Chapter 41
“An unexpected twist”
18 hours earlier.
The chill of the night hit Gal’oth’s face, as the young orc blinked twice before looking up at the older hobgoblin standing before him.
“I do not understand why you would say that to me. No one in my village has done anything to betray the Lord, so the great shaman has no reason to attack me to punish my tribe.”
“And yet you have something that is mine, young orc” a mischievous smile came across the old man’s face as the huge body of the young fellow sitting in front of him froze at his words. “Explain to me Gal’oth, son of Holle’oth, how did one of my books come into your hands?”
Gal’oth’s face paled at his words, and fearing the harm the mighty shaman might do to his cousin, he knelt before him at once.
“Ease your anger with me. I will gladly accept whatever punishment the shaman believes should be imposed," the old man observed him silently. From what little he had noticed of the young orc, he knew he was honest.
“The spirits think you are covering for someone," Ereshkigal commented, and he realised it was true when the orc avoided his gaze. He had never heard a single complaint from the young orc in the few times he had visited his tribe. And though he knew the young man was a hard-working warrior, he knew that his heart, unlike his father’s, was soft. Ereshkigal saw no malice or contempt in his gaze; on the contrary, Gal’oth looked at him with respect and admiration.
Unlike his father, with whom on more than one occasion he had had minor altercations.
“Tell me, was it your father who ordered you to steal it?” And seeing the confusion on Gal’oth’s face, Ereshkigal got the answer that mattered most to him. “Can you at least understand the teachings that are written there?”
“No,” this time the orc’s cheeks flushed with shame.
“Did your father never teach you anything about the high magic of the spirits and their invocations?”
“... I can’t even read,” he admitted, feeling vulnerable. But not daring to lie to someone his uncle treated with such respect. And who was rumoured to serve the Lord’s left hand.
“Of course you don’t know," he whispered. Suspecting that his father would not bother to teach him because it might have jeopardised his place in the tribe. “Show me your status window again," he ordered, understanding now why the young man seemed far more interested in whatever story he could tell him, and in closing the windows of his system than in exploring it.
As he had done with his own.
Gal’oth, like the good warrior he was, but did not want to be, obeyed the order he was given.
“Status window” he said. And the strange blue screen again appeared inches from his face, interrupting his view.
[Status window]
Name: Gal’oth, son of Holle’oth
Age: 24 years old
Race: orc
Level: 6
Fatigue: 93
Class: Summoner (Normal)
Profession: N/A.
Title: N/A.
Affiliation: N/A
HP: 1000/1200
MP: 284
Strength: 51
Vitality: 27
Agility: 17
Stamina: 42
Intelligence: 8
Charisma: 0
Luck: 0
Status: embarrassed
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Available points: 10
“Now, press here,” commented Ereshkigal, pointing to his intelligence.
Again, Gal’oth did as he had been ordered. Ever since he had started this mission, he had felt so out-of-place having to be in command of one of the squads, having within him someone who held a position far superior to his own in the eyes of the Lord. So since they had come to this world and separated from the rest, it felt much more natural for him to follow the old shaman’s orders. Keep doing it until I tell you to stop.
And Gal’oth did so, feeling his mind grow clearer and clearer each time he did so. His thoughts raced faster and faster as he felt a new energy flow through his body.
And at some point, just before the elder shaman ordered him to stop, the mysterious symbols before him began to make sense.
“I can understand them!” Gal’oth exclaimed with joy.
“It’s about time, my boy. I was beginning to worry.”
“But what kind of magic is this?”
“One that was bestowed upon us by the enemy of our Lord,” Gal’oth frowned, uncomprehending.
“Why would she do something so stupid?”
“... Perhaps because she did not believe we would survive, or because she underestimated us. But we’ll show that smug goddess that we’re not the idiots she thought we were” a wicked grin darkened his old face. “And we will make her regret giving us access to her secret weapon," Gal’oth nodded, willing to follow his orders and earn greater honour for his tribe. “Now show me your skills!” he commanded.
And Gal’oth did so.
Two hours later, as the first rays of sunlight began to rise over the horizon, the hobgoblin and the orc looked out over the small village to which the path they had been following during the early hours of the morning led them.
- Come on boy, victory awaits us," Ereshkigal encouraged him with a sinister smile on his face. An army of skeletons along with the zombies that he had resurrected, and that were once part of the invading army advanced behind them, like his personal army. Between them walked some of the wizards who had ambushed them earlier, and who were now part of Ereshkigal’s collection of undead.
And at either end of them, walked two huge golems made of earth and stone.
“Show me what you’re made of!” exclaimed Ereshkigal, holding the staff his Ladyship had given him as a gift in his left hand.
One day and three hours earlier. Kingdom of Vatha.
That morning Clarissa Bor, the daughter of the Bor merchant who had recently purchased his title as a baron in the kingdom of Vatha rose before the sun, and as she tucked a pillow under her covers and covered it with the softness of a consummate lover, her heart trembled for an instant.
Clarissa shook her head, trying to erase her doubts, and instead pulled out the suitcase she had hidden under her bed and put on a simple bag she had bought a few days ago, to make sure not to draw attention to herself. Then she checked her appearance before leaving. Finally, she braided her reddish hair and picked up the heavy suitcase. A double whistle below her window, imitating the sound of a bird, told her that the way was clear. And for an instant, her heart hesitated. Clarissa wished she could say goodbye to her dear mother, but she knew well that she would soon tell her father, who was ready to force her to marry the old marquis to whom he had sold her without her consent, in exchange for expanding his business.
Clarissa shook her head.
The soft sound of a knock against the door alarmed her, but before she could find a place to hide, her maid, Anna, entered the room, her dark gaze full of sadness.
“Miss, are you sure this is the right thing to do?”
“After what happened in the capital, it is no longer safe to stay here. Besides, if he’s willing to sell me out for a couple of gold coins and he doesn’t care about my opinion, I don’t care about his either.”
Anna didn’t seem so sure, but she still took the suitcase and helped her out of the house through the back door that led to the laundry room.
A tall, muscular young man with brown hair and a gentle gaze was waiting for them.
And as soon as he saw them, he ran to Clarissa, wrapping her in a warm embrace.
“Are you all right? Do you still want to run away with me?” The eighteen-year-old, only a day away from her nineteenth birthday, nodded her head.
“Let’s go, before someone discovers us” and after saying goodbye to her maid and her young knight, giving Anna a few coins to thank her for her help, the pair mounted the horse that Bastian Tyre had bought a few days before. And after tying their bags securely, they travelled on horseback to the border for the next six hours. Stopping only to get something to eat, feed the horse and go to the toilet, they continued for another four hours until they finally crossed the border and rented a room in a small village near the border. There they spent the night, and the next morning they rode until noon, arriving in the city of Mosso, in the kingdom of Balsac.
There lived a cousin of Bastian, who after his grandfather, a baron, had lost all his fortune years before and left his family bankrupt, had bought a small farm after years of hard work and had invited his cousin and future wife to come and work with him. They had both accepted, and Bastian’s cousin had offered to help the couple with the preparations for the wedding, which was to take place later that day.
Three hours later. Border city of Mosso. Northeast of the kingdom of Balsac.
Alim Berkeley, the Grand Cardinal of the Temple of Light in the kingdom of Balsac, was travelling in his luxurious carriage as the heat of the afternoon forced him to open the window. The warm breeze did little to improve his mood, but at least it brought him some comfort.
After the terrible tragedy that had struck the capital of Vatha, in which he had lost the holy pontiff along with more than half the population in a mysterious accident. He and an army of the finest holy knights serving the goddess Mhiralla set out to investigate.
But as they were leaving the beautiful and cheerful city of Mosso, a gigantic pillar of golden light shone near the city’s temple, rising up to the heavens and next to it a pillar of blue, the same shade of azure that was believed to belong to the eyes of the goddess Mhiralla, and the system she had bestowed on humans, illuminated the horizon.
“Stop the car! Stop immediately!” cried the great cardinal, his heart trembling at the significance of that golden light.
“What is the matter, great cardinal?” one of the knights guarding the carriage, alert to any danger on the road, hastened to ask.
“Back to the city at once! A new saintess and her knight have been chosen by the goddess! We must fetch them and bring them at once to the holy temple before anyone else discovers them!”