Edmund of Icuvelia was brought to you by Andrew Meyers.
Gwillim of Vrisea brought to you by Андрей Яковлев, Rex9584 Wood, and Ycirnei.
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We spent two days mingling with the nobles, bashing away shitheads who would come and challenge us just to get some measure of our combat prowess. One time, they tried to challenge Madge.
“Hey, you! The knight-whore next to His Highness Percival!” Yet another shithead Lord taunted.
We interrupted the conversation I had with some nobles as I turned to face him. Madge pointed at herself.
“Yes, you, whore! Can’t you talk for yourself?”
The girls usually didn’t speak much in public. They just escorted me or Rhiannon and avoided getting tangled in the stupid web of sniggers and veiled insults of the nobility. Now, a drunk son of another Duke came to challenge her, most probably on a dare.
A quick scan of the surroundings revealed a group of young House heirs snickering behind a tent. I overlayed an illusion of myself over my body and used {Shadow Warp} to sneak behind them. I blew a pinch of deathberry pollen their way and teleported back. Now I could devote my full attention to the last of their gang.
> > Level 56 human male [Knight]
“You are drunk, Lord Merner. Go back to your father before my patience runs out.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he drawled. “But my business is with your knight. I challenge you to a fight!”
“I will pretend I didn’t hear that,” I said to the guy. {Go back to your father}.”
> Contested Charisma test blocked. Target is immune to suggestions.
That was new. Was it a Perk or just an effect of whatever shit he consumed? And by the way, the guys behind the tent expired as I got ridiculously low Exp notifications.
“Fu… Cannot do, Your Highness. I… threw a challenge to your knight. She must answer in kind.”
I nodded. “First blood, use your own weapons, no magic or any Perks that requires you to spend Resources.”
“Do you need a second, Lord Merner?”
“No. If I win, this bitch has to take her helmet and mask off!”
So that’s what they were aiming for. “Marquis Henford, would you please officiate this duel?”
“With pleasure, Your Highness,” the old but still able nobleman said. He checked their weapons, noticing the odd material of Madge’s greyish-blue sword. “Adamantite? It’s the first time I hear about it.”
“It’s not poisonous, just a harder iron alloy,” I dismissed. It wasn’t a lie.
“I see. I don’t sense any poison on either weapon. We may start the duel. Lord Merner, Milady, take your positions.”
I kept my senses in full alert, watching the Ethereal for any magical tampering. Henford started the duel and Madge quickly dashed and sliced the young Merner’s cheek from the nose to the ear, scraping a gash across the cheekbone.
“Percival’s Lady is the winner," Henford declared. "We need a healer.”
“I can staunch the bleeding, at least,” I said and touched Merner. With a pulse of Flesh magic, I closed the blood vessels and made the scar permanent. Good luck finding another Flesh mage who could revert it.
“Pfffbt, Fuffflt. Rrrsshylaff.” Young Lord Merner hissed through his open cheek. Some drool leaked through the gash and it hissed as he breathed.
“He better find a good healer,” I remarked.
The young man started to cry. He looked toward the tent where his companions should be hiding behind but saw nobody. Their bodies had already gone to my item box, auto collected after they died as they were “loot”. Crying, he left in a hurry.
Later that day, the young Lord Merner suffered a riding accident and cracked his skull. At least that’s what House Merner said. I had no part in his alleged accident and I believed it was his father doing some lineage cleanup with a mace, his favorite weapon. They also noticed the missing young Lords and the camp started to search for them.
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On the third day, we had a super awkward family dinner at the [Emperor]’s tent. Or should I say, my stepfather’s tent? Madge and Mona stayed guarding the tent while I took Rhiannon to the dinner venue. Seating was decided by the Emperor and it usually showed which [Prince] he was currently favoring the most. The first four pairs of spots were usually for the eldest brothers, who were with him for more than a century. One of the Perks I gave the were-cat princesses was to age at one-third of the normal rate. Today, the fourth and fifth seats to the right were empty. A page guided us to them. The other twenty-something Princes and a few of their mothers gave us the stink-eye.
Rhiannon was the [Concubine-Queen] closest to the [Emperor] and that inflamed the envy of the others. Only twelve of the man’s wives were present, out of thirteen official ones he currently had. Most of the Princes present lost their mothers, either to old age or to political machinations. While the Perk allowed the [Emperor] and [Princes] to age at a third of the normal rate, it didn’t extend by marriage. The [Empress], for example, died some two centuries ago, again of old age.
The side conversations died when the [Emperor] entered. We all stood up in respect of his position. He stood next to his seat and took it, allowing us to sit again. As a rule of thumb, one stood when the [Emperor] did.
“Now that everyone is here, allow me to introduce the newest member of our family. This is [The Fierce Imperial Prince] Percival, an already accomplished duelist and leader in the field. I attested to his command skills with my own eyes an Abilities.”
“Welcome, little Percy,” My oldest brother and the crown prince, Edmund of Icuvelia mocked.
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> > [Imperial Prince] Level 99 human male [Imperial Spellsword]
This guy was an almost unique Class and he wielded Ice and Lightning like few. He was detached like the former, and quick like the latter. A deadly combination and probably one of the hardest brothers to remove from the rat race. Despite the Class name, he fought with a battle staff.
Some said he had some… unusual kinks inside his Palace but few knew the truth. Not many wished to talk about the powerful Prince behind his back.
It was interesting that he was not yet at the level cap even with more than two centuries to level up. It showed how hard it was for ordinary people to grind their levels. Not many had a ten-to-the-power-of-five multiplier. Actually, nobody else, in fact.
“Percival,” the [Emperor] called, “how many of your brothers will you kill before you are satisfied?”
His tone of voice betrayed not approval nor censure. It was neutral and sounded as commonplace as commenting on the perceived shapes on clouds.
I shrugged, “How many of my brothers will willingly try to harm me and mine out of their stupid hubris or just jump and poke their eyes on my blade? Gee, father. That’s a tough one to answer. One comes knocking on my door with a battering ram. The other runs his sword through my chest before I could even raise my hand. If that’s not asking to die, then I don’t know what is. The question then boils down to, how many more of your sons will reject the wisdom of their bloodline? What I can promise you is that I am not going to go out of my way to hunt any of them down.”
“Such bravado for someone so young and weak,” the eleventh Prince, Gwillim of Vrisea scoffed. “Go gain some levels if you want to say such big words.”
> > [Imperial Prince] Level 87 human male [Imperial Grand General].
He was a brute. His method of commanding troops would make any Imperial Commissar in the grimdark future proud. He inspired a berserker-like state and filled his soldiers with bloodlust. They would need twenty times as much damage to die and would fight deep into the negatives. He usually attracted his troops with lavish payment upon return and nothing upfront, or a small compensation to their families.
“Maybe I should get a leveling partner,” I mused. “Are you volunteering, dear brother?”
“Not now, Percival,” the head of the family spoke. “And keep your opinions to yourself, Gwillim. Unless you want to taste defeat.”
“As you wish, father,” I relented.
“Father! Don’t you tell me you’re going to favor this brat who still smells of his milkmaid!” Gwillim protested.
“Gwillim. Percival’s command range is three kilometers. We confirmed it with fast cavalry. He can grant thirteen to all physical Attributes to the troops near him. He took a punch from me without flinching. If I don’t restrain Percival, you’ll be the next one to leave this table. I lost a son this week already. Don’t be a fool.”
Gwillim sunk in his chair, fuming. He kept glaring at me but let his eyes wander to Rhiannon as his mouth cracked a faint wicked grin. The next moment I was rising from his shadow behind him, an Adamantite dagger on his throat.
“Just because you failed to protect your mother doesn’t mean I’ll do the same as you,” I hissed.
I glanced at the [Emperor]. He had his arms crossed, staring at us with an inscrutable expression.
“You are dead, Percival,” Gwillim hissed. “I’m going to have fun with those armored bitches you strut around with.”
“A lot of brave talk for a dead man,” I quoted the famous white space bounty hunter. “I’ll kill everyone in this room before any of you assholes has a chance to hurt my people. And if you try to speak a single word, you’ll have to do it without a windpipe.”
He glanced at our father. The [Emperor] uncrossed his arms. If I needed any confirmation that psychopath held no love for his sons, seeing us as just tools, cogs in the Imperial machine, he fronted it right there.
“I don’t want blood at my dining table. You two take it outside,” he dismissed us.
“Father!”
Gwillim's protest would be his last words. I held him and blinked to the Ethereal. Then I did good on my threat and “Death Princess’d” him.
> For killing level Level 87 [Imperial Grand General], you gained 50 Trillion Exp (base 5,397,814 x 100,000 fast-learner x3.05 favored enemy x7.59 death contract x4 Class rarity).
>
> --> 9% of the Exp to next level. I was halfway to leveling up.
I blinked back in my seat. Thirty-three to go, then the final boss. In a madhouse full of psychotic deranged Royals, I had to play the part.
“I’m calling the service,” said final boss said. “If you have any fights you wish to engage in, save it for later.”
All the little robot Princes nodded. What a brown-nosing spoiled bunch.
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The next three days were the hunting game, then the final day to the awards, socialize, and unpack.
Every able-bodied nobleman and a few ladies joined the hunt. We were split into random groups and taken to different points around the forest. From there, we should enter the woods and hunt as many animals and monsters as we could. For the competition, we were given a special storage ring.
> [Huntsman Ring]
>
> * Can store up to 4 cubic meters of objects and preserve them from decay. Dead bodies count as only one-twentieth of their volume.
> * Self-sufficient MP storage and generation in normal mana levels.
> * May receive messages from the Master of the Hunt.
> * Only works in the Empire’s hunting grounds.
> * Binds on pickup. Can be unbound only by an [Imperial Enchanter].
Quite the trinket. After we entered the woods, I ate it and learned the trick to make soft matter count as smaller than it was. I used {Tree Stride} to teleport to the center of the forest, then I summoned a billion al-Mi’raj for two hundred million MP. The number of horned rabbits was so large I had to stagger the summons with {Adagio} so they wouldn’t appear all at once, create a mountain of fluff, then crush each other.
But the carpet of white bodies scuttling underneath the shrubbery kept growing for the good part of an hour. I sent the al-Mi’raj out in all directions, with orders to hunt monsters and only harass the hunters to stall them. They killed every creature for miles around the center of the forest and since it was a kill from a spell effect, it went straight to my item box. Thousands of summoned rabbits died to kill some of the tougher monsters but that was a negligible cost.
It compromised my normal regeneration rate but I had the bonus of Galbarar’s {Sunlight Regeneration} that increased it by 50% so I would recover the spell’s cost in around seven hours.
I conjured the {Shadow Workshop} and crafted a copy of the [Huntsman Ring]. I made it seem damaged as I didn’t include the last two constraints and the decay protection.
Next, I had to prepare a fight scene. I broke some trees, scorched the ground here and there with magic, and mangled some demon cultists' bodies I had from Rosewise’s time.
Then I cleansed the bodies of the snickering nobles who dared the guy to come and taunt Madge and mangled them a bit to seem like they fought against me. I also scratched the Adamantite casing of my armor with an [Adamantite Thinblade] because it would be an easier sell if I had some battle damage too.
The final touch was to leave a half-finished summoning circle, some damaged demon cultist tomes with the important parts missing, along with one of Kel’Caldor’s sinister staves that screamed “I’m a bad guy!” in the hands of the highest-leveled cultist, with some damage that made the enchantments unstable and prone to detonation. Should anyone try to tamper or use the staff to cast a spell, it would overload and go boom.
The narrative was that I stumbled upon them and an attempt to summon a powerful demon. After a tough fight, the damaged summoning spell backfired and conjured the al-Mi’raj instead. The air reeked of summoning mana residue anyway. No forensic mage could miss it.
That would be a severe blow to the families of these idiotic young Lords. Not only they tried to summon a demon under the [Emperor]’s nose, they also tampered with the sacred hunting grounds.
My Goddess’ ass was more sacred than this stupid murder forest. With the last of the al-Mi'raj far away, I hid nearby.
Soon after I left, [Imperial Mages] (slap the term “Imperial” on anything for an immediate power boost now!) reached the summoning site flying. They started to examine the site, cast a few spells here and there, rummage through the bodies, check the books. Then one of the mages found the staff.
And hell opened its gaping maw.
The mage tried to hide the staff and stow it in his storage ring. The other guy saw it and called him out, causing the finder to flee. He was shot down from behind and the other mages gathered to see what was going on. The other guy tried to misdirect while going for the ring but the lead mage called him on it.
The leader took the ring from the dead body and checked it. He removed the staff from the ring, causing all the other mages to immediately reach a consensus. Such a powerful artifact would end up in the [Emperor]’s collection if it was reported. If they could hide its existence, they would keep it. They attacked the leader, making him cast a spell and use the staff.
It went off catastrophically. I gained some Exp because the System considered it a trap. The explosion attracted the attention of more mages who arrived after an hour. Without a legendary artifact to cause insubordination and strife, they went on with the investigation.
The Master of the Hunt recalled the hunters, officially ending the hunting season two days earlier.
The fallout for the noble Houses involved in what the [Emperor] called “an attempt to summon the next Demon Lord” was terrible. They were all executed and their lands annexed by the crown. In the months to come, the Empire would be in chaos as a witch hunt spread like wildfire across the land. Nobles accused their fellow nobles of being demon cultists, the actual demon cultists fled the country or went underground, and several other noble houses went under in the turmoil. Close to two hundred titles of nobility were extinct without an heir to claim them.
Forgotten by the Empire in the chaos, the five women went safely back home while I flew to Count Seyham’s territory. I had to protect my future citizens from a massive bandit raid.