Volume 2 Chapter 36: Not Quick Enough_I Want to Be the Emperor, so I'll Fight Tooth and Nail to Achieve my Goal

Alden sat in his office, its door wide open, reading a report from his scouts. He was distracted somewhat by the voices down on the first floor, which carried through his halls like phantoms. Another monster had appeared near the border, though, by the report, nothing significant. The scouts killed it easily enough, though now boasted loudly of its great size and strength to any who would listen. Alden would have laughed, but the aching in his head dissipated such a notion.

In the week that had passed since Aerin’s return Alden had developed an aching jaw and a headache that never ceased. The blame was not solely hers–there were issues with the local Lords, issues with his troops, and issues with his sailors.

The Lords of Wickea, Gildynaepple, and Bradfirth had each sent him a letter. Invitations, by technicality, though their true meaning was clear enough. Lord Wickea desired his presence to discuss military matters with the southern border of Lyonpool which was, of course, the Empire’s southern border as well. Lord Gildynaepple, however, was more concerned with boats; the great Chaudlac, he claimed, was soon to be beset by pirates, and a unified military presence on its waters was, in his opinion, the only right option. And from Bradfirth was only the simple request to a dinner, and perhaps a short stay, though Alden found such a notion displeasing. His issues with Aelfric the Younger were too easily remembered.

Of local issues, Gosfird’s complaints were the noisiest of the bunch. “Rotten scoundrels not worth the meat on their bones,” he’d said of the local crop of would-be men-at-arms. A harsh critique, though deserved. The young men in these parts were farmers and fishermen, not warriors. They fought lazily, treating arms practice as a game to be won and pouting when they lost.

Their fathers, the farmers and fishermen that made up Lyonpool’s economy, were different. Hardworking, stubborn, and unafraid to voice their opinions. A good trait, typically, if not for how it grated on his ears. A day seldom passed without complaints regarding the amount of fish in the local parts of the lake, or how the soil was too rocky to grow good crops, or how they misliked Alden’s men and their trysts with their daughters. Caldwell, especially, was a common name on their tongue. A few demanded he marry their daughters, once they learned of his…activities.

In the end, however, it was Aerin’s demands that had him grinding his teeth in frustration. Blame, rightly, should have been tossed to the feet of Caldwell, he supposed. He brought her to him, and he listened. I would have listened, regardless, he admitted to himself. Aerin was one of his people, once, and left on good terms. He would have listened even if she came to him from the start. But she chose subterfuge, allowing fear to control her actions.

“Milord?” Uhtric said as he entered the room. Alden looked up from the half-read report. “Another farmer’s complaining,” he said.

Alden placed the report to the side and shut his eyes tight. What now?

“Is it Caldwell again?” he asked.

Uhtric shook his head. “No, milord. No problems of that sort. It’s the soil again. It’s too rocky. Says nothin’ll grow this summer but the stuff ain’t no one goin’ to eat.”

“They’ll eat when their stomach tells them too,” Alden said. His own stomach growled in agreement.

“Sure enough, milord. But they’ll complain about it anyhow.”

Alden stood from his desk, opening up a screen of the Book of Infinite Knowledge on the topic of soil. He would fix the issue now, if he could, or else categorize it among his list of things to accomplish. Of which there is more every day, it seems.

As he stepped from his desk he heard the front door opening down on the first floor, followed by a voice. Gosfrid. He sighed and waited as the archer climbed the stairs two at a time, rounded the corner, and entered the room.

“Another sword’s broke,” he said. “Spear, too.”

“How many does that make now?” Alden asked.

“Apologies, my lord, but they need tough love. They won’t learn to dodge, but I’ll be damned if I can’t make them learn to block.”

The front door opened again. Alden heard quiet murmurs from his scouts as the figure entered. Their footsteps were as light as a feather as they slowly climbed the stairs with purposeful steps. Aerin.

“It never ends,” he muttered.

Uhtric and Gosfrid looked to the doorway and stepped aside as Aerin entered, her covered face unable to hide the ire in her eyes.

Stepping into the center of the room, she turned to face Uhtric and Gosfrid, then motioned for them to leave. Gosfrid narrowed his eyes in anger.

“I don’t take orders fro–” he began.

“I’ll deal with her,” Alden interrupted. “Go.”

They left, unhappily, and Aerin turned to him and tossed her journal to him. The glowing letters read “When?”

“Do you realize how difficult this task is?” By her look she didn’t care. “Smarter mages than I have pondered over this book for years. What am I to do in a week's time? I am not a god.”

Aerin took the journal from him, scribbled, handed it back. “Do it soon, or our deal is void.”

“Why are you even here?” Alden said, his voice a hair too loud. The scouts stopped their boasting. Alden shut the door. “What is it that makes you think I can accomplish this task so easily? No, don’t answer that, I don’t have the patience for your scribbling. I’ll just tell you plain. If it can be done, it’ll be done in the span of months or years. But weeks? If you demand that it be done so quickly, I question if you even want your brother back.”

Aerin reached up and slapped him. The blow stung his cheek, but did not move him, and Aerin clutched her hand with a worried look.

“Figure out what it is that you want before making demands of others,” Alden said. He pushed past her and out the door. His cheek must have turned red, as his scouts gave him bewildered looks as he passed. “Get back to work,” he growled.

In his anger he didn’t notice where he was going until he was at the edge of a wooden pier. Taking off his shoes, he sat down and allowed his bare feet to dangle into the icy lakewater. Staring out across the lake he imagined what might be on the other side; by the maps, he knew that across from Lyonpool there was a range of high mountains, which he imagined to rise above even the heavens themselves. But to sit there and stare out across the lake, the water looked as if it went on forever.

It’s not her fault. He was not angry with her, though he could almost fool himself with his actions. To have someone you cared about so deeply you would risk your own life on the slim chance of their revival…he supposed he could imagine such a person. Amice, maybe. He might risk himself for her. His troops, too, under the right circumstances. In battle, definitely. The heat of battle demanded quick decisions and quicker actions. But this, the deliberate choice taken only after untold days of thought…only Amice came to mind, and even then, he was uncertain.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

But, though his anger was not directed at her, there was undoubtedly a well of anger within him. It was directed at himself, of course, and at the world at large. The necromantic book was difficult beyond his abilities. And Alden…Alden did not enjoy a challenge.

Potential Solution

Creation Points may be utilized to enhance Intelligence.

Calculating…

Creation Points may be converted to Intelligence at a rate of 1 Creation Point for a permanent +100 to Intelligence.

Creation Points Available: 9

Hmph. As useful as the System could be, it was, on the odd occasion, too slow for comfort. The idea had already been turned over in his mind, but Creation Points, as difficult as they were to earn, were too useful to waste on such a measure.

Recommendation…

Stop it, Alden thought as the words began to appear. He already knew what the System would say. The Book of Infinite Knowledge. A side route that would explain all the necessary steps to conquering necromancy and dissecting the meaning within the necromantic book, but which would, though useful in its own right, be unable to solve the underlying problem.

Divine Points.

Within the System’s confines was that unusual energy, the energy of the Gods themselves, a power greater than magic itself. Yet it was the weaker of the two special energies available to him, and harder to gain besides. Where Creation Points would generate 100 points of Intelligence, Divine Points would only generate…

+50 to Intelligence for each Divine Point spent.

DP Available: 0

Notice

Divine Points can be earned by siphoning Divine Energy from the Realm of the Gods.

Alden kicked his feet up out of the water, dried them with wind magic, put on his shoes once more, and walked back up the pier. If he did not have the DP needed, the only thing to do was to get more.

Lyonpool’s church was, in a word, hardy. Despite his intentional neglect of the building, the people of Lyonpool, ever the religious sort, saw to the church’s constant upkeep. Opening its great darkwood doors, Alden entered and saw four people. Three of them were common folk who sat apart in the pews, two of them knelt in prayer while the third sat at a bench. The fourth was a man Alden rued to speak with. The priest Edward.

“Welcome, my lord,” Edward said, stepping down from the altar. He walked briskly down the aisle, his holy garments flowing behind him, and smiled. “It is a treat to see you here, my lord. Have you finally come to see the way of the Gods?”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m only here to see if I can feel some of their divine power. I don’t expect to find much, truth be told.”

Edward shook his head. “Nonsense, my lord. Though we are far from Highharrow, I can assure you that there is no lack of divine energy to be felt here.”

Alden wasn’t certain. And, in the case there was divine energy to be felt, the priest would certainly oppose his plan for it.

“Come, come,” Edward said, beckoning him forth. “Let me show you.”

The priest brought him up to the altar, atop which was the richest treasure in all Lyonpool: a giant chalice of gold. Lining its sides were precious gemstones of a multitude of colors, each representing one of the Gods of the Council. The chalice itself was filled with a red liquid that looked ominously like blood, though he knew it, by its scent, to be a type of red wine.

“Kneel, if you would, my lord,” Edward said. Alden knelt, feeling embarrassed and a touch angry. Kneeling was not so far off from bowing, and these were not his gods. “Close your eyes and think of the gods. Any will do, or all of them if you must. What matters is focusing on the gods and their will.”

In the darkness of thought, Alden reached out toward the gods. Not any one of them in particular–he knew too little to single any of them out–but all of them, from the Gods of the Council to those minor gods he felt before when he entered their realm. He reached out… and felt nothing.

A little help, he thought.

Apologies.

Establishing a connection to the Realm of the Gods.

Connection established.

Siphoning Divine Energy from the Realm of the Gods.

Rate: 1 Divine Point/minute

Notice

Siphoning of Divine Energy has created a disturbance in the Realm of the Gods.

Chance of detection: 5%

Success