Leaning against a tree while having a light snack on a rice and mushroom dish he had found in the capital, Ambros could not help but be slightly impressed by the sight below. The ageran forces were clearing a path through the rubble from the ambush earlier. They would need to find another valley in the mountain range to go deeper, but some enemies would still be left in this one. It was the efficiency and cooperation that only learning to depend on the people next to you in battle brought on. Maybe the idea of training people in squads under the effect of war arrays wasn't as dumb as he first thought, at least not for raising an army.
He would still have preferred a tenth of their number in the fifth or sixth step. As far as he knew, the entire country didn't have a single Adept. The two most significant individual powers were the Queen and himself. At least he had managed to have the Queen open up the treasury and start awarding catalysts for free citizens that were fighting. Sadly, the amount available would run out fast. Now, if he could only get his hands on whatever the patriarchs and matriarchs that ruled the families around here had stashed away. In a war with dire consequences, there were still politics, he thought while spitting out an undercooked rice grain.
Ambros didn't have time to react before something tore through his Arcane Shield and hit him in the chest. Looking down at the tip of a large bolt sticking out of his chest, the only thing he could think was. “That really hurt!” While he fell forward.
Laying on the ground, he took a moment to reposition himself, so he had the tree between himself and where the bolt would have come from. Feeling the extra heart starting up and the left secondary lung letting him take full breaths, he crawled closer to the tree. Summoning his mirror, he carefully looked behind the three, only to have a bolt explode out of the trunk where his head would have been if he hadn't been bent to look over the mirror. Crap!
Yanking the bolt in his chest free, as he sprinted over to a rock, he threw himself forward, sliding along the slick grass as another bolt stuck in his left thigh. His femur must have stopped the bolt because it didn't go straight through. Clamping his jaw shut, he yanked the bolt free of his leg while in the cover. His wounds closed fast, which was great, but that bolt had been stuck in his bone. It bloody well hurt!
Slowly pushing his mirror past the edge of the rock, he started scanning the mountain slope from which the bolts had been coming. There didn't seem to be any movement from the mountain above him, but he caught a scout running toward the main camp out of the corner of his eye. Hopefully, the scout had seen he was pinned down and reported to someone in command that didn't want him dead. He had become quite a controversial figure in the capital, and he didn't doubt for a moment that more than half the family heads wanted his on a silver platter.
Wounds mostly closed, he scanned the mountainside again while summoning the arbalest he had bought in the rift settlement. He would have rained down Arcane Bolts on anything that looked like a cover, but it was unlikely the shot had come from within his spell range. Double-checking that the bolt box contained regular bolts and not one of the few precious ripper bolts he had left, he leaned the arbalest against the rock while scanning. Come out, come out wherever you are…
Nothing, not even a goat moved up there. He was tempted to test it by running for camp, but he remembered something he had seen in a movie once. Ambros wanted to smack his own head. Removing his helmet and using the bottom spike of Ogre Slayer in its short form. He gently slid the helmet out at an angle his head would have been at if he was trying to peek around the rock. Observing the mirror, he tried seeing as much of the mountainside as he could while moving his helmet simultaneously. There was a ping sound, and he saw a dent in the helmet where his temporal lobe would have been. Good to know it didn't pierce the thick helmet, at least, he thought while scouting the mountain.
There! Got it. It was the spindliest troll Ambros had ever seen. It lacked the bulging stomach he was used to seeing on their kin. The face was unmistakable. Few species could compete with trolls when ranking the ugly mug list. They were legendarily horrid in appearance. This one seemed to be missing one of its ears, too, which was unusual considering how fast and thorough their regeneration was. He knew they could come back alive from decapitation. Fire or acid was the only way to be sure. Good thing they were highly combustible, or he had no doubt they would be occupying a lot more of the universe than they already did.
Announcement
Jumoke the Sharp has been spotted in the eastern mountain range.
To the victor goes the spoils.
Apparently, the troll, Jumoke, had also gotten an announcement because it stood up and looked down on Ambros while making a rude gesture. Suited Ambros just fine as he unloaded a box of bolts at the troll in a pattern that would hopefully make one of them hit. Quickly reloading with one of the ripper bolt boxes, he unsummoned the arbalest and put his helmet back on as he started running towards the troll. He has seen three phalanxes making their way toward his position. Ambros only needed to hold the troll in place until they could surround it. To his frustration, the troll managed to slip past his bolts like it was made of shadows.
He was about five hundred steps away when the troll started realizing what was happening and quickly reloaded its oversized crossbow with one of those gigantic bolts again. That thing may as well have been a ballista by the size of it, he thought while watching the troll taking aim and firing it. Even with him seeing the troll firing it, he bearly got his shield up in time to let the thing slide along its rounded front. The force was still enough for Ambros to lose his balance for a moment, and that was all the time the troll needed to reload again. The blasted troll had to be an Adept, a more powerful one than the ogre had been to by the feeling he was starting to pick up with his aura. Managing to spin around the next bolt like a matador baiting a bull, he raised his hand and shot off one of the red flares he had left from the Rift settlement. At least they would know where to find his body.
The troll seemed to think he was close enough because it leaned its crossbow against a tree trunk and drew a crude-looking long curved sword from its back. Ambros grinned as he unleashed a barrage of Arcane Bolts at the thing, only to almost stop in shock as the bolts dissipated a short distance from the troll's skin. That was new. Turing on Arcane Sight, he could see the mana from the Arcane Botls getting dragged into something on the troll's chest as it stood there grinning. Well, this was a new and quite terrifying development. He had to know what that thing was or if it was something special about Jumoke.
Casting Control Wind Ambros sent a powerful gust against the ground, throwing rocks and debris toward Jumoke's upper body and face as he planted Siphone from Awakened Mana Core on the troll. To his relief, it stuck. It only stopped direct applications of mana, Ambros thought with some relief as he saw the troll flinch from some of the rocks hitting its face. Ambros lunged forward with his extended Ogre Slayer in one hand and the shield ready in the other. Damn, the thing was fast. He barely scratched its shoulder before it brought its curved sword toward Ambrose's middle. Throwing himself under the blade, he was quickly on his feet again, striking at the troll's legs. His strikes were too weak to cause more than superficial damage to the now enraged troll. Slobber dripped from its tusked mouth as it howled at Ambros. Strike after strike hammered down on his shield. Some he managed to deflect, but more than enough hit directly on the rim and face of it in what felt like an unending series of attacks to his numbing left arm. Casting Control Earh, he tried making the troll stumble, but it was too fast and far too nimble. Ambrose's mana was being kept topped up by the Shipon, however. It was like having a never-ending supply. The troll had to be packed with Energy.
Ambros went on an all-out attack to keep the troll from spotting the phalanxes coming closer. Unsummoning his shield, he spun around the troll's sword swings with Ogre Slayer. He quickly noticed how much further the trolls reach was, even if it only stood a head taller than him. Using Ogre Slayer as a battle axe was a fast way to lose his head, but as a poleaxe, he could just keep up and out of range. Punishing each slash from the troll with a deflection and a swipe of one of the spikes, he noticed Jumoke was growing frustrated, and its swings were much more frantic. However, they both looked to be regenerating faster than they could inflict wounds on each other. Unless he could get the troll boxed in soon, he would have to retreat himself soon. His mind was getting pummelled as much as his body while trying to keep up with the quick troll. The landscape started looking devastated with all the cut trees and torn turf on the mountain slope.
Then some idiot in the phalanx ordered the horn to be blown. Had they just waited to blow it for a few hundred steps, they would have Jumoke boxed in on all sides. Ambros could only growl in frustration as the startled troll disengaged and fled further into the mountains. Taking one of the higher-grade endurance pills he had bought in the inner ring of the settlement, he set off after the fleeing troll. He would need to use his remaining cleansing pills later to rid his body of the crap the endurance pill left there.
Saving as much of his little Energy as possible, Ambros used a combination of Control Earh to make blocks for his feet to push off from and Control Air to remove air resistance and boost himself. He shot himself forward in great leaps, but the troll was fast and nimble. It always seemed to be just out of reach.
Far into the mountains, they went further and further up until there were only rocks on the ground. Ambros could see they were still far from the snow-covered slopes, but there was a steep rise in the mountainside. Jumoke pushed itself forward with its arms as much as its feet while running. It looked surprisingly natural for the troll to travel that way, and it was fast. Really fast.
Ambros momentarily lost sight of the troll as it made it over an overhang. Still, he was close on its heels. He was over and ready to push himself forward when Junke suddenly appeared from a boulder to his side and planted a dagger in Ambrose's stomach, throwing him back down over the overhang. Howling in pain as the dagger pierced the side of his stomach, it got even worse as he hit the ground and started rolling and sliding into rocks on the way down the mountainside. It felt like far too long until his movement was arrested by a giant boulder, but it was probably just a few dozen steps. He could feel himself slipping in and out of consciousness from having his head used a battering ram against every damn rock on the way down. The dagger in his side was burning. The feeling started spreading out towards the rest of his body. Definitely, an extra nasty dagger, that one, he thought.
Feeling a shadow passing over his face, Ambros forced his eyes open. Looking up at Jumoke's vile and slobbering grin, he could only groan. What a lovely day this was turning out to be. Tilting his head to the side, Jumoke said, “Jumoke, eat your marrow, human. Go crunch and then sweet, sweet marrow.” Raising its blade high as if to split him in two, it was probably what it intended to do, given its penchant for snacking on his bones. Ambros pulled the trigger. Through lidded eyes, he enjoyed watching Jumoke's chest being shredded apart by an entire box of ripper bolts.
They looked at each other briefly, then Jumoke looked down at the hole where his chest used to be. Knowing the wound wouldn't kill it, the troll grinned at him. Ambros smiled back, his eyes blazing from Arcane Sight as he unleashed a torrent of Arcane Bolts on the troll. The troll was thrown back by the assault, while the arcane fire that was burning it set off the troll's own combustion. Soon, a red, yellow and purple fire was consuming the troll into nothing. It couldn't even shrike in pain without lungs. Yeah. Definitely a great day, he thought as his eyes were too heavy to keep open.
Feeling the sweet tingle of Revitalize run through his body, Ambros opened his eyes to only see white. It took him a moment, but he realized he was covered by some cloth. Probably a sheet or towel by how light it felt. Taking a deep breath, he sat up, pulling the thing off him only to have someone shriek in his ear and quite a few gasps coming from people around him. Turning to the shrieking one, he noticed she was a very pretty young lady. Sadly, she was dressed as a healer, so probably a religious nut, he thought sadly, while he said. “Not that I would mind listening to squeal in delight under other circumstances, but would you please stop trying to burst my eardrum? It has been a long day,” Apparently, she decided that was such a good pickup line that she fainted. Ah, well. His luck with pretty healers wasn't the best, anyway. Before she could hit the floor, he had a hold of her and gently made them switch places. Laying her down on the cot he previously had occupied while he stood looking at the people surrounding him in the tent. Looked like the entire army leadership had crammed into the tent. He should probably say something. Maybe “Boo!” Would it do the trick? First, he had something more important to do.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Quest Award
Jumoke the Sharp: Terminated
100,000 Exp
1,000,000 Sp
250,000 Qp
Do you wish to loot the corpse?
At least he had more than enough system points for him to get assisted mapping now. That made him reach level 127, and he was more then a tad miffed that he couldn't use the attribute points he had. Yes, he would like to loot the corpse. Again he got fifteen platinum, five Energy stones the size of half his fist and 300 energy marbles. There was a dagger this time, however, instead of a club. It was the same dagger that had been planted in him earlier, he thought with a slight shudder. Again nothing Analyze could handle yet except telling him it was precious, but he knew a town nearby that could help with that. He would head over once he became an Adept. He also now had five hundred and sixteen thousand four hundred and thirty-six quest points. That seemed like a respectable amount. He just needed some of the others to start catching up with him one of these days. Turning around, Ambros said, “Nice of all of you to attend this gathering. What's the occasion? I hope it is the celebration of another named being's death because I'm quite happy about that.”
The commander of the eastern forces, strategus Eurycliedes, stepped forward and said, “You were dead. We thought you had died. The priestess of Nenir, healer Monima confirmed your body dead.” He said, pointing at the pretty young healer that lay on the cot. So she was a priestess as well as a healer… Damn. His luck sucked lately. Deciding to just cut to the core of the matter, Ambros said, “I am difficult to put down for good” Giving a few of the patriarchs and matriarchs that were particularly vocal against his involvement a long look, he continued. “Remember that. No, I was not dead, but the troll's dagger had a particularly potent poison my body needed to get rid of before I could wake up. I would have seemed close to or in deep sleep while it happened.” He was talking out of his ass, but it seemed plausible enough.
Eurycliedes nodded and quickly added, “Of course, Ambros. We are all thrilled that you are still hardy and hale. Even more than two of the enemies named champions have been slain within such a short time is truly something to celebrate. I will have preparations made at once. Would you mind walking with me for a round within the camp? I'm sure it would raise the morale of the phalanxes.” Ambros gave the man a thoughtful look. Something must have happened for him to state a request plainly in front of the other family heads. Unlike quite a few gathered in the tent, the strategus was familiar with Ambros and usually treated him like anyone of the family heads. None of that moronic Great One thing was going around. They had spent so much time together on the way to the mountains planning the campaign, and he wasn't shy to point out any issues with a plan, which made Ambros like him even more. In short, he wasn't a yes man and was loyal to the ruling monarch. He seemed to consider Ambros a great asset to the side of the loyalist faction. The Loyalist faction currently made up the smallest of the three factions of the kingdom after the Independents and the backers of Diomedes, who ruled the westernmost city, Cymal.
The Loyalists wanted to keep the throne in Achisos under the current Queen, and her bloodline. That she had yet to conceive a child, was becoming a rather significant issue. When it came to the Independents, they had the majority of support in the southern city of Mytisso. It was ruled by a council of family heads, who were quite done with having any monarch lording above them. It was against the Agean tradition of having every head of a family vote on the passing of a law or any major decisions, according to them. From what Ambros had gathered, it was mostly about paying taxes that weren't exclusively spent on their city, Mytisso.
Then there were the backers of Diomedes, the patriarch of his family and the ruler of Cymal. They claimed the rightful place of the throne was in Cymal and that Diomedes was the rightful ruler due to some affair a few generations back. The latest scandal was Diomedes raising his army and heading for the western mountains without consulting the Queen. Ambros couldn't see any issue with that himself. As long as the man slaughtered the enemy and brought in quest points, he could raise ten times that, even better, a hundred times the current army size, and he could do whatever he damn well pleased, as long as there was slaughter involved. The Loyalists considered it an act bordering on rebellion. There had been much talk in the capital while Ambros was there.
Ambros could see an unnatural amount of soldiers around as they walked out of the tent. He almost started looking behind himself to see if there was about to be a coup or something. Instead, the nearest soldiers stopped, then more did as they looked towards Eurycliedes and him. Then someone started chanting, “Ambros! Ambros! Ambros!” it was intermingled with a few “Great One!” but they were soon drowned out between the chanting and spears being hit on shields. He knew he was gaining something of a reputation, but this was a bit over the top. Eurycliedes standing at his side, said, “They brought you in on their shields. You looked like the dead. There has even been talk of retreating.” Damn, that was not exactly what he intended when joining the army. Giving Eurycliedes a nod, Ambros approached a cart holding several barrels and jumped up.
Looking around, he raised his right hand in the air, and the cheering could be heard between the chants from those in the back. Well, it's good to be loved? Even if misplaced, he would sacrifice every one of them to complete the quest. Feeling some display was needed, he summoned a rune rock of Radiance in his hand. It was one of the first runes he had carved when starting this journey. He flooded the thing with his improved and much stronger mana until a light rivaling the sun from above emitted from his closed fist. The stone exploded in his clenched hand with a crack that could be heard over the camp. A wave of light and life mana spread out from him in a ring. Unless they were undead, everyone it touched would feel slightly better and more alert. The chanting just increased. Crystal suddenly decided to sing tunes with the chanting. It seemed to be having great fun while trying to match the complete lack of rhythm. It had been trying to make his meridian less stubborn, so it would cooperate and open soon. It was not being very nice, Crystal sent him. Then it went back to singing at his meridian as Ambros continued to try poking a hole in it.
Jumping down, he asked Eurycliedes. “I get that I made a bit of an impression in a few battles, but this is a bit out there?” The strategus didn't take long to answer over the din of shields and spears. “It's more than that. The things you seem capable of are only told in stories from the country's founding. For many of them, it represents hope. Then you go out and slay not one but two named champions in short order. Everyone can access the scoreboard. Then, to be brought back, held high on shields, presumed dead. Only to walk out as if nothing has happened, and with this latest display, I wouldn't be surprised if a mystery cult was formed around you soon.” He seemed far too chipper, relaying that information to Ambros before continuing, “Now, hero, let us take a round and raise the morale.”
It was late when they finally were done greeting as many as they could in the camp Eurycliedes was also a popular figure among the soldiers. Ambros just made sure to give as many greetings as possible and greet those he had already met by name. Mind attribute once again proved its worth. He wished Diokles didn't become so strange after the incident on the way to the capital, but he had quickly begged his leave and disappeared when they arrived. Ambros wasn't sure what he had done to the man, but he had stopped sleeping and would occasionally start shaking whenever Ambros was near. The few times he had asked to see the man, he had been told that Diokles was not in residence, and no, they did not know when the patriarch had left. Eurycliedes was a much better choice for a commander, but Diokles had been very open about any question Ambros asked.
The tent Ambros had been assigned would probably fit twenty people easily. It was the largest tent in the camp, and despite his insistence that he could carry it in a dimensional bag, the notion just seemed to not compute for the baggage train. He would even go as far as saying they found the idea insulting. Maybe it was because so few people had dimensional bags here. In fact, the only ones he had seen had been at the capital, and they were displayed by the wearer as the finest jewelry, even if the dimensional bag looked like a half-rotten pouch. They had lost the ability to make new ones from what he understood. Ambros, having amassed dozens of them at this point for different purposes and sizes, had immediately known what he should give the queen to smooth things over quickly. Two dimensional bags made of intertwined silver and gold. They were quite pretty and only of medium size by his standards but came with the ability to conserve foodstuff and keep it at temperature, not indefinitely but for a few years.
He had kept them because he suspected the primary enchantment was engraved in the sapphires that adorned the rings, but it had been far too advanced for him to even hope to dissemble them successfully yet. Saying it was well received was an understatement. He hadn't known until much later that everyone thought he was a Loyalist because of the gifts. They were, by this country's standards, priceless. By the time he had learned that it would have been pointless to argue against it, but for entirely different reasons. The queen would be at her staging point in the northern mountains during the next few days. He would have wished her luck, but he doubted she would need it.
Going past the first partition of his tent, he was greeted by the sound of water pouring into a tub. With a smile, he passed another partition to the left and then again to the right. Walking in on the four ladies dressed in what could only generously be called nightgowns. Chryse, with her flowing strawberry blond hair and blue eyes, an impish smile never far from her lips. Issa, the caring and warm one, is always ready to hug or be hugged. Her straight black hair framed her brown eyes perfectly. Ariadne, the prankster, the lover of all that was fun and different. Always seemed to be on the brink of laughter at a joke only she could hear. Her brown curls constantly moving, her eyes green eyes sparkling with mirth. Then there was Limnoreia. Sensual and confident, Limnoreia. Her straight brown hair that was like silk to the hands, and her smoldering blue eyes that could pierce your soul. In a breathy voice, she said, “Come, Great One. It is time to claim the rewards of your victory.” Her smile left little doubt of what was on her mind, and she only called him that when she was feeling playful. The Queen's maids, all daughters from prominent families. He also knew they were there to spy on him, at least keep an eye on him. He didn't mind; they couldn't discern his important secrets anyway, and when it came to political affiliations, he couldn't care less if the war was going in the right direction, as in, they were winning.
Much later, Ambros lay sprawled out on his bed, various parts of his body used as a pillow or in a tangle of limbs. He was not too bothered by it. Closing his eyes, he started focusing on the opening of his meridian again. Crystal had been so fascinated by what they were doing that it had stopped singing to its meridian. At times he was almost worried they would feel Crystal's presence swirl around the room.
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Arcturus was walking into a forest near the encampment. The moon lit the surroundings well enough for his purpose. In front and behind him, others were walking on the same trail as him, hundreds with the same purpose and jubilant hearts. They may come from different families and different casts of society. Rich, poor, it didn't matter. In this, they were all united.
The Great One had remembered his name. He even remembered that Arcturus once told him he was the first to spot him and watched him eliminate the bone golems. His heart swelled in pride. The Great One knew his name.
When he entered the clearing, he could see that many had already arrived, and he swore to be earlier next time. Hundred stood in the ring, a few holding lanterns. The moon still lit up the clearing, more than enough for most people. Everyone was swaying. Swaying harmony with the drum being beaten in the center of the clearing. Raised on a large flat stone, there was a smaller stone block laid on top of it. The few men and women by the stone were all wearing masks as they danced in the smoke of the incents and the dream leaf. The smoke would soon make its way across the clearing, bringing everyone gathered into a higher state, a better state to commune with the heavens. It was glorious to see so many had found the right path, that so many could see what he could see, know what he knew. A new god walked among them. A god that showed, not told. A god that put himself in danger so they may live and grow. A god that did not demand payment for even the smallest gesture of goodwill. A god that could not be made low by the insidious and vile magics of the enemy. A god that one day would lead them against the greedy priests and wicked family heads.
Arcturus watched the twenty bound people being led by one of the masked ones to the central stone. He could see that they had been drugged by their shambling walk. Pitiful. The slaves should be honored to be given to the Great One. It was more than they deserved. When the first one reached the central stone, the waiting masked ones wasted no time and had him draped over it. He didn't react as the sharp blade spit him from sternum to crotch. No sound was made as the masked one reached under the slave's ribs and yanked his heart out, quickly throwing it on the ready brazer. Nineteen more male and female slaves were brought to the stone to have their hearts offered to the Great One. When the last body was thrown off the central stone, the smell of burnt human flesh lay thick in the air among the gathered masses. A masked one in the center shouted, “May you find our offering pleasing! May they serve you well in your heavenly home, Great One! We only ask that you keep your guiding hand and presence over us. Thank you, Ambros. Blessed are we by the hand of the Great One!”