King Aurelius II was standing in front of his men. Unlike his black and shadowed gear, their armour was pristine white and shiny. The men under his command, while armed well, weren’t Knights, but they weren’t peasants either. They were nobles who just like him had fallen out of grace. These men were eager to restore their tarnished reputations, and also, to prove that they were more than just failures.
Many who had gathered here were indeed all sorts of failures: incompetents, gamblers, deadbeats, cowards, weak-willed and so and such. These fallen nobles had reached rock bottom of their lives, but there was a certain important thing about them. Despite reaching the lowest point in their life, they were standing here dressed in armour and ready for battle. The men were resolved to change and to make change; conviction burned in their eyes.
To achieve that, like a fallen angel, Aurelius II had appeared in their darkest hour. He did so at midnight and came in wielding powerful and mysterious magic. It was as if the shadows were bending under his will, as if he had tamed the darkness itself. He said the words which no one ever uttered to them, “I need you. I need YOU!” And then he added in a more sombre tone, ”I know your struggle, I know the Darkness that eats at you.” He spoke with understanding. “And I have a solution: fight for me, expel your darkness and you will be reborn anew.” He tempted them while backed by mysterious power... And that’s why these nobles were here.
Wrapped in a smoky cloak King Aurelius II gave his men an approving look. Their armour was immaculate and eye-catching. Also, they came prepared with their secret ‘dirty’ books and the belts full of crystalline potion bottles; just as he told them to.
“The enemy is already at the border. Pillaging some village or something like that.” He didn’t particularly care about that. “This is our chance to prove ourselves. To show them what we are made of. Let’s teach them what a crushing despair really is. And let’s earn our glory!”
The men roared as a reply.
With this, they marched towards the border village. Of course, this was just a skirmish, the bulk of Fertile Kingdom’s army was marching upon the Aurelian Kingdom’s capital. The Black Hand Covenant and their mages will deal with that, and of course, he, the Puppet King, was conveniently left out of that scheme.
However, the Covenant didn’t seem particularly bothered by his attempt to gather an ‘elite’ force under his wing and ‘contribute’ to the war.
“They must think I am just playing around. Fools! I am not.” He drank yet another potion so that his large frame could continue to move in this heavy armour. “I will snatch the victory. I will take their capital.” This was the plan.
...
The raiding party of the Fertile Kingdom was here to replenish their war supplies. Yes, they were raiders, but that didn’t mean they were monsters. The village didn’t have to be raised down as long as they obliged with their reasonable demands.
The raid leader was venting his rightful anger. “I said everything! Load everything into the cart.” The raid leader looked with scorn at the barely half-full cart. The peasants were being stingy!
“But sir, we had a famine earlier this year.” The village chief protested. “This is everything!”
This ‘everything’ was equal to what a struggling household could produce in the Fertile Kingdom, a single household mind you, and this was an entire village.
“Nonsense!” He struck at the obviously lying chief.
*Crunch – a massive boulder rolled out of nowhere and crushed both the raid leader and the wagon to a pulp.
“Aaa!” the village chief had barely avoided the rolling boulder. “What...” He was perplexed. The ground was rocky, yes, but there were no hills, or nearby mountains here. How did this boulder get here?“ Wait, no...” This wasn’t a boulder... It was a very obese man clad in dark armour.
“I’m King Aurelius II! Peasants, consider yourselves saved!” He announced way too loud.
The village chief thought he was dreaming. Was this really the King?
More men, this time dressed in shiny armour flooded into the village.
“[Blinding Cloud]”, “[Dark Bolt]”, “[Corrosive Darkness]”, “[Shadow Rend]”... They shouted ripping and burning a page out of their books.
Even if the method was unusual, the chief was a learned man so he recognised that this was magic. Each spell was nastier than its predecessor, it almost looked like the Mage Knights were trying to outdo each other.
“Huh!” The village chief gasped in shock.
The aftermath of the magic was unpleasant both for the ear and the eye. Well, people could look away and they did, but those tortured screams...
Anyway, the Knights knew what they were doing, the spells were targeted well avoiding the innocent casualties and the fight was won in a matter of minutes.
However, the village chief had conflicting emotions, he had heard the rumours about their King and his sponsor. Either way, he felt a mix of gratitude but also fear. Despite the unpleasant feeling, he threaded over the puddle of melted skin and bones to thank their saviours.
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...
King Aurelius II had a wide ugly grin of superiority. The potions gave them superhuman strength and the spider scrolls gave unimaginable power.
It went well, it went too well. But maybe this was how it was meant to be!
The village chief was grovelling before him spouting some empty praises. Who cares, this was just a village! There are still more enemies to crush.
“Let’s go!” He urged his men, after all, the effects of the potions weren’t permanent.
They moved, no, they turned to shadow and flew at unimaginable speed towards the Fertile Kingdom.
They thwarted four more raids, two bandit attacks and even a monster incursion. Why? Well, Aurelius had gotten a bit lost on his way, and his men did need some experience so... Anyway, he made it to the capital.
Wide and tall walls greeted him. And no doubt the defenders were sallying out already.
“This is our moment!” He spoke in a heavy gravelly voice, an effect of potion abuse. “To become more than we are! Go claim your salvation!” He drank the rest of his potions ignoring the life-threatening level of Toxicity. The hidden magic tomes flew out from inside his armour and buzzed around him like angry bees.
He struck a pose and stretched his arms theatrically preparing to cast a spell. A single page burned in one of the books.
“I am King Aurelius II, burn my name into your memory,” his voice boomed loud and clear reaching even the deepest corners of the capital, “for I am the herald of your doom! The Fertile Kingdom shall be no more!” The many pages fluttered and burst into purple flame. The King himself seemed to be engulfed by those dancing and all-consuming flames, but somehow he was standing there unharmed.
...
It was midnight and the big bell tower was ringing its equally big bell, however the dongs weren’t there to tell the time, the bell was blaring an alarm.
No one expected the Aurelian Kingdom’s army here at this late hour. Weren’t they supposed to be defending their own capital? How were the tables turned on the Fertile a Kingdom, and so quickly?
It was impossible that the Fertile Kingdom’s army had lost. It was well staffed, well armed, well trained and everything was just right. They even had a secret weapon. So why? Something just didn’t add up.
The invaders were few in number, a small gathering of mostly Knights in white, but also there was a peculiar-looking Knight, presumably their leader. He was rather round, almost like a boulder, his black armour looked really heavy. He must have an astonishing strength to walk surrounded by layers upon layers of metal.
Even if the threat was small in size, something was off about these men. Their faces were ashen, the eyes bloodshot, and they radiated the aura of death and terror. The guards couldn’t help but tense at the sight.
Their leader struck a pose and spoke out loud. The message shocked everyone. The Incompetent King was here? Here in person? But how? Were the stories of his failures, the famine and the fall of his kingdom only that - rumours? Were they a cunning ploy to trick the Fertile Kingdom?
The King burst into a magical flame, his round form emitting an ominous aura. Even the people deep inside the city walls could feel that something very bad would happen soon.
...
Some time had passed.
The King Aurelius II was back home. A huge parade was being held in his glory.
He couldn’t wear his heavy armour but even when he walked proudly towards the palace. His men, the ones who survived, were walking in tow right behind him. They had faces that belonged more on a ghost than the living, their once pristine armour was battered and tainted with ugly brown stains of dried blood, but even then they too walked with pride.
People were waving toward their King and shouting his name.
“Aurelius!”, “Aurelius!”, “Aurelius the Great!”
They were shouting and reaching with their hands, trying to touch him as he was passing. As he walked he stretched his hand magnanimously allowing the commoners to touch him. Their grubby fingers felt disgusting on his royal skin, but today he will allow them this privilege.
A fair maiden gripped his hand in light touch, and that touch somehow felt more pleasant. He looked at her eyes directly. She fainted.
From that moment on, more and more women would faint, or well, for some strange reason pretend to faint; he wasn’t an idiot, he could tell. Anyway, he felt strangely flattered. And of course, they should faint, after all, he was Aurelius The Great. He was finally getting the recognition he deserved.
He won. He finally won something in his life. The people were loving him and the Covenant was also left stumbling with their mouths agape.
His feats were hard to ignore. He plundered then raised the capital of their enemy, on his way back he crushed their army in a pincer attack and then he ‘selflessly’ donated his share of the loot to the simple folk. Yes, this meant that he was still penniless, but he was the King. He’ll just tax the commoners to get his gifts back. Simple!
He finally made his way into an abandoned palace. It was still bare and in a sorry state, but he didn’t care about that anymore anyway. There, inside the Grand Hall, was his reward. An aged magus dressed in black robes was frowning at him. A pleasant sight indeed. With the newly acquired popularity and thus with the backing of common folk, he will be able to kick the Covenant out of his kingdom for good.
He approached the old relic of a man and gave him a vicious smirk. “I dare you to call me a puppet one more time.” He intimidated with confidence, but even when he had his other arm under his shirt and on a stack of very powerful scrolls.
The Magus retained his composure. “For you, from your new Master.” He handed a sealed envelope and left in a very casual manner.
“Tch.” The lack of a bigger reaction disappointed him.
He looked at the magic seal, on it was a stamp of Spider Kingdom. He inspected further and there were no signs of tampering.
“Fool!” He looked back but Vumbeldor was already gone.
The magus must have realised the source of his new power. While he had lost the support from Covenant and their mages, he had gained an even bigger backer. The Covenant stood no chance against the might of Spider King, and they knew it. That’s why they backed off so readily.
He smiled at another victory. He had the pleasure of wielding spider magic, only a fraction of it, but what power it was! It would take a fool to fight against it. And so what if he sold himself to the Darkness? It was well worth it.
He dropped a speck of his blood to unseal the envelope and pulled out a spidery parchment. There on gold-framed black were the letters of crimson - demands coming from his new master, obviously.
As he read his brow furled further and further; he struggled to follow. This wasn’t what he expected exactly. First the the letter was from the Spider King himself and not Lord G Bling as he had expected. Did this mean that he’s now serving directly the King himself and not the spider? If so, he was more than an underling for an underling. Good! But also the request was unusual.
“His Majesty is asking for volunteers?” The letter was sealed so he wondered why the Spider King still used the cryptic language. “Hmm. Actually, this is great.”
He and his new now-not-so-shiny friends had a lot of people which had caused friction and will probably will continue to do so. It was best if those people disappeared...
“No, even better. I will accuse them of corruption.” And they all were corrupt anyway, so that wouldn’t even be a lie. “This will win me even more favour with the people.” A new plan was hatched.
Yes-yes, in a conventional sense he was still a puppet, he only changed the master. But he didn’t think this to be true because he felt freer than ever. He wasn’t a puppet, he was a servant! And, in his humble opinion, he didn’t think that he was serving a mere mortal either, so all was alright.
It’s okay for a King to serve a higher power, no, it is natural, it is as it should be.