Gatrim jumped back from the attacking vines, slicing at them with his rapier as they approached. He made another dash at his foe, only to have to sidestep him when a hand flung up in his direction, ready to drain away his life energy. The Memory then skirted back away to the other side of the arena, dodging a new volley of thorns raining down at him from above.
While the man wore himself ragged, dancing around the room, desperately trying to avoid getting hit while simultaneously attempting to sneak in a single attack at his opponent, Drim stood completely still, sighing to himself and hoping that the match would end soon.
Minutes after the king had woken up and barely had his breakfast, Gatrim had challenged him to a duel. As he had yesterday, and the day before. It wasn’t every single Cosdamned day of their lives, but it was more often than not. Drim had to applaud the man for shedding his pride and discarding his nobility. But what Gatrim hadn’t lost was his desire to be the best he could be. And that meant beating Drim Drazah, the ‘strongest’ Fiend in his eyes.
While The Slayer was always happy to help someone train, to improve themselves, or test their mettle, it felt like their fights had started to stagnate. Actually, for whatever reason it felt like Gatrim had been getting worse. He always fell for the same tricks and tactics, defeated without learning.
So in an effort to alleviate that, Drim had stopped doing anything else. He now stood completely still during their fights, using only the attacks that felled his opponent before, hoping that Gatrim would someday be able to overcome them. Yet for the past few days in particular, it had been almost embarrassing how the man had lost to the same move every single time.
And worse, Kaizu had been in the stands ever since his losing streak began, watching intently every day. She never cheered for him, or even really showed any emotion, just there to watch and provide silent support. The king genuinely felt bad about continuing to mercilessly defeat Gatrim in front of her.
But it would be far worse if he let the man score a pity win. That would crush what remained of The Memory’s pride and truly stunt his growth. If Gatrim ever were to succeed, it’d be of his own merits. Drim would never dishonor him by holding back.
But he could only sigh once more because he could feel the fight nearing its end. Vines shot towards Gatrim’s blindspot—his right side, obscured by his eyepatch. It would be a sure hit, the same one Drim had used to defeat him countless times since he’d never developed the sense to detect it.
The king, however, was suddenly surprised when Gatrim lifted his eyepatch. And before he could figure out what was going on, the man had vanished. Drim caught a glimpse of him a second later, not having retreated to anywhere around the area, but rather in the midst of the attacking vines, weaving through them as he continued his dash.
Drim held up both hands, ready to attack Gatrim’s life directly when the man got close, but it was hard to tell where he was coming from. The Slayer spawned more vines to try and capture him, sending them soaring where he believed the man would be, but that ended up being a mistake.
Gatrim continued to slip through the constrictions, able to maneuver like flowing wind with unparalleled accuracy to guide him. And not only that, he was purposely bumping into some to give Drim a false impression of where he was, misguiding his senses so he’d strike the wrong place. Left and then right, the king felt like he was being attacked from all sides, and he didn’t know where to defend.
But that’s when he saw his foe’s eyes, both of them, perfectly and piercing. Just like the man’s rapier which suddenly appeared, the tip embedding itself a fraction of an inch into Drim’s neck, just enough for a single trickle of blood pouring down.
“I yield,” Drim raised both hands. He gulped, really feeling the metal piercing his skin.
Gatrim immediately withdrew his weapon, and sheathed his rapier stoically, while the grace of valor washed over him. But that was where any coolness ended, and the man’s face turned elated, practically giddy like a child. “I did it! I did it! I finally did it!” he stamped around, pumping his arms towards the stands. “I took him down! I beat the strongest!”
Kaizu smiled back at him, clapping quietly but genuinely showing her support.
“I have to ask, Gatrim,” Drim inquired as he rubbed his neck, the wound already starting to heal. “Did you fake your injury all this time just to catch me off-guard?”
“Yes, I did!” the man was honest, throwing his fingers in Drim’s direction as he continued to prance around, relishing in his victory. But he did finally settle down a bit, just enough to explain properly. “Well the injury was real, but I suppose you could say the recovery was exaggerated. Since I’m only a Lesser, a lot of natural healing and several sessions with Ahvra and Farian.”
“But by that time, everyone had gotten used to seeing me with an eye-patch so I kept it, figuring I could use the deception one day to my advantage. I still took it off in secret, practicing to keep my eyes sharp. And I waited for the yime when I really needed that extra accuracy.”
“I see,” Drim replayed the fight in his head, along with the recent few over the past days. “You weren’t actually failing miserably to the same attack. You were learning it, making sure you could predict exactly when it would come. And then once you had the timing mastered, you used your trump card and pushed your advantage. It was incredibly deceptive, and a long-term gambit, but there’s nothing shameful about doing whatever’s necessary to win.”
“You beat me. I can’t deny that since I’d be dead right now if you hadn’t stayed your hand. So, by our rules, you are now promoted to Rank 10, and are eligible to become a general. You’re also entitled to all the information about our organization it comes with. Additionally, you can move into the general’s mansion. We have one room left on the third floor. Guess we’ll need to build a fourth soon.”
At that moment, Gatrim’s enthusiasm took a nosedive and he scratched the back of his head. “Well, I’ll take the number, but you can keep your title. I’ve had enough of those. Don’t really want more responsibility or the burden of knowledge either. My current life is all I could ask for. That, uhh, goes for the living situation too,” the man awkwardly glanced over towards the stands.
“Ah, right, I guess you wouldn’t,” Drim smirked. Over the years, through a few room assignment reshuffles, Gatrim and Kaizu had ended up in dorms right next to each other—entirely coincidental, surely. Then through the knowledge he’d gained from his recent delve into construction, the man may have allegedly built a doorway between them.
“Thank you for always humoring me,” The Memory suddenly gave a deep respectful bow to his king. “I promise I’ll stop calling on you every morning now.”
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Well, that part I’m alright with,” The Slayer laughed in turn. “While it might not be a duel, if you need someone to spar or train with, you can always count on me. Though you may be a Lesser Fiend, Gatrim, stand proud. There’s nothing lesser about you.”
◆◆◆
“Alright, we’re in the final stretch!” Callum proudly declared as he sat down at the meeting with Victori and Drim to discuss their political campaign. “As we expected, Drim and Gort Hower were the two winning candidates in the secondary election. Per the election’s guidelines, the percentages were never publicly announced, but we can assume they’re favorable.”
“Nairen Dschuen accepted her defeat gracefully, and her businesses are thriving as a result, as we can all assume that was her intention for running in the first place. Though, I never expected Trycen Hasper to drop out days before the vote due to that scandal reveal. I’m assuming that was your group’s doing. Actually, nevermind, it’s probably best if I don’t know.”
“So let’s move on to something more relevant. I just finished rewatching your interview with Gedring. Well, I guess you could say I properly watched it for the first time. You had me scrambling since you released it the night before the vote, so I only had the opportunity to skim through it.”
“First, I’ll say I do believe you performed splendidly. All your answers were concise and clear. You sounded relatable while also proving yourself competent. However, my initial criticism remains the same. You need to not downplay your accomplishments so much. They’re why people support you. So if you act too humble about them, it might rub people the wrong way.”
“Our viewership polls can attest to that,” Victori interjected. “Most found Drim’s humbleness to make him appear too meager and weak, wanting you to proudly own what you’ve done thus far. Others find the humbleness to actually be an act of boastfulness. As if you view your acts as if they were nothing to you, furthering the idea that some have of you holding yourself to a higher standard than the rest of the world.”
“We’ve been reeling back our spotlighting propaganda because of the issue with the Fiendnatics, but too far in the opposite direction has the opposite effect. We definitely need to stray from it going forward, and you need to be a bit more direct and hold yourself accountable, good and bad.”
“Alright, alright, I get it, I’ll work on it,” Drim accepted, struggling with the idea of having to praise himself. Talking about the Fiendish King Drim Drazah and all he’d done was the thing that Drim hated discussing most out of anything else in the world, let alone acting even remotely narcissistic about it. But he understood the need.
“It’ll be especially important in the debate with Hower,” Callum reminded him. “We have it scheduled now for mid-Nonovber, a week before the election. When we get closer, I’d like to arrange a few practice debates and really hammer the talking points. But that’s basically all that’s left for you to worry about, Drim. Victori and I will handle the rest. So until then, just keep doing what you’re doing. The day will come before you know it.”
“Also, speaking of the Fiendnatics, I wanted to briefly cover them,” the young politician brought up the next topic of conversation. “There was definitely a slight dip in support when that news initially broke, talk of rigging the election by weaponizing a cult. But since then, we’ve regained the ground and even more, especially because the group themselves have begun swaths of volunteer work and outreach while touting Fiends as their inspiration. They’ve definitely made a dent in swinging public favor.”
“But I am still concerned about how they acted originally. I’m worried that someone among their number may act radically either out of devotion or maliciousness. They are a very passionate group after all. Are you certain it was the best call not to forcefully dissolve them?”
“They’re being monitored,” Drim assured him. “Mostly by Victori here. It wasn’t exactly a coincidence that the app they’re using now was built on the same framework as our member app. It also allows us full access and control.”
“Yes, it’s been far more useful than trying to keep up with the forums,” The Kingmaker acknowledged. “Through it, we’ve been able to easily identify bad seeds among them. Some are just overly passionate, as you’ve suggested. But others were clearly planted by someone opposing us, wanting to spur the Fiendnatics into radicalism to make us look bad.”
“All the ones we’ve caught, though, have been dealt with in some form. Either encouraged to stop or had other condemning aspects of their life leaked to law enforcement. The hope is that we can remove them without incident or drawing attention, so that the group can thrive as it has been, to continue doing good, while remaining none the wiser of the malicious intent nestled inside.”
“Alright, I’ll leave it to your discretion,” Callum dropped the matter. “And if their zeal carries them to their local election hall, I suppose we can’t complain.”
The Slayer excused himself after those brief discussions. Victori and Callum would continue to work on the campaign for hours, but none of it required Drim’s presence. While he didn’t mind helping where he could, any excuse to escape from politics was a welcome one, and he did actually have an appointment to keep. The man had to reluctantly put on his crown—metaphorically since he’d refuse to wear it—and actually act as a king.
◆◆◆
“So it’s like that every day!” the Fiend, Pak, continued with his grievance. “I come back from work, she’s taken the spot. I go out with friends, she’s taken the spot. I literally just go to town and back for five minutes to grab some food and she’s taken the damn spot!”
“And what’s wrong with taking an open spot, huh?” the Lesser, Cradle, argued. “There’s no rhyme or reason where anyone parks around here, so sometimes it’s damned impossible to find a good spot. If I see a better one, I move my car there so I have to walk less later.”
Drim did his best to maintain his composure, but his smile was cracking as his entire body shook internally while he sat on the throne. In order to at least remotely try and act like a proper king, the man had established ‘open throne hours’. Once a week, he’d sit in the throne room for an hour, and any resident or member could come with whatever problems they had.
Most days, he wouldn’t receive any kind of an audience, and would use that time to actually catch up on some reading or other hobbies. Since he was being ‘productive’, he could indulge in time-killers guilt-free. When he did actually receive visitors, it was usually for small issues that could be easily resolved—ones that the citizens of Fiendish would feel bad if they complained about it in any other situation.
But dealing with parking issues felt like a staggering new low on the level of importance.
Cradle continued her proposal. “Which is why we need assigned parking spots so that I don’t have to go through all this effort everyday.”
“Yes, we need assigned parking immediately so we can remove this stress from our lives.” To the king’s surprise, Pak had actually agreed.
“Wait, you both want assigned parking?” Drim made sure to clarify. “Then what’s the issue?”
“How to do it!” Pak presented the real problem. “The obvious and logical way is to just do it by apartment number, so it doesn’t matter if anyone ever moves in or out. But this lunatic insists on doing it alphabetically, which means everyone would have to adjust any time residency changes. And she doesn’t have a concise argument for it, just so that she can park closer.”
“Well, yeah, it’s unfair otherwise!” Cradle spat back. “I live in the last apartment on the top floor, so if we did it numerically, then I’d have to walk the farthest out of anyone!”
“Ughk,” Drim couldn’t even restrain his groaning anymore. “Alright, how about this. We do it numerically, but in reverse order by floor. So that way, those on the top floor would have the closest spots and everyone would have to roughly traverse the same distance. Does that sound fair?”
Both of the residents nodded and the matter was settled. There weren’t any further issues for the remainder of the hour, but Drim didn’t dive into his hobbies as he usually would. Instead, he simply thought about the issue of time. Not that he had none, as had been the case for years. Rather, it was the exact opposite, and the man had suddenly found himself with absolutely nothing to do.