"You're lucky I don't have you executed, Lord Ashton," The king's eyes, a pale gold like tiny lanterns glowed all the brighter. If there was a threat, that was it, thought Jor.

"As I recall, you have about as much power as a dung heap I stepped on getting here," Charlie grinned, as ugly and horrible as it ever was. "The government exist for a reason. Your job is to make sure corruption doesn't occur. Or, have you dipped into something you shouldn't have? Shall I investigate, and ensure the passing of my judgment to safeguard the kingdom?" 

The king paled. If that was even possible. The golden hue of his pale features dulled ever so slightly. He looked frightened. Or angered. Those golden eyes narrowed into a pinpoint of twin suns. 

"Watch yourself, Lord Ashton. I'm still the king." 

"Still the little godawful little shit I had to teach." 

The pregnant pause felt like thick tension, about to become very unpleasant. Jor just hoped he wasn't in the middle when everything turned to shit. 

Charlie laughed. The king laughed. Then, they hugged. Jor, bewildered, looked at the odd pair as if they'd grown another head.

"It has been a long time," Charlie gripped the king by his broad shoulders. "Do you still hunt? I expect to see better results after the last three years has passed," 

"Alas, no. The bureaucratic work of a monarch is never-ending," The king answered before he quickly waved to one of the servants. An elf came forth, wearing a servant uniform. "Bring me some of the bottles of vodkas. The best you have. And whatever snacks and food you can scrounge up for the founder of our fair city. Quickly! Go!" 

The elf didn't waste any time. The servant was gone before the king even finished. Jor was even surprised when the servant didn't even bother to bow. 

"Wait, vodka?" Jor asked, startled into realization. "As in, actual vodka?" 

The king stopped, then turned to face him with a frown. "Who is this, Charlie? Have you found some lost wayward child to take in?"

"An unfortunate situation had arisen, one that cannot be ignored or explained," There was a warning undertone in that explanation, which Jor picked up. He had no idea what he was talking about, but if he wanted his mouth shut, all he had to do was ask. "I have come to ask you for a favour," 

"A favour he says, from the very hero that brought us all together," The king scoffed, then pointed toward the window, where the great city lay. "If you ask the population to war, they'll drop whatever it is on hand, and pick up every weapon they could find to satisfy your bloodthirst."

Charlie smirked. "That won't be an issue, boy," Honestly, Jor did, in fact, expected them to drop everything and march off to war. The looks these people gave Charlie were borderline religious and fanatism. The look of respect and worship in every pair of eyes. 

"You are a sun mage of unquestionable abilities," Charlie pointed at Jor. He felt every eye on him, some puzzled, others with the sudden realization that something's about to change. "You need an apprentice. He'll be your apprentice." 

The king stilled, surprised. The guards' eyes bulged, some had their mouths openly gaping open. His eyes took in everything that was Jor, which was not a comfortable experience. Ain.. Aen... something, had a small frown. 

"I'm sure he has potential, but the academy exists for a reason," The king looked concerned. 

"Yes, it exists for a good reason," Charlie grinned. "Teach him for one year, before sending him off to the academy." 

"He's... a little young, no?" The king looked uncertain. "The academy takes in those that have shown the best aptitude for their gifts. Why not send him to one of the lesser academies? Or, perhaps the military school would best fit him?"

Charlie chuckled darkly. "How many of your students have survived a floor for six months, alone?"

This time, the king did look upon him with renewed interest. Jor stopped himself from shuffling about, and didn't turn away from his inspection. 

"Six hundred years ago, you have trained me," King Ainmeldiriel slowly said, as he turned to face Charlie. "You could have taken him in, and trained him yourself. Why have you given me this charge, now?" 

Charlie merely shrugged. "Cause I'm busy," 

The king sighed. 

"And, he'll learn best from you," Charlie crossed his arms across his chest. "He'll need a more peaceful place to get better acquainted with, since he'll be living with you for a while." 

The king looked resigned. And pained. "What level is he?"

"Level two," Charlie answered, showing neither hesitation or reluctance. 

The king looked surprised. "He's been living in a floor for six months, and only gained a level? How in the world did he survive?" 

"Wits, cowardice, and stupidity," Jor sent a chilling glare at Charlie. Though the act did nothing. Charlie's back was as stoic as ever. 

"The academy only takes in those with level ten, or higher. Some exceptions are made for lower levels, but usually only due to their prodigal ability and young age. He's old for a human, and has an exceptionally low level." 

That stung. Yes, he's a low level, yes, but he didn't have to point that out so blatantly. Or with so much contempt.  

"Which is why, I'm asking you to apprentice him, boy," Charlie grunted. "A simple matter, a year perhaps. Two, at most, before sending him off to the academy," 

"I see...," The king pursed his lips. Jor could practically feel the running gears turning inside his head. "The class hasn't been decided yet, not until level five at least. Are you asking me to give him the Sun class? It is a divine prestigious class. Even my daughter hasn't inherited my title," 

Charlie remained quiet. 

The king sighed. "I see...," He sighed again. "The things I do for you...," 

The monster grinned. "That's the spirit. I'll be back soon in a few years' time," 

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"You're not staying?" At Charlie's negative response, the king only glared back. "It's basically become a tradition for the city to celebrate the day of your return. Every return, before you leave. You will stay for a day, at least. That is an order,"

Charlie grunted. "Fine, but in the meantime, I'm going to raid the shopping center." 

He was gone, leaving Jor alone with a contemplative king, and an interested pair of guards. 

"So, seeing as Lord Ashton failed to provide me with your name, I shall ask." The king said, with a raised delicate blond brow. 

It took a few seconds before Jor realized the king was waiting for a response. "Jörmungandr Shesha, sir," 

"You shall answer me as my lord, sire, or your majesty. Understood?" The voice was stern. There held a dangerous edge, lurking behind it like a star about to swallow a world. There was no doubt in his mind the man could utterly destroy him. It reminded him of Charlie, and their likeness, despite their outward appearance. They were far too similar to his liking. 

So, Jor did what he did best. He bent over and took it. "Yes, my lord." 

Ow. That hurt. That hurt so bad he might have twisted a gut. He was a royalist, dammit! His loyalty belonged to the Queen of England! Yes, he was Canadian. Yes, they were on an entirely different continent. But his principles matters dammit! To bow to a foreign king, even one as... possibly divine (unfortunately) as this man, with a sun literally shining out of his ass, and probably shitting gold, too, had left him with no other choice but to bow. 

Hell, if he was a foreign diplomat, which he wasn't, would have meant something if he bowed. It was a sign of respect, a show of courtesy to a foreign power as possible future allies and talks of trade of their respective economy. This! This felt like throwing away his nationality and submitting to a foreign will. 

Jor grimaced. 

"You are displeased. Tell me, why?" 

"I may have hurt been hurt from my previous encounter with the undead." He lied as smoothly as he did when he went down on his girl. "A most unwelcome opportunity presented itself when my back was turned. The undead took it," 

The king stared at him for a while, possibly thinking of ways to dump his sorry ass to some other poor bastard. 

"The hold hosts some of the best healers the city produces. The hospital shall take a look at you. Afterward, my aide will find you, and direct you towards your new home for the next few years," The king glared at him, his eyes certainly no less intimidating as Charlie's. "You shall give me your dedication, your absolute passion, for the duration of your time under me. I shall brook no arguments from you. You listen. If I want you to jump out of this window, you shall do so without a second thought." 

Jor stared.

"Am I understood?"

Oh, fuck! He was in boot camp! 

"Yes, sire!" 

Fuck! Fuckety Fuck! Charlie you bastard! I want to go back. He had more peace and quiet in his little hole in the cave then he did here! And, yes, he missed people. But this was not how he wanted to come back to civilization. The last thing he expected was a demanding teacher with a stick up his arse. He wanted a warm bed, with his girl by his side, and his dog. Not... this! 

"Good," The king glanced at the guards. "Take him away to the hospital, then send for my aide. No doubt, he's already have heard of the returned hero and on his way here," 

The guards' feet clamped together in a clang, and their right fist beat against the left side of their chests. "Your majesty! By your leave!"

The king nodded. "Go." 

One of the orc guards held me by the shoulder as he was led me out of the hall. Away from the king, all Jor felt was a relief. 

"You did good, kid," The guard said, grinning. "You got a good head on your shoulders. Would be a waste to chop that off." 

Jor felt the sweat cling to his shirt on the back of his neck. "Yes, sir..." 

The hell kind of world was this, that they'd chop someone's head off without due process? It gave him a new reason as to why this was an entirely different world, where rules are as different as night and day. And yet, they established a city in a dungeon where the rule of the law was survival itself. 

So, it was with a renewed effort that strengthened his sense of self, that Jor looked ahead. If he was to live here, he wanted to do good by these people, who had managed to carve out a semblance of peace for themselves in the belly of the beast. They brought prosperity to these lawless lands, and it was something to be applauded for. Not looked down upon. He couldn't spit on that, not after what he went through in the undead floor. 

He'll survive. More than that, he'll find a way to escape the dungeon. 

Jörmungandr Shesha

Level 2 - +2

Class - N/A

Strength - 9 - 35%

Endurance - 15 - 20%

Intelligence - 9 - 2%

Willpower - 25 - 95%

Vitality - 30 - --% +1

Racial Trait - The Heart of the Phoenix