the discussion little heed as they hovered over Iain. He’d awoken a few moments into the healing and glared at Liam, in a mix of anger and confusion. Those feelings disappeared upon being reassured by his friends as they told him of what had occurred. The other pages, and the newly created Squire Llywelyn, were especially pleased that he was being restored to his former self.
Hours passed as Liam worked on, the conversations in the hall turning from Liam to the tournament and the possibility of having to learn skills and magic to survive the wars ahead. Liam overheard a great deal, and–although he understood little the politics–knew that factions were forming as the nobles picked a side.
Looking over at Lord Douglas, he whispered. “Do they usually do this, Lord?”
His Lord, surprised by the sudden question, nodded. “Aye. They’ll come around once the Pope makes a ruling. The Church is a powerful factor, but we’ve ignored it before and won. The King’s ties to France ensure Scotland’s opinion is not ignored in Avignon, whatever the Pope may think. Politics on the continent can only have become more complex, and the Holy Roman Empire will certainly not ignore the benefit of the system.”
“As for what happens here, the Clans will support whatever their Chief decides, but are likely to support the King. Robert treated those who stayed loyal to his cause well, and many of the Clans gained land and power. While they are a superstitious lot, they are pragmatic. As for the other Lords? They will decide depending on what best suits their interests as they see them.”
Liam nodded. Returning his focus to Iain’s arm once more. “We shall need everyone if we’re to face what is coming, lord. Does the king know?”
Lord Douglas nodded, confused by the question, but not wanting to interrupt his Page’s concentration.
Soon enough, Iain was staring at his newly regrown hand. He smiled as he flexed his fingers once more. He drew his sword and grinned, enjoying the oft remembered sensation of twirling it through his fingers with practiced ease. Despite that, he looked exhausted. As he stood, he toppled, losing his balance for a moment.
James ordered him to display his attributes, and all could see he was unchanged by the magic. This set off more discussions amongst the nobles, who now used it as another argument to adopt the system's changes. James was less concerned by that than the fifteen stamina remaining.
Princess Margaret, who had hung back from the others, lunged through a gap in the onlookers, and, much to her father’s displeasure, caught up Iain under his shoulder. “I told you it would be alright, Iain. You’re too precious to the kingdom and to your friends. Now you are whole again! You’ll be the greatest knight in Scotland.”
Iain smiled at the princess, despite the onlookers, and James watched him stare into her eyes as though she were the only person present. “Thank you, my Princess.” He said, tears coming to his eyes. “I swear to you, and to God that I shall prove my worth…” His voice choked, halting his words.
Tears filled her eyes as she thought the unspoken words ‘… to be your husband.’
“I will hold you to that oath, Sir Iain Campbell.” She whispered, loud enough that only Liam and Lord Douglas could hear.
The king laughed, pleased despite himself that Iain would swear such an oath, allowed the two a moment in privacy. It passed quickly, however, as James felt the King’s hand upon his shoulder and turned. “Send the young Knight with his Squire to pray, lest I suddenly remember the axe I dubbed him with.”
James grinned, turning to Iain and the Princess, who were whispering together as the other courtiers cooed or gossiped about their match. “Sir Iain Campbell, Squire Gruffyd, you are to complete your vigil, and the night is growing late. You had best be about your duties!”
Iain nodded and stood, giving Princess Margaret a last tremulous smile. Then he turned, and with Llywelyn stumbling behind, trying not to drop his knight’s new armour and sword, they left the hall.
“Enough!” he bellowed, sitting once more in his seat. “All of you sit. You men…” He gestured to the monster’s remains, glaring at a group of his knights. “Clean up that… thing… and have it sent to the Church. Bishop go see the priest dispose of the remains and sanctify the ground. We cannot allow it to rise once more.”
Turning in his chair, he beckoned towards where Liam was looting the corpse. “James, bring that man to me.”
Bowing, James gestured to Liam that he should proceed before him. Liam did as his Lord commanded, and at James’ whispered instructions, knelt before the King.
Still sitting on his throne, Robert de Brus, King of Scots and Lord of Annandale, stared at Liam for a long moment, considering him. “So, you are the Page that went missing?”
Liam looked up at the king, surprised to see they were at about the same eye level. “Yes, sir. My name is Liam Lamberton, your Highness.”
James shook his head, hoping somehow Liam might have learnt some more courtly manners. It seemed to be a vain hope, however, as the King let out a slight snort of amusement, quelling the muttering of his nobles at the presumption of this Page.
Stepping forward, James cleared his throat. “My king, though he appears different to the lad who left us, my wife has confirmed that he is Liam Lamberton. He was raised to my household only a fortnight ago, and we have not had the time to instruct him in court etiquette. Your Grace.” James emphasised the term of address in the hope Liam would still be capable of learning quickly.
Seeing an opportunity to speak, Lady FitzGerald stepped forward at that moment. “My King, I am the wife of the lord of Cadzow. There is much I must tell you of recent events th…”
Bishop Bane interrupted her, raising his voice to suppress hers. “My King, if he can change his appearance, then how do we not know he is the same as the foul creature who attacked. I beseech you to…”
“Enough! I sent you to go deal with the remains, my Lord Bishop. Unless you want that thing to rise once more, be about it. And don’t interrupt a Lady in my Court!” The king roared.
The Bishop looked stunned but bowed. The Earl of Moray escorting him to the door, whispering furiously at him. Liam didn’t know why the Earl was so upset, but whatever he’d said caused the Priest’s face to pale.
Glaring at the other nobles in the room, he stood from his throne. “Out, all of you. Moray, Douglas, Lennox, and Sir Hay, as well as those in Lady Cadzow’s party, and Page Lamberton, you stay. The rest get out. And do it quietly. We cannot think with your blabbing away.”
Princess Margaret made to complain, but was ushered out of the room by Lady Tatania, flanked by Aidan and Andrew. Lady FitzGerald and Lady Claire waved a subtle goodbye at Liam from behind the protective back shown by Sir Peter.
Many of the courtiers looked disgruntled at their abrupt dismissal. Liam could hear a slight grumbling from the louder of the courtiers as they trekked downhill and back to their accommodations.
“Thank God.” The king started, sighing in relief as the noise of the court receded down the hill. He turned his attention back to Liam. “Now, how did you discover the creature was posing as my Squire?”
Those assembled listened as Liam, still kneeling, tried to explain. “Your Grace, as I entered the room, I saw Iain…”
The King interrupted him. “Sir Iain Campbell. Remember, you are a Page, young man. Sir Iain earned his rank and deserves the proper acknowledgement for it.”
Corrected, Liam continued.
“Apologies, your Grace… Sir Iain and Squire Glengarry were leaving the room. Iain saw me grinning at him and was confused, likely because I appear as a stranger, but Glengarry barely even registered our presence until he saw the Lady FitzGerald.”
“When I saw his reaction to her, I wondered for a moment why he’d be confused and angered to see her, then I sensed something was off about him. I activated an ability that allows me to detect magic within an area. As soon as it reached the doppelgänger, I knew he was a Vampyre. I confirmed it when I activated my Magical Sight.”
The King laughed. “Magical Sense and Magical Sight?”
Liam nodded, unsure if the question required an answer.
“Can you teach others magics like you wield?”
James watched as Liam grinned and pondered the question, much as he had when James asked him questions back in Douglas. Whatever had happened to the lad hadn’t changed his personality. He was still the thoughtful youth, despite his size and skill.
“I don’t think I can, Your Grace. I learned this from the Aesir Bragi, in Vanaheim, and…”
“So, what Lord Douglas has told me of your quest is true?” The King asked.
“Yes, your Grace. The Harp’s quest transported me to another world, and it was wondrous… the hall there sp…” Liam felt a hand on his shoulder. Lord James looked down at him with a patient smile. “Just answer the questions of the King.”
The King gestured he may continue his previous explanation.
Liam gathered his thoughts and continued. “I gained upgrades to the spells the Aesir taught me from their use and from the system as I levelled.”
“As to teaching the spells to others, I’m not sure I can except by casting it many times in front of people with high Wisdom attributes. Even then, I think it would likely be easier for them to learn the skill through their crafting classes, or their warrior class.”
The King nodded, accepting the answer, though Liam could see he was curious to know more of his the system and his travels. “We can hope that the Tournament will teach some of those skills. If not, I shall require your services to teach others.”
“Now, what is this Vampyre? I have heard the fairy-stories of such creatures, but we called them ‘Revenants’.”
Lady FitzGerald stepped forward. “My King, if I may speak?” She waited until the King nodded assent. “Not three days ago, a similar creature had trapped and tortured my family within our castle at Cadzow. All our vassals were murdered or enslaved, while we ourselves suffered great torture for two days. Liam saved us, exposing the creature for what it was. A Vampyre.”
The king seemed taken aback. “And how did this thing take the place of my Squire? Are there more?”
Liam nodded. “When I first encountered one in Cadzow, not two days ago, I discovered they had an ability to change their appearance, but I didn’t think it was of great consequence. The creature I fought escaped, but it was a female in its basest form. I believe there is another, stronger creature that was its master.”
Liam looked over to where the Lady, and Mistress Claire stood patiently with Sir Peter, awaiting the King’s assent for their petition. Liam decided to bring their cause to the King’s attention.
”Your Grace, the Lady and her daughter were tortured badly, but we also recovered the Lord and another man. Their wounds are dire and they require the aid of Lady Tatania. Might she be spared?”
The Lady of Cadzow, grateful for Liam’s effort, stepped forward as the King looked to her.
“Lady Tatania was able to heal our scars, your Grace. Liam said they were soul wounds. But my husbands are more grave. I… cannot…”
Despite her brave efforts to maintain her composure, she began to weep, and Sir Peter continued on her behalf. “My King. The Lord has been dismembered and no longer speaks. He is awake, but mute. His eyes and ears were taken and would not heal.”
The king was horrified when Sir Peter gave a description of their condition, and immediately gave his assent, sending Lord Douglas to fetch his wife for the FitzGilberts. The Lady of Cadzow’s party followed him, hopeful that their Lord could be healed.
Liam also made to leave, but the King’s upraised palm halted him. “You can wait here.” He commanded. “I would hear more of your travels.”
Liam nodded and began to tell his tale from the start.
When Lord Douglas returned some time later, Liam had just explained to the King about the steed Skeidbrimir and her eight legs.
”It’s a wonder it doesn’t trip over itself!” The Earl of Lennox scoffed, causing the king to laugh.
Liam listened as his Lord reported that Lady Tatania had begun to heal the men. “She said that she recognized the other man, your Grace.”
“Well?” He demanded.
”It was Squire Glengarry, your Grace. It seems he was captured at Cadzow trying to warn them of the Orcs.”
The King turned to James. “You and Page Lamberton both mentioned Orcs before.”
James nodded. “They were at Ferniegair, your Grace.”
“And you? Liam? Are they the same as these creatures?”
Liam shook his head. “They are not, my King. I fought with Lord Douglas against some Orcs in Ferniegair, but they were below level 20. Even the half-orc giant was only around level 15. Those I met in Cadzow were beyond my level. Some up to level 40.”
The King listened patiently, but Liam could see the King clearly didn’t understand why levels were significant.
“I am at level 32, Your Grace. Each level provides several attributes that contribute to growth. There are also new abilities at certain levels you can gain through classes. Levels are important beyond nearly all other gains we can make. If I were to fight something higher than one or two levels beyond my own would require significant luck, a great deal of planning, or surprise to defeat.”
“And you say the orcs in Cadzow were up to eight levels greater than your own?” The King asked. “How did you defeat them?”
“I didn’t, Your Grace. I offered a parlay and negotiated with them for ownership of the castle. The orcs desired the location of a dungeon. It’s not dissimilar to where I gained so many levels, but why they would want to exchange…” Liam’s voice trailed off, as the obvious reason for the Orc’s withdrawal became clear.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
After a moment, Liam’s voice filled the silene once more.
“I do not believe Chief Gurtak is in league with this creature through choice, Your Grace. He and his fellows became agitated when I suggested it was doing its master’s bidding. I believe instead that it is a mercenary or is being forced to fight for the Vampyre lord.”
Moray spoke then, surprising James. “You gave those brutes access to a Master Dungeon after you gained your levels in one? Are you mad, or just stupid? You said they are already at level 40!” Moray took a breath, appealing to the King. “I apologise, your Grace, but how can we rid our nation of these beasts if they climb even higher?”
Liam nodded, his eyes downcast. “I wasn’t thinking too clearly, having barely escaped a combat with some of the lower levelled orcs.” He said. “Either way, they gave up control of the keep. I memorized the location of the Dungeon too. It is just outside of Berwick, at a place called Halidon Hill.”
The King drummed his fingers on the table, clearly deep in thought. “So, we now have a Master Vampyre to contend with, creatures that can shift shape, and a tribe of Orcs that has the location of a… What did you call it?... A dungeon?” Liam nodded. “That can make them far more powerful.”
James smiled. “But it can do the same for us, my King. If Liam can draw a map of how to get into the dungeon, we can send riders to Berwick and fortify the hill. Perhaps we can even level some of our own men enough to defend it from the Orcs before they arrive and figure out how to get there.”
The king nodded. “Sir Hay, that shall fall to you. You are to ride direct to Berwick tomorrow after we have fulfilled the Tournament. I shall have you deliver a message to Lord Seton. You will remain there and assist him in fortifying the…” the king looked at Liam in askance.
“Master Dungeon, my king. It is located just beneath the crest of Halidon Hill, but the entrance is through tunnels beneath the City of Berwick.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Sir Hay bowed and left the dining hall.
Lord Douglas stepped forward. “My King. Perhaps this would be an excellent opportunity for Sir Iain as well?”
“He is to complete his vigil, then he and his squire may depart for Berwick on the morrow with Sir Hay. Go prepare, Hay, and if you can enter the Dungeon and gain levels enough to defeat these orcs. We need to fortify walls and prepare for whatever the Orcs may come at us with. Worse, if they are in league with Balliol, we must expect him to lay siege.”
“There is something more.” Liam said, and the King sighed.
“The location where I levelled my crafting was a Journeyman Dungeon. The Master dungeon would be far more difficult to complete, but no doubt the rewards would be significantly greater.”
“You say you were crafting to gain levels?” The Earl of Lennox asked. “How did you manage that in such a short time?”
“My Lord,” Liam bowed deeply. “It is due to what happened when I entered the dungeon. For all of you, only a few days passed. For me, four years have gone by. Time outside the dungeon stood still because of a magic barrier that I dare not try to escape. Each day I worked to increase my skills in my crafts, gaining considerable knowledge from an impressive library of books, and working every day to increase my skills.”
“And what motivated you to do so?” The King asked, curious to know his what fuelled his desire to gain levels. “Was it power? Riches?”
Liam shook his head. “When I realised the Dungeon had trapped me, all I wanted to do was leave. Bragi’s quest was to slay a Troll, but I was far too weak to achieve that. Instead, I discovered the Library. Within was the work of a Roman Emperor. I don’t know how that had found its way into the library, though I have my suspicions it came from some long-passed traveller. It showed me that the obstacle to my goal was not the problem, but the solution.”
The king smiled, glancing at James. “You read Aurelius’ work? It is a rare day when a self-taught philosopher comes to my court, rids me of a monster and tells me of locations that can teach me magic! This is an epic of its own making, though, to spend so long alone... And you say this lad is a page?” The king asked, turning to Lord Douglas.
He nodded, a wry grin upon his face, and the King shook his head in amazement. “Lucky bugger, aren’t you? If it weren’t for his father’s wishes, I’d have him as a knight, but Bishop Lamberton always wanted you to teach him, and you will.”
“There is more, Your Grace.” Liam said, removing the Bishop’s letter and the Cave Troll’s monster core. He offered it them to the king.
The King looked stunned as the folded parchment appeared, but accepted it. “From the Bishop of Glasgow?” He asked, inspecting the seal.
Liam nodded, and the King gestured he may rise. He did so, stepping back to where James stood.
As the king read the letter, James inspected the orb and grinned as he saw what it was.
Monster Core: Level 33
“Your Grace,” Liam started. “I have brought you the core in the hope it will heal your wounds, but I see the Lady has already done so. The orb there is a monster core, from a level thirty-three creature. I suspect it will give you a significant boost to your experience and levels.”
King Robert looked up from the letter at the orb. “The letter said you’ve brought a great deal of wealth and news of other lands. Bishop says I am to trust that you speak the truth, and that he has gone to Avignon to convince the Pope to launch a crusade against the threat. What threat does he speak of?”
Liam looked uncertain. “It is difficult to explain, Your Grace, but the tribulation has brought with it a conflict between our world and one of the Demon realms. The damned have already launched an invasion and are massing far to the east of Europe.”
The news shocked everyone in the room.
“While in the dungeon, I discovered a diary of what I thought was a long-dead man. It turned out he had only been dead a few days, and had gone through much the same trials I had mere days before. Trolls had picked his bones clean of flesh and left many of his belongings in ruins. All I salvaged was this ring, an arm-ring and his journal.”
The King looked at the ring, admiring it briefly. “And where was this journal from?”
“Isfahan, Your Grace,” Liam replied. “In a land called ‘the Ilkhanate’.”
The King looked cautious as he asked his next question. “Are they planning to invade Christendom?”
Liam shook his head. “They are not, Your Grace, at least not yet. From what I could understand from the text, they are defending themselves from strange armies, who the writer described as demons. They seem to flood their lands and have conquered several large towns already. Many of the enemy have reached levels beyond my own through the conflict, and the forces of the Muslim are hard-pressed.”
“What is your level?” The King asked, clearly having forgot.
“Thirty-two, Your Grace.”
“Very well, continue. I would know more about this force of the Damned.” The King ordered.
Liam tried to assess what he’d read as best he could. He found that his increased intelligence allowed him to recite large passages from the work, but the King needed information, not a fantastic tale. “Great cities are on the brink of falling to the enemy’s sheer numbers, while elite squads of their highly levelled troops have become nigh-impossible to stop. The writer in the journal feared that their nation alone would not be enough to stem the tide. He estimated that the armies of the enemy number over five hundred thousand. I believe their numbers are far more, your Grace.”
The King scoffed at that number. “Over Five hundred thousand? And how did he come by that figure?”
“The writer was a highly placed commander in the Il-Khan’s forces. He suggested the number as an approximate figure based on how widely ranging their slaving parties were, and by estimation of how many towns had been decimated by the hordes of damned.”
Liam continued, justifying his assessments. “I think they would number more, as this commander would not have known all that was happening. He only reported what he could see in his journal and the news that reached Qom.”
The King looked thoughtful. “And you say the Bishop was convinced?”
“He was, your Grace. The Journal is genuine to the best of my knowledge. I swear this by god, and the system.”
The oath sworn, Liam glowed with a golden light for a moment. “What was that?” The king asked.
James took a moment to explain, having listened quietly as Liam spoke. “When you speak an oath and swear it by God or the System, the system assesses the oath and seems to hold you to it. I’m not sure of the consequences of breaking it, nor do I want to.”
The king thought for a moment. “Is there anything else that requires my attention? Or do you have some good news besides your monster core and your return?” The King asked.
James could see he’d quickly become annoyed with the amount of pressures that appeared because of the Tribulation.
Liam looked about. “There are several things, Your Grace.” Liam said. “Though it would take up some time.”
The King waved away his concern. “Go on, I need some good news.”
Liam considered what he’d brought with him, and what would most benefit the Kingdom. Finally, he spoke. “I have returned with a book that contains the entire Library I that discovered within the Dungeon. It explains many ideas and concepts relating to crafting, some of which relate to the Tribulation system. I also have several designs for different crafter classes, allowing them to produce new items if they can replicate or learn the designs.”
The king paused. “The Bishop spoke of you having great wealth, too. What do you bring?”
“I have thirty-seven thousand Tribulation Credits. I offer them freely, as I have no use for them.”
James’ eyes boggled. That was a massive amount. “How?” He asked.
“It was a dungeon reward, Lord.” Liam said, “As were many other items. It is part of the reason I now realize how costly my mistake might have been with the Orc Chief.”
The king sighed. “I suppose that if it truly took you four years to gain these skills, tools and the wealth you so obviously have, I should be grateful, but the situation in Berwick tempers my joy. We shall discuss how best to use these objects in the morning.”
The King looked at the Monster core he held in his hands. He looked at James. “How do I use this?” He asked
The Earl of Moray quickly interjected. “My King, is that wise? First, we find a monster has appeared in your court, and now you wish to use a part of one to gain power? How do we know it would not do you harm or corrupt your soul?”
Liam saw his Lord smile at his old friend as he gave a reply. “I have seen Liam use a monster core once before. It did not harm him, but gave him several levels. I see no reason it wouldn’t do the same for our King.”
“I understand that, my Lord, but we are speaking of the King, not a Page boy. We still have to hear what the Vicar of Christ decides, and we do not yet know the consequences of these choices!”
“Avignon cannot make all the decisions, Lord Randolph. Some things we must take on faith!” The King said. “If we cannot increase our power now, the issue will be moot, regardless. You well know that someone cannot overlook simply the gifts of knowledge and wealth to ensure the Papacy’s fear is assuaged.”
“You recall when Scotland stood on the brink, as did Liam’s father. I trust Lamberton’s get, bastard or not. If he says it caused no ill effect, I shall use the core.”
Turning to James, he grinned. “If I am to die, you may take my heart on crusade in my stead. It is likely I have much to atone for.”
James chuckled at the joke, and, seeing an opportunity for Liam to once more assist the King, spoke up. “That I shall, your Grace. Liam? You’re still the only one here to have used a Monster Core. Were there any ill effects?”
“No Lord!”
Liam quickly explained to the King how to use the monster core, and the King did as instructed. He glowed brilliantly as multiple levels came at once.
The king’s eye boggled as information flowed across his vision, and James knew the feeling. He chuckled, stepping before his King to demand his attention before he got too carried away.
“My King, you should now have some available attributes. I ask you to be careful when you assign them. Do so slowly, as if you rush, you force the changes upon your body and your mind, causing a fair amount of pain.”
“You speak from personal experience?”
James grinned. “Aye, Lord.”
The king smiled at his friend. “Thank you, James. I think I shall retire for the evening. It will be a busy day on the morrow.”
The King of Scotland rose from his throne and walked from the hall, the others present all bowing to him as he passed. Reaching the door, he paused, and James grinned, knowing what he was about to ask.
“You add them by focusing on the small cross sign beside the number of your attribute. Simply think that you’d like to assign your attribute as you look at that.”
The King nodded, and with a grin over his shoulder, he left the hall. The Earls of Lennox and Moray following their Liège.
James watched, curious to know how his friend wished to improve himself but contented himself to wait until the morrow. He was glad that his friend’s health was so improved, reminding himself to ensure his wife knew the depth of his gratitude.
He grinned as he thought about how he might repay her. They hadn’t enjoyed the peace of a night in a room together since they’d returned to the Keep with Liam after the Tribulation. After all, the wagon didn’t really count.
It’s about time I change that, he thought.
He’d wait until she returned. He knew that Princess Margaret needed someone to talk to, and a few others would be as understanding as his wife.
James turned his attention to his aged Page, scrutinizing him. What he saw was no boy, but a young man stood with a confidence far beyond his age. It was not arrogance, simply a knowledge of what his capacity was, and a willingness to use it.
James looked over his armour, seeing that it was some of the finest work he’d seen. The links had the look of careful production. None were bent, and most looked identical when compared to the rest. He thought that perhaps those that weren’t might have been intentionally placed to increase the rigidity of the armour in certain places.
The oddest thing about the armour was its material and design. He knew that overlapping plates were a common method of improving the protection of the wearer, but he’d never seen the plates form faulds over the abdomen, nor the size of the plates at the chest and back. The plate covering Liam’s arms almost fully encased them, except for the underside of his upper arms and the joints.
“Did you make the armour?” James asked.
Liam nodded, clearly proud of the gear. “The plate is Mythril. I designed it myself after testing the limits of my movement while practising with the sword. The mail was more difficult. It contains Aesium and increases my magic pool. While it can be pierced, especially by Vampyre claws, it should stop nearly everything else.”
“I bought the padded jacket, though. Some merchants in Glasgow have improved quite a lot in the short time they’ve had.”
Liam’s work impressed James. He was even more awed with his knowledge of the own armour and its function and with how the Page had conducted himself. Liam was no mere boy now, but was well on his way to becoming a man. James just wished that Liam’s father was alive to see him what he was becoming.
Placing his hand on his Pages shoulder, he smiled. “I’m glad you’ve returned, Liam.” He smiled, and James struggled to hold back the emotions he’d held in check since Tatania had informed him Liam had arrived. “I did not know when you might come back, but hoped you’d be safe. It was all I could do.” James paused, his voice becoming hoarse. “I should never have told you to accept that quest, lad.”
“You can’t blame yourself, Lord. None of us understand this system, and we certainly didn’t know it could do that. All we can hope is that we can choose wisely and overcome what we don’t.”
James, surprised at the prudence and maturity his page displayed, grinned.
Liam, though, was frowning at him, something clearly bothering him.
“What is it, Liam? Speak!”
“Lord, before when I asked if the King knew what was coming, you said he did, but he acted surprised when I told him of the Demon armies. Why?”
James frowned. “Why would he know? It’s the first any of us have heard of it!”
“But Lord, what of the message I sent?”
James thought back, wondering what message his page might mean. “I didn’t receive any message from you, lad. Did you send a rider ahead?”
“No, Lord. I sent a message through the system. I wanted to warn you of what was coming. About the armies of the damned.” He explained.
James frowned. He had seen no visions with messages beyond those created by the system. He hadn’t even known it would be possible. Opening his attributes table, James looked carefully through his statistics, trying to see if anything showed that a message awaited him.
There, beneath his abilities, was a golden scroll. It pulsed with an inner glow, seeking his attention. Focussing on the message, he noticed a dated message from almost three days ago.
Opening it, he read:
Message from: Harbinger Page Liam Lamberton.
Date: 4th June, 1329.
Message: Lord, this is Liam. I return to Scotland today. An army of the Damned marches upon Earth. They are strong beyond measure. Warn everyone. No help will come from the higher realms.
“No help will come from the higher realms?” He asked, looking over the vision once more.
Liam nodded. “The battleground for this tribulation is here, on Earth, and on the world of the Damned. From what I could gather, God and the Archdemon made a pact that no higher realm would directly interfere in the Tribulation. My worry is that with these Vampyres, the enemy has already broken it.”
James frowned. “But wouldn’t it aid us to have the hosts of heaven at our side?”
“If the hosts of heaven reach earth, we will all be dead. They are powerful beyond our ability to comprehend. Forsite alone had two hundred thousand health. That is at least two thousand attribute points, making him at least level five hundred, likely more, and with a powerful class.”
James listened, but his mind could barely comprehend why Liam found these figures important.
Liam saw his confusion and paused to consider. “These are beings who could defeat me with a look. If they come to earth and do battle with beings of their power, only a few will survive, and of the survivors, it is likely that none shall be of this realm. If we can ensure the pact is maintained, and we unite Christendom and the other faiths, we might stand a chance to defeat the legions of the damned.”
James smiled at his ward, surprised by the depth of foresight and analysis that had gone into his thinking. “You’re right, although that will be far more difficult than convincing our people to accept the system. Are you sure the threat is that dire?” He asked.
Liam nodded. “I have not seen many beings more powerful than Forsite, but both Bragi and…” he suddenly coughed, “… and others are. Some by a great deal.”
James thought about it for a while. “I don’t see that we can do much for now, but hope we can defeat Balliol and claim the Master Dungeon. But it’s always good to look ahead. Speak of which. I shall need a new Squire. You’re too old to be a page, but still lack some of the experience you’ll need as a Squire. Still, I suppose you can learn.”
Liam grinned, surprised by the sudden promotion.
“Thank you, Lord.” He began, but James cut him off.
“You won’t.” James said, grinning evilly. “Your first duty is to clean the King’s axe. Then and go see the men know the roster for their watch tonight. Don’t let them push you around, either. They know a good many excuses to slack if you let them.”
Liam gulped, nodding.
“Yes, Milord.”
With that, James left the hall and returned to his chambers. Tomorrow was going to be a trying day. First the Tournament and then to decide how to improve the kingdom, both with Liam’s design scrolls and with the Tribulation Credits.
*******************************
It was not long after midnight that a long, dark shadow stole into the King’s chamber. The being knew that the fire in the hearth was to be avoided, as the King might be awake, and so it climbed silently along the wall.
The escalation of events in the feasting hall had ruined many plans.
It cursed the boy for his interference. Cadzow was not an essential part of his plans, but it was a frustration, especially now that his kind had been discovered. It knew that fools like Rov’kezlik had assumed that their ultimate master was agreeing with the rule of the Tribulation, but it knew the truth.
The greater frustration was that the King was now healed. If the prophetess had been delayed by another day, he might have broken King Robert without his even suspecting what was happening.
Its plan had been in motion for over three months, now all for naught. The creature nearly let loose its frustration in a hiss, but retracted its fangs in time. Instead, the air came out in a whisper, foetid and rank with decay. It reveled in the smells of home, but its discipline rapidly reasserted itself. It had a quest to complete.
In the bed before it, the King rolled over in his sleep. It needed this to be messy, but silent. Looking down at the long claws that so clearly defined its race, the Vampyre Master bared its teeth in something like a grimace of pain.
It enjoyed playing with its prey. The last few years of tearing the King’s soul to shreds as he slept were to be remembered with relish. His night terrors, thought by many to be memories of the war, were, in fact, brought on by multiple feedings that were hidden by illusion and healing magic.
Ever so slowly, the King’s soul was being destroyed. Once destroyed, it would have controlled the man, controlled the kingdom, and controlled the church. Now it was too late. Things were moving too quickly and so it would control through fear, instead of through the King.
It was looking forward to the inquisition this deed would create. The church would turn on its own people and slaughter the witches and mages, including that bitch that lay with Douglas and the boy.
It despised them both. She was the one that had undone all its years of work. And now it had lost two of its beta’s.
It resolved to make more.
It considered turning the King, but that would be too obvious, even to these idiot mortals.
It let out a soft sigh. The King would have to die tonight. It was unfortunate about the Master Dungeon, though it still controlled the Orcs. Perhaps they needed to be reminded of the reasons for which they fought. The slaves he’d captured numbered in their hundreds. His beta had captured nearly half the tribe.
A few of the children should make the point. After all, his children were ever hungry.
The Lamberton boy was a problem, too. Much too powerful to risk assassination, for he might still alert others. But then, they were all was far too weak to be a genuine threat.
The Master Vampyre had reached level forty-nine in the last few days. One more until its second forced evolution. The king and his household were a delicious diversion, but the real prize were the men-at-arms and knights in the courtyard. Many had gained some levels. Their experience was a sweet nectar that it had sampled more than once.
Shaking itself from its diversion, it looked down at the King. This one would not be eaten.
No.
If it couldn’t enslave the King, it would kill him, and spark more fear and hate for magic in the people.
Reaching down, it clamped its hand over the King’s mouth, and crooned its foul song. The King’s eyes bulged in horror, and then fear and pain as it looked into the eyes of what it thought to be a trusted advisor.
It smiled at the King, releasing his mouth as the spell took effect, and flames sprouted on the King’s face, eating into his flesh and burning through his face, bone and brain.
Within moments, the final breath of King Robert the Bruce came and went, unnoticed by all except the Master Vampyre. It chuckled at the sight before it and dipped a finger into a trickle of blood that flowed from the charred neck of the King.
It wrote a message on the wall, taking its time to make sure the blood left no doubt as to the words. Done, it moved the King’s body to the wall, dropping it against it, and making it appear as though these were the King’s last words.
Quietly, it left the chamber. It had a tournament to prepare for, and a nine-year-old boy-King to educate.
Yes, it thought. Tomorrow it will all begin.
Tomorrow.