I sighed and rubbed my tired eyes. A headache was stirring somewhere in the back of my neck.
“I share your frustration. I know it all too well. For many years, I struggled with thoughts of helplessness before your coming. I could sense there was a sickness spreading in our kingdom, but I couldn’t understand what it was. Now we know who the Enemy is, and they have shown their hand. What we need now is time and knowledge. But both of those are a topic for tomorrow if Our Majesty is back from his visit.”
Rainier Pitties poured a glass of blackcurrant liqueur to warm our hearts and minds. It tasted strong and had an earthy taste to it, yet I found the taste to be very much agreeable.
“While you were traveling through our kingdom and discovering seeds of corruption, I’ve searched through the deepest vaults of the Tower of Aarnost, and all the libraries of the capital, and I’ve found nothing!”
He made a mock spitting gesture that I found didn’t fit his persona. I wondered if this air of refinement was a learned thing and not something that was natural to him.
“I’ve not discovered any definite information, but I was surprised to stumble upon a name that I had originally suspected might hold some answers—Juham Vil. It was a name that kept coming up when reading about rumors about unfathomable monsters. The Madman of Hexen was he called and said to have gone insane in his later years. They say he disappeared some thousand years ago, alongside his lover. Vil was the oddest out of the Ancient Four wizards.”
“I remember reading about them in Cappesand!” I exclaimed, suddenly remembering a faint memory of reading about them.
“So have I, Jonas,” said Pitties. “Though my stay in that Academy was brief, and more than eighty years ago now. The four wizards were Mardovan Coeccedus, the most famous, and whose many artifacts have found their way into the possession of the Crown. I even suspect he might’ve wrought the very crown Our Majesty wears, and which you have not yet had the pleasure of experiencing. With Coeccedus worked Euenor Kepkyllos who was probably the greatest weaponsmith the world has ever known. And in stark contrast, Juham Vil’s lover, Lyrianne Aegisthies had the most… wicked interests and produced some truly dark pieces before disappearing along with her lover. You should be intimately familiar with her craftwork.”
“She made that cursed circlet that Ardovar made me wear!” I was about to spit in anger, but the marble floors looked much too pristine to defile them.
“Yes, Jonas, the very circlet which you broke in your anger, though I can’t say I blame you. I would’ve probably done the same. But enough about old lore, we need to refocus.” Rainier glanced at the sky, now a deep shade of midnight blue, with only faint lanterns or oil lamps visible here and there.
“Unfortunately for us, none of Juham Vil’s writings has survived, and his earlier works are of no use to us. But now, Jonas, do you begin to see a faint path laid out before us?”
“I cannot see any path, Rainier! The only way forward I see is to interrogate a demon, and that’s impossible! How would we even find one to catch, let alone bring it somewhere safe, and try to question it? When danger befalls the demon, they will detach from the host’s body and—”
“Jonas, don’t despair! I understand your frustration, and many things are difficult which we must undertake nonetheless! I don’t know either what kind of magic is needed to pull answers from a monster of another realm, but that must be one of our primary goals. And until we know how to do that, we need time.”
“Sit and wait?” I was baffled.
“No. This could not be further from what must be done. Jonas, our enemies are moving, but luckily not only against us. There are rumors about infighting in Stotor and a war with Baversa. I’ve received news of terrible fighting in the true north between the fallen kingdoms. Jonas, while you delve deep into demonlore and become wise in it, and do the other things that you will find out tomorrow, it is Our Majesty’s task to give you time, the means, and the tools to do that necessary work. If you fail, Jonas, our kingdom will fail along with it.”
This was perhaps the last thing I hoped to hear, but my heart had already warned me of this. The demonic threat was mine to defeat. Luckily, I was not alone.
“It is then as I feared. We have a great work ahead of us.”
“We could, indeed, call it a Great Work. It has a better undertone than what I had in mind,” said Pitties and crossed his legs again. “We must change topics again. The night is getting late, and I sense you grow tired. I need some sleep as well. Before we retire, I’d like to mention the note that the young Miss Penkios found buried underground in Veneiea...”
“She simply found some scribbled nonsense. I don’t know how that can help us,” I said.
“You must learn not to disregard the small things, Jonas. You never know why the hand of fate made you stumble upon that letter and destroyed the rest. I have read those writings myself, and it does read like some old dialect of Canan or Ksiorak, which both have been provinces of Hexen, which brings us, again, to Juham Vil. Do you see, Jonas? Those above can only interfere subtly; it is up to us to discern it. I sense that translating that letter is one of our highest priorities.”
“Rainier, are you really suggesting that instead of fighting the Stotor raiders, I should go and translate a letter?” I asked him, even more baffled now.
“That is correct,” said Rainier firmly. “Let me explain why: with the two battles that you won, the Enemy has shown its hand. By studying what happened there, we can get a deeper understanding of their strength and capabilities. I already have a team of very, very capable mages looking into it.” He smirked. “I took them straight from Cappesand, under the nose of de-Carsa himself! And also, Jonas, from every captured raider, we gather information and intelligence about their leadership and motives. We know they’re driven by the ambitions of individual warlords, operating with minimal coordination. They are outmatched by our armies. You understand the Enemy better than any of us. Let the soldiers do the soldiering. You must follow the path laid before you.”
“But it’s only a matter of time before another demonhost appears,” I said. “We must be ready. I must be ready. Stronger and faster. I can’t let down anyone like I did captain Orsin.”
“A demonhost may indeed emerge, but what you saw on the fields of Poscale was only a fraction of our strength. We are now here in full force, and I dare say that there are none who can challenge our armies. We broke Stotor in those two battles, or rather, broke the army comprised of easily assembled fighting men from the Vatrel Valley. Unfortunately for us, Stotor is massive, and has, no doubt, more soldiers it can muster.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“We can’t call them soldiers, Rainier. They’re beasts, mutants. Monsters.”
“It’s better for the spirit to call a soldier a soldier, and not engrandize them when one needs not.” Pitties truly didn’t seem to be worried about a major strike from Stotor, which surprised me. In some strange way, it gave me comfort and the restlessness in my heart eased. Suddenly, his face became grey and the few thin wrinkles under his eyes seemed to deepen.
“I’ve been there, Jonas, did you know?” said Pitties. “It was many years ago when I was young. Oh, how many beautiful and talented musicians and painters and poets were there, and so many came to Lottie. I remember they had a lively culture of restaurants and cafes, and I could order some exotic drinks right along the beach. I can almost picture it right now… what a colorful city Oade was, built right along the bay, with white beaches, thin and smooth sand that creaked under your feet, and the water was so soft. To think how far they have fallen, and what tragedies have fallen to those people…”
“Let’s return to the present,” he said calmly and returned from his reverie. His intense gaze met mine again, and the radiance of his spirit burned brightly once more. “The free cities of Stotor will be in disarray for some time until some kind of leadership will emerge and set it. We have some years, or perhaps a decade, until the Enemy in the Vatrel Valley might offer any serious challenge for us. That is enough time for us to act.”
“We don’t—” I was going to say, but Pitties held up his index finger.
“Of course!” his tone was gentle and non-offensive. He meant no disrespect. “We do not have a decade. The demon is our real enemy, and how long it takes for another Vranik to appear, we do not know. For the time being, we are safe, but we do not have time for idleness. There is much, much work ahead of us all.”
“I hope the king comes tomorrow. The suspense is almost unbearable now!”
“So do I, Jonas. I don’t want to keep you in the dark, especially when so many of our plans depend on your success.”
Pitties sat back down and sighed, but it was not from weariness.
“As of the rest of Stotor, Castieltoch and its neighbors have declared that they had no business with their southern neighbors, and have long denounced them as friends and allies. Now I sense they are looking for an alliance, which is beneficial for us. However, if the Enemy catches those rumors, some lieutenant of Vranik for example, would oppose that alliance strongly. It’s no wonder many are leaving Castieltoch.”
I recall an evening during the winter, when I was in my dormitory room in Cappesand, reading about Castieltoch. It was after a tiring day of work at the docks, and then having to study for a test in the following morning.
The lore in that book said that the old settlers of Lienor first came from that ancient city, a long time ago. When that book was written, Castieltoch was one of the largest cities in the heartlands of the continent, with few rivaling its power and size, and richness of its culture. But as Iskander and Florencia talked that night in Scorro, after the Great Fire, the city has struggled with many troubles and disasters since then.
I would bet the Enemy had something to do with most of them.
A brief silence fell on us, and I heard Pitties breathe out and look up at the sky again. For a moment, his face turned pale and gray, and I saw a glimpse of his true age.
“Do you know it was my centennial birthday at Sanermo?”
“I think I heard that in passing.”
“I’ve found myself thinking how much the world has changed in those past thirty years. I hold the years I served the old King Danton very fondly, though I was young then. Our concerns were trade agreements, and border disputes that were handled in good faith and with honor. The coastal cities fought against petty pirates, as always, and dealt with smugglers of tobacco and poppies. And always in the background were power games against the Cappesand lords, like de-Carsa and the late count de-Braccarte, though his daughter is very agreeable with us. I believe you’ve seen each other. And let us not forget the other great families like the Fiesi or Deccamora or Gassatorza or Pacitto… Now that’s a name I haven’t thought about for a long time! But now, those troubles seem like child’s play in comparison. The very fate of our kingdom, and perhaps, our very world, depends on us.”
With a sudden move, he rose and leaned forward. “We must remake the old alliances! We must build our armies again! We cannot appear weak. We must be ruthless!”
“I remember that, before I... disappeared, our alliances have always been strong,” I said, remembering what I read so many years ago. “Lith is practically our vassal state, we have good relations with the Szell Counties and Lavris—”
“Lavris!” exhaled Pitties. “It is odd that you should bring up the Five Islands, the land of strong magic, who have isolated themselves for decades. Ever since Sanermo, we have received messages from them, and I sense they’re looking for a coalition as well.”
“But Lavris is too far to be of any use,” I said.
“Even distant allies can prove helpful,” said Pitties. “Though I agree that their interest is… unexpected.”
We kept the conversation going for a few more hours until I felt spent. The night had grown dark and Pitties noticed.
“Jonas, before we retire for the night, may I request permission to communicate with you telepathically?”
“I was not aware that permission was required. Of course, you may.”
“In the King’s Court, one must not intrude the thoughts of any lord or lady. Doing so would be considered political suicide and deeply insulting. It would be wise for you to bear this in mind, Jonas. I sense you will have many dealings with many of the noble houses of Lienor sooner rather than later—”
“I certainly hope not. Only Fascamonta has been pleasant.”
“He is, but let us retire. Hopefully, Our Majesty will arrive tomorrow and we may finally commence with our plan.”
With that, the evening with the Royal Advisor concluded, and he escorted me back to my quarters. As I approached the door, where I sensed Florencia awaited eagerly, Goxhandar suddenly emerged from a deep slumber.
“Master,” Goxhandar interrupted. “I wished not to interject before, but what your understanding about a demon escaping the body, is not entirely correct.”
“What? Explain!” I demanded.
“You are at this current moment unable to hold a demon within the host’s boundaries, but you had the means and will before to hold one there indefinitely. It was one of your preferred methods of torture. If one wields a hex sufficiently powerful and has made upon the surfaces of the prison exact runes and spells, one could hold the demon within the body of its host for as long as one would wish.”
“And you only tell me this now?” I was becoming angry.
“I am simply honoring the promise you forced me to make.”
“You should’ve told me earlier! I should have known!”
“Please, Master, I was honoring my promise to you.”
Before I would lash out, Florencia opened the door and dragged me inside.
“Not here, Jonas. Come, sit down. Our room is lovely.”
Steadying my breathing, I regained my control. “I’m sorry, Goxhandar. I was wrong to anger.”
“Thank you for the apology, Master, it is still difficult for me to guess how you would act in a situation now and before. It is a great contrast of behaviors.”
“How was I before, in that realm where you spent countless centuries?”
“You were… cruel,” said Goxhandar quietly. “In the end, before mustering the empyrean energies for that mighty spell to return home, you were cruel.”
“Hopefully only against the demonic…” I thought and sat silently on the bed beside Florencia. She began taking my coat and boots off and made the room very pleasant to be in.
“I wouldn’t mind spending a few days here, Jonas. Rosalda’s temple was nice, but I hated that it was cold there. All that stone and the constant echoes of all the voices and footsteps. Here, it’s cozy and warm.”
And she was right. The room she and I were lodged in was small and cozy, with a thick brown carpet and a lofty bed, wide and spacious, and dark timbers framed the walls and ceilings. It reminded me somewhat of Florencia’s apartment back in Bessou, though much better kept. Beside the bed, a dozen candles were lit, and on the cupboard were set some snacks in a porcelain bowl.
Florencia smiled softly, got up, and dragged me in front of the single, narrow window that overlooked Loran.
“So, what did Pitties tell you?”
And I told her all that Pitties talked about and we spent a quiet and uneventful night in the estate of the King.