image [https://cdn.midjourney.com/e6b0b5f3-b5fa-4952-a0aa-b8888a2ac0ee/0_0.png]
Four weeks into his trip on Earth, Ludwing felt restless and disappointed. His protégé—because that was how he saw Vincent—had made progress, yet his stubbornness prevented him from achieving greatness.
For instance, Ludwing had insisted times over Vincent seducing and sleeping with Elina, his prospective mother-in-law, and disposing of Karl, the old husband, as soon as possible. There were billions to be controlled. Only thinking about that amount of money made him dizzy. There was so much more dough on Earth than on the Realm.
His secret plan counted on Irene leaving Vincent when she'd found out—because Ludwing would write her an anonymous letter once back on Stellarterra. Then, Ludwing—a perfect matchmaker, in his opinion—would have Vincent marry his daughter, the Half-Sidhe.
And what had Vincent done? Refused every single common sense suggestion. Moreover, he yelped in panic, like a child, when he found out what he thought was a male sidekick was, in fact, a woman. That man couldn't appreciate true beauty. Commoners were all about boobs and booty, knowing nothing about the elegance of a slender figure. He had shown Vincent fashion shows, where his daughter would have shined amongst top models with the same configuration, and the boy commented that top models looked like dressed broom-sticks. The arrogance!
The king was still undeterred. Lighting a cigarette—such glorious vices Earth had—and pouring himself a glass of the finest cognac, he nodded at the host, Karl, who was speaking nonsense he hadn't been paying attention to. Did the mansion have stairs? Accidents could happen on stairs. Vincent was gullible… he would buy it.
"So, what do you say?" Karl asked.
"Pardon?"
"You heard our offer. Would you like to stay on Earth for a few years? Vincent gives you half the money and the artifact, and we give you a monthly stipend… as long you stay in Vienna or Prague. "
"Let's cut to the chase," Elina said. "I promised Vincent not to give you the artifact yet, but… I trust you."
The woman opened a jewelry box and put a thin ring on the table. As soon as the item was displayed, Ludwing could feel the magic emanating from it even without touching it. He snatched the item and put it on his finger.
Secondary Sovereign's Ring of Supremacy. This ring has been cut from a master ring by an expert jeweler. It allows the wearer to do magic even on an inert Mana planet. This item has ten slots for spatial storage for a space of 1/10 metric tons. Bounding the ring is subject to the following conditions:
1. Vassality to Main Sovereign's Ring of Supremacy. The secondary ring user will be considered under oath not to directly or indirectly harm the Main Ring's wearer or his friends and allies. The Main Ring’s wearer swears the same. This oath is valid even if the ring is not worn.
2. The user will be able to select ten spells to be acknowledged by the ring and will be able to use only those spells for the duration of their stay on a Neutral Mana planet. Necromancy or Mind Control spells are forbidden. The ring will not allow casting spells that contradict point 1.
3. The secondary ring will be connected to the Master ring and serve as a communication device. The wielder is under obligation to deliver messages if asked so.
4. The ring will only bond with and work for the wielder if they agree with points 1-3.
"I accept the conditions and wish to bond to the ring," Ludwing said in a continuous breath. "I will use the ring with the following spells: Raven Shapeshifting, Heal, Accelerate Regen, Shadow Armor, Bartitsu Proficiency, Dark Bullet, Passive Permanent Stats Buff ten percent, Mirror Image, Fast Reactions, and Ultimate: Dark Arena Pocket Universe."
It was perfect. On the downside, he could no longer push Karl on the stairs, but Vincent would now trust him. And if he stayed on Earth, Vincent would be relaxed… soft… vulnerable to his daughter, the Half-Sidhe… Her seduction skills were unmatched… There was only the matter of finding a way to send her the message…
"Thank goodness," Elina sighed. "I count on you," she fondled Ludwing's hand for a second.
Is she hitting on me? Ludwing gasped inside. She was into older men; that was obvious. There were opportunities to exploit there. Billions of opportunities.
"The show is one hour," Karl said, oblivious to the movement. "We should move on."
"We should," Ludwing gave a lopsided grin, twitching his mouth. “I like moving on so much.”
----------------------------------------
The waiting room was much less crowded than the week before. Only four persons, of which two were to advance to the finals. Except for Ludwing, there were two singers—a man and a woman—and a kid in a wheelchair, a girl about twelve, fumbling with a pack of cards. Her eyes were sad, and she reminded Ludwing of himself when he was her age. A weak, pathetic mouse hiding behind his mother’s skirts to avoid his father.
“Pick a card,” the girl offered Ludwing.
He dismissed her offer with a flicker of his fingers. “What’s wrong with your legs?”
“I was born like this… a spine condition,” she said.
“Hm… this realm has truly bad doctors,” Ludwing crinkled his nose, moving to another chair to avoid more conversation.
The assistant arrived next to him within the next minute. “Change of plans. You go first.”
Shrugging, Ludwing advanced to the stage and bowed. Half of the public applauded in furor, the other half barely touched their hands. They preferred the softie, Vincent. The previous week, the boy had read the minds of bunnies and other pets, reproducing whatever funny, silly things the animals thought.
“Will your boss join us too?” the rock star asked with malice. Ludwing knew what the man had been up to. He had moved the performers’ order so Vincent could not perform both acts in Prague and Vienna simultaneously. It was a bunnies and kittens’ mind-reading session in Prague.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“We’re partners. I will cover the show tonight. I hope I will be entertaining enough.”
“Is your partner sharing the money with you if you win?” the rockstar asked.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Ludwing smirked. He disliked the man. In normal circumstances, the king would have impaled the singer on a stake in a main square somewhere. He called that stand-up comedy. The Corvinus family was proud of their dark humor.
“What will you do with your money if you win?” the blonde singer asked.
“I don’t know yet, milady,” Ludwing replied sincerely.
“And what will you do today?” anoother juror asked.
Now, that was a problem. Vincent was supposed to catch a bullet in flight with his hand, using his Shadow Armor. Then a bright idea shone through Ludwing’s gray cells. The jury favored singers. Screaming in a microphone a tearful blabber was an easy way to cheat your way up. “I will perform Mongol throat singing.”
The juror nodded, gesturing to invite Ludwing to sing. The king took a deep breath and started with a deep bass note, adding a high one a few seconds later. That was impressive; he knew it well. All the parties he graced with his presence asked him to perform his Mongol throat singing. It was a great way to get the ladies like him. Despite his amazing performance, he saw the rockstar’s hand moving toward the elimination buzzer.
“You know what?” Ludwing hissed, stopping his singing abruptly. “Why don’t I tell you stories instead? And for that, I need the proper ambiance. Ultimate: Dark Arena.”
Shadows erupted from his body, and in moments, the venue was enclosed in his pocket universe skill. Lights dimmed, and the darkness became oppressive. The rockstar hit the elimination button repeatedly, but electricity was at Ludwing’s mercy now. It did not work.
“Allow me to properly introduce myself,” Ludwing bellowed. “I am Ludwing van Corvinus, grandson of Matthias Corvinus, king of Hungary, in an alternate reality. And I’m three hundred and fifty-nine years old. I do real magic on a daily basis.”
With a flicker of his fingers, he surrounded the security personnel in shadow cages, preventing them from jumping on stage to grab him.
“I’ll tell you a story about how I learned Mongol throat singing. Long ago, when I was a kid, the Turks made their last push to conquer Europe. They besieged Vienna in the same year as they did here.
“Everybody with common sense allied to repel them. The Byzantines, the Celts, the Mongols, and the Hungarians,” Ludwing started to walk back and forth but kept his eyes on the jury. Eyes widened. They listened to every word he said, either by fear or interest. “But you see, the Mongols and the Hungarians were at odds, so the Great Khan asked for collateral. A hostage. My father, the crown prince, decided on his own that I was the best for the task. I was twelve and a sickly child. If worst was to come, my demise was not a problem to him.
“I stayed with the Mongols for two months… The Khan was an evil man… he liked to burn me with a hot iron poker… every day… But the Shaman was nice… She taught me throat singing and stopped him from killing me many times. That helped me to… get through…” Ludwing paused, his voice choking. The burns and the singing came into his mind as vividly as when it happened.
“What happened next?” the blonde asked in a tearful voice. Ludwing realized she was the only kind person on the jury. Indulging him in what she obviously thought was a fake memory created by his brain to explain other traumas. Ludwing had read a few books on psychology one-on-one and even went to a few sessions with Bella’s boyfriend to learn the stuff directly. Shrinks were the best manipulators…
“My grandfather found out and diverted his army of Dark Knights toward the main Mongol camp. As their main forces were busy elsewhere, he rescued me…” And killed every single one of them except the Shaman. Impaled them… Made me turn into a raven and gouge out their eyes… I ate the Khan’s liver for days before he died… Next year, I strangled my father with my bare hands and slit my brothers’ throats in their sleep… Grandfather was a great educationalist.
The thoughts were left unsaid. Earth people were softies. One could win their votes with a tearful song or a fast sleight of hands, getting their pity if you were a cripple. But without a mike or a wheelchair, how well would those beggars do?
Stepping briskly to the waiting room, Ludwing brought the girl on stage before her parents could react. “You asked me what I want to do with my money? I want to start an alternate healing care center for kids with disabilities.” Here you are, eat my mushy stuff, Earthlings!
Leaning to whisper in the girl’s ear, the king cast Healing and Accelerate Regen on her. “This is not an act of kindness. I’m transferring a debt. One day, do the same for a random person.”
With one hand, he pushed the girl off the chair, pulling the item with the other. “And this, ladies and gentlemen, is magic,” he clamored as the girl took the first wobbling steps in her life, her tearful eyes widened in stupor.
His mana was low. Ludwing dismissed the Dark Arena, transformed into a raven, and took flight. The doors and windows were closed, so to save himself the embarrassment of asking someone to open them for him, the king hid on a beam, high above, in the shadows. He had no choice but to wait until the show was over.
----------------------------------------
Watching the show in Vienna on a live stream, Vincent facepalmed. The king brayed like a donkey in heat, adding high-pitched notes resembling a broken firefighter siren. Vienna was lost… He only had Prague to raise his Karmic Charges enough for the trip if he was to take more people with him. The assistant came to get him to the scene, and he followed reluctantly, the veins bulging on his temple, his head exploding under a tremendous headache.
His mind wasn’t in the game. It was the pets that saved the day; pets were funny. Some complained their owners left the door open while having sex, others about disliking their master’s taste in clothes or perfume. Most pets thought themselves smarter than their humans, and some were.
At the show's end, he told the truth about what he would do with his money—buy his little sister an apartment, and Vincent was sent into the finals… It was Friday night, and the big finale was scheduled for Saturday, the next day… Fortunately, because he could not have waited for another week to go back… He was worried about Irene… Was she safe? That took precedence over whether she felt the same about him... albeit that was no small concern. Then came the worries about Lila, Raya, everyone…
After the TV show, Vincent had to spend a lot of time reading and signing many legal papers and stay on the set for a couple more hours to do a few commercials for a small magic prop enterprise. The money from that was to be donated to a charity for children. In total, he was now at a hundred and thirty-two Karmic Charges. Almost there.
When he arrived at his parents’ apartment in the middle of the night, Vincent found Ludwing smoking next to the open window in the guest room.
“Karl gave me a lift…” Ludwing explained.
“You would not harm him, are we understood?” Vincent frowned.
“Does sleeping with Elina count? Since you’re not interested… She hit on me today.”
“I bet she was only nice,” Vincent hissed. “You won’t understand.”
“Yeah… I probably wouldn’t,” Ludwing shrugged, throwing the cigarette butt into the street below. “How did you manage to cut and re-enchant the ring? I had no idea you could do that…”
“It was not me… My father had the idea and started cutting slowly while I kept my Arcane Intuition on, touching the ring with the tip of my finger. I discovered we could cut eight smaller slices from the ring… for now, we did three.”
“Three?”
“Yes… I kept two in storage and decided to—"
“Trust me?”
“Give you a chance… We hope you could be… an ally.”
“I am an ally, son—”
“You’re not! And don’t you dare to call me your son,” Vincent snarled. “You’re a manipulative asshole, trying to hook me up with my mother-in-law for your own interest. And just so you know, before trying something stupid, there’s a tracker in the ring. A satellite is following you twenty-four-seven, with a tungsten rod spatial gun aimed at you. It’s almost as powerful as a small nuke. If you go rogue… Karl and his friends are prepared to destroy a city block to kill you.”
“I’m starting to like Karl…” Ludwing nodded, going to bed. “I like being taken seriously… Good night, s… my friend.”
In less than a minute, the king was breathing quietly, asleep. Vincent, on the other hand, was grinding his teeth.