Futur-logue

Twelve Years Later

Duke Araujo of Guimadora regretted many, many things in his life.

He wasn’t an awful man. Oh, he wasn’t sinless. No man was, he found. He had risen to the rank of [Adept] twice, and [Initiate] once. A three-classed man of noble privilege. A thinker more than a fighter, but he had been able to hold his own in a scrap, when he was a decade or two younger.

Now... now he feared that he might have to test that ability once more.

Duke Araujo had much time to consider regrets as he ran up the many steps of one of the greater towers in his keep. As each slitted window passed, he caught glimpses of the world beyond. Guimadora, a beautiful city, made rich with a gold mine that seemed slothful in its desire to hold its wealth. Trade was good, money flowed quickly, and his guard were sharp-eyed and paid well enough to keep corruption to a minimum. A good, affluent city.

He did not regret being its duke.

The next window afforded him a glimpse of the gorgeous green countryside, the Montibus mountains, and the river Manuel, named after his grandfather, whose name he had inherited. Beautiful. He regretted not spending more time looking out onto the scene.

Then he crossed another window, this one affording him a view of the army camped on the other side of the river. Grey and red banners, not the colours of Guimadora, nor of his precious kingdom of Adrana.

The Duke made it to the top of the stairs and waited, breathing hard to catch his breath. Perhaps he also regretted not exercising a little more. He had something of a gut.

He unlatched the door and opened it. Before stepping outside, he reflected on his many regrets.

It was fitting. Regret, the loathing of self and of one’s past actions, the fuel of Dark magic.

He walked into the light, blinking to adjust his eyes. He was... alone. He almost laughed. No one on the roof with him, just a wonderful view and a bit of wind, the snapping of banners and the brilliant sun above.

The wind died down, and he heard that flap again.

Not banners, then.

The Duke carefully raised his head, and on looking up, his regrets returned in force.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

The monster coming down from the heavens was massive, a black beast, with bone-white plates covering parts of its body. It came swooping down, fast, but not so fast that he couldn’t identify it.

[Foot - The Bane of the Landbound - Carrier of the Child of the Dark God]

Scourge of the Burning Skies

It was a dragon.

Duke Araujo contemplated fainting, yet somehow he didn’t have time to fall over before the dragon landed on the roof with surprising grace.

It towered above the Duke, four red eyes glaring, its ribbons--which covered its many spikes--fluttering in the wind.

“Good job, Foot!” said a voice. Young, feminine.

The Duke’s legs quivered. When he had supplicated the only God that would listen for aid, he expected little. That she warned of the arrival of a herald was already more than he had expected. Now he suspected it was more than he wanted.

The dragon lowered its head, and the Duke noticed its rider as she disembarked from the dragon’s neck.

She landed on both feet, knees bending, then bending some more before she crashed onto her rear. “Ow,” she said.

The Duke didn’t know what to say. Should he laugh?

If he saw one of his knights falling off their steed, he would laugh with good humour.

The woman was not one of his knights. His knights didn’t ride gods-damned dragons.

The young woman jumped to her feet, patted her behind free of dust, then adjusted a pair of very large, very thick spectacles. She wore something similar to what the Duke’s nanny had worn when he was a child. A simple blouse, a long skirt split for riding. There were things on her, what he had mistaken for simple jewelry, but they moved, and in so doing revealed that they were living monsters.

It fit, in a way. For all that it seemed human, the woman was not. Pale skin, riddled in veins. Yellow-green eyes in a black sclera.

“Hi!” she said before stepping closer. “You’re the one Mom said needed a hand, right?”

“Mom?” he muttered. Then, of course, he inspected her.

[Valeria - The Monstermancer - Child of The Dark Goddess]

The Duke never did see the rest, his eyes too busy rolling up into his skull.

“Oh, shucks!” were the last words he heard before diving into unconsciousness.

***